The black iron empire, p.16
The Black Iron Empire, page 16
She chuckled at her own naiveté. If she knew one thing for sure, it was that the universe didn’t give a damn about her or anyone else despite the nobility’s self-importance. No, whatever happened in her love life, she held no illusions about its importance in the grand scheme of things.
At least the pathetic sobbing had stopped. Now she just had anger issues such that the servants had trouble looking at her. That actually suited her persona as the Iron Princess better. If anyone saw her weeping into her pillow like a little girl, she’d never live it down.
Thankfully, one of the youths that served as a palace messenger had come knocking on her door yesterday evening with a note saying that the pope would be joining them for an important meeting this afternoon.
That was it, no details, no nothing. Hopefully something important but not too disastrous had happened and she could throw herself into solving the problem. Any kind of distraction would be welcome.
She rounded a corner and nearly ran face-first into General Ventor, her second in the Iron Legion. He wore a fine crimson and silver tunic with the legion’s sword on its chest.
He put his hands on her shoulders.
Alexandra shrugged him off. This was not the distraction she wanted. “Out of the way, Ventor, I’m on my way to see Father.”
“Surely you can spare me a moment. I wanted to offer my most sincere condolence for the loss of your fiancé.”
He all but smirked the words. If she hadn’t been short of competent generals, Alexandra would have happily cut his head off and put it on a pike in front of the palace.
“Noted.” She tried to step around him, but he moved to block her path.
“I’d be happy to offer you any comfort you might need. It is also my intention to ask His Imperial Majesty for the chance to court you.” He put his hands on her shoulders again. “I think we’d make a good pair.”
Alexandra brought her knee up into his groin.
Ventor groaned and slumped against the wall before sliding to the floor, his handsome face twisted in pain.
She crouched in front of him. “I don’t need comforting from the likes of you. And Joran is missing, not dead. One last thing, Ventor. If you ever put your hands on me again without being asked, I’ll have them cut off and burned.”
“My hands?” He barely squeaked out the question.
“Yes, those too.” Alexandra stood, turned on her heel, and stormed off.
Telling off Ventor made her feel better and she found the worst of her anger had cooled. Just as well as she’d need a clear head to deal with whatever emergency had popped up.
Five minutes later found her striding past a pair of imperial guards, both of whom touched fist to heart as she passed. Only a select few servants ever entered this part of the palace. The throne room was where public business happened, but almost anything really important got moved here, where only those that needed to know heard the details.
Another pair of guards stood on either side of a closed door engraved with the imperial lion. Without a word they opened it for her allowing her access to her father’s private study.
Unlike the public areas of the palace with their gold and silk decorations, this room was all business. Father sat behind a plain, hardwood desk in a battered but comfortable leather chair. He did wear his crown along with a fine robe of crimson and gold.
“Father, what’s the emergency?” she asked before sitting in the smaller chair beside him.
“I don’t know any details,” her father said. “Septimus’s pet cardinal offered none when he arrived to make the arrangements for this meeting last night. He said it would be best if we discussed it directly with the pope. Stupid games, but I suppose we have appearances to keep up. Not that anyone’s going to see down here.”
“Where’s Marcus? I assumed he’d be joining us if the situation is as bad as it sounds.”
“Your brother had an engagement with some other nobles in regard to a boundary dispute between two barons. I pushed the job off on him. I’m sick of their complaints and if I had to listen to any more, I might have ordered them hung just to see if their sons are more reasonable.”
“This isn’t the same dispute that’s been going on for like the last five months, is it?”
He nodded, looking tired. “Anyone that claims being emperor is exciting needs to spend an afternoon with those idiots. Hopefully Marcus has better luck. If he gets them to agree on something, anything, it will be worth however much brandy they drink in the process.”
A dull thud sounded on the door.
“That will be Septimus.” Father straightened, the role of emperor settling over him like a cloak. “Send them in.”
The door opened and the pope entered, dressed in full regalia with Cardinal Rufious trailing along behind dressed in formal red robes. The pair made the short walk to Father’s desk. The door clunked solidly shut. Some alchemical treatment absorbed sound so if you pressed your ear to the outside of the door you’d hear nothing.
Father raised a hand before either man had a chance to speak. “It’s just the four of us. What say we cut through the formalities and get straight to the point. The good cardinal made it sound like the situation was grim.”
Septimus doffed his ludicrous white hat and handed it to Rufious. “Grim is putting it mildly. An unknown wizard has seized control of one of our fortresses. This particular fortress protected an artifact of demonic origin. Other than killing anyone that made contact with it, we have no idea what it might be capable of. The messenger and sole-surviving White Knight of the garrison indicated that everyone else died in the attack. He didn’t see it happen, but given the creature the wizard sent against them, he saw no path for them to survive.”
Alexandra’s mind raced. Wizards and artifacts were way outside her area of expertise. Of all the times for Joran to be missing.
Father leaned forward in his chair. “Is this another of the secrets you didn’t feel the need to share with the Crown?”
“The fortress and artifact have been secure for centuries. I had only passing knowledge of it. If one of my predecessors told one of yours, I have no idea. Much like the secret of The One God, it may have been lost to time. Does it actually matter at this point?”
“No, I suppose it doesn’t. What do you want from the Crown?”
“Soldiers and alchemists,” Rufious said. As usual the cardinal had a better grasp of the details. “Given the report we received regarding the wizard’s power, I doubt our White Knights have the numbers to get the job done on their own. A dragon ship to get the initial force there quickly would also be welcome.”
“Where, exactly, is your fortress?” Alexandra asked.
“To the east, about ten miles from the ocean. Marching would take a month.”
Father looked up at her. “Well?”
“The Fourth Legion is deployed in that general area. I’ll send birds with orders for them to muster as quickly as possible. We have dragon ships in Tiber. If you can provide the White Knights, we have alchemists ready to depart at short notice.”
“We can spare two hundred from the Tiber garrison,” Rufious said. “Shall we meet at the landing field at first light?”
“That’s fine. Do you have a map I can send to the Fourth?”
Rufious reached into an inside pocket and pulled out a scroll. “As it happens, I do.”
Alexandra took the scroll and nodded her thanks. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Are there any other secrets you’d like to share, Septimus?” Father asked. “Anything that might bite us in the ass six months from now? Think hard. The next time you need help, the door might be locked.”
Septimus snorted. “We all have our secrets, Marcus. At the end of the day, what’s good for the church is good for the empire and vice versa. If we need help, you’ll open the door. Not because you want to help, but because you have to. You know it and so do I, so stop posturing.”
A small, bitter smile curled Father’s lip. “I think our meeting is over. Good afternoon, Holiness.”
Septimus sketched a shallow, insulting bow. “Good afternoon, Your Imperial Majesty.”
When the pope and cardinal had made their exit, Father said, “I hate that man. I hated him even when I thought he represented The One God on our world and now I think I hate him more. I wish that demon thing had killed him instead of my guards.”
“I doubt anyone especially likes Septimus, but if he’d gotten killed, we might have ended up with someone worse.”
“I refuse to consider the possibility that such a person exists. How many alchemists will you send?”
“I can spare twenty without reducing the effectiveness of the First or Second. I’ll make sure the dragon ship has a full load of alchemist’s fire as well. For now, I need to get ready. If you’ll excuse me, Father.”
“You’re not going. Make whatever arrangements you need to, but you are not going yourself.” Father shot her his best “don’t question me on this” glare. “Is that clear?”
“It is, but this is exactly the sort of emergency the Iron Princess should handle.”
“No. If they fail, and I can’t imagine an entire legion plus the advance team falling to a single wizard and his monster, then it will be your responsibility to clean up the mess. We are not having a debate, Alexandra. Defy me and I swear I’ll find a new supreme commander of the army.”
“You won’t find anyone as good at it as I am. For the well-being of the empire, the job is mine until I’m dead.” She raised a hand, cutting off his protest. “I won’t argue on this mission. Leading White Knights isn’t something I’m interested in doing and General Amelious is talented enough to handle the Fourth regardless of the challenge. I’ll dispatch their orders then get to work on plans should they all fail.”
“That’s my girl.” Father cleared his throat. “About Joran—”
“He’s missing, not dead, at least until I see a body. Ventor’s making noises about courting me.”
“Ha! I don’t need to cultivate his family’s support. They’re already completely devoted to the empire. Marrying you off to him would be a complete waste. Besides, even by noble standards he’s an arrogant shitheel. I can’t imagine having to eat dinner with him on a regular basis.”
“You wouldn’t have to. If you marry me off to him, Ventor won’t survive the honeymoon.” She kissed his cheek. “I need to get to work. How about breakfast with Marcus tomorrow after I get the dragon ship off?”
Father nodded. “That sounds nice. We’ll meet in the garden.”
Alexandra smiled and took her leave. Her smile lasted until she was out of sight of the guards. She hated it when Father got overprotective. Not that he was wrong. Against a regular army or even an insurgent force like the lizardmen, she had no doubt about her ability to deal with them, but when it came to magic, she felt totally out of her depth.
By The One God, she wished Joran were here.
Chapter 21
Ten more days of walking had largely depleted their supply of preserved meat. The starchy vegetables were long gone and only a rare rain shower allowed them to top off their water skins. All in all, when the six black towers that Joran assumed marked their destination appeared in the distance, he couldn’t have been happier. Hopefully this bile portal activated as easily as the one that brought them here.
He reached into his pocket and ran his thumb over the slightly rough surface of the black pearl Grub took from Samaritan. Would it activate this portal as easily as Samaritan’s did the other? He dearly wanted that to be so. Bahesti had been a fine guide, but depending on the metal man for everything did nothing to put Joran’s mind at ease.
Oddly, after their meeting with the angel, Mia’s anxiety seemed to have lessened. When he asked her about it one night by the fire, she said knowing there were beings like him out there watching over them made her feel secure in a way she hadn’t since the pope admitted The One God was a lie. He was glad for her and wished he felt the same way himself. When he thought about angels his mind went automatically to how they planned to use humans to further their plans. Having met the angel and felt the… goodness about him, for lack of a better word, Joran understood that whatever the angel did would be done for the best possible reason. Unfortunately, being used for a good reason made him feel no better than being used for a bad reason.
“What the hell was this place?” Grub asked as they drew closer to the cluster of towers.
Joran couldn’t deny his own curiosity. Unlike Bahesti’s village, this didn’t look like a city. The towers were shorter, smaller, and spaced too close together. He guessed they covered half a mile at most.
“This is, or was, an experimental facility. Teams of wizards came to access the bile spring and use its power to perform whatever ritual they had in mind. I believe the prototypes for the giant beasts Joran encountered were first made here.”
“Generous of the overmages to let their underlings have access to something so useful,” Joran said, not believing for a moment that the lords of this land did anything for anyone’s sake save their own.
“Oh, there was a price. Any wizard that wanted access had to submit all the details of their spell ahead of time.”
“So the overmages could deny access for projects they disapproved of. Not to mention stealing anything that caught their interest.” Joran nodded. “A good system, for them anyway.”
“Every system in the Black Iron Empire was good for the overmages. If it wasn’t, they outlawed or destroyed it.”
They topped a small hill and the little group came to a halt. At the edge of a shallow depression about a mile across jutted the towers. Like everything else in the ruined empire, the land was black and dead. Joran had expected to find buildings or something where the wizards worked, but other than the towers, there was nothing.
“Did the wizards conduct their experiments in the towers?” Joran asked.
“No, the towers served as anchors for the wards that kept any out-of-control magic from damaging the surrounding land.” Bahesti gave a sad shake of his head. “The protections have long since failed. The labs and workshops are underground and thus closer to the bile spring. The portal chamber is adjacent to the spring. Since wizards were constantly coming and going, there were no fixed wards here.”
“How do we access the underground complex?” Joran asked.
“That may be trickier. The dragon’s attack caused tremendous earthquakes that tore the land apart, as you’ve seen. While the complex itself was well built and should have survived with minimal damage, it appears that the entry has collapsed.”
“Marvelous.” Joran turned to Grub. “Any chance your magic can confirm the underground chambers survived? Not much point digging them out if nothing’s left to find.”
“Sure it can, that’s what geomancers train for. But it’ll be a lot easier if we’re closer.”
Since nothing indicated danger, they set out down the hill. Joran felt no different when they passed between the two nearest towers. He risked a glance at the ether and confirmed that no magic crackled around them. Nothing in the clearing concerned him either. As far as he could tell they were alone in the world.
“Is it me, or does this place give you the creeps?” Mia asked. “It feels like horrible things happened here.”
“I suspect horrible things happened everywhere in this broken land.” Joran reached out and squeezed her free hand. “But likely more happened here than usual. Are you okay?”
She nodded. “I’ll be glad to get home.”
“You and me both.” Grub had the mithril amulet out and was no doubt doing something magical. Joran didn’t bother to look. Without an explanation it would be meaningless to him. “What will you have the palace chef prepare when we get back?”
“Something with lots of gravy. I’m sick of dried meat.”
Joran grinned. “Maybe we should visit my parents instead. Their chef makes the best stew.”
She smiled back. “Good idea. We can bring the princess, that way your mom won’t have to talk to me.”
“Looks like everything underground is intact,” Grub said, interrupting their pleasant musings.
“I found the collapsed entrance,” Stoneheart called from a few yards away. “I’d guess an hour to dig it out.”
“My golem can handle that,” Bahesti said. “Another collapse won’t hurt it.”
No one objected and a few seconds later the golem got to work flinging dirt and rocks out of the entry tunnel. It finally felt like something was going their way.
Samaritan had never been so tired. He’d run out of wine a day ago and food two days before that. For some reason Overmage seemed even more obsessed with reaching their destination, sometimes refusing to stop for more than a few hours every night. Pointing out that he wasn’t made of iron did little beyond slowing his relentless pace a fraction. Samaritan suspected that if he’d fallen behind, Overmage would have left him behind without a second thought.
Some partner.
Gomo kept up without issue, though he seemed rather amused by Samaritan’s struggles. Of course, the red-skinned dwarf was a demon, so the suffering of mortals was no doubt his preferred form of entertainment.
“The towers at last.” Overmage pointed ahead of them as if Samaritan hadn’t already noticed the six black towers sticking up into the air.
“Thank the universe for small favors,” Samaritan said. “I assume you know how to activate the portal?”
“Of course I do,” Overmage said in a tone that filled Samaritan with doubt.
They climbed a ridge and Overmage stopped so fast that Samaritan nearly slammed into his back. He peeked around and swore in a way that would have gotten him in deep trouble with his former comrades. In the low space between the towers, his hunters, along with a figure made of black iron, watched a second metal man, a golem Samaritan assumed, dig out a hole.
