The Death of Chaos

5.Death of Chaos

 

 

 

 

 

CV

 

 

Worrak, Hydlen [Candar]

 

 

 

“MARSHAL,” SAYS THE white-haired officer, “no fleet could have withstood that kind of storm.” The fleet commander glances around the veranda, then out toward the hills to the west. He does not look at the half-dozen battered ships in the harbor below.

 

“There are limits to their powers, Commander Gurtel. According to my sources, that storm was raised by the only truly powerful storm wizard Recluce has. That single small storm aged him decades.” Dyrsse smiles, though not with his eyes, and his fingers steeple.for a moment before he rests his arms on the table. “Ruzor will take years to rebuild. The storm caused as much damage to the city as to the fleets.”

 

“But not to the autarch's troops, ser.”

 

“The autarch isn't the real enemy. She never has been. The enemy is the black isle.” Dyrsse takes another sip of the wine. “I was commanded by the Emperor Stesten himself to bring an end to the black city, beginning by destroying the black meddlers' power in Candar.”

 

“That may be, ser. But what about the army, ser? Not a trace of it remains. Not a trace. Three thousand troops and a good force leader lost in the Lower Easthorns, and they're all gone. So are the thousands that were on the ships. What can you say about that?” Gurtel's voice rises slightly, but only slightly. His fingers stray toward the goblet he has not touched, but stop short of the crystal stem.

 

“The same is true there. It took the only other strong wizards from Recluce. One was young, and he is now middle-aged. The other, like the storm wizard, has also aged decades.” Dyrsse lifts his goblet and sips again. “Not a bad wine, though not so good as the Delapran.”

 

“You weren't in that storm, ser.” Gurtel looks at the wine, and his nose twitches, and he shudders ever so slightly.

 

“No, I wasn't. But that storm was within one bay, not in the open sea, and even so, that wizard almost destroyed himself in sinking perhaps fifteen vessels.”

 

“A score and a half is more like it, unless some come limping back.”

 

“The grand fleet has thirtyscore warships, and will put an end to this foolishness.” Dyrsse's voice remains calm, almost flat.

 

“There's a whole isle of wizards, ser.”

 

“No. Recluce has never had more than a handful of real wizards, and now they have less than that. Had they as many wizards as you say, then they would not have required their concealed warships-which we sank, you may recall.”

 

“We sank one, ser. Maybe two, but we couldn't find any traces of the second.”

 

“They only had three, and that leaves them with one ship. No matter how mighty, one invisible ship and five exhausted wizards will not stop the Empire.” Dyrsse takes another sip of wine. “They have not even felt the real might of the Empire. The mighty Stesten has given us a charge, and our duty is to fulfill it.” .

 

Gurtel exhales slowly, and his eyes again look to the west.

 

“Now is the time to destroy these vipers. This is the weakest that Recluce has ever been.”

 

Gurtel shudders.

 

“It is true, and now we have the opportunity to rid the world of this scourge, and we will. It is the Emperor's command.” Dyrsse smiles once more. “We leave for Dellash in the morning. That is where the grand fleet will marshal.”

 

“Yes, ser.”

 

 

 

 

 

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