“That's true,” Darek agreed. “But, occasionally, they do some good with it.”
“They do?” Paul asked.
“Sure,” he replied. “Anytime there's a famine, or a drought, or anything like that, they distribute supplies to make sure that no one starves to death.”
“Of course they do,” the ogress asserted. “They can't afford to let their cattle die before they’re ready for harvest.”
“I didn't say their motives were good,” Darek pointed out, “only that some of their actions were. Plus, they have the patience to store wine away for hundreds of years. If we ever sack the Tower of Daelfaun again, we need to make sure we completely empty the cellar before we retreat.”
“Agreed,” the paladin replied before turning his attention back to the general. “So, why is that a problem? Are the storehouses super well-guarded or something?”
“Not at all,” General Halfar said. “Under the circumstances, they're likely less well guarded than usual. Lord Grathis has every available soldier out searching for us. As a result, the surrounding garrisons are considerably weakened. The problem, however, is that; with every passing day, our rebellion seems more like a genuine threat. Successfully attacking a storehouse and looting weeks’ worth of food will take away any hope of quickly starving us into submission. Grathis may well decide the time has come to ask for aid from his peers. Given our success so far, I would be very surprised if he weren't to get it. The more we accomplish, the more likely they are to work together. Sadly, however, we have no choice in this situation. Without supplies, our cause is dead.”
“I guess I can see that,” Paul replied thoughtfully. “If it were possible, it would probably be a good idea for us to let things settle down a bit before we did anything more.”
“I certainly agree,” the old man said, “but, we don't have that choice. At least, not until after we've sacked a storehouse; and I'm afraid that, after that's accomplished, the damage will already be done. Once we've got the supplies we need to last us weeks out in the wilderness, Grathis will realize that it's only a matter of time before we strike again. That will more than justify his seeking help.”
“Yeah...” the young man said before taking a deep breath. “That is a fair point.”
“Then, maybe we should try flying a few false flags,” Joey suggested, turning to the paladin with a wide smile.
“What do you mean?” Alena asked.
“I mean; these undead lords don't like each other,” he replied. “Even Myra's parents murdered their master in order to steal his power, right?”
“They were not my parents,” she explained.
“Not my point,” he said, shaking his head. “What I'm saying is that the undead aren't really allies; they just work together to enslave the living. So, all we need to do to keep them from uniting against us, is get them fighting amongst themselves.”
“A brilliant plan,” the ogress said sarcastically. “Truly brilliant. Why didn't we think of that before? How exactly do you suggest we do that?”
“Turn this current necessity into an opportunity,” he replied confidently. “When we attack whatever storehouse it is, we do it disguised as undead.”
“You mean; we should dress like zombies?” she asked.
“Maybe,” he said, “but, I really mean that Myra should make us look like undead, just like she did before.”
“Even if she did,” the ogress replied, “how would that start any infighting?”
“Well...” Joey said slowly. “It would probably be a good idea to steal some uniforms or something. Then, we could attack lord A dressed as guys from lord B. We pretend to try to kill all the guards, but actually let some of them get away on purpose so they can tell lord A what they believe lord B did. That way, we'll get all the food while good old lord B gets all the blame. Even if it didn't start any infighting, at least it would make it look like we didn't rob the place.”
“A brilliant plan,” Darek asserted.
“Truly brilliant,” Sarrac added.
“Why didn't we think of that before?” Paul asked.
“I admit,” the ogress said, gazing at Joey with a slight smile, “that there may be something to the idea. But, who do you plan to take on the roles of lord A and lord B?”
“Lord Renald would likely make a good target,” the general speculated. “He's cautious and not particularly ambitious but, he's been very defensive of his own claims in the past. Plus, of course, we happen to be on his land at this very moment. We could probably reach the storehouse near Illum in a day and a half. The fact that it's only miles away from Lord Darril's lands makes it an even more attractive target for this plan. He's more than ambitious enough to make Renald believe that he would risk an attack under the circumstances. Especially since Renald has had to send troops to Grathis and Darril hasn't been required to do the same. At least, that was the state of things three days ago. If that's still the case, then Darril could hardly pick a better time to attack Renald's lands.”
“So,” Darek said, his eyes locked on those of the general, “we just happen to be in the perfect place at the perfect time to try something like this?”
“I believe so,” the old man nodded.
“Well, that's lucky,” he replied.
“That's providence,” Sarrac asserted.
“Even if the attack were successful,” Alena began, “there's still at least one major problem with this plan. In order to carry off enough food to last us any time at all, we're going to have to use a number of wagons. That's going to slow us down considerably. I doubt it will take Lord Renald very long to track us down; even if Lord Darril doesn't offer to help him - which he almost certainly will. If for no other reason than to prove that his men had nothing to do with the attack. When you couple that with the fact that Grathis is scouring the wilderness for us, it seems rather unlikely that we're going to get very far with whatever we manage to steal.”
“Maybe not,” General Halfar replied, “but, we have to try. I think the best thing we can do is head into the mountains after we cross into Lord Darril's lands. The terrain will make the wagons more difficult to track.”
“Not difficult enough,” Alena asserted. “Hundreds of horsemen following wagons of grain are going to leave a trail the undead couldn't fail to follow even if they tried. Before, we were able to distract Grathis but, that's not going to work this time. His men are everywhere. In fact, if he had any idea where we were right now, we'd never reach the storehouse - in spite of the fact that it's on the very edge of the dark lands.”
“Do you have a better suggestion?” the old man asked with a tone of mild frustration. “Because, one way or another, we have to have food.”
“I think I might,” Paul replied. “We could move the vault someplace near the storehouse. Then, we'd only have to get the grain that far before we could hide it. After that, we could split up for a week or two to let things cool off a little bit.”
“You don't think a door in the middle of nowhere with wagon tracks leading up to it would be at all conspicuous?”
“Obviously, we'd have to find a suitable place to hide it.”
“Where would you suggest?”
“I don't know the terrain,” he said, “but you do. We need some unoccupied place, near the storehouse, preferably close to the road. Can you think of any place like that?”
“The cell of the mad monk?” Sarrac suggested after a few moments of silence.
“I suppose that might work,” Alena admitted. “It's close to the border between the lands of Renald and Darril and the road runs right past it.”
“The mad monk?” Joey replied. “Did you guys miss the unoccupied part of Paul's statement?”
“He's not there,” the ogre pointed out.
“He's dead,” the ogress added.
“Dead or undead?” Joey asked. “Because I think I've already had enough of the whole cleanse this unholy place thing.”
“He's just dead,” Sarrac smiled. “I'm certain
we'll find his cell empty.”
“Why is that?”
“The undead basically treat it like a sacred place,” the ogre explained. “Calvin Dormast, the mad monk, believed that the living should submit to the undead as a matter of righteousness.”
“What?” Paul replied.
“He believed the gods were punishing Zanoth,” Sarrac continued, “and that, until the living had suffered their due punishment, it would continue. He tried to lead people to willingly kneel to their undead masters and embrace their rule in order to bring it more speedily to an end. Lord Grathis approved of his message to such an extent that he forbade that he be harvested. The mad monk was one of the few people in the last few hundred years to die of old age. They treat his cell like a hallowed tomb.”
“Grathis was hoping Dormast would start a cult,” Myra added. “What he taught almost amounted to undeath worship.”
“Fortunately, that didn't happen,” the ogre replied. “Although, there are those who still believe in his message.”
“Either way,” Joey replied. “The cell is by the road, near the storehouse, and full of nothing. Is that right?”
“That's right,” Sarrac nodded.
“Then, that should do the trick,” Paul said with a smile.
“It might,” the ogress replied, “except for the fact that we don't have the vault.”
“We don't at the moment,” the paladin replied, “but, Nyssa can get it for us.”
“I'll go with her,” Joey volunteered.
“You can't,” Paul said, shaking his head.
“Why not?”
“You're not nearly fast enough. She'll be able to fly back to Kafmara in a couple of days, maybe even fewer. It would take you a week to ride there; even if the land wasn't crawling with undead.”
“Which it is,” Gregory pointed out.
“So, you want to send her back there all alone?”
“I wouldn't say I want to,” the paladin replied, “but, what choice have we got? We need the vault and she can get it. In fact, she already volunteered to do just that.”
“Well, I don't like it,” his friend replied.
“I don't like it, either. However, she's the only one that can manage it - and she doesn't need us holding her hand while she does.”
“You may be right,” Joey ceded, “but, I'd still rather go along. Maybe she can make me fly by covering me in fairy dust or something.”
“Maybe,” Paul replied, rolling his eyes. “We can ask her when she gets back.”
“So,” Alena said, “we get the vault, move it to the cell, rob Lord Renald while making it look like Lord Darril did it, hide the grain in the vault, and move it five or so days later. Is that the plan?”
“Basically,” the paladin replied. “Although, I wish we didn't have to wait that long. Myra, is there any way we can make the vault recharge more quickly?”
“I'm not sure,” the maiden answered. “It seems like it would be theoretically possible but, without knowing more about the magic that powers it, I can't say for certain.”
“What would you need to find out?”
“Time. So far, I've only spent a few hours in it. If Nyssa and I had a chance to look it over more thoroughly, we might be able to figure something out.”
“Would five days be enough?”
“It would be a start.”
“Good,” the young man said with a smile. “In that case, we can stay with the vault after we've filled it with grain until we can move it again. That may give you the time you need. Besides, once we hit the storehouse, our little army needs to break ranks and leave the undead alone for a while.”
“I agree,” the general added. “Once we've got the food we need; we should do our best to disappear for a week or two.”
“That will give us the time we need to come up with what out next step should be,” Darek observed.
“Well then, I guess we have a plan,” Alena said. “As soon as Nyssa gets back, we can work on putting it into action.”
Chapter 13: False Flags
“If there are any undead within a ten-mile radius, I couldn't see them,” Nyssa said between panted breaths the moment she reappeared amongst the party. “Which is kind of a shame really, because I didn't get to see what they look like through Myra's spell. Of course, on the other hand, it means we can spend the night here; which is rather nice, I suppose.”
“A ten-mile radius?” Joey said with a touch of surprise. “You were only gone about two hours.”
“I know,” she smiled. “I can really move when I need to.”
“Which is why I said you were way too slow, bro,” Paul added.
“Can you make me fly?” Joey asked, his eyes locked on the fair fairy's form.
“What?” she asked.
“Can you cover me in fairy dust or something?”
“You're right,” Nyssa said, turning her gaze to Paul. “He is too slow. What is he talking about?”
“We need you to go get the vault,” the paladin replied, “and he wants to go with you.”
“Oh,” she replied with a wide smile, “okay. That makes sense, I guess. Except for the fairy dust part, of course - whatever that is. But no, I can't make you fly. Like I told you before, I'm not going to need any help. Getting the vault could hardly be easier.”
“I just thought you might want some company.”
“I might,” she admitted, “if it were feasible; but it's not. So, where do I need to move it to?”
Paul quickly explained the plan to Nyssa, who received the information with obvious delight. As soon as she had taken the time to determine the exact location of the mad monk's cell, she set out for Kafmara. If everything went according to plan, she would have roughly two days to get the vault in place. As she had slept late anyway, she decided it would be a good idea to immediately get underway.
Joey did his best to persuade her to wait until morning, but she wouldn't hear of it. She was wide awake as well as very excited and explained to him that, if she were going to have any chance of falling asleep in the next twenty-four hours, she was going to have to fly off some of her excess energy. This was her chance to do something amazing for the good of the party all by herself without any support or even so much as a safety net - and she simply couldn't wait to get started.
The young man watched her until she vanished from sight, a look of genuine concern in his eyes.
“I don't like this, man,” he said, his gaze locked on the empty area of the night sky that the fairy had last occupied. “Splitting up seems like a really bad idea.”
“I don't particularly like it myself,” Paul replied, “but, we don't have much of a choice. We need the vault fast and she's the only one who can get it.”
“What do we do if she gets in trouble?” Joey asked. “What do we do if she gets herself killed? Can you bring her back from the dead?”
“Your concern is touching,” Alena replied, a slight smile on her face, “but Nyssa was taking care of herself hundreds of years before you were born. She knows what she's doing.”
“Hundreds of years?” he asked incredulously. “How old is she?”
“I'm not exactly sure,” Alena admitted. “I've never asked her. But, she remembers things that happened over two hundred years ago, so she has to be at least a little older than that.”
“You've got to be kidding,” Joey asserted.
“That's how I felt when I found out Myra was over a hundred,” Paul pointed out.
“Over a hundred!” he replied with surprise. “Well, you both look really good for your ages. Of course, you look really good for any age, come to that. How many hundreds of years old are you, Alena?”
“I'm forty,” she replied with a hint of disdain.
“Really?” he said with a touch of shock. “Because, I mean... You know what, never mind.”
“Wow,” the ogress said, shaking her head. “You really have a way with women, you know that? For your information, Joey, ogres age more like humans.
Fairies can live for close to a thousand years and Myra became immortal when she was nineteen. She's not immortal anymore, but she only started aging again a few weeks ago.”
“Well, for a forty-year-old ogress, you're pretty much scalding hot,” he replied, doing his best to undo whatever damage he may have done to their friendship by assuming she was hundreds of years old.
“That, she is,” Sarrac nodded.
This remark caused the ogress to glare at him but, in response, he simply flashed her a knowing smile.
“Either way,” Joey continued, “being ancient and beautiful isn't going to protect Nyssa from the undead.”
“She's also very skilled,” Myra replied. “The garrison in Kafmara will never even know she was there.”
“I hope you're right,” he sighed, “I hate the idea of her getting into trouble that we can't get her out of.”
“She hasn't needed us to get her out of any yet,” Paul pointed out. “In fact, it's more often a case of her helping us get out of it.”
“Somehow,” Joey replied, shaking his head, “that doesn't make me feel all that much better.”
Shortly after this conversation, the members of the band were wrapped in the arms of sleep. The next morning, they rose with the sun; climbing into the saddle mere minutes later. They hoped to reach the lands of Lord Darril and hunt down one of his patrols by the following afternoon. That being the case, they had very little time to spare.
Gregory and General Halfar planned to divide their men into a number of small bands that would make their way independently toward the storehouse; doing their very best to avoid any encounters with the undead. They intended to rendezvous a few hours before dark and wait for a signal from Paul and his companions before they approached.
In order for their ruse to work, they had to leave Lord Renald with the impression that Lord Darril had sacked his granary. They could hardly do that if their enemies were aware that hundreds of Warriors were wandering across Lord Renald's lands.
Fortunately, however, they had lost Lord Grathis's forces for the moment. They were further East than he would likely expect them to be from their last string of attacks and they were heading quickly to the South-East; moving even farther from the area his forces had last been seen in. Both Gregory and the General felt that they had slipped through the net for the time being.
The Fortress of Donmar (The Tales of Zanoth Book 2) Page 22