Horsemen and Dwarf at their head, Hallis led them down the long road to Paedwyn.
Roast meat and pheasant assaulted their senses. They’d spent the last few hours cleaning themselves and changing into their new uniforms of green and gold. Hallis and his band of companions commandeered a small building for themselves. They’d been told they were going to spend the night at Dill Rock. The rest of the company was quartered in the troop tents. The tents lacked heat, but everyone had a cot and blankets to themselves. More than the harshness the wild offered.
Cooks and the mess staff were busy chopping onions and carrots and peeling potatoes and turnips to throw into those big cast iron cauldrons for a healthy stew. Bread baked in the field ovens and the meats were near done cooking. Some of the poorer soldiers had never eaten so well.
Delin and Fennic got most of the attention once word of their heroics spread through. The soldiers of Averon were trained to battle, but none had ever fought a Gnaal, much less defeated one. For those two young boys to accomplish such was unheard of. They were given the best spots around the fire and were the first in line to eat. Seconds and thirds were piled onto their plates. Fresh ale and beer was brought out by the keg, for a small celebration was underway. They were the first heroes of Averon’s war.
Unsure of the newfound popularity he found himself sharing, Norgen acquired a pipe and a pouch of the best leaf in camp for a quiet smoke along the picket wall. Men were strange by Dwarf standards. He found no cause for celebration. There was no reason to drink and cheer. Battles needed to be fought and won. Friends were going to die, and others would return home a fragment of their former selves. Norgen exhaled a thick plume of bluish smoke and was struck by a thought. Perhaps these men celebrated now because of uncertainty. There were never guarantees in war, this one especially. Such was the way of life. Perhaps they celebrated merely to keep the darkness from icing their hearts. He had to admit the idea was appealing, and there was a warped sense of reasoning about it, but a Dwarf could not partake so prematurely.
“What keeps your mind locked in struggle this fine night, master Dwarf?” Hallis called from behind.
Norgen eyed him, instantly spying the mugs in his hands. He gratefully accepted one.
“Your people have a stronger spine than we believed.”
Hallis chuckled. “I’m not so sure that is always a good thing. More often than not it leads us down the wrong paths.”
“As with all peoples,” agreed the Dwarf. “I must admit that I didn’t think Averon was going to be able to weather this storm. Those two boys have given me reason to rethink.”
Hallis clapped a hand on the Dwarf’s shoulder, which came as a surprise but Norgen said nothing.
“Wait until you gaze upon the glory of Paedwyn, my friend. Oh how your eyes will open,” Hallis told him.
“Open spaces and towering buildings aren’t to my liking, but I will see this city of yours on condition.”
“Which would be?”
Norgen laughed. “That you return with me to Breilnor when this war is over. Kindness must be repaid. Once you look upon the wonders of the Dwarven kingdoms you’ll find there is nothing comparable. Jewel lined walls rich in ore and treasure. Halls of majestic grandeur. There is a warmth inside, a warmth to keep your heart content until the end of days. You need come to Breilnor.”
“When this is over I shall take you up on the offer,” Hallis replied.
Mounted to the last man, Norgen included despite much fussing and protests, Hallis and his men began the last leg of their journey to Paedwyn. Many of the recruits suffered from the lack of sleep and hard days on the hunt. They were all anxious to go. Once Storr galloped to the head of the column, Hallis gave the signal to move out. He was eager to return to Paedwyn and, more importantly, his wife. She was the one person he admired above all else and she certainly deserved more than what he was giving her. Any soldier knew how hard it was balancing military and family life. His was no exception. Hallis was deathly afraid he’d devoted too much of his life to his brothers in arms and not her. He could only hope she understood.
Sunlight broke through the clouds, sending long streams across the land and crowning the distant mountaintops in golden halos. The horses seemed more spirited during their march. Songs were sung as the trials of just a day before were pushed towards the back of their minds.
“How much further?” Fennic asked. Weeks of walking and now riding again after so long was beginning to take a toll on his rump.
Hallis tried his best to keep his laugh to himself. “Not much longer.”
“Hmmph. He’s been saying that all morning,” Norgen growled. “I’m starting to think this city is all make believe.”
Just then a large, blurred darkness came into view. Slowly, that blur found definition and that definition became precise until all could distinguish each majestic building from the next.
“Behold!” Storr called back to them. “The glory of Paedwyn!”
And they turned their heads as one to gaze upon the throne of Averon and not a man was left unaffected.
TWENTY-FOUR
There are moments in every man’s life when his heart feels like bursting and his senses strain to comprehend. This was such a moment for Fennic and Delin. Neither had been able to close their mouths since the glory of Paedwyn emerged from the haze. Tall spires of white crowned in gold and silver reached up to the heavens as if to challenge the eternal beauty. Sunlight showered the city, punctuating the color and impressiveness. Fennic used to feel his imagination was limitless, but nothing in his dreams ever came close to this.
“You can close your mouths at any time,” Hallis leaned over to them and said.
Delin almost giggled. “I can’t help it. We’ve heard stories about the rest of Averon and how beautiful the king’s city is, but seeing it now I know no story can capture the true essence of it.”
Jin and Storr shared a laugh at their naivety.
“Then you are in for a host of surprises,” Jin told them. “There is enough to amaze
you for the rest of your days inside those walls.”
“Remember why we’ve come here,” Hallis reminded. “Have many companies reported in, Storr?”
“Yours is the last to return from the west. I’ve no idea how many from the rest of the lands are here,” Storr answered. “They say more than half of the host is assembled.”
Clarions rang out across the plains and towered walls, announcing their arrival.
“Is that for us?” Fennic asked.
“Aye. Word travels fast among the army,” Storr smiled back. “Couriers passed the word days ago. By now all of Averon knows the Gnaal slayers have come to Paedwyn.”
“Don’t let it go to your head,” cautioned Norgen. “Men have a tendency to forget great deeds as quickly as they occur.”
Hallis nodded slowly. “Indeed we do, as must all races through the course of time.”
“Sad but true,” the Dwarf agreed. “It is the doom of mortality.”
“Keep your heads high,” Jin whispered down. “These people are expecting a band of heroes, not gawking country boys and grizzled old soldiers.”
Hallis couldn’t stop the smile from breaking through. “That’s enough out of you, Jin. I don’t know about you, but I’m not feeling very old today. Welcome to Paedwyn friends.”
Trumpets sang the moment the first rider entered the massive gates. Hundreds of citizens lined the way, eager to catch a glimpse at their reason for elation. Imperial guards keep the crowds back, while priests and clerics formed two ranks at the end of the main boulevard. Behind them sat the castle proper, separated from the city by a natural stream and long stone bridge. A high ranking officer with dozens of decorations on his uniform strode out to greet them.
His raven black hair danced on the wind, covering his stern face from time to time. He wore a thick moustache and kept a beard close cropped. Well developed muscles from years of hard work lay hidden beneath his armor. He was just past mi
ddle age and bore the scars of more than his share of battles. All in all, he was as formidable warrior as Averon had ever fielded.
A think smiled wrinkled his face.
“Sergeant Hallis. It has been a long time,” he said in a rustic voice.
“Longer than I can tell, High Commander,” the veteran replied with a crisp salute.
Steleon eyed the cast assembled. “I was told of your deeds, but from the queer look of your companions I think some things left out.”
“Yes sir. The story is long and interesting to say the least.”
Steleon laughed. “Then perhaps we need to hear it over a cold tankard of ale. I trust young Storr treated you well at Dill Rock?”
“As well as can be expected, sir,” Jin answered.
“Good. I’ll have my men escort you to your quarters so you can freshen up before your audience with the king. He is most anxious to meet you all.”
Fennic caught himself staring wide eyed at the highest ranking man in the Averonian army. And now he was going to meet an actual king. He wished his family were here to share this moment with him. Sadly, they didn’t even know where he was or even that he was still alive. All of the victories and hardships suddenly felt empty. Meaningless.
“How fares the siege at Gren Mot?” Hallis asked after summoning up the courage.
A foul look came over Steleon. “I know it was hard for you to leave so abruptly. If you are to place blame then use me. The good of the kingdom is at stake and I feel safer with men like you here training our recruits. You’ve seen the enemy and can compensate for the lack of experience in other instructors. Most of whom haven’t touched a sword in battle in years. I need you here.”
Hallis was no fool. He listened to the way Steleon danced around the question until avoiding it altogether. A rash of bad and painful memories came back to him. He remembered standing side by side with a Colonel Steleon then at the battle of Elst, watching helplessly while hundreds of friends were captured and put to death. Steleon had saved his life that day, but his life was never the same again. There seemed little doubt in the ancient mountain fortress. Hallis swallowed his fears and spurred his horse forward to the bridge. The heavy pounding of drums echoed through the crowded corridors of Paedwyn. Steleon mounted in one fluid motion and led the procession into the castle. Children tossed dried wild flowers into the streets, smiling and cheering the column as it passed.
Trumpets and horns played Averon’s anthem. Hallis and the others returned the smiles in kind and waved until their arms grew tired. Only Norgen remained motionless. Dwarves, he argued for the thousandth time, did not ride horses. The insult was nearly overlooked by the shock of him sitting atop the enormous beast. Compared to the relative smooth ride of the Centaur, the horse was turning his stomach on end.
“How much longer afore I can move about on my own two feet the way the gods intended?” he scowled.
Jin clapped his back lightly so as not to throw him off. “Fear not, master Dwarf. These people are as shocked to see you riding a horse as you are to be on one. We’ll be inside the castle soon enough. Try and enjoy this, for it happens but once in a life.”
“I’m glad you find my plight so amusing,” Norgen growled.
Delin and Fennic snickered from behind.
The last man rode into the heart of the castle and the crowds dispersed, though they were reluctant to do so. Folks knew there would be rare times for such excitement in the coming months. The company rode through the smaller buildings in the castle grounds until they came unto the enormous compound of the royal army. Steleon turned the company over to the ferriers and stable boys. He left a pair of guides to escort them to their guest chambers before returning to his office on the second floor of the army headquarters.
Companies of recruits sparred with wooden blades under the instructor’s watchful eyes on the main training field next to the stable. Would be archers loosed shaft after shaft into bails of hail from a hundred paces. The distant thunder of hooves announced the training of new cavalrymen. Pikemen danced with quarter staffs. Fennic found it all highly alluring, for he desperately wanted to learn how to use Phaelor before going through with his plan to enter Gren. He and Delin had spent hours learning and developing the basic movements and techniques needed to keep them alive. Far more knowledgeable from when they left Fel Darrins, they still had much to learn if they were going to survive the coming storm.
“Patience, young ones,” Hallis quietly told them after noticing their looks of longing.
“You’ll be forced to become warriors soon enough. Let things develop on their own accord.”
Fennic pretended to agree. He’d told no one yet of his intentions, not even dear old Delin. Marching in to Gren and slaying the Silver Mage was his secret for now. Death was almost a foregone conclusion, and he wasn’t willing to let his friends, new or old, share the same fate.
“I for one wouldn’t mind a go at one of those pikes,” Delin broke in. “Arrows are well and fine, but what happens when the quiver’s empty?”
“Are all the folk of your village so stubborn?” Hallis asked.
Delin laughed. “Only the ones old enough to talk.”
“Come, I’ve been looking forward to using the baths for weeks and don’t intend on being the last in line,” urged Hallis. If there was one thing he couldn’t stand it was a bath of cold and dirty water.
Together, with Norgen and Jin, they left the others under the guidance of their soon to be instructors and headed for the baths. The water was a great luxury and unlike anything either boy had ever known. Days of toil and sweat were washed away in what seemed like long hours. After only a half an hour, they dried off, dressed and headed for the mess hall. Evening was closing in on them as Norgen finally arrived.
Just then Delin spied a commotion to the east and a rising cloud of dust. A herald soon followed and summoned all able bodied men to the courtyards. A great wagon train was fast approaching the compound. Palace guards marched out to secure the main boulevard.
“What’s going on?” Delin asked.
Hallis sat quiet, painstakingly watching the train wind closer. The sheer size of it could mean but one thing. He felt his heart fall.
“Wounded, and a lot of them. From Gren Mot most likely,” Jin replied. He too was quiet and sick to the stomach. “This does not bode well.”
“I’m going down to meet them,” Hallis announced and left before they could stop him.
One by one they followed. They found Steleon standing at the front of the reception. Glancing their way, he offered a dispassionate look and said nothing. Fennic started to speak but Norgen cut him off.
“Careful lad,” he whispered. “Tis an ill omen we see. That many wounded means their commander has given up hope of defending the fortress. It won’t be much longer before they are overrun.”
“Why can’t they leave and fight again?” Delin asked, confused.
Norgen shot him a stern look. “Would you? How many will die if that army comes down from the mountains? They are buying time with their lives.”
“Indeed they are, Master Dwarf,” Steleon murmured. “And their gift is more precious than a thousand gems. We have much to prepare for, else their bravery be in vain.”
The vanguard of escort riders rode up, halting their spent horses and saluting the High Commander. Each bore expressions of defeat. Their armor was scored and stained black from blood and flame. All had some sort of wound. Their beards were wild and unkempt and their eyes seemed to stare in to forever.
“What news from Commander Fynten?” asked Steleon.
The lead rider wiped his parched lips. “Dire news, sir. The enemy has advanced to the walls and will make their move within the week. Fynten believes he has yet some time. Their casualties range in the thousands and still they attack.”
Wagons were rolling up.
“We all fought bravely, sir, but they keep coming. It’s as if their numbers are endless,” he went on.
Steleon watche
d and waited for each wagon to go by. Wounded were jammed into them, some stacked atop each other. The smell of blood and death turned the air ripe.
“How many are in this train?” Steleon asked.
“A hundred by seven and fifty.”
Seven hundred and fifty men out of over the original two thousand and some will not see the dawn, he mused. Fynten is paying a higher toll than I would ask. Norgen cast his hood over his head out of respect. War was truly come to Averon at last. Fennic and Delin stood aghast. They refused to believe what they were seeing. Averon was the most powerful kingdom in the land and a fifth of its army was in the process of being destroyed. What hope did the world have?
The rider saluted again and pressed, “Sir, my men and I request to return to Gren Mot and stand the watch.”
Steleon’s smile was sad and proud. “I admire your courage, Captain Crespith, but I cannot afford to sacrifice more of my cavalry. I need you here, son.”
Crespith hung his head, fat tears stinging his eyes. “I understand.”
The High Commander grasped Crespith’s calf. “I know your pain. I’ve known it from the moment we received word the enemy was moving. But there is much to be done if we are to save Averon. The attack will soon be upon us and I have need of every asset I can get. You’ve seen them. You know their composition and strength. What you’ve seen may well help us win and put an end to the evil in Gren forever. Will you help me here?”
Crespith stiffened with pride. He had a newfound purpose in life. The pain of abandoning his comrades would never heal, but at least he had the chance to take revenge.”
“It will be an honor, sir,” he said with authority.
“Good. Report to my office in the morning so we can begin planning. In the meantime I suggest you see to your men. No doubt they are alone and confused as well. Good night, Captain.”
Steleon saluted the man dismissed him.
“Men like him are the future of this kingdom, mayhap the world,” he went on to say.
“Would that I had ten thousand more.”
Armies of the Silver Mage Page 14