Amidst The Rising Shadows (Book 3) (22 page)

“What about the other Hythariam here? We detect their comms signals all over the continent.” Ronan said.

“The traitors, you mean,” Halcylon corrected. He had been drilling into them not to think of the Hythariam here as members of their race, but as traitors.

“Yes, of course,” Ronan said.

“They are working on breaking the security in place so we can see the messages. So far they’ve been unsuccessful,” Halcylon said.

“These things take time,” Ronan said.

“Indeed, they are the real threat. The primitives here have a rudimentary knowledge of how to make war.”

“They’re not so primitive,” Ronan said.

“They have a few tricks. We’re still gathering intelligence, but tricks alone won’t save them from the Zekara,” Halcylon said.

“The SPT flyers are ready,” Ronan said.

“Very good. I want to keep a close eye on our package, and we’re still adapting the drones to this world. Plus I’m reluctant to use them too much. Right now I expect the traitors are scrambling, trying to find out where we are,” Halcylon said.

“We’re still looking for them as well, but they’ve had eighty cycles to entrench themselves. The task of finding them may prove more difficult than previously expected,” Ronan said.

Halcylon eyed his adviser, “Take a moment and look around, Ronan. We’re here and are no longer on a dying planet. Time is again on our side. No longer are we up against the clock. We did it. We’re here. Breathe the fresh air. Drink the clean water. This is a living planet and is now our home.”

Ronan took a moment to look around the camp. The Zekara moved with purpose, but all of them kept looking up at the alien sky above them. Their new home. “You did it. It was you who got us here. Even when those others abandoned our people to take to the stars. You stayed to lead us, and because of that, all of the Zekara will lay down their lives to protect you.”

Halcylon nodded to Ronan, and they returned to the task of setting up their new home for their race, and once that was done, they would visit vengeance upon those who believed they were their betters and had doomed them all to a dying world. Before long, these humans would learn to fear the Zekara, and after enough of them died, they would fall on their knees to serve them. Halcylon smiled at the plans he had set in motion so long ago that were only now coming to bear the fruit of his efforts.

C
HAPTER
14

PERFECT ARMY

 
Mactar surveyed the forty Ryakuls that he and Darven had brought under their control. Once they controlled the first two Ryakuls, finding more proved easier than they had originally thought. Left on their own, the beasts would hunt for Dragons and in some cases would turn on each other. If they had set off to track Dragons all those weeks ago, finding Ryakuls would have been much easier. Dragons were becoming less common throughout the lands and kept mostly upon the fringes of the realms of men.

“They are the perfect army,” Darven said.

“How so?” Mactar asked.

“We can give them any order, and they will carry out those orders or die trying. Once on task, the Ryakuls will never waver from it,” Darven replied.

“Unless we deactivate the controller. Then the connection is broken.”

“That’s right, but we don’t have to keep the instructions we give them in the forefront of our minds,” Darven said.

“Agreed; they can follow instructions, but I’d be reluctant to just send them off to attack a city on their own. Too many variables. The Ryakuls would throw themselves at an obstacle, but they don’t weigh threats very well, which is a shortcoming of them being under control.”

Darven shrugged, “Still, I’ll take them over an army of conscripts any day.”

“Good. I think it’s time we gave the High King a demonstration. Now that the Elitesmen have proven that they can move a sizable fighting force with the focusing crystal, the Khamearrian army is going to push deeper into the Waylands, ” Mactar said.

“You knew that was going to work?” Darven asked.

“Who do you think gave the idea to Elite Grand Master Gerric?” Mactar smirked.

Darven nodded.

“I going to have you take half the Ryakuls and meet the armies as they attack,” Mactar said.

“I hope the commanders of those armies know to expect me then. I’d hate to have to worry about being shot at by a stray arrow or an Elitesman’s blade.”

“Word has been sent, but the Elitesmen may still take a shot at you just for old times’ sake.”

Darven shrugged his shoulders impassively. Elitesmen attacks didn’t faze him, “What will you be doing while I’m off winning the High King’s war for him?”

“I’ll continue gathering the Ryakuls. We’re going to need them.”

“It can’t be that long before Amorak sets his sights on Rexel and the heart of their armies there,” Darven said.

“That’s exactly right, and that is precisely where their defenses will be strongest. We will need more than fifty Ryakuls to take Rexel and break the back of this Free Nations Army,” Mactar said.

He marked the locations of the planned attacks on the map that Darven carried. There was no way they could use the travel crystals and bring the Ryakuls with them. It simply wouldn’t work, even with only one Ryakul, and they hadn’t figured out why. The Ryakuls were fast and could make the journey quickly. Darven leaped on top of a Ryakul and signaled to the twenty he would take with him. With a final wave, he took to the skies.

Mactar had taken a short trip back to Khamearra to meet with his network of informants there. He had known his idea with the focusing crystal would work, but wasn’t sure Gerric could pull it off. Why do these things himself, when he could have others do it for him? The same applied here, which was why he was sending Darven to attack with the army. His sights were set on much bigger bounty than those of the smaller kingdoms that bordered the Waylands. He will be there to burn Rexel to the ground with a horde of Ryakuls at his back.

The battles, hardly more than skirmishes that the High King’s army had fought, served as practice for the real war about to begin. Unlike other wars, there would not be endless marching and razing of town after town. Supply lines would become almost irrelevant, that is, of course, if the focusing crystals used to move the armies around didn’t get destroyed. So far, this Free Nations Army hadn’t answered the threat of the High King, but they had shown up at some of the smaller kingdoms. The result were castles better prepared for the attacks, but with the Elitesmen serving as part of the army, the defenses they put together were easily overcome.

Word was spreading of Ryakul attacks on the remote towns, and they had started seeing these towns mount rooftop defenses, but Mactar had no interest in attacking the towns. They were merely a learning tool to be able to take more strategic targets. Sitting on top of a Ryakul while it flew was something Darven put forward as a better way to travel:
 
astride the Ryakuls, rather than using the crystals, and he had to admit that Darven was right. Flying a Ryakul allowed them to send the signal out summoning more to them. Mactar leaped atop the scaly neck of a Ryakul, and its leathery wings fluttered. With a final command the remaining Ryakuls took to the sky at the same time and wheeled around heading east. Soon he would meet up with the High King.
 

C
HAPTER
15

FIRE FOR FIRE

A dark castle loomed on the horizon, and Colind frowned. Night had descended upon them in the northern reaches of Khamearra.

“That has to be it,” Garret said. His salt-and-pepper hair hung past his ears, and although he was into his fifties, he was easily as fit as much younger men.

“It’s precisely where Sarah said it would be,” Colind said.
 

He had expected to wander for awhile before picking up Mactar’s trail, but Garret had the good sense to advise him to ask Sarah, and that he did. She didn’t know where Mactar was, of course, but she had been to his castle. The place was little more than a keep with but a single tower.
 

“It looks...kind of small,” Garret said.

“Mactar doesn’t hold high regard for pampering,” Colind replied.

“Do you really think he’s there?”

Colind frowned as he studied the castle. He reached out with his senses, and the castle itself was deserted. “I wish he was there, but the place is empty. I still want to take a look around.”
 

When they had left Shandara, weeks ago, they had set out to find former members of the Safanarion Order. The task had gone frustratingly slow, because the ones that survived had become adept at hiding themselves. He had been forced to leave messages around that only members of the order would be able to decipher. If any of them got the message, they would know they should make their way to Rexel. He suspected some were already heading to Shandara, and he just needed to be patient.
 

The town that lived in the shadow of Mactar’s castle was quiet, and Colind wondered if they knew whose shadow they lived under.
Probably,
Colind thought. They made it to the castle and through the locks that were in place to keep the local townsfolk out. There were no other safeguards, which Colind found peculiar and said so.

“Perhaps he doesn’t expect to come back,” Garret said.

Colind shrugged his shoulders and pushed on going into the castle. The castle held the normal furnishings, and it wasn’t until they came to Mactar’s workshop that things radically changed. They opened the double doors, and Colind sent a tendril of energy out to the orbs that slowly grew brighter. The room was packed, which at first appeared haphazard.

“Is this a storage room?” Garret asked.

Colind glanced around trying to make sense of it all. There were broken swords and shields, along with half-burnt items from twisted crowns to silver bowls. Colind swallowed hard, recognizing some of the items.

“This seems familiar; I think I remember this,” Garret said, gesturing to a leather-embroidered chair with its gold paint long since chipped away.

“It’s from Shandara. It’s one of the council seats from Dragon Hall, where the Safanarion Order used to convene,” Colind said, glaring at the items in the room, realizing what this room was. “This is a trophy room. These are pieces he’s collected from all his victories.”

Garret slowly turned around, taking in the grand room, and noticed a bare spot on the wall, “I wonder what he had there.”

Colind looked over and scanned the wall seeing a dark outline. His lips curved into a smile as he made out what must have hung there for the past twenty-five years. “The standard of Shandara. Particularly the standard for the House Alenzar’seth. I imagine that at some point after learning of Aaron’s existence he realized his victory over Shandara wasn’t as complete as he had first believed.”

Garret scanned the room with a furrowed brow, “Everything in this room is associated with death.”

“There is a lot of pride in this room. Let’s look through it quickly and see if we can figure out what he is doing and hopefully where he went,” Colind said.

Knowing that everything in room had either belonged to someone or was associated with a fallen kingdom weighed heavily on them. They spoke in hushed tones as if they were in a graveyard, and Colind supposed they were. They came to an open area, and along the wall was a metal workbench with tools.
 

Colind lifted up one of the discarded pieces, “This is Hythariam made.”

They found other things that looked out of place like an old comms device that no longer worked.

“How could he have known about Hythariam technology?” Garret asked.

“Because Mactar is Shandarian. He served the Alenzar’seth when the Hythariam first came to Safanar.”

“Shandarian? But he would be over a hundred years old,” Garret said in disbelief.

“He hasn’t aged in almost sixty years. I knew him. He was my mentor for a time,” Colind said.
 

“I never knew,” Garret said.

“Not many do, and that’s because the people that did know are all dead and gone. Daverim Alenzar’seth helped establish the Safanarion Order, and Mactar was one of the founding members. He was always experimenting. Pushing things beyond their limits. Reymius had discovered some of the horrible things he had been doing. Many of the practices of the Elitesmen Order had their origins with Mactar's work in Shandara.”

“What happened to him?” Garret asked.

“Reymius reported what he found to his father, and Daverim had him banished. Never to return to Shandara,” Colind said.

“How is it that he hasn’t aged?”

“What I suspect happened is he had help. When the Hythariam first came to Safanar, there were different factions, with some loyal to Halcylon despite his plans for the rest of us. He was injected with the Nanites, but without the constraints that are applied to normal Hythariam, which gives them a lifespan greater than two hundred years.”

“How long would he live then?” Garret asked.

“Iranus believes a thousand years or more,” Colind answered.

Garrett blew out a heavy breath.

“Exactly, but he won’t get the chance. Not if I have anything to say about it,” Colind said.

“I can’t tell from this stuff what he was doing or where he is going,” Garret admitted.