by Greg Ricker
Nerol was not a king to be threatened with random bloodshed in his kingdom. It was said, that if an innocent man died after much suffering, Nerol would note how long it took that person to die, so he knew just how slow to kill the murderer.
"This will have to be a short meeting!" He shouted, and regained everyone's attention. "As well as our last."
That received a burst of gasps.
¨Just for an undisclosed amount of time.¨ Taft reassured. "I will let all of you know when to return."
He could tell only one member, and they would all know by the end of the day. "For now, we must be careful, and concentrate on what to do about this murder."
A Dwarf wearing a dark red coat stepped forward to the podium, and Traft motioned for the man to stand at his side. He removed a brown cap from his head, and twisted it in his hands. A large scar on the left side of his head was where he parted his gray hair. He was Lanum Cree. A good friend of Traft's, but the others knew him as the city taxidermist. He worked mostly for nobles, and to decorate rooms in the castle. Some did not care for his association with nobles, but the things he overheard in those royal houses, were sometimes of great value to the Advancement.
He usually knew who was going to be where, when, and why.
Sometimes, before those people knew it themselves.
"I bring important news." Lanum announced. "An army is approaching. It may be the Bowenn army."
His statement received more gasps from the crowd.
A rumor had been spreading that some members of the Advancement were going to protest the coming and going of both armies.
"Hear this!" Traft shouted. All heads turned to him. Lanum stepped back into the mix, putting on his hat. He had never seen his friend so angry. "I will make a list of what we want from our government. Laws that we will agree to, live by, and obey. Laws that we, the citizens of this city, would wish to see applied. It will be, a collective documentation of our meetings, you could say. I intend to see that it gets to the King, if I have to deliver it personally!"
Traft heard his wife gasp then. "We will show him how we can all profit from these new ideas! If all we show the King is violence, he will never listen! Do you wish our children to continue to live among the whores and thieves, slithering their way into our city?"
Roars burst from the audience.
"If we use our mouths only to bite them, they will muzzle us like dogs!" Traft paused for a moment, while the crowd argued among themselves. "No war, has ever ended, with peace! Men die, and kingdoms burn! Lands will continue to stay divided! Whether by religion, by their wealth, or by a mere difference of opinion."
He appeared angered by the truth of the latter statement. "They then build to fight again! More blood! More destruction! Nothing changes!" He had angered himself.
Jesmane even shot him a sideways glance. She knew him to usually get his point across quite well, but without showing anger. She knew it was because of the murder, and did not say a word.
They all deserved a lecture, at the very least.
"We can not expect to change the world," Traft continued, "but if we want a change for our own home, then we must create it!"
He stopped, and the crowd cheered.
He had said enough.
Meetings could not last long, without risking some random, hapless stranger finding the Hall. It was on the furthest western edge of town, surrounded by trees among the poorest neighbors in the kingdom. It was once used as the Council Room for the wealthy, self- employed, business-owning ladies of The Women's Guild. It had long since been left behind for a much larger building elsewhere in the city, and with a socially declining neighborhood, as well as a collapsing roof supported by cracking columns, it was not attractive to the average buyer. Its condition was much worse, now. The same could be said of the neighborhood, but it could not have served as a better place to have their meetings.
After waving a hand in the air, Traft stepped away from the podium, and rushed out of the room.
Jesmane knew he was done as soon as his hand went up, and she stood, walking close to his heels.
Lanum Cree removed his hat again, before he hopped onto the stage, waving his hands before the disconcerted crowd. A few loud whistles caught the attention of over half of them. "You heard him! There will be no more meetings until further notice! Please be careful making your way home!"
In fact, they all would have to be careful every minute, of every day.
Some of the members were yelling for Lanum to be quiet, to get off the stage, and to go back to kissing nobles' rear ends, but he stood there until everyone had left, and he was alone in the dimly lit assembly hall. He sat in Jesmane's chair, twisting his hat until it stretched. Lanum had always known Traft to be very calm and collected, no matter what the situation. He had learned patience from the man, himself, but it was obvious the Emissary was losing his patience with the King, and with the members of the Advancement. He prayed that his friend would not do anything foolish.
After a few minutes of thought, Lanum extinguished the few lanterns about, and left the Hall.
He would check on Traft tomorrow.
XII
Mynnorah
Outside of Derimon Pass, a cool breeze kept the brilliant sun's warmth at bay, as the Dorol Mountains gave way to rolling hills. Trees appeared in clusters, then in larger patches, until the plains were surrounded by forest, once again. One great hill to the north rose above the forest, and caught most of the wind and sun. At its peak, sat the magnificent kingdom of Mynnorah. It was a spectacle, even from the furthest view. A wall surrounded it one dozen feet in height, but it did not hide the city, or the huge castle within. Thousands of stone roofs could be seen, of all different shapes and sizes. None could even compare with one wing of the castle. It stretched nearly the whole width of the kingdom. Its tallest towers could contest with some of the highest mountains.
Danuel brought his small army to an abrupt halt, just within sight of the Dwarf city. Moon's Eye held his head high as his hooves all stopped at the same time. The prince felt like his old self, once again, wearing a green silk shirt, and shining black trousers. There was nothing more to hide. Not now. He turned the white stallion to face the mass of men behind him.
It seemed Deril Bahr, or Wade Levin, were always first in his sight.
It was not hard to find leaders, among untrained groups. Like the men in Bowenn, it always seemed obvious to him who deserved more respect than others, as well as who to never let walk behind you, with a knife in their belt. Mason Stark at The Square Stable, had been the first to surprise the prince, in that way.
He planned to learn from that mistake, and teach Mason something in return.
Kaylel had trouble turning her horse, and she traveled nearly ten paces passed Danuel before doing so. She could not hide her inexperience.
Neither could her horse.
"I need only about a dozen men to make the rest of the journey into town." Claimed Danuel, and not for all to hear. He spoke directly to Wade, this time. "The rest will camp here, until our return."
Voices from the men sounded angered, but now he would find out who among them, they considered their best.
"I would like you to choose, Mister Levin." The Prince added.
Wade appeared to have the same smile he wore when they left Tylas. With a nod of his head, he sent Deril off to do the job. It was very easy to see where everyone stood among them. Deril passed through the crowd, and grunted something into an occasional ear, until ten men followed him back. The reasoning behind his choices was a mystery to all, but himself. Even Wade had no clue to what even half of their names were, but he trusted Deril to choose wisely.
The prince produced an arm-length, wooden rod from the side of his saddle, and then another from the opposite side, which was rolled, in what appeared to be, a small blanket. He tossed them to Deril, who quickly reached out with both hands to catch them.
Deril unrolled the blanket to reveal the large banner tied to the se
cond length of pole, a red banner with a golden rearing lion in its center. Even he knew it was the flag of Bowenn.
The poles fastened at the appropriate ends, and it was complete.
"Hold it high, Mister Bahr," ordered Danuel, "or we just may catch a few arrows in our chests."
The red-haired thief was holding it across his lap. He pulled the banner up and rested it on his right shoulder. That was the best he was going to do.
"Stick to the plan we discussed earlier," Danuel tried to quickly memorize the faces of the twelve men he planned to unleash in Mynnorah, "and remember to address each other correctly."
He doubted they would accomplish that, without trouble.
"If you are ready, men." Danuel did not ask. He turned his horse, and they followed, Kaylel close to his side.
Taron and Dalt, remaining posterior, turned and followed, hoping they were still supposed to.
The others were already jumping down off of their horses to make their camp. Danuel was not the only one, who wondered how many men would still be there waiting for them when they returned. Nor was he the only one, to know it would be based on their loyalty to Mister Levin, and not himself. He needed Wade around, if he wanted them to look even the least bit professional.
Fortunately, Wade was already dressed well.
Though Danuel could not help but feel, that somewhere down the road, that man was going to make trouble for him.
More trouble, Danuel did not need.
The stone wall surrounding the kingdom of Mynnorah was strong, and well protected by Dwarves along its length, but it was not impossible to pass. One tall man could boost another to its top, but a short, heavy battle-axe would always be waiting for him. What fools would dare to even threaten the largest kingdom in all of Lynnwood?
Dead fools.
Danuel brought his small party to a halt just halfway up the hill to the kingdom, when the iron gates were opened inward, and two lines of ten mounted Dwarf soldiers quickly rode out uniformly. The armored men along, and on top of the wall, stood at attention, axes against their chests. The soldiers made their way down the hill to the approaching men and surrounded them, as another man rode out of the gates alone. Then the iron doors were closed.
Deril was waving the Bowenn flag high.
The newcomer broke through the circle of soldiers and stopped in front of Danuel's white stallion. From what the prince knew of military uniforms, he guessed the man was a General. He had to look up to meet eyes with Danuel, high atop of his white stallion, but his brown steed was taller than those the other soldiers rode. His eyes went directly to the rippling banner. Curic bowed slightly, then he looked at the mix of people before him. They were all young, rough-looking men from probably twenty, to maybe thirty-five, at the oldest, and one young woman.
None of which were Nall Talbarond.
"The Bowenn...army, I presume?" The General asked. He sounded uncertain.
Danuel could read the confusion on Curic's face, and knew he was going to have to explain immediately. "I, am Danuel Talbarond."
He returned the bow. "Son of the Great High Lord King Nall Talbarond. I bring grim news of my father's death, and ask that you accept my offer to honor his name, and serve in his place."
Curic was shocked by the news. So it was true. Nall had been killed.
"Welcome to Mynnorah, Lord Talbarond." He replied. It was not the time, or the place to grief. "General Curic Montclaire, at your service."
Another bow.
"I will be escorting you to the castle." There was not a single moment of hesitation from the General. He shouted an order, and the Dwarf soldiers formed equal lines on both sides of the Bowenn party, their faces forward. They did not even move their eyes. They maintained their lines, even when the horses began to march, close enough to bump elbows with the men inside.
The gates were reopened, and all marched through into a wide clearing of cobblestone road, which led to an extremely wide street running east and west, straight through the center of town. The many streets leading off of that one were small, and led only to Dwarf homes. Usually littered with children playing, men working, and women gossiping, the main street had been cleared, previous to the opening of the gates.
Three dozen Dwarf soldiers with large shields, waited for them there. They joined in as the men rode passed them. Each handed his shield up to a mounted Dwarf, then presented their axes, swords, and maces.
Eyes searching.
The men of the Bowenn party were quite confused by the way they were being greeted. It felt more like they were being protected.
Why now, inside the city?
"What is going on, Danuel?" Kaylel asked, quietly.
Danuel had no answer.
The first structure they passed was the largest stable in all of Lynnwood. Master Covary's Stables. Obviously a very wealthy man, his home was the wide, five-story building next door. Men stood outside of the stable with their horses. They stopped talking and stared as the army rode by. The guards running beside the lines, each looked their way.
Some men ran out of sight, for unknown reasons, and much to the dislike of the watching soldiers.
Homes and businesses were not built on the same streets in Mynnorah, unless of course, the shops were homes, as well. Each was made using very little wood. The Dwarves preferred mortared stone. Stones of all shapes, sizes, and colors. Few took the time and effort to find stones of similar size or color, but that helped keep the buildings from becoming monotonous. Something else they shared, was that every roof, of every home, was topped with a flourishing garden, surrounded by various choices of stone, wood, or iron fencing.
For every likeness, they could find a way to break the rhythm.
Large inns and taverns made up both sides of the street. They were built against each other as two large stone structures with very few alleyways, for passage to the garbage barrels behind them. Faces began to appear in windows. Men and women stood in their doorways, children clinging to their mothers' skirts. Dogs barked at the passing army, and no one stopped them from it. Ox carts and wagons had been made to wait by the side of the main road, as the army occupied the street. They held their animals at bay, as they shot quick glances at every face not belonging to a Dwarf. The crossing roads had all been cut off by the march, and had become jammed with people, growling about the delay.
Some shook their fists in the air. Their day was much too busy for this.
Mostly everyone was looking up to the rooftops. They saw Dwarf soldiers with weapons standing ready on nearly every building.
Something was very odd, indeed.
It was deep within that area, when the first mass of eggs, and fruit, came falling down on the army. Shields were raised high by the mounted soldiers, and Curic shouted out at whoever had failed to see the culprits.
He had insisted on no gaps!
Egg and sticky fruit juice splattered on the horsemen's shields. Some found their way to the men inside, even if not struck directly. Worst of all, some of the eggs and tomatoes, were unbearably rotten.
Just a couple dozen or so, and then it ceased.
Curic maintained the lead, though faster than before. He wiped the egg from his face with a large handkerchief, but could do nothing for his uniform.
Kaylel saw two soldiers in one of the alleys, beating the tar out of a cringing Dwarf. She could not believe what she was seeing. The merchant, who warned her about Mynnorah, seemed to have been telling her the truth, after all.
A single egg flashed by Wade's head, as he leaned back to dodge it. It crashed into Deril's shoulder, and the foul innards splattered onto the left side of his face. He smeared it off his cheek as Wade roared with laughter. Only a second later, a tomato slipped between their shields, and exploded on the big man's chest. Covering the front of his fine, white shirt.
Deril smiled, but he dared not laugh out loud.
"Bah!" Shouted Wade, as he examined his shirt. "What sort of city is this?"
All heard him, b
ut the only one he definitely knew about, was Danuel. The prince had turned in his saddle, to give him a look that could cut deeper than any dagger. Wade was not smiling, for once. He had to remember to think twice before speaking, sometimes. Perhaps he was not the boss, everywhere. He could perhaps let some men, borrow his control.
Even if he did not care to do so.
At times it just seemed appropriate.
Or else, he would never stand for it.
What Deril heard Wade mumbling, was far worse than what he had said aloud.
That was the last of the assault. It was well remembered, by the stains it had left, and the future prisoners that the soldiers were dragging behind. The buildings ended, and the gate through the stone fencing around the castle grounds was opened quickly, so the army would not have to stop their progress. Curic then slowed them down to a more casual pace. When the gate closed behind them, however, the General brought the march to a halt.
A few of the amateur horses from Tylas shifted unsteadily. Their riders were probably amateurs, as well.
Kaylel, for once, stopped instantly. Right in between Danuel, and the southlanders.
Danuel hoped that the embarrassment the Dwarves would feel, would outweigh his own. How long could he hide that not one man in his service, was a soldier of any kind?
Perhaps he would feel somewhat redeemed, should there arise a need for a professional thief?
Curic turned to the prince. His wiped his face one more time before speaking. "Please, forgive us for this madness, Lord Talbarond. I apologize on behalf of our people. They are lost, during this time of despair."
"There is no need." Danuel responded. "I understand their fear. I will not judge them, General. I will help save them."
Hearing those words, Curic felt as if Nall Talbarond were speaking to him, himself. Perhaps the prince could take his father's place. "Has your army begun setting camp outside of the kingdom? I was told you numbered near seventy. That many could have shared rooms in the castle."
He realized he may have made the fact sound humorous, and he wanted to rephrase it. "Shall I have them brought to the grounds, sir?"