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

by Julian Saheed

  * * *

  To Dunhelm they rode, a city of artisans and craftsmen, famed for the skill and talents of its hard working people. As they rested in Dunhelm, Errollan and Ludvic caught word that most of the women, children and a few of the soldiers had been able to make it out of Precedin alive. Having learnt that the General had not made it out of the city, Thibalt, Estallion and Christill joined Guard Captain Harrinus and the other soldiers for a much needed round of ale before a restless nights sleep.

  When morning came, the Duke of Dunhelm summoned forth thirty of his finest men to escort the Queen back to the capital. Thibalt and Christill mounted up and followed the new escort out of Dunhelm and along the main highway to the City of Skiye.

  "I wonder what Oswald is up to?" pondered Christill as they rode along the highway.

  "No doubt causing as much trouble as he can for his stable hands," replied Thibalt. Christill nodded with a smirk, recalling their time at Steelfist Ranch.

  They continued on and Thibalt found that he felt surprisingly sad when he let his thoughts dwell on Precedin. His stay there had been short, but it had felt more like a home to him than any other place he had lived. More than that he mourned the loss of the place that he had met Miera. In the time that they had been together he had been truly happy. He had envisioned a simple home where they would live together in peace. His thoughts now dwelled on a future in Precedin that would never come to pass.

  His feelings then shifted to Estallion and he felt angry at himself for worrying about such petty things when his closest friend had lost everything. "Estallion," called Thibalt. "I am deeply sorry for your loss. I should have said something earlier."

  Estallion faced Thibalt and smiled genially. "What I have lost is trivial. There are much more important things in this world than land and money. Those that I hold dear are still safe and that is all that truly matters. I only grieve for the loss of Guthrum de Lamina, who was a greater man than I could ever hope to be." Estallion's smile slowly faded. Thibalt knew that, despite the heated exchanges, Estallion had held the General in close regard.

  The carriage in which the Queen rested kept its fast pace as they passed a large area of cultivated fields. To each side of the highway, farm hands worked tirelessly to keep the crops healthy and fruitful. They continued to work despite the knowledge that an invading army loomed at the walls of Precedin.

  Once they had passed through the farmlands the landscape turned to rich rolling hills and meadows carpeted by flourishing grasses and budding flowers. The sky above was dotted here and there by fluffy clouds that occasionally blotted out the sun. Christill was happy, at least the weather looked to be improving.

  After a few more days of travel, the escort reached high ground. The highway had gradually travelled uphill, until now they reached a rise which was the highest point in eastern Feldom. They approached the end of the large rise and the City of Skiye came into view.

  The sprawling capital spread out along the River of Ice for miles and the city proper loomed tall in the centre with its monolithic walls and pristine buildings. The architects that had worked on the city had ensured that it remained the most advanced city in the world and up to this day their promise had been kept.

  A highly advanced aqueduct and sewerage system connected every inch of the city, allowing fresh and clean water to flow to even the poorest of areas. Buildings were carved from limestone and bricks with hardly a plain one in sight. The city streets were designed in efficient squares, allowing traffic to move swiftly through the many business districts. At regular intervals in the inner walls, highly guarded gateways ensured that thieves and criminals were mostly absent from the market squares.

  But the sight that caught most of their attentions was the Citadel of Kings. The elegant building rose from the centre of the city in splendid fashion with numerous spiralling towers and colourful banners. Even from a distance they could make out the white marble wall that split the two sections of the Citadel in half down the centre. To the right of the wall rose the Academy of Skiye, on top of which stood a tall, diamond shaped, silver tower. To the left of the wall lay the King's palace which was supported by black columns of stone and had three circular lookout towers crowning its roof. After a long moment, the escort resumed its journey and began to head downhill towards the outskirts of the capital.

  "It is enormous," muttered Thibalt with wide eyes.

  "Larger than I could have ever dreamed," agreed Christill.

  The outer village that they first reached was newly founded and was, in many areas, still under construction. They rode along a wide road that pointed directly to the Citadel and the further into the city that they moved the more people they saw. Word spread through the area like wildfire that Queen Triel and the Honour Guard had returned and by the time they had reached the wall to the city proper a massive crowd had gathered to cheer on the heroes. Men, women, children, the sick and the elderly all gathered around the open gate in the fifty foot high stone wall that formed a rough square around the city. At each corner of the barricade stood a mighty tower and in the centre of each wall lay a wide entrance with a pair of portcullises and iron bound gates.

  The company passed under the wall to the roar of the crowd, but they shunned the praise, for they felt that they were not deserving of it. Their minds dwelled only on the loss of the City of War and the many bodies that lay on the horrid pyre erected by the Dargonians.

  Upon entering the city, Thibalt and Christill were reminded of Andron with its busy streets and diverse populous. Much like their father's home, the City of Skiye was a city full of life and colour. Errollan motioned for the escort to pick up speed and they headed straight for the Citadel. Shopkeepers and patrons bartering in the streets shouted praise and happiness as they saw the Queen return to her city.

  Finally, they reached an open square containing a large fountain at its centre. From the fountain rose a statue of Skiye's angel and below it stood many people saying silent prayers to their goddess. Behind the square rose one hundred and twenty steps that led to the Citadel. Estallion muttered his annoyance, but they dismounted and made their way up the long series of steps. Harrinus and Errollan helped Triel make her way up, her legs still weak from Novokai's torture.

  At the top of the steps, Christill gazed at the two identical entrances to the left and right of the wall splitting the Citadel in half. Both were tall and wide archways, decorated with fine carvings. At each portal stood four guards dresses in golden armour and red trimmings, all of which held the rank of guardian. The brothers waited until the rest of the company reached the top and then followed Errollan and Ludvic through the left arch and into the King's palace.

  Errollan and Ludvic marched with heavy steps into the throne room followed by Queen Triel and Guard Captain Harrinus. Several paces behind, Christill and Thibalt walked nervously along the red carpet leading to the King's bejewelled throne. Finally, heading up the rear of the group, came Estallion who seemed indifferent to his surroundings and casually glanced here and there, admiring several of the long banners and flags that hung from the roof above.

  The room was long and vaulted, with decorated columns of stone rising up to the roof at its sides. At the end of the running carpet, four steps rose to King Dieter Castaneda's seat of power, next to which stood the Queens own chair, slightly smaller in size, but no less extravagant.

  Thibalt and Christill kept silent as the many finely dressed courtiers and dignitaries in the room stopped their conversations and inspected the newcomers. The brothers marvelled at the high quality clothes worn by the people in attendance. They were in the presence of some of the most powerful people in Feldom. For what seemed an age they marched up to the throne until Errollan and Ludvic stopped and bowed low to the ground.

  As the Honour Guard paid their respect to the King, the brothers caught their first glimpse of the imposing man. Sitting upon the throne and wearing a thick white and blue robe over his black clothes, the King slouched in
his chair with his head resting upon his hand. Several days of stubble marked his face and his greying hair fell upon a stern look and tired eyes.

  "My lords, it has been an age since you have graced us with your presence," opened King Castaneda.

  Christill found the Kings voice strong and overbearing, as though he talked with authority over all. Befitting a King, he mused.

  Errollan moved to the side and allowed Queen Triel to move forward. "We have returned her highness to your safe keeping, my King."

  The King nodded, his face showing little emotion, but he said nothing.

  "The disciple Novokai was behind her kidnapping and were it not for the aid of the Thaldun Blades we would not have made it out of Dargon alive," Errollan continued.

  "And did you kill Novokai?" asked the King.

  "That we did not," said Ludvic grimly. "He was a mighty foe and took many of our men from this plane before he made his escape."

  A frown appeared on the King's face. "I would think that with the aid of the Thaldun Blades the Honour Guard would be able to take care of one disciple. Where was Mandigal in all of this?" he asked in a critical tone.

  "We did the best that we could," replied Ludvic angrily. "I did not see you rushing to save your wife from a tortured death, Dieter."

  Errollan placed his hand on Ludvic's shoulder to restrain him. "Calm yourself," he whispered.

  "Watch your tongue, Lord Hammerfell. You are in the presence of royalty," announced another voice.

  Thibalt turned to see a man stepping out from behind the throne. He walked with a grace that was suiting of his rank, for he was the head disciple of the Academy of Skiye and the King's senior most advisor. He wore tightly fitted blue robes, on which his perfectly straight, long black hair fell. It was well known throughout Feldom that Perephine Aldehelm longed to sit on the throne, but with no royal blood in his veins he had no chance of fulfilling his dreams. Instead he had worked his way up to the highest position that a commoner could attain, and was now well in control of all of Feldom's affairs. He looked upon Errollan and Ludvic with apparent disgust. From behind him came four more of the King's advisors, among them Elephtheria Oliseh who looked especially pleased to see Queen Triel safe.

  Ludvic and Errollan did not hide their revulsion of Perephine and his conniving ways and continued to address the King. "We come to you in dark times, Dieter," announced Ludvic loudly. "Precedin has fallen and you sit here and do nothing about it."

  "We have discussed this matter in council and are debating on how to act," answered Perephine. "We cannot just rush into battle without considering all eventualities."

  "I did not address you, Perephine," Ludvic retaliated. "Does the King no longer hold a voice in this council?"

  "Perephine speaks in my interest, Ludvic. You will take his word as my own," interrupted the King in a tired voice.

  Queen Triel raised her hand to stop the bickering and slowly walked up the steps to the throne. She took a seat in her own chair and Elephtheria came to her side, where they hugged for a long moment. "Precedin must be retaken," insisted Triel to the King. Christill noticed that the way in which she spoke to her husband showed she held little love for the man. "Ludvic and Errollan know more than anyone else the strategic importance of that city," she added.

  "The loss of Precedin will be dealt with in due time," replied the King, waving Triel's problem away. "There are other matters that plague our nation."

  Thibalt could not understand how the King could be so unconcerned about the loss of his most vital city. He gazed over at Christill who was dwelling on similar thoughts.

  "What news do you have about the battle for Precedin?" asked Errollan.

  "A sergeant arrived with General de Lamina's final message," answered Perephine. "I believe his name was Hanlit."

  Errollan turned to a page standing strictly at the side of the room. "Summon this sergeant at once," he commanded. The page took off instantly.

  Errollan and Ludvic turned and approached Thibalt and Christill. They summoned the brothers forth with Estallion trudging along behind them. "I wish to present Thibalt Steelfist, Christill Greyspell and Estallion Bastion."

  King Castaneda motioned for them to come forward. "You had a part to play in the rescue of my wife?"

  "You could say that we played a part," answered Estallion happily. "Christill here was a captive himself, which led me and Thibalt to join the company. Saving the beautiful Queen simply came with the job." He winked at the Queen whose lips curled into a slight grin.

  The King looked upon Estallion with a lowered brow, displaying his annoyance at Estallion's informal tone. "As you have done a service for me. I will do something for you. A good King rewards his loyal subjects. Tell me what would you ask of me?"

  Thibalt and Christill stared nervously at the King whilst Estallion rubbed his chin. "A new saddle for my wayward friend Falgo and a suit of fine mail for both Thibalt and his brother," replied Estallion.

  "You will have it," nodded the King.

  The sound of hurried steps echoed from behind and they turned to find the page running back to the throne with Sergeant Hanlit in tow.

  "You are the man that carried words from the General?" asked Ludvic hastily.

  He nodded and replied, "Sergeant Mannin Hanlit, my lord."

  "Were you there during the battle?" asked Errollan.

  Hanlit nodded. "Yes sir, and a horrific battle it was. The full might of Dargon was unleashed upon our walls. I saw our men fight courageously against an unwavering tide, but in the end we were too few."

  "Where you with the General?" queried Ludvic.

  "Yes, at his last moments," replied Hanlit, sadly. "I begged him to flee the city, but he would not leave the wall. He asked me to send word to King Castaneda."

  "What was his message?" asked Errollan eagerly.

  "He told me to ride for the citadel. I was to tell the King that Baldoroff must make peace," he paused, with confusion evident in his features. "I was not exactly sure what he meant."

  "Baldoroff!" roared the King angrily, his face flushing red. "Guthrum asks me to make peace with the man whom I would have hung from the city walls."

  "Guthrum realized the truth, Dieter," said Errollan. "He saw Dargon's power upfront and understood that if you do not make peace with Baldoroff, we could lose Feldom forever."

  "I will not make peace with that traitor!" boomed the King. "He dares to challenge my rule by creating his own nation. Such betrayal will not go unchecked. Baldoroff will commit his loyalty to me or find blood on his hands."

  Errollan closed his eyes. This was the one thing that he had feared the most. A civil war. "The last thing that we need is conflict within our own borders. As we sit and debate an army marches from the East to wipe us from the very face of this world. Have you been blinded by your pride?"

  "The Maloreichar think that everything can only be solved through force," commented Perephine. "We are in the mind that the nation of Durraas is a bigger threat to Feldom right now than an army that we have repelled back into its own borders since the dawn of time. May I remind you that Dargon has never won any campaign that it has launched against us. This will be no different."

  "Have you all grown daft?" yelled Ludvic. "This is nothing like the wars of bygone times. Twenty thousand men and counting have entered Feldonian soil and the City of War is in the enemies hands for the first time ever."

  "We know this. Remember that the King will decide what is more important for this nation. And at the moment Baldoroff is the biggest threat. We are convinced that Zephra will not march his men out of Precedin for several months. He will need a great amount of time to bring in sufficient supplies for a lengthy campaign. Besides, our intelligence points his next assault to the north, which will only aid us in our current problems with Auldney."

  "So you will sit by and allow Polthney and Larthstone to be overwhelmed and suffer because of Baldoroff's madness," said Errollan in disbelief.

  "If Baldo
roff decides to go ahead with his separation from Feldom, then they will no longer be our problem," replied the King. "It is up to him to save his people. I have sent him an ultimatum. If he does not pledge his loyalty to my bloodline, my army will march to his city and retake it for Feldom. No longer will Auldney be run by its own king. I will turn it back into a dukedom as it should be."

  "The world has gone mad," muttered Estallion under his breath.

  "Enough! We will speak of this when the council is in session," boomed the King. "For now Feldom thanks you for returning Triel to her people. Now tell me, where is Mandigal?"

  "He had some things to see to," answered Errollan quickly. Thibalt looked over at his brother and Christill shrugged. Errollan and Ludvic had not shared Mandigal's whereabouts with any of the company and they assumed that secrecy was of great importance. But to keep this from the King was highly unusual.

  "We have things that we must discuss with you and the other advisors, Perephine," stated Errollan. "We have seen strange beasts in our travels. The kind from nightmares and children's tales."

  Perephine nodded. "We have had many sightings of late. As of yet we can find no answer. Even Skiye provides no knowledge."

  "They are no creations of Beon. It may be possible for Gushkall to have had a hand in their spawning, but it would still be highly unlikely," commented Elephtheria.

  Sergeant Hanlit cleared his throat to address the crowd. "These beasts you speak of may have had a hand in the sacking of Precedin."

  "How so?" asked Ludvic eagerly.

  "During the battle, word spread that tall beasts with leathery wings and tough hides came upon the guards at the gate. It is said that they were instrumental in opening the gate. Had we been able to keep it shut, we might have kept the city long enough to bolster our forces. Though I doubt we could have held the wall for much longer."

  "This is indeed interesting. If these creatures fight for Zephra's armies we may have an even bigger problem on our hands," commented Perephine.

  "I will leave it to you to solve this mystery, for you are familiar with these matters. I will tend to the safekeeping of Feldom." Errollan turned to face the King. "I ask one thing of you Dieter. Declare a state of war. Summon forth the armies of Feldom under your order. Send word to the dukes and lords that the call to arms has begun. If you raise the banner of war from the top of the Citadel, your nation will answer."

  "My wife was given that task and she marshalled but two thousand men," argued the King, in a serious tone. "My people do not want to fight."

  "Triel summoned the Militia of Feldom. I am asking you to order the armies to leave their garrisons and march against Zephra's forces," pointed out Errollan.

  "When the West realises that twenty thousand enemy soldiers are on the move, they will come in power to aid us," added in Ludvic. "Only if you sound the call to arms will the dukes send their men to war. We have close to twenty five thousand hardened soldiers scattered over this nation, more if we retain the northern cities. We could stop Zephra's armies at Precedin. All we ask is that you sound the call to arms. The Honour Guard will do the rest."

  "We will think on this," said Perephine calmly. "It is a big thing that you ask. For now rest your weary bones. We are safe here."

  Errollan bowed once more and turned to leave. Thibalt and Christill followed him out and inside the throne room arguments quickly erupted amongst the officials and nobles.