“Is that why your army fled?”
“No, not really. Though I certainly wouldn't have known what else to do anyway. As it was, General Hronso's final order was to keep withdrawing until we reached this section of high ground. None of the other commanders left behind were any more experienced than me, and finding high ground did seem to make sense.”
“So why did you concede that advantage by sending a vanguard down the hill to engage the dwarf and elf army? That was absolutely a stupid thing to do.”
“It wasn't my decision.”
“I thought you were in command.”
If possible, Trent now looked even more pathetic than before. “I was...or at least, I was meant to be. But like I said, we'd all but fallen apart. Respect between our remaining commanders was almost non-existent. Without Hronso and the silent ones at our side, we knew we didn’t stand a chance. Some of the other officers had the idea that if we sacrificed a few men to you, then you would be more likely to accept our surrender. They issued the order to advance without my knowledge. By the time I realized what was going on, it was too late to stop it.”
Yularian considered this for a short while. The absolute stupidity…no. It was more than that. Insanity. To sacrifice your men in the hope you will slake your enemy’s lust for blood. Yes. Insanity. And cowardice.
“How many are there of these silent ones?” he then asked.
“Only about ten thousand in all. But they are far stronger than any normal soldier, and fight completely without fear or remorse. The rumor is that they are demons created by the Emperor’s magic. No one knows for sure.” He clutched at the king’s sleeve. “That’s everything I know about them. I swear it is. Please. Let me go home to my family. I was never meant to fight in a war.”
In spite of his anger, Yularian could not help but feel pity for the man. He did remember the brother he had mentioned quite well from his youth. Ralfio Trent had been a tall, gangling, quirky fellow with a good sense of humor. His father was a lesser noble from Kytain who had minor holdings in Ralmaria. They would see him in the fall for several weeks when they came to inspect their property, which was only a day’s ride from the king’s manor. And it was true that Ralfio and his own brother had gotten on particularly well.
He regarded Trent and sighed. “I’m going to send in one of my captains to question you further. I cannot send you home, but if you are forthcoming, I do promise that you will not be harmed.”
The man let out a great sigh of relief. Fresh tears formed, though these seemed to be of gratitude, not fear. “I will tell him whatever he wants to know. You have my word.”
The king stood and exited the tent. Halvar and Keira were waiting immediately outside. Both looked extremely troubled.
“You were listening?” Yularian asked.
“Indeed we were,” Keira replied. “I have never heard of anything like these silent ones he spoke of.”
“Perhaps they are Rakasa,” suggested Halvar.
Yularian shook his head. “No. He would have known if that’s what they were. What I find most disturbing is the timing of their departure. They vanished soon after your army gave pursuit, leaving a vast Imperial force without a chance for victory. Where did they go and why?”
“It’s possible they are planning a counter attack,” said Keira.
“With only ten thousand swords?” scoffed Halvar. “Regardless of how fierce they are, they could not possibly be any threat to us.”
“But we might not be the target,” Keira pointed out.
Halvar threw his arms wide. “Are you suggesting that this battle has been nothing more than a diversion. That a force of nearly one-hundred thousand Imperial soldiers has basically been sacrificed on a suicide mission. What prize could possibly be worth such this?”
“There is one possibility,” Keira told him.
After a brief moment of silence, Halvar's stiffened. “Elyfoss!”
Without another word, he retrieved a sending rod from his pocket. Clutching it firmly, he closed his eyes for a full minute, then gave a loud grunt of frustration.
“I cannot reach King Ganix.”
“Maybe he does not have his rod with him,” Keira offered.
“No. He would not set it aside for any reason. Something is preventing the contact.”
The implication was obvious. But there was nothing they could do. King Ganix was on his own. And with naught but a scant force left behind to protect the dwarves' mountain home, ten thousand hardened and ferocious fighters such as the silent ones would pose a very serious danger indeed.
“We should prepare to march right away,” said Yularian.
“However fast we are, we cannot possibly hope to get there in time,” Halvar growled, slamming a fist into the palm of his hand.
He spat a curse. Once again they had been outmaneuvered. And this time it could cost him his beloved home.
Chapter Nineteen
King Ganix sat beside Lady Thora in contented silence while Maile and Asta played tag with a small group of elf children in the mostly empty hall. It was once a ballroom, but Ganix had decided that it would serve much better as a place where people could bring their children to play while they went about their daily routine. It was now getting late, so most of the young ones had already been collected and brought home. The elf children would make their own way out when they were ready to leave. Ganix had found that elves matured far more quickly than dwarves. Certainly they were given much more freedom and responsibility at an earlier age. He supposed that living outside in the wild was a key factor in this. Dwarves were exceedingly protective, and hated not being able to watch over their offspring at all times.
“I’m making a fine nanny, don’t you think?” Ganix joked.
“Indeed you are,” agreed Thora. She leaned over to pat his knee. “A sign of a wise ruler.”
Ganix laughed. “A sign of an old man, is more like it. But in truth, I don’t mind. I never had children of my own. I think I would have enjoyed it.”
Thora cocked her head. “No children? You? And such a virile figure of a dwarf you are. How shameful.”
For a moment he couldn’t tell if she was being serious or just having fun with him. Thora was often impossible to read. A smile then appeared on her face, followed by a quiet laugh. “Were you never married?”
“Once. But she died shortly after we were wed.”
“I’m sorry. But surely you could have found another?”
Ganix shrugged. “Perhaps. After she passed, I dedicated myself to my studies. Then, once I became king, I suppose I simply lost track of time. Not much point in thinking about it now.”
“Oh, I don’t know. You still have much to offer. Never undervalue companionship. No one wishes to spend their life alone. After all, children are not the only reason for marriage.”
Ganix gave her a sideways glance. “My Lady, if I didn’t know better, I would think you are suggesting that we -”
“You are a wise dwarf,” Thora said, cutting him short. “But to think you always know better would be a mistake.”
She placed her hand in his and continued in silence to watch the children play. Ganix was stunned for a moment, but then relaxed. Very quickly a smile formed.
One by one, the elf children departed until only Maile and Asta remained. Their sad little faces were a testament to how close they had become with their new playmates.
“It’s their generation that holds the greatest hope for lasting peace,” Ganix remarked. “They are unburdened by the fears so engrained into their elders.”
“You don’t seem to be particularly burdened by such things,” observed Thora.
“I am more than you know. It’s difficult for me to see elves about the city. The homes they have taken here are no longer dwarf dwellings in my mind. I know they are simply living in houses long empty, and I do my best not to allow my inner thoughts to show, but every time I enter an elf home I feel as if another small piece of what we once were has faded.”
Before this conversation could progress any further, Maile and Asta ran up to embrace their grandmother. “Can we come back here tomorrow?” they both pleaded.
“That depends on if you get your chores done,” she replied.
“Oh, we will,” said Maile, poking her sister in the ribs until she nodded her agreement.
“That's good. Now help an old lady up and let’s get ourselves home. We have a guest coming for dinner tonight.” As the two girls tugged at her arms, she looked over to Ganix who was busy easing his own cracking joints into an upright position. “The king is in need of some true dwarf hospitality.”
Ganix held up his hands. “I couldn’t impose.”
“Are you refusing my invitation?”
Before he could reply, the girls were already jumping up and down with glee, insisting loudly that the king must come. They knew guests meant fresh bread and sweets for dessert.
“Very well. But only if you allow me to return your kindness tomorrow night.”
Thora nodded and gave a sharp humph of satisfaction. “We will be expecting you then.”
Ganix walked them through the manor to the main entrance. The halls were unsettlingly empty since the main force had marched off to fight Shinzan’s army. A scant fifteen thousand fighters, mostly dwarves, had been left behind. Aside from these, the population was mostly children and the elderly, along with those parents who refused to leave their children.
The thousand or so elves now residing within Elyfoss had certainly made their presence felt, though not in any kind of way that one wouldn’t expect from a new group with different customs. But he had been truthful when he'd told Lady Thora he found it troubling. New songs echoed through old halls, and new art was on proud display in front of houses he could never have imagined being occupied by anyone other than a dwarf. But this was the way of change, he told himself. Things familiar are often lost.
He watched until Lady Thora and the girls had reached the end of the colonnade before starting out for his chambers. It would be nice to have a traditional dwarf meal. Lately, the scent of cooking meat has been assaulting his nostrils entirely too often. Most of their provisions had been sent with the army, making meals these days a mixed bag of elf and dwarf cuisine. Though he had personally still avoided eating meat, just the mere odor of it in other people's food was enough to make his own meals taste foul.
These were the kind of things that would cause most of his inner battles against old hatreds. And he was not alone. His people had so far been surprisingly accepting of the elves, no doubt aided considerably by his outward example. All the same, he could hear the older folk quietly grumbling their dissatisfaction amongst themselves. He wondered if the elves were equally uncomfortable. Did they also fear seeing their culture being diluted until eventually it would become something that was totally unrecognizable to them?
Ganix pushed these dark thoughts aside as he washed himself and dressed for dinner. Lady Thora’s mention of not spending a life alone had suddenly made his room seem rather empty and cold. They had only been parted for a few hours and already he was missing Maile and Asta's laughter, and even more so, Thora's soothing voice. She and he were of the same generation. She could understand his mind much better than the younger folk.
A few messengers arrived at his door while he was getting ready, but he had already decided that he was done with business for the day so quickly dismissed them. The thought of a fine meal and good company had taken over his priorities. Not to mention he knew for a fact that Lady Thora had in her possession a bottle of excellent Lugnar whiskey. She had hinted at sharing it with him on several occasions. Hopefully, this would be the night she would choose to do so.
While walking through the streets, he instinctively gazed upon all the wonderful sights surrounding him. Beauty such as this had taken thousands of years to produce. It was something so precious that he had sworn on his life to protect it for the next generation. To be sure he missed his own city, and frequently wondered if he would ever return. But Elyfoss was unique. Nowhere else in all of Lumnia captured the essence of his people in quite the same way.
He spotted a young elf woman struggling with a large bundle while trying to open the front gate of her home. He moved quickly to help her with her burden.
“Thank you,” she said. Then, realizing who he was, she bowed her head and added more formally: “Thank you, Your Highness.”
“It is my pleasure,” he replied, hefting the heavy sack over his shoulder. “Are you alone here?”
The woman opened the gate and hurried to her door. “I am. My daughter and husband are fighting with the army. I would have gone as well, but I have no skill with weapons.”
Ganix followed her into a small kitchen, where he placed the sack in a near corner. “What did you do before all this trouble began?”
“I was a weaver,” she replied. “As was my father before me.”
Ganix had to admit that elf clothing was by far superior to anything the dwarves produced. “A far more useful skill than weapons, if you ask me,” he remarked.
“I agree. But now I wish I had listened to my mother and learned to fight as well.”
“I thought all elves were trained in that art, at least somewhat.”
The woman laughed. “You know little of us, I see. It’s true that most of us learn to track and hunt, and given that we are despised and hunted by the humans, many learn to use weapons. But those such as me who lived beyond the marshland in Traxis where humans rarely ventured, often chose not to do so. I never traveled beyond the small area we called home, so no such training was needed. I was never as fast or as strong as others in my tribe anyway, so it is for the best. Had I gone off to war, I would have been more of a hindrance than a help.”
“I understand the feeling. I am no warrior either. Just a simple lowly scholar.”
“A scholar to be sure. But if half of what I’ve heard about you is true, you are anything but simple. Without your voice to join with that of Lotheri we would still be living in fear of our ultimate demise. You have brought two ancient enemies together. No simple man could have accomplished this.”
“I thank you for your words, kind lady. But I did very little. It took the combined strength of both our peoples to accomplish this. I only helped to set it in motion.”
She chuckled. “You are far too modest. But I am still grateful to you.”
Ganix bowed. “It is my pleasure. Are you comfortable here?”
The woman shrugged. “I am happy to have somewhere to sleep at night. At the same time, I miss the open air greatly. Forgive me if I offend you, but this is no place for elves. We are creatures of the wild. As spectacular as Elyfoss is to behold, I prefer my small house near the shore. I miss the taste of the salt on my tongue as it used to carry into my window on the morning breeze. And the sound of the gulls at sunset. I pray for a swift victory each night so that I may return there with my family.” Her face looked suddenly strained and her eyes glazed over with barely contained tears.
“I will pray for their return as well.” Ganix told her.
“Forgive me, Your Highness. I worry so about them. The dangers they face are more than I can bear at times.” She crossed over to a small wooden cupboard and removed a blanket. The cloth shimmered in the lamplight and its hue shifted from a deep blue to an emerald green as she folded it into a tight bundle. “I made this just before I left home. Please. I would be honored if you would accept it as a gift.”
Ganix ran his hands over the cloth. It was astoundingly soft, yet felt as sturdy as the thickest wool. He had seen a few elf blankets, and all had been of extremely high quality. This, however, was a true masterpiece of craftsmanship beyond anything else he had held.
“Now I can say with absolute certainty that you made the correct choice in not wasting your talents fiddling around with weapons,” he said. “This is a true kingly gift. I thank you.”
This brightened her demeanor slightly. “You are most welcome. I am pleased tha
t you appreciate my work.”
“I do indeed.” It was getting late, and he now found himself searching for a way to excuse himself politely. But after receiving such a treasure, everything that came to mind sounded rather rude.
The sudden blast from a trumpet made any such excuses unnecessary. Ganix hurried to the front door just as a second one sounded. His nerves tensed. Two meant a threat, and three...
The third blast rang out just as he opened the door.
The city was under attack.
* * * * *
General Hronso raised his fist high, ready to give the signal. The intimidatingly large dwarf weapon a few feet ahead of him was aimed and ready. Its target, even though more than three miles away, would be no challenge to hit for the Rakasa preparing to fire. From this distance, the mountain where he had last fought the dwarves looked like nothing more than an anthill that needed to be crushed underfoot. The force left behind to defend Elyfoss had become aware of their presence, and he could see their tiny figures now scrambling desperately to form ranks directly across the mountain's entrance, and at two points further down.
Not that it would do them no good. Nothing could prevent what was about to happen. Even though the main army sent to crush him would have realized by now that they had been deliberately drawn further and further away, it would be impossible for them to travel the great distance in time to do anything to help their comrades.
He wondered what bit of scheming had unfolded after he'd abandoned that cowardly fool Trent and his force to their fate. Martok had certainly planned something in the hope of dealing a crippling blow to the Emperor. No matter what it was, he could have never fathomed the end game. Only Hronso knew what Shinzan had in store for the people of Lumnia. Even the devastation he was now about to unleash on what was the pride and joy of the entire dwarf nation, paled in comparison. How ironic that it should be one of their very own weapons accomplishing this.
Dragonvein Book Four Page 27