“That seems ideal,” he nodded, his gaze on a large piece of parchment spread out on his desk.
“I think so,” Thaelen replied. “We have to try to maximize the amount of useable farmland we have, while doing our best to make sure that everyone has a home to call their own.”
“That sounds like a good idea to me,” Darek asserted, striding over to the pair and glancing over the document. “Where can I put my little retirement cottage?”
“Here?” Thaelen suggested, pointing at the paper.
“No,” Darek sighed. “I need someplace in the village. I want the walk to the inn to be a short one. I don't plan to retire until I'm well past my prime. By then, I may not have the strength to walk a mile or more just to get a drink.”
“There's a waiting list for village lots,” Thaelen pointed out.
“We probably need to build more than one village,” Darek retorted.
“Maybe we will,” the general chuckled. “But, we can talk about that after the first one is a little more complete.”
“We can,” Alena nodded. “For the moment, we want to discuss attacking Umphar.”
“Umphar?” Thaelen repeated.
“A village about five miles from here,” Sarrac replied. “It belongs to Lord Cassius.”
“We can dress like soldiers from Parmoor,” Alena said. “It might be enough to convince Cassius that Grathis attacked him.”
“I'm not sure,” General Halfar replied thoughtfully. “To be frank, I'm afraid that we have our hands more than full at the moment. I don't like the idea of Cassius raising legions of his own. If Grathis managed to convince him that the it has truly come, we might have every undead lord in Zanoth hunting for us. It may be wiser to just let things simmer down for a while. We have men to train, crops to plant, and homes to build. I want to make sure we're very prepared before we strike again.”
“We could just slaughter the entire garrison,” Paul suggested. “Even if a few happen to survive, they'll think Grathis was responsible. It's a bit of a risk, but it's a small one.”
“What's the payoff?” Thaelen asked. “I don't see that slaughtering the garrison of a single village is worth taking the chance of putting Cassius on our scent.”
“Rescuing the people of Umphar is the payoff,” Alena replied, gazing at the captain with a look of mild confusion. “What other motivation do we need?”
“I’m really not sure that's a good idea,” Thaelen said. “We're dealing with thousands of homeless refugees as it is.”
“Then a few hundred more won't make much of a difference,” the ogress asserted.
“It might,” the captain replied, his eyes on her own. “Do you know any of the Warriors in Umphar? I certainly don't.”
“I don't,” she ceded. “But, as we're not going to need their help to kill the garrison, I don't see what difference it makes. We'll get to know them after we've freed them.”
“We only have so much room,” the captain pointed out. “We're not going to be able to offer every living soul in Zanoth shelter here.”
“So,” she replied with some heat, “now that your family's taken care of, everyone else can just fend for themselves?”
“Don't be a cow, Alena,” he replied, a touch of temper in his own voice. “I don't feel anything like that and you know it.”
“What is a cow, exactly?” she asked, glaring at him.
“I don't know,” he admitted. “I've just heard Paul say it. My point is that we've known each other for decades; do you really think I like the idea of not being able to save everyone?”
“When did you hear him say that?” she asked, ignoring his point.
“You’re right, Thaelen,” Sarrac interjected, “but, for the moment at least, we have room to spare.”
“Not much,” the captain replied, shaking his head. “I've still got friends, and even family, living in Jannac. We'd do much better to bring in people that we know something about before we start inviting complete strangers.”
“I agree with you there,” Gregory nodded. “There are plenty of people left in Kafmara that I'd like to rescue. They may not have been willing to wander through the dark lands with us, but you can hardly blame them for that. If they were given an opportunity to join us now, we'd end up with a lot more volunteers who have ties of family or friendship with people already living here.”
“We need to take opportunities as we get them,” Sarrac said. “The people of Umphar will be a connection between us and the citizens of Lantarren. They'll have contacts we don't. The more Warriors we can reach, they better off we're going to be. As wonderful a haven as the Fortress of Donmar is, we can't hide in it forever. Eventually, we're going to have to drive the undead back. To do that, we need to find every beating heart that's willing to oppose them.”
“Exactly!” the ogress agreed emphatically.
“All of you are right,” the general replied. “We have a few days left before we can move the fortress again. Give me some time to consider it.”
“Certainly, Mark,” Alena replied, smiling at him. “Just keep in mind that we're not going to accomplish anything by doing nothing.”
Having made their points, the party members left the general to his thoughts, while they all took up tasks of their own. Gregory joined Alena, Darek, and Paul in helping train the new recruits. Joey crawled back into his studies. Myra and Nyssa turned their attention to the dormant dark shard. For his part, Sarrac started working to release the prisoners to their families, under their guarantee of good conduct. Paul thoroughly agreed with this plan, although both he and Sarrac were certain that Alena wouldn't. As a result, they simply didn't tell her.
The moment the paladin managed to get a few minutes alone, he made his way directly to the goldsmith. The merchant was given the loop of string and informed that the lady did, in fact, prefer sapphires. Telken assured the young man that he would put forth his utmost effort to finish the ring as quickly as possible, but pointed out that true art takes time. At the very least, it would be more than a week before he could hope to have it ready. Given a lack of any other options, Paul accepted this.
For the next two days, the companions followed the same predictable pattern. At last, however, the morning arrived when the runes would be recharged. Having given it a good deal of consideration, General Halfar decided that the people of Umphar should be freed from the shackles of the undead. There were several reasons for this, but the main one seemed to be Alena's observation that doing nothing wasn't likely to accomplish anything. For the time being, they had room to spare. They needed to put it to use.
The party, along with Gregory and several of the more skilled Warriors, attired themselves in uniforms that had been taken from Parmoor. Nyssa then scried on the hamlet, locating the barracks and other points of interest so that they could form a plan of attack. This done, Myra and Joey – whom the maiden had managed to teach the spell – enchanted the entire band so they would appear to be undead to other undead. With these preparations complete, they climbed atop their mounts and kicked them into motion.
“How do we plan to convince the people of Umphar to come with us?” Joey mused aloud as the group passed through the dark lands standing between them and the village.
“Are you kidding?” Alena chuckled, turning to him with half a smile. “What could they possibly have that would be worth staying enslaved to the undead for?”
“Nothing that I can think of,” he ceded. “But, if I were in their place, and some people I didn't know just showed up, killed the garrison, and asked me to follow them into the dark lands, I wouldn't. I get why the people of Parmoor did. They could look through the gates right into the fortress and Rex was there to encourage them to trust us – where has he been by the way?”
“Organizing the refugees,” Myra replied. “He's been doing his best to make sure everyone has what they need and that they're constantly making progress toward having real homes.”
“That makes sense,” the wizard nodded. �
�Anyway, my point is that we don't have a Rex Shane in this situation. So, how do we convince them to follow us?”
“What you have to keep in mind, Joey,” Sarrac said, “is that the people of Zanoth have been waiting for hundreds of years for the it to come. They're not likely to refuse to follow him now that he's arrived.”
“I can see that,” the wizard replied, “but, how do we convince them that Paul is the it? He's not going to be doing any turning or anything like that with us disguised as undead.”
“Maybe you could almost get yourself killed again during the battle,” Alena suggested with a smile. “Then he'll be able to heal you to show them that he is who he claims to be.”
“Pass.”
“We'll convince them one way or the other,” the ogress assured him. “Paul is the it. If we have to find a way to prove it, we will.”
“Another thing,” Joey continued, a thoughtful tone in his voice, “is Paul going to end up being a king or something?”
“What?” the paladin laughed.
“Of course,” Nyssa replied at the same moment.
“What?” Paul instantly repeated.
“Most people believe that you're destined to become king,” Alena said, offering him a mischievous smile. “Even I used to. Although, getting to know you has changed my expectations a good bit.”
“You know,” Sarrac said, gazing at her. “You really are remarkably beautiful at times.”
This caused her to glare at him.
“And, not at others,” he observed. “But, be that as it may, yes, most people believe that Paul – which is to say: the it – will eventually rule over a new kingdom of the living.”
“That's just bizarre,” Paul asserted.
“No, it's not,” Joey replied. “You're Zanoth's child of destiny, man. You have to expect things like becoming king someday. At least, you do if we survive all this. Either way, if it happens, I get to be the Grand Vizier.”
“What's a Grand Vizier?” the ogress asked.
“I'm not exactly sure,” he admitted. “But, it seems to be the guy that actually rules the kingdom while the king sits around polishing his armor, hosting feasts, or singing ballads to his lady love. I think we can all agree that we don't want Paul actually ruling a kingdom.”
“Why not?” Myra asked, offering the paladin a coy smile. “I think he'd be great at it.”
“No, no,” the wizard said, shaking his head. “All that power might go to his head. We just can't risk it.”
“What if it goes to your head?” the fairy asked, fluttering up and taking a seat on his shoulder.
“How could it?” he asked. “You're tutoring me, remember? You'd never let anything like that happen. If I ever started to get out of line, you'd put me back in my place before I could even blink.”
“You're right,” she nodded. “I would. I think Paul probably should make you The Great Visor. For one thing, it's blindingly obvious that you're a genius.”
“I agree,” he replied, glancing at her with the side of his eye. “It is.”
Shortly after this conversation, the band reached the outskirts of Umphar. Without hesitation or warning, they initiated their attack.
Although the defenders had no way of anticipating such an assault, they weren't completely taken off their guard. One of the sentries spotted the band's galloping horses as they flew across one the fields surrounding the village, heading straight for the barracks. Instantly, he raised the horn hanging around his neck to his rotting lips and sounded a blast that warned his fellows of the quickly approaching danger.
Undead began to quickly pour from the structure, as screaming citizens made their way toward their homes as quickly as they could. The commander of the garrison ordered his archers to take up a position near the building, while the zombies that made up a majority of his forces were placed as a living wall between the foe and the bow wielding skeletons.
Before this maneuver could be accomplished, however, their enemies were upon them. Countless arrows flew through the air as the Warriors of Dawn hacked down one zombie after another. Although the attackers were far more well equipped, they were also outnumbered by roughly four to one. Given this fact, Paul felt that it would be best to bring the unlives of the enemy officers to as speedy an end as possible.
With this thought in mind, he headed toward the horde of undead that stood between him and the mounted ghast leading the garrison. Myra took note of this, and ordered the zombies to fall back before him, which they immediately did. Seconds later, the paladin and the enemy captain crashed together. Even without Telseir in his hand, the monster was no match for the it. With several well-timed blows, Paul sent his foe to meet his eternal reward.
As the commander slipped from the saddle, the remaining officers came to the conclusion that the battle was over and turned to retreat. None of them got very far. Each was engulfed in fire, thoroughly electrocuted, or stuck down by dark power as they fled.
In less than three minutes, Sarrac was shoving his massive blade through the last of the zombies and the battle was over. Not a single member of the garrison had survived to tell the tale. Fortune or providence had watched over the attackers with the greatest of care. None of them were so much as scratched. Several of them did have holes in their uniforms, however, which would have likely been in their flesh if not for the quality of their armor.
“Citizens of Umphar,” Darek cried, as a number of peasants began to cautiously poke their heads out of their houses, “the gods have blessed you. As of this moment, you're free from Lord Cassius's tyranny.”
“Whose tyranny are we under, then?” a middle-aged man asked from a doorway a short distance away.
“No one's,” Paul chuckled. “You're free.”
“In what way?”
“In a way you'd never have believed was possible when you woke up this morning,” Alena replied, before pointing at the paladin. “He just happens to be Paul Stevens, the it.”
“Even if there is an it,” the man said, stepping into the street as he spoke, “and even if he's come to Zanoth, what makes you think he's him?”
“We don't think he is,” the former lich explained, “we know he is.”
“And who are you, miss?” the man asked.
“Myra Kel Marran,” the maiden answered.
“I've heard the name before,” another man said, approaching the party. “I also heard she was burned at the stake months ago.”
“Almost burned at the stake,” Darek corrected. “By the grace of the gods – and a good bit of luck – we managed to save her from that fate.”
“So you say,” the first speaker replied. “All I'm sure of is that you've murdered the garrison and that Lord Ilfan may well blame us for it.”
“You mean Lord Cassius,” Joey suggested.
“Do you think I don't know who my own liege lord is?” the man said, shaking his head. “Although, Lord Cassius is little likely to be pleased, either.”
At this, a murmur of approval went through the gathering crowd. Encouraged by this, the man continued.
“I don't know who you are,” he said, his brows furrowed. “But, you may have just gotten all of us killed. Unless, of course, we were to hand you over to our lord.”
“We can't do that, Warrick,” another of the men asserted. “Whoever they are, they don't deserve that at our hands. Besides, he might be the it, for all we know. He doesn't look the part in my mind, but how can we be sure?”
“I suppose you're right,” he almost barked, “but, then, what are we going to do? I don't think our good lord is going to let this pass without some kind of reprisal, do you?”
This observation met with another murmur of approval.
“I'm afraid we're losing the crowd,” Joey said softly to Paul. “Do something.”
“Like what?” the paladin asked.
“Rise!” Myra cried, stretching her hand out toward one of the less shattered skeletons littering the ground nearby.
Instantly, jets
of black energy flew from her fingertips. These wrapped themselves around the lifeless bones before appearing to vanish like smoke. The fleshless creature rose from the ground and stood, awaiting the commands of the mistress who had created it.
“That's one manifestation of the dark power,” she explained, before turning her gaze to Paul. “This is another.”
A dark bolt shot from the tip of her staff, striking the paladin squarely in the chest. Other than that, nothing happened.
“That's good enough for me, Warrick!” another man in the crowd shouted. “Miss Marran, your it-ness, I hope you didn't take any offense at anything he may have said. It's just that we had no idea who you were.”
“I still don't,” Warrick replied, shaking his head.
The general opinion of the gathered peasants had changed completely, however. Seeing Myra successfully animate a skeleton and then fail to kill Paul was more than enough to persuade them. In less than an hour, each and every citizen of Umphar was ready to depart. Even Warrick – after a bit more conversation with the members of the band – became convinced of the truth before they set out for the Fortress of Donmar.
At first, the party was pelted with countless questions as they passed along. As they drew nearer their destination, however, they found themselves alone at the head of the band. Joey took the opportunity to ask a question that had been on his mind for some time.
“Myra,” he said thoughtfully, “in order to wield the dark power, you have to be born with the ability, is that right?”
“As far as I know,” she nodded, “yes.”
“So, then,” he continued, “that skeleton at Parmoor was born able to use it?”
“Undoubtedly.”
“Was he a lich?”
“I don't think so,” she replied, shaking her head.
“Can you expound on that?”
“I'm saying; I don't think he was a lich,” she laughed. “He didn't strike me as powerful enough to be one. Plus, I'd have probably heard of him if he were and I have no idea who he is. He's just some skeletal spell-caster who happens to be able to use dark power. Not everyone that can do that becomes a lich, you know?”
The Shrine of Kallen (The Tales of Zanoth Book 3) Page 27