Empire Awakening (Maledorian Chronicles Book 2) Page 23

  “It doesn’t mean you can’t shave.” She winked at him, touching the stubble along his jaw. “You look far older than the last time I saw you. Are you the handsome young prince I met in the palace?”

  Prince Jondran glanced around at the grins and snickers the soldiers were giving him. She was making fun of him at his expense. “We have an enemy to beat, not a ball to attend. I’m sorry to hear if the roughness of our camp displeases you.”

  “Not in the least.” She gave an amused snort. “I’ve been quite used to living in the wild lands. These are far nicer accommodations and a more civilized society compared to what I’ve been experiencing. Miners, thieves, and we even encountered ladies of ill repute, all the sordid parts of life in the north. Though I found myself quite enjoying it. How has your army been getting along down here? Have you attacked my father’s army of constructs?”

  This was not a topic he wanted to discuss with his men listening. “Not yet. You’ve arrived just in time. Why don’t you come along, so we can discuss plans for our attack? Perhaps, you could provide some insights into what Lord Rigar is thinking.”

  Lady Elendria gave a small bow. She introduced Prince Jondran to Madam Lassengre, Drevenia, the leader of the northern coven of witches, and Hadara, Elendria’s magical tutor.

  He nodded to Lysha and Maggie, pleased to see they’d survived the journey, and he met Tal, a proud-looking boy who stood next to Lysha as if he were protecting her. They all joined him as he led them away from the soldiers, who dispersed at their departure.

  As they approached the tall war tent with colorful banners streaming at the top, they were greeted by Branwenth, Arcturius, and the witch Cambria. Inside, several generals from both kingdoms were engaged in a heated conversation.

  In the days since Jondran had shown Cambria the constructs, they’d had many sleepless nights of furious negotiations with the leaders of Jalinfaer and finally reached a mutually acceptable truce. Whatever military strategy they formulated would have to be approved by the leaders of Jalinfaer, an arrangement Jondran hoped to make easier through the inclusion of the witch Cambria and their top generals.

  The center of the war room contained a massive map of Maren Downs set inside a large table. Placed on top of the map were various figures representing the armies, including the army of constructs off to the east. The generals were gathered around the table, pointing at the figures while engaged in a charged debate.

  “If we attack tomorrow at dawn, we’ll have the advantage of surprise!” shouted one general, a broad-shouldered man with striking blue eyes, who bore the colors of Mar Thagroth. “We’ll lead our forces in a split formation, assemble at the top of both hills, and reign down wizard’s flame and volleys of fire arrows at them. Their forces will scatter into the jungle, burning. Those constructs can be destroyed by fire, correct, grandmaster?”

  Arcturius cleared his throat, looking thoughtful. “They are formed of wood, humans, and a third creature. So, yes, I suspect they will burn.”

  “But what about the insect variants with tough carapace for armor? I doubt fire will affect them.” From the Jalinfaer entourage, a tall, commanding general with beady eyes and tanned, oily skin spoke. He looked irritated at the general from Mar Thagroth. He ran his long fingers through slick, dark hair. “We should bring a large force far north as a distraction and lead them away from our main vanguard. Then we strike them in the back and crush them.”

  “It never ceases to amaze me how small-minded men are, especially military men.” Madam Lassengre sniffed, studying the people in the room. “I am the one who first discovered the cultists, while they were experimenting and creating these constructs. Instead of using traditional military strategy—which works only on traditional soldiers—we need to think differently and more broadly. Otherwise, we will utterly lose.”

  “And do you propose to have the solution?” said the general from Jalinfaer. “Or are you here only to belittle us.”

  Madam Lassengre shook her head, amused. “Don’t cry because I’ve scolded you. I merely wanted to focus everyone’s attention on the real problem before this discussion gets out of control.”

  “What is the real problem?” shouted the first general. “Speak plainly.”

  “The real problem,” the sorceress continued, “is that no matter what we do against them using traditional warfare, we will lose. There is no hope. I can assure you of that. I’ve seen these constructs fight groups of well-armed, well-trained soldiers, and they beat the humans five to one, and sometimes ten to one. It wasn’t even a close fight. Even worse, while armies of men lose heart and run from battles, the constructs fight to the death. And from the information I’ve gleaned during my scouting missions, they have more constructs than ever. The situation is far worse than it was a week ago. They are creating constructs at a rapid pace.”

  The generals murmured amongst each other, casting worried glances at their comrades.

  Madam Lassengre raised her hands to stop them. “There is a solution, I believe, and it involves magic and subterfuge. I’ve already discussed this with Arcturius, Cambria, and the other witches of my coven. We believe we have an approach that might give us a chance.”

  Drevenia nodded. “What we have decided is to execute multiple plans, including capture, directly against their leaders. The constructs are thralls under the command of the cultists, most of whom possess magical abilities.”

  Madam Lassengre continued, “Over their entire army rules the boy with the fragment of an ancient god inside—his name is Remi. I believe the boy has power over Lord Rigar Orensal, who is the one responsible for the summoning and the successful invention of the constructs. Lastly, the Duke of Wrainton will need to be captured, for he is largely considered the financial and operational side of the cult.”

  “How in the name of the gods do you plan on being able to get close enough to capture them?” The tall, tanned general from Jalinfaer frowned as he studied Drevenia and Madam Lassengre.

  “That is where the magic comes in, along with a good disguise.” Madam Lassengre raised an eyebrow at the group. “I’ve managed to steal quite a few of the cultists’ robes during my time in Criswall, and I’ve learned of their manners, and their way of talking, including prayers said to Ba’al. I will train our group on how to pass as one of the cultists. The spell of invisibility should get us past the outer ring of constructs, who do not, as far as I’ve seen, possess any magical ability. The danger of relying on magic to hide lies in the potential of discovery by the cultists.”

  “And how do you propose to kill a god?” the general from Mar Thagroth said. “If having a god inside a human body counts for being a god.”

  “We don’t believe that will be necessary. In fact, we want to preserve the life of this boy, Remi, who was unfortunate enough to be the victim.” Madam Lassengre eyed Lady Elendria, who nodded in appreciation. “A complex spell of banishing should work to exorcise the fragment of the god lodged inside the boy’s mind.”

  “Then who are you planning to capture?” said the general from Jalinfaer.

  “The Duke of Wrainton, definitely,” said the sorceress, “and other senior cult leaders in their organization. Anyone who might control the constructs and lead a fight against us. Capture or kill, if necessary.”

  “What about this Lord Rigar Orensal? Shouldn’t we plan on killing him also?” The oily-skinned general from Jalinfaer seemed gleeful at the prospect.

  Madam Lassengre pursed her lips. “He is a more delicate subject, and we’d prefer to capture and interrogate him. We believe he could provide us with valuable information that might prevent such a thing from happening again in the future. He might also give us information on how we can control the constructs and keep them from wreaking havoc.”

  Lady Elendria let out a sigh of relief. The girl was still quite attached to her father. Prince Jondran wondered if that might be a problem in the future.

  “So, we form teams and strike out into our enemy’s camp first thing
tomorrow?” said the witch Cambria. The woman had been quiet all along, listening attentively and no doubt was judging every word Madam Lassengre had said. The witch was a notorious critic and never failed to express an opinion. Perhaps, it was a positive sign, Jondran thought, that she hadn’t released a torrent of insults and snide remarks.

  “Normally, yes, that would be prudent. But in this case, we must go tonight under cover of darkness. We’ve not a moment to spare. We propose three teams. One to go after the boy, Remi, another to go after the duke, and the last group will seek to dissuade Lord Rigar. I believe, if we at least succeed in the first mission, Lord Rigar will be more easily turned. Lady Elendria, you will go in the group tasked to convince your father to rejoin the kingdoms of men.”

  “That might be far more difficult than you imagine,” said Elendria, frowning. “But I will try.”

  “Who will lead the vanguard group against the boy—this Remi?” said the general from Jalinfaer.

  “This is our most important mission,” Arcturius spoke with a loud, clear voice, drawing everyone’s attention. “The boy will likely be surrounded by many cultists. We will need magical and physical strength, a hybrid team of magicians and soldiers. I propose that I will lead this group with Prince Jondran and the men he selects.”

  “I want to go,” said Maggie, stepping up to the wizard. “Remi is my best friend, and I want to see him safe. I want him back.”

  “There are too many dangers, child,” the wizard said. “I would not see you killed.”

  “I can take care of myself. Besides, Devin, our woodsman guide, taught me a few things about combat and stealth.” She withdrew her daggers, her eyes determined.

  “While we all admire your bravery, unfortunately, we cannot allow you to go.” Arcturius shook his head. “You must stay here and remain safe.”

  Though Maggie looked upset at the proclamation, she didn’t issue a retort. Lysha put an arm around the girl.

  “I will stay here with Maggie. I’m afraid I won’t be any good in such a mission. I’ll only get in the way.” Lysha looked embarrassed by the admission, but Arcturius gave her an understanding smile.

  “And the second group?” said the general from Mar Thagroth.

  “Cambria,” said Arcturius. “We would ask that you lead that party and capture the duke. Kill as many cultists as you can along the way but do so carefully. The main objective is to secure the duke. We will give you soldiers who can recognize him. He must be alive, so that we can question him.”

  Lady Elendria studied Madam Lassengre. “You will lead the group against my father?”

  “Yes, I have met him and have some ideas on turning him away from his insanity.” The sorceress eyed Drevenia, Hadara, and the other witches. “You may join whichever party you feel best suited to participate in.”

  One of the generals from Jalinfaer cleared their throat, trying to get attention. “And what role is the military to play in this? Only Prince Jondran, of Jalinfaer, is currently assigned a role.”

  “We would ask that the army from each kingdom assign their best soldiers to the parties. But we suggest only several men per party to retain stealth. Allow this to influence your decision. Your best rangers, assassins, and martial artists would be preferred. This is a night mission, and the key is to keep noise to a minimum. The enemy won’t be expecting this approach.”

  The generals nodded amongst themselves and began discussing possible soldiers for the assignments.

  “But be quick about it. We’ll need your men to gather here outside the war tent in one hour’s time.”

  Prince Jondran knew that, with so many people involved, the chances of failure were magnified. Long-time enemies would be fighting together. But what other choice did they have?

  Everyone broke out into their discussions, and those from Jalinfaer switched to using Sarthian, their language. Jondran hoped it would all come together, or they risked their best men and women in a wild gambit.

  We might be crazy, thought the prince, but the gods help us if we’re wrong about this plan.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  A faint smile played on Lord Rigar’s face as he studied his army of flying constructs. They looked magnificent, strong and fierce, and ready to do battle against his foes. But there was no need for them to kill their brothers and sisters. He would not have a war of constructs. They must prepare their strength and fight the real enemy: the human soldiers and corrupt leaders of the mortal kingdoms. They had their orders and would fly out tonight at midnight. No more would they wait passively for the enemy to act. The planets were aligned, and the timing was perfect.

  But first, he must deal with the boy while he slumbered away, dreaming his nightmares and tossing restlessly in his sleep. He would free Remi of the curse Lord Rigar had placed upon the boy and redeem himself to his daughter.

  After he commanded his constructs to remember the moon at the zenith and to execute their plan, he joined Castenar and his other loyal cultists and left their forest sanctuary.

  Twilight always imparted an extraordinary power to magicians, and Rigar could feel the energy flowing into him as he trekked through the lush foliage blanketing the forest. The plan was set, and they dared not hesitate. They would meet other allies in several hours and secure the perimeter around the boy and wait until he was deeply asleep.

  The duke had been captured. That was the simplest part of their plan. The man lay in chains in the heart of the forest, bound and gagged and waiting for their return. What a hideous construct the man would make. Perhaps a reptile, a snake? It would be fitting, Rigar decided and grinned to himself.

  Remi and the duke had been arguing earlier in the day, and Lord Rigar had taken the opportunity of the duke’s frustrated outburst—storming away on his own—to abduct the man. It seemed the boy was growing more forgetful lately, and the duke had been irritated by the boy’s inability to remember the location of the ancient artifact of power.

  What the hell are we doing here? the duke had shouted.

  The boy had remained stoic throughout the duke’s rant, looking distant. But finally, he said, The relic is here. We must find it before we engage our enemies. Do you dare disobey me?

  The challenge and subsequent breakdown had gained Rigar a significant opening, and taking the duke had solidified his position. Now, the boy was alone, with only Lady Shallia and the other cultists to look out for him. But Rigar knew he could deal with his wife—after handling the boy—and the cultists would likely offer no resistance. Some would put up a fight, but he could deal with them. In fact, talking to them individually, many doubted the boy and their mission and were worried they were losing their advantage.

  Trust in Ba’al, Lord Rigar had assured them. He is greater than all mortal manifestations. Remember, I warned you all that the road would be strenuous and the journey filled with dangers. Ultimately, we will prevail.

  Their spies had been quite specific: there was a truce now between the warring kingdoms of Jalinfaer and Mar Thagroth. It was everything they’d feared. A unified alliance fighting against the new Maledorian Empire. Lord Rigar knew he had to act quickly to ensure they could crush their armies in a surprise attack and repel them from the sacred land of Maren Downs. Simultaneously, he had to deal with the boy and secure an absolute grip over their entire army of constructs.

  Hours later, they arrived at their main camp. He nodded to the cultist guards outside and penetrated their fortifications. The boy had instructed their army to build a massive wall around their camp in the event their enemies decided to attack. Not that a wooden wall would do any good against the magical fire of wizards and witches. Still, it was something, Rigar supposed. Better than waiting here like rabbits in a field.

  He had sent allies ahead to scout and ensure they avoided his wife. They had specific instructions to keep her distracted and away from the boy and, if necessary, to bound and gag her if she began to suspect anything. The timing had to be perfect.

  Inside the tent encam
pment he went, keeping an eye out for his wife or any cultists who might offer resistance. They were on the edge of greatness, on the cusp of forming their new empire. Once he had solidified their forces, he knew the human armies would offer little opposition.

  “Is everything ready?” Rigar said, greeting Castenar with a slight nod.

  “The boy is asleep, and we’ve managed to post guards loyal to our cause outside his room.”

  “Good, you’ve done well, loyal friend.” Rigar slapped the man’s shoulder and walked with him toward the main tent. “And Lady Shallia?”

  “She is resting in her room. We’ve also placed someone loyal as her guard.”

  “Impressive. You’ve seen to everything, haven’t you?”

  Castenar gave a deep bow. “For the glory of Ba’al and the creation of the new Maledorian Empire.”

  A new empire ruled by me, thought Lord Rigar, grinning to himself. Castenar beckoned him toward the entrance to the boy’s tent, where the two red-robed cultists nodded at them.

  Rigar could feel the excitement welling up inside. Now was their chance. Everything had to be executed correctly to ensure the exorcism went well.

  He swept aside the tent flap and entered the dim room lit by only a few flickering candles. The boy was lying on the bed sleeping fitfully, the sheets clumped and stained with sweat.

  Castenar entered with several other senior cultists, who were there to help with the exorcism. Their instructions were clear: seize the boy and keep his arms and legs bound, his mouth gagged, and his eyes and ears covered. The fragment of Ba’al inside the boy must not be allowed to use its powers. Every step now was dangerous. They had to tread lightly or risk losing everything.

  Lord Rigar’s raised hand lowered, giving the signal to strike. From all sides of the room, his men advanced on the boy, moving stealthily. Castenar held a cloth ready to gag the boy. Two cultists prepared to grab both the boy’s arms, while two more were prepared to seize Remi’s legs. And Lord Rigar was at the boy’s head, ready to pin down his head and cover his eyes.