Destiny (4 page)

Infuriated, Tiberius voice began rising in volume. “What rebels are you referring to father? The Praetorian Legatus and his goons that were unjustly slaughtering whole towns full of our people and then began destroying the entire provinces’ crops by closing off the aqueducts? The same crops, might I remind you, which are needed to feed the entire population of the Imperium. Or, are you talking about the law abiding citizens defending themselves against the insane bulls slaughtering them without cause?”

Shaking his head, Tiberius’s father laughed out loud at his outburst. “Do you think I wasn’t aware of what my Praetorian Legatus was doing?” Gnarled hands suddenly grip Tiberius’s collar as his father lifted him into the air bellowing at the top of his lungs. “Nothing happens in the Imperium without my command!”

With a wordless cry, Tiberius was flung back into the bulls behind him as his father began frothing at the mouth. “Just in case you hadn’t heard, those pointy ear savages you call friends have just destroyed the First and Second legions on their way to Aosta as they passed through the Great Forest.”

Tiberius saw his father’s face harden into an unrecognizable mask of fury. “Your unnatural infatuation with the Elven Princess has placed the entire Imperium in jeopardy.” With a snarl, his father’s voice rose in fury. “You are no longer my son! You are nothing to me!”

Turning away from Tiberius, his father began bellowing orders to the Praetorian Guards in the square. “Commander Brutus, you are to escort this traitor to his residence and place him under house arrest.” Pausing next to the Commander, Tiberius’s heard his father’s whispered command from where he stood. “You know what to do.”

As a hundred bulls from the Praetorian Guard’s First Cohort suddenly surrounded Tiberius and his bulls with their weapons drawn, there was a growling rumble of dissent from the crowd of citizens at the far end of the plaza. Striding to the center of the plaza, the Emperor continued bellowing out orders. “Praetorians, on the order of your Emperor you are to clear the streets of the capital of these cattle by any means necessary!”

Around the massive square, there was a great answering bellow as four cohorts of the Emperors Praetorian Guards slammed their mailed fists to their armored chests. A second later, battle horns rang out as two thousand bulls began moving in unison. Forming up into battle lines, the Praetorian Guards faced the outraged citizens of the city with their spears held at the ready.

Tiberius staggered as a spear butt slammed across his back propelling him forward. Whipping his head around, he saw Commander Brutus’s cruel face daring him to fight back. “Get moving traitor!”

Seething inside, Tiberius began following the guard escort in front of him as he and his soldiers were led out the far side of the plaza. He heard the fearful screams of the citizens crying out behind him a second later as they entered the small avenue heading towards Tiberius’s residence deeper within the city. As they walked, Tiberius felt Centurion Aquila’s rough hands grip his shoulder as his mind reeled at his father’s insanity. The dissolution of the Alliance, his mother’s death, the war with the Elves and now even the slaughter their own people, it all made no sense! Hanging his head low, Tiberius struggled to make sense of his turbulent thoughts.

A year ago, Tiberius had been shocked when his mother had preordained her death at the hands of her husband. At first, he had refused to believe his mother’s warning, but when he found her throat ripped out and her guards disemboweled at the center of her residence in the heart of the Imperial residence. He knew then that something was terribly wrong. Switching to the Legion’s battle-speak, Tiberius began issuing orders in a low whisper.

“On my command, form up on me. Formation Beta, double-lined staggered!”

Without breaking stride, Decanus Cornisus passed the orders to the eight legionnaires behind him. In turn, they passed the message to Decanus Marcellus, who did the same for the legionnaires that followed him.

Grim-faced, Tiberius’ legionnaires began secretly preparing for battle as Centurion Aquila’s bushy eyebrows rise in consternation at the order. Without comment, the older bull loosened the shoulder strap to the large double-headed battle-axe slung across his back. Tiberius knew the order itself was treason, but he had no other choice left to him.

For the Imperium, the “Rule of Law” was sacred as any religion. Without laws and the order it brought to their civilization, there would be nothing to distinguish Minotaurs from the beasts that lived in the wild. It was the precepts of all civilization, and even the Emperor was beholden to its tenets.

Since his mother’s death, Tiberius had been forced into a deadly game of hunter and prey. Attempts on his life had become daily occurrences within the capital and the more he sought for proof of his father’s complicity the more death seemed to follow him at every turn. The mounting evidence had become a point of contention between the citizens of the Imperium and the Emperor. It was a delicate issue, but as long as Tiberius stayed within the purview of the law, his father didn’t dare openly move against him. Looking at the guards surrounding him and his soldiers, Tiberius knew now that everything had changed.

For his people, there was no greater crime than being a traitor, and yet in his heart Tiberius knew this was the path he must take to save his people. If left unchecked his father’s sickness would destroy everything around him. If he didn’t act now, the Imperium would be torn apart.

Rounding the curve, Tiberius saw his walled domus come into sight at the end of the avenue. As they approached the last intersection, he caught Centurion Aquila’s eye. Giving the old bull a sharp nod, Tiberius activated his Wolf Gauntlets as they both backhanded the nearest guards next to them. Within seconds, the gauntlet of his right hand formed into a yard long tinnearlian blade as Centurion Aquila whipped the battle-axe from his back in one smooth motion.

Punching out with his fist, Tiberius caught the guard nearest to him under the chin, effortlessly punching through the male’s thick skull as the Centurion completed his spin. A split second later, the wide blade of Aquila’s heavy battle-axe shattered the heavy shaft of the next guard’s spear, before slicing cleanly through the first guard’s thick neck. As the loud clanking sounds of heavy metal clanging into place reverberated throughout the narrow avenue, Tiberius’s bulls exploded into action as he bellowed at the top of his lungs.

“Form up on me!”

“Form up on me!”

Turning around, Tiberius saw a guard rushing him with a heavy spear just as his left hand’s gauntlet completed its transformation. Lifting his arm, Tiberius blocked the strike with his scutum, which was a six foot tall and four foot wide tinnearlian shield.

Bashing the guard in the face with his shield, Tiberius stabbed again with his right hand. The blow completely lifted the male into the air from the force of the impact as Aquila split another guard in half with a double-handed swing of his battle-axe. Taking up Tiberius’s call, both of his contubernium leaders began forming up a battle line to either side of him. With their gauntlet’s transformation complete, their bulls followed behind them like a deadly wave lashing out at any guard within the range of their razor sharp blades.

Everything seemed to be following Tiberius’s makeshift plan. There was enough confusion to give his soldiers the time they needed to get into their individual formations as he and Aquila worked on making the hole in the guards surrounding them even bigger.

Hearing the sounds of battle, the stretched out column of Praetorian Guards struggled to form up in the close confines of the small avenue, but the explosion of death at the center of their lines forced the separated ends to draw back far enough away to reform. Unused to moving in close quarters with their new weapons, the guards stumbled around like new recruits as their own Praetorian Decanus and Optios beat them into something resembling a formation.

Immediately Decanus Cornisus moved in front of Tiberius defensively. Raising a silver whistle to his lips, he blew out a shrill blast signaling his bulls to form up and ready for orders. Raising his scutum before him, Cornisus planted his hooves with his gladius held at the ready as his unit formed around him. Standing shoulder to shoulder, his soldiers lined their shields up with their leader creating a solid wall across the avenue as the last four bulls formed up behind them in a second rank with Centurion Aquila at the center. At the backside of the formation, Decanus Marcellus did the same. Within seconds, his contubernium had lined up shoulder to shoulder with their shield wall facing out the opposite direction.

Tiberius didn’t know if he should laugh or cry at the absolute disorganized mess of the Praetorian formations around them. Unlike the clean-cut Praetorian Guards that kept order in the Emperors residence, Tiberius’s bulls were battle hardened veterans that had spent most of their life in armor fighting during the Tuonellian War. Even so, Imperium troops were expected to have a certain level of military proficiency. What he was seeing was a disaster of epic proportions if this was his father’s plan for the armies of the Imperium. Bowing his head, Tiberius gave a quick prayer to the Goddess Akras asking for forgiveness for what he must do next.

Looking at the smooth-faced young males surrounding them, Tiberius knew they would be forced to kill a number of the bullocks before their lines broke, but at least, the majority would live to see another day. For a moment, regret welled up inside of him for the path that the Akras had chosen for him to take until Tiberius heard Commander Brutus voice ring out around them.

“Praetorians, your orders are to kill these traitors to the Emperor. Now advance!”

Hate welled up inside Tiberius as his sorrow and rage found a focus for its outlet. One way or another he would find the answers to what was happening to his people, and he knew who was first on his list. As his blood surged through his veins, Tiberius raised his voice in command.

“Shields on me … single formation … advance!”

“Hhhooorrraaahhh!”

The explosive reply reverberated from the stone walls as Tiberius’s legionnaires leaped forward. Their ironidium-shod hooves struck the cobblestones with a metallic ring as they picked up speed. Moving as a single unit, Tiberius’s bulls launched themselves scutum first into the Praetorian phalanx like a battering ram.

Heavy ironidium spearheads crumpled on impact against tinnearlian shield walls as the front two ranks of the Praetorian Guards were blasted from their hooves into the ranks behind them. The entire front of the formation was suddenly thrown into chaos. As the first contuberniums forward momentum suddenly came to a stop, Tiberius realized something was horribly wrong.

Chapter
Five

Location Irlendria / Lúthien Narmolanya:

Lúthien cringed as the old door’s hinges squealed loudly throughout the empty chamber. Carefully she peeked into the dark room beyond. It was just as she’d expected. At this time of the day, the Atrium of the Ancestors was deserted.

Slipping through the crack, Lúthien quickly closed the door behind her with a muted thump. Leaning against the smooth wood, she sighed softly at the sight before her. Looking out across the gigantic chamber Lúthien’s thoughts went back to her grandmother who always brought here to sit among the Tinnearlian trees when she was young. After all these years the natural beauty of the Atrium still stole her breath away.

On either side of the central aisle, silvery trees grew to form the walls of the chamber. Their delicate branches created a shimmering canopy high overhead while their jeweled leaves sparkled like stars in the low light. At either end of the atrium, the calcimite stone walls of the Fortress merged flawlessly with the ancient grove creating what her people called “living architecture.” Warden Morwen told her there was nothing like it in all of Irlendria.

Grinning mischievously Lúthien’s silken slippers whisked across the marble floor as she dashed across the silent chamber. Bounding up the dais at the far end of the room, she slipped behind the jewel throne at the very top of the steps. Going to the back wall, Lúthien studied the intricate inlaid designs depicting the history of Irlendria, searching for the secret lever Warden Morwen had pointed out on her hundredth birthday. Finding the image of the Elven God Tapio, she ran her delicate fingers to the top of the Bear King’s head. Spreading out her slender hand, she measured down Tapio’s face. One … two … three … stopping at the center of the god’s lichen beard, Lúthien felt the depression under her thumb and pushed.

Silently the hidden door swung open as a cool breeze momentarily blew her long silver black-streaked hair away from her face. Pulling the silken shawl around her shoulders even tighter, Lúthien ducked into the damp corridor closing the panel behind her. As she climbed the stairs, Lúthien’s delicate filigree necklace chimed softly with each step as she headed back into the keep.

The secret passage was a little too cool for her silken attire. Already she could feel goose bumps rising on her smooth skin as she skittered down the corridor quickly. Her short silken halter top and thin loose pants were better suited for the hot midday sun then these dank passageways, but she would only need to be in them for a few short moments.

“Let’s see Argus find her now.” Argus sense of smell was phenomenal, even for a Wenci. He always won the princesses games of hide-and-seek. Normally, Lúthien hid with her cousin Enelya Tasartir, Princess of the Wild Elves, but Argus always seemed to find them first. Even though Enelya promised that he didn’t use their spirit link to track them down. Losing to a lesser species was intolerable, so this time, Lúthien wasn’t taking any chances.

From what Lúthien knew of the spirit link a Wild Elf and their animal companion shared, it wasn’t true telepathy. From what treatises she’d read on the subject during her studies it was more of an empathic sharing of emotions and feelings. Although some of the stories she’d read on the subject had hinted that there was more to the relationship than just the sharing of emotions, nothing more had ever been officially substantiated about the binding. Except for the hearsays and rumors listed in the margins of her tombs, there was no additional information she’d discovered in her research of the Sál Tengilinn affect.

Lúthien had tried to get Enelya to tell her about the link she shared with Argus, but her enigmatic cousin wouldn’t say anything more on the subject. Sometimes she could be so frustrating like that. Still, she didn’t comprehend how anyone could just turn off that kind of connection.

Even though Enelya wasn’t a High Elf, Lúthien still loved her cousin. Unlike many of her Clan, she didn’t hold the Wild Elves’ nature against them. Although, she wasn’t about to lose another round to that dumb beast either. Lúthien crept up the steps until the dark passage let out into a seldom used alcove on the keep’s third level near her father’s private library as her thoughts drifted to the current conflicts between the Clans of her people.

The first rift started when the Wild Clan first spirit-bonded with their Wenci companions. While this bonding had strained the relationship between the Clans, the true schism hadn’t come until after the battle of Daeron Fortress, when the High and Forest Clans had turned their focus into learning the arcane knowledge of the Klavikians and the power it held to fight the Tuonellian Hordes invading their world.

It was the Wild Clan’s refusal to give up their traditional spirit magic that had infuriated the other Clans and had made them social pariahs. No matter what Lúthien personally thought, the edicts of the Council of Elders were expected to be followed, especially after the deaths of so many of their people. Over the preceding years it was this continued refusal to follow the will of the Council on this one point that had allowed the conflict to deteriorate almost to the point of open warfare between the clans.

Still, Lúthien didn’t understand the intense animosity of her people on this subject. Before the invasion this would have never been an issue. The Wild Clan would have been allowed to follow the traditions of their people without question, but something had drastically changed within her people. Over the last eight years the essence of her people had begun to change in comparatively small but significant ways. Something typically only associated with the shorter lived races of Irlendria.

Studying the dusty old books that lined the shoves of the small alcove, Lúthien thought of her grandmother’s death. It was almost eight years ago to the day since she’d found her bloody half-eaten body. Over the preceding years, Lúthien had buried herself in her studies as she desperately tried to understand how and why her grandmother had been murdered in the heart of the Clan’s fortress. While most of the Elves she knew had focused their hate on the factions of the dissolved Alliance of Aurenko or the growing rift with the Wild Clan, she’d buried herself in learning the truth of the Tuonellian threat that everyone had suddenly forgotten. Nowadays, It seemed like the only time she ever had any real fun was when her cousins came to visit for their yearly Herra Samkoma. Thankfully her father had chosen to at least honor that tradition.

Silently popping the hidden door open, Lúthien slid into the room gently sealing the passageway behind her once again. The doorway stood opposite the single low window, which was perfectly positioned at this time of day for catching the midday sun. Standing in the middle of the alcove, Lúthien let the sun’s rays soak into her fair skin.

The relationship between the Council of Elders and the King of the High Clan was somewhat convoluted. Throughout her people’s long history, the High Clan had been the de facto rulers of all Elves. High Elves lived longer than the other Clans. Their magic was greater and their social structure more advanced than that of their forest dwelling brethren. But, over the millennium the individual clans grew to be unsatisfied with following the High Clan’s edicts and over time the Council of Elders had been formed. There were still conflicts, but at least the Council helped to mediate the disagreements between the clans and the King within Elven society. During this time the Herra Samkoma and Herr Samkoma had been formed. Yearly gatherings for the female and male children of the clan’s ruling families. The hope was that familiarity and education of the differences between the clans would help to ease the growing cultural tensions within their society.

Initially the yearly gatherings had helped to reduce the dissension between the clans to a degree. A prime example of this had been Lúthien’s and Enelya’s relationship. When they were young the two of them had been inseparable. Even though they only saw each other once a month out of the year, they’d always been there for one another. She didn’t know if it was the constant threat of annihilation from the Tuonellian invasion that had made them so close when they were younger, or just that they were growing apart as they aged. Sadly this last year seemed to have changed them all so very much. Even so, she still loved her cousin.

Creeping to the edge of the stairwell, Lúthien listened intently as her body warmed up from the rays of the sun. Hearing no one coming up the steps she plopped down near the entranceway. Reaching for her spell book, Lúthien stopped in midmotion feeling something wet and sticky underneath her hand. Holding up her palm, she looked at her hand in confusion.

“Why was it red?” Looking closer at the dark marble floor, Lúthien realized the stuff was everywhere. Twisting around, she followed the red trail down the corridor with her eyes sniffing her hand unconsciously. Freezing, she immediately recognized the metallic scent. It was blood!

Rising to her feet in a daze she trailed the smeared blood down the corridor. Rounding the corner, she followed the path into her father’s library as if in a trance. Entering through the doorway, Lúthien came to a sudden stop as she saw her mother’s blood-soaked face staring back at her. Rushing to her mother’s side, Lúthien dropped to her knees gathering the broken body in her arms. Ragged sobs shook her as she rocked back and forth silently screaming. Her mind numb from shock.

Lúthien could barely see through the tears streaming down her face as she gently turned her mother over. Her skin was cold to the touch and her body stiff and hard. It was her grandmother’s death all over again. Squeezing her eyes shut, Lúthien wrapped her arms around her mother’s shoulders rocking back and forth on her knees. “Ma’ma … Ma’ma … Ma’ma …” Lúthien tried to cry out for help, but only choking sobs came from her mouth, each one painfully racking her body more than the next as she moaned in anguish. In her heart, she knew no one could help. Her mother was already dead.

Lúthien didn’t know how long it took her mind to start functioning again. Wiping her tearstained face with the back of her hand, she froze suddenly realizing that most of her mother’s lower body had been ripped apart!

“Hhhuuurrrggghhh!” Turning green Lúthien heaved the contents her stomach as she saw the bloody gnawed pieces of her mother strewn across the marble floor in front of her when she became aware of loud feeding sounds filling the room. Eyes wide in fear, Lúthien looked up in horror.

“Aaaiiieee-“ Lúthien’s blood curling scream cut-off in mid-shriek as she fell backward over her mother’s mangled body, eyes bulging at the corpse-white creature covered in blood sitting before her. In the beast’s gory hands were the mutilated remains of her cousin, Princess Amaurea Celebrindal. Unbelievably, she watched the creature rip Amaurea’s still beating heart from her shredded chest. Again loud smacking sounds filled the still room as the monster shoved the bloody morsel with relish into its fanged maw. Finishing off the chunk of flesh with a loud slurping gulp, the creature’s guttural voice suddenly broke the silence.

“Ahhh, you have no idea how long I’ve waited to taste her succulent flesh.”

In terror, Lúthien crawled backward until her back clanged against an armored leg. Looking up in shock, she saw one of the King’s Ironidium Knights standing at attention. Lurching to her feet, Lúthien tugged at the Knight’s armored shoulders shrieking.

“Kill that monster!” Looking back once more at the humongous creature ripping her cousin’s face off with its teeth, Lúthien cried out in anguish as she screamed into the Knight’s shiny visor. “What’s wrong with you? That beast killed the Queen and is now eating my cousin. Why aren’t you killing …”

The words suddenly died on Lúthien lips as she noticed the full complement of the King’s Guards standing at attention around the room. Staring at the unmoving Knights a cold shiver ran down Lúthien’s spine as the creature’s grotesque guffawing laughter rang out behind her.

“Your mother’s screams of terror tasted so sweet.” Licking a leftover chunk of gore from its claws, the beast continued hauntingly. “You know she begged for me to spare your life until I ripped her heart out.” Standing to its full height of nine feet, the creature smiled wickedly. “How could I do that when I’ve waited so long to taste your sweet flesh? I just hope you taste as succulent as you look.”

Seeing the confused look of horror on Lúthien’s face, the monster’s guffawing barks of laughter echoed throughout the room. “What? Don’t recognize your loving father?” Still laughing, the creature’s corpse white face suddenly began transforming. A second later she saw her father’s reflection looking back at her atop the beast’s mutant body.

“Nnnooo!” Springing to her feet, Lúthien shook the shoulders of the Knight as the monster’s horrible laughter echoed around the room. “What’s wrong with you?” Running to the next nearest guard, she screamed into the Knight’s armored face. “Why aren’t you helping us?”

“You can scream all you want, but it’s useless. They only listen to me now.”

Spinning around, Lúthien backed up fearfully until she felt the cold stone wall of the library pressing against her back. Shaking her head in denial, she watched the beast close its long clawed hand into a fist of triumph.

“I now control the Ironidium Knights!”

With a shriek, Lúthien lunged for the doorway. Running as fast as her legs would go, she headed for the courtyard. She had to find Warden Morwen! Looking over her shoulder at the clanking sounds of armor, she saw two Ironidium Knights fly around the corner chasing after her. Lúthien knew if she could get to the secret passage she could get away. Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted as Knight-Captain Valandil walked up the steps in front of her. Screaming in panic, Lúthien came to a sliding stop wrapping her arms around the Knight-Captain’s armored waist in relief.

“Knight-Captain Valandil, they’re going to kill me!”

“Princess, what’s wrong?”

“You’ve got to save me!” Seeing the approaching Ironidium Knights, Valandil drew his sword protectively pushing Lúthien behind him.

“Halt! What is the meaning of this?” Coming to a stop in front of the Knight-Captain, the knights sheathed their swords as the nearest spoke without inflection.

“The King has commanded that the Princess be brought to him in the library.”

Lúthien felt Valandil body suddenly stiffen at the guards words. Incredulously, she watched as the Knight-Captain sheath his blade. “What are you doing?” Brusquely shoving her in front of him, the Knight-Captain roughly grabbed Lúthien by the upper arm. As he began dragging her back down the corridor, she pleaded with him not to take her back.

“You’ve got to believe me, Valandil. These knights are traitors!” As the two Ironidium Knights fell in behind them automatically, Lúthien screamed trying to get him to listen. “Don’t let them get behind you, they can’t be trusted!”

Looking into Valandil’s eyes, Lúthien’s cries of protest died on her lips. The slacked jawed expression on his face made the blood run cold in her veins. Fearfully, she began struggling to break out of his powerful grasp. Inexorable Valandil dragged her back to the corpse-white creature in the library wearing her father’s face. The beast’s evil red eyes glowed in wicked glee as the Knight-Captain came to attention in front of him. Without batting an eye, Valandil saluted holding the Princess out for him to take.

“My liege, I have delivered the Princess by your command.” As the tears ran down Lúthien ‘s face, she looked back and forth between the Knight-Captain and the horrifying creature in despair.