Free The Hand of My Enemy by Mary Vigliante Szydlowski

Ozrik turned as the Undersecretary of Military
Affairs rushed into the room, trailed by a concerned looking technician.
    "My Lord," he gasped, chest heaving,
trying to catch his breath.  “Something is wrong at the testing grounds at
Carg.  We've been trying to contact them for more than an hour, but get only
static.”
    "Isn't there a communication silence in
effect?"  The monarch asked in irritation, wondering why they bothered him
with such trivial matters.  "We're doing research there that will change
the course of our world’s history.  Our Hurd enemies would go to great lengths
to gain access to that information.  Their listening posts spy on us,
monitoring our every word, jamming our signals, hacking our networks, trying to
thwart us at every turn.  Perhaps the cadre there suspect their messages are
being intercepted, that the Hurds have managed to crack our encryption codes;
and that's why they've refused to acknowledge your communiqués.  If it concerns
you so, try contacting the garrison at Tanith; they're not far from Carg.  Now
leave me.  I've important business to attend to," he snapped.
    Ozrik turned, expecting them to leave, but they
didn't.  "Is there something more?" he said annoyed, spinning on his
heels to face them.
    "We've already done that sire," the
nervous looking Undersecretary responded, "and the outposts at Moreau and
Lux as well.  They don't respond either."
    His brow furrowed.  Ozrik looked concerned.  The
years of endless war and the resulting famines and plagues had aged him.  Once
he'd been a strong young buck, afraid of nothing.  Now he appeared wasted and
old.  In his youth, he'd been a tall strapping fellow with strong thighs, a
tight flat stomach, a broad back, and hard rippling muscles; but now his
shoulders stooped, his belly sagged, and the thick brown curls that once
crowned his head had turned silver and sparse.  He blamed Crax.  That bastard
fiend Hurd had stolen his youth!
    "Perhaps they're on alert," he
reasoned, looking for a plausible explanation for the communication silence,
even as his unease began to grow.
    "Without our knowledge?” the Undersecretary
protested.
    "General Velmot is in command there; he
knows what he's doing!  He was waging war against the Hurds when you were still
sucking on your mother's teats.  He has his reasons I'm sure," Ozrik
insisted.  "Now if that's all?”
    The man hesitated.
    "Is there more?"  Ozrik barked,
beginning to lose his patience.  "Well...?"
    "Tell him," the Undersecretary
commanded, turning to the trembling technician.
    The man paled, beads of perspiration forming on
his brow.  He lowered his eyes, then swallowed hard, but the words did not
come.
    "Out with it!”  Ozrik growled.  “Have you
something to report or not?"
    "There is a seismographic station at Fagara
your Excellency."
    "Yes, I'm aware of that," he snorted. 
“Now get to the point!"
    "We received a report from them indicating
that they’d experienced some sort of tremor."
    "A quake?"
    "That's what they thought at first.  The
initial bulletin said they'd detected what they thought might be a minor quake
in the western end of the Haggard Region.  Moments later, however, they
reported they were getting readings from what appeared to be a massive quake,
with its epicenter at Carg.  Seconds after that, they issued their last
message.  It said the tremors were the result of a massive explosion.  Then the
transmitters went dead and all communications ceased.  There have been other
reports though, from as far away as Elgin.  Reports of ear-splitting thunder,
balls of fire visible in the sky, and black clouds of smoke blanketing the
land."
    Ozrik paled.
    "We've received reports of gale force winds
fanning fires that now burn out of control all over the region.  The
transmissions speak of smothering darkness, clouds of choking smoke and ash,
and a tremendous heat that causes everything to ignite and explode.  The
sensors in the region that are