Political Espionage: The Game of Survival
Part 2 of 4
Larek stood atop worn stone bell tower, watching the scene play out before him, a night he would never forget. Dawn was just breaking, leaving behind the evil menacing landscape. The night had been dark, darker than any known in Antarian history, even the stars were swallowed by the ebony film that covered the sky. He could see Ki’var pacing the expanse, examining the events below from all the different angles.
The distance between the outer walls of the complex and the palace itself was forty miles; the terrain was a mixture of perfectly manicured gardens, lakes, dense thick forests, and rolling hills of long grains. Before his men were done crimson would become the predominate color staining the ground while bodies of the fallen would become the new flora. The inner sea snaked it way up, the mouth of the river Jazel, edging the palace on the southern edge. Ki’var could see his men already in place spanning the width of the channel blocking any escape.
The royal fighters had begun their passes dropping energy balls in the surrounding areas trying to cut off Ki’var’s men before they reached the outer walls. Rebel fighters soon round the Mountains of Nathur and the dogfights began in earnest. Every once in a while a fighter would explode; the remains would rain down on the battlefield below.
His men were already in the palace, as Ki’var watched in glee as the east outer wall fell, the rumble shook the ground, dust choke out the sun. Larek had no choice but to stand there and watch the home world of his mother’s family destroyed. This was only the beginning, although his own home world, that of his birth and of his father’s ancestors, would be spared from the future wars, his payment in silver from Ki’var for his betray. Larek knew the other planets in the federation would be attacked upon Antar’s fall. No longer would there be a King to protect them, and if the granolith fell into Ki’var’s hands, the results would be catastrophic. Ki’var would push the envelope, igniting war after war across the galaxy bringing down the meek and the strong alike. He would use the Grandolith, use the power for evil and in the end no one would be able to stop him.
Larek watched with disgust as Vilandra enter the overlook, the wife of the great warrior Rath, reduced now to nothing but a common sex slave. They were all his slaves, his minions to obey him, if not by ones means then by another. Their free will was stolen from them, they had relinquished their souls to the devil, to the Lucifer of Antar, Ki’var himself.
Vilandra could hear the screams of the people, the blasts and explosions from the servant’s village, and the screeching of the fighters overhead, yet in her mind these were nothing more than the birds chirping while she and Ki’var had a lovely picnic on the lawn watching a play. Ki’var was powerful in his ability to mind warp, creating an illusion that beguiled and deluded Vilandra, her mind weaken from the drugs he supplied her through his connection to the staff that prepared her food. The drugs were slowly administered over the last three months, when he took her for the first time in his arms he gave her a large dose combined with the invasion of her mind locking it to his.
Vilandra smiled sweetly sipping her imaginary tea and munching on a nonexistent sandwich. “It was so lovely for Zan to give you the day off my love.” Vilandra purred to Ki’var motioning for him to sit next to her. “How is your position as my brother’s new advisor and only advisor I might add.”
“Fine my dearest Vilandra,” Ki’var leaned over and squeezed her breast, taking down the material feeling the flesh under his palm as he dropped her dress to the floor.
Larek finally tore his eyes away from the spectacle as Ki’var stripped her of clothes forcing her to strand naked before the men. Vilandra felt the cool breeze flow over her exposed breasts; a sudden gust caused her hair to fall out of place. She adjusted her crown, a crown she must wear since she was, after all, the reigning Queen of Antar. Zan had given up his throne to Ki’var; the announcement would be made tomorrow during a great banquet.
When Larek turned, the worse was yet to come as he was faced with the death below him. As Vilandra continued her spiel, the lie about Zan, Larek watched his friend fight for his life. Quickly he was transfixed on the deaths of those that had trusted him, those that had treated him as family. He watched the Royalty of Antar executed one by one in battle. The first to die was Rath; the warrior vicious and victorious in battle after battle, famed throughout Antar went out in a blaze of fire taking his enemy with him. Larek took a gulp of dry air as he watched a man he admired for so long fall slowly to the ground, his body consumed by fire in a slow agonizing death.
From the other direction, Larek’s eyes were drawn to his deepest and oldest friend Zan who was the next to die. Larek watched as Zan desperately fought to protect his mother. His shield began to fluctuate widely as his powers were dissipated. Within seconds after his shield dropped, his body was consumed immediately by an onslaught of soldiers, each vying to carve out his own piece of the King as a trophy. It took only a small fraction of time, a few blinks of the eye for the call to go out that the King was dead.
Larek dropped his eyes as the soldiers stood, the ground was stained rich in crimson, blood copper permeated the nostrils; his friend was laid strewn about. It was more than he could handle, how did he allow himself to be blackmailed so easy, to be laced into this predicament. He turned and climbed the stairs down to the main floor, all about him chaos ensued as the soldiers looted and raped the place. No one was safe not even the Queen, who was caught off guard, an act of friendly fire. Her neck was broken then her dead body defile as drunken animals one by one had their way with her.
Ki’var only smiled and laughed when he heard she had died, it meant nothing to him; she would have been killed anyway. What he wanted was the power and now he had it, that and his ticket to the throne Vilandra, the King’s sister and the wife of Rath. Sadly as is the case with the need to dominate others, she too was duped like Larek. Drugs were added in small doses to her food through the acts of a kitchen worker loyal to Ki’var. The drugs slowly poisoned her mind, clouding it and dropping her defensive powers. She yielded herself to Ki’var to become his slave, it was her also that gave away the secrets, it was she that led them into the locked city that fateful night, through the passages into the very heart of the palace itself.
Vilandra watch dispassionately as her husband and brother died the drugs having created a zombie like effect. She smiled as but soon the drug subsided; her body began to tingle as the numbness wore off. It did not take long for reality to hit Vilandra, and once when he realized that she had betrayed her husband and brother the guilt set in. Before Ki’var or anyone could stop her she screamed like a banshee, a scream of pain, a scream of remorse she ran right off the edge of the tower, flung her body onto the pavement below. Within seconds, her body was hacked to pieces, the mob of whipped in a frenzy were slaughtering any and all royal blood in sight.