by D.E. Dunlop
Zardo’s army marched for the whole day and as they came within a couple of hours of Harrington Fields the turkey vultures were already circling overhead. The army came to halt on a forested knoll.
“Corey, Mike…” Zardo called to his guard. “Go on ahead and bring me a full report of the situation.”
As the sun continued to set Corey and Mike returned to camp with the news. They looked from Cynthia to Lord Zardo a couple of times, unsure of how to start or what to say. Corey was the smaller of the two with small features. His hair hung in dark brown dreadlocks down his back. He had kind brown eyes. He wore a scruffy goatee, as was the custom of the men of Orillia. Mike was larger yet only average in comparison to other men of their region. His hair was lighter brown and hung in a ponytail halfway down his back. His goatee was much longer than most and moved in the breeze. He had analytical hazel eyes. Looking to each other one last time they realized there was only one way to proceed.
“There has definitely been a fierce battle and there is no sign of life.” Corey finally sputtered.
“We will have to get a better look in the morning. Only you will be able to tell the full extent of the losses.” Mike said to Cynthia as she put her head down on her knee.
The next morning Lord Zardo arrived at Harrington Fields. There were bodies strewn over the whole field and the vultures picked freely where they would. Cynthia gasped at the sight and raced down to identify friends, but hoping not to find any.
For the better half of the day the soldiers of Orillia buried the bodies of fallen allied soldiers.
Just after midday Corey noticed Mike staring off toward the beech forest with his head cocked slightly to one side.
“What is it?” He asked looking in the same direction.
“Do you hear that?” Mike asked without moving. Corey cocked his head and strained to hear.
“Hear what?” He started but his eyes went wide as he began to hear, or rather feel, a low steady rumble. They quickly signalled for Zardo and within a few minutes he had the army waiting in a defensive position. By now the rumble was heard by all and growing louder by the minute. They had moved back to the crest of the knoll where they had entered Harrington Fields. Mike watched the tree line on the other side with binoculars from atop his horse. The entire army waited for his signal.
“Sitts!” Mike cried after a few more minutes.
“Charlie, archers and cannons up front.” Lord Zardo ordered. He watched for a minute as Charlie positioned his soldiers. He noticed the path the Sitts were on and realized they would pass right by and may not even notice them standing there should he choose not to interfere. Whatever is chasing them may drive them right back where they came from. He thought to himself. “No. I didn’t come here to watch.” He muttered to himself. “Charlie, stop them when they get to the middle.
The Sitts continued to pour into the field. The noise was incredible. Charlie watched and gave orders, “Cannons ready! Alternate shots and repeat! Fire!” The guns erupted in billowing smoke one after the other. Charlie’s gunners were excellent and kept them firing with anti-personnel munitions for several minutes. They spread the shots evenly throughout the raging mob, but many had come within bow range despite the guns.
“Shields.” Zardo bellowed as the Sitts drew their bows. The Sittyan arrows landed in their ranks, but few struck flesh.
“Return volley!” Charlie ordered.
Corey moved his rifles up with the archers. “Fire at will!” He ordered and the rifles snapped and barked into the dark storming mass.
Chapter 22
Katherine versus Grey Eyes
The regal Katharine sat silently, mulling over her plans, in Gerald’s throne room. Her empty eyes stared blankly and horrifically into space. Aside from her eyes her ancient beauty was still evident, even alluring as she had not yet, truly, begun to show her age. To look upon her one would know she was ancient, yet upon close inspection she appeared to be still young. The room was empty and dark. Her anger smouldered within her. She was well aware of the approaching Story Telling. She clenched her teeth at the memory of losing the Gorchan to that little twerp. She waited for news. Her army advanced with the raging fire they fed. Soon she would be given the Gorchan with news the little worm and his friends were imprisoned, or better yet, dead.
The room began to glow orange as the rising sun pried its fingers into the high reaching windows of the King’s Court. Katharine had not left this room for a couple of weeks. The last word she had a small rebel band of a few hundred soldiers was on the run just north of Harrington Fields. She sent forth another two or three regiments to make sure the job was finished this time. She had growing concerns because the rain had been coming down so hard it put out her fires and there was not yet any sign of her heart’s ambition.
“Who’s there?” She barked. “Show yourself or pay the price.” She ordered. An almost inaudible sound had interrupted her silent ponderings.
“You are defeated Katharine.” A voice called from the shadows of the outer court.
“Who is that? I know that voice.” She hissed.
“You’ve stepped out of bounds, Katharine.”
“Earl.” She growled through clenched teeth. She had always blamed him and Sky for her troubles. If they hadn’t have interrupted her quest in the first place she never would have had to leave her home. She would be happily ruling the world without a care or opponent. “How did you get in here?” She interrogated.
Earl and Grey Eyes stepped out of the shadows and into the morning sunlight.
“How we got in is no matter. I have a message for you from my Master.” Grey Eyes said.
“Stephen. You brainwashed Saint. Guards!” The queen bellowed. Seven or eight guards rushed in with their swords drawn. Earl voiced a word in a strange language and the guards stood motionless. Katharine dared not challenge Earl with magic. Not today. If she could see she would have without hesitation. Since her other senses were not yet strong enough to compensate she chose to exercise caution.
Grey Eyes walked up to the queen with surprising deliberation and accuracy despite his handicap. The guards did not react at all. You might think that they didn’t even see him. Earl watched with surprise and respect as his old friend approached the powerful old sorceress. He paid no mind of the guards around him. Grey Eyes’ other senses had become so keen over the years that he did not even stumble on the three steps in front of the throne. He stopped one metre away from Katharine. For just a moment time stood still: two ancient sentinels, face to face, yet neither seeing the other, not in the traditional way of seeing, anyway. By the way Grey Eyes approached the throne one would be tempted to accuse him of fraud, but his near complete grey eyes would definitely indicate the contrary.
“Ephimeranon will not remove your position.” Grey Eyes told her flatly.
She held her composure well, but it was obvious to Earl that Grey Eyes’ proximity had startled her. She had not heard or felt him approach.
“When I’m finished Ephimeranon will be but a dream.” She replied.
“You are finished.” Grey Eyes answered.
“You blind fool! If you are referring to your nuisance rebels I have seven hundred and fifty thousand troops en route to Harrington Field to finalize that insignificant skirmish. When they’ve finished there they will proceed to find the boy and my Gorchan. I also have two hundred and fifty thousand more troops preparing to march from the other side of the marsh by midday tomorrow. Soon they will recover the Gorchan and the world and its future will be mine.” She proclaimed.
“Listen to this message from the Master. As it was spoken, you are brought down. Even in your greatness I have brought you low.”
Katharine raised her hands from the arms of the throne in a manner indicative of magical intent. Earl changed his stance. With a wave the guards all assumed the foetal position and then he also made esoteric motions that countered t
he queen’s. The two froze in a manner that insinuated a physical struggle. Grey Eyes remained still and calm, apparently unaffected.
The colour of the morning light began to change and flicker. A strange wind began to blow. It grew in strength to reach cyclone levels. The only things that remained steadfast were the three age old Story Tellers. In fact, Grey Eyes was still completely unaffected. The hairs on his head and the clothes on his back did not even move in the wind.
“It’s too late, Katharine. Your army is decimated. Not one troop remains. All that remain of your empire are those beyond the marsh and they cannot reach us here before the Telling.” Earl yelled over the roaring wind.
A hollow knocking sound filtered lightly through the room.
“Gran! What’s going on in there?” Princess Kathryn called through the door. She was outside with a group of guards. They tried their best to enter, but the commotion on the inside would not allow it.
“You’re wrong! I still have her, my heiress.” Katharine replied to Earl.
“She is merely a fledgling. She is of no consequence to us.”
“Katharine.” Grey Eyes called calmly. “If you do not surrender I have authority to subdue you.” He warned.
The elegant beauty straightened her back in the throne. She tilted her head back and laughed out loud. She raised her hands above her head and they began to flicker. The wind stopped and all was silent for a moment. Katharine clenched her hands into fists and then snapped them open. All the doors and windows immediately blew out and everything in the room either went out through the empty frames or was planted in the stone walls. The princess and her entourage were flattened in the hall, but Earl and Grey Eyes remained still, only pushed slightly from their positions.
“Behold, Queen of Sitty, you shall remain dumb as well as blind until the completion of the next Story Telling. You are hereby powerless to do magic. This is a decree from the Master.” Grey Eyes declared.
The young Kathryn and some of her guards picked themselves up from the floor with minor to moderate injuries. The guards in the throne room and a few of the princess’ were not so fortunate to even survive.
“What the hell…?” The comely young princess complained while she supported herself with the shattered doorframe. Dust and debris floated and settled here and there. Even the pillars of the throne room’s inner perimeter were cracked and threatening to collapse. Earl and Grey Eyes stepped out of the cloud with Katharine between them. The princess stared, bewildered and confused at the strangers holding her great-grandmother and queen.
“Old friends.” Earl said to Kathryn. “Come, its time for the Telling.”
The princess had been in training since a very young age and knew fully what this strange old sage was speaking of. She followed willingly and instructed the guards to stand down and not follow.
Chapter 23
The Final Battle
The fields were black with the armies of Sitty. From a distance it was hard to tell where the camps of the enemy ended and the ashes of the forests they had burned began. The land that had once been tinder try and exploding with fire was now soaked and heavy and silent. Scars ran deep in the soil from running water and only scarce campfires still smouldered in the distance.
Jessie looked out into the glow of the early morning light. Relieved and amazed that such a brooding threat had been halted. Harrington Fields stretched out silently before him, the only barrier between his army and the terrible foe who had previously driven them savagely from their home. Seeing the smoke and flames of Katharine’s brutal advance into the North Country, the remnant of Bayfield and Oro joined forces and encamped in the dense Beech forests of Moonstone. They set out with the high hopes of driving their enemies back beyond the marsh from whence they came, but being dwarfed by the size of the Sittyan army had the low expectation of merely hindering Katharine’s assault.
The combined forces of Bayfield and Oro consisted of approximately six platoons of soldiers, farmers and young men. They amounted to less than one fifth of Katharine’s army. Never the less they had had enough of this intruder who devastated their lands. They had sent messengers out to rally support from neighbouring peoples, but disappointingly had not heard any response.
Jessie stared blankly across Harrington Fields; the rolling hills unseen. His memory showed him once again the fall of Bayfield, the death of Gerald and the breach of the fort. He remembered, painfully, the flight through the Northern forest and living as refugees in the land of Awenda. His anger pounded through his veins and the first rays of dawn tinted Harrington Fields red before him. Two things suddenly broke his reminiscence simultaneously, a tap on his shoulder and a distinctly fearless sound ripping and tearing its way through the soaking silence.
“Mormaer.” Jessie exclaimed with surprise and disbelief as he turned around and stood face to face with the Warminster Chief. He realized the bagpipe playing as the two shook hands in a fist like manner.
“We have decided that it would be a shame and a waste if your beautiful women were taken by the filth of the south.” Mormaer explained with his usually broad smile.
Jessie looked around him to see at least four hundred Warminster soldiers all decked in the plaid of that land. He smiled with a slight glimmer of hope in his eye. It was said in distant lands, of the Warminsters, that they were born with swords in their hands. A Warminster villager was as good with a sword as any trained soldier of any other race, but a trained Warminster soldier was better than three. Their appearance alone would make some seasoned soldiers surrender. Their average height was six and a half feet with the lightest not less than two hundred and twenty-five pounds. If that wasn’t enough, their appearance was just the beginning. They farmed the rocky hills and valleys that lay between Moonstone and Oro with hand tools and donkeys.
Generally speaking, it didn’t usually take long for a wise guy to realize that a Warminster was every bit as strong and dangerous as he or she looked.
“I hate to be pushy, my friend…” Despite their reputation, Warminsters were quite well mannered and friendly when unprovoked. “But are we going to stand here gawking all day or are we going down there to clean up that mess?”
Jessie smiled and slapped his friend on the shoulder. A slight gust of wind hit him in the face as he looked up into the large spacious branches of the beech trees. He turned around and surveyed the plain that sloped gently down to the waking enemy.
“We can hit them from here.” Jessie muttered half to himself. He stepped quickly into the forest and behind some trees. “Everyone down and out of sight! He ordered. “Mormaer, how many bowmen do you have?”
“None. But I do have fifty Bow-women. He replied smartly.”
Jessie shook his head slightly. At least Mormaer’s spirits were high, he thought to himself.
“The element of surprise has gone, now that the bagpipes have arrived, but if we put our bows in the trees we can hit them before they see us.” Jessie explained.
As the sun rose over the backs of the Sittyan army one hundred and fifty bows loosed against them. The wind had picked up and was carrying the arrows, with ease, down on the enemy from out of nowhere. The allied archers had been instructed to release at will and the cries were soon heard, even through the wind.
The Sittyan soldiers looked all around in panic. They couldn’t see archers yet arrows fell directly on top of them, some of them flaming. In a few places the fuel that had been used to burn the forest was ablaze. They slowly began to retreat.
“Where are you going?” An officer screamed.
“We can’t see to fight back, sir.” The foot soldier exclaimed fearfully.
“We can’t see to fight back.” The officer mocked. “Can’t you hear the pipes, you deaf bastard? They’re in the trees on the other side of the plain! Use the cannons and shoot the trees!” The officer roared as arrows fell on the foot soldier. The officer paid no attention to
his fallen subordinate and looked to the next soldier and barked again. “Use the cannons you freaking idiot!”
Mormaer and Jessie chuckled contentedly as they watched the chaos grow in the distance. A bright flash and a cloud of white smoke appeared amidst the Sitts.
“What was that?” Mormaer exclaimed and the ground exploded ten or fifteen metres in front of him, showering them with dirt, mud and stones.
“Why didn’t you tell me that he had one of those?” Mormaer asked with his face still on the ground.
“They’ve got three.” Jessie’s reply was muffled as two more shots tore through the forest behind them.
Mormaer stormed off from the front line, muttering to himself and briskly wiping mud from his face. “…Cannons…crying out…freaking details…” Jessie went after him.
“Mormaer, wait! Where are you going? We’ll be slaughtered without you! Please!”
Jessie caught up to him just as they reached the back ranks. “You can’t quit now! We just got started.” Jessie was pleading. Mormaer turned and looked his friend in the eye. A shiver ran down Jessie’s spine. Mormaer signalled one of his solders.
“Bring up the catapult!” He ordered.
Jessie’s jaw dropped. “You have a freaking catapult?” He nearly screamed with disbelief. “Why didn’t you tell me you had a freaking catapult?” Jessie interrogated.
“I was hoping to skip the foreplay and get straight to business.” Mormaer explained with a smile as he patted the sword at his side.
Jessie ordered the bows to hold, he was hoping a pause would cause the Sitts to think they had hit them hard. In fact they hadn’t hit them at all. A few shots came close but nothing close enough even to scare. (Other than the first three, that is.)