Ari Marmell - The Conquerors Shadow

DAWN BROKE across the eastern horizon, seeping into the skies above the ancient city of Denathere, the Jewel of Imphallion. And the ancient city, in its turn, would break beneath the newborn dawn.

Plumes of smoke undulated upwardhypnotic, grey-hued serpents taking great bites from the heavens. Thick and oily, they blackened the air. The clouds themselves grew dark, contaminated, sickly. And the sun did not shine upon Denathere, thwarted by the unending night.

Nor could the sullen and defeated dawn dispel the nightmares of the citys terrified citizens, for on this morning their nightmares were real.

Fires raged unchecked through district after district, devouring homes, possessions, lives. Corpsesbloodied and brokenlined the streets. Crows swarmed thick as flies. Dogs, driven feral by the inescapable scent of blood, snapped and snarled, killing over pieces of meat that might once have fed them dinner rather than been a part of it.

From Denatheres wallscracked, shattered, and breached, but still intimidatingwatched the citys new masters. Most were mercenaries, their faces bereft of pity as they glared over the suffering they left in their wake, fingers idly clenching blood-sated blades. They, at least, were human. Over soldier and citizen alike watched the cyclopean gaze of the one-eyed ogres; from around their feet came the high-pitched giggling of the wild, sadistic gnomesmisshapen creatures delighting in the bloody work they performed.

Across Denatheres surrounding fields stretched a sea of humanity. Tent peaks formed islands in the rough tides of the assembled horde. Here and there fluttered a brightly colored banner, the standard of a lord or Guild whose soldiers contributed to the gathered army.

The fields swelled with the dull drone of thousands of voices, drowning out any other possible sound. Animals for miles around fled in terror, diving deep into burrows or taking to the skies, squawking loudly as they flew. Even in the heart of the occupied city, the battered populace heard the steady clamor. Salvation! they whispered breathlessly to one another. But if salvation it was, it came too late for the thousands who lay dead or dying in the carnage-strewn streets.

On a hillock in the surrounding fields, beyond the reach of even the greatest siege engine, stood the largest tent in the assembled multitudes. An enormous pennant, longer than a tall man, flapped dutifully in the breeze, displaying a great bearstanding rampant beneath a broken crownembroidered upon a field of royal purple.

A man stood now atop that hill, a spyglass pressed to his right eye. His face was rough, weather-beaten, and his rich brown hair was just lightening at the temples. The tabard he wore over his heavy armor displayed the ensign of a red eagle upon a navy field; the same could be found upon the shield lying at his feet. Slowly, he lowered the glass, shaking his head as though to dislodge the image of the shattered city.

Does it get easier, Nathan?

Nathaniel Espa, Knight of Imphallion, bowed perfunctorily. Good morning, Your Grace. He turned his head and nodded to the young regents companion, a soft-featured, dark-haired woman clad in a leather vest over a rose-red tunic. Good morning, Rheah.

Lorum, Duke of Taberness and Regent Proper of Imphallion, smiled faintly. In his midtwenties, Lorum knew just enough of tactics and war to recognize that he couldnt lead so vast an army. He might give the orders, but every man on the field knew it was Sir Nathaniel who planned the campaign. Self-conscious in polished armor never marred by the sting of an enemys blade, the regent brushed light blond hair from a youthful, clean-shaven face. How you can manage courtesy this early, Nathan, is beyond me. I feel as though Ive been sleeping on rocks for a week.

Rheah laughed softly. You have been sleeping on rocks, Your Grace. Thats the joy of war: the chance to visit places no sane person would wish to go, to meet a great many people who would like nothing better than to kill you in all sorts of revolting and painful ways, and to sleep on rocks sharp enough to hobble an elephant. You should have been told this before you got here.

Wonderful, Lorum muttered.

Nathaniel, however, had seen too much to smile this morning. He merely glared at Rheah, who seemed oblivious to her friends foul mood.

When it became clear she wasnt about to acknowledge his irritation, he spoke instead to the young regent. I believe you were asking me something, Your Grace?

The young regent gestured toward the columns of smoke dancing in the air above the city theyd come, gods willing, to save. I was just wondering about all this. Does seeing this sort of thing ever get any easier?

Nathaniel turned back toward the city and shook his head. Gods, I hope not, he muttered softly. Abruptly he punched his right fist into his left palm, nearly breaking the delicate spyglass. Whats that bastard up to?

Rheah nodded slowly, ignoring for a moment the puzzled look on Lorums face. You think theres more to this than just conquering more territory? she asked, her voice low, suddenly solemn.

Absolutely, Nathan answered. Hes not this stupid.

I dont understand, the regent admitted, a hand half raised to get their attention. How do we know hes not just trying to take Denathere like he did the others?

Hes moved the bulk of his armies into the city, Nathan explained, attention fixed on the distant walls. Far more than necessary to overrun the defenders.

So?

The knight sighed. Your Grace, have you been paying attention to my lessons?

Of course, Lorum insisted, sounding injured.

All right then. Look around. Tell me about the area.

Theres the city, of course. The defensive walls. And, well, just open fields. Farmland, basically. A few hills.

Nathan nodded. Good. What does that mean?

The young regents eyes glowed with sudden understanding. Denatheres not a particularly defensible city!

Very good. Nathan smiled. All Denathere has is those walls. Big and imposing, certainly, but breach them and theres nothing left to stand in your way. If you were taking this city, would you hole up inside?

Not a chance! Lorum insisted. Id be vulnerable to counterattack. Like

Like the one were about to launch, the older man confirmed. Exactly.

Its one hell of a mistake, the regent muttered.

This time Nathan and Rheah shook their heads in unison. No, Rheah told him. Corvis Rebaine is not a man who makes that sort of mistake.

Damn it! I just wish there was some way to learn what he was doing in there! Nathaniel growled again, waving his spyglass helplessly toward the city.

Actually, Rheah said, her expression thoughtful, there is.

IN THE CENTER of Denathere, coated in ash, blackened with soot, stood a large stone hall. The banners that once fluttered gaily from the great columns and wide arches were gone, burned to cinders or yanked down by inhuman hands. But even without the pennants of the lords and the Guilds, the looming structure radiated importance.

Soldiers, human and otherwise, milled about in the streets surrounding the Hall of Meeting, mired in that frustrating pause between engagements. The surrounding buildings once represented the finest design and architecture the city had ever produced. Elegant sweeps, intricate murals, lofty peaks: all reduced to smoldering heaps of burned wood and uneven piles of jagged stone. The Hall alone remained largely undamaged.