by Pdmac
Once Cuix and the warrior departed and the door firmly closed, Gwen turned to Karl and smiled. “Now where were we?”
Karl cocked an eyebrow, wondering how she could think of frolicking in the bedroom when her domain was in imminent peril. “I probably should check on my team. There’s a battle about to start.”
“They can wait,” she purred, moving closer to him.
“Are you sure, your Majesty?” he said, returning the smile.
Gwen stepped up to him, gently placing a hand on his chest. “We are far too intimate, my dearest Viking, to be captive to such titles.”
Karl felt his passions stir. “You promised you would never use your powers over me,” he huskily said.
“And I won’t,” she assured him, “just like I promised. Now, let’s see if we can pick up where we left off.” Grabbing his hand, she led him to the bedroom.
It was early evening, that time of day when the sun dipped below the horizon yet daylight remained for a while longer, when Manas saw the man on the dappled stallion approaching the gate. He was surrounded by a coterie of vassals flying pennants of their respective cities. Behind them, several orcs and two large trolls haughtily stalked. The group stopped at the gates and Cyril looked up to see Manas high above him.
“And how is my sister-in-law’s general doing these days?” He smiled as though sincerely interested. He was a trim man on the verge of going plump from too much pleasure, both in food and women. His ruddy face was offset with a trim Van Dyke beard of auburn hair streaked with grey. Instead of the long flowing head of hair favored by his brother, Cyril kept his cut short and well-trimmed. He was dressed for combat in a common warrior’s tunic and leggings, though the material was of much finer quality. The one distinguishing trait was the coat of arms burnt into the leather of his vest.
“I’m fine, m’Lord,” Manas smiled in return. He gazed out over the assembled force then back at Cyril. “Does my Lord intend to spend the evening hunting in the forest before he returns home?”
Cyril chuckled. “Come, my good general. We both know why I am here. Give me Lady Gwen and this city will be safe from further harm.”
“You know I can’t do that, m’Lord.”
“Are you really willing to let Westhaven suffer for the life of one avaricious woman?”
“If it is one simple woman, as you claim, why did you come all the way here with this army? Were your assassins not able to accomplish what you wanted?”
Cyril’s face tightened. “One last chance general. Surrender the woman or suffer the same fate as Durness.”
Manas slowly shook his head, his contempt overt. “My Lord. Do you really expect us to believe that you would ensure the safety of this city when your army is filled with orcs and trolls?” He swiftly turned his attention to the orc and troll leaders. “What did he promise you? That you could feast to your hearts content on the flesh of the good citizens of Westhaven? What happens after that? Has he not revealed that he intends to kill you all once he has what he wants?”
Cyril heard the low grunts and grumbling behind him, irritated that he had allowed Manas to infuse doubt into his allies, let alone reveal his true intentions.
“Cleverly spoken,” he retorted. “By the way, I’d like to meet the one responsible for this.” He motioned with his hand and two men brought forward the assassin that Karl had tortured. He was dressed in torn clothing and bound with ropes and a chain at his neck. Drool slid from the corners of his mouth and his lidless eyes twitched and wandered incessantly. His hands and feet were bandaged in filthy rags. It was obvious the man had lost his mind.
“Ah yes,” Manas said in recognition. “The handiwork of our confessor.”
Cyril gave Manas a begrudging smile. “When we sweep through the city, be sure to point him out. I can use someone with his talents.”
“I take it you intend to stay?”
Cyril locked his gaze on Manas and growled, “I always finish what I start. I give you one last chance, General. Surrender the woman and I guarantee the safety of you and everyone else in the city.”
“Does that include the Administrator?” Manas frowned when the words came forth because he wasn’t sure why he said them.
A sly smile split Cyril’s mouth. “Is he safe?”
“For the moment,” Manas replied, suddenly realizing why the assassins had such an easy time getting into the city.
“I hold you responsible for his safety.”
“Why?” Manas mocked. “You’re going to kill him anyway, just like you are all these orcs and trolls.”
“Enough,” Cyril commanded. “Do not try my patience. You have until the morrow’s morning to deliver the woman. Otherwise, the fate of Westhaven is on your head.”
“No. The fate of Westhaven is on your head. You will have our answer in the morning,” Manas calmly answered then turned away, an overt slight to the Lord below.
Once down the steps, Manas collared one of his fastest messengers, a young man in his early teens. “Tell Lady Gwen to lock up the Administrator. If she asks you why, you tell her Manas said so. Now go.”
Unwilling to leave such a mission to chance, Manas gave orders to the several captains and headed to the castle. By the time he swept up the set of stairs to Gwen’s suite, he heard the commotion and indignation erupting from the Administrator’s quarters as two large guards frog-marched the man out into the hallway.
“This is outrageous,” Regnan yelped. “Get your hands off of me.” Seeing Manas, he shouted, “Is this your doing?”
Ignoring him, he nodded to the guards. “Make sure he is secure. Gag him if you need to. No one sees him unless I give the order.”
“Yes, General,” they replied in unison.
As they forcibly marched him down the hallway, Regnan called out over his shoulder, “You’ll pay for this.”
Karl and the rest of the team were in Gwen’s quarters when he entered. Gwen’s pursed lips revealed her suppressed anger as her suspicions about the Administrator seemed to be confirmed.
“Is it true?” she asked when their eyes met.
“Yes,” he replied. “Your brother-in-law said as much.”
“I’ll have his head when this is over,” she seethed.
“Hopefully it will be his and not yours. Cyril demands we turn you over to him.”
“In exchange for what? The safety of the city?” she scoffed.
“Those were his words,” he answered.
Gwen stared at him a moment before blurting, “And you believe him?”
“My Lady,” Manas slowly replied, ignoring the momentary lack of trust. “Please do not think me a fool as to believe Cyril. Westhaven’s safety is no more assured than your own.”
Gwen’s shoulders slumped. “Forgive me, Manas. That was unkind.”
“There is nothing to forgive, m’Lady,” he replied with a sympathetic smile. Turning to Karl, he asked, “You ready?”
“We’ve been ready since we got word they were here,” Karl confidently replied.
“You know about trolls and their night vision,” he warned, “though Kamdyn’s spell should protect you.”
Karl flashed a wicked smile. “I have an idea we’re going to try. I’ll tell you about it when we return.”
Manas nodded and gave him the knowing smile of one warrior to another. “Good luck.”
As the evening skies darkened, Manas took his time as he methodically walked along the outer wall walk, reassuring the sentries posted at intervals behind the crenellations. Though thankful the walls were high, he wished they were higher. It was only a matter of time before someone in Cyril’s army discovered a weakness and the undermining process would begin.
“How will the attack go?” a young guard asked, doing his best to hide his nervousness.
“They’ll work the gates first,” Manas replied. “That’s the weakest part of a wall.” Seeing the man’s eyes widen, he placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “It’s also contained inside the barbican that has t
wo portcullis and solid oak gate that’s a span thick, double barred on the inside. They’d be wiser to search along the wall to find a place to undermine it.” He was about to say that they’d probably do both at the same time, but decided against further terrifying the young man.
“Are there really trolls in his army?” he asked, his fear growing.
“Yes,” Manas matter-of-factly replied, “so you need to be alert.”
“Can they get up here?” He cast a worried glance around the wall walk.
“Not unless they’ve sprouted wings and can fly,” Manas retorted.
“But I heard they can climb better than people.” He spoke as one with assured knowledge.
“Bah,” Manas disdainfully answered. “Tell me lad, have you ever tried climbing this outer wall?”
“Tried when I was younger.”
“How far did you get?”
“Didn’t get far at all,” he answered with understanding. “Wasn’t nothing I could grab ahold of.”
“Trolls have the same problem.”
“But they’re used to fighting in the dark,” he countered.
“Son,” he said, already tired at having to dispel a young man’s fearful imagination, “if and when we send folks out to fight at night, you can worry about it then.” He looked up at the night sky and then back down to follow the line of flickering torches that snaked along the top of the wall into the far distance. “Mist is coming soon. Make sure you keep the firelight going.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“You have enough arrows for that bow of yours?”
“Yes, Sir,” he proudly replied. “Collected a bunch more earlier.”
“Good. When the battle begins tomorrow, pick your targets with care. A wasted arrow is one more enemy we have to kill later.”
Giving the man a confident nod, Manas continued his rounds, knowing he needed to get some sleep, but wanting to wait until Karl and his team returned.
Down below, beyond the outer wall, Karl and company had assembled in the room below the cottage. There was a palpable nervous excitement, the delay in conducting the hit and run attack adding to the anticipation.
“One more time,” Karl quietly spoke. “We all know our assignments. Once the mist descends, the two combat teams take out as many orcs and humans as you can. Watch out for trolls as they can see well in the dark, though the mist should be a problem for them too. Stealth is the watch word. No flashy or bright spells unless it’s an emergency. Remember, we don’t want them to know we’re here. My team and I will conduct a deeper recon to find where the trolls are. We have one hour to do our job and head back. Assembly point is right here. Any questions?”
“Yeah,” Conrad grinned and pointed to the lengths of coiled rope around the shoulders of the five members of Karl’s team. “What’re you gonna do while we’re out having fun?”
“Trying to find a way to neutralize part of Cyril’s army. The more we can take out tonight, the better. Rest assured, they will expect us tomorrow night.” He glanced around once more before focusing on Carole. “You sure you’re OK?”
“I’m fine,” she replied. “My mana and health are back to normal.”
With a distracted nod, he said, “I think it’s time.”
Silently emerging into the cottage, Karl was startled to see the number of camp fires close to them. Though expecting the enemy to be encamped around them, he was still surprised at how close they were. Still, Kamdyn’s spells were in full force and the presence of his force was unnoticed. The one thing he noted with satisfaction was that the enemy encamped around them was human.
They hunkered down and waited for the mist to descend.
Karl watched and studied the warriors as they bantered and drank and settled down for the night. They were far too relaxed and he noted that a guard had not been posted. If Cyril wasn’t overconfident, these people were. Then he remembered why they had no guards posted for orcs prefer operating at night, preferably in overcast conditions, or in the predawn hours. Like trolls, sunlight affected their ability to wage combat. It was far worse for trolls and he worried they wouldn’t find the troll encampment in time. Then it dawned on him that his plan would work for orcs as well, provided the next few days were bright with sunshine. Still, he preferred his target be trolls.
While he was musing his plan, the mist started enveloping the forest and soon activity around slowed until all movement stopped. Waiting another half-hour more, Karl stood and motioned for the attack to begin.
While Dieter and Sakura led their teams, entering tents and slicing throats, Karl led his small group away from the carnage and carefully snaked their way around the various tents and campfires, working their way to the catapults and trebuchets. They found six of them near the edge of the forest not far from the main gate. Once the weapons were located, they worked their way back into the forest, searching for the orc and troll bivouac sites.
They came up to the troll camp set apart and Karl was frustrated that despite the mist, the trolls were still very much awake and alert, jabbering and sharpening weapons for what was probably a pre-dawn attack. That meant the orcs were likewise preparing and he was running out of time.
Cyril had wisely brought along large tents, enough to accommodate those forces vulnerable to sunlight, which was why Karl and friends had lengths of rope. Karl quickly calculated the distance between the tents and the catapults and determined the distance required two full lengths of rope, or about 50 meters total. Sending an end each with Raquel and Annabeth towards the war machines, he and Lana square knotted the other ends with two other lengths of rope while Brad stood guard.
As Karl and Lana secured the two ends of the ropes, Raquel and Annabeth raced towards the war machines. Pleased that the catapult buckets were winched down, ready to launch the large stone resting in the bucket, the two players wrestled the ropes around the stones and feeding the line down along the end of the bucket, making it look like it was part of the release rope. Retracing their steps, they did their best to cover up the rope.
They repeated the process with the remaining ropes, attaching them to two more catapults and a mangonel. They then fed the other ends near wide tree trunks, finally attaching them to the corner tent poles of five tents, likewise covering up their handiwork.
By the time they returned to the cottage, the other two teams were silently waiting for them. Karl motioned them down and waited until the last one passed before closing the door behind them. Holding a finger up to his lips, he then led the way back to the castle.
It wasn’t until they were safely in Gwen’s suite that he relaxed and asked for a debrief. “You first, Dieter.”
“We worked to the north and west of the cottage,” he replied. “The humans were in small tents, no more than six warriors to a tent, which made it easier to slice their throats. My count may not be exact, but by the time we returned to base, we had taken out over sixty tents.”
“So, about three hundred fifty or so,” Karl calculated, pleased. “Sakura?”
“About the same,” she replied.
The door to the suite opened and Manas strode in. “Well?”
“Possibly around seven hundred,” Karl answered.
Manas’s eyes bolted wide. “My God. You took out seven hundred of them?”
“That’s what it adds up to. Hopefully once the sun comes up, it’ll be more.” He stretched and covered a yawn. “Get some rest folks. We still have a battle come daylight and once Cyril sees what happened, he’s gonna be pissed.”
Annabeth and Raquel lingered, hoping to encourage Karl to come along, but their not so subtle efforts were thwarted when Gwen interspersed herself between them and Karl. With a defeated sigh, the two women meandered out and back to their rooms.
“You are so brave,” Gwen gushed, placing a hand on his chest.
Karl felt his heart skip as devotion and desire suddenly consumed him.
Manas saw the reaction to her touch. “My Lady,” he gently reproached. “He needs to
be focused on what lies ahead.”
Karl gave him a puzzling glance. “What’re you talking about?”
“I’m talking about tomorrow’s battle,” he answered. “I plan on getting what sleep I can up on the wall walk. Perhaps you should join me.”
“He can get better rest here,” Gwen said, coming to his defense. “You can get better rest in your own bed. Nothing will happen until the mist burns off.”
“I accept no guarantees,” Manas replied, defeated. “Tomorrow, as soon as it is clear enough to maneuver, Cyril will attack.”
“I think he may be right,” Karl quietly offered. “I need to be there when Cyril discovers what happened tonight. We need to see what changes he’s likely to make.” He grinned at the thought of Cyril’s anger and frustration at losing so many warriors.
Gwen gave him a pout then nodded. “You’re right of course. We need to win this war. The sooner, the better.”
“Your command regarding Cyril?” Manas asked. “Dead or alive?”
Gwen’s face tightened. “Dead.”
Chapter 7
Karl spent an uncomfortable night on the wall walk, despite the thick blankets and mattress, courtesy of the garrison supply sergeant. His mind was too preoccupied to let him sleep, though he did doze some. Despite the warmth of the night, the dampness of the mist seemed to soak through his clothing. He was up and eating breakfast just as the dawn’s brightness began illuminating the mist.
He was startled when he heard Manas standing next to him, say, “They’ll wait for the sun to come out to harass us. While our attention is on them, they’ll be probing where the walls are most vulnerable. He’ll probably wait until it’s dark and use sappers to undermine the wall. Once the wall is breached, he’ll send the orcs and trolls to break through the gap and head up towards the city.”
“So where’s the weakest part of the walls?” Karl asked, wishing he had coffee instead of ale for breakfast.