Forgotten Hero

by Brian Murray

  ***

  The Rhaurien army started arriving at the watering hole at dusk. Membis welcomed King Logan to his camp and his tent. Informed of Phadrine custom the king, after discussing the matter with General Gordonia, went to Membis’s tent. The two leaders shared a goblet of Daarina, a very strong alcoholic drink, and talked, with General Gordonia interpreting.

  King Logan enjoyed his evening with the old clan leader and around high moon returned to his tent quite merry, joined by the two generals.

  “That was a most enjoyable evening,” said the king. “Please would you give my thanks to Membis for his hospitality?”

  “Of course, your Highness,” answered General Gordonia, who was under strict instructions from the Chosen to treat the king with the same respect he would show him.

  “We have reached the first stage of our crossing, which way now?”

  “The next location is to the southeast. It will take us two days marching to reach the watering hole, so we must fill all available barrels.”

  “Brooks, can you arrange that, please?”

  “Of course, Sire.”

  “Thank you, gentlemen, I will see you tomorrow.”

  “Good night, your Highness.”

  “Good night, gentlemen.”

  The Daarina ensured that the king slept soundly for the entire night.

  ***

  Within three hours of marching, snow had covered Zane and his such that they appeared like mobile snowmen mounted on horses slowly crunching through the thick powder. All day the white flakes fell, covering the horses’ tracks, masking their route.

  As dusk loomed, the group found a cave where they lit a life-saving fire. Gan-Goran busied himself making a hot stew while the others tended to the horses.

  Tanas started to curse under his breath.

  “What are you muttering about, Tanas?” asked Zane.

  “Oh, nothing really, but whose great idea was it to come east? At least on the Steppes we could have had sun on our skin. But, oh no, we decide we’re better off pretending to be goddamn snowmen.”

  Everyone laughed and the mood in the cave lightened. Soon the men sat around the fire, enjoying Gan-Goran’s stew.

  “Tell me, Zane,” enquired Thade casually, “are you courting a maiden?”

  Zane nearly choked on his mouthful of stew and frowned suspiciously. “Why do you ask?”

  “Only making conversation,” Thade answered innocently.

  “Well, if you must know, yes I am,” Zane said meekly.

  “Who is she? How does she spend her days? Is she comely?”

  Zane remained quiet for a while before answering. “Her name is Aurillia.”

  “That’s an unusual name,” commented Tanas.

  “I know a maiden named Aurillia,” started Dax, “the daughter of a friend of mine, Rayth, who gave her the name of his late wife. He is a former axe-wielder and now an innkeeper in Teldor. Fine looking lass, I have been told.”

  “Small world, isn’t it, Dax?” replied Zane, swiftly spooning stew into his mouth.

  Dax stopped chewing his food and glared at Zane. Then as he understood the prince’s words, he let out a rich laugh. “Better be careful there, my young friend. Rayth is a doting father and you had better not upset his daughter.”

  “Let me get this right,” interjected Tanas, “your maiden is the daughter of an innkeeper. She is not a princess or baron’s daughter.”

  “Yes, she’s an innkeeper’s daughter,” confirmed Zane sheepishly.

  “Good for you.”

  “Where in Teldor is the inn?” enquired Tanas.

  “By the docks, near Downtown.”

  “How the hell do you know a maiden in a tavern near Downtown?” asked Dax, surprised.

  “Well, actually I met her in the market and then visited her father’s tavern later.”

  “I won’t ask any more,” said Thade, smiling wryly.

  “Let me tell you one thing, Zane. You had better do right by that lass or you will have to answer to Rayth. He’s not the kind of man you want as an enemy.”

  “I know that,” said Zane, smiling his crooked smile. “But can you imagine him as your father-in-law?”

  “Heaven forbid,” said Dax, laughing harder.

  The conversation during the evening remained light and humorous, each man telling tales and swapping jokes. When time came to sleep, Zane volunteered to take first watch. At the change of watch, Dax eased himself silently next to the prince.

  “Hell Dax, you scared the life out of me!” squealed Zane, startled, patting his chest to calm his pounding heart.

  “Thinking of someone special?”

  “Aye, Aurillia.”

  “Good lass, that one. Rayth spent much coin sending her to the best schools. I remember him telling me he had to lie about his trade to get her into one school.” Dax chuckled.

  “I will wed her, Dax.”

  “Let’s hope your father agrees.”

  “If he does not, I will still marry her.”

  “You would give up your throne for a maiden?”

  “Aye, Dax . . . I love her.”

  “Good for you, lad. Now go and get some rest.”

  Zane rose and moved into the cave. He found the warm spot where Dax had slept and rolled out his blankets. Within minutes, the young prince fell into a deep slumber.

  Gan-Goran replaced Dax on guard duty later that night. He sat in the mouth of the cave and smiled to himself as he looked back at the sleeping men. The old magic-master closed his eyes and relaxed his mind.

  ***

  The Darklord opened his eyes and saw Malice standing in front of him, waiting patiently. The huge, silver-armoured warrior bowed and the Darklord smiled.

  “The preparations are going well, my lord.”

  “Good, we need to make sure everyone is in their place.”

  “It will be as you command, my lord. Do you have it?”

  “It’s close by and so are your brethren. We will have what we seek soon, but now I must rest. I will see you again shortly.”

  Malice bowed. “As you command.” He left the room as the Darklord closed his eyes. Everything was going according to plan.

  ***

  Back in the cave, Gan-Goran opened his eyes and gazed at the sleeping men. Then he peered out into the blackness. They should meet up with the Rhaurien army soon.

  Everything was going according to plan.

  ***

  The next day the skies cleared, but the air remained frozen. A sharp frost greeted the travellers and they wrapped up warm. At midday, they reached a blocked path and found that the only way around it was uphill, so they climbed higher into the mountains.

  For an hour they climbed until they found another path. As the climb became more difficult, they dismounted and walked their horses. Just before dusk, clouds bunched overhead and it started to snow again. This time there were no caves to rest in, so they chose a large tree with widespread, low hanging branches that provided some shelter from the weather. Shaking the branches free of snow, they cleared the ground and started a fire to camp for the night, eating in silence.

  The next morning, Gammel rose first and yawned. He stood up and stretched his massive frame. He looked out and was pleased to see that the snowfall had eased – their travel would be easier and faster that day. He walked out of the camp to relieve himself, hitting a branch as he did so. A moment later screaming and yelling rose from the camp. Gammel turned quickly to see the camp now covered in a blanket of snow. He roared with laughter, realising that by knocking the branch he had brought the tree’s canopy of snow down on everyone. Gammel’s laughter swiftly halted as the first snowball struck him on the chin. Seconds later, more snowballs pelted the big man. Laughter rippled through the icy woods as the men charged about, tossing the soft white missiles at each other.

  Half an hour later, the men had broken their fasts and were on their way again, their mood light and merry.

  For two more days, the group travelled in
clear, bitterly cold weather. On the third day it started to snow heavily and the wind grew stronger. The men stopped and looped a rope around each other, to keep them together in the worsening storm. A few hours later, as the snow grew heavier, they located another cave and camped inside to await the passing of the snowstorm.

  Dax estimated they were about halfway across the Steppes and so could not yet turn south. For two days, the blizzard blew and the group remained in the cave where they tried to cheer each other up. On the third day, the snow continued but the wind eased. The group prepared to move on. Progress through the snow, deep underfoot and still falling from the overcast skies, was slowed but they remained on course, heading east. After two more days, the group moved cautiously through the mountains. Finally, they turned southeast, hoping to be east of the Steppes when they emerged from the mountains.

  Zane noticed the change in temperature as they slowly descended. Breath did not mist when they spoke and the white snow covering the ground was replaced with grey slush and thick, viscous mud. The temperatures continued to increase and soon the group removed the heavy layers of clothing that had been essential for the icy, mountainous climate they now left behind. They crested a small hill and before them, like a lumpy green rug, lay the rolling hills of the Empire.

  Zane smiled broadly. “Dax, you old hound, you do know your way through the mountains.”

  “Been there once or twice,” admitted the old warrior with a grin.

  “Thank you.”

  “Let’s not thank each other just yet,” said Dax as he pointed in front of them.

  Zane looked to where Dax pointed. In the next valley, a small band of Kharnacks rode towards the group.

  “Are they the same clans from Ubert?”

  “I’m not sure, but there are about fifteen of them.”

  “What do we do, wait?” asked Zane.

  “No, what have I told you? We shall just walk down there and have a little look,” said Dax, urging his horse down the hill.

  “How did I know he was going to say that?” commented Zane, shaking his head.

  “You’re starting to get to know the old man, that’s all,” replied Thade with a grin.

  “Sometimes I wish I did not.”

  “Less of the old,” snapped Dax without looking back.

  All chuckled.

  ***

  The group of Kharnacks were lost. They had been pursued by a clan of Dar-Phadrin and decided to return to their mountain home. When they saw the small band of men ahead, they stopped. The Kharnack leader thought his luck had finally changed. They had run away from a large clan of Dar-Phadrin and had not fought; to the Kharnacks this was a huge dishonour. Now before them appeared a chance to redeem themselves by bringing home some booty, thus regaining honour. The clansmen spread out and waited. To the leader’s surprise, the oncoming men crested the hill and came slowly towards them.

  The six riders walked their horses down the hill and stopped a few strides from the Kharnacks. An old warrior with violet eyes approached the Kharnacks, then spoke in their native tongue.

  “My name is Violet Storm, friend of Maldino the chieftain of the Silverswords,” said Dax. “You will let us pass.”

  “I have heard of you, Violet Storm. My name is Zazoo, chieftain of the Longarrows. We despise the Silverswords, especially their chieftain, Maldino,” said the chieftain, spitting on the ground after saying the name of his clan’s sworn enemy. Before the man looked up again, Dax had pulled one of his axes from his harness and decapitated him. Then he steadied his horse as it became uneasy, smelling the freshly spilled blood.

  “You men have a choice,” Dax continued, in their tongue. “Leave now and live, stay and die like that whoreson. This man acted with disrespect to my friend and as Kharnack custom demands, I killed him for his rudeness. Decide and act now.”

  The Kharnacks stared down at their fallen chieftain, then looked at Dax. His axes would make a good trophy and they could return home with pride.

  “I am son of Zazoo, and we cannot let this go without punishment. Honour calls for a blood debt to be settled.”

  Dax moved his horse to stand in front of the son. Without another word, in a heartbeat, the clansman too was dead.

  “Our blood debt is settled,” Dax said, as the man’s body toppled off his pony and the frightened animal galloped away. “Again, you have a choice, stay and die, or leave and live another day.”

  The Kharnacks all turned to face Dax.

  “Violet Storm, this day you live. My father and brother are dead and there remains a blood feud between us which will be settled in the future.” The clansman motioned his head to one side and the Kharnacks walked their ponies past the six men.

  Dax turned and watched the Kharnacks slowly ride up the hill, their new leader constantly looking back over his shoulder.

  “I would suggest you arm yourselves. That young pup is not going to give in so easily.”

  “Why?” asked Zane, watching the riders.

  “I just killed his father and brother.”

  As Dax finished his sentence, the Kharnacks turned and charged down the hill, howling their battle cry.

  Dax patiently sat on his horse and reached for his clean axe, while the others armed themselves.

  “You sure know how to make friends, Dax,” shouted Gammel, shaking his head.

  “They had no intention of letting us pass, I could tell from the look in the leader’s eyes. I just reduced the number of enemy by two.”

  “Good thinking,” said Tanas, grimacing.

  The other five men surrounded Gan-Goran and the supply mules.

  The Kharnacks attacked hard and fast. Their opponents had been in a siege and were used to close quarter fighting. The skirmish was fierce and bloody, but soon only five Kharnack clansmen lived, and they scampered off, more concerned with living than honour.

  Dax looked at his friends and saw that none were injured. His gamble had paid off. The men cleaned their weapons and Dax called them to move on.

  “Should we not bury the dead?” asked Zane.

  Dax’s eyes blazed with annoyance. “Scavengers have to eat, don’t they?” he answered coldly.

  The prince did not protest further and the group marched on, heading south for Kal-Pharina.

  ***

  The Chosen continued to march ahead of the Rhaurien army, gathering a force of fighting men. Word spread that he lived and planned to march to Kal-Pharina. He now rode with over three thousand warriors from various Dar-Phadrin clans. A day away from Kal-Pharina, he stopped his march. By now word must have reached the palace that he was coming home.

  ***

  After hearing the news that his father lived, Tucci swallowed another black crystal, then screamed at his servants to bring the Darklord and his guests to his throne room.

  The men entered the throne room.

  Tucci started to rant. “My lord, my father lives, and brings an army here. He means to kill me. You must help me. You must . . .”

  The Darklord raised his hand to silence Tucci. “Relax, my young friend. This is exactly what we wanted.”

  “But my father means to kill me.”

  “Do not worry,” said the Darklord, walking towards the emperor. He reached for the table next to the young man and picked up one of the black crystals. “Here,” he said without emotion, “take another one of these and calm down.”

  Tucci took the crystal and smiled as it melted on his tongue. He quickly fell into a drug induced doze.

  “Now we have quietened the babbling fool, it is time for us to prepare,” said Malice coldly.

  Chaos stepped forward and removed Tucci’s dagger. “Let me finish him, he’s of no use to us now.”

  “Not yet, he still has a use. We know the Rhaurien army is marching across the Steppes and their fleet sails along the southern coast. They intend to deploy five companies of Royal Lancers somewhere, we would guess near Calcaloin. I suggest sending the Dark Brethren to greet them. They should land in a
couple of days, so we need to have the Dark Brethren within half a days’ ride from their landing place by then.”

  “I will deal with it personally,” said Malice bowing.

  “Chaos, we would like you to go with Malice,” said the Darklord softly.

  “And what about your safety?” asked Chaos, glaring at Tucci, who mumbled incoherently.

  “Do not worry about me. Fury, again we have a little task for you, one that requires your unique skills. Malice will give you the details later.”

  Fury bowed. The four men left the room, leaving the drugged Tucci slumped on his throne, drooling on his chest.

  ***

  That evening Malice, Chaos, and two thousand Dark Brethren left Kal-Pharina, galloping across the moat and heading southeast towards Calcaloin. They thundered towards the south coast without rest as their mission relied on perfect timing.

  ***

  Admiral Rendel sailed along the southern coast on the Gliding Falcon. According to his charts, he was now a day away from where the Royal Lancers would disembark. He walked up on deck and looked out to the north, then gave orders to sail the ship just out of view of land, so they would not be spotted. Behind the Gliding Falcon sailed the Floating Lancer and further back the Grey Sunset. He knew that further in the distance the rest of his small armada followed. He smiled to himself; he loved being on time.

  ***

  One day from Kal-Pharina, the Chosen waited for the king. His three thousand men and ten Royal Lancers made camp, and the following day the Chosen rode back to greet Logan.

  Riding through Royal Lancer and cavalry ranks, the Chosen saw the king’s standard.

  He halted his horse in front of the king and raised a welcoming hand. “Greetings, my friend.”

  “Greetings Rowet, I hope your quest proved successful.”

  “My people have not let me down. I have three thousand warriors waiting for us and many more coming. Have you had a good journey?”

  “Your people have been most hospitable.”

  “They are our friends.”

  The king smiled and nodded.

  During the day the two men rode side by side, talking over important matters.

  ***

  Admiral Rendel reached the cove west of Calcaloin and ordered the Floating Lancer to sail in. The sea remained calm and their entry into the quiet cove was smooth. The flat-bottomed vessel sailed right up to the sandy shore, where the sailors lowered the front of the vessel. The five companies of Royal Lancers disembarked and within just two hours of arriving, the Floating Lancer sailed out again.