Empire Awakening (Maledorian Chronicles Book 2) Read online

  He glanced up and realized they’d reached the palace. The place looked meaner, somehow, and far more foreboding. When he had first come to Criswall and studied the palace, a tight knot of anger had twisted in his gut. Now, as the temporary home of the boy, the place was far too quiet and empty. Most of the servants had fled or been put to work in other more important roles. Only the king and queen and a few of the high-ranking nobility remained as prisoners.

  Inside, they made their way to the stateroom, where the floor was covered in a massive map made of colorful mosaic tiles. It illustrated the Kingdom of Mar Thagroth and the disputed lands, where the Maledorian Empire once ruled. The boy paced back and forth, his glowing eyes downcast as he studied the map. He wore a simple green tunic and dark pants, looking more like a boy at play than a god, except for those strange eyes.

  “So, tell me, Duke, why are you not concerned that Prince Jondran’s army won’t turn around and march back to reclaim the city?” The boy studied the Duke of Wrainton. The aging man was dressed in a black suit with fashionable gold buttons. He always looked like a pompous ass, the kind that Lord Rigar despised.

  The duke cleared his throat and noticed Rigar’s arrival. “Ah, there you are, at last. I was just about to explain the principles of military strategy to our lord.”

  “Teach me military strategy?” The boy scoffed. “Watch your tongue and do not presume to school me.”

  “My apologies, Lord Ba’al. I was merely hoping to communicate that, if Prince Jondran has already engaged the armies of the Kingdom of Jalinfaer, then he would never and could not turn to march north. He’d be crushed by his enemies. They have to hold the line until they can secure victory or sue for peace, which I think, at this point, is not an option. The royals of Jalinfaer are too furious with him over the death of Prince Silvren. So, victory over Jalinfaer is their only option.”

  “Am I supposed to believe your naivety?” the boy said. “What if the Prince takes a smaller, elite force and marches north? He could play a defensive position with the armies of Jalinfaer while he attacks Criswall. Don’t cause me to regret giving you such a position of power in my new empire. We have no army and a dwindling, frightened population. All the men are south with Jondran. What’s left for us?”

  The boy exhaled forcefully, slamming his fist into his hand. The action was so adult-like that it looked ridiculous coming from a boy. Lord Rigar had to remind himself that a god, his god, was inside the body. Though, he had to admit, few historical aspects often attributed to Ba’al were displayed in the boy. Why was that? Instead, the child was often petty, cruel, and short-tempered. Some days, the boy was a genius and on others, forgetful. Rigar wondered, in secret, if he had somehow gotten the summoning all wrong and, instead, invited another kind of entity into the boy. But whatever it was, the being was incredibly powerful and could not be disregarded.

  Lord Rigar found it prudent to remain wary. “We will build an army, your greatness. A vast and terrible army.”

  “So you have been telling me… I taught you the spell of merging separate entities, but so far, you have failed to create even one credible fabrication. All your experiments have yielded no fruit.” The boy considered Rigar with a look of impatience and suspicion. “And why was it necessary for me to summon you, instead of being able to find you hard at work in your laboratory? Why do you reek of alcohol? Though you helped cast the spell that brought me back into this world, I will not hesitate to cast you out and banish you. I warn you. Success is the only option for you now.”

  “My apologies, your greatness.” Rigar bowed to the boy, his mind locking on the threat of banishment. How the boy had said the word sounded more like a death sentence. “We’ve had many disappointing setbacks recently. A terrible accident that destroyed a number of the samples. I stepped away from the project to think and reflect. But now, I find clarity has come to me, and I believe I know the right way forward. We will succeed. As a show of my faith, I will not leave the laboratories until the work is done.”

  “I don’t need more words, Lord Rigar. I need results. Leave us and see to it that you only return with good news.” The boy turned his back on him and studied the map once more.

  Rigar left the room and made his way out of the sumptuous palace, fuming at his treatment by the boy. He no longer obeyed out of joy and exhilaration but out of fear. He knew, if he failed in his task of building an army of fabrications, it would cost him his life.

  He returned to the carriage waiting outside, but his wife did not join him. Instead, he bore the ride back to the laboratory in silence, his mind occupied with the problem he had been struggling in vain to solve: how to craft the warrior fabrications.

  The concept he had received from Ba’al was quite simple: use magic to fuse living things together and form a new fabrication with magnified properties. But the boy’s memories were scattered and weak. His directions as to the process remained unclear. Though he claimed to be the living incarnation of Ba’al, it was obvious he only held a small thread, only a slight connection to the god source.

  Rigar admitted the boy was often godlike and could cast many strange and useful spells, but often they were random and could not be replicated. Some days were better than others, and they had called for scribes to document his ramblings and his use of magic. The more they wrote down, the more they were able to put together the pieces of the puzzle. The boy was like a window into the vastness of Ba’al, a window with an ever-changing landscape on the other side.

  This fact often enraged the boy. When he tried to replicate some spell or power or recall some fact, he threw into a tantrum when the effort was unsuccessful. And he was often unsuccessful. More and more, Lord Rigar concluded that the thing inside Remi was not Ba’al but some fragment of the god.

  Rigar slid open the window to the front of the carriage. “Drop me off here, driver.” He wanted to walk and clear his head.

  The carriage slowed, and soon, he was on the cobblestone streets once again. Curious eyes cast his way, and then the people bowed to him before continuing their work cleaning the streets. Much had changed in the city. The duke had seen to reinstating order through imposing martial law. Everyone worked, no exception. Even children worked, especially if they wanted to eat.

  A massive redistribution of wealth had happened after the revolution. But all the money and goods went to the duke—for safe-keeping and the supposed benefit of the people. At least that’s what they told the regular folk. They had sent fanatical priests throughout the city to secure anything of value and stockpile it in the castle. The gold and silver ensured a steady supply of food from the farms surrounding Criswall and the traders who came to barter.

  The refugees who used to live outside the city in squalor now resided within the safety of the walls and were well-fed. The people loved their new rulers and their new god. The Lord of the Fallen was magnanimous and cared for the common people. Rigar scoffed, thinking how ridiculous the whole thing was. It was a lie.

  He walked through the streets of the Devil’s Quadrant, eying people repairing the damage that had been done because of the riots. They believed they were working for the benefit of their people and their new empire, but in reality, they were to be mere fodder for their god. Soldiers in their new army. The idea caused a shiver to run down his spine.

  He turned a corner and continued down a street toward the warehouse, where the laboratory resided. The massive building had once housed the largest trading company in the city. Now, the owners had been lynched and their possessions were stolen and sold off to the trading caravans that flocked to and from Criswall like an army of ants.

  The two guards at the entrance eyed him with caution as he approached, giving a quick nod of recognition as they opened the door. They had been trained well to guard the place with their lives and keep out curious visitors. Inside, he passed more guards and more checkpoints, finally reaching the inner sanctum, where the instruments and the cages were stored.

  His assistants gree
ted him, their eyes fanatical and cruel. Rigar supposed it took a particular kind of person to work here, especially in these conditions and with these types of experimentation.

  “Another subject has died, Lord Orensal.” Cavanish, his senior laboratory assistant, greeted him with disappointed eyes. The chubby, flat-faced young man wore a white lab coat and over-sized spectacles. “We tried the new test, but it still generated nothing of value.”

  “You tried fusing the subject with the rose bush?” The idea had been to merge a human with the spikes and flexibility of a rose bush. Other times, they’d gone outside in the forest and tried, to no avail, to merge a human with trees.

  Rigar glanced over at Relek, his young apprentice. The boy’s fierce blue eyes looked strangely subdued today.

  “I cast the spell that Ba’al has taught us, but unfortunately, the result was unfavorable.” Relek pointed at a strange green blob of spiked human tissue and jutting bones undulating on the floor. Was the thing still alive? Most of their experiments resulted in the death of the subject.

  Horrified, Rigar looked away and exhaled sharply. “Get that mess out of here. And clean it up! I don’t want a trace of that taint corrupting our future experiments.” He clenched his fists and looked up at the afternoon rays of sunlight shining in through the high windows. “What are we missing? We’ve tried how many combinations, hundreds?”

  “Three hundred and twenty-four, Lord Rigar,” said the chubby assistant. He went quiet, staring at the ground after Rigar glared at him. Had they killed that many people?

  “What are we doing wrong?” Rigar looked at the assistant. “Do you have a recording of the combinations we’ve tried? I’d like to review the list before we make another attempt. We have to think differently…”

  He allowed his mind to wander for a moment, thinking of their past failures and previous planning sessions. All their hypotheses were incorrect. What were they missing? If only he had Elendria here to talk about the situation. She was always so good at helping him solve difficult problems. In fact, she had been the one who had given him the clue to casting the spell that ultimately summoned Ba’al.

  The conversation with his wife came suddenly to his mind. He did have to do something about trying to find her and bring her back. Relek was the right person for the job, he decided.

  “Come with me for a moment.” Rigar motioned for his apprentice to follow him over to the office, where the trade masters had once stored their shipping documents. He waited for Relek to enter then closed the door. “I have an important mission for you.”

  The young man raised an eyebrow and sat. “More important than building our army?”

  “Yes, to me, this is more important, at least for the time being. And it is extremely time-sensitive.” Rigar frowned. “It’s about my daughter. I want you to go with Dondran and track her down. You must bring her back to us.”

  Relek scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. “What? You have to be kidding me. Are you sending me off into the northlands to play nursemaid for your daughter? I tried to overpower her mind, but it seems the witch taught her a powerful version of a magical shield. I’ve never encountered such a thing before. Besides, we agreed to give up on her! Why are you changing things?”

  “Don’t forget your place, apprentice. You were the one who was so eager to join me. And now, insubordination?” Rigar tilted his head. “Finding my daughter is of utmost importance, not only to me but also to our new empire. She has been caught in the clutches of a coven of witches. By locating her and bringing her back, you will also gain valuable intelligence about their organization. Whether we like it or not, they are a threat. Madam Lassengre and her witches are threats. I’m counting on you.”

  “And what about the work here? I’ve been making progress.” Relek looked pained at the thought of leaving, though Lord Rigar believed him ill-suited for the task of creating the constructs. He was far stronger at battle magic, as he possessed little in the way of a creative mind. It was time for Rigar to take a more active role in the experiments. He would personally achieve success and meet the demands of Ba’al.

  “It is not progress when we’ve failed three hundred and twenty-four times!” Rigar shouted. “Go north and find my daughter. Bring her back to me, or you’ll have no future in this empire. You’ve already failed several times in this task, and I won’t accept failure again. Do you understand?”

  Rigar waited for signs of irritation or defiance, but the young man only bowed his head, resigned, and left the room. Dondran was a powerful sorcerer and the best tracker he’d ever known. The two of them would be a formidable pair. Nothing else would do, especially against the witches and the dangers lurking in the northlands.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Elendria and the others in their group paid a visit to Master Henrik in the healer’s house and was pleased to find the man awake and looking better. The color had returned to the old stable master’s face.

  “Must have given ya quite a fright.” He grinned broadly. “Crahn says I nearly died. Must have been a foul spirit from the spell of lightning. ’Twas a strange thing, indeed. It’s a good thing you noticed and insisted I rest.” He glanced at Madam Lassengre. “And I owe you my life, sorceress. I thank you for bringing me here in time.”

  “Think nothing of it, stable master. Consider it payment for aiding in our escape.”

  “What’s this about you returning?” Master Henrik gave the old woman a concerned frown. “That sounds like a poor plan to me.”

  “I have my own mind and my own reasons, stable master, though it is difficult for me to leave the children. But I have done my part to ensure Lady Elendria and her friends will be safe. I find myself compelled by duty to return to Criswall, undercover, and part ways for now.”

  The stable master let out a disbelieving scoff. “What of the duty to ensure their safety to the mountains? And why should Elendria go to such a dangerous destination? I have a mind to ask her to stay with me. I got a brother nearby who moved his family north. He runs a farm off to the west of Wilhem. When I recover, I suspect I’ll go pay him a visit. Lady Elendria and her friends can come. I have a sworn duty to keep her safe.”

  “You can’t do anything to keep her safe from those cultists.” Madam Lassengre narrowed her eyes at him. “Physical safety means nothing to a magician. The girl must continue north to the mountains. The witches will help further her magical training. Without it, she’ll be vulnerable. Does duty mean getting in the way of her education?”

  “Education.” The old stable master spat out the words as if they were poison. “First, it was the King’s College and now those witches of yours. Well, to be honest, I don’t know you nor trust you. And who’s this Devin who’ll guide them?”

  “I’m not pleased about the situation, either.” Elendria glanced at the sorceress. “But, I do trust you. And after experiencing that magical attack last night, I know I have to gain more control over magic and put some distance between Relek and me. I’ve no other choice than to continue north on my own or with this woodsman.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Master Henrik said and sat up with a grimace.

  “You’ll go no place at all for at least a week,” the healer said, entering the room. “The lightning spirit still lingers around you, old man. And you’re too weak to travel. If you choose to ignore my advice and leave, I can guarantee the spirit will return and re-infect you. Without my help in permanently expelling the spirit, you’ll fall ill again and die.”

  The stable master made an irritated clicking sound and glanced at Elendria in earnest expectation. “Not much choice, then?”

  “I’m afraid not,” said Madam Lassengre, frowning.

  “When will I have to leave?” Elendria said.

  “At daybreak tomorrow. However, I will leave for Criswall immediately. One of my first tasks will be to see if I can dissuade this young cultist, Relek, from attacking you.” Though the sorceress seemed confident in her assertion, Elendria could see a glimmer of d
oubt in her eyes. “There’s the question of also dealing with your father and the boy. For them, I’ll need to wait for Arcturius and Cambria if I can succeed at first.”

  “But how can you deal with Relek without exposing yourself to my father? Relek is his apprentice.”

  The old woman gave her a devious grin. “I have my ways… For now, I’ll say goodbye and bid you a speedy recovery.” She bowed to Master Henrik and turned to face Elendria. “Be always mindful and alert as you venture north. Though Devin is an excellent guide and knows the route well, he’s no magician. He also lacks the social graces you and Lady Lysha are used to, so consider this when dealing with him. In his heart, he’s a good man, despite his rough edges.”

  “But how will we find the witches?”

  “They’ll find you in Damak. Keep an eye out for a flock of crows.” She turned and nodded to Crahn. “Take good care of him, or I’ll make good on my threat.”

  “Go on with ya, witch. That threat’s as old and smelly as I am.” The healer snorted at her as she swept out of the room.

  Master Henrik gave a hacking cough and reclined to his bed. “I guess I’ll say my goodbyes for now, though I’m loath to leave you to go north with that woodsman. It ain’t right, I tell ya.”

  She gave him a warm smile and patted his hand. “Rest now. I’ll be fine. I meant it when I said I trusted Madam Lassengre. I don’t think she’d leave me with someone ill-suited for the journey. But don’t worry. I’ll be cautious. What about you? Will you go to your brother’s farm after you’ve recovered?”

  “Aye, if you remember him from Maren Downs. The ol’ bugger got himself a nice place around ten miles west of here. I’m sure I’ll be welcome there, though I’ll miss the King’s College and the life there. And of course, I’ll miss you.”