Saxthor broke the seal and read the dispatch. He looked about the room at his councilors, still standing. “Magnificent!” Saxthor motioned for the messenger to rise. “Guard, take this man to the kitchens and see to it he’s well fed. Then accompany him to the treasurer and tell him we instructed that this man should receiver a month’s bonus pay at once.” As the messenger was leaving, Saxthor turned to his advisors. After the door closed securely, Saxthor shared the news.
“Gentlemen, Admiral Agros, and the combined Southern Fleet have routed Dreaddrac’s fleet off Tixos, capturing, sinking, or burning a third of it.” Saxthor held up and shook the document in the air.
The councilors rushed to congratulate the king on the success of his strategy. I hope this isn’t exaggerated, as is the custom with military reporting, thought Saxthor. A third may not be enough. He shook hands with those around him.
After all the rejoicing, pouring of drinks, and sharing congratulatory toasts, the chatra rose and bowed to the king. He turned to the assembly and said, “It will bring great relief to all Neuyokkasin to know that twice in as many weeks, the southern initiatives have pushed the Dark Lord farther from Neuyokkasin.” He turned back to the king and again raised his goblet. “Long live King Saxthor!” All rose and toasted the king’s success.
A sad thought passed over Saxthor amid the celebration. With King Calamidese in control of Sengenwhapolis and the invasion delayed by the Dreaddrac fleet’s defeat, Calamidese is more likely to recall his family.
The joyous news troubled Saxthor for a week. Finally, a confident King Saxthor made up his mind. He sent a royal courier with a sealed message to King Calamidese requesting Calamidese allow his mother and sister to remain in Konnotan until Dreaddrac’s forces were expelled from Sengenwha, for their safety, of course.
* * *
In his private office back in Sekcmet Palace, King Calamidese read the request. He summoned his new chatra.
“What do you make of this request?” Calamidese asked. He rose and walked around the room, head down and arms crossed behind his back. “Why such a formal request?”
“King Saxthor seeks to keep Princess Dagmar near him. I think it’s an excellent match, Your Majesty. It will seal the relationship between Sengenwha and Neuyokkasin after generations of hostility and mistrust. There’s no better match on the peninsula. We need assistance and friendly neighbors now with all this internal strife,” the chatra said.
Calamidese stopped suddenly, looking up sharply at the chatra.
“Match! You mean King Saxthor and Dagmar?” Calamidese walked to the refreshment table. He poured himself something to drink and offered some to the chatra, who declined. The king turned back to his minister. “We’d not thought of a match in this. Sengenwha and Neuyokkasin have been arch enemies for generations. What would the people think of such a match? Still, we fear it’s too dangerous for the dowager queen and crown princess to return just yet, in any case.” Calamidese walked to the balcony and looked out over the noisy reconstruction below to the countryside beyond the city walls. “The land is still occupied by orc contingents and as yet we’re not secure on the throne.”
The chatra approached the king. “Your majesty should encourage the marriage, the sooner the better. Unmarried, Princess Dagmar shouldn’t remain at Konnotan indefinitely, even with the dowager queen as chaperone. While the capital remained in enemy hands, the people were relieved their princess royal and dowager queen were safe outside the country but now the people will expect their return.”
Calamidese put down his goblet and looked up at the chatra.
“Your majesty should undertake the trip to Konnotan to recuperate, following your recent success in battle. More importantly, you must go in person to give your sister encouragement and strengthen the bond with Neuyokkasin. We need King Saxthor’s support and aid.”
“We agree,” Calamidese said. “We believe this marriage would secure peace and security on our southern and eastern borders, while the Sengenwhan forces finish hunting down and destroying the Evil One’s minions in our kingdom. You’ll manage the kingdom during our brief absence.”
The king departed shortly thereafter to the southeast and Konnotan.
* * *
Memlatec stood in the background at court, monitoring the activities north of Neuyokkasin. His watchers reported a buildup of troops on the southern Prertstenian border.
“It’s not likely the Dark Lord will abandon his gains in Sengenwha so easily,” Memlatec said to the great owl apparently sleeping in the corner. The great bird opened his huge yellow eyes, looked at Memlatec, then closed them again when the wizard had no more to say. “Perhaps there’s more to be learned on the waterfront at Olnak.” He looked at the owl again, but the bird just ruffled his feathers and settled back to sleep without opening his eyes again.
As the king’s representative, Memlatec took his leave from court later that day and traveled to Olnak to greet Admiral Agros on his triumphant return. After the official celebration and acclaim in the city, Memlatec arranged to meet with the admiral privately in the admiral’s rooms at the finest inn overlooking the harbor.
“Your victory was a great achievement, Admiral,” the wizard said.
Agros puffed up his chest and cleared his throat, his metals dancing on his finest naval uniform. “Will you take a glass of wine, Memlatec?”
“Thank you, no, we wizards avoid alcohol. It dampens our sensory perceptions. Please help yourself as you should at your celebration.
Admiral Agros, I must ask a more delicate but critical question. How seriously did you damage Dreaddrac’s forces?” Memlatec’s eyes were fixed on the admirals.
The admiral took a long look at the wizard, gazed at the door, then walked quietly over and opened it to check outside. Returning, he put down his goblet; his face and stance stiffened.
“Memlatec, I know as royal court wizard, you’re the strongest force in the kingdom other than the king. Also, I know you’re privy to such information as the king’s chief advisor. My answer will have a profound effect on the war preparations not to mention my career.”
Agros moved to Memlatec and put his hand on the wizard’s shoulder to relieve the sudden tension. The two moved to the balcony and looked out over the harbor. “I must be frank with you.” The two looked at each other. “Truth is, we sank or burned a third of the Dreaddrac fleet, proportionally distributed between their war triremes and their cargo and troop transports. While Dreaddrac’s western war fleet will not engage a southern force anytime in the near future, we weren’t able to prevent all the rock-dwarves and their arms from reaching Dreaddrac. They were able to land a formidable force, perhaps half the rock-dwarves and their arms to aid Dreaddrac’s war effort.”
“Thank you for that honest evaluation, Admiral. From my watchers, I knew a sizable force landed, but not the strength or details.” Good that I can rely on the admiral to report situations without exaggeration for career advancement, he thought.
“There’s something else.”
“What’s that?”
“During the battle, I thought I saw something like a dark haze or shimmer come across the water from the trireme that almost rammed us.”
“A haze or shimmer?”
“Yes, could be my imagination, things were intense, but I’m pretty sure I saw it.”
“What happened to it?”
“It was almost at my flagship, when I turned to fend off arrows and didn’t see where it went. I’ve not seen it since on the ship. Could be my imagination, but I’ve never seen such a dark shimmer before.”
“Doesn’t sound like something you’d imagine. I’ll look into it. Could be a tracer a wizard put on you.”
“Tracer?”
“If you’ve not seen it since, it’s using you to get to someone or something else.”
“Gad!” The admiral’s eyes were wide open, staring at Memlatec.
“I’ll look into it, Admiral.” Memlatec shook his hand. “Please return to the
celebrations, and again my heartfelt congratulations for your victory.”
Memlatec saw Admiral Agros was still watching him. He realized the admiral had hoped for a more definitive response. He was careful his face betrayed nothing. He returned to his room and saw the admiral below scanning beyond the door before leaving the inn. As Memlatec watched from his balcony, he saw the commander returned to the street celebrations where his glorious victory lifted the spirits of Olnak’s inhabitants. Their relief is genuine and personal, Memlatec thought. The citizens of Olnak feared an attack by Dreaddrac’s fleet. This victory effectively ends further naval threats from the north at least.
As he turned away from the window, the wizard caught a glimpse of the dark shimmer at the corner of the inn. It’s not following the admiral now, he decided. It’s transferred to me most likely, must be trying to get to Saxthor or someone at court. Well, it won’t get there. He vaporized it before sunset.
Memlatec returned to Konnotan and Saxthor’s growing romantic interest. In the excitement, the wizard withheld his council. The king should have a little joy and happiness before the northern darkness cast its shadow on the kingdom. Where are those rock-dwarves, and how significant is the weapons cache landed on Dreaddrac? He wondered.
* * *
King Grekenbach of Graushdem and his noble retinue journeyed south to Konnotan to conclude an alliance with King Saxthor and Neuyokkasin. The king was all the rage as his six foot three inch tall, athletic figure enhanced by his elaborate, polished armor, brilliant curly black hair, and full beard passed through the streets to Helshian Court Palace. After all the official activities celebrating his arrival subsided, the two kings consulted with each other about the war preparations on the peninsula. During the month long visit working out the details of the treaty, Grekenbach noticed Saxthor’s sister, Princess Royal Nonee, more and more. At one such session, King Grekenbach decided the time was right to bring up another subject.
“Something is on your mind, Grekenbach. What is it?” Saxthor asked. He brushed Twiddle off the desk, where he was chasing a moth.
“Saxthor, I’ve thought about that lovely sister of yours since seeing her at your coronation. Her vivaciousness and beauty have intrigued me. I’d like to ask for her hand in marriage, with your approval and permission, of course.”
“I must say the thought has occurred to me. I’ve noticed your infatuation with Nonee,” King Saxthor said. He glanced over at Grekenbach, pleased to see the earnestness staring back. “I’ve noted Nonee pays you special attention as well.”
Seating normally shy Nonee next to Grekenbach at state dinners certainly helped, he thought. Asking her to write King Grekenbach a letter of appreciation for his attendance at the coronation was a stroke of Chatra Rakmar’s cleverness as well. I suggested the subject. Nonee worded the letter so that the developing and encouraged political alliance could be a reference to Grekenbach and Nonee as well. Clever girl, that Nonee.
“Well, I’m sure you know Nonee and I have written frequently in the subsequent months,” the beaming king said.
Saxthor put his arm around Grekenbach’s shoulder and shook his hand with the other. “I’ll consult with Princess Nonee, but I believe I’ve already seen a certain inclination on her part to accept your proposal.” Saxthor’s grin must have reassured Grekenbach, who exhaled, smiling back at Saxthor. Saxthor felt the Grekenbach’s tense shoulders relax. “If it’s to her liking, I’ve no objections and indeed welcome the deepening alliance of our kingdoms through the marriage.”
“I’ll go at once to ask for her hand, if your majesty will excuse me,” Grekenbach said. He bowed slightly as one king’s acknowledgement to another; his huge grin radiating from beneath his great mustache.
“I believe you’ll find Nonee walking in the gardens,” Saxthor said. He tilted his head toward the window, and then led them over to see her strolling slowly, occasionally plucking leaves from the shrubbery, deep in thought. “At least that’s where we told her she should be this afternoon, just in case.” Saxthor winked and walked Grekenbach to the door. “We’ve liked each other from our first meeting in Graushdemheimer. Now I think we shall be brothers.”
The marriage at Helshian Court Palace drew royals and nobility from across the peninsula. At the ceremony, Saxthor stole glances at Dagmar, as she did at him. Neither saw the other’s repeated attention, though the court followed every glance.
* * *
Having cast aside his crumpled ogre body, General Tarquak’s vapor sped north on the night wind to the Munattahensenhov after his expulsion from Sengenwhapolis. His arrival was both unexpected and unwelcome. The general snatched the first unlucky orc he came to for a shell and rushed to the king. He approached the Dark Lord at his work table deep in the mountain’s core.
“You stupid fool!” the Dark Lord screamed. “Did you think we created you and spent so much of our essence on you to have you crawl back a failure? Do you think we should spare you the Well of Souls, when you’ve wasted the gains already made and slinked back here for sympathy?”
The specter drew back, trembling in his orc shell. The Dark Lord narrowed his eyes, beaming a warning of fiery bolts barely restrained. He rose slowly, tense, feeling like a coiled snake. Tarquak stumbled further backward.
“We’ve little control over our temper at such failure. We’re used to having our orders obeyed. Success and oblivion are our minions’ two choices.” The king momentarily restrained his rage. Yet, he made no effort to hide the spittle at the corner of his mouth and the hiss in his tone. He slowly stepped around the desk toward the shaking failure. “What else can you offer to save yourself from eternal incarceration in the Well of Souls?”
“Your Majesty, I beg your forgiveness,” the wraith said, through the now groveling orc.
A wizard-fire bolt shot across the room blasting stone from the wall. The king moved closer, standing over the orc.
“If you’ll grant me three legions of orcs and a goblin cohort, I believe I can retake the city.”
The Dark Lord slammed his fist down on a table. The stone cap cracked and the counter collapsed in a cloud of stone dust.
“You had a good two legions in the city in addition to our holding it in the first place.”
“But Your Majesty...”
“Shut up, you fool! You’ll return immediately, collect your troops from the areas surrounding Sengenwhapolis, and retake the city. Hakbar will assist you in the attack on the city,” the Evil One said. He was toying with the petrified wraith quaking before him. “The cowardice that caused you to scurry back to the Ice Mountains will pale in significance to the eternal pain you’ll know if you fail to retake Sengenwhapolis. Your fate will be far worse than death.”
“Your Majesty, I beg mercy!” the general whimpered, dropping his forehead to the floor.
“Mercy? We’ve discussed that. There’ll be no more of that. You will retake Sengenwhapolis.”
“The Dragon Hakbar is dead, Your Majesty,” mumbled the trembling form.
In the silence that followed, the sorcerer let the wraith shudder in the sweating orc, cringing on the floor.
“You fool; you should’ve known we knew the great dragon was dead. The massive energy pulse and disappearance told us that. We expected your worthless self to admit it. You failed to volunteer the information initially. You’ll pay for the loss of my dragon.”
The Dark Lord enjoyed torturing the wraith for his loses. The wraiths energies were alternately sucked out and jolted back, slamming the orc’s pain through the wraith’s essence. The specter imagined his existence being hurled back down into The Well. When the Evil One released them, the orc body smoked in a crumpled heap on the floor.
“You’ll go again to Sengenwhapolis, and you’ll ride there on the silver-scaled dragon, Ozrin. Silver-scaled dragons are celestial creatures that ride the backsides of storm clouds, their energy being extreme. You’ll do as Ozrin commands you to do, is that clear?”
“But Your Majesty, a general s
hould command and not...” Tarquak began.
The Dark Lord’s arm whipped backwards smashing the orc against the stone wall. His gnarled, clawed finger pointed at the general. “Shut up, you sniveling incompetent! You dare to tell me, who should command? It’s the king who decides who commands the armies.”
The wraith-orc dropped to the floor quivering, dragging a broken leg.
“Yes, Your Majesty, please forgive my impertinence. I beg your forgiveness! I’ll leave at once with Ozrin.”
“You will indeed!” the Evil One screamed. Again, he thrust his hand at the general and shot a bolt of wizard-fire that sent General Tarquak bouncing across the rough stone floor. A wave of blue fire pulsed through the wraith-orc. “Smegdor!”
“Your wish is my command,” the assistant said, from just beyond the doorway. Smegdor hunched over and held his arms tightly against his body in a useless and pitiful show of submission and defense. The poor servant stepped over the stunned body, containing the short-circuited general, and shuffled quickly to the Dark Lord.
“Drag that useless thing of my sight. Then go tell Ozrin he’s to commence with the plan we devised earlier.”
“Yes, Great King,” Smegdor said. He quickly backed out of the Evil One’s presence, stopping only to grab the moaning wraith-orc’s foot and drug it out the door with him.
* * *
The colossal silver dragon, Ozrin was in the stables high on the Munattahensenhov. As he approached cautiously, Smegdor heard dragons chomping meals of dead soldiers. He looked down at a body mound, dumped unceremoniously at the stable’s entrance, by those that found them within the mountain. He grimaced at the sight.
Ozrin has heard me coming, Smegdor thought. He stepped over an arm, approaching the cave’s entrance that reeked of decay, urine, and dung. From the stable’s darkness, Smegdor heard all chewing stop save one. There was a slow, deliberate crunching. A leg bone, most likely, it’s meant to intimidate me. The terrified man stood up straight, thrust out his weak chest, and stared straight into the darkness.
The Dreaddrac Onslaught (Book 4) Page 10