The Crown Of Yensupov (Book 3)

by C. Craig Coleman

  “Leaving…you…leaving?” Memlatec’s grinning face pinched serious as he could make it and still be credible. “You might as well; with you on guard at the door, thieves could steal the whole tower and you wouldn’t wake up. Only that snoring frightens them away.”

  Aleman puffed up his chest and stuck out his lip. “You’ll never find anyone else that’ll take care of this dump like I do.” Aleman brushed himself off and regained his composure. “What you pay me wouldn’t support a rat. You know you won’t find anyone else to work as cheap as I do. You just take advantage of me because I’m old and have nowhere else to go.”

  This saucy old man can hold his own with a wizard, Memlatec thought. “You mean feeble, don’t you? I pay you too much, and in turn, you creep up to my workroom and shuffle the ingredients in my cases. Now take your tired old self off to bed, or I’ll have to nurse you in your convalescence tomorrow.” Memlatec started down the hall to his bedroom.

  “Why should I climb all those stairs to make a mess in that dust bin just to confuse your muddled mind?” Aleman snapped.

  Memlatec glanced at him; Aleman still grumbled, ambling off to bed.

  “I feel refreshed after that little tiff,” Memlatec said to the owl that landed on the balcony rail with a rat dangling from his beak. “After all, I got the best of him. That old man would’ve made a tenacious wizard. I must make a mental note to be nice first thing in the morning to keep him off guard.”

  With that, Memlatec made notes for the next day and went to bed.

  * * *

  By morning, Saxthor and King Calamidese had brought the refugees east into the hills above Sengenwhapolis. Just before dawn, they could see fires burning in the city behind them. The orcs hadn’t followed them, so the refugees stopped to mourn the city, eat, and rest. The forest was thick there, and the people could hide at a moment’s notice if necessary.

  -

  I’m an urban wren for sure, thought Twit, but the experience in Sengenwhapolis was enough to make a bird love the countryside. I miss my perch in Astorax’s antlers and the man too. I’ll make do on Tonelia’s shoulder. She’s less tolerant of my gastrointestinal activity for sure, but I think she’s developing a soft spot for my charming self. That girl can sure swat at an old arthritic bird, when he makes a mistake. Oh, well.

  -

  Twit flew up in the tree, where he could watch the horizon for the enemy and not be bothered about his housekeeping.

  “Where to now?” Bodrin asked. “Are we still going to Botahar?” He was unconsciously picking leaves off a bush, while talking with Saxthor, King Calamidese, and the ambassador about their next move.

  “Yes, that’s our destination,” Saxthor said. “We need to get there before the Dark Lord’s forces regroup and come after us. With no leader and the city in disarray, the wizard-king will have to send a new commander to regain control over the orcs.”

  “Who knows how long it will take for them to realize we fled from the burning embassy and escaped,” the ambassador said. He puffed up and grinned at everyone near him.

  “We should be in Botahar by then,” Calamidese said.

  “We must move on fast. We don’t know how soon that will happen,” Bodrin said. A leaf ripped, making them edgy.

  “We don’t know Botahar’s situation either,” Calamidese said.

  The king is very pale, and his face droops, Bodrin thought, turning from side to side, testing the welts on his back. My wounds still hurt, too.

  “The orcs’ strength around Botahar will affect how we approach the city,” Saxthor said.

  “Botahar is under the control of a very capable general,” the king said. “He won’t surrender the town. I doubt the orcs converged on it. Before last night, Dreaddrac didn’t want their threat or positions known. Their forces are primarily on the southern border. I expect the wraith ordered the orcs throughout central Sengenwha to the capital.”

  “Now that we’ve rested and eaten, we must get moving again,” Saxthor said. He and Bodrin turned to the assembled refugees, “Fill your canteens for the journey east. We don’t know the situation on the other side of these hills.”

  With Bodrin and a guide in the lead, they hiked through the lush hills east of Sengenwhapolis, the forest providing cover. On the eastern slopes, they looked down on the plains between them and Botahar.

  “Send an embassy soldier ahead to scout out the area around the city and determine if it’s safe for us to go there,” Saxthor told the ambassador. “Meanwhile, we’ll continue moving east, as fast as the ladies can travel.”

  Bodrin brought the exhausted soldier to Saxthor, when he returned days later. “Botahar is aware that Dreaddrac’s forces overran the capital,” the soldier reported. “They’re preparing to defend themselves from a land attack.”

  “So long as Hoya controls the upper Pundar, the orcs can’t attack from the river,” King Calamidese said.

  The refugees weren’t used to walking for days on end, and their pace slowed, approaching Botahar. Bodrin threatened and pleaded with them to keep them moving. They eventually arrived at the eastern town without incident.

  *

  On the horizon, Botahar appeared a jewel in the exhausted refugees’ eyes. The city wasn’t large, but stout walls and sturdy, defendable buildings were a welcome sight. Most of the city was brick, but stone faced the surrounding walls. The buildings were one, two, or three stories, where the first floor was commercial, and the owners lived above the shops. They stored goods on the third floors. By law, buildings facing the city walls had no windows on the western exposure.

  As word reached Botahar that the royal family was safe and approaching, the defenders were heartened to have their king fighting beside them. They rallied behind his leadership. Waving pictures of the king, citizens and soldiers rushed through the gates to greet Calamidese and his entourage. After a reception, and when the excitement settled down, the king went to review the city defenses. Saxthor and the ambassador went to assess the harbor’s situation.

  “There’re sufficient Neuyokkasinian vessels to take the embassy personnel down across Lake Pundar, and on down the Nhy to Konnotan,” Saxthor said. “Embassy soldiers can protect the staff, and going by water will get them there faster than non-military personnel can hike.”

  “No coaches?” Saxthor asked.

  “Not enough to carry this group. They’ll need what they have for moving armaments,” the ambassador said.

  “We’ll be exposed on the river, but it will be faster.”

  King Calamidese requested to speak with Prince Saxthor the night before the Neuyokkasinians were to sail south. “Prince Saxthor, We…I can’t express my appreciation for your saving my family in Sengenwhapolis.” The king shook Saxthor’s hand again, looking into his eyes. “I must ask, beg you to take my mother and sister with you to Konnotan. They’re your cousins, after all,” he said through a fragile smile. “The forces unleashed on Sengenwhapolis were overwhelming. I failed to prepare my city and country for the consequences of allying with Dreaddrac and for terminating that alliance.”

  From his window in the governor’s palace, the king looked out over Botahar.

  “I fear, when Dreaddrac recovers from the wraith’s destruction, the Dark Lord will send sufficient forces to destroy any opposition now that his plan is exposed. Botahar isn’t the fortress Sengenwhapolis is – or was.” Calamidese turned back to Saxthor. “I beseech Your Highness to take my family with you. I fear they may not survive here.”

  Saxthor gripped the king’s hand in his own. “I understand your concern for your family, Your Majesty. Of course, we’ll take your mother and sister with us to Konnotan. They’ll be welcome and safe there.” He put his hand on the king’s shoulder. Calamidese doesn’t expect to survive the attack on Botahar, but he intends to make a stand here, Saxthor thought. He’s an honorable man, the victim of a foolish mistake.

  The ambassador had arranged passage. The Neuyokkasinians boat captains were as happy to escape Botaha
r before war overtook the town, as they were to get the commissions. The day after their arrival, the embassy personnel said their good-byes to Saxthor and his companions. They left Botahar sailing down the Pundar to the lake with the Sengenwhan dowager queen and the princess royal in their care. Saxthor sent documents with them, requesting that his father extend sanctuary to the royal ladies. After all, he’d written, the Queen of Sengenwha was the late Queen Lyttia’s younger sister. The royal family was extremely appreciative for Saxthor’s rescue and protection on their journey to safety in the South.

  “I’m determined to remain in Botahar,” King Calamidese said to Saxthor after seeing his family off. “It’s my duty to remain as a rallying point. My uncle left the city as we left his protection and went north into the mountains above Sengenwhapolis. There he planned to organize and rally the Sengenwhan people to resist the Dark Lord’s cohorts on the northern plain. Between the two of us, we’ll rally armies and delay, if not prevent, Dreaddrac’s minions from consolidating the hold on Sengenwha and initiating their spring offensive.”

  “I hope you succeed,” Saxthor said.

  Saxthor and his party prepared to leave Botahar soon after, ensuring the safety of their charges from Sengenwha.

  “My mission for the crystals is the most important thing now for the whole peninsula’s safety and ultimate salvation,” Saxthor told Tournak and Bodrin. “Things looked bad by the time we reached Botahar. Prertsten was sending waves of orc cohorts south into Sengenwha before deposing the king. Now without opposition, that’s likely to increase. Since the king has fled the capital and it’s under the Dark Lord’s control, the orcs can move about free of resistance for the moment. It’s even more critical that we get back to Memlatec soon.”

  A boat docked in Botahar from Girdane just after Saxthor and his party arrived. The occupants were terrified.

  “A monstrous dragon flew down from the north and attacked Feldrik Fortress,” a voyager said.

  “A dragon?” Tournak asked.

  “The beast puffed fire as it flew and scorched the fields around the castilyernov. It burned reed beds along the Edros Swamps’ edge and incinerated many locals, who didn’t flee to the fortress in time.”

  “What of Feldrik’s defenders?” Bodrin asked.

  The nervous man turned to Bodrin and kept talking. “Feldrik survived. The beast seemed to be searching for something – or someone. When he didn’t find what he was looking for, he flew off to the south. I think the orcs called the dragon, Magnosious. Rumor has it an old Neuyokkasinian witch raised the beast.” He turned again to Saxthor. “It was recalled to Dreaddrac for the Dark Lord’s special mission, or so I heard from a Prertstenian who fled across the River Akkin.”

  Saxthor thanked the man for the warning, and he and Bodrin gathered their companions. “Not since Yamma-Mirra Heedra have I seen a dragon, and none of you have ever seen one at all. We’ve all heard as children about the dragons of old, but we thought them all killed in the Wizard Wars. Now a new and more terrifying dragon is loose on the peninsula and moving south.” Saxthor looked around at his friends. “According to the traveler from Girdane, the dragon is looking for someone. I think you can guess who that someone is.”

  The others didn’t take long to figure it out, either. His companions scattered, shopped for supplies, and packed to leave at once.

  “I’ve heard of an old woman seer out on the edge of town with quite a reputation,” Saxthor told Bodrin. “Don’t tell Tournak, you know what a worrier he is. I’m going out to see her. I want to know, if the old woman can tell me anything about the dragon or this journey that might help us.”

  “Well, I won’t tell Tournak since I’m going with you.”

  “Now, Bodrin.”

  “What’s it going to be; me, or Tournak and me?”

  “You drive a hard bargain. One of these days you’re going to turn into a nursemaid just like Tournak.”

  “Maybe today,” Bodrin said.

  *

  The old woman had a shack that backed up against a rock outcrop on the town’s outskirts. The simple two-room cabin was in disrepair and weeds grew on the thatched roof and from chimney cracks. Tall trees flanked the cabin keeping it in perpetual shade so that moss and ferns grew everywhere around the shack.

  “The old woman is said to be originally from the hills between Botahar and Lake Pundar and claims to have been given powers of vision from an appreciative elf she saved from there, or so the story goes,” Saxthor told Bodrin as they approached the cabin.

  The old woman was very old by the time Saxthor knocked on her door. Age accentuated her features. Her prominent hooked nose, wild white hair, and lost teeth gave her an eerie appearance. Still, Saxthor saw a spark in her eyes and smile that told him she was not evil, but well intentioned yet misunderstood.

  “May we come in?” Saxthor asked.

  “No,” the old woman said. She stared at him, as if looking for something. The scrutiny made Saxthor feel exposed. She lifted her cane, pointing to the side of the house, and pulled the door closed behind her. Though she watched Saxthor, she didn’t move until she heard the door shut.

  “You wait here and guard my door,” she told Bodrin, giving him a stern glare and pointed a bony finger. She broke off the look and turned again to Saxthor. “You come with me.” She led him around the cabin to a cave behind it.

  “You haven’t asked what I came for,” Saxthor said, as they walked.

  “I know what you came for; saw it in your face.”

  She watched her steps as they approached the cave. Just outside the entrance, the old woman stopped and raised her cane barring Saxthor from going further. She tossed magical dust around them before they entered.

  Wonder if that’s for effect, or if there’s a purpose, Saxthor thought.

  He was still trying to determine the answer, when they passed a great bear chained inside the entrance. The dust must’ve put the bear in a trance, preventing it from tearing them apart.

  “Those curious fools who try to enter the cave without me can be seen about you. They’re the bones scattered in the dust,” the old woman said. She laughed, exposing her toothless gums. Saxthor looked about at the many remains.

  They went deep into the cave’s darkness. The seer felt her way to the wall and searched the stone for a torch handle. When she found it, she tapped it with her cane, and the torch burst into flame.

  The torch doesn’t seem to have any wrapping at the top for oil or an energy source either, thought Saxthor. I didn’t notice how she lit the torch either. I’ve seen enough magic to know it’s involved here. As the old woman walked ahead of him, Saxthor began to worry this might be a trap. He drew Sorblade just enough to see the runes didn’t glow.

  “I’ll do you no harm,” the old woman said, without even glancing in his direction.

  I know she hasn’t looked at me as we’ve walked along here, he thought. She never turned her head. How can she know about Sorblade and my suspicions?

  At the back of the cool, damp cave, there was a pool filled from a spring that bubbled up from the floor. The water flowed into the receptacle, then flowed back into the ground on the other side. Strange, pale white mushrooms grew on the cave walls in what appeared to be fabricated depressions chipped in the rock.

  The woman sprinkled magic dust around the pool’s edges. When it settled, she stretched out her staff over the water three times and spoke some incantation. The pristine water turned blue, and its surface went smooth. Then, from the pool’s center, ripples went out across the water and a vision formed from the mist, rising above it.

  “Who is it now that calls me here

  To learn the vision of the seer?”

  Saxthor looked at the visualization, then at his guide, who watched him, smiling. She said nothing, but gestured with her hand that he should answer.

  “I’m Saxthor Claremendak Calimon de Chatronier,” Saxthor said, uneasy at broadcasting his name with so many evil creatures on his trail.

>   “Stretch forth your hand upon the water,

  Immerse the ring of the dragon martyr.”

  Saxthor was suspicious. The old woman’s smile, though toothless, had no aura of deception. He wondered how the apparition knew about the ring. He supposed he’d best not question the ways of powers beyond this dimension. Saxthor stretched out his hand, turned his palm up, and dipped the dragon ring in the pool’s water. Immediately, the ring felt warm, even in the cold water. It glowed and the pool turned a darker blue. The light grew in intensity, lighting the whole cave. The oracle spoke:

  “It is Saxthor, whose ring tis clear

  Controls vast powers far and near,

  Who upon the waters of Lake Pundar

  Will burn the wraith come from afar.

  Fleeing south down veins of water,

  He comes to the long sought border.

  Defying flames from the dragon’s mouth,

  He completes his trek back to the South.

  The Prince of Hoya rules north to south.

  Wisdom pours from out his mouth.

  And to the throne brings rocks and rope,

  To form the crown their only hope.

  Rule well and wisely, then long the lull.

  The kingdom grows to empire full,

  But all spend strength in time you see,

  And empires fall, then memories be.”

  The oracle settled back into the pool’s water as the mist dissipated in the cave. The old hag just kept smiling, as she led Saxthor from the cave.

  The babbling makes little sense to me, thought Saxthor.