Betrayal Unearthed
Copyright © 2004, James L. Snyder. All Rights Reserved.

247,302 - Year of the Elven Rise
More than 3,000 years ago...

The visage of death seemed endless, infinite. Every turn of his eyes was met with blood. The soft azure glow of the highly polished armor most of his men wore was dulled, either by the dark clouds forming in the skies above, or by the deep red of their life seeping slowly away. So too bathed in death were the golden cloaks of his defeated foes, and for that he could grant himself a moment of happiness. Though as he continued to look on, he saw that even the grasses of the Plains of Minoacalas were soaked, darkened by deep crimson pools. Bodies had been torn asunder, arms, legs, heads, all strewn about. He could still hear the moans of those who had yet to pass from this world, and could see the occasional twitch or grasp for aid. He could not bring himself to tell them that even the best healers were unlikely to have enough power to save them from the death that called now to them. This day had been long coming, and he had prepared his men as best he could. The betrayal of the elves had come.

Emperor Goren Vex had been warned by the prophets that the elven jealousy of their heritage was soon to reach its peak. For millennia had the elves been offended by the relationship that those of the blood of Dragotha held with their dragon kin. For those of the Dragothan heritage were blessed by the gods of the dragons themselves. They were as much men as their distant elven relatives, but these elves could not abide that the dragongods watched over them. Soon, the Emperor had warned his generals, the time would come that the elves would believe the Dragothan Empire to be weak, and they would strike. And come they had. Swiftly, with number far greater than the armies of Goren Vex. And they had fallen in their pride and jealousy.

Valeryx was one of the Emperor’s elite generals, one of the Famis Qalil'ut. A Nemesis Enforcer. His battalion had stood at the ready, knowing that the elves would attempt to take Minoacalas from the north, using the base of the mountains as cover, and then descend upon an unready city. Valeryx had expected no less, for it was a wise strategy, one he might have used himself if not for the open nature of it. He had gathered all but a small defense force from Minoacalas, and marched them into waiting around a bend in the mountain, sending scouts up into the mountains themselves to send word back of the elven advancement.

The elves would not this day take the Plains, and gain no foothold to use as a striking point against the Holy Lands of Dracona. At first sight of the elves rounding the bend, Valeryx had ordered the charge. This day, the elves had been driven back, forced into retreat. The death on both sides of the skirmish had been great, and Valeryx knew he had lost some fine warriors this day, but even as great as the blow to his army was, the elven forces had suffered far greater. Three thousand dragothan soldiers had marched into battle against an army of ten thousand elves. Valeryx guessed his own legions had fallen to no more than half of their original strength, but the elves too would be lucky if they had fled with fifteen hundred of their own, so swift had the dragothan hammer fallen upon the elven armies.

"Victory is yours, my lord," his commander said, striking his fist to his chest in salute.

"Our skill with arrow and blade is far better than theirs, Grethalga," Valeryx said evenly as he returned the salute. "Be sure that they are licking their wounds, but they will prepare to strike again. The pride of these elves has allowed jealousy to reign, and they seek now the Hand of the Dragons for their own."

"A day that shall never come," Grethalga said, confidence reflected in his turquoise eyes.

"My lord!" a cry came out, and Valeryx turned, hearing a struggle behind him. There, he saw two of his lieutenants holding the arms of an elven scout who was struggling quite frantically to free himself. It was almost amusing to Valeryx to see the fear in the elf's eyes. "My lord," the captain who had called out repeated himself, "we have caught this scout. He appears to be an elven courier, bearing a scroll of unknown origin."

The captain strode forth, bowed his head, and extended the scroll to Valeryx. Taking it, he let out a chuckle, spying a blue seal that held the scroll closed. He knew if he dared to open the scroll with haste, it would disintegrate in his very hands. No. He needed a key. "They have not yet learned we know how they protect their scrolls. This is well." Looking up, he smiled at the captured elven courier. "Slice his hand."

Grethalga stepped forward, drawing a dagger from a sheath at his side. "My pleasure to honor you." The lieutenant on the left of the elf held his hand out, and Grethalga drew the blade swiftly across his palm, the elf wincing in pain as he tried to pull away. Grethalga then brought the flat of the dagger's blade across his hand, coating it in elven blood. Turning swiftly, he extended the blade to Valeryx.

Valeryx took the hilt of the dagger in hand, and brushed the blade across the cobalt seal that protected the scroll from unwanted eyes. A quick flash of sapphire light came as the seal dissolved into the ether from which it had come, and Valeryx unrolled the scroll. Slowly he read, being sure that he was reading the elvish runes upon the parchment as accurately as possible. The words that came to him, he did not like.

The campaign goes well. While our other enemies remain at bay, we may deal with the Dragothan Empire, and bring to an end their perversion of draconic majesty. The Hand of the Dragons will soon be ours. Your troops will suffer greatly, but assure them that the cause is great. While they die, we will learn all there is to know of those in whom the Blood of Dragotha flows, and the Grand Army shall swing into Dracona and end the reign of Goren Vex. You are to assure Enforcer Thysarlis that his aid will not go without merit, and that he will lead the remaining Dragothan Empire in service to us. As for our other enemies, a plan is in motion. Here begins the end.

A shiver ran down his spine as his cheeks flushed in anger. Thysarlis was another of the Emperor's trusted generals, commander of the armies of the forests of Ewindia, closest realm to the Capitol of Dracona. If he were in league with the elves, then his treachery would be great, and his loyalty to the Emperor gone. "Gather what men yet live," Valeryx shouted loudly so all commanders near him could hear. "We must reach Dracona with haste. The Empire itself is in grave danger!"

Removing his mace from the hook it rested upon at his side, he hefted it, and nodded to his lieutenants. They immediately released the scout as Valeryx stepped forward. "Your life is forfeit for bearing such news," the Enforcer said evenly, and swung the war mace with great strength, releasing it as it swung toward the elf's head. The elf crumpled to the ground from the weight of the blow, but Valeryx had already turned, placing his arm around Grethalga's shoulder. His voice hushed, Valeryx said, "Thysarlis is a traitor. We must pray we arrive in Dracona before he."

"Surely not," Grethalga said, the green-blue irises of his eyes bright as his pupils widened in disbelief.

"I would not have thought so either, but these elves are not known to practice deception, and thus it must be so. Thysarlis is acting under orders from an unknown elven army who is observing our battle prowess. I dare not guess how long they have done so, but that they may have us at an advantage when they strike bodes most unwell."

"I have heard of no such army," Grethalga said. Valeryx could see the confusion in his eyes, but could also hear the fear in his voice. It was the same fear that Valeryx held himself. Never in the long history of the Dragothan Empire had one of the Famis Qalil'ut been so bold as to betray an Emperor. It was from the Famis Qalil'ut that the next Emperor would be selected when Goren Vex was beyond ability to lead, as honor mandated. There was not but loyalty and trust in the circle of the Nemesis Enforcers, for those not chosen to serve as Emperor would still benefit from the loyalty of the chosen Emperor. That one now turned his back on that tradition, and conspired with elven enemies, was of concern unspeakable.

"I have heard nothing of the army either, Grethalga, but if they have studied well, Dracona and our Emperor are in danger. If Thysarlis assists them, that danger is far worse. We must move swiftly." Valeryx gave one last look over the field of battle, and knew they had not the time to reap the spoils of war. "My horse!" he called out, prepared to lead his men to their ancestral home.

Silently, he prayed they would not be too late.

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