Heirs of the Enemy (71 page)

“You can stop pretending to be asleep, Jaar,” said the demonkin. “Your candle was just extinguished. Sit up and tell me what I want to know, or I will take what I need from you.”

The emperor threw his covers back and sat up. He stared up at the priest defiantly. “You hold no sway over me. My family is free.”

“For now,” snarled the priest. “We are already tracking them. We will have the women back in a short amount of time. Who did you send after them?”

“That hardly matters now.”

“I will decide what matters. Who did you send?”

The emperor remained defiantly silent.

“You fool,” spat the priest. “Now I will have all of your secrets. Not only will I know who you sent to get your women, but I will know where you are hiding your son.”

The priest reached out and grabbed the emperor’s head between his two large hands.

“No!” shouted the emperor. “I sent Forshire. Go and find him before he escapes.”

What had started as a shout, ended with a whimper as the emperor lost consciousness. Knowing that his cover was blown, Clint stepped into the light. The priest was bent over the emperor, his back to the balcony doors. Clint stepped lightly forward, but the priest must have sensed something. He whirled around, his long arms streaking for Clint’s head, but The Ranger was already within range. Clint shoved his sword into the priest’s chest and turned it. The demonkin’s eyes grew large with surprise as his knees buckled. Clint pulled back on his sword, and K’san’s body tumbled to the floor. Clint stood unmoving for a moment as he wondered if he could possibly leave without killing the emperor. Jaar had been too quick to offer him up, but he did so to save himself. He could have easily given away Clint’s position on the balcony, but he did not. Unable to decide, the Ranger stirred his fairy to life.

“That is a demonkin,” gasped Peanut as he glanced at the large black body on the floor, “and isn’t that the emperor in the bed? What are we doing here?”

“We are in trouble,” Clint said softly. “I dropped Morro’s hourglass off the balcony. You must go down and retrieve it without being seen by the patrols. Hurry back.”

“I hope you didn’t break it,” retorted the fairy. “That is quite a drop from up here.”

“If it is broken, we are going to have a hard time getting out of here. Hurry!”

The fairy darted over the side of the railing and disappeared. A few minutes later, Peanut returned and placed the hourglass in Clint’s palm.

“Is it okay?” asked the fairy as Clint returned the artifact to his pouch.

“We won’t know until I try it, and I am not ready to leave here yet. Can you levitate the priest’s body out to sea without being detected?”

“I don’t know,” frowned the fairy. “While there is no moon yet, the sky is clear, and the stars are bright.”

Clint frowned and pondered the problem for a while, but he could see no other solution. “Do it,” he ordered the fairy. “Try your best not to be seen.”

Clint quickly wiped his sword clean before the fairy levitated the large body. As Peanut carried the priest away, Clint poked the emperor with the tip of his sword. Jaar opened his eyes and looked around in surprise.

“Where is the priest?”

“He left. My problem now is what to do with you. You gave me up easily enough.”

“I could have revealed your presence,” retorted the emperor, “but I didn’t. I merely wanted to stop him from reading my mind.”

“So he would not learn the location of your son. I understand, but I now know that I cannot trust you. I see no choice left to me but to take your life.”

“You mustn’t,” pleaded the emperor. “If you kill me, my son will be forced to reveal himself before we have learned who the real threat is. I will make you a deal.”

Clint stared skeptically at the emperor. “What is your deal?”

“Bring your army to Despair. Seize Kyrga and those loyal to him so that I can reestablish myself. Do that, and I will promise to call off the invasion of Alcea.”

“Those terms are acceptable to me,” replied Clint, “but I have no faith in your word. You would just order your new Grand General to seize me or kill me. I am not a fool, Emperor.”

“I will write a proclamation right now,” offered the emperor. “I will make it irrevocable if you wish.”

“An irrevocable promise not to attack Alcea?” chuckled Clint. “I am sure that waving that under someone’s nose wouldn’t get me hung in a minute flat.”

The emperor sighed nervously. “Tell me what you want. I will do anything you ask, but I am not willing to turn this empire over to the man who is trying to kill me and my family. I will die before I let him win. I will gladly give up Alcea to see him hang.”

For some reason, Clint actually believed the man, but he still could not trust him. “I will take a proclamation, but not the one that you are offering. You will create a new position for me that is not subservient to Kyrga. It will allow me and my army to work autonomously, and it will be irrevocable.”

“What will you do with such a position?”

“I will use it to avoid dying as I rally forces to remove Kyrga and his cronies. I only have two-thousand men, Emperor. There are currently eighty-thousand soldiers in Despair. I need to be able to get my men onto the palace grounds without anyone standing in my way.”

“Agreed,” the emperor said as he rose and picked up the lantern.

Jaar moved into the office and sat down at his desk. He began writing up the proclamation.

“You will be the first Imperial General of the Federation,” Jaar said as wrote. “You will report directly to me and not the Grand General. Kyrga will have no hold over you, but neither will he be required to obey your orders. You will be on a par with him.”

“Why not place me over Kyrga?”

“That would be the same as signing your death warrant. Being on the same level as Kyrga makes you an annoyance to him, but he will not risk killing you because that would show his disloyalty to me. If, however, I place you above him, he would have no choice but to kill you. You may not place much trust in me, Forshire, but I do not want you dead. Bring your men to Despair and free me.”

The emperor placed his seal on the proclamation and placed it on the desk. Clint sheathed his sword, but he still felt unsure about leaving the emperor alive. The emperor smiled at Clint as if they were good friends now.

“You should hurry to get out of Despair before that priest reports what he knows,” Jaar said.

“K’san will not tell anyone about me. He is dead. In fact, you might want to mop his blood off your floor before you retire.”

The emperor gasped with disbelief as he rose to his feet and snagged the lantern. He carried it into his room and stared at the blood-soaked floor.

“What did you do with his body?”

“There is much that you do not know about Alceans,” smiled Clint. “You will learn one day what a favor I am doing for you by getting you to cancel your invasion. If you do invade, your three hundred thousand men will never return from Alcea. We have moved throughout your cities with impunity. We have destroyed your fleet and your shipyards. Even the Badgers cannot hide from us, and we can walk into the emperor’s sleeping chamber at will. We can do all of these things, yet there are only a handful of us here. In Alcea, there are thousands of us. Think about that, Emperor.”

The emperor stared at Clint with large eyes and an open mouth as he recognized the truth of the general’s words.

“You have my vow. Rescue me, and we will not invade your homeland. I promise you that.”

Once again, Clint believed the man, but he sighed anxiously. Jaar was the type of man who changed his mind and his mood instantly. Clint needed something that would place fear into the man’s heart. He stood watching the emperor rub the floor with a rag, and finally it hit him.

“I will leave you now,” Clint said softly, “but I will leave you with one further warning. Should you decide that someone else will offer you a better bargain, I now vow that I will kill you and your entire family if you betray me.”

“That was unnecessary,” scowled the emperor. “Someone else is already doing that.”

“But they don’t know about your son.”

Jaar’s head snapped up, and he stared at Clint. “You don’t either.”

“Janay is a good mother,” replied Clint. “She steadfastly stated that your son died six years ago of a fever.”

“That is the truth.”

“Hardly,” retorted Clint. “Janay was prepared to repeat that lie for as long as she lived.” Clint paused for effect. “Or for as long as you lived, whichever came first. However, once she thought you were already dead…”

“You are lying,” the emperor said with more rage than conviction.

Clint squatted next to the emperor. He stuck his finger in the blood and drew the secret mark he had seen earlier on the emperor’s right hip. He then wiped his finger off on the rag the emperor was holding and rose to his feet.

Jaar gasped in horror. The secret he had kept most closely for his entire life was no longer a secret. He rose and bowed submissively to Clint.

“My word will be honored. There will be no invasion of Alcea, and no one will harm you. We each bear secrets that must not be revealed. In this way, we are closer than brothers. Go and gather your forces.”

General Forshire had barely gotten into bed when someone started banging loudly on his door. The Ranger pushed back the covers and threw on a robe. He passed through the sitting room, not bothering to pick up his sword. The banging on his door continued incessantly. The general threw open his door with a look of anger on his face, but that look soon dissolved as he stared into the face of Grand General Kyrga. Kyrga pushed his way into the room. While Kyrga stood with his hands on his hips, his eyes examining the room, Clint closed the door.

“Is there some dire emergency?” Clint asked, wondering why the Grand General came to him personally instead of sending someone to fetch him..

“Where have you been?” asked Kyrga.

“I was sleeping?” scowled Clint. “Isn’t that what we are supposed to do during the night?”

“Don’t get flippant with me, Forshire. Where have you been for the past week?”

“Outside the city,” frowned Clint.

“Where outside the city?” Kyrga asked with a smug expression as if he had finally trapped a junior officer in a blatant lie.

“My men have a camp less than an hour’s ride beyond the western gates. It is not hard to find. What is this all about?”

“Some of your men have been reported dead, Forshire. Quite a few of them if the report is to be believed. How do you explain that?”

“A Corps has not suffered a single death since I formed it. Your reports are in error.”

“I think not,” snarled the Grand General as he looked into Clint’s sleeping chamber. “Over one hundred of your men died a few days ago west of the city. I will have the truth out of you.”

“You have never had anything but the truth from my lips, even when it might have been advantageous to remain quiet. A Corps is stationed in Olansk, and has been for months. I brought only a single squad with me to Despair, and I just left them mere hours ago. I would certainly know if I was missing one hundred men. The reports are erroneous.”

“They all had A Corps patches,” Kyrga retorted, his voicing rising almost to a shout.

Clint frowned and walked past the Grand General. He sat down in a chair and appeared to ponder the problem. Kyrga impatiently whirled and glared at the general. Clint suddenly looked up at Kyrga as if he had just had an epiphany.

“There is a possible explanation.”

“I am waiting, Forshire,” Kyrga replied, his foot tapping the floor impatiently.

“In the early days of forming A Corps, I recruited some men who were clearly unfit for service. I tried my best to reform them, but it was a hopeless case. I was on the verge of returning them to prison, but General Garibaldi unexpectedly asked me if he could have a shot at them. I think he was envious of the size of my army. As the men were of no use to me, I agreed to let Garibaldi have them.”

Grand General Kyrga narrowed his eyes with suspicion. “How many men are we talking about?”

“One hundred fifty. This was a long time ago, though. V Corps has long been disbanded, hasn’t it? And why would they be wearing the patch of the A Corps? What is going on, Grand General?”

Kyrga sighed with frustration and stared distractedly at the door as if he were working on some complex mental puzzle. When he finally spoke, his voice was calm and soft.

“They were not wearing any patches, but each man carried patches for both the A Corps and the V Corps.”

“That explains who the men are,” mused Clint, “but not who they are serving under. Do you have any idea who the men were battling when they died?”

Kyrga shook his head, not willing to discuss any more about the battle than he needed to.

“Those men were not soldiers,” probed Clint, “and I doubt that anyone could have made them into soldiers since I last saw them, but still it would take a potent force to kill them all without leaving some of your own behind. Would you like me to take my squad and investigate the battle scene?”

“No,” Kyrga said too quickly. Anxious to change the subject, the Grand General looked Clint in the face. “What exactly are you doing in Despair when your army is up in Olansk?”

“Colonel Donil was one of the men chosen to go to Alcea,” answered general Forshire. “As I am anxious to learn about the land we will be invading, I decided to wait for his return before heading north. I understand that he has now arrived, so I will be leaving for Olansk in the morning.”

Kyrga hesitated as if he had more to say, but after a brief pause, he shook his head and left the suite without another word. The Grand General hurried through the corridors to his office and summoned one of his trusted guards into the office.

“There is supposed to be a squad of A Corps about an hour west of the city. I want a head count of them before the sun rises.”

* * * *

Peanut soared through the night sky, spiraling down through the trees to land on Garth’s nose. The Knight of Alcea subconsciously brushed at his nose causing Peanut to frantically leap into the air and hover over the Alcean’s face.