Tales of the Empire Omnibus Read online

  Tales of the Empire Omnibus

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Interregnum

  Dedication

  Maps

  Part One

  Chapter I

  Chapter II

  Chapter III

  Chapter IV

  Chapter V

  Chapter VI

  Part Two

  Chapter VII

  Chapter VIII

  Chapter IX

  Chapter X

  Chapter XI

  Chapter XII

  Part Three

  Chapter XIII

  Chapter XIV

  Chapter XV

  Chapter XVI

  Chapter XVII

  Chapter XVIII

  Part Four

  Chapter XIX

  Chapter XX

  Chapter XXI

  Chapter XXII

  Chapter XXIII

  Chapter XXIV

  Part Five

  Chapter XXV

  Chapter XXVI

  Chapter XXVII

  Chapter XXVIII

  Chapter XXIX

  Chapter XXX

  Part Six

  Chapter XXXI

  Chapter XXXII

  Chapter XXXIII

  Chapter XXXIV

  Chapter XXXV

  Chapter XXXVI

  Epilogue

  Ironroot

  Dedication

  Maps

  By moonlight white, portentous sight…

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  And cleft in two does history lie…

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Corruption hides within the light…

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  And vengeance sends the last goodbye…

  Chapter Sixteen

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  Dark Empress

  Dedication

  Maps

  Prologue

  Part One

  In which journeys are started

  In which changes occur

  In which relationships are forged

  In which things are learned, for better or for worse

  In which the world is seen to turn

  In which the field is levelled

  In which tidings are brought

  In which M’Dahz changes

  In which Pelasian might is encountered

  In which Asima denies the Gods

  In which unrest occurs

  In which endings become beginnings

  In which Asima’s life takes an unexpected turn

  In which childhood ends

  In which we look to the future

  Part Two

  In which Samir’s plans are changed

  In which a journey is completed and one begun

  In which Pelasia opens her arms

  In which advancement is earned

  In which pecking orders are established

  In which Calphoris encounters Pelasia

  In which five years have passed

  In which we see that the years have been kind to Samir

  In which a rift forms

  In which the wheel has turned many times

  In which a fleet is found

  In which Samir has to move fast

  In which Asima progresses

  In which Asima’s world changes once more

  In which the wheel turns again

  Part Three

  In which a new page of history begins

  In which events take a surprising turn

  In which borders are redrawn

  In which a homecoming is suffered

  In which a journey is undertaken

  In which Asima makes her presence felt

  In which the reunion is completed

  In which captains clash

  In which meetings and partings take place

  In which Asima’s beliefs are shaken

  In which we are introduced to Lassos

  In which the Empress breaks out

  In which Ghassan drifts

  In which new plans are laid

  In which Ghassan goes home

  Part Four

  In which Samir goes home (part one)

  In which Samir goes home (part two)

  In which plans are laid and undone

  In which old games are revived

  In which Asima seals a deal

  In which castles crumble

  In which brothers escape

  In which Ghassan instils order

  In which Ghassan’s scheme goes into action

  In which there is a night time visit

  In which another journey begins

  In which Tain leads the way

  In which paths diverge

  In which old tricks are useful

  In which a full reunion occurs

  Part Five

  In which captains collude

  In which Asima rails against fate

  In which the aftermath occurs

  In which the Empress goes home

  In which the council sits

  In which Belapraxis is honoured

  In which the order is given

  In which the fleet sails

  In which other coins come down

  In which the fleet engages

  In which the line breaks

  In which threads come to a close

  In which the brothers are beleaguered

  In which a last assault begins

  In which Retribution is the watchword

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  Insurgency

  Prologue

  Part One

  Chapter I

  Chapter II

  Chapter III

  Chapter IV

  Chapter V

  Chapter VI

  Chapter VII

  Chapter VIII

  Part Two

  Chapter IX

  Chapter X

  Chapter XI

  Chapter XII

  Chapter XIII

  Chapter XIV

  Chapter XV

  Part Three

  Chapter XVI

  Chapter XVII

  Chapter XVIII

  Chapter XIX

  Chapter XX

  Chapter XXI

  Chapter XXII

  Part Four

  Chapter XXIII

  Chapter XXIV

  Chapter XXV

  Chapter XXVI

  Chapter XXVII

  Chapter XXVIII

  Chapter XXIX

  Chapter XXX

  Epilogue

  Invasion

  Maps

  Prologue

  Part One

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Part Two

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Part Three

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Part Four

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Part Five

  Chapter 22

  Cha
pter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Epilogue

  Author’s Note

  Jade Empire

  Map

  Part One

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Part Two

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Part Three

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Part Four

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Epilogue

  Author’s note

  Copyright

  Tales of the Empire

  S. J. A. Turney

  Interregnum

  For my parents, who are largely responsible for who I am today.

  Also to Bren and Sue, one of whom was my first reader and has been incredibly supportive, and the other is in it.

  I’ll leave you to work out which is which…

  Part One

  Wolves and Sheep

  Chapter I

  Kiva hadn’t always looked like this; dusty, grey, scarred and hollow. Once, long ago, he’d been a fresh faced blond youth with piercing green eyes and a lithe build. In the days when he’d come out of the Northlands he’d had a budding, wispy beard and long, braided hair. He’d worn furs and leather and travelled out of the cold, swampy lands of his people into the heart of the Empire, golden and prosperous. It hadn’t been unusual in those days, when the Empire was at its greatest extent; when the borders were being forced north and east by generals whose names even now carried the weight of history and valour. The tribes at the fringes of the Imperial world had sued for peace with the Emperors and were beginning to see the benefits. For the first time in the history of the north the tribes had running, clean water, with aqueducts and drainage systems constructed under the expert eyes of Imperial architects and engineers. The young men had begun to learn the Imperial language, and many of them had begun to travel south to find service in the Empire’s bureaucracy or its military. All those years ago, the idea of a heated floor was unheard of in the north.

  He sighed when he thought of that first day in the army. His braids had been cut away, his beard shaved and his favourite furs burned for fear of infestation. He’d stood with other young men of all colours both skin and hair, naked in a parade ground, while they were shorn and prepared for their training. Very little made Kiva smile these days; not properly, as though he actually meant it, but he’d laughed loud and often in those early days with his comrades. He shuffled under his blanket, trying to find a slightly more comfortable position against the rough wall. Pieces of plaster broke off and dust showered down his back causing him to shrug uncomfortably. He reached out and picked up one of the larger pieces. Painted plaster; an image of some sort of ornamental lake with a colonnade. This place must have been a rich house once.

  He could remember just such decorative plaster work at the commanding officer’s house in the northern army’s headquarters fortress of Vengen, when he’d received his first military decoration. Over a mere three years, he had made it through the lowest ranks and had become a non-commissioned officer. Then, little over a year later, as he received a golden torc for his defence of the Galtic Narrows against the barbarians, he had also been made captain, with his own unit. Barbarians? Now, that really did threaten to make him laugh. The force of northmen he had held back with less than a hundred troops had been his own people, or people very much like them. It had been in that action he had met a young soldier called Athas from the far south, his skin dark as night, who had grown throughout the following years to be Kiva’s best friend and most trusted lieutenant. Others came to be trusted; his men had been a good crew even then, in the early days.

  He glanced across the ruined building to Athas. The man slept little, but loud. Currently the big man crouched on a low and broken wall, watching the countryside in the night, alert and guarded. The charcoal grey tunic, along with the colour of his skin, made him barely visible except for the eerie dancing light of the fire. The rest of the unit were asleep around the floor as Athas would be soon, once he had woken the next watch. Then there would be snoring like the collapse of a marble quarry.

  As he watched the fire flickering in the light breeze, his memory strayed once more to the age of glory in the Imperial army. In those days, the tunics had been emerald green, and the arms and armour had been a standard issue. He remembered when he had finally reached a position where he was not bound by the uniform code. He had been made prefect and given command over a thousand men, all new and eager for glory under the acclaimed commander. By that time, he had stopped wearing his military honours. They had become numerous and bulky and had been taken to safety at the new estate that he was building at Serfium by the sea. Meteoric, people had called his ascent to command. No one in living memory had risen from the lowest ranks, without even Imperial citizenship, to become such a high officer. He had made sure too that his trusted friends moved with him. Athas had been made captain shortly before, and continued to hold a position as Kiva’s right hand man. By then there had been others; men who had proved time and again that they could be trusted in and out of battle. In those days of fire and steel and the glory of Kiva’s campaigns, with the ever present Athas and a dozen men of skill and virtue, the Wolves had been born.

  That was what they had been called. Despite his command of a thousand, Kiva continued to travel chiefly with a party of a dozen men as his close companion unit. He had made sure that they all achieved at least the rank of captain; his influence in the Imperial bureaucracy was becoming powerful indeed. They had taken to wearing wolf-pelts as a shoulder cloak. He had also put in requisitions and had them agreed such that the regimental insignia was now a profile of a howling wolf, on both flag and standard. Their shields came to be painted with a wolf’s head. The analogy was apt, too, for they became predatory. The army no longer held the borders against the Empire’s enemies, guarding passes and constructing fortifications. Now, the Wolves forced campaigns into the wilderness, bringing the light of civilisation on the tip of a sword. They had become hunters of barbarians and heroes of the Empire.

  Once more Kiva’s attention was drawn back to the camp. The firelight was beginning to burn low. He would have to get some wood before long, or the light and heat would be gone altogether, and the unit would have nothing to cook breakfast on in a few hours. Across the fire he could see the wiry Thalo, hunched asleep by the wall, his grey, oval shield propped next to him. No lupine symbols in evidence these days – the days of heroes were gone, and the Wolves had been consigned to legend.

  Even when he had been made marshal, one of the four commanding Generals of the Imperial Army invested by the Emperor himself, he had been wearing his distinctive shoulder cloak as he received his baton of office. Behind him, the captains of the Wolves had stood straight and true, pride and discipline emanating from them. Those had been such great days. The glory and the vigour of constant battle, secure in the knowledge of a righteous cause and a goal: to bring culture and civilisation to the whole globe. He had been proud; but then he had been ignorant… they all had. To serve in the Imperial army was to serve blindly, and no yet man can stay voluntarily blind his entire life.

  With a yawn and a stretch, Kiva straightened his legs, the blanket falling to the floor. For a brief second, Athas’s head snapped round at the noise. As he saw Kiva stirring, he nodded barely perceptibly and then turned his a
ttention once more to the undergrowth. Stepping lithely between the slumbering forms of the unit, Kiva wandered out into the brush. His boots, old though they may be, were hardy and comfortable, and he felt virtually none of the fractured pieces of crumbling masonry under his feet. At the fallen wall surrounding the once opulent room he picked up the hatchet Thalo had left there earlier and unfastened his belt, leaning the sheathed swords against the stonework.

  The brush was prickly and painful, but Kiva’s thick leather breeches and heavy tunic protected him well enough. His armour remained in the building where he had slept, too bulky to rest comfortably in these days. For a moment he almost tripped, cursing himself for his clumsiness. He was still inside the boundary of the crumbling building and had failed to notice the raised threshold between two chambers. The villa had been abandoned long enough that bushes grew within the rooms, and much of the painted decoration had been eaten away by moisture or covered by lichens and thick green moss. Even a few small saplings tapered up from the walls, staking their claim to the light where one day the entire building would be lost in a forest floor. This place, Kiva thought, must have been one of the earliest casualties of the wars. He righted himself, considered turning to check if Athas had seen him trip, but changed his mind with a wry smile and continued on. Of course, the hulking dark skinned sergeant had seen him; the man missed nothing. Beneath his feet as he followed a trail into the scrub he detected a flat, decorated area. Crouching, he hung the hatchet from a branch and peered at the ground. He was too far from the circle of firelight to get a clear view and yet still too close for his night vision to be fully attuned. He brushed the dirt floor with his fingertips. Mosaic. Despite a life of martial activity and an increasing despair with the world, he had always maintained his fascination with mosaic, perhaps because they had never had such a thing in the north when he was young. The need for firewood momentarily forgotten, Kiva reached into his pockets and withdrew his flint and tinder. After a few strikes, being extremely careful not to set the brushwood alight with a stray spark, the tinder took, and a small beacon of orange light illuminated the floor. He moved the flame further away from the dry twigs; forest fires had their uses, but now was not the time. The dust was thick and with gravel, sticks and leaves and even small clumps of grass scattered among it. Leaving the light to one side, he began to brush away the dust and dirt with his hand, noting with interest a tooth and the broken tip of a dagger among the refuse, signs of the violent end the owners of such an opulent villa had met. Retrieving his water bottle, Kiva poured a small quantity onto the floor and watched as the colourful image came to life in the light cast by his small flame.