Saxthor felt peaceful and secure, standing with the breeze in his face, free of the festering swamp. No matter how the mission turned out, no one could take away the journey’s extraordinary experiences or the friendships formed. The sound of footsteps on the stone stairs behind him broke his thoughts.
“When’re we leaving, Saxthor?” Tournak asked. He stood beside Saxthor on the battlements staring out across the moon-sparkled Akkin River with its icy lace fringes.
“Looks like Bodrin will be well enough to travel in about a week. We’ll leave as soon as we can without endangering him. I hate for him to move so soon but it’s a race against time, isn’t it?”
“Yes, and now we’re hunted.”
Saxthor looked to Tournak. “We have to find the jewels and get back to Memlatec before these infiltrations turn to open war, and with each day, Dreaddrac’s minions gain on us. Some of these enemy penetrations into the kingdoms make it appear the war is already underway.”
“Hendrel and Astorax are getting fidgety, too,” Tournak said. “It’ll be good to get moving again. By the time we secure the Prertstenian jewel, the Dark Lord will know what we’re up to. He’ll be frantic to catch us before we get back home and the journey back to Konnotan will take a long time.”
“Yes, but Bodrin must be well enough to withstand the journey’s strain. If they discover us, we’ll have to move fast to escape. We all need this rest; it’s the first we’ve had since Hador.”
“What’re you two up to out here on the battlements?” Hendrel asked, walking up from the stairs.
“We’re discussing when we’re leaving,” Tournak said.
“Soon, I hope.” Hendrel rubbed his hands together in the chilly air. “The sooner we get going, the sooner we get to go home.”
“I think he’s enjoying the adventure,” Tournak said. “His shop will seem dull now. Are you in such a rush to get home?”
Grinning, Hendrel made a punching gesture at Tournak’s shoulder.
They started back down the tower stairs savoring the camaraderie they seldom had time to appreciate. Astorax and Twit met them on the stairs. Twit now seemed to enjoy bobbing along perched in Astorax’s antlers.
“Did we miss a conference?” Astorax asked. “Not to spoil the fun, but I hope we’re leaving soon. These Feldrik people are worrying me. They can’t seem to get used to the fact I’m the legendary Astorax. Some of these men have heard tales of me from their relatives back home. They can’t decide whether to shake my hand or shoot me for a trophy.”
All four men laughed and returned to their quarters.
Later that day, Saxthor met with Feldrik’s commanding general in his office, his thick graying mustache and bushy eyebrows reinforced the general’s stern expression. He looked up from behind his desk hearing Saxthor approach. His paperwork framed the general and set off his dark green uniform with its gold braid and metals.
“General, we need to leave as soon as Bodrin is well enough. That should be in about a week. Is that permissible?”
“I sent word to both the duke and King Grekenbach when you arrived. By the time you’re ready to leave, we should know if your story is valid or not. Meanwhile you’ll continue to be our guests here at Feldrik.”
When Bodrin was mostly healed and able to walk with only a slight limp, Saxthor became anxious to resume the mission. He’d seen the Dark Lord’s activities had increased since they began the quest. It wouldn’t be long before Dreaddrac’s armies would march. I’m running out of time, he thought.
Bodrin was well enough to travel when the general sent for Saxthor. This time, when Saxthor reached the general’s office, the commander was standing in front of his desk, almost at attention, focused on his visitor.
“Prince Saxthor,” the general said, bowing deeply. “Forgive my not recognizing your position sooner. I had to verify what you said. King Grekenbach has sent word that you're indeed a prince of Neuyokkasin. We're to provide any and all the assistance you request within our means. Apparently you made quite an impression on his majesty.”
“Thank you, General. You’ve been most kind, and our stay with you has been most refreshing. However, we need to leave as soon as possible.”
“I understand, Your Highness. You’ve but to tell my aide what you need and we’ll put our resources at your disposal.”
“If we’re able to outfit our boat, we’ll leave tonight,” Saxthor said. “Though the Dark Lord’s creatures are more active at night, we have a better chance of crossing the river in the new moon’s shadowy light.”
“Let me warn you, Prince Saxthor. Our spies observe the orcs preparing for something across the river. Ogres, orcs, and trolls are gathering along the river.”
Saxthor studied the general. “You think Dreaddrac’s forces are about to invade Heggolstockin?”
“Yes. We’ve already requested additional troops, but we won’t be able to withstand a major invasion. I think that’s what’s coming. The Dark Lord will either cross the river here and lay siege to this fortress, or swarm through Prertsten and cross further down the Akkin. From what I see now, I think he’ll cross further downriver where the duke has no fortress or garrison to prevent their landing. If that’s the case, you might run directly into their invasion forces. You must move fast and get out of Prertsten before the chaos engulfs you.”
“We’re leaving tonight, General,” Saxthor said. “That’s as soon as we can cross the Akkin unseen.”
He had told the general they were going into Prertsten. He hadn’t revealed their mission or timeframe. Should the enemy capture Feldrik, I wouldn’t want the general to divulge our plan or purpose, he thought.
“We appreciate all you’ve done for us,” Saxthor said, with a firm handshake. “I’ll go with your aide to see what provisions we can use for the next leg of our journey. Again, I thank you for your hospitality.”
Saxthor worked with the others to replenish their supplies. They packed their stores carefully, as the food and gear would have to last the trip through Prertsten. The men loaded their stocked boat on a cart and moved overland down river to hide the packed vessel in the weeds. “We’ll leave as soon as it’s dark.”
When they finished hiding the boat and returned to the cart, they heard a terrible commotion from the fortress.
“Tonelia, stay with the boat,” Tournak said.
The men then rushed back to Feldrik. When they reached the crest of the hill below the fortress, they saw what must have been fifty boats on the shore with at least two thousand orcs and ogres pouring out on the bank almost unopposed.
“Drop down!” Saxthor said. The men lay on their stomachs in the grassy hillside surveying the situation.
“Look there, a fire coming from the outer bailey,” Tournak said. He pointed to the flames shooting up from the area between the outer and inner walled compounds.
“The attackers have caught the castilyernov off guard,” Hendrel said.
“Yes, and they must’ve had inside help,” Tournak said. “The gatehouse is burning already. The orcs are battling the defenders in the inner ward. Feldrik won’t be able to hold out long if it’s lost the outer defenses already.”
“Dreaddrac’s army wasn’t expected to attack for at least a month,” Saxthor said. “Their surprise was complete. The fortress will certainly fall and our pitiful number can’t make a difference. Still, we have to try to help, if we can.” He looked at the others who nodded agreement.
The men snuck back to Feldrik. Their soldier-driver knew of a hidden back entrance to the castilyernov that they could use to get inside and help the defenders. When the soldier dropped off the men, Saxthor ordered him to take the horse and ride to the nearest garrison for help.
“The duke and King Grekenbach need to know the Dark Lord will soon control the Akkin River and can cross at his leisure. Tell the duke, unless he can muster an army and come at once, the orcs will control all of northwestern Heggolstockin within weeks. Ride as fast as you can.”
Turning
to Tournak and Hendrel, Saxthor continued, “We have to rescue Bodrin in any case. We’ll do what we can to help the defenders, but if the castilyernov is lost, we must escape and continue our mission.”
Leading the way, Saxthor took his companions in through Feldrik’s subterranean entrance. They found their way through the chaos to the general who was issuing orders from his vantage point high in the keep. When the general turned and saw the men, his fatigued face and slumped stance shocked them.
“I’ve failed to see the extent of the orcs’ preparations and to prepare for what I knew was coming,” the general said, “Feldrik can hold out for a week at most, and that’s only if there isn’t more sabotage within the inner bailey or keep.”
“Yes, we saw the gatehouse in flames and knew only sabotage from within could’ve facilitated that loss at the outset of the attack,” Tournak said.
“The defenses would’ve held had not someone opened the gate in the heavily fortified tower. Whoever did that also locked the gates preventing the garrison from moving around the walls. The orcs controlled the outer bailey before my troops could man the defensive positions in any meaningful numbers.”
After Saxthor found Bodrin, the general sent Saxthor and his companions to the inner bailey’s gatehouse to shore up defenses there. They joined the other defenders and soon stopped the orcs’ advance at the gate. When the general came to assess the situation first-hand, he determined the defensive positions could hold the gate for reinforcements.
“Bodrin, even though you’ve only just recovered, you are the best soldier of Saxthor’s band,” the general said. “You account for your band militarily.”
“I understand, Sir,” Bodrin said.
“Prince Saxthor, you just returned from the outside. Can you and your men sneak back out the secret entrance and get around through the reeds to the enemy boats?”
“We should be able to do that. It’s dusk, it’ll be hard to detect us in the dark and chaos out there.”
“Take oil from the kitchens, and see if you can set the orc boats on fire at the river’s headwaters,” the general ordered. “With the evening wind off the swamp and river, that should spread the fire downwind and burn many of their boats. If you can burn enough boats, it’ll prevent more reinforcements crossing and panic the orcs here. We may be able to counterattack then and drive the orcs back into the river. If so, we can secure Feldrik again and stop or delay any further incursions into Heggolstockin until the duke sends reinforcements.”
“Understood,” Bodrin said.
“Not much pressure there,” Hendrel said.
“When you fire their boats, make your way south to your own boat and cross the river in the confusion,” the general said. “They’ll be looking for you, so you’ll have to move fast. Thank you for your help. I wish you good fortune in your mission, lord prince.”
The general stood at attention and saluted Prince Saxthor, then turned and disappeared into the battle for the bailey’s gate.
Bodrin motioned for his companions to follow, and they made their way to the kitchens. Most of the cooks were at the walls to defend the fortress. Tournak found the oil stores and each man took a small, wooden barrel of it. They raced from the kitchens down the corridors of the inner walls to Feldrik’s secret portal.
In dusk’s low light, the adventurers crept down the hillside and into the vegetation at the edge of the swamp. The evening breeze was coming from the northeast that night. The men slipped along the edge of the swamp avoiding the black ooze and voracious worms.
The orcs left to guard the boats were watching the battle, trying to make out how their units were faring in the fray. Squinting in the distant light from the burning tower, the orcs’ eyes were on Feldrik. They failed to notice the figures slipping among the boats, slopping oil on the hulls. When Bodrin and his cohorts had spread all the oil, they moved south of the boats downriver.
“Tournak, wrap this cloth around one of your arrows and soak it with the remaining oil,” Bodrin said.
Bodrin lit the arrow and Tournak shot it at the most northeasterly of the boats, repeating the action several times. Still, the guard orcs didn’t see the arrows flying behind them as they stood further up on the knoll watching the battle in the distance.
Tournak’s arrows flew as flames spread, engulfing the first craft. The second arrow fired a boat further to the west. Soon half a dozen boats among the fleet were ablaze.
An orc on the knoll noticed the light from the flames and raised the alarm. It was too late. The boats blazed up rapidly, following the oil trail and fanned by the wind. In the intense heat of the burning boats, sparks rose high in the breeze, then settled nearby firing more vessels. Soon, most of the fleet was ablaze before the orcs could do anything to stop the fire’s spread.
By then Saxthor, Bodrin, and their companions were well on their way back to their own craft further downriver. They hurried along the reeds unnoticed, as the orcs focus was on saving burning boats. When Saxthor looked back, the enemy was abandoning the attack on Feldrik and streaming back down the hillside to save their doomed vessels. The last thing Saxthor saw, as they pushed off the riverbank, was Feldrik’s defenders counter attacking the orcs down the hillside from the castilyernov.
Saxthor’s boat crossed the Akkin River, while Feldrik’s garrison battled the orcs, pushing them back into their burning fleet. The battle raged absorbing the orcs’ attention.
The light from the burning fleet up river danced on the water like camouflage. Saxthor’s small boat crossed undetected. The adventurers landed on Prertsten’s bank, sank their boat to avoid detection, and hurried up the riverbank to disappear into Prertsten’s forest in the night.
“We made it,” Bodrin said.
“We need to be well away from the river and the battle area before daylight,” Saxthor said. “The orcs crossed from Prertsten. There’ll be more orcs with the supply baggage on the Prertstenian shore. We’re in hostile territory now, in any case. Let’s get going; we’ll travel all night and get well away from here before morning exposes us.”
They camped among rocks in a small oak grove and slept the next morning from exhaustion. Astorax kept watch for them, so that when they awoke in the afternoon, refreshed and hungry, they were exuberant at their success in relieving Feldrik Fortress.
“What happened at the castilyernov?” Tonelia asked.
Since the experience in Graushdemheimer, Bodrin, the brave warrior, wouldn’t boast. Hendrel and Astorax took turns telling the hair-raising story to Tonelia, who periodically bit her lip. Bodrin blushed when she repeated some incident or other and looked at him, her eyes, glistening.
“You’re quite the hero of the hour,” Tonelia said. The looks of admiration and her devotion were evident to all around their circle. They’d look at her, then him, and grin to each other.
The progression of their relationship has been rewarding to watch, Saxthor thought. I hope I, too, will find such a mutually loving relationship one day. My position in the court limits my prospective bride choices and makes their motives more suspect. Rank had its privileges, but rewards came at heavy price.
* * *
Earwig finally recovered from the bat bite and her internal fight with rabies. In the final analysis, Earwig was more poisonous; the rabies lost out. The witch discovered she had a positive passion for those luscious red mushroom spores boiled as a tea. She had to use ceramic mugs, anything else tended to disintegrate before she could drink the brew. She loved it though, and kept a steady supply of dragon manure going into the cellar to feed her mushrooms.
“Dragon manure adds a distinctive twang to the mushrooms you just can’t get from horse manure,” Earwig said to her new pet badger.
The creature had fallen into the cellar digging out a rat. Earwig had come to collect mushrooms and found the feisty creature backed into a moldy corner. It confronted her, and she beat it into unconsciousness. After starving it for a week, the badger submitted and she dragged it around on a harness t
hereafter.
“I’m quite a discerning mushroom tea taster,” Earwig continued. “In fact, I’m the only living one.” She chuckled. The chuckle rippled out through her now bloated body, creating a tsunami in her tea mug that sent a splash over the edge onto her clothing.
“Oops!” she said. She jumped up and ripped off the rapidly dissolving fabric as chemical smoke rose from the spot. The badger struggled backward straining the leash.
“I must save some of this batch for the thing in the cellar cauldron. It wiggles around day and night in the sludge of boiled mushrooms, hooves, and bile.”
Earwig waddled over to the fireplace and pulled back the black kettle. She poured steaming water into a broken pot, splashing a nasty film off the surface. The rancid water from a moldy bucket went in, as did a mushroom with manure still clinging to the stem. She pushed the pot back near the fire to steep.
“Now with my vigor renewed, thanks to the monster maggot’s broth, I’ll resume my quest to destroy the house of Calimon by whatever means possible. Rabid bats, caustic mushrooms, stupid trolls, wasting potions, toxic rose thorns, and the like are simply not working as expected. That much I’ve figured out. There just has to be something I haven’t thought of to destroy those in-laws.”
Earwig turned and waddled back to her chair, dragging the badger. The sound of the creature’s claws scraping on the floor in useless resistance let her know it was still with her. She jerked the cord.
“Magnosious could reduce the royal couple to ash in a flash, if I could get him close enough, but Memlatec protects the queen. The Dark Lord no longer sends me gifts to encourage my undermining the royal family. Apparently, he’s given up thinking me capable of causing any real damage to anyone other than myself.”
She looked down and kicked the last dissolving, smoking threads of fabric out the window, where it shriveled its path down the autumn-red poison ivy clinging to the wall.
The Crown Of Yensupov (Book 3) Page 7