The Dread King: Book One of The Larken Chronicles

by R. L. Poston

  No one said anything. Gahen and Melona shared a look that said more than either would ever verbalize about the depth of their despair. Algar finally said quietly, “Wise beyond your years, but how long can we stay in this room?”

  To which Larken replied, “As long as we need to. I’ve just bought us a few hours. Now we have to come up with something.”

  “Great faith you have in us!” said Gahen incredulously. “If the entire three kingdoms’ leadership was stumped, how do you expect the four of us to come up with something in a couple of hours?”

  “Not sure,” said Larken. “It just seemed the reasonable thing to do.”

  “OK,” said Gahen. “Here’s the problem: With their reinforcements, we’re outnumbered three to one. We hold a position that requires us to station a fourth of our troops along the valley to prevent being flanked. We can’t mount an offensive because they would be caught in the valley and slaughtered. We can’t outflank the enemy for the same reason that he can’t outflank us—the geography won’t allow it. We won’t get reinforcements, and will be able to resist attacks for two or three weeks at most. By then attrition, weariness, or mistakes will open a breach somewhere. And that’s assuming that Shropanshire and Grealand will continue to hold back the lateral attacks. Have I missed anything?”

  “How about supplies?” asked Melona. “Do we have enough?”

  “No problem,” said Gahen. “We have enough to feed us for a month, so there’ll be some left over when we get overrun.”

  “Are there any tricks using Elven powers that we haven’t thought of?” asked Melona.

  “How would we know?” asked Gahen. “The Elves are rather secretive about their abilities. Have you been holding out on us, Friend Algar?”

  “Not holding out,” replied Algar. “We don’t have any other ways to help. We don’t fight this way usually. Elves fight from ambush—not from sieges.”

  “Could your Elves sneak over and ambush the enemy, maybe at night? Maybe they could attack the supplies,” suggested Melona.

  “Been through that already,” said Larken. “Too many Dark Elves on their side. Elves can’t make themselves invisible to other Elves. How about the Healers coming up with a complete shield against that mind lance? If we could completely eliminate that, we could hold on forever.”

  “I’m afraid that what we’ve got so far is all we’re going to get,” said Melona. “Some of us are still experimenting, but there’s already too much strain on the Healers just keeping the troops healthy and reinforcing the shields that they have.”

  “OK,” sighed Larken. “What now?”

  “Can we keep this charade going for a few days?” asked Melona. “That might give us time to come up with something.”

  “We could spread the rumor that we’re working on something big,” said Gahen. “We could even pull in people to interview them about unrelated stuff. That would keep people from guessing that we don’t have anything. But then, when they do find out the truth, it’s going to be worse than if we simply gave up now. They’ll feel betrayed, and rightly so.”

  “So, what do you suggest?” asked Larken.

  “My advice is to wait,” interjected Algar. “Better to say nothing. Let people make up their own minds. We meet each evening to review. Bring other leadership for reports. Maybe think of something.”

  “I agree,” said Melona. “We’ll think of something.”

  “Gahen?” asked Larken.

  “I don’t like it, but I don’t have a better plan,” answered Gahen.

  “Then let’s say nothing,” said Larken. “We’ll meet here tonight for supper.”

  * * * * *

  The next day, the attack began in earnest. Dark Forces stormed the lowest sections of the plateau. Protected by shields held high, they advanced until pairs of Dark Warders and Healers could stretch out with their Talent-driven mind lances to attack the Alliance defenses. The effect was devastating to the youngest recruits, who had expected an easy victory.

  At the same time, giant catapults constructed in the valley below hurled large stones onto the defensive positions. As a response, the Alliance forces quickly used their own catapults to bombard the enemy’s siege engines. In turn, the Dark Forces catapults targeted the Alliance’s catapults. The movement of catapults on both sides became a deadly game of strategy.

  In the valley, the Dark Forces began to build a causeway of dirt and rubble, lining it up with a low point of the plateau far from Strollie’s main gates. Although this had been expected, the sight caused great fear among those manning the plateau’s defenses. It was easy to calculate that it would not take them two weeks to erect an earthen and stone causeway to the level of the plateau. Once that causeway was in place, the attackers could easily stage massive and simultaneous attacks at two places that would eventually break through the Alliance’s defense lines.

  The camps were buzzing with rumors. Larken, Gahen, Melona, and Algar were going to convince the Source directly to wipe out the Dark Forces. The Elves were coming en masse to save the day. The Elves guarding the valley from a flank attack had gone home. A deal had been made with the Dread King. The leadership was negotiating terms of surrender.

  Larken, Gahen, and Algar spent most of their days touring the defenses and the camps. They were careful not to deny the rumors that would boost morale, but they had agreed to treat rumors of defeat with humor. That approach seemed to work well. At night, however, when they met to plan, the strain of having to be constantly positive was telling on them. By the third evening, no one was talking as they gathered for a supper that now was assumed by all to be the time in which they were putting the finishing touches on a plan that would save the kingdoms.

  Algar was uncharacteristically the first to speak. “I have news that is disturbing,” he began.

  “You mean beyond the fact that we are facing extinction?” growled Gahen.

  Algar did not respond. He simply gazed at Gahen with the Elven calmness that unnerved so many humans.

  “All right,” Gahen finally said, “I’m sorry. I guess the pressure is getting to me. This is the only place that I can be worried. Out there”—he waved toward the front lines—“I have to be a source of hope. Sometimes, however, I just run out of hope. Anyway, I’m sorry. What did you hear?”

  “There’s been a breakthrough by the invaders in Shropanshire. They now control the pass from the desert.”

  “Oh, no!” exclaimed Melona. “Larken, doesn’t that mean that they’ll win?”

  Larken didn’t respond. He continued to eat slowly, staring at his food as if no one else were in the room.

  Melona exchanged a glance with Gahen that was full of worry. “Larken?” she gently asked.

  At last Larken looked up as if he had not heard anything that had been said. “Yes?” he asked.

  “Did you hear what Algar said?”

  “Yes, I heard, but I can’t do anything about it. Our job is to fight this fight. There’s nothing we can do for or about Shropanshire.”

  “But,” began Melona. Then she paused, uncertain of what she wanted to ask.

  “Larken is correct,” Algar said. “The news is bad, but there is nothing that we can do about it. We must fight our own battle.”

  “Well, that’s great!” said Gahen. “We’ll just fight our little battle while our homeland is conquered. Then, we’ll keep fighting until the Dark Ones come at us from all sides! That’s just great!”

  “Enough,” said Larken softly. “That’s enough.”

  No one spoke. Everyone turned their gaze toward Larken who was still quietly eating. Finally, he looked up and surveyed their expressions, looking each directly in the eyes.

  “First,” Larken said, “Shropanshire is not in immediate danger of being conquered. Second, we’re really in no greater danger here than before. If you’ve been keeping score, you know that the ‘Dark Ones,’ as Gahen calls them, will have breached our defenses long before any reinforcements could have arrived. Third, I have an
idea.”

  Melona and Gahen looked at each other, each silently asking the other one what they should ask. Algar saved them both the problem. “What is your idea?”

  Larken looked at Algar and simply laughed. Algar continued to gaze at him in silence, but both Gahen and Melona stared at Larken incredulously as he continued to laugh. Finally, Melona reached over and touched Larken gently and asked, “Larken? Is everything all right?”

  Gaining control over his laughter and wiping his eyes, Larken nodded. “Yes, everything is all right. I just found it funny that while you and Gahen were completely caught up in trying to figure out what to ask next, Algar simply asked the right question.”

  “What’s so funny about that?” asked Gahen, irritably.

  “You wouldn’t understand,” said Larken. “It’s a combination of Elven insight and small town naiveté. Anyway”—he held up his hand to hold Gahen off—“the idea is more important. Let’s talk about it.”

  “OK,” said Gahen, still a little irritable. “What’s the idea?”

  “The idea is this,” began Larken. “Remember that rainy night that I woke the Source?”

  “Who could forget it?” asked Gahen. “You reversed the decline in Talent that had been worrying us for years.”

  “Well,” said Larken, “I think we can do something similar—not awakening the Source, but enlisting his aid.”

  “How?” asked Algar.

  “I think that we can tap the Source if we link all our Talents together into one effort.”

  “And how do we do that?” asked Gahen.

  “Through me,” said Larken.

  “Through you?” exclaimed Melona. “How, through you?”

  “We already know how to link a Warder and a Healer to create a mind lance from Talent. Most of our Warders and Healers can do that. I have also linked minds with Algar in the Elven meld. I can tell you that Elven Talent is as different from Warder Talent as Warder Talent is from Healer Talent, but all are part of the whole. When I touched the Source, I felt all Talents, and more. I believe that if we link Talents, we can tap directly into the Source and channel its power in one massive meld that could defeat our enemies in one stroke.”

  Again, silence filled the room. Then Algar said, “A weapon such as that would also destroy the mind through which it is channeled.”

  “That may be so,” said Larken. “It is not without risk.”

  “Without risk?” interjected Melona, turning on Larken with anger in her eyes. “You want to try to channel the Source directly in a mind lance that may leave you dead or worse? And you call that, ‘not without risk’? I call it insane.”

  “Got a better idea?” asked Larken softly, turning in his chair to face Melona directly. “Within one week, by my best estimate, we’re going to be overrun. Once they finish that causeway across the valley, we won’t have enough men to defend every part of our lines. If we don’t do something different, we’re all going to die, or worse. Do you have a better idea?”

  “We’ll think of something,” said Melona, her eyes not losing any of their hardness or ire. “That’s one idea, but it’s a bad idea. We’ll think of a better one.”

  “I have a question,” said Algar, as if the exchange between Melona and Larken had not taken place. “What evidence do you have that you could do this?”

  “Enough,” yelled Melona, lurching to her feet and overturning the chair. “I forbid anyone to discuss this. I’ll not have Larken killed or worse by some foolish idea before we’ve exhausted all other ideas.”

  Algar bowed his head toward Melona. “Forgive me,” he said calmly and evenly. “I did not mean to threaten the one you loved.”

  Algar’s response left Melona with no target to attack. Finding herself on her feet and wanting to argue with someone, she looked about the room for a target, but none presented itself. “Well…good,” she finally said and sat back down after righting her chair.

  Larken returned to his meal, calmly finishing his tray by sopping the last bits of gravy with the last scraps of his bread. Algar, true to his Elven nature, was just waiting in silence, gazing at Larken. Melona was still feeling angry, but also somewhat embarrassed. The anger won out as she caught Gahen looking at her with concern and uncertainty in his eyes.

  “What?” she asked of Gahen angrily.

  “Hey, look,” said Gahen. “I’m on your side, remember? I’m one of the good guys. All the bad guys are out there trying to break through our lines.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Melona finally. “I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

  “Snap away,” said Gahen. “That’s not half as bad as what the Dark Lord will do. But, seriously, Larken, I agree with Melona, but for different reasons. I don’t see your idea as having much chance of success but a big chance of failure, and the failure could cripple all those involved. Right now, we don’t need to eliminate any more leaders.”

  “By the way,” Gahen continued, “Soran and Thaddeus told me to tell you that King Frederick would like to meet with you.”

  “King Frederick?” asked Larken. “I thought that he went to Shropanshire with the Norland Council.”

  “He did,” said Gahen. “But Thaddeus and Soran told me that he came back. Evidently, he believes that the Norland Council can handle things in Sarkis and that two kings in the same castle is one too many. They say that he thought he could do more good by encouraging the folks that had stayed here.”

  “He’s definitely right about that,” said Larken. “We can use all the encouragement we can get. OK, I’ve got another idea that won’t drive Melona insane. How about if we used groups of Warder-Healer teams together? I think that I’ve noticed that two or more Warders working together are slightly more effective than two working separately. Melona, have you seen that?”

  “I think so,” replied Melona. “We definitely know that two Healers working together are more effective than either one working alone, and neither get as tired. That’s a good idea.”

  “I’m hoping,” said Larken, “that we can duplicate something I’ve seen in the Elven melds. Once a certain number of Elves are melded, the meld becomes much more powerful than the sum of the Talents. If we can duplicate that, we might have a chance at keeping the Dark Forces at bay.”

  * * * * *

  The next morning, as Larken, Gahen, Soran, and Estron met with King Frederick, Larken’s respect of the king grew even more. King Frederick was a tall, razor-thin man with unruly light brown hair. His eyes were of a nondescript light brown, but they had a piercing quality that made you feel that he was looking straight through you. At the moment, he seemed to be looking straight through Larken as he talked.

  “I understand the situation, Commander Larken. I also understand the point of your nightly meetings. I only ask that I be included in them, for reasons that I am not free to say at this very moment.”

  Larken nodded in assent. By the manner in which King Frederick had expressed himself, Larken knew that the king had seen through their charade and was offering his assistance. Larken spoke without emotion. “You’re welcome to our nightly meetings, but no one else. We don’t have the time to explain our efforts to others and don’t believe that others would add anything to our efforts. You must understand that what we are going to try this afternoon involves combining Talent from multiple Healers and Warders. We think that we’ll get longer range and more power.”

  “I understand, Commander Larken. Please include me in that effort,” said King Frederick. “In the meanwhile, let me help with the fighting for the rest of the morning. After all, I do have the strongest Talent in Norland. I doubt that I can turn the tide, but, hopefully, I can create a small backwash.”

  Larken remembered that, before he had become a Warder, King Frederick had been a sailor. He often used language that reflected his history.

  “Sire,” Larken said, “we welcome your help this morning and later this afternoon. The commanders, the sub-commanders, the strongest Healers, and I were going to concentrate
our efforts this afternoon near the causeway that they are building. That seems to be where the greatest concentration of Dark Force leaders is located. We’re going to try to disrupt things at the least, maybe even do some actual damage. Have you had any experience with the new mind lance?”

  “I’ve been trained and have had some experience. I won’t let you down,” promised King Frederick.

  “Then we’ll see you near there an hour after the midday meal,” said Larken.

  When they met near the point where the Dark Forces were filling in the valley, King Frederick had brought a few of his most Talented Warders and Healers with him. After introductions were made, Soran was the first to ask, “OK, what’s the plan?”

  “The plan,” said Larken, “is for each Healer-Warder pair to link to other pairs and coordinate their attempts with the mind lance at this point in the enemy lines.”

  “Won’t that just exhaust us?” asked Soran. “I mean, we strike at whoever comes into range, but nearly all of their Warders and Healers are beyond our range. We’ve only got so many resources. Why waste them now?”

  “It’s true that normally they stay out of range,” answered Larken. “And it’s also true that we could exhaust ourselves with this effort. However, we’re testing out a new theory here. We believe that when Talent is exercised in groups, we can get more power and less exhaustion. We’ve also found that, if two or more Warders wield Talent toward the same target, the effect is greater than if a single Warder does so.”

  “That’s true,” said Soran, not yet convinced. “It might be greater than a single Warder, but isn’t going to as great as the sum of the two Talents. You won’t double the range or the strength. So, isn’t that a waste of Talent and energy?”

  “It will allow us to eliminate targets that we can't reach now. Also, if the enemy doesn’t know what we are doing, they might think that we’ve found stronger Talents. In either case, it will make them more cautious,” answered Larken.

  “And,” interjected Gahen, “if we do manage to do some damage, it will help that much more.”