“I don’t remember.” Gerard lowered his head into his hands in frustration.
“Do you think she may have cast a spell on you?” asked Jeff.
Gerard smacked his forehead with his hand hard. “Of course!” he exclaimed loudly making all heads turn in his direction. “That must be it. Everything is hazy after that point. She must have whispered a spell in my ear.”
“Then you can’t blame yourself, Gerry,” said Jeff. “She must be a very powerful wizard. We’ll need to keep on our guard around her.”
“I prefer sorceress,” came Sylestra’s voice from down the hall, “and yes I am very powerful, but I always look after my own.”
“How does she do that?” whispered Jeff a moment before she appeared at their cell.
“I do, however, crush my enemies,” she said. “Good points for you all to keep in mind.” Her voice was pleasant again.
“You cast a spell on me,” accused Gerard threateningly.
“As all women do to men,” she chuckled pleasantly. “Now I must apologise for keeping you all here so long. I assure you that arrangements are being made to move you to more comfortable lodgings. Now Gerard, it is time for us to spar again.”
“Take Jeff, or Major Isak. They are both as skilled as I am,” said Gerard not moving.
“Then I have some skilled fighters here indeed. However, it is you I have chosen to be my sparring partner.” Sylestra had a sharp edge to her voice.
“I’m not much in the mood for fighting,” said Gerard.
Sylestra ordered some nearby orcs to open the cell door. When it was opened she stretched her hand forward, palm out with her fingers raised and a black tendril shot out and wrapped around Gerard’s legs. Sylestra gripped the other end of it and pulled Gerard off the bed. He hit the ground hard and continued to slide forward as Sylestra reined in the tendril. Jeff tried to hold onto him but he was dragged forward as well and was kicked severely by the orc guards as they reached the front of the cell. Sylestra continued to drag Gerard all the way to the salle.
“I understand your measurements were taken this morning,” she stated as he rose to his feet and rubbed his sore back side.
“Your slave was very dutiful,” said Gerard emphasising the word ‘slave’.
“I’m pleased to hear it,” replied Sylestra ignoring his slight. “I’m sure your gambeson will be ready in two to three days. In the meantime you’ll have to make do with what we have.” Sylestra began her warm up exercises.
“So am I to be your slave too?” asked Gerard sternly.
“You don’t approve of me having slaves?” Gerard shook his head. “Do not all kingdoms, tribes and clans have slaves to some degree, Gerry?”
“Only friends call me Gerry,” retorted Gerard through gritted teeth.
“And everyone calls me Supreme Mistress Sylestra. Until you do likewise, I will call you what I wish. Now answer the question.”
“No. Goodly kingdoms, tribes and clans do not have slaves,” answered Gerard.
“Does your kingdom have palace staff, soldiers, messengers and other such workers? Do the dwarves not force their young to work in the mines at a young age and to learn to make weapons and implements?” Sylestra continued her warm up exercises, but Gerard was so sickened by what the woman had done to him that he was not distracted by it.
“That’s different. They are all rewarded for their efforts and have a choice on what they’ll pursue.” Gerard picked out a gambeson and began putting it on.
“Have you seen any of my slaves starving, Gerry?” asked Sylestra.
“I have not seen beyond your Palace. The woman who took my measurements looked unhappy,” said Gerard shuffling around, trying to tighten the belt up on the gambeson to make it more comfortable.
“An unhappy worker? I am evil indeed then aren’t I?” said Sylestra mockingly. “Show me a kingdom without unhappy workers. Does your kingdom have homeless or starving people on the street, Gerry?”
“Of course. Every kingdom does,” replied Gerard walking over to the weapon rack.
“Mine doesn’t.” The surety of her words hit Gerard like a brick. “All homeless and starving are taken from the streets, housed and fed in our slave compounds. They are taught a skill and given work for which they are rewarded with food, clothing and shelter. Does that sound evil to you Gerry?”
Gerard was speechless. Once again he found himself second guessing the Ta’zu tribe. Perhaps they were no more evil than the kingdom of Lertia. Gerard knew that his kingdom had its problems — he assumed every kingdom did.
“So will I be put into one of these slave compounds?”
“That is your choice, Gerry. If you submit to me then you will be given a life in the Palace with the joys and pleasures you received yesterday.”
Gerard cringed at her choice of words. “But you won’t let me return home?” He began to warm up.
“That I can’t allow, I’m sorry. You and all your friends are too valuable to me and making it to the Gate is all but impossible. The Black Skull guards it well. It’d be suicide for you and your friends to attempt to reach it.” Sylestra stood up and walked over to the weapon rack to choose a weapon.
To Gerard’s surpise, she chose a long wooden staff. “And yet you hinted to me that you could retrieve my son.”
“I have spies and contacts among the Black Skull that may be able to arrange something. I’d have to be assured of your commitment before I risked such an attempt though, and it could also prove risky for your son.” Sylestra started twirling the staff around in simply breathtaking manoeuvres.
This is going to hurt.
* * *
“I meant to ask you yesterday, general, why it was that you told Duke Angus all the captives had been killed?” asked O’tukka as he approached the general’s desk.
“Because if I told them that they were still alive and captives of Sylestra, they may decide to attempt a rescue or at least hold the Gate open a little longer. Especially the dwarves. They are very fond of their kin and will risk great dangers to save a few. We cannot risk keeping the Gate open for any longer than necessary,” explained General Krak’too.
“Very wise, general. I had not thought of that.” A knock at the door had them both looking that way as General Krak’too gave the knocker permission to enter. Feygrus walked in and O’tukka breathed a sigh of relief. Feygrus was one of the most loyal supporters of the upcoming plan.
“Report, Feygrus,” said Krak’too as the scoutmaster entered.
“The Raziyan’s will likely march first thing in the morning, general. Their numbers have swollen rapidly today and many camp outside the city walls,” reported Feygrus.
“How many do they number?” asked Krak’too
“Five, maybe even six thousand,” answered Feygrus swiftly.
“Excellent! This should be very enjoyable,” said Krak’too with an evil grin.
“How many wizards among them?” asked O’tukka.
“It’s hard to say. They may have quite a few in Ingtai itself. We haven’t been able to get into the city and look around like we normally would. It’s too hard to blend in amongst humans, but we have seen eight travelling to the city,” said Feygrus.
“If they have any as strong as Master Pilk among them, general, I could be sorely tested protecting our warriors against so many,” admitted O’tukka.
General Krak’too nodded and looked thoughtful for a moment. “I wonder if Duke Angus could lend us some of his wizards,” said Krak’too.
“We do fight their enemy,” agreed O’tukka.
“Yes and if we were to fail here, Duke Angus might find himself fighting a large number of Raziyans,” replied Krak’too thoughtfully. “You’re dismissed Feygrus. Good work.”
Feygrus bowed his head and walked from the room.
“As for you and me Great Shaman O’tukka, we have some quick travelling to do.”
“Let me grab some things from my office and I’ll be right with you,” he replied.
Hurrying back across the hall, he said to General Krak’too, “We may have a problem.”
* * *
Sylestra twirled her wooden staff around with one hand and then the other as she stalked in at Gerard. She was revelling in the challenge of sparring with this man. He was her match in strength which was rare enough even among her large orc bodyguards and had the speed and agility of someone half his size.
He still hadn’t been able to get a touch on her but he was a fast learner; seldom did he make the same mistake twice and she found that she needed to continually come up with new ways to defeat him. Aside from that, as he continually adapted to her manoeuvres he was finding ways to not only defeat them, but to use them to his advantage. For the first time in many centuries, she was concerned that her opponent might actually hit her.
He came at her with a straightforward thrust which she went to bat away with her staff but it didn’t make contact as he retreated immediately. It was a feint to expose the right side of her body. He came in at her again quicker and deeper trying to take advantage of the opening. She knew that he would expect her to twist her body to avoid the attack which would have her off balance. Never one to do the expected, Sylestra reversed the rotation of her staff in time to push his attack wide of her body.
In doing this, it had left Gerard in a vulnerable position and she took advantage of that by halting the spin of her staff and jabbing it forward into his chest with such force that it knocked him to the ground. She pursued him with the intent of finishing him but he rode the momentum and sprung straight up back to his feet.
She leapt at him, high into the air so that her feet were at his shoulder height and jabbed down on an angle with her staff. He had no time to get his sword in place she expected to make firm contact, but instead he went to his knees and bent his head back. Her staff missed his exposed neck by an inch or two.
She continued her flight over his head and landed lightly on her feet behind him. Sylestra spun around in an instant and planted her staff to the floor just in time to block his low swing. As he began to retract his sword, she spun her weapon anti-clockwise and connected solidly on his hand, knocking the sword from his grasp.
Sylestra followed up with an aggressive jab but Gerard was able to avoid the strike by twisting his body slightly and deflecting her staff with his dirk. The move had cost him dearly, as he was way off balance and so in the blink of an eye she swung her staff around behind her back, continuing its spinning motion as she brought it back in front making solid contact with Gerard’s head, laying him out cold on the salle floor.
“You were lucky I didn’t crush your windpipe with that ducking manoeuvre,” said Sylestra when he had regained consciousness.
“Luck didn’t come into it,” he said weakly, “I know my abilities and act accordingly.”
Sylestra couldn’t help but smile. “Didn’t do you much good though, did it? You were still defeated.” Sylestra offered him her hand which he stubbornly refused and instead awkwardly crawled to his feet.
“It made you work a bit harder to get the win,” said Gerard who was still a little unsteady on his feet.
“Dead is dead,” replied Sylestra flatly. “Anyhow, that’s enough for now. I’ll have you escorted to the healing hall to see that you have suffered no permanent damage. Perhaps in future you should wear some head protection if you insist on trying manoeuvres like that.” Sylestra watched as he stripped off his gambeson — admiring his bulging biceps as they flexed — and return the gambeson and his weapons to the rack. She escorted him to the door and handed him over to the two orcs standing outside, instructing them to take him to the healing hall.
After wiping all the sweat off her face and body with a dry cloth, she returned to her room where a nice warm bath would be ready for her. Waiting for her at the door, her head maid, Antoinette, bowed her head and opened the bedroom doors as she approached.
“Your bath will be ready by the time we get you out of these clothes, supreme mistress,” said Antoinette as she closed the doors behind them.
“My aching muscles are very glad to hear that,” replied Sylestra with a grin. “That dress I wore last night, who was responsible for making it?”
“I’m not sure supreme mistress, but I will find out for you.” Antoinette bowed her head and held it so for a little longer than was usual, obviously disappointed with herself for not knowing the answer.
“It was simply magnificent,” remarked Sylestra deciding not to scold the woman for her lack of knowledge. She walked to the dressing room where she was helped out of her clothes and a simple, white silk wrap was draped around her. She went through a door which came off the dressing room leading into her bathing room.
The room was oval shaped with a sunken circular pool in its centre. Steam rose from the water, heated by a furnace below. Two maids waited at the top of the stairs wearing their two piece bathing suits. When Sylestra reached the stairs, Antoinette untied the silk wrap and slid it off her shoulders. Sylestra felt every one of her muscles begin to relax as she descended into the water.
* * *
General Krak’too and Great Shaman O’tukka were once again shown to the duke’s office where he was waiting behind his desk.
“What can I do for you general?” asked Duke Angus as they took their seats.
“The Raziyans have gathered a force of six thousand at Ingtai. We expect that they will march on us at Heperi at first light tomorrow. While I’m not overly concerned with their numbers, I am a bit worried about the ten or more wizards they will bring. I have only Great Shaman O’tukka here who, despite being our most powerful shaman, might be overmatched by that number and the fierce one won’t send me any more shamans as he is rightly anxious about the Ta’zu,” replied Krak’too.
“So you want me to send some of my wizards to assist you, is that it?” interjected Duke Angus.
“That’s right. If we are overrun in Heperi, there is nothing stopping the Raziyans from marching on you here.”
“They would be hard pressed marching on us here while we have so many dwarves in our city,” said Duke Angus, “but I agree that we don’t want them swelling their numbers in the south. We have enough problems with the orcs, the Ki’harran orcs that is, without having to deal with them. How many would you need?”
“As many as you can spare, but five or six would be a great help,” replied Krak’too briskly.
“I will send five to begin with, Masters Pilk and Tayer among them, and if more wizards arrive from the academy before the battle ends, I will send more.”
“Thank you, Duke Angus. That is most generous. How many wizards do you have for the closing of the Gate?” asked General Krak’too.
“Master Pilk has enlisted seventy-five so far but he is hopeful that as word spreads, more will come.”
“It will take many hours to close it with that number, but I believe it should be enough to close it if no more can be found,” said O’tukka.
“Let us hope that more come then. We don’t want to be fighting a battle while we are closing it,” said Duke Angus.
Once they had finished talking with Duke Angus and were escorted out from the city, O’tukka created a magical gate leading them to Fort Dega near the Gate. After they stepped through it, O’tukka formed two gates. General Krak’too took the one leading to Gnash and O’tukka took the other one after closing down the first.
* * *
Gerard had been tended to at the Healing Hall by a human cleric. He was told that the damage wasn’t significant but she had fixed it nonetheless. The throbbing headache vanish
ed immediately and the rising bump receded until he no longer felt any pain. He was then escorted to the baths for a quick wash but clothed once again in his plain clothes without any extra treatment and returned to his cell.
When in the middle of discussing what Sylestra had told him about her slavery compounds and about to tell them all about her offer of retrieving his son, he heard a ruckus down the hall.
A large group of orcs appeared a moment later and opened the door, ordering them all out. The orcs surrounded them and marched them out of the dungeon and through the corridors. Eventually they were led from the Palace and down a paved road that had high walls on either side. The road descended a gradual decline with the occasional set of steps.
Up in front Gerard could see two big wooden gates. The orcs stationed there began to open them as they arrived. The view once they were open showed a sprawling city full of identical town houses, if in fact they could be called houses as small as they were. They were stacked three stories high with terraces accessible from the occasional staircase.
A door every five or six paces told Gerard that they were very small residences indeed. Towering buildings rose up around the outskirts. The wide street directly in front of him was all but deserted with the occasional orc guard marching its length.
They were forced to line up at a guardhouse to the side as they were one by one called forward to the open window. The men before him were given little slips of paper before they walked over to an orc guard on their right, handed it to them, and led off into the city.
Finally it was Gerard’s turn to approach the window. The orc on the other side looked up at him and asked him for his name. Gerard gave it to him and was surprised to see it written down in Ka’tonian Common.
“Your identification number will be five, six, two, eight, nine, one. Memorise it as you will need it often. Your residence will be eight-ninety-two Twelfth Street. Hand this to the orc guard on your right and he will guide you to your residence.” The orc scribbled the information on the bit of paper and handed it to him. Gerard did as he was told. The orc guard asked Gerard to follow him.
The Gate - An Ancient Connection Page 24