by Lana Axe
“Which king? Oge?”
“Either one, really,” Geryl responded. “You spent a lot of time talking with both of them.”
Pedr grinned, his teeth glistening in the darkness. “You’ll find out soon enough,” he said. “Besides, most of the soldiers here already know. Maybe you can pry it out of one of them.”
“I already tried,” he admitted. “None of them will say a word. Apparently it’s a secret.”
“Apparently,” Pedr echoed. Slapping his friend on the back, he added, “Trust me, it’s worth the wait.”
Geryl shook his head, still wishing he knew the full story. Pedr had made a bargain with two kings, and he wondered how it might affect him and the new settlement near Ra’jhou. The two men had been friends for many years, so he trusted that whatever the secret was, it had their families’ best interests at heart.
Bor, whose eyes were younger than those of his companions, walked ahead of Pedr and Geryl as a scout. As he proceeded down the mountainside, he caught sight of a campfire just ahead. He rushed back to let the others know there might be trouble ahead.
Hurrying toward one of the generals, Bor said, “There’s a campfire ahead. It could be enemies.”
Immediately, the general ordered the dwarves to halt their descent and prepare to attack.
Pedr strode forward to look for himself. “I don’t think those are Na’zorans,” Pedr informed the general. “I doubt they’d be at this height in the mountains. That wouldn’t be the quickest route to the castle. I’d bet these are Ra’jhouans.”
“Why would they be hiding in the mountains?” the general asked.
“They’re scattered,” Pedr replied. “Hundreds of citizens have been displaced. There might even be guards or soldiers among them.”
“I’ll send someone in to find out,” the general stated. “The rest of us will remain hidden and ready to attack.”
Pedr shook his head. He was certain these people were not a threat. If this was an invading army, they wouldn’t give their position away so easily by lighting a campfire. “I’ll go in and have a look,” Pedr volunteered.
“Suit yourself,” the general replied. “If you aren’t back in twenty minutes, we’ll move in.”
Pedr hurried down the mountain to the camp. Sure enough, unarmed citizens were gathered close to the fire, trying to stay warm in the chilly mountain air.
“Hello there,” Pedr said, announcing his presence. He held up both hands so the men and women could see he wasn’t armed.
“Greetings,” a tall, bearded man said. “What brings you here?”
“I’m here to help,” he explained. “You are Ra’jhouans, I take it?”
“We are indeed,” the man replied. “Our village was destroyed weeks ago, and our path to the castle was cut off by the Na’zoran army. We’ve set up camp here to await the end of the war.”
“Are there soldiers among you?” Pedr asked.
“Not in this camp,” he replied. “There is a good portion of our army a bit farther north. They’ve been looking for a safe route back to the castle, but so far they’ve failed to find one. There aren’t enough of them to break the enemy line.”
Pedr grinned. “There will be now.” He whistled to his companions and waved his hands, urging them to come forward.
From the darkness, hundreds of dwarf soldiers appeared. The gathered Ra’jhouans cheered at the sight.
“You’ve come to save us all!” the bearded man shouted.
“Well, there’s still the small matter of Na’zora’s mages, and let’s not forget we’re still outnumbered,” Pedr pointed out. “We’ll do our best, though.”
The bearded man nodded. “I’ll lead you to the soldiers’ camp,” he said, grabbing a torch from the fire.
They walked until dawn before they reached the gathered Ra’jhouan soldiers. There were only about three hundred of them that Pedr could see, but even a few were better than none. The soldiers were happy to see the dwarves, who had brought a few extra weapons to share. Hope filled the men as they beheld the sight of their reinforcements.
The man introduced Pedr to the lieutenant who was in charge of the scattered army. “It’s good to have you on our side,” the lieutenant said, shaking Pedr’s hand. “We’ve kept a close eye on the situation, and Na’zora is already in position at the castle. They have not yet begun their attack, but they will soon.”
“Let’s hope we’re able to break the siege, then,” Pedr replied.
As light filled the sky, the men were eager to march. The scouts had reported no further movement by the Na’zorans, but the situation could change at any moment.
“Do we march for the castle in full force?” Pedr asked.
“No,” the dwarf general responded. “There’s been a change in plans.”
Chapter 40
Thunder crashed against the walls of the castle, its voice booming throughout the stone corridors. Cries from women and children rang through the air as the frightened citizens barricaded themselves inside. Soldiers stationed on the walls took cover, fearing the castle might come apart at the seams.
A roar erupted from the invading army as they moved themselves into battle formation. The ground shook beneath their feet as they marched, and the air swirled hot around the mages as they began to conjure their flames.
Efren sat motionless upon his throne, the thunder echoing in his hears. He swallowed hard and steadied his breathing. His face showed no sign of emotion.
“Your Majesty, Na’zora is attacking,” Arden announced. “They are in formation outside our walls.”
Another crash of thunder reverberated through the castle, followed quickly by a second and a third. The assembled nobles at court looked nervously at one another, wondering if they should take refuge in the lower levels.
“Is that sound coming from the mages?” Councilman Faril asked. “Are they taking down the castle?”
“It could only be,” Arden replied.
Efren shook his head, a spark of hope showing on his face. “That is not magefire,” he said with confidence. “That is our salvation.” He rose to his feet, extending a hand to his First Advisor.
Reaching for the king’s arm, Arden gripped it firmly. They exited the throne room together, followed by the entire council and assembled nobles. Arden had no idea of the king’s destination. Instead, he allowed the king to lead him as their footsteps echoed through the corridor. Finally, Efren halted near a thin, rectangular window.
“Duke Arden, could you tell me what you see outside this window?”
Arden peered outside, first looking down into the courtyard. The area had been evacuated. “I see nothing, Your Majesty,” he said. “There are no soldiers or citizens present in the courtyard.”
Urgency rose in the king’s voice. “Beyond that. What do you see?”
Arden focused his gaze on the area beyond the castle courtyard, where the Na’zoran army was gathered. “I see legions of Na’zoran soldiers,” he said, his eyes drinking in the scene. Wrinkling his brow, he added, “They’re all facing away from the castle.”
“What else do you see?” Efren asked. “Look beyond the Na’zorans.”
In the distance, Arden’s eyes fell upon an army of dwarves. His heart nearly stopped as he realized they were attacking the Na’zorans. “There are dwarves!” Arden shouted. “They’ve come to help us!”
The nobles who had gathered behind the king began chattering over one another. Straining their necks and shoving each other out of the way, they struggled to catch a glimpse of the spectacle outside. Another boom thundered through the castle, and the crowd fell silent.
“What is that sound? Are the mages winning? Do the dwarves still stand?” Councilman Faril asked anxiously.
“I cannot see,” Arden replied, “but surely it is the mages firing at the dwarves.”
“No, it is not the mages,” Efren stated. “It is our friends the dwarves who are wielding this fire. They have alloy vessels full of powder that explode upon im
pact. It is a technology previously unknown to us. Through many long hours of study and experimentation, I discovered the correct formula and the safest method of transporting it.”
Arden stared open-mouthed at the king, unable to believe his ears. King Efren had invented a weapon capable of taking out Na’zora’s army. His creation had saved what was left of his kingdom and all the lives barricaded inside the castle. “You invented this? Why did you need the dwarves? Why did you not arm our own soldiers with this?”
“We do not have the resources necessary to craft the vessels,” the king explained. “Nor do we have the proper ingredients to put inside them. The dwarves have all but one necessary element available in abundance. The other is found here, beneath this castle.”
The councilors could not contain their excitement as they erupted into applause, cheering the king in his victory. “All hail King Efren!” they cried in unison.
General Willem burst through the castle doors, running at top speed up the steps toward the throne room. Finding the entire court assembled in the hallway, he stopped short. “Majesty, the dwarves have attacked Na’zora! Their army is surrounded, their mages destroyed by fire!”
Efren only smiled in response, his gaze still turned to the window. The sunlight beamed upon his face, and he welcomed its warmth.
Arden stated, “We’re already aware, General Willem. King Efren has arranged it all.”
“Then he has done what my army could not,” Willem admitted.
“You have done what you could under the circumstances,” Efren said, placing his hand on the general’s shoulder. “Your leadership and council have served this kingdom well. I could not wish for a better general to command my army.”
Willem felt humbled by the king’s praise. “I have disagreed with you and accused you of weakness,” he admitted. “I will never doubt you again.”
Efren nodded. He held no animosity toward the general who had spoken out against him at times. It was true that Efren had no experience when it came to war. He was grateful to have an experienced general to lead his armies. Gannon had placed his trust in this man, and Efren would as well.
“The Na’zorans will not last long against those dwarves and their firebombs,” Arden said, still staring out the window. A broad smile crept across his face as he watched Na’zoran soldiers fleeing the flames. Whatever was in those vessels created bright red flames, the very sight of which sent a chill down the spines of the enemy.
“Majesty, these dwarves have also found the men who were missing from our own army,” Willem said. “It seems they ran into each other in the mountains.”
“That is fantastic news as well,” Efren replied.
“Your Majesty, may I employ these dwarves to take back our conquered lands?” Willem asked.
“Permission granted,” Efren responded.
As Willem turned to leave, Arden continued observing from the window. “The Na’zorans have thrown down their weapons,” he announced. “They’ve given up!”
“Take me back to my throne,” Efren told him. “I am expecting a visit from a king.”
“Gladly,” Arden said, taking the king’s arm.
Chapter 41
King Tyrol watched in horror as his mages were struck down by the dwarves. The soldiers assigned to guard them fled in terror as the fires raged all around them. There had been no time for the mages to complete their spells—not one of them had managed to throw a single fireball. Tyrol’s prized mages were no more.
Lieutenant Jak rushed to the king’s side, “Your Majesty, we are beset on all sides!”
Another explosion rocked the ground, sending flames in Tyrol’s direction. In a panic, his horse reared, throwing him roughly to the ground. Though uninjured, the event only furthered the king’s rage. “Pull our men back!” he shouted to the lieutenant.
The king rose to his feet, brushing the dust away from his armor. Where had he gone wrong? This was supposed to be his moment of glory. As he looked around, he saw nothing but the destruction of his own troops.
The Na’zoran army attempted to rally to its king. The men trod carefully, avoiding the many fires that were burning upon the ground. Each of the catapults they had constructed were now engulfed in flames, and the wall that was intended to protect them from archers had been obliterated.
Though there were few horses left on the scene, Tyrol spotted a single rider making his way through the chaos. “Your Majesty!” the rider cried as he approached. Spotting the king amid the crowd, the man dismounted and bowed. “I narrowly escaped an attack early this morning. I was the only survivor.”
“What attack?” the king asked. “Where?”
“I was stationed many miles to the south,” the man explained. “We were stockpiling supplies for the siege. The dwarves arrived this morning, Your Majesty. They destroyed everything! I was lucky to escape with my life.”
Tyrol spat on the ground as he listened to the news. A second unit of dwarf soldiers was moving south, taking back the lands he had conquered. “How many men were there?” he asked.
“It was chaos with the explosions,” the man replied. “I could not say.”
Tyrol worried there might be enough dwarves to invade his own kingdom. What was to stop them? With the entirety of his army here and his mages dead, there was no one left to defend Na’zora. In his desire to possess the kingdom to his north, he may have lost everything.
“Find me a horse!” he cried. “We must retreat!” His eyes scanned the field, but the few horses he spotted were too far away, running frantically from the scene. The messenger’s horse was plainly exhausted from its long journey, and it would not be able carry the king far enough away.
“Majesty,” Lieutenant Jak said. “There is no hope of retreat. The dwarves are too many, and they stand between us and any hope of escape. There is nowhere to go.”
“You would have me surrender?” he asked, his face red with anger.
Jak looked at the ground, not wanting to say the words that needed to be said. The siege was over. There was no chance of taking Ra’jhou, and there was no place to run. They would have to face the wrath of their enemies.
Tyrol closed his eyes to block out the scene in front of him. “Tell all of our men to cease fighting. Find the commander of the dwarves and tell him we are beaten.” The words tasted bitter in his mouth as he said them, his voice thick and low. Never in his wildest imaginings had this occurred. Ra’jhou was a pitiful kingdom led by a blind man. It had no allies and barely any army. How could he have failed?
“Lay down your weapons!” Jak called as he made his way through the ranks. The cry echoed through the field as the Na’zorans accepted their defeat.
One of the dwarf generals took notice of the Na’zoran surrender and ordered his men to cease firing. He stood proudly, waiting for the king to address him. Instead, it was Jak who came forward.
“Na’zora surrenders,” the lieutenant said, holding his head high. Though his army was defeated, he would not stand ashamed. He had served his king well, and he would not grovel before this dwarf.
“Only your king can surrender,” the dwarf said. “When I hear those words from his lips, I’ll accept it. Until then, my armies continue to march. Let him know we won’t be stopping at the border, so he’d better make it quick. A good portion of our forces headed out for Na’zora at dawn. If he waits until nightfall, I won’t dispatch a messenger telling them to halt.” With a grin, the dwarf crossed his arms and added, “You’d best see to your king.”
Slowly, Jak turned and began the march back to King Tyrol’s position. “Majesty,” he began, “the dwarf would like to hear you surrender personally. If you refuse, he says his army will invade Na’zora.”
Tyrol scowled, a low rumble sounding from his throat. “I will kill this dwarf,” he stated, his hand moving to the hilt of his sword.
“Your Majesty, they will kill you!” Jak replied. “You mustn’t try something so foolish.”
Tyrol’s eyes flashed wit
h hatred, but he knew Jak’s words contained wisdom. If he attacked the dwarf general, the rest of the dwarf army would kill him. History would remember him as a fool who had thrown his life away. No, he would not allow that to happen. He must survive and continue to lead Na’zora. Perhaps he would take revenge on the dwarves another day.
Summoning his pride, the defeated king marched forward to face the general. “My army surrenders,” he stated, his voice bold and clear.
The dwarf smirked. “I accept your surrender, and I have a message for you.” The general turned and motioned Pedr to his side.
Hurrying to his side, Pedr presented a piece of parchment to King Tyrol. Snatching the letter from the dwarf’s hand, Tyrol eyed him suspiciously.
“What is this?” he demanded.
“A letter from King Efren,” Pedr replied. “I suggest you take him up on his offer.”
Scowling, Tyrol unfolded the parchment and read these words:
Most Honorable King Tyrol,
I, Efren, King of Ra’jhou, invite you to a conference within my castle. It seems you have run into some friends of mine who would be all too delighted to watch you burn. They have an affinity for fire, just as your mages once did. There are matters I would discuss with you. I await your arrival.
Looking up from the parchment, Tyrol found himself closely surrounded by dwarves. To his dismay, they grabbed his arms and dragged him toward the castle.
“This is outrageous!” he shouted. “I am a king!”
The dwarves only laughed.
Chapter 42
Duke Arden could barely contain the amusement in his voice as he announced the arrival of King Tyrol. “Your Majesty, King Tyrol has come to meet with you.”
Still being half-dragged by the dwarves, Tyrol entered the throne room. A look of disgust graced his visage as the dwarves released their grip. Straightening the front of his tunic, he stuck out his chest and lifted his head high.
“It is customary to bow before a king,” Arden stated proudly.