The Emperor's Guard Page 3

  # # #

  The cabin folded in on itself, the entire structure coming down in one swoop. Asgall’s eyes bulged as a large piece of timber placed a target on his face. He tried to duck, but the wood caught him in the forehead. Asgall dropped to his knees, blood pulsing in his head, his surroundings turning to haze. Berian towered over him, prepared to inflict the final blow. When Asgall saw the tip of a blade exit Berian’s mouth, he thought for certain he was hallucinating. The blade disappeared and Berian went limp, falling to the ground as Asgall slipped into unconsciousness.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The words were soft. Dreamlike, in fact. Asgall heard them again. Light started to creep in, and he smelled smoke. Asgall forced his eyes open, gradually at first, everything murky upon initial inspection.

  “Commander,” a voice said. “Is he waking?”

  Asgall still couldn’t make out much, but several silhouettes surrounded him. Two men stood at his feet and another one knelt beside him.

  “He looks to be, sir,” the man next to him said.

  Asgall raised his throbbing head warily. He’d never been drunk, but he imagined this is what it felt like. Asgall recognized the men, one in particular.

  # # #

  “General Cadigan,” Asgall said. Southwallow’s foot soldiers had apparently come to his rescue.

  The man nodded. “The Emperor sent us, and it appears we arrived just in time.”

  Asgall turned his head. The cabin was rubble, and several pockets of smoke continued to rise toward the blurred forest canopy. Had Owin managed to escape? If so, it would have been a miracle. Asgall feared Owin was dead, and the thought of it spurred another question.

  “Nesta,” Asgall whispered.

  “Who?” Cadigan asked.

  “Did you find a woman?”

  Cadigan shook his head. “No. There wasn’t a woman among the dead. Only men.”

  # # #

  Cadigan and the small group of soldiers he’d led to the Niverborg Forest accompanied Asgall back to Southwallow. When the return journey began, Asgall leaned on one soldier, treading along slowly. He eventually got his strength back and waved a hand to the soldier, indicating that he could carry on alone.

  “Thank you,” Asgall said.

  The soldier nodded.

  Cadigan stopped and turned. The man’s wavy brown locks had a hint of gray on both sides, his beard much the same. “Commander.”

  “Yes, General.”

  “Did you kill all of those other men on your own?”

  Asgall didn’t answer, and Cadigan grinned.

  # # #

  The Emperor insisted that Asgall take some time to heal, so he did exactly that. However, his version of rest was a single day away from the palace. Two days after his encounter with Berian, Asgall was back at his post, eager to discuss the recent events with the Emperor.

  “I can’t thank you enough for your sacrifice, Commander,” the Emperor said, lounging in his bedroom chair.

  Asgall took a seat opposite of him. “It’s you I should thank, Your Highness. If it wasn’t for Cadigan and his men, I wouldn’t be alive.”

  “I knew the Res couldn’t be trusted.”

  # # #

  Asgall relayed certain information to the Emperor, explaining that Owin had no part in the ambush. Even though the Emperor said, “once a Res, always a Res,” Asgall refused to believe it. Owin gave his life to try and make amends, and Asgall silently mourned the loss of his old friend.

  “Was anyone else there?” the Emperor asked.

  “Pardon, Your Highness.”

  “Besides Owin and Berian’s men?”

  Asgall deliberated. He’d never lied to the Emperor, but he was willing to leave some things open to interpretation.

  “Only a guardian angel,” Asgall said. “One that will continue to fight for our cause.”

  # # #

  The heat tickled Nesta’s fingers as she put her palms to the fire. She would have been joyed to never see a flame again after what she experienced the day prior, but a person had to eat, had to stay warm. Nesta thought about Asgall. She didn’t want to leave him but, after seeing foot soldiers on the horizon, she’d made the difficult choice to flee. Nesta needed her freedom if she was going to make a difference. Something emerged from the brush. Her eyes bulged, and then she smiled.

  “Hi there,” she said. “I was afraid we’d lost you.”

  HUNTING GLORY

  CHAPTER ONE

  The man raised a fist to the door. He was about to knock when movement in his periphery caused him to pause. A face appeared in the candlelit window to his left and disappeared just as quickly. A creaking of floorboards followed, and the door opened a few seconds later, a middle-aged man staring back at him. His brows tightened upon initial inspection of the man, most likely due to the helmet and mask he wore.

  “Glory?” the homeowner asked.

  The man nodded. “That’s what they call me, at least. And you must be Elis.”

  Elis bobbed his head, his face relaxing a bit. “Please come inside.”

  Elis moved to the side, allowing Glory to enter, the rusty hinges squeaking as Elis closed the door behind him. A few candles were scattered about, and an oil lamp rested on a square wooden table in the middle of the room. The place wasn’t much, but it didn’t need to be. Glory wasn’t there to visit.

  “Were you able to retrieve the item I requested?” Glory asked.

  “Our mutual acquaintance, Reece Owens, made it clear to me what you needed. He even assisted me in acquiring the piece. It wasn’t easy, but I pride myself in delivering the impossible.”

  “That makes me extremely happy. I was told you’re one of the best at procuring…” Glory pondered, trying to find the appropriate words. “Unusual items,” he finally said.

  “I have many resources, some of them close to the Emperor, but I can’t divulge their names. I’m sure you understand.”

  “Of course. It matters little to me how you conduct your business. Only that you deliver in the end.”

  Elis eyed Glory. “I’m sure you’re aware of this, but citizens of Southwallow aren’t allowed to wear masks. In fact, it’s prohibited throughout the lands governed by our Emperor.”

  “I’ve been through much over the years. Perhaps too much. That’s why I wear it.”

  “You can understand my concern, though. I’m doing business with a faceless man.”

  “I’d be worried if you didn’t express concern. However, I’m not here to cross you.”

  Glory clutched the small sack along his waist, loosening the strings and reaching a hand inside. Elis placed a palm on the handle of the blade sheathed at his side, Glory immediately sensing the man’s anxiety. Cautious with his movements, Glory felt around inside the bag, grabbing a couple of items and slowly lifting them from the sack. He revealed them to Elis with an open hand.

  “Two gold coins,” Glory said. “Just as promised. Where’s the lock of hair?”

  “Right here.” Elis turned to the table behind him, his back to Glory now.

  Glory slipped the gold coins into his bag. Then he wrapped his fingers around an object tied to his belt. He pulled the item from its resting place and took a step forward, lunging at Elis and planting the sharp piece of metal into the middle of the man’s back. Right below his ribs. Directly into Elis’ right kidney.

  Elis fell to his knees and clutched his back. Glory pulled the blade from the man’s flesh, watching as a dark fluid drained from the wound. Ellis collapsed onto his stomach, his head partially beneath the table. Glory waited until the rising and falling of the man’s back slowed, eventually coming to a halt.

  Using a cloak that dangled from a nearby wall, Glory wiped his blade clean and glided the knife into its scabbard. He turned his attention to the table, spotting the prize he so desperately sought. W
ith delicate hands, Glory grasped it, depositing it into his bag.

  When he left the property, Glory caught a glimpse of someone peering from the window of a neighboring house. The shadowy figure withdrew, and the curtain they had initially held aside fell back into place, masking the glass pane. Normally, Glory might be concerned with wandering eyes, but he actually welcomed them this evening.

  # # #

  “How are preparations going?” the Emperor asked.

  Asgall, Commander of the Emperor’s Guard, sat diagonally to him at the dining room table. “Everything is going smoothly, Your Highness.”

  With a fork in hand, the Emperor stabbed one of the apple slices on his breakfast plate. He raised the fruit to his thin lips, the Emperor’s plump cheeks resembling those of a chipmunk as he chewed and swallowed it. “That’s good to hear. The festival is only a few days away, and I want this celebration to focus on the people of Southwallow. Not me.”

  Asgall parted his lips to speak, but doubt forced his mouth shut.

  “Spit it out, Commander. We have no secrets here.”

  “Yes, Your Highness.” He paused. “I admire your plan, but I worry about your safety in the process.”

  “Part of the reason for the Autumn Festival is to bridge the gap between myself and the people. I went them to feel like they can approach me. I don’t want them to be fearful of me.”

  “They don’t fear you. They follow you because they respect your position. You’re no tyrant like some others in power.”

  “Fair enough, but I’m sure you see my point.”

  “I do, Your Highness. I’m just not willing to compromise your well-being. Some of the activities you have in mind will require extra manpower.”

  “Your concern is noted. And appreciated. But I trust you’ll carry out my wishes nonetheless.”

  Asgall nodded. “Of course, Your Highness.”

  The double doors to the dining room opened, and Asgall turned his attention away from the Emperor. One of his men, a behemoth named Tormod, appeared in the entranceway.

  “My apologies for interrupting, Your Highness,” Tormod said. He switched his gaze to Asgall. “Commander. I have some news, sir.”

  # # #

  The Guard hadn’t always dealt with lawbreakers. Their top priority was securing the Emperor at all times. However, years ago, when the Emperor asked Asgall to find and apprehend three swindlers, the Commander agreed to the job. He didn’t care much for it at first, but resolving the case brought him a certain kind of satisfaction, and it broke up the monotony of his duties with the Guard.

  Ever since then, time and manpower permitting, the Guard had assisted with these matters, including cases of murder. Standing inside Elis Morgan’s house, it was obvious to Asgall that this was another one. A case of murder, that is.

  He glanced at Colum, his second-in-command and most trusted confidant in the Guard. Asgall was still getting accustomed to Colum’s new look. He’d traded in his shoulder-length locks and smooth face for a cropped haircut and budding beard.

  “A neighbor who visited this morning saw the body through the window,” Colum said. “She reported it to one of our men in the area.”

  “Elis Morgan,” Asgall said. “You know him?”

  Colum shook his head. “I don’t believe I’ve ever heard of him.”

  “I recall the name. From what I know, he keeps some interesting company, but he’s never been found guilty of breaking the law.”

  “Sounds like some other men I know.”

  Asgall offered a sly grin. “Where’s our witness? The one who reported it?”

  Colum looked over his shoulder, gazing out the front window of the house. “Outside with Eachann and Seoras.”

  Asgall glimpsed the street. Two of his men stood in the tiny cobblestone square with another male buffered between them. “Do you mind fetching him?”

  “Not at all, sir.”

  He watched as Colum made his way outside, briefly conversing with Eachann and Seoras before returning with the man in question. Asgall inspected him. The gentleman’s frizzy, brown hair extended all the way to the collar of his cloak, and whiskers sprouted from his pointy chin.

  “What’s your name, sir?” Asgall asked.

  The man shuffled his feet, staring at the ground. “Kerwyn Bach, Your Highness.”

  Asgall chuckled. “I’m not royalty, so you don’t need to address me as such.”

  Kerwyn met his gaze, but only momentarily. “My apologies, sir.” His mouth hung agape. “Pardon me. I meant to say Commander.”

  “Call me what you’d like.” Asgall placed a hand on Kerwyn’s shoulder, gently squeezing it. “There’s no need to be nervous. Just relax.”

  He nodded, and Asgall released his grip.

  “Were you an acquaintance of Mr. Morgan?” Asgall inquired.

  “No. Not really, sir.”

  “If that’s the case, what made you visit this morning?”

  “It was something I saw last night. Or someone.”

  “Who?”

  Kerwyn shrugged. “They visited Mr. Morgan but didn’t stay long. I watched from my house over there.” He pointed to a building at the corner of the square. “I don’t know who it was, though.”

  “A male?”

  “I assume, but I can’t be certain.”

  Asgall noticed Colum moving toward the rear of the house, but he ignored him for the time being. “You assume?”

  “They wore a helmet and mask. It resembled something a warrior or soldier would don in battle. Perhaps too big for a woman, but I could be wrong.”

  “Can you describe the helmet?”

  “It was late. Dark. But I remember the sides of the helmet moved as they turned their head.”

  “Like hinged flaps?”

  “Yes.”

  “Does this mean anything to you?” Colum interrupted.

  He approached Asgall, holding a piece of paper in one hand. It had writing on it. A single word. Glory. Asgall shook his head.

  “Maybe a note from the killer?” Colum said. “Celebrating their victory.”

  Asgall shrugged. “Where’d you find it?”

  “Under the table.”

  Glory. That word triggered something in Asgall’s head. “Perhaps it’s a name.”

  “You know someone named Glory?”

  “Baddon Maddox.”

  Colum’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t understand, sir.”

  “He’s one of the most decorated soldiers in the history of Southwallow. He retired from duty about twenty years ago. Maybe longer. I’m not certain. But people called him Glory after that.”

  “Is he still alive?”

  “I don’t know. I remember he lived on the very outskirts of the city. It’s so far out you have to pass Clearwater Falls to get there.”

  “Should we pay a visit?”

  Asgall deliberated, ultimately shaking his head. “Maybe later. That’s quite a trek, and we don’t know yet whether the note is connected.” He tightened his lips.

  Colum could read Asgall better than most. “What is it, sir?”

  “The fact that Kerwyn witnessed the man wearing a mask. It’s intriguing.”

  “Citizens are prohibited from wearing them.”

  “Right. The Emperor put a stop to it years ago. Too many offenders hiding their faces. We couldn’t tell the lawbreakers from the law-abiding citizens. But a former soldier might still have one in their possession.”

  “A retired soldier, no matter how decorated, is still a citizen.”

  “True. I’m not questioning that. But Glory, if alive, would likely have access to that type of gear.”

  Colum took a breath. “So now you’re saying the note is related?”

  “No. I’m only thinking aloud. We need to learn more before drawing any conclu
sions.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  He approached the weather-beaten, stone house with caution. Not because of his appearance. Though it was daytime and his mask garnered more attention, he was far from the walls of the main city. Instead, his prudence was due to being an unwelcomed guest. Unlike Elis Morgan, he had no business with Telor Wogan. At least, none that Telor was yet aware of.

  Land was plentiful out here, and lush fields stretched to the edges of the surrounding forest. As he made his way up a small incline, a man exited a splintered door to his right, his wide eyes filled with surprise. The homeowner paused.

  “Are you Telor Wogan?” he asked the homeowner.

  “Who are you?”

  He didn’t care to disclose that information, but it would be necessary to move forward with his plans. “Some people call me Glory.”

  Telor squinted. Perhaps it was the mask. Or the shock of having a visitor. Or maybe both.

  “Well, Glory, I’m a busy man. I have a business to run. Unless you’re here to buy something, I’d appreciate you leaving. Members of the Guard don’t frequent this area much, but I’m wary of talking to someone with a mask. They’ll lock you in a cell, and they might charge me for no other reason than being in your company.”

  “I certainly understand. If you’re willing, I’ll be quick about my business.”

  “Whatever it is, I’m not buying.”

  “But I’m the one who wants to buy.” Telor gawked at him, his demeanor unflinching. “I have gold.”

  Telor’s face eased. “What are you looking for?”

  “I’ve heard you’re the only one in Southwallow who works with snakes.”

  “I have a few. Even a couple of venomous ones. Doctors will pay for the venom. It has medicinal purposes.”

  “I’m not interested in the venom, but I am interested in purchasing one of your snakes.”

  Telor shook his head. “I don’t sell them. And even if I did, I wouldn’t feel comfortable handing one over to someone who doesn’t know how to care for them.”