Key to Magic 04 Emperor Read online

  EMPEROR

  The Key to Magic: Book Four

  H. Jonas Rhynedahll

  © 2012 by H. Jonas Rhynedahll. All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, scenes, dialogue, and descriptions are purely the product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, real events, or actual places is entirely coincidental.

  For my brother Terry

  A true gentle giant

  You might as well appeal against the thunder-storm as against these terrible hardships of war.

  William Tecumseh Sherman, 1864

  Other Works:

  The Key to Magic: An epic fantasy series

  Orphan

  Magician

  King

  Emperor

  Warrior (2013)

  Wizard (TBA)

  Thief (TBA)

  To End a War (science fiction novella)

  Not Your Typical, Scantily-Clad Virgin Sacrifice (short story collection)

  Potatoes, Come Forth!

  Forthcoming:

  Tunnels

  Time Traveler's Currency Exchange and Pawn

  ONE

  142nd Year of the Reign of the City

  (Thirdday, Waning, 1st Autumnmoon, 1644 After the Founding of the Empire)

  When the skyship was directly above the center of the courtyard, Mhiskva, without raising his voice above a murmur, ordered Wloblh, "Now."

  As the ironsmith concentrated, eyes closed and standing rigidly, Number Three plummeted through the dark, the rush of the air strumming her timbers with the chords of an eerie lament. Two bulky marines, ready to give physical support if necessary, stood beside him. Wloblh was the best of the trainees, but the profound depths of concentration required for the thick shouldered man to control the skyship during precise maneuvers left him oblivious to the external world and subject to bouts of vertigo, incoherence, and nausea.

  With only minutes lacking till midnight, all of the moons were up -- Father Moon still mostly full -- and anyone looking up would see the skyship come down, but Mhiskva had deemed the potential risk acceptable. This fortress had not been laid siege in at least a millennium, nor suffered any sort of significant assault or organized attack in more than half that time. The legionnaires guarding the extensive walls, bastions, and gates would -- if they were alert at all -- be watching for the rare brazen vandal from the city who might be tempted to make an attempt to sneak over the walls.

  Number Three dropped the twenty manheight in seconds, decelerating abruptly to stop with her keel mere fingerlengths from the cobblestones. Wloblh had not had time to practice the maneuver, but he had assured the marine captain that he would accomplish the task without damaging the vessel. Mhiskva was pleased to see that the man had been as good as his word. The waiting marines, as previously ordered and led by Vice-Captain Berhl, poured from her open sides as soon as the skyship came to a shivering stop, hopping down lightly with as little noise as possible -- though it was impossible to completely dampen the unavoidable subdued clash of the metal and leather of their armor. Without verbal orders, the marines raced across the courtyard, forming into files and quads as they went. The unavoidable rumbling sound of two hundred boots slapping the pavement could not be avoided, but any alarm given now should come too late.

  The assault group's primary objectives were the ramps leading up to the allures of the inner courtyard's five manheight high curtain walls and the two blocky gatehouses to the east and west. Once the courtyard was under control, the marines would move on to the outer fortifications -- the external baileys, the four main compass point bastions, the eight small interleaved ancillary bastions, and the scattered towers. The one eyes-on scouting report that Mhiskva had had of the fortress had suggested that the fortresses' garrison, no more than a full legion, was demonstrably inadequate to defend it and additionally that the numbers routinely assigned to the night guard detail were so deficient as to be a dereliction of duty.

  Mhiskva unshipped his axe and nodded at Wilhm and Lord Hhrahld. Wilhm hardly twitched an eyelash but the Prince-Protector flashed an anticipatory grin. The constant association of the two had seemed to provide both with tangible psychological benefit: the pirate's extreme moods had moderated considerably and the youth's cognizance of the world at large had clarified. Neither, alone, might still interface with reality with any great success, but together the two had achieved something that almost might be termed normalcy.

  Both followed as Mhiskva vaulted the rail and the three of them landed with hardly a sound on the cobbles of the courtyard. Wilhm took a flanking position to his right and Lord Hhrahld to his left. Wloblh raised the skyship as soon as they were down, and the vessel shot upward with a rush of roiling air. Number Three was too valuable -- it was entirely possible that under the current circumstances it might actually be irreplaceable -- to allow it to remain vulnerable to ground attack. It would be up to Mhiskva, his two shield mates, and the hundred marines to secure the courtyard. The other circling skyships would land reinforcements only when the surprise night attack succeeded in winning a foothold in the massive stronghold.

  No cries arose as the marines headed up the broad ramps, though Mhiskva could quite easily hear the rough chorus of their labored breath and the raucous scuff of their boots on the stone. He took several strides closer the nearest ramp so that he would be in range to provide support, if needed, and rotated slowly through a complete circle, scanning for any threat.

  The courtyard was exactly square, though spun on its axis so that its corners were aligned with the cardinal directions. The two gatehouses, each adjoined by round, flare-topped towers in the Imperial style, cut angles across their respective corners. The eastern gate, which led out of the fortress through a small, circular bailey, was shut, but the western remained open.

  As the Mhajhkaeirii gained the top of the ramps, half-chocked shouts went up at last from the sentries distributed sparsely atop the allures, but the hapless, occasionally slumbering legionnaires only managed a moment or two of frantic bellowing before the Mhajhkaeirii swarmed over them and pummeled them into silence. Mhiskva had given orders to use steel only if it were absolutely unavoidable, and the fuglemen and ceannaires leading the quads had been chosen on the basis of their experience in riot control. This city was not yet an openly declared ally of the Phaelle'n and he had no desire to allow careless slaughter to drive them fully into the arms of the enemy.

  When he saw that the allures had been secured, he signaled Wilhm and Lord Hhrahld to follow and made for his own objective, the two long barracks buildings at the northern wedge of the courtyard. The scouts had believed that the bulk of the garrison was quartered there. The central keep, a square edifice three storeys high, housed the officers and lay at the south end, but he had determined to ignore it initially. The officers and what few guards might be there could do little if the remainder of the fortress had been captured. Knowing the severity of the casualties that storming such a fortified building would normally entail, he fully intended to leave the keep invested but unmolested, unless its occupants attempted to cause more trouble than he expected.

  As he neared the brick front wall of the eastern barracks, a shirtless armsman, an older man that had the perennially sour look of a veteran fugleman, stepped out bearing a lantern and an annoyed expression. When he saw the shadowy silhouettes of the charging Mhajhkaeirii, he yelped an obscene curse and dodged back inside, dragging the heavy door closed behind him.

  Mhiskva increased his speed, running full tilt at the door. Feeling an unfamiliar surge of energy, he slammed into the iron-bound portal with his full weight, striving to drive it open before it could be barred. The plates of his pauldron clanged wit
h a mighty crash and the planks of the door all but disintegrated in a cloud of gyrating splinters. His charge carried him a dozen of his own long paces down the central aisle of the extended, low-ceilinged room. Wood post columns supported the low roof and three rows of neatly spaced cots paralleled the open aisle to either side. The dim light of a scant half dozen lamps hung on chains from the rafters above revealed a suddenly frozen tableau of wild-eyed armsmen half-dressed or in their smallclothes and scrambling for weapons and armor.

  Physically conscious of the close presence of Wilhm and Lord Hhrahld behind him, Mhiskva raised his axe in one hand and swung it about in a reproving semi-circle to encompass all the gaping legionnaires. The poor light seemed to make a red glow flare from its flawlessly sharpened edge.

  "Stand easy," he declared, his voice booming down the length of the building with a sound like the tolling of a great bell, "or die!"

  Immediately following his words, the swords of the two large men behind him swung in a scything flourish that whispered through the shocked silence with deadly promise.

  Scowling faces all around went pale or slack-jawed, and the full complement, close to three full sections, quickly emptied their hands and raised them high.

  Mhiskva's marines flooded in and began to drive the captured legionnaires out into the courtyard. Hearing the clash of arms and ragged shouts, Mhiskva raced back outside and sprinted to the second barracks, where a tight clutch of the enemy were holding the door against the advance of twenty or so marines. The legionnaires had the advantage in the narrow entrance and two of the marines had already fallen back clutching wounds.

  He charged, shouldered his own men aside, and laid into the defenders with the flat of his axe. As his weapon stunned and flattened first one, then another, the near comical sluggishness of their movements struck him as odd, but he dismissed this as a mere illusion generated by the heat of battle. With the door now cleared, he crouched and pressed into the building.

  One man, wearing a helmet and nothing else but a breechclout, thrust a barbed spear at his midsection. Mhiskva pivoted, flicked the thrust aside with the upper recurve of his axe, and carefully swung a fist to cuff the side of the man's head. The legionnaire's eyes glazed instantly and he dropped without a sound.

  Wilhm and Lord Hhrahld came in behind Mhiskva. The old pirate had sheathed his sword and fell to with his fists, flailing about with an expression of maniacal glee. Standing at the Prince-Protector's back, Wilhm held his blade at the ready, silent and expressionless, and the sight of him hovering there, ready to strike any that might raise a weapon, seemed to paralyze many of the legionnaires, so that hardly any made further resistance.

  As soon as Mhiskva and his spearheading companions had opened a space, a good two dozen marines rushed in behind them and a general melee ensued, but the unprepared defenders had already lost heart and in short order the barracks was also cleared, with the legionnaires driven out to join their captive comrades.

  Mhiskva found Vice-Captain Berhl supervising the arraying of the prisoners, who were being compelled with cuffs and prods from cudgels to sit, hands on their heads, at the center of the courtyard.

  "Report, Vice-Captain."

  Berhl grinned nastily. "We hold the whole place, Captain! Most of the guards in the outer works were asleep!"

  "Very good. Signal the reinforcements to land."

  "Aye, sir." Berhl turned and growled sharp orders in tones that betrayed the fact he would always be a fugleman at heart. Four marines immediately set alight a prepared torch, casting copper dust on the oily flames to flare them green.

  Number Five, piloted by Wloblh's daughter Mrye, came down slowly but steadily in front of the now emptied barracks and disgorged another section of marines. The vice-captain and subaltern's in charge of these moved them immediately toward their pre-assigned positions throughout the fortress. As soon the marines were clear, Number Five rose gracefully and warped to the east to make room for Number Six. Srye took more time coming down than her sister, but the imperturbable young woman accomplished the task with similar finesse. Number Five's cargo was one hundred odd militia and volunteers commanded by Subaltern Mhygaeus. While the skyship disappeared up into the dark night sky, the subaltern doubled his men across the court to report to Mhiskva.

  Mhygaeus' salute was precise. Young, the officer had graduated from the Military Academy only a month before the fall of Mhajhkaei. "Awaiting orders, sir!"

  Mhiskva nodded toward the prisoners. "Relieve the guards with your men, subaltern. Begin separating them out one at a time and register their names and ranks. Fuglemen and ceannaires are to be moved into the east bailey, common legionnaires to the west."

  "Aye, sir! Sir, might I ask if there has been any further news of the King?"

  Mhiskva shook his head. "Not yet, but the Queen is confident that she will be able to discern his location by daybreak."

  As the subaltern set his men to their orders, the marine captain turned to Berhl once more. "Now, let's see what the officers in the keep are minded to do."

  Once more, Wilhm and Lord Hhrahld followed unbidden. Mhiskva noted this as odd, but realized that it felt entirely natural that the two should flank him in a formation that allowed the three of them to provide each other with support in any melee.

  When he neared the keep, he took his first good look at it and then stopped in surprise.

  At some point, some past commander of the fortress had determined that the residence of his staff could forgo certain customary -- and already existing -- defensive features in favor of cosmetic enhancements designed to impress visiting dignitaries, or, at least, that was Mhiskva's supposition when he inspected the front of the three storey edifice. The main keep's armored entrance gate had been replaced with a resplendent, windowed panel of cherry and beaded glass, her embrasures transformed into roomy bay windows and delicate balconies, and her flanking towers remodeled into open spiral stairways. Lamps were lit throughout the building and darting shadows passed occasionally across windows. The occupants had been roused, but likely knew little of what transpired in their fortress.

  "They have turned the keep into a summer house," Mhiskva commented to Vice-Captain Berhl. "Certainly not the most senseless thing that I have seen."

  "Aye, sir, but I'd wager it'd be pretty close."

  "I do not doubt that you would win that bet. They will try to hold the ground floor with plans to retreat upward, or that is what I might do if I were them. Well, shall we call them out first or just storm the building?"

  "Being officers, they should be a bit more dedicated than the odds and sods, Captain. Might save time just to have at it. Three sections. One for each of the stairways and the third through the front door. Half an hour at the most, I'd say. We'll take casualties, but not more than fifteen percent."

  "Crave pardon, commander, but if I may be permitted?" Lord Hhrahld had stirred and spoken, his normally craggy voice clear and sonorous. "The lad and I can clear the keep in short order with no risk and no significant casualties to them or us."

  Mhiskva took a moment to examine the Prince-Protector. The old man exuded only confidence, calm, and, quite bizarrely, rationality. Without stopping to give the idea real consideration, the captain instantly made the decision that felt right.

  "By all means."

  The pirate nodded once and then he and Wilhm, without further communication and apparently according to some unspoken plan, took off at great speed, far faster than any man should have been able to run. Each dashed to and into a stairwell and within a split second appeared at the top. Doors were burst in and then a great racket ensued from the upper floor of the keep: caterwauling and screeching in the finest pirate fashion, proceeding sounds of unrestrained and entirely intentional wrack and ruin, the crash of unfettered and extravagant destruction, and, presently, the yells and pounding steps of fleeing men. The aural evidence of Lord Hhrahld and Wilhm's advance moved downward, floor by floor, and presently an armsmen, disarmed, disarrayed, and with
arms raised, thrust open and bolted out the front entrance. Hardly had Berhl dispatched two marines to take the prisoner into custody, when a round dozen officers from legates to a commander in full regalia spilled out, likewise battered and occasionally bleeding, and offered up their surrender. Behind them strolled the two giants, Wilhm expressionless but Lord Hhrahld with a massive, gleeful smirk.

  The enemy commander, disheveled and bruised, glared at Mhiskva as he was led passed. "What manner of men are these cursed giants?"

  Though the question was clearly just a rhetorical complaint, Mhiskva answered the man. "They are Gaaelfharenii, the Warrior Brethren of Mhajhkaei, sent by the Gods to punish the foes of the True King."

  Though his eyes went slightly wider, the officer did not respond. When he and his men had been led away, Vice-Captain Berhl, offered tentatively, "They'll spread that story through all the prisoners, sir."

  "Of course they will," Mhiskva replied.

  Berhl nodded in understanding. "Right."

  Mhiskva put on a broad, matching smile and told the vice-captain, "Signal Number One. The Blue Fortress is ours."

  TWO

  When Telriy infused the smoldering bar that held Mar and caused it to rise, pulling him clear of the fire, some of the Khalarii armsmen, who had been firing ineffectually at the hull of Number One from the shelter of the courtyard's doorways and windows, made to swing their crossbows toward the young magician.

  Telriy screamed, "Stop them!"

  Quaestor Eishtren's bow sang and Khalarii died. Aelwyrd stood beside the officer, calmly feeding him arrows until none of the defenders who dared reveal themselves remained standing.

  Telriy stood back from the rail as her hands, unaccountably, began to shake. Feeling her control of the flux weaken, she tightened her concentration, rejecting all else but a singular focus on the wooden bar, and raised it, with Mar dangling limply beneath, over the side of the skyship. A dozen of the crew rushed near to catch and support him as she lowered the bar to the deck.