Sviska laughed, “I hope so. I do not wish a death in Lokam.”
“We must all be careful of that,” said Knasgriff. “But of the attack, the undecided task is that of drawing out the army.”
Slats stood. Taking his ax out, he drew a line on the map in the region of the eastern plains, tearing the map. He then moved the red pieces of Srun and placed them along it.
“We will draw them to that location and fight as long as we must. The tribes of the Falacar will support us. If we must retreat, we will go for the sea and for the longships first. If we must fall back and are cut off from the ocean, we will go to the highlands where at least the spirits of my people will be beside us.”
Knasgriff shook his head, “Dear dwarf, I do admit that our numbers are only estimates. You have only the number of men in half of one Legion and three march against you if all of Lokam empties. It is a clear plan but in truth, we know not the number you will face.”
Ruir grunted, “I dare say this without angering my men, but I see fate calling me. I will go with Slatnichor and we shall have war. One Ukka chief and one dwarf of old will kill many. Knasgriff, you will lead my men. I will direct them to follow your command. If we are to be in unity as a nation once more, our men and women must see it.”
Knasgriff looked to Slats and back to Ruir.
“Ruir, we have come far in the weeks since the Saints of the god Wura came. We shall do this. So be it.”
“Chieftains!” a voice called out. They turned to see Euso with a number of guards. “A single ship bearing a Red Trident flag was spotted on our coast. They seek negotiations with the people of the Island Nation.”
“Bring them in,” said Knasgriff.
The audience of the room shifted outside to the beaches. A single small ship being escorted by two longships was just viewable in an early morning light.
A tall man disembarked the ship with his men beside him each holding spears in hand. A large group of Island Nation men surrounded them. The Chieftains approached the circle and stood looking at them.
“What business do you have here?” asked Ruir.
“Greetings, people of the Northern sea,” the man said, “I am Youna, and I am King over the Drean, or as we are known in these seas, the Red Trident People. I bring offers of an alliance.”
“A day after a Legion attack with your ships in support?” asked Knasgriff. “Do you think us fools or stupid?”
Youna bowed, “Your warriors have always been honorable, but the horror of the creatures you sent against us has made it so that no amount of money is enough for us to fight. The Grand Protectorate has not treated us much differently than you. We are from the seas to the south, forced to come to the north, to fight you. Yes, we were paid but such deals matter little to us. We wish to go home now, but it is clear the power of the world is at odds. We offer our services to those that wish to allow us to fight and secured our route home.”
“What you mean is, you are afraid of us now?” questioned Ruir.
“My men do not wish to face the giants, but if it is a question of my ships against yours, there is no question.”
Ruir lifted his head, “Kill him.”
A shuffling of weapons commenced as those of the Drean circled around their king. Those of the Island Nation did not move but held their weapons up.
“There is no need for this,” Garoa shouted, “Either you are against the Grand Protectorate or not. I care little of this pitiful show of force between you seafaring peoples. If you wish to fight, say yes. If not, leave. We have no time for anything else.”
Youna pointed to Garoa, “You, we will listen to and we will fight against the Grand Protectorate. Do not put us with those of the Island Nation.”
“Very well,” he said.
Knasgriff looked to Garoa, “Do you speak for the Island Nation now, Rusis?”
“I speak for myself, and my daughter, and the task at hand. If we are rid of the Grand Protectorate, you will be rid of them too.”
Knasgriff could not deny this. Tvila stared at Garoa but he could not tell her feelings about his words.
“What are your numbers?” asked Sviska.
“I have fifteen ships and over three hundred men. Our ships are good for the high seas; we can support you against any Grand Protectorate ships, as well as protect the coasts.”
“Then,” said Slats, “you can support the land army if we are sent into a retreat to the seas.”
“If that is what you wish,” said Youna. “But tell me, who are you? It seems you are not of the Island Nation.”
“Dey are Sviska, Garoa, Berie, and Slats,” growled Kealin from the rear of the group. He approached the King and spat at the ground near his men. “And dat is all you of the Drean need to know of them. I do not care for you southern types and would be happy to have you away from my waters. It is a treacherous path to come to the far northern seas through the straits of the desert lands, is it not?”
Youna bowed, “It is. But we would face those waters again for a chance to go home. We would be happy to be away from your seas and will do what we can to undermine the Grand Protectorate from these waters and make safe our path home through the western passages.”
“Then do as is wished of you and be gone.” Kealin spat again and walked away.
As the morning sun began to rise, an intense preparation began. The remainder of the Island Nation ships had arrived and now groupings of ships took time sailing the bay and then returning to shore as people were given weapons and armor.
Though many ships had been amassed, most would take the narrow southern way and assemble the land army east of Lokam. Falacar scouts had reported little in that area of Legion movements, reaffirming the belief that most of the strength of Lokam was still within. It was midday when Sviska and Garoa stood before Srun and he pulled the whistle from his coat and blew into it.
In mere moments, the sky above them was alight as the two dragons blew over them in a rush of wind, circling the fortress and rocking the ships of the Island Nation before settling in flight above Garoa and landing before him.
A shared gasp among those around them was silenced as Sviska and Garoa affixed a box to the neck of both dragons. The plans thus far and the dates of attack were provided, as well as a detailed map. Brethor and whatever allies he could secure would need to time his attacks with theirs.
In a kicking up of dust and dry weeds, the dragons took to the sky and flew high, their westward flight to be speedy and meaningful. Sviska was happy he would see Brethor again soon.
Knasgriff and Tvila approached, “Magnificent creatures,” he said.
“I like them,” Tvila added.
“Chieftains,” Sviska said bowing, “What of the people of Colui and New Srun, who leads them into battle?”
“They make up the most of the land army, thus, Slats and Ruir shall be in command of them. We, of course, have the honor of leading the attack into Lokam.”
“Keep your shields up,” said Garoa, “Lokam is no place of just thrown axes. Their archers are well-trained.”
“Are you from there originally?” asked Tvila.
“I spent some time there, you could say.”
He turned away from Sviska and the others and went to the water’s edge. Tvila followed.
She stood beside him, staring into the water.
“I do not wish to talk,” he said to her, “I hope you do not see it as rude.”
She did not reply. She turned towards him and embraced him. He did not pull away but he did not hold her tight. She held him for a moment and then slapped his back.
“Take care of yourself,” she said.
He smirked and turned to watch her walk away.
Kealin had spotted Sviska by himself and approached him.
“I do not like these Drean,” he said.
“They offer help freely,” Sviska pointed out, “But I can understand your worry. I was not too many nights ago that one attempted to kill Knasgriff.”
“De
y only care of what dey can get. We are simply de better offer. I was in the King’s mind. He will help but I saw his home and my history is not the greatest of goodwill towards that place.”
“If he keeps his word of securing our flanks and supporting Slats he is at least deserved some respect.”
“I will respect his death for it is the only honorable act a Drean can do. He is not like you and I and someday you shall understand.”
The High Ships were now at shore and the warriors of the Island Nations worked to stock them.
“Did you talk with Slats?” asked Sviska.
“I had not yet.”
“De dwarf is nervous, as he should be,” said Kealin.
Berie jogged toward them, “We are requested in the main hall.”
They proceeded into Srun and found Slats and Ruir with Knasgriff, all holding chalices. Bloodhawk, Silverhawk, and Shadowhawk stood to the side and each held in their hands a chalice.
Sviska went to the table, picking up a chalice also; he noticed the etchings of five Islands and a star on the coastline. The others each took glasses and were attentive as Knasgriff began.
He held his chalice up, “Alright, I choose to speak for my voice is nicer than Ruir’s!”
A shared but quiet laugh went out among the others, except for the Falacar who stood motionless.
“These chalices were last used the final night of what began the siege of Srun. They had been locked away in a vault beneath us but I feel, as do the other chieftains, a last toast with said objects is warranted. I wish us all a good day tomorrow and the night of tomorrow, I hope to see all of you as I do now but I know I will not. Many of our people shall die soon and maybe even ourselves die, and even without the end we seek. But we will do as we must. I am happy that it has come to this and I wish to see you all in two night’s time, in the city of Lokam, on the field of victory. Let us enjoy our fishing trip.”
They took their chalices to mouth and took the drink in. Sviska swallowed and looked to the others over his glass. It was months ago he was to murder the three others in the room he now considered family, and soon his fight would be taken to those he had once called masters. As they began to part and share embraces among some and others clashed helmets, he went to Slats who still drank from his chalice.
“Well, servant? Now you are a commander of the land army?”
“I did not ask—”
“You will do well,” Sviska told him. “Just draw them out, anger them, and then make them squeal like pigs as they regret ever facing the dwarves! You did it with those of the Red Trident.”
Slats laughed, “With the help of giants! You take care of you, winemaker, and I will take care of me! Watch Berie, remind her she cannot die again!”
Berie slapped Slats on the back of his helmet. “I will not,” she smiled at him as she exhaled, “Good luck be with you, friend.”
Garoa had already walked out ahead of them. As they exited Srun, they parted from Slats and gave a nod to Euso who was preparing himself in a vest of armor.
“Do you head with us or the land army?” Berie asked.
“I will be going with Slats,” he replied.
“Berie, Sviska, this way,” Garoa shouted from aboard Knasgriff’s ship.
As they boarded, the ships of the Drean were in the distance. Limited to deeper water, they could only assist in ensuring that the Legion Armada forces still in the area could not attack the longships.
A series of horns sounded and the land army filed into their ships. They were the first to depart. Sailing south along the coast, they needed to be in place first and would be well upon the battle plains by nightfall.
A longship passed with Slats and Ruir standing at the helm, as they passed the other awaiting ships they both raised axes above their heads. A cheering began and followed along the line of ships.
Berie pulled an arrow from her quiver and pulled it back. In the magic of her people she spoke, “Savaa.”
The arrow flew into the sky above the ships and exploded in a radiant light and a sound that echoed over the water. Most around jumped, but Slats turned, looking back at her with a smile.
Garoa looked out over the water; as Knasgriff boarded he looked at the crew who stood by for his order.
“Let us get this vessel underway!”
A small cheer followed and the men lowered the sails. Knasgriff’s ship was one of the first to move forward, the others followed one by one. Their track would take them along the same path as Slat’s forces but would continue southwest from the islands. They would only go as far as needed until nightfall before their leg of the attack would commence. It was hoped that the scouts would give word of the city emptying to face Slats and Ruir.
A sharp wind caught the sails and pushed them along. As Srun became no more than an outline on the horizon, Kealin and Tulasiro weaved in and out of the other ships, Tulasiro’s spike cresting the water every few thrusts of her tail. He sped ahead of the rest of them.
“It has long been prepared for,” said Knasgriff.
Sviska looked him.
“This day, I mean, what was once mere thoughts turned to whispers and closed-door meetings. Now we act and the wind blows us to the consequences of it, be they good or bad.”
“The people await their rescue,” said Sviska.
“As does his daughter,” said Knasgriff. “I feel if he was not so firm and tasteless with the way he handled some, he would be a great leader.”
“I could see him as one,” said Sviska, “and few have I thought that of. I do hope the people stolen from your lands, as well as his daughter, are both well and indeed still at Lokam.”
“We will know soon.”
Slats looked over the water ahead. Euso stood at his side, fumbling with a bag of herbs and looking at him. Euso sighed as Ruir stood silently on the deck.
“I don’t think I brought enough,” Euso said.
“Of?”
“Herbs. This one helps with pain. I wonder how many will die?”
“As many as it takes, at least, until we face death and if we do, we must bite it and not let go.”
Slats placed his hands on the back of his head, “I hope not to bite it. I do believe Legatus Arsus will arrive to help, he and the Priestess lady that the Falacar do not like. He would not have ignored the movements of the Legion. Are you ready to die?”
Ruir looked at them but gave no expression. He looked back to the ships following behind and the men rowing in unison.
“I am ready to bring aid to those captured and to fulfill their need in these dark hours,” Slats answered.
Euso looked down, “Nor am I ready to die.”
The sun was beginning to crest over midday as the shoreline of the northern plains appeared. The ships made for the shore; forming a line, they beached the ships. From each ship, men ran for the upper shore, a line of green grasses that crested up a gentle slope. Slats followed them. Upon reaching the top of the slope, they looked upon the westbound road leading to Lokam. It was clear.
“Move everyone up to the road and make camp,” Ruir shouted.
The Captains near him sent the order down the line and a series of bullhorn blasts signaled the other ships to make landing.
“Slatnichor, what strategy do you have?” Ruir asked.
He had not given it much thought as of yet, at least, not as much as he should. Though indeed a dwarf, he lacked the war knowledge of his masters. He knew single combat but not large-scale battles. He had read of many in his books. He always enjoyed the grandeur of the rally before the fight and as an enemy of those of the Grand Protectorate and Order, it was with that thought he knew what to say.
“We will send a message to the city. We will make them think that we are the entire Island Nation and we challenge them for rule and see them as unfit leaders, citing them nothing but pawns of the Itsu. We will kill them all.”
“Will that work?” asked Euso.
“Of course it will!” said Ruir. “The simplest and be
st plan I have heard in some time.”
Slats nodded at Ruir’s show of confidence in him, even though perhaps mistakenly given, in his opinion.
“They will know that the Saints of Wura are here and will send everyone to stop us. The Island Nation knows not widely of the Itsu. That is something that mainly only those of Elinathrond know.”
Camp was made and the ships emptied. Slats drafted the message and signed it. “The dwarf.” A clear notation of those that challenged the Legions.
A group of men carried the message west. A Legion patrol had been spotted a while ago in the far distance, riding horseback. The messengers either would deliver it to Lokam or be intercepted within a few hours and the message delivered as needed.
Within an hour, another messenger arrived, this one of the Falacar.
“The horsemen send word?” asked Ruir.
“Yes, they are in position around the far eastern hills. They have placed scouts along the ridges and await our engagement with the Legions before attacking. They also are watching the Legion to the far south. They have not moved.”
Ruir nodded, “Then we still have advantage of surprise. Has there been no word from Legatus Arsus?”
“Not that the note says.”
Slats sent thanks to the Chiefs of the Falacar and tended to his men, getting to know them as much as possible. At nightfall, a messenger arrived but he was only one of the five that had left.
Immediate word to summon Euso went out. The man had returned but not in the fashion he had gone. The enemy tore his eyes from his head and cut his tongue out. Along his arms were the image of the First Legion and a letter was sewn into the skin of his chest.
“Never have I seen such a heinous act from the Legion, to do such a thing as this!” Euso said.
Slats looked at the blood-covered message as Euso attended to the wounds he could bandage.
Dwarf, you can tell those of the Island Nation that death will not be quick and their folly will be felt in their bodies, their homes, and in every descendant of any region in the northern Islands. The scourge of the lands from Elinathrond shall bleed but shall not die with the same luck as the others, they will be lashed and brought before the Itsu Priest. The disciples of the Itsu shall meet your challenge.
Saints of Wura: Winemaker of the North, Arcane Awakening, Reckoning in the Void (Saints of Wura Books 1-3 with bonus content) Page 61