So what in the blazes had happened that they descended into the deplorable state that existed between their worlds today?
The next passage took him right into the heart of the siege period. The images shook Comron to his foundation—the burned cities, starving children roaming the streets in search of food, bodies strewn about, the streets running with blood. King Rhaeghor’s counsellors begged him to concede defeat to Sellusion and end the siege, but Rhaegor maintained his steadfast faith in Duncan and that the Ti-Larosian army would come to their aid in time, allowing them to maintain their freedom. Night after night, Rhaegor sent out distress calls to Ti-Laros, entreating Duncan to send help soon. Meanwhile he led his men in daily battles against Sellusion’s forces only to have to retreat further and further back into their holds.
The next passage took him to Sellusion’s command ship. The communications officer was reporting in, crowing over how effective the communications blockade was working and that all communication had been intercepted so that no news of Nethic’s plight could reach beyond Nethic. King Duncan, meanwhile, had been away for months, leading his army as they patrolled their borders to dissuade invading armies from the outer regions. He was completely oblivious to Rhaeghor’s plight as he attended to his world’s affairs.
Comron felt as if his insides were dissolving along with Rhaegor’s spirit as day after day no word came from Ti-Laros. It grieved Comron deeply to watch the light go dim in Rhaeghor’s eyes as the inevitable defeat stared him in the face. The man’s spirit had been broken, his faith in his friend, shattered. The regret he felt over the suffering of his people was crushing—all because he’d put so much faith in the Ti-Larosian king who never came.
It wasn’t until Rhaeghor’s surrender that Emperor Sellusion allowed the communications to flow freely from Nethic, as he wanted the whole world to see what happened to obstinate worlds that resisted joining the Sellusion Empire. That was the first that Ti-Laros had learned of Nethic’s troubles. King Duncan must have broken all speed records trying to reach Nethic. He literally cried out in grief and ripped his tunic asunder when he saw the horror that had befallen his dear friend and his world.
Why hadn’t they sent for Ti-Laros! He cried repeatedly. He would rather have suffered the same fate than to let them fall alone. Why had they remained silent!
Infuriated, he sought to go to battle with Sellusion’ s remaining forces, but Sellusion’s message rang through loud and clear for the Ti-Larosians who weren’t as attached to Rhaeghor. Yes, it was a horrible shame that befell Nethic, his councilors all agreed, but it wasn’t their fault that Rhaeghor had stubbornly refused to call for their help. Should Ti-Laros attempt to take on Sellusion alone only to suffer Nethic’s fate or worse?
The will of his counselors prevailed as his generals threw their support behind them, leaving King Duncan powerless to do anything other than kneel before Sellusion and broker their surrender. Delighted with the opportunity to end the war with a very powerful message, Sellusion publicly heaped all manner of economic rewards upon Ti-Laros, elevating them among the minor houses for their willingness to peacefully join the Empire.
Comron groaned at the breathtaking tragedy of it all. He felt Vaush squeeze his hand. There was still the final passage to view. He breathed in deeply, bracing himself for more emotional turmoil.
Withered and broken, King Rhaeghor sat shackled on the grimy floor of a dark prison cell. There was some stir with the guards and then King Duncan appeared before the bars in all his refinement.
“Rhaeghor,” he called out to the heap on the floor.
The debased King of Nethic slowly lifted his head and turned toward the voice.
“Open the door,” Duncan ordered the guards.
“Nooooo!” Rhaeghor screamed in a tortured gruff voice. “Betrayer, liar!” he screamed as he found the strength to climb to his feet. The chains rattled as he took a wobbly step. “Come near me and I’ll kill you, dirty coward!” he threatened, his hands shaking under the weight of the chains.
Undeterred, Duncan entered the cell. “Leave us!” he said to the guards.
Once they were alone, Duncan went to him. “Rhaeghor, dear gods,” he said, reaching for him before he collapsed. He lowered him down and knelt with him.
“Why?” Rhaeghor was trembling with rage and fatigue. “Why did you betray me?”
“Betray you?” Duncan’s eyes narrowed with confusion. “Rhaeghor, why didn’t you send to me when Sellusion attacked? Nothing could have kept Ti-Laros away. Gods below, why didn’t you call for us?”
“I did!” He shook with rage. “Every day and every night I sent messages begging you to come to our aid, but you never came.” He tried shoving Duncan away. “Filthy traitor! Honorless, dirty coward!”
Duncan’s eyes glistened as he stared at Rhaeghor and refused to release his friend. “No! I never received a single one of those messages. You know I would’ve come; you know that!” he said, giving him a firm shake. “I would have rather died at your side in battle than to see you come to this and die believing I betrayed you!”
“Ti-Laros is rewarded, while Nethic is burnt to a cinder,” he seethed. “How is that possible? The fate of our worlds were to be one!”
“When I arrived I wanted to tear Sellusion apart but my counselors and generals refused because we couldn’t defeat them on our own,” his face was creased with pain, his voice drenched in agony. “But don’t you dare say I wanted this when I would give my life so that it weren’t so.”
“One of us is lying,” Rhaeghor said, though some of the venom had retreated from his voice as if he was starting to believe. “I’ll never find out as I’m to be executed at first light. After what I did to my people, I deserve this.”
Duncan lowered his head and his shoulders sagged. “I’m so sorry, friend. I don’t know what vile sorcery is responsible for this. But know that I will rebuild Nethic. I won’t let her fall. Your sons will sit on her throne. She will be great again. I swear it on my life!” He looked around. “It was my intention to break you out of here, but Sellusion was suspicious. The place is too heavily guarded and he wouldn’t permit me to bring any of my men.”
Rhaeghor shuddered; his breathing was ragged. “There is no life left in me worth saving. I failed my people … gave them hope when there was none.”
“Nethic will rise, Rhaeghor. On my life, she will rise and flourish.”
“Should I put my faith in you again?” he snarled.
“You have no choice, neither do I, dear friend. I’m going to fix this … I will not rest until I do.”
Rhaeghor peered at him. “Why are you here?”
“I couldn’t let you go believing your best friend had betrayed you and that your world was destroyed,” Duncan answered and lowered his eyes. “Also, I need to warn you about what they intend for you tomorrow.”
Rhaeghor’s eyes narrowed and he gripped Duncan’s arm. “The execution?”
“Yes, but not at first light,” Duncan closed his eyes. “First Sellusion means to make sport of you, humiliate you in ways an honorable man never should be. There will be torture and then death.”
Rhaeghor turned away; his brow drew low. “Why have you come here … friend?”
Duncan looked around once more and then slipped his hand into his sleeve and withdrew a dagger and a small vile. “Because I would not see you suffer that way,” he said, showing him the items.
Rhaeghor sat up under his own strength. “You came to offer me a way out.”
“I would prefer this to what they have in store for you.”
“It’s the way of a coward.”
“After the gruesome hell you courageously endured, no one will call King Rhaeghor a coward,” his tone grew dark, “and live to tell about it.”
The hint of a smile touched his lips. “If they find out you robbed them of their sport—”
“I might be the one they throw in here next,” he shook his head. “No matter, I gladly take the risk.”
&
nbsp; He nodded and stared at the blade. “A painless poison is too easy …,” he hefted the dagger, “but did you have to bring a woman’s weapon?”
They both chuckled lightly at that trying to forget what was shortly to take place. “It had to be small enough to fit in my sleeve.”
Rhaeghor inhaled deeply. “Well, let’s get about it,” he began removing his outer coat and then the waistcoat. “You’re here for me now, Duncan. That’s what I’ll remember,” he said as he clasped his hands around the dagger.
“Yes, remember that.”
“You will rebuild Nethic. You’ll watch over my sons and see them enthroned.”
“On my life, it shall be done.”
Rhaeghor swallowed down a lump in his throat and nodded curtly. “I believe you, Duncan.”
Duncan’s eye’s watered, and his jaw trembled before setting firmly. He nodded once at Rhaeghor.
“Thank you for this.” With that, he lifted the dagger and plunged it deep beneath his ribcage.
As he fell back, Duncan gathered him to keep him from falling onto the grimy floor. He remained that way, holding him as Rhaeghor’s life ebbed away and he breathed his last breath. And, when he was finally gone, Duncan wept unabashedly leaving no doubt of his deep regard for the King of Nethic.
Chapter 44
Comron was numb inside, completely and utterly spent after reviewing the history of the Unification Campaign. He wiped at the moisture collecting in his eyes. The story that had been spun about Duncan’s betrayal was an enormous lie. The tale that he’d killed Rhaeghor in his cell was an even greater one. They were lies that had been told to galvanize the people’s will and give them a target to direct their pain and anguish. The result was the assassination of King Duncan Bastionli of Ti-Laros at the hands of a Nethicaen—a thing that would have enraged Rhaeghor Van Laven. So many atrocities had been committed, predicated upon the perversion of their rich story of true friendship.
And now Comron thought back to the day on Patheis when he lay dying on the floor and a Ti-Larosian woman saved his life. He imagined Rhaeghor looking down from his place of rest and smiling that somehow his legacy of friendship had endured.
But then he remembered that he’d just killed Larrs Bastionli with a heart filled with bitter hatred.
“You see,” he turned to Vaush. “Despite learning the truth, there can never be peace between Skarus and I … not if he discovers I killed his father.”
“Larrs died for reasons that had nothing to do with this feud. If Skarus were ever to learn the truth, he will have to hear the truth about what his father did to Skylar.” She shook her head. “No, that truth will have to wait until the sting of it is sufficiently dulled.” She wiped her face as a tear rolled down.
Comron wrapped an arm around her and drew her close. “I’m grateful that you insisted I watch the passages. You’re right; it does change things. It would dishonor Rhaeghor to nurture this old hatred any longer when he’d loved Duncan like a brother.”
She forced a smile and kissed his cheek. “That pleases me.” She wiped another tear.
“Hey, are you all right?” he said, sensing the sharp emotion behind her tears.
She let out a tremulous breath. “I’m heartbroken over what happened and I’m so ashamed for the part my forefathers played in it. I can’t forget the horrible look of glee on his face as Nethic burned and hope died. I feel as if that entire legacy of bloodshed and warfare is on my hands.” She pulled away from him. “How can you stand to hold anyone who bears the name Hrollaugr?”
The answer was crystal clear. “What better way for Nethic to have its revenge than to marry Hrollaugr’s daughter, have her take the Van Laven name, and have her bear Van Laven sons. Those sons will sit upon Hrollaugr’s throne. The Hrollaugr Dynasty falls while the Van Laven Dynasty rises.” His gaze fell to the floor. “Ti-Laros must rise too, in honor of King Duncan Bastionli.”
He felt the warm gush of emotion emanating from Vaush. “Oh, Comron, just when I think that I can’t possibly love you any more than I do, you go and say something so absolutely wonderful.”
The corners of his mouth curled up. “We’re going to have to find those journals and firmly document Hrollaugr’s handy work.”
“All right, but why?”
“How else will we convince Crausin about Duncan’s innocence?”
“Right, the Bramech won’t work on him,” she grimaced. “It is a tough sell without seeing the whole story.” She gave a sharp nod. “You have your hands full as it is; let me do this for you. I’ll have royal archivists comb through the old journals and paint as full a picture as possible from Sellusion’s perspective. By the time we’re done, we’ll produce such a stirring account that even the likes of Crausin will become believers.”
“Thank you, love,” he cupped her face and kissed her. “Now I really do need to get back to work.”
As Comron left the room, he knew exactly where to direct his bitterness now that it needed to lift from House Bastionli—General Grusonious Hrollaugr. He could just imagine him at that Unification Campaign battle ordering his ships’ canons to fire mercilessly on Nethic, grinning that ugly grin of his as he did so.
Yes, revenge was going to feel so good.
Chapter 45
“Emperor Sellusion’s private journals,” Crausin said, his eyes pouring over the leather bound volumes, “you’re certain these are authentic, written by his hand? The preservation is absolutely remarkable. What a treasure, an imperial archivists dream.”
Comron knew it was the historical buff in Crausin fawning over an artifact, rather than the Nethicaen in him remembering what Sellusion had done to Nethic. “It’s very important that you read the sections that I’ve marked as soon as possible.”
Crausin looked at him. “As much as I’d love to, don’t you think there are far more productive uses of my time?”
“No, I don’t.”
Crausin’s eyes narrowed. “The Hegemony is on the warpath acting as if they’d prefer to lay waste to a world rather than let it cede from their territory, but you’d prefer I catch up on a bit of ancient history?”
“Those passages change everything about how Nethic has been dealing with Ti-Laros and the Hegemony.”
Crausin stared at the books again. “How can that be?”
“It’s nothing I can explain,” Comron answered soberly. Nothing could replace the Bramech’s eyewitness account, but Sellusion’s own written account was the second best thing. After Crausin completed the reading, Comron would reveal to him the truth about King Rhaegor’s last days. “You must read it for yourself.”
Crausin smoothed his hand over the cover and nodded. “I’ll do so following the meeting with—”
“I can handle the meeting with Rellis on my own. You read,” Comron said with finality just as his communicator signaled. His assistant informed him that General Grusonious was requesting a meeting with him in an hour if his schedule would permit.
“Grusonious, as in the hard-assed Imperial Inquisitor, Grusonious?” Crausin asked.
“The very one,” Comron said dryly.
“What does he want with you?” Crausin asked. “I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Skarus was just here at the Lion Palace throwing accusations around about Larrs’ disappearance and now the Imperial Inquisitor is paying you a visit.”
“Me neither.” But then again Grusonious was also investigating the Gretchen Hall massacre. He would also have jurisdiction over the securities probe. It could be any one of those matters or all three. There was only one way to find out. “Slight change of plans, you’ll have to take the meeting with Rellis, but read the journals as soon as you’re done.”
Crausin’s brow drew low. “We could reschedule this meeting or conduct it via tele-conference.”
“No, the Rellis meeting is too important to put off any longer, and the initial meeting needs to be conducted in person.” And Comron wanted to use the time to check the Chronicle Archive’s most recent history
on Grusonious to get a better sense of what he might be after in today’s inquiry.
“Very well. Contact me the moment your meeting concludes.” Crausin started out of the room but then turned back to Comron. “I don’t have a good feeling about this.”
Comron sighed heavily. “Me neither.”
Chapter 46
Comron’s long gate carried him swiftly down the corridors to one of the many conference rooms in the north wing where most of the state officials resided. Vaush intentionally had General Grusonious await him in one of the less stately rooms to send a distinct message. Neither of you are of any particular importance to merit finer accommodations. Comron couldn’t appear to be unduly favored by the empress.
When he walked into the room, Grusonious was standing at the head of the finely polished, solid wood table, having already taken up the power position. His attaché case lay open before him with com-pad set off to the side along with other items. So this would be no quick dalliance, the Imperial Inquisitor intended full-on business—a proper investigation—into what?
“General Grusonious,” Comron said as he strode toward him. The man was Comron’s height and possessed the slender, muscular build of a seasoned soldier. He wore the high ranking uniform of the inquisitors office, dark blue with gold trim contrasting sharply against his fair skin, sky blue eyes and golden hair that flowed down his back, but was now gathered in a simple leather strap at the nape of his neck.
Comron extended his hand in greeting, the firm standard grasp of the forearm—an ancient custom to assure each other that neither had a weapon up their sleeve.