“Zander, please humor me on this. I would like you to stand.”
The monarch stood and pushed his chair backwards. Once he was standing I arose. I was directly in front of him and his eyes were staring at my lower chest.
“Look at us,” I said. “Forget my height. Consider the difference in our strength. I’m told, and I am absolutely certain that it is true, that you are one of the strongest warriors in Olvion.”
I liked the fact that he didn’t try to wave the statement away. He was aware of his abilities.
“How confident are you that you could overcome me if we started a fight to the death right now? No weapons just you against me?”
He looked me in the eyes, not wavering, absolutely no trace of fear on his face. I became aware that, if anyone in this kingdom was capable of overcoming my other-worldly advantages, this was the man. He considered the question seriously then answered.
“I would lose. All things as they stand right now, barring an incredibly fortunate turn of events such as you slipping and breaking a leg.”
We both laughed.
“Now,” I said. “Try this.”
I walked to the corner of my room and picked up the spear which I had taken from the cavern of skeletons. I handed it to Zander. Then I took my sword out from under my bed and stood across the room from him. There was about fifteen feet separating us.
“How would you judge your chances now?” I asked.
The king hefted the spear. It was abnormally heavy for Olvioni hands but he put the spear out in front of him and jabbed the air several times. Then he hefted it up to his shoulder (using both hands) and mimed as if he were going to throw it. He looked at me and smiled.
“I take your point. I really do. But what is the difference between two of us killing you with swords and only…” He stopped, realizing the answer lay in his own question. “By the stars, lack of sleep must be slowing my mind. If we can make a substantial shift in tactics we can almost double our ability to kill the enemy.”
I nodded. “Now think of this, Zander.” I walked past him and opened the door, gesturing for one of his personal guards to enter. The warrior got a nod from his king and entered. I left the door open and the other three peered in with interest.
I stood the warrior next to his king. I then retrieved the finely-made bow that the old craftsman had built for me. It was unstrung but I didn’t need it to be working in order to make my point. I gave the weapon to the guard standing next to Zander and indicated he was to act as if he were holding the bow with a nocked arrow pulled back and ready.
“Now of the two of you, who is most likely to kill me and not get injured?” I asked the king.
Zander looked at his guard.
“I would think the bowman,” he answered.
“Me too. Because he can be farther away yet still kill me without any danger of me getting to him and hurting him. It does one no good to kill the enemy if it costs your life. In the words of one of Earth’s most famous warriors: No one ever won a war by dying for their country. Wars are won by making the other poor bastard die for his country.”
That brought a laugh from the king and all of his guards.
I continued but using titles now, aware that we were in front of his men.
“Your Majesty, in my opinion there is never anything noble or honorable about war. In the last few weeks I have experienced war in all of its ugliness. With all due respect we should not be fighting this war for honor. We are trying to save the lives of everyone in this kingdom and everyone in the three coastal kingdoms. I don’t care if we accomplish that in a pretty way or in ugly fashion. The only thing honorable and manly about war is saving our women and children from ending up on the dinner tables of those godless grey beasts out there. We owe them nothing but we especially don’t owe them honor. I can stand ten feet away from one of them and put an arrow in his chest and feel just as manly as I need to feel.”
The guards shouted their approval and support. Zander looked at them, noting their responses then turned back to me.
“Let us go find Ruguer.”
The next morning, after yet another night with little sleep, I took a swallow of Dwan’s rantiel liquid for energy and chewed a gaalan weed to get the pain out of my still-healing leg. We had spent the previous morning hastily making plans and assigning duties. Pulg and all of the other weapons instructors were called in as well as hundreds of lower-ranking warrior supervisors. These were similar to the non-commissioned officers in Earth’s military and the backbone of any army. Orders were given and groans were shouted down. There was simply no time for it.
First and most time consuming was scheduling most of the ground forces to undergo basic handling of the javelin. A check of the number of those spear-like weapons told us we had a little over two thousand in the armory. Some were old and rusted but the nature of the armament was such that they did not need to be in pristine condition. A javelin, unlike a spear or pike, was made for throwing, not thrusting, though in a pinch that could be done as well. The missile could be effectively used at distances of twenty to thirty yards. The idea was to launch it as high as one’s strength would allow so it would reach its peak then fall down upon enemy forces with the sharp weighted point facing down. When used correctly the javelin will penetrate most shields and helmets. Their only drawback was that the ones which missed their mark could be recovered and used by the enemy. But in the type of fighting we were preparing for this was considered a very small danger.
The only real pushback we had was from a thousand warriors who were assigned to a crash course on the use of the bow and arrow. The prevailing mentality was to think of the bow as a weapon for women, weaker men or cowards. Finding themselves forced into using such a tool was a blow to their ego. In his “no nonsense” manner Ruguer had shouted them down and made it plain that their approval was neither sought nor required. He reminded them that they would all still be armed with their swords and would eventually be using them against the enemy.
I should point out here that Syrann, Pulg and my team of swordsmen, archers and knifemen were now permanently under my command. Ruguer had been impressed with the results of our raid and had released me to use my own initiative with them. Somewhere along the line someone (probably me) started to refer to us as “rangers” and the name stuck. I suspected we were looked upon as something of an elite unit as we had endless entreaties from other warriors to join our ranks. I referred them all to Ruguer unless I saw someone who really impressed me. Syrann gave me the names of five archers (four female, one male) whom she said were superior bowmen but also good with a backup weapon such as a short sword or war hammer. I added them to our group. Pulg suggested two brutes that excelled in the use of the war club. I took them too. I felt it was important to legitimize the opinions of my lieutenants. Otherwise they might have a game-changing suggestion that would never be brought to my attention for fear of rejection. That was a political tactic I’d learned as captain of the REACT team in the state prison on Earth.
So we were now thirty-nine. Although it was for no really good reason I figured we needed even numbers so I set about looking for one more person to add to our group. I found her when I went to pay a visit to Dwan at the medical facility. Just as I walked into the high-ceilinged building I spied her in a corner working on one of the treatment beds. I could see that she was having trouble reaching the part of the cot that she was repairing because it was on the bottom. The beds were big heavy structures because various extensions and braces that had to be used on them. I hurried over intending to crawl under the thing and finish the repair for her. Just before I got there a pretty young woman who looked about thirty Earth years in age came over to her and exchanged a few words. Then, to my surprise, she bent her knees, grasped the end of the bed frame and heaved. The bed rose until it was held over her head and balanced on the two opposite legs. As I walked up she continued to talk to Dwan as she finished her repair. With her back to me I could see cords of muscle bun
ching up under the skin of the young woman’s back and arms. When it was done she lowered it gently to the floor and walked away, waving at Dwan and nodding to me.
Dwan saw me and we exchanged kisses. I hooked a thumb at the retreating woman.
“That was impressive. Are these things lighter than they look?”
Dwan arched an eyebrow. “Oh, you think Meena is impressive?”
Meena?
From Dwan’s tone I suspected a trap and deftly maneuvered my way out of it. “I think what I just saw her do was impressive.”
I moved to the same end from which the woman had lifted the bed. I grabbed the cross bar and pulled up. Naturally, with my size and Earth-gravity-formed muscles the bed offered me little resistance. But I could judge the weight and doubted there were many men in Olvion who could have managed what I had just witnessed.
“Wow,” I said. “She must be extremely capable of defending her own honor,” I joked.
The other brow arched. “So first she was impressive, now you are speculating as to her honor?” Once again I sensed impending doom. Then she laughed and the tension evaporated. She’d been having fun with me.
“Relax Warrior. Few are the men who don’t find Meena interesting. The thing is, most are intimidated by her.”
“Is she also a healer?”
“No, Meena was a metal worker in one of the more isolated farming villages out in the valley. Her father taught her from an early age and, when he died, she took over. She brought in a group of fifteen children when the Greys first started raiding. The rumor is that she had to kill more than one Grey in order to get all of the children here alive. She used the same hammer she employed in her work. She was placed here by one of the committees that Brackus put in place. They said there was no room for her in the armories.”
“So she enjoys working with the sick and injured?”
Dwan shook her head. “No, but she doesn’t complain and the Stars know she has been a blessing. When she got here she asked to be assigned warrior duties. The committee decided against that because she had no experience or training. I think they’re wrong. She’s been swinging a hammer since she could walk. She could take off a Grey’s head with one swipe.”
We spoke a while longer. Dwan had evidently developed a soft spot for Meena, especially after hearing about her saving all of those children. She also had no kind words to say about Brackus and the people on his committees. But my attention was on the young woman and I asked her if she objected to my taking Meena for my team.
“Absolutely not. You need a capable person out there watching over you. Especially since I am not allowed to go.” Dwan had been specifically rejected when she asked to be assigned to my rangers. Her abilities and talents as a healer made her far more valuable to the cause where she was. She was disappointed but she understood. And really, when all things were considered she’d rather save lives than take them.
We went to lunch then took a short walk on the battle ramparts. I was pleased to see that the Greys had not gathered in large numbers near the castle walls. We parted with a quick kiss. Dwan promised to find Meena and tell her about my offer to include her on my team. I told her to have Meena come to the ground floor dining facility at sundown if she was interested.
I took the rest of the afternoon to check on my team of rangers, but first I made a quick trip to the room to recover something. The rangers were at the same warrior training facilities where I had received instruction in weapons. We had been given a large corner space in which to operate and I had asked Pulg and Syrann to start cross-training our people. I felt our archers should have some instruction in sword and knife and so on and so forth. When I arrived at the facilities there were three rows of rangers each separated by their expertise with the different weapons.
I approached Syrann and returned her salute. She had dirt and dust in her hair and clothing and a sheen of sweat on her forehead. She was wearing her red and green warrior uniform and I could barely make out the colors because of the grime. I was pleased. There was no mistaking the dedication of this fine young warrior.
The archers that were assigned to her seemed to be a little less enthusiastic. They’d been training now since sunup and were just as dirty as she was. Each had a short sword and were standing in front of thick poles set into the ground. The warriors dutifully struck first one side of the pole then the other. Each had a strung bow slung over one shoulder and a quiver over the other. It looked uncomfortable but the point of the exercise was to get them used to it here before they reached the battlefield. There were a hundred adjustments that they would find necessary and this was the place to discover them.
Syrann saw the bow in my hand and her brows raised in inquiry.
“I thought you could give me an opinion on something.” I handed her the unstrung weapon. She took it and unwound the catgut from the shaft. She looked back at me with a “Are you serious?” expression.
The young archer wrapped her leg around the body of the bow and put all of her weight on the upper half of it. She then struggled mightily to pull the catgut loop over the recurved end. She got closer than I would have ever suspected.
Syrann finally gave up and smiled. “This is obviously a weapon for a much mightier warrior than I. Maybe for a legend?”
It was my turn to smile. I took it back and strung it in the way the old bow maker had showed me. Once it was ready I asked her to put double shields on a target that sat fifteen yards down range. Once done I offered her the first shot. She declined. So I drew back the string and lined up the arrow, making certain that it was straight. I then released the breath I’d been holding and let the catgut slide slowly through my fingers. There was a satisfying “twang” followed by a ring of metal on metal as the arrow struck the target.
We walked downrange together. The metal head of the arrow had penetrated through both shields and was now stuck deeply into the wooden post beneath. Syrann looked at the results with something approaching respect.
“Absolutely amazing,” she said.
We spent about thirty minutes playing with it. I finally convinced her to try it a few times. She could not take a full draw on it but she was able to make some impressive hits. My shots penetrated more deeply but hers were far more accurate. It was an enjoyable time. But sundown was approaching and I had plans to meet Dwan and have dinner. I told Syrann to release the archers for the day and made a point of insisting that she get some rest also.
Dwan and Meena were waiting at the first floor dining facility. Meena was anxious to join us. I was certain she wanted to exact some pay-back for the suffering of the people from her village. I carefully explained the facts of life about our team. I made sure she understood that orders needed to be followed to the letter and that stealth was valued more highly than brute strength. She was very respectful and accepting about the whole thing. I had a gut feeling that she would be a good addition to our group.
Pulg walked in a few minutes before we finished our meal and I waved him over. He had five members of the sword and war club team with him. I made the introductions. I could see Pulg’s practiced military eye evaluating Meena. He took in the wide shoulders and muscular arms. I thought I discerned some approval there. I left her there with him and her new team mates as I walked Dwan back to the triage clinic. She was working long hours and we wouldn’t be able to be together for a few hours. I was walking back to the room when the alarm bells began to sound.
CHAPTER THIRTY TWO
Invasion
I was in the war room standing at the observation window. Ruguer, Zander, Brackus and Vynn were standing close to me. We were all silently watching the scene below. The main body of the Greys were flowing into the valley like water. There were thousands. A hundred thousand at last count. It was a sight designed to instill fear. And it was working. The numbers were staggering. We had a mere sixty thousand warriors. We were already outnumbered almost two to one. And still more came.
Ruguer had pulled back his cavalry patrol
s and once again abandoned the outer defenses. Our two largest bridges were still down and we had a few hundred men putting in last-minute traps and ambush devices but they would soon be withdrawn. Once again we would be confined to the city. There was just no way to defend open ground with the numbers we were facing.
“There.” Ruguer pointed toward the middle of the horde where the inhuman crowd parted to admit the passage of a dozen or more Greys. “That would be their leader.”
I used some borrowed optics to examine the group he’d designated. I saw one Grey clothed in gold or brass armor which covered him head to toe. He was very large for a Grey, maybe six feet tall and wider than most of his fellow raiders. Yep, there was no mistaking who was in charge. As I watched the others almost fell to the ground in order to show him deference. The brutes around him were also larger than normal. Those would be his lieutenants. They, too, were armored but theirs had not the richness of their leader’s. My attention was drawn to one of the Greys in the rear who was holding a leash on the end of which was a naked human male. An anger grew inside my abdomen, hot and icy at the same time. Seeing a fellow human being treated like that was infuriating. I could only imagine the cruelty and indignities that were being visited upon the poor man. Zander spoke.
“Do we have an estimated total?”
A warrior seated at a table behind us shouted. “One hundred and seventy six thousand, Your Majesty.”
Night was approaching. Fires were being kindled by the Greys. Thousands of campfires. I immediately noticed that there were no outlying camps. All of them were within shouting and sight distance to each other. There would be no easy picking off of isolated camps of ten or twenty like we’d been doing in our night raids. Ruguer noticed it also.
“Well, they are learning. They are keeping their people close together in order to protect them from our night patrols.” Then, to my surprise he smiled. “But I think maybe they are being a bit too clever.” He whispered something to Zander. Zander gave a look that I interpreted to be “Are you sure?” Ruguer nodded and turned to rush out of the war room, followed by a half dozen officers, including Vynn. I wondered what was going on.
The Olvion Reality (The Chronicles of Olvion Book 1) Page 30