Colonel Taerin sat silently for a long time. Finally, he looked the general in the eye and nodded. “I think the emperor is under some kind of magical spell. Unless we can find a way to break that spell, he will not honor the agreement.”
“Why do you think he is under a spell?”
“There are a number of reasons, most of them small, but together they add up. The most significant is that the emperor truly has no idea who I am. I am convinced of that now.”
“The emperor has learned to control his emotions very well,” retorted Clint. “Perhaps he is afraid to let anyone know that he is close to you for fear that they might suspect the truth.”
“Father has done that well for years.” The colonel shook his head dismissively. “Sometimes he would publicly treat me like dirt to keep everyone at bay, but this is different. There is no spark of recognition in his eyes when we meet, even in private. Whatever the black-cloaks have done to him, he does not recognize me. I suspect that they just found a more efficient means of controlling him.”
“What other clues do you have?”
“He tries to write left-handed and eventually switches to his right hand in frustration. I have seen this many times since you left the palace. My father has always been right-handed, but his mind seems to think that he is left-handed. Also, my father was always an early riser, but now he seldom gets out of bed before the sun is well into the sky. Were it not for my father’s familiar face, I would swear that it was not my father based upon these small things alone.”
“Perhaps it is not your father at all,” mused the Ranger.
“What do you mean? How could it not be my father?”
“I would have to talk to a mage that I know, but I remember hearing about a spell that allows a magician to assume the body of another. If that is what has happened here, your father is already dead.”
Colonel Taerin sighed deeply and closed his eyes for a moment. He had suspected for some time that the relationship he once had with his father was long over, and he felt fairly confident that it would never return. While somewhat shocking, hearing that his father might already be dead began to make sense.
“That would explain the late rising and the propensity to use his left hand,” frowned the colonel. “I pray that you are wrong, but I will proceed as if you are right. Where is my family?”
“They are safe,” Clint answered vaguely. “Believe me when I say that they have a better chance of remaining safe if you do not know where they are. That is not a threat on my part. It is an overabundance of caution.”
Colonel Taerin nodded with acceptance. He didn’t like not knowing, but the general had been honest with him so far. “Are you Alcean? Is that why you are willing to risk your life to end this war?”
“I am an Alcean Ranger,” stated the general. “Your father was aware of that when he signed the proclamation.”
“Do you think he meant to honor the deal?”
“I do. I consider myself to be a fair judge of men, and I believe that he was sincere when we made the agreement. His true fury was reserved for the unknown man who is trying to murder his family and steal his throne. Alcea certainly meant less to him than revenge. Yes, I believe he meant to honor the deal. I suspect that something happened that night after I left his quarters. Perhaps Kyrga was alarmed when K’san did not return.”
“Well, Alcean Ranger, I will make you a deal. If you find this unknown man and prove to me that he is behind this affair, I will see to it that there is no war with Alcea.”
“That is a deal that I would heartily accept, my friend, but I fear we may be too late. Spring is just around the corner, and Grand General Kyrga will be dispatching his troops any day now. I will have my people do whatever they can to ferret out the puppet master, but I think war is coming. What can you tell me about increases in troop strength since the festival days?”
“Kyrga is continuing to build the army, and his pace is rather frantic. I do not understand it. We already have over three-hundred-fifty-thousand soldiers, yet he shows no signs of slowing down. He is offering ever higher bounties to get more men.”
“What is he doing with them?”
Colonel Taerin hesitated. “It is one thing to work together for peace,” he said with a frown, “but you are now asking me to betray my country. I cannot do that.”
“It is not your country any more, Taerin,” Clint said sadly. “Someone is driving this coming conflict, but it is not the rightful emperor. If it is any consolation to you, Alcea plans to spare as many of your people as we can afford to. The more knowledge we have of their disposition, the easier we can accomplish that.”
“You are in no position to spare Federation soldiers,” retorted Colonel Taerin. “While I am not privy to the invasion plans, I have heard the odds involved in the coming war. Alcea will be utterly destroyed, and for that I am truly sorry.”
“I will say to you what I said to your father,” General Forshire declared with a thin smile. “There are only a handful of Alceans in Zara, but we have freed the elves, destroyed your fleet and your shipyards, gained access to the highest levels of your Federation, and destroyed a large faction of the infamous Badgers. Think about that before you write Alcea off. Think about it and then realize that there are thousands more like us in Alcea waiting for your soldiers to arrive.”
Colonel Taerin swallowed hard as he thought about the Alcean’s words. “The bloodshed will be great for both of our nations. Let us pray that we can work together to stop this war before it starts.”
Chapter 6
Water Water
The bitter wind howled out of the south, driving the sea into a frenzy of towering waves. The ship creaked and groaned as it bobbed from crest to trough and back to crest again. Every time the Resurgence rose out of a trough, the masts shuddered and the lines snapped taut as the battering winds assaulted the ship anew. Every trough brought thousands of gallons of seawater across the deck as the wind whipped the crests of the huge waves and sent a torrent of seawater cascading down upon the ship. The captain fought the tiller constantly, trying to maintain some sense of direction and keep the ship from capsizing, but his hopes for survival were not high. The weight of his cargo was so immense that the ship had practically no freeboard, and he knew that a single wave breeching the rail could send the ship to the bottom of the sea.
“Can’t your people do anything?” Captain Imatin shouted to the black-cloak leader. “This ship is going to sink like a rock.”
Seiko’s eyes scanned the deck of the huge ship. Of the one-hundred black-cloaks under his command, eighty of them were already on deck using their magic to keep the ship afloat. Twenty of them were dedicated to keeping the sails full while the Resurgence was in a trough. If they did not, the masts would snap like twigs as the fury of the storm hit when they rose to the crest. Sixty of the mages were magically gathering the seawater from the decks and bilge and returning it to the sea. The water was coming aboard at such a voluminous rate that any less than sixty mages and the Resurgence would slip below the surface. That still left twenty black-cloaks, but Seiko believed strongly in a reserve. He could not afford to exhaust all of the black-cloaks at the same time. To do so would mean certain death.