For twenty years civil war has torn the Empire apart; the Imperial line extinguished as the mad Emperor Quintus burned in his palace, betrayed by his greatest general. Against a background of war, decay, poverty and violence, men who once served in the proud Imperial army now fight as mercenaries, hiring themselves to the greediest lords.
On a hopeless battlefield that same general, now a mercenary captain tortured by the events of his past, stumbles across hope in the form of a young man begging for help. Kiva is forced to face more than his dark past as he struggles to put his life and the very Empire back together. The last scion of the Imperial line will change Kiva forever.
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Interregnum deals with the redemption of a man single-handedly responsible for the death of an Emperor and the fall of the Empire. A chance meeting on a battlefield throws together Kiva Caerdin, once a great General and now a hollow and bitter mercenary captain, and Quintillian, a young man fleeing from imprisonment. As events unfold and Caerdin's true history and the enormity of what he has done become clear, other revelations include the identity of the young boy as the last of the Imperial line.
The mercenaries take on the commission to return the boy to safety and, by doing so, place themselves in the greatest danger of their lives. The journey on which they are about to embark will change not only their own lives, but the future of the Empire.
Meanwhile, on the small penal island from which Quintillian has escaped, further events unfold that will bring the greatest general of the modern age into conflict with the greatest general in history. The prize before them: The future of the Empire itself.
Excerpt
“the man continued forward, his two weapons ready and swinging as he moved. Athas stood still, arms remaining folded. Quintillian tugged on the medic’s arm.
“This isn’t good” he said urgently. “Why isn’t the captain helping?”
Mercurias grinned back at him.
“He doesn’t need any help. Can’t you see that?”
The large man finally broke his slow advance and ran at Athas, the mace high and ready to drop and the sword jutting forwards at chest height. Athas continued to stand until the last moment, when he shifted his weight slightly to the left, stepped forward inside the reach of the blade and, unfolding his arms, jammed the fork he’d been holding into the man’s throat. The momentum carried the two forward a couple more paces, the fork tearing skin as the movement jarred them both. As they stopped, the big man stared down in shock and the weapons toppled from his hands. He reached both arms toward Athas, who merely waggled the fork, still buried in the man’s neck. His other finger waved in front of the enemy as though scolding a naughty child.
“Ah Ah. Play nice” he said sweetly.
The big man’s hands dropped slowly to his sides. Athas smiled at him.
“I’m now going to remove the fork” he said slowly and clearly. “You’re going to have to reach up very quickly and grasp your throat to prevent too much blood loss. After that you’re going to leave. We have a medic in the corner, but I doubt he’ll feel inclined to help you.”
Mercurias laughed as Athas continued. “I noticed an apothecary on the way into town. If you can get there without too much blood loss, you’ll be alright, but it’ll cost you a packet and you may never speak again, coz I think I touched your voice box. Be happy. I could have stuck your windpipe. Ready?”
The big man, a stunned and stupefied look on his face, nodded, causing him to wince as a fresh gout of blood pumped out around the fork.
“Go!”
Athas removed the utensil with a bold, sweeping stroke and a great quantity of dark blood splashed onto the floor. A fraction of a second later, Jorun was out of the tavern, one hand clutching his throat very tight. The sergeant bent down and gingerly, trying to avoid the bulk of the blood, picked the two weapons up from where they lay. He tossed the mace onto the bar.
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