by Matt Rogers
Chapter 12: Toodrake’s Design
The Siege (Blight’s Encampment)
Prince Blight was in a lather, foaming from the mouth and berating the poor Orc who happened to be in his vicinity when the news broke.
“You overgrown, pot-bellied, sty-dwelling excretion! You bug-eyed, pug-nosed, pointy-eared secretion! You knobby-kneed…!”
The information had come by way of rock with a note and knife attached. Goliath had obviously been the one who threw the stone for it traveled a quarter-mile before landing with a thud in the center of the Prince’s encampment. The message was both clear and unsettling.
Nice try. Now it’s our turn
It was signed by General Shield himself.
Everyone who saw the note was perplexed until an Elvin recognized the blade as one used by their own. Slicer was then informed of the situation.
“Your Highness?”
“Yes.”
“Our assassin has failed.”
The news came as a shock because the Elvin reputation was such that bookies gave odds of fifty to one an assassination would occur if the perimeter was breached. The Prince was no exception.
“How could he fail?” he screamed.
“He couldn’t” Slicer replied.
“Then why is his knife sitting on my desk?”
The Elvin were amazed as everyone for they themselves had never heard of an attempt not completed once the killer attained a foothold inside.
“I do not have an answer, Your Highness.”
The camp was abuzz with the Elvin failure and creatures of all sizes began to question whether victory was possible. They were still vast in numbers but had not made a dent in the Queen’s army. Disenrollment was becoming a problem, especially among the mercenaries for their prize was not the thrill of ravage but the gleam of gold.
“Where are you going?”
“Home.”
“But you won’t get your payment.”
“At this rate my grandchildren won’t live long enough to see my payment.”
Morale among the more intelligent species was at an all-time low. Impressive work considering while in the Prince’s employ most could count on one hand the number of times they’d smiled in the previous month. The Ogres, Orcs and Trolls, of course, felt no change in the situation for they were never in good moods to begin with.
The Troll Toodrake was hiding amongst his own kind when the messenger finally found him.
“Toad! The Prince calls for you!” the mercenary screamed and Toodrake envisioned swallowing him whole.
Toodrake was not enjoying the moment. He’d been unable to find Sergeant Savage and knew the Prince would be displeased. He didn’t like the idea of being berated and liked even worse the fact it would come from one with such an expansive vocabulary. The Prince’s power, that of bringing sullenness and depression through oration was not as effective on the lesser-intelligent in his army because, at times, they stood there pondering just what in the world the Monarch meant. Toodrake, unfortunately in that particular situation, could understand the Prince and would question whether or not Blight was correct when he spoke of Trolls’ places in society as one of wandering the land eating mold and mildew so others could walk with clean feet.
As he neared the tent he heard the raised voice of Prince Blight ring out.
“I need an explanation, Slicer! How could it have failed?”
Toodrake moved closer to listen from the outside.
“It should not have failed, Your Highness. Once inside my kind cannot be stopped, we cannot be thwarted for we cannot be found.”
“Well, obviously you’re wrong!”
Toodrake’s mind was racing. Something he’d heard but couldn’t recall was attempting to break through. He knew it important which was why he was having difficulty with the process. Troll minds were notorious at withholding information.
“Your Highness, my kind have never failed with the objective in sight. The one who entered was a master, an assassin not only in name but deed. He would not be caught, he would not be seen unless somehow the others were aware of his presence. If that were so they were forewarned and never would have allowed their Queen to be put in such a position. They would not have attacked our forces because they would have known we were waiting for the gate to open.”
There was a pause of silence from the inside which allowed Toodrake to concentrate a little harder, giving himself a headache in the process, which finally brought to the forefront of his limited cortex the information he had been trying to recall. He smiled when it arrived.
“And you don’t think a second attempt will succeed?”
“No, Your Highness. With the death of my kind it is apparent they knew he was inside. There is only one explanation.”
“What is that?”
“They have an informant inside our ranks.”
Toodrake waited at the entrance for the correct time to divest his knowledge for the most dramatic effect. He was formulating plans to both enhance his position and deal with a Human he detested more than all others.
“Who do think it is?” he heard the Prince ask.
“I cannot say, Your Highness. My men are above suspicion for it is beyond their ability to inform on our own kind. The beasts are too…“
He paused seeking the right words.
“… dull of thought to comprehend our plans and the mercenaries have no reason to side with the others for they would only be prolonging their payment.”
Toodrake felt the time was right.
“You dare to interrupt!” the Prince screamed as the Troll opened the flap and entered.
He knew he was on shaky ground so bowed his head to firm position.
“I am sorry, Your Highness, but I have information I feel you would wish to hear immediately.”
He waited for permission to proceed, permission to further his power, permission to manipulate.
“What information?” Blight said in a sneering voice.
The time was right, Toodrake felt it, so he let loose his design.
“Savage warned the Queen, Your Highness. He had Deadaim send a message to the one called Hawkeye, a scout in Mother Nature’s army. A message warning an assassin was on the way” he replied neither knowing nor caring if it were true.
He had come to the realization it wouldn’t matter. The Prince would want a head for the failure and Savage would be a perfect candidate. He also knew one other detail which set his mind at ease.
“Savage?” Slicer asked.
“Yes” he responded.
He watched as the Elvin’s eyes went cold. Two events were taking place as he waited for the Prince to make his decision. First, Blight would need to choose a new leader for his army. Toodrake wasn’t a fool, he knew it wouldn’t be him but he also knew the Prince would remember it was he who learned of Savage’s treachery and would entrust him with more authority than just a lap-dog to the new commander. He wasn’t worried about the Elvin taking control for the second reason; Elvin creed. The very rules which governed their entire way of life would come into play for Savage had done the unthinkable; interfered in Elvin business and would be dealt with according to Elvin law. He watched as Slicer took permission to leave.
“You have done good Toodrake, you will be rewarded” he heard the Prince say.
He paid it little attention for he was thinking pleasanter thoughts, thoughts which made his heart beat with anticipation; Savage would die. Slicer was on the hunt. No one challenged the Assassins Guild and lived to talk about it.