| Chronicles of History |
Death of an Emperor |
|
Mangkrah nar Caxki, the Chosen of Sivar, Emperor of the Kilrathi,
and Clan Chief of the nar Caxki, coughed into his paws. Lifting
his
paws, he saw that there was blood on them. He frowned, as
he felt the
slight pain in his breathing. His left leg ached where he
once took a
shot from a Terran. In fact, he felt incredibly sore and
tired.
Mangkrah sighed. His body carried the scars of a hundred
battles and a
hundred duels, and now, it is approaching its limit. Although
merely six
eights in age, still in his prime by Kilrathi standards, Mangkrah
had
been diagnosed with a rare, incurable disease half a year ago.
The virulent disease had spread rapidly through his body
and his
health had declined sharply. Muscles atrophied and each breath
was drawn
with a small stab of agony. Less than half a year ago, he
had hunted the
game preserves unarmed, now the very act of walking is one that
requires
a heroic effort.
Clenching his jaws tightly to endure the pain, Mangkrah lift
himself off the furred cot and walked to the wall-sized view-port.
He
turned off the lights in the chamber and even as darkness fill
the room,
so did the lights from a thousand stars in the vast space beyond
the
view-port.
Mangkrah stared and wondered which yellow star is Sol, which
shined upon the homeworld of his sworn enemy, the Terrans.
Ah, the
Terrans. Such a strange race. Hairless apes, foolish
and unaware of the
true meaning of honor and glory. How dare such a race usurp
the rightful
rule of the Kilrathi!? Mangkrah had sworn to uphold the heritage
of a
honorable Kilrathi and annihilate the Terrans.
As Mangkrah stared, he smiled to himself. He had come
a long way
from the clueless cub that once wore the armor of a Kilrathi marine.
Courage in battle brought him honor and glory and elevated his
place in
his clan. Then came the terrible tragedy at Kilrah that left
the nar
Caxki clan and the entire Empire headless. Worse, that spineless
traitor
Melek nar Kiranka had dare to surrender to the Terrans!!
For days, Mangkrah had isolated himself in his quarters,
fasting
in terrible despair. Then, he saw his destiny and his burden.
He knew
that other nobles secretly joked of his visions as little more
than
hallucinations born of an emotionally stressed mind and a starving
body,
but he knew it to be a true revelation. Sivar had chosen
him. He would
lead the true warriors.
In the long years since that vision, he had first unify the
children of Sivar and then led them in repeated campaigns against
the
humans.
Pain flared through his body again, and he sank to his knees.
"O
Sivar," he whispered fervently, his voice hoarse with emotions,
"Lord of
Glorious War and Most Honorable. Grant thy servant strength
to carry the
burden to the end…" Mangkrah sighed, so little time and yet
so much left
to do… He felt tired, exhausted, he closed his eyes…
Mangkrah did not know how long he had knelt before the view-port
and drifted between sleep and semi-consciousness. He dreamt
of the
battles of his youth. He saw old comrades that had long died
and
remembered the sounds of battle. Something nagged at him…
Something is
wrong… He opened his eyes and yet the sounds of the battle
remained!
There was the familiar sounds of small arms fire outside!!
Even as
Mangkrah got up the door behind him crashed open.
Before he could turn around, his attacker was upon him. Mangkrah
felt
the sharp metal edges entering him, slicing through the muscles
of his
lower back, cleaving its way through his spine. For a splitting
second
that seemed to last an eternity, Mangkrah saw the tips of multi-pronged
Kilrathi spear extending out in front of his body. The bright
sharp
edges of the spear was garnished with the scarlet of his own blood.
As
the unknown attacker pulled out the spear, Mangkrah slumped to
the floor,
his eyes open, but no longer seeing
Mangkrah nar Caxki, the Chosen of Sivar, Emperor of the Kilrathi,
and
Clan Chief of the nar Caxki coughed blood again, then died.
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