Dagmar smiled and nodded then turned to an oak grove by a stream. They stopped in the shade beneath a great-outstretched branch that seemed to be grasping for the stream. Dagmar sat, leaning back against the tree trunk, where the golden afternoon light still bathed her in a lustrous hue. The curves of her body were prominent and flattering. Saxthor leaned against the tree in front of her. “Have you heard from my brother?” Dagmar asked.
It took Saxthor a moment to recover from the stunning vision of Dagmar. He ambled around, circling in front of her, pulling leaves from a branch as he replied. “Calamidese has secured Botahar, and assembled a small army there. I expect he’ll march on Sengenwhapolis within a week. If he has enough men, he might retake the city, or at least lay siege to it,” She is so beautiful and yet doesn’t seem to be aware of it, he thought.
“That’s wonderful news!” Through a smile, her pearl white teeth glowed against the dark tree trunk backdrop.
“Yes, should he be successful, he might be able to march across the kingdom and cut off the Dark Lord’s forces in southern Sengenwha. If he can do that, it would force the orc troops to fight their way back to rejoin the northern contingent. I’ve sent supplies and arms to Calamidese recently to aid in that effort. Let’s hope he doesn’t get bogged down at Sengenwhapolis and allow the alien troops in the south to slip by him. They might then join up with the attacking forces in the north.”
“And have you heard from my uncle in the mountains northwest of Sengenwhapolis?”
“If your brother’s information is correct, your uncle’s forces in the mountains harass the invading troops from Prertsten. While he doesn’t have control of northern Sengenwha, he is preventing more troops from successfully reinforcing enemy contingents already there. For the moment, it seems the military situation is a stalemate.”
Dagmar ran her fingers through her raven black hair making it sparkle in the light.
*
Returning to the palace, Princess Dagmar’s horse stepped into a hole. The horse lost his footing and stumbled throwing the princess forward so quickly she didn’t have time to react. She flew off the horse and landed on her shoulder on mercifully soft earth. She moaned when she tried to stand then lay back and held her painful arm. Saxthor leapt from his horse and rushed over to assist her. She tried to stand, but fell back into his arms in a dead faint.
“Dagmar!”
There was no response from the limp damsel in his arms. Saxthor felt his heart racing, holding her so close to him. Suddenly his great helper seemed vulnerable. He wanted to protect her as never before.
This beautiful lady unconscious in my arms is so totally dependent on me I just want to hold her tight and never let her go, he thought.
Her warmth flowed through him. Saxthor lay the princess down gently on the embankment, being careful not to jiggle her arm and shoulder he’d seen her favor as she fainted. He gently checked her injury, while she was unconscious and found no broken bones. The guards, following some distance back, were now cantering up to the couple.
“Hurry back to Konnotan and bring my herbalist and a carriage to take the princess back to the palace,” Saxthor told a guard.
While they waited for assistance, Saxthor returned to the princess, and with a handkerchief moistened in the nearby stream, gently wiped her brow. Dagmar recovered consciousness and lay under his cloak, with her head in Saxthor’s lap.
“What happened?” the princess asked. She winced suddenly and grasped her wounded arm.
“Lie still. You fell from your horse and damaged something in your shoulder. I’ve sent for a carriage to take you back to the palace, but you mustn’t try to move your arm until my herbalist can examine you. I didn’t feel any broken bones.”
“You checked my bones?” the princess asked, blushing.
“I thought I should, while you were unconscious so you wouldn’t feel pain,” Saxthor said, looking into the emerald green eyes in his lap. “With no broken bones, I think you sprained something, but we better check it out.” He smiled to calm her and held her good hand to reassure her. “Just lay back and rest.”
It’s so nice to be needed by someone special, he thought. A whole kingdom depends on me, but for the moment this lady needs me more. I like taking care of her. I’ll be more attentive in the future. He tenderly brushed her hair back away from her eyes. They smiled at each other before she again winced from a pang of pain. I have to get her mind off the shoulder.
“We were talking about your brother, Calamidese, and the struggle to regain control Sengenwha before you fell.” He looked out across the horizon and sighed.
* * *
Afternoon sunlight flashed off the dragon Hakbar’s bronze scales as he flew circles around Dreaddrac’s Munattahensenhov. The flashing beams caught the Dark Lord’s attention. The sorcerer-king watched as the dragon stopped circling and began following someone or something intently. Hakbar likes guarding the approach to the mountain, but he eats most anything that moves, he thought. The king returned to his desk from the mountain’s small observation tower balcony.
“Smegdor!” the king called. “Get in here, you fool.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Smegdor was huffing and puffing as he dragged his crippled leg, hurrying to attend the king.
“Get out there on the balcony and wave off Hakbar before he devours the courier,” the annoyed king said. “You’d think that dragon would know a goblin is one of our own. The problem with dragons is they have insatiable appetites.” He continued to write on the scroll in front of him.
Smegdor didn’t wait to hear what the king was mumbling; he rushed to the balcony and waved frantically with both hands to get the dragon’s attention.
“If Hakbar eats the goblin, the news from Sengenwha will be lost and the dragon will pay dearly.” The Dark Lord looked up at Smegdor, still flailing wildly. “The dragon’s destruction would cause you no concern, would it Smegdor? Considering your own parents were eaten by dragons that is.” The scroll rolled up with a snap as the king joined his assistant on the balcony.
Smegdor is putting on a great display of flapping arms so he wouldn’t be held accountable should the beast’s appetite prevail. He said nothing about the cruel reminder of his parental loss.
The Dark Lord grinned, then watching the drama unfold, he clutched the balustrade and noted his knuckles were white. Stupid dragon!
Staring at Hakbar gliding down over the mountain’s slope toward him, the goblin kicked his heels into his exhausted steed.
“Not much threatens a goblin, but dragons eat what they please as the goblin knows too well.” The goblin slammed his heels into his mount. His eyes were fixed on the approaching dragon. Hakbar glided down, his massive wings pulled back to his body for increased speed. The Dark Lord laughed a guttural, mucused laugh. The horse broke into a gallop, betraying fear. Its flight enticed the dragon more. “Hakbar is like a cat with his mouse,” the king said to Smegdor, now standing back from the rail. The Dark Lord snapped his fingers at the edge of the balcony. A loud snap exploded sparks that turned Hakbar from the cringing goblin that had jumped from his mount at the last minute. The Evil One laughed hardily.
*
“What news from Sengenwha?” the king demanded of the General Tarquak’s wheezing messenger, kneeling before him. The king sat back on his throne and kicked a bone that skittered down the steps from the dais, across the marble floor, stopping just in front of the goblin. It must be good news, since the general would delay reporting failure as long as possible, he thought.
“General Tarquak is in Sengenwhapolis. He be furious finding everybody running around lose in the capital,” the goblin said. Sweat dripped from his chin.
“Chaos, yes I see. I expected that. Continue.”
The goblin hesitated, apparently to catch his breath. “The general says to ask you for more troops to get hold of the city.”
“More troops!” the Dark Lord bellowed, his yellow eyes flashing red. “That idiot has enough troops to subdue the capital. H
e’s stalling and making preparatory excuses to cover himself if he fails, again.”
“I wouldn’t know about that, Your Majesty,” the trembling goblin said. “I just brung you what he called for.” The goblin dropped to his knees again and bowed his forehead to the cold stone floor.
The king fixed his stare on the messenger. “Shut up, worm.” It’s a challenge for the goblin to open his mouth, thought the Evil One. He knows better than to address the king unless a question is asked. The goblin realizes his mistake and dares not move.
“Smegdor!” the Evil One screamed, still holding his stare on the sweating goblin.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Smegdor said, cowering in the audience hall’s shadows. The courtiers had moved to the side aisle shadows or fled.
“Send a bat to General Tarquak with a message he has one week to subdue Sengenwhapolis with the troops he has, or he’ll return to the Well of Souls, forever.”
“At once, Your Majesty.” Smegdor bowed and bolted.
“Do you dare to speak back to your king?” the Evil One asked. His stare had never left the goblin. His tone was terrifyingly calm against the question’s implication.
The courier’s armor began to rattle and still the creature dared not look up. Before he could answer, a simple blue thread of wizard-fire sparked from the Evil One’s fingertip. Its hum seemed almost soothing before turning to the sizzle of burning goblin flesh.
“Mercy!” the goblin screamed. He rolled back and forth on the floor in excruciating pain. He cupped his hand over the bubbling gore that had been his ear.
I can feel the smoldering stump of his ear pulsing. Holding his head offers no relief, thought the king. “We’d have killed you, but goblins are a large investment,” The king said. He looked around at the frozen courtiers and announced, “We leave this one alive to serve as a walking warning to the others.” He looked again on the thrashing victim. “Get out! We’ll send you back to General Tarquak as a reminder of what our displeasure can mean. We think we’ll send the dragon Hakbar with you to aid the general in his task.”
The goblin said nothing, but moaned as he stumbled getting up. The obvious pain brought a smile to the Evil One’s face. The maimed messenger crept to the door as best he could, still clutching the blackened stump of his ear.
The thought of having to travel back to Sengenwhapolis with Hakbar should keep him terrorized all the way, thought the king. How will he prevent the dragon from eating him on their journey? At least he’s alive and escaping my displeasure for the present.
* * *
Hearing rumors an unusually ruthless wraith was on the way, the ogre commanders in Sengenwhapolis threatened and cajoled the orcs for weeks. They had only moderate success at regaining control over them. The orcs had developed a taste for pillaging and plundering since the city fell. They went about in small groups, helping themselves to the riches of the peninsula’s oldest city. They amused each other by torturing the citizens over any provocation, creating more terror. The city was total chaos when General Tarquak arrived. Established in Sekcmet Palace, the wraith stood ready to deal with his new command.
“Are my ogre commanders assembled in the palace audience hall?” General Tarquak asked his new adjutant, two nights after arriving in Sengenwhapolis.
“Those I could find are assembled and ready for your orders, General Tarquak,” the adjutant said.
“Those you could find?” The wraith, in an orc shell, glared at the goblin adjutant. The assistant stood with fixed expression but didn’t respond. He’s testing me, almost a challenge, Tarquak thought. He shook his head, rose from his desk, and with a backhand swipe, smashed a vase against the wall. “I’ve spent two nights inspecting the city and surrounding countryside to appraise the situation.” Tarquak snarled. “I intend to get these orcs under control before sunset tomorrow. The turmoil in the city is outrageous. Soon Calamidese will try to retake his capital. We can’t suppress insurrection within and without. When I arise tomorrow evening, our occupying army had better be under control or there will be decidedly fewer ogre commanders in the city.”
At the audience hall, in front of the assembled ogres, the wraith released the orc shell that crumpled to the floor. He seized a particularly powerful ogre for his body, and in that form, he marched up the aisle to confront the commanders. He took King Calamidese throne and looked out over the assembled ogres, who quickly hushed and stood at attention before their new master. General Tarquak’s ogre eyes were milky white looking across the assembled host. He saw the nervous twitching his gaze caused among the silent officers.
“Let me make this clear,” General Tarquak said, pausing to sneer. “You ogres will regain control of that ragtag army or I’ll use my own methods to regain control.” He paused again and scanned the crowd. “You’ve two days. After that, any orc found away from his unit will to have his left ear sawed off…slowly.”
There was sudden muffled chatter among the agitated ogres.
“Any orc I find away from his unit after three days will cease to exist, is that clear? Any unit found short by ten percent of its personnel will have its commander removed to the dungeon here in Sekcmet and that means you.”
“But general,” an ogre said from the back of the hall.
Before the commander could finish his protest, wizard-fire shot from the throne and the ogre was no more than a stream of rising smoke and ash.
“Clearly, that commander was incapable of following orders,” Tarquak said. He looked around the hall to see if there were further protests but the hall was silent. “You’re dismissed.”
*
Word of the general’s disasters, and his treachery at his last battle where he sold out his own army, spread rapidly among the commanders leaving Sekcmet Palace. The ogres disliked and mistrusted Tarquak intensely.
“That warped general, he likes torture and watching pain. He don’t care what happens to us,” one ogre mumbled. “I heard he done run off, leaving his whole army at his last battle, where he led them into a trap. There was only three what got out of there alive.”
The next night, Tarquak had an ogre tortured for no apparent reason. Word spread; it jolted the ogre commanders into line, but they were afraid to let the orcs know for fear of a general mutiny. The ogres surrounding the wraith bowed deeply in acquiescence and withdrew from the general’s command post as quickly as possible.
*
“General!” his adjutant yelled, rushing into his headquarters just after the ogres left. “General, there’s an army coming from the east. They’ll be here by mid-day tomorrow.”
“Excellent, we’ll give these natives something to think about,” the general replied. He didn’t look up or seem surprised.
“What orders do you have, General?”
“Round up two hundred citizens immediately,” the general said. “Tie them securely and stand them, spaced evenly, on the eastern wall at sunrise. Have an orc stand between each pair.”
“Will that be all, General? Shall I send new orders to the ogre commanders?”
“Call them back.”
The ogres returned soon after leaving the palace. Tarquak was at hand to address them. “There’s an army approaching Sengenwhapolis from the east. You will get control of the city’s orcs immediately. They must be prepared to defend the walls by sunrise. You’re to threaten the orcs with death if they fail to return to their units at once.”
The ogres complied and by dawn, when the general returned to his resting place in the palace dungeons, he’d issued orders for the troops dispositions. Two hundred confused citizens were forced up on the battlements of the city’s eastern wall.
* * *
Atop his white stallion, King Calamidese VII marched at the head of his army to lay siege to his capital. After resting several hours that night in the woods on the slopes above the city, the army began their decent from the hills to surround Sengenwhapolis at daybreak.
“It’s a good feeling we have, marching to retake our capital a
nd being the central rallying point for the army,” King Calamidese told his adjutant.
As the king approached Sengenwhapolis, he saw hundreds of his subjects tied up and standing like spikes atop the city walls. To the king’s dismay, the orcs standing between each pair of hostages were orderly and confident. I’d hoped to catch the city in chaos before a new commander could exert control over it, he thought. I’ll give them the opportunity to leave without bloodshed.
“Surrender the city and you may go north in peace,” the king’s messenger said, from an agitated horse before the city’s great eastern gate. Calamidese watched from his command post above the city. His horse, like the messengers, stamped the ground and snorted.
“You’z like flies buzzing round a buffalo,” said the ogre in charge of the gate’s defenses. He stood atop the portal’s tower, the height of twenty men above the messenger. “These here granite walls won’t fall to your threats. You best run away before we opens the gate and stamps you out.”
“Is that your final word?” the messenger asked. “What does your commander say about that? King Calamidese wants to know who’s in charge of his capital.”
“Tell your Calamidese, General Tarquak commands this city now,” the ogre said, puffing out his chest. “The Lord of Dreaddrac is king here.”
The messenger turned his horse and galloped back to King Calamidese with the bad news.
*
“We hadn’t expected the defenders to surrender the city at the outset, but we had hoped to retake the city before a new commander could take control and organize the resistance,” Calamidese told his generals, gathered in his command tent. The wind whipping at the fabric reflected the general tension. “General Tarquak would have to be a wraith since it’s common knowledge he was killed, running away from his last battle. He’ll be desperate to keep his soul back on earth. He won’t surrender or shy from battle. Deploy the troops around the city walls.”
The commanders fidgeted with their helmets but said nothing.
“Have the carpenters build siege machinery, and send men through the forest to cut trees for catapults and battering rams.”
The Dreaddrac Onslaught (Book 4) Page 5