Heroes of the Empire, page 1
part #3 of Unari Empire Trilogy Series
Heroes of the Empire
Book Three of The Unari Empire Trilogy
JD Byrne
Heroes of the Empire. Copyright JD Byrne, 2023. All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form whatsoever, except for brief quotations in reviews, without the prior written permission of the author.
First edition.
Cover design by Deranged Doctor Design.
This is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, to real people, living or dead, or to real geographical locales, are intended only to give the fiction a sense of reality and authenticity. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and their resemblance, if any, to real-life counterparts is entirely coincidental.
For all the readers who asked “what’s your next book about?” Well, here you go.
Table of Contents
Part I
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Part II
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Part III
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Part IV
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
A Note from the Author
Other Books by JD Byrne
Part I
We are fated to do wrong
This we cannot stop
What we can control
Is choosing to make it right
Ayrs of Galen, Book 6 Chapter 11.3
Chapter 1
Xaria pulled her cloak tighter around her the closer she got to Jerrod Square. That was partly due to the early-morning chill that had settled around Cye for the past week. When the breeze blew, it knifed through her body as if it might cleave her in two. The cloak could only do so much, but it helped. She’d much rather be at home, next to the fire, with Kaisia and Aton. She had volunteered for this, though, and had to see it through.
The cloak didn’t do as much good making her feel safe in this errand. The emptiness of the square was unsettling at the best of times. It was supposed to be a place full of life, full of people, but Chakat’s crackdown had driven them away. The early-morning light, which left portions of the square in shadow, didn’t help as she made her way across.
The patrols of the Unari Vigilance League had expanded from the area just around Jerrod Square out to cover most of the heart of the city. Roving bands of young men—they were almost always men, from Xaria’s experience—with their red-and-gold armbands and assorted clubs and cudgels, on the hunt for enemies of the Empire. Reports in the less-reputable newspapers said some were now carrying guns, although the official word from the police was that the squads were “unarmed volunteers,” helping to keep order.
Any time she went to the city for supplies, Xaria had run into at least one of the vigilance gangs. The men unnerved her, always staring as she hurried past, but in the middle of the day when there were others on the street, she’d not felt afraid. Now, with the sun barely starting to peek over the hills, the city was just coming awake and the streets were mostly deserted. As she reached the final corner that would take her into Jerrod Square, she counted her good luck in having avoided any gangs so far.
Even if there were fewer roving gangs at this time of morning, the League members who manned the checkpoints in and out of Jerrod Square were still in position. Even Aton was hassled by them when he came home from his last job, just trying to get to the Hotel Voisine to see his employer. Now she was here, nearly face-to-face with them, all by herself.
There were three men at the checkpoint, all in their early twenties, by Xaria’s estimation. She stopped a few paces short, trying to hold them at bay as long as possible.
“Well, what have we here?” one of the men, wearing a shabby brown hat too small for his head, said.
“Papers?” said another, with the mix of boredom and authority that indicated he’d been doing this for a while. Maybe he was in charge.
The third man, squat and round with a scraggly beard, kept quiet but eyed her up and down.
Xaria swallowed hard and pulled a crumpled note from her pocket.
The one in charge snatched it from her hand and gave it a quick glance. “The Voisine, eh? At this time of morning?”
Xaria curtseyed, as much to hide her face than from any attempt at deference. She wasn’t very good at lying, even for a good cause. “I come when I am summoned, sir.” She had to play the role of servant, give this man no reason to look too closely at the note. It was one Aton’s employer had given him when they had met previously at the grand hotel. Aton had modified it just enough that she could use it, so long as no one became too curious.
“Ooh, she was summoned,” said the one with the hat. “I like the idea of having a woman I can make come running any time of the morning.”
Xaria wanted to object to his implication. Before she came to work for Aton as Kaisia’s caregiver, then became his wife, she had done just about every kind of service job imaginable to survive. But she had limits that had kept her clear of men like these, whose minds went first and foremost to their basest desires. She bit her tongue and kept quiet.
“Wonder how much it costs, that kind of service,” said the man with the hat.
“More than you make in a month, if she’s headed for the Voisine,” said the squat round man.
Xaria did her best to look placid and docile. She looked up and held out her hand. “If you please, sir, I am expected. And in somewhat of a hurry.”
There was a long, cold silence as the wind whipped through the square. It gave Xaria an excuse to wrap herself up even more tightly.
The one with the hat reached for her, but the one in charge slapped his hand away. He gave his subordinate a stare that could break glass, while handing the note back to Zaria. “She’s got business with someone who could sell all of us every day of the week. That’s an enemy we don’t need.”
She took the note and tucked it away quickly. “Thank you, sirs,” she said, with a quick nod. “I’ll be about my business.”
They parted as she moved forward, walking as quickly as she thought she could without making it look suspicious. She needed these men to forget about her and didn’t want to give them anything to linger in their minds. She scanned the square, looking to see if any of the other groups manning other barricades had taken notice. None had.
She headed for the Voisine, getting close enough to make eye contact with the doorman, standing out front in his spotless uniform.
He nodded to his right, down the street.
Xaria nodded back, swerving away from the hotel’s front door at the last moment. She turned toward her real destination, the old Imperial jail, and took a few more deep breaths. It was almost time for another performance.
~~~~~
Years ago, not long after she married Obran, he and Ethyna had gone to a party, a fundraising gala, that was held in the old Imperial jail. Parts of the dense maze of cages, some of which dated back to the time of the first Unari kings, had been opened for partygoers to explore while they sipped expensive wine and made pledges of financial support to some worthy cause. All Ethyna remembered about that night was wondering where all the prisoners were. It had been a selling point of the party that the jail was still in use, if not very often. She remembered wondering if they had all been moved out just for the party.
Sitting in her own cell now, Ethyna had figured out the mystery of the missing prisoners—there simply weren’t any. The petty criminals and violent people the police dealt with regularly were kept in another, newer facility on the outskirts of the city. The Imperial jail was only used for special prisoners, those being held by the Imperial Investigation Service or on orders from the emperor. Right now there was only one such prisoner, and it was she. She was charged with a base, common crime, but realized that her case was anything but ordinary.
Ethyna’s cell was in a short hallway, with another empty one directly across from her. There was a high window, so far up she couldn’t see anything out of it. She hadn’t seen the sky in weeks and yearned to feel the sun on her face. A few lanterns hung in the corner of her cell provided soft, flickering light, but it wasn’t enough to keep the damp rock walls from feeling like a tomb. If she was sent to the scaffold, at least that would be outside.
She hadn’t even had a conversation with anyone else since that sorry excuse for an attorney came to visit her. Jailers would come and bring her meals, and take away the waste basin, but did it without any warmth or comment. When she was arrested for Obran’s murder, her access to his fortune had been cut off. It was all she could do to pay the
No one else seemed to care that she was there, nor that she was innocent. No friends had come to see her or tried to write. Her family, hundreds of miles away, hadn’t been able to break through to her, if they were even trying. She knew from the day of her arrest what the papers were saying. Who would come see a woman charged with killing her loving husband just to gain control of his wealth?
So Ethyna was shocked to be awakened from the thin straw pallet laid on a cold stone slab that passed for a bed when the jailer said she had a visitor. Her attorney hadn’t mentioned coming to see her in the last vapid letter he’d sent, so she didn’t think it would be him. But who else could it be? Her mind went to Aton, wondering if he would try to do something and help. Or, perhaps, if he had found Obran, alive and well somewhere. Hope was all she had at this point, so she nurtured it as best she could.
She and the jailer had a routine for moments like these, where he shackled her at the wrists and ankles, as if she were a feral beast that would bolt for open air the first chance she had. What would happen if she tried to run? Would they just track her down and capture her, returning her to her cage? Or would they gun her down, befitting a murderess that most felt was a blight on polite society? Part of her thought it might be worth trying. If she failed and it brought the release of death, would that be so bad?
The few times she’d met with her attorney, Ethyna had been taken to a room that was much like any other in a public building, sparse but functional. There were two armed guards just outside the door, but if Ethyna closed her eyes, she could imagine she was somewhere in Obran’s office building, not feet away from a dungeon.
This time, however, they never made it that far. Instead, the jailer took Ethyna to a room that was accessed by a narrow door made up of iron bars. Inside, it wasn’t much wider, with just enough room for the one chair that was there. In front of the chair was another set of bars, just like the ones in her cell. Beyond, there was a small, regular-looking space, with a closed door and its own chair. Ethyna slipped into the small cage, struggling to sit with any kind of grace while shackled. Behind her, the door clanged as the jailer locked her in.
“Who’s come to see me?” she asked, back over her shoulder.
“Apparently, you have a well-wisher,” he said. “Shows what the Empire’s coming to, I suppose.”
The concept of a well-wisher caught Ethyna by surprise. Before she had a chance to ponder who it could be, the door in the room opposite her opened. A small woman walked through, cloak pulled tight around her shoulders. She had plain features, all but her bright blue eyes that looked to be gateways to a deeper, more thoughtful soul.
“Fifteen minutes, ma’am,” the guard said, closing the door. “No more.”
There was a moment of silence after the door thunked close behind Ethyna’s visitor. She hadn’t moved to sit down yet, as if waiting for Ethyna’s permission.
“You can sit, if you like,” Ethyna said, finally. “You heard the man. We haven’t got a lot of time.”
“Fine,” the woman said, shrugging off her cloak and draping it over the back of the chair before sitting down. “I’ve had a hard time getting here and will surely have a hard time getting back. I’ll take all the rest I can get.”
Ethyna nodded, wondering what she meant, but decided to push past any pleasantries. “If I may be blunt—who are you?”
“Of course,” the woman said, sitting up straight. “I’m from the Cye Justice League.”
“The what?” Ethyna couldn’t suppress a weary laugh.
“It’s a group of concerned citizens who have come together to ensure that those caught up in the Imperial justice system have their rights respected.” It sounded like a well-practiced speech.
“Really?” Ethyna said. “How many concerned citizens are we talking about?”
“Well,” the woman said, looking to the ground. “We are a new organization, but your plight has galvanized our resolve.”
She didn’t have time for games. “How. Many?”
The woman took a deep breath, looked over her shoulder at the closed door, then leaned in closer to the bars. “In truth,” she whispered, “we’ve only two members right now.” She looked Ethyna directly in the eyes. “But we are both very interested in your welfare.”
The emphasis caught Ethyna. She cocked her head. “Two of you?”
“Yes,” the woman said. “Myself and”—she paused—“my husband.”
Ethyna’s eyes went wide. She took another, good close look at this woman. “Oh my gods,” she said as the truth clicked in her mind. “You’re Xaria.”
Xaria sat back and, in a tone much louder than necessary, said, “That’s right, Miss. We’re very concerned about your welfare and your case.”
Ethyna winked, getting with the program. She leaned in close to the bars. “Aton sent you? Why didn’t he come himself?”
“He thinks it’s best if there’s no direct connection between you and him, at least right now,” Xaria said quietly. “It will let him more easily do the work he needs to do.”
“Work?”
“The work of proving you’re innocent,” Xaria said. “Of getting you out of here.”
“I thought—” Ethyna stopped before a lump rose in her throat. “I thought he had a job, with an employer who didn’t let him work for anyone else.”
Xaria shrugged. “He’s between jobs. Trust me, he’s spending every waking hour on trying to find out what happened to your husband.”
She didn’t say “who killed your husband,” Ethyna noted. A ray of hope, even if she knew it was fleeting. “What if he gets called away again?
“Don’t worry about that,” Xaria said, shaking her head.
Ethyna could do nothing but trust this woman, trust Aton. She had nothing more to lose. “Has he learned anything?”
Xaria sat back and returned to her public voice. “We’re aware of what the papers say, Miss. Safe to say, we are equally aware that sometimes the truth of matters is to be found elsewhere.” She leaned in again. “I don’t want to say more, not here. I need to wear down the guards, make this a more routine affair, before we can talk openly. Rest assured, he’s doing everything he can.”
There was a knock on the door and the guard stuck his head in. “Just a few more minutes.”
“Thank you, sir,” Xaria said with theatrical deference.
Ethyna sat back and studied her new ally. What now seemed like years ago, she had called Aton out for leading a kind of double life, using both her and Xaria to fill the void of Kaisia’s mother, Mara, his late beloved. She had told him it wasn’t fair to Xaria, but it hadn’t been fair to her, either. Even though she loved Obran in her own way, Ethyna and Aton had roots that went back decades. She had hoped to call his bluff. He had taken the bait, but didn’t make the choice Ethyna thought, and hoped, he would.
“Can I ask you a personal question?” Ethyna asked.
Xaria stiffened in her seat. “I suppose.”
Part of Ethyna didn’t want to ask this question. She decided that she had to know exactly where she stood with Xaria, whether she could really trust her. “What has Aton told you about me?”
Xaria opened her mouth to say something, stopped, then said, “That you’re his oldest friend. That you grew up together, in poverty. And”—she paused again—“that you’ve been lovers, off and on, over the years.”
Apparently, Aton hadn’t held anything back. “Did he tell you that this was going on while I was married?”
Xaria nodded. “I won’t pretend to know your heart, Ethyna, or know what I would have done under similar circumstances. My history with Aton is odd enough for tongues to wag, should they choose.”
Ethyna felt that dig in.
“I won’t judge you for what you’ve done, assuming you’re actually innocent of this crime, as Aton assures me you are. I trust him.”
“Do you love him?” Ethyna couldn’t stop the question before it flew out of her mouth.
