The Pinnacle Of Empire (Book 6) (6 page)

“That was a foodoo, I presume,” the emissary said. From the look on the captain’s pale face, he knew his own countenance betrayed his terror at the sight of such a beast.

The captain too was shaken. He kept his eyes on where the beast had disappeared. “Yes.”

The escorts rode up to the emissary’s party, grinning at the reaction of the imperial party.

“We seek an audience with His Majesty, King Nindax. We come in the name of Emperor Saxthor.”

“Yes, our sources told us of your coming,” the Senoshesvasian leader said. “If you’re ready to ride, we’ll proceed back through the Abysmal Pass. It’s the time of year when the foodoo are breeding and particularly aggressive. We must move fast. The brutes are aware of us now. They’ll be gathering along the river trail to ambush us.”

His brow beaded with sweat, the envoy swallowed. “Yes, of course, lead on.”

“Put back your sword, Captain,” the escort commander ordered. “Your men must not attempt to harm the foodoo or the flinik. The wizard here will protect us, but you must stay close together. Any stragglers are likely to disappear. I repeat; you must not attempt to attack or anger the guardians of the pass. They’ll toy with us and try to pick off a laggard here and there. If you harm one of them, all the foodoo and the flinik will come together as one, overrun us, and leave no one alive.”

“They know and allow you to pass?”

“They recognize a wizard. Even so, they’ll test his powers, but not too far, so long as he only stings them and keeps them at bay. More aggression and they will overwhelm us.”

The emissary nodded understanding and the Neuyokkasinian captain smacked his fist against his breastplate in acknowledgement.

“Are there many of them?” the emissary asked.

“More than enough to slaughter an army,” the escort commander said, grinning. He turned his mount back toward the thicket. His men rode along beside the Neuyokkasinian party, encircling them and as they entered the forest.

Once the thicket tapered off in the dark shadows of the mountain cliffs, the emissary saw the great foodoo male that had pursued the escorts. He stood watch on a rocky outcrop overlooking the river. A slightly smaller female joined the foodoo male on the outcrop. The two of them followed the men’s movements like a cat a mouse.

Suddenly, a cracking sound broke the solitude above the river gorge. The emissary felt his hair stand on end. A blue wizard-fire bolt shot skyward, killing a vulture soaring overhead. The bird spun toward earth. The female foodoo leaped and snatched it as it fell, taking her prize back into the rocky cliffs. The great male held his position on the outcrop, following the men’s every movement.

“The buzzard was a placating gift to the foodoo and to remind the guardian that the wizard is powerful and not to be tested,” the escort captain whispered to the emissary. A puff of feathers flew out from a rocky ledge. They heard bones crunch, but no other sounds interfered with the intense gurgling of the river rapids.

They rode a bit further when, suddenly, a huge, shaggy head thrust up out of the river. A boney-plated tail of a four foot sturgeon flapped in its mouth. Standing in the river, the foodoo stared at the intruders then crunched down on the fish, cutting it in two. The great beast chewed slowly, deliberately, then swallowed the half in its mouth. Its claws held the falling tail. The foodoo stared at the men for a moment, apparently decided not to attack and plunged back down out of sight into the frothy current.

The men rode on, watching this way and that for lurking foodoo. About half a mile further on, a bull elk dashed out of the forest and jumped into the river to escape three foodoos in close pursuit. The elk crossed the river with some difficulty. The foodoo moved through the water faster. As the elk bolted up on the river bank in front of the emissary’s party, a great foodoo jumped from the river onto the elk’s back. It dug its claws into the terrified deer’s flanks and bit down on its neck. The neck bones cracked. The head fell limp as the elk collapsed. The pursuing foodoo grabbed the elk’s hindquarters and dragged the huge deer into the underbrush and shadows, disappearing in an instant.

“That beast leapt from the river as if the rushing waters were no hindrance. It crushed the massive elk’s neck like a twig,” the Neuyokkasinian captain said.

“Nothing can withstand a foodoo’s attack,” the escort’s captain said.

“Why don’t they attack the wizard and then us?”

“They know brute force but not wizard-fire. They think the wizard can’t be killed. If they were to learn otherwise, no man would pass through these mountains again.”

The party rode on, passing several foodoo crunching the bones of victims along the way. By late afternoon the party had grown accustomed to the sight of lion-headed beasts feeding, but then, while watching one devouring a wild boar, the emissary felt a rush of wind coming from just up the pass. It quickly grew stronger.

“What’s that?”

“That’s flinik, come to investigate us,” the escort captain said. He visually located the huge, approaching creature and pointed to three high above the cliffs.

“They’re bigger than a man!” the emissary exclaimed. The flinik flew down through the gorge, into the dark shadows above the river but out of range of the men’s spears.

“Indeed,” the escort said. “They feed on the same game as the foodoo except they don’t fish the river. The foodoo don’t advance up the cliffs into flinik territory.”

As if to make its power clear, a flinik flew away and within minutes returned with a mountain goat dangling in its spiked arms. It hovered for a moment above the men then dropped the bloody goat. As the carcass fell, suddenly, a dozen or so foodoo appeared from nowhere, slapping their claws in the air to catch the falling feast. Two caught the animal in their claws and tore it in two, each taking half back into the shadows. The others beasts loped behind and soon muffled roars filtered back from the forest.

“How many foodoo are there here?” the Neuyokkasinian captain asked, looking this way and that, fearing an attack.

“No one knows, but generations ago, when the Powterosian Emperor sent his army into the pass, only two soldiers returned to tell the tale of the army’s total destruction.” The escort’s captain grinned at the Neuyokkasinian captain then the emissary. The group stayed close together, each man’s head jerking from side to side, watching for an attack.

On the third day of their journey, the narrow gorge opened up abruptly onto a great grassy plain where the mountain range temporarily spread apart. Large herds of elk, deer, three horned buffaloes, and wild boar grazed like patterns on a green carpet. Here and there a flinik would fly down, or foodoo dash out, and snatch a beast grazing too close to the mountain walls. The scene was deceptively peaceful except for the flash attacks.

One soldier dropped behind when his horse began to limp.

“Keep up with us,” the Neuyokkasinian captain yelled back to him. The man nodded he’d heard but then dismounted. The emissary watched as the man bent over to knock out a pebble from his horse’s hoof. Before he could remount, a striped motion shot from the shadows beside him. The emissary heard a bone crunch. With a single leap, the foodoo disappeared back into the undergrowth with the lifeless soldier dangling from his mouth. The jittery group hurried on across the plain along the river, which cut through it like a scar.

The constant threat continued for the remainder of the two weeks it took to get through the Abysmal Pass and out onto the Senoshesvasian plain.

* * *

Coldly and formally in his throne room amid his curious courtiers, King Nindax finally received the imperial emissary, who was still unnerved from his passage through the nightmare gorge. A sweet, oily incense drifted through the dark hall where the crackling torches reflected the tension.

“What message does your new overlord wish to convey to the King of Senoshesvas?” Nindax asked, his voice a hoarse monotone.

“His Imperial Majesty sends his warmest greetings and requests your presence at his marriage to Princess Imperial Tottiana, Your Majesty. The emperor wishes to begin his reign in peace and on the best of terms with the kingdoms of Senoshesvas, Velstorbokkin, and Zenobia.”

“We wished for no intercourse with the empire under Engwan IV; we wish none now with this usurper.”

The messenger’s warm smile drained with the color from his face. “I assure Your Majesty, the emperor wishes to remain on the best of terms with Senoshesvas.”

“Is that all?”

“That is all, Your Majesty.”

“Then take your leave from our court. Inform your emperor Senoshesvas will be no supplicant to the empire. We will tolerate no further intrusion into our territory.”

The imperial representative bowed, but Nindax didn’t even return a nod. The shaken man withdrew, his head hung low.

When the emissary was gone, the chatra handed Nindax a letter on the finest paper and sealed with magenta wax. The king looked up at the chatra. “Do you know this seal?”

“I believe it’s the seal of Dowager Empress Helgamyr, Majesty. A sinister smile grew on his face.

“Why would the dowager empress be writing to me?”

* * *

Saxthor was walking with Tittletot in the palace gardens when the diminutive elf suddenly dashed forward, whipping out the jeweled dagger Saxthor had recently given him as his sword. He leapt just in front of the emperor and thrust his sword in front of a plump, mottled wood slug.

“Back, lurking dragon!” Tittletot commanded in a deep, threatening voice. “My lord passes before your unworthy being. Make way.” He flicked the slimy mollusk away and turned, grinning at Saxthor.

Saxthor bent over laughing. At the same moment, a frantic new guard rushed up with his spear aimed at the tittletot.

Tittletot flushed red. He dropped the dagger and stumbled backward into a thorny rose stem. “Ouch!” He jumped forward and glanced behind him. Then, jerking his head forward, he glared at the guard. “I meant no harm, just to amuse His Majesty.”

“So I see, little man,” the guard said, unwinding. “Forgive me. From back there, it looked like you were attacking His Majesty.”

“Yes, well, don’t let it happen again,” Tittletot said, his frown stern as he rubbed his rump. He cleared his throat, picked up his dagger, and wiped it clean as Memlatec approached.

“Memlatec, this is Tittletot, our new court jester,” Saxthor said. “Tittletot, this is the High Court Wizard, Memlatec, the finest wizard in all Powteros.”

Memlatec bowed deeply and smiled at Tittletot, but Tittletot looked askew at the wizard before returning only a slight bow. “It has been generations since I last met a tittletot. I hope we shall be friends,” Memlatec said.

“I hope you won’t feel the need to vaporize so dangerous a menace as me. That overzealous guard nearly ran me through.”

“Come now, Tittletot, Memlatec is my protector and mentor. I want you two to be friends. You must shake hands and get to know each other.”

Bending down, Memlatec extended his hand and after hesitation, Tittletot shook it. I feel only positive energy radiating from the wizard, he thought. I sense their relationship a very close one. “If you’re friend to His Majesty, you’re friend to me,” Tittletot said. He shook Memlatec’s hand again, this time firmly.

“Go and play with the empress, Tittletot. I must speak with Memlatec for the present.”

“What evil will you have me subdue? What assistance can this wizard provide I cannot? You underestimate me, Majesty. None can do more to assist you than I. I’m not a toy for amusing the empress.”

“You’re a most excellent companion, Tittletot, but for the present, I need you to comfort the empress.”

Frowning, Tittletot bowed to emperor and wizard, then ambled off toward the palace, mumbling. He looked back at them, felt reassured the wizard was no threat to Saxthor and then skipped back inside to find the empress.

*

“I’m glad you have Tittletot near you. He will be good company and, being fiercely loyal, will add to your protection along with Delia here,” Memlatec said. He patted Delia, who wagged her tail at the mention of her name. She curled her upper lip in a smile to the old wizard. As if she understood what he’d said, Delia pranced forward, looking left and right, checking for hidden dangers. The three continued on their walk.

“You said before tittletots are almost never seen,” Saxthor said, snapping a twig. “I still wonder what this one is doing here now.”

“They’re an old elfin race that grew smaller over time, but no less intelligent. They withdrew from the world in the age of primal beings, even before the age of man. They pass between two planes and bend light around them when they don’t wish to be seen. That’s why no one has seen one in living memory that I know of.”

“What do you mean, ‘pass between two planes?’”

“They can move in another existence, travel through plants and, I think, possibly other living things, but I’m not sure of that. Dwarves come and go through the elements, but only tittletots can pass through living organisms. They played no part in the Wizard Wars and all but disappeared soon after the first one.”

“I knew they could bend light around themselves to be invisible. King Zirkin told me about it. That’s amazing.”

“This one seems inordinately devoted to you, Saxthor. I sensed it when I shook his hand. He was most defensive of you and scanned through me for any trace of hostility.”

“They can do that?”

“They have many powers wizards and elves have.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Keep him with you. Tittletot will be an excellent companion in these troubled times.”

“We won the war, Memlatec. It’s time to enjoy peace.”

“Evil is never destroyed, just defeated and repressed for a while. Speaking of which, an evil essence has risen from the Munattahensenhov and traveled down the peninsula. I just missed it at The Crypt beyond the Earwighof. It has crossed the empire and is now approaching Senoshesvas.”

“How do you know that?”

“Primal wizards are attuned to planetary energies. We can sense a major aberration and its unnatural movement. You should know that.”

Saxthor sighed and slumped. “After that attempt on King Nemenese, I should have known we’d still be fighting for peace.”

“Keep the tittletot close. I’m off to correspond with King Mendentak. He sent that warning about the evil passing near his kingdom in the Talok-Tak Mountains. He thinks it’s the Dark Lord’s essence.”

“The Dark Lord again.”

“Yes, his physical being died under the mountain, but his energy essence survived. It will seek a host. His focus now is on revenge-- and you.” Memlatec looked back to see Tittletot following at a distance. He grinned at Saxthor and nodded at the elf. “I hope he doesn’t get on your nerves. Clearly the little fellow is totally devoted.”

“Yes, and not infrequently disobedient.”

* * *

Helgamyr moved nervously through the haphazard back streets of the market place in the crowded district of southeast Engwaniria, where-- as in many cities-- a community developed from the poor that straggled in from the countryside to serve the wealthy and the demands of the growing capital. Criminals moved among the inhabitants as well to live off the meager wages of those that secured employment. Many living there were suspicious and fearful of the authorities, thus less likely to report crime when they themselves were the victims.

Helgamyr bumped into someone as she moved along, trying to keep close behind Endaquac. She was both fascinated and frightened by the strange new sights and smells that flooded her senses. “Excuse me,” Helgamyr said, glancing at the brute whose pungent body odor stunned her. He was cloaked in loose, dusty, grey attire and heavy boots. The prominent but plain sword dangled at his waist and two dagger hilts projected from the heavy leather belt. He frowned at her and kept moving with a grunt his only response. Helgamyr trembled when an instant of fear washed over her. She moved on, not daring to look back lest she provoke the bushy-browed man. “How much farther?” Helgamyr asked Endaquac, tugging on her cloak.

“It’s not far now,” was the frequently repeated response, but the maid didn’t slow down.

Why did I get into this? The dowager wondered. They turned into another side street too narrow for the vendors to set up stalls. This crooked street is even more confining. No sunlight penetrates down here. There are less people, but those that pass us follow us with their eyes. I know we shall be robbed or killed. She looked down at her shaking hand and stuck it in the pocket of her cloak. “You sure you know the way?”

“We’re almost there now,” the maid whispered over her shoulder.

“I can’t stand this any longer,” Helgamyr whispered, tugging on her maid’s cloak. “Let’s go back and forget this idea.” Endaquac brushed her patron’s hand off her cloak and kept moving on. “Did you hear me, Endaquac?”

“There it is,” the maid said, turning to Helgamyr. She discretely pointed to a plain, unpainted, gray door. The wood was worn smooth where hands pushed against it, but the wood grain was sill prominent. The shop was indistinguishable in the row of simple buildings along the dingy street. Overhead hung a sign with a magician’s pointed and crumpled hat that topped a crossed wand and feather pen over an eye. Though the weather was mild, two emaciated women, bundled in cloaks, stood in front of the door whispering, ogling Helgamyr. “Of course, we must go in; we’re here now,” Endaquac’s tone was firm, if muffled.

“This was a bad idea,” Helgamyr said, her voice breaking up. She pinched her lips and squeezed Endaquac’s hand. The two women by the door glanced at each other and moved down the street. They cast one last glance back at the dowager and maid.

“Nonsense, this man can get you what you want.” Endaquac pulled her hand free and knocked on the door.

Helgamyr felt her heart pounding. The door cracked open slowly. A woman dressed simply, though dusty, looked them up and down. 

“We’ve come about the books,” Endaquac said.

The woman didn’t speak but nodded and opened the door enough for them to slip in. The door shut behind them, as they stood in the pale lamp light amidst the gloom of the small shop. The musty air was almost stifling.

An old man, dressed simply in grimy threadbare clothes, came from behind a curtain. “This way, ladies, if you please,” the shopkeeper said. His supplicant smile was unnerving.

As she passed into the back room, Helgamyr noted the stark white of his blind eye staring at her. She clutched Endaquac’s arm and they entered the musky room.

The man moved quickly behind a small, dirty board atop crates which served as a counter and faced them. He repeatedly rubbed his hands together, beamed, then pulled out a box of books from behind the crates and slid it onto the plank. Grinding dust ruffled the quiet. “I’m certain you will find what you seek among these treasures.” A drop of dark spittle in the corner of his mouth glistened in the lamplight beside a gold tooth. His long, knobby fingers took a handful of books and scrolls from the box, spreading them over the board. Most were small, grimy, and grey or yellow with age.

Endaquac touched them only with her index finger, thumbing through the titles, searching for one of interest. “How about this one?” she asked Helgamyr, who was relieved her maid didn’t dare use her name.

Spells of Love and Revenge
was the title Helgamyr saw at a glance. She nodded, not caring what it was. Endaquac pushed the book to one side and continued to poke through the other items.

“That one will do,” Helgamyr whispered. Her fingers and feet were cold and her stomach was nauseous. “Get it and let’s go.”

“Here’s another one,
The Satisfaction of Revenge
.”

“Get them both and get me out of here,” Helgamyr mumbled, though she knew the old man watching could hear. She looked around; the plain woman was nowhere in sight.

“We’ll take these two,” Endaquac said, pushing the two small books toward the old man, who bowed and picked them up in his spidery fingers.

He carefully bound wrinkled brown paper around the books, tying them with a cord but held them back until Endaquac put payment on the counter. The old man studied the coins. Endaquac added two more coins, and the old man smiled through black teeth. He handed the small bundle to the maid with a grin and nod. The odor of stale garlic stung Helgamyr’s noise. The man led them back through the cloth that veiled the activities of the back room. With no other word, he bowed and opened the door. They rushed through onto the shadowy street beyond, and the door clacked shut behind them. A crow took flight from the sign overhead.

Clutching the purchase, the two women rushed back through the alleys and streets of the alien world to the capital’s main thoroughfares, to Ossenkosk, and finally the security of the dowager’s suite in the palace. Behind closed doors and alone, they opened the parcel and examined the books with caution.

“Revenge! Revenge,” Helgamyr said, clapping her hands together as she danced around the room. “I shall have my revenge.” She glanced at Endaquac who stood by the books, her stoic face unchanged, watching her mistress. “Why so solemn? We got them; we got the spell books. Now I can take revenge on that usurper. I thought to share this triumph with Tottiana, but she seems to be wavering in her loyalty to her father and me. We’ll keep this a secret between us, Endaquac.” Helgamyr felt her energy drain at the maid’s initial failure to join in her enthusiasm.

But then Endaquac cracked a slight smirk and nodded. She picked up the book on the satisfaction of revenge, blew dust off and wiped it with a cloth, which she tossed on the floor before scanning through the book. “I see no spells in this one.” She tossed it on the table and picked up the second book. “Well, we know this one has spells.”

Helgamyr grabbed the book and searched among the entries until she found one that caused the victim severe gastrointestinal pain. “This will do for starters. It doesn’t involve poison; I don’t like the thought of poison.” She glanced at Endaquac, who had gone back to embroidering, annoying Helgamyr. “Where’s your enthusiasm? I suppose you disapprove of my harming the emperor. Well, he’s harmed me, so keep your mouth shut.”

Endaquac showed no response but again carefully picked out some thread from the piece she was embroidering, infuriating the dowager.

“You’re always stitching in and pulling out. What is it you’re working on anyway?”