When Ruguer finally called back his pursuing cavalry only a few dozen had escaped. In my lap Tinker projected to me a mixture of feelings: elation, relief, sadness. But we had won. At least this round.
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
Heroes
Ruguer entered the Open Court to heartfelt applause from the members of Olvion parliament. We all came to our feet and several cheers were heard. Members pounded their desks and shouted their admiration. The Sword of the King had come to this hastily-arranged session directly from the battlefield. His face was still streaked with dirt and blood. His green and red uniform was filthy with sweat and dust. But the warrior was smiling grimly.
So was King Zander. The monarch stood as his military commander approached. The two men embraced warmly. I already knew that they were great friends outside of the public eye which demanded certain polite restrictions. But they did not stand on ceremony here. They exchanged several comments which went unheard over the din. The hug reinvigorated the crowd. The cheers continued anew until Zander turned to the assembled body and gestured for quiet. I noted with some disgust that Brackus, the power-seeking Vice-Monarch was holding his hands above his own head instead of applauding as if he somehow shared responsibility for the victory.
Zander spoke. “My Lords and Ladies. I am told by our heroic Commander that the advance force of the enemy has been entirely defeated and our warriors now once-again patrol the approaches to the kingdom.”
Predictably this inspired another round of applause and cheers. I added mine. I was still in my wheelchair and Tinker was perched in my lap. Dwan, like myself, was present at the command of the king. Usually this type of parliamentary session was restricted to members. But we found ourselves here with all of the surviving members of our mission from the night before. Zander motioned for quiet.
“I am told that our brave warriors destroyed twenty thousand Grey Ones in the battle.” This would have spurred another cheer but Zander raised both hands to short-stop it. He turned to look again at Ruguer before continuing. “Our Good Commander has unfortunately also advised that we lost three hundred and eighty three warriors.” The mood of the assembly instantly became more serious. “Let us interrupt our victory celebration and pay honor to their sacrifice with a few moments of silence.”
We all lowered our heads in appreciation. Before doing so I noticed Brackus looking puzzled. I was not surprised to see him at a loss for the reason for such an action. Dwan took my hand as I stood. There was no way I was going to sit through a demonstration of honoring our fallen. After a respectful length of time Zander spoke again and we raised our heads to follow his words. The mood of the room was now more somber. I sat.
“My Commander would speak,” he said simply. Ruguer stood and waved away the beginnings of another round of applause.
“My Lords and Ladies. Thank you for this reception. I must remind you that many were involved in the design of this victory.” Brackus turned his head toward Ruguer hopefully but received no accolades from the King’s Sword. His half smile dropped
“Twenty thousand Grey Ones. Three hundred and eighty three warriors. This was an enormous, though costly, victory. I’ve never read of any battle in which the losses were so weighted to one side. But there is no way I can accept your honors unless I first give credit to the founders of the victory. Sub-Commander Tag-Gar,” he called. “Rise, if you can, with your warriors and accept our gratitude.”
Had I not been in a wheelchair I would probably have hit the floor. I was totally unprepared for such a focus of attention by the large gathering. Months ago such an event would have probably left me stammering and red faced. The events of my recent experiences had served to blunt the effects of my lifelong shyness. And I suspected that Tinker had done her part in helping me along against my old affliction. I stood again with Dwan’s help and that of Pulg who was on the other side of me. Tinker was in my arms. The room vibrated with the noise from the assembled members. We all stood there together, accepting the appreciation of the representatives of the Olvioni people. I suspected that, like me, the others were all thinking of our fallen comrades. But it was a moment that each of us would remember always. From a personal standpoint it was good to know that I was fighting for and with a people that appreciated the sacrifices of its combatants. As the applause continued I saw Brackus across the room. He was watching me and his expression was dark. I had apparently been marked by him as an obstruction on his path to success and glory. In his view any success for Zander equaled a failure for him.
I made a mental note to myself. Brackus was like many of the inmates I had dealt with in my job as a correctional officer. They were the ones that knew they couldn’t stand toe to toe with you so they would bide their time and wait for the most opportune moment in which to plunge a shank into your back.
But tonight was for celebration so I pushed the Vice-Monarch from my mind. When our applause dwindled we sat.
Zander addressed the room again.
“I must remind everyone that this victory celebration will be short. Tomorrow or the day after the main body of Grey Ones will arrive. We still have much to do. Lords and Ladies, I need you to address your constituents. Remind them that we need their fullest efforts in this cause. We are waiting for reinforcements from the coastal kingdoms. Until they arrive, indeed even after they arrive, we will still be in grave danger. We must have everyone’s utmost contribution. Weapons must be forged and repaired. Our losses from today must be replaced by inductees. Every capable man and woman will be assigned a task. They must devote every waking moment to the effort.
“I will remind you that we have been in this situation before, or at least our ancestors were. Like them, we must rally to the fight. Tell the people that you represent to go home tonight and look at their children and grandchildren. This fight is for them. If we fail, they will have no future. Humankind will have no future. The four kingdoms must stop this horrific attack on our kind. Olvion is, and always has been the vanguard of that fight. And like our ancestors before us we will not fail!”
***
I awoke the next morning to the pain of Dwan ripping off my bandages. I yelped and was reprimanded.
“A man of your size should not scream like a little girl,” she said, but she was smiling.
“For your information that was a very masculine scream.” I watched as she applied some of her ointments and creams to the two thigh wounds. The rate at which they were healing was phenomenal. It struck me that this world must boast herbs and chemicals that far outpace those of my old world for medicinal effectiveness.
Once the thigh had been treated and re-bandaged she went to work on my chest wound. The axe had caught me just below the collarbone. It was a short incision but it was deeper than comfort would allow for. She ripped that bandage off as well.
“Hey,” I howled. “Is that really necessary? I would think a healer would be gentler.”
Dwan removed a roll of bandage that she had been holding in her teeth.
“Sorry. I am expected in triage but I didn’t want to leave before treating your wounds. It might have been acceptable to wait until I got back this evening since you would probably still be sleeping.”
I winced. “Hey, I’m an injured man, wounded in battle for the greater glory of Olvion. Surely you wouldn’t deprive such a man of a little slumber.”
“Of course not,” she answered while picking up her supplies and returning them to her shoulder bag. “Now forgive me while I go to my job. There is a warrior there who lost his leg yesterday. I’m certain he is awake by now.” She treated me to a beaming smile before leaving to show me she was having fun with me. Seemed fair since I had had such fun with her the night before.
I looked around for Tinker and saw her sitting on the window sill. She turned her head, having become aware of my search for her. Her tail flicked and she chittered to me.
I reluctantly got out of bed and stretched. Dwan suddenly opened the door and leaned her head back into th
e apartment.
“Stay off your feet,” she warned. “If you must leave the room use your chair. And since I know you won’t do that there is a set of crutches in the bath.” She was gone again.
I limped into the shower. I called Tinker and asked if she wanted another cleansing. She turned her head to ignore me. Minutes later I was hopscotching down the hall on my crutches. I noticed that the devices had been altered to accommodate my higher than normal armpits. They bowed under my weight but they worked. I was halfway to the first stairwell before I realized I had no real destination just an impulse to get out of the room. I decided on trying to locate the two children that my patrol had rescued two nights before. I had meant to follow up on them earlier but the opportunity to employ the calimph seed poison had taken precedence. I had been impressed by the two tykes and wanted to make sure they were being well treated.
Tinker rode in her pouch with her head and forepaws protruding out of the top. The top of her tail also stuck out and twitched with each new sight she encountered. As usual we attracted attention. Word had circulated about my participation in yesterday’s victory and that seemed to attract small crowds of well-wishers. I took advantage of the extra attention by requesting help with the stairs. It seemed that everyone within the immediate area tried to get a hand on me to help. I was literally picked up and carried all the way down to the ground floor. I feared the crowd would have simply carried me to my destination had I not asked to be allowed to walk. Once again I had the feeling that I was among good people. Every collection of humanity has a general universal mindset to it. Some are good, some bad. Some are positively evil. The people of Olvion were genuinely good. They were friendly to a fault and deeply appreciated any efforts that were made on their behalf.
After the largest part of the crowd had passed on their gratitude and Tinker had submitted, however unwillingly, to their pats and tickles, we made our way to the Triage unit. Dwan saw us when we entered.
“I’m flattered. Did you really miss me so much that quickly?”
“Of course I did,” I answered with a quick kiss. “But I also wanted to find the two children that my patrol brought in the other night.”
Her brow scrunched. “Let me think.” She held up a finger and went to a short wooden desk from which she extracted a pile of papers. She shuffled them around, putting some at the rear of the stack, shifting others nearer to the front. “Ah! They were siblings, Drel and Mya.” She flipped the top page up and read the page beneath. “They were delivered to relatives in the city. I’m afraid it’s quite far from here in the northwest area. You’d never make it on crutches.”
I waved my hand. “That’s fine. I just needed to see that they were all right.”
Dwan seemed to find this an endearing thought. I noticed her reaction and milked it for another kiss.
“Okay, now that’s all,” she said when we disengaged. “Go away, I’m working here. We make small concessions for recognized heroes but there are limits.”
“Hey, I got it on record now that you think I’m a hero.”
“Of course I do. But I was talking about Tinky.” Tinker sent her a trill.
I left the Triage and wandered around, stopping for breakfast at a cafeteria where I was served without question even though I had no way to pay. In the castle no payment was ever required. I limped through the streets of crushed stone and cobbles marveling at the things they had been able to accomplish without heavy machinery or combustible compounds. The big windmills that I had spied upon my first entry to the city powered pumps that moved water from the dozens of wells into elevated reservoirs which kept up the water pressure for the entire city. Clay pipes moved the water to kitchens and baths. Streets were lit at night by large globes containing luminous leaves or the other type that used the glowing gas. They weren’t as bright but they worked well at providing enough light to avoid stumbling. I would later learn that the illuminating gas was plentiful and was drilled for in many parts of the Olvion Valley. There were also hybrid glow globes which contained both the glowing leaves and the gas. These tended to be brighter and lasted longer.
All around me there were sounds of the people of Olvion preparing for the battle to come. The music of metal striking metal came at me from all directions. I heard grinding noises, rustlings, squeaks and clacks. The entire city was putting everything they had into the effort.
I swung my feet forward, all of my weight on my armpits, the crutches working well for me. I passed a fletcher’s shop. Barefoot boys and girls held arrows between their feet while threading sections of bird feathers into fine channels that had been carved into the shafts. Farther inside men and women used hand tools to shape and straighten arrows and affix deadly sharp metal heads to the implements.
I continued on enjoying the sights and the feel of warm sunlight on my face. Down the block I saw an elderly man. He wore a leather apron, no shirt and a rag tied around his balding, sweating head. He was standing in front of a large shop smiling at me. As I drew even with him he offered his hand. I returned the Olvioni handshake.
“You would be Tag-Gar, The Legend.” It was a statement, not an inquiry.
“I am Tag-Gar,” I answered, not affirming the reference to the mythical figure.
The older man beckoned me to enter his shop. He continued to smile. I followed him, somewhat cautiously. I was still affected by the looks I had been receiving from Brackus. I would not put it past him to set up some sort of ambush. But the old man had a pleasant face and demeanor.
His shop was narrow and long. Archery equipment was stacked on the floor, tied with twine in bunches. I admired the bows that were hung on the walls. The wood had been painstakingly polished and lacquered. They were easily the equal of any similar archery equipment that had been produced on Earth with our machines and power tools. This was real craftsmanship. There were arrows, bowstrings, forearm sheaths and other related articles strewn around. Bare shelves on the wall showed me that products had recently been stripped from display to be donated to the defense of the city. The man finally stopped when we entered a widened section at the end of the shop. We were in a circular room lit by dozens of glow bulbs. Wood shavings littered the floor. Two younger men were working there producing quality bows.
The older man spoke.
“I am an elected member of parliament and, as such, was present when you were honored last night.” He sniffed, drew a kerchief from a pocket in his apron and dabbed at a nostril. “I was also there when that ass of a Vice-Monarch attempted to weaken King Zander by putting charges against you.” He chuckled. “Things did not turn out as he’d planned on that.”
I smiled. “I’m sure he was only protecting his kingdom.”
“You don’t believe that, Good Warrior. But you are polite and I admire that trait in a man. I have always been told that politeness is a desirable quality but I have never been able to master the art. Most Olvionis tend to tell the truth in an unvarnished manner. Brackus is an ass, plain and simple. Diplomatic phrasing of the situation won’t change the truth.”
“I admire your veracity,” I said simply.
He smiled back again. “Since I saw you that first time I came away convinced that you are The Legend.” I started to protest but he stopped me with a raised hand, palm out. “Please. Certain truths are irrefutable. Look around you Good Tag-Gar. Do you see others here with yellow hair? Blue eyes? We have men of above average height, Lord Ruguer being the largest I’ve ever seen. They don’t begin to approach your size. None of us have limbs as thick either. Add to these facts the White Mountain Child you undoubtedly are carrying in that pouch and I have all of the information I need to draw a reasonable conclusion.”
I shrugged. There was no since arguing, his mind was made up. Besides, I was not really certain that I wasn’t The Legend. “I can only say that everything about my being here in Olvion is a mystery. I closed my eyes in one world and opened them in this one. Who is to say what is true?”
“Who indeed? But I for
get my upbringing.” He offered his hand a second time. “I am Geord. My father would have been cutting a switch for me had he seen me ask another’s name without offering mine.”
We shook again.
“You’ve a handsome shop,” I observed. “Obviously high quality archer’s gear.”
He nodded. “My thanks. And that, Good Tag-Gar, brings me to the reason that I asked you in here.” He crossed the room, still talking. “Since that first day I saw you in open court I had a…a desire.” He reached below a cabinet. “I have always been happy to supply the best bows and archery equipment to the officers and commanders of the archer warriors. It is the greatest of honors to know that my creations are being used in the defense of Olvion.” He retrieved an object and stood back up with a small grunt. In his hands was a bow of greater than average size. He looked at me and gave another of his congenial smiles. “I came directly back to the shop after that night in open court and started crafting this.” He looked at his creation with obvious pride. Then back to me. “It is for you. I have had the strongest men I know try to string it. They have not succeeded. Would you please try it? It would be my single best achievement: The most powerful of all bows.”
I took the weapon from him and examined it. The wood was heavy and gave off a look of strength. It had been lacquered red and green like the colors of our warrior’s uniforms then coated with clear varnish and given a rubbed finish. It was truly a thing of beauty.
“There is only one problem,” I confessed. “I have never strung a bow before.”
The old man laughed and took it back. He wrapped his left leg around one end of the instrument putting his knee in the middle. He then used his left hand and the weight of his body to force the top of the bow downward and his right hand to lift the looped string upward to meet it. He was a strong man despite his age. I imagined him stringing thousands of these weapons in his lifetime, building unusual strength in his arms, back and legs. The thick wooden bow bent in the middle. One end already had the catgut string attached. The object was to bend the bow enough so that the loop of catgut slipped over the other end of the bow and slid into groves that had been carefully carved into the wood. He managed to bring the tip of the bow and the string about four inches from each other before his arms began to tremble. The effort continued for another thirty seconds but the distance between the two points never diminished. With a sigh he released the tension. The bow snapped back straight.
The Olvion Reality (The Chronicles of Olvion Book 1) Page 26