Siege of Stone

CHAPTER 67

The camp was devastated, as was the general’s heart. As a military commander he felt the pain and anger as he considered how many soldiers he had lost in one day. Killing the smug emissary from Ildakar had done almost nothing to assuage the pain. Nevertheless, Utros had made his answer clear.

Ildakar would fall, under his terms.

All these men had sworn their loyalty to him centuries ago. Without a qualm they had offered their lives in service, but none of them knew when they marched away from Orogang that they were giving up their homes, their sweethearts, their children—forever. Now their comrades were all they had.

Utros stood outside his makeshift new command tent, a large structure stretched across support beams. The fabric was stained with soot, salvaged from a scorched wagon that soldiers had dragged away from the flames. A gray drizzle had extinguished any fires that still smoldered, but the smell of bitter ash lingered in the air.

Though the recent attack was incredibly devastating, he suspected that it was the worst that Ildakar could produce. Perhaps the great city was now mostly defenseless. The giant warriors had been destroyed, and Ildakar surely had no more of them, or they would have turned them loose during the battle.

The dragon had also wrought a terrible amount of damage—damage that should have been inflicted on Ildakar. Iron Fang had commanded him to summon the monster, but Utros had experience with the capricious and vicious nature of dragons. In hindsight, he wasn’t surprised at what Brom had done.

In the aftermath he had to report his failure to Emperor Kurgan. He had lost tens of thousands of men to the Ixax warriors and the dragon, without a single stone being knocked from the city’s walls. Sadly, Utros would also have to confess his failure to Majel, which made his heart and mind heavy.

In the smoky daylight he stepped up to the blood lens, staring at its curved surface like a man gazing into a mountain tarn. The murky glass did not reflect back at him, nor could he see through the greenish mists, but Ava and Ruva touched the markings around the lens and called upon their gift to illuminate the runes. Energy sparkled through the glass, then clarified until the veil to the underworld became transparent.

Iron Fang and the raw, red form of Majel were there waiting for him on the other side of the lens. “I am ready for your report, General,” Kurgan said, showing off his sharp metal tooth. “Did you follow my commands?”

“Yes, my emperor. My sorceresses worked their spell. We summoned a dragon as you commanded.” Utros felt the words like hot lead in his mouth. He chose his revelations carefully, but he was only delaying his shame.

Kurgan was delighted by the news, but Majel’s skinned face bore no readable expression. Iron Fang roughly grabbed his wife’s peeled shoulder and squeezed the exposed meat. “You see, your lover hasn’t failed me. Tell us, General Utros! Have you finally broken Ildakar? Is the city now conquered in my name?”

Utros lowered his gaze. “I am afraid not, my liege.” The two sorceresses stepped back, their faces drawn with concern. This was his battle to face. “The dragon came and was bound to me. I forced it to attack the city.”

“Then Ildakar should be a smoking ruin by now!”

Majel breathed out a long, low sigh. “Oh Utros, what happened?”

“The dragon broke its bond and turned on us instead. Someone in Ildakar was powerful enough to disrupt the magic, and the monster killed thousands of my soldiers.” Utros squared his shoulders. “The wizards of Ildakar also created two giant warriors, which they unleashed against my army. More than thirty thousand of my fighters were killed before we destroyed them.”

Kurgan was furious. “And you allowed this? You call yourself a great commander!”

Utros had never boasted about being a great commander, although he did his best to be one. From the emissary Nathan, he knew that history had painted him as a hero, as a genius. In the past, his victories might have warranted such a characterization, but after the recent losses and tremendous setbacks, historians might describe him differently.

“I will continue to do my best, Emperor Kurgan. Our siege will break the city, but it may take time.”

“Time,” Kurgan said with a rude snort. “You have already had fifteen centuries. Should I wait another hundred years? A thousand? You are a failure and a disappointment, General Utros. You marched off with my invincible army to conquer the world, but you took too long. Because you were gone from Orogang, my people turned against me. If you had been there, my reign would not have ended. My empire would have endured.”

His words came out fast and angry, dripping with venom. Kurgan pressed closer to the lens so that his image filled a large portion of the glass. He sneered. “Then again, if you had been there, then you would have betrayed me with my wife, again and again in your tent or in my own imperial bed.” He glowered at Majel, who stood woodenly, her torn face quivering.

Kurgan reached out and stroked her slick cheek, where he had carved the skin off her face with a filleting knife. Utros clenched his fists, wanting to reach through the lens to grasp Kurgan around the throat.

“But she loves me now,” Iron Fang said. “Here in the underworld, poor Majel understands her error. The Keeper has left her physical form like this, so she can always remember what she did to me.”

Majel also caressed Iron Fang. Her voice wavered. “Yes, my husband.” Utros had heard that voice so many times whispering in his own ear. “Loyalty is stronger than love.”

“I am so sorry, Majel,” Utros said, a groan deep in his throat.

“My wife is none of your concern,” Kurgan snapped. “You are my general. You could have had any whore in your camps, yet you chose the one woman sworn to your emperor.”

“I am yours now, my love,” Majel said to Kurgan, not looking at Utros, whose heart felt stony, his emotions broken. Iron Fang kept staring through the lens at him, impatient and annoyed, and he slapped away the fawning caresses of the mangled woman. “Swear your loyalty to me again, Utros. Promise that you will defeat Ildakar and then finish conquering the Old World. For me.”

“I swore it to you a long time ago,” Utros said. “That hasn’t changed.”

He knew that Majel was just speaking the words, forced to stay with the emperor in the underworld. Could a spirit feel pain? Physical pain? Certainly emotional pain—he could read it in her face. But something had changed deep within her. She had not forgotten him, but maybe her love had died when her physical body did.

“Majel…” he whispered.

Kurgan shoved her away, and Majel’s bloody form fell out of view. Iron Fang’s image filled the entire glass oval. “You are my general. You are my servant. You are my slave. Even from the underworld, I am still your emperor. Swear to me that you will conquer the continent, as you were meant to do.”

Utros clenched and unclenched his stony fists. “Yes, I swear it.” He could no longer see Majel’s mutilated form, but Kurgan was even more hideous in his own way.

Utros did not make empty vows. He had spoken the words many times. He knew that loyalty was stronger than love, and his hundreds of thousands of soldiers were entirely loyal to him. His soldiers had often told him so, but he was blinded by his own loyalty to a petulant leader who did not deserve it. His every victory was for the glory of Iron Fang, while the soldiers in his army did it for him.

If Utros did tear down Ildakar and conquer the Old World, maybe he should do it for his own purposes, rather than for the unworthy emperor. Such a man did not deserve to rule. Such a man was dead because his own people had torn him apart.

Such a man should no longer be issuing orders to General Utros.

Perhaps it had been a mistake to create this lens. Emperor Kurgan no longer had anything to say that Utros needed to hear. The general didn’t bow, didn’t speak another word to his emperor, whose face still filled the lens.

Instead, with a sweep of his hand, he smothered the magic in one of the glowing runes, and the images faded back into impenetrable green mists.