Fallen - Chapter One

Roz Mufaun, Lieutenant Marshall of the Imperial Army, stood at the crest of a small hill dotted with ancient giant oak trees ablaze with the color of autumn. Though it was hidden from view at the moment, in the forest of giant oaks before him, he knew he had finally located the village that sheltered the key to all he had ever dreamed. This village, Oakhaven the old man had called it, harbored a secret Emperor Hotek had spared no expense to locate: a woman who could see the future. The old man had died in the same breath he’d used to utter the name of the village, despite Mufaun’s attempt to save his life. But he’d gotten the name and all it had cost him was a small mug of Orrish ale.

Emperor Hotek had made his commanders a promise not one of them would be able to easily ignore. “The man who brings me this Seer, shall on that day be given the hand of my daughter, Rianna, in marriage, and become the sole heir of this mighty empire.” The hush that had fallen over those present in the royal hall at Durhamfeld on that occasion would never be forgotten. Mufaun did not long for the throne of Eros-Sur, or aspire to such a place of power, nor did he crave the riches of a kingdom. What Mufaun desired, and had since he first gazed upon her, was Rianna.
The promise made by Emperor Hotek had given hope to a cause Mufaun had never hoped to realize. Rianna knew of his secret love for her, and she had given him only one reason not to pursue her: her heart was not hers to give.

“Prepare the assault. Kill any who resist, enslave the rest but bring the woman to me.” The harsh, cruel command snapped Mufaun from his momentary departure from reality and reminded him of the unfortunate circumstance in which he now found himself.

For months, Mufaun had led his small battalion south through Eros-Sur in search of this seer, turning over every rock and unraveling every tale of this mystic woman, following every lead to this point. Yesterday, he was on the verge of the ultimate discovery. This morning, he woke to the face of his only enemy, Grand Marshall Lukus Rohn, as if he should be glad to see him. Fortunately, his scouts had alerted him to the approaching ally host and its commander, giving him just enough time to prepare for his arrival.

The Grand Marshall’s words pierced Mufaun to the core. He was grateful to be standing with his back to the Grand Marshall. The hatred that burned in his eyes would have been impossible to hide. He hated the man. Hated him like no other. And knowing the snake had followed him in secret to arrive now and claim victory, tortured Mufaun in so many ways. He would not let the wickedness of this man become the future of this empire and all of Eros-Sur. And he would never see him stand next to Rianna. Not today. Not ever.

Mufaun knew the punishment for treason well. Punishment was death after excommunication from the faith. Death. Excommunication. What Emperor Hotek promised for anyone convicted of the crime of treason was an end to life on this world and no chance at a life in the next. He’d seen it served out enough times under the rule of Hotek. But what choice did he have. To let Grand Marshall Rohn return to Durhamfeld with the Seer…Mufaun couldn’t bare to think of all that single act would destroy. He simply couldn’t let that happen. But would the cost of his treason be worth it? Even if he triumphed today, how could he best the greatest army to ever walk Eros-Sur? Mufaun didn’t have the answers, not yet. But in this village, Oakhaven, was a woman who might. He had done what he needed to do, whatever the cost might be.

Mufaun drew his helmet over his head, the tail of golden horse’s hair settling on his shoulders. He slipped the mouthpiece of an ornate battle horn between his lips and sounded the attack.

Five horns answered in turn, their crisp, clear notes slicing through the silent fall morning like a hot knife through fresh churned butter. Mufaun knew each of the horns and the Knight Captain sounding the note through it.

Armies are good at destruction. Under the Grand Marshall, they were superb. One more thing Mufaun hated about the man.

Mufaun kissed the silver medallion hanging around his neck, the Flor de Bastion. Given to him by his mother when he was just a boy, fourteen maybe. Fourteen years old. The army picked its soldiers young, easy to train, easy to mold into whatever the army needed them to become. Mufaun had taken to the life with relative ease. He reveled in the strict discipline, excelled at combat, and made every waking moment a quest for perfection until one spring day in the royal gardens when he came face to face with Rianna. She’d asked him about the medallion then, and he’d told her about the ancient Temple of the Knights Bastion and how he hoped to one day restore the knighthood to its once glorious home. He tucked the medallion into his tunic and climbed onto his horse, a powerful black mare that stood tall and proud, a warrior not unlike her master.

Mufaun knew the Grand Marshall would not trouble himself with the details of the raid. Instead, he trusted his lieutenant and ten knight captains to bring him his glory, as they always had in the past. The Grand Marshall would never suspect Mufaun, along with five of his knight captains, capable of any treachery like what was about to befall him. His pride made him weak. Mufaun knew this and took the advantage it gave him.