Age of Asango - Book II

by Matt Russell

  Gretis saw fear permeate the rage in Kota's face. Through his teeth, he said in a voice that sounded almost desperate: "What do you want?"

  The sorcerer's grin widened. "There is no bargain for us to strike.” He stepped forward and put his hand on the shamalak girl's shoulder, and she shrieked in fright. "That is your fault of course. You are simply too strong, shamalak." He looked Kota up and down. "All that primal power—I honestly don't know if the darkest magic I have would be enough to kill you. That is why all these people must die tonight."

  “What do you mean?” Kota said, sounding desperate.

  “Imbecile,” the nathret hissed. He raised his right hand and gestured to the severed head of the demon Kota had killed moments before. "The second you catch the scent of any of my... more primal brethren, you will lose all control and attack. You are incapable of surrender. We knew that, and so we always planned to exterminate this village. Perhaps some part of you will still be driven to protect these pathetic creatures." He gestured around. "It could yield us an easy victory." The sorcerer gave a little shrug. "Who knows? Either way, every one of these filthy mongrels will be dead by morning.

  Kota, perhaps along with his animus, let out a growl so loud and deep that Gretis felt it in the ground beneath her feet. This rage had been intended, she realized. The nathret was taunting Kota, but why?

  "Which one of these vermin is your mother?" the nathret said, raising an eyebrow, and then he pointed. "Her?" An orb of green fire the size of a man's head formed in front his finger tip and shot forward, tearing through the air at Kota's mother so fast that she did not even have time to scream. Gretis faintly registered a blurred shape moving alongside the thing kicking up a spray of dirt, and then there was an explosion of emerald flame. She screamed and ran forward. It all happened so fast. The green ball burst into a conflagration of emerald fire that sent waves of heat out. Then the flame died away, revealing Kota standing with outstretched arms in front of his mother. His chest was charred black, and smoke was rising off his skin, and yet... he was whole. His animus had protected him, and it was crackling for a fight. This inspired Gretis, and she whirled around to face the nathret, but he was not there.

  "He's gone," Kota said in a gravelly voice. "I don't know how. My animus can't find him—like he just vanished."

  Gretis blinked at the two shamalak children. Both were sobbing, but they were alive. Thank the gods! She swallowed and turned back to Kota. His parents were at his side, and his mother was tracing the blackened spots on his skin with her finger. In a bewildered whisper, she asked: "How are you unhurt?"

  Gretis put her hand on the woman's wrist and said: "There's no time to explain any of this." She gazed at Kota and saw the fear in his blackened face. Her own mind was racing in terrible directions. They knew Iona's name now... because of her! The Nathret had come here and revealed his plan of attack. Why? Was this a feint of some kind? What would be the point? If his dark forces were going to launch a surprise attack, they would have no need of subterfuge. No—his words had to be some kind of twisted mind-game focused upon Kota, which meant she needed to assume they were true. The rest… she would have to figure that out later.

  Gretis drew in a deep breath, aligning her mind to the impossible task before her. "The demons are only waiting until nightfall because they will be strongest then,” she said. “It is not enough time to get any of these people to real safety, nor is there time to get word to anyone who can help us."

  "What do we do?" Kota said. It hurt to hear the uncertainty in his voice—the fear.

  "What we can," Gretis snapped. She turned to the chief, who was leaning a hand against the side of a tree, an utterly bewildered look on his face. "What is your name?" she demanded.

  "What?" the chief muttered. It took him a few heartbeats to focus on her and respond. "Tarook," he finally said.

  "Chief Tarook, I need you to gather every warrior over the age of thirteen you have and line them up there!" she pointed to an empty space between the trees and the tents, and the chief followed her gesture with his eyes. "I want everyone else there!" she pointed to a second space of bare earth, and again the chief gazed at where she indicated.

  "W-what are you planning to have us do?" the he said after a moment.

  "We're going to prepare for battle," she answered.

  Chapter 27:

  Emperor Tacitus

  The afternoon was bright and beautiful, the scents of freshly cooked bread and meats permeated the air, and the sound of music, laughter, and cheering echoed in every direction. Somar stood in the center of the bustling town square amidst a crowd of mostly peasants, watching as the great General Cassian Asango finally rode into Denigoth’s capital on his vaunted dragon.

  This was a momentous day, and Somar had set out on the road more than a month before in anticipation of it. His pupil had surpassed all of his expectations upon the field of battle. Cassian's exploits were well known, though some were too difficult to believe, even for Somar. Allegedly, the boy had taken Kyromanth—a massive walled city that no Denigothian general, including Somar himself, had been able to capture—and he had taken it in a single day. No one seemed to know how he had done it, but there were dozens of theories. Whatever the case, Cassian's reputation was now second only to Tacitus himself—at least among the common folk. The boy had continued to anger and frighten the empire's nobility and, of course, the Nemesai. This was part of the reason why Somar had chosen to view his pupil's grand entry on the ground with the commoners who loved him rather than from some lofty balcony from in of the city's towering buildings as one of his status might demand.

  Somar made out the dragon first. Titus had grown since last he had laid eyes on the creature. Cassian was only a dark shape atop its majestic gray form, but from their relative size to one another, Somar could tell that Titus was now significantly taller than a horse. The dragon moved just a little awkwardly over the street, though no one seemed to notice. The scraping ‘clacks’ of its claws over the paver stones were nearly imperceptible amidst the roar of the crowd. Cassian had become a legend. As Somar drew nearer, he saw the fierce grin on his former pupil’s face. The young general raised his fist and shouted toward one side of the street, and men, women, and children all screamed in response. This drew a chuckle from Somar.

  There were twenty men on each side of Cassian. They were tall, armored figures, and as they drew nearer, Somar could see the vaunted markings on their faces that the boy had etched into their skin with the dragon’s tears they had gathered together years ago. The men were forming a wall around Cassian, which Somar thought to be a sensible enough precaution. He wondered how many assassination attempts there had been in the field, and how many were now to come. The Nemesai were likely growing desperate.

  Suddenly Cassian's eyes locked onto Somar's, his matured features instantly shaping into a wide grin. The boy had sensed him of course, even amidst these tens of thousands of minds. Cassian’s voice whispered in his mind.

  Being unable to answer in kind, Somar replied with a nod. Cassian's eyes instantly shifted back to the crowd, and Somar sighed. The two of them had written to one another only a handful of times since they parted, yet it seemed their bond was as strong as the day they had parted. He felt a tingle of pride as he watched his beloved pupil bask in the people’s love.

  "Have you ever seen anyone so pleased with himself?" a feminine voice full of mirth said from behind him in an exotic, yet strangely familiar accent. Somar felt his eyes widen as he turned and saw the beautiful, now far more mature face of Keska Ethedrine, Cassian's sister Starborn. She was an utter vision, her dark skin complimented by a dress of gleaming orange strewn with diamonds hanging from an intricate web of thin silver chain. Her full lips were curled into a playful smirk, as if she were amused by all that was going on around her.

  "We decided to follow you down to the streets," Telemachus said.
He was standing next to Keska, though Somar had not noticed him at first. The third Starborn stood tall and handsome as ever—almost beautiful really—dressed in a finely embroidered tunic of green and black cut to a perfect fit of his upper body.

  "How did you know I was here?" Somar said, hearing the delight in his voice at seeing this pair.

  "Ah," Telemachus grunted, and his smile took on a nervous edge.

  "He has had men following you since you entered the city," Keska said.

  "Well before that actually," Telemachus sighed, rolling his eyes. "We've been... concerned that the local Nemesai contingent might take an interest in you, given your relationship with our brother."

  "Not to mention the fact that I took military action against Bishop Cromlic when he came to arrest Cassian," Somar said with a dry chuckle. "Yes, similar thoughts occurred to me as well. I did travel with quite a few of Cassian's soldiers, as I'm sure you know."

  "Yet you came down to the streets alone," Telemachus said, frowning just a little. Somar raised an eyebrow at the handsome Starborn. Why was Telemachus so concerned for him? The two of them had only spoken once nearly seven years ago. Still, he heard genuine worry in the Starborn’s voice as he added: "You should not be taking such risks.”

  With a chuckle, Somar gestured toward Cassian, who was still very near, and said: "Somehow I felt safe knowing that the great General Asango and his dragon, as well as a contingent of his tattooed soldiers, would only be thirty paces away."

  "He makes a fair point," Keska said, turning and facing Telemachus with a playful smirk.

  "He does," Telemachus muttered, his eyes fixed on Cassian, who had now passed them in the street and was cantering away upon his dragon. "All the same, there our brother goes, and here you still are. He cannot protect you at all times, and it is not something upon which you should depend."

  Somar stared at Telemachus and saw the focus in the young man's eyes. "I sense perhaps you have a plan to save me from my own foolishness."

  Telemachus’s expression immediately softened, and he said: "I would never call you ‘foolish,’ sir, but yes, I do have a plan." He gestured to his right, and Somar followed the direction with his eyes and saw an empty alleyway behind the back of the parade crowd. "Might we ask you to walk with us for a few moments, old man?" It vaguely registered to Somar at that moment that the finely dressed pair of Starborn should have drawn stares from all around, but no one was paying them any attention. Sorcery of some kind?

  Somar glanced at Keska and saw that most of the humor had left her visage, yet enough was still present as to make him feel at ease. Even without this though, he trusted both of these people. Years ago, when he met each of them, he had judged them to be individuals of excellent character.

  "All right," Somar said. He started walking, and Keska fell into step next to him, with Telemachus moving to his other side.

  The three of them broke away from the already dissipating crowd and walked together in silence for a time. They strode through one of the poorer sections of the capital almost thoughtlessly. Somar knew that such an incredible public event as Cassian's arrival would elicit a fair amount of crime. Even mildly clever thieves would know that nearly every citizen's attention would be on the legendary young man, as would the attention of the city guards. Indeed, the streets and many of the shops they passed appeared entirely empty. It might have been dangerous to walk amidst such an environment as a group of only three, but then two of Somar's three were Starborn. He could scarcely imagine what a pair of them could accomplish together.

  They eventually made their way into the resplendent northern district, where Telemachus led them down several streets of massive, lavishly built structures to seemingly the largest and finest of them all. It was a structure of white marble brick, decorated in metal plates with strange symbols of the arcane. Three tall men in full armor stood around the door, unmoving, each hefting a silver-tipped spear.

  "Hello," Telemachus said with a careless gesture to the nearest of the guards. The man immediately saluted him. Telemachus nodded and lifted his hand, and a massive wooden door swung open.

  "Is this your home?" Somar asked as he stepped into a vast and beautiful chamber. There were sculptures and books in display cases and well-preserved specimens of exotic animals Somar did not begin to recognize – and he considered his knowledge of the world to be quite replete.

  "As much as you might say the Obsidian Guild is mine, yes, this is my home," Telemachus said. His tone was not one of boasting so much as amusement. The young Starborn had become the official head of the insanely wealthy organization of sorcerers some time ago, Somar knew. "The guild owns houses all over the empire, as well as in other nations, of course. We have several properties within the dwarven kingdoms, and there is an ancient contractual agreement to several rooms within an elven palace in the northern lands, though I have not attempted a visit, nor has anyone in the guild in the last two hundred and thirty or so years."

  "Ah, I have often heard rumors that the order was still secretly dealing with the elves,” Somar said. “I suppose people love to imagine such conspiracies."

  "Oh we've never stopped dealing with them," Telemachus replied with a chuckle. "We receive requests once or twice a year. There was actually one such solicitation to steal the Elokien talisman Cassian came to possess some years ago, but the guild does not act against Starborn, even for the elves."

  Somar suddenly felt a tinge of suspicion. "You're being remarkably free with information. As I understand it, the Obsidian Guild is a viciously secretive organization."

  "Yes, it is," said Telemachus with a playful grin. "I definitely should not be revealing secret dealings with elves, but I am. Tell me, Golden General, how do you assess the situation?"

  Somar stared at Telemachus, studying his face, and then Keska's. "Cassian knows I am here," he said, reassuring himself of his safety, though truthfully, he felt no need. "You brought me to this place for a reason – this place specifically. Not simply to avoid being heard – Starborn can accomplish that anywhere." Somar blinked. "It can't be... Do you wish me to join the order?"

  "Exactly correct," Telemachus said.

  "Well, I cannot guess why,” Somar laughed. “Is the sorcerer's gift not a prerequisite for membership?"

  "Bah," Telemachus grunted with a dismissive gesture. "The knowledge you have—your experience in politics and strategy—you are a remarkably suitable candidate, and we'll be damn lucky to get you."

  Somar's frowned. "Was this at Cassian's behest?"

  "Actually, this is a compromise we are trying to work out with him," Keska said. She was resting comfortably on a sofa, her form gracefully draped.

  "The truth is that protecting you would be a great liability to him," Telemachus said.

  "Oh?" Somar murmured. "Assuming I have any real importance, do you think him so incapable?"

  "Dear man," Keska said, her voice taking on a serious tone yet somehow remaining relaxed at the same time, "If Nemesai Inquisitors were to lay a hand on you, Cassian would probably kill them. Bishop Cromlic knows this well, and it is not altogether unthinkable that he might sacrifice a few of his men to elicit a reaction from our brother sufficient to call not only for his arrest by the church but by the empire itself."

  "Yes-s-s," Somar muttered. This line of thought was not unfamiliar to him, but he had assumed that Cassian's retinue of tattooed soldiers would be more than enough to deter Nemesai inquisitors. Protection from Telemachus had several advantages over that scenario though, not the least of which being that the young man had a far more even temper than Cassian. There was also the fact that the Nemesai could not afford additional enemies, and the Obsidian Guild had a vast network of wealth and power at its disposal, not to mention that Telemachus himself was a Starborn, just like Cassian, with presumable access to the guild's legendary archive of spells.

  "It would be best if you moved into this building," Telemachus said. "I'll provide you with the
finest accommodations of course."

  "And you can visit me again in Aloria," Keska purred.

  Somar shifted his gaze back and forth between the fascinating couple. "I think the two of you have invested far too much thought into the wellbeing of a simple old man."

  "Your safety is important to us," Telemachus said, and then he added with a sigh: "Our brother needs... stabilizing influences."

  "Are you sure you do not mean supervision?"

  This elicited a soft chuckle from Keska, but Telemachus said in a stern voice: "You know as well as anyone how he is, and the capital is a far different venue than a battlefield, with different rules and different dangers and consequences."

  "And you think I can control him?" Somar said.

  "Cassian would have killed Bishop Cromlic if not for you," Telemachus said in a grim voice.

  This gave Somar pause, and he thought back to that visceral day nearly seven years ago when Cassian had Cromlic on his knees in front of hundreds of onlookers. There had indeed been murder in the boy's eyes. Somar recalled grabbing his pupil by the arm. When Cassian had glared up at him—a sixteen-year-old boy wielding so much destructive power—it had taken quite a bit of Somar's courage to stare back and say all he had said.

  He gazed at Telemachus. The handsome young man might be emperor if not for Cassian. Gods knew not even Cromlic himself had endorsed Prince Arkas for the job. Did Telemachus truly have no hunger for the throne at all? No, he was too kind—too virtuous and gentle to reign over the violent factions of the Denigoth Empire, and he probably knew it. Somar glanced at the girl. She could do it. Cassian had said more than once over the years that Keska was the most formidable of his siblings. Charming and elegant as she was, Somar thought he could see something quite dangerous within those dark honey eyes.