Dawn of the Valiant (The Valerious Chronicles: Book One)

by Julian Saheed

In the Guardhouse of Oril a group of men sat drearily amongst the wooden benches of the council room. The amphitheatre was dimly lit by a brazier which also provided some warmth for the men making plans for the coming days.

  "The entire outer village is now cleared. No one remains between the eastern wall and the lake... other than our patrols," announced General de Lamina.

  Errollan, sitting next to Mandigal on the second level of the amphitheatre, nodded in satisfaction. He had spent some time as General of the Feldonian army, after his time as a Royal Guard and then, many years later the Honour Guard, and knew that Guthrum was taking the necessary steps to make the city safe. "Have you increased the patrols on the wall?"

  Another man, Guard Captain Harrinus, second in command to the General, answered, "The watch has been doubled, but we dare not increase it any more. The men need to be rested in case of a sudden attack. Even the fresh militia that I brought with me from Lundron are exhausted. That bridge is sapping the moral of our men."

  "You are right, Harrinus," added Ludvic, who was standing above the large map of Feldom on the floor of the theatre. "I have seen too many of the men walking around with drawn faces and unfocused eyes. Fatigued men will do us no good in a fight. Make sure that each man is given ample rest and good meals."

  "What news from Karmena?" asked the General.

  Harrinus, who had just returned from the Lundron, brushed his hand through his brown hair, absently running over the place where his left ear had been. The Guard Captain had lost it several years ago to a wolf in the woods near Entshore and had found his hand reaching for the lost ear ever since. He replied, "The messages claim that the attacks have lessened, but Nyrune's barrier remains weakened. To date there have only been minor skirmishes on the brink of the forest, but they fear that soon our enemies will march an army into Hiethris."

  The last person in the room, Estallion, stood from his seat and walked over to the map next to Ludvic. "Well I guess we are next then. Where will the attacks on Feldom come from?" he asked.

  Ludvic pointed at two passes through the Beon Ranges. "These are the two easiest paths through the Ranges. East of Polthney and just shy of Twinhelm, near the Dargonian city of Dishov. But the bridge over Lake Moonsong points to their main assault heading here."

  "Maybe the bridge is a ruse. They could be trying to draw our forces into Precedin in the hope of making an easy entry to the north," posed Harrinus.

  "No!" said Mandigal, his voice causing instant silence as always. "I know Zephra well enough to assure you he will attack Precedin. He knows that it is the quickest path into Feldom and the quickest path to the City of Skiye. His eagerness and arrogance will bring him to assault us here. He also knows that if he can capture Precedin he will have the support of every single Dargonian for his campaign...Long has the City of War cast a shadow over the east, and Zephra's people would love nothing more than to see it burn."

  General de Lamina interrupted. "This is not our only problem." The General's uneasy tone gained their full attention. "King Castaneda has been holding council with the ambassador from Auldney. As we could expect the meetings have taken an ill turn, no doubt because of Dieter's own hatred of the northern cities. The last council ended with an outright threat from Dieter to the King of Auldney."

  The others shook their heads.

  "King Baldoroff now speaks strongly of independence. He has convinced the dukes of Larthstone and Polthney to separate from Feldom, to become their own nation. Baldoroff speaks of the nation of Durraas," finished the General, closing his eyes.

  Ludvic cringed at the mention of this. Torgan Durraas had been the most infamous duke in Feldom's long history. He had fought a civil war against the King of Feldom hundreds of years ago. And after a bitter struggle he had won the right to kingship of his own city. From that day forth the city of Auldney had been ruled by a king, not a duke. And the current king, Afhill Baldoroff, was no less of a tyrant than Torgan Durraas himself.

  The nation of Durraas that the General spoke of was a dream that King Durraas had fought for during his troublesome life. He strived to unite the northern cities into their own separately governed state, with no ties to Feldom whatsoever. Were it not for his assassination at the hands of the Honour Guard, that dream would have likely been realized. Now it seemed that the threat had been born anew.

  "Has Baldoroff lost all reason?" asked Harrinus. "He cannot expect to be allowed to commit this treason."

  "He was always mad," replied Ludvic gruffly. Growing up in Auldney, Ludvic had been present the day Baldoroff was inaugurated as King. He had always known that only trouble would come from Baldoroff's appointment. "He is doing this because he is afraid of Zephra," he continued. "He will try to unite the North in the hope that he can ally with Zephra and save his city, not to mention his own arse."

  "Traitors, all of them," spat Errollan. "If he goes ahead with this we will have more trouble than we know. We will be fighting a civil war and an invading army at the same time. This will only aid Zephra."

  "If the North becomes a separatist nation, we will lose a third of our army," said the General sullenly.

  "You all seem to be missing the crucial point here," said Estallion loudly. "Ludvic, you just told me that the two best entrances through the Beon Ranges are at Polthney and Dishov. "Ludvic nodded. "Well then if Baldoroff manages to create the nation of Durraas, and then allies with Zephra, won't the Dargonians have a free entryway into Feldom?" he finished.

  General de Lamina and Harrinus walked over to where Estallion was standing and looked down at the map. "The fool is right," breathed the General.

  "I'll take that as a complement," mumbled Estallion.

  Errollan dropped his head into his hands. He could not take it anymore. Each day it seemed that something would come out of the darkness to crush their spirits. "Why do the gods torment us like this?"

  "It is not the gods that torment us," replied Mandigal. "It is the fools like Zephra and Baldoroff. Those that would sacrifice innocent lives to better their own. That is why people like us fight to stop them."

  "And who will fight them when we are gone," returned Errollan bitterly. "Had the fight in the Ranges turned slightly against us, Ludvic and I could be dead."

  "There are always men and women who will pick up the sword once it has fallen, to continue the fight," returned Mandigal. "Even when it seems that there is no possible solution, we must not lose hope."

  "We most of all," said Errollan, with a distant voice. "The Maloreichar; protectors of justice and freedom for the people of Feldom." He looked Mandigal in the eyes. "But tell me old friend, what happens when there are no more men and women left to pick up that sword? When the armies of Dargon have murdered and tortured every man, woman and child in our land. Who will fight?"

  Mandigal was silent. He did not have a response to the question, and knew that Errollan was still fighting with the demons of Azbaar's death. They realised that Errollan felt personally responsible for the old warrior's death and despite their best efforts they could not convince him otherwise.

  "Something must be done to convince Baldoroff to stay this madness," said the General.

  The others nodded their agreement just as the door to the amphitheatre opened. Guard Marshal Coppercloud walked in, followed closely by a Karmanian soldier. The Marshal lowered his head in a courteous and completely unnecessary bow and then cleared his throat. "May I present Kilthies Numinites, Captain of the Thaldun Blades. He comes with urgent news from the Council of Elders."

  The gathered men all showed their surprise. Kilthies Numinites and his men were legend throughout Kovi. They were the prize of the Karmanian army. Outstandingly skilled warriors and magic users that had served the Alliance for many years. For Kilthies to personally bring news from the Elders, rather than remaining on the frontline, meant that it was of the utmost importance.

  Kilthies stepped down to the second level and nodded his greetings. He was taller than any man in the room and had a body
that was shaped from a life of hard fighting. His eyes, that were an extraordinary shade of bright green and yellow, seemed to change colour as he shifted his vision. His long black hair was tied in five tails behind his head and fell down onto the famous golden green armour of the Thaldun Blades.

  He paused and studied the men in the room and then spoke in a powerful voice. "My lords, I bring terrible news from the Karmanian Council of Elders."

  "Then be welcome Kilthies," greeted Errollan. "It is an honour to see you again. Please relay your message."

  Kilthies inclined his head slightly and continued, "A few days past we received word that the caravan in which your Queen was travelling was attacked." The group let out a series of shocked gasps. "They were set upon by a large group of Primals and though I am sure that her guards fought valiantly, they were all killed save for the Karmanian Emissary and three others. The assassins escaped with the Queen as their prisoner."

  "Who survived?" Estallion burst out hastily, his voice showing an uncharacteristic concern.

  "Silence!" called Errollan, scowling at Estallion. "This is not the time for your rambling." Estallion's brow shot up and he held his tongue, yet the impatience in his manner remained and he began to pace the room.

  "How did this happen?" asked, Ludvic.

  "A message from Dievu Ilphuki reached the Council. From his account he barely escaped with his own life and was in a dire state before he contacted the Elders. He was however able to follow the Primals and told us where they were moving. They are taking the Queen through the main pass in the Ranges north of the River of Ice. It is an obvious choice in their desire to remain discreet, however the mountains in that region are treacherous. They will take some time to make the journey into Dargon."

  "How is it that you made it here so swiftly?" queried Errollan.

  "By chance my men and I were posted at the Yaerun outpost. Once we were contacted by the Elders, we used the gifts of Nyrune to travel here with great haste," replied Kilthies. "That is not important though. You must act quickly if you are to catch them before they can reach a safe city."

  "Have you lost your wits?" blurted Ludvic. "This is not a matter of simply marching into Dargon, dancing down to the mountain pass and casually strolling back home with the Queen."

  "There is no need for ridicule, Lord Hammerfell," said Kilthies in a steady voice. "I know that the deed sounds impossible, but would you not agree that an attempt must be made. We cannot abandon Queen Triel."

  "He is right," said General de Lamina. "But how do we know that this is no ruse like the message that led Azbaar to his death? We rushed blindly into that trap and paid dearly for our error in judgement."

  "I have to agree with Guthrum," said Errollan, standing up and moving around the amphitheatre.

  "There is no lie in what I tell you now," said Kilthies. "The death of Azbaar Ingel is one that saddens me greatly, but you must believe me when I tell you that the Queen is in dire need. I swear it on Nyrune's great spirit."

  "He is not lying," interjected Mandigal. The others new enough of Mandigal's powers to trust in his assumptions. "Tell me Kilthies, what advice does the Council of Elders give?"

  Kilthies looked from Mandigal to Errollan and then back. "They advise that you take what men you can into Dargon and attempt to rescue the Queen, before the Primals take her too far into their homeland." He paused for a moment, casting his eyes down, as though unsure of his next words and then said, "They insisted that the Maloreichar accompany the rescue party."

  Errollan began to laugh. "Insist. Who are they to order us? Do they wish us all out of the city so that our armies are leaderless?"

  "Errollan!" shouted Mandigal. "Watch your words. The Council has a wisdom beyond that of most men on this world. If they see cause for us all to go, then we should heed this advice. There has always been reason behind their decisions."

  "This is a great risk," said Ludvic with a shake of his head. "We know the danger in travelling into Dargonian territory. There is a very high chance that we will not make it back."

  "I must be honest," interrupted Kilthies. "When I was given this order I questioned the Council's motive behind sending the Maloreichar on such a dangerous quest. If the Alliance were to lose you it would be a savage blow to our chances of defeating Zephra...Yet there are no disciples on Kovi with a greater gift of foresight than the Elders. There is always sense in their actions and they have never made a decision without careful consideration."

  "And the city will not be leaderless," commented General de Lamina. "I will be here to ensure that it stands for your return."

  "Errollan," called Mandigal. "You all know that I have some skill in prophecy. Yet my skills are insignificant to that of Kiril Poth and the other Elders. Nyrune's magic is a completely different beast. We should not take lightly their suggestion."

  Errollan let out an aggrieved breath and finally nodded. He turned to Kilthies. "How many Primals can we expect?"

  "Dievu suggested several, possibly two dozen," answered Kilthies. "But that isn't all. Dievu sent two messages." The men listened carefully. "The first was sent after he had caught up with the assassins. The next was sent hours later, after he had escaped an attack by the leader of the Dargonians."

  "Who was it?" asked Harrinus eagerly.

  "A disciple of Gushkall by the name of Novokai," replied Kilthies with spite in his tone.

  Mandigal let out a loud groan. "This will not be an easy task."

  "We thought him dead," said Ludvic.

  "I am not sure that he can die," said Mandigal. "Novokai was old when our parents were born. His magic has given him a long life and because of this he has been able to learn more of the magical arts than most disciples in our world. He has been able to do things with Gushkall's magic that none would have thought possible. There are only a handful of disciples who can match his power. And only one man I know who has a darker heart than he."

  "Luschia," said Errollan, and Mandigal simply nodded.

  "If he is so skilled, then why is he not the King of Dargon," queried Harrinus.

  "Because Zephra is still more powerful than he," answered Mandigal. "And Novokai does not crave rulership. His mind hungers for more perverse things."

  "We cannot change who we need to fight, or how strong he is," said Ludvic in a restless tone. "We are wasting our time talking. Let's move out as quickly as possible."

  Errollan nodded. "Harrinus, summon forty of your most reliable men. We will need sturdy mounts, weapons and provisions for the journey."

  Harrinus saluted and moved up the steps to the exit.

  "So many men will not be necessary, Lord Dune," interrupted Kilthies. "I have brought the Thaldun Blades with me. And we would be honoured to fight by your side. I am sure that you could use our skills, and in any case a smaller group will have greater chance of passing into Dargon unnoticed."

  Errollan couldn't believe what he had just heard. "All fifteen of you are here?" he asked. This was a great gesture of faith in the Alliance from the Council of Elders.

  "They await us outside. Your Queen is held in high regard in our land, and by all of my warriors. We could not stand by and do nothing to help her."

  "How many men shall I summon?" asked Harrinus.

  "Twenty of your finest," replied Errollan, now more hopeful than before. "Very well. Guthrum, I entrust the defence of this city to you. The Honour Guard and Guard Captain Harrinus will travel into Dargon and rescue Queen Triel from these savages. Keep the city standing until we return."

  "Dievu Ilphuki had one last request in his message," mentioned Kilthies. "It seems that a young man that was travelling with him was also taken by the assassins. He was of great importance to Dievu, and it is his wish that we do all in our power to save him."

  "Christill!" cried out Estallion loudly, causing the others to jump. He had kept his mouth shut, but could no longer hold it in. "Is it Christill?"

  "How did you know?" asked Kilthies.

  "I was tryi
ng to ask before," said Estallion, raising his hands into the air dramatically. "He is alive?"

  "He is," replied Kilthies.

  "Christill is Thibalt's brother," said Estallion, his voice filled with unease.

  "You best go tell him, lad," replied Ludvic softly.

  Estallion turned without a second thought and bolted up the stairs.