“It is very much my wish,” Eucádus replied, still astounded at King Cedric’s turnaround. He glanced at William, Ranen and the other leaders and noted the tempered enthusiasm upon their faces at such promising news. Yet at the same time, all solemnly recognized the burden and responsibility placed upon their shoulders. Their brief smiles quickly dissipated.
“Then it is settled,” the King said with an exhalation of relief. “I had already sent Osial to Morrenwood a few days ago to inform King Justin of my intentions, and only my highest officers in Grantwick yet know of this plan. But that will change swiftly, I am sure. Since we are now combining forces, it will allow King Justin a little more time to gather his two armies since he must fight on dual fronts.” The King stood and invited Minister Nuraboc and his guests to refill their drinks at the table before raising his glass to mark the somber occasion. “For good or ill, a spectacular force is about to be released and astounding times are ahead. May safety and good fortune guide us and protect us over green grass and through swift water, under skies deep blue or crying gray, and wherever darkness or swords should descend upon us if it is so ordained.” He drank from his cup as did the others, their thoughts swirling with a mix of doubt, confidence, wonderment and fear. And all knew that that would be the case over the days and weeks ahead.
CHAPTER 36
Across the Golden Plains
Three days later, King Cedric’s northern army departed Grantwick on a cool morning alongside the troops from the Five Clearings. They traveled south along the Swift River and by the end of the day the two forces had arrived at Wynhall. The soldiers crossed a stone bridge spanning the river and met up with the King’s southern troops encamped in a field on the eastern shore. Combined, the assembled armies of Drumaya totaled over six thousand men with less than a quarter upon horseback. Eucádus estimated that the Five Clearings added nearly four thousand more brave souls to the mix.
“We number just over ten thousand altogether,” King Cedric remarked in the approaching twilight as he gazed out upon the spread of men, horses, tents and bonfires nestled between the gently flowing river and the southern tip of the Bressan Woods. “Still, it is a formidable force and will be a welcome sight to the men of Rhiál, though what state their army is in, I cannot guess.”
“Our scouts will report back. Hopefully the situation won’t be as bleak as we fear,” Eucádus said, offering an encouraging tone.
The kingdom of Maranac was larger in area and population than Rhiál, and at the war council it was revealed that King Drogin’s troops had already taken control of the southern portion of Rhiál which contained that country’s most productive farmland. Neither Eucádus nor King Cedric could make a guess regarding the current state of Rhiál’s people or of its available food supply. Was it a population on the brink of starvation and defeat, or were its citizens nobly struggling to fend off the enemy until help arrived? Since the war council had convened twenty-two days ago, Eucádus assumed King Justin had sent word to Rhiál’s King Basil about the impending arrival of military assistance. Such a bit of promising news might go a long way toward bolstering the confidence of his beleaguered army. And though confidence wouldn’t feed a host of hungry soldiers or help fend off the swift blow of a steel blade, Eucádus hoped it would strengthen their spirits so they could endure for a little while longer.
The journey across the Kincarin Plains commenced at dawn the following morning beneath dreary gray skies of late autumn. Wispy white breaths of men and horses were carried away by thin breezes sweeping across the brittle grass still tinted with a golden summer hue that faded with the vanishing year. The loneliness and desolation of their journey was echoed in the mournful caw of a single crow gliding above the Bressan Woods that steadily disappeared behind them.
“It is an amazing sight,” William said to Ramsey later in the day when he trotted his horse alongside him. King Cedric, Eucádus and the other leaders of the Clearings rode in front of the advancing army to discuss strategy. William craned his head back, gazing at the dark curving lines of men, horses and wagons stretching over the plains like a meandering river. “I’ve never seen such an assembly. It’s quite stunning.”
“It is indeed,” Ramsey replied, taking a glance himself to fully appreciate the collective sacrifice of the many friends and strangers dutifully following their leaders. “Many are not sure what to expect, though have taken up this valiant cause nonetheless. Some wonder if they’ll ever return while others envision the freedom that their countrymen will one day enjoy again because of these labors.” He sighed. “Still, others contemplate the continued rise of tyranny should we fail.”
William nodded reflectively as the reasons for the military gathering overshadowed its dramatic appearance. “And what do you think as we make our journey east?”
Ramsey looked at the young prince and thought for a moment as their horses moved forward with an even gait. “I think of all three, Will, as I assume most men do. After all, in this business there is plenty of time to think between the few harrowing moments that test your spirit. A little introspection is necessary to prepare you for the times when you must act swiftly without having the luxury to think.”
William was silent for a time, his eyes fixed to the rider ahead of him as his thoughts drifted. “I suppose if I had been more prepared in that cabin I might have…” For several moments, he couldn’t shake the image of Brendan lying on the cabin floor, struggling to claim his final few breaths before darkness found him. “He deserved better from me.”
Ramsey caressed the layer of whiskers upon his face as he sought for the right words to allay William’s doubt and remorse. “I don’t suppose anyone can ever speak the right words to make you feel differently about what happened, Will. Perhaps you don’t want them to either. But whatever blame you carry in your heart, also carry the knowledge that the enemy you faced was one nobody could have prepared for. From what you described, you are fortunate to have survived yourself. Even the bravest soldier would have been questioning his actions afterward were he in your place.”
William tightly gripped the reins. “I’d like to reply I suppose to your explanation, and maybe someday I might allow myself some leniency. But for now all I can do is relive that scene in my mind and trudge ahead with the doubts.” The prince of Montavia flashed an appreciative smile. “Still, your words are a great comfort, Ramsey, and will be remembered. I’m grateful for that.”
“Glad I could help,” he replied as they continued to ride side by side over the lonely gray miles in subdued silence.
They camped under a black sky devoid of stars, some of the troops keeping warm in tents while others took turns tending to the bonfires and catching a few hours of fitful sleep from time to time. Sentries patrolled the perimeter in short shifts, keeping their weary watches throughout the night. One by one the hours gradually passed until the eastern horizon was delicately tinged with the first languid hints of gray. The second day across the Kincarin commenced much like the previous one, with the bleak light of dawn rousing heavy eyelids to open and sore limbs to move. After a brief breakfast, the camps were disassembled and the grand march continued.
They veered slightly to the northeast at one point, making for a stretch of short, straggly trees growing among a swiftly flowing stream which they would follow for a while to the delight of both the men and horses. Here kindling for fires was plentiful and a cold drink of fresh water seemed a kingly delight. But eventually the stream led to a low swampy area which they soon passed, and in time the open plains once again provided the dominant vista for the steadily moving army. In time, the setting sun disappeared behind a bank of clouds moving in from the west, its bulbous edges exploding in lustrous shades of purple, red and orange that elegantly punctuated the end of another day. Soon the watch fires of night flickered in the darkness as restless sleep took hold of the troops, the stony silence occasionally interrupted by the anxious grunting of horses or the rustle of dried grass among a chilly night breeze.
A flurry of fine snow greeted the troops the next morning, providing an amusing distraction to the travelers while painting the landscape in cheerier tones if only for a while. The tiny white flakes thinly covered the ground and dusted the tents, refreshing the air and serving as a brief reminder that the start of winter was just over two weeks away. After everyone had breakfasted amid the whitened landscape, they packed up and proceeded onward. By midmorning, all were grateful to see the clouds break up on a strengthening breeze and the sun reclaim its dominance in a sapphire blue sky. The snow quickly melted and for a time the mood of the travelers grew cheerful and optimistic. When the lines halted in early afternoon so the men could rest and lunch, King Cedric walked among the open grass, looking out to the east and pointing.
“The central tips of the Ridloe Mountains beckon to us,” he said, admiring the towering peaks visible in the far distance. “Rhiál lies just beyond the gap in the range.”
The long chain that comprised the Ridloe Mountains originated in the north on the shores of the Trillium Sea east of Montavia and stretched far to the south beyond the borders of Laparia, sloping in a gradual line from northeast to southwest. A large gap in the mountain range about halfway down from the northern tip contained the kingdoms of Rhiál and Maranac that were separated by Lake LaShear, an elongated body of water once serving as a binding landmark to the formerly unified nation.
“Bad enough that Vellan has destroyed our own nations in the Northern Mountains, but now he’s exporting his twisted ambitions to the far regions of Laparia,” Eucádus softly spoke as he gazed eastward. “It’s not right.”
“We will do our part to stop him,” said Jeremias, the leader of the Fox Clearing, pounding a clenched fist into his open hand. “Though a powerful wizard he may be, the people who fight for him in the east are simply men like us. Though his weapons can be marched to Rhiál, his magic cannot.”
“I have to agree with you,” King Cedric replied, delighted to hear a spirit of optimism stirring among the troops. “Vellan will have his match one of these days, but for now we must attend to Drogin, one of his proxies. He will be a challenge, no doubt, but I feel inspired to victory now that we are assembled and marching toward the mountains. May that spirit linger with us all the way to Rhiál.”
“And may King Justin and his men arrive there when we do,” William added, eliciting a round of smiles from the gathered leaders.
“Whatever awaits us in Rhiál is what will await us,” Eucádus said philosophically. “We shall confront our fates as best we can.”
King Cedric nodded, prepared to address that point further when he suddenly grew silent, his attention drawn to the south. Two men on horses quickly advanced, one team of several scout pairs that the King regularly rotated out to reconnoiter the surrounding terrain while the main army moved forward. The horses slowed as the men approached and dismounted to make their report. The King greeted the two soldiers with a nod.
“Edgar. Bornby. What news have you?”
“Sir, Edgar and I spotted a line of tracks about three miles south, heading east and running parallel to us. But the tracks originated from the southwest,” Bornby eagerly reported. “I’d guess about twenty to thirty horses in all.”
“And when did they pass?” Eucádus inquired.
“I’d estimate about two days ago, more or less,” he replied.
King Cedric thought for a moment. “Coming from the southwest, I would guess that a party from Kargoth has been dispatched by Vellan. But whether they are on a mission to Maranac or had been monitoring us remains to be seen.” The King praised the scouts for their work and ordered them to get some rest and a meal. He quickly dispatched a replacement team to the south as well as some additional scouts to fan out eastward. “If Vellan ever had any doubts that Drumaya would one day stand up to him, he has them no more,” the King quipped. He turned to the others under the warmth of the noonday sun. “Now I think it is time that we had some lunch before moving on, gentlemen. I am quite craving a roast pork dinner and a slice of alaberry pie, but I’m guessing I’ll have to settle for a bowl of hot stew and a buttered biscuit instead!”
After the troops had eaten and enjoyed a short rest, everyone marched forward across the plains for several more hours, appreciating their progress yet knowing they still had a long way before reaching their destination. The air had grown calm and cool as the sun drifted toward the western horizon, the thin shadows of the army stretching eastward and moving in unison like a line of silent, gray ghosts. King Cedric constantly scanned the topography ahead which had turned slightly hilly and overgrown with scrub brush, knowing he should have heard from some of his forward scouts by now. Though the atmosphere chilled as evening approached, he undid the upper buttons of his coat and wore no hood for a time, his wariness and focus overriding any notice of the elements.
Shortly before the sun had set, one of the several riders a short distance ahead waved his arm in the air, signaling that he had spotted something. At once, King Cedric, Eucádus, William and several others swiftly approached, soon noticing several shapes lying on the ground covered in the gentle splashes of the fading sun. The King and his men dismounted to investigate. The other riders on horseback arranged their steeds in a semicircle around the area in question. King Cedric felt his heart go cold when seeing three of his scouts dead before him, riddled with stab wounds, their horses apparently stolen. When William saw the pale faces of the dead men and noted their bloodstained garments, be couldn’t help but think of his brother and turned away, feeling Brendan’s death all over again.
“These men were ambushed,” King Cedric remarked, his voice hard and his eyes grim. He looked to his right, noting the folds in the land and a scattering of boulders nearby in the otherwise predominantly barren landscape. How many of the enemy had been hiding here and waiting for their chance to attack, he could not guess.
“Ambushed and outnumbered,” Eucádus said as he looked around at the trampling of footprints in the grass and patches of soil.
“Vellan has left us a message,” the King softly said, his eyes fixed despondently upon the deceased soldiers. “But he will regret it one day soon if I have any say in the matter.” He called to one of his captains. “We will bury these men here. Make arrangements,” he said, resting a hand on the man’s shoulder as he looked back to address the rest of his army. “If we are victorious, we will return for their bodies and escort them home for a proper burial in Drumaya.”
“Yes, sir,” the captain replied before leaving to carry out the order.
But before he had left King Cedric’s side, several harrowing screams shattered the night air, originating behind the huge boulders embedded in the plains. As the King spun around to pinpoint the source of the commotion, a half dozen dark shapes sprang out from behind the rocks waving drawn swords and rushing across the sloping ground toward them. A group of soldiers jumped in a protective stance in front of King Cedric with arms at the ready while several others, including Eucádus, drew their weapons and sped toward the advancing enemy. But a second before he left, Eucádus saw William draw his own sword, preparing to rush forward with the group.
“It is not yet your time to fight,” Eucádus said, locking gazes with the boy and silently conveying to William that he would have other opportunities to avenge his brother’s death. He then sprinted to the battle as William watched in awed silence.
A brief clash of swords followed and several arrows flew from some of King Cedric’s finest archers. In short order, five of the six attackers were killed and one lay severely wounded upon a patch of dry grass stained with his blood. While a team of soldiers spread out and searched for any more of the enemy among the rocks and knolls, King Cedric knelt down near the wounded man to see if he could still speak. As the man was dressed in clothing and armed with weapons indigenous to the nations of the Northern Mountains, Eucádus assumed he was a native of Kargoth.
“Vellan will be victorious,” the young man whispered as h
e gasped for breath, his eyes wildly alive yet somewhat clouded, unlike those of a normal man.
“But you will not be around to see it if he is!” one of the soldiers standing over him bitterly replied.
King Cedric held up a hand for silence before looking down at the dying man. “Where are the others in your party? Are they riding on to Maranac to assist Drogin?”
“Riding on to victory,” he replied with a strange smile, nodding as his breathing grew more erratic. “Just as our leader…” His head suddenly tilted sideways as his final breath left him, his skin turning as cool and pale as the evening.
King Cedric shook his head in disappointment as he got to his feet, but before turning away, he noticed a peculiar thing about the man’s face. The haziness within the blue color of his eyes suddenly faded while the tightness in his facial features softened as if a great weight had been lifted from the dead man’s mind, if such a thing were possible. King Cedric glanced at Eucádus who stood next to him.
“Did you see that, or is my mind playing tricks?” he asked.
Eucádus nodded, taken aback. “I saw it as well, King Cedric. It was as if lifelessness itself had left the deceased body, making it look more alive though it is yet dead. Does that make sense?”
“Sense or not, I agree with what you say.”
“As do I,” said another soldier who had been peering over the shoulders of others in front of the body. “If this man was a native of Kargoth and loyal to Vellan, then he may have drunk from the Drusala River. Vellan is rumored to have placed a spell upon that waterway running through Kargoth after he settled down in the area, enchanting those who unknowingly quenched their thirst with its cool liquid. Total devotion to Vellan’s will awaits anyone who mistakenly drinks from the Drusala. Death has finally freed this unfortunate man from the spell.”
Nicholas Raven and the Wizards' Web - Volume 1 Page 59