by Greg Curtis
The students on guard duty at the doors opened them wide for the group to enter, and Yorik was suddenly once more inside the house, somewhere he'd thought never to return to again. It was an emotional moment for him.
He remembered the first time he'd ever stepped foot in here. It had been as a child being brought by his father for training in the ways of the Order. He would have been perhaps six years old at the time, and he remembered clearly his father's comforting hand on his shoulder as he walked him into the entrance hall for assessment. Even then he'd seen the great beauty of the hall, and its grandeur and been impressed.
The entrance hall itself was a single massive room, with ceilings perhaps as tall as five men, wide enough to seat thirty men at arms side by side, and long enough that he couldn't have thrown a stone from one end to the other. But it was the ornately carved and brightly polished wood that really made an impression on him, as the hall showed not just the attention of untold craftsmen and artisans over the centuries, but also their love. With his father, he'd seen much of the Lord Mayor's keep by then – where the Lord Mayor and his court lived – but they had nothing to compare. Cold stone and tapestries could not compare to a living, almost breathing, work of art. It was then that he'd truly known that he wanted to become one of the golden knights.
Yorik didn't have time to bask in his memories though as the commander led them on through the hall towards the oak doors and the hallway leading on to the Council chambers, while a dozen paladins sitting around one of the open fires stared at them in surprise. One of them was Childe, his oldest and best friend with whom he had trained for many long years, and Yorik at least had the chance to raise his hand and nod in greeting, before they were marched through the great oak doors at the far end.
After that they were in the long hallway that divided the entire inner part of the building in half. On both sides of them were more great chambers. The library, study rooms, armoury, dining hall and kitchen. And of course there were the massive oak stair cases that led up to the dormitories and private chambers above. The Order's hall was a castle in all but name.
But their destination was none of them. It was the huge double doors at the far end that led into the Council chambers. Doors inscribed with the emblem of the Lady. And doors where once more students stood guard.
That was unusual. Normally the Council chamber stood empty. No one guarded it as no one used it. It was reserved for ceremonies such as a paladin's acceptance of his life's vows and meetings with the heads of the other chapters. But from the pennants that had been flying he guessed that just such a meeting was happening.
Inside when the students opened the doors for them, he was proven right. They found the full Council waiting for them, and a few more besides. At least twenty of the great oak chairs had been laid out for the meeting in a great circle, and every one of them apart from three directly in front of them, and two more at the far end were taken. The chairs were for them. More paladins and clerics still – and by the looks of things all of some standing within the Order – were seated on the pews set out for the audience, and not all of them did he know. Which meant surely that they were the guests from the other chapters in other cities.
This was an important meeting, and one that they'd obviously been prepared for. That gave Yorik pause as he guided his companions to their seats and then took his own behind them. Not one of the assembled he noticed, seemed particularly surprised by Ascollia's armour either.
“Members of the Council and honoured guests, may the Lady grant us her grace and wisdom for this meeting.”
Father Rubrecht intoned the formal if drastically shortened blessing for the meeting, and then took his seat beside Commander Elron, abruptly leaving Yorik to do the introductions once more.
“Commander Elron, Father Rubrecht, members of the Council of the Order of the Lady, honoured guests; may I present to you Master Ranger Ascollia Verinon of the Hammeral House of the Rangers of the Order of the Lady, and Acolyte Genivere. They have come to bring you warning of the great battle looming, and to ask for the aid of the Order in the coming war.”
Introductions done, Yorik would have sat down and breathed a lengthy sigh of relief if he had been allowed. Instead however Ascollia on one side, and Genivere on the other each laid their hands on his shoulders and asked him to stand with them. Which could only mean one thing. They wanted a witness and they believed his word good enough to stand. He only hoped they were right.
“Honoured brothers and sisters of the Order, my commander Aloysius Dall, Head Ranger of the Hammeral chapter of the Order and my Chief Wizard Odilon Adenall bid you greetings. I also carry the greetings of Myral, companion to the Lady who is once more among us, thanks to this noble paladin's quest.”
That caused a stir among the assembled, not so much at the mention of him being on a quest Yorik thought, but at the name. Myral. They knew it. And he still didn't know a thing about him other than he was indeed a companion and friend of the Lady from her first days in the lands. He also knew he was also somewhat querulous, but that knowledge probably wouldn't be well received by anyone.
“Alas time is short, as the Dark One moves among us once more. But not as he once did in the flesh before the dragons banished him. Instead it appears that he has given up on all hope of returning from his exile to rule our world as a demon lord, and instead he uses the talents of dark necromancers entombed with him to raise more necromancers outside. These he hopes will walk in such numbers that they will eventually be able to unlock his tomb from the outside, and from there he can return to his own dark realm.”
“In the last thirty days we have fought two separate battles against the undead. First Yorik and Genivere encountered a pack of undead dire wolves guarding the resting place of Myral, trying to prevent his ever being awoken. Then on the way here we three were waylaid by a party of undead bandits, as they sought to prevent us making this meeting. Each time they had an undead necromancer to raise them if they fell. I would guess we are not alone.”
There was a round of head nodding and a murmur of agreement among both the Council members and the audience, something that didn't surprise Yorik as much as he would have liked. He had seen the guards at the city gates.
Commander Elron stood up briefly.
“I think I can speak for all seven chapters when I say all of us have encountered roaming packs of the undead in one form or another. Undead necromancers raising more undead to act as their armies. It has disturbed us all deeply, which was why we welcomed your call for a meeting this day.”
What call Yorik wondered? Ascollia had said that a message had been sent to say they were coming, but not that it was a call for a meeting.
“It is why we asked for it, and your concern is most certainly ours as well. It is already clear that the Dark One has much knowledge of our world. More than could have been expected considering how long ago he was first entombed. Our most senior wizards believe that with every new dark spellcaster who has fled into his dark prison to join him, he has gained a little more knowledge and strength outside it. It is also apparent that he can now reach out and harm us, though it surely costs him a piece of his soul every time he does so. But his hatred and desperation are so great now that he ignores his own suffering and risk.”
“Though his attacks are small at present, we can expect further and larger attacks as our enemies grow in numbers. For this is only the beginning of a much greater battle ahead. One that will envelop not just the human and elven lands, but also those of all other races as the Dark One seeks to destroy all life. He will need to do that to unlock the wards holding him in, for as we all know from the most ancient scrolls, he shall not escape while there are any to oppose him. The dragons have gone and now we stand in their stead, as opposed to his freedom as they once were. He has surely realised that he cannot persuade us; therefore he must destroy us. All of us.”
Yorik started at hearing that and then stared at his companion. Ascollia's logic was completely sound, b
ut what he was suggesting was also insane. What use would it be for the great demon to finally free himself by destroying the world which he wanted to rule, if he had lost all of his soul to do it and then gained nothing to rule? But then the Dark One was a demon, the very definition of evil, and he desperately wanted his freedom. If this was his only chance, what else could they have expected of him?
The question that kept running through Yorik's mind though was how they could be absolutely certain that it was the Dark One himself who was creating these undead things? Certainly the elves seemed sure, and it was true that that the undead could serve his purpose. It was also true that he could think of no one else with the power to do what he was being accused of. But he'd not seen a scrap of proof that it was right. Could there be another he wondered? Perhaps even another within the same prison where the Dark One was held? One with no life and no soul to lose, unlike the Dark One? After all many other evil wizards including necromancers, had entered into the same otherworldly prison, some of them even voluntarily as they thought to grow in power on the other side. They thought to overthrow the great demon himself and steal his throne. Yorik kept his thoughts to himself though, knowing he was unworthy to speak them in this most august presence.
“Yimene has also said much the same not twenty days ago, and he has also foreseen that the Dark One will begin with attacks around Stonebow, intended to drive away any threats by awakening the undead dwarven armies. We sent three riders out immediately after the foretelling to look for any sign of the undead, but we have heard nothing back as yet.”
Yorik didn't know who Yimene was, but he knew the speaker to be Commander Latray of the West Brookland chapter. His face was embossed on many of the books on military strategy he'd been forced to read as a student.
West Brookland wasn't one of the six cities. It wasn't even a part of New Vineland. It was a free city a hundred leagues north and west of Doverion. The Commander had travelled over three hundred leagues to make this meeting, a sign of just how seriously the Order was taking this matter. And if Stonebow was the enemy's first target, he could understand why.
Stonebow was an ancient dwarven city of the dead, abandoned thousands of years ago when the ore had run dry. The dwarves had long since moved on, but behind them they had left a grave of tens of thousands of dwarven warriors, all perfectly preserved by the dry air of the caverns. Apparently they had been at war with the local elves, as well as rival clans, for the entire five hundred years they had held it. But worse was the fact that the dwarves had always been opposed to saying the ritual prayers for the dead. A pity for if they had it could have prevented their dead being awoken. It was also unfortunate that instead of burying their dead they left their bodies to be mummified in the dry air of their deep caverns. In short, there was an undead army in excellent condition in Stonebow, just waiting to be raised.
There was also a problem in stopping them. For aside from the fact that the enemy could keep raising the dead again and again until they were completely destroyed, Stonebow lay across the Broken Valley Mountains, a full five leagues of nearly impassable terrain. There was rumoured once to have been a path through it, and another pass over the range itself, but its location if it still existed, had been lost to time. So they would have to cross them on foot.
A force of knights and paladins could scramble over such rocks in a day or two, but they couldn't bring horses or provisions with them. The undead however, had no such problem as they didn't eat, didn't rest, didn't wear clothes, and didn't ride horses.
To battle them in the mountains was a tactical nightmare. If they were to meet in battle in the mountains it would not go well for the Order as the terrain limited their combat capability. On the other hand to wait for them on this side of the mountains was to let the enemy build a massive army to attack them with – another equally poor strategy. The third option was to meet them on the other side of the range and cut off their lines of retreat if they were fast enough. But that would require them to fight the undead with limited resources in an ancient dwarven stronghold. Still, if they could even get that far before being attacked – or worse ambushed in the mountains – it was the best of the three options. Assuming they could even do it and not get caught in the mountains themselves on their way there. All three options were suicide, and he listened to the commanders discussing those same problems in front of them.
The surprise was that despite the danger, the commanders seemed to be preparing themselves for the battle, which at least meant that Ascollia and Genivere were going to get the aid they had asked for. The Order was going into battle at the behest of the elves. An hour before he wouldn't have considered such a thing possible. But then an hour before he wouldn't have believed most of what anyone had said in this chamber either.
“Yet it must be done.”
As his thoughts had wandered Yorik suddenly realised that the commanders had reached a decision. It seemed they would fight the battle of Stonebow. In fact he suspected that they had made the decision even before the three of them had entered the chamber. But that didn't mean they were happy about it. He watched Commander Latray's head fall as he voiced his agreement, while all around other eyes sank to the floor in despair. What they were doing went against all that the Order had strived to achieve in the last five centuries. It would require the services of every paladin, knight, squire and cleric that they could lay their hands on, and even if they won, the chapters would be decimated by the battle. At best the Order of the Lady would take centuries to rebuild and they would bury many friends. And if the elves were right, this would only be the first battle in a war.
“I will send a message through Father Rayburn here, asking the entire chapter of West Brookland to make haste to the town of Briarton. I will ask them to spend every gold coin we have in stock to buy plenty of fresh horses and fast wagons on the way, but it will still be four long weeks till they arrive even if they leave tonight.”
Four weeks was optimistic at best to cover three hundred leagues even though the roads were good, Yorik thought. Moreover the horses would be of little use once they arrived. And that didn’t take into account the fact that the message would have to be sent by pigeon and there would be several more days involved in that. But at least it was a target. And West Brookland was the furthest chapter from Briarton. The others would have a quicker time of it.
No sooner had Commander Latray spoken then the others agreed with him, and in front of Yorik's amazed eyes, arrangements were made to empty all seven chapters of the Order, something that had never been done before. But it was only logical if they were to fight such an enemy. Certainly they would need them all, and more. Seven chapters, meant roughly nine hundred paladins, twelve hundred knights, at least as many squires and spell-swords, and perhaps two thousand clerics. It was a sizeable force, but against tens of thousands of undead dwarven warriors, not enough. Then the unbelievable became stranger still.
“And I through Genivere here, will send the same message to all seven chapters of rangers, to join you in Briarton. It is finally time for the two halves of our Order to stand as one. May the Lady grant us all her protection.”
Seven chapters of rangers? Would the elves never stop surprising him? Yorik had been too busy wondering how there could even be a single elven Order of the Lady to wonder about numbers. But apparently they too had seven chapters, making him wonder if they also had similar numbers of soldiers.
Rangers, if what he understood from the elves was correct, would be a valuable addition to any force. Their main weapons were the long bow and lighter blades, and they could enhance both with their magic, much as he could his great sword and crossbow. In fact they used the very same spells. Their armour though lighter than that of a paladin was more flexible, allowing them greater movement and speed, and they were natural horsemen and woodsmen. They could provide either covering fire or hit and run assaults more easily than could even the best paladin with his crossbows.
The rest of the meeting went b
y in a blur for Yorik as he watched the entire Council start drawing up their plans of attack, and working out their total numbers for every possible scenario. For much of it he just felt numb, as he suspected, did many of the others. Despite their words, many of their eyes looked glazed over as if they couldn't quite believe what they were doing. But from a soldier’s perspective, Yorik at least felt vaguely more easy.
With the three thousand elven rangers giving solid covering fire with flame arrows to well over two thousand knights and paladins, the battle was at least winnable. And with their wizards' magic added to that of the clerics, even if it wasn't, the enemy would certainly know he'd been in a fight. The Dark One would be taught a lesson.
If it was the Dark One.
Chapter Eleven.
It was late, ten bells had rung, and the commander's private meeting chamber was quiet. The candles on the mantle burned softly in their glass canisters sending golden light flowing throughout the room. The windows were shut so any noise from the outside was muted. And the fire crackled away merrily in the corner of the room, making everything warm and comfortable.