As the party drew near a large tent in the very middle of the encampment, they spotted two familiar faces heading quickly in their direction. Paul leapt from his horse, stepping over to Darek with his hand outstretched as Nyssa flew up to the young man and knelt at his feet.
“It's good to see you again,” Darek said, taking the young man by the wrist.
“Your itness,” the beautiful fairy added, bowing her head as she spoke.
“It's great to see you both,” Paul replied with a wide smile. “Get up, Nyssa. You don't need to do that.”
“I know,” she replied, flying up to kiss him on the cheek. “But, I like to.”
“This is Joey,” the young man said. “Joey, this is Darek and Nyssa.”
“What happened to him?” Darek asked, gazing at Joey's bloodstained clothing.
“He got shot with a few arrows,” Alena explained.
“And, just walked it off?”
“No,” the ogress replied, shaking her head. “Paul healed him.”
“That's amazing!” Nyssa said, flying up for a closer look. “Well done, your itness!”
For several seconds, Joey stared at the gorgeous fairy in silence.
“Are all the women in Zanoth extremely attractive and completely unavailable?” he asked thoughtfully.
“What do you mean?” all three maidens asked in reply.
“Well, Myra's clearly a ten, but she's Paul's...”
“I'm not anyone's,” the former lich corrected.
“And, Alena's...” he continued before pausing.
“Alena's what?” the ogress asked.
“Well, I don't want to offend you,” he replied. “Especially since you can beat my brains out and all, but...”
“But what?”
“Look,” he said, shaking his head. “You're obviously around an eight right now and, if I had to guess, I'd say you were probably like a nine or nine-and-a-half twenty years ago. Still, even though an eight is plenty good enough for me, you are way too old and, as I've mentioned before, you have muscles like a race horse. Oh, and you can be a cow sometimes.”
“You honestly think you're better with women than Paul is?” she asked, gazing at him in disbelief.
“With women I actually have a chance with, yes,” he nodded.
“So, what's wrong with me?” Nyssa asked, a look of genuine curiosity on her face.
“Nothing!” he exclaimed. “And, I mean nothing! But, that makes things even worse in your case.”
“How so?”
“I mean that, even though you're even hotter than Myra - especially wearing that little green dress - you're only three inches tall.”
“What difference does that make?”
“It makes a major difference.”
“I don't see why,” she said defensively. “I think you're even better looking than Paul - even though he is very handsome – but, I had the decency not to mention that you're ridiculously huge!”
“I certainly didn't mean any insult,” Joey assured her. “It's just that you asked. I mean; if you were five-foot five, I'd ask you out in a heartbeat.”
“Ask me out?” the fairy asked.
“He means that he'd want to court you,” Myra explained.
“Oh!” Nyssa said with a slight blush. “That's really sweet. Of course, I'd never agree to that.”
“And, why not?” Joey asked, his own tone somewhat defensive.
“Several reasons,” she giggled. “One: I barely know you. Two: You seem exceptionally rude. Three: You're height prejudiced. Four: You're way too tall.”
“Well, now that we've sorted out that nobody's courting anybody,” Darek interjected, rolling his eyes, “maybe we should go talk to Thaelen. We are trying to fight a war here.”
“Good point,” Paul agreed. “Let's go.”
Darek turned and led the band to the large tent before stopping at the entrance to announce their arrival. Almost instantly, Thaelen asked them to step inside. The young man was somewhat surprised to find that Thaelen's wife, Anne, had managed to make the interior of their tent rather comfortable. It was a far cry from their beautifully paneled home in Jannac, but it was much more than he had expected.
A table and chairs dominated the center of the structure, and a beautifully woven tapestry served as a curtain separating the sleeping area from the front of the tent. A number of small brass lamps hung from the supporting beams and, although they were unlit at the moment, Paul could imagine that they filled the place with a warm, glowing light at night. Here and there, other smaller tapestries hung against the white cloth walls, depicting flower covered glades, and deer filled forests. All things considered, there was almost a sense of merriment about the place. It was like an island of hope in a sea of despair.
“Thank the gods you've come,” Thaelen said, taking Paul by the wrist the moment he entered. “If we ever needed the it, it's now.”
“I'm glad to be back,” the young man replied with a smile. “How can I help?”
“To be perfectly frank, I'm not sure,” Thaelen admitted with a sigh, motioning to a nearby chair before taking a seat himself. “You realize, of course, that we've been driven from the well.”
“Obviously.”
“Well, that's just the first of several major problems we have right now. We had to leave the vault, along with a great deal of equipment, when we fled. Because of that, we can't expand our ranks. We have more than enough volunteers, we just don't have the weapons we need to arm them effectively. Plus, of course, we don't have the supplies we need to keep an army fed.”
“Right,” Paul nodded.
“And, needless to say,” Thaelen continued, “the undead are taking the Warriors of Dawn much more seriously now.”
“I can imagine.”
“In fact, they've declared martial law in Kafmara and Lord Grathis has made Baron Dragmor the temporary governor.”
“That is bad,” Sarrac observed. “When did that happen?”
“We heard the news yesterday morning,” Darek replied. “He's already started public executions hoping to flush out all of the Warriors hiding in the city.”
“Who's Baron Dragmor?” Paul asked.
“He's a famine ghast,” Alena explained. “He's one of Grathis's enforcers. He's there to terrify the people, as well as keep them in line.”
“Which is hardly surprising,” Thaelen acknowledged, “considering the city's been in a borderline state of rebellion since you defeated Lord Telraen. The moment he died, half the garrison went crazy and the Warriors made short work of what was left alive after the infighting. It took Grathis almost a week to get Kafmara back under his control. At first, he was satisfied with merely keeping the peace but, now that things have settled down a bit, he intends to root his enemies out one by one.”
“What's a famine ghast?” the young man asked.
“Didn't they have those in D&D?” Alena counter-asked.
“Not in any I played,” Paul explained.
“Well, they're ghasts,” Sarrac replied. “But, their appetite is insatiable. They can eat an entire person, bones and all, in a single sitting. They also love to make other people watch them while they do it. Baron Dragmor probably eats four or five bodies a day. And, as long as he's in the city they'll be executing people regularly to feed to him.”
“That's horrible!” the young man exclaimed. “I mean; even compared to how terrible Zanoth is in an everyday horrifying kind of way.”
“It is,” Thaelen agreed. “Unfortunately, we don't have any way to stop it at the moment.”
“Maybe we do, actually,” Nyssa replied with a wide grin.
“What might that be?” Thaelen asked incredulously. “The garrison's triple its normal size. There's no way we could storm Kafmara with a hundred men. Not even with Paul leading us.”
“No, we couldn't,” she agreed. “However, if we could arm the Warriors inside the city, they could certainly slaughter the garrison.”
“Maybe,” he ceded. “But,
even if we had the weapons, which we don't, how would we get them inside Kafmara?”
“We can solve both those problems at once,” she explained excitedly, “simply by moving the vault into the city.”
“Brilliant!” Darek exclaimed. “If we could get weapons and armor to Gregory and the boys, we could overthrow the city in a matter of hours.”
“That may be true,” Myra admitted. “However, we won't be able to hold it. What's going to happen to the people after we've fled?”
“What will happen to them if we do nothing?” Alena asked. “We have to strike the undead when and where we can. This is an opportunity to take Kafmara and kill Baron Dragmor, as well. We can't let it slip past us.”
“I'm not certain we have any such opportunity,” Thaelen pointed out. “Keep in mind, there's an army of undead between you and the vault.”
“Actually, I think I could help with that,” Myra replied. “I've been working on a spell to make the living appear to be undead. At least, to other undead.”
“Are you sure that'll do the trick?” Paul asked.
“I am,” she nodded. “The garrison at the well won't realize what we are until after it's too late. But, honestly, I'm still not convinced this is the wisest course of action.”
“Well, we are,” Alena replied. “We can't just do nothing, Myra.”
“I understand that,” the former lich nodded. “I'm just not sure that trying to take control of Kafmara is the most practical thing we could do.”
“Do you have another suggestion?” the ogress asked.
“Not at the moment,” Myra admitted. “But, what do we do when Lord Grathis sends one of the legions to take the city back? Would we even be able to hold out long enough to move the vault again?”
“I think so,” Thaelen replied. “It only takes around five days for the runes to recharge and...”
“That's all it took last time,” the maiden interrupted. “But, we can't be certain it will always happen that quickly.”
“True,” he admitted. “But, we can hope that it will. The simple fact is that the vault isn't of any use to us where it is now. And, if nothing else, this plan would allow us to recover our equipment. I feel confident we can hold the city for at least five days. For one thing, it's going take Grathis time to get his forces into position. If the runes in the vault have recharged, our forces can use it to make an escape. If not, we'll just have to do our best to break through the siege and retreat.”
“I'm not sure about that,” Darek said thoughtfully. “I think stealth would be better than brute force in this case.”
“How do you mean?” Thaelen asked.
“Once we've taken control of the city, the Warriors who are willing can march out to join the rest of our forces. Then, Nyssa and I can hide out until the vault is ready to move again.”
“That's an excellent idea!” the fairy said excitedly. “But, I'm not sure I'll need your help. I can move it on my own, you know.”
“That doesn't mean you won't need my help,” Darek pointed out.
“I can stay, too,” Joey offered.
“What would be the point of that?” Alena asked.
“I can block any arrows that head Nyssa's way,” he explained. “I mean, she'll be able to heal me after I'm done, right?”
“I could,” the fair fairy nodded. “But, really...”
“We can discuss the details later,” Paul interrupted. “For the moment, we have to focus on how we're going to get into Kafmara and kill the garrison in the first place.”
“Right,” Sarrac nodded. “The one question I have is: where should we put the vault? We need to do our best to make sure the undead can't find it.”
“That's not an issue,” Darek assured him. “Gregory's got a secret room in one of his cellars where he hides weapons and armor. All we'll need to do is put the door of the vault in the wall of that room. It couldn't be simpler.”
“Oh, it could be,” Myra corrected. “For one thing, neither Nyssa or I know exactly where that room is. Nyssa knew precisely where the fairy well was the first time we moved the vault, which is why she was able to work out exactly where the door needed to be. Without having the correct coordinates, we can't be sure we'll get it in the right place.”
“I think I can take care of that,” the fairy smiled. “I'll just need a little help from Darek.”
“Happy to be of whatever service I can,” Darek replied.
“Alright,” Paul nodded. “Step one: Nyssa and Darek find the location of the secret room in Gregory's cellar. Step two: we make our way to the outskirts of the well, Myra makes us all look like undead, and we sneak past the garrison. Step three: we gather up all the equipment and get it packed into the vault...”
“How do we do that?” Alena interrupted. “The vault is on the very edge of the well and the undead are probably keeping a rather close eye on it.”
“I can handle that as well,” Nyssa replied. “I'll just make myself invisible and carry everything in a piece at a time.”
“That should work,” Paul agreed. “Step four: we move the vault into Gregory's cellar, make contact with him, and arm the Warriors. Step five: we overthrow the city, loot what we need, and have the Warriors who are willing head out to join Thaelen.”
“We'll march for Kafmara as soon as you leave,” Thaelen added with a nod. “It'll be dangerous but, if we want to make sure this works, we need to attack the city from the outside as well as the inside at the same moment.”
“Sounds good,” Paul smiled. “How will we coordinate the attack?”
“I can send Thaelen a message once we're ready to move the vault,” Myra assured him.
“That'll work,” he nodded. “Step six: those of us who decide to hide out in the city, wait for the runes to recharge and then move the vault again.”
“Where to?” the fair maiden asked.
“Back to the well?” Sarrac suggested. “It's the one place the undead can't get into. Besides, we need to empty the vault out as much as possible this time. I don't see any point in leaving anything behind. And, that being the case, it won't really matter that we can't reach it easily.”
“I guess I can see that,” Paul agreed. “It might be a good bit harder for us to leave the well than it will be for us to get into it. You can be sure that they'll be expecting us the second time.”
“Which is why I should go alone,” Nyssa pointed out. “I can take the vault back to the well and leave without them ever being any the wiser.”
“We can come to a firm decision once we're in Kafmara,” the young man replied. “Until we take the city, it's all academic anyway.”
“I agree,” Thaelen nodded. “The sooner you get started, the more executions you'll be able to prevent.”
“Absolutely,” Darek replied, pulling The Veil from his finger and handing it to Paul. “Which means you need to get ready, captain.”
“Thanks,” Paul chuckled, taking the ring from his companion's outstretched hand before slipping it on. “I'm in charge now, am I?”
“No, you're not,” Alena asserted immediately. “I am.”
“You are?” Sarrac asked, gazing at her with a wide smile on his face.
“Well... You might be. But, either way, Paul certainly isn't.”
“Oh, I completely agree with you there,” the ogre chuckled, shifting his gaze to the young man.
“I appreciate y'all's overwhelming vote of confidence,” Paul laughed.
“Before you can lead, Paul, you need a great deal more experience,” Sarrac pointed out.
“And wisdom,” Alena added.
“And, that's gonna take me a while,” the young man replied with a grin. “Honestly, I'm more than happy not to be the one in charge. That way, if anything goes wrong, it won't be my fault.”
“I’ve got the feeling that Alena would still find a way to blame you somehow,” Joey observed thoughtfully.
“True,” Sarrac chuckled.
“What do you mean by that?” the
ogress asked, a tone of accusation in her voice.
“It's just that...” the ogre said slowly. “From time to time, you...”
“I what?”
“Never mind,” Paul interjected. “We can talk about that later. At the moment, I need my armor.”
“I've got it here,” Thaelen said with a nod. “I've got some armor Joey can use, as well as some other clothes. He can't keep walking around Zanoth looking like that.”
“No, I agree,” the young man replied. “He does stand out a bit.”
“Well, while you two take care of that, Darek can help me get ready,” Nyssa observed. “Come on.”
“Yes, ma'am,” Darek replied with a lax salute.
“Could I be of any help?” Joey asked.
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I'm fairly certain you can't be of any help at all. Besides, you have to get changed.”
“Right...” he nodded slowly.
Thaelen led the two young men toward the back of the tent, as Darek and Nyssa made their way out the front. Minutes later Joey had changed his bloodstained and torn clothing for attire more suited to the world of Zanoth, and both he and Paul were putting on their armor.
“Why do you get plate mail and I only get leather armor?” Joey asked as he worked to buckle the straps on the sides of his breastplate.
“Several reasons,” Paul replied, kneeling down to fasten his greaves. “First, this is my armor, as in: it was given to me specifically for my use. Second, we don't have a whole lot of plate mail armor, so Thaelen has to be careful about who he gives it to. Third, I'm stronger than you and the leather is lighter.”
“That's bizarre,” Joey observed. “I mean; I'm actually beginning to believe this is all really happening.”
“Which it is,” Paul pointed out.
“Right. So, how are you stronger than me? Back home, I'm unquestionably stronger than you are.”
The Fortress of Donmar (The Tales of Zanoth Book 2) Page 5