by RG Long
He knew that if all failed, his salvation was in that single necklace.
It was such a crude piece of jewelry. Nothing he would wear himself had he not known of its value.
But very seldom, even aesthetics were to be thrown to the wind for the sake of practicality.
Androlion looked back to spy on his newly acquired Speaker. She rode just behind Cory, as he had instructed. Her head was held high and proud. She nearly looked as if she were a seasoned commander herself, save for the robes she wore that implied her status.
Were these different circumstances, Androlion wouldn't have fooled with feisty teenagers who made demands of him. Of course, her companions would meet the same end as all the others, when the time was right.
Until such a time, however, he needed the only one who could Speak to the stone in the necklace.
It was strange that even his most learned of Speakers could not convince the elements to bend for them, as they could using any other piece of Rimstone. Such were the mysteries of ancient artifacts, Androlion supposed.
For a time, the girl must ride with him as a necessary thing. She was an object to be used. That's all Blume was to him: a gifted Speaker to be sure, but. nonetheless, she was something to be discarded at the proper time.
When its usefulness had run its course.
He again turned his attention north.
Up ahead, the great walls of Beaton were coming into view. It would not be long before those who had brought this looming destruction down upon them would stain the walls red.
With a signal from his hand, horns blew and drums stopped their beating.
An army halted at his fingertips.
His face allowed a smile to be seen.
Here was power.
Here was purity.
The savior of men was come.
A LONE HORSE MOUNTED rider galloped up to him and saluted.
"My Lord," he said, bowing his head low. "Our scouts have said that the haze this morning is not just a fog, but from fires that burn within Beaton itself!"
Androlion nodded.
"Thank you for the report," he said. "Perhaps our work has begun without us."
He dismissed the scout with a wave.
"Cory," he called.
His general rode up beside him, carrying his personal banner.
"Ride with me to the wall," he said. "There we will make our terms."
"Do you fear a stray arrow from a defender?" Cory asked.
"No," he replied and motioned with his hand.
Four men in Speakers’ robes guided their horses behind him and began to chant in low voices.
Androlion could feel a charge of energy surround him.
"See that our guest is kept safe, Rayg," he said over his shoulder.
Behind him he saw that the two of which he spoke were uncomfortable. Rayg, he saw, was fuming at such a menial task and Blume gave a sideways glance at her ward.
The situation brought Androlion a fair amount of pleasure.
All six of them then broke rank and began to ride to the wall.
It was not long before a flag was waved up on the defensive structure's ramparts to signal a meeting. Beaton's largest door was flanked by guard houses. They were momentarily vacant.
Androlion saw that a small door that was set into the larger one opened up with a strain and several people poured out of the portal.
Most of them looked haggard and ragtag. The Glorious City hadn't exactly lived up to his expectation or the stories of order and livery. No flags or banners came with this group. Only a mixture of elves, dwarves, and humans who, at best, looked like thieves and vagabonds.
“That'll be far enough,” said a dark skinned woman who towered above her companions. She put out a hand to the group.
Androlion had great delight in waiting several moments before signaling his delegation to halt. The slight was not missed. The tall woman glared at him impatiently.
“I seek the Governor of Beaton, or else the Captain of the Red Guard so that we may discuss terms,” Androlion said, addressing the group as a whole. None of these ruffians could pass for the description of either of those men.
The tall woman laughed mirthlessly.
“Both are dead,” she said. “We are the Council of Seven, leaders of the Silver Suns and the rulers of Beaton. Any quarrel you had with the good governor or captain can be laid to rest.”
Her face twisted into a wry smile. For someone who was facing tens of thousands of warriors, she was oddly calm and collected.
“Sorry you had to come all the way here for me to have already done your work for you. Perhaps we can arrange the terms you were talking about now?”
Androlion was glad she approached the subject herself.
“Yes, we can still talk of terms,” he began. “There is a great destruction coming to this land. More deadly and powerful than any army that has ever marched to war on Ruyn. There will be devastation, famine, and plague beyond comprehension. I have seen it in visions granted to me. This horror will come unless we make efforts to stop it. No hope will be found for those who keep the company of elf or dwarf, goblin or troll. Only man can weather the coming storm and only if the lesser races have been eradicated.”
As he had seen in the faces of many who he had preached this message to before, looks of fear and anger crossed the faces of those belonging to the races he described. Two dwarves and two elves in this council shared some of those expressions.
But the woman remained stoned faced and calm.
“Those aren't terms,” she said. “That's the talk of a man possessed.”
“I speak as your savior from the coming wrath,” Androlion replied. “You have until sunlight tomorrow morning to empty your city of every dwarf, elf, and other creature who has brought this destruction down upon us."
"Here now! What's this rubbish?" a redheaded dwarf interrupted. An eye patch covered his left eye and his hair and beard were braided with several wooden beads of many shades and hues. He wore dark but varied colors. Stepping forward, he took his mace off his belt and brandished it at Androlion.
"Throw out everyone but the humans? Bah. I've heard enough of your talk."
He threw his mace directly at Androlion's head. Blume gasped and Cory made a quick movement. It would have been a fatal blow, were it not for the magical shield that surrounded them.
The weapon exploded into a shower of metal dust. A few sparks traced their way along the rim of the energy shield and then died away. The tall woman kicked the dwarf behind his knees, sending him to ground, cursing.
Androlion continued as if nothing had happened.
"If you do so, your city will be spared and my army will march to where it is needed most. The dwarves and elves of the west and north require my attention. In exchange for supplies for my army, I will not burn your city to the ground.”
Androlion grabbed the reins of his horse, knowing that his message had been heard and the time-line set.
“I'll know your answer when I see you hurling those that need to be purged over the sides of your great walls. That, or I will come for the city and none shall be left alive.”
He turned his horse and looked over his shoulder at the Council of Seven, who stood still and defiant, watching him ride away.
“Tomorrow at sunrise!” he shouted again.
Androlion looked over at Blume, who was still riding proudly on her horse.
He noticed the look of hate and disgust across her face.
In good time, he thought. She will see the completion of my work.
“General Cory,” he called as he rode.
“Yes, My Lord,” came the reply.
As the delegation rode back to the army that faced them, pride filled him. He was not the disgraced elder he had been two years ago. He was a man to be feared. To be admired.
He was Androlion Fellgate, the Savior of Men.
“Ensure my dinner is waiting for me.”
22: For Thoran
Teresa
ran across the walls of Thoran with Felicia and Urt close behind her. Several soldiers stood along the walls and let arrows fly down at the attacking goblin hordes. So far, none had managed to climb the wall, let alone try. The wretched gray beasts seem content to clamor along the bottom of the defenses and hurl rocks upward at the defenders. Some held crude bows and shot poisoned arrows, but these mostly flew over the wall and landed harmlessly on the buildings below.
Casting a look over to the streets below, Teresa could see several youth scattering about and collecting the lethal projectiles.
She prayed the wretched things wouldn't hit them.
Her focus brought back to the wall and the path she ran down, she found herself at a strong door. Inside of this were a cramped guard table and a few wooden chairs. Though it was a bright morning outside, the room was dark. Light invaded the space at a few openings that were also occupied by soldiers with bow and arrows, sending back down whatever the goblins shot at them.
Each soldier wore gloves to protect their hands from the poison. Teresa eyed them only for a moment. A male elf let out a triumphant sound, possibly signaling a direct hit.
He turned to see who had noticed and found himself eye to eye with Teresa, his princess, general, and leader. She gave him a hard stare. His face turned red and he quickly busied himself aiming for another target.
A stifled smile nearly crossed her mouth, but then it was gone.
This was a time to plan, not to celebrate.
The goblins were up to something.
Hours had passed since the horde of gray skins had begun their assault on the outer wall of Thoran, but no great threat had assailed them. Save for the occasional mad dash at the main gate with fire and wood. Teresa had been proud of her soldiers and their use of boiling water to both repel the attacks and put out the flames all at the same time.
But to send a massive army to her gates and not do much with them?
Either it was goblin cunning or stupidity.
Both were dangerous.
“What are the little devils playing at?” Felicia asked as they approached the table. Mara, leader of the resistance from the Southern Republic and those who opposed Androlion's regime, sat at the table with a captain of Thoran at her side.
She had come north to warn the people there of Androlion's schemes and to let them know that there were those even in the south who would not bow to such a madman. Her coming had been a blessing and a curse.
The news of others who were not taken by the hate of other races was good to hear and encouraged Teresa greatly. However, the goblin army that now assaulted them came shortly after her arrival and had delayed her home going.
Mara was now trying to offer her wisdom in the defense of the castle and its citizens. Fresh eyes that sought out weaknesses in the fortress and its walls. This was thoughtful and wise, but still it irked at the princess.
Her castle was strong and these goblins were ill-equipped. How could they possibly breach the walls of Thoran?
It was that subject Mara was currently discussing with Crawford, one of Teresa's sergeants and one of the most tenured human soldiers in Thoran's army. Though he was nearing his mid-forties, he fought with the vitality and heart of any younger warrior. He was also the one who knew the defenses of Thoran well enough to talk her through the drawings and more drawings of Thoran's structures.
He was now showing Mara a portion of the wall she had thought might be weaker than the others.
"No ma’am," he had said, pointing to a spot. "We have soldiers there guarding that portion of the wall and no few goblins would it take to overcome them."
Teresa came and looked down at the place they were discussing. It was where the wall met the east side of the mountain range. Thoran's capital city and castle lay in the base of a mountain. The walls that rose to protect it sprang from the sides of the solid rock that enveloped them. It was heavily fortified.
Built with the help and plans of dwarves, the city had never been captured or taken.
Then again, never had this many goblins come to its walls, either.
"Vera and Benton are leading the defenses well," Teresa reported as she stood at the table, Felicia and Urt behind her. "Though we expect there's some plot we're missing."
"Or the vermin are just stupid," Felicia offered.
Teresa looked back and shrugged her shoulders.
"It's possible they just attack without a plan," she replied. "But you know how crafty they can be if they attempt it."
Felicia was still upset about her ship, the White Wind, which was blown to pieces by goblins on the way from Good Harbor to Thoran. She cursed and spat on the ground.
"Well I say we find a way to rid ourselves of 'em."
Mara looked disapprovingly at Felicia. The two were related, but they both begrudged that fact it seemed to Teresa. Mara was Felicia's aunt and the two could not be more different. Not a single hair was out of place on Mara's gray head and she always carried herself with poise and dignity. There was hardly a moment when attendants who waited on her needs didn’t surround her.
Felicia, on the other hand, whose hair was mostly in long braids and topped with a captain's hat, acted just like one might expect a pirate to: coarse and gruff. Her constant first mate, Urt, was a Skrilx, a creature covered in gray fur with the body like a man, save for his tail and feline face.
"While I agree with you, Felicia," Mara continued, ignoring her niece’s eyes rolling at the mention of her given name. "We can't send the few troops we have in Thoran out against such a force. We would be crushed."
Teresa agreed. Androlion and his army of warriors and mercenaries had decimated most of Thoran’s fighting force. What soldiers they had left were struggling to defend the castle against the current attack.
An outright battle would be the end of them all.
But the castle had only so much in their storehouses. They wouldn't survive a winter's siege.
"Our scouts said there are thousands of the creatures in the woods just beyond our gates," Crawford offered. "But what can we do about it from here?"
Teresa had been a soldier for her entire adult life, much against the wishes of her mother. She had seen, time and time again, her father's ingenuity and cunning in battle save the lives of countless soldiers, against both monster and men.
Now it was her turn to do what she had been trained to do.
"Send for the Speakers."
MADAM WISHTER, HEAD of the School of Magic, came down the path, followed by more than a dozen Speakers, all robed in the crimson color of Thoran. Men, women, elves and a dwarf all hurried towards the walls with soldiers on either side. They were not in danger of arrows from this distance, but soon they would need the protection that accompanied them.
Teresa met them as they walked.
“Did Vera relay my message to you, Madam Wishter?” she asked, keeping pace with the surprisingly quick old teacher.
“She did and we will serve as needed,” she replied in a matter of fact tone.
“I know that several of your students are already on the walls helping to defend but in order to perform what we think will drive the horde back–” Teresa began.
“You needed more gifted Speakers,” Wishter interrupted.
It was true.
Many on the wall wore the robes of a battle Speaker, protecting soldiers with small shields where it was needed and hurling bolts of energy at the goblins where they gathered the thickest.
But Teresa and her sergeants had plans for a bigger offensive that would require those with the utmost skill. They hoped that this plan would drive back the goblins and send them on their way, saving Thoran from a siege that could last weeks.
“Yes we did,” Teresa said as she began to lead them to the castle gates. “And we would like to ask you to do something worthy of the renown our magic school has received. Follow me to the wall, please.”
The company did just that.
Back at the gate house, above the massive entrance t
o Thoran, the plan was laid out and all agreed it was a sound strategy.
All except Madam Wishter.
“You all are still willing to go along with this madness, even when I showed you the potential folly?”
It was hard to question the headmistress, but Teresa saw no other options. There was a part of her that wanted to plow ahead, despite Wishter's complaints. But then another part that hesitated. She remembered the way her father had conducted many of his war councils and battle plans.
When she had disagreed with a decision of his, and had voiced it out of concern for the safety of her comrades or due to the lack of ability she felt the troops had, there was something he always said to her.
How did it go again?
“Well then, Madam Wishter,” Teresa said, mimicking her father's intonation from memory as best as she could. “What would you suggest we do instead of the plans laid out so far?”
Crawford and Benton looked up at the princess knowingly and nodded their approval.
Even Madam Wishter let a corner of her mouth turn up in a small grin.
“You say that we cannot withstand a prolonged assault with our forces and our supplies. Why not evacuate the castle through the mountains and send the people north, milady? Save their lives and spare the soldiers as well. Sometimes the best way to ensure you leave a fight alive is to abandon it.”
The air hung in the crowded room for a moment. Several of the soldiers shooting arrows through the openings in the wall loosed several volleys before Teresa replied.
Benton coughed.
“I'll not abandon the castle to ruin and these goblin wretches,” she said resolutely.
There was no option in her mind for leaving the castle to fall prey to monsters.
“This castle has never been the home of goblins and I'll see that it never is.”
Many nods followed her statement, by both soldier and Speaker. They all had a sense of pride in their homeland and in their castle.