The Zulani Empire: The New Chronicles of Elemental Magic (5 page)

Chapter 7.

Lord Willem sat shaking his head at what he was being told. The so-called council of rulers that over-saw the running of Besemia shouted across the table at each other. It was clear the decision made the previous meeting had not been a particularly popular one. Yet the vote had been passed, and as things stood the country of Besemia had reached a new low; at least in the eyes of Lord Willem.

The nobleman had been at the very forefront of Besemia's efforts during the last war with the Darekians. During that last campaign, he and his country had made strong ties with their neighbours. Now it seemed those ties had been all but severed. The council had voted to accept a proposal from a foreign power known as The Zulani. In exchange for Besemia sitting idly by whilst their neighbours lands were pillaged, they would get gold, lots of it.

It was true that Besemia needed extra funding to continue with the rebuilding and modernising of its infrastructures. That said, Lord Willem considered the price too high. Although the man still had a seat on the council, due to the respect he carried amongst his peers, he was no longer afforded a vote on state matters.

Lord Willem had pleaded with them at the last meet, to consider the action they were taking. Since that time, he had received a letter from his old friend the King of Corlan asking what was going on. Understandably, the man was confused as to the reasons why the very strongest of allies, should suddenly become no more than just neighbours.

Willem stood, the noise of his chair sliding backwards scraping on the stone floor. He looked around at the faces sat about the table. A few felt as he did, unfortunately they were fewer in number; hence the reason for the treaty with the Zulani. He waited patiently for the chat to die down, as he crossed his arms. When eventually the room fell silent, he took a deep breath before speaking.

Only once he was certain he had the attention of each and every man did he start. "Today I stand before you, embarrassed to call myself a Besemian. I cannot believe the naive stupidity shown by this council." One of the members went to protest but Willem simply stared him down. "Do you really think these Zulani will stop once they have taken Murati lands? Will we also stand idly by and watch them invade Corlan, and Darekia? Are you all so blind to see what will happen next?" he asked raising his voice just a little. "Well...?" he then shouted in anger and frustration.

At the other end of the table sat the man who was currently the ruling councillor. This man had persuaded the majority of members to vote for the treaty. Clearly, he thought he did not need to stand to reply to Willem. Lounging back in his seat, "Lord Willem, may I remind you that you are only on this council to advise." He said in his nasally tones. "More importantly this gold from the Zulani will pay for so much. If Murati and Corlan cannot fight their own battles, then I do not see why that is our fault." Willem reminded the man who it was that had saved them in the last war. Had the Corlanian Prince Luken not sacrificed his life, then as sure as night followed day, they would not have been even having this meeting. "So we repay their sacrifice by turning our backs on them. You are all such cowards. I resign my seat...," he added before storming out of the room.

Those remaining in the room looked to the head of the table for guidance. "Let him go, if he wishes to dwell on the past them let him do so. We, gentlemen, have funds to spend", the man said trying to add some gusto to the proceedings. He continued reading from a list of idea's he had written for the allocation of the new wealth. The main points being new luxury homes for all council members, and new staff to run them. "This will of course create new jobs; building, maintaining and running them," he added trying to justify the idea. The majority of other members vocally agreed their approval. Two others however, supporters of Lord Willem, simply stood and left in disgust.

Lord Willem did not hang about. He simply went to the small house he stayed at when visiting the government offices, and ordered his small retinue to make ready to leave. The two house staff and four guards did not argue nor even ask why; they simply carried out his request with efficiency. Within just half an hour, his belongings were collected and loaded onto the wagon that was now waiting with their horses in the yard below.

As Lord Willem was technically no longer anything to do with those in power, he did not consider any future action he may take as any of their business. The group had barely left the city walls, and Willem already had plans running through his head. The powers that be may be turning their backs on their neighbouring countries, but that did not mean he intended to do the same.

He may not be a high profile government official, but he was still a wealthy landowner. As such, he had at his disposal a small army. This consisted of just a few platoons of cavalry and archers, with just a squad of infantry, and mainly used for keeping the peace on his lands. Lord Willem however, had also copied Corlan's reserve system. This enabled people who worked on his lands to train with his fulltime soldiers to earn a few extra coins, but more importantly for him to increase the number of skilled soldiers he could call upon. Having this option could increase the number of men at his disposal to well over five hundred.

The sun was reaching its zenith, and Willem was glad of the cool breeze that was blowing. His small group had made good progress, but they would not be back on his lands until dark. Having had a short break to rest the horses, he had started making a list of things he needed to do. This mainly consisted of supplies he needed to accrue before he could even think about raising an army. It may well take him a few weeks to sort things out, but his allies of old would not stand-alone.

The Zulani were once more on the move. Slowly and methodically taking control of the lands and people, they encountered. With their foothold on Murati now firmly established it was now time to expand. With the knowledge that their right flank was safe from attack, thanks to the deal struck with Murati's neighbour Besemia, they planned their attacks accordingly.

A mix of men and beasts headed northwards. Their next big target was clearly the city of Onay. Over four thousand in number they moved along at a slow lumbering pace. Many of the smaller towns and villages they encountered were now empty. The occupants had fled to the relative safety of the larger walled city, which now found itself, the main target.

Prince Issac had ordered the city gates to be closed and secured. Those who had not made it in would have to try to fend for themselves. Whether that meant hiding away or moving further north away from the encroaching dangers. Everything that could be done had now been done. Now all they could do was just wait and see what the Zulani threw at them.

Amongst the number of enemy soldiers were Murati. People who had been captured and collared, and now had little option other than to do as they were commanded, walked amongst them. Some tasked with carrying the much-needed supplies such a vast force required to exist. Others, mainly women, were used for cooking, cleaning and other such tasks.

The sun was low in the evening sky, as the first enemy were spotted from atop the walls of Onay. The shout was given, and several of the city's church bells rang out to warn of the impending danger. A flurry of soldiers ran from the garrison out into the streets. Everything they had spent the last few days training for would now be put to use. Each man had been allocated a part of the wall that he was supposed to patrol. Archers and infantry quickly started lining up along the perimeter looking southwards to the large contingent heading their way.

Torches had been prepared, and would be ready to be lit once the last of the daylight had gone. Despite the late hour and the unlikelihood that any fighting would take place during the hours of darkness, it was better to be prepared just in case. For now, it was a matter of waiting for the slow procession to near. As they did, they started spanning out, making it clear they planned to surround the city. Nobody it seemed was getting in or out.

Jamal was surprised to see Fabian still wanting to practice his sword skills. The past few days he had seen a much nicer side to the lad. Fabian was still rude and abrupt, but Jamal had seen through that tough facade on several occasions. Underneath that exterior was a sad lonely boy, who clearly loved his father much more than he ever let on. His skills with the sword were still barely better than any other novice would be, but at least he was still improving. Whether those same skills would ever suffice in a real one on one fight, Jamal doubted them good enough. Although he had also reasoned that if Fabian was fighting, then things would have gone very wrong.

The two youngsters still practised with the weighted wooden swords. Jamal was not confident in his own abilities, never mind those of Fabian, not to cause injury with the real ones. After running through their usual drill, he signalled to the young royal for them to stop for the day. They had spent some considerable time training on manoeuvres and stance, and despite the look of disappointment on Fabians face, he nodded. It was getting dark and they both needed rest. "I'm not sure I'll have much time to practice tomorrow Fabian," Jamal said as he placed his weapon back in the rack of swords. "With the enemy at our gates I will have to report to the garrison for duty," he added.

Fabian remained silent as he also returned his sword, placing it down beside the others. Jamal was about to wish him a goodnight and head off back to the garrison when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see Fabian looking directly at him, clearly wanting to say something, but struggling to get the words out. "What is it Fabian?" Jamal asked waiting for him to speak. "Can I join you in the mess hall for dinner tonight?" Fabian asked a rather surprised looking Jamal. After a few moments to think he nodded, "Yes, of course...Come on," he added gesturing the way forward.

Chapter 8.

After a long night of restless sleep, Jamal forced himself up from his bunk. Those who had been on duty during the hours of darkness were now filling the beds around him; hoping to catch a few hours sleep. Jamal had been excused duty, much to his disappointment. Prince Issac had apparently ordered that he be appointed instead to be personal guard to Fabian. What that title actually meant, was baby sitter to a troubled young man. This would likely also mean Jamal being kept away from any action again.

As he walked out into the morning sunshine and across the garrison yard, he saw Fabian waiting at the gates for him. As he approached, he even got a smile and a friendly 'Hello'. "I asked that you be assigned to me Jamal. Isn't that good news?" Fabian said almost too excitedly. Jamal nodded in agreement. Of course, he was glad that Fabian was at last making an effort to be friendly, and he had even quite enjoyed teaching him sword skills.

As strange as it seemed, life within the city was going on as normal. Traders still lined the streets attempting to take advantage of the influx of new potential customers. The only noticeable difference was the increased amount of soldiers moving about the streets, and any person looking up at the walls would tell something untoward was happening. Where there would normally only be a handful of guards patrolling across the top, now stood hundreds.

A short way off from the city walls, the Zulani had made their camps. They had split into what appeared to those watching, four groups. The two larger ones covered the north and south gates, and two smaller groups watching the east and west walls. Off slightly further south was another smaller camp, where a number of banners barely moved in what little breeze there was. Two huge tents had been erected here, one of which was currently occupied by the Zulani priest and his officers. There, the topic of discussion was on how best to defeat the Murati shut behind the city walls.

Those defending stood around the tops of the battlements, looking out to the thousands of soldiers that surrounded them. However, it was not the number of men that caught the eye, but the strange looking creatures that moved about them, none more so than the Giganton. Standing twice the height of a man, they moved slowly about the enemy lines. The Zulani appeared to be in no great hurry to attack, as they continued the task of making their camps.

It was mid-morning, when Fabian asked Jamal if he would like to go up to the wall to see the enemy. Although technically he had seen them before, he could not push away the need to know what fate awaited them outside the walls. As the pair walked up the stone steps, Jamal could feel his heart racing. Many of the reports on the enemy had painted a grim picture; he was now going to see for himself, just how bad. At least being paired with Fabian had certain privileges, as the soldiers atop the wall moved aside for them.

On first glance, Jamal thought the reports were not as bad as he had envisaged. Although once he had looked left and right, a little further around the city wall, it was clear they were probably true. He turned to look at Fabian, whom he thought was regretting taking a look. "Come on Fabian, shall we head back to the garrison and practice a little?" The young royal nodded, but remained silent. They were just about to start down the steps, when they heard a booming voice.

The two froze, both aware they had heard it before, and both knew what was to follow. "People of Murati..." came the voice. Jamal took a few steps forward trying to see from where it came. "There!" he said pointing to a robed figure in the distance. "The man with the staff again," he added.

The voice of the Zulani priest boomed out once more. The words were the same as they had heard before, an offer for the people of the city to surrender and join the Empire of the Zulani. Unlike the previous occasion however, a time was set for their surrender. The city of Onay had until sunrise tomorrow to open its gates, lay down its arms, or face the onslaught of the Zulani. Naturally, such an offer, made a few heads turn. Jamal could even hear the words uttered amongst some of the soldiers, as he suggested that he and Fabian head back.

As they walked back down the main street, Fabian spoke for the first time. "Do you think we should do as they ask Jamal?" he said in a loud whisper. Jamal shook his head, "No, and don't let people hear you speak of such things," he replied a little more harshly than perhaps he should have. Jamal quite expected Fabian to have one of his tantrums, being spoken to in such a way. Certainly, the old Fabian would have at least called him 'A stinking sewer rat,' or some other reference to such a creature. Instead, Fabian merely dropped his head, before uttering, "I don't want to die Jamal."

Jamal stopped and placed a hand on Fabian's shoulder. Whilst looking him in the eye, "None of us want to die. Do you really want to live your life as a slave Fabian? Because that is surely what these Zulani will do to us all." The two held each other's gaze for a few moments before the prince's son shook his head, "No Jamal I do not wish to be a slave." Jamal patted him on the back, "We stick together, whatever happens," he found himself saying. Fabian looked back up, and with the smallest hint of a smile, nodded.

Prince Issac paced around his throne room. He had summoned every advisor, councillor and high-ranking military officer to a meeting. He wanted to hear their views. Personally, he wanted to stand and fight the abominations that stood outside his city walls. However, he had deemed it only fair for the others to air their views. He had already spoken to those before him, and explained his wishes. Now the question was opened to the floor for people to step forth and express other opinions.

Unsurprisingly his highest ranked officer stepped forward and spoke first. "We stand with you your highness. Whatever your decision, your fate is ours to share," the man said bowing his head. The next to step forward was one of the cities councillors, a man who spoke for the people of the city. "I mean no disrespect highness," he said in a crawling, whiny voice. "Perhaps we should accept the offer they have put before us. After all, we are hopelessly outnumbered, and we have no idea how to fight the monsters and beasts amassing outside our fair city."

Issac had to bite his lip. This snivelling little man would see them hand the city over without so much as a scuffle. However, he remained civil, he had asked for others opinions, and it was only right he listened. A few jeered the man, but Issac held up a hand to silence them, "Thank you Councillor, I will give your words my consideration."

The next to step forward was one of his most loyal advisors. A man who had been at his side ever since he had been made the ruler of the south of Murati. "Your highness," he said bowing his head subserviently. "People of Onay," he added turning to the others in the room. "If we fight tomorrow, it may well be our end. Thousands will die; perhaps every one of us here will never see another day." The advisor spoke clearly, walking slowly as he did. The room remained silent as he paused for while, before continuing. "However, if we merely open the gates and lay down our arms, then we live..." he let the words hang for a little while before speaking again. "Yet, we would be slaves. We would not be councillors, or soldiers, or any other thing we wanted to be. Moreover, if we sit by and do nothing we condemn the next city the Zulani decide to attack to this very same fate." With those words still ringing in peoples ears, he bowed before his prince and stepped back amongst the others.

A few others stepped up and had their say, a couple mirroring the opinion of the councillor, and a few the words of his officer. It was the words spoken by his advisor however, that stayed in Issac's thoughts. If they surrendered, then the Zulani would be free to move on and capture more. If he decided to fight, then perhaps they could hold out until help came, or at the very least deliver the enemy a severe blow to their plans of conquering any more Murati lands.

"I have made my decision," he spoke loudly to those stood before him. "Tomorrow morning we wait to see what these Zulani throw at us. If they attack, we will stand firm and spill their blood on our walls. Let it be known," he added gesturing for them to leave. With his mind made up, Issac walked over to one of guards, "Find my son and bring him to me," he ordered.

Fabian was walking back to the garrison when the order reached him to go to his father. "Jamal, will you come with me please?" He asked. Jamal was not sure why he needed to go, but nodded to the affirmative anyway. After a brisk walk, down several very busy streets, they turned into the palace yard. Much of the free space had been given over to the towns supply stockpiles.

They found the prince sitting in his private study. On seeing them both enter, Issac stood to wave them closer. Jamal was not certain whether he should leave Fabian to talk to his father in private, but his mind was made up for him, when the door was closed behind them. "Fabian, please sit down...I think we need to talk." Jamal was feeling a little awkward and suggested perhaps he wait outside the door, but Fabian requested he stay. Jamal noticed just how distant this father and son were. Issac was clearly as anxious as Fabian, highlighted further, by the large glass of brandy he knocked back in one go.

The prince started by telling his son, that whatever happened tomorrow he loved him very much. Jamal went and stood beside a window and looked out over the gardens below. After an awkward looking hug, the prince had one more thing to tell them. "Jamal," he said focusing the conversation on him. "If things go wrong I want you to take Fabian to safety." Jamal got the feeling he was never going to fight the enemy.

Prince Issac took the pair of them into another room beside his study. On first look, it appeared the room was used for nothing more than the storage of documents. However, when the prince pulled on a hidden lever, one of the document racks slid to one side revealing a small dark passage. "It is only just wide enough for one man at a time, but it will lead you out to a large wooded area just north of the city. If things start going wrong, I want you two to make good your escape." Jamal turned and was about to complain, but decided to remain silent when he remembered who it was giving the order. He looked over to Fabian, who was busy peering into the darkness of the small opening. "Swear to me that you will do as I ask," Issac said focusing his attention back on Jamal. "I swear, your highness," he said bowing his head just a little.

After leaving the prince's study, both Jamal and Fabian walked in silence. Only the clatter of their boots on the floor made any noise. Jamal was thankful he had Fabian with him, as he was certain he would have gotten himself lost, as he had done the last time he walked the corridors of the palace. As they exited back out into the palace gardens, Fabian stopped. "I think it best if you stay in the palace with me tonight." Jamal stopped as well, and rolled his eyes back. The enemy had not even attacked yet, and they were already preparing for him to once again, flee.  Knowing it would mean a lot to Fabian, Jamal nodded "If that is what you want, then I will."

In Forwich, Darak sat at the dinner table with his wife Sarena and youngest daughter Leah. He looked at the two empty spaces and sighed. He felt a hand touch his own, and looked over. "They will be fine dear," Sarena said trying to show enough optimism for the both of them. If not for the chatter of their daughter, the meal would have been eaten in silence. At least since returning back home, Darak had managed to limit his binge drinking.

They had just finished eating, when a serving maid came over to clear away the plates. Whilst she did, she told Serena of a messenger waiting in the hallway. "Why does he not give you the message?" Sarena asked her. "He says it is important, and must be delivered to either you or Lord Darak my Lady." After looking at each other they both stood, "Might as well see what is so urgent," Darak said leading the way.

Just as they had been told, a man wearing a hooded cloak stood in the hallway. "I am Lord Darak," Darak said introducing himself. "My Lord," the man dropped his hood and bowed his head. "I have been asked by Lord Levin of Lanber to personally hand you this note." The man reached into his belt and pulled out a folded letter. Darak thanked the man and asked one of the maids to show him to the kitchens for refreshment.

Sarena looked at her husband, "I wonder what Levin wants?" she asked puzzled as to what could be so urgent. "Only one way to find out I guess," Darak replied slipping his finger under the wax seal. He slowly unfolded the paper and read, "Oh thank the gods," he cried out. Sarena looked at him, "What is it?" she asked impatiently. "Hope is in Lanber...Safe and well," he added feeling the emotion getting the better of him. Sarena flung her arms around her husband, not bothering to read the words herself.

After the initial elation, Darak read the letter in more detail. The note from Levin described briefly the tale of Hope's capture and escape, with it ending with the news that a young Darekian man had guided her across the mountains to safety. Hope was apparently going to rest in Lanber for a few days before heading home. Puffing out his cheeks, he let the note drop to the tabletop. His children may not have been with him, but at least he knew both were safe and well.