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.

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