Lord Marak sat astride his horse atop a large hill on the Balomar estate. The men of Botal’s squad formed a protective ring around the Torak lord as Botal, Halman, and Gunta joined Lord Marak in watching the battle.
“Their charge is faltering,” remarked Botal. “After all of the probing that they have done, I would not expect that.”
“It is neither the terrain nor the stiff resistance that is causing their faltering,” responded Lord Marak. “It is confusion. We had wondered if the Glamaraldi spies had discovered the various clans that have assembled here. It is now obvious that they had not.”
“You mean that they are confused by the uniforms?” questioned Halman.
“Exactly,” nodded Lord Marak. “They are just now discovering that they are up against more than just the Balomar clan.”
“The northern group is pulling back,” pointed Gunta.
Lord Marak turned slightly to look in the direction that Gunta was pointing. He saw the Jiadin warriors, who were dressed as Glamaraldi soldiers, retreating. He slowly scanned the battlefield from the area of the retreat towards the south. About one third of the attackers had turned and fled from the battle, but the other two thirds were still attacking.
“You have to admire the way the Jiadin use their bows while on horseback,” Lord Marak commented. “They are much better at it than we are.”
“Much of Khadoran fighting is on foot in forests and estates,” shrugged Botal. “Fakarans fight over the open range. Theirs is not so much a fight for territory as it is one of elimination.”
“True,” nodded Lord Marak. “I wonder what type of combat the war against the great evil will require? I wish we could learn more about what is to come.”
“Perhaps we should start training units to fight like the Fakarans do,” suggested Halman.
“Or have Fakarans fighting by our side,” mused Lord Marak.
“Tagoro’s group is turning the tide,” Botal said excitedly. “Their center is collapsing. They are retreating.”
“This was just a probe,” sighed Lord Marak.
“Just a probe?” echoed Botal. “Five thousand Jiadin charging you is not just a probe.”
“It is to the Jiadin,” corrected Lord Marak. “The tribes of Fakara did not engage much in all out warfare. If they can crush their opponent in one easy sweep, they will do so. If they cannot, they will probe until they find a weakness. Obviously, the other estates that have fallen so far did not present any challenge to the Jiadin. They had no need to probe. This time it is different.”
“Their southern flank is breaking off,” noted Halman. “If this is a probe, when will the next one be?”
“We have no way of knowing,” shrugged Lord Marak. “That is the bad part about defending. We must always be ready for the attack. It could come at any time.”
“I would prefer attacking,” frowned Gunta. “Let them remain on guard for a while.”
“I would love to take the fight to them,” smiled Lord Marak, “but not this time. In this battle we get to be the defenders. At least we now have the provocation that we have waited for. Botal, I want an air mage positioned on this hill at all times, night and day. Let’s return to the mansion and prepare for a trip to Khadoratung. Lord Oktar finally has a provocation to present to the Lords’ Council.”
“I have already taken the liberty,” grinned Botal as he pointed to an air mage riding up the hill. “I knew you would want this hill manned once you saw the view from it. I left a note for an air mage to join us.”
“Ophia,” nodded Lord Marak as he turned to see the young woman riding up the hill. “She will do fine.”
“Lord Marak,” greeted Ophia. “I have been looking all over for you since dawn. Your note was not discovered until just recently.”
“Why are you searching for me?” Lord Marak asked with concern in his voice.
“We have had messages from everywhere this morning,” explained the mage. “Latril sent one from the Neju estate. She says the Emperor has been assassinated. Kaylee from the Nordon estate says the same, but adds that you must travel swiftly to Khadoratung. The Lords’ Council is to meet to choose a new Emperor. Lord Marshal Yenga asked for a report of the conditions here. He wants to talk to as soon as practical.”
“Our journey to Khadoratung must be swift,” Lord Marak said softly as the impact of the news caused him to press his lips tightly together. “Botal, your squad will be my escort. Ophia, I want you to arrange fresh horses for us along the way. We will be riding nonstop to Khadoratung.”
* * *
Lord Patel rode through the streets of Khadoratung on his way to the Imperial Palace. Bells all over the city were ringing mournfully as they announced the death of the Emperor. The lord of the Nordon clan watched the people moving about the city. There was sadness in their faces. Emperor Bagora had been well liked by the people. Lord Patel had to admit that Bagora had ruled in an even-handed and fair manner. He had never favored one clan over another, and he always seemed able to diffuse tensions when they arose. Lord Patel sighed heavily as the Imperial Palace came into view.
The thought that kept intruding into Lord Patel’s mind was the message that he had received before the sun had arisen. It had clearly stated that Emperor Bagora had been assassinated, but there had been no mention of catching the assassin. Lord Patel could not imagine how an assassin could escape when the Imperial Palace was empty. It was possible during the days of the Assembly of Lords due to the fact that thousands of people were milling about in the palace, but now the palace should be fairly empty. One would expect the assassin to stand out easily. The implications of an escape troubled the Nordon lord. He could think of only one way that the assassin could defy recognition, and that was that he had to belong in the Imperial Palace in the first place. The assassin had to be an Imperial soldier.
The lectain leading Lord Patel’s escort started shouting commands as the Imperial Palace came into view. He ordered two cortes to proceed to the field behind the palace. The third corte dismounted and handed their horses off to those heading behind the palace. The lectain formed the third corte around Lord Patel and led the way along the path to one of the doors. The Imperial guards manning the door opened it immediately, and the Nordon group entered the palace.
“One squad with me to the Lords’ Council Chamber,” stated Lord Patel. “The other two squads are to prepare the Nordon quarters for a stay of unknown duration.”
The lectain caught the attention of the three squad leaders and indicated what their tasks would be. He then turned and led the escort up the stairs to the Lords’ Council Chamber. When they reached the door to the chamber, Lord Kiamesh was standing outside giving directions to his escort.
“I see you have just arrived as well,” greeted Lord Patel.
“Just a moment ago,” nodded Lord Kiamesh as the escorts of both lords moved away to the room where escorts waited. “Are you casting your lot with Lord Mirakotto?”
“You mean for Emperor?” frowned Lord Patel. “Isn’t it little early to be asking such a question? We have not even heard the nominations yet.”
“Is there any doubt that Lord Mirakotto will nominate himself?” retorted Lord Kiamesh. “Becoming Emperor is the only reason for his existence, at least if you think like him.”
“I will not vote for anyone before the nominations are made and discussion is held,” declared Lord Patel. “That certainly won’t be today. I know that Lord Marak is far out of the city.”
“If you and Lord Marak join with me,” Lord Kiamesh said conspiratorially, “we can keep Mirakotto from assuming the throne.”
“And who then would we vote for?” Lord Patel asked suspiciously. “For you perhaps?”
“You mistake my motives, Lord Patel,” Kiamesh replied with feigned offense. “I have been the lone voice against Lord Mirakotto in this council. You and Lord Quilo claim to be independent, but you side with Mirakotto more often than not. Woton and Garic were, of course, his ideological slaves. With Woton gone, and Marak on the council, we might actually have a chance of electing a decent Emperor. It does not have to be me, but I would like to be considered. My point is, as long as Woton was here, we would not even have the choice. Mirakotto would automatically claim the throne. Now the vote would be tied with three of us sticking together. We can then discuss the nominees, if you will at least veto Mirakotto.”
“I will not vote until there has been full discussion,” promised Lord Patel “So, if you are asking if I will vote against a move by Mirakotto to force this issue with him as the only candidate, the answer is yes.”
“Excellent,” grinned Lord Kiamesh as he opened the door to the chamber for Lord Patel.
Lord Mirakotto, Lord Quilo, and Lord Garic were already seated at the table. The two late arrivals walked to the table and sat down.
“As you are all aware,” Lord Mirakotto began, “the Emperor was assassinated last night in his bed. The purpose of this meeting of the Lords’ Council is to appoint a successor. It is my turn to lead the meeting, and I will begin by nominating myself for Emperor.”
“How convenient,” Lord Kiamesh said under his breath.
“Lord Mirakotto,” said Lord Patel, “the entire Lords’ Council is not present. Rather than start the proceedings to replace the Emperor, why don’t you enlighten us on how the Emperor was killed, and how the assassin has managed to escape detection.”
“I see enough members here to accomplish our goals,” retorted Lord Mirakotto. “I was not informed that you thought so highly of Lord Marak that you would seek to delay things.”
“How I feel about Lord Marak has no bearing on my objection,” countered Lord Patel. “My point is that only five seats are occupied, not six. This council must adjourn until the missing member arrives.”
“This is why I warned about having members from outside the Imperial Valley,” snarled Lord Mirakotto. “The government cannot afford to wait for a week while our boy lord stumbles his way here from the frontier.”
“But we must have all members here,” insisted Lord Patel.
“That is where you are wrong, Patel,” snapped Lord Mirakotto. “The law makes an exception for when a lord is sufficiently far away that his presence is not expected within a reasonable amount of time. If we were discussing a mere border dispute, we could wait a week, but we are not. We are performing our duty to choose a successor to the post of Emperor so that the government of Khadora is not rudderless. This is an urgent matter that cannot wait.”
“I disagree,” declared Lord Patel. “The more urgent the matter, the more important it is to ensure that all members are seated for the discussion.”
“Disagree all you wish, Lord Patel,” smirked Lord Mirakotto. “I am running this meeting, and I am going to proceed. Now, if there are no further nominations, I move that the voting has begun. I will vote for myself.”
“I will not suffer this nonsense,” snapped Lord Patel as he rose. “You may not have to wait for Lord Marak, but you will have to wait for me. I shall not enter this room again until all six members are available. I will not be far away. See if you can get around that rule.”
Lord Patel stormed out of the room, and Lord Mirakotto shook his head. Lord Kiamesh rose and sighed as he turned and headed for the door.
“Lord Kiamesh,” Lord Mirakotto said through clenched teeth, “kindly take your seat. There is a vote underway.”
“The members are not all present, in case you missed Lord Patel walking out,” shrugged Lord Kiamesh. “You must adjourn the meeting,”
“You are wrong,” smiled Lord Mirakotto. “There is already a vote underway. If a lord leaves the chamber during a vote, he will be marked as having abstained.”
“What are you talking about?” questioned Lord Kiamesh. “Do you make these rules up?”
“Hardly,” smirked Lord Mirakotto as he slid an open book across the table. “I do, however, spend time familiarizing myself with the law. Read it for yourself.”
Lord Kiamesh turned and bent down to read the page of the book. He slammed it shut and slid it powerfully across the table towards Lord Mirakotto.
“You want my vote?” taunted Lord Kiamesh. “Very well. I vote for myself.”
“Alas,” grinned Lord Mirakotto, “you cannot. The time for nomination was before the voting began. You can vote for me, or you can vote for me.”
“I will vote for you, Mirakotto,” offered Lord Garic.
“Well, I won’t,” Lord Kiamesh said adamantly as he stormed towards the door. “You will never get my vote. I will abstain.”
The door slammed shut, and Lord Mirakotto turned to gaze at Lord Quilo.
“Your vote, Lord Quilo?” prompted Lord Mirakotto.
“You have made some enemies today, Lord Mirakotto,” frowned Lord Quilo. “You should rethink your posture on this.”
“I am just finding out who my true friends are,” shrugged Lord Mirakotto. “With two abstentions and one absence, I hardly need your vote, but I would like it.”
Lord Quilo stared at Lord Mirakotto for a long time. Finally, he nodded his acceptance of the inevitable.
“You have my vote,” declared Lord Quilo.
* * *
The Balomar sentries shouted as they watched the Glamaraldi army approach under a flag of truce. A soldier ran along the long drive from the road to the mansion. He leaped up the stairs and raced into the meeting room where Lord Oktar was talking with Marshal Berman.
“A Glamaraldi talking party is at the gates,” gasped the soldier. “Should we let them in?”
“How many in the party?” asked Marshal Berman.
“A single corte,” reported the soldier.
“Where is Lord Marak?” asked Lord Oktar.
“He has not been around all morning,” answered Marshal Berman. “I heard that he was atop the great hill watching the enemy.”
“Let the talking party in,” decided Lord Oktar. “If there is more than a corte, close the gates quickly. Then find Lord Marak and have him get here immediately.”
“I will send some men to line the drive,” stated Marshal Berman. “I do not trust the Glamaraldi.”
“That is wise of you,” agreed Lord Oktar as he rolled up the maps of the estate. “Return right away.”
The soldier caught his breath and ran out of the room and exited the mansion. He ran back along the drive to the gates. When he arrived he climbed up on the gates to estimate the strength of the enemy. He estimated them to be no more than a corte. He turned and saw soldiers running to line the drive. He climbed down and unlocked the gates.
Lord Yungis of the Glamaraldi clan nodded to his men and his cortain led the escort onto the Balamor estate. They rode slowly along the drive as Lord Yungis turned his head and viewed everything that he could see. By the time he reached the mansion, the Glamaraldi lord had noted the changes since his last visit. He was impressed. Lord Yungis was escorted into the meeting room while his troops stood in formation in front of the mansion.
“What do you want?” Lord Oktar asked abruptly when the Glamaraldi lord entered the room.
“An end to this conflict,” smiled Lord Yungis. “I will allow you and your people to leave the estate without harm. You have two days.”
“Leave the estate?” echoed Lord Oktar in disbelief. “Why in the world would I leave my home?”
“You must realize that my armies are vastly superior to yours,” declared Lord Yungis. “If you do not take my offer, I will have to crush you like a fresh grape.”
“We will never leave,” declared Lord Oktar. “Your army is full of Jiadin that will turn on you the moment you turn your back. It is you who should be afraid of your provocation.”
“My provocation?” spat Lord Yungis. “Your estate is full of troops from many clans. This is clearly a provocation to the Glamaraldi. Your only reason for such troops is to wage war on me.”
“If that is your concern,” smiled Lord Oktar, “then we shall call for a mediator of the Lords’ Council. Let them decide who caused the first provocation. There is no reason for the bloodshed to continue.”
“The Lords’ Council would surely side with me,” bluffed Lord Yungis. “Why should I waste my time with them?”
“To save your clan,” Lord Marak stated as he entered the room.
Lord Yungis spun and glared at Lord Marak. “Who are you to enter this private conversation?” he snapped.
“I am Lord Marak of the Torak clan,” stated the Torak lord, “and I am a member of the Lords’ Council. Your Jiadin troops invaded this estate this morning. I am demanding that you rid your armies of the foreigners, and send them home. If you do so, peace will be restored here.”
“So you are Lord Marak,” snarled Lord Yungis. “Your position on the Lords’ Council does not impress me. Even a member of the Lords’ Council must obey the law. Your gathering of clans here is a violation of the law and a provocation to the Glamaraldi clan. I just might appeal to the Emperor and have your clan disbanded.”
“Nice try,” grinned Lord Marak. “I see two problems with your approach. The first is that you were not aware of any clans residing here until you attacked this morning. Therefore, there was no provocation before your attack. The second is that I have already spoken with the Emperor about my presence here. No law has been violated, and the presence of other clans here has the Emperor’s blessing. Your attack this morning is another matter. You have clearly attacked this estate without provocation. You will adhere to my terms or face ruin. My terms are simple. Disband your foreign armies and send them back to Fakara.”
“I don’t think so, Lord Marak,” spat Lord Yungis. “You have no idea what you are starting. You will rue the day you spoke to me like this.”
“I don’t think so, Lord Yungis,” Lord Marak said with a steely voice. “Bigger lords than you have tried to nip my toes. When you are in Khadoratung next week, I will introduce you to them.”
“And why would I be in Khadoratung?” questioned Lord Yungis.
“For the Assembly of Lords meeting,” declared Lord Marak. “There is a need to elect another member to the Lords’ Council. Have you not been advised yet?”
“No,” snarled Lord Yungis. “Nor do I care. The Lords’ Council means nothing to me. Two days, Lord Oktar,” he snapped as he turned towards the Balomar lord. “You have two days.”
Lord Yungis turned and stormed out of the room. Everyone remained silent until they heard the front door of the estate close.
“What was that about a meeting of the Assembly of Lords?” asked Marshal Berman. “We just had one.”
“The Emperor has been assassinated,” Lord Marak informed them. “I did not wish to share that information with Lord Yungis, but that will require another meeting of the Assembly of Lords. In fact, I came down off the hill to prepare for that trip. There will also be a meeting of the Lords’ Council that I must attend. You should be ready to leave within the hour, Lord Oktar.”
“We are going to leave in the middle of the war?” asked Lord Oktar. “That does not make sense.”
“It makes perfect sense,” explained Lord Marak. “We have the provocation we need to call upon the Lords’ Council.”
“But Lord Yungis will never go before the Lords’ Council,” argued Lord Oktar. “You heard his despicable contempt for the government. No ruling can stop this now.”
“We do not need him there,” declared Lord Marak. “We will not be asking for a negotiated settlement. We will be asking for troops. Lord Yungis does not care for a fair fight. That is why he amassed five thousand Jiadin warriors. We took him by surprise this morning, and now he is worried. He came here to scare you into leaving your home.”
“Why would he think that we would leave?” asked Lord Oktar.
“He doesn’t,” said Lord Marak. “It was a desperate attempt to bully you. Because the odds are not so lopsided in his favor, he will now call upon the other Jiadin clans to come to his aid.”
“How many more Jiadin will come?” asked Marshal Berman.
“Instead of five thousand,” frowned Lord Marak, “we will be facing fifteen to twenty thousand.”
“Mercy!” exclaimed Lord Oktar. “Maybe we should give up.”
“No,” Lord Marak stated adamantly. “Never give in to such bullying tactics. We will present your case to the Lords’ Council and return with enough troops to push the Jiadin back into Fakara.”
* * *
A cold raw wind suddenly burst through the trees around the gate of the Kamaril estate. The night guards felt a chill envelope their body as they sat near the gate. One of them wrapped his arms around his body to ward off the chill, but it passed quickly.
The sentries outside the front door of the mansion were sleepy and anxious for the dawn to approach so that they would be relieved and could go to bed. One of them pointed and remarked about the oddity of the sudden cloud of mist rolling along the drive towards the mansion. They watched it approach with a strange combination of apprehension and curiosity. All too soon it was all around them, thick and opaque. A click reverberated through the air, but it was directionless, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere. The soft sound of a door closing caused one of them to spin around and look towards the front door to the mansion, but the fog was too thick to see even those few feet.
Inside the Kamaril mansion wind chimes suddenly tingled, their light tinny tones drifting aimlessly through the air. The stairs creaked softly and a chilled wind swept through the rooms, gaining access through every crack and under every door. The sleeping inhabitants subconsciously pulled the covers tighter around themselves or curled their bodies into balls to keep warm.
One particular inhabitant, young Yargot, son of the late Lord Druck, tossed fitfully. Strange dreams invaded his sleep, nightmares really. Once again his body was covered in oozing boils, but this time they were slowly exploding one at a time. Each explosion brought forth a wave of incredible pain. Each wave was more terrifying than the one before. Suddenly, Yargot sat up and opened his mouth to scream.
Yargot opened his eyes to the darkness of the night. He could not see anything, but he felt a hand covering his mouth. His arms rose to claw at the restraint.
“Be quiet,” demanded a cold voice. “You have made a vow, and I am here to see you make good on it.”
The hand moved away from his mouth, and suddenly the room was illuminated. He turned and saw the shape of a man lighting a candle. He stared at the apparition in black for a long moment before he realized who he was looking at. A shiver raced down his spine as he recalled the nightmare.
“Do you remember your vow?” Aakuta asked in a sinister voice.
Yargot nodded his head silently as the dark mage stepped closer to the bed.
“Do you remember the vow?” Aakuta asked again.
“I remember,” gulped the frightened boy. “I owe you a debt.”
“And I am here to collect,” declared Aakuta. “You may pay the debt, or pay the consequences. Which will it be?”
“I will pay the debt,” the boy said quickly. “What do you want?”
“You will name me as your regent,” demanded the dark mage. “I will rule the Kamaril until I tire of it. Do you understand?”
“I understand,” the boy nodded exaggeratedly.
“Good,” smiled Aakuta. “You will do this at first light. I will arrive here an hour after that. I expect everyone to bow before me when I arrive. If they do not, I will consider your debt not paid.”
“They will all bow before you,” promised Yargot. “All of them. I promise.”