by R J Hanson
Whit, who had been named after his grandfather, had almost reached his thirteenth year. There was no doubt when one looked at him and Garth who his father was. He was a mirror image of Garth right down to the bent nose and smile that dipped nearly to the gum line on the left side of his mouth. In two more years, he planned to join Prince Ralston’s armies and be a soldier as his father had been. Garth had agreed on the condition that some of Whit’s wages as a soldier would pay for hired men to help the family work their farm. It was a lot of land for one family to manage but all had worked hard.
Clowie, Whit’s younger sister, was a pretty child. She had just turned eight years old and loved the farm. She wore a tangle of the family’s trademark blonde hair and an ever-dirty dress. Harriette had made several attempts to keep Clowie’s hair untangled and combed but had finally given up and resigned herself to combing it only in the morning and at night.
The sun climbed into the sky and all were happy to hear the breakfast bell ring at the small stone and log home. The smell of eggs cooking with potatoes brightened the air. Whit and Clowie brought two buckets of fresh milk in with them. Garth brought a work spawned hunger.
“Cows are milked and fed, Momma,” Clowie said. “Goats too.”
Harriette nodded and began setting the table with Clowie’s help.
“I got the extra sickle sharpened this morning,” Whit said as he snuck a piece of biscuit from the table and crammed it in his mouth. “There was another rat in the barn too. I tried, but couldn’t catch it. We really could use a dog to hunt rats.”
“You’ll not ply me with your arguments before breakfast, Whitston,” Harriette said. “We’ve had the talk about the dog before. If the harvest goes well then maybe there will be enough money for one. But dogs are very expensive.”
“The boy across the river has one,” Whit said.
“What boy?” Garth asked.
“The stable boy from Skult,” Whit said. “I’ve seen him playing with him near the river on their side.”
“That property is Sir Roland’s now and you are not supposed to be on it,” Harriette said.
“I wasn’t, Momma,” Whit said wiping his mouth with his shirt sleeve. “I was fish…I was getting water from the river for the goats like I’m supposed to and saw him playing in the woods on the other side.”
“What’s the stable boy doing on their property so far from Skult?” Harriette asked.
Whit shrugged.
“I think he works for them now,” Whit said.
“He was always good with animals,” Garth said.
“It would be good for that boy to have more of a home,” Harriette said.
“Maybe, once harvest is done, you’ll be able to go over and play with him,” Garth said. “We will need to ask Sir Roland or his wife for permission first, though.”
“Can I go too, Mamma?” Clowie asked.
“We’ll see, dear,” Harriette said. “Now eat. There’s work to be done.”
“Is his wife really the daughter of the Warlock of the Marshes?” Whit asked.
“I wouldn’t know about such things,” Harriette said.
“Everyone in the city says she eats children,” Whit said, licking his lips and eyeing Clowie dangerously.
“You’re dumb,” Clowie said. “If she eats children then how come Kullen stays there?”
“Who?” Harriette asked.
“Kullen,” Clowie said. “That’s the stable boy’s name.”
“Maybe she wants him to get fat,” Whit said while widening his eyes and licking his lips at Clowie.
“That’s enough of that talk,” Garth said.
The family sat down to a bountiful breakfast. Bountiful by the standards of such simple folk anyway. None of them imagined how horrible this beautiful day would become or that their family would be even smaller before the sun set.
Clairenese was deep into a telepathic trance. She was sending a one-way message and praying that it would be received. Praying to Father Time and Bolvii, as she had been taught. She was almost done when she heard someone at the door. Jarred from her trance she looked to the door to see Tindrakin coming in.
“What are you doing back here?” Clairenese asked.
“Sir Roland told me that after I delivered the message I was to return here, to protect you,” Tindrakin replied. “Kodii should be coming back soon.”
“You should be with them,” Claire said with a note of her father’s tone of command in her voice. “They are going to need all the help they can get.”
“He ordered me to stay here with you,” Tin said hesitantly looking down at his shoes.
“That hardheaded fool,” Claire said as she stared off to the north.
“Yes, ma’am,” Tindrakin said. Then, under his breath, “that’s exactly what he said.”
“He admitted he was a fool?” Claire asked, her eyes narrowing.
“No ma'am,” Tindrakin said, averting his eyes.
“Then who was he…” but understanding came to her.
Tindrakin saw a dangerous anger build in Clairenese’s face. She was truly the daughter of the Warlock of the Marshes. That anger washed away as fast as it built. Laughter replaced it.
“Perhaps we are both a bit too stubborn,” Clairenese said. “Very well. Keep a sharp watch, Tin.”
“Should we consider going into Skult?” Tindrakin asked, already knowing Claire’s answer.
“No,” Claire said simply. “If we are attacked, then fall back to this room. It is protected.”
Claire gestured toward the runes she had carved into the base boards of the home. Tin nodded his head and took a moment to watch Kullen and Travelin’ Jack play on the floor of the inner room as if they hadn’t a care in the world. Tin walked out to the front yard. His eyes scanned the horizon. This would be a bloody day.
Much to his surprise, he saw a contingent of soldiers marching toward the home from the roadway several leagues to the south. The surprising thing about the contingent was that they were half the height of most soldiers. Tin thought it a trick of the tall grass at first.
“My Lady,” Tin said through the door without turning his head. “You may want to come out to see this.”
Clairenese joined Tindrakin in the glade in front of the house. They watched as a group of thirty-five armored dwarves marched toward the home. Each dwarf wore armor, and carried weapons along with tools.
“Hail Lady Clairenese,” rumbled from Ungar, the dwarf in the lead. “We come to deliver King Vigorr’s wedding gift.”
“Wedding gift?” Claire asked.
“Yes,” Ungar replied. “We have come to build you a proper home!”
“You know nothing of the coming attack?” Tindrakin asked.
“Attack?”
“Yes,” Lady Clairenese said. “Daeriv is mounting an attack of undead. The river is being dammed.”
A cheer, one that shocked both Claire and Tin completely, rose from the pack of dwarves.
“My Lady,” Ungar said, “that is the best news we have had in more than four months! We endured the most awful sea voyage thinking we would only be building a house. If we had known we’d be gettin’ to fight undead we’d been more cheerful! May we put our things in that wood place you got thrown up there?” Ungar said, referring to her home.
“Yes,” Claire said, still a little on her heels. “Yes, make yourselves at home.”
Ungar gave the signal and thirty-four dwarves scrambled to follow Ungar toward the house. They piled pick axes, lathes, chisels, small hammers, and leathers laced with diamonds for sanding, inside the two-room log house. All thirty-five dwarves tumbled out into the front yard strapping their armor down and brandishing thirsty blades.
Kullen came out of the house with his pup in his arms to see what all the commotion was about.
“So, when do they get here?” Ungar asked.
All were interrupted by a large crash that came from the front yard of the home. Everyone turned to see sixteen large logs, most more th
an a dwarf’s arm length in diameter, packed together with mud and mortar resting in the front yard.
“Ggggggolly!” Kullen exclaimed.
“Is that the dam?” Tindrakin asked.
“It could be,” Clairenese said. “If it is then the water will still take nearly four hours to get here. That is traveling at a speed of two hundred leagues an hour.”
“So, when do they get here?” Ungar asked again, seemingly uninterested in the discussion about the dam.
“We’re not certain they are even coming,” Clairenese said. “We don’t actually know anything. Other than that pile is most likely part of the dam Roland guessed would be there.”
“We could find out,” rumbled out of one of the gruffer looking dwarves standing near Ungar. “How about we cross the river and see what they’re up too?”
“The wife of the Tall Walker that rescued King Vech’s axe from beyond faces armies of undead and you want to go scoutin’?!?” Ungar shouted into the dwarf’s face. “We have time. Start diggin’ trenches and preparing for this charge o’ undead. Dig ‘em on the other side of the river. We need to slow ‘em down!”
Twenty-two dwarves started toward the river with shovels and pick axes in hand. Clairenese and Tindrakin looked on the dwarves with unbelieving eyes. Surely no race loved warfare as much as the dwarves. Each of them showed genuine joy at the prospect of battle and seemed to take pure pleasure from preparing for it. The remaining twelve began to cannibalize the dam in the front yard and started construction on a wall around the front door.
“Well, Tin,” Claire said, “I suppose we should begin to get ready as well.”
“Yes ma'am,” Tin replied.
Tindrakin began oiling his armor and then moved to sharpening his broadsword and pole arm. Clairenese began to charge the air with half spoken spells. She spoke all but a few key words of each spell, leaving the enchantment hovering in the atmosphere around her until those words were uttered. Kullen, skilled in his way, watched the construction by the dwarves underway and fetched tools and equipment as they were needed.
By the noon hour, the dwarves had three defensive ditches dug, Tindrakin’s weapons and armor were prepared, and Claire had several spells stored and waiting. Kullen and Travelin’ Jack sat on the roof of the house looking off to the north and east.
The gruff dwarf, later introduced to Tindrakin as Battarc, gazed out into the distant north. Dwarves were not known for their great eyesight; however, this particular detail did not require eagle vision. It became easy to discern what was on the horizon. Dust from a large marching army climbed into the sky like ink spilled into a bowl of fresh milk.
Tin stood by the river and noticed the dwindling of the water. It trickled along at barely a foot wide now. They would be coming soon.
Chapter VI
The Battle of River’s Rage
Sir Roland and Sir Eldryn slowed their horses and rode into a grove of trees near the point where the river split. One branch of the river flowed south to feed the marshes and the other branch ran southeast across Lawrec. Roland and Eldryn saw that Daeriv’s troops had constructed a dam that would force the flow of the entire river toward the marshes, probably flooding them. It would be easier than digging a lake for the excess water and would likely surround Lynneare in a steady flow of water instead of the stagnate ponds that usually encompassed his mansion. Whatever horrors inhabited the marshes and swamps of Lawrec with Lynneare, it appeared Daeriv did not want them freely roaming about, especially if they were under Lynneare’s control.
Roland and Eldryn looked over what they could see of the dam from their vantage point. The first thing they noticed is that it was not a dam, but dams. There were two.
The first dam was constructed of four parallel logs set into the riverbank on each side. They created something of a vertical rail on each side of the river. Then more logs had been positioned so that one end went into the rail on one side of the river and the other end of the log on the other. From the grove of trees, it looked as though roughly twenty logs, each at least two feet in diameter, were stacked one on top of another to divert the flow of the river. It appeared that each of the logs had its own brace behind the dam as well. Those must have been recent additions.
The second dam was set approximately fifty yards further downstream from the first. This dam was built much like the first. Roland guessed that the second dam was a precaution. In case someone managed to fell the first dam, the second dam would catch enough water to give the crossing armies more time before the killing waters flowed again.
“Any ideas?” Eldryn asked.
“We know that we must get the first dam down,” Roland replied as he looked toward the river. “We must hope that after taking the first one down the force of the river will collapse the second. If we get the first dam down and we’re not yet dead, then we must get to the second. Once both dams are down, we must flee from here. We will be needed in Skult.”
“It looks like their encampment is on the other side of the river,” Eldryn said. “Once they finish the dam, they will have to return to the other side to gather their equipment before moving across. How about when they return to their encampment we move in and try to tear down the dam from this side?”
“Sounds good to me,” Roland said. “Do you still carry that extra bow with you, and arrows for it?”
“I do.”
“Good,” Roland said. “That will give us a chance to take a few of them from a distance before we reach the dam. It should also keep some of them at bay while we work on destroying the thing.”
They watched as two giants walked from the trees on the other side of the river carrying more logs. Several men and ogres worked to mud and mortar the logs that were already in place. These last logs the giants carried would stop the last of the river flow which trickled over the top of the first dam. It appeared that the second dam had been rigged so that all of the logs in that wall sat on top of three blocks that kept the bottom of that dam open. That would allow the river to continue to flow until Daeriv’s men were ready to shut the water off completely. Then the three blocks could be removed from the second dam and the logs would roll down into place.
The two giants reached the first dam and dropped the logs into place. Immediately men began working around the logs to pack mud and mortar into place. That was it, the water flow had been completely stopped. The giants turned and took up several large ropes that had been wrapped around the blocks holding the second dam open. The giants strained and the three blocks were ripped from underneath the logs of the second dam. The wall of wood crashed down into place with a thud that sounded very resolute to Roland and Eldryn. It sounded final, like the last nail hammered into a coffin. The men, ogres, and giants cleared away from the area and headed for their encampment on the other side of the river.
Roland and Eldryn wasted no time. They charged out of the trees at full gallop, bound for the first of the two dams. They were almost across the open ground to the dam before they were noticed. A general alarm, bells and signal horns, was sent up from the other side of the river and men and monsters alike started for the dam. Roland and Eldryn each had their bows strung and an arrow ready. They released their arrows from horseback. Eldryn’s target, a man carrying a bastard sword, fell to the ground, dead. Roland’s arrow struck his target in the leg. It was not a deadly blow, but it stopped him in his tracks between the two dams.
“Keep them off of me,” Roland yelled to Eldryn.
They rode up to the south side of the dam and Roland leapt from his horse. He scrambled to the dam as Eldryn dropped two more foes that labored across the muddy expanse between the dams. Roland saw that the last log had been lashed down to the rest of the wall with rope as well as with mud. Roland took out one of his axes and, with a single swift blow, cut through the rope. He then wrapped his arms around the top log and strained with all of his might. Even Roland’s great strength was defeated when he was only able to haul the log three inches up from the wall.
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Eldryn dropped three more men and sunk two arrows into a very angry giant.
“They will be on us soon,” Eldryn cried out. “If you have some magic up your sleeve, now is the time for it.”
Eldryn drew out his shrou-sheld and retrieved his shield from his saddle on Lance Chaser. He set himself for the charging onslaught of giants, ogres, and men. Roland looked about him. He could dig out one of the poles that was part of the rail on his side of the dam but that would take hours.
The ogre reached their side of the river. The large creature grabbed over the edge of the riverbank with large hands and began to pull himself up. Eldryn cut his hand and lower arm free from the rest of his body. The beast growled fiercely as it fell back from the bank. It struck two men on its way down, crushing and killing one of them.
“Roland, do something!”
With a stomach full as a result of a wonderful breakfast, Whit followed his father to the wheat fields. Clowie followed Harriette to the corn patch. The family worked in the fields harvesting as the brisk morning became a full autumn day. The sun slowly rolled through a cloudless sky.
Garth straighten to ease the pains that were setting into his lower back. As he rose, he saw a dark cloud drifting several leagues to the north of their small farm. Garth had seen large armies on the move before and he knew the dust cloud for what it was. He knew in his bones this would be the day. This day the easy spring and peaceful summer would be paid for. It was indeed harvest time.
“Whit,” Garth yelled. “Get yourself back to the house and get your mother. Leave everything at the house that you can’t run with. I’m going to be right behind you. Flee for the river and then cut northwest for Skult! If I don’t catch up to you then report to an officer in Skult about what happened here.”