The Olvion Reality (The Chronicles of Olvion Book 1)

by Larry Robbins

  As I waited for something to happen I took note of the way the Greys were deployed. If one had the luxury of a helicopter and was looking down upon the city and the valley beyond this is what they would see:

  As I mentioned earlier I had made my determination to designate the direction of the Lion’s Road running from the city of Olvion to the coast as West. The Kneeling Warrior Mountains was south and the Hounds Teeth range was north. Looking out of the war room window we were facing east. In that direction lie the valley floor, the bluffs and the foothills of the large Grey Mountains range. It was from those mountains that the Greys had invaded. It was also the home of Tinker and the other Children of the Mountain.

  As the horde flooded into the valley and over the bluffs they were finally stopping some five hundred yards from our main East gates. There were four of these gates, two larger and two smaller. The larger ones were still open and the bridges over the troughs were still down. The Greys had arranged themselves in a crescent around the approach to the Olvion stronghold. The two sharp ends of the crescent crept in the closest to the walls, being only three hundred yards away. That was closer but still far enough away to be safe from an arrow attack. The crescent end to our north was strung out a little longer than the other side was. There was a natural separation from the rest of the horde due to the fact that a deep natural ditch ran along that side of the valley. It was within sight of the larger body of Greys but the bluffs on the north came in closer to the castle than they did on the south. Those natural barriers put an eighty yard wide break in their lines. Just eyeballing it I estimated two thousand or more raiders on the castle side of the ditch.

  Then I heard a deep rumbling beneath us and recognized the sound of cavalry racing out of the stronghold gates and across the bridges. The streams of mounted warriors came into view below. They were streaking out of both large gates, crossing both main bridges and converging on the other side of the defense trough. The Greys were still in the midst of setting up camp, building fires and erecting shelters. They were overly confident of their numbers and unprepared for Ruguer’s brilliant tactic. As most of the enemy watched dumbstruck the two lines of cavalry joined up into a solid wall of unstoppable horses, lances and spiked maces. They sliced into the enemy lines right where the ditch separated the northern tip of the crescent. The smaller group of raiders was immediately cut off from their confederates who were still in shock trying to understand what was going on.

  The fifteen-hundred-strong Olvion cavalry blitzed through the cut off camp, smashing into their unprepared fighters. The chaos was all-consuming. The doomed Greys in the smaller camp fell under the weapons of the warriors and the hooves of their mounts. It was a true slaughter. The brutes had been caught totally by surprise and most had had no time to snatch up a weapon. The advantage of being mounted more than made up for the slight deficit in numbers. A thousand Greys fell in the first pass. When the horsemen turned their animals and swept back through enemy lines a second time they mopped up any grey skinned raider that was stupid enough to remain standing. A good number had leapt into the natural ditch to avoid death.

  By this time the enemy in the larger group had armed themselves and were beginning to pour over the bluffs to defend their comrades. They were too late. The cavalry made their returning sweep through enemy lines and continued on back unimpeded over the bridges and into the city gates, thundering into the large square to the cheers of the citizens and the warriors on sentry duty. My heart soared. Ruguer had committed his entire compliment of fifteen hundred cavalry to a devastating lightning strike of a military action. The sound of the closing gates rose up to us.

  I searched the area in which the conflict occurred and saw fourteen horses wandering around without riders. War was not a game for the cheap. Any victory came with a price. We would later learn that the Grey’s estimated losses for that one brief strike was thirteen hundred. And while any military commander would quickly trade fourteen of his own for thirteen hundred enemy dead, he would not do it without experiencing personal anguish. I had felt the same emotions when I lost some of my team members a few days earlier. And so I understood when Ruguer came back into the war room, the dust of the valley still on his legs. Others in the room cheered him but his face showed no pleasure. The cheers dies prematurely.

  Looking back out on that field of battle I thought I could see another result in the enemy lines. The shock of the sudden attack had rattled them. Already huddled more tightly together than they normally would be they now drew even closer to each other. Raiders nearest to the city walls pushed their way back, fighting with others for the more secure areas. I felt even more confident of our military commander’s genius.

  The new, more cautious deployment of the enemy made another night assault too risky, at least for now. So Dwan and I took advantage of having the entire night to ourselves. I released my rangers to enjoy time with their families or to seek distraction from the dangers of our situation elsewhere. Tinker, by now, had figured out that Dwan and I enjoyed privacy when we were together in the room so she had adopted the habit of sleeping in the small bathroom, up on a shelf on top of folded towels.

  The next morning after a great night’s sleep Dwan went back to the triage clinic and I met the rangers at the training field. They had joined the larger groups of warriors in cross-training with unfamiliar weapons. I wondered how much time we would have to familiarize them.

  I sat Tinker on a low post and spent an hour with Syrann getting tips on the use of the bow. She was an absolute master of the weapon, able to put a shaft into a man-sized target at seventy five yards. That amounted to three quarters of a football field. I was just beginning to develop the muscle memory needed for proficiency. I could not approach the accuracy of Syrann but I could drop arrows into the general area of a target some one hundred yards away. This would be useful if we came upon a group of Greys packed tightly in a group.

  After a while a commotion began on the walls. Warriors were shouting and pointing over toward the enemy camp. I feared an attack so I ran up on the closest rampart to see what was happening. Out at the main enemy camp I could just make out a knot of Greys surrounded by their comrades. I could not quite see what was going on and longed for the height of the war room. A warrior Sub-Commander came up beside me and handed me a telescope. Through the instrument I was able to see a group of five Greys. They were bound head and foot and tied by the neck to stakes set into the earth. The large Grey with the gold armor that I had seen the day before was shouting something to the gathered onlookers. I was too far away to hear what was being said and it was in the tongue of the Greys anyway. But it was obvious that the big guy was angry. In light of recent events I guessed that he was putting the blame for Ruguer’s blitzkrieg strike yesterday on these poor souls.

  After a minute or two of tongue lashing Mr. Gold Armor held out his hand and was given a large two headed battle axe. He took a couple of practice swings with it then went down the line casually lopping off all five heads. Discipline, in the style of the Grey’s. I liked it. They were killing each other for us.

  I went back to my training, this time putting in time with Pulg practicing the art of the war club. Meena was there with other members of the rangers. She was sparring with a male, club in one hand and a shield on the other arm. In the twenty seconds I watched it was obvious that the man was getting his ass kicked by the former metal worker.

  I went a few rounds with Pulg. It was a good workout. Later, with Tinker riding my shoulder, he told me I should focus on other disciplines.

  “When it comes to the war club there is nothing I can teach you,” Pulg advised. “With your strength, speed and natural ability there is no one who can stand before you with that weapon. You waste your time with me. Try the javelin. It’s a devastating weapon and you should be able to put some real distance on it.”

  “I’ll try it,” I said. “But tell me, how do you think Meena is going to work out?”

  Pulg beckoned me over to the
side where no one else could hear us.

  “You ask me about Meena? Sub-Commander if I had hundred like her I would storm the enemy lines tomorrow. I have put her up against our club-warriors and she has bested them all. I confess I am tempted to go through the city and press all of the metal workers into our unit. All those years of swinging heavy sledges all day long has given her an arm like Ruguer himself.”

  Tinker sent me an emotion of affection. I smiled at the old warrior. “Why Pulg, I do believe you are smitten by your new recruit.” I watched him go through several shades of red before I let him off the hook. “I’m just having fun with you, Pulg. Keep up the training and let me know if you need anything.”

  I met with Dwan for lunch after that and told her of Meena’s performance. She was not at all surprised. We talked of nothing urgent while eating. It was a luxury speaking of unimportant things for a while. War creates an atmosphere of seriousness around itself that sucks in everything and everyone involved. There are very few opportunities to let one’s mind just drift and bounce from topic to topic.

  Our vacation from crucial matters was short-lived. A young man in warrior’s uniform found me and let me know that one of the Sub-Commanders on the stronghold ramparts was looking for me. I kissed Dwan and followed him.

  On the wall I was taken to the same officer who had loaned me his telescope just an hour beforehand. He passed it to me again and pointed.

  Down below us, just out of arrow range, was a tangle of Greys. One of them was unusually tall and covered with black armor. He had already crossed over one of the East bridges and was walking toward the front wall. A dozen or so Greys were following him. The warriors on watch were gathering to see with a few of them nocking arrows in anticipation. Tinker seemed to find this event interesting as she scampered out of her pouch and up to her favorite perch on my shoulder. Someone must have informed Ruguer because he came trotting up beside me with a dozen subordinates in tow.

  The group passed the point where they could be picked off by arrow. Ruguer beckoned the watch warriors to lower their bows. He interested in what the small group wanted. They certainly posed no threat to us behind our walls. As we watched him approach, a few hundred other Greys from the camp began drifting closer. Still there was no credible threat. It looked to me like the second, larger group was simply interested in what the first group was up to. Ruguer raised a telescope and watched as the bigger Grey stopped directly beneath us. One of the beasts accompanying him stepped up and held a large, horn-like cone, much like the old fashioned conical megaphones of Earth. The Grey in black armor stepped up to the instrument and shouted in Olvioni:

  “Cowards! You are all cowards.” He pointed his finger at us. “You hide behind your walls and sob like children. You sneak out and attack a much smaller force who were not even armed then flee like insects when we rise to fight you.”

  He was obviously speaking of the surprise cavalry attack yesterday. I had to take issue with his recollection of events, most of the Greys that our cavalry struck down were, in fact, armed. A tide of anger, obviously coming from Tinker, drifted through my mind. The Grey continued.

  “You are a city of vermin, hiding behind the skirts of your women. Who among you has the courage to face me in battle? Which one of you dares to crawl out from under your beds and stand shield-to-shield with a fighter equipped with male parts?”

  One of the Greys next to Black Armor was shouting translations of his speech to the onlookers on the other side of the bridge. This elicited a wave of laughter from the Greys gathering there. A few crossed to get closer to the action so they could hear all that was being said. As the challenger ranted on getting more and more insulting Ruguer looked to me.

  “It seems they are trying to regain some confidence for their fighters after last night’s attack,” he said. He noticed that other Greys were crossing the bridges in fours and fives. “I wonder how many are stupid enough to come over into range of our archers. We might give them another slap in the face if enough of them cross the bridges to watch the show.”

  More were crossing now, encouraged by the fact that the original group were taunting us with impunity. I figured there were at least sixty now close enough to catch an arrow. Ruguer leaned over and whispered into the ear of one of his Sub-Commanders. The warrior saluted and ran off, down the rampart stairs. Minutes later archers began sneaking up the stairs all around the East side of the stronghold. They kept their heads low, avoiding detection from ground level.

  Below us the armored Grey continued his insults and challenges. The beasts that were gathering around him were cheering now and adding their own insults. I searched for the Grey I’d seen the previous day wearing gold armor but he was not present. I wondered if this was a probe of some kind or maybe a distraction. Ruguer must have been thinking the same thing I was because he was sending his aides off into different directions, presumably to keep an eye on all sections of the city walls. But more and more it appeared that Ruguer had called it correctly: The morale of the Greys had been sorely injured by yesterday’s assault. The incredible swiftness and effectiveness of the mounted attack had rattled them. After all, if it happened once it could happen again. This seemed designed to be a pep rally of sorts.

  Warriors around me began snapping to attention as Zander ascended to the ramparts. I joined the others in a salute which he returned. He conferred with his commander for a few minutes. As they talked both of them would shoot glances in my direction. Tinker got stiff on my shoulder and sent me a wave of mental excitement and anticipation. All I could think of was “Uh Oh!”

  Eventually they called me over. I already knew what they were going to ask me. Zander put an arm on my shoulder.

  “How is your leg, Warrior?” he asked.

  “My leg is healed, Majesty,” I answered. And it was the truth. The Olvioni medicines and the nearly constant treatments of Dwan had done wonders to the wounds on my thigh. It was still stiff when I got up in the mornings but after I warmed up it was fine.

  Ruguer nodded. “His Majesty and I have had a thought but we need your opinion.”

  Again: “Uh Oh!”

  “This little show down below is drawing a crowd,” Ruguer continued. “We wondered if there was some way to draw a larger group. Perhaps a few hundred of them lured over here into the range of our archers.”

  I looked around myself. Hundreds of archers were now lining the defense ramparts, crouched down low and out of the sight. More were showing up each minute. I sighed.

  “What do you need me to do?”

  Zander pointed at the Grey in the black armor. “Evidently that one there is highly regarded as a fighter. He seeks to goad one of us into a fight so he can kill his opponent and re-instill confidence in his followers.” The King smiled. “Of everyone in this city who do you think is the most likely to defeat him?”

  “Ruguer,” I said quickly and we all three laughed. “No, I see your point. Sending our military commander is impossible and anyone else might just play right into their hands. Besides, Tinker here is sending me impressions that lead me to believe that this is one of those things I am here for.” It was true. She had been pumping me up with eagerness, confidence and enthusiasm. I was afraid but I also trusted her. As I was considering all of this she nuzzled me under the chin as if to reassure me.

  “Okay,” I sighed. “But what’s the plan? Do I just walk out there and start fighting?”

  “No,” Ruguer shook his head. “Let’s try to lure as many of the bastards close as we can. Maybe figure out a way to incite them, challenge their manhood like they are trying to do to us. I’d really like to shove this attempt to regain their swagger down their vile throats. Make them feel even less sure of themselves.”

  Below us the enemy crowd had now grown to two hundred or so. The fact that no action was being taken against them was encouraging others to approach. Hundreds more were gathered at the entrances to the four bridges and that crowd seemed to be eager to join the others.


  On my shoulder Tinker trilled. It was a musical sound, much like a songbird. Her little hand was lightly clinging to my ear. Ruguer and Zander turned at the sound. Her tail flicked and she repeated the musical trill. She turned to look directly at me. The feeling of confidence that she had been infusing into my brain intensified. My vision faded, the image of the valley fogging over. I saw myself on the field below us. Myself and…another warrior. An Olvioni. I saw who the warrior was and I recoiled, mentally resisting. But Tinker persisted. She was telling me that this was what was needed. Another emotion grew inside me. Trust. Absolute and all-consuming trust accompanied by even more confidence. This was right. I trusted Tinker. And she was showing me what should be done. The moment I accepted her proposal and the idea behind it my vision returned.

  Zander and Ruguer were both studying me, looks of concern on their faces. I smiled.

  “This is going to sound crazy.”

  Thirty minutes later the black-armored Grey was still spouting threats and insults. The crowd around him had grown to maybe three hundred now but others were crossing the bridges more rapidly. They were enjoying the taunting of their champion, taking courage from it.

  Another megaphone had been brought to the wall. It was almost an exact duplicate of the one used by the Greys. We waited while an engineer affixed it to a tripod base with the horn facing outward. When it was ready Ruguer stepped up to it.

  “You down there, the one making all of the noise. Do you seriously seek to challenge a warrior of Olvion? We saw the fighting ability of your puny horde yesterday. I personally crushed the skulls of a dozen of you. We barely broke a sweat.”

  One of the Greys in the crowd below shouted a translation to the others in their language. It was repeated by others all the way back to and beyond the bridges. Angry shouts came back and more Greys crossed over to stand below us.