The Crown Of Yensupov (Book 3)

by C. Craig Coleman

The Sengenwhan chatra sat alone in his private study, contemplating the new development. As a child, Dreaddrac’s agents placed the future chatra in the house of an impoverished but prominent noble. Reared as the most solid of Sengenwha’s citizens, his loyalty to the king and state were beyond question. As the kingdom’s highest-ranking citizen after the monarch, the chatra was responsible for the kingdom’s day-to-day administration. Chief of those responsibilities was to steer the king’s policies as head of his council of advisers. It took years to maneuver the Dark Lord’s creature into the position of chatra, and years more of his subtle stoking to foster the king’s embryonic need for revenge. All the while, he disabled the king’s fear of Dreaddrac. His years of work bore fruit in the alliance. Now one stroke had swept it aside.

  What abysmal luck, the chatra thought. He slammed his fist on the desk, then rose pacing. At this most critical juncture, the king reverses his policy and closes the borders to Dreaddrac’s army, cutting off the orcs in southern Sengenwha. With Dreaddrac’s forces divided, Neuyokkasin or Calamidese could challenge those forces before they can attain full strength. Dreaddrac’s residual army will have to fight their way south from Prertsten, giving critical time for the Southern forces to unite.

  After time for the king to reconsider his actions, the chatra requested an audience to discuss the Dreaddrac treaty.

  *

  Calamidese was shocked. He went at once to the dowager. “The chatra wishes to discuss Dreaddrac. He will most certainly want to repair severed relations.”

  The dowager’s eyes narrowed and focused. “The first person of high office to approach you about the wisdom of your change of heart will be the Dark Lord’s traitor-servant.”

  The king didn’t have long to wait. When the chatra appeared at the audience, he looked fatigued and bowed excessively.

  “Your Majesty’s decision to close the borders now will only bring Dreaddrac’s wrath,” the chatra said. “Enraged orcs now within Sengenwha will march on the capital. Your Majesty must open the borders again to Dreaddrac, and Prertsten, and honor your treaty.”

  King Calamidese VII, Lord of Upper and Lower Sengenwha, Keeper of the Serenity of the State, and Lord of the Eastern Tixosian Sea would not be intimidated by the chatra’s pleas to recant his border closing and cancellation of Dreaddrac’s treaty. Rigid on his throne, Calamidese watched the chatra fidget, while pleading for a reunion with Dreaddrac, as though his life depended on it. His beginning assurances claimed benefits for Sengenwha, but Calamidese sat cold and unmoved. The appeals became more desperate, the tone more threatening. Walking back and forth before the throne, the man thrust his hands at the king with each point, supporting his argument. The tone grew more desperate.

  “Your Majesty’s actions will bring Dreaddrac’s rage down on the people of Sengenwha. If Dreaddrac’s forces now in the kingdom feel cut off and threatened, they may storm Sengenwhapolis.”

  The more the chatra pleaded, the more it disgusted Calamidese. This man I trusted so long to build and protect my people has sold them all out from the beginning, he thought.

  The chatra pleaded his case to exhaustion, but the king watched the proceedings through realistic eyes. “You are dismissed from this court forever more. We shall not look upon your face in Sengenwhapolis again.”

  Calamidese soon made out his will. He instructed his mother as to his wishes for the state and policies should anything happen to him. Before returning to Sekcmet Palace, he looked to her again.

  “Now that I’ve turned my back on the evil that’s surrounded me for so long, I know the wraith, or some other creature sympathetic to the Dark Lord, will attempt to assassinate me, as an obstacle. I’m determined that Sengenwha will not submit to Dreaddrac without a fight.”

  * * *

  Saxthor struggled to get up with the dawn. His restless night had been unusual for him. Considering the prior few days’ strain, he should’ve slept longer. Tonelia had prepared hot food, and brought some to him, noting that he still looked exhausted and upset. The friends ate and congratulated each other that they had selected a place out of the orcs’ sight for the night.

  As usual, Saxthor was the one to prod the group to pack and to get on their way. All knew they were barely ahead of the Dark Lord’s minions, but it seemed important to take a few moments to play and joke with each other before starting the day’s long hike.

  “Let’s go,” Saxthor said. “It’s urgent we get to Sengenwhapolis as soon as possible. I sense trouble brewing there, with all the orcs we’ve seen.”

  As they were loading their packs for travel, Saxthor said, “We must travel in even more secrecy. We’ll travel closer to the Sengenwhan farms that the orcs must avoid.”

  The others looked at Saxthor, nodded, then started the day’s journey.

  “Twit, you’ll need to scout ahead now that Astorax is gone.”

  The old bird flew up along the saplings and on boulders atop the ravine. Saxthor took the lead and the group followed. They walked the gully’s upper ledge. Late in the day, they saw the blue haze of mountains dividing upper from lower Sengenwha.

  “Sengenwhapolis, the capital, is just on the other side of those mountains,” Saxthor said, studying the map he carried. “The mountains won’t be a problem to cross.”

  The band traveled for a week without orcs attacking by avoiding larger forested areas, where orcs might be lurking in the daylight. One night they camped in a small grouping of boulders and scrub brush within sight of a farmhouse. Fearing they might attract the farmer’s attention, Tonelia again prepared their food without benefit of fire.

  *

  “Do you think an apple for each of us wouldn’t deprive the farmer of his livelihood?” Bodrin asked Saxthor. He was looking at a nearby orchard.

  “I know everyone would like some fresh fruit after eating dried food for so long,” Saxthor said. “Perhaps we could persuade Tournak to give you a few coins to leave near the farmer’s cottage.”

  “We only have Neuyokkasinian and Prertstenian money with us,” Bodrin said. “To leave either would alarm the farmer and start a vigilante search for us. Better to take the apples and leave some item of value in return. Don’t tell Tournak.” Saxthor nodded. Bodrin got a small pouch of salt from Tonelia, as she was packing their supplies, and he went off to get apples.

  Bodrin snuck close to the house and dropped off the salt, where the farmer would find it in the morning. He crept to the trees and commandeered four apples from the ground. Looking up, he spotted the outline of an orc, with the same idea. Alarmed, Bodrin started creeping back to camp to warn the others. He was watching the orc and checking the horizon for others nearby, when someone stuck a staff in the back of his neck and pushed him to the ground.

  “What you think you’re doing with those apples?” the farmer asked.

  “Well, Sir, I thought you might not mind my having just these four apples that have already fallen to the ground and won’t be saleable at the market.” Bodrin tried to turn over and face his adversary. “I left you a bag of salt over on the block, where you chop your firewood as compensation.”

  “How you expect me to make a living if all you thieves steal my fruit at night?” Again, the farmer’s staff pushed Bodrin to the ground.

  Bodrin realized he was helping himself to the man’s fruit without permission, and offered no resistance. “I’ll be glad to pay you for the apples, if the salt isn’t enough, Sir. I took only the four apples. Those orcs are the real thieves.” He freed his arm to point to the horizon.

  The farmer looked, where Bodrin pointed and saw the orcs, stealing all the fruit they could carry. Disgusted, he released Bodrin, then spat.

  “It’s them orcs that’re stealing my livelihood.” The farmer’s voice was deep, his face gruff. “The king’s agents say we’re not to fight with them orcs, but they don’t say who's going to pay for our stolen goods either.”

  “If you like, I’ll help you drive them off for these apples.”

  The farmer
perked up and grinned at Bodrin. Bodrin grinned back and put down his apples … noting where, in case the farmer would allow him to take them later.

  “You ain’t one of the king’s agents, then?” the farmer asked. He spat again, having mentioned the orc tolerance policy.

  “Well, they may be allowed to pass across the land, but I doubt the king expects you to let them steal your livelihood.”

  The two men snuck across the field staying close to the ground. Bodrin led, knowing the farmer was still suspicious of his motives.

  Bodrin crept close to a large orc, trying to hold onto more apples than he could carry, replacing a fallen one only to have another topple. Focused on the apple dilemma, the orcs didn’t see Bodrin hide behind the apple tree. He slid his staff out just above the ground. When the orc passed by the tree, Bodrin jerked his staff up between the orcs legs. The orc lurched forward, stumbling to the ground. Before the stunned orc could get up, Bodrin cracked him on the head with his staff, knocking him out. “One down.”

  The farmer slipped behind a tree and moved around it, as another orc passed by. When the farmer was behind the orc, he came around the tree, cracked the second orc on the head with his staff, and knocked him out as well. Bodrin whacked a third orc about the same time.

  The farmer pulled some rope from his belt and the two of them tied the three orcs together. The two men then collected all the apples the orcs had stolen and took them back to the farmer’s cottage. By the farmhouse light, the farmer studied Bodrin

  “You ain’t from ‘round here, are you boy?” The grinning farmer handed Bodrin an apple.

  “No, Sir, I’ve been traveling around.” Bodrin accepted the apple. “Some friends and I are traveling south. We’ve been eating dried, cold food so the orcs won’t discover us by a campfire.” Bodrin cut a slice of his apple.

  “I’d say from your skill with the knife, you must be a country boy like me.” The farmer got out his knife and cut his apple in sections. They ate the apples, studying each other.

  “Them orcs won’t be raiding orchards anytime soon,” the farmer said. “I figure after they set in the sun half the day tomorrow, they’ll be able to untie themselves and scramble back to them others. They’ll warn them not to mess with my orchard again.” The farmer nodded.

  “I bet their heads hurt when they come to,” Bodrin said, chuckling. He looked up at the farmer. “I reckon they won’t be able to identify who hit them, so they can’t complain to anyone about us either.”

  They finished their apples and Bodrin got up to go.

  “Would it be all right if I took those apples I found on the ground back to my friends?”

  “Come with me.”

  The farmer led Bodrin to his barn. There he took a sack and filled it with nuts and food from the barn and then pulled some edible roots from the garden that were wintering under a layer of straw. The man went to his smokehouse and took out some savory sausages, adding them to the sack as well. He handed the sack to Bodrin, and slapped him on the back.

  “Get them apples on your way back to your friends,” the farmer said. “Thanks again for helping me discourage them orcs.”

  As Bodrin headed back to his companions, the farmer yelled out, “Don’t you be trying to get my apples!”

  Bodrin waved back to the waving farmer. He knew that was meant for the orcs hidden further out, waiting impatiently for their foragers, who were long overdue from their raid. When Bodrin got back to the camp and his friends, he first met Tournak. “Evening, Tournak.”

  “Where’ve you been? What’ve you been up to, wandering off like that, and exposing the group to discovery?”

  Bodrin slumped forward, hunching his broad shoulders slightly and looked down at the ground. Tournak would lighten up on him if he looked pitiful. After the mandatory tongue-lashing, Bodrin grinned.

  “What you have there?” Tournak asked.

  Bodrin opened up the bag of goodies for his friends. Tonelia and Saxthor began salivating, seeing the fresh food, but Tournak turned away. Bodrin stepped over and put his hand on his mentor’s shoulder.

  “It’s okay, Tournak, I know you mean well. I told Saxthor about my raid and asked him not to tell you. You worry too much.”

  Tournak gave Bodrin a grumpy look, “You pay for that?” When Bodrin nodded, Tournak patted him on the back. Only then did Tournak go inspect the night’s culinary haul.

  “You all know we don’t dare have a fire at night, especially since we know there’re orcs nearby,” Saxthor said. “You’ll have to control yourselves until morning.”

  All four watched the bag of food on and off until they fell asleep, hungering for it. Next morning, they couldn’t wait for the daylight so they could start a fire and cook the feast. Tonelia made a memorable stew from the sausages, turnips, carrots, and other starchy roots they didn’t recognize. She cooked some fresh greens and made some cornmeal dumplings for the pot to pick up the flavor. They ate their fill and got apples for dessert.

  Bodrin burped. “Oops! Excuse me. Tonelia, you outdid yourself.”

  “No matter how the day goes, it’ll be a success after that delicious meal,” Saxthor said.

  They packed up and got a late start, but not even Saxthor complained about the delay that morning. The band started up into the hills before midday and passed into the tree-covered mountains late the next afternoon. That evening they camped in the mountains and could hear cohorts of orcs, tramping along the trails most of the night. Though they hid in a cave high up on a hillside, no one slept well. Just before dawn, they woke to the sound of footsteps not far from the cave’s entrance. Saxthor woke first and shook the others to be prepared for discovery.

  “How many are out there you think?” Bodrin asked. He looked at the cave’s opening but couldn’t see movement in the moonlight.

  “I don’t know, but more than a few. More than we can safely overpower,” Saxthor said. “We should hide. Maybe they’ll pass on by.”

  They shuffled further back in the cave. It began to rain. The fresh scent of wet fir trees gave way to a stale odor. Heavy footsteps plodded on the leaf litter beyond the cave entrance. A wet dead branch crunched just outside, breaking the pitter-patter of rain.

  An orc’s silhouette stood in the moonlight at the cave entrance. It was looking in. “Yous come up here,’ the deep voice called out to the others.

  Eight orcs and an ogre trampled the wet leaves on the hillside beating a path to the shelter. Saxthor and his companions hid behind rocks. The orcs settled down near the cave opening and started a fire.

  “If all them farmers hadn’t attacked us, we’d be eating fresh apples tonight,” an orc said. He threw a pebble out the entrance and Bodrin noted he rubbed a lump on his head.

  “How many you say there was?” a smaller orc asked.

  “Must’ve been a whole village,” the first orc said. “They was ‘bout to carve us up, but we was too fast for’em.”

  “Yeah, we got the best of them,” another orc said with a similar lump on his head. “It were good we weren’t in a bad mood, or they’d all be dead.”

  “You two shut up and fix the food,” the ogre said. “If you hadn’t bungled it, we’d be eating better tonight. We was ordered not to anger these here peoples; I should cut all three of you from ear to ear.”

  Bodrin grinned at Saxthor and saw Saxthor’s teeth in his grin. Bodrin put his finger to his lips, and held up his flat hand for the others to stay put. His heart skipped a beat when an orc stood up and turned back toward them. He came deeper into the cave; the group crouched. Almost on them, the orc squatted down to answer a call of nature. As he did so, Bodrin cracked him over the head from behind. The orc fell over, unconscious. Bodrin froze at the thud, when his staff smacked the creature’s head. He stared at the others… no response. After a minute, another orc came to relieve himself and suffered the same fate. Without a sound, Tournak and Saxthor lifted the unconscious orcs, moved them out of sight. Tonelia tied and gagged them. After a third orc fai
led to return, the ogre scratched his head. He got up and came to the back, looking for the orcs. He stopped, staring down at a boulder across from Bodrin

  Bodrin dared not breathe. He looked to the boulder and saw an orc boot, sticking out from behind the rock. His heart began racing. His sweating fingers gripped his staff.

  Hesitant, the ogre advanced toward the boulder to see what had happened. He slowly drew his sword. The ogre reached the rock and scanned around before reaching down to inspect the orc’s boot. The crack the other orcs heard didn’t alarm them, but they, too, began looking around. Another orc got up to see what the ogre found, and that orc fell to Saxthor’s staff.

  The final three orcs got suspicious, looking all around. Hearing strange moans from the back of the cave, another rose and drew his sword. The four adventurers jumped up from the darkness and rushed them.

  In their flight from the cave, the orcs ran over the ledge tumbling all the way down the hillside. It was daylight by then, and the adventurers hurried on their way. No one followed them into the daylight.

  -

  An orc that had fallen over the mountainside crawled back up and found his comrades tied up. He laughed at them at first, then untied the furious ogre.

  “Them farmers must’ve planned this ambush,” the orc that untied them said. To save his pride, and his hide from the ogre, the orc said, “I told you there was at least fifty of them farmers.”

  The victims not wanting to admit less than a hundred surprised them, agreed with the orc about the ambush. All agreed it was at least a hundred of them farmers. Word spread about the attacks by mobs of vigilante farmers near the mountains. Orcs no longer troubled the farmers thereafter.

  -

  When the adventurers came out of the mountains, they got their first look at Sengenwhapolis. From high on the hills, they saw it was an old and powerful city. Its high walls had stood the test of time and another older smaller circle of walls defined the city at an earlier age. The legendary Sekcmet Palace stood at the center, its towers stabbing at the sky. Even from the distance, the adventurers could see there was unusual, frantic activity abuzz within and without the great walls.