With Mathis’s directions, they skirted north, avoiding the frontline entirely. The blood-red sky and the sounds of battle faded once more as the horses’ hooves quietly struck the dirt path beneath the dappled leaves of the forest. It was as idyllic a picture as could have been possible, and was utterly at odds with the situation.
The day passed traveling through Gatlan. They travelled with caution but out in the open; if it looked like they were moving covertly, that would only attract suspicion. They were strangers and without a friendly guide, Mathis having left them at the border. This was their first visit to Gatlan, and they had yet to introduce themselves to the leadership of this kingdom.
It would be better to avoid any unpleasantness, especially given that Gatlan was at war. They would be even more wary of strangers in their midst. Leo wanted to avoid confrontation if possible. He didn’t want to take the chance that Gatlan’s knights would try and run them through with a sword, striking first before asking questions.
“You hear that?” Don asked.
Leo’s ears pricked up. Night was starting to fall as the day gave way to dusk, and they needed to find a good camping spot for the night. Preferably somewhere near a water source. A slow smile spread across his face; that was exactly what he was hearing trickling gently in the distance. There was a river nearby, and that would be where they would make camp.
“Which direction, you think?” Leo halted his horse and slipped down from the saddle.
The path they were on between the trees was narrow. There wasn’t a clear view on either side, but the river couldn’t be far, or the sound wouldn’t have penetrated the tree line. Leo headed left and Don headed right. Nick stayed on the road with the horses.
“Found it!” Don bellowed.
Leo swiftly turned and retraced his steps. He took the reins of one of the horses and picked his way through the forest, quickly crossing the few hundred yards that separated them from the river. The ground sloped here, and the river actually fed into a small lake. It was bubbling through the stones as the current of the river carried the water into the lake.
There was a clear area by the lakeside. Leo crouched down and nodded in satisfaction. The ground was dry, and it appeared someone had made camp here recently; there was the remnants of a fire already built. That would save them time collecting the river stones to surround the fire.
“Leo!” Nick yelled.
Leo’s head jerked up. He raised his weapon, his eyes alert. To his right, Don stiffened, turned, and tracked his rifle in the direction of Nick’s voice. Leo nodded at Don, and they moved forward as one.
Carefully, Leo pushed the dense foliage away, revealing Nick’s stricken face. Leo looked down and let his rifle drop, hanging from his vest. He closed his eyes for a brief moment. Behind him, he heard Don quietly swear.
On the ground in front of them was the decomposing but still recognizable corpse of Corporal Jakeman, one of the lost members of Leo’s unit. He had clearly been dead for days. Vomit stained his vest and was speckled around his mouth. His eyes were open, clouded milky white. It had clearly not been an easy death; even days later, Leo thought he could see the traces of agony left on Jakeman’s face.
“What do you think killed him?” Nick asked quietly.
Leo shrugged. “Something poisonous. Perhaps the water. We shouldn’t touch anything around here, just to be safe.”
Nick stepped away, the back of his hand covering his mouth and nose. The smell was certainly bad and unmistakable. The prevailing wind was blowing in the opposite direction, so Leo had only caught a slight whiff of the scent of death by the lake. Now that he was closer and in this sheltered part of the forest, it was all he could do not to gag.
Years of experience had hardened Leo’s senses. It was something that he had gotten used to, much to his horror, and his stomach didn’t rebel like it once had. Yesterday, they had looked at the charred remains of a village and Gunnery Sergeant Rogers. Today, they looked at the decomposing body of another comrade.
Cyrus had confirmed that there were three more dead, in addition to Gunnery Sergeant Rogers. There was a question mark over the status of two more of their comrades. Cyrus had said one was ‘cold, oh so cold’ and the other was ‘lost, soon to be no more.’ Suitably poetic for the old goat, but Leo wished he had been more specific.
Was Corporal Jakeman one of the three confirmed deaths, or was he one of the question marks? Were there three of their comrades still wandering the world, or five? Their mission had to come first, so Leo knew they wouldn’t spare any time to search for their missing comrades. However, if the opportunity arose, they wouldn’t leave them behind. It would be helpful to know how many were still out there.
“We should bury him,” Don suggested quietly.
“Agreed.” Leo nodded.
He crouched next to Jakeman’s body and gripped his dog tags, and with a sharp motion Leo ripped them from his neck. There was a pocket on his combat vest that contained Rogers’s tags; Leo opened the Velcro and carefully placed Jakeman’s inside.
“His gear’s intact,” Nick muttered.
Besides the pack, there was something even better. Before they had left Earth, Leo had discussed with Staff Sergeant Max Ortiz, the leader of the other squad, about taking some extra gear to cover various eventualities. They had already made use of that additional gear; Nick had been assigned to carry extra climbing gear, which had proven helpful.
Jakeman had been assigned the sniper rifle to carry. Their M4 carbine assault rifles had a range of five hundred meters, but the sniper rifle had almost twice that. It gave them a tactical option, something that could prove very useful. The sniper rifle was broken down and packed into a small case for ease of transport. Nick handed Leo the case and hefted Jakeman’s pack.
The three of them stepped out of the forest, back to the lakeside. Leo took in a deep breath, trying to rid his lungs of the scent of decaying flesh. He looked around the area, his keen eyes trying to scope out the best place for a burial spot.
There was a slight clearing in the woods to the right that looked good, if the ground was soft enough for them to dig easily. That would be far enough away from the water so as not to contaminate it—anymore than it might already have been contaminated. Leo moved over and knelt down. He nodded in satisfaction, they could dig here.
All of their packs contained a small shovel; it was part of the standard equipment and had many uses, and not just the expected ones. For example, Leo once used a shovel to pry a door off its hinges. Now they would use it to dig a grave for a squad mate. Leo moved back over to where the others were waiting. Don had opened Jakeman’s pack and was crouched down going through it.
Leo raised an eyebrow. “Is anything missing?”
“One MRE, as far as I can tell,” Don said. He shook his head. “He must have died only a day or so after we got here. By the look of him, I didn’t think it had been that long.”
“Maybe whatever the poison was preserved him,” Nick suggested. He shrugged uncomfortably. “It certainly seems to have kept the animals away.”
“We’ll dig the grave over there.” Leo pointed. “We’ll clear his vest of anything useful and distribute his gear between us.”
Don lifted Jakeman’s shovel, seeing as it was already to hand, and wordlessly walked over to where Leo had pointed. Nick opened his pack and reached for his own before joining Don. Leo sighed and started digging in his own pack. It was a gruesome business, that they couldn’t even bury a friend without stripping him of everything of value.
However, it was about practicalities. Jakeman had ammo, grenades, explosives, just to name a few items. They had used varying amounts of their gear already, and they needed more. It was probably a matter of when they would run out rather than if, although that would depend on how much longer they were stuck in this world. Leo hoped it wouldn’t be for long. It had already been over two weeks since the aliens arrived on Earth.
Already there might not be an Earth waiting for th
em to return. Leo found his shovel and straightened, moving over to help the others dig the grave. Between them it shouldn’t take that long, and then they could move on and make camp further down the path, away from this area where a comrade had died. Leo shook his head. How many more graves would they need to dig?
There had already been so much death.
Chapter Three
Yannick took a deep breath, feeling the tingle of magic on his skin. He was standing in the shattered courtyard of the Emperor’s fortress. The signs of the long-ago battle were still obvious to his eye. However, the damage had been softened by a thousand years of exposure to the elements.
He hadn’t been back here in years, not since he had first awakened. There had been no need, and the risk was too great. All the land had tried to forget their history and the dark time of the Emperor. What few tales remained were whispered in tavern corners; superstition kept people within the borders of their kingdoms.
There was no spirit of exploration among the people of this land. One reason was that their ancestors had decreed they stayed within the known kingdoms, and it had just become an accepted part of life. However, that would not have held for a thousand years. There had been explorers over time, perhaps searching for their trading partners that they had otherwise only reached by ship.
However, those explorers had either never returned, or had returned with tales such as the ‘legend of the light in the darkness,’ which had only reinforced people’s fear. For those without magic, travel was a difficult prospect, and took a very long time. There were many dangers, such as mountains or gorges, which separated the land.
The area the Emperor had taken for his own had never been claimed. Yannick had slumbered for a thousand years before awakening. Nobody knew that the last of the Emperor’s chosen, one of the once legendary and feared Dark Knights, walked the land once more. He doubted anyone even recalled that he existed, despite how important his continued life was for everyone.
The Emperor’s prison was tied to his existence, for as long as he drew breath, the Emperor would remain trapped. Yannick shivered at the innate, gnawing fear he felt at the Emperor breaking free. In a way, Yannick was extremely grateful that should the Emperor walk this world again, he wouldn’t be alive to see it.
However, should there be tales passed from one generation to the next, particularly among the ruling classes of the various kingdoms, Yannick didn’t wish there to be any link between him and this place. It wasn’t the right time for his origins to be known; he was at a delicate stage in his plans for complete domination of all the known kingdoms. It would be inconvenient if his soon-to-be-subjects turned on him too early.
Yannick frowned, his piercing blue eyes scanning the area, seeing far beyond the physical. There was a field of magical energy flowing from the courtyard and permeating the ground, flowing in all directions. That hadn’t been present the last time he’d been here, and that worried him.
The Emperor had a lot of toys, many of which hadn’t survived the thousand years of decay. If something had broken or mutated, it could mean the destruction of this land. He tried to unravel the spell threads, but they were resistant. The power of whatever had been unleashed was staggering. The spell appeared currently to be far too strong for him to break.
However, thankfully it didn’t appear to be doing anything. It just existed, and as of this moment in time, it didn’t appear to be causing any harm, so he decided to leave it alone. Hopefully it would weaken eventually, and then he would be able to destroy the mysterious and therefore troublesome spell.
His black leather breeches squeaked as he walked from the courtyard into the ruins of the throne room. When he had been a Dark Knight, he had worn black armor. Now he wore a mixture of black silk, leather, and dragon-hide. It was his signature look, as much as Queen Eleanor’s dark gowns, or Prince Edmund’s white tunic.
The great ceiling of the Emperor’s throne room had once been enchanted to show the stars. It was early morning, and beams of light came through the many holes. It meant the stars would still be visible but only at night.
Yannick didn’t linger in the throne room, instead moving to the set of stairs which led down into the dungeons. He was here for a reason. The strangers, those marines from Earth, were searching for a superweapon. There were no artifacts of any power among the kingdoms; the only place such items could be found was here in the Emperor’s fortress.
Eleanor wanted to find the superweapon, and the transport platform, so that they wouldn’t be lying when they promised the marines everything they wanted. Yannick snorted. It wasn’t as if they would ever honor any promises they made; therefore, finding those items was ultimately unnecessary and irrelevant. He was here out of curiosity only.
As he moved through the dungeon area, Yannick shook his head in disgust at the detritus of what had once been powerful magical artifacts. The only area that had survived the thousand years of neglect had been the Emperor’s private workroom. There were several artifacts there. Their purpose—and whether their construction was complete—was unknown to him.
He was far more confident in using his own power, and utilizing unknown magical artifacts seemed like asking for trouble. That was why he had previously left them alone. However, it was possible that the Emperor had left some records behind about his inventions. It was past time he conducted a proper search and set aside his lingering fear of his former master.
Yannick froze stock still in the middle of the corridor, just a few paces from the doorway to the Emperor’s quarters. He was being summoned. It was like a whisper in the back of his mind. Eleanor could summon him by simply speaking his name. He smirked. She still hadn’t discovered how that was possible.
It was one of his more ingenious ideas, and not as magical as she likely suspected. Eleanor would not be able to plot against him, not when he could hear her every word. It was a prudent precaution; he couldn’t have his pawn turning on him, and certainly not while she remained useful.
King Oswald, on the other hand, had a far more conventional means of summoning him. Yannick had provided him with a decorative wooden shield. Useless for combat, but it was ornately carved with a lion’s head—the symbol of Gatlan. It made for a nice addition to the king’s throne room, and if the king pressed the lion’s mane, the enchantment let Yannick know that his presence was required.
He had gotten the idea from the Kaslea sorcerer Cyrus. Cyrus had provided his prince with a necklace, the pendant of which was in the shape of a disc. The disc was etched with the symbol of Kaslea, a dove on an anchor, and had the same enchantment. Yannick sighed. He would have to explore the ruins of the Emperor’s fortress another day. With a thought and a flash of purple flame, he transported himself to King Oswald’s side.
“My king.” Yannick bowed respectfully. “How may I serve the kingdom of Gatlan today?”
“Cain,” Oswald boomed. “You were right, those strangers from the unknown regions have entered Gatlan. They will reach this castle by nightfall tomorrow.”
Yannick smirked. Everything was falling into place. Taking on the alias of Cain, a partial anagram of his own name, had been a stroke of genius. If he played all sides, then victory was inevitable. He could gain whatever information he needed about Gatlan’s military strategy, and he could arrange events to his liking.
He was privy to all of Queen Eleanor’s plans—after all, he had helped formulate most of them. However, she was not privy to all of his manipulations. She would never know how far he would go to see her succeed, to see Sintiya become the dominant force in this part of the land, only so he could take it all from her at the most opportune moment. Once she became unstoppable, he would be unstoppable, and he could finally step out of the shadows and claim his rightful reward.
Eleanor wanted control because he had been whispering in her ear for years. She had come to believe that controlling all the known kingdoms was the only way she would ever truly be safe. The theory was if there was no one out there who had th
e power to challenge her, then she would be invulnerable. The recent assassination attempt by Gatlan had only reaffirmed this belief.
It had shown that the neighboring kingdoms could not be trusted to leave her alone, therefore proving that they must be removed from power. He had trained Eleanor and had believed that she would be able to successfully defend herself. If she had not, and had perished instead, then she wouldn’t have been worth his time. He would have found someone to replace her and the games would have continued.
It hadn’t been difficult to convince King Oswald to send the assassin. After Eleanor had refused the marriage proposal between her and his son Prince Frederick, and with Sintiya gaining more and more ground in the war, it had seemed like a quick way to an easy victory. After all, Eleanor had no heir, so if she were to suddenly meet her demise, there would be nobody giving out the orders in Sintiya. Gatlan could just walk in the front door and take over.
Although, Yannick noted, he hadn’t even needed to make an intelligent argument. King Oswald wanted to take out Queen Eleanor because her very existence offended him. She hadn’t been born royal, and she was a woman controlling the most affluent kingdom in the region.
Oswald was a petty man, and had an unearned ego. That, combined with the trust Oswald felt towards his pet sorcerer and advisor Cain, made Yannick think he could probably steer Oswald in any direction he chose. For instance, by manipulating exactly how Oswald dealt with the marines from Earth.
“The timing is most fortunate. If this is handled correctly, they will win you the war,” Yannick promised, his eyes gleaming.
“Fortunate indeed.” Oswald nodded sagely. He shifted and coughed uncomfortably. “Remind me of my plan again, Cain.”
“Of course, my king,” Yannick murmured. “We’ll begin by giving them a quest. The success of that quest will prove that we can trust them, and far more importantly that they can trust us…”
Justified (#2 Divided Destiny) Page 3
