Chapter 25

Derruk breathed heavily as he leaned against the corner of a building. He had been among the first waves off the ships when they docked in Debobat. He had charged down the gangplank, pulling his sword as soon as his feet hit the solid wood of the pier. It seemed he had been running and fighting ever since.

He was a young man. This was his first taste of battle. Only the constant movement had kept him from throwing up. Battle was not like anything he had ever imagined. In all those tales of valor and victory in wars past, the bards never said anything about the way a man’s intestines boiled out of his stomach when the gut was sliced open. They didn’t talk about how slippery the ground became beneath your feet. And they didn’t mention the horrible screams of women as they were cut down.

The first three blocks had gone quickly. He had sliced men down as they ran for cover. It didn’t seem very noble, but he was told to kill anyone not wearing Imperial arms. He had heard the cry of griffins circling to the west, penning in the mass of humanity in the city.

It was at the fourth block, past the ale houses and brothels that were typical of all port cities, when they met the first organized resistance. Carts had been overturned in the streets, spilling goods out across the cobbles. Men hid behind them, brandishing weapons – swords or pitchforks, which had a surprising reach. Derruk had seen a friend, Edmind take one to the leg.

Edmind had screamed and dropped his sword. His fellows helped carry him back to the field surgeons for healing. Derruk was worried. The pitchfork had looked none too clean.

He had no idea how the others were doing. When he started off, he had been somewhere behind the company commander, Colonel Hammersong, who insisted on leading the charge himself. But he had turned up a side street at some point and his superior officer was no longer in sight.

The acrid tang of smoke filled the air. Somewhere, a fire was burning unchecked. He had seen a fire in the close quarters of a city once. It jumped from house to house more quickly than could be believed. With the docks so nearby, water could be brought and the blaze quenched under normal circumstances. But today, the fire was left to burn.

He was so tired. He thought training had been hard, but it was nothing compared to the real deal. It was funny, during the initial rush, he had felt nothing. He ran and fought and killed and dodged and seemed like he could go forever. It was only now, that things had slowed down, that the aches and pains were catching up with him.

Frankly, he was glad the others had moved ahead. It allowed him time to catch his breath and it spared him from having to kill any more. When he had signed up with the infantry, he never imagined it would come to this. Sure, there were skirmishes now and then, and bandits often plagued deserted stretches of countryside. But this was more akin to war.

He never realized how loud a battle was either. As he leaned against the corner of some shop, he realized how quiet it had gotten around him. His breathing was unnaturally loud. It seemed to be all he could hear.

Suddenly, he felt a pain lancing through his lower back. He tried to cry out, but something prevented him. He looked down at this chest and saw the point of a sword sticking out between his ribs, six inches under his chin.

He watched in a kind of quiet wonder as the tip of the blade twisted ninety degrees and then vanished. He felt a backwards jerk, and a pressure in the small of his back, as someone put a boot against it.

His knees gave out and then his cheek was pressed against the rough stone of the street. The last thing he saw as his eyes glazed over was the form of a desert man holding a sword, long black braids swinging as he peered around the corner of the building Derruk had just been using for support.

Next>

Chapter 24

A spray of salt water broke over the bow and washed over Lysander and his men. He shook the water from his hair and turned away from the broad sweep of the sea. He cast his eyes over the crowded deck, watching the hustle of activity among the ship’s crew and the uneasy shifting of his men.

They were anxious. Three days at sea had them going a bit stir-crazy, which was why so many of them were up on deck in the first place. They gave the crew space to work, but just barely. The more senior men were asleep in hammocks below decks. They knew what was coming and like all hardened soldiers, grabbed sleep when they could.

Lysander would be down with them, but he was the senior officer. It was best for him to be visible to those men who couldn’t sleep. So he paced the deck, looking off toward the horizon every now and again, looking for he knew not what.

At heart, Lysander was a landlubber. He respected the men who plied their trade on the seas. But he wasn’t one of them. The deck left his footing unsure and as a man who liked to fight, he preferred ground that was stable beneath him.

Still, this crew definitely knew what they were about. They were out of Osh’riyo and were probably breastfed on salt water. They all walked along the decks, or more amazingly, swung through the rigging, like they belonged there. Lysander had heard tales of animals from the northern jungles that could swing from vine to vine as easy as a man walked. He wondered if the men in the ropes above him weren’t distantly related to these creatures.

Looking to his left, port the sailors insisted on calling it, he could see small specks in the distance. Those would be the griffins. He had taken a harrowing flight the night before to meet with Liam. The flight itself hadn’t been that harrowing, but landing on a pitching deck was not an experience he wished to repeat. The griffin seemed even less happy about being on ship than Lysander was.

Together, he and Liam had decided on a plan of action. The griffins would track the ships until they first sighted the outskirts of the trading outpost. Then, they would land and hold position until the first ships had landed. At that point, they would launch and circle to the west, cutting off escape, while Lysander and his men would attack from the docks on the eastern edge of the city.

With any luck, the surprise and ferocity of the attack would mean a quick victory. Then again, Lysander wouldn’t be too upset if he had to fight his way to the center of town. He’d always wanted to test some of the desert men. Perhaps they’d provide a challenge.

He looked up as he heard some commotion in the rigging high above his head. One of the men in the crow’s nest appeared to be pointing toward the northwest. He turned to look out over the port bow just as he heard the lookout shout down.

“Land ho!”

He grinned as his hand dropped to the hilt of its sword, loosening it in the scabbard.

Next>

Chapter 23

“I disagree Commander,” Lysander said as he studied the map laid out on the table between himself and Liam. “We should strike due north to Dhetheru. It’s the closest population center to our current location.”

“I know, Lysander. But that puts us between two of the enemy’s cities. And there is no guarantee that we will be able to take the city quickly.” Lysander looked about to object. “I am well aware of the prowess of you and your men, Lysander. But these people have some warning and it is their city. Plus, there’s the environment. I don’t relish a long siege in a desert, with no handy supply of water.

“Taking Debobat first is smart for three reasons. First, we know its exact location and can ship in supplies from the sea, if necessary. Second, it doesn’t put us between two hostile forces. And third, the Emperor specifically mentioned Debobat when I left him a week ago.”

Lysander considered this. He chafed at the idea of putting off battle, but he was too good a tactician to ignore Liam’s advice. “Very well Commander. Debobat it is. Now, may I make a suggestion?”

Liam nodded. “Of course.”

“Well, as you’ve pointed out, Debobat is on the ocean. And Kandara is a port city. It might make more sense to load my men on ships and attack from the sea. It will be quicker, which I know you griffin riders like. And it may add an element of surprise, since ships are expected to stop there, while my men would raise a cloud of dust visible for miles if we tramp overland.”

Liam traced his finger over the map, nodding. “That makes a lot of sense. Additionally, my griffins can fly along the coast, tracking the ships. We can arrive together and take the city quickly.”

“Then we’re agreed?”

“Agreed.”

“Very well, Commander. I’ll send messengers to Kandara to arrange transport. We’ll strike camp in the morning and with any luck, leave on the evening tide.”

Next>

Chapter 22

Liam Donal looked somewhat ragged as he stepped down off the back of his griffin. He had pushed his men hard to get them to the rendezvous with Lysander Hammersong and the infantry. Add to that the fact that he had had trouble sleeping since his meeting with the Emperor and you had a recipe for a man not at the top of his form.

It wasn’t worry for himself that kept him awake. He had achieved the highest rank attainable in the Empire and he would willingly sacrifice it if he were ordered to. No, he was worried for his Emperor. Kilthane was not acting like himself. His behavior ever since the attack had been rash.

Liam could understand. The Emperor had doted on his young bride since the day they first met. He had a love for her that was matched only by his love for the Empire. Which is why Liam felt so disturbed. The love he felt for her had been twisted into something dark. And with it, his sense of responsibility.

Kilthane was widely regarded as an excellent Emperor. Liam had no doubt that history was to remember his rule as a golden age. At least, until this latest tragedy struck. Now, he feared his liege was in a spiral down into chaos and despair. And he risked taking Liam with him.

For example, this latest set of orders. Yes, a desert man had been involved in the plot against the Empire. But did that justify the oppression of an entire people? Coren Vishod was from Mareth’totam, and yet he hadn’t been ordered to go and further pacify it.

The fear that gnawed at Liam’s heart, that kept him awake at night, was that one day, one day soon, the Emperor would give him an order, and he would be forced to make a choice. A choice between his duty to his liege and his duty to the Empire. Some men under Liam’s command didn’t make that distinction. Liam himself hadn’t always made it.

But in his time as a Commander, he had learned that duty could pull a man in multiple directions at once, and that men of any rank were just men, and could make mistakes. Even Emperors. And therefore, a man had to remember that the oath he swore upon taking service was to no individual, but to the people of the Empire.

And here he was, about to engage in a battle against those people.

He didn’t like to admit it, even to himself, but he had breathed a sigh of relief and a prayer of thanks to the Gods when he had been unable to locate Dhereshu. A cold bolt of fear had shot through him when that young rider had called out he’d spotted something. It wasn’t that he was afraid of battle. Liam was no coward. He was afraid of the implications – of the Empire tearing itself apart.

Unfortunately, it seemed he was destined to start the rip that could lead to the unraveling of all he was sworn to protect and defend. His orders from the Emperor had not yet pushed him far enough that he felt a duty to ignore them. But he feared that day was coming close.

He pushed such dark thoughts aside as he climbed the hill to the command tent and prepared to meet with Lysander Hammersong, to plan the assault on Yometh Robak.

Next>

Chapter 21

Kilthanis walked up the broad marble steps of the judicial palace in Dekiyem. He paused halfway up the steps to read the large words carved upon the face of the massive edifice. “Alu Utos-Merethil tur alu Kiyem-Tethos.” Stated at the beginning of all judicial proceedings and before any judgment was rendered, this simple phrase spelled out the basic precept of justice for all Imperial citizens.

Kilthanis fervently prayed that this golden rule would be observed on his petition. He was taking a risk, he knew, challenging the power of the Emperor. Yet that was why they had law – to prevent the excesses of power that were all too common throughout history. Enough of the kingdoms that formed the Empire had suffered under despotism. The Empire had brought freedom from oppression in the form of the rule of law. Those words were why Kilthanis had pursued his career choice. Because under the law, all men, even the Emperor, were equal.

The will of the people is the law of the Empire. He mouthed these words as he always did when entering this building. He continued his climb up the steps and walked through the massive, gold-bound doors.

He approached the Clerk of the Court, reaching into the bag he always carried with him to Court. He pulled out several copies of a document he had spent the morning putting together. He handed it to the Clerk.

“How may I help you today, Lord D’Endray?” the Clerk asked, as he took the documents and briefly glanced at them. He knew Kilthanis well and he knew they would be in proper format. All that was left to be seen was where Kilthanis wished to file them.

“I come here, on behalf of the Citizens of the Empire, to request a hearing before the High Court,” Kilthanis responded, intoning an ancient request.

The Clerk’s eyes widened slightly, and straightened up. “And what is the nature of your suit that the High Court’s attention is necessary?”

“I challenge the power of the Emperor to deny rights to citizens of the Empire. His exercise of power contravenes the laws of both men and Gods.” That last phrase virtually guaranteed the High Court would at least examine his petition.

Lower courts were designed to hear infractions of Kiyem-merethil, the Laws of Men. But only the High Court was empowered to rule on violations of Kiyem-bo, the Laws of the Gods. Together, they created Kiyem-tethos, the Law of the Empire.

Kilthanis had just accused the Emperor of violating the laws handed down by the Gods. A suit involving the Emperor was enough to justify High Court review, as was the charge of a violation of Kiyem-bo. But combining both made review an almost foregone conclusion.

The Clerk paused for only a moment. “The High Court will hear your request. Deliver a copy of your complaint upon the Imperial Solicitor and the Court will grant you audience in two week’s time.”

Kilthanis bowed to the Clerk. “I thank the Court for its indulgence.” Kilthanis turned and headed in the direction of the Solicitor’s office.

Next>

Chapter 20

Friends of Emperor Kilthane Rychart would not have recognized the man who sat draped over the throne in the Great Hall of the Imperial Palace. He had a haunted look in his eye. He had ordered his throne to be brought here from the room where he usually held audiences.

His gaze during the audiences he granted was locked on the spot where the Imperial table had been during the anniversary celebration, the spot where his bride had died. He had ordered that a griffin feather be laid there. Some muttered at this breach of protocol. Griffin feathers were buried with the body, to help speed the soul into the afterlife. Seeing that she was a member of the Imperial family, several such feathers had been buried with her, to ensure an even swifter flight. But the grim reminder, in the new audience chamber, served to discomfit some who came to speak with the Emperor.

He barely listened to those who came before him. He failed to properly acknowledge the President of the Senate when he came to present bills for signature, a grave breach of etiquette. The Emperor was expected to give proper respect to even the lowest citizen of the Empire. Kilthane had always observed this formality. Failing to acknowledge the second most powerful man in the Empire properly spoke of a deep change in his character.

Liam Donal was taken aback by what he saw when he returned from his failed campaign in Kolam Robak. He waited his turn in line to speak. He didn’t chafe at this for two reasons. First, all citizens were equal, regardless of rank, thus they were seen on a first come, first seen basis. Second, he did not relish what he had to report.

The Emperor took one of his now rare glances up the line of supplicants and spotted Liam. “Commander Donal,” he called, interrupting the woman who was speaking to him. “Come forward and report.”

Murmuring swept the hall and a variety of concerned glances were exchanged. Liam was momentarily frozen, unsure what to do. But then his sense of duty asserted himself and he stepped out of line with an apologetic look to those who were before him. He hurried forward and took the unprecedented step of dropping to one knee before Kilthane.

“Your Majesty, I am yours to command.”

“How did the campaign go, Commander? Have you crushed those desert scum beneath your bootheel?”

Liam looked pained at his Emperor’s words. The image conjured up by the question didn’t sit well with him. “I am sorry, Your Majesty. I have failed you.”

“What!?” the Emperor roared. “You were defeated? How is this possible?”

Liam looked up into his lord’s now blazing eyes. If reports among the servants were to be believed, this was the most life he’d shown in over a week. “No, Your Majesty. There was no defeat. You see, there was no battle.”

“No battle?! I know you dislike violence, Donal, but I never figured you to back down from a fight where it was necessary.”

Liam’s spine stiffened at the implied insult, but he did nothing. He merely responded. “There was no fight to back down from, Your Majesty. We were unable to locate the City of Magic. Our maps are outdated and I believe the magicians used some trick—“

“I won’t hear of your excuses, Donal!” the Emperor snapped. “You should have beaten any message by a good four days! If you’re too incompetent to do the job, perhaps I shall have you replaced!”

If Liam’s spine had been stiff before it was now made of iron. His jaw clenched and he fought to retain his cool. The Emperor has been through a lot, he repeated in his mind. He is not himself. “If that is Your Majesty’s wish. I serve at your pleasure.”

“Bah! My pleasure is to have these vermin punished! Well, there should be no magicians in Yometh Robak! We know where Debobat is! Men trade there constantly! If you can successfully prosecute a war there, you can keep your command! Now be gone!”

Liam rose stiffly and bowed low, his hand sweeping across the tiled floor. “As Your Majesty commands.” He turned and, standing rigidly erect, he stepped out of the hall with as much dignity as he could muster.

The woman who had been interrupted continued her plea and the Emperor’s eyes returned to the feather in the middle of the floor as if nothing had happened.

Next>

Chapter 19

“Report!” Laris demanded of the head of his personal guard.

“Sir, there is nothing to report. The prisoners all insist that they have no knowledge of a plot against the Empire.” Captain Ethane had served under Laris for the last twelve years and knew that his report would not be well received.

“Nothing? How can there be nothing?” Laris demanded. “That poison peddler testified under Oath that he was hired by a desert man!”

“Yes sir. But certainly, you understand, not everyone in Osh’riyo knows the details of your various plans for the realm. And in my experience, the fewer people who know of this sort of plot, the better.”

“Of course, I know that! You think I’m some sort of fool Ethane?”

“Of course not, sire. I would never think that.”

“These desert people operate differently than you and I. Some say that one knows what the others know. Tell me, do we have any magicians in the holding cells?”

“None that I know of sir. However, I do believe we captured several that were on their way to the City of Magic when they were apprehended. So they have the spark.”

“Excellent! Focus your attention on them. They will have access to the inner secrets of their people. Those with the skill at magic are revered above all others in their culture.”

“Sir, I’m not sure—“

“I am not asking you to think! Do whatever it takes to wring the truth out of these prisoners! They must be made to speak!”

Ethane could see that there was no reasoning with Laris at this point. He occasionally got into these moods. Laris could be reasoned with, but one had to approach him at the right time and in the right way. This was not the time.

“Yes, my liege.” Ethane bowed and turned to leave the throne room. He was not pleased with the task set before him. But he had his orders. He really didn’t think anyone in the cells had any knowledge of the plot against the Emperor. But he might get lucky.

As he left the room, he bumped into Yokir, the seneschal. “Lord Yokir,” he bowed.

“Captain Ethane. Off to continue the interrogations?”

“Yes, my lord. Do you have any advice on how I can get to the bottom of this?” Ethane, along with many others, respected Yokir for his keen grasp of strategy and his ability to see to the heart of the problem.

“As I recall, Captain, the apothecary mentioned that the desert man who hired him had green eyes. He remembered it because it is a rare enough trait among their kind. Focus your search there. Perhaps you’ll get lucky.”

“Thank you, my lord. As always, your insight is tremendously helpful.” Ethane bowed again and hurried toward the cells.

Next>

Chapter 18

Kilthanis walked into the dining room of his large home in Dekiyem, the City of Law. He stopped and kissed Kelsey, his betrothed, before taking a seat and ordering some breakfast from the steward. Kelsey was a D’Ember, the second most powerful family in Reth’methil. That also made her a cousin to Laris Rychart and therefore a distant member of the Imperial family.

She looked up from the scroll she was reading as he finished his breakfast order. “Good morning, my love. And just what do you plan to do about this?” She indicated the document she held in her hand.

“Good morning, dear. And I’m quite sure I don’t know, since I have no idea what you’re reading.” He sipped his coffee, quite certain this argument was already lost.

“I’m talking about your Emperor’s latest crusade against the desert folk.”

“Well, darling, I’d remind you he’s your Emperor too. And I am already defending one man accused of plotting against the Empire. And based on our defense, I don’t think I could ethically take on the case of his co-conspirator.”

“Kilthanis, you know that’s not who I’m talking about!” she snapped. “These people are citizens of the Empire, the same as you and I and that means they are entitled to the same rights! Yet here he is, ordering them shipped off to a far-distant port without any basis in suspicion!”

“Well, Kelsey, you can always write to Laris and ask him to go easy on these poor souls. I understand he’s been placed in charge of the investigation personally.”

“That’s just the point! He’s been ordered to investigate by the Emperor. And he himself is of the blood Imperial. He has every incentive to track down the perpetrators. But even if he wasn’t inclined to investigate, he’d need the cover of a court decision before he could think about defying the Emperor.”

“A fair point. But I’m not sure how the courts would rule on this petition. The Empire’s been attacked. This investigation has been authorized by the Emperor himself.”

“These depredations are a violation of the law!”

“And he speaks with the voice of Borean. The law is both man and God-made, and you well know that God-made law trumps the laws of men.”

“He speaks for Borean because he happens to be from the right family! And not even the elder branch. The Empire grew from a democratic society and deserves a democratic leader! Or at least the proper heir to the throne. But even were I to grant your point, Bokiyem is the God of Law, not Borean. And no man, even the Emperor, should be above the law.

“And what’s more, you agree with me.”

During her tirade, the servants had brought Kilthanis his breakfast. He ate in thoughtful silence for several moments after Kelsey finished speaking.

Finally, he set down his fork and sighed. “You’re right, of course, love. I’ll head down to the Court and file a petition as soon as we’re done here.”

Next>

Chapter 17

Lysander walked among the staked out tents. It was early yet, but men were out front, stoking up cooking fires and preparing breakfast as best they could. He found a group of young soldiers, some of them looking like they still didn’t need to shave every day, huddled around a small fire.

“Good morning men,” Lysander looked down with a smile. “May I join you?”

The boys scrambled to stand and offer salutes. “Of course, Colonel,” one of them said. “Please.” He indicated an empty chair.

“Relax men. No need to be so formal. I’m just here to talk about the upcoming engagement. Have any of you men ever seen any action?” He knew the answer, but wanted to ask the question anyway.

“No sir,” another of the soldiers said. “But we’ve been drilling hard with the older men in preparation.” Other soldiers from neighboring tents began to gather around as word of Lysander’s impromptu visit spread.

“Good man, good man. I wanted to talk to you about what it’s like in battle. It’s a scary prospect, men, I’m not going to lie. Veterans of many campaigns have been known to feel fear before a fight.”

The men looked surprised at this. “Surely not you, sir,” a third one asked.

Lysander nodded. “Yes, even me.” He could see they didn’t believe him. “Look, I’ll let you in on a secret.” The men all leaned forward eager, to hear any wisdom their commanding officer chose to impart. “You all think I’m brave right?” They nodded. Lysander had a reputation among the men as someone who never backed down from a fight, regardless of the odds.

“Well you’re right. I am. But that doesn’t mean I don’t feel fear. Bravery is not the absence of fear. Bravery is doing what you must in spite of the fear you feel.” The older men gathered around nodded, while the younger ones looked thoughtful.

“Any man who doesn’t feel fear going into a battle is a danger and a fool. Any battle you enter could be your last. Fear is your body’s way of making sure that isn’t the case. The key is to make sure the fear doesn’t take over and stop you from doing what you must.

“Now, as soon as the cavalry shows up, we’re going to be marching into battle. We’ll be part of the biggest exercise of military might the Empire has shown in over two hundred years. We will be victorious. But I want to make sure that each and every one of you is around to tell your grandkids about the desert campaign you took part in.

“So remember – don’t run from your fear. Acknowledge it and deal with it. And trust in the other men in your unit. You’re brothers. Take care of each other.”

With that, Lysander rose from the stool he had borrowed, nodding to the large crowd that had gathered. Some saluted and others called out cheers Overall, the mood of the camp seemed much improved, in spite of the early hour. Lysander congratulated himself on a job well done.

Next>

Chapter 16

Giggles erupted from the command tent. The men on watch shared a smile. Their commander was at it again. Rumor had it half the women in the city of Kandara had surrendered their virtue to him and that countless others in the kingdom of Thasash were lining up to do so.

The giggling stopped and a few minutes later Lysander Hammersong, head of the First Imperial Infantry unit stepped out, strapping on his armor. He winked at the two men standing guard outside.

“Good morning, men. How stands the camp?”

“It’s well, sir,” the guard on the right replied. “Slept well?”

Lysander laughed. “Not so well as I might have.” He swaggered off to inspect the troops. He was excited. The prospect of action on the field of battle had his blood pumping. Lysander was widely respected as one of the greatest fighters in the Empire. Many a man had found this out the hard way by insulting Lysander.

He wandered up and down the lines of tents pitched here on the northern border of Thasash. Just a day’s march to the north lay the great western desert, Yometh Robak. He was waiting for the griffin cavalry to join him from their conquest of Kolam Robak before launching the invasion.

Lysander disliked the idea that he was incapable of handling this on his own. Yes, griffins had been the driving force behind Imperial expansion, but they were only so useful. You still needed men on the ground to mop up. Hadn’t it been the Imperial Infantry that had conquered Et’alash? For jungle warfare griffins were nearly useless.

Still, he had to admit, for open field warfare, the griffins were useful to have around. They had a habit of breaking the spirit of the enemy. Still, Lysander liked a spirited enemy. They gave a greater challenge. Slaughtering people who were running scared held no appeal for him.

He paced up and down the lines, not really seeing them. He wanted to start north now. Who knew how long it would take to pacify the eastern desert? His hand made its way to his sword hilt and squeezed it in frustration.

He stopped walking and took a deep breath. Losing his temper wasn’t going to do him any good. His time would come. He would earn much glory for himself and his men.

For now, he would just have to content himself with drilling his men, to make sure they were ready. He had never fought any of the desert men. He didn’t know much of their tactics. He wasn’t concerned about his own abilities, but his men had never seen real battle. The Empire was a mostly peaceful place. He knew some of them, the younger ones, were nervous.

He set off to find some of those younger men and put their minds at ease.

Next>

Chapter 15

Liam heard a cry from behind him and guided his griffin around in a tight circle. He urged the beast on to top speed as he approached the soldier who had cried out, his eyes scanning the ground.

*******

As the young magician collapsed, another stepped forward, forming the illusion in her mind as she did so. She was concerned for the young man who was now passed out in the middle of the street, but other matters were more pressing. She felt a cold knot of fear in her stomach as she saw a griffin begin to circle overhead and heard its triumphant cry.

*******

“Soldier, report!” Liam called across the intervening air to the soldier who had signaled.

“Commander, I thought I saw something on the ground below! It looked like houses sir!”

Liam scanned the ground below, but saw nothing but more sand and rock. He had heard tales that too much time in the hot sun could cook men’s minds, making them see things that weren’t there. Perhaps this was happening to his troops.

Everyone was on edge. They did not relish returning to the Emperor and reporting a failure. While it would be Liam who made the actual report, all of the men felt responsible and didn’t want to let their beloved Commander down.

“Do the griffins scent anything?” Liam asked.

The young soldier shook his head. “No sir. They haven’t given any indication that they’ve spotted anything.”

Liam nodded and made a command decision. “Very well soldier. I trust your eyes, but a man’s eyes can play tricks on him out here in these deserts. If the griffins haven’t spotted anything, I can’t fault any of you for failing to. We’re going back.”

He signaled to his officers and they formed up around him. “Men, this is pointless. If the magicians are down there, they have found a way to confound us. For now, we’re going to return home. Once the griffins are rested, we’ll deploy to the west and join up with the infantry for the assault on Yometh Robak.”

There were disappointed looks among the officers. None of them were eager to go to war, but they all felt the sting of failure. To a man they felt they had disappointed the Commander.

With a final signal and some shouted commands, the amassed griffins turned to the west and winged their way home.

Next>

Chapter 14

Liam Donal scanned the desert sands below him. The hot wind blew across his face, scouring it in a way that the cold mountain winds did not. His view was clear for miles, yet nothing seemed to disturb the unbroken dunes of sand that stretched as far as he could see.

If the old map in his pack was accurate, he should be able to see the spires of the city he was ordered to attack rising from the horizon ahead of him. Yet he saw nothing. A quick glance to his left and right showed that the officers under his command were just as baffled.

No one had seen any sign of human habitation, or they would have called out and circled to signal the attack. He didn’t understand it. Even if the map had been only approximate, he still should have seen some sign of the City of Magic. Roads to and from. Smoke rising from cooking fires. Something. But instead, he saw nothing but sand.

*******

Iliar the Solitary scanned the skies from the parapet outside his tower. He had seen griffins flying back and forth overhead for the last half hour. Clearly, the commander of the Empire’s forces had some idea of where his city should be. And yet, he could find no signs of it.

Iliar dared feel a glimmer of hope.

Down on the ground, ranks of magicians circled the city or stood on parapets similar to his own. Most were engaged in the casting of a great illusion, designed to cloud the minds of the men and beasts soaring overhead. The illusion was too great for any one magician to maintain, so each was given a small piece. While some were projecting an image of sand dunes, others were working to suppress the scents of so many humans living in close proximity to each other.

They hadn’t known when the griffins would arrive and they all knew that the avian eyes of the great beasts were keener than any man’s. Coupled with the altitude at which the beasts flew, they would see the city long before anyone there would spy them. Therefore, Iliar had ordered the illusion to be cast as quickly as possible. Now, hours later, men and women were beginning to tire.

Iliar had no idea how long the commander of the Empire’s forces would keep up the search. He only had to hope that it wasn’t much longer. Because if it was….

*******

On the outskirts of town, a young magician was maintaining the illusion of sand over three square blocks. He had been concentrating steadily for the last three hours, straining for the last hour. The hot sun beat down overhead. He felt the stress of the situation. Suddenly, his eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed to the ground.

Next>

Chapter 13

Iliar the Solitary sat alone in his room atop a high tower in Dhereshu. He was the Lord Keeper of the City of Magic, the most senior magician in all the realms. He was in charge of the education of those who were found to contain the spark within them. Desert folk from both East and West came here to learn. Some were assigned to work for the Empire, in accordance with the Pact signed by one of Iliar’s predecessors.

Today, he was glad that the Pact left the discretion of whom to send up to the Lord Keeper. While those outside the family of magicians knew some of the powers available, no one who wasn’t trained in Dhereshu knew them all. One carefully kept secret was that some of the most powerful magicians could communicate with each other with nothing other than the power of their minds. This communication was accurate and instantaneous.

For that reason, powerful mages were always assigned to serve the royal families of the realm and several were dispatched to serve the Emperor directly. It was one of these who had contacted Iliar the day before, to let him know of the attack on the Imperial family and the Emperor’s subsequent reaction.

Word had quickly spread across the realms and magicians had started to make their way home to the deserts, collecting as many of their kind as they could on the way. Now, Iliar was preparing to do what hadn’t been done in over two hundred years – take a stand against the Empire.

He knew that in a direct fight, his people were no match for the combined forces the Empire could bring to bear. It was only their usefulness that had allowed the desert folk to retain their autonomy this long.

He was disturbed by the reports that the attempt on the Emperor had been orchestrated by one of his kind. He knew that no one within the hierarchies of either Kolam Robak or Yometh Robak had been behind it. That was one of the first things he had ascertained. But if he didn’t act quickly, he would not be able to get to the bottom of this mystery.

He stood and walked out onto the stone and wattle parapet that looked out over his city. The white of the adobe reflected the bright sun into his eyes. He raised them and looked to the west, toward danger. Then, he turned his attention to the men and women standing in the courtyard below.

“My fellows,” he said, not needing to raise his voice to be heard. “After nearly four hundred years of peace, danger has come to us at last. We have strived to serve the Empire well and true and now the Empire has turned against us.” He paused, letting this sink in. There were few in the city who didn’t know this already, but it still needed to be absorbed.

“Right now, they send their griffins against us. Against this host, we cannot stand. But fear not. We need not give in to despair. For I have a plan. Imperial troops have not set foot on our sands in centuries, and no griffin has spied our city in that time.

“That does not change today.”

He looked out over the faces of his people and saw only grim determination and trust.

“Although rarely used, we have the power to cloud men’s minds. Today we will do that to wipe our city from the face of the earth. Let the griffins come. And let them think we have been swallowed by the sands.”

With that, the men and women below gave a great cry and moved to positions around the city. It would not be easy. There were many minds to fool, both human and not. The griffins would not depend on their eyes alone, but on their superior sense of smell to root out the location of Dhereshu. By the end of this day, the men and women under Iliar’s command would be exhausted. But if successful, the men of the Imperium would be leaving unsatisfied.

Iliar only hoped it would work.

Next>

Chapter 12

Hot wind stung Liam Donal’s eyes as he sat on the back of a large griffin at the edge of Kolam Robak. The transition from the cold mountains of Marubean was shocking. Liam was leading the griffin cavalry on this portion of the raid. Half a world away, the Imperial Legions would be massing on the southern border of Yometh Robak, the Western Desert, preparing to invade. As soon as he was done here, he would fly west to join them.

The overland passage from Maruth to the Eastern Desert was treacherous and would have taken many months for infantry units. Given that the ‘enemy’ in this case were a bunch of desert men, Liam didn’t anticipate needing them. So far as he knew, there was only one major city in Kolam Robak, Dhereshu, the City of Magic.

That thought gave Liam pause. No one really knew the full extent of the magicians’ power. He wasn’t sure what sorts of defensive magic they could bring into play. So far as he had seen, magic could only be used to affect men’s minds. He didn’t fear any direct attacks. But who knew what the magicians could do when they set their mind to it.

Still, he had his orders, and he would follow them. So far as he knew, no one from the Empire had visited the City of Magic since the Pact of Dhereshu was signed in 614, and the desert people had agreed to provide their magical skills to the Empire in exchange for autonomy.

Little was known about the city, except its general location, marked on an ancient map, a copy of which Liam kept in his pack. He had intended to ask some of the magicians in the palace for information, even though he didn’t expect to get a lot of cooperation. It had proved moot, however, since all of the Imperial magicians seem to have vanished. Whether rounded up and shipped off to Osh’riyo, or on the move towards their desert homelands to give warning, Liam didn’t know.

What he did know was that no magic under the sun could move a man faster than a griffin. Therefore, he felt confident that this attack would come as a complete surprise to the residents of Dhereshu. He was counting on that surprise to help save lives. A quick, decisive strike should convince the people of the Eastern Desert to surrender without unnecessary loss of life.

No armed force had ever stood before the might of the Griffin Cavalry. The only reason there were three wars with Et’alash instead of one was that no one had found a way to get griffins overseas. They couldn’t fly the distances, and for whatever reason, they refused to be housed on ships.

Liam surveyed the vast expanse of sand before him. If his map was correct, Dhereshu should be directly to the east, about an hour’s flight. He turned in his saddle to check on the ranks of griffins arrayed behind him. It was an impressive sight to see. Although not nearly as impressive as the sight of rank after rank of griffins in flight.

Hopefully, that sight alone would be enough to end this war. If not, today could be bloody indeed.

With that grim thought, Liam raised his hand and his griffin leapt into the air. He brought his arm down and five hundred griffins arose with a thunderous flap of wings. His mount wheeled in the air as Liam made one last survey of his lines. Then, turning once again, he led his mounted men to the East, and to battle.

Next>