Empyraeum Collections: Anthologia: Empyraeum Collections, #1

By Alan J. Fisher

All empires rise and all empires must, eventually, fall, it is one of the rules of the universe; Nothing Lasts Forever. 

 

Follow the key events in the history of the Empyraeum, documenting its rise, its golden ages, eventual Fall, and its resurgence. 

 

For the first time, the Empyraeum Collections puts all of the essential short-stories that gave birth to the Empyraeum in one volume, together with some new artwork. Combining first-hand accounts, intelligence intercepts, and official sources to tell the epic story of the Empyraeum from the point of view of those who truly matter, its citizens.

 

An epic journey that covers thousands of years and takes the reader from the plains of Persia to the far reaches of the galaxy through a world so much like our own but also so very different.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alan J. Fisher
• Release date: Apr 28, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201696634

Alan J. Fisher

Born in Belfast, Northern Ireland, Alan has since lived in various parts of the world before settling in Spain with his family.  Influenced in early life by the works of J.R.R. Tolkien and the traditions of High Fantasy, Alan has studied history and mythology from around the world and has always been interested in how the same stories have been told and re-told from one side of the globe to the other. He is alway deeply interested in languages and their influence on society.  Work on what would become the Empyraeum Cycle was begun when Alan was 13 years ago, the first draft being completed on an old mechanical typewriter and later re-written on a school computer

Book preview

Also by the same author;

The Empyraeum Collections - Shorts and verse

α -The Wondering Wanderer

β - The Wakeful Dreamer

γ - Turn Out to Inward

δ - Whispers Behind the Eyes

The Empyraeum Novellas

α - Skander Draco

β - The Victory of Wolves

γ - Neshaa

δ – The Charmer of Snakes

ε - Son of the Dragon

––––––––

Poetry

F*** You Poe, an Anthology

The Chronicles of Enoch

Chronicles of Enoch: Preludes

Chronicles of Enoch: Pentad (Coming Winter 2022)

I - Darkness Within

II - Sons of Chaos

III - Gods of Deceit

IV - Midnight Moonlight

V - Son of Light

Chronicles of Enoch: Albuquerque Tales (Coming Soon)

The Empyraeum Collections, where it all began almost decades ago! A series of unrelated short stories but all sharing a common thread which became an epic spanning thousands of years and the entire Galaxy!

Collected together and chronologically ordered for the first time in celebration of the 6th Anniversary of the rebirth of The Empyraeum Cycle.

Travel the history of the Empyraeum, from its early birth, through its struggles and challenges, all through the eyes of the major influencers of the upcoming trilogy of novels.

An essential resource for lovers of Alexander’s Empyraeum presented with beautiful artwork and divided neatly by time frame for ease of reference.

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Contents

Part α Foundatation

The Dragon of Macedon

The Ten Thousand

March of the Dragon

Part β Revelation

The Dragon’s Crown

First Flight

The Thirteenth Watcher

Embodied

Part γ Dissolution

Project: Wetware

Hero

Infamy

The Sleeper Awakens

The Council

Dragon’s Nest

Trinity

Part δ Restoration

Ollimur

Flame Undying Prologue

Seeker

Hegemony_Map2.pngEmp_Gal_Map_Side.png

Part α

Foundation

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The Dragon of Macedon

Sathaèra, 18th Artèsiom 21 BE

Waiting is never enjoyable, especially not for a soldier. Waiting while close to 5 million other soldiers were also not enjoying the wait and being responsible for cohesion, discipline and morale, well...

Add to that hangers-on, camp followers, wives, baggage haulers, merchants and innumerable children and it becomes pure nightmare! Alexander had entered the mountain 100 days ago and we had set up camp in the plain below to wait. It was very, very cold up here. The night-time plain was filled with campfires to warm the host, stretching as far as the eye could see, looking like a galaxy of stars. As above, so below that crooked Indian sage liked to say and here so, it indeed was; the thousands of fires arrayed in the darkness below so very like the flames of heaven above.

Things were getting difficult, they were getting complicated. Soldiers don't like complicated. We like simple; sword here, enemy there, stick sword in enemy while preventing enemy from sticking sword in you or your mates. Simple! Oh how that has changed! I took off my tall crested helm and ran my fingers through my hair. Things used to be simple.

I am a Chiliarch (commander of a thousand) now, I have to worry about morale, provisions, where the latrines are, logistics, who hates who this week, fights and even bloody politics! I hate politics. When you are engaged with managing a thousand men, coordinating such a huge camp with other officers and generals; millions of men, from hundreds of countries, speaking thousands of tongues and dialects – most of whom have no more Greek than a 5 year old! - it becomes necessary. We had Greeks of all stripes and cloths, we had Persians, Sogdianians, Scythians, Indians, Babylonians, Bactrians and gods alone knew who else. Alexander's homogenic cultural melting pot was starting to steam and bubble. Fights were common, some of them fatal, leading to more fights and blood feuds, especially among our more tribal compatriots. We had needed to make some very serious examples. Fifteen of the locals were very publicly and spectacularly executed and, though it damped the furnace, it did not douse the flames entirely. We needed the man who somehow managed to meld this disparate mess into a whole, we needed Alexander!

I'd joined the great conquest nine years ago as a common soldier and had very quickly fallen under the spell of the Boy King. I'd joined late, many said, after the Battle of Gaugamela, one of the many waves of reinforcements Antipater sent to keep his King supplied and moving. By this time the biggest battle had happened, I missed the famous ones and the veterans did not quite see us as important. Fuzz-faced boys the lot of us! I was nineteen, skinny and brought my father’s spear and shield which I could manage well enough but in an ill-fitting and raggedy cuirass and helmet two sizes too large for me I must have looked a sight to those who had fought their way across the Granicus and Bosporus, those who'd seen Darius run like the painted coward he was. All those glorious victories. I was here for the consolidation, the hunt and the cleaning up, so I thought, the chases and the skirmishes. I took part in the final symbolic victory at Persepolis and am not proud of what we did there on that drunken night, what I did when Alexander gave the city to the army and we descended upon it like bacchii animals. We ruined, despoiled and destroyed a true jewel of a city. I was young and have learned a lot since. It was in India that I earned my first crest. It was also where I met the skinny bearded specimen of a two-legged snake who was sauntering towards me now, smoking his pipe as he came.

Long night, cold one, he said, by way of greeting.

What do you want, snake man? My relationship with Shamshir is hard to explain; it's not that I disliked him, but it's not that I overly liked him either. He's...strange, those baskets of snakes he plays tunes to and his funny tricks...he made me uncomfortable, I didn't understand him or completely trust him. He was very charming, humorous and ridiculously easy to like. Maybe that's a part of why I tried not to like him, because I'm the cynical sort. I was also unsure of why he'd decide to traipse across the world to follow the man who'd conquered a good part of his country.

"You leave my nagas out of this, Kalliades, I'm worried." That was it too, technically a civilian but high in Alexander's council, he was very familiar to the rest of us and had no regard for rank.

You're always worried, faker, but what do you need?

"Its fakir and you bloody well know it is! this had become an almost ritual with us. It's Alexander we need and you know that too. Everything is becoming stinky."

Stinky? Your metaphors never fail to confuse me, Sham!

You know, like something that's been dead for a bit and is coming to bits?

I laughed and slapped him on the back. Another thing which amazed me about him was the strength his slender frame seemed to contain, he looked rangy and sort of skinny, all flesh and bone and beard but there was a lot more to him than that. Also everyone called him the Old Indian but if one looked properly, he was not really that old, his skin was lined as one who spent a lot of time in the sun and the colour of burnt mahogany but his beard and hair were coal black, even General Clietus' hair was a bit lighter.

I'm going up there, Sham was serious now. "Don't trust those skinny pràs gàrlecs who live up here. Trust them midgets even less."

Dwarves, I said without thinking.

Dwarves, midgets what's the difference? he rolled his slightly yellowed eyes.

Dwarves have beards, I thought everyone knew that.

We don't have them in India he sniffed. Look shifty to me! He took a long draw on his pipe and patted me on the shoulder. Let me see what he's doing up there, right.

Probably women! I called after him, If you see any pretty ones he doesn't want come and find me!

Sham flapped his hand over his shoulder and shook his head. Blowing a cloud of smoke after him as he continued on.

One of the new pentakosiarchs (commanders of 500, one of my two subordinate officers), Neshaa was his name – a tall red-headed Persian with funny green eyes. He wore his long red hair plaited down his back today as he approached, a group of Persian junior officers and sergeants were with him too and Neshaa looked nervous...

What snake want to talk about? Unlike the Indian's, Neshaa's Greek was still a work in progress. It suddenly struck me how naturally I had been speaking with Sham; his accent was the same as mine, as easy with the language as one born to it! Neshaa's speech had that sonorous Persian lilt to it but was sometimes stilted or he chose the wrong words.

He's going up there to see what the Hegèmon is up to. I said absently, my focus on the Indian's receding back.

You not you go instead of this snake? there was an edge to his voice, a reproach.

Mister Neshaa I would ask you not to question my decisions. I warned, knowing rank had to be established here and this little flame quashed right now. Neshaa had not come accompanied by accident, nor to ask me about Indians. I countenanced Shamshir's plan which is what we were talking about just now.

But I do not...

"I said the decision had been made Pentakosiarch! I drew myself up to my full height and waited. For a minute I thought that the highly strung Persians might do something stupid. I heard mutterings in their lingo and knew just enough to be able to pick out some rather offensive words but Neshaa made a downward gesture with his hands and they relented. Neshaa, walk with me." I turned my back and set off up the ridge. Intentionally not turning to see whether he was following. The skin between my shoulder blades was crawling as I tried to remember Neshaa's first name before he caught up with me. He trotted to my side a moment later.

Tell me Alkemas, I said, praying to the gods I'd got it right and didn't bugger this delicate exchange up. When he smiled at my pronunciation, I relaxed. I would value your judgement.

What do you need, sir? he appeared contrite.

The humour of your 500, your countrymen especially, how does it seem to you?

They have anxious, sir, Neshaa licked his lips and swallowed. They fear the...King...has suffered some...ah... mishap.

His Greek was better when he was nervous, curious. They think Alexander dead?

That is one of the rumours, sir, yes.

And what have you done to quell these rumours, Pentakosiarch?

Sir? I-I am sorry...?

"You are a chartòn Pentakosiarch in the greatest army the world has ever seen, Alexander's army! I raised my voice for effect, making sure his men would hear and understand. Tell me, by the gàrleché dàmplám of Zeus what you think I mean!"

Neshaa rocked back visibly, his eyes flashing and I thought he might go for his sword. He blinked and mastered himself.

"Well? Well Pentakosiarch? Must I tell you what your kuna job is now?"

No sir. Eyes on the dirt.

"Damn right no sir! I shook my head. Earn you rank, Neshaa and do your chartòn job!" I walked away and set downhill towards the camp, leaving Neshaa and his supporters behind me. Gamin politics!

Later that night, sleep continuing to evade me, I sat in my tent, going over reports and sipping watered down wine. As I covered the wax tablet with my 'spider scrawl' as Sham called it I recalled how I used to be ashamed of my rural upbringing and modest education. I could write no more than my name until I got my first promotion. Many talked of this whole Athenian notion of equality due to field promotions favouring valour more than parentage. I smiled to myself as I checked items off the latest supplies list and took a big swallow of the decidedly inferior wine we were getting here. I almost spat it out but it'd be a shame to waste it eh? There was a scratch at my tent flap and my servant Peles stuck his head inside. Yes Peles?

Yes master, sir! I apologize for disturbing you, master, sir! the boy looked nervous enough to vomit on the floor there and then! Was it some kind of joke that they gave me the most nervous servant in the army or did the gods mean to teach me some patience?

What is it you excitable little Athenian? I sighed.

Pentakosiarch Neshaa is here, master, sir! Every utterance sounded like a proclamation.

Here we go then...Send him in Peles.

I offered Neshaa food and wine, he chose just wine, which I served him myself for fear Peles would spill it all over the floor (and even this crappy wine didn't deserve such treatment) and also to demonstrate myself as a good host and the superior. He sat there quietly and patiently, seemingly respectful but I could not tell if he was winding me up somehow or something...Being uncertain I decided to make him wait longer; partly out of badness, partly to see if he was messing with me and he'd slip up, given enough time. Maybe our little chat earlier had straightened him out. I realised I really didn't care anymore, I no longer had any idea when I'd decently slept last and tonight didn't look like the night to change that. 

What can I do for you, Neshaa? I looked up from my scrawling before setting the tablet on top of the depressingly large pile on my table.

Neshaa shifted uncomfortably in his chair and took a sip of his wine, it took all of my composure not to laugh when he grimaced at the taste; there was piss with less bite, I was sure. I first am like to apologise for earlier, sir, he said. I was, I believe you say, out of order to question you.

Alkemas, I used his first name intentionally and smiled, spreading my hands. It is forgotten and let not such unpleasantness be repeated.

No, sir, not at all, he smiled uncertainly. I made rumour go away by the way, sir.

And how did you do that?

Neshaa laughed a little. "I follow good example and I shout at people, using several – how you say - ràtna withering profanities! he smiled. They appear to have heard me and settle down. I am worried though sir..."

We are all worried, Alkemas I let none of my tiredness show. Shamshir has not yet returned and -

I was interrupted by a crash and a scream outside, "Get out of the way you bloody Athenian melit!" I heard, and Peles sir, mastering away ineffectively, another crash, another scream. I knew that voice. Oh gods, could this night get any longer?

Get your dry arse in here Korax! I called out, And stop assaulting my servant, he's useless enough without you damaging him! Peles, let him in please.

Korax shouldered his way inside and there was a lot of shoulder, Korax was broad, tall and aggressively shaven-headed. Little bugger bait didn't want to cooperate, Kal he muttered and cast around for a chair. "What is that ginger Persian gaidapàtz doing in my seat?" Oh gods damn it, here we go now...

Neshaa was on his feet so quickly the chair hadn't time to hit the floor as it fell backward. He put his hand to one of his swords and eyed Korax, incandescent with rage, it seemed. Korax took exception at this, apparently, and reached over his shoulder for the haft of that bloody big rhomphaia he liked to carry. I was about to step in and do something when I noticed; Neshaa's lips were twitching at the corners. I said nothing and flicked my eyes in Korax's direction; he was clearly repressing his own smile.

"Rather gaidapàtz than sùkiy gùdakòr!" Neshaa laughed and slapped Korae on the arm.

How in all the hells – and when in all the hells – did this happen?

Korax laughed in return for a moment, the big man was both likeable and terrifying in equal amounts. As his rumbling chuckles subsided, he ran his hand over the raven tattoo on his scalp and sighed. We're summoned, lads. That old Indian's here saying Alexander sends for us, he jerked a thumb towards the open door. Us three and the boys outside.

Lysander and Iactus called out in greeting as they were ‘introduced’.

Alexander stood at the mouth of the cave, dressed in a simple belted chiton of cream and in cavalry sandals. He looked very relaxed and somehow different. He was alone, of Sham and the dwarves there was no sign. There were six of us there in total and each looked as uncertain as the other.

Gentlemen, the Boy King, the Emperor of the Known World smiled and looked each of us in the eye. Follow me please.

We followed him down winding tunnels dug straight into the mountainside; they looked naturally made to my eye, rough and not smoothly hewn but somewhat even all the same, adapted perhaps. We walked for a long time, the air growing gradually warmer and drier. As we progressed, the tunnels took on a more man-made look, very smooth and made of carefully fitted blocks of a warm yellow stone. I felt the air getting cooler and, curiously, wetter, there even seemed to be a breeze coming from somewhere or other. That was curious because we were some way underground now. We came, at last, to an archway, curiously made and incised with angular sigils I did not recognise. We entered through this portal and I saw what had been causing the moisture.

We were in a massive chamber which seemed airy and light. There were lamps hanging from chains around the walls and others hanging from the ceiling high above, all were beautifully wrought, like planets and stars of gleaming metal and jewels. In the very centre of the chamber was a wide pool fed by five springs, great flags of the same yellow stone built all the way around it, carved in geometric forms. The air was filled with the sounds of running water, smelling clean and sweet but with a subtle but present background odour I could not place, like brimstone or burnt. All around us were statues of all kinds and designs; some in niches around the walls – tall, noble warriors from a variety of nations and times, sinuous dragons and other fantastical beasts - others spread around the path of the yellow flagstones; crouched, slender figures with an Asian cast to their features, rough barbarians clad in skins and bones, dwarves looking grim and noble. The workmanship was incredibly lifelike. I paused to touch the sheathed sword of one warrior only to feel it move in its scabbard, seemingly as real a sword as my own! No wonder Alexander had been up here so long, this place was a marvel!

I apologise, my loyal warriors, for being absent for so long. Alexander was standing down by the pool, having removed his sandals. But I have wonders beyond telling that I wish to share with you, my very best, before all others. I noticed that, at this point, our old snake had made his appearance and was sat on the plinth holding the statue of a grim faced dwarf, smoking his pipe, looking very much at his ease. I chose you five for a purpose - one I believe you are uniquely suited for – I will share this purpose with you shortly. Firstly, though gentlemen, we must bathe! he stripped off his chiton and walked down the wide stone steps into the pool. Without hesitating, we shed our clothes and followed him; years of army life make one rather relaxed when it comes to group male nudity.

The water was cool and gave an indefinable feeling on the skin. Very refreshing, it was and it seemed to remove all the weight of the past 100 days and more, I felt renewed and relieved immediately. There was a strange tingling in my skin, almost uncomfortable, like ants crawling all over my body, or spiders maybe.

The tingling is normal because this water is not. Alexander said, seeing my confusion and that of the rest of us but doing nothing to dispel it by explaining further. This is preparation for what comes next I was getting more and more curious and somewhat nervous, but I trusted Alexander with my life. Not so that pipe smoking snake, looking like a little dragon himself, a large cloud of smoke puffing out of his mouth though. He climbed to his feet and stood beside the pool with soft cloths for us to dry with as Alexander stepped out and we followed. No-one spoke, the only sounds the swish of cloth as we dressed, the tinkle of running water, the crackle of oil in the lamps. Alexander moved to stop by a pair of crouching dragon statues framing the mouth of a large tunnel. He gestured toward the tunnel’s dark mouth and entered. With not even a shrug, we filed behind him.

Down and down this passage wound; serpentine, seeming to double back on itself as it wound further down. The smell I noticed earlier seemed stronger too, the air getting closer and oppressively hot, like the Indian jungles but drier, drying even my eyelids to my eyes, my throat parching. I was starting to feel a little unsteady on my feet, the combination of heat and whatever ether was creating the smell in the air; like fish or old eggs. I was feeling like I had drunk an entire bowl of unwatered wine, my senses starting to swim. I was unsure how much longer I would be able to take this but dared not look around to see how my colleagues were doing; especially not Neshaa! Nor did I wish to shame myself by faltering in front of Alexander! I was feeling close though; one foot in front of the other, one step at a time; do not think about it, just do and go...gritting my teeth as sweat ran into my eyes and my head span, I focussed on Alexander's back and grimly pressed on.

I had at least reached, if not passed, my limit when we at last stopped, I took a sideways glance around at my colleagues – Korax looked bedraggled, Neshaa's shoulders were low, only Alexander appeared unruffled. We stopped in front of a huge door of strange black stone, which was as slick and shiny as glass. It was heavily carved with sigils and images of dragons, warriors and dwarves and appeared to be telling some kind of story. Dragons with humans, dragons with dwarves and humans; dragons killing humans, humans killing dragons, dwarves doing neither. It was hard to be sure but I am certain knowledge of the odd letters incised all around the scenes would clear things up. The artistry was stunning though, I found myself not hearing Alexander speak, so absorbed I was in my studies.

Kalliades! amusement in his green and blue eyes, I said that we go one at a time from here and you are first, he touched my shoulder. Good luck, my friend.

The doors opened silently, with no more than a swoosh of sulphurous air, apparently on their own. Alexander gestured that I enter and so I did.

It was very dark inside, a narrow chamber or wide corridor made of the same dark material as the door, like black glass, sharp edged and deadly. It looked like stone fused by an incredible heat.

We call it dragon-glass, came a voice, not spoken out loud but inside my head. I admit I close to jumped out of my skin fearing trickery or sorcery. Do not be afraid, Kalliades, I mean you no harm.

Well the voice knows my name...

I know everything about you, I asked Alexander for you specifically. I realised the voice had a female tone to it, is this some strange Eastern witch or sorceress? No witch, no pathetic human practitioner of the arts and no harm to you, I swear it by the Fire.

It occurred to me that she could read my thoughts so I cleared them up and decided on how best to think my speech. I felt a small prickle of amusement intrude as I did this. You are quick, Kalliades, Alexander told me you were but it is gratifying to see he spoke truly.

Who are you? I thought where are you?

Good questions and the correct ones, the soft voice answered. Come forward Kalliades, until I tell you stop.

Now I am a soldier but I admit to never in my life feeling so nervous. I had charged hordes of crazed Scythians and held my ground, I had taken grievous wounds and almost died, I had faced all kinds of terrors and now this female voice in my head was threatening to unman me? I realised I was afraid of nothing, in truth; I saw nothing and I knew nothing and was afraid of that which I did not know. This is, of course, man's deadliest enemy; fear of the unknown. Well, Alexander had spoken to her so I too could speak to her! I gathered my will and moved forward resolutely with what I hoped looked like a confident stride.

Keep coming Kalliades, almost there. The chamber wound back and forth and I had to take care not to slice my exposed skin on the sharp glass of the walls. See that light up ahead? I did see that looked like an orange or golden glow about 200 paces ahead and moved curiously towards it, that curiosity almost over-ruling the terror which continued to pluck at my scrotum.

Right there yes, Kalliades. I moved into the glowing area and stopped. Are you ready? I will come out now. Well, was she coming out naked, was she hideously ugly or disfigured that I would need such preparation or was it simply drama, an effect to build the tension of the moment or –

Now I am a grown man, a soldier of dozens of battles, a fighter and one who has survived deserts, mountains and snows, I am a tough man, self-assured, in charge of my emotions and so forth, I do not think I have made a sound like the one I did at that moment in at least 30 years. I screamed like a little girl and fell backward, cutting my hands on the glassy floor as I scrambled back...

A head moved slowly forward, filling the chamber. It was as large as a wagon, two wagons maybe; horned, crested and very, very much alive. OhbythedarkandrottenfuckingarseholeofHadesitsafuckingdragon!

Yes, Kalliades, she said, the sweet voice so out of sorts with the hugeness of her form. I am the dragon, the only one left.

Well bugger me backwards! Of all the things I had been imagining this had never crossed my mind! I was curiously no longer