The Stewards of Reed, Volume 2: The Dungeons of Cetahl

by RM Wark

  Fortunately, Lord Conrad and a small entourage appeared later that day, and she was spared from having to take the lives of any others.

  The sight of the Queen’s army – more than one hundred and fifty souls donned in various shades of purple and white, and heavily armed with swords and knives and bows – seemed to give the General pause. His eyes scanned the endless line of camps along the mountainside, and he was silent for some time before he bothered to address her. “This conversation shall go no further until you release the remaining prisoners, and the bodies of the fallen.”

  So he knows that two are dead, Lady Delia thought. Good. Then he knows I am a wizard of my word. She nodded her head and motioned for the Eastern prisoners to be released. The two dead soldiers had been wrapped in blankets and were now being carried on the shoulders of the prisoners.

  Lord Conrad did not address Lady Delia again until the prisoners were safely within the ranks of his troops. “I do not know why I am here, my Queen. You were given a choice to surrender. You chose to fight. There is nothing to discuss.”

  “I did not choose to fight, General. In truth, that decision lies with you. I have come to negotiate a surrender.”

  “I already told you I would not negotiate—”

  “The Western Wizards are willing to surrender on the following conditions,” Lady Delia interrupted. “We are willing to open a dialogue with the Emperor to discuss in good faith the disputed lands, but we shall be allowed to remain in our homes and keep our wands. In exchange, we agree not to engage in any further warfare.”

  Lord Conrad was incredulous. “How dare you waste my time! Such trivial concessions are an insult, Queen Delia. My army is nearly twice the size of yours! We shall crush you.” The General clenched his jaw. “The terms remain as they were. Accept them now and surrender. Or fight and die.”

  Lady Delia locked her steely gaze on the angry General. Her voice was perfectly calm. “I am sorry we could not reach an understanding, General.”

  “Aye. You shall be very sorry indeed.”

  As the General turned and marched down the mountain, Lady Delia knew her delay tactic would be short-lived.

  Lord Spencer and the others must come soon, or all shall be lost.

  That night, a flurry of fiery arrows fell down in droves upon the Westerner’s mountainside camps. And thus began the war.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  At Last

  They emerged from the forest in the dead of the night. And though Gentry was now limping on his weak leg, and Fallon’s legs burned with pain, the pair continued their flight.

  “We should head for that outcropping of rocks,” suggested Gentry, pointing to something in the distance.

  “Your eyes see far better than mine in the dark, my friend,” Fallon replied. “Go. I shall follow.”

  That night, they slept in shifts near an outcropping of rocks in the high steppes of Eastern Aberdeen. The sun rose from its slumber without any sign of their pursuer. By midday, they had discovered a small path which eventually led to a road. A carving in the rock told them where it led – Thorpe.

  “Are you familiar with Thorpe?” Fallon asked, recalling that Gentry had passed through several villages en route to Mt. Xavier.

  Gentry shook his head. “No. I cannot tell you anything of Thorpe. I would guess we are still in Aberdeen, but even that I cannot say for certain.”

  Fallon frowned. “I wish we had a map.”

  “We shall likely find one in Thorpe.”

  “Aye.”

  “Shall we go?”

  Fallon cast a weary eye across the endless plain. There was no sign of the ranger. By now, Fallon’s suspicions that only one of their pursuers still lived had been confirmed. Gentry had not provided any details; he had simply stated that the Komanite guard had passed on to the next life. Fallon did not press him on the matter. “Aye. Let us go.”

  *************

  They had no choice but to retreat. The Western troops were already outnumbered. Trying to fight their enemy in the dark – with only the light of the moon to guide them – would have been pure folly.

  With the exception of Lady Grace and a few brave souls who remained behind to stomp out any fires that took hold, the rest of the Western troops retreated up the mountain, out of range of the arrows. The handful of men who had been injured and burned in the attack were quickly carried back to the castle so that Lady Tessa might tend to them.

  The Western troops began their descent down the mountain at the first hint of sunlight upon the horizon. Once again they were greeted with a flurry of arrows. Except this time, the arrows were not burdened with flames. And this time, the troops did not retreat.

  Lady Delia would occasionally hear the cry of a soldier – betrayed by either his shield or his luck – as an arrow tore through his flesh. Not once did she stop to discover if the injury had been fatal. She and the others marched on. When the first hints of black and red were spotted in the distance, the marching ceased. The battle cry of horns and yells filled the air, and the two armies ran towards one another – their weapons of war drawn.

  The once peaceful mountain erupted into chaos. All around Lady Delia was a blur of colors as the soldiers searched out their foes. Her ears were filled with the sound of metal upon metal, of arrows darting through the air, the grunts and groans of combat, and the painful cries of death. Flesh was sliced and impaled with swords, skulls were crushed with hammers and axes, flails circled in the air with the threat of certain death. And the arrows continued to rain down upon them, striking friend and foe alike.

  Lady Delia had never uttered so many spells so rapidly in her life. Spells to stay the hands of her enemies as they approached her and the fighters around her. Spells to redirect arrows, spells to break the hilts of swords and the handles of axes. Spells that sucked the life out of any Easterner unfortunate enough to cross her path.

  Alas, she was but a single wizard, and her wand could only work so fast. Many of her allies fell dead before her. She had not seen another wizard since the fighting began, but she could still feel the presence of others. It was a small comfort.

  I hope they are faring better than me, she thought.

  Later she would not recall if it was something she had seen or heard or sensed, but Lady Delia turned just in time to avoid the knife that slashed through the air, barely missing her neck. With an intense anger that surprised her, she directed her wand towards her foe’s knife, slowly driving it back towards his own body and thrusting it into his heart.

  As she watched the blood pour from his mouth, she became distracted by the sound of a horn in the distance. Three long notes echoed through the air: Da DOOOOO, Da DOOOOO, Da DOOOOO.

  What does that mean? Are they sending more soldiers to the battle? she wondered. She had not yet seen Lord Conrad, and she would not be surprised if reinforcements were headed their way. But as she looked around, she noticed something curious. The Eastern soldiers appeared to be retreating. They were fleeing back down the mountain.

  A few moments later Lord Nigel appeared in her view, breathless. “They are on the run! Should we follow them, my Queen?”

  She was relieved to see her friend had survived the battle and quickly embraced him. “Lord Nigel! How have you fared?”

  He pulled back from her embrace and revealed a large gash in the arm of his robe. “Just a minor scrape, my Queen. I must say that my attacker paid dearly for his boldness,” he replied with a smile. “But I still have plenty fight in me if you wish to pursue the cowards.”

  Lady Delia frowned, turning her gaze back towards the retreating soldiers. “I am not certain they are cowards. I suspect this might be a trap. I suggest we rest and regroup for now, and tally our losses.”

  Lord Nigel was clearly disappointed, but he did not argue. “Aye, my Queen.”

  *************

  They made it to Thorpe without any sign of the pursuer.

  Though the pub’s namesake – The Dead Horseman – gave them pause, t
hey were exhausted and unwilling to walk any farther.

  “Have you any rooms you might spare for the evening?” Fallon asked the bartender.

  “Aye.” The bartender pulled a key from his pocket and placed it on the bar. “But I only have one. There are two beds, if you care to share.”

  Fallon glanced quickly at Gentry, who nodded.

  “Aye. We can share a room.”

  “I charge five gold pieces per night.”

  Fallon pulled out the small sack of gold the old man had given him and counted out the gold.

  “Have your horses been taken care of already?” the bartender inquired.

  “Aye,” Fallon lied. There was no reason to let the bartender know they were traveling on foot.

  “Would you care for a pint?”

  “Aye!” Fallon and Gentry replied in unison.

  They grabbed their pints and headed for a small table in the corner with a good view of the door.

  Though many men came in through that door that night, not one was the ranger. Relieved, the two men headed off to their rooms for some much needed rest.

  *************

  Over the next few hours, the Westerners sorted through the injured and the dead. Sixty-four men and two women had lost their lives fighting for the West in this battle. They had not yet finished counting the dead among their enemy, but the number was already over ninety. Twenty injured souls – including seven Easterners – were brought to the castle to be cared for by Lady Tessa.

  Nine Western Wizards were unaccounted for, including Lady Grace. Having already lost a son to the Easterners, Lord Nigel was ill-prepared to handle the news of his wife. It took the strength of four men to keep him from running down the mountain to seek his vengeance.

  The sun was low in the sky and the remaining troops were settling down for a quick dinner when a large boulder sailed through the sky above their heads. It had been catapulted high into the air, and struck the ground perhaps three hundred feet above their campsite. The ground shook slightly upon impact. And then another stone came and another and another.

  “Is Lord Conrad mad?” Lady Delia wondered aloud. “Does he not realize …?” but she did not finish her sentence.

  Of course he does. His men are out of harm’s way. Mine are not.

  “Everybody RUN!” she shouted at the top of her lungs. But the warning came too late. A low rumbling soon filled the air, and the ground began to shake incessantly. The rumbling sound became louder and louder with each passing second.

  Lady Delia could hear the screams of the men above her who had been caught in the wave of land and rock sliding faster and faster down the side of the mountain. She ran as fast as her legs would allow, desperately looking for some place to climb out of the way of the flow – all to no avail. There were few trees at this elevation on the mountain, and the random outcroppings of rock were too steep and unsteady to climb.

  In her desperation to find a way out, Lady Delia found herself looking back at the approaching wave of rocks and debris. It was much closer than she had ever expected – perhaps thirty feet at most. She lost her footing and tumbled to the ground.

  *************

  Fallon fell into another restless sleep.

  It was a familiar dream. Once again he and Gentry were being chased through a forest. Once again, Gentry ran ahead. Once again, Fallon tripped. He could hear the black-robed horsemen coming up fast behind him.

  Was there only a single rider this time? Or were there more? He could not tell.

  Then everything fell quiet. And once again, when Fallon finally dared to open his eyes, he found himself surrounded by a dense fog.

  “Gentry?” he called out timidly, but there was no response. Fallon began walking through the fog, occasionally calling out for his friend. His calls went unanswered.

  Tired of walking, Fallon sat down upon a log. He was overcome with a desperate feeling of loneliness when a shadowy figure finally emerged.

  “Gentry!” Fallon tried to leap up to embrace his friend, but his body remained frozen on the log. “Gentry! I thought I lost you!”

  Gentry did not respond. His friend moved no closer. Another shadowy figured stepped up next to him and nuzzled at his arm.

  “Casper?”

  Fallon woke up sweating, struggling for breath. He did not know how long they had been sleeping. He only knew they must leave. Now.

  *************

  She remembered scrambling to get up. She remembered thinking she was going to die. She remembered the intense pain in her shoulders as the falcon’s talons dug in deep and lifted her high into the air. And then she passed out.

  When Lady Delia regained consciousness a few hours later, she found herself back in her castle, lying on her bed. Lord Spencer was by her side.

  “My Queen! Are you all right? Shall I call for Lady Tessa?” asked Lord Spencer excitedly.

  Aside from the searing pain in her shoulders, which she noticed were bandaged, Lady Delia felt fine.

  She shook her head. “I am all right, Lord Spencer. I had nearly given up hope that I would ever see you again, and then you come to my rescue at the last possible moment,” she jested.

  “I am sorry, my Queen. We were … delayed. I came as soon as I could.”

  Lady Delia smiled. “I meant no harm. You saved my life, Lord Spencer. Thank you.”

  But as her thoughts turned to all the others who were not saved by the shape-shifting wizard, her smiled faded. “They are dead. We have lost the war,” she said wistfully.

  Lord Spencer took her hand. “Many died upon the mountain, aye. But we have not lost the war. Not yet, anyway.”

  Lady Delia gave him a puzzled look.

  “I suppose I should start at the beginning,” he said.

  *************

  The road east out of Thorpe brought them to an old stone bridge that crossed a swift river. On the other side of the river was a dense forest. The sight of the forest gave Fallon pause. He looked for a road that might parallel the river, but if a trail had ever existed, it had long been buried by a thick, thorny brush.

  “Perhaps we should turn back,” Fallon said. “I have grown weary of forests.”

  “Wizards be damned, Fallon! You wake me from the first peaceful sleep I have had in weeks – insisting that we must leave straightaway – and now you want to head back?” Gentry shook his head in frustration.

  Fallon looked back towards Thorpe. The morning sun remained hidden behind dark grey clouds, which only served to make the road back to the village appear even more forlorn. His instincts told him they could not go back. His dream cautioned him about the forest ahead.

  “Fallon?”

  A nudge from Gentry broke Fallon from his thoughts.

  “Look.”

  Fallon turned his head back towards the forest, where Gentry was pointing. On the opposite side of the bridge stood a young girl with long black hair. She did not call out to them. She did not move. She just stared at them.

  “Is that truly her?” Fallon wondered aloud.

  “Do you know her?” Gentry asked, surprised.

  In fact, Fallon had seen her before. Once. In the reflecting pools.

  Fallon began walking towards the bridge, towards the little girl. As soon as he stepped foot on the bridge, he felt it – the same odd sensation he had felt with the old man in the mountain, and with the man in black at the bookstore in Bartow. But it was stronger than he had ever felt it before, and it beckoned him forward.

  *************

  “Lord Milton was crossing the Colton Gap with a handful of other wizards when I first spotted him. When I explained the situation, he insisted that we must return to Bartow if we were to raise an army of sufficient size to equal that of the East,” Lord Spencer explained.

  Lady Delia nodded.

  “Lord Milton is well loved in Bartow, my Queen. Were you aware that he is a professor of philosophy at the university now? His former students and their friends were all too happy to follow hi
m into battle. Within a week’s time we had outfitted three hundred willing fighters with various weaponry, and—”

  Lady Delia felt compelled to interrupt. “If he was able to raise an army so quickly, why did it take so long to reach Mt. Xavier?” she asked.

  “Just as we were starting to march north once again, Lord Jameson arrived,” Lord Spencer replied. “He was desperate for help, my Queen. It seems the second Eastern army – which had left Orinda in ruins the last I saw of them – had been slowly making their way across Quintara, destroying nearly everything in their path. It would not be long until they reached Laredo.”

  “I see,” replied Lady Delia. So Lord Milton chose Laredo over Mt. Xavier. He chose Laredo over me.

  “Lord Jameson had managed to assemble several wizards from Aberdeen and Quintara in hopes of confronting the army, but they lacked sufficient weapons and supplies to properly arm the commoners. For all of its beauty, Laredo is quite poor.”

  “Aye, I am aware,” Lady Delia replied with a touch of annoyance. She had never cared much for the sprawling town nestled between the banks of the Lower River Kael and the foothills of the Atlian Mountains. It was a blight upon what otherwise would have been a beautiful place to live.

  “Anyway, as we already had an army assembled, we decided to head south to fight the second army. We knew it would likely delay our arrival at Mt. Xavier, but we worried that if we did not address the second army, we would lose all of Laureline.”

  “But why not send word of your plans? It is the least you could have done,” the Queen scolded.

  “We attempted to send a bird to alert you of our plans,” insisted Lord Spencer, “but we received word that the bird had returned to Bartow several days later with its message still intact. It was said that a fierce storm had been crossing Stratford at the time of the bird’s release. We can only speculate that the bird’s flight was thwarted by the rain and winds. Alas, we shall never know for certain.”