The Oracle (Fargo Adventures 11)

Beware the third charge …

“To my brother!” Gelimer cried to his men. “Protect him at all costs.”

His cavalry galloped forward, scattering Romans in every direction. The Vandal warriors were superior horsemen and unparalleled with the sword, driving the enemy back as Tzazon battled a giant of a man.

The two fought bitterly, their swords clashing. The giant thrust his blade at Tzazon but missed. He tried to right himself, but Tzazon drove his sword into his enemy’s shoulder, knocking him from his mount. As the man hit the ground, his sword fell from his grip. For the first time, Gelimer felt as though his Vandal Army had the upper hand.

Even Tzazon must have felt it. As he surveyed the battlefield, searching for the next Roman to kill, he caught sight of Gelimer. When their eyes met, Tzazon lifted his sword, crying out, “Hail to the King!”

Behind him, the giant stirred, grabbing his sword.

“Tzazon,” Gelimer shouted.

Tzazon reined his horse around. Too late. The giant’s sword arced toward him, striking his side between the plates of his armor. Tzazon faltered, his look one of surprise, as the giant thrust again, then pulled the blade from Tzazon’s ribs. Tzazon’s sword slipped from his grasp. He clutched his wound, staring at the blood. His horse, sensing the change in his master, suddenly reared, throwing him from the saddle.

“Tzazon,” Gelimer cried as his brother struggled to his feet. A new strength surged through Gelimer’s veins. He slashed at every Roman that came between them, the men falling in his wake. The giant leered when he saw Gelimer charging. He hefted the mighty blade and brought it crashing down on Tzazon’s neck.

Gelimer’s heart clenched. His pulse roared in his ears. He charged faster, driving his sword into the giant’s chest, watching as he stumbled backward, dead before he hit the ground.

Gelimer slid from his horse, staring at his brother’s fallen body. The battle raged on around him. The sounds dimmed, the world darkened.

“My Lord,” Euric called. “We need orders.”

Gelimer heard nothing.

“My King,” Euric grabbed him by his shoulder. “Your men await your orders.”

“All that is left is shadow …” He dropped to his knees. The battlefield was littered with the Vandal dead. His men. Tzazon’s men. “Naught remains but vanity …” He struggled to breathe. “Tzazon …”

“He’s dead,” Euric said. “And you will suffer the same fate if we don’t get out of here.” Euric pulled him to his feet.

Gelimer remembered nothing afterward. Somehow, he found himself on horseback, following Euric, while the remnants of the Vandal Army fled in every direction.

CHAPTER ONE

A journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step.

– CHINESE PROVERB –

THE PRESENT DAY

La Jolla, California

Sam Fargo checked the figures for the second time. No doubt about it. There were several discrepancies in the accounting of the money that the Fargo Foundation had sent to fund an archeological dig in Tunisia. “It doesn’t look good.”

His wife, Remi, leaned toward the computer screen, her green eyes troubled as she scrutinized the numbers. She tucked a lock of auburn hair behind her ear, then suddenly rose, pacing the floor behind him. “How could this have happened? Renee LaBelle is one of my oldest friends. I can’t just pick up the phone and start asking all these questions. It’ll sound like I’m accusing her.”

Sam swiveled his desk chair around to face her. Remi and Dr. Renee LaBelle had been roommates at Boston College and friends ever since. “As long as you

two have known each other? I doubt she’ll take offense. But if we don’t reconcile our figures with hers, we’re all going to have issues at tax time.”

Remi stopped, looking at the monitor. “At least she backs up everything with ledgers. I remember her saying they had problems when they switched over to that new accounting program. That was right around the same time. Maybe there was a glitch. Something must have gotten entered wrong.”

A very big glitch. And several somethings, Sam thought. A year ago, when Remi had suggested that the Fargo Foundation fund Renee LaBelle’s archeological dig at Bulla Regia, he’d been against it from the very beginning. Though he and Remi had started the charitable organization to take on worthy projects of this type, he knew from experience that good friendships didn’t always survive the discovery of bad money management. He’d mentioned this at the time, but Remi had her heart set on helping her friend, and had assured him that Renee LaBelle’s past archeological projects had been very successful.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case now. “We won’t know anything until we sit down with her and go over the figures,” he said. “Tell Renee our accountant is the one asking the questions. Like a tax thing. Which it is.” Sam glanced at the clock. Just after ten in the morning. “What are they, eight hours ahead?” He picked up Remi’s smartphone from the desk, handing it to her.

She pulled up a chair next to Sam. “Phone call or video? Video,” she said before he could answer. “That’s a little more personal. Don’t sit too close. If she sees you, she’ll think we’re ganging up on her.”