Empire of the One (Wine of the Gods Book 14) Read online

  Empire of the One

  Pam Uphoff

  Copyright © 2014 Pamela Uphoff

  All Rights Reserved

  ISBN

  978-1-939746-82-5

  This is a work of fiction.

  All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional.

  Any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental.

  Cover credit:

  Design: P. A. McWhorter

  Art: ©Corey A. Ford from Dreamstime.com ID: 20888235

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-one

  Chapter Forty-two

  Chapter Forty-three

  Epilogue

  History of the Empire of the One

  About the Author

  Other Titles by Pam Uphoff

  Excerpt from an Upcoming Release

  Chapter One

  Fall 1393 post exile

  Karista, Kingdom of the West

  "I've been fairly successful at seeing details of other Worlds before I actually open a gate to them. I really don't want dinosaurs wandering through. And I've managed fairly well, within the local area. More distant worlds are more difficult to reach, harder to see before attaching. I can't see across more than a couple of fractures in the structure of the Multiverse." Quicksilver glanced around the table. Her great grandfather, General Rufi Negue was running the meeting, attended by his younger brother King Leano and a pack of advisers. "But the gates we have up already cross numerous fractures, and from them I've been able to locate what I'm pretty sure is One World. I've gotten a good enough look to see buildings with that unicorn symbol on it."

  She touched the battered uniform jacket she'd laid out on the table in front of her. Tapped the embroidered pale horse with the golden horn. "Uni is apparently a word for one in an archaic language, used as a prefix for things that have one, well, in this case one horn. I have heard theories that the symbol may be related to the 'One' they refer to and swear by and use in part of their names. Or maybe that Withione stuff is a title rather than a name. Whether this 'One' is their god or possibly just a word meaning something else in another language . . . We are seriously ignorant of the most basic things about the One World. We know they spied on us. We know they attacked us without provocation."

  She eyed the men at the table. "So the question is, do I now avoid that world or do you want to contact them? Attack them in turn? Or return the favor and spy on them?"

  Colonel Janic, chief of army intelligence, raised his eyebrows and looked at her approvingly.

  The king leaned forward and put his elbows on the table. "Do you have any recommendations?"

  "I think we need a better understanding of their tech. And their magic. And their government—or governments. We worry that the Earth will attack us because of what Auralia did. We should be aware that we could attack the wrong government if we don't have any information to base our decisions on. We have no idea how many governments that world has, and which one attacked us."

  "And if they are at odds, we could find an ally." The king leaned back and looked at Rufi. "Or at least spy on the correct one—and possibly take action against them. Sounds like a good idea to me. What do you think?"

  "I think we should learn all we can about them. What little we've picked up is secondhand from the Earthers or that off and on bit of spying Oscar and Bran managed in Auralia. Their culture seems very . . . strange. But we only saw the bits they put on display for the Amma." Rufi shrugged. "Know your enemy. And we really don't."

  The king's eyes slid back toward Quicksilver and she could see him suppress a smile. She knew she looked even younger than her seventeen years. "Indeed. Yes. Let's learn all we can, in case they decide to invade again."

  ***

  Xen—Endi, for the next several months, and hopefully they'd guessed the Oner names right—wrestled with the slowly spinning cone. It was a natural phenomenon, that only a few of them could see or manipulate. He tried to not let it attach randomly to that other world, that parallel Earth that his sister had identified. She had said that the government buildings marked with the unicorn symbol had been in Europe. So now he looked for the right hemisphere, the right continent, the right section of the continent . . . fighting the cone's tendency to attach. Losing the fight, but still moving it as they fell quickly "down" toward the World, the huge city. Quicksilver—Kail, now, until they returned—was steering them northward, toward the ocean. There were recognizable wharfs, clean and efficient, and back from the wharfs, warehouses, and amongst the warehouses, much less well kept warehouses and an alley lacking people.

  Endi mentally braced himself, as his sister steered the gate to a spot in front of a blank wall and let it stick to the substance of the World.

  Then she held the tail of the cone while Endi hunted down another cone and de-spun it just enough that their tails would twist together. They both pulled the cone to them and it glued itself to the fabric of this World. Endi opened his eyes. A sparkling white whirlpool gleamed in the late afternoon shadows. Nothing else, in this flat grassland. It was an empty world, no people, few animals. Another gate that would take them closer to home was located a hundred miles away. An easily collapsed corridor would aid their escape and at least delay pursuit.

  Gates, once attached, were hard to dislodge. The ten world maze of gates and corridors they'd set up was probably unnecessary, but . . .

  "Five bloody hours." Este—formerly Easterly—muttered. Their ranking officer, even though he was the weakest of the magicians. He had the most experience with other cultures, spoke arbish well, and topped it off with a perfect memory.

  Endi grinned. "Hey, you know magic. Snap of the fingers and it's done." He dusted himself off, while Quicksilver, Kail, did the same. "Could have done it faster, but we were looking for a good spot."

  Deena—Deep Night—Janic eyed the gate, and nodded in satisfaction. "Empty alley. Moderately grubby."

  Without dimensional abilities, she could see through the gate, where he could only see the structure and energy of the phenomenon.

  She turned to their pile of supplies and handed out packs. "Food, gold, garnets, diamonds." She was a witch, not as well trained in magic as she should be, a Half Moon. She was the best trained and experienced intelligence officer of them all.

  Heil—Heliotrope back home—was also a Halfmoon level witch, a civilian roped i
n because her biological father was from One World. She had one copy of the Oner's power gene, and that might prove crucial. The three witches working together would be an order of magnitude more powerful than they were alone. Which was a bit scary, when you thought about Quicksilver.

  As a group, they sometimes made Endi wonder why he was along. Like the dogs, for protection. Heil's stepfather had sent along a pair of Hell Hounds. Endi had them stored in extra dimensional bubbles, like their horses, and hoped they wouldn't need any of them. Nor me pulling a sword on anyone.

  "We should at least go through long enough to hide the gate under an illusion." Este said. "And perhaps see if anyone has noticed it."

  So, big sword swinging guy, do your thing. Endi stepped through the Gate, the others on his heels.

  Chapter Two

  Taupo, New Zealand, Pacific Region

  3 Furkan 1395 Year of the Prophets

  ". . .and you will be the next President of the Empire."

  Izzo ran a hand through his short blonde hair. "Lady Heum, you know you’re not supposed to attempt personal fortune telling." His favorite sword was in a display rack over the bookcase. Pity it was a sport blade. Blunt rolled tip, the edges unsharpened. He could neither fall on it nor slash his wrists.

  "Oh, but you’re so alone! I thought I’d help." She pouted her purple stained lips and hunched her pink clad shoulders. The thick layer of makeup failed altogether to hide the wrinkles of advancing age. "I’m quite certain that if you leave now and take that Paris job, you’ll at least find True Love. You’re just ripe for career advancement, but you’re getting on a bit for a first marriage. You should get out more. And there's a huge wave of potential over Paris, right now!"

  Potential for mayhem, if half the dreams around here are prescient.

  Lady Heum blinked and rubbed her forehead. "You have to go find that man, you have to save . . . someone. You . . . Sorry, was I mumbling?"

  Izzo stomped hard on a sudden spurt of adrenaline. One! I hate it when a serious precog hits. Especially when it involves me. Or seems to. "You" could be anyone. Really.

  "Lady Heum, you are one of our best Diviners, but even so, personal futures are very unreliable, second only to deliberate attempts to force the subject of a precog. Doing both just isn’t a good idea. So why don’t you have a little meditation before lunch. I’m sure you’ll see it’s all for the best. And while you're meditating, if you must think about an individual, perhaps you might consider the president?"

  He escorted her graciously to the door and bowed her out. Closed the door behind her and leaned back on it.

  "I really need to get out of the Precog and Divination department." That wasn't a real precog. It was not aimed at me. Oh Bloody One! What someone am I supposed to save? My True Love?

  There was a snicker from the side room. Ydro was his assistant, AKA recorder, filer, cross-filer and search expert. He was a very bright young man, a Neartuone. The boy’d lucked out, getting a better than average spread of Prophets' genes from his high Halfer mother and Clostuone father. And genes for intelligence from both sides.

  "But all the old ladies love you, and they're all trying so hard to find the right girl for you." Computer keys clicked. "Umm, no jobs open at your grade in the Colonies. There’s a real plum in Interior Relations, though. Central District. Senior Analyst."

  "Jump straight to Paris? I was thinking a colony position first, not Homestead so my accent doesn't backslide. Paris . . . " He glanced out his window at the trees and mountains. According to the authorities, strong psychics needed isolation and tranquility. Long solitary walks in untrammeled forests. In his experience, they mostly sat out on shaded patios admiring the scenery from a distance while they gossiped.

  "Besides, Paris Interior Relations is mostly internal spying on the political scene, hunting for the next conspiracy. Not my preferred sort of analysis. And a senior analyst at the Directorate level is a big jump in grade from a senior analyst in Precog. Plus they'll want someone with more relevant experience than I have."

  "Your accent is fine, now, maybe even a little too snooty. In Paris, you'll fit right in. Think of the adventure. You too could take part in the next purge. Find out what all this precog turmoil and potential is all about." Ydro grinned. "Discover who really sank the old president's re-election."

  "That was pure serendipity, a dumb clerk sending the wrong files to the wrong person." The challenge . . .

  "Ha! So, how are you going to get ahead without going to Paris? You’d be great at ‘the game,’ you know." Ydro sounded wistful.

  "I’d rather be ambitious in a smaller pond, thank you. Especially with the mixed bag of precogs we've had lately. War and blood. No thank you." Must be realistic . . . But I could do it . . .

  "And you could take me with you. Think about all the opportunities I’d have in Paris."

  A rapid tapping at the door made Izzo jump. He swung it open. Heum was back, with Lady Jeep and Lady Hoax. Jeep was in orange. Hoax was in everything, at least three layers of it.

  "They had precogs too!"

  "About the president?"

  Hoax dismissed that with a wave. "No, no. Your True Love! It's very exciting; you had a target on your back!"

  Izzo looked over at the smirking Ydro. "Shoot my CV off to that plum job, will you?" He looked back at the ladies. Sighed. "Come in and tell me all about it."

  "Oh, Sweetie, it’s a good one!" Jeep reached over and pinched his cheek.

  Chapter Three

  Le Havre, Europe, One World, Empire of the One

  Winter 1394 Post Exile

  2 Muharram 1396 Year of the Prophets

  Endi stepped through the gate and took his first deep breath of the air of an industrial city. Petrol exhaust, ozone, dust, rubber, wharfs, brain-fried staggering drunks . . .

  "See, tol ya it was Aliens beaming down to eat our brains. But did you run? Noooooo . . . " the man, bald on top with the faded remains of grey hair straggling greasily down to his shoulders paused in puzzlement, possibly with the realization that he hadn't run either.

  "The more things change, the more they stay the same. Morning, gentlemen." Endi glanced over his shoulder, and tossed a quick illusion behind him. The gate was turned a bit away from the three men, and from the back it would have looked like he'd stepped out of thin air. The illusion would keep it that way, until they'd figured out where to put it. He pulled out a hip flask, uncorked it and handed it across the alley. Fortunately the only people to see them arrive weren't reliable witnesses. In fact, they were probably the most useful people the newcomers could have encountered.

  The three . . . winos or whatever they were called here, passed the flask around, and handed it back. Empty, of course.

  "Good stuff! Well hey, I guess you Space Aliens aren't so bad after all."

  His language was a mix of Arbish and Anglish. Perfectly understandable, and no doubt they'd quickly pick up which words were supposed to be which language.

  The two others nodded.

  "Got any more of that?" the one with the dark hair asked.

  "Not with me, I'm afraid." Endi shrugged. "And I just got here, so I don't know anything about the money here, either. What do they use for money? Do you know where I can sell some gold?"

  He glanced back, the gate was now flat against a wall of what looked like thin rippled metal sheets, the wall of a warehouse or some such, a single door further down looked unused. Q . . . no, Kail turned away from a spot where the illusion covering the gate now matched the metal of the building, bumped out a few inches.

  I really have to not even think about the old names.

  The trio of winos were splitting their attention between Endi and the prospect of more alcohol, and the three women.

  The one with the short hair grinned, showing horrible teeth, and stepped toward Kail.

  He bumped into a solid shield, and Kail shook her head. "Space Alien women kill their mates and feed them to their spider children. We will try to refrain from molesting
you."

  Short hair looked like that hadn't percolated through his stewed brains. He shoved a couple more times then gave up and followed the allure of vino.

  They followed the winos a few blocks, watching the neighborhood change from warehouses to old warehouses to shabby businesses. Further on there seemed to be some concrete apartments amongst small old houses. The reek of broken sewers joined the mix.

  The first wino was explaining about cash cards. "I dunno how a Space Alien would go about getting an ID card—that's an identification card—or a bank account, so you just stick to the cash cards and everything will be fine."

  Endi followed him into a building with barred windows and a loud buzzer that apparently signaled a lock unlocking. Electricity. I'll bet everything runs on it. The rest of them stayed on the street, looking around. Their riding clothes, apart from the rather pointy toed boots fit in reasonably well in this shabby neighborhood, but they were still drawing attention.

  Inside, a man gave him a sharp look over, weighed and measured the gold cube he handed over, and handed him a card, a bit smaller than a poker card, in exchange. The wino seemed to think that was the end of the exchange and led the way back out.

  On the sidewalk, his companions were watching a beefy black haired man walking toward them, two pals at his shoulders. On both sides of the street a few other men were doing the 'just showing up and lounging around' act.

  It was more than enough to ring his alarm bells. Endi stepped up beside Este.

  "So, you new around here?" Black-hair asked. He looked the women over and nodded appreciatively. "Nice, but this is my territory, and only my women work here."

  "We just got into town and we're not in the business. We'll be out of here in a few minutes." Este was taller and broader than the local man, but Endi was willing to bet the Oners were seeing just two men, against what looked like at least eight Oners. If necessary, the error of their assumptions would be impressed upon their bodies. Forcibly. But Endi didn't want the witches doing anything noticeable, if the local women weren't trained to fight. He half closed his eyes. The leader had a faint glow, the other men even less. Huh. No magic. Well, I suppose I ought not be too surprised. That's how it is at home, too. A range of magic. Just because their first probes were with strongly magic people, I shouldn't have leaped to the conclusion that they were all strong. They sent their best, their strongest, just as we now have. Their army was more ordinary, probably more representative of their whole population, not that we had the time to check them out, in the middle of a battle.