Free Fate of an Empire (Talurian Empire Trilogy Book 1) by Jonathan Pasquariello

center fire.
    “There!” A
nearby soldier shouted, pointing into the sky.
    Arteus’ looked
up. His mouth dropped open. “By all the gods I dare not worship…”
    A lone figure
hovered in the sky, wrapped in a floor-length, black robe and hood. Wind
twisted and cut at his image, sloshing his outfit in the moonlight. The screech
raised in volume again, echoing through the campground. Men covered their ears,
desperate to stem the repulsive sound.
    “Now that I
have your attention.” The words boomed in a deep guttural tone. The manfell from the sky, crashing into the center of
the fire.
    The action
sent a ripple of movement through the Talurian forces, clearing a perimeter
around the alien being.
    Barolos
glanced to Arteus. “Any ideas?”
    Arteus bounced
on the balls of his feet, gripping the handle of his blade. “Not one. This is
well outside of my department.”
    The intruder
rose to his feet. Fire engulfing him. A chilling calm from a brazen scene.
    Breaking the
nightmarish pause, he moved from the fire. His hood fell away. A featureless
face stared back at them. Deep crimson eyes pierced the surrounding darkness,
dripping like wet blood over his shadowed clothing.
    Arteus stood
frozen.
    Barolas jolted
forward, pulling the axe from his back, and released a rallying cry to pull his
men with him. He jumped into the air, preparing to bring his weapon down upon
the man’s head.
    With a simple
wave of his hand, the intruder turned attacker threw Barolas twenty feet
through the air.
    The following
soldiers fell in around the enemy, slashing and stabbing, but he moved inhumanly
fast, dodging every strike. With a sudden switch in his stance, he shot his hand
into the air, and bright strands of red light formed around him. Swords and
spears bounced off the shimmering barrier.
    “Cease your useless
endeavor!” The assailant shouted out over the crowd. The voice so dark and
unnerving, so ominous, that the men reeled from its sound. “South. You must go
south. Your leader needs you.”
    Barolas had
regained his composure. “You think this gains our trust?” The words flew back
with vehemence. His face twisted in anger. He assaulted the barrier with wild
flails of his axe, stirring more soldiers to again attack the black-robed man.
    Arteus watched
in horror, as one of the mightiest Talurian warriors couldn’t break through the
strange, magical defense.
    “Gah!” The man
cocked his head to the side, “Fine! I will make you run to your
General…” He shattered his own barrier and spread open his robe, brandishing
two polished, curved blades. “…in fear.”
    Like a
whirlwind, he moved through the Talurian forces taking men apart limb by limb.
His robes leaving faint afterimages of his fluttering movements. A haze of
death blinked about the area, dropping mangled, dismembered corpses to the
ground.
    Captain
Barolas swung his axe through the air, trying to make any contact. His brow
creased. His breathing intensified. Each strike moments too late, slashing
through the image of what was there a second past. “How are we to ever—”
    A sudden cold
numbness shot through Barolas. The world stilled. He dropped his head to find
both blades protruding from his chest. His axe fell from his hands. “No.” He
shook his head.
    “Why, yes.”
The darkened voice teased his ears. “You thought there could be any other
ending to this?” The man laughed. “Although, do not worry. I still have a use
for you, but not like this.” The words ushered a final strike. The ethereal
blades pulled from his back, ripped through the air, and cleaved his head from
his shoulders.

Chapter 13: The Other
Side
     
    Thrump. Thrump.
Thrump…
    Thrump. Thrump
Thrump…
    Thrump. Thrump.
Thrump…
    The large, Kitamite
warrior repeatedly rolled his three fingers against the lacquered wood of his
table. The only unscathed piece of furniture in the burnt out building. His
eyes darted between the organized chaos of charts and maps before