Heirs of the Enemy (25 page)

“What is it?” asked Niki. “What’s wrong?”

“I am not sure,” Fredrik replied tensely as he swiveled around frantically trying to figure out where the pinprick had originated from, “but I think someone just pricked my shields.”

Suddenly, a massive force slammed into the rear of the carriage. The back end of the carriage lifted off the ground, tossing Fredrik and Niki onto the street. Fredrik’s shield winked out of existence. The horses screamed as the driver tried to control them, and the Red Swords looked around to see where the assassin was. A second magical projectile slammed into the now unshielded carriage, and the carriage burst into flames.

“It came from above,” shouted one of the Red Swords as he pointed upward. “I think someone might be on one of the rooftops.”

Sergeant Shank pulled his horse out of the escorting column and started directing Red Swords towards the buildings lining the street.

“I want at least one man on every floor of every building on this block,” the sergeant ordered loudly. “There is a mage out there somewhere, and I want him found now. Move it!”

The Red Swords closest to the carriage tried to open the doors while the carriage was still moving, but the metal handles seared the flesh of their hands. Worse, the driver could no longer control the horses as they tried to race away from the flaming carriage. Inside the carriage, Arik and Tanya were tossed around as the wheels bounced over curbs and tilted from side to side. As the runaway flaming carriage sped through the city streets, the Red Swords were forced to the sides of the street.

“Shoot the horses!” shouted Colonel Jaynes as he charged head-on towards the carriage. “Shoot them now!”

Within seconds, dozens of arrows pierced the flesh of the carriage horses. The large beasts collapsed, and the yoke split with a resounding crack, but the momentum of the carriage drove it forward until the front wheels stopped atop the carcasses. Inside the carriage, King Arik and Queen Tanya were tangled on the floor. The king brought back his legs and slammed them into the burning door. The door flew away from the carriage and into a group of Red Swords. The soldiers scurried away from the flaming debris as two unicorns raced past them.

“Stay away!” shouted Queen Tanya as she cast a spell of ice on the doorframe of the carriage. Seconds later she shouted to Arik. “Go! Get on Chaco and flee!”

The king dove out of the carriage. The Red Swords immediately formed a human wall around the king as the queen dove out of the carriage. Tanya leaped onto Frea as Arik leaped onto Chaco.

“Stay on the ground, but ride as swift as the wind,” the king shouted to the unicorns.

The two unicorns raced towards the Royal Palace. Colonel Jaynes ordered men to escort them, but none of their horses could keep up the pace. Chaco and Frea sped through the streets of the city with such speed that people barely had time to get out of their way.

“Shouldn’t we be back there battling the demonkin?” shouted the king. “We are the only ones who can kill it.”

“Not when we don’t know where it is,” the queen shouted back. “Let the Red Swords locate it. We can be anywhere in the city in seconds once we are sure that we will not be struck down while flying.”

The unicorns raced into the courtyard of the Royal Palace, and the king and queen quickly dismounted.

“Catch your breath and prepare for battle,” gasped Queen Tanya. “We will be called to fight any minute now.”

“What happened back there?” asked the king. “I thought Fredrik was shielding us.”

“I am sure that he was,” frowned the queen. “I felt the back of the carriage rise just before the fireball hit us.”

“Like we ran over something?” asked King Arik.

“More like the street under us suddenly exploded upward. If that is what happened, the demonkin are getting smarter.”

“Explain.”

“Fredrik had the entire carriage shielded, but he couldn’t shield under the street, especially when the definition of the street under the carriage was constantly changing. If the demonkin knew for sure that Fredrik was shielding us, it could have chosen to get rid of Fredrik and the shield by making the street under the carriage explode. I am sure that Fredrik and Niki were thrown off the carriage. He would never be able to maintain the shield over us if he fell off.”

* * * *

The city street was chaotic. The king’s carriage was burning, sending a plume of smoke rising over the city. The four horses that had been pulling the carriage lay dead under its wheels. Red Swords swarmed over a two-block area, some of them mounted and others on foot. Other Red Swords were entering every building and searching them thoroughly. Still more Red Swords sat in the street with a number of injuries. Some of them nursed blistered hands, and others broken bones from their failure to get out of the way of the runaway carriage. The cobblestones that had exploded under the carriage hit a few more, and a couple had been thrown from their horses. Colonel David Jaynes rode through the wreckage with a determined frown upon his face. When he came to the area where the street was torn apart, he saw Niki sitting next to Fredrik. The redhead was bawling loudly, and tears were streaming down her face. The colonel dismounted and moved to her side. He stared down at Fredrik and immediately recognized the stare of death upon the Royal Sorcerer’s face. He knelt next to Niki and silently wrapped his arms around her. She turned her face into his chest and continued crying.

Several stories over the colonel’s head, a Red Sword opened a door and stepped onto the roof of the building. An invisible, magical projectile streamed towards him, but it harmlessly bounced off an invisible shield.

“You should not attack your brother,” Lloyd Becker said softly. “Come out so I can see you.”

Cavanor stepped out of hiding and walked towards the Red Sword. “Brother? And who would you be?”

“Lycindor,” answered Lloyd. “And you?”

“Cavanor,” smiled the woman.

“Yours was a clever attack, but you failed. The king got away safely.”

“There will be other times,” shrugged Cavanor. “I hadn’t really planned to strike today, but the parade was irresistible. Why didn’t you join in, seeing as you have found a way to get close to the Warrior King?”

“Because I was not assured of success,” answered Lycindor. “Wycaramor made the mistake of being impatient. I will not make the same mistake.”

“Wycaramor was from bad seed,” Cavanor replied mockingly. “He deserved to fail.”

“There is truth in your words,” chuckled Lycindor, “but you had best keep such words away from D’Wycaram. I do not think he would be amused.”

“Then he has no sense of humor. I see all I really managed to do today was to kill some horses. The boy king has amazing luck.”

“Actually,” replied Lycindor, “you have accomplished a great feat. The white-haired one was Fredrik, the Royal Sorcerer. He was also a Knight of Alcea.”

“Oh really?” brightened Cavanor. “Now I do feel better. So, are we to have a competition now? A race to the kill?”

“I am in no hurry,” replied Lycindor. “I have not yet managed to gain access to the king’s wing of the palace, but it is only a matter of time. If you stick around and keep wounding Red Swords, I might be there sooner than expected.”

“You know that I will get the boy king,” boasted Cavanor. “Why don’t you go for one of the lesser heroes?”

“I will kill in the order of importance,” declared Lycindor. “The Warrior King dies first. You can play whatever games you want. Do you know if Artimor has arrived yet?”

“I have heard nothing about him,” frowned Cavanor. “If he doesn’t hurry, there will be nothing for him to do when he does get here.”

“He?” asked Lycindor. “Is Artimor male then?”

“I really don’t know,” answered Cavanor. “Does it really matter?”

Voices drifted up the stairwell to the roof and Lycindor looked at Cavanor and raised a finger to his lips.

“It is time for me to go. Find a hole to crawl into. The Red Swords will tire of looking in a few hours, and you will be free to move about again.”

Cavanor nodded and drifted towards the shadows. Lloyd Becker moved to the door leading downstairs. He made a great deal of noise as he slammed the door open and stepped inside the building. Cavanor could hear voices drifting up the stairs.

“Did you check the roof?”

“Thoroughly. Nobody up there, and that door hasn’t been opened in at least a month. I nearly had to break it down.”

* * * *

Alexander Tork stood on top of a long ridge gazing down at the Sordoan coastline far below. Next to him stood the only dwarf who was also a Knight of Alcea.

“What do you think?” asked Alex. “Can it be done?”

Prince Darok frowned, the thick dwarven skin of his brow creasing heavily. He sighed as he turned to gaze along the crest of the ridge.

“It is acceptable to say no,” declared Alex. “I may demand perfection from people, but I do not expect miracles. If it is impossible, just say so.”

“Nothing is truly impossible,” the dwarf responded as his eyes dropped to the tiny ribbon running along the shoreline below. “How long will the army be?”

“It will be twenty-thousand men,” answered Alex. “Four-thousand of them will probably be mounted.”

“It is hard to tell how wide the road is from up here. How wide will the column be?”

“I will take you down to see the road,” offered Alex. “I suspect two to three files for the cavalry and probably four to six for the infantry.”

“That is quite a variance,” complained the dwarven prince. “Can you narrow it down?”

“Certainly,” Alex replied with a thin smile on his face. “I will have Clint ask the Federation generals.”

The dwarf’s eyebrows rose in surprise until he realized that his friend was toying with him. “Bah! I don’t know why I even talk to you.”

“And here I thought it was because dwarves like a challenge,” teased Alex. “Perhaps I should be talking to the elves?”

“Elves?” the dwarf spat in feigned offense. “You would have to coax them down out of their trees first.” Prince Darok fiddled with his beard for a moment and then stared down at the road again. “You are talking about a column two to three leagues long, and that is without a baggage train.”

“The baggage train is irrelevant,” replied Alex. “I don’t care what happens to it.”

“It is not irrelevant if it is in the middle of the column,” retorted the dwarf. “Mind you, I think that would be foolish, but how much do we really know about Zaran logistics?”

“Only what our people have observed in Zara,” conceded Alex, “and none of those armies were on a war footing.”

“Three leagues then,” decided the dwarf. “You do realize that what you are asking for would be a massive undertaking?”

“I do.” Alex nodded. “How long would it take?”

“Maybe a year if I put every available person on it,” shrugged the dwarf.

“A year?” balked Alex. “You know that a year is unacceptable. The Zarans will attack within two months.”

“Then you need to find a way to stall the invasion,” retorted the Prince of Dorgun.

“We are working on that,” sighed Alex. “What do you mean by every available person?”

“All of the Dorgun dwarves who are not already scheduled for other mining operations.”

“This is too large a project for just Dorgun,” stated Alex. “You must include Lanto, Cazra, and Talman in your plans.”

Prince Darok sighed and shook his head. “Even if I included every able-bodied dwarf in the world, this project is so massive that I still could not get it done in under two months. There are only so many people you can put on a job before they start tripping over one another. I need more time.”

“Then I will find a way to get it for you,” vowed Alex. “You just get the plans drawn up and the workers lined up. This project needs to get started right away.”

* * * *

Clint stood on the balcony of the room at the Emporium Inn in Despair. He stared out at the night sky, but his mind was not focused on the stars twinkling over the city. Instead, he pondered the mystery of the emperor’s message. When a solid knock sounded from the door to the suite, Clint hurried to answer it. He opened the door and an elf quickly slipped into the room. Clint closed the door and locked it before turning to greet his friend.

“I trust you were not detected?”

“I would not be standing here if I had been detected,” smiled Morro. “What is so urgent? Peanut wouldn’t say.”

“Peanut didn’t know,” replied Clint as he handed the slip of paper to the elven thief. “The emperor covertly handed off that note to me.”

Morro read the short note and frowned. “How does this affect us?”

“I am not sure. In fact, I can’t make sense of it. It is clear that someone has captured the emperor’s family, but I cannot figure out why. It is the Baroukan way to kill the emperor’s entire family when seizing the throne. That is why it makes no sense. If they truly have the emperor’s family, and I know that they do have access to the emperor himself, why don’t they just kill them all and seize power?”

Morro eased into a chair and stared at the floor for a moment before answering. “Either they are lying about having the emperor’s family, or they are not sure if they have ALL of the emperor’s family. If they were to miss a potential heir, they would expose their identities by trying to seize the throne.”

“Two possible choices.” Clint nodded. “But can there be others? What if they do have all they need, but the timing is off?”

“Timing?” frowned Morro. “Timing for what?”

“I don’t know,” conceded Clint, “but I think this was all brought on by the emperor’s decision to remove Kyrga from his position of power. Kyrga is clearly a pawn of whoever is seeking control. He does not have the intelligence to be the brains behind this. In fact, I know that Kyrga reports to K’san. So who does the demonkin report to? We originally thought they reported to Emperor Jaar, but we now know that is not true.”

“I think I understand your confusion now, but how does this affect us?”

“I am not sure,” sighed Clint, “but with an army of three hundred thousand men under his control, I think we need to know who is really controlling Emperor Jaar. If there is any chance of defusing this war, I think it should be investigated.”