by Nelson, J P
“Me and the king growed up together, when he left out for the north, I got sore. But he came back with all kinds of ideas of united and all, and I thought about it. You got to be chief by killing the current chief. You keep doing that and the best fighters eventually wind up dead or bad hurt. I was the first to ride with him and talk to the others. Some of ‘em wanted me to be the king, but I got to thinkin’ about it, and I liked bein’ able to go about as I pleased. Chitivias is the biggest prisoner in the kingdom, now. He can’t do nothin’ on his own.”
When we made camp I called Hoscoe over, “Watch this.” And I had Deak draw those symbols from the top of that painting. Hoscoe’s face lit up, they were the same symbols the old man had written on the skin.
“Hoscoe,” I said, “this is ancient Draconic.” Deak was staring at me.
I said, “It’s a brief poem in Draconic, quite pretty in fact … if you were a dragon. But I can’t think of a language it would sound pretty in for a human or elf to hear. The Keoghnariu dialect interprets it to say something to the effect of, Door, open up. I want to purge myself in the fires of the breath of your throat. Only it isn’t written in the tense of human reading. This is meant for a dragon, or I would say something that bathes in fire. Cherron doesn’t fit into the picture anywhere, except that he is connected to death.”
Deak’s eyes were wide as he said, “Sounds to me like one of us goes in there, we would be meetin’ Mr. Cherron right soon. I’d say that’s connection enough.”
Being out in the wilderness and wandering around for months, it brought a different kind of thinking to you. Lots of the men sank in moral and I found myself trying to lift them up. I would find some joke, tell a story, get them to talk about what they would do when this was all over. Hey, so far we had had three real engagements out in the badlands, some of us had, and we had won all three. And we had proven the cogs could be killed.
I tried to spend time with my chums, but it was hard. When we could get together we would talk it up, though. Patriohr was getting tight with us, as was Kisparti, Vensi and Puffer.
But then there would be times when I was alone. I wondered if was doing my job right, would I make it alive, what was Riana doing right then. I felt a big missing for her.
Was I doing the right thing with Riana? Would I be able to give her children? She wanted a houseful and it was common for half-elves to not be able to reproduce. What if I could, what would it be like to be a father, and watch my wife and children grow old and pass on while I was still young?
I had heard several people say, a parent should never have to outlive their children. On the other hand, what if I got killed out here, or somewhere else? She had lost two family members already, and what would it be like for her … to have her mate constantly go out to fight or defend, and I was now an officer, and not know if he was coming home alive?
When we got to where Eppard wanted to send out the messenger detachment, he asked first for volunteers. There was nothing for me to think about, I already knew I was going, so I stepped out. “No, Captain, I can’t let you go. It is imperative that you and your unique talents remain with the greater command.” Eppard was firm on the issue, period. Puffer and Vensi were the scouts to go, and Puffer was put in charge of the unit. Along with him were twelve cavalrymen, including Sergeant Pakur and Chymthina, two XL troopers, and six footmen, two of whom used great axes.
Their route would take them at a southwest angle through the jungle, and then loop around a bit before leading them over and through the Ahvohriu Mountains, skirt Cirsell Canyon, and eventually into the Mok’Taevun Expanse. The route should avoid the Tiskites, who preferred the lushness of the jungle to the more open regions. No one was known to inhabit the Ahvohrius, which were desolate, although they would have to be careful concerning water. Green scum was said to cover all water sources, but the last report was decades old.
It would be a hazardous trip, and the area had been a no-go zone for generations. But if anyone could make it, these fellows could. All would be riding the prized Arabs, and all were supplied well. I spent a few minutes with my men, encouraged them, and let them know I believed in them. It would be Puffer’s first command and I was proud of him; he and Vensi, both. I don’t know why, but I carried some darts in my possible pouch, the kind we used to throw at Baldwin’s. I gave each one a dart, as a token of luck.
Eppard saluted the detachment, and they were on their way.
The main command was settling into camp a few days later, when I felt a sudden tingling sensation and a flash of light in the not so far distance caught my eye, and then another one on the opposite side of the camp. I was yelling a warning when I saw a third flash on another side, and as the men were at arms preparing to fight, a fourth flash occurred making all four sides of the camp surrounded by these anomalies. Most of the attention was to the perimeter, when in the center of camp, a circular flash of light appeared with thirty-odd cognobins in the midst of it.
The attack caught us off guard … for a split moment … but not unprepared. For almost four years Hoscoe had been studying the element of our enemy’s mobility. Seeing the elf disappear in combat only verified circumstantial evidence of teleportation. We weren’t necessarily drilled just for this attack, but Hoscoe had surmised it would be something he would do, if it were possible.
Our troops were not green recruits, and we weren’t hack-and-slash clansmen with little to no disciplinary training. We were the very best of this country, from a city whose primary resource was its military. These cogs were learning the fact the hard way.
The standard procedure for making camp was done in stages, and at no given time was less than one third of the whole command at ready arms position. It was nothing like the every-man-for-himself, find a spot and unroll your gear, as we had seen of the makeshift force we had defeated.
I say all of that to say this, Eppard heard me, saw the situation, and when the cogs appeared in our midst he wasted no time in shock, he gave a simple command, “Shift Center!” The boys who had been assigned this command knew to instantly turn to and attack. Those who were assigned perimeter knew to not turn and focus outward. Before those cogs in the middle could wreck total havoc, half of them were going down to bolts. Close to a dozen were able to engage, however, and it got messy. Not to make it any easier, there were a handful of elves in the center.
Twice more, but not at once, a Cognobin Cluster appeared in the middle of camp, and both had elves with them. The fight wasn’t easy, and these guys were pissed. What’s more, it became clear just how important our cavalry was, right now they were all on foot and we were suffering for it. I couldn’t see Dudley or Merle, but Ander turned his unit to center and wound up directly engaged with one of the elves. Ander could really work that blade of his, and you would never know Hoscoe was closing in on one hundred and fifteen years of age.
Hoscoe caught an elf about to lend duty against Ander, and the fight I wish I could have seen, except I had challenges of my own. Off to my side a cog crunched a footman, then I heard T-bone let out a blood curdling yell as he charged the adversary with his great axe. Two more cogs joined in and I sheathed my bloody sword. I *Reached* into So’Yeth, and let the energy flow up. I pulled out two specially prepared wooden sticks for this matter, and I let the primal force out. I made a roar of my own as I leaped to join T-bone, my sticks humming in my hands and growing into thorn-like short blades.
We finished the three as if a well-oiled team of destruction and engaged more, both of us fighting as enraged beasts. I was coming down from my rage when my *Awareness* felt that signature residue of power I associated with my elvin sparring partner … right behind me of all places. Quickly I dropped down into left forward split, seeing my elf-buddy right behind me I swept hard with my left heel. As I scooped both of his legs he did a back flip, as if an invisible belt were supporting his weight, and landed effortlessly on his feet.
I was up and planted my sticks down and did a cartwheel off to the side to give me ro
om to gather for an onslaught, and just narrowly evaded his blade. The energy I could both smell and feel was stronger on his blade this evening. Pulling in my spikes I formed wooden knobs on the end, like a cudgel, even as I did a double deflection from his next strike. His energy was totally different from mine, it wasn’t of So’Yeth or So’Yahr, it reminded me of Wahyene; each time our weapons clashed there would be a flash of light and a charge of electricity.
My foe meant business and he pressed me across the field as I fought to find tactical purchase. He was giving me all he had, and then I felt a burn across my side. I pressed against him, blocking his swing and delivered a head-butt to his cheek, opening a mean gash. Momentarily stunned, I head-butted him again, then batted his sword aside and shattered his left arm with my own magic weapon; a stick as hard as iron. He whirled off-side and swung that blade at me again and I ducked into a roll; missing me, his swing took a cog coming up on me from behind. That blade severed the cog in half like cheese, and cauterized the wounds as well.
My eyes opened wide and I couldn’t help saying, “Mon’Gou-shi-i-i-t!” I don’t think he felt like talking about it and suddenly he did his disappearance thing, re-appearing twenty feet away. Using a violent motion of his hips and torso, he swung his broken arm in my direction and a ring on his hand glowed, for the second time he smashed me in the chest with that burst of energy … only this time he disappeared just as he fired his ring.
‘I’m in big trouble,’ I thought as I felt myself hurtle through the air. I torqued my body hard and felt my back crackle in pain, but I landed on my feet facing the way I was falling. Staggering hard to regain my balance he appeared right in front of me. He meant to swing that energy pulsing blade at me, but I skewered myself with it instead. We both locked up eye to eye and I painfully asked with blood in my mouth, “I can heal, can you?” And with both sticks against his torso I pressed them into *Thorn Blades* and ran him through.
He wasn’t expecting that and he lost his grip on the sword, staggered back and smoked out once more taking my sticks with him. I now had a sword in my middle, but the magical energy was already fading away. Sinking to my knees, I realized the battle was over. And then from across the field someone yelled, “Watch out!” A wounded elf staggered up and aimed a stick like thing at Eppard. Eppard had just downed his last opponent and turned to look into the elf’s weapon as a small, orange dot of light hit him square in the chest and came out the back the size of a muskmelon.
The elf grew bolts from all sides, but Eppard was dead. I tried to stand up, and fell to one knee. Then T-bone was beside me and grabbing me by the shoulders. He was trying to tell me something as I passed out; but as the world turned black I couldn’t help thinking, ‘At least I wasn’t hit in the back of the head ...’
___________________________
Fifty-three of our men were lost, and we had killed two hundred and seventeen of the enemy. By combat standards, we were improving. The previous battle we killed three for every one of ours, this time the ratio was four to one, and our cavalry was grounded. But that was a cold way to look at it.
Our commander was dead, as was Cavalry Lieutenant Auce and two of our platoon sergeants. Several of the troops thought I was gone, as well, with that sword through my innards and me passed out. The surgeon came running to me, as did Hoscoe and my chums. It was hard to get me awake, but the surgeon didn’t know what to do. That damned blade was burned into my body. I looked Hoscoe in the eye, and told them in ragged words, “You’re going to … have to cut me … on both … sides of the blade … then pull … it out.”
They weren’t liking it, and truth to tell, neither was I. But they got me a stick to hang onto and a piece of leather to bite. There was no point in trying to keep too many secrets right now; I was in a bad way. The surgeon did his thing, and then he pulled that blade out. The whole time he was cutting away, I can’t tell you how it hurt. I think I groaned, or even screamed, but nobody said anything of it. I almost passed out again, but Hoscoe kept me around. When doc pulled that blade out I *Self Healed*, rather, I healed as best as I could. I was already used up. But I healed enough to keep me alive.
I looked at Hoscoe with a straight face and said, “If it’s alright with you, I’d like to pass out, now.”
His face sharing my off-beat attempt at humor, Hoscoe said, “Go ahead, Wolf, you’ve earned it.”
The blade was mine for a trophy, and a mighty fine blade it was. It a very high grade of steel, double edged and tapered into a fine point. Hoscoe said it looked like one of those swords made in the Kadmus Islands, known for producing some of the best blades in the world. Only they were few and far between, and expensive. This one had a slight radiation of magic on it that apparently only I could sense. I couldn’t wait to experiment with it.
When I came around, Ander was inside the tent with me. He had a couple wounds of his own, but when he saw me awake he said, “Mate, you’re absolutely insane. Their all talking about how you fought that elf and all.”
“Ander … yours was the fight I wanted to see.”
“I didn’t make sparks fly when I hit my opponents. And when those magic balls hit other guys, they died.”
“Ander, be quiet.” I was rested just enough … focusing inward, and into So’Yeth … I *Self Healed* some more, but it tired me to do it. It wasn’t complete, I was still sore and it looked like I had been cut a couple of weeks ago, but I would be able to walk. Reaching over to my chum who was staring at me, I grabbed his hand and did my best to apply the *Heal* effect into him, as well … as much as I could muster.
Ander jumped with a start as the muscle under his leg bandage twitched and a face cut reduced to a pink scar. Testing his arm in the sling, he slowly pulled it out and flexed it. Stealing a line from Dudley and putting a twist on it I said, “This doesn’t make us engaged.”
“Aw, common guys,” Dudley had just poked his head in, “I want to be in the weddin’.” He raised his eyebrows a couple of times and I threw a cloth over his face. We all laughed as a fellow from supply was bringing a pail of food into the tent, wondering what was so funny.
I asked, “How long has it …”
Dudley said, “Your lazy ass has been sleeping in. Fight was three days ago.”
“Three days?!” I was stiff and struggling to get up.
The supply guy said, “Captain, Doctor Wesney said you wasn’t to move.”
“Then go get him,” I said, “and Hosc-, Master Hoscoe and the Major, too.” Looking around I asked, “Where’s my pack? Never mind, there it is.” Rummaging through it I pulled out the bone tube.
As I was starting to leave, Dudley took my arm and in somber tone said, “Deak and Ize have been runnin’ the scouts, but you lost Nasty.”
“Hades Fire!” Nasty was one of mine. He had been nicknamed Nasty long ago because of several nasty habits he had, but he was a top class scout and warrior.
Hoscoe and Major Maedhith had moved the command away from the carnage. They were with all officers, save Ander, who was beside me, by a fire with Hoscoe’s coffee brewing. He had been thrifty with it, but obviously was indulging now. He looked from me to Ander, and then Wesney came in flushed and about to lay into us two for not being in bed when I said, “I’m glad you made it Doctor. I need you to read this,” and I handed him the tube. I know, I was to give it to Hoscoe, but I was pretty sure of what was in it and I wanted everyone to hear it read out loud.
Breaking the seal and giving it a quick read, Wesney’s eyes got large and his facial expression changed dramatically. He cleared his throat, looked around to everyone present and read with a hint of nervousness in his voice;
“I, Lahrcus, as Commander of the Keoghnariu Army and Kiubejhan City Defense, do hereby recognize Sword Master Hoscoe as General Tyorrin Hoscoe Val’Ihrus of the Dahruban Army, and as of the breaking of the seal of this scroll do hereby empower said General Val’Ihrus to act in my stead, in any capacity necessary, where I may not be present, for the purpose of defense of th
e Crown, the Kingdom of Keoghnariu, and all those who reside and the resources within.”
The document was signed by Lahrcus, the day before we left the city. I was betting it was what he left the meeting to do. As the document was read, the word went around like wildfire. General Val’Ihrus was here, in the flesh. Some of these soldiers had pretended to be the general as boys, fighting the legendary Jernigan War and winning the Battles of Wilcher and Donder Ridge, conquering the once unbeatable Ssuhonites, and more.
The tall, older man was more than a teacher. He inspired the men on the field. In just this last battle, he had single-handedly taken three of those elves at once and confounded their every move, and dispatched each of them in turn. Had he not once told me one person could make a difference? I saw it now. Once more we had won, yet our numbers were now almost a quarter less that we had begun, and our biggest fight was before us against a much greater force. With the mere mention of his name, however, in our presence the moral went way up.
But there was more. As the major snapped to and saluted him, I saw a flickering spark rise to flame in Hoscoe’s eyes. Something I had never seen. One of the greatest prides of my life was in seeing the general reborn. Always possessing great presence and charisma, it seemed always suppressed, contained. Now it was as if the shade had been removed and he became larger than life.
From that point on he was addressed as General, or General Val’Ihrus. But for me he would ever be Hoscoe.
Nothing was to be taken from Lieutenant Commander Eppard, he had done well and was a good leader. But now in the most important battle to come we had the Grand Master of the Battlefield, the man revered around the known world as the finest military mind of the age, indeed one of the finest generals in history; human, elf, d’warv or otherwise. The meeting turned from what should we do, to this is what we are going to do. He called upon everyone who knew anything about the country. Hoscoe believed, now, the focal point should be the Great Pyramid. The source, he believed, was the person called Xiahstoi.