Heirs of the Enemy Read online

“Have you thought about continuing your journey to Tagaret?” the farmer asked.

  “I have.” Lycindor cocked his head and stared at the farmer. With a glance up at the farmer’s bedroom window, the demonkin decided that it was time to move on. “In fact, I will be leaving in the morning, but before I go, there is something in the barn I want to show you. It is rather exciting.”

  Without waiting for a response, the demonkin turned and strode into the barn. The farmer followed, wondering what could possibly be exciting in the barn. When he stepped into the darkness, Lycindor turned and placed a hand on the farmer’s head. Lloyd tried to reach up and remove the hand, but his body refused to cooperate. His mind began to swim, and his vision soon turned to blackness.

  Lycindor reached out with his free hand and supported the farmer’s sagging body while he pulled the memories from Lloyd’s mind. When he was done, the demonkin snapped the farmer’s neck and lifted his body off the ground. He moved to the barn door and glanced up at the window. No one was looking out. He carried the farmer’s body to the front door of the farmhouse and opened the door. Inside the house, the demonkin put the farmer’s body on the floor. He climbed the steps silently and slowly opened the door to the farmer’s bedroom.

  “What did he say, Lloyd?” Sophia asked without rolling over.

  Lycindor’s lips curled upward in a wicked smile as he raised his arm and sent a fireball streaming into Sophia’s back. The woman screamed loudly, but the screams died quickly. Lycindor turned and headed for the girls’ room. When he touched the door, the dog started growling. As soon as the demonkin opened the door enough to enter the room, the dog leaped at him. Lycindor grabbed the dog by the throat and threw him into the wall. With an anguished yelp, the dog’s body fell to the floor. The demonkin glanced at the bed the two girls slept in. Neither of the children was stirring. Without a thought, the demonkin tossed a fireball at the bed. The bed burst into flames without a whimper from the girls. The curtains caught fire and smoke started to gather at the ceiling. The demonkin turned and walked away.

  When the demonkin reached the ground floor, he turned slowly and sent fireballs flying in every direction. Within minutes the farmhouse was a flaming inferno, and it started to collapse. Lycindor stood and watched the flames devour the structure. A burning beam fell from above and struck the demonkin, but he brushed it aside. With his clothes on fire, Lycindor walked out of the burning farmhouse and then extinguished the flames eating his clothing. He walked away from the house and then sat on a stump and watched the fire consume the farmhouse. When dawn arrived, the house was nothing more than a charred pile of rubble, although smoke still drifted lazily upward.

  The soldiers arrived less than an hour after dawn. They left the road and came up the hill to see if they could help, but they soon realized that there was nothing for them to do.

  “What happened here?” the sergeant asked Lycindor.

  Lycindor did not respond. He merely sat on the stump, staring at the destroyed building, his face a mask of hopelessness.

  “I think he is in shock,” one of the soldiers whispered to the sergeant.

  The sergeant nodded in agreement and placed his hand firmly on Lycindor’s shoulder. “Snap out of it, lad. Tell us what happened.”

  “They are all dead,” Lycindor said so softly that only the sergeant heard him. “Gone. I should be dead, too.”

  The demonkin hung his head down and stared at the ground before his feet. The sergeant frowned with concern and placed both hands on the man’s shoulders. He shook him vigorously until Lycindor raised his head and looked the sergeant in the eye. Streams of tears flooded down the demonkin’s cheeks and he sniffed loudly.

  “I don’t know how it started,” blubbered the demonkin. “I was in the barn trying to get an early start on the day. By the time I realized something was wrong, it was already too late. I tried to go inside anyway and save my family, but the fire had already devoured the stairs. My whole life has gone up in flames.”

  Lycindor started bawling, and the sergeant turned to the soldier nearest him. “Get this man something to eat and drink and then find some clothes that will fit him.”

  The soldier ran off and the sergeant examined the farmer from a distance. The farmer’s hair was singed, and his clothes were badly burned, but there didn’t appear to be any life-threatening wounds.

  “Who was inside?” he asked softly.

  “Sophia and my two little girls,” Lycindor answered shakily. “I can’t believe that they are gone.”

  “No one survived that blaze,” the sergeant said sympathetically. “What is your name?”

  “Lloyd Becker,” answered the demonkin.

  “Well, Lloyd,” the sergeant replied compassionately, “we will take you back to Southland with us. Maybe you can find some people there to help you rebuild the house. Are you known in Southland?”

  Lloyd wiped his eyes and looked up at the sergeant. Slowly he nodded. “There are people who know me in Southland, but I have no desire to go there.”

  “You can’t just stay here alone,” cautioned the sergeant. “Being alone here will eat you up from the inside out. Let us take you back to Southland.”

  “You misunderstand me, Sergeant. There is nothing left for me here. I will never repair this house, and I will never again work these fields. Without Sophia and the girls in my life, I want to get as far away from here as possible, and that does not mean going to Southland. If anything, I want to get away from this whole area of the country. Where are you heading?”

  “We are going to Tagaret,” frowned the sergeant, “but we have no spare mounts to carry you.”

  “I have an old nag in the barn. She is not a proper cavalry horse, but she will carry me.”

  “And what will you do in Tagaret?” the sergeant asked with a disapproving tone. “You cannot just throw your life away over this.”

  “I will start a new life,” Lloyd said with confidence. “I have heard rumors that war is coming once again to Alcea. Perhaps your men can teach me about soldiering along the way. At least that way my life will have some meaning.”

  “Did you serve in the last war?”

  “No. My family thought I was too young, but I am strong, and I am an excellent shot with a bow. Surely, the king must be looking for recruits?”

  “Aye,” sighed the sergeant. “We are always looking for good men, but I advise you to think long and hard on this. A soldier’s life is not for everyone.”

  “I know you are trying to stop me from doing something foolish, Sergeant, but a man’s life has to be worth something, or it is worth nothing. I farmed because that is what Sophia wanted me to do. Now she is gone, and she is never coming back. I never want to see another farm in my life. It would only remind me of what I have lost. Take me to Tagaret, Sergeant. Make a soldier out of me, and let my life have some meaning to it.”

  The sergeant stared at the farmer for a moment and then nodded in acceptance. “All right, Lloyd. I will take you to Tagaret, and my men will teach you what they can in the few days that we will be together, but I urge you to give some sincere thought to your plans once we reach the city. As much as we need soldiers, I wouldn’t want any man taking up the sword for the wrong reason.”

  “Agreed,” smiled Lloyd.

  “You will call me Sergeant Toucker for the rest of our journey. I will expect you to follow my orders as if you were one of my men. If you cannot do that, I will leave you at the side of the road. Do you understand?”

  “I understand, Sergeant Toucker,” Lloyd said with firmness.

  * * * *

  Sergeant Toucker sat on a log and watched the spar between Lloyd and one of his men. The fighters were using branches instead of swords so that the farmer did not get hurt, but the sergeant was beginning to wonder who would be the one getting hurt.

  “The farmer is a natural fighter,” the soldier next to the sergeant commented. “Look at those moves. He is good.”

  “Very good,” the sergeant rep
lied suspiciously. “I find it hard to believe that Lloyd has never fought before.”

  “Why would he lie?” asked the soldier.

  “I don’t know,” frowned the sergeant, “but it is more than just his fighting skill. I watched him riding today. He is wary in a way that a battle-hardened veteran would be wary. When that herd of deer surprised us a couple of hours ago, Lloyd already knew that they were there. I could see it in the way he kept looking towards them, even though we could not see them.”

  A resounding crack split the air as Lloyd’s sparring partner cracked his stick over the farmer’s shoulder. The stick broke in two, but Lloyd acted as if he had not felt it. He brought his own stick around and swept the soldier’s feet out from under him. The other soldiers in the camp gasped and applauded, but the sergeant narrowed his eyes. The farmer dropped his stick and stepped forward to extend a hand to the fallen soldier, ending the spar.

  “Did you see that?” the soldier next to the sergeant asked excitedly. “He is a natural born warrior.”

  “Perhaps,” mumbled the sergeant. “I plan to do some checking up on Lloyd Becker when we reach Tagaret. In the meantime, I want you to keep a close eye on him. Don’t let him catch you spying, but watch his every movement.”

  “Will do, Sergeant, but I don’t understand why you are suspicious. They say that Alexander Tork was a natural born warrior. Why not Lloyd?”

  “It is possible,” conceded the sergeant, “but it is my job to be suspicious. You just keep an eye on him and leave the thinking to me. I will know soon enough if he is who he says he is.”

  Chapter 2

  Spymaster

  Alexander and Jenneva Tork walked through the magical portal from the dwarven kingdom of Tarashin to the Royal Palace in Tagaret. They were escorted to the Council Chambers where King Arik and his closest advisors were planning for the upcoming invasion of Alcea. The two Knights of Alcea entered the room and the conversation halted immediately.

  “We did not come all this way to halt your meeting,” Alex said humorously.

  “You are always welcome in my company,” grinned King Arik. “Come in. We were just discussing the defense of Alcea. Your thoughts will be most welcome.” The king turned back to face Governor Mobami of Sordoa and nodded for him to continue.

  The rogue-general-turned-governor continued his statements. “As I was saying, there is a good possibility that we have rooted out all of the Snakes in Sordoa. We have not had any indication of spying in over a month.”

  ”A good spy knows when to lie low,” interjected Governor Fernandez of Cordonia. “I should know; I used to be one. While it gives one a good feeling to think they have made great progress in eradicating the spies amongst us, we can not afford to let down our guard. Let me send some people down to Trekum and see what they can scrape off the floors in your basements and alleys.”

  “I would be a fool to refuse such an offer,” smiled Governor Mobami, “but I truly think it will be a wasted trip for your people.”

  “I would more than welcome the same offer for Lanoir,” declared Governor Za-chan. “I do not have the same confidence in my situation as Governor Mobami does. Ongchi is a large city and our government is the largest of all provinces. I have found it almost impossible to verify everyone in such a large bureaucracy.”

  “Then I shall send some people to Ongchi as well,” offered General Fernandez.

  “Let’s get beyond the Snakes,” suggested General Gregor. “We still have to plan a defense against the invading Zarans. What have the provinces come up with so far?”

  “I am increasing the size of Lanoir’s armies,” answered Governor Za-chan. “There is little else that I can do. While we know where the armies are coming from, we do not know when they will attack or how many troops we will be up against when they do come.”

  “There is truth in that,” frowned General Fernandez as he glanced at Alexander Tork. “We need more intelligence on the enemy. Have you brought any with you today, Alex?”

  “I have brought news,” Alex replied, “but not the type you are asking for.”

  “Bring us up to date on Zara, Alex,” urged the king.

  “The Dielderal elves are free,” declared Alex. “All four of the reeducation centers were hit within a day of the others. The children are safe, and the rest of the Dielderal have escaped. They will aid us when it is time to strike at the Federation in Zara.”

  “That must have caused some consternation in the Imperial Palace,” remarked Queen Tanya. “Will Emperor Jaar survive such an embarrassment?”

  “That I cannot answer at the moment,” replied Alex, “but I might be able to on the next visit. Clint is currently on his way to the Imperial Palace to celebrate the twentieth anniversary of the founding of the Federation. He will report what the mood is in Despair.”

  “He is a minor general in the Federation army,” frowned General Gregor. “Why would the emperor invite him?”

  “He was not specifically invited,” answered Alex. “In fact, he learned of it quite by accident. His troops are stationed in Olansk. A couple of days ago, General Marashef arrived from Tyronia on his way to Giza. He is taking a ship from Giza to Despair for the celebration. Clint decided to tag along as if he had received an invitation.”

  “Isn’t that a bit dangerous?” asked Zack Nolan, the spymaster for Alcea.

  “I don’t think so,” offered Jenneva. “The celebration is a way for Emperor Jaar to hide the embarrassment of the Dielderal. Every monarch and every general has been invited as well as many nobles from the countries of the Federation. It will be quite an event. I doubt anyone would blink an eye seeing General Forshire attend.”

  “Every general except Clint,” Governor Fernandez pointed out.

  “I suspect that General Forshire’s lack of an invitation was merely neglect,” replied Jenneva. “To most of the Federation the A Corps is merely an ornamental army, not a real one. There will be hundreds of people there. Clint will be fine.”

  “I think you are asking too much of Clint,” stated Zack Nolan. “He has done a remarkable job, but he cannot do it all alone. You have him leading a Federation army around the continent and trying to spy on the Imperial Palace at the same time. If you continue to have him try to do both, he will eventually fail at both.”

  “That is not a choice we actually made,” Alex replied defensively. “We were fortunate to get Clint inside the Imperial Palace. We will not have such luck again. We are stuck with what he can provide.”

  “I agree,” King Arik said with an air of finality. “What about the timing of the attack, Alex? Do you have any better idea than last time you were here?”

  “No.” Alex shook his head. “Still, I think we can start planning a defense without waiting for every little tidbit of information. We know the locations of the twenty-four Doors, and we know which cities they plan to attack. There are really only two questions left. When will they attack, and will they attack all cities at the same time, or one city at a time?”

  “The answer to that last question is critical,” interjected General Gregor. “It is one thing to be attacked by sixty-thousand men. It is quite another to be attacked by two-hundred-and-forty-thousand men.”

  “Both questions are critical,” frowned the spymaster.

  “Let’s not quibble,” sighed Alexander. “When we get answers to those questions, we will alert you immediately, but there are general strategies that we can employ without having those answers.”

  “Like what?” asked Governor Za-chan.

  There was a map of Alcea spread across a table in the room, and Alex walked over to it. He tapped his finger on Ongchi, the capital city of the Province of Lanoir.

  “We know that Ongchi will be attacked from three sides,” Alex began. “Armies will come from Barouk, Chi, and Elmor. Regardless of the number of soldiers the enemy sends against us in Lanoir, they will time the three prongs of their attack to arrive at Ongchi together. To do otherwise would be foolish.”


  “I agree,” interjected General Gregor. “That only makes sense.”

  “So we should plan to foil them at every opportunity,” smiled Alex. “In the case of Lanoir, Barouk is the farthest city away. At a normal march, their army will take sixteen days to cover the ground between Barouk and Ongchi, but only eight days to get from Chi to Ongchi.”

  “That gives us eight days to prepare for the troops at Chi?” asked Governor Za-chan.

  “It does,” agreed Alex, “but that is not my point. Rather than waste troops fighting the army coming from Barouk, my strategy would be to only harass it. Slow it down so it is forced to march faster and thereby increase their attrition and add to their weariness. Destroy their supply wagons so they have to forage for food. Snipe at them so they cannot sleep. If it is done properly, you will reduce a third of the enemy’s forces before engaging the other two prongs.”

  “The same strategy would work equally well in the other provinces,” nodded General Gregor.

  “I see the wisdom in your words,” frowned Za-chan, “but I do not see it as a solution. My province has the largest army in Alcea, yet we number only twenty-thousand. Even if the prong from Barouk never arrived, we would still be outnumbered by two-to-one, and that is if they only send a force of sixty-thousand. If they send all of their armies to Lanoir, we will be outnumbered by twelve-to-one. The other provinces would fare even worse.”

  “Cordonia only has six-thousand men,” offered Governor Fernandez. “We will certainly stand and fight for Alcea, but there is no hope of any of us surviving even against the smallest estimate you have given.”

  “Tagaret falls in between,” stated Prince Oscar. “We can match Cordonian’s army, plus we have three-thousand Red Swords and one-thousand Rangers. That makes us ten-thousand strong. The odds are not favorable.”

  “What about Sordoa?” asked Governor Fernandez.

  “We are about eighteen-thousand at the moment,” answer Governor Mobami, “but I am still recruiting. Let’s say twenty-thousand for the sake of argument.”