While the commanders were implementing the king’s orders, Calamidese rode through the camps, rallying the troops. In the evening, just at sunset, the king rode to the gatehouse himself and called for General Tarquak. Ominous dark charcoal clouds gathered over the city in stark contrast to the purple and orange sunset.
Having arisen from his rest, the general was coming onto the walls to observe what had transpired during the day. He wanted to be certain his orders had been followed. Calamidese watched the posturing ogre shell of General Tarquak make his way to the gatehouse to confront him.
“We are King Calamidese VII and we demand you surrender our city immediately. Why are you holding those people, bound like animals, on the city walls in the heat all day?”
“They’re your citizens, Calamidese,” the general said with a grin on the ogre’s face. The scar that passed through his lips distorted the sinister grin. “Do you want them back?”
“Free them at once or suffer the same fate, when we recapture the city.”
The general raised his arm as a prearranged signal to his orcs on the walls. To King Calamidese horror, the orcs began to shove every other bound hostage off the walls, each orc pushing the terrified captive on his left. General Tarquak broke out in deep laughter. The sight of one hundred bound hostages falling to their deaths on the rocks below clearly excited the general, as it horrified King Calamidese. Even the king’s horse stamped his hooves and moved back.
“If you’re not gone by morning, the other half of your devoted subjects will join those citizens,” Tarquak said. He pointed down at the bodies among the rocks. “Each day you remain here, another two hundred of your precious citizens will be thrown from the walls.” A mean, twisted look on the ogre’s face then foul teeth showed through a triumphant grin.
King Calamidese turned and rode back to his camp. I’m not prepared for this development, he thought. I can’t waste my subjects like that but I can’t allow the general to control the kingdom either.
* * *
Moaning constantly, Earwig apparently felt and heard nothing but her black, blue, and yellow-green body throbbing with pain. She was a bloated mass of pulsating flesh with swollen hands and feet protruding from her lumpy-potato body. Dreg poured water on her to keep her cool, but he dared not even move her out of the sunlight where her misshapen body roasted. It took her a week for the swelling to subside enough for her to sit up. The black and blue turned a sickly yellow-green where thousands of lumps denoted stings on her toad like hide. Her outer skin peeled away from venom and sunburn, but she lived.
Anyone else would’ve died from all them stings or sun poison, Dreg thought. I expects her messed up body just eat up all that poison, being as she lives on poisonous mushrooms. Still, death would’ve looked better on her than the way she is now.
About the time Earwig was able to sit up; a noble couple from Konnotan rode by and saw Dreg talking to someone. The couple stopped to see if the people needed assistance.
Miss Irkin won’t like to see these people, Dreg thought.
“Young man,” the nobleman asked, “do you need help?”
Earwig turned to the question’s source. The lord and lady were visibly shocked by Earwig’s appearance. They jerked their horses away apparently fearing contagion. The lady delicately put her handkerchief over her face. “Is it living?”
Earwig cringed. “Don’t tell them who I am.”
I don’t understand her. Her swollen lips can’t form words, Dreg thought. She must want me to introduce her. “This is Miss Irkin, Grand Duchess of Konnotan, the king’s aunt,” Dreg said, puffing up with pride.
As a former gravedigger, he didn’t have a lot of social interaction and didn’t know the witch’s reputation. The nobles gasped. They didn’t return the introduction, but galloped down the road with all the speed they could coax out of their equally terrified horses.
*
“They’ll tell everyone about my condition!” Earwig screamed. I want to kill you Dreg, she thought. The simpleton can’t get anything right.
“I don’t understand what you’re saying,” Dreg mumbled. He smiled at her.
The simpleton has no clue what damage he’s done, she thought. Her claws dug into her palms. I need to kill him. Since I first took on this dimwit, my life has been a sequence of near-death experiences. In my present state, I can’t even move my fingers enough to cast a spell turning the fool into a frog before he does more harm. I’ll have to wait until he nurses me back to health to make him wish he’d never been born.
Two more days passed and Earwig stood up, hunched over, permanently. The witch hobbled about the camp babbling. It’s time to start north to Dreaddrac again. It’s Dreg or me; we can’t both continue to live, she decided. The fool’s more ill-fated than I am. One of us will be killed if I continue to travel with the lout. I’ll have to eliminate the halfwit. “Dreg, we must get back on the road in the morning.”
“I’ll pack the cart before daybreak, Miss Earwig.”
The fool can’t even use my real name anymore. I’m tired of protesting. Earwig winced but said nothing.
Next morning the two painfully mounted the cart, and set off up the road going north again. They seldom talked. Only the groaning of the strained cart’s wood speckled the silence.
Dreg’s quiet for a welcomed change, Earwig thought. The last ten days must’ve worn out the idiot’s vocal cords. His incessant chattering has hounded my ears to near deafness.
Zendor moved along at a pace that would have been considered enthusiastic if going to his own funeral.
“Zendor’s really spirited today,” Earwig commented sarcastically, as she looked back. “I think I can see the spot we left from this morning.”
Dreg looked back, but he couldn’t see it. “Where?” He continued to look back over his shoulder.
Earwig rolled her eyes, but said nothing. She looked ahead and saw what she’d hoped to find.
“Stop, stop there beside that graveyard,” she demanded. “I hate to stop the nag, being as he might make it another ten feet if he continues on until dark, but I need to rest.” The bloated witch, the daft helper, and the wormy looking horse set up camp beside the graveyard, just as Earwig had insisted.
“What’s for dinner?” Earwig questioned, having regained her appetite. She took a deep breath and stretched her flabby, sagging arms.
“I think we camped downwind of the graveyard,” Dreg said. He coughed and his face pinched with each breath. “Your toes and fingers are they all right?” he asked. He looked down at the campfire.
“Of course they are,” Earwig replied, jerking her head and gaping at him. “Why do you ask?”
“Something dug up a grave nearby,” Dreg said. He poked the fire with a stick. “The rotting stink is making me sick.” He looked up at Earwig. “You seem to like it.”
I rightly suspected a ghoul inhabits the thicket beyond the cemetery. I hope it will postpone its already delayed meal and eat Dreg. She felt a sinister smile bloom on her face.
“Thinking good thoughts, Miss Earwig?”
“Oh no, it’s nothing at all. Just some meat caught in my teeth.” Earwig stuck a claw in her blackened fang stubble. “Now Dreg I insist you sleep closest to the woods to protect me in the night.”
She bedded down under the cart and away from her companion, where she pretended to sleep that night. Where’s the ghoul? Why doesn’t he show himself?
About an hour after midnight, just as she was about to doze off, Earwig spotted the ghoul as it emerged from the trees. It crept forward, hesitant, surveying the camp, and spotted Dreg, asleep under his thin, tattered blanket.
It’s focused on Dreg. I sure hope the ghoul will decide the corpse can wait another day. Dreg is just too delicious a temptation. I’ll just cast a little spell on the ghoul to dispel his fears. It should draw him into the camp so he can eat Dreg and shut him up. Earwig tingled, casting the spell. How exhilarating, she thought. I’ve not cast a good spell since Magnosious di
ed. This experience revives my spirits like nothing else. I can feel the energy pulse, chanting the spell.
Her enthusiasm caused her to instill greater energy in the incantation than was necessary. The ghoul was about to pounce on Dreg, asleep under another spell, when the creature looked over toward Earwig, sniffing the air, searching for something.
It must’ve felt my energy surge. He didn’t noticed me before, but now I’ve drawn him too me. That stupid ghoul, he’s forgotten Dreg, sleeping right there beside him. She hunkered down as best she could.
The drooling ghoul turned and shuffled his feet, moving toward Earwig. Its foul decaying eyes suddenly opened wide. It seemed to smile almost romantically at Earwig. The look gave her goose pimples when she recognized its intent.
“Fool!” Earwig said, throwing off her blanket. “That was a love potion spell!” Earwig groaned and wheezed, struggling to get up as fast as her rickety old bones would allow. She broke into the closest thing to a run her terror could inspire. Waddling away, she mumbled curses on herself for her carelessness.
The ghoul, being revived from the dead, moved with a shuffle, but a passionate smile showed amid his decomposing face.
“It’s excited!” she mumbled over her shoulder. It thinks I’m playing hard to get! The smile and bedroom eyes on the ghoul terrified her. She stumbled forward as best she could. Though neither moved fast, they were both clearly responding to strong emotions, lust, and horror.
“Dreg! Dreg, you idiot! Wake up, Dreg!” the witch screamed. The lusty dead thing is gaining on me, she thought. That stupid halfwit is silent at last and no power I can exert will wake him.
Earwig and the ghoul shuffled in circles around the camp until near dawn. Numerous times the ghoul almost caught the exhausted witch, but the prospect of consummating the lust of a corpse shot adrenalin through her, and she bolted ahead each time. With the light of day, the ghoul was forced to retire to the thicket’s darkness and abandon his beloved until night fell again, and the moon could caress the two of them. As the ghoul withdrew with the dawn, the sun’s rays dissolved Dreg sleeping spell. He awoke visibly refreshed, stretching his arms in welcome to the day.
“That’s the best night’s sleep I’ve had in months,” Dreg said. He chattered away, while fixing them something to eat. He failed to notice the murderous look Earwig made no attempt to hide. She sat on the log, exhausted, yet smashing a large stick against the log she sat on. Following the meal, Dreg packed up and ‘encouraged’ Zendor to drag the cart further up the road toward Dreaddrac, while Earwig just stared at her helper.
As dusk fell, Earwig repeatedly looked back down the road, fidgeting on the seat. We’re not far enough from the lovesick ghoul for me to feel safe, she thought.
“I guess it’s time to make camp,” Dreg said.
“NO! Beat Zendor unmercifully. Make him hurry,” Earwig insisted, trying to grab the whip.
Dreg wouldn’t hear of it and snatched the whip away from her reach. They made camp and after eating, Dreg went to sleep.
All that night Earwig sat up with her spell book in her lap in case the ghoul found them. I don’t dare cast a hex now without checking every syllable in the book, she thought. Her fingers fumbled with the page corners though the book was open to the correct spell page on her lap.
He’s under my sleeping spell. He can’t hear me. She was so tired from no sleep for two and a half days, she fell asleep at dawn. Dreg let her rest. Neither saw the sad pair of faint eyes just before dawn that peered at them from the darkest part of the nearby woods.
4: The Battle for Sengenwhapolis
Saxthor hurried through Helshian Court Palace to Princess Dagmar’s suite in the palace’s eastern wing. He hesitated before the intricately carved mahogany door then knocked and entered when she responded. The large room was warmed by a delicately carved elfin fireplace, where coals glowed peacefully. Opposite the door was the rooms focal point, it’s massive but delicately carved bed, also elfin inspired. The carved trees at the corners spread vaulted branches that intertwined at the top supporting sheer, pale blue pleated bed curtains still rippling. Dagmar had just drawn her robe over her delicate gown and stepped forward away from the bed to receive Saxthor. The slight blush on her face revealed a tinge of embarrassment at receiving Saxthor in her private quarters, scantily attired.
“I’ve received dispatches from Sengenwha,” Saxthor said, holding out the parchment. He blushed too, momentarily, then quickly pretended not to notice. “Your uncle, the grand duke, has stabilized the northern border with Prertsten. That cuts off the invading forces on the southern border and prevents reinforcement.” Saxthor looked up at Dagmar, who clasped her hands together. “Also, Calamidese has now laid siege to Sengenwhapolis. If he can retake the capital, the orc contingents in the countryside can be isolated and destroyed and the kingdom saved.”
“Wonderful news!” Dagmar exclaimed.
“We’ll celebrate!” Saxthor sat on the divan in her adjoining, mauve colored receiving room. Dagmar sat beside the king and read the parchment handed to her, occasionally looking up bright-eyed at him.
*
“The princess is such a great help,” Saxthor commented later to Belnik, his valet. At Memlatec’s recommendation, Prince Regent Augusteros had assigned Belnik to Saxthor as his personal attendant upon his return to Konnotan from the adventure. Now everywhere the king went, Belnik accompanied him. The king came to depend on Belnik more and more.
“Princess Dagmar is a great comfort to your majesty,” Belnik, said as he brushed off the king’s riding cloak.
“Yes, she is the most wonderful lady,” Saxthor replied, his tone effervescent. He turned to Belnik, watching absentmindedly as his valet laid out his clothes. “Memlatec did well in recommending you for my confidant, Belnik. I know what I say to you won’t go beyond the two of us. I depend on your discretion.”
I’m very reserved with the courtiers, having learned as king, that it’s dangerous to say more than necessary, Saxthor thought. Too many people add their own interpretations. Still, I need someone to confide in, and as my personal attendant, Belnik is the only person I feel confidence in now that Bodrin is away. Memlatec chose Belnik himself. He checked the man out thoroughly before recommending him as my valet. Most of my old friends are away training for the coming war or setting up their own lives.
Memlatec probably asked Belnik to encourage my relationship with Princess Dagmar. The union of the two houses would cement the northern defenses for the future and Princess Dagmar is the most beautiful, intelligent, and understanding of marriageable princesses. Memlatec has pointed that out. A marriage might end Sengenwha’s historic hatred of Neuyokkasinians. Her people might well accept a Neuyokkasinian as her consort, since it doesn’t interfere with their historic monarchy. I don’t know how my people would feel about her as my queen, though I do know they are growing to love her.
“Will your majesty need your riding clothes this afternoon?”
“I know nothing about courting a lady, Belnik, I’ll need your advice. You’ve a wife and children, don’t you?”
“Yes, Your Majesty, I have six children. I’ll try to help in any way I can.”
Saxthor walked over to a window and looked out over the city to the harbor and river beyond. I suspect Belnik leads by suggestion. He smiled to himself. “I’ll ask Princess Dagmar to ride with me this afternoon. Lay out my clothes in case she accepts.” He turned to see Belnik already brushing off his riding clothes.
“Oh, she’ll accept your invitation, Your Majesty,” Belnik said without looking up. “I’ve seen the look on her face. She favors your majesty’s company and council.”
Saxthor puffed up his chest. “You really think she likes me?”
“There’s no doubt of it, Your Majesty. Pardon my boldness, but shouldn’t your majesty go ask the princess about riding this afternoon? Ladies take a while to prepare for such things.”
“You’re right, of course; I’ll go ask her at once.” He sna
tched up his riding crop and patting Belnik on the back, strutted toward the door. He looked back to see his romantic mentor, shaking his head.
Saxthor rushed to the eastern wing of the palace to find the princess.
When Calamidese returns from his campaign to escort his mother and sister back to Sengenwhapolis, I’ll ask his permission to pursue Dagmar, if he thinks his subjects could accept the match, thought Saxthor. He checked his hair and clothing as he light-footedly rushed to the princess’s apartment. At her door, he again hesitated. Perhaps I’m being too bold.
* * *
King Calamidese assembled his generals in his tent in the hills overlooking Sengenwhapolis to discuss strategy. The reassuring lamplight and warming flame from the brazier, flickered on the canvas tent’s fluttering walls. Calamidese had twice checked his elite guards that surrounded his headquarters. He felt comfortable with his remaining generals now reunited with him. The king stood over a map table in full uniform addressing his staff.
“Gentlemen, we have no choice but to retake the capital,” King Calamidese said. “We cannot rule the country with the capital in enemy hands. As some of you know, we assembled a select group of our guards. They attempted to sneak into the city via the underground tunnel through which we escaped the city earlier. They found the tunnel completely sealed. There’s no way to sneak into the city underground without tunneling. That would take too long. Any delay will only cost more citizens’ lives and give Dreaddrac time to send reinforcements. With the threat of our subjects being thrown from the walls, we can’t withdraw or delay our attack.”
The agitated generals milled about, speaking in low tones to compatriots next them.
Calamidese allowed the commotion to die down then continued. “The engineers have completed the ladders, catapults, and battering rams, while we’ve drawn up our plans. Tonight, we’ll issue orders for the troop dispositions around the walls. Our soldiers will be fighting to retake their beloved capital. Many will have family members possibly thrown from the battlements. You must prepare your commanders. Be sure they prepare the troops for such an event.”
The Dreaddrac Onslaught (Book 4) Page 6