“Very well. Eat and recover your strength son. Join us when you can.”
Lynda got up and walked with Baximus.
“What about you? Won’t you eat?” Davydd asked.
Lynda turned back to Davydd and smiled.
“I require no sustenance from this world my son. At least... not yet.”
“Not yet?”
“The longer I stay in this realm with you, the more my powers will wane.”
“Then you must return to the realm of the gods. You have given me everything I need. I know who I am.”
“I left your side once before son. I won’t do it again. Besides, I haven’t given you everything. I must go now. You have a visitor who has been dying to see you.” She smiled at him and turned around just as Vannera emerged up the rocks. Davydd smiled at her and she ran towards him.
“Va...” Davydd was cut off with a ruthless slap across the face. He held his stinging left cheek, looking at Vannera in shock.
“What on Terrianus?”
“I understand that we kept the truth from you, and I so badly wanted to tell you Davydd. But don’t you worry me like that again! I’m sorry I said nothing. I thought you would die and I didn’t know what to do. You looked like you were in so much pain...”
“Vannera...”
“I know. I know. I talk mindlessly right now and...”
“Vannera...”
“Yes Davydd?”
“I’m sorry I worried you.”
Vannera gasped at Davydd’s smile.
“You are such a fool! Fool! Fool!” She beat on his chest and he grabbed her and kissed her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and attacked his lips.
“You know? There was a moment I thought I was going to die too. I kept thinking, I’d leave this world without telling you the truth.”
“What truth?” Vannera asked.
“I love you Vannera. I love you so much.” Davydd said as he stared into her green eyes.
“Oh Feona help me.” Vannera whispered as she kissed him again. “I love you too.” Davydd looked back at the wooden plates of food Baximus had brought.
“Well, my mother’s not eating. Care for dinner under the stars?”
Vannera smiled.
“I’d love that.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN: Davydd’s Armada
Four soldiers stood in the upper room of a building in the city of Alvo. There was a nervous tension in the air, and they talked in hushed whispers. On the left shoulder plate of their armor were five skulls. The only door leading into the room opened up and Ergol stepped in. The hushed conversations died down and silence enveloped the room for a time. Ergol looked around the room at all the soldiers.
“I see everyone is here.” He finally said.
“You called us here on such brief notice Ergol.” One of the death class soldiers spoke up. “If you would be kind, tell us why.”
“I won’t waste your time.” Ergol began. “I chose to notify you four because I know you. We grew up together. We fought together in the great dragol war. But more importantly, we were loyal to our king, Rikard Miljorn.”
“Be careful how you speak Ergol. Rikard Miljorn is long dead. Our king is now Sidion Vror.”
“He is king, yes. But he’s not my king and neither is he yours.” Ergol waited. The soldiers stood there in silence and Ergol managed a smile.
“So I was right to trust you. What I have just said is tantamount to treason. I expected more than one of you to have drawn your swords. Yet you haven’t.”
“Out of respect for the man you were.”
“The man I was? No. It is not out of respect for that. It is because you four never really accepted Sidion Vror as your king. You knew right from the beginning that King Rikard’s death was orchestrated. I understand why you kept your lips sealed. If you spoke up against Sidion, you would be put to death.”
“Then why speak up now? The outcome would be the same.”
“I am not asking you to speak up. I’m asking you to help me take action and do the right thing. Fight with me, for our true king.”
The soldiers burst out into laughter.
“The man’s gone mad!” One of them said.
“True king?” Another said. “There is only one king, Ergol. His name is...”
A sword tip flashed at the soldier’s neck and the laughter instantly died down. The other death class soldiers unsheathed their swords and surrounded Ergol.
“Do not mention that name in the same breath as the one I follow as king.” Ergol said, his voice menacing.
“What are you doing Ergol?” The death class soldier at the edge of his sword asked. “You kill me and you won’t be alive another moment.”
“I do not intend to take your life, Clanner. But do not make mockery of me.”
“Your point is well taken. What do you want?”
“For you all to remember the men you were. What if I told you that the son of Rikard Miljorn lives? What if I told you that the rumors you have been hearing about a warrior who managed to defeat a principal, two decades and three years after Rikard did, was true. If I told you that this son of Rikard, this true heir to the throne was on his way to find his Father’s sword, would you believe me?”
“How can we believe you on the strength of just your words?”
“You can’t.” Ergol slowly lowered his sword and looked around him.
“If you may.” He said. The other soldiers slowly lowered their swords as well. Ergol backed up towards the door and using his right hand rapped on it. “Bring it in.” He said. He stepped away from the door just before it opened up and one of his men brought in a large bag made of animal skin. Ergol nodded at the floor and the man dropped the bag there. He backed out of the room and closed the door.
“What’s in the bag Ergol?” Clanner asked.
Ergol walked towards it and reached inside. When he pulled out his hand, the head of Balek came out with it. There was a startled hush around the room. The soldiers looked at the principal’s head in amazement.
“Some rumors have merit. I was there. I saw the son of Rikard battle the most powerful kind of dragol, and slay him. Make no mistake, this is but a simple victory in one of many battles that have been fought over the past four moons, and will be fought from now on. As I speak with you, the dragol are making their move. They already made attempt on the life of king Darius Vitalis and the other kings might be in danger as well. Sidion Vror is a harbinger of destruction my brothers. His lust for power has led him to believe that aligning himself with the dragol will give him all of Terrianus. You all served under Rikard, as I did. He commanded us and we followed. We were the most feared army of all not because of our skill, but because we stood together. Rikard did not fail to put an end to the Dragol. The other kings did not. But... treachery sowed the seeds of disaster.”
“What would you have us do?”
“What I asked in the beginning. I want to be the man I was before. So I ask you to gather arms and fight with me. I ask you to gather your trusted men and journey with me to Beathaleth and whatever lands this journey takes us to. A war is brewing my death class brothers, and your king... your... true... king needs you. What say you?”
There was silence in the room. After a while, Clanner spoke.
“You are well aware what doing this means. We will be placing our lives and those of our men against the entire Angwelethean army. We will be branded traitors and enemies to our home.”
“I am aware, Clanner. However, if you stay, you will be placing your lives and the lives of your men against the combined forces of all the other kingdoms. You will be killing your fellow man, not dragol and if you win, you will know that you all, by your swords, brought about the end of your kind.”
“Rikard’s son. What is his name?” Clanner asked.
“Davydd. Davydd Miljorn.”
Clanner nodded. “Consider me at his majesty’s service then.” He and Ergol looked at the other three.
“Hagswet, Bolr, V
alimius. What say you?”
The other three death class commanders looked at each other and turned to Ergol and Clanner. They nodded in agreement.
“When do we leave?” Hagswet asked.
Ergol smiled.
“Gather your men as quietly as you can. We leave in two days. Be sure to gather only men loyal to you. I care not for their class, be them death, undertaker, executioner, warrior or infantry. We must be swift. In the king’s absence we have a chance. But if Trudor or Nistam receive news of this, we will be meeting with Feona sooner than expected.”
“Have no worry, Ergol.” Clanner said smiling. “We will be meeting Feona soon enough. But it won’t be by the sword of Sidion Vror’s pet.”
The men all laughed at the comment. They all clasped hands and began to disperse. As Ergol left the room with his men following, his thoughts shifted to Davydd and the others and he wondered how they were faring. He wrapped a black cloak around himself as he and his men disappeared into the night.
In another upper room, two figures stood by a window and watched as the death class commanders dispersed. One of them belonged to Trudor, while the other belonged to a middle aged man whose eyes were seared shut. He had short jet black hair with streaks of grey and no beard. Above his burnt eyes were bushy black eyebrows. He wore a long red robe and a white scarf around his neck. He looked to be a bit more advanced in age than Baximus Bastien, but not by much.
“How did you come about this, Nistam?” Trudor said as he turned to the wizard.
“I may not be able to see, but my barrier can extend from here to wherever in Alvo I so please. What’s more, I am aware of all life energy within my barrier and their movements. These four commanders were before your time Trudor. They fought with King Rikard and have begrudgingly served Sidion Vror. When I sensed them gathered together, you had to be told.”
“That man who cloaked himself... I saw him when we encountered Davydd and his rebels in Windhaven. He was on their side. I wonder if this means Davydd has returned.”
“I do not sense his presence anywhere. That man is Ergol. He is a former death class commander. He relinquished his position after Rikard Miljorn’s death. The cloak masks his presence to my senses. Only when he removes it can I sense him.”
“I see. I will have a few of my men follow them at a distance. Let me know of their whereabouts at all times. I intend to unravel their intentions.”
“You will not have them killed now?”
“Such a thing would not be easy wizard. Those men are highly respected commanders in the Angwelethean army. Their men will surely fight for them. Besides, if they are harboring Davydd, I must know. I will let them lead me to their secret before decimating them all.”
Nistam nodded. “As you wish.”
Trudor looked at him for a while. “Why have you been so loyal to king Sidion for so long?”
“His majesty recognized my relevance when others did not. I was brought in as Matilom’s student, but King Rikard never accepted me. Sidion did and he gave me purpose. That is all.”
Trudor smiled again.
“How interesting.” Come now; let us see what our friends are really up to.
Ten soldiers made their way through the streets of Alvo quickly. Their eyes darted about, observing the upper class citizens of Angweleth go about their daily business. They were all there; traders, merchants, taxmen, land owners, law makers and the like. Alvo was much different from the other cities and towns of Angweleth. It was a symbol of power. The architecture was grandiose and splendid. The citizens’ homes were like mini-castles, with only the occasional small stone or wooden cottage. The streets were either paved or cobblestone and there were about two or three temples dedicated to the seven gods of Terrianus and to Feona herself. It was no surprise that only the wealthiest of men could afford to live in such a place. The soldiers walked on, hastening their pace. Their sheathed swords clanged about the armor pieces around their legs and the wind, swept up their capes. Not too far off from the ten Angwelethean soldiers, were two more that followed at a safe distance, occasionally slowing down or stopping and pretending to merely patrol the streets. However, they never let the ten ahead of them, out of their sight. The ten soldiers turned left into a smaller street lined on each side by buildings, and the two soldiers behind them followed. When they turned the corner, there was no one there. They slowly stepped into the side street, leaving the path of the main street they were on. Suddenly a door to one of the buildings opened up and hands shot out, grabbing the two soldiers and yanking them in. The door shut behind them. The soldiers fell to the floor of the huge living room and scrambled to get up, before seeing that if they did, an intimidating number of blades were waiting to meet them. They looked around. The room was a bit dark, as the windows were closed and the curtains drawn together.
“You two make very poor spies.” It was the voice of Hagswet. “Did Trudor send you here?”
The two soldiers looked around and kept quiet.
“Of course it was.” Hagswet walked forward.
“Commander Hagswet. What is the meaning of this?” One of the soldiers asked.
Hagswet sighed. “I never thought one day I would have to take my sword to a fellow Angwelethean soldier.”
“Please my lord! We were only ordered to keep watch over you!” The second soldier pleaded.
“I know. And watch you shall. I will not kill you. But I need you to sleep for now. You are merely misguided.”
“Co..” The soldier was cut off by a blow to the head with a sword handle. The first soldier was dealt the same fate.
“Trudor knows.” Hagswet said, addressing the other nine soldiers. “From now on we use the underground pathways in the city. Send word to the others about this. We need to leave immediately.”
Nistam, who had been sitting silently in his chair, with his arms raised up on either side in a meditative pose, suddenly gasped for air.
“What have you found?” Trudor asked.
“There are many of them. They form an army within an army.”
“An army within an army.” Trudor repeated Nistam’s words. “It’s an army for Davydd! Nistam, do you sense Davydd’s presence.”
“No. I have not sensed it once.”
“Come with me.” Trudor turned around and left as Nistam followed behind him, walking out of the wizard’s room in Castle Alvo.
The gate of the Alvo military outpost slowly lifted up as Nistam and Trudor rode in on horses. There was a murmur going on amongst the ranks of soldiers. The outpost was huge. The architecture was similar to that of Gor’s outpost, only more grandiose in size and visual appeal. This was where the upper echelon of Angweleth’s military force convened and resided. The soldiers going about their business on the ground and in the upper levels of the buildings all stopped to look at the two men that had ridden in. Trudor disembarked the horse and slowly walked to the center of the compound. He turned around and stared intensely at all the soldiers silently looking at him before speaking.
“I’m sure you’ve all heard the rumors then. ‘The son of Rikard lives.’ ‘He wants to bring about an end to the threat of the dragol.’ ‘He even killed a principal.’”
Everyone burst out laughing at Trudor’s last taunt.
“I’ve heard them too. It is... my fault that I merely dismissed them as rumors soon to die out just as many before them have.” He looked around at the soldiers, making sure he held their attention, as well as scanning their faces for any hint of treachery.
“But it seems these rumors have a merit of truth to them. There is a man, who believes himself to be the son of Rikard. He believes he is a savior of mankind but instead he has divided our ranks. As I speak to you now, some of our brothers in the sword have turned against us. They move to overthrow our beloved King Sidion and elevate this imposter to the throne of Angweleth. Are we to stand by and let this happen?”
There were screams of ‘no’ and ‘never’ from the soldiers listening.
; “Very well then. As protectors of Angweleth, we are sworn to defend her against all enemies outside... and inside! The great Nistam has uncovered their ploy. They slither and crawl like accursed creatures beneath our very feet. Shall we go then and make them regret their treachery?!”
The soldiers roared fiercely to which Trudor smiled. A soldier came up to Trudor as he mounted his horse once more.
“Divide the soldiers into three squadrons. One to check the underground passages and the other two shall guard Alvo’s borders as well as check every corner and hole in this city. The men we are searching for are under the command of Hagswet, Clanner, Bolr and Valimius. Let everyone know: upon engaging the enemy, do not hesitate.”
“Yes my lord.” The soldier bowed and retreated from Trudor’s horse.
“You won’t tell them about Ergol?”
“As you said, these men were before our time, but the others still serve under King Sidion. Ergol has been long gone and these men do not know his face. Besides, he is a wraith to your barrier. If we do find the others, we will find him.”
There was a buzz of activity in an underground storage room. The air in the underground layers was filled with all sorts of foul stenches. The concrete was battered and cracking and the ground was a culture of growing algae and fungi.
“How much longer do we have?” Bolr asked.
“No time.” Ergol said as he walked in. “Trudor has just declared us mutineers. Every soldier in Alvo is looking for us and a squadron is coming here.”
“Then we fight.” Valimius said.
“No. We cannot.” Ergol retorted.
“Why not?”
“He’s right.” Clanner interjected. “We need to get to Davydd with as many men as possible. A fight will leave us severely depleted or entirely decimated. We need to run.”
Hagswet rolled out a map unto the floor of the storage room. “If we keep pace down the passage westwards as planned, we will emerge at Croydon’s pass. It’s narrow, yet big enough for us and our men to pass through without difficulty.”
“Yet it is too small for Trudor’s squadrons.” Ergol inferred. “They’d have to go around or funnel through.”
Metal and Magic: A Fantasy Journey Page 81