Rise of the Darekian's, The

by Wood, Andrew

  They were greeted by two riders, carrying the colours of Lord Willem. A man of middle age, whom Caldar recognised, but could not remember his name, saluted, "Welcome back your highness. Lord Willem is expecting you in Berston; we have been tracking your movements for the last couple of days." That surprised Caldar, his own scouts had been sent out, but had reported nothing, ironically as it was, his scouts had themselves been scouted. The officer looked at the large travelling contingent, "I see it is true your highness, you have a few more than when you left," he smiled at the tongue in cheek comment. He fell in beside Caldar and explained that provisions had been made south of Berston for any refugees he had collected along the way. Though for now at least, they would have to make do with canvas tents for living quarters, all building work was being carried out on defences. Caldar nodded, he had already seen just how much building work, and it was becoming apparently clear Lord Willem was surely not a man to hang around.

  They passed by Berston, which now proudly flew the colours of the Corlan flag. He had not had one when he had arrived, and was unsure where the people had obtained such a thing. "The townsfolk made it," the officer said, noticing the puzzlement on the prince's face, "it's been flying these past few days, guess they needed a statement to tell people of their identity. Lord Willem encourages them in such things; he wants them to know we are not the invaders here." He realised how that could be construed by the public, having seen him ride off, and leaving them with a foreign force in his place. Still it was also nice of the South Besemians to encourage his peoples own identity, it was after all still their town.

  Casham was now a sort of headquarters behind the front line; at least that is how he viewed it as they approached. The Defences here were as they had been when he had left, and the people still went about their business as if nothing untoward was going on. His own guards still patrolled the gates and walls, and the only sign of South Besemian soldiers were those entering or leaving shops or taverns. The building he had used for his discussions with Lord Willem had however been made over, and outside the door stood two of their guards, not his. The officer with him, pointed in that direction, "they are only there when Lord Willem is in residence your highness." He nodded, accepting the explanation given, before dismounting and handing the reins of his horse to a waiting stable hand.

  The guards at the entrance to the building, stood to attention as he entered the doorway, and into the room where he found Lord Willem sitting at a desk. The top of the desk was a mass of paperwork, and just from a quick glance, Caldar was thankful he did not have to be responsible for such a thing. The Lord stood quickly as soon as he realised whom it was, before bowing his head and proffering his hand in welcome. "Welcome your highness, it is good to see you well," he greeted him in a warm friendly way. Caldar shook his hand and sat down on the opposite side of the table. Willem sent out for refreshments, to which Caldar was quite looking forward to; they had not stopped for some time and his mouth was feeling dry.

  Lord Willem cleared a space for the tray when it arrived a short time later, which contained a bottle of wine, a couple of glasses as well as a small plate of biscuits. He poured a glass firstly for the prince then for himself, before leaning back in his chair. Caldar gladly helped himself to several of the biscuits in between sips of his drink, "I see you have been very busy," he said. He proceeded by showing him a plan of the defences, the lines of trenches and fort like structures Caldar had passed through on his way in. It was his intention to make the line as long as it was feasible to do so, not only across his land, but across Corlan as well. Both nations had lost huge areas to the Darekian invaders and it was clear if they wanted to attempt to take any more, they would have to fight for it.

  With reports coming in from Bashek, the North Besemian capital was in the hands of Darekia, with the perpetrators of the king's murder no sooner to being found. Lord Willem explained for now it was necessary to hold what they had, before attempting to take back what they had lost. He made it quite clear, once more, that they had no desires on lands belonging to Corlan, and as his officer had suggested to Caldar on the ride in, was making sure it was important the people here saw them as friends not intruders. Once the general report and updates had been given, Caldar had a question, "I wonder, have you heard any of these rumours of my people resettling south of the River Fivan?" he pointed to a small map on the tabletop. "As we rode in, it appeared more and more people were saying the same thing. Thousands of refugees were making a stand here, at Easton, our old Capital."

  Lord Willem scratched at his hair, before replying, "You would not believe half the things I hear your highness." Caldar had an inclination of what was coming next, "Yes I have heard such rumours, how true I do not know. It is difficult to deduce what is fact and what is fiction. I have had so many rumours from the west of your lands, saying some great powerful wizard is roaming the place," he laughed at the sheer foolishness of the very suggestion. Caldar did not share in the mirth; he had already relayed his thoughts on the matter, earlier to Vanessa. He did however start explaining to Lord Willem of his need to travel westwards, as it was looking increasingly likely that some refugees were indeed south of the river. With so many rumours, there must be some truth in it, and he needed to see they were safe.

  Lord Willem listened and agreed wholeheartedly with the idea, "I can assist you by sending some of my men with you, if you feel it necessary." Caldar had not yet had to time to start considering how many men he would need for such a trip. He was not certain how many people were there, or how many fighting men they had amongst them. He thanked the lord for his offer and told him, he would have to consider the facts with his officers before making a decision. He did however; want to move out as soon as it was feasibly possible to do so. As Caldar stood to leave, Lord Willem spoke "I have been thinking your highness. I was not sure how to broach the matter, but I guess asking it straight out is as good as any." Caldar turned back, wondering what question could not be asked outright, "feel free to ask anything," he said in reply. "Well, we thought, maybe it was time for you to put aside the prince and become the king your people need."

  It had crossed his mind on more than one occasion, and it was always the not knowing, the uncertainty there was a small chance maybe his parents were alive. However, he did not even believe it himself; but if there was even the slightest possibility, he could not yet take the throne. He sat back down, before explaining his concerns to Lord Willem, who listened sympathetically, and did not push the subject any further. Caldar did know it was something that needed rectifying, and he hoped his trip westward would give him the answers he needed to make the decision.

  Evening came, and just as he was thinking about looking for Vanessa, the young woman sought him out. He greeted her with a peck on the cheek, and she linked arms with him as they walked. They headed for the camp that had been laid out for the newcomers. It was all neatly laid out, several long lines of white canvas tents with campfires spaced out amongst them. At each end, there was a much larger tent, which Caldar was told held supplies for those living in camp. Everything they needed had been supplied, blankets, cook pots and utensils, plates, cups in addition to food and water.

  Caldar joined Vanessa and her family members, who were sat on a log around one of the fires, awaiting the kettle to heat soup. He told them of his plan to ride westward, and even though these were no more than farmers from the middle of nowhere, he felt quite at home chatting with them. Telling them Lord Willem had enquired about his succession and pretty much confirmed the rumours that indeed, people were gathering south of the River Fivan. Vanessa was first to tell the prince she would be accompanying him, followed by her twin, Edward, and all the other sons. Only for her father to rap the youngest, Mitch, on the head and remind him he was too young, and would be remaining here. Eric, the eldest stood and poured out bowls of soup, while Vanessa passed everyone a bread roll. Much to Caldars surprise, the bread appeared fresh and even more so, the soup quite tasty.

&nb
sp; After eating and bidding farewell to Vanessa and her family, he made his way back to the town of Casham. As the crown prince of Corlan, he was naturally afforded a proper bed in which to sleep. He had decided to wait a few days, give his men and their horse's time to rest from the recent travels. Also deciding to take up the offer of men from Lord Willem, he felt maybe, it was better to have more; he was walking into completely unknown territory. He could take two routes; the first would be taking to the north side of the Fivan mountain range, which would bring him out on the northern side of the river when reaching the area of Easton. Alternatively, he could swing south and emerge on that side of the river. He had determined that if they were using the river as a barrier that the refugees would be to the south and so would go that direction.

  Chapter 18.

  Fenlor, Supreme overlord of Darekia, stood at the altar, his latest sacrifice still warm upon the blood stained stone. Using his sacrificial knife, he cut the heart from the body, squeezing it gently he could feel the blood trickling down his hand. Holding it over a flaming pan, he continued his chant, summoning the darkest of powers from beneath the earth. Placing the heart into the flames, the wetness making a sizzle, he then used his knife to nick his own palm, letting drops of his own blood fall into the flames. After finishing his chant, he tipped the flaming heart into a small hole in the earth. The ground shook slightly as the surface cracked and a large black haired beast broke the surface. Standing tall, taking its first breath before roaring out. Another Orlac for his army obeyed his command and lumbered slowly out of the room, awaiting his order to depart.

  A Priest, dressed all in black entered the room, "I have news your supreme eminence." Fenlor turned round, looking down at the kneeling man before him, "Rise and speak" he commanded in a deep resonating voice. "My Lord, the Corlan capital is as you said; nothing now but dust. We rout their farms and villages, the rest have fled south of the River Fivan. The Besemians have risen up against us and hold a line some hundred miles south of their capital, which we hold." After a moment's thought the overlord nodded, "excellent, it is time we now focus our efforts. I will send out a signal for our men to group up, one final push over the river will break the last of the Corlan resistance. Their nation will fall to us; we can then sweep south and surround those Besemians who hold out." He allowed himself a laugh, before dismissing the priest.

  Darak had volunteered for wood cutting duty north of the river. Having not had a drink for several days, he hoped the worst of his pains were over. The shaking of his hands was not as bad as it was, and after making the wooden sword and shield for Taylor, he thought hard labour would keep his mind off his drink. He worked in a gang of twelve, and allocated an area to fell. He paused a while to wipe the sweat of his brow, leaning on his long handled axe. He looked over to his left, and smiled as he watched two children who were charged with watching some cattle, trying to persuade a calf to move away from the riverbank. Picking his axe back up, recoiling it back before continuing work on the current tree he was chopping.

  After making a smaller cut on the opposite side of the trunk, Darak wielded the axe down, swinging it into the fleshy part of the wood. The blade bit deep, and he pulled it free ready to repeat the process. His attention was drawn to the sound of horses, the noise of hooves thundering on the ground, and getting closer. One of the men working nearby, screamed out, as an approaching rider charged him with sword drawn. Darak pulled his axe free from the trunk of the tree, "Get Back, across the bridge," he bellowed. He shouted once more in the direction of the children he had seen, to get them to safety. A dozen or more riders came into view, and he witnessed one of the other woodcutters get cut down. He turned to see the children running now ignoring their animals and heading back to a safer place.

  A Dark cloaked rider raised his long curve bladed sword and headed towards Darak. Standing his ground, he waited, knowing his timing needed to be perfect, the rider thundered right up to him, swinging his blade down. Darak stepped aside, and swung his axe into the back of the man as he passed. The rider cried out, tumbling off his horse and onto the ground. Pulling the axe out of the back of the fallen man, another approached before he had time to act proper. This time he was not quick enough and he felt a slicing through his shoulder, gritting his teeth in agony he stood firm.

  The bell on the bridge was now tolling, warning of intruders and the bridge guards were preparing to shut the gates. The children had reached their way back to the south side of the river, as had some of the other woodcutting teams. Darak dragged down another attacker, and thumped his axe down into the man's chest as he crashed down. He looked towards the bridge as another one of the woodsman reached safety. He run as fast as he could to aid another, but was too late as two riders simultaneously struck at the unfortunate man as he ran. Darak felt a rage at the injustice and swung his axe high, striking one of the men on the arm causing him to drop his sword, recoiling in agony. Before he could turn, the second rider thrust down his blade, and the young son of Lord Galliss, slumped to the ground.

  The remaining attackers grouped and charged for the bridge, just as the doors were swung shut to stop them progressing all the way across. The archers on the battlements above them rained arrows down upon the riders, as they struggled to turn their horses back around. Each fell, slumping off their mounts onto the stone bridge, as the archers found their targets with ease. The bell was stopped, as the men atop the battlements were certain there were no more enemy troops in sight. The doors were re-opened, and twenty cavalry, quickly mustered from the camp rode out, dodging or just trampling the fallen dead on the bridge as they went.

  The five bodies of the fallen woodsmen were checked, Darak was amongst them. Lord Galliss ran across the blood-strewn stonework, and straight to his fallen son. Placing his arm under his sons head, tears in his eyes, "Father, I did my best" Darak struggled to say, blood coming from his mouth. Galliss lifted his young son into his arms and carried him back. The guards on the gate parted silently for him as he walked past them, and back onto the south side of the river. Luken ran to see what the commotion and alarm was all about, and noticing Lord Galliss carrying a body in his arms felt his heart sink. He made his way to intersect him, "bring him to the river," he said as he neared. Lord Galliss looked up; the big man's sorrowful face looked confused, but did as he was asked.

  Luken was not sure how or what he was supposed to do, Dagon had told him, water and air could heal. Did he need to submerge himself or his patient in water, or maybe just partly so. With no time to think, he just did what felt right. His will was already full to bursting, such was the situation, he placed one hand in the water of the river, and another on the barely breathing body of Darak. Somehow, Luken knew the young man had two bad wounds, one deep slice across his shoulder, though bad was not yet fatal. The second was a deep puncture wound, from a sword thrust, which had pierced the left lung. Intuition was his only hope, and with a lifetime of luck, he maybe could repair the damage.

  The most successful attempts in utilising his magic had been when he had not meant to do so. He visualised the hole that pierced through the organ, he could somehow see the entire wound in his mind. The blood was slowly filling into Daraks lung, and he realised he had absolutely no idea what he was doing. Quickly trying to remember what Father Dagon had told him and anything he could recall from the book he had read.

  A crowd was gathering round, silently watching as water flowed up Lukens arm and slowly covering the bloodied body of the injured man on the ground. The air around warmed considerably, as the worried father was joined by his other son. Soldiers tried to keep the crowd from encroaching to close, as others joined them. Sarena, Taylor and even Father Dagon all stood amazed at what they were witnessing. Luken did not feel time, or the warmth in the air or the wetness of the water. He let his subconscious mind do the work, and not try to force anything, and gradually the image in his mind changed. The hole in the lung appeared to close and the blood within it dispersed.

  Luken
slumped to the ground and was quickly attended to by his fiancée and son, who checked he was all right, before helping him sit up. Darak coughed, and his father and brother, both with tear filled eyes watched in amazement as he sat up. He cringed at the pain in his shoulder, the wound there not fully healed and very painful. Luken opened his eyes, "I'm sorry Darak I don't think that one worked so well, but I think I got the worse of it." Even talking felt like such an effort, and he was glad of Sarena's arms supporting his body. Lord Galliss turned to Luken, "Your highness, I am forever in your debt, I was certain I had lost my son, and by some miracle you have bought him back to us."

  A more usual medic checked the wound to Daraks shoulder, and although it had closed up a little, he added a few stitches before placing a dressing over. The medic turned to Luken but Dagon waved him away, "the prince just needs rest, and he should be fine." Sarena smiled at him and kissed him on the lips, "you never cease to surprise me," she whispered in his ear. Lord Galliss and Aric helped Darak to his feet, as Sarena and Dagon helped Luken do likewise. Taylor spoke up next, "will you still be able to teach me how to use my sword?" he asked. Darak tried a laugh, but ended up coughing instead, causing his father to be concerned. "I'm fine, just very sore. Give me a few days Taylor and I'll be putting you through your paces." Taylor grinned, as the two men being supported were slowly walked back to the camp.

  After the attack, General Skalton ordered no more work to be undertaken on the north side of the river. He allowed the collection of the tree's already felled, under guard, in case of further contact, and all the animals grazing were rounded and moved over as well. Some of the less useful logs were used to make pens, and these were placed a few hundred paces further south of where the camp was set. Any timber would now be collected from this side of the river, and mean felling and dragging trees almost a mile to reach the city. It was deemed the far lesser of two evils; indeed, it meant much more effort and work, but at least they would be safe from harm doing so.