Rise of the Darekian's, The

by Wood, Andrew

  It was evening before Luken felt well enough to walk around, and after eating enough food to feed four men, he felt suitably revitalised. Asking Dareen to keep watch on Hope, he, Serena and Taylor made the short journey to the room in which Darak stayed. After knocking on the door and being admitted by Lord Galliss, he greeted them warmly, before offering them refreshments. Aric was sat on the side of the bed in which his brother was resting. Sitting up with the aid of several pillows beneath him, Darak smiled on noticing Luken, "Thank you your highness. I don't know how or what you did but I am very grateful."

  The prince almost felt like blushing, all this praise and thanks he was receiving was something he was not used to. Sarena and Taylor had stared at him as if he were some sort of god like figure, and even people he barely knew appeared in awe of his mere presence. All he had done was heal a man; and it should be that man, who was deserving of all the praise. Darak was the one who had put his life on the line, trying to buy time for the others to escape while he stood and fought with a wood axe. General Skalton had taken reports off the men on duty at the bridge, and he had in turn told Luken of the bravery Darak had shown. It was time others were made aware, "Lord Galliss, I think you should be aware of the bravery of your son. He fought with great gallantry and selflessly put his life on the line so others may have a chance of escape." Darak did not speak, he did not need to, both his older brother and father looked proud of him.

  Happy that Darak was on the mend Luken thought it best to leave the family to themselves. As he went to leave though, he was asked a question, "Why?" Turning his head, he looked at Darak, with puzzlement on his face at the question. "Why did you save me? I have caused you nothing but grief, and after all I have done...well I am hardly one worthy of saving." Luken had not really thought of why, it seemed the right thing to do, "Don't be daft Darak, you are a good man, you made a mistake, we all do from time to time. Now hurry up and get better, Taylor here is driving me crazy with that sword, the sooner you can tire him out practicing the better." It was not much of an answer; however, it was the only one he could think of. He had only done what anyone else would have, had they the same powers available to them as he had.

  The following morning, with the sun barely up, General Skalton woke Luken and Taylor, knocking loudly on the door and letting himself in. "Please excuse my intrusion your highness, but I thought you should know, we have enemy troops starting to amass on the far bank." Luken sat up in bed certain that was not the sort of news a man needed first thing in the morning, "how many?" he asked, still feeling half asleep. "Early figures are three to four hundred; they seem to be setting up their own camp several hundred paces further back from the river bank. I assume they are just waiting for more numbers before they attack." Luken rubbed his eyes, no sooner did it seem one problem was resolved, before a bigger one followed straight after it, "Do what you think best, I'll be with you in a short while, I just need to get Taylor dressed and fed before I take him to Sarena."

  After managing to grab a slice of toasted bread, which hung out of his mouth as he quickly walked his son the short distance to his fiancée's room. After a quick goodbye, he hurried over to the command tent, to meet with General Skalton and the others. Lord Galliss and Jak Corley were amongst those present, and on seeing Luken arrive the General started. "Right now we are finally all here", he said looking at the prince, indicating he took longer than everyone else did to get ready. "As the numbers stand I think we can hold the bridge, we can pick off any attackers as they try to cross from the battlements or river bank. If however the numbers keep growing, I recommend moving everybody and everything we can into the city walls." Even though the second set of gates were not yet ready, they could build up a makeshift barrier, and the city walls would give them a good defence.

  Luken listened, as he could see soldiers in the camp lining up and preparing for any upcoming battle. He hoped they could hold the bridge, if that was to fall the city was their last and final hope. There would be nowhere else to retreat to, nowhere else to run and no one else to come and save them. Fail here and Corlan would be lost in its entirety, and once more, he wished Caldar were here to sort things out for him. The General continued with his talk, giving his officers their orders; where to position their men, what to do if retreat was needed, even what to do if they decided to be bold and make an advance.

  Luken walked over to the river to see for himself. The enemy was just as it had been described in the Generals briefing, though he thought their camp looked more disjointed than his did. He stood staring, wondering when they were going to attack, and how would they try. The worry that the enemy may try to cross the river by raft had been bought up in the earlier discussions, and though it was a possibility, it was considered unlikely, at least not to start with. An attack on the gates would be the most likely, and so every possible thought had been given into how to defend it.

  Caldar sat eating his midday meal in the company of Vanessa, outside the tent she shared with the rest of her family. He had earlier given her younger brother, Mitch, lessons in the use of the sword. The family were all more than capable with a bow, but they were the first to admit not so competent with swords. Caldar had warned them, if they planned to accompany him, then they might be needed to fight in exactly that way. The older boys showed him they did have the basics, and although Mitch would not be going with them, he wanted to have a practice as well. Not wanting to leave the younger sibling out, and partially to show Vanessa how nice he could be, he had agreed to give him some lessons. As it happened, Mitch was nearly as capable as his older brothers were; only his lack of strength due to his younger years put him at a disadvantage. None of them came even close to besting Caldar; he even fought with his sword in his weaker hand to help even the odds, but he still beat them easily.

  He had made his mind up to start travelling the following morning. He would take half a cohort of his own men, any man who was good with a bow or sword who wished to volunteer, plus whatever number Lord Willem was able to spare at short notice. He wanted all his men to be mounted, and any surplus supplies to be on packhorses. Having looked at the maps, he reckoned three to four days hard riding and they could make the west of the country, and meet up with those rumoured to be making a stand. He was quite certain General Thomas Skalton was leading them, and being the leader from the Elite guard must have others he knew with him. He had tried not to begin to hope that those others could include members of his family, he had already grieved for each of them. The thought though of there even being the slightest chance nagged away at him, and he knew if he got there and it was confirmed they were all gone, it would hit him hard once more.

  After the meal was finished he needed to put the word out he was looking for the volunteers he required. He decided to ask Vanessa and her brothers to help, giving them the task of asking those that had travelled with him, now camped outside of town. In the meantime, he himself would spread the word in the town of Casham, before riding to Berston to do likewise. His first port of call was the small barracks in the town, and he thought telling the soldiers was a good way to spread the word. At the stables, he assisted the stable hand in saddling his own horse, and whilst there enquired whether two other men there would be interested in joining him. The two were brothers, sons of a town trader, and maybe of similar age to himself and Luken, and both appeared quite excited by the chance to ride in an army with the crown prince. After a couple of hours asking people he thought would be interested, and following a great number of yes, no or maybe's he felt exhausted and after returning his horse, made his way back to the camp, to search out Vanessa.

  Sitting once more around the campfire, taking his evening meal with her family, they talked about the trip tomorrow. Mitch was still keen on joining, he thought asking Caldar directly would maybe help to change his father's mind in letting him go. "I am sorry Mitch, I cannot overrule what your father has decided," causing the youth to look rather sullen. "But you said I was as good with a sword as the othe
rs, and you are a prince, you can overrule anyone" he pleaded. His father, Arthur, chuckled, "Your highness, you will have to excuse my son for his pestering, he does not know when to give it a rest," clipping Mitch around the ear. Caldar did feel a little sorry for the lad, and had it been him in the same situation he doubted he would want to be left behind. Hoping it did not annoy the man he opted to put a good word in, "Well, perhaps you could all come. Arthur maybe you could start again in the west, if they are rebuilding there will be plenty of work for all of you."

  Mitch looked at his father expectantly, "please father, can we? The west coast does sound a nice place" he added looking to his siblings for a little back up. Arthur eyed each of his children in turn, then at Caldar. After as pause, he shrugged his shoulders, "fine we all go, but I want you to know I am not going to be doing no more fighting, I am to bloody old for that malarkey." Mitch leapt up, "Yes" he shouted, "and don't worry dad you won't have to fight, I'll protect you." The old man chuckled, "I hope not, I think we have seen enough fighting for one lifetime."

  Fenlor used his skills in dark magic to get the message he required to the North Besemian soldiers who were under his compulsion. A few drops of blood and a human heart dropped into a pan over a fire, sizzling as the organ landed on the hot metal. He chanted, visualising what he wanted, repeating the words, before the heart burst into flames. At that point, he stopped, the task was complete, and he seated himself down. Even now, several weeks after the destruction of Hamalin, Fenlor still found using his magic very draining. All but the simplest of spells required him to rest afterwards. Although the communication spell he chanted was not exceptionally difficult, because of the distance he wished it to travel, it meant it required far more of his life force for it to work.

  Hundreds of miles away, the large contingent of North Besemian troops started dividing up into two separate armies. Having slowly made their way back from Hamalin, when they had still been under orders of King Belin, they had been sat camped some fifty miles west of the capital, awaiting orders. The men did not refuse orders, whether to kill civilians or troops from Corlan or their own country it did not matter. As far as their minds went, if they were ordered to do a task, they needed to carry out to the best of their ability.

  The camp quickly and efficiently dismantled, and having recently been resupplied from the capital, which was now under Darekian control, the troops prepared to move out. One thousand men would start the short trip southwards to line up against the fortifications being built by the South Besemians. The remainder would start the trip westwards to assist the Darekians amassing against the refugees trying to escape over the River Fivan. These were ordered to move double time, moving through the hours of darkness if need be.

  Fenlor still had a large number of Orlacs at his command. A number of smaller hunting packs of a dozen or so in each, roamed freely around Corlan. He still had in reserve, a much larger number; these were still situated in Darekia. There were sufficient corpses, being bought up from Besemia to feed them for quite some time. The problem with Orlacs was their inability to differentiate between friend and foe. When they were close to him, he could use his powers to keep them placid and under control. The further away they roamed the more feral and wild they become. If he were to release a large number out of the range of his control, they would probably seek out the nearest largest group of humans. Under the current circumstances that could well mean, his own armies. To an Orlac, it mattered not whether the flesh it ate came from Corlan, Besemia or Darekia.

  Chapter 19.

  Caldar arose early, and after dressing and venturing to the town barracks for a bite of breakfast he walked over to the stable block. Once there, he had saddled up his horse and strapped on his blanket roll and other kit. After mounting, he trotted out to where the half cohort travelling with him had started to gather. Much to his surprise, most were already there and ready before him. Glancing back along the lines he was also impressed with the number of volunteers that appeared to be venturing west with him. Vanessa waved at him when she noticed him looking her direction, and he replied similarly.

  Lord Willem walked over to where Caldar waited, "I've come to see you off. I have three hundred more men that have agreed to accompany you, your highness. They are all good soldiers, and I have made certain they understand they are under your command." Caldar leant down and shook the man's hand, "I thank you my Lord, you have done so much for us." The big south Besemian smiled warmly, "I wish you well on your trip, and I hope beyond all hope you find what you seek."

  Within the hour, a long line of riders and packhorses slowly moved westwards on their way to Easton. Caldar rode near the front, with Vanessa alongside him. He was certain the trip would appear to go much quicker if she was at his side. Arthur and her brothers were happy to remain with the other three hundred or so civilian volunteers, riding in the centre of the group. A scouting party was sent ahead, and another smaller group was to stay further behind, to keep a watch on the rear of the line. The young prince felt a slight nervousness, as he rode, not sure who or what he was going to find when they reached their destination.

  The bell on the bridge gatehouse rang, as a large company of Darekian riders headed from their camp towards the bridge. The archers lined across the top of the battlements, and more lined upon the banks of the river, all readied themselves. General Skalton watched, not panicking he waited, just a few more seconds. Giving the order to fire, a flurry of arrows was sent airborne, aimed at an area he expected the riders to be at the time of their descent. A number of the shafts struck targets, some finding the flesh of the riders, others the horses on which they rode.

  It was little more than a futile attempt, and after another wave of arrows, the raiders had seen sense and retreated back to their camp, a few less in number. Calling a halt, to any further volley of arrows, and for his men to relax, the General turned to report to his prince. Luken was stood further back from the river, on the edge of the camp. As usual, the Lady Sarena, Taylor, Lord Galliss, Jak Corley and Levin were at his side, the latter two saluting as the General approached. Bowing his head slightly to the young royal, "your highness, the attack was nothing more than a test. They are just determining our strength, and I think we passed the examination with flying colours."

  A messenger quickly ran towards the group, and handed the General a slip of paper before running off again. Opening and reading the note, "The men atop the battlements have estimated that the enemies test has just cost them about nineteen men. I doubt the next attempt will be quite so bold. They know now we have a good sound defence in place, and their men are lightly armoured, not equipped for attacking a fortification like ours." Luken was happy with the result; they had not even been close to losing any casualties, if matters continued in that fashion all well and good.

  He listened in to the conversation, between his General, Lord Galliss and his Captain, and sighed when they decided between them, it was now best to move the camp inside the city walls. Naturally, they run it by him for final endorsement, and although he did not really want people living inside the walls yet, he knew it made sense to do so. The building work was going well, and the first of the clay pipes had been laid for the sewerage system. Several plots had been marked out, and footings had been put in place for a dozen homes. The main street was now as good as new, but most impressively was the rate at which the keep was coming along.

  "If I was attacking, I would wait until dark, and then quietly stand ladders up to the battlements. At that time, I doubt there would be more than a handful of men on the top. I reckon half a dozen good men up the ladder would account for them, and job done. Hold the top to allow others up, drop down, open the gates, and allow the rest through," Levin said not realising everyone else was staring at him. Jak smiled, "strange how sometimes we think we know everything, then a boy of no battle experience shows us we have probably missed the most blindly obvious course." Levin actually blushed, he had after all just been thinking aloud. He was not trying
to tell the others what to do, and for a second or two thought he might be reprimanded for doing so.

  General Skalton nodded at the youth before him, "you're a smart boy, and yes Jak I think you are right, we do sometimes miss what is quite blatantly before our eyes." He went on to tell them, how he thought the next attack would probably be, with infantry, shielded men carrying a ram to break the gates down, or even perhaps an attempt at crossing the river. "Well young man," he said turning his attention back to Levin, "you have given us a great means of attack, any ideas on how to defend against such an incursion?" The teenager blushed a little more, realising everyone was looking his direction once more. Looking to Jak, the old Captain nodded as if to say go ahead and say what you think.

  Levin thought for a moment, and taking a deep breath, "some sort of warning system, I don't know, perhaps something that will make a noise if anyone tries to cross the bridge. It won't matter how obvious it is to see in daylight, but remember at night they would be as blind as us." He looked at the faces around him, not sure, whether his answer sounded any good or whether it showed he was just a boy out of his depth after all. General Skalton, scratched at his chin, clearly deep in thought, "Hmm, yes, I'll have to think about something we can use," he mumbled. Levin had just thought of another idea, "and maybe we could light the area around the gates a little, you know, to give our guards the chance to see anything approaching to closely. Though doing so may illuminate them, and give chance to anyone who is a good shot with a crossbow to pick them off," he added, realising he had just found the flaw in his own idea.

  The General laughed, and patted him on the shoulder, "Jak said you were a smart boy, can you read and write?" Levin nodded, not sure, where this line of questioning was going. He had already used this boy to help appease the prince, regarding his personal protection on their travels to Forwich, and knew him to be a good honest young man. Turning his attention to the captain "mind if I steal him off you?" he asked. Jak looked a little confused, "I promise I'll look after him, I need an assistant, someone to take notes, and not afraid to point out the obvious things I miss. Problem is most my men just agree with everything I say, whether it is good or bad." Jak did feel a little reluctant, he had come quite fond of the young boy, " of course sir, though I would like him to continue our practice sessions, and don't work him to hard, he is still only a boy after all," he added. It was meant more as a reminder to his General, that he did not want Levin being treated and spoken to like a normal soldier would, not as any sort of threat.