Pieces of the Empire, Book One

By Jeffrey Lawrence Moss

When idealistic desert trader Athuro Nava helps to land deadly blows on the two men who built the evil Sarmissan Empire, he begins an unexpected journey to establish a Confederation designed to ensure that all lands become free. All the while, forces work secretly against the vision he is trying to realize. This is a fantasy novel set in an original world and is the first of three books.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jeffrey Lawrence Moss
• Release date: May 30, 2010
• ISBN: 9781452343310

Jeffrey Lawrence Moss

Jeffrey Moss is a finance professional in the healthcare industry. He writes to keep himself sane. Jeffrey lives in the bay area with his wife Geneva, son Bridon, and cat Bandit. If you would like to reach out to the author, feel free to e-mail him at [e-mail]. Jeffrey is at work developing an action and adventure novel now that the Pieces of the Empire epic is complete. The tentative title of his current project is "The Forgotten Stone".

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PIECES OF THE EMPIRE

BOOK ONE: AN ENDING AND A BEGINNING

by

Jeffrey Lawrence Moss

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PUBLISHED BY:

Jeffrey Lawrence Moss at Smashwords

Pieces of the Empire, Book One: An Ending and a Beginning

Copyright © 2010 by Jeffrey Lawrence Moss

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

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There are a few people I’d like to thank.

Rob Edwards was invaluable in providing editing support to the book. He was the first person, outside of myself to read the book, and he provided plenty of food for thought.

Debra Lee Brown and Coye Carter provided encouragement and advice when there was none to be found. This book could not have made it this far without them.

I would be remiss not to mention the family: my wife Geneva Moss, my son Bridon Moss, and my mom Trish Moss for doing those things that loved ones do.

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PIECES OF THE EMPIRE

BOOK ONE: AN ENDING AND A BEGINNING

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CHAPTER 1: DEATH OF A KING, BIRTH OF A CONFEDERATION

You will die for this! King Istrisk growled. He pressed his back against Archpolette Addol’s side with an obvious look of surprise and fear upon his face.

We assembled in a loose circle around the two old men in their fifties. Rydon stood to my left before the door that led out of the King’s study, while Walst covered the small window to my right -- the only two escape routes. Sak and Melche positioned themselves near the fireplace and I stood close to the large oak table.

You are the one who will die, Rydon said, holding the point of his sword toward the King’s head, your reign of tyranny on this continent will end tonight. The Bancille Lord talked with an edge to his voice I had not heard before. His passion seemed all the more striking by the fact that he made no move to advance even though he only stood ten feet from the two men.

Rydon held fast because the Archpolette inspired that kind of fear in men. I’ll bring this whole room crashing down on you unless you surrender at once, the conjurer snarled. I will not guarantee my charity but I can guarantee a fate better than being crushed by stone.

Although looking even older than his age, Addol stood strong in his full length black robe with golden embroidery running along the trim. He held a walking stick in hand but seemed more likely to use it to strike his assailants than lean on it for support. However, none of us feared that stick. We feared the Llinx, a three foot long slender animal strung over Addol’s right shoulder like a sash. The animal’s body and its six stubby legs were stretched uncomfortably, pressed tightly against the conjurer’s frame. Its bluish grey fur rose slightly as it breathed, giving the only indication the animal lived.

We feared the Llinx because it gave the Archpolette the power to bear great force in a focused direction. We stood before the greatest Force Conjurer ever known. The plan had been to confront the King alone, not to face Addol as well.

A long moment passed. Only the crackling of the fire behind Melche could be heard. I looked at the others who were all focused on the King and the Archpolette and saw tension and uncertainty. Something had to be done quickly but no one knew what to do.

For my part, I stood facing the back of Addol. Although nine feet away, I had the cleanest angle to slay his Llinx. Given that the King kept his eyes scanning all around him, I had no chance of surprising Addol without the cleric being warned. Because of that, the conjurer would surely make a strike when I attacked, likely killing one if not all of us. Who died depended on whether he struck at one of us individually or at the supports of the heavy wooden ceiling just above.

I could feel my palms sweat, weakening the two-handed grip on my sword. Too much time was passing with too much time to think. I wanted to make the first move but wasn’t comfortable with what might happen next. If only someone else would take the initiative and provide a quick distraction, I could lurch forward and kill the animal. Yet the other four seemed rooted in place. As time moved on I felt an urgent need to press the issue.

You won’t be able to escape, the King said, breaking the silence with a shaky voice that betrayed the strength of his words. Secretly entering this castle is one matter. Escaping is another all together.

We have come to kill you and are prepared to forfeit--, Rydon started to say, but I stopped listening.

Both Istrisk and Addol had turned slightly to face Rydon as he replied and I immediately understood that I would not benefit from any better distraction than that. Leveling the point of my sword at the back of Addol’s upper right shoulder, I lurched forward. Holding my sword outstretched and as steady as I could, I felt as if I wielded a heavy lance.

The King turned his head and saw me out of the corner of his eye. He grabbed onto Addol and shouted a warning. But at the same time Melche advanced on the conjurer. Since Addol faced Melche, he reacted to that threat first, raising his right arm and springing it forward with his hand open, pushing toward the Gijae warrior. A loud grunt filled my ears as Addol used his power to push Melche away, smashing the warrior’s body into the fireplace. The force had enough power to buckle the stone around the hearth, causing part of the wall to collapse onto the lifeless body.

My sword pierced the Llinx and ran clean through the conjurer’s shoulder. The animal squealed suddenly and fell silent just as quickly. I released the handle of my sword and steadied myself, watching the conjurer’s body collapse to the floor as he writhed in pain.

The King stared at the body in horror, too late to register that Rydon had advanced on him. With a clean wide arching sweep, Rydon lopped off the King’s head. The monarch’s body stood for a moment, as if stunned, then collapsed onto Addol.

Now Sak and Walst advanced. Sak kicked the King’s body off of Addol, while Walst stabbed the Llinx to ensure it had died. Both hacked at the conjurer’s body to make certain Addol was truly dead. No one took another stab at the King.

Rydon grabbed the head of Istrisk and placed it in a leather sack. He then turned to the rest of us. Stop it. Addol’s dead. We need to get out of here if we want to live.

The Bancille Lord spoke so strongly that I snapped out of the trance that bound my attention to the conjurer’s shredded body. Placing one foot on the detached shoulder, I grabbed by sword with both hands and pulled it out. The others had already made it to the door and I quickly followed.

The group turned to the right toward the south tower which had been our point of entry onto this level. We had slipped into the keep only a few hours earlier, having entered the stronghold hidden in a wagon of grain. Left alone in the food store on the first floor, we had sneaked out, crossed quickly through the kitchen, and then up the south tower to the third floor. Getting up the stairs had been easy. If someone was near, we would stop and hide until safe to move on. We didn’t have that luxury on the way down. I feared that we would not be able to go far without being detected.

My fears proved well founded. I saw Sak stop suddenly just before going down into the stairwell. The muscular bald man halted with a jerk, almost carrying him forward before he caught himself. Then a woman screamed.

Go back! Rydon called out within the stairwell. I could not see him as he was beyond the point where the steps curved downward.

Sak stepped back and let the shorter Walst pass. Walst jogged to my side and turned to see Sak holding his sword upright, still standing at the side of the entranceway to the stairwell.

A man was with two maidens, Walst said, focused toward the sounds of swords clanging against each other in the stairs. One of the maidens saw us before we could attack.

Rydon suddenly appeared, quickly lurched forward with his sword, and ran out of the stairwell. Sak leaned back, sword ready and slightly out of view of the guard that ascended the steps. The guard quickly recognized the trap he had fallen into, but not in time to save his life. Sak brought his sword down squarely upon his left shoulder, cracking the bone and sending him down in a scream of pain.

Sak then hurried back to where we stood, halfway between the study and the south tower. We quickly looked at each other to wordlessly ask ‘what now’? Then the alarm rang out.

Echoing throughout the hall was the sound of multiple tinny bells, struck repeatedly and without pause. The entire Royal Guard would be alerted and the first of them would arrive soon.

We had planned to ambush the King alone, to kill him quickly and leave by the way of our choosing. Addol had complicated matters and had probably created enough sound for the maidens of the castle to call for a guard to investigate. That left us without a plan to escape and seemingly no way out.

Rydon, in hurried thought, ran his hand through his thick and unkempt brown hair. Then suddenly he started down toward the east tower. We followed just as swiftly. Turning into the tower which did not have stairs, that plan became quickly evident. Before us stretched a walkway that ran outside the keep to a tower just beyond the outer castle walls. Rydon pointed at the end of the walkway as he ran out into the cold, misty open air. The latrines are our only chance.

The sounds of yelling from the guards echoed both confusion and discovery. Even through the dim light of dusk, the outline of our figures running by was visible. Before I arrived in the small stone tower that stood beyond the outer walls and hovered over the moat, I heard an arrow whiz by.

No one wanted to go down the latrine, but everyone dropped their weapons and climbed in without any argument. Walst went first, I went second, and then the others followed. With the wooden seat tossed aside, the only challenge was to fit through the stone hole. We could all make it but only by pushing and contorting ourselves – all the while smelling the stench of the stains on the rock. Having passed that, I fell three stories down.

When I dropped into the moat, I collided into Walst and then felt the impact of Sak and Rydon as their momentum pushed me to the bottom of the dirty still water. I stuck to the bottom for a long moment, partly sunk in mud. Initially dazed, panic set in quickly.

Still, I had done well to hold my breath. Yet I did not know if I could rise to the surface in time. Scrambling out of the mud and trying my best to lift myself, I reached the top and gasped for air. I took in some water as I bobbed to the surface, choking and losing any sense of bearing. Flailing, I struggled to keep on top of the water and to clear my lungs. My body reacted with urgency and energy a man can only muster in a fight to survive. Yet I was dying. I was taking in even more water in my blind reaction, finding it harder and harder to stay afloat.

My body jerked, and once past the shock, I realized I was being dragged. Continuing to hack out the water in my lungs, I finally got a sense of the surroundings. I saw the wall of the rectangular castle in increasingly better view as we swam away from it. With my heavy gasps reduced to a muted coughing, I let the thought of having actually escaped enter my mind. Then an arrow pierced the water just before me.

Rydon dragged me onto shore. He had been the one to save my life. With the sounds of guards from the tower coming into focus, I looked up at him and saw his dark blue eyes draw a bead on me.

If you want to live, you better run, he said and released his grip.

I stumbled as I tried to stand but adrenaline kicked in and I found my legs much quicker than I would have imagined, although I still coughed and hacked with every step. Arrows struck the ground around me as I ran eight paces behind Rydon. Sak ran a little further ahead, and Walst sprinted well before everyone. We had three horses waiting for us in the forest beyond the clearing. If we could make it there alive we could speed away. Since the gate to the castle was on the western side, it would take the castle guards too long to come around the outer walls to reach us.

Just make it to the forest, I mumbled silently to myself over and over. The arrows came less frequently now and were much farther off target. I used that as motivation and did not let up. Before I could fully comprehend the events that led me there, I was on the back of one the horses along with Walst and was quickly riding off.

I did not move for a while as I held onto Walst and looked forward. But finally I gathered myself together enough to look back and saw no one trailing us. It would stay that way.

We had done it. We had killed the King and the Archpolette. I could only hope that the other team had achieved the same success on their mission but could not help but wonder based on our near failure.

* * *

I woke up slowly, noticing a flickering light. Then I heard the flap of my tent flutter in the constant breeze. Rising slowly, I looked out from darkness into the bright dawn, sighed, and shook away some of my grogginess. Awkwardly, I crawled out of my tent, stood and stretched.

Looking around at the other tents, it appeared that only I remained on the mountain ledge. The dark green valley below, hazy in the distance, was still partially covered in shadows.

I made my way over to a flat outcropping of rock and sat down. I could see the mountains stretch toward the ocean in the south, the Sarmissan Valley to the west and the vast snow capped peaks where two mountain ranges met in the north. I could see farther and more clearly than any other time in my life. Yet I could care less. I had been looking at this same view for almost two weeks now during the waning days of winter. The other group had not returned nor did any news of their mission reach the camp. I had just sat and waited as the mountain people dispatched one of the few members of their ranks who ventured out from the mountains.

The valley looked peaceful. I knew better though. With the King and Archpolette dead, that land would be anything but tranquil. In fact it would probably be more dangerous there than it had been in a while. It suddenly occurred to me that perhaps I was waiting for a messenger who would never be coming back.

What am I to do now? I asked myself softly, staring down at a fixed point in the valley. It was very cold, even in the direct sun light. With my knees pushed against my chest, I wrapped my arms around my legs to preserve warmth. This was not the first time I had posed that question to myself. Eight years of exile had left plenty of time for reflection but also provided few answers. Even if the messenger came with welcome news, it would be years until I could resume my life as a trader. At thirty-three, I would be lucky to have seven more years of existence, although I did know others who had lived to their fifties and had heard stories of men who aged beyond their sixties. For whatever reason though, I did not see myself among the long-lived.

The thought of having been part of this mission, to actually have helped kill a monarch, seemed incomprehensible. I had killed once before but only under strained circumstances. That role did not suit me well; I felt a great sense of unease for days after both times I had taken a life. Surely the events here would lead to more battles and bloodshed. It was all for the right cause, but I could not image taking up arms in the struggle. And that seemed to leave me with no options.

Sighing again, I caught the sight of something below and to my left. Before I could register the image, one of the mountain people jumped onto the ledge where I sat and displayed the palms of his two hands in greeting. Good morning, Erule, I said. I guess everyone got an earlier start on the day than I. Did someone forget to tell me some momentous news?

No, Erule said plainly. Unusually he was more talkative then that.

I jumped off the rock to stand before him. I guess I should ask you to take me down near the valley with the others.

Erule lowered his head slightly in a bit of a bow. Krol requests the dignity of your presence.

Sure, I said, a little surprised. Krol and I had not talked much since my group arrived here. Why did he want to talk now?

We should expedite this meeting, Erule said as he lifted his arms. Please hold onto me.

I knew what to do. Grabbing him around the waist tightly, he grabbed me back and we jumped off the end of the ledge into the open mountain air below. I kept my eyes shut as we touched down on rock, only to jump again. It all happened too quickly for me to feel comfortable, even though I knew my safety was assured. Erule used two Buva, one on each shoulder, to help him levitate to areas otherwise out of reach to man. Each one, creatures of mostly excess brown skin and pointy bones that jutted out, could levitate large distances in order to maneuver in the mountains. The mountain people were the only race that had found the ability to channel this power. Some mountain people only needed one Buva to get around but two ensured a safe journey.

We touched down for the last time and Erule let go. I almost fell to the ground but found my balance in time. It took another moment to gather my bearings and notice the cave to my right. Krol lives here as well? I asked.

Erule gestured me to the cave but made no motion to go there himself. He does not reside here. This is an area of importance to him and he only holds conversations of great value in this place.

Now even more caught off guard by the request of my presence, I left Erule and walked alone into the cave. It took me twenty steps to get past the darkened entrance and around the corner to the meeting area. There was no need for torches here as shafts of light struck down from cracks in the ceiling. This kept the cave smoke free except for tendrils rising from a small fire at the end of the room next to Krol. On top of that fire sat a tall slender pot, steam rising into the air and mixing with one of the light beams to create the illusion of a section of a pillar suspended in mid-air.

Thank you for coming to converse with me, my good friend, Krol said. He wore the outfit similar to most mountain people. His shirt, shorts, arm and leg warmers were all made from basic leather that had been crafted sturdy enough to bear the weight of the white and grey animal fur attached to the clothing in artistic patterns. The outfit kept the mountain people warm but also allowed for flexibility to move around the rocks.

We have not talked in a while, I said and motioned over to him.

He pointed to a rock on the other side of the pot from him. Please be kind to sit. If you would value it, I have hot water.

I sat and nodded, reaching out for a cup. I want to tell you again how much we appreciate your support.

He poured the water into a wooden cup using a black metal ladle. He smiled awkwardly, as if wanting to say ‘you are welcome’ but was pained to do so.

I took the cup and continued to watch his face for any more clues to his disposition. Finding none, I took a drink and waited for him to make the first move.

Many celebrations took place once knowledge of the King’s death spread among my people, Krol said. You have repaid what you have taken from us and more. The King and the Polettes have harassed us for as long as I can remember. Once the Empire reigned, Addol made sure we no longer conducted trade fairs or resided too close to the valley. The death of Istrisk and Addol will open the possibility of resuming these activities we identify ourselves with. Many are extremely grateful to you.

You are very welcome, I said but clutched my drink and waited for the bad news. He did not call me in here to praise my efforts.

Krol rubbed his legs and stared at the ground. We’ve been acquainted for a long time. I have seen many fairs and even more men that have passed through them. None asked to learn our language like you had.

I was just curious about your people, I said, shrugging. I only got to come here once a year and even then only for a few days. Just one time I wanted to learn more before I returned to the valley with your goods. It was hard to discover anything unless I learned the language.

Krol smiled, a little more pure and straightforward this time. Many of my people did not want this intrusion into our lives. But I appealed for you and spoke of your merits. Despite doubt from many it was determined that you could stay and I believe that most here reflect upon that time as a positive experience. Then the smile faded away. Despite what Addol had done to us however, many of my people still believed that living in isolation in the mountains had preference over allowing outsiders into the society, even if for only a brief time. That group proved a minority, especially given the goodwill you have built up with so many of us. The success of your mission has also given your presence some credibility. People here think very well of you, as do I.

Thank you.

But we consider many things in this society, Krol said more darkly. The isolationists who do not want you here -- they are a minority. . . . They are a large minority. They become more agitated the longer you and your friends stay. This fact alone does not cause me any concern as long as support from the majority is strong.

However that support is wavering? I stared at Krol. What would cause the change in the mood of the people, especially in light of our recent success?

He grimaced, unhappy to proceed. As time progresses with no news from the other group, anxiety is mounting. If the other Polettes have not been killed, it is believed that the chances of retribution on my people will be great. To further compound this thinking, most believe that there will certainly be an attempt to kill the perpetrators of the assassinations. These concerns led many to believe that this society is falling into greater danger as each day passes. The majority are becoming worried.

It’s too early to give up on the other group, I said quickly. We don’t plan to be here much longer, but we at least need to find out what happened. Once we have received word, we can return down the southern mountains back to the ship that brought us here. I do not think we will be here much longer.

Krol nodded but still looked distressed. He took his cup and filled it with water, making sure not to look at me. Krol considered me his friend, and he clearly did not like this conversation.

Many do not share your patience, he finally said. I do not count among those, but I cannot fight the will of the majority if it should come to that.

How much time do you think they are willing to wait?

Krol shrugged and paused before answering. Who can tell? I will definitely be told when you can stay no longer. If you forced me to guess, then I would reply that you have no more than three days.

Three days! That meant there was no time to send out another scout. Either the one that went out would return, or we would leave without knowing what had happened. I could not imagine the latter. We had to know if the Polettes were dead. If they were not dead, or if we did not know for sure, than any hopes of a rebellion and taking back the continent had little chance of succeeding.

I collected myself by gently sighing. I guess this is the reality and we will just have to face it. I would not want to leave without knowing what happened, but if you feel it is necessary, Krol, then I understand.

He nodded but did not look relieved. I have more news to bear. If the people here are ready for you to leave at once, you will not be going back to the ship. You will be expelled into the valley below.

You can’t send us down there if there’s a chance we’ll be killed! I said angrily and then caught myself. He did not want to do anything. The society was speaking and he served only as the messenger. I’m sorry for being angry. I don’t understand why we can’t be sent back to where we came.

Your presence is perceived as a risk, Krol said, not appearing phased at my outburst. The longer you are here, the more risk people believe they are exposed to. Since you cannot return to your ship without the help of mountain people but can be returned to the valley fairly quickly, the easy solution is to place you in the latter. I am prepared to advocate for you again, but I see limitations in my ability and I wanted you to know before I had to act.

None of this made any sense. The mountain people could transport us back without anyone in the valley knowing about it, that was how we got here in the first place. If Sarmissa thought the mountain people were involved in the assassination and wanted to strike back, they would do so regardless if we resided here or not. Not to mention the fact that the mountain people had survived here this long because the Polettes could not reach them this high up.

Maybe the mountain people actually thought that the Polettes could reach them here, that the conjurers only stopped because it was not worth the effort. Maybe the fear of retribution clouded their logic. Regardless, it suddenly occurred to me how much any of this mattered. Krol stood as the only voice for my group. He would support us but that could only last a little bit longer. Nothing could change that.

I understand, I said and took another sip. We sat in silence until it was time to go.

* * *

It is time for your presence, Erule said, seemingly coming from nowhere as he levitated onto the rock outcropping.

I turned around to see him standing only eight feet behind where I sat. I held a tiny petrified wood tablet in my hand, inscribed with the northern desert word for explore. The tablet gave me luck or so I had led myself to believe.

I looked at him with a furrowed brow. Surely we were not being expelled already, after only a day since my conversation with Krol.

The scout has returned from his travels, Erule said, an edge of excitement in his voice.

I quickly stood up and spun around. I glanced at my dark red charm before placing it in the pouch that hung from my belt.

Erule grabbed onto me and we quickly made the way down the mountain side. I opened my eyes every once in a while but still found myself a little too unsettled to watch the whole trip down. We descended for quite a while and I wondered if we would go all the way to the valley floor.

We stopped short of the valley but not by much. The other members of my party, dressed heavily to battle the coldness, stood waiting, along with a small contingent of mountain people who wore much less. As with other times during the last few weeks, the mountain people huddled at one side of the area, while my party gathered around at another side, with little interaction between the two groups. As the only one who could translate mountain-speak, my party looked upbeat about my arrival.

What is going on? Rydon asked. Surely we are not being told to leave already? Without our belongings!

I motioned for calmness. The messenger has arrived.

Another of the mountain people tapped me on the shoulder with the knuckles of his fist. Sentries spotted the scout progressing through the ravine not long ago.

I nodded and said to the group, He should be here any moment now.

Almost ten minutes later, the scout arrived. Clearly having rushed to get here, he took a few moments to gather himself, closing his eyes until his breathing came under control. There are many Sarmissan scouting parties looking for the perpetrators of the recent events. I have had to evade them to get here and this is the rationale for my delay.

We would welcome any news that you have, I said.

He paused, gathering his thoughts, until finally his breathing took a steady pace and he could stand fully upright. "I came into contact with allies that live near the Tower of the Southern Dominate and could speak my language. They each saw various things and recounted for me their witness in as much detail as possible. I will now convey the consensus among those viewpoints.

"The other party of your group was able to infiltrate one of the four outer rings of the tower. This fact is not in dispute. A warning call rang out after the infiltration, and the shouts of guards could be heard around the town. A struggle ensued, as evidenced by the noises townsfolk heard, but I could find no witnesses to that event.

"Smoke carried out from the tower shortly thereafter. First it rose from the middle floors, then eventually to the upper floors. At this moment, one of the tower walls blew open near the top, just ascendant from the smoke. Then the smoke appeared thicker. A second crashing sound echoed in the valley, not evidenced by anything the eye could see. The smoke continued and varied in strength. Then the tower blew up in all directions, and it collapsed down upon itself. The four outer baileys absorbed damage and became littered with the ruins of the central tower.

"Commotion continued until nightfall but much less than when the whole event began. Townspeople surrounded the complex to watch and help and to see who would walk out of such a disaster. This is where accounts vary, except in one respect. The number of people who walked from that building is different depending on the source. Yet all witness accounts are consistent in that only Sarmissan guards walked away from the tower. Neither Polettes nor any of your party appears to have survived.

I spoke with a number of people on this particular matter, and that fact is very clear. All the Polettes should have been inside that tower at that time of day. There have been no sightings of any Polettes since the incident. I bear no further news.

I thanked him for his work, my heart beating fast, and turned to see the expectant faces of my group. The mountain people were already looking lighter and relieved. My group caught that and could barely control their excitement as I recited what I had heard as best I could. When