I was very impressed at this display of strength. “”I don’t know if I could do any better. That was amazing.”
Geord waved both hands. “I made this weapon for you. I have spent my life crafting bows for fighters and hunters. I can look at a man and determine how strong to make their equipment. It is your weapon, Tag-Gar. It will bend for you.” He held it up to me with both hands.
I wasn’t as certain as he was but I had nothing to lose. I took the bow and placed my limbs the way I’d seen the old craftsman do it. The untied tip of the bow was in my left hand, the loop of catgut in my right. I noticed with interest that the catgut bowstring had been intertwined with fine silver wires to add strength. I had not known that Olvionis had the ability to extrude wire, especially wire as fine as the strands I saw in my bowstring.
I took a deep breath, held it and pushed down on the bow with my left arm while tugging up on the bowstring loop with my right. The weapon bent. It moved to the point where Geord had failed. It continued. It was three inches from the tip of the wood. It continued. Two inches. The wood began to sing, slight noises emanating from the lacquered wood. One inch. The string twanged. The loop touched the tip of wood. There was no trembling in my arms. The strain was considerable but I was in no danger of failing. The years in the gyms of Earth’s heavy gravity did their job. With a last tug of resistance the bow and string surrendered and the loop slid over the tip. It dropped down and nestled cozily into the channels that were carved there to hold it in place.
Geord leapt into the air and shouted. “Yes! No man has ever crafted a stronger bow.” He jumped again and clapped his hands. “It is yours, good Tag-Gar. Take it and tell all who see it and wonder at its strength and beauty that it was Geord who made the bow of The Legend. But first we must test it.”
The excitement of the older man was uplifting. I followed him through a door in the rear of the shop which led to a large area enclosed within a fence. At one side was an archery range with several shooting stations and targets set at different distances. Geord took the bow and showed me how to hold it, how to draw it straight back and the mechanics involved in releasing the string smoothly. He demonstrated several times then gave it back to me. I went through several dry runs before he was satisfied. He ran to the closest target which was about twenty five yards away. He plucked ten arrows from the straw and trotted back to me.
“Remember; a straight, smooth draw back and a smooth release.”
I had no confidence of any success but I leaned my crutches against a table and raised the weapon. In my entire life I had never launched an arrow from a bow. But I was enjoying the old man’s enthusiasm. And we were alone so there was no chance of being embarrassed in front of a crowd.
I nocked the arrow and drew it back as straight as I could. When the feathers of the fletching touched my cheek I let the string ease itself through my thumb and forefinger. The arrow suddenly shot forward through the air and buried itself deeply into the target. There was a red circle the size of an orange in the center. My arrow had penetrated down to the feathers and was about three inches left and six inches low of the mark.
I was disappointed but Geord was hopping again.
“Do you see?” he said while pointing. “That target has a backing of wood and iron. Your arrow penetrated through both. No Grey One’s shield will stop an arrow from your bow.”
I pointed out that my shaft had not struck the mark. He waved his hands from side to side like he was washing away my concerns.
“I can see it was the first time your hands have handled a bow, am I correct?” I indicated he was. “Marksmanship is a simple matter of practice. But look. You would have struck a foe in a vital area from normal fighting distance for a bowman. And you will only get better.”
I spent another hour with the engaging old man. He was such a delight and told such interesting stories that I could barely make myself leave. We went through dozens of arrows and I listened carefully as he critiqued my performance. Even in the short time I spent with him I saw improvement. I asked if there were anything I could give him to repay such a glorious gift. First he appeared slightly insulted. Then he got a mischievous look on his face and asked if he could see Tinker. His eyes grew large with delight when I withdrew her from her pouch. Tinker seemed to like him also. She actually let him hand-feed her some small legumes from his garden.
I was curious as to why I had seen no crossbows in Olvion. Geord told me that some were around but they were mostly used for hunting. In a combat situation a crossbow simply took too long to draw, load, aim and fire. A good longbow man could nock and shoot three arrows in the time it took a crossbow to fire one. With such a difference in firepower the small increase in distance that the crossbow offered was not enough to justify its use. In combat, he explained, it was all about the number of arrows you could throw at the enemy.
When we finally broke away and made our way back to the castle Tinker and I found the primitive elevator and decided to take a look at the valley from the War Room and see if the enemy had arrived in any significant numbers yet. I hobbled onto the little box and bent my head to the voice tube.
“War room.”
Sure enough we began to rise. The box swung to and fro but, all things considered, it was a pleasant ride. We stepped out and went immediately to the war room. I didn’t know if they would even let me in but in the past I had accomplished entry into a number of situations where I had not been specifically invited simply by looking as if I was authorized to be there. I clopped inside, my crutches drawing attention with the noise they were making. I saw no one that I knew and avoided locking eyes with anyone and crossed over to the observation windows. I saw no enemy encampments below. Indeed we still controlled the immediate area of the valley around the castle approach. I saw dozens of mounted patrols roaming the valley floor.
Out near the battlements and defenses I saw work crews and engineers resetting the traps and adding more simple snares, bungee pits and such. I picked up a telescope (I made a note to myself to tell them about binoculars) and saw one crew successfully test a trap which consisted of a bent limb which, when triggered by a trip-wire, snapped upward. When it did it brought with it a flat board studded with three sharp wooden stakes. Anyone standing in front of the contraption when it went off would catch all three in different parts of their body. This kind of trap would not take out a great number of enemy troops but had the effect of significantly slowing any advance after the attacking troops saw what happened to their peers.
I shifted my gaze to the mountains on the far side of the valley. Large dust clouds marked the advancing horde. I hoped they would be sufficiently dispirited when they arrived to find no advance force of twenty thousand fighters keeping our warriors behind city walls. Instead they would find an enormous natural pit off to the north that had been used as a crematorium. Even as I watched crews of Olvioni civilians were still dragging bodies from the valley behind horses and other beasts of burden, heading for the burn pit. We seemed safe enough for the immediate future. I had really expected them to be closer by now. But I knew things would change in a matter of days.
We used the elevator to return to the ground floor. I stopped at a cafeteria in the castle and asked an attendant for lunch and a bowl of nuts and greens for Tinker. The cooks and servers were delighted to host The Legend and the sight of Tinker added to their enjoyment. Other diners could not resist the urge to take circuitous routes back to their tables so they could pass closely enough to see her clearly. She was used to this by now and ignored them as she dug into her meal. She still resented the uninvited touching and stroking from strangers but she tolerated all but the most invasive overtures. When she had been pushed to her limit she would raise up with claws out and teeth bared. However, she did seem to realize that children were different and displayed amazing patience when dealing with them. One little girl who I judged to be around six years old toddled up to our table and put her hands to her face in wonder at the sight of the littl
e Mountain Child. Tinker, seeing her audience took a small nut from her bowl and balanced it on her nose until the child laughed and clapped with glee. She waved goodbye as her mother came rushing up to pull her away.
After eating I asked if I could leave my crutches with the cafeteria staff. Then I limped over to the triage building again. I stopped by the bed of one of my warriors that had been wounded on the night we had made our assault on the water wagons. He had suffered a stab wound to the abdomen. To be honest I did not expect him to recover when I first saw him back at the waterfall. But here he was smiling and talking to a female healer. He seemed delighted to see me and executed a salute as I walked up, which I returned. I had grown fond of the salute. I felt that it marked me as part of something special. We were the protectors of the people. I spent a few minutes joking with the warrior. Tinker climbed out and twitched her tail at him. He clapped and laughed, his disposition much improved. I couldn’t help noting once again how effective the medicines in my new world were.
Dwan found me. She scolded me about not having the crutches. I infuriated her by kissing the top of her head at the end of every sentence she spoke. She eventually broke into a smile and gave me a playful punch to my ribs, realizing she was not going to be successful at shaming me back into the crutches. In fact my leg was feeling much better. She left me to continue her duties, warning me that the ointment she’d applied to my leg that morning was responsible for the lack of pain but that I still had healing to do. I kissed the top of her head again and got swatted at.
I limped through an open market place near one of the large gates and was about to make my way back to my room for a nap when the clatter of hooves on cobbles told me riders were coming in. I watched the gate and was surprised to see my old friend Vynn ride in. I hobbled over to where he was dismounting and handing off his reigns to a young lad. Apparently Ruguer had been patrolling outside, seen him arrive and decided to accompany him. They were smiling and chatting. Both seemed happy to see me walk up. I embraced Vynn and saluted Ruguer. Vynn was returning from his mission to obtain reinforcements from the three coastal cities. I was anxious to hear when they would be arriving.
Ruguer held up a hand to forestall my question. “We have important matters to discuss with the king. Come with us.”
I joined them, hobbling along as fast as I could. Ruguer stopped once when he spotted my new bow and asked to examine it. He flexed the wood several times and looked at me with a dubious expression.
“This bow can’t be strung,” he stated as a matter of fact.
I assured him it could be. He shrugged and passed it to Vynn who looked at it with a dubious expression and passed it back to me without comment. I was not overly encouraged by his demeanor and feared that bad news was coming from the coast.
As we walked I asked Ruguer if he was certain that I would be welcome at the king’s meeting. He assured me I would. When I pressed the matter he clarified. “His majesty and I both believe there is value in exploiting the possibility that you are The Legend.” He turned to look at me while I struggled to keep up with him. “Frankly, I am not convinced that you are not. But we haven’t time to discuss that now. Like all monarchs Zander has his supporters, his detractors and his would-be usurpers. A king is only as good as the results he produces. Two or three bad decisions back to back can doom a king. Having most of the populace think that he is being supported by a mythological and supernatural hero can only help. I think he will employ you in whatever manner is helpful to the kingdom.”
I thought about it as we climbed the stairs. I had my arms around the shoulders of both of my friends and they nearly carried me up each landing despite my greater weight. Like it or not this new world was my reality now. The people of this city had taken me in. I would do anything to protect them, my friends and Dwan. Tinker read my thoughts and squawked from her pouch. “Okay,” I thought, “You too, Tink.”
Yet another meeting. Even in a less-developed environment like Olvion every action was first preceded by the ever-reoccurring meeting. This one took place in the war room. It held the usual collection of warriors and administrative types. Brackus was not present. He would not be missed, at least not by me. I was dropped off at one of the tables near the front of the room so I could sit and rest my leg. Even though the speed at which it healed was remarkable, it shot me a little stab of agony now that I had overworked it. Ruguer and Vynn continued to the front of the room and conferred with Zander. Again I noted the toll that the war was taking on the king. His noble face was pale and I thought I saw more white hair at his temples. Whatever Vynn was telling him was not making it better.
Zander rapped on the table in front of him to bring the meeting to order.
“Good warriors and others we have word from the coastal cities. They are undecided as to the best way to help us.”
The room boiled with angry comments, all directed at the three coastal kingdoms. Zander rapped again.
“Please. Let me continue. Sub-Commander Vynn has met with their representatives. They are concerned that so many Greys have crossed the mountains and are converging on us. At this time they are…conferring… with each other and trying to decide the best course of action for the safety of human kind. Evidently there are some who advise that we will not be able to defeat the enemy. If that is the case, if we cannot stop them here, they want to be certain they have enough manpower to fight them at the other end.”
More anger. A few chairs slid backward as some rose to swear in disgust. I tried to read between the lines. You don’t spend years in a civil service job and not learn to read the actual reasons behind what is being said. I suspected that some of the less bold leaders of the coastal kingdoms were hedging their bets. Even if the Grey Ones were successful in overrunning our defenses they would be paying a huge price. We had already executed an incredible victory which cost the enemy twenty thousand of their troops. Getting past Olvion would be devastatingly expensive to them. Tens of thousands of the beasts would be killed, maybe even hundreds of thousands. That would lessen the threat to the other kingdoms considerably. I wondered if there were those on the coast who thought the creatures might be satisfied with a victory here in our valley and go no further. Or maybe, having so much fresh food and treasure available would delay the horde enough that better defenses could be put in place in their cities. I would like to think that most of the people in the other kingdoms were good basically good like the people of Olvion. But I thought of Brackus and his supporters. Certainly there were bad people here who thought more about their own political futures than the good of the people. If they existed here they must exist elsewhere in this world. And, unfortunately, those were often the very types of people who rise to leadership positions.
Ruguer stood and beckoned for quiet. “I have no doubt that wise heads will prevail over the more dimly witted. However the process may take time. For now His Majesty and I have decided to carry on as if no help is coming. We will have a meeting of my officers in here after everyone else leaves. We will not release this information to the general population, at least for now. The meeting is now closed, thank you for coming.”
The administrative functionaries and lower-ranked military filed out, still grumbling. Laced within their anger was an undercurrent of fear. When all but the military were gone we all moved closer up to the table that Zander shared with Ruguer. Ruguer sipped a fresh mug of tea and sat back. “I meant what I said. I really do expect the parliaments in the three kingdoms to come to their senses and send help. The problem, as always, is time. The main body of Greys will begin to arrive outside of our gates tomorrow. To this point they are still behaving in the manner we are used to. Our scouts have tracked numerous packs converging on us. They have not stopped at a distance in order to gather in numbers large enough to safely approach us. We must begin to exploit that weakness immediately. We will start night raids on the nearest groups that can be easily and quickly wiped out. We will lay ambushes using our archers (the Sword of the Kin
g flicked his eyes in my direction) and the engineers will be devising and setting man traps in place. Understand that each of these actions will be at minimal risk to our people. I’m talking about overwhelming numbers. The idea is to score as many cheap victories as we can make happen. Any grey son of a whore that dies out there tonight is one less we will have to face on the battlefield tomorrow. Sub-Commanders; make your plans and submit them to me within the hour.
“As His Majesty has reminded us on several occasions, this new group of invaders appears capable of using tactics and taking precautions that we have never seen them employ. So we should not feel comfortable simply because they have not yet seen fit to do so. As an example, the way the advance body split their forces into evenly numbered blocks. This is a basic but sound military tactic. It makes control and direction of the fighters easier to accomplish. They also made certain to keep their people well out of range of our archers from the city walls. One thing we must try to do is come up with a ploy to lure a significant number of them within range.
“Unfortunately we will probably not be able to repeat our very successful tactic of poisoning their water wagons. With so many of the advance group escaping we have to assume that they will have figured out what we did and draft measures to keep it from re-occurring.
The Olvion Reality (The Chronicles of Olvion Book 1) Page 27