“We don’t want a fight,” Leo told him firmly. Don nodded once, his eyes focused on the road ahead. “Let’s check it out.”
On foot, leading their horses by the reins, they walked the remaining distance to the village. The crying only grew louder the closer they got. The sun was setting, but its golden glow still illuminated the scene. Leo’s gut churned and a lump grew in his throat. There was a unit of knights in the square. They wore tabards bearing the colors of Gatlan. One of them loomed over a villager. The man was on his knees at the knight’s feet, hunched over like he was expecting a blow.
“Please, I have to feed my family,” the man pleaded, his voice shaking.
The knight sneered. “Your kingdom has a greater need.”
“Please,” the villager repeated.
The knight booted him in the ribs, sending him tumbling backwards, and laughed. Soon, the knight’s comrades joined in, and goaded by their jeers, the knight stepped forward and kicked the poor man again.
“Pathetic,” the knight taunted him.
Leo raised his fist, halting their progress. They hung back in the mouth of the village. Leo bit his lip before he tugged on the reins, turning the horse to retrace their steps before they were spotted. This wasn’t a scene they wanted to be involved in.
“We’ll go around,” Leo muttered.
He twisted to keep an eye on the square, but so far their presence hadn’t been noticed. Quickly, he got one of the ramshackle houses between them and the eyesight of the knights, and then breathed a little easier.
“So this is Gatlan?” Nick remarked with obvious disdain.
“Do you really think Sintiya is any better? Or Kaslea? It’s a different culture,” Leo pointed out.
Nick nodded unhappily. “I know that, but it’s still wrong. Mathis wasn’t like that.”
“No, not everyone will be. Mathis was one of the good ones, but this isn’t our world. It’s not our place to judge,” Leo said firmly.
Don grunted and his eyes flashed in repressed anger. Leo sympathized; he knew how much Don hated bullies, and he hated them too, but in this case, interfering would have done far more harm than good. He’d just said it was a different culture, and they all needed to try and remember that, himself included. In the heat of the moment, they went by instinct.
Already they’d jumped in with both feet, wading several times into situations that perhaps they should have left alone. Leo knew himself well enough to know that he wasn’t likely to stop, either. They shouldn’t project their morals onto a different culture, but when faced with something that felt so obviously wrong, it felt almost impossible not to do so. This was one hot mess they’d successfully avoided, but he doubted they would be so lucky next time.
They would find somewhere to make camp. Tomorrow, unless it could be avoided, they would cross the line and make their first enemy in this world—Sintiya.
*****
The library was a good place to think. There were no windows, the walls were covered in shelves of books, the wingback armchair was comfortable, and there was a convenient table to place his drink. Prince Edmund nursed a goblet of the strongest mead they had—a mistake, perhaps, as it no doubt clouded his mind. But then, he wasn’t making decisions tonight; he was merely contemplating what disasters the future might hold.
A week ago, he had thought that the worst issue facing his kingdom had been the dragon, which had terrorized them for so many months and slaughtered so many. The trouble on the border, with the clashing forces of Gatlan and Sintiya, driving people from their homes in the border villages, was of grave concern. However, he was hopeful that his kingdom would not be dragged into the actual war.
Now it seemed that they might be facing a war of their own.
His knight commander had given his daily report that morning. He had told him that the knights returning to Termont were reporting whispers at all the trading posts that dealt with the Northern Kingdoms. The alliance of duchies in the north, above the mountains, who had combined to make one large kingdom, had always been prosperous. Now, the whispers were suggesting that was no longer the case.
Prince Edmund didn’t believe in listening to rumors; he preferred to trust those he dealt with personally. He would soon be marrying Princess Maria of the Northern Kingdoms. They had held their engagement party only recently, and there had been many distinguished guests from his betrothed’s homeland.
While the occasion had been overshadowed by the war between Gatlan and Sintiya, that evening he had fruitlessly tried to mediate a discussion between Queen Eleanor and King Oswald. He had taken the time to speak with everyone in attendance. There had been no whispers of economic problems then.
Also, he had recently been in close contact with the Northern Kingdoms. Their ships had been kept busy, sailing between Termont’s port and the capital of the North, Vakkanger, as they finalized talks of an alliance. At no point had there been any sign of anything amiss. Up until now, he had not held any suspicions. However, the evidence spoke for itself.
He looked at the table next to him, at the bundle of letters lying there, looking so innocent and harmless. The knight commander had retrieved them after the maid had reported sighting a sorcerer in Princess Maria’s chambers. From the description, he had recognized Kevall, the Northern Kingdoms’ sorcerer. One letter was new; it had been lying on the vanity, clearly waiting for the princess’s return from the evening meal. The others had been in her correspondence box, and all of them were damning.
The details in the letters were vague, but Prince Edmund would have expected no less. It would have been the height of foolishness to explain things clearly should the letters fall into the wrong hands—as they had. Such subterfuge was meant to stay secret and not be for all to see.
However, what was clear was the Northern Kingdoms desire to expand down south. The weather up north could be treacherous, especially in the winter months. Kaslea had a more temperate climate that was advantageous for year-round trade. Prince Edmund could see the advantages, and the offer of an alliance—and his marriage—now took on a more sinister tone.
Had they planned this all along? How much did his future bride know? From the look of these letters, Maria was involved completely in whatever plot the Northern Kingdoms had against Kaslea, and that surprisingly hurt a great deal.
He hadn’t met her until she’d arrived in Kaslea for their engagement. What was between them was a betrothal agreement, an arranged marriage; it hadn’t been love. However, he wished to be happy, so he had spent whatever time he could spare, every waking moment that he could manage, with Maria since then. They had spent hours talking. He had wanted to learn everything about her, and he had shared a great deal of himself.
The sting of betrayal cut deep. He had fancied that he might be falling in love with his bride-to-be and had envisioned a happy future. He had not envisioned his kingdom under threat, his bride to be a spy at best and at worst…he didn’t even want to consider that.
“Father, what would you do?” Edmund muttered to himself, his question unheard in the empty room.
His father was dead, and he was king in all but name. Kaslea was his to lead and to protect, but this was why he had eschewed the title of king—he didn’t feel ready. Some days he despaired whether he would ever feel ready, whether he would ever feel like the true leader his father had been. However, his father’s reign had never faced issues like these.
It felt like evil had crept over the land and into the hearts of men. War was breaking out everywhere as they fought amongst themselves for power and control.
Prince Edmund slugged the mead back, finishing the goblet. He would have to call for more; there was nothing that could be done tonight, so blacking out and forgetting the world seemed like an excellent idea. He would have to face tomorrow, and reality, soon enough.
*****
Yannick scowled. It had taken two days for him to be free of King Oswald’s insistent demands. He loathed having to pretend to serve such a man. It
was beneath him, and he wished it wasn’t necessary. However, the position as ‘Cain, the Gatlan sorcerer’ enabled him to manipulate the greedy and imbecilic king with ease, and that was what mattered.
With a flash of purple flame, Yannick appeared in the ruins of what had once been the Emperor’s throne room. The signs of battle, from the successful rebellion, were still evident, though it was obvious many years had passed. The elements had scoured the spilled blood, where the victors had left almost everything untouched. The wooden door that had once blocked the entrance to the bowels of the Emperor’s dungeons had long since crumbled into dust.
Carefully, Yannick descended the chipped and broken stairs, which were slick with moss and decay, to the labyrinth of rooms and corridors hidden beneath the surface. He had wandered these halls upon his awakening, and knew what to expect, so his stride was confident until he approached the doorway to the Emperor’s private workroom.
The door was a metal alloy and hadn’t turned to dust like the wooden doors elsewhere in the palace. It still prickled with active magic, despite lying uselessly on the floor. After he had awoken, he had been incensed at the waste of all the powerful magical artifacts which had been kept in the common areas. It would have been better if the Emperor’s fortress had been looted indiscriminately.
He could have stolen back the treasures, but he couldn’t steal what the elements had destroyed. However, the foolish heroes had walked away; they had allowed their fear of the evil that had been done here to consume them. Yannick growled. Power was power. What had been lost was irretrievable, unrecoverable, and they had been one-of-a-kind items.
Even after all these years, and even with his distrust and fear of the Emperor’s relics, the loss of so much potential power still rankled. The Emperor’s private workroom had been better protected, so he had come here first. He had known better than to touch the door; the last Dark Knight who had tried had been blasted thirty feet down the corridor.
With the Emperor, it was never a question of force, it was a question of cunning. The Emperor had been amused by plots against him, had allowed them, watched them play out before crushing them mercilessly. That was why it had been such a surprise when their rebellion against him had been successful. It was somewhat of a shock to discover that the most powerful being in all the realm was as fallible as everyone else. The Emperor had made a fatal mistake in indulging them, and it had cost him his freedom.
Therefore, Yannick had been certain that the Emperor’s private quarters would not be impenetrable. The Emperor would have wanted them accessed by those who proved themselves worthy; it was nothing more than a game to him. Yannick had tried magic on the door, and the walls, and his spells had just bounced right back at him. Which was when he had taken his sword and manually pried the door off its hinges.
That was last time. Now he just walked straight through the doorway, but he stopped just a single step inside. He couldn’t rely on the traps being identical to the last time he’d been here. The Emperor delighted in destroying people’s overconfidence. Yannick bent down and picked up a few fallen fragments of stone, before tossing one of them to the right.
It made it a few feet before returning to him. He let it bounce off his chest, and grimaced, for the first time unhappy with his new wardrobe and missing his old armor. The last time he’d done this, he hadn’t felt a thing, and this time there would be bruises. However, it didn’t hurt enough to risk using a magical shield spell; there was no telling what protections of the Emperor’s that would activate.
Carefully, testing each step before placing his full weight, he moved to the right. This would have been so much easier with magic, which was why the Emperor would have guarded against it. He valued ingenuity more than he valued power in his servants. Yannick made his way through the exterior room, weaving through the invisible maze. He was almost at the archway, in the far left corner, which led into the next room, when the stone beneath his foot trembled.
Quickly he moved back, grateful he was still testing each step before placing it. A gaping hole appeared where he would have been standing. He looked down, unable to make out the bottom. However, he knew it wasn’t really going to be bottomless; it would only appear that way with magic. The spell could be anything, from the endless sensation of falling, to an illusion covering a more immediate permanent fate such as death by drowning or fire, maybe death by impaling. The Emperor had always been inventive.
Yannick breathed a sigh of relief when he slipped through the archway, into the workroom beyond. He had been right to check the exterior maze; it had been different from the last time, and he shuddered when he thought about the traps he could have fallen into. Just as before, the moment he stepped through the archway, a golden light engulfed him.
He froze and held his breath, hoping that this would be the same as last time too, and after an agonizing moment, a white beam of light burst from the ceiling, hitting the ground, and the Emperor appeared. Yannick relaxed and smirked at his own fear. When this had happened the last time, he’d been terrified at the vision before him. It had been a heart-stopping few seconds before he’d realized he’d seen that magic before, that it was nothing more than an illusion.
“Congratulations, Dark Knight. I have been banished and you have successfully gained access to my private chambers. The parameters have been met; you have proven worthy to see the magics held within. Be warned that they require great power. Your cunning has got you this far; do not let confidence in success be your downfall.”
The illusion of the Emperor vanished, its recorded message having been imparted. Yannick shook his head. He was capable of convincing illusions, but they were best viewed from a distance. If someone was as close as he had been to the Emperor’s illusion, then they would see the transparency in the spell. However, the Emperor had looked so lifelike, almost as if he would be solid to the touch.
The Emperor had never worn the armor of a Knight, preferring attire made of silk and leathers. However, while his attire might not have been imposing, the mask that disguised his face still sent a chill down Yannick’s spine. It wasn’t so much what it was, more that he had never seen the Emperor without it, nor had he seen such a mask anywhere else. It was so associated with the Emperor that it had absorbed his evil.
The whole mask was black, some parts made of cloth, such as those that covered the nose, cheeks, and back of the head. The rest was metal. The part that concealed the jaw, from chin to nose, was deeply grooved. The eyes were circular and large. Connected over the nose, the cylinders protruded more than an inch from the face, their surface gleaming green when it hit the light. For such a complete mask, it was surprisingly formfitting, but even though Yannick had served the Emperor for centuries, he would not have recognized him without the mask, nor even have been able to say the color of his hair.
Yannick smirked again at the irony of the Emperor warning him against overconfidence. He still found that amusing, given that was what had doomed the Emperor himself. Warily, Yannick moved to the nearest table and started to look for documentation or plans; he wouldn’t be touching any of these artifacts until he had a full set of instructions.
For all that he craved the power these artifacts represented, he did have a lingering fear of what they might do. This was the Emperor’s private workroom, and the objects the Emperor had enchanted may not be complete. Yannick could only guess at their function, and using them without instructions would be dangerous. He was no fool; he had not come this far only to perish attempting to operate an experimental device.
The relic in front of him was metallic and buffed to a high shine. It looked just like a box, apart from the big red button on the top. A few feet from it, at the other end of the table, was another relic. This one was spherical and appeared to be made of some sort of multicolored crystal. There were no obvious buttons or switches on that one, and Yannick cringed as he moved closer, knowing that it could be activated by almost anything.
“Seriously, are there no plans in
here?” Yannick muttered to himself. He was starting to despair.
While leaving plans in plain view was foolish, this had been the Emperor’s domain; nobody had ever set foot in here but him until now. The Emperor hadn’t needed to place his plans in a separate vault; this room was a vault. He growled and moved over to the next workbench, his frustration starting to get the better of him and overwhelming his patience. This shouldn’t be rushed, not with how unpredictable the Emperor was.
Yannick recoiled, his mind suddenly processing what the relic in front of him was—he’d seen this one before. One end was cone shaped, and it fired a blast of what could only be described as pure pain. Its effect was purely mental; people felt as if their bones were boiling and would burn right through their skin. It was monstrous, and the fear it had evoked had been delicious.
His magic could achieve a similar effect, but only on one person at a time. This device could torture a dozen or more at a time, perfect for a rebellious peasant village. They could all taste what they deserved, rather than merely using one to set an example. At least he knew this one was complete, unless the Emperor had begun to make improvements.
He growled. This was a pointless exercise; he couldn’t be certain of anything. It was like providing a mirage of an oasis to a man dying of thirst. He desperately wanted to harness these relics, but unless he was willing to risk everything, they would forever remain out of reach.
There must be plans here somewhere; not even the Emperor could have constructed everything from memory. However, he had reached his limit on patience. He would have to return and continue the search another day.
Chapter Six
The three marines reached the border soon after noon the following day. However, the closer they got to the frontline, the slower their progress was. Leo felt highly visible, even leading the horses by the reins, but he was loath to leave the horses and supplies behind without guard, and splitting up wasn’t an easy option. There were only three of them, so however they split, one of them would be left alone, and no marine should ever stand alone.
Justified (#2 Divided Destiny) Page 6
