Dra’kor, Sheila and Brag met in the town square at noon. The sun was out and beat down on the crowd.
Most of the townsfolk had turned out to hear the lord speak, but not all. It seemed to Dra’kor that Brag was in an extra dour mood. He wouldn’t even look him in the eye. He suspected that Toulereau had taken him to the side and had words.
Toulereau stepped into the center of the group and climbed on top of a barrel that had been rolled into the square for just this purpose. He raised his arms and quieted the crowd.
Toulereau cleared his throat and began his talk.
“First, I’d like to thank everyone who’s shown up. I know you all have been waiting to hear what I have to say. So, I’m not going to delay and I’m not going to sugar coat this. I’m just going to come right out and explain the situation,” he started.
“There is a very large army, a couple hundred men, matching this way and they are halla-bent on destroying this town.”
The crowd got very quiet. The expression on their faces said everything that could be said. Dra’kor looked around briefly before giving Toulereau his undivided attention.
“Why would they come here?” a lady asked.
“They want the realm because it is a central trade path.”
“But we just got here…” a man moaned.
“Now, I know this has become home for all of you and that you have worked very hard to make it work, but the truth is, we are out of room. That fact alone should warrant our moving, but with the armies approaching—we have little choice but to leave.”
“Leave?” someone murmured.
Toulereau nodded.
“Yes. I plan on escorting all of you to my castle the day after tomorrow,” he said, looking to the eyes of the carpenters.
“To do that, I’m sending people to the castle to make preparations…and to clean things up. There are all manner of beasts inside that need to be purged. I also need the wagons covered with wood walls so that we can make the trip safely.”
“But what about our stuff?” a man in the crowd asked.
Toulereau answered honestly. “There won’t be much room for it. Remember that this is not intended to be permanent, just until the wars are over. I suggest you take seed, food, and enough clothes to keep yourself warm. Everything else you may require I can provide from what is already in the castle.”
“What if they take our things while we are gone,” a woman asked.
“Or burn them?” another piped in.
“They are just things,” Toulereau quietly said. “They can be replaced. Your lives cannot. We may be able to store them where they cannot be found, but I doubt there will be time.”
Several in the crowd nodded, but Dra’kor could see that many were still not convinced.
“I think I’ll take my chances here…” a thin man in the back said. “I’m tired of running.”
A murmur rose up from the crowd as other agreed.
“I can’t force you to join me,” Toulereau said, “but consider that there is dark magic in the world. The beasts in the castle were once men like you and me. They have been transformed into vile creatures that feed on their own.”
All eyes turned to Dra’kor. They stared warily.
“Just as Dra’kor is a good wizard and uses his magic to help others, there are dark wizards who only lust for power and have evil intent to all those that stand in their way.”
“If we don’t resist them, they’ll leave us alone then,” someone reasoned.
“No,” Toulereau shook his head, “they will not. They will turn you against each other and feed off your anger and lust. You will end up as mindless beasts serving the dark lord of the Underworld.”
“Why would he be caring about us? We’re just peasants…”
“A soul is a soul…” a woman in the back piped up.
That last comment got their attention. Even if they didn’t believe in wizards, they understood who the dark lord of the Underworld was.
“How can we battle the dark lord?” someone groaned.
“Aye,” another added.
Toulereau used his hands to hush the crowd. “You can’t fight him because the dark lord does not battle himself; he manipulates others to do his dirty work. He uses those who lust after power and control. He uses those who wager their souls and their very beings for short-term gains and he coerces those people into fighting and dying in his battles. Then he collects their souls.”
A man stepped to the front of the group. “There are far too few of us to make a stand. Maybe we should all go and scatter in the realms.”
“Aye, we could hide in the forests until the battle is over.”
“The beasts will find you,” the elf reminded them. “Now listen—I have sent word to my brother, and Jonovan has sent word to his brothers in the isles. Soon, this land will become a battlefield and much blood will be spilled. Wood walls may hold back the beasts, but they will not hold against battering rams and siege engines!”
Many more nodded. Mothers held their children close and husbands held their wives. The news was hard to swallow. They had thought that the battle had been won, that the tide was turning. It was crushing to hear that the battle was yet to be waged.
“I will stay and answer all of your questions as best I can. I sincerely hope that you will consider my words and let me lead you to my castle. There, we can start a new life and know that the walls are tall and strong. No siege engine will destroy castle Toulereau.”
Some of the crowd dispersed when he finished; mostly those who had already made up their minds. Children held their mothers’ hands, a few cried. Husbands put their arms around their wives and led them out of the street. But for many, they had questions. They waited patiently and listened to the answers. Toulereau was true to his word. He did not leave until every question was answered. Not all the answers were to their liking, but they paid him respect for his honest assessment of the situation.
Toulereau met Dra’kor, Sheila, Brag and a handful of other men in the inn as the sun set. Even Men’ak joined the discussion. He wasn’t anxious to do so, but Toulereau insisted, stating that he would need to monitor the dream world and let him know if the battle had turned. The lord had insisted that he remember the faces of all those who left the confines of the walls of Three Rivers.
For the most part, the men were eager to make the trip to the castle and to fight the beasts. Brag scowled, he was in no hurry to face creatures of the underworld. He was in no hurry to die; he had nothing to prove.
Over the course of several hours, they pieced together a plan; they would travel light, all ride separate horses, and would not take any wagons. Once the castle was secured, a handful would stay back to man the gate and the rest would retrace their tracks and meet the wagons along the trail.
“I can’t begin to tell you how much I don’t want to go,” Brag said, taking a large swallow of mead that D’Arron had brought to the table and pouring himself a fourth tankard.
“I know,” said Toulereau.
A man called Hawk stepped forward. “Do you think we can clear the castle in just two days?” he asked.
“Aye,” said Roland. “I’ve been to the castle. There has to be a hundred out-buildings and even more rooms in the keep itself.”
Toulereau shrugged. “All we can do is try our best. Our hands are tied. If Killoroy’s army marches in our direction, they will be here within a week. I plan on having everyone moved and the castle secured by then.”
“But if we don’t flush out all the beasts?”
Toulereau pounded the table. “Then we fight them as we find them.”
Hawk growled. “Surely there cannot be that many left alive within the walls.”
Dra’kor nodded, “My guess is that most have left. No enemy will guard an empty building.”
Sheila reasoned, “The dark one is not like a normal enemy…”
“Sheila is right,” Toulereau agreed. “He does not abide by the rules of reason.”
&n
bsp; “We will find what we find,” Dra’kor said. “My magic is stronger now. I can fight the beasts. I can use wizard’s fire to burn them when we kill them. Normal fire won’t work.”
Sheila and Toulereau nodded.
Men’ak stayed toward the back of the room next to D’Arron.
She leaned over. “Are you going too?”
Men’ak shook his head. “I haven’t been asked, besides, my magic is not like Dra’kor’s.”
D’Arron nodded. She didn’t really know what Men’ak meant, but she understood that there were many differences between the two. She had heard Men’ak cry out in his sleep and heard some of the words. He fought demons of the night, not beasts that roamed the dirt. Whatever he meant, she was sure that he knew enough to not venture where he could not help.
“We should leave tomorrow?” Dra’kor asked.
He received nods from around the room. D’Arron let those who were not staying at her inn out and bolted the door. She still didn’t trust the night.
Men’ak stepped next to Dra’kor and sat down near the fire. “So, you’re off to save the world again.”
Dra’kor nodded. “I don’t know how I ended up with the mantle of hero…”
Men’ak snorted. “You’re no hero…”
“I am,” he smugly said, before breaking into a belly laugh.
Men’ak gave him a poke in the ribs. “As long as you don’t start buying into being all that!”
Dra’kor nodded. Privately, he had always wanted to have a bigger role in the world. Now that he had it, he wished he had been more careful for what he had wished.
The two caught up on the news. Dra’kor had still not heard from Ja’tar and Men’ak had not seen any more of the wizards of the Keep in his dream world, but the stream of folks killed by the beasts never seemed to end.
“They just keep coming,” Men’ak sighed. “Every night there are more.”
“Do they still talk to you?”
Men’ak squirmed. “More than they should.”
“I should go tell Hagra that Sheila and I are leaving…”
“Hagra? She left Three Rivers yesterday to go see her sisters.”
Dra’kor’s face showed his surprise.
“I thought you knew…”
His face turned red with embarrassment, he had been so busy that he hadn’t even noticed.
Their rag-tag group left early in the morning, before the frost had cleared off the grass. By leaving before the sun broke the horizon, they hoped to assure that they could arrive at the castle with enough time to break their way in and secure themselves a place to spend…survive…the night. Dra’kor didn’t want to have to retrace their steps through the sewer, preferring instead to go through the front gate.
They rode hard, taking little time to rest their horses. Mostly, they rode in silence, Toulereau taking the lead and showing them the way down the road. They had a single run in with wolven, but Dra’kor made them burst into flames before they even got close; he had not even slowed his horse down, and had only raised his hand for several brief seconds. Sheila nodded her satisfaction. His skills had indeed improved.
They reached the large lake that led to the base of his castle and paused before making their last dash to the walls. Dra’kor took out his water skin and drank deeply before handing it to Sheila. He held his hand to his eyes to shield them from the sun. The rode looked disserted.
Toulereau kicked his horse into a gallop and the others, caught by surprise, raced to catch up.
The horses slowed to a walk as they started the last leg of the journey, up the narrow circuitous path that led to the main gate and portcullis. The wagon was still there, pushed to the side. They passed the grate that Dra’kor had partially dissolved, still laying as a heap of iron slag beneath the broken sewer pipe. Toulereau motioned to three of the men. “Fill that with rock, make sure nothing can get in. We will need to fill it with steel once we have secured the grounds.”
The three men pulled alongside the tunnel and jumped off their horses. They scanned the hills, checking for beasts, but their eyes found none. Two of the men hefted large rocks and filled the tunnel, while the third stood watch. The tunnel was small, a scant three feet around. It would not take them long to fill. They were anxious to catch up to the rest of the party and worked quickly. Sweat dripped from their brows as they strained to lift the heavy boulders they found along the road and maneuvered them into place.
Dra’kor, Sheila and Brag pulled their horses up short at the entrance to the castle. The heavy iron gate was still up and the draw bridge was down. The moat, if you could call it that, was little more than a very steep ravine that separated the castle from the road. It was deep, but narrow. It fell off steeply to either side, which would require a lot of rock to fill. They pulled their blades free and walked the horses across, listening as their hooves clip-clopped on the thick oak decking. Toulereau led the way and walked silently, his ears twitching and turning in directions of sounds.
He motioned them forward.
Dra’kor stuck to the wall with Sheila. Brag and the others were on the opposite wall. As soon as they passed the gate, Toulereau motioned for them to knock out the wedges that held the gate open. Brag stared at him, his face filled with worry. If they shut the gate, they would have no way to escape.
Toulereau motioned at him again. Brag stepped forward and picked up the large wooden hammer that was lying just to the side of the giant gear that lifted the counterbalanced gate. He swung the heavy hammer, but stopped short of the wedge. He stepped back and tried to steady his shaking hands.
“I just can’t do it,” he moaned, turning his back and doubling over.
The three men who had been left outside the castle rode up just as Dra’kor turned to cross the road. They galloped their horses into the castle and quickly dismounted. “We’re done! The husky one proudly said.
Toulereau had been willing to leave them outside and had figured that they could pull the men up into the castle from the top of the portcullis by ropes if need be. Nonetheless, he was relieved that they were all together.
Dra’kor stepped to Brag’s side, took the hammer from his trembling hands and lifted it to his shoulder. With a single swing, he swung it as hard as he could and felt the wedge pop free. The gate made a loud crashing sound as it was released. The chains spun on the wheel as it fell the ten feet to the ground with a resounding thud. Dust flew into the air and was carried off by the wind. If anything was in the castle, it knew that it had company. They no longer held the element of surprise.
Back at Three Rivers, Men’ak and D’Arron helped the townsfolk pack their belongings. They each were allowed to take what they could carry on their laps and little more.
A stunning young lady stepped up to Men’ak. “I heard you were the wizard that found my husband…”
Men’ak looked at her kind of odd. “I’m sorry. I didn’t catch your name.”
“I’m Bethany Haagen.”
Men’ak recognized the name and saw a deep sadness reflected in her eyes. “Dra’kor and I did find your husband, ma’am. He was attacked by the beasts down by the ferry. We brought back his necklace and borrowed his sword. I gave them both to D’Arron.”
“I know,” she said, pulling back her blouse and showing him that she wore the bear-tooth necklace around her neck. “I wanted to thank you for seeing to him.”
“He fought hard and killed many of the beasts, but he was gravely injured and bled to death before we got to him.” Men’ak tipped his head. “I’m sorry that things worked out the way they did.”
“Me too. John was a good husband,” she said as she turned and walked away.
“Where do we put all of our things,” an older woman asked. She had been waiting for Bethany to finish speaking her piece.
Men’ak saw that she had her arms full, “Just take what you can carry. We will come back when the threat of war is over. Toulereau says he has everything we need in the castle.”
“Can I s
tore it somewhere?”
Men’ak nodded. “We’ve made room in the big lodge at the end of town.”
The lady thanked him and walked down the street.
Grump stopped by, “How are things going?”
Men’ak grunted. “Folks don’t want to go.”
“Can you blame them?”
“Not really. Most of them just got situated,” said Men’ak, spitting at the ground.
“Is there anything I can help with?”
“Not really. I’m surprised you aren’t serving ale to as many folks as need nerves.”
“I closed up. I’m leaving with you.”
“Well, you are most welcome. Hey, maybe if you have time you could help with the kids.”
Grump smiled. “Sure, I like kids. I’ll keep them busy while their parents get ready.
Grump ran after a group of kids playing skittles and joined in the game. Men’ak watched as Grump whooped and hollered, throwing the cloth wrapped ball at a set of wooden pins. Men’ak shook his head and went back to his business.
The smithy had already delivered many sets of the brackets to the carpenters, who were busy making the walls for the wagons. They drove the large nails into the bracket, securing the wall pieces together. Several of the wagons were already completed. They would carry ten people to a wagon, a heavy load for a single horse. The smithy already had chosen the strongest wagons to fit first. They would hold! The route to the castle was along a fairly level road that wasn’t too badly rutted, even though it was still early spring.
D’Arron helped the women as they dug up plants and packed them tightly in wooden boxes covered with cheese cloth. They hoped that their fruits and vegetables would make the journey and survive the transplanting. They watered them well and covered them with canvas to shield them from the strong sun after stacking them in the wagons.
The day was almost over and they still had much to do. Men’ak and D’Arron stared at the setting sun, which had just dipped below the trees, casting long shadows over the fields. The stocked wagons were lined up in the street side by side, two abreast. The horses knew that something was up and they pranced and whinnied in the corral. Tomorrow, they would hitch them up. The next day they would leave at the crack of dawn.
The Legacy of the Ten: Book 03 - Darkhalla Page 45