13 Day War (9 page)

“Do you have the women now?”

“They are safe.” The general nodded. “But do not ask where they are. I am not prepared to answer that question at this time. Right now, I need to determine what is going on in the emperor’s life. What can you tell me about his relationship with Grand General Kyrga?”

“What game are you playing, General?” frowned the colonel. “You know enough from our talks that the key to dethroning an emperor is through his family, and you now claim to hold those women captive. I cannot discuss the emperor with someone who might be trying to overthrow the empire. You could be in league with the plotters.”

The general sighed and walked to the fireplace. He grabbed a handful of ashes and returned to the center of the building. He sat on the bunk opposite the colonel and threw the ashes onto the floor.

“What are you doing?” questioned the colonel.

“We both need answers, Taerin, but we are both afraid of the responses we might receive from the other. I intend to show you that I mean you no harm. Take off your uniform.”

“I will not,” frowned the colonel. “Have you gone mad?”

“Perhaps,” smiled Clint as he bent forward and poked the pile of ashes with his finger.

His finger moved swiftly through the ashes and he leaned back and stared at the colonel’s face. The expression of shock and fear was as clear as the moon on a cloudless night.

“You know, Taerin, you have your mother’s eyes.”

The colonel was speechless. The most closely guarded secret in the entire Federation was laid out on the floor for all to see. The colonel moved his foot to the ashes and scattered them.

“Your mother and sisters are perfectly safe,” declared the general. “Your father I am not too sure about. That is why I need answers from you.”

“Why would you care about him? Is it to help him or overthrow him?”

“I have an agreement with him,” answered the general. “I need to know if he will still honor it.”

“What is the agreement?” asked Colonel Taerin.

“This is not how the game is supposed to be played,” frowned the general. “We are both supposed to be open and honest with one another, but you have not volunteered anything yet. Do you consider me a threat?”

“I do,” admitted the colonel. “There has always been something mysterious about you, and I do not like unsolved mysteries. Now you claim to hold some rather high cards and are raising the stakes. Do you truly expect me to show you my hand?”

“I am showing you mine,” countered the general.

“Not all of it.” The colonel shook his head vigorously. “You are becoming more mysterious by the moment. How could you possibly know that mark?”

“I saw your father’s mark the night he proclaimed me the Imperial General.”

“With your sword at his throat, no doubt,” spat the colonel.

“Actually,” replied General Forshire, “my sword was stuck in the chest of a demonic priest who had just stolen your father’s memories. That demonkin had just learned your identity when I killed him. Your father and I are not friends, but we do have an agreement that satisfies both of our concerns. I merely need to be sure that nothing has changed since I left Despair. Will the emperor honor our agreement?”

“You keep referring to this agreement,” scowled the colonel. “Why don’t you just go and ask him?”

“Because I don’t particularly want to die this night,” answered the general. “The morning after he proclaimed my new title, the emperor appeared outside the palace. He talked to me and Donil as we were leaving the palace. That struck me as odd because we had been meeting in secret. It was not in the best interests of either of us to be seen together. That causes me to doubt that the emperor was acting of his own free will.”

“I cannot answer that question without knowing what the agreement is.”

Clint sat and thought for a moment. Eventually, he nodded. “The A Corps is returning to Despair to seize the Imperial Palace and free your father from Grand General Kyrga and whoever is controlling him.”

“And in return?”

“There will be no war with Alcea.”

“Are you Alcean?” gasped the colonel.

Clint sighed with frustration. “You are interrogating me, Colonel. Oh, you are doing it well and in an excellent manner, but this will not continue. This conversation will be a two-way conversation, or it will end this very moment.”

“You are being unfair, General. You know everything that is going on, and I truly know nothing. Think for a minute what you are asking of me. What if I were to say yes, but I was wrong? You would take your wrath out on me and my family. And if I said no, you would consider the agreement broken and take your wrath out on me and my family. What do you expect me to say?”

“I will never harm the women of your family,” promised Clint, “no matter what happens. I risked my life to save them, and I hold them harmless. If your father cheats on the agreement, I will kill him. As for you, our future relations depend on what kind of man you are. If you are honorable and reasonable as your grandfather was, we will get along fine. If you seek to continue your father’s policies of plundering the poor and enslaving them, we will come to blows. I cannot be more open and honest than that. I will never hold a person accountable for the deeds of another.”

“You still leave me in a quandary,” frowned the colonel, “but I accept your words in the spirit that they were given. I do not agree with my father’s policies. I never have. In fact, we have had numerous disagreements about them. I spoke to you on more than one occasion about the apparent snubbing of me by the emperor. I suspected that most of that was due to the disagreements we had, but now I am not so sure. Since the date of your proclamation, the emperor has been free to move about as he pleases. He has his own guards back and he once again dictates orders to Grand General Kyrga. One would think that the emperor is his old self once again.”

“But you don’t?”

“The quandary, General, is that I want my old father back. I do not want him dead.”

“And you think that as soon as you tell me that he won’t honor the agreement, that will mark him for death.” Clint nodded with understanding. “I am sorry, Taerin, but if your father breaks the agreement, he will die. If we don’t find out who is pulling Kyrga’s strings, your father will die anyway, but there is more to consider than just your father. The war with Alcea is going to be costly for the Federation. Perhaps you should be more concerned with the deaths of hundreds of thousands instead of just your father. I know that is a hard thing to ask of any son, but you are not just any son. You are the future Emperor of Barouk. Will you start your reign trying to make the world a better place to live, or will you start it by listening to thousands of women and children wailing for their lost loved ones?”

Colonel Taerin sat silently for a long time. Finally, he looked the general in the eye and nodded. “I think the emperor is under some kind of magical spell. Unless we can find a way to break that spell, he will not honor the agreement.”

“Why do you think he is under a spell?”

“There are a number of reasons, most of them small, but together they add up. The most significant is that the emperor truly has no idea who I am. I am convinced of that now.”

“The emperor has learned to control his emotions very well,” retorted Clint. “Perhaps he is afraid to let anyone know that he is close to you for fear that they might suspect the truth.”

“Father has done that well for years.” The colonel shook his head dismissively. “Sometimes he would publicly treat me like dirt to keep everyone at bay, but this is different. There is no spark of recognition in his eyes when we meet, even in private. Whatever the black-cloaks have done to him, he does not recognize me. I suspect that they just found a more efficient means of controlling him.”

“What other clues do you have?”

“He tries to write left-handed and eventually switches to his right hand in frustration. I have seen this many times since you left the palace. My father has always been right-handed, but his mind seems to think that he is left-handed. Also, my father was always an early riser, but now he seldom gets out of bed before the sun is well into the sky. Were it not for my father’s familiar face, I would swear that it was not my father based upon these small things alone.”

“Perhaps it is not your father at all,” mused the Ranger.

“What do you mean? How could it not be my father?”

“I would have to talk to a mage that I know, but I remember hearing about a spell that allows a magician to assume the body of another. If that is what has happened here, your father is already dead.”

Colonel Taerin sighed deeply and closed his eyes for a moment. He had suspected for some time that the relationship he once had with his father was long over, and he felt fairly confident that it would never return. While somewhat shocking, hearing that his father might already be dead began to make sense.

“That would explain the late rising and the propensity to use his left hand,” frowned the colonel. “I pray that you are wrong, but I will proceed as if you are right. Where is my family?”

“They are safe,” Clint answered vaguely. “Believe me when I say that they have a better chance of remaining safe if you do not know where they are. That is not a threat on my part. It is an overabundance of caution.”

Colonel Taerin nodded with acceptance. He didn’t like not knowing, but the general had been honest with him so far. “Are you Alcean? Is that why you are willing to risk your life to end this war?”

“I am an Alcean Ranger,” stated the general. “Your father was aware of that when he signed the proclamation.”

“Do you think he meant to honor the deal?”

“I do. I consider myself to be a fair judge of men, and I believe that he was sincere when we made the agreement. His true fury was reserved for the unknown man who is trying to murder his family and steal his throne. Alcea certainly meant less to him than revenge. Yes, I believe he meant to honor the deal. I suspect that something happened that night after I left his quarters. Perhaps Kyrga was alarmed when K’san did not return.”

“Well, Alcean Ranger, I will make you a deal. If you find this unknown man and prove to me that he is behind this affair, I will see to it that there is no war with Alcea.”

“That is a deal that I would heartily accept, my friend, but I fear we may be too late. Spring is just around the corner, and Grand General Kyrga will be dispatching his troops any day now. I will have my people do whatever they can to ferret out the puppet master, but I think war is coming. What can you tell me about increases in troop strength since the festival days?”

“Kyrga is continuing to build the army, and his pace is rather frantic. I do not understand it. We already have over three-hundred-fifty-thousand soldiers, yet he shows no signs of slowing down. He is offering ever higher bounties to get more men.”

“What is he doing with them?”

Colonel Taerin hesitated. “It is one thing to work together for peace,” he said with a frown, “but you are now asking me to betray my country. I cannot do that.”

“It is not your country any more, Taerin,” Clint said sadly. “Someone is driving this coming conflict, but it is not the rightful emperor. If it is any consolation to you, Alcea plans to spare as many of your people as we can afford to. The more knowledge we have of their disposition, the easier we can accomplish that.”

“You are in no position to spare Federation soldiers,” retorted Colonel Taerin. “While I am not privy to the invasion plans, I have heard the odds involved in the coming war. Alcea will be utterly destroyed, and for that I am truly sorry.”

“I will say to you what I said to your father,” General Forshire declared with a thin smile. “There are only a handful of Alceans in Zara, but we have freed the elves, destroyed your fleet and your shipyards, gained access to the highest levels of your Federation, and destroyed a large faction of the infamous Badgers. Think about that before you write Alcea off. Think about it and then realize that there are thousands more like us in Alcea waiting for your soldiers to arrive.”

Colonel Taerin swallowed hard as he thought about the Alcean’s words. “The bloodshed will be great for both of our nations. Let us pray that we can work together to stop this war before it starts.”

The bitter wind howled out of the south, driving the sea into a frenzy of towering waves. The ship creaked and groaned as it bobbed from crest to trough and back to crest again. Every time the Resurgence rose out of a trough, the masts shuddered and the lines snapped taut as the battering winds assaulted the ship anew. Every trough brought thousands of gallons of seawater across the deck as the wind whipped the crests of the huge waves and sent a torrent of seawater cascading down upon the ship. The captain fought the tiller constantly, trying to maintain some sense of direction and keep the ship from capsizing, but his hopes for survival were not high. The weight of his cargo was so immense that the ship had practically no freeboard, and he knew that a single wave breeching the rail could send the ship to the bottom of the sea.

“Can’t your people do anything?” Captain Imatin shouted to the black-cloak leader. “This ship is going to sink like a rock.”

Seiko’s eyes scanned the deck of the huge ship. Of the one-hundred black-cloaks under his command, eighty of them were already on deck using their magic to keep the ship afloat. Twenty of them were dedicated to keeping the sails full while the Resurgence was in a trough. If they did not, the masts would snap like twigs as the fury of the storm hit when they rose to the crest. Sixty of the mages were magically gathering the seawater from the decks and bilge and returning it to the sea. The water was coming aboard at such a voluminous rate that any less than sixty mages and the Resurgence would slip below the surface. That still left twenty black-cloaks, but Seiko believed strongly in a reserve. He could not afford to exhaust all of the black-cloaks at the same time. To do so would mean certain death.

“Remain steadfast, Captain,” ordered Seiko. “We will weather this storm.”

The black-cloak leader spoke with an air of confidence, but he was worried. The shipbuilders had underestimated the weight of Alutar, and the Resurgence rode perilously low in the water, even in calm seas. In a torrent such as this massive winter storm it truly took magic to keep the ship afloat. The question on Seiko’s mind was whether one-hundred black-cloaks was enough magic to see the journey through to its final destination.