Reborn: Book 2 (Chronicles of Ghost Company)

by Shawn Muller

  “Thanks for the info. Guess I need to make my way over to the king to let him know I’m still around,” I said as I left the fire and made my way through the camp towards King Marcus.

  Mia joined me, walking back from her cadre of mages as I left our area and entered the vast maze of tents which belonged to the various units of the king and his men.

  “Some of the mages have come up with a plan to negate the dragons, but we are still working on the finer details of the spells,” she told me as we walked on.

  “Really? I must admit that they are the biggest worry for me.”

  “I think that they are a concern for everybody as well. They have the potential to swing the entire battle away from us.”

  “Well, whatever little bit of help we can get will definitely help out.”

  “I need to speak with the centaurs while you talk to the king. They may be able to help out.”

  “How so?” I asked.

  “They have some interesting thoughts about magic. We want to see if we can collaborate with them for these spells,” explained Mia.

  “Good idea. Glad I thought of it,” I said with a sly smile.

  “Your idea?” Mia exclaimed until she saw my smile.

  I took her hand in mine as we walked in comfortable silence the rest of the way. The walk to King Marcus tent took a rather long time. The size of the assembled army was impressive, and hopefully enough to stop the cyclops from breaking through.

  Approaching the command tent, I had to push through a tight cordon of heavily armed guards who formed a perimeter around the tents. Thank goodness we were recognised and let through without me having to cause a scene.

  The two guards were standing in front of the tent flaps, lowered their spears across the entrance, more to allow them to announce me first than to prevent us from entering. Throwing me a crisp salute as permission was granted to enter, they both smiled as I returned the salute with a grin. I ducked to enter the well-lit interior, leading Mia by the hand as I straightened and looked over at the assembled leaders.

  King Marcus was pointing at a map which was hanging on the back wall of the tent while Commander Jeroch stood on the opposite side of the map arguing with him. King Diamond stood with his arms crossed in front of them both emphatically shaking his head while Queen Canderson sat coolly on a stool by King Marcus side. Duke Berken paced up and down, ready to pull his hair out of his skull. Elven Leader Panyk and Flipher stood together near me, conferring in hushed tones while a hulking mass stood just behind them smelling faintly of horse.

  “Greetings Commander Bob, I am so glad you have arrived, and at a most critical juncture as well,” the elven leader greeted me.

  “Magi Mia, it is always a pleasure to see you, looking as radiant as ever,” he greeted Mia with a bow and a kiss to the hand.

  “It’s a pleasure to see you again King Panyk, Flipher,” I greeted in return, shaking their hands.

  “Mine too, always a pleasure,” Mia’s greeting followed mine.

  “Please, Panyk. I wish to introduce to you Swift Running Sands, supreme leader of the Centaur Hordes,” King Panyk said, introducing the hulking, horse smelling figure behind him.

  I did not know what to expect, maybe something out of Greek mythology or Narnia, but what stood before me was something entirely different.

  The body of a horse and the torso of a human was easy to read about or see in a movie, but to physically see the beast before you, wow. The horse body of Swift Running Sands was a midnight black, crisscrossed with scars. Looking like a cross between a destrier and an Arabian horse, it easily stood at 18 and a half hand high.

  Muscles stood bunched along its flanks, promising explosive power which could be sustained for long periods at a time. The human looking torso blended into the horse’s shoulders seamlessly, with the horse hide and hair reaching to the naval where the human hair took over and covered an impressively large chest.

  Dark skinned, from years under a harsh desert sky, rippled over hard muscles. Massive arms were crossed across the muscular chest, with bands of copper around the wrists. Long, intricate tattoos covered the arms, running up into the neck, covering the bald head.

  Thick neck muscles clenched and released looking alive as the tattoo writhed from the muscles underneath. The head was very human looking, almost red Indian like. Dark eyes under thick, black eyebrows, hawk-like nose, thin face with small ears standing out slightly due to the bald head. Swift Running Sands only looked in my direction, his eyes boring into mine as he took my measure. I looked up at him, studying him in return before sticking my hand out to greet him.

  “Howsit,” I greeted in old Earth slang.

  “None of your business how ‘it’ is,” Swift Running Sands spoke with gravity.

  “Pleased to meet you. I trust we will be fighting well together.”

  “That remains to be seen. So far, all I see is bickering like small spoilt children. They deserve to be pulled over a log and whipped like children too to end this nonsense,” Swift Running Sands spoke in disgust.

  “I take it the final planning is not going well?” I asked King Panyk and Flipher.

  Swift Running Sands snorted in reply, a particular horse-like snort with a flick of his well-braided tail.

  “Vultures do not bicker this much or this long over a rotting carcass in the desert,” Swift Running Sands answered instead.

  King Panyk and Flipher both looked embarrassed as Swift Running Sands answer, but the truth of the matter was clearly seen by the heated arguing which was coming from the section of the tent where the map hung.

  “I see. What are they arguing about?”

  “Who will assemble where? Who will lead the attack? Who will claim victory and the spoils thereof,” answered the centaur.

  “And your thoughts? Why don’t you intervene?” I asked the three of them.

  “We are contributing the least amount of troops. Therefore, our voice is smaller among them,” King Panyk answered this time.

  “Not for long. King Rodic will be here soon, just in time for the battle tomorrow. He will end this fighting,” Flipher said confidently.

  “Have the ogres been here to add their comments?” I asked

  “Yes, Jiw was here, but like us, his voice was drowned out by the majority.”

  “I am still here Sir Bob,” a familiar voice said from the shadows within the tent.

  “Thought so Veggie. What’s your take? Whose idea is winning?”

  “So far King Marcus is. He wishes to array his heavy troops in the centre, with the dwarves flanking his to the right and the orcs to the left. Duke Berken wants his heavy horses to lead a charge straight down the middle with the orcs following and the rest acting as a reserve. Queen Canderson wants her berserkers to lead the charge. The dwarves want to fight from the mountains, attacking the flanks and rear from the hidden tunnels they have prepared.”

  “And your ideas Flipher, King Panyk?”

  “The trolls I command are without a doubt the strongest of all the forces here, however, we number too few to make an impact. The five hundred Mountain Trolls I would assemble behind the orcs and use them as shock troops, with the two battalions of Hill Trolls as a medium infantry reserve. Panyk would prefer to use his Rangers as a harassing force and as the main archer force.”

  “How many men do you lead here Swift Running Sands? How would you use them?”

  “I have handpicked exactly one hundred of the finest centaur knights, supplemented with the twenty most powerful shaman and demon hunters who drift with our borders. I will lead them as I see fit, not how you humans want,” was his terse answer.

  I stood there thinking about this dilemma, a faraway look in my eyes.

  “Flipher, what is the composition of King Rodic’s forces?” I asked still looking up at the roof of the tent.

  “Unknown at this stage may be a few companies of King Trolls, another battalion or two of Mountain Trolls.”

  “Mia, get hold of Thackeray, ask
him to send Max, Fremod, Granular and Ward over. Tell him to come as well. Panyk, is there another map I could look at?” I asked.

  King Panyk gestured me over to a smaller map which lay on a table nearer the tent’s entrance.

  I leant on my hands as I looked at the map, trying to picture the forces we had compared to the cyclops we would face. King Panyk, Flipher, and Veggie, who shivered into view, joined me at the table while Swift Running Sands tried to look as if he was not interested, but he glanced over our shoulders to look at what I was looking at. Mia rejoined me after speaking to Thackeray via their magical means.

  “What are your thoughts?” The ever quiet Veggie asked me, surprising me yet again.

  “My thoughts, well for one, King Marcus and his commanders don’t understand what they are up against. Secondly, we need to neutralise those dragons before we can even engage with our forces otherwise we will be routed before the cyclops even begin marching.”

  “Swift Running Sands, may I meet with your demon hunters and shaman? My fellow wizards, witches, and sorcerers have an idea, and we need your assistance,” Mia interjected at that point.

  “What help do you need human?” He asked, almost with a sneer.

  “We may have a way to negate the dragons. But we need help with the casting of the spells. I wish to ask the shaman and demon hunters if they would be willing to assist us,” Mia explained.

  “Alright. I see no harm. Perhaps some humans can actually think amongst this lot. Ask for the shaman named Prancing Bear Spear. She shall assist your request,” Swift Running Sands instructed Mia, who bowed her thanks.

  “What are we facing then Bob?” This from Flipher.

  “We all know the cyclops are as large as king and mountain trolls. What we didn’t know was the size of the invading forces. We are facing a cyclops army number over twenty thousand, augmented with two brigades of human soldiers from Princess Wendyaline and King Dwayne’s armies. Together with the packs of werewolves which number roughly two hundred, the faery and undead sorcerers they also have three battalions of those damn skeletons left. That does not include the dragons which would descend on us like an eagle on a scared rabbit,” that final outburst caused King Marcus and the leaders around him to turn and look in my direction.

  “Well, Commander Bob, I am so glad to see that you have recovered enough to interrupt us,” King Marcus said tartly.

  “Sir yes Sir!” I shouted as I snapped to attention.

  “Good to see that Bob, your presence has been sorely missed the past few days,” I kept quiet at that, prompting the king to continue speaking to me as he approached me, his face impassive yet his voice was cold as ice.

  “You were ever the level-headed commander who was not afraid to express your opinion. Now express it seeing as you dared interrupt me whilst I plan for the very survival of my kingdom!” King Marcus shouted causing most of those gathered in the tent to flinch.

  I had my share of Drill Sergeants shouting me down during my basic training, and this was nothing compared to Corporal De Villiers. I don’t think anybody could be as bad as he was. He could break anybody down and make them cry. By shouting and threatening or by simply looking at you with disgust and shaking his head, you knew you messed up, and your ass was gonna be his. I turned my head to face King Marcus and looked him directly in his eyes.

  “Sir. With all due respect sir, all the plans put forward by yourself and your commanders borders on lunacy. Sir,” I ended with an emphatic emphasis on the word ‘Sir’.

  “Lunacy? Lunacy! My plans are bordering on lunacy! Am I a lunatic Bob? Am I going mad?” King Marcus exclaimed as he waved his hands around above his head.

  “If you are considering taking the cyclops on head to head with your men, then yes you are mad, and you will die,” I told him plainly enough.

  Taken aback by my words, King Marcus looked stunned. His commanders stood agape at my words.

  “Well said Bob,” Swift Running Sands spoke up, slowly clapping his hands. “I could not have said it more plainly myself if they had bothered to listen to me which they didn’t.”

  “Oh, Bob. What am I to do? I feel so confused!” The now distraught king said as he visibly began to breakdown.

  A stool was pushed under him as he began to sag, the stress of the war now visible on his features. He had the look of a desperate man, willing to through caution to the wind to try and save his people.

  “May I make a suggestion Marcus?” I asked as I knelt down in front of him.

  King Marcus simply nodded his head while he looked down at the tent floor, holding his right hand over his eyes.

  “Use your allies to fight the cyclops. Humans just aren’t big enough or strong enough to take them on. Use the trolls and orcs to lead the assault. Let humans fight humans. Use your horses to ride the werewolves down, with the centaurs acting as a heavy horse or heavy infantry unit. Let the elves cover your flanks and back with their bow, the magi against theirs. Match them strength for strength. Build earthen walls to fight from, litter the field with traps. Build catapults and ballista and other siege equipment to swing the odds in your favour. Most of all, lead your men, us, with a clear vision and the strength to know that you will die for us and that we will die for you. We need you to be strong, to show us that there is nothing to fear but fear itself. We need you Marcus, to be our beacon of hope. Don’t fail us,” the silence was thick enough to cut after my impassionate speech.

  Nobody stirred for fear of breaking the spell. Slowly nodding, King Marcus lifted his head and looked me in my eyes before standing slowly. He held out his hand for me to take, which I did, and he pulled me to my feet. He embraced me, patting my back in silent thanks.

  “I truly fear the day you decide to start a rebellion. I shall have to capitulate immediately for you are most convincing. If not for your steady words of encouragement, all would have been lost long ago,” King Marcus said to my embarrassment. “I felt myself begin to slip into a dark abyss just now, yet your words seemed to drag me back from the edge. You have led by example, one which we all should follow. Take note all gathered here, should Commander Bob of the Ghosts request land and a title of any kind, I will grant it without any hesitation. Furthermore, I bestow the title of Defend of the Realm upon him and his men. Let it be known far and wide that the Ghosts protect us. So should the cyclops fear us now! Not even their mighty dragons can slay the Ghosts!” A small cheer from those gathered within the tent followed by back slaps to myself confirmed that the king’s decree was well received.

  “So human seems that there is one worthy enough to listen too,” Swift Running Sands spoke out aloud which brought everybody’s attention around once again.

  “What are your plans then mighty leader of the Ghosts, to defend these lands?” He asked almost mockingly.

  “As I said, we have to use each race’s strengths to overcome the cyclops threat. We also need to rid the skies of the dragons. With them over us, we are all dead. Everything else will boil down to skill of the armies, and there I feel we will have the advantage.”

  “Is that why your pretty little mage wants to talk to my shaman and demon hunter?” asked Swift Running Sands.

  I shrugged my shoulders in response. A scratch at the tent flaps and in ducked my men whom I had sent for. Seeing the gathered commanders, my men all stood at attention and saluted nice and crisp.

  “Relax boys. We were just about to discuss the composition of the forces to face the cyclops when they decide to show themselves,” I told them with a grin.

  “Oh great here comes trouble,” Max said under his breath.

  A commotion outside the tent, followed by loud voices and a meat thud drifted through the tent flaps. A huge, hairy hand pushed the flaps to one side as an equally large and hairy head poked through the opening.

  “Don’t just stand there dammit. Pour me some wine!” King Rodic the troll king shouted.

  “Father, that chaos you have just caused does not surprise me at all,” Fremod sa
id rolling his eyes.

  “Well, they should know better than to bar me from entering a tent,” King Rodic said as he entered the tent and looked up to his once shorter son.

  “Hmphf, see you been eating all your vegetables at least,” King Rodic chirped to Fremod, who blushed.

  “So, where is my wine then Marcus? Or are you too high and mighty now that you are king, to serve me?”

  “Never King Rodic, your presence here has stunned me. I had not expected you to lead your trolls in person and indeed, did not expect them so soon. Please, join us around the map. I have a casket of ale right here with your name on it,” King Marcus invited the troll king in.

  “Dude, did you tell the king to grow a pair?” Max whispered to me while all the commanders were gathered around the ale casket.

  “Yes, yes I did,” I replied with a thoughtful look.

  “You have some big ones that’s for sure.”