“Um… I think you may have misunderstood. it is not an offer to decline, good sir,” the messenger stammered. “It is a reminder of how things are.”
Greyson chuckled, not bothering to hold back.
“Yeah, I understood you the first time,” Greyson said. “But it’s not going to happen. I’ll hire my own guards.”
“But… sir, I urge you to reconsider,” the man pleaded. “There will be consequences if taxes are not paid.”
Greyson glared at him.
“The answer is no.”
The messenger nodded awkwardly, clearly thrown off from the usual fall-in-line merchants he usually spoke with, and left in a hurry.
Greyson took his hand off his dagger and resumed his comfortable position in his chair. It was probably the wrong decision to anger the most powerful merchant in Delvin, but Greyson would be damned if he let anyone bully him around. This was the start of his empire. No one would stand in his way.
* * *
The knights and mages spread out. There was no sense in standing close together in typical battle formation, especially when two giant crabs barreled into them, an occurrence that most people would agree was rare.
The knights stood with weapons drawn, waiting as the mages cast lightning and fire at the incoming monsters. The shells around the monsters were so hard that the damage was minimal. Spell after spell either bounced off of the shells or cracked only the outer layer of which there seemed to be many.
The crabs crashed into the knights, knocking over some and trampling others. Their claws picked up three helpless knights, lifted them high up into the air, and snapped them in half as easily as if they were twigs.
Lanced cringed from the sickening crunching sound. It was a gruesome sight to see grown men literally ripped in two pieces.
The knights, led by General Kirn, swung sword and axe at the beasts. Every blow bounced off the crabs’ thick shells. Even General Kirn’s large broadsword was only able to make small cracks.
Surrounded, the crabs swiped back and forth with their claws. The mages did what they could to raise shields and minimize damage. But it was difficult with two large creatures. Knights flew through the air.
Chieftain Zulu had his tribal Drakaran stabbing at both crabs, but their spears were equally ineffective. Lance realized there was nothing they could do. He glanced up to see the Drakaran mystic watching from above on his wyvern.
Then a sudden idea came to Lance. It was risky as most of his ideas tended to be, and there was no certainty that it would work. Lance ran forward, dodged under a sweeping claw and came up underneath one of the crabs. His bad leg being relied on too much gave a wave of pain that extended from the leg up into his spine.
Lance felt a surge of hope when he spotted the creature’s soft underbelly. With every fiber of his being, tapping into the deep recesses of his mind, Lance shot a hurricane force gale upward on only one side of the crab. It begin to lift up on that side. Lance fought to maintain the tremendous gale, the crab rising further into the air. It flung its claws around madly as it lost its sense of balance.
Charlotte ran over to him and combined her powers with his. The result finally tipped the monstrous crab over onto its back. Dozens jumped out of the way as it crashed down.
The crab swung its claws, but it could not turn back over. Without its protective shell and lying in a vulnerable position, the knights, mages, and tribal Drakaran took advantage. They slashed, hacked and threw an array of spells at its exposed body.
Even with all that, it took several minutes to put it down. Meanwhile, the other crab picked up more unsuspecting knights and snapped them with a sickening crunch.
The other mages learned from Lance and hurried to pull off a similar maneuver on the remaining crab.
When the battle was over, Lance glanced upward. The Drakaran mystic was gone.
Then Lance looked around the battlefield. There had to be several hundred knights lying dead on the grass. Their numbers grew less and less the closer to the capital they came. Hopefully they would still have enough men to take the city when they got there.
* * *
Commander Voltross laughed maniacally. This whole situation was madness. It was impossible. The humans were inferior by every standard, yet still they managed to overcome every attack thrown their way.
“Commander, we only have one more chance to stop them before they reach the capital,” an advisor stated.
Commander Voltross glared at the man.
“Enough of this! I’m done picking them off one at a time. Send a full battalion of wolf riders, five hundred warriors, and fifty mystics. They will not come anywhere near our city!” Voltross paused and then added, “On top of that, send another three hundred warriors from the side. No more chances!”
The advisor nodded.
“An excellent plan, Commander.” The advisor hurried out of the room to make preparations.
Commander Voltross rubbed at his temples. The stress was starting to get to him. He almost wanted to go fight the humans himself to make sure things went smoothly, but he needed to stay in the capital and run things. There was one thing he was certain of. This all ended tomorrow.
Chapter 7
Greyson stood on the docks, watching as the last supplies and merchandise were loaded onto the boats. His boats. It felt good to own his own company. He wasn’t lazy. He was a hard worker and would give this everything he had.
The docks were busy today, boats unloading and loading, merchant stalls selling wares. When a tall man dressed in fancy clothes and flanked by two bodyguards came Greyson’s way, he knew right away they were coming to see him.
As he guessed, they stopped right in front of him.
“Are you Greyson?” The man in the middle asked.
“Aye, I am,” Greyson replied. There was no sense in lying to them.
“I am merchant Kahlis,” the man said. “I came personally to see you because I believe there may have been a misunderstanding.”
“There was no misunderstanding,” Greyson replied.
Merchant Kahlis’ eyes narrowed, a scowl replacing his fake smile.
“Bad things happen to those who don’t pay for my protection,” Kahlis warned. “We wouldn’t want someone to destroy your boats or something worse. I urge you to reconsider.”
“I don’t like repeating myself,” Greyson replied. “My decision stands.”
The two bodyguards placed their hands on their weapons at their sides. Greyson let his hand hover near his dagger.
Merchant Kahlis looked around at the city guards patrolling the docks, ensuring peace was kept.
“You are either a fool or an idiot,” Merchant Kahlis remarked. “Either way, you have made a terrible decision to make enemies. Watch your back, Greyson. It’s a dangerous world out there.”
* * *
Lance woke just as the Drakaran sun crested the mountain range in the far distance. The sudden sunlight added an orange hue to the normally emerald green grass of the plains.
Most of the troops were already awake. Chieftain Zulu and his people were all standing together, waiting with spears dug into the ground. Their red eyes and pale skin made it confusing to remember they were allies. If not for their outfits, it would be difficult to distinguish them from foes.
The knights stirred as two riders approached in the distance, riding hard. It soon became clear that the riders were their own people, scouts sent last night by General Kirn.
The General ran forward to greet them. He could tell by their speed and expressions that something was terribly wrong.
“General!” One of the scouts said, giving a firm salute.
“Spare the formalities,” General Kirn replied. “What’s wrong?”
“The Drakaran… they are coming. They’re only an hour away at most.”
“Good job,” Kirn said. “I expected them to attempt another attack before we got to their main city. How many are there?”
The scout paused. He tried to ma
intain calm, but his body language showed the terror beneath that fake, thin veil he tried to bravely show to his leading officer.
“There’s at least a thousand,” the scout finally replied. They bring massive wolves with them. Several hundred of the nightmarish creatures. I saw dozens of those dark-robed mystics walking amongst them as well.”
“Damn the Drakaran!” General Kirn yelled. “You did well. “Lieutenant! Master Porthos! To me, now!”
Lance tried to edge closer so he could overhear. The two respective leaders ran over, Master Porthos nearly tripping over his robes in the process.
“I’m going to level with you both,” General Kirn said. “We’re in for a hell of a battle. Over one thousand troops, including mystics and giant wolves are headed our way. Their warriors are fierce, but I have a few ideas to level
the playing field. Master Porthos, gather all of the mages. We have a lot to do and very little time.”
* * *
Greyson was surprised his ships set sail without incident, especially after his encounter with Merchant Kahlis. Greyson had waited on the docks to ensure everything went smoothly. If everything sold, and some orders already came in, he would have enough to buy one more ship to add to his fleet, even after expenses.
It was nighttime by the time the ships finally set sail. Greyson began his walk back to his home. He could see the reflection of the moon in the clear water, the glow creating a relaxing ambiance after the recent stress.
The streets were relatively quiet. Most of the merchants had gone home for the day and most families were inside having dinner by now.
Greyson decided to stop in a local bar for a few celebratory drinks. He drank just enough to feel good. There was no sense in him getting drunk by himself. Although, come to think of it, now that he had a steady, legal job, it was about time he started looking for a proper lady.
He decided to take a side street home to save time. Lost in his thoughts, he almost didn’t hear the faint sound of boots on cobblestone.
Greyson whirled around, his dagger already in his hand. Three rugged men stood with large, wooden clubs. Although they had no obvious markings on them, it was clear they were courtesy of Merchant Kahlis.
“I take it you’re not here to chat,” Greyson said, stalling so he could size them up. He watched how they held their clubs, judged who was the most skilled, and noted the ways they moved. The one on the left tended to lean more heavily on his left leg. Greyson was a deadly killer. If they thought he was an easy target, just some wannabe merchant meandering about, they were sorely mistaken. He would make them pay dearly for that oversight.
They walked forward.
“I’ve faced worse odds,” Greyson said as he flicked his wrist and sent his dagger flying into the neck of the most skilled of the three attackers. He gurgled blood as he fell to the ground squirming.
Then Greyson pushed off with his back foot and charged to the next man’s right side, knowing that side would be more difficult for the attacker. Greyson barely ducked under a powerful swing and barreled into him, both of them tumbling to the cobblestone.
Knowing the last attacker would immediately attempt to capitalize on his defenseless position, Greyson ripped the club from the man he was on top of and rolled away. A club came down a half second later, accidentally slamming into his companion’s stomach.
Greyson already came out of his roll and up onto his feet. His swing was spot on, smashing into the last attacker’s skull. Before the wounded attacker he knocked over could stand up, Greyson put his boot onto his chest, pinning him to the ground.
“You live only because I let you,” Greyson told the frightened man. “Go and tell your boss that this is the last time he will try something like this or next time I won’t be so lenient.”
Greyson stepped off of the attacker and chuckled as he watched him scramble to his feet and run away.
Just a typical day in my life, Greyson thought.
Chapter 8
The human army just finished the preparations when the Drakaran showed up across the plains. Lance gulped. Row upon row of obsidian armored Drakaran warriors, mysterious and powerful black robed mystics, and riders with spears on top of massive wolves with spiked collars.
“What are they waiting for?” Lance asked. The anticipation was weighing on him. The knights around him shifted their weight from foot to foot.
A minute went by. Then another. Still the Drakaran army waited.
General Kirn pushed past Lance to the front of the troops.
“What the hell is going on?” Kirn asked. He held his broadsword in the air and waved it around. “Come at us, you bastards!”
“You think they know our plans?” The Lieutenant asked, stepping up beside the General.
“I don’t know…” The General replied. “But something isn’t right.”
Suddenly a loud voice echoed across the plains, magically enhanced to sound louder and deeper.
“Humans. This is your one and only chance to throw down your weapons and come to us. We will take you prisoner. Those who refuse, will die. We will crush you. You have one minute to decide if you want to live.”
The silence was terrible proceeding the mystic’s speech. The knights looked around to see if any were going to take up the Drakaran’s offer.
“Anyone moves forward, I’ll kill you myself,” General Kirn warned.
The minute passed. Not a man stepped forward. Several horns blew. The wolves and their riders charged forward with bounding steps. Five hundred snarling beasts, each with a rider armed with a long spear. The ground itself began to tremble the closer they came.
“Wait for it!” The Lieutenant yelled.
The wolves drew closer, thundering footsteps wreaking havoc on Lance’s nerves. He looked over toward Charlotte who was already looking at him with worried eyes. She looked so innocent and frightened that, despite being terrified himself, Lance leaned over and kissed her, giving her a reassuring squeeze on her hand.
“It’s going to be okay,” Lance told her.
They turned to watch the wall of vicious wolves bearing down on them.
“Hold!” The Lieutenant yelled.
The troops shifted anxiously. Lance slowly let his hand slip from Charlotte.
“Mages forward!” The Lieutenant ordered.
The one hundred and seventy mages still remaining took a few steps forward as one.
“On my signal!” Master Porthos yelled. He knew it was vital to get the timing exactly precise. Timing was everything.
The obsidian armored warriors and mystics started their charge as well.
“Now!” Master Porthos yelled.
The mages did what was planned. They combined powers to create a wall of wind just as the first wolves fell into the hidden trench the mages dug with spells earlier. Dozens of wolves fell into the wide trench until the others wisely learned to leap over it.
The massive wolves made the jump, but were met by the wall of wind erected by the mages. Hundreds toppled backward with their riders, falling in a pile into the trench.
“Switch, now!” General Kirn bellowed.
As planned, the mages dropped the wall of wind and all one hundred fifty mages combined powers once again to ignite the entire trench on fire. The wolves howled and the Drakaran riders screamed in agony until there was only silence.
Then the trench suddenly filled back up with hardened soil, the fire extinguished and there was a clear view of the obsidian armored Drakaran and mystics close behind them. Somehow, they had covered an entire field in seconds, the mystics ensuring there was clear passage to fight the humans.
“Weapons ready, men!” General Kirn yelled. “It’s go time!”
* * *
Greyson walked down the streets of Delvin with his head on a swivel, all of his senses alert. He knew Merchant Kahlis would not give up just because Greyson killed some of his thugs he cared nothing about. Actually, revealing his skills made Merchant Kahlis aware of them, and that was not
a good thing. He should have just killed all of his attackers. His advantage was gone.
Greyson found the tavern he was looking for, looked around to see if anyone was following him, and entered.
The tavern smelled of sweat, urine, and stale ale. He grinned. Somehow he felt at home, as odd as that might sound to others.
Greyson made his way to the bar where a large man mindlessly wiped down the counter with an already dirty rag. Greyson decided it was probably best not to point that out to the bear of a man.
“Hey, boss,” Greyson said after clearing his throat.
The bartender looked up with a bored, slightly annoyed expression on his round face.
“How can I help you?” The large bartender asked.
Greyson knew that Merchant Kahlis wouldn’t stop until Greyson was either dead or agreed to pay a ten percent tax, and there was no way in hell he was going to allow either to happen.
“I need to hire mercenaries,” Greyson replied in a low voice. “I’m told you’re the man to see.”
“Indeed I am,” the bartender replied with a smirk.
He leaned over the counter with his meaty arms and whispered, “See that door by the back wall? Go in and wait for me. There’s a table and chair. Make yourself comfortable. Might be a few minutes.”
Greyson nodded and made his way over to the room at the far end, passing people who were drinking far too much ale this early in the morning.
When he opened the door, he was surprised to see a rather spacious interior with a long, wooden table in the center, a dozen chairs placed around it.
Greyson closed the door behind him. He could pick any chair he wanted. He chose the chair at the end. Greyson always preferred to have his back to a wall.
Time went by and Greyson wondered what was taking so long. Maybe he was bringing in mercenaries. Either way, it was taking too long. Something wasn’t right. The hair on his neck stood on end. He stood up to make his way to the door when it opened.
The War Page 3