A Soldier's Life -243-Emperor POV (both parts, 1 and 2)

Chapter 243: Emperor Maximum Augustus Severus

Emperor Maximum Augustus Severus sat in his command tent north of Caranhagan. The recent battle was won but not without loss. His thoughts were muddled as he studied the maps on the table. Primus Scorpio stood patiently nearby, waiting for orders while his duke generals had been told to leave him alone. He focused, “How many dead?”

The Primus came to attention, “Two hundred-six legionnaires dead, forty-two crippled. The soldier count is over four thousand, about half that crippled, but the healers can get most healed enough to rejoin the ranks in time.”

“Mages?” the Emperor asked, reaching into his pocket and removing a faded purple essence. The intellect essence would help him focus for a day or so. His thoughts clarified as the essence dissolved. This essence tasted salty, and he wondered what creature or person it came from.

“Master Mage Gracilis is burnt.” Severus frowned, prompting Primus Scorpio to explain. “First Citizen Aureus retreated on the left flank, and Master Mage Gracilis was forced forward to hold the line. He also lost all his legionnaires and is asking Aureus to be punished.” Primus Scorpio reported. “Three freshly raised Mages were also burnt, but losing them will not affect our combat strength.”

Severus was trying to remember who First Citizen Aureus was. Once, he could recall every First Citizen in the Empire instantly; now, their names were foggy memories. He reached for minutes to trace the genealogy, and Primus Scorpio respected his Emperor’s internal deliberations. Finally, he found the thread of memories he was searching for. 

First Citizen Aureus was the great-grandson of his third daughter, Persia. Persia had died over two centuries ago. He vaguely remembered the funeral services. “Execute First Citizen Aureus for retreating in the face of the enemy. Assign Master Mage Gracilis twenty of my Imperial Legionnaires. And give him this.”

He reached into his belt and searched for the correct essence. Most of the essences he had on his person were to help his focus. He produced a glossy black sphere. It was a major channeling essence. His thoughts drifted unbidden back to when he had burnt his own aether channels.

Severus had been assigned to the Agorian Front by his father, the Count of Varvao. The trolls had risen in numbers and were a tangible threat that spring. He was eager to prove himself to the Emperor. He had taken five hundred legionnaires deep into the swamps, taking the fight to the trolls. 

His men formed a fortification deep in troll lands and repelled wave after wave of the foul creatures. It was his godly void magic that tore the trolls from existence and prevented them from regenerating. His boldness was quickly turned into folly as the trolls numbered much higher than the Hounds had reported. Severus had forced himself past his limits but didn’t stop and won the day, breaking the trolls.

He had been burnt severely in the defense, taking 207 major and apex channeling essences over the next five years to repair the damage and restore his magic. The Emperor, his grandfather, had given him every channeling essence that filtered to the palace, seeing his potential. 

He released the channeling essence into Scorpio’s outstretched hand. Master Mage Gracilis was a valuable mage who could disrupt enemy spells at a distance but would only get temporary relief from the glossy black sphere. He would have to push through his pain and continue to fight. 

Severus snapped back to the moment; minutes had passed, and his mind had wandered again. He looked up at Scorpio, “What other news?”

“Centurion Cornelius and Sergius are prepared to report when you are ready, Emperor.” The Primus stated obediently.

“Why is Sergius here? Haven’t the orcs invaded the Western Empire?” Severus barked angrily. Too many enemies were trying to take advantage and steal the discovery of the Titan Ruins. He would banish them all from existence.

Primus Scorpio bowed, “You ordered half of his Hounds to Macha. He volunteered to come with them, and you approved the move.”

That was—correct he recalled. He slowly nodded, “Send them in then.”

The two Hound Centurions entered almost immediately. The old Cornelius had a straight back as he entered. He had lost Hounds faster than they could be replaced. Sergius had gained weight from last seeing him but couldn’t recall when that had been. Centurion Cornelius reported first.

Cornelius saluted, “My Emperor. The elves are licking their wounds and have stopped their advance after the last battle. They will wait for reinforcements from Esenhem after losing two of their powerful mages at your hands.” Severus nodded impatiently. That battle was two days ago, and he had not channeled that much aether in decades and nearly burnt his own aether channels again. Although they had won the day, his Empire couldn’t sustain three war fronts if this became a war of attrition.

“And the Bartiradians?” He asked the Hound Centurion impatiently.

“Duke Tiberius is retreating to Macha, and to defend the excavation site, he lost half his strength defending the walls of Guiracas,” Cornelius reported. The Emperor slammed the table, and Cornelius didn’t jump, but Sergius flinched.

Sergius spoke to fuel his anger, “Varvao has fallen to the orc clerics. Duke Tiberius failed to send reinforcements as promised. I managed to delay the fleet for two days longer than he requested but could not hold them back any longer.”

The Emperor turned slowly and met Centurion Sergius’ eyes. The man was trying to deflect his failure to Tiberius. Duke Tiberius was a good commander, but he had gotten too embroiled in the political jostling all his progeny were entitled to as they fought for scraps of power. Black energy crackled about Severus as he studied the map of his Empire collapsing in on itself. He looked south. “What of the goblins?”

Sergius swallowed loudly, “They have not left the mountains, but the estimates are in the tens of thousands.” The hard stare the Emperor leveled at Sergius had him step back. “We have time. The orcs are unlikely to advance from Varvao and will likely focus their efforts south on…”

The map and table suddenly vanished in a flash of black lightning, gone forever. “The orcs carved themselves off a quarter of the Telhian Empire, and you are telling me that is a good thing?!” The vehemence in his words had the Centurion step back to let him cool. This was not like him. In his youth, he would puzzle out the problem and figure out a way to win back the advantage. 

There were too many enemies. He needed to eliminate one. He took more mental essences from his belt and put them in his mouth before Primus Scorpio could voice his warning. He needed a clear mind now more than ever, damn the hangover.

It worked as the slow, distracting thoughts were pushed away. He slowly formed a bold plan in his mind. He looked at Cornelius with clear eyes, “Are you sure the elves are waiting on reinforcements?”

“Antonia Segreto’s agents in Esenhem say the ships are being loaded and provisioned now. It will be four days, three if the rush and a day then two days to sail with the assistance of their mages to our shores.” Cornelius informed him. The Emperor nodded as the Elves did not have many Displacement Mages, so they were unlikely to create and move through portals.

 “Good, get me the Displacement mages. I will move my army behind the Bartiradians, and we will crush them between us and Duke Tiberius in Macha. Duke Octavian can surge his forces from the excavation site and join with Tiberius.”

Everyone in the room tensed. If the Emperor’s northern army went south, then the elves would have a clear path to the capital or could attack Macha from the north. The Emperor tried to dissuade their concerns. “We will depart in secret tomorrow night, crush the Bartiradian Armies, and return north to confront and punish the elves again. It will be a costly battle, but we will be victorious.”

Cornelius was the only one brave enough to speak. “Are the ruins of the Titans worth risking so much? It may be time for diplomacy my Emperor.”

“No, the secrets Chancellor Marcel has already recovered are too powerful and cannot be shared.” The Emperor stated firmly, cutting off any attempt to convince him otherwise. 

Cornelius slowly nodded, “At your command. I will prepare the Hounds and get messages to the dukes to prepare to mobilize for tomorrow evening.”

The Emperor watched the Hound retreat. He had served faithfully for four decades but had clear doubt in his eyes. After this battle, he would have the Truthseekers question the Hound and maybe replace him anyway, even if he passed the questioning. Centurion Sergius retreated without a word. He would also need to be replaced as his failures were mounting.

Primus Scorpio cleared his throat, drawing the Emperor’s attention to him. “Six elfbane blades have been forged and arrived yesterday. Do you want them distributed? The runic smiths can continue to forge two every five days unless you wish them to focus on something else?”

The Emperor had two runic master smiths working in the bowels of the palace in secret. All the original elfbane black blades had been destroyed as part of the treaty with Esenhem. Since they broke the pact, he would punish them. “No, have them continue working on the elfbane blades. Give them to the legionnaires you think can make the best use of them. There will be elves when we face the Bartiradians tomorrow evening. Send in the dukes and mage commanders. I will personally reveal my plan to them.” Primus Scorpio briefly looked alarmed but saluted and left to obey. 

The next night, over five thousand legionnaires and fifty thousand soldiers formed on the field outside of Caranhagan. The weather mages had pulled in dense, heavy clouds to hide their movements from the Griffin Riders, and a detachment of dragon riders circled high above the clouds as insurance their movement would not be discovered.

The Emperor was dressed in his golden runic armor. Dozens of mages moved with him to the portal site. Seven Displacement Mages would be teleported far to the south, and an anchor point for the portal would be set up. Then, twelve Displacement Mages would work in concert to open the portal while the Emperor’s army moved through.

The Emperor marched into the circle of mages and legionnaires with an aura of confidence. He was surprised to see Chancellor Zyna here and paused to address her, “You said you were returning to the capital.” He recognized the runic robes she wore and wondered where she had come by the deep blue archmagi robes. 

“The fate of the Empire is at stake, my Emperor. I will stand with you to defend it.” He met her eyes and nodded. A young red-haired mage stood behind Zyna. Zyna’s daughter? But he thought she had perished. Maybe she had another child. It was so hard to keep abreast of everyone. 

Primus Scorpio stood at his side and updated him. “The Displacement Mages have successfully set the anchor and remain undetected behind the Bartiradian Army. The Esenhem Elves have not moved. Duke Octavian and Tiberius are ready to surge and squeeze the Bartiradians between us.” Did the Primus sound surprised that his plan had worked? It was a brilliant plan, Severus thought.

“Who is replacing Master Mage Gracilis on my left?” The Emperor asked as he surveyed the assembled mages, but he didn’t see Master Mage Gracilis among them.

“Mage Castile Duval. She is the only mage in your battalion who can unweave enemy spells. Mage Gracilis is in too much pain to be reliable on the front lines. That is Mage Castile there with her legionaries,” the Primus pointed.

The name struck a cord of familiarity with Severus, but he couldn’t place it. It was not the time to dwell on it, though. “The only mage? Is Master Mage Naevius not with us?”

“He still has your right. He waits to be sent through in the first wave to secure the portal.” The Primus reported.

“Then why are we waiting here?” The Emperor roared, “For the Telhian Empire! March to victory!”

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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 recently reached them. 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. Hopefully Eryk’s luck had rubbed off on them as they were going to need it.

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 against 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 wore. The boy who had given her the robes was likely dead. Just a day before she was informed of his death, she had sent him a message—the anchor stone she had gifted to Eryk received the message, but it was likely orcs who had been listening. Centurion Sergius had reported him dead, and Cornelius confirmed his death. However, the truth was they didn’t have Eryk’s blood sample. Still, it was more likely than not that he was dead. The report stated that Hound Eryk Marco had been tasked with shadowing the Caliphate Armada and had 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 this battle.

Zyna stood confidently at the Emperor’s side and watched the endless, impressive 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 , and the Bartiradians failed to detect them before they attacked. 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 surprisingly 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. When his speech was finished, the men cheered and moved together to seek glory for the Empire.

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 after two were burned from the sky, 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 smugly 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 genuine shock. “The Bartiradians?” he asked, confused.

Sergius shook his head sadly, poorly masking his clear anger underneath, “Unlikely. Four Hounds were killed, but of the surviving seven no one saw the assailants. The vault room was burned—all samples destroyed. Do you know who might have been responsible?”

Cornelius was stunned. Was this Antonia’s hand? He thought he knew everything but wouldn’t put it past the cunning woman to keep a few cards hidden. 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 three bodies was recoverable for the necromancers to question. When questioned, it said someone with a cat familiar 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? A summoner?” Cornelius tried to puzzle out the implications. If this was not Antonia, were there other players he was unaware of? More likely, Antonia had a backup for 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 action. 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. Rest assured 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 to look into his eyes, “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 as the life fled him. 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 on the Bartiradian lines. The first had been a brutal massacre on the baggage train and camp followers, followed by a second assault on 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 on the field for healing or just to end the pain permanently. 

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. It looks like their surviving mages and officers.”

Zyna offered unwanted advice, “The day is won, most of our 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 but have them send their best legionaries in support. I will personally lead a detachment to handle the escaping Bartiradians.”

Twenty minutes later, the Emperor led eight 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.

When they caught up to the fleeing army his calvary slowed. “They are forming a defensive line,” the mage to his left announced. The Emperor nodded and slowed with the mounted legionaries surrounding him. 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 Emperor’s golden armor, and he could feel their fear even from this distance. They had probably seen him wreak destruction during the battle today with his void lightning.

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 fed from his aether core, and nearby mounts danced nervously at the 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 and thunderclaps 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 and his channels edged closer to burning.

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, encasing Master Mage Naevius in an inferno.

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 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 in anger 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 as he sought vengeance for the betrayal. 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 remained from her company guarded her from the Emperor’s 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 been able to ride to join 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 at what was happening. 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 low 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 legionnaires 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 golden armor, but it didn’t matter as the Emperor grabbed his wrist and pieced him through his belly with the mithril weapon he wielded.

Time slowed for Castile as 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. But she already knew that time was not likely to materialize.

The Emperor jerked his blade and kicked Adrian away in a show of remarkable agility in the heavy gold armor. Adrian clutched at his abdominal wound 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 so was too busy stopping the Emperor from using his void magic. 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, including the Emperor. 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 drew Castile’s attention. 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 Castile 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 instead of the Legion of the Lion. 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 as her aether was dangerously low. Her eyes passed across Adrian’s now vacent eyes. It wouldn’t be long now before she joined him.

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The traitorous mage had shifted her attention away from him, probably spent. 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 the powerful artifact uselessly. He continued his assault, ignoring the burn, telling him he was aetheric past his limits. He could recover from being burnt as he had done before. 

Finally, an arch of the random black lightning darted up into Zyna’s unprotected face. A hole appeared through her eye and out the back of her head. She slowly collapsed to the ground, the young red-haired mage who had been standing behind her was frozen in shock. Her time would come too, Severus swore. He looked around the battle, which had been slowly turning in favor of the traitors. That was going to end now that he had his void magic back.

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 again. So the mage was not finished, well he wouldn’t make the mistake of leaving her alive. He watched as a one-handed legionnaire had put a sword through Scorpio’s eye while shadow chains had bound him. 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. An unfamiliar 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 in confusion. 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 loyal mages remained, and all the potions had been used. Octavian pulled the other legionaries back away from the onrushing Bartiradians. They would finish them off.

But 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 with a grin on his face.  

END OF BOOK FOUR

Eryk’s Adventurers Continue…

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