A Soldier's Life - 243 - (part 2 of 2) first draft (Patreon)

Chapter 243: (part 2 of 2)

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Castile stood in the dark, cool night while her legionnaires moved around her on alert. The Emperor had just shouted to move out, and the Imperial Legionnaires were heading into the portal to secure the valley beyond. Blaze fidgeted to her left and whispered something to Mateo. Adrian was on her right. “Smells like death to me,” he whispered to her. He knew of the plan to turn on the Emperor, and it was a veiled warning.

“We will follow Zyna’s lead,” Castile said with a confidence she didn’t have. This was a death sentence, and Adrian knew it as well as her.

“Eryk got off easy,” he mumbled. Castile winced at the statement. News of the Eryk’s death had reached them when they joined the Emperor’s Army outside of Caranhagan. Benito had already started a pool for when Fortuna’s son would show himself again. Castile knew better, though; his luck had run out. Centurion Cornelius had confirmed to her a few hours ago that the blood sample he had for Eryk didn’t point anywhere. She had chosen not to tell the men. Best let them hope their companion lived a charmed life.

It was her company's turn through the portal, and they fell in tightly behind a block of soldiers. Holding this portal open for so long was going to tax the Displacement Mages. Organization and speed were paramount to get everyone through and mustered for the assault. That was one thing the Telhian soldiers were good at as they moved in unison at a light jog.

Exiting the portal, she spotted the Emperor standing tall in his golden armor as he stared off into the distance. They had traveled hundreds of miles, and Neptune’s Tear was bright above them here. The blue ethereal light of the moon gave the emerging army a spectral appearance, like death spreading across the land. Her job was to protect the left flank of the Emperor from enemy mage spells. She had three other mages with her for offensive support, but only one was part of Antonia’s plan to remove the Emperor.

She hoped High Mage Zyna or whoever was in charge of this coup would be wise enough to wait until victory was achieved before moving on to the Emperor. However, she didn’t care if the Telhian Empire survived this rebellion; she knew how powerful and vindictive the ancient Emperor was, and in the last few days, she could see him fraying and constantly losing focus.

Cornelius had assured Castile that her blood samples in the Archives under the Imperial Palace would be destroyed within moments of the news of the Emperor’s death reaching them. With Eryk dead, they would find another way to destroy the secondary Archives. Castile took her position and waited for the remainder of the army to arrive so the attack on the rear of the Bartiradian Army could begin.

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Zyna bit her lip and smoothed the rich blue archmagi robes she was wearing. The boy who had given her the robes might be dead. Centurion Sergius had reported him dead, and Cornelius confirmed his death. But the truth was they didn’t have Eryk’s blood sample. Still, it was more likely than not that he was dead. The report said Hound Eryk Marco had been tasked with shadowing the Caliphate Armada and stopped communicating. Guilt racked her, and she hadn’t had the heart to tell Renna, who stood at her side. It was best not to distract the young mage on the eve of her first true battle.

Zyna stood confidently at the Emperor’s side and watched the endless stream of soldiers and legionnaires pour from the portal as the Displacement Mages strained to keep it open. The Emperor’s plan would actually be brilliant if it worked—as long as the Elves did not move on Caranhagan while they fought the Bartiradians here. The Displacement Mages would need a day or two to recover to send them back. 

The Emperor turned to Zyna, “I am glad you are joining us. This will be my greatest victory.” The Emperor appeared lucid and focused. Zyna nodded and hoped he held it together long enough to win the day. She started inventorying the mages around the Emperor. Two were in on the plot, and the other five would have to perish with the Emperor if she chose to move. Renna was not aware of the plot but did not pose a threat to their plans. The night burned away to dawn as the army slowly and successfully arrived. 

With the army gathered, the portal collapsed with the exhausted Displacement Mages. The Emperor looked over his army and moved to the front, yelling with an aetheric-enhanced voice about glory and becoming legends.

A few miles into the march, the first Griffin Rider spotted them. Soon, the Griffin Riders swarmed like vultures over a kill. Zyna cast small fire dragons into the sky to remove the threat of the Griffin Riders. It didn’t take much to burn away enough feathers before the beasts spiraled out of the sky to the ground. The Griffin Riders retreated, but the surprise was no longer on their side. It was going to be a bloody engagement.

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Cornelius rested on a rock high above the valley the army was marching from. A bitter taste was in his mouth, and the sugar cane stalk he chewed on couldn’t clear it. Years of planning had come to this, and it was not the opportune time. They needed the Emperor’s void power as a deterrent and weapon. The stubborn old Emperor wouldn’t step down while the Empire was eating itself alive from within, so there was no other choice.

Centurion Sergius came and stood beside him. The vile man was placed in his position for his blood, not his competence, and Cornelius hated him. “My Hounds reported the west is clear. Just two Rangers, and they are both dead and didn’t raise a warning.” The smugness in his voice made Cornelius’ skin itch.

“Good. We eliminated seven Rangers north and west. The Bartiradians are not aware we have arrived yet.” Cornelius replied methodically to his counterpart.

Sergius moved a little too close, and Cornelius stepped to give him room to watch the assembly below. A few moments passed before Sergius spoke again. The bone etchings tingled in Cornelius’ arms, indicating Sergius was using his spell form to know if he spoke the truth. He wanted to know something, so Cornelius was prepared to answer. “The Archives were attacked, and my son is dead.”

Cornelius stepped further back and faced Sergius, his mind racing and his face showing shock. “The Bartiradians?” he asked, confused.

Sergius shook his head sadly, masking his clear anger underneath, “Unlikely. Three Hounds survived, but no one saw the assailants. Do you know who might have attacked the Archives?”

The itching increased in his arms. “No,” he replied flatly as his mind raced at the possibilities. “Has a necromancer questioned the dead? What about the Master Mage Othello?” Master Mage Othello could look into the past and replay what occurred. “Has the Emperor been informed?” Cornelius added.

Centurion Sergius looked disappointed at Cornelius’ reply. “I want answers before telling the Emperor what has occurred. Only one body was recoverable for the necromancers to question. When questioned, it said someone with a cat attacked the Archives. I have requested Master Mage Othello make the journey but wanted more answers first.” Sergius studied Cornelius as his counterpart thought.

“A cat? A shapeshifter, then?” Cornelius tried to puzzle out the implications. How much of the Archives had been destroyed? Were there other players he was unaware of? Did Antonia have a backup besides Eryk that she didn’t tell him about? Sergius stepped a little closer as Cornelius’ mind raced.

“No,” Sergius said hotly. Cornelius felt a heavy pressure on his mind, immobilizing him. Sergius’ dagger was out and into his chest in a blink, and he lowered Cornelius’ body to the ground behind a boulder. “It is a strong poison, my friend. It will take time to kill, but you will feel no pain. The necromancers will get the answers I want from your corpse. Know that my Hounds will take care of Antonia Segreto if the Emperor dies today.”

Cornelius’ muscles were seized, and he couldn’t move. Sergius stood over him, “Don’t look surprised. Duke Octavian told me of your plot to place him in the Emperor’s seat. I agree it is time for new guidance from the Empire, but it will not be Antonia or you guiding it from the shadows, but me. If I find out you killed my son, know your soul will be tortured for all eternity.”

Hound Hercule approached, and Sergius turned to him, “Take his head for the necromancer, but I want to be there when his spirit is questioned.” A Griffin Rider circled high above in the gray dawn light. Cornelius always wondered what it would be like to fly on the back of a griffin. Hound Hercule nodded and knelt, cutting off Cornelius’ head while he was still conscious.

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The day had been bloody, but the Telhians were victorious. The Emperor watched from a distance as the armies clashed in the waning battle. He had used a lot of aether today and led three assaults. The first had been a brutal massacre on the baggage train and camp followers, followed by the organized Bartiradian army.

Duke Tiberius and Octavian had been slow in closing the trap, but eventually, they had. The third assault had the Bartiradians trapped between the three armies and had nowhere to retreat. Spells of lightning, fire, and ice flashed and rolled over the men, indiscriminate of their allegiance. Bodies still screamed for healing or just death’s embrace.

One of his duke generals rode up, “Emperor, a detachment of the Bartiradians is breaking east. They will escape the encirclement.” The Emperor turned to the mage on his right.

The mage turned his focus inward and sent out an all-seeing-eye. A moment later, he spoke, “About fifteen hundred men, two miles east.”

Zyna offered unwanted advice, “The day is won, most of the mages are spent. We should move north and send soldiers back to Caranhagan before the Elves move.”

“No. We will kill every Bartiradian we can today so we do not have to deal with them in the future.” The Emperor said sternly, the wildness of battle adrenaline still in his eyes. He turned to a mage, “Unpack the collectors and start harvesting the dead before it is too late. Duke Octavian and Tiberius can clean up here. I will personally lead a detachment to handle the escaping Bartiradians.”

Twenty minutes later, the Emperor led six hundred mounted legionnaires and fourteen mages east. He was happy to note that Zyna was among his mages as they all discussed how much aether they had. His mages gave them updates on the fleeing Bartiradians. Only a hundred were mounted, and they had less than ten mages.

How many mages had his own army lost today? He remembered the reports coming to him in the battle, but he couldn’t split his focus while he sent void lightning a quarter mile away into the enemy.

“They are forming a defensive line,” the mage to his left announced. The Emperor nodded and slowed the calvary. A half mile away, the Bartiradian were rapidly digging pits to defend against the horse charge. Sandy dirt was being tossed into the air as they tried to prepare something to break a calvary charge. Severus signaled a halt. Best to soften them first.

The Emperor rode forward and scanned the enemy, mostly humans with a few elves and dwarves in the mix. They noticed his golden armor, and he could feel their fear even from this distance. They had probably seen him wreak destruction during the battle today.

At this extreme range, there were only a handful of mages on all of Desia that could extend their offensive magic over this distance. The Emperor dismounted, and everyone followed his example. The Emperor pulled on his aether core, weaving the spell forms layer after layer over heartbeats. He frowned as he made an error in the spell forms and had to begin anew, this time successful. Black lightning danced between his hands, and nearby mounts danced nervously to the powerful unnatural void magic being formed.

Emperor Maximum Augustus Severus released the spell. A black web of lightning raced across the distance, spreading out in a wave of destruction. Some of the lightning struck the ground, leaving deep holes; some of the lightning headed into the sky, leaving after images to those watching it, but over half the black lines reached the Bartiradians. Screams of men suddenly sporting holes in their body erupted and the lightning raced though their ranks. He fed the spell forms until his aether ran dangerously low.

Breathing heavily from using so much aether today, he smiled, “At least a quarter dead.” He looked to his mages. “Finish them.” Zyna nodded, a frown on her face, and started to form her layered spell forms, creating a twisting, growing fire. As the dragon formed, the men prepared to charge with it. The fire dragon shot into the sky and came back down, encompassing Master Mage Naevius.

The Emperor was confused for a moment as his mind processed the screams of the burning mage. Then, his Imperial legionnaires were suddenly assaulted by other legionnaires. Chaos reigned, and confusion muddled the Emperor’s mind. Was a powerful mind mage controlling his people? A lance of fire lanced at his chest from Zyna’s hands. His aetheric shield flashed in defense, draining his amulet.

Severus reached for aether to form a void shield as Primus Scorpio yelled at him, “Protect the Emperor from the traitors!” His void shield formed, and then the weave dissolved as another blast of fire slammed into his armor. The runic etchings are flaring in defense, but the armor still heated and cooked him.

Zyna was screaming orders at the other mages as she pulled back. Primus Scorpio was off his horse and helping his Emperor to his feet. “We need to run. Some of the mages have betrayed you. The Imperial Legionnaires outnumber them, but they are targeting your loyal mages.”

He was not going to run. He drew his blade and located the mage who was preventing him from forming his void spells. The mithril blade reflected the sun’s light as lighting, fire, and explosions added to the chaos as men figured out who was on which side. The Emperor roared and charged the mage guarded by the lesser legionnaires. It had been years since he wielded the ancient blade but he would make use of it today.

Scorpio gave up trying to get his Emperor to flee and ordered the loyal legionnaires to defend him. The Emperor closed on the sweating mage as her legionnaires defended her. The ground burst around him in a fiery explosion, but his armor kept him upright as he marched to exact vengeance on the betrayal. Zyna would be next.

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Castile watched as the Emperor walked toward her. They had tried and failed. Imperial Legionaries sealed off Zyna and the other conspiratorial mages, their runic armor dulling the magical attacks. Only seven men guarded her from his wrath.

Konstantin had been loaned to the Hounds to scout for the army. Malory and Donte had fallen in the battle earlier in the day. Firth and Linus had been too injured and hadn’t joined this fight. It was a good thing; otherwise, Firth would have fallen to Adrian’s blade when the betrayal started. Adrian was keeping an eye on Wylie, who was currently stunned. If they didn’t have to kill a comrade, all the better.

Fire and earth erupted around the Emperor as Zyna tried to slow him, but she had her own problems. The Imperial Legionnaires outnumbered them two to one. She diverted her attention to send out a shadow chain to open the defense of one of the Imperial Legionnaires so Benito could get his spear under his chin.

Kolm fell to his knees to her left, his knee buckling from a powerful blow. Blaze was next to her and muttered to no one in particular, “Any chance you have a few arrows?” He had been deadly with his shots, striking legionnaire in the neck through gaps in their armor, but was down to just a few arrows.

Adrian moved out to face the Emperor, rather than let him get close to Castile. The Emperor was sloppy with his blade but faster and stronger than Adrian. Adrian’s runic blade, once Delmar’s, scratched the armor, but it didn’t matter as the Emperor grabbed his wrist and pieced him through his armor with the mithril weapon he wielded. Adrian punched the Emperor repeatedly in his face with his free hand. If they lived through this, it would be a funny story for him to tell—punching the Emperor of the Telhian Empire in the face.

The Emperor jerked his blade and kicked Adrian away in a show of remarkable agility in the heavy gold armor. Adrian clutched at his chest as he tumbled away. He reached for a lesser potion, but Castile knew the wound was too broad and deep. Blood poured from his mouth as he fought to drink, his lungs destroyed. Castile did not have time to watch her loyal friend die. The Emperor was coming for her next.

Kolm’s helm was crushed by a heavy blade on her right. The ground suddenly softened, every combatant in front of her sinking inches into the earth. The Emperor’s advance was paused. Then, the soft ground hardened just as fast as it had softened. A young, familiar, red-haired mage heaved deeply a short distance away behind Zyna. Castile had not been aware that Renna was part of the conspiracy. Her aid couldn’t have been better timed. Benito and Mateo had been out of range of the magical attack and raced among the Imperial legionnaires with their feet imprisoned in stone and unable to turn.

A wave of fire washed across two dozen other Imperial Legionnaires, cooking them and forcing them back. Primus Scorpio was screaming at the others to kill her. They knew she was holding the Emperor’s void magic in check. The Emperor was using his mithril blade to free his feet.

A thundering of hooves sounded a distance away, and she turned to see Duke Octavian leading a calvary charge with fifty legionaries all sporting his house crest. It was truly over then. The Emperor looked relieved to see his son rushing to his aid. But when the charge reached them, Octavian’s men targeted the Imperial Legionnaires and not the traitors. The Emperor roared and raged, his voice magnified by an aetheric weave in his armor.

Primus Scorpio had freed his legs, leaving his boots cemented in the hard earth. Mateo and Benito moved to shield Castile. Four quick exchanges found Benito bleeding from a neck wound, and Mateo’s sword arm cut the bone through his vambraces. Castile’s concentration was forced on the Primus, her aetheric shadow chains trying to bind him. Her focus was no longer on the Emperor. It wouldn’t be long now before she joined Adrian.

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The traitorous mage had shifted away from him. Severus turned and immediately formed and released void lightning at Zyna. Her aetheric shield flared as it tried to stop the assault but quickly failed. Her blue robes scorched and sizzled as the void lightning flashed against it uselessly. He continued his assault, ignoring his body telling him he was aetheric past his limits. He could recover in time as he had done before.

Finally, an arch of black lightning diverted up into Zyna’s unprotected face. A hole appeared through her eye and out the back of her head. She collapsed to the ground, the young red-haired mage standing behind her, shocked by everything around her. Her time would come too, Severus swore. He looked around the battle, which was slowly turning in favor of the traitors.

How had that malicious son of his convinced so many of his people to support him? He would find out soon. He found Octavian on the perimeter of the battle and prepared to end him next. He ignored the burn and channeled aether and nothing. He turned sharply as his spell forms dissolved. A one-handed legionnaire had put a sword through Scorpio’s eye while he had been bound by shadow chains. The traitorous mage was blocking his aether shaping once again.

An alert from his right that the Bartiradians were forming a line to charge their position had dozens of men uncertain about what to do. The traitors pulled back first but didn’t retreat. They were putting the Emperor and his loyal men between them and the Bartiradians. There was a call from some of his Imperial legionnaires to gather horses. A legionnaire forced reins into his hands. “Emperor, ride to safety. We will guard your retreat.”

He pulled up his aching body into the saddle, his aether channels on fire, and nine other legionnaires joined him in saddles. A hundred of his loyal legionnaires remained standing. The Emperor turned to burn the faces of the traitors into his mind. An arrow pierced the eye slit on his helm. His head jerked back as he tried to register what had just happened. The arrow jutted out of his helm as the Emperor turned his head. Silence seemed to fall across the field as the Emperor slowly slid off his horse and hit the ground. The Imperial legionnaires circled around to defend their fallen Emperor. Some were calling for healing mages or a healing potion, but no mages remained, and all the potions had been used. Octavian pulled the other legionaries back away from the rushing Bartiradians.

Not all the legionnaires and remaining mages retreated with Octavian. Castile and her five surviving legionnaires moved into the dense woodlands. Wylie was still numb in shock at what had just happened. Blaze was still in disbelief that he had just killed his Emperor. Lirkin, limping and severely bloodied. And Benito was his neck wound wrapped, hobbled, supported by Mateo, whose right arm was shattered and unusable. He carried Primus Scorpio’s runic weapon in his good hand.

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