The Legacy of the Ten: Book 03 - Darkhalla

by Scott D. Muller

  A line of wagons were stretched up the road. Each held a single boulder, sometimes two. Rocks of the size needed were hard to come by in this realm. They would need a lot of rocks, and that meant they needed a lot of wagons. He made note of it in his book.

  Jonovan’s castle was ideal for defending against a siege. The walls were over five stories high and the back abutted vertical cliffs that a goat would have a hard time scaling. He supposed that rocks could be tossed off the cliffs, but there weren’t many rocks of any consequence at the top of the mountain. They would either need to quarry them, or bring them from elsewhere by wagon. The mountain was inaccessible from three sides and the back side was steep enough to discourage anyone who got the idea to cut a road for wagons.

  Biggles watched as the first pitch ball flew through the evening sky, lighting its path. The mass splattered across the metal and tile roof and slid to the ground harmlessly. The sun was setting, and under ordinary circumstances, people would be standing and admiring the beautiful orange and yellow glow. Silver lined the lower clouds and deep purples and magentas rode the winds.

  This siege was going to take some time. Biggles had enough information for his lord. He stuffed his looking glass into his pack and backtracked silently through the thick wood to where he had left his horse. He lashed the pack to the saddle, hefted himself up and headed home. If he rode hard all night, he might reach Toulereau by late morning.

  Abandon

  Toulereau was standing in the town square when Biggles arrived. He had ridden hard all night and his horse was lathered. He dropped off the saddle and stumbled, his legs sore and numb from the abuse. He reached up, pulled his drawings out of the saddle, and turned up the street. One of the stable-boys grabbed the reins and yelled at Biggles for mistreating his animal.

  “Are you trying to kill the poor animal ye bastard?”

  “I’ve got my orders,” Biggles said, in self-defense.

  “Just because ye have orders don’t mean you have to abuse the poor animals…”

  The lad shook his fist and called him names as he walked away. “I should beat you with a switch for hours on end… see how you like it…”

  No doubt about it, he was guilty as charged, but he had his orders. Sometimes you just had to do what was needed, consequences be damned. Biggles felt a tad guilty as he watched the young lad stroke the tabby colored horse’s nose as he led him in a circle, cooling him down. He could overhear some of the comments the lad whispered in the horse’s ear with a soothing voice.

  “Ye’ll be okay boy…just breath. Ol’ Seth will take care of ye.”

  The horse snickered and tossed his head. Seth led the horse to a trough and let it take a short drink. He pulled its head back before it could take in its fill.

  “Best fer ye to not be gulping down all that cold water at once…”

  The horse pawed at the ground and yanked the reins out of Seth’s hand. Seth was quick, retrieving the reins before the horse could return to the trough. He continued stroking the animal and walked him across the yard.

  Toulereau was already walking in his direction with his hand extended. He handed his drawings to Toulereau, who took a cursory look. The drawings presented a dour picture.

  “Come,” Toulereau demanded. “We need to talk.”

  The lad followed as ordered. They walked in silence up the street and entered the inn.

  Toulereau reflected on his sour mood. His scout had returned with confirmation that Jonovan was indeed under siege and presented him with detailed drawings from his scouting trip. The troop count had been lower than he expected. There were well over a hundred-sixty that he could not account for. He supposed that some could be back at Killoroy’s castle, but deep in his gut he feared that they marched in his direction.

  He had time. Not a lot, but there was no reason to panic. If they were headed in his directions, they only had two routes from which to choose; either they walked single file through Wort’s ravine, or they had to travel full around the mountain range and approach from the south. Wort’s ravine was named for the way it looked with all its large boulders and rocks covering the narrow bottom. The ravine would be quickest, but it was treacherous and neither wagons or war engines could pass. Of course, men on horseback could, but the ravine was cluttered with wagon-sized boulders that had peeled off the tall steep cliffs that lined both sides. They were sharp-edged and unevenly balanced across the floor, and during the rainy season—the ravine could fill with water in seconds, even if the sky was clear and sunny where you stood.

  Toulereau had talked to scouts about the ravine. They had stated with no uncertainty that whole sections of the walls routinely collapsed during the heavy freeze and thaw cycles of the spring; travelers familiar with the area avoided the route for most of the year, and even those whom hazard its use—accepted the risk, and often suffered the consequences on many occasions. The footing was unsure at best. Soldiers would have to lead their horses by hand and even then, many would lose their rides from legs broken and shoes thrown. Of course, that was if the swamp didn’t get them first.

  Toulereau slammed his fist on the table, causing a stern look from D’Arron. His choice was being forced. He pondered whether they could make a stand in town and knew that if a trained army marched, they wouldn’t survive long. With war engines, they wouldn’t last a day. His path was obvious, and it would be obvious to the commander of an invading army too.

  Toulereau stood up and stormed out of the inn, his face red and his fist clenched at his waist. He rushed down the street, ignoring the waves and nods of folks who smiled at him. The apothecary was just ahead. He knew he would find Dra’kor there, practicing his art. They needed to talk…now!

  Toulereau threw open the door and entered, causing Dra’kor to lose his concentration. The spell he had been working on fell apart and a shower of magical sparks ricocheted off the walls. One caught the elf in his arm and spun him around, knocking him to the ground.

  Toulereau saw stars and rubbed his numb arm.

  “Sorry,” Dra’kor muttered. “I didn’t expect to be disturbed…”

  Toulereau waved him off. “I should apologize…for barging inn. I wasn’t thinking.”

  “Are you all right?”

  “I’ll be okay,” the elf said, flexing his arm and hand. “No permanent damage done.”

  Dra’kor stepped away from the window, pulled out a chair and sat down. “So, what can I do for you. I assume you are here to…talk…”

  Toulereau nodded, and joined him at the table.

  “I’ve reconsidered your proposal. You are right, we need to leave.”

  Dra’kor’s eyes got wide. “Three Rivers?”

  Toulereau nodded as he felt his face flush.

  “What brings about your change of heart?” Dra’kor asked.

  “Circumstances beyond my control,” Toulereau growled. “Killoroy may have troops moving in our direction. Even so, the idea of leaving still leaves a sour taste in my mouth.”

  Dra’kor bristled at the news. “I thought he was attacking Jonovan.”

  “He is, but my scouts have lost almost a hundred-sixty troops.”

  “Lost?”

  Dra’kor grabbed a roll that had been leftover from breakfast, added a slice of cheese and nibbled at it while Toulereau spoke. Toulereau barely contained his temper.

  Toulereau swore, “Yes, bloody lost…as in—can’t bloody locate.”

  “That’s unfortunate. Any chance they could be back in Killoroy’s castle?”

  Toulereau stared at him. “Damn right it’s unfortunate! Now, I have to move the entire town. We cannot withstand the assault of a trained army. The pisser is, I can’t count on them being back at his castle. Oh, and by the way…the news gets worse..”

  Toulereau let his words hang in the air.

  “Care to explain?” Dra’kor asked, wiping the crumbs from his mouth.

  “I think Killoroy’s queen is the dark one!”

  Dra’kor’s eyes became b
ig as saucers. “What? W..w..why?”

  “Biggles saw Hastings, Killoroy’s Hand, commanding an army of men made of dirt. He said arrows didn’t harm them. Does this sound familiar to you?”

  “Mudlings…” Dra’kor muttered under his breath. “Either that or elementals, but I doubt that there are enough elementals to fill out an army.”

  “I don’t remember mudlings from the days of Ror,” Toulereau nodded, “but I was guessing they weren’t elementals. I don’t know of anyone alive who can call up an army of these mudlings, do you?”

  “No. I suppose it would explain much,” Dra’kor said, rubbing his chin.

  Toulereau threw the notebook across the room. “If Killoroy’s queen is the dark mage, then he is under her spell. His mind is not his own.”

  Dra’kor nodded. “It would explain why this attack doesn’t make any sense. From what I’ve heard, there is no love lost between Killoroy and Jonovan, but nothing that would make either of them wage war.”

  “Killoroy needs my realm,” Toulereau said. “It is the key to all trade, north and south, east and west.”

  “You expect an attack then?”

  The elf nodded. “It’s what I would do.”

  Dra’kor pushed himself back from the table and rubbed is eyes. The hours of practice had dulled his edge.

  “Your troops have already been decimated. How are we expected to fight an army and mudlings?” Dra’kor asked as frustration spread across his face.

  “I don’t know, but one thing is for sure. Three Rivers cannot defend itself against an army.”

  Toulereau knew that there wasn’t a group of soldiers anywhere in his realm who could fight off a trained invading army of a king. Even if he had the time to summon career soldiers and scofflaws, knit them together and had months to train them—they would still be slaughtered. Fighting magic was far worse.

  Dra’kor was surprised at his admission. “Are you say we need to move folks to your castle anyway?”

  The elf nodded, “I’m afraid we do. You were right all along. I just wasn’t willing to cleanse the castle.”

  “I understand your hesitation. It’s just natural—those beasts…men were your friends. When do you plan on letting everyone know.”

  “Later today. They will need time to pack and ready themselves. They aren’t going to take well to the news.”

  “How much time are you going to give them?”

  “One full day. The trip takes two. That will give you and the rest of my men time to clear out the castle and make it safe. If the army’s on the way, we only have a small window of opportunity to make our escape.”

  Dra’kor lifted his brows.

  “I know I’m asking a lot, but you, Sheila, Brag and some of the others need to go and clean out the foul creatures that remain. Damn it, I wish there was another way...”

  Dra’kor’s hands started to tremble. “I…I..”

  “I know you don’t feel that you can, but you are the only mage we have. Hopefully, you can blast most of them back to halla!”

  Sheila entered the house and saw the two men deep in conversation. “Hey! What’s going on?”

  Dra’kor growled, “It looks like you and I are headed back to Toulereau to clean house.”

  Sheila’s face went white. They had just barely escaped the last time they had visited. She tried to swallow her fear and calm herself, but her mind raced. Horrid pictures flashed before her eyes of that day and the demons they had faced. She had to grab the edge of the table to keep from toppling over.

  “W…when are you planning on us leaving,” she asked. The fear resonating in her mousy voice.

  “Today,” Toulereau said, nodding. “I’d like to leave today if possible.”

  “That’s mighty short notice,” Dra’kor said, scratching his chin.

  “I’m going with you too. I will leave others in charge here to get everyone packed. I need—I need to be there.”

  Sheila nodded, knowing what was going through his mind. She knew he felt responsible for the men that had been turned into the creatures that climbed the walls of his castle. The guilt was written in the deep furrows above his eyebrows.

  Toulereau wiped his bloodshot eyes. He still hadn’t slept. “We need to gather the people so that I can talk to them and explain the situation. I won’t force people to leave.”

  Dra’kor’s head jerked.

  “They aren’t likely to take it very well,” Sheila reasoned. “They are finally feeling safe and settling in. I’m not sure they will want to go.”

  “I will have to convince them.”

  “Them, halla! You will have to convince Brag and the others to travel to the castle with us and ferret out the undead beasts,” Dra’kor groaned. “Gods be damned! I don’t want to go!”

  “Neither do I,” Toulereau admitted. “But go we must!”

  Dra’kor looked into Sheila’s eyes and saw her fear. He remembered back to the last time they were in Toulereau and how she had fallen apart. He was worried.

  “Spread the word and meet me in the town square in an hour!” Toulereau ordered. “I need to talk to a few more people before then. I’ll tell the town our plans as soon as I take care of my other business.”

  He stood up and exited the cottage, leaving Dra’kor and Sheila sitting in silence. Several minutes passed before Sheila broke into a sob. Dra’kor stepped to her side and held her tight in his arms.

  “I’m scared…”

  Dra’kor stroked her hair. “So am I, but we will survive this.”

  “How can you be so sure?” she asked looking up and searching his eyes.

  Dra’kor forced a smile. “Because my magic is stronger now. We’ll be prepared.”

  “But is it strong enough?”

  Dra’kor nodded. “It is strong enough for catomen and wolven. It should be strong enough for those skidders too.”

  “You better be right,” she said, burying her nose in the crook of his neck. “You better be right!”

  Toulereau was talking to the smithy. The man stopped pounding on his anvil and shoved the shoe back into the flame. He motioned for the apprentice to pump the bellows while he listened.

  “Sure, I can make you brackets. How many do you need?”

  Toulereau pondered for a bit before he answered. “I’ll need twelve per wagon.”

  The smithy scratched his head. “That’s a lot of brackets. I suppose I can put everyone on it. We may have half of them by morning.”

  “That will do. As long as we have all of them done by the day after tomorrow.”

  The smithy smiled, showing his lopsided smile with the missing tooth. He bit the gold coin the lord had placed in his hand before shoving it into his pants pocket.

  Next, he visited the carpenters.

  “I have a request for the six of you. I need walls of thick planks five feet high that will fit into a wagon. I also need lids. The blacksmith is making brackets to hold the walls together. Can you do it?”

  The head of the carpenters nodded, “Sure, we can do that. We’ll start right after we finish the new tavern!”

  Toulereau shook his head. “I’m afraid that the tavern will have to wait. I need the walls by the day after tomorrow.”

  Will whistled loudly, “I’m not sure I can do that sir. John has already paid to have the tavern built. It wouldn’t be right not to finish his job.”

  Toulereau nodded. “I’m asking as your Lord for you to grant me this favor. I’ll pay you double for your inconvenience, and I will talk to John. You can even pay him part for his inconvenience…if you wish.”

  “Well,” Tim said, rubbing his chin and staring at the gold coin that Toulereau was rolling across his fingers. “If it is all right with John, we’ll do it.”

  “Great,” the elf nodded, tossing him the coin. “When can I expect the first wagon to be done?”

  Tim counted on his fingers. “Three or four hours for the first three. We already have enough boards cut for them. The others will take longer.�
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  As he turned to go, Tim called after him. “Why do you need this stuff in such a hurry?”

  Toulereau stopped and shouted back. “You’ll find out at noon. Meet me in the square.”

  Toulereau went to see John. The heavyset man greeted him warmly, but that was before he found out what Toulereau was asking. Toulereau began saying his piece as John cleaned the glasses. Toulereau could see his grip tightening and see the white of his knuckles.

  “I need that tavern built!” John forcefully said, slamming the mug down on the makeshift counter.

  Toulereau motioned for him to calm down. “I’m not asking you to not build it, but to wait for a couple days. I really need the carpenters to work on my project for the town.”

  “I’m already having to turn away business…,” John grumbled, swatting at a horse fly that had landed on his arm.

  Toulereau flashed a thin smile. “I know, but there is a big change coming. You may just want to wait until after I talk to the town at noon to make your decision. You already have my promise that I’ll pay you for the business you need to turn away.”

  John was still angry, but the Lord had made a reasonable request. Truly, he was impressed that the man had not just ordered it to be so. A lord could do that. As a matter of fact, most of them did. He knew if it came to push and shove, Toulereau could just order it done.

  John blustered, “I can wait until you’ve said your piece, but I’m not promising anything.”

  “Fair enough,” Toulereau said. “Thanks for your consideration.”

  Toulereau left and headed to the saloon. He knew he would find Brag there with his face buried in a glass of ale.