The image faded away and the globe returned, spinning slowly before them over the waters.
Aparen watched the globe and understood why Njar had brought him here. “In Kuldiga Academy, they never focus on geography.” He pointed to the globe. “We never hear of the other continents, or the large oceans that I see here.”
“Why is that?” Njar asked. His tone showed that he was not so much without understanding as he was helping Aparen come to the knowledge for himself.
Aparen pushed himself up to his elbows, propping his upper body and craning his neck around awkwardly to regard Njar. “We are on the covered continent, aren’t we? The Middle Kingdom, and all the lands around it are hidden somewhere under that shroud.”
Njar nodded. “The Ancients came here to form a protection. They have already lost their home world, and they know the risk posed to this one.”
“So they formed the dwarves of Roegudok Hall to help them,” Aparen guessed.
Njar nodded again. “In those days it was only the Natural Races, those of us created by Terramyr, and the Ancients and dwarves. It was a fairly peaceful time. Certainly there was mischief on occasion, but most understood that all of us had the same goals. Then, as eras passed, the orcs found this land. They were pushed out of other lands, hunted and driven out by the humans and elves from nearly every land they had possessed. The orcs found a way in through the mountainous barriers and then started making a home in the lands now called the Middle Kingdom.”
“Why not push the orcs out?” Aparen asked.
“There were struggles,” Njar replied. “But the orcs created mighty fortresses and strongholds. They even brought down dragons with their ferocity. Their strength pushed us out. It wasn’t until the humans and elves found their way to the continent that the orcs were finally kept in check. Even then, all the humans could do was push them south. There was no full victory over the orcs.”
“And then the Ancients created a pact with the humans,” Aparen stated.
Njar sighed. “Humans had existed on the Ancients’ home world as well,” he said. “They had proven to be a great scourge that accelerated the end of their world. The Ancients thought it wise to court the humans that came to the Middle Kingdom, to try to guide them in better ways.”
Njar halted the globe on the shrouded continent and whispered its name. “Terra’s Navel.” The clouds dispersed from part of the continent, just enough to show them the Middle Kingdom, the mountains to the east that separated them from the wilds where the Tarthuns roamed, the seas to the west, with the islands that Aparen had crossed, and the orcish lands to the south. “This land is more important than some war for territory,” Njar said. “Everything that happens here has an effect on the rest of the world. To corrupt this land is to bring corruption to Terramyr. To purify it, is to cleanse the world.”
Aparen pointed to the clouds. “Why not show me the whole of the continent?”
Njar shook his head. “I seek balance. To show you everything would tempt you beyond what is necessary to achieve balance. I show you this only so that you know why the events that unfold here are so important. Should Tu’luh be allowed to conquer the Middle Kingdom with his horrible magic, he could easily spread that influence over the entire globe. Countless peoples and nations will be subdued, and brought under his despotic rule. He would decide all matters of life.” Njar sighed again. “Terramyr would be imprisoned by the magic as well, unable to live freely, as she ought to. Her life force would be under the dragon’s chains.” He turned to look at Aparen. “This is about so much more than one kingdom, or even all of the people and creatures in the Middle Kingdom. To lose this war is to die and lose the balance that lets us truly live. Life would be as a garden without the seasons. No renewal, no blossoms, only death and an eternal winter of decay.”
“I have a question for you,” Aparen said.
“Ask it,” Njar replied.
“After the war is over, what would you have me do?” He shifted his body and moved to sit up. The globe dissipated and the mists fell back to the green waters below in the pool. “You offer me additional power, and have given me training, but I wonder what will happen once you have attained your goal.”
“You still do not trust me,” Njar said softly. “I can understand that. Your path into magic was not your choice, nor was it an easy ascension.” Njar leveraged his staff to push himself into a standing position. “I cannot make the choice for you. Know only that no one controls you here. You are free to think for yourself. You are also free to observe me. I know that trust may not come as easy as that, but search your heart. You will see the truth of it if you meditate on it.”
“That doesn’t answer my question,” Aparen said.
Njar smiled ever so slightly. “My greatest wish is for you to help restore balance. Use your powers to wipe this blight from the Middle Kingdom. If you can do that, without succumbing to the temptation of power, then I wish for you to find joy in your life.”
“Where would I find that?” Aparen asked. He pulled his knees in close to his chest and stared out over the water. “My family is destroyed. I will no longer be a noble even if I do help fight against the dragon. There is nothing for me there.”
Njar stretched his staff out to the water one more time. The mists rose up and formed into a lovely figure with long, flowing hair. It didn’t take long for Aparen to recognize Silvi’s shape. “There is still joy to be had, young apprentice,” Njar said. “Perhaps you will not be able to remain upon Terra’s Navel, but if you so choose, I know of a few routes out from this land. I could help you start anew somewhere else. With your magical skills, you could be anything you wish.”
Aparen stared at the figure.
Njar laughed silently to himself and left the boy on the bank of the pool to think.
CHAPTER SIX
Lepkin stood in the drawing room at Tillamon’s home. The town’s guard was out scouting the nearby fields while the soldiers who had escaped with Lepkin were busy preparing lookout towers and building fences and barriers. Lepkin stared at the map before him. Stonebrook was not a large city by any means, but the terrain could be used to their advantage. A mile to the south of the settlement was the long waterway for which the town was named. The brook wasn’t very deep in terms of water, but it was nestled at the base of a twenty foot chasm that spanned thirty feet across at its widest point and more than fifteen feet at its narrowest. The water flowed in a winding path from east to west for miles.
Walls, pickets, and towers were being built along the northern side of this chasm. The bridge that led out from the town and over the brook was seemingly left intact, but the supports had been sawn mostly through so that any significant weight would cause it to crumble into the chasm.
If Lepkin could defend the position until winter fell, then there was a much better chance that King Mathias could rally enough forces to push the orcs back down south of Ten Forts come spring. Still, without additional support there wasn’t any obvious way to hold the settlement and keep the orcs from continuing north. Lepkin knew the townsfolk were just as busy as the soldiers. The men were either digging additional trenches, placing caltrops along the southern fields, or harvesting anything and everything that was ready to be stored in the cellars for winter. Some of the townsfolk had opted to flee north for refuge. The next obvious point would be Axestone. The waterway there was more formidable than the paltry creek to the south of Stonebrook. Not to mention Fort Drake was only a few miles to the north of Axestone.
Many of the officers had begged Lepkin to raze Stonebrook and fall back to Axestone for exactly those reasons, but he had refused. That would be giving the orcs more ground. He was not about to let the pig-faced savages stomp that far into the Middle Kingdom.
Lepkin was going to make his stand in Stonebrook.
The few dragon-slayers who remained never wavered in their support for him. They were out there, right now, shouting Lepkin’s praises and spurring the men to work harder to prepare the fi
eld. Without them, many soldiers would have undoubtedly fled.
Even still, some of the men had deserted. That much was obvious. Lepkin had slightly less than four thousand men left from Ten Forts. This including a mob of one hundred and fifty angry dwarves. The town guard added only another ten to that number. They were not entirely useless, however. Lepkin used the guards as scouts, and as liaisons with the local populace so as to make any martial law seem softer and more palatable. He wasn’t sure the device worked, but he didn’t see any obvious signs that it wasn’t, so he continued.
For a moment, as he considered the situation he now found himself in, he wondered if this was anything like what King Mathias did from day to day. He knew it probably wasn’t much like sitting on a throne, at least not during times of peace, but still he thanked the Old Gods that he had not been given the crown.
The door to the drawing room burst open and in came a heavily panting soldier, ripping Lepkin from his thoughts. Lepkin looked up and frowned sourly.
“I sent you northward for help yesterday, before the refugees left the town. How can you be back already?”
The soldier smiled. “Because help is already on the way.”
Lepkin’s brow drew in together and then his eyes went wide and his facial muscles relaxed momentarily before stretching into a smile. “Al!” he exclaimed.
The soldier nodded. “King Sit’marihu rides along with his escort at the front of many soldiers. The commander of Fort Drake has come as well. I galloped ahead as fast as I could to deliver the news. They should be here by nightfall.”
Lepkin slapped a palm onto the map and let out a short grunt of satisfaction. “That is the best news I have heard in a long time. How many are there?”
The soldier grinned and nodded eagerly. “There are five thousand recruits in all. Some of the Masters from Kuldiga Academy have joined in with them, though from what I was told most of the Masters have either returned to their own homes, or been assigned by King Mathias to other places. There are five thousand soldiers coming from fort drake. There are three thousand pikemen, and two thousand swordmen.”
“Recruits, did you say?” Lepkin asked.
The soldier nodded. “King Sit’marihu said that all of the veterans had already been transferred to other locations. The Tarthuns are pressing hard along the north eastern plain and Grand Master Penthal needed reinforcements.”
Lepkin nodded. “Recruits are better than no help at all.” He paused and looked down to the map for a moment. Then he looked back to the messenger. “You didn’t mention any archers. Do we have any bows coming?”
The messenger’s smile faded. “No, just pikes and swords.”
Lepkin folded his arms and focused on the map. “Bows would have been useful,” he said as he eyed the blue line that marked the location of the brook. In an instant, he solved the problem. “Go out and call the dwarves to me, now.”
The messenger nodded and rushed out from the drawing room.
No sooner did the young man leave than Virgil Gothbern entered in. “Calling the dwarves in?” he asked. “I had them quarrying rock.”
Lepkin nodded. “That will still come in handy. Listen, we have reinforcements coming, but no bows. I will need the dwarves to make catapults.”
Virgil approached the map and looked down. “How many do we need?”
“As many as we can fashion before the orcs arrive,” Lepkin countered.
Virgil shook his head. “Each catapult will need stones to throw, otherwise the effort is wasted.
Lepkin pointed to several places along the brook on the map. “If we can position catapults along the brook, we can keep the orcish archers at bay while we defend the line.”
“The orcs will see the catapults,” Virgil countered. “Unless we can camouflage them, I don’t think the orcs will march up and ask us to rain stones on them.”
Lepkin sighed. “We could position them behind haystacks,” Lepkin offered. “It isn’t a lot of cover, but we can’t very well hide them in the bushes either.”
Virgil snapped his fingers, “What about blankets?” he asked. “What if the women in the town made large blankets and dyed them to look like haystacks?” We could then throw straw over the blankets. Up close it would be obvious, but from far away it might not seem so out of place, especially since we have just newly erected towers and pickets.”
Lepkin smiled and arched a brow. “That might work, for now. We’ll start with that. I will also send for Marlin. Perhaps if my wife has recovered, then Marlin can come and use his magic to help us better hide the machines.”
“Have you heard from them?” Virgil asked. His tone took on a friendly, sincere quality not found often among officers.
Lepkin nodded. “I have. The communications have been brief, but enough to know that she is beginning to mend, and they are both safe.”
Virgil smiled. “That is good.” The strong man pointed back down to the map. “How many catapults and blankets should we make?”
Lepkin shrugged. “We need at least ten if we are to make a dent in the enemy. Each catapult requires a crew of five to operate.”
“Three to load, two to pull the bucket and then release,” Virgil said. “Then there are the stones. If each catapult is to be effective, we will need many stones.”
Lepkin said, “Each catapult crew can fire a stone roughly every three to four minutes. If the average engagement lasts forty minutes, then we will need ten stones per catapult per engagement.”
“The quarry is on the north side of the brook, but it is set back about a mile, and out to the west a bit. It will take a long time to bring in fresh stone.”
“So have the dwarves fashion the ten catapults. Afterward, they are to place twenty stones at each machine. This will give us what we need in the short term. Then, the hundred dwarves not operating catapults will fashion carts that the cavedogs can pull and form a supply line from the quarry to each catapult.”
Virgil nodded. “If we ran two or three carts per machine, we could keep a steady enough supply coming in for ammunition. Any dwarf not operating a cart or catapult can then be put to work mining stone.”
Lepkin nodded and then snapped his fingers. “See to it.”
Virgil looked surprised. “But you just called for the dwarves to return here,” he said.
Lepkin rubbed his face and took in a breath. “It’s alright, just go out and put them to work. I trust you to convey the orders properly.”
Virgil cocked his head to the side. “When was the last time you got any sleep?”
Lepkin waved him off.
“A commander needs sleep. The muscles feed on food, but the brain dines on sleep.”
Lepkin scoffed. “I’m fine. Just go.”
Virgil pointed to the sofa in the drawing room. “Just take a few minutes. If anything happens, I will personally come to wake you. We are preparing the field, and I will set the dwarves to the catapults. There is nothing else for you to do at this juncture, so get some rest.” The dragon-slayer stared at Lepkin until Master Lepkin finally surrendered to the request and dropped back onto the sofa.
Even the mighty Lepkin had to admit how nice it felt to have a cushion under his rump and a sturdy yet soft rest for his back. He leaned his head back and barely heard Virgil’s exiting footsteps before his eyes fell closed and his body gave in to sleep.
*****
Al led Commander Nials to Tillamon’s home. The bulk of the soldiers continued on to the fields just south of the settlement and began erecting tents. Commander Nials and Al entered the large home and found a pair of soldiers standing inside.
“Lepkin is asleep,” one of them said.
“Asleep?” Commander Nials huffed. “What kind of commander sleeps before sundown?”
A large man with ridged and spike plate mail entered the entryway from a side chamber. “The kind of commander who hasn’t slept for days because he has been beating orcs to a bloody pulp,” the soldier said.
“Commander Nials,
may I introduce Virgil Gothbern,” Al said with a smirk. “I’ll let the two of you get acquainted while I go and speak with Master Lepkin.”
Commander Nials wrinkled his nose and gestured with his hand for Al to move along.
Al chuckled to himself. “In the drawing room, is he?”
Virgil nodded. “The map is on the table. I hope you won’t mind, but he has put your dwarves to work.”
Al smirked again. “My kin can do any task he sets before them.” He walked quickly toward the drawing room. His legs were a bit stiff from riding, causing him to nearly waddle as he moved along the hall. He found the door to the drawing room nearly closed. He pushed it open and moved in to see Lepkin splayed over the back of the couch. He wasn’t quite snoring, but he was certainly breathing loudly thanks to his awkward position.
The dwarf king pushed the door nearly closed and then walked to the table. He studied the terrain of the map, and quickly understood Lepkin’s hand-drawn symbols. “Catapults, fences, and trenches,” the dwarf commented as he ran his finger along the map. “It’s a start,” he added with an approving nod. Al turned around to wake Lepkin, but found that the man was already staring at him from the couch.
“Ever the light sleeper,” Al commented.
“It’s a skill that has kept me alive,” Lepkin replied.
Al nodded and moved to sit on the opposite side of the sofa. “I heard about Ten Forts, and Mercer. I am sorry.”
Lepkin sighed and leaned forward, rubbing his eyes and then slapping his hands atop his knees. “Mercer died well, just as he would have wanted,” Lepkin said. “Peren is gone, vanished from the battle field. He fought well, but no one has seen him since before the forts fell.”
“Lady Arkyn?” Al asked.
“She is out along the perimeter, scouting for orcs.”
“I noticed a thick haze to the south,” Al said. “Did you use your dragon form to burn the forest?”
Return of the Dragon (The Dragon's Champion Book 6) Page 8