Sins of Empire

Chapter 61

Michel watched, amazed, as the crews under Professor Cressel’s direction managed to extricate the monolith from its sunken pit in the ground in less than two hours. Using a combination of ramps, cranes, and brute force, the stone column was pulled up and out onto a prepared soil shelf. The cranes were cleared away and the land-barge backed up beside the stage while laborers with shovels and pickaxes adjusted the contours of the land so that there was a gap of mere inches between the monolith and the land-barge.

It was a fascinating bit of engineering and, to Michel’s eyes, went incredibly smoothly. A laborer’s leg was caught in the spoke of the land-barge and had to be removed, but the man was carried off within minutes and the work continued, undistracted.

While Cressel prepared to move the monolith onto the land-barge, Michel caught sight of Ka-poel up on top of the horizontal monolith. She squatted, fingers tracing shapes on the monolith’s exterior like a child playing in the sand.

“What’s she doing up there? You up there, get down!” Professor Cressel waved his arms at her, but she ignored him. “Major Cole!” he shouted.

Major Cole lifted his head from a discussion with his troop, pointing Cressel toward Michel, who glanced at Taniel as the professor stormed toward them. “What is she doing?” Michel asked.

“Don’t ask me,” Taniel said. “We’ve been together almost eleven years, and I still don’t understand her half the time.”

“She knows that people have gone mad from being too close to that thing, right?”

“She knows,” Taniel confirmed.

Professor Cressel approached, pointing over his shoulder. “Gold Rose, would you be so kind as to remove your companion from the specimen?”

“Why?” Michel asked. “Is she bothering anything?”

“It’s quite unsafe! I’ve dismissed all the researchers from the site aside from myself. The move is very dangerous. The fact we haven’t lost anyone yet today is a miracle!”

Michel leaned over to Taniel. “Does she need to be up there?”

“Pole!” Taniel said, cupping his hand around his mouth. “Pole!”

She waved her hand dismissively, and Taniel gave Michel an unapologetic shrug. “She’s working. Nothing but force is going to get her down. You’re welcome to try, but I’m not going to.”

“Does she know that the entire monolith could shift or slide?” Professor Cressel demanded, tugging at the last wisps of gray hair on his head. “It could take an arm, or a leg, or crush her completely!”

“She’s aware of the danger,” Michel assured him. “Your men can work around her.”

Cressel retreated to his dig, fuming silently, and Michel chewed on the inside of his cheek. Every so often he glanced toward Landfall. The smoke from Greenfire Depths had gotten worse, and he hoped that his mother had managed to escape the city by now. His primary concern, however, had shifted to the eastern side of the plateau, where fire and powder smoke rose in alarming amounts from over the bay. The sound of bombardment was near constant, and he could see the pinprick lights of shells bursting high over the ocean. It seemed so distant and unimportant, but it wouldn’t be for long.

“Major Cole,” Taniel said loudly, “any word from your men on the approaching Dynize?”

Cole finished speaking to his officers and then crossed to them, a grim look on his face. “There’s four regiments just finished landing about six miles from here. At best we have a few hours until they get here. I’ve sent runners back to Landfall with requests for reinforcements. No idea if we’re going to get them or not. One of my boys from the city just arrived, and he said the fighting there is bad.”

Michel exchanged an alarmed glance with Taniel. None of that was good news. If the Dynize reached them, they wouldn’t stand a chance. But the news that Cole was actively sending messages to Landfall meant that Michel’s trickery might be discovered.

“Can this be hurried along?” Michel asked.

“Cressel assures me he’s hurrying the best he can without risking damage to the obelisk.”

“Good, good,” Michel said. He started to pace, counting out ten paces, then walking back to Taniel before repeating the route several times. Major Cole watched him do it once, then returned to his officers, barking out orders. Michel stopped his pacing to watch the chain of command as officers passed orders to enlisted men, and the soldiers began to slowly shift to the southeast of the dig site, forming themselves into a protective cordon around the excavation.

A loud creaking brought Michel’s attention back to the monolith, and he turned just in time to see Ka-poel ride the immense stone off the dirt shelf upon which it rested to slide down thick, flattened timbers and crunch onto the land-barge. The monolith came to a stop, the land-barge and its load settling almost a foot closer to the ground. Michel let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding in, and Taniel shook his head.

Ka-poel flashed them both a grin, then returned to studying the side of the monolith.

Michel approached Professor Cressel, clapping his hands. “Well done, Cressel, well done. Are we ready to move?” He could hear the desperation in his tone and tried to suppress it.

The professor adjusted his glasses, squinting at an open folder in his hands. “The engineers are checking the axles and securing the load. We should be ready to move out in half an hour.”

Michel grimaced. “Make it fifteen minutes.”

“Sir!” Cressel protested.

Michel waved his finger under Cressel’s nose with a confidence he didn’t feel. “Fifteen minutes, unless you want your eyeballs to wind up as Dynize trophies.”

“Dynize don’t take eyeballs as trophies.” Cressel snorted.

“Whatever. Make it quick, Professor, time is running out.”

A tap on his shoulder brought Michel around to find Taniel standing beside him. Taniel’s attention was no longer on the monolith or the soldiers, and he took an indiscreet snort of powder and pointed north. “You see that?”

Michel squinted. “I don’t see anything.”

“Riders coming in. Cole should spot them in a few minutes.”

“Is it relief from Landfall?”

“Maybe,” Taniel said. “Maybe not.” He peered into the distance like a big cat warily protecting its kill, then said, “They’re Blackhats.”

“Shit. We’ve got to go,” Michel said, already heading toward the corral where Cole had stashed their horses. He turned to find Taniel not following him, then ran back and snatched him by a sleeve. “It’s not worth the risk,” he said. “If the Blackhats know that I attacked Fidelis Jes they’ll snatch me the moment they see me, and you and Ka-poel a few seconds after. We’ve got to get out of here while we still can.”

Taniel suddenly smiled, shaking his head. “We wait.”

Michel resumed his pacing, doing two quick rounds before returning to Taniel’s side. “You’re sure you want to do this?”

“Go if you want,” Taniel said. “But Ka-poel and I will stay.”

Michel swore to himself. Every instinct told him to run. The Blackhats would skin him alive over the course of a very, very long time if he was found here by anyone aware of who he really was. Fidelis Jes might be alive or dead, but it didn’t matter – he would have told someone about Michel’s betrayal, if only his secretary, and they’d be out for Michel’s blood. “Is this it?” he asked.

Taniel looked at him in surprise. “Is what it?”

“This godstone? Is this the culmination of all my work? Is this what I toiled for years to discover? Was this my true purpose in joining the Blackhats?”

Taniel seemed to consider the question for several moments before answering slowly. “This was one of many perceived purposes. It would have been preferable to leave you among them, but yes… the discovery of the godstone was the most important thing we had in mind when we sent you to work for the Blackhats.”

The revelation gave Michel a sense of peace that he hadn’t expected. It felt as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders and he mentally examined the marble that he’d kept his real self in for so many years before discarding it with an almost giddy laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Taniel asked.

“Nothing,” Michel said. “I’ll stay.”

As Taniel predicted, Major Cole’s scouts saw the Blackhats just a few minutes later, and Michel himself noted the dust cloud a little after that. Like Michel, Taniel, and Ka-poel, the Blackhats didn’t bother with the road, riding instead straight across the farmland directly toward the dig site. By the look of things, there were a damned lot of them, and as they drew closer Michel could see that they were heavily armed.

His decision to see this whole business with the godstone through to the end seemed less and less like a good one.

And then it got worse.

“Major Cole!” one of the guards shouted across the din of laborers preparing the land-barge for moving. “We’ve got a thousand Blackhats coming in, with Fidelis Jes himself! They say he wants a report from you personally!”

Michel’s mouth tasted of ash. He looked at Taniel.

“You’re right,” Taniel said with a low whistle. “Time to go. Get Ka-poel, I’ll fetch the horses.”

Waiting until Major Cole’s attention was elsewhere, Michel made his way over to the side of the land-barge. “Ka-poel!” he hissed, repeating her name three times before she finally looked up from her studies with a frown. She tried to wave him away. “No,” he replied. “Fidelis Jes will be here any moment. We have to go now.”

Ka-poel gestured rudely at him before smacking her fist against the monolith in frustration, then heading toward the other side. Michel threw himself under the land-barge, crawling on all fours beneath the creaking, weighty axles, sweat pouring down his face by the time he made it to the other side. Ka-poel was already down, and she helped him to his feet and the two ran for Taniel.

They met him at the corral as he brought out their horses. They were mounted a few moments later, and riding out of the camp when a guard waved them down. “Sir! Major Cole wants to know where you’re going!”

“We’re heading out to meet the grand master,” Michel threw over his shoulder, not bothering to look back.

“But you’re going in the wrong direction!”

“No,” Michel muttered to himself. “We’re definitely going in the right direction.” They broke out of the camp and had gone about a hundred yards when he said, “Wait. No, we’re going in the wrong direction. Taniel, where the pit are we going?”

“East,” Taniel responded over his shoulder.

“I can see that! But east is the ocean. East is the Dynize!”

“We hug the coast and head north back to Landfall. Vlora will need the help, and if we can get any of her men we’ll be able to come back and take the godstone from Fidelis Jes.”

Michel wanted to shout how stupid an idea that was, and how much he wanted to head away from the burning city, but his words turned into a strangled shout as he spotted a number of Blackhats peel off the main contingent and head to cut them off. “Taniel!”

“I see them.”

Ka-poel rode close and snatched Michel’s reins and then bent over her own horse, urging her onward. The three practically flew across the plains, Taniel and Ka-poel riding like the wind while Michel just clung to his saddle horn, hoping he didn’t fly off and break his neck when they leapt a ditch. The Blackhats drew closer and closer, and Michel’s certainty they would be caught grew deeper until Taniel suddenly veered northwest.

“Why are we heading toward them?” Michel asked.

“I have a plan,” Taniel said. Michel spared a look up from the back of his horse’s neck to see that Taniel’s eyes were on Landfall, not the approaching Blackhats.

“Focus!” Michel shouted. He squeezed his eyes closed and heaved, wondering if he had anything left in his stomach to throw up. Their gallop suddenly slowed, and he opened his eyes again to find the Blackhats upon them, Taniel’s hands held in the air. Michel felt a sudden sinking feeling, dizziness threatening to pitch him from the saddle. “We’re surrendering?” he managed.

“We’re surrendering,” Taniel confirmed. “For now.”

Michel’s bowels felt like water, and he tried to seek a way out of this to no avail. There were about thirty Blackhats to the three of them. Michel was useless in a fight, and he knew that most of Ka-poel’s sorcery depended on preparation. That would leave thirty men to Taniel, which, he considered optimistically, might not be that difficult if they were all carrying powder.

He decided that must be Taniel’s plan, and gritted his teeth, waiting for Taniel to detonate their powder, killing the lot of them. The moment never came.

“Agent Bravis,” a voice called out.

Michel didn’t think he could feel any sicker. The voice disproved him. “Grand master,” he answered, staring at his saddle horn like a sullen child.

Fidelis Jes rode to the front of his column of Blackhats, head held high, face flushed from a hard ride. “Gutsy,” he said, a small note of admiration in his voice. “We intercepted a message from Major Cole that you were in the camp about twenty minutes ago. Imagine my delight when you tried to run.”

“Delight imagined, sir,” Michel said. He wondered if he should just get this over with now – he could charge the grand master, weaponless, and hope that Fidelis Jes’s bodyguards gunned him down in the process. It was the best idea he could come up with on the spur of the moment, and it didn’t sound all that appealing.

Better than dying slowly in a torture chamber, though.

Jes rubbed the back of his neck, which was covered by his collar, and Michel allowed himself the fantasy of a dark purple bruise back there. How the bastard had managed to survive being punched in the spine by knuckledusters was beyond him, but when it came to Fidelis Jes his survival seemed almost a given. Jes cast a curious glance at Taniel and Ka-poel, his gaze lingering on the latter. “You have a lot of explaining to do, Agent Bravis. You’ll be coming with us to Dalinport, where you’ll have plenty of time to do so.”

“The road to Dalinport is blocked,” Taniel said. “The Dynize have landed.”

“I’ve brought enough men to put down the Dynize in our path,” Jes said.

Ka-poel gestured at Taniel, then tapped the backs of her hands and held up four fingers. “Privileged, eh? That will certainly help.”

“Who the pit is this?” Fidelis Jes demanded.

Michel gave him a wan smile, but did not answer.

“Who are you?” Jes spat at Taniel.

Taniel sighed, as if annoyed that it had come to this, and then tugged on the fingers to his left glove. He pulled it off, revealing the blood-red skin of his hand.

Jes’s perpetual sneer deepened. “The Red Hand? Bah. I expected better of you, Agent Bravis. A cabal spy; a Kez nationalist; I expected you to be better than working for a common rebel.”

“Not terribly common,” Michel said, watching as Taniel slowly got off his horse and drew his sword from his saddlebags.

“Fidelis Jes,” Taniel said, “I’ve wanted to kill you for a very long time.”

“Sir,” one of Jes’s officers warned, “we don’t have time for this.”

Fidelis Jes seemed to vacillate between getting to the dig site and a good fight. Michel was less than surprised when his baser instincts won out and he slid gracefully from his saddle and grabbed his sword, walking toward Taniel. “Who are you?” he asked. “I expected the Red Hand to be Palo, but you’re obviously Adran.”

“Michel’s tale of an Adran expatriate was closer than you’d think,” Taniel said, running two fingers down the length of his sword as if to test the blade. Michel thought he heard the sound of distant hoofbeats, but his eyes were glued to the scene in front of him. He silently urged Taniel to just kill the bastard and stop screwing around.

Fidelis Jes stretched lightly, bending one way, then the next, his eyes never leaving Taniel. “I expect this to be quick,” he said. “So if you have anything else to tell me, do it now.”

Taniel closed his eyes halfway, holding his sword out in front of him in both hands, tip pointed toward the ground as if he were praying. He remained that way for almost thirty seconds before Fidelis Jes lost his patience.

“Your time is up,” the grand master snapped, stepping forward.

Taniel’s sword came up, tip pointing over Jes’s shoulder, and he barked the words, “I’m not here to kill you.”

Jes sneered. “You’re right about that.”

“He is.”

Taniel leapt out of the way of Jes’s thrust, moving so quickly Michel could barely follow him. Taniel grabbed Jes by the back of the hair, kicking one leg to make him stumble, and turned him around, shoving him forward. Michel lifted his eyes, surprised to see more riders coming in just behind the Blackhats.

The man at their head was the biggest, ugliest man Michel had ever seen. He wore a faded Fatrastan cavalry jacket and rode a black warhorse with a black and brown mottled neck. His face was pitted and scarred, his back slightly bent in the saddle, and he rode ahead of a standard flying an image of a lance through a skull. The same skull that was on the ring that Fidelis Jes wore.

Michel didn’t have to ask who that was.

“Jes!” Ben Styke roared, throwing himself from the saddle before his horse had even come to a complete stop. “You’re a dead man!”