by TR Cameron
Chapter Fourteen
Kraada Tak paced the boundaries of his office, his angry steps echoing through the barren space as he punctuated each iteration with a growl and a turn.
"Enjaaran thinks he can threaten me," he said to the air. His arms gestured as if to shove away the very thought. "As usual, our esteemed emperor has no clue. His game is like that of a child, all response and angry emotion."
From her post by the door with her back against the wall and her thumbs hooked into her weapon belt, Variin didn’t reply, but kept her ebony eyes locked on her charge as he vented his anger.
"Name my subordinates. It's an insult, a public insult if I obey. A confirmation of his power. If it were only the military, there’d be the smallest chance…" He pinched his fingers together toward his silent watcher. "…that I might acquiesce. But to threaten my leadership of the church? It’s a challenge that must be answered."
He paused, as if receiving an answer that only he could hear. "Of course, it’s simply a prelude to scheduling my date with his executioner’s axe. This is just twisting the blade to make sure the event delivers maximum pain and glorious drama for the mob." His wings unfolded, and he raised his hands up toward the sky, never ceasing his motion. "Fortunately, the signs from the gods are clear. We cannot countenance this affront to them. The threat of blood must be answered in blood."
He stopped moving and turned to face his personal assassin. "It’s time to plan. Call the cathedral together in one hour. The planning will be done under the eyes of the gods."
In the sanctuary, Kraada paced again, entirely unable to quench or quell the fires raging within him. His normally serene mind was filled with a sapphire haze as his angered blood raged. Assembled around him were all of those he trusted, the cathedral staff of over one hundred, from the kitchen supervisor to the door attendant.
He left the confines of his thoughts, wondering what that bastard Enjaaran Velt would say if he knew this group of people—those chosen to replace the innocents killed by the lamented Drovaa Jat—was drawn entirely from the best fighters from churches throughout Xroesha. A grim smile tweaked his lips as he imagined the emperor's displeasure.
"Brethren, the time has come. Our purpose is to remove the emperor from power for the transgression of threatening the leadership of our church. This is an unforgivable affront to the gods, most especially to Lelana, the goddess to whom my life is pledged. It cannot stand. It must not stand." He shouted, "It will not stand."
He gathered himself and turned to his seneschal. "Speak, strategist."
Chanii Sere stood and moved to one side so the assembly could see him. "We have two fundamental issues to address. First, we must contend with the preponderance of guards and personnel present in the palace. Second, we have to address the possibility of reinforcements from nearby to supplement their defenses.
He opened his mouth to speak again when he was interrupted by the low, hoarse voice of the assassin, "Poison."
Both the seneschal and Kraada turned to regard the cloaked killer. "Say more," Kraada ordered.
"Not the emperor," she resumed, "he’s too well protected. But something that will damage the effectiveness of the palace guard and staff. The elite guards will have a different set of meals, unless they’re bigger fools than I believe them to be. So, we cannot hope to incapacitate everyone. However, I believe we should be able to reduce their defenses significantly."
"You have the skill?" asked the seneschal.
Variin's shrouded head nodded in reply.
"How will we get it into the palace?"
The assassin waved a negligent hand. "Commerce, persuasion, coercion, whatever is needed. I promise you it can be done."
Chanii looked over at Kraada for approval, and the hierarch nodded.
"Very good. So, we’ve reduced the number of defenders around the emperor. The next concern is a rapid military response." He paced with his hands behind his back, in an unconscious echo of his superior's movements. "It’s less than desirable to eliminate the guards in the defense center, obviously. Would we be able to incapacitate them as well?
Variin gestured in the negative with a slash of her hand cutting through the space between them. "To use the same strategy in both locations would endanger both attempts. We cannot afford the risk."
A voice, timid yet braver than all of its fellows, sounded from the section of the cathedral filled with Kraada's personal guard, "An invented crisis that calls them elsewhere as the attack begins?"
The seneschal pointed at the officer and said, "That sounds like a possibility. What could we use to draw them out of the base?"
Kraada smiled and supplied the answer, "Why, the mob of course." He gestured the seneschal back into the audience. "We have the outlines of a plan. Variin, select whoever you need to organize the undoing of the palace's defenders. Chanii, you’ll coordinate the assault on the palace itself. Take those you believe should be part of the attack." He turned to the guard who’d spoken up. "You, meet me in my chambers in one hour, and we’ll make our plans to inspire the mob to action."
He paused, took a deep breath, and let it out. Spreading his arms wide, and his wings wider, he looked up at the statue of his patron goddess and the empty pedestal nearby. He felt the weight of their regard like a heavy chain across his shoulders. "We will not delay. Tomorrow night, the first eight after the midpoint, we mount our attack. We’ll remove the godless pretender from the throne and send him to the eternal torment he so richly deserves." He dropped his arms and wings and ended with the benediction, "Two nights hence, the church will be ascendant on Xroesha, as she was always meant to be."
As one, his congregation of holy warriors replied, "So may it be."
As they filed out under his watchful gaze, his personal protector stepped forward, a wizened man in tow. "Hierarch, the archivist requests a word." Kraada was beyond shocked to see, deep within the cowl that hid his assassin's face from all but a direct glance, a fierce grin.
Chapter Fifteen
The night that Kraada had chosen was notable for more than the attack on the palace. Centuries before, the great war against their ancient foe, the Domeki, had ended on this day. A decisive loss to a superior foe had been transformed in the retelling. Now it was a tale of perseverance in the face of alien aggression and a moral victory over tyrants. Lost in the mists of history was the knowledge that the Xroeshyn had started that conflict, and their enemy had concluded it for them. It had required generations of rebuilding before they could again spread their wings to new parts of the galaxy.
It was a day of celebration. It was a day of remembrance. And it would continue to be, Kraada thought. Just for a very different reason.
The assault team wore dark body armor with camouflage elements across the color spectrum that was effective in suppressing most telltales. Beside him was his seneschal, and with them eight guards from the cathedral. Only one member of his personal guard was with him tonight. The rest were split among the other seven teams closing in on the palace from every direction.
Kraada tapped the mace secured to his belt as a touchstone and verified that his rifle and sidearm were properly locked in their places. The seneschal had chosen quiet armaments for the infiltration, knowing perimeter sensors would detect silenced projectile or energy weapons. Instead, the snipers on each team carried heavy crossbows, common in the hunting rituals of the Xroeshyn, and unlikely to alert those technologically biased detectors. Rather than risk electronic communication, the teams were operating on a timetable. Chanii checked the time, then set a hand on the shoulder of each of his sharpshooters. Kraada could see him counting the seconds in his head, and when eight had elapsed he raised his hands, the signal to begin the attack.
The palace had a striking number of access points, due to its design as a testament to the glory of the emperor rather than a bastion to protect him. Their plan was to send three teams in from the east and the west, and one each from the north and the main entrance to the south. Kraada's gr
oup was walking in the front door. The silent bolts transfixed the sentries guarding that portal, perfect shots piercing their throats and dropping them to the ground in a light clatter.
As they advanced, the other groups breached the palace with explosives and battering rams, the noisy assault designed to pull the remaining defenders toward them. Kraada's team moved forward under careful cover with each one protecting the advance of the person next to them, and both the seneschal and the captain of his personal guard protected his own progress. Soon they were at the entry, and seconds later, his seneschal had defeated the lock.
With the attack underway, comm silence was no longer necessary, and quiet reports came across their headsets. "One, successful infiltration from the north, no sign of defenders. Palace staff seems to be violently ill." The sound of speech was punctuated by the thud of a blow and a garbled moan. Each of his teams reported in sequence. The ones entering from the east and west were already facing light resistance.
"Standby," ordered the seneschal, then led the team inside. Their suppressed projectile weapons made small sounds as they cleared the guards in the entryway.
"Impressive," said Chanii, "despite being ill, they stayed on duty."
Kraada took him aside and whispered, "Is it possible to switch to non-lethal now? These are my children as well, deluded though they may be." From the moment they’d entered the palace, a certainty had settled onto his shoulders, the absolute knowledge he’d soon replace Enjaaran Velt as the sole leader of the Xroeshyn people.
"No, hierarch. It’s still too dangerous."
He bowed to the necessity as they rejoined the force and headed for the throne room. In his position as head of the military, Kraada had access to the defensive schematics for the palace. He’d shared these with his teams, and they systematically deactivated automated defenses and traps as they progressed. Just in case, each team also had an experienced point person who watched for additional measures. His team's spotter found six unrecorded devices on the way to their destination. Soon, they were at the threshold of the highly protected hallway, which was their last major obstacle. They paused before entering that kill box and waited.
"Prime objective secured," announced the leader of team three. "You’re safe to advance." Kraada bestowed an appreciative glance to the hidden camera that fed the security headquarters his forces had just taken over. The plan called for them to move with speed through the dangerous space, then defeat the closed door of the throne room, which was around a small corner at the far end.
While his team scurried, Kraada slowed, again appreciating the history of Xroeshyn royalty displayed in the fabulous mural along the walls. An armored hand ran across them. As he felt the unique texture of the pieces that made up the whole, he considered that each stone was representative of one of his children, and together they’d create another regal tale to depict here, that of Emperor Kraada Tak, first of his line.
He was jarred from his thoughts by his point person. "The doors are open, and a group is inside. They are displaying the signal to parlay."
At gestured commands from his seneschal, Kraada's team spread out into the throne room. Before them was the smirking visage of the emperor's majordomo, who stood with a brace of guards on the steps of the dais. Several more guards surrounded the base of the stairs.
"Hierarch, what a surprise," he said in his weaselly voice. The heavily armed defenders suggested that it was nothing of the sort. The majordomo confirmed it, "We imagined it’d be a few more days before you responded to the emperor's gambit, but no matter. We’re ready for you."
As the worm finished speaking, a group of palace guards twice the size of Kraada's stepped from the shadows with their weapons leveled.
He turned to Chanii and nodded. The seneschal tapped a quick code into the communicators and threw a small device that resembled a grenade into the room. Kraada's team ducked back through the doors as it activated. It was a product of the great war, an enemy tool that had proven effective against the Xroeshyn. It was one of many such devices the church had quietly hidden away. The military had long ago discontinued its own investigations into the alien artifacts after integrating several new technologies into their arsenal.
Fortunately for Kraada, the hierarchs before him had a different definition of what was useful and continued their research. The device erupted with a sonic screech, powerful enough to drop those inside to their knees in agony. The only defense was ear protection, such as what was incorporated in the tiny devices that doubled as communicators for the church forces. Chanii gestured the team forward, and shortly thereafter the aural assault ended. Kraada entered to find the guards bound, disarmed, and lying around the room. The trio on the stairs had been relieved of their rifles and pistols, but permitted to keep their melee weapons, and were unsteadily rising to their feet.
"Three on three, that seems much fairer, does it not?" Kraada was enjoying watching the majordomo suffer.
"Filthy trickster," the worm panted, as he forced himself to stand erect against the residual pain in his head. "What guarantee do we have that your guards will let us leave after we’ve defeated you?"
The church forces laughed in varying degrees of mockery. "Why, none," Kraada replied. "You’re already dead. You simply have the chance to make your end an honorable one. If you prefer, we can dispense with that part and kill you now."
The recovering trio on the dais spread out into fighting positions as an answer. Kraada's forces matched them, his seneschal to the right and the captain of the guard to the left. Kraada stepped into place opposite the majordomo.
The moment hung and was shattered by the battle cry of the guard captain. The church forces advanced in a rush. His seneschal fought with twin blades. The man's massive strength drove the swords through indirect chops and slashes with minimal finesse and maximum efficiency. The captain of his guard used a longsword for offense and a pronged knife for defense. The two tines that curved up beside the blade were very effective in catching an opponent's weapon. Kraada had his favorite mace, with a short handle, heavy head, and a strap to twirl it with. He did so now, weaving it in lazy figure eights as he closed on the majordomo, who shared the single sword armament of the palace guard.
The side battles went hazy as Kraada focused on his foe. "I’ve always despised you," he offered conversationally, and whipped his mace across in a downward diagonal strike his opponent leaned back to avoid.
"And I, you," came a snarled reply accompanied by a thrusting blade seeking his face.
"I'm sorry that I can't make your death as long and painful as I’d like," Kraada said. "However, I have an appointment with Enjaaran."
The worm laughed. "We were prepared, pretender," he sneered, and whipped his sword across at Kraada's neck level. A duck and a smash at his foe's feet motivated the majordomo to leap to a higher stair. "The emperor is already safely away, and the defensive forces are rallying to come in and secure the palace."
"Hold that thought," Kraada replied, then stepped back out of range. Tapping the comm unit nestled in his ear, he said, "Nine, status?"
The guard detailed to defuse that response answered immediately, "Everything is proceeding as planned, hierarch. The populace is incensed over the emperor's effort to influence the church and has marched upon the defense center. The military is occupying itself with pacifying them."
"Very good." He addressed the worm with a predatory smile on his face, "It seems as if your rescuers have become occupied by an uprising. They won’t be coming to your aid."
The majordomo growled a curse at him. To his left, a flurry of blades caught his eye, and he turned in time to see his guard captain's sword pierce the throat of one of the palace's defenders. His dying rasp distracted the other palace defender, who was quickly ended by the simultaneous stab of paired swords into his heart.
Kraada looked dramatically to his left and right, then shook his head in faux sadness. "It seems as if you’re alone, worm."
"It does indeed, prete
nder. I guess there’s only one thing remaining to do." The man jumped up onto the plateau at the top of the stairs, forbidden to all but a few, and ducked behind the throne. When he emerged from the other side, it was with a pistol he fired without preamble. A series of wicked needles erupted from the gun and stitched a line through the air between the majordomo and Kraada. The hierarch recoiled with a shout and twisted away from the incoming shards, but the attack was too quick and too unexpected for him to avoid.
He screamed in pain and anger as the quarter-meter spikes hammered through his armor, slowed but not halted. What felt like multiple eights pierced his wing as he brought it across reflexively, and others buried themselves in the lighter protection of his arms and legs. One transfixed his face, burrowing into and out of his right cheek as he spun away. Several more scraped his scalp as he dodged. As he stopped spinning, he saw his dishonorable opponent was fleeing for a side exit. With a bellow, he used his momentum to launch his mace along a flattened arc that terminated in the skull of the treacherous worm. The majordomo fell with a thump, his head caved in.
Kraada dropped to his knees, and his team moved forward to give him aid. While they were distracted, a guard patrol burst into the throne room and engaged them. Half the force was lost before the threat was eliminated.
Sapphire washed across his eyes, and he saw a vision of Lelana. She was stern and displeased. Her posture suggested she was about to turn her back on him. He growled, shook his head, and stood, forcing away those who were bandaging him. The tine had been removed from his face. Plasters had been applied to the wound. While his scalp still bled, coagulant was at work to stop it. His armor was a pincushion. He picked one quill out and threw it derisively to the side.
"We must not lose our momentum," he said, and pointed his remaining people toward the door. As they fell into motion, the seneschal handed him his mace, which was stained with the lifeblood of the majordomo. He regarded it for a moment, then breathed, "You deserved much worse," before fastening it to his belt and exiting the room to find Emperor Enjaaran Velt so he could end his life as painfully as possible.
