Martin Greenberg - If I Were an Evil Overlord

“It will be done, My Exaltedness.”

And Khazerai had thought that would be the end of the matter. However, a few weeks later, as he had been deciding whether to expand his empire to the east, where the Torlingan horsemen roamed the grassy plains, or to the west over the mountains, long rumored to be a land of untold wealth and strange, foreign races, his lieutenant strode up and bowed low before the Throne of Black Blades.

“Most Powerful One, I have news from the Western Marches.”

“Whatever about? Is the mud harvest especially good this year?” Khazerai asked, having long forgotten about the son of the assistant pig tender.

“Remember that orphaned boy who swore revenge against you?”

Khazerai looked up from his maps. “Orphan, orphan-something about swine, wasn’t it? What about him?”

“He has eluded or ambushed several patrols, claiming that they are a tool of the Evil Empire-”

Which they are, but calling my realm evil is a bit much, Khazerai thought.

“-and people in the area are already talking about him as a leader of the small group of rebels in the mountains there.”

Well, that won’t do at all, Khazerai thought. “Increase the bounty to fifty khaz and send a troop of my Night Guards down there to eliminate this local pestilence. Also, if he really wants to come after me, I expect he’ll need some weapons training. Instruct your men to find all of the weapons masters and either hire them or remove them.”

Khazerai was about to turn back to his maps when a thought struck him. “You know, not that I don’t trust our men’s abilities, but I do believe in being thorough. Hire a squad of Ladian assassins and send them there as well. Do not let either group know of the other’s mission. We’ll see who gets him first.”

“Immediately, Exalted One.”

With that Khazerai turned his mind back to more pressing matters. Two of his overbarons had been squabbling for weeks over a border dispute, and he decided to tour both holdings, to see for himself what the best way to handle the matter would be. During his month-long tour, he discovered malfeasance on both sides and promptly arrested both men and had them put to death, installing easily controlled puppet rulers in each one’s place.

But that had taken up an inordinate amount of his time, and he had scarcely returned to the gates of the Ebon Citadel when his lieutenant ran up, sweaty and disheveled.

“Forgive me, My Master, but this pig tender’s son-”

“Who?”

“The one who swore revenge on you a few months back when the local guards killed his family for nonpayment of taxes.”

“Ah, yes, been killed, has he?”

“No, I’m afraid not. In fact, there are several fiefdoms that are fomenting open revolt against the empire. They are led by this youth, who claims to have brought back the power of the gods to Cauldera.”

“What? What about the Night Guards that were sent over to kill him?”

“Lured into a trap in the mountains and crushed under an avalanche.”

“And the Ladians?”

“Um, well, that’s partially how he’s claiming to have brought the gods back, My Majesty. Apparently, while they were able to poison him, friends of his managed to find the leaves of the rare deusex plant, make the even rarer antidote, and save his life. He claims that during the time he was suffering from the poison’s effects, he spoke to the gods, and was charged with bringing their might back to your lands, and also eradicating the quote blight of evil unquote that hangs over Cauldera.”

“How melodramatic. Well, if it’s a fight he wants, then let’s give it to him. Assemble the Third, Fourth, and Fifth Dark Brigades and send them to the Western Marches. Scour the land and destroy this boy and anyone that stands with him. Do not take any prisoners, do not bring him back alive. Just kill him. Handle this yourself.” For a moment, Khazerai was seized by the mad impulse to add, “and you know the penalty for failure,” but with an effort, he restrained himself. However, in the back of his mind, he wondered where did that come from ? Of course his soldiers knew the penalty for failure; demotion and, if they really screwed up, corporal punishment. He wouldn’t just kill them on a whim because they couldn’t complete one assignment. Good lieutenants were always hard to find, and killing the ones he had out of pique wouldn’t help morale at all. Perhaps this pig tender’s boy is bothering me more than I’d like to admit. However, I’m sure that this will be the end of the matter.

Unfortunately, that was not the case. Although Khazerai’s lieutenant did return with the charred remains of what he swore was the body of the rebel leader, along with a fairly stirring account of how the Dark Brigades had flushed the rebels out, encircled them, and burned almost all of them alive, reports over the next few months kept popping up about sightings of the leader of the rebels, the populace’s new messiah. Khazerai speculated that either the peasants were trying to keep his memory alive as a martyr, or the tenacious little bastard had somehow escaped the trap, and was running around sowing discontent throughout his empire. Neither option was acceptable to him, and so the chase was on.

“Dispatch a Shade Legion to every location where this assistant pig tender’s son has been sighted and track him down. I want his head-nothing else-delivered to me within the next month.”

But even that hadn’t worked. Oh, his legions had done their job well, wreaking fear and terror throughout the populace wherever they marched, but the assistant pig tender’s son, through some arcane legerdemain, managed to escape several dire predicaments, such as:

– When his legions had trapped the youth in a network of caves and then flooded the entire complex, drowning several dozen miners and their families.

– Another time when his Twilight Riders had harried him to the cliffs overlooking the Teglan Sea and one of them had even wounded him with a lucky shot from a crossbow (earning him an increase in rank; Khazerai always believed in promoting from within) and sent him plunging two hundred feet into the churning waters.

– And the time when one of his most trusted vassals had actually captured the youth alive and thrown him in jail. Apparently this lord had not gotten the “kill on sight” memo, for by the time a messenger had been sent informing Khazerai of the capture (he hadn’t even finished reading the message before sending a three-word message back- Kill him immediately ), the boy had escaped, getting the vassal killed in the confusion.

And on it went, with the assistant pig keeper’s son escaping mortal situation after situation, sometimes sacrificing a trusted companion, but always popping up after Khazerai was sure he had been killed. And always along the way, he gathered followers to his cause like bees to honey.

Like vultures to a dead carcass, if I have my way, Khazerai thought. He couldn’t believe the boy’s luck, and a small part of him wondered if indeed this one was protected by the gods. Shaking his head, he dismissed the thought-the gods were no more, Khazerai himself had seen to that.

So then, what to do with this boy? Whatever he was going to do, it had better be quick, as Khazerai now heard the clang of sword on shield and the shouts of the victorious, and the screams of the dying right outside his main chamber. And I’m sure he’s there, leading the way, just like in the legends…

The thought gave Khazerai pause, just as he was also resisting an insane urge to go out there and to see if he could lend a hand. Direct confrontation had never been his style, he always preferred using the more subtle arts to achieve his goals and, failing that, following up with the army. But it would appear that my army is in the process of being routed, which doesn’t leave many options. Flight wasn’t an option, for even if he could make it out of the Ebon Citadel, his face was known throughout the empire, for in a moment of supreme egotism several years ago he had ordered his own face placed on all the coins-well, that, and to stop the rampant counterfeiting that had been happening. Regardless, he wouldn’t be able to go as far as the next county without being caught. Surrender? Not likely, as they no doubt would tear him limb from limb before he could even reach trial, assuming that they would even bother with such a formality, and not just try to burn him alive.