Achil & The Rise Of The Mandrake

by David Papa-Adams

  Chapter XXII

  The Chase

  There had been a week of mourning after the Mandrake had departed, a week in which the living and the dead were being properly tended to. Following this time, Achil had taken to his chambers, weariness finally getting the better of him; he woke in his bed, his eyes opened sharply, his chest felt constricted, as his heart pounded against it. Then he remembered where he was, not on the plain of Findolin, fighting Marshal Ti, but home in the city of his birth. As he sat up, he still felt there was something unfinished from the previous day that needed his attention. Gone was the cloak of anxiety that had hovered over the preceding months, though there was something that still gnawed at him, something he could not quite place. Achil rose, flinging back his cover and made his way over to a steaming hot bath. Even in the darkest of times, the courtiers had always prepared his bath. Only now did he have time not to ignore the need for it. Achil sat there for what seemed an age; taking in his surroundings as he once had done before the conflict had begun; staring blankly as if in a daze at the thin net curtains fluttering in the early morning breeze. Light shimmered against them, as outside in the distance a cock crowed. Stepping out of the bath, the water dripped off his body onto the cold calm stony slabs. He took a towel down from a rack and wiped himself dry, and then he wrapped it around his waist before taking some bread, and stepping out onto his terrace to gaze out over the City, and the plain of Findolin. They would have to spend weeks, maybe months clearing up the ruin left behind by the enemy. The dust ridden debris that was left scattered over it, of disused tents and waist was there for all to see, and the reburying of the dead would take time. Many bodies had already been dug up by scavenging wild dogs. From his high perch he saw the crows and vultures feasting on broken cadavers. Even after a week there was still much to do. On the plain below him people were milling around like ants, seemingly building another pyre to burn the dead Mandrake warriors. Their own dead were given an honoured burial.

  There was a knock on his door, Achil removed himself from the scene, threw his towel to one side put on some breeches and a tunic, a louder knock issued forth. He shouted that he was getting ready and hurriedly went over to open the thick wooden door. Agoran and the Alchemist were waiting there impatiently; it appeared the two did not bother with sleep or rest of any sought. They both stepped inside; Agoran was holding what looked like a banner.

  “There will be a meeting in the great hall today,” said Agoran gruffly. “And we have arranged a banquet for tonight. I have some good news; the Queen is now out of danger. It looks like she will make a full recovery. In fact she‘s disappointed she missed the battle.”

  Achil nodded but his face was serious as he gestured for them to sit by the cold hearth.

  “We still have a problem,” said Achil. “We all know that the Mandrake will be back, they will consider this a failure on their part. Who knows what that might mean to their empire? Empires have fallen over far less. Wei also informed me that there was no sign of Jin at the battle, if that’s true then something serious must have called him away. And I don’t know about anyone else, but I’m still wondering what brought the Golden Bears and the Findol Wolves to war against the Mandrake, though I am thankful they were there.”

  Agoran put his hand up for Achil to stop a moment. “We found out the reason why they joined the fray, the Mandrake have been hunting them for sport, there were bear and wolf skins all over the enemy camp. More than we’ve killed in the past fifty years.”

  “Well,” said Achil raising his eyebrows. “I’m certainly giving up hunting for a sport.”

  The Alchemist seemed sullen before he continued, “Yes, we intend making certain areas of the Findolin Wood and the Haven Mountains a sanctuary for such creatures. The Dragon Chamber needs to be looked at, we cannot have them seizing up again the way they did in mid battle, and we also need to perfect their range before we can place them along the walls. It is hoped they will make the city impregnable. Another important issue for Findolin is the line of succession; it will pass to Paladin.”

  “There’s one other thing,” said Agoran.

  “Only one,” said Achil.

  “I’m afraid,” continued Agoran. “I am also the bringer of bad news regarding the tower of the holy relics; it was set aflame and will need to be rebuilt. So any ceremony to crown the new King will have to be held in the Great Hall, the first time the tower has not been used for such a ritual in maybe five hundred years.”

  The three of them talked long into the morning regarding the rebuilding of the city and the defences for the outlying lands. They walked out onto the balcony to survey Findolin. It was a strange contrast from the previous months, to see below them people slowly getting back to the banality of normal life. The streets were gradually being cleared of the signs of war. From this distance the damage did not look so bad, though parts of the city like the Holy tower were still smouldering in the cool morning air. Colour was slowly returning to the old city.

  “There is something else,” said Agoran gazing out and pointing toward the plain of Findolin. “It’s a message from the Mandrake. It is their banner. It was left behind on the open plain for all to see. It is a reminder to us that they have claimed these lands for themselves, which can only mean one thing, that they do intend returning.”

  "Those were Marshal Ti's last words, 'till we meet again'," replied Achil.

  Agoran drew out a scroll and went through the casualty list with him, as he did so Achil’s eyes began to glaze over. The names were recognisable, friends he had once known, who would never see their families again.

  That afternoon the leaders of the peoples of the alliance gathered in the Great Hall, a long banqueting table had been laid out, at its head was Prince Paladin who looked worn from his ordeal at the hands of the Mandrake. The Queen of Askalon sat to his right. Although pale, she looked vital, her strength rapidly returning to her. To the left of the Prince, Agoran stood talking animatedly about the things that needed to be done to ensure the security of Findolin and Osgaroth, at one end sat Achil, listening absently to what was being said. Agoran’s voice was powerful, as he stressed what needed to be done to assure the security of the kingdom.

  “If we do not attack them in Mead,” he said. “They will surely return in greater numbers. Am I the only one that sees this?”

  Paladin raised his hand, “Agoran calm yourself, the reason we have come to this juncture is through a similar action that you are once more calling for, and how many men did we lose to that foolish campaign. We do not have the strength to strike at them in such a manner, we need time to recover, and perhaps try a different route, we are all weary of war.”

  Agoran stared gravely at the Prince, “What do you have in mind?”

  “You have mentioned before now the need for a greater understanding of the Mandrake Imperium,” said the Prince. “So unlike the spies we have already sent into Mead, we will venture further into the Central Kingdoms and the east, to discover what weaknesses the Mandrake have, and if possible sow discord amongst the separate peoples and tribes therein: this will give us time to regroup, and then when we are ready, we strike in a manner very different from the one we are used to.”

  “And who do you propose,” said Agoran. “We send on this mission of certain death.”

  Prince Paladin angrily slammed down his goblet, "It was you who first mentioned that such an undertaking was necessary."

  "Since then and with the development of our new weapon, and seeing what we have faced on the Battlefield I have had a change of heart on the idea."

  "Really, even though the new weapon still has its problems, you are willing to enter Mead with our legions in the hope that you destroy the largest army ever assembled against us, and may I remind you again as to what happened the last time such a thing was tried."

  Achil stood up, “I agree with Prince Paladin, our enemy's machinations are something beyond anything we have encountered before, so I volunteer to go, I will venture
into the Central Kingdoms and see first hand the designs of the Mandrake. And I do not ask for anyone to come with me.”

  Agoran raised his eyebrows in consternation, “If any of us are to do this, they're certainly not going alone. And besides before we send anyone on such a foolhardy adventure we need to be sure they are well prepared, you cannot just walk into Mead and then into the Kingdom of Jin. So take care what you volunteer for.” Agoran turned back to Paladin before continuing. “That army sent against us was but a small force in comparison to what they could have unleashed, and have no doubt that if it wasn’t for our allies Findolin would not be celebrating the inauguration of a new King today but would be bowing to an overlord. Jin will be back. They came this time and ravaged our lands, destroyed Hecata. Next time they come, you can be sure they will not leave.”

  The debate went on throughout the day but there was no conclusion as to the best way forward. As day turned to night it was decreed that the Cashel that fought at the side of the Finns were made Freemen of Findolin. Askalon was named Friend and ally to Findolin and Osgaroth. The Dragon People of Osgaroth were named in Union with Findolin so that every citizen of Osgaroth was now a citizen of Findolin. And so it was that the Suberian Federation of Free States was formed.

  But still once these ceremonial processes were over the main reason for the meeting remained unresolved. What to do about the Mandrake? Agoran knew that the one thing they could not allow was for a belief to arise that they would simply be left alone. No matter how comforting that idea was, every individual needed to realise the reality of their situation, from that day forward they would have to live in a state of constant vigilance, and every man women and child would have to become proficient in the use of arms, soldiery skills, strategy and battle techniques, until they were free of the threat of the Mandrake once and for all. There was much discussion regarding the loss of liberties and the types of draconian laws required to precipitate such a change in doctrine, and also there was much verse on the consequences of such acts, were they to be implemented.

  “Agoran earlier you said that if we had lost the Battle of Findolin we would have an overlord as opposed to a new King,” said the Seer. “With the onset of such laws as you are suggesting, it appears we won’t need the Mandrake to conquer us; we would have conquered ourselves. You cannot expect to replace a thousand years of doctrine built on the foundation of liberty, with what is tantamount to Imperial rule. Instead of fearing the enemy from without, we would have created the enemy within.”

  “The Dragon People already have as part of our tradition similar aspects that are being proposed,” said the Alchemist. “Such as, every citizen who wishes to carry arms has an undertaking in law to be proficient in the use of those arms. That part of our schooling consists of lessons in the skills and techniques required to defend oneself in battle. Perhaps if the people of Findolin undertook such methods, it would negate the additional need for any oppressive laws.”

  There was a hushed silence in the hall as each person contemplated the Seers and the Alchemists words. Finally it was agreed that a watered down proposal of Agoran’s marshal plan would be considered as a compromise.

  After many issues of state had been debated some successfully others to no real conclusion, everyone retired for the night, in the hope of concluding matters the next day. Achil lay awake in his bed, something was still gnawing at him and yet he could not quite place what it was. He closed his eyes and eventually fell asleep but his dreams were troubled as he replayed the events of the previous days. He heard a voice, and saw the face of his dead King in his head, ’revenge me,’ he woke to the sound of those words; sweat dripping from his brow, the image was so real it was as though the King had been in his room. Achil knew then what he must do; he would go after Marshal Ti. As the Marshal had challenged the King, he would challenge the Marshal.

  That night he went up to the Eyrie, where the Great Eagle, the Krakon rested, and handed him a blooded cloth from a Marauder warrior. The eagle took it in its talons tasted and smelt it, and then dropped it to the ground. The eagle bobbed its head twice as if in understanding of what to do next. The Army of the Mandrake had a head start but it was of such magnitude that he knew he would catch up to it soon enough. The trail would be fresh and easy to follow; he would take with him the banner of the Mandrake and lay it at Ti's feet.

  From the Eagles eyrie, Achil went to the stables. He harnessed his horse, one of the stable hands enquired as to where he was going at such an hour, to which his reply was simple, he had some unfinished business to deal with, the boy gave Achil an uncertain look, but left him to his own devices.

  Achil had a determined look on his face; he had watched the King die and many thousands more besides, all without good cause. Now he would cut out the very heart of the enemy, by killing the Marshal. He heard the Krakon overhead screech, as if trying to direct him, but even in the dark the tracks were easy to follow. He rode for the rest of the night and through the rest of the next day, stopping for a brief rest before continuing on.

  By the evening of the following day he could see how the contours of the land had began to change, and yet he seemed no nearer the enemy. The plain had given way to wooded hills and shallow valleys. As he rode on he came to a small hamlet where he found an inn. He tied his horse up to a post outside, and making sure that the Mandrake banner he carried in his bag could not be spied entered in.

  It was empty except for a couple having a flagon of beer in the corner. They saw him and whispered something to one another, drunk up and left. Achil ordered a drink and a bite to eat and quietly enquired as to the whereabouts of everyone.

  “You must be new to these parts,” said the Innkeeper. “People are away taking care of their affairs since the Marauders came through here telling us of the imminent fall of Findolin, but word has spread that they have come to terms and a cease fire has taken hold. About time to, it's so a man can’t make an honest living any more, with all these wars going on. You’d think someone would have realised by now that war's bad for business. I heard that Marshal Ti and his lot are hold up at Serpents tongue. About two hundred leagues east of here.”

  Achil nodded his thanks, finished his meal, went back outside to mount his horse, and headed east. He wondered how they had got so far ahead of him. What he had not realised was that the peace of blood soaked cloth found on the battlefield which had come from one of the Marauders, which he had then given to the Krakon to taste, had come from a wounded warrior who had left with Jin earlier.

  Now at least he was on the right track though many leagues behind. It would take a few days to catch up with the Marshal but he would do it. That night Achil slept peacefully, the small embers of the fire slowly burning out.

  As the morning approached he heard a twig snap close by, in an instance he jumped up and drew his sword.

  “Hey remember us,” it was Andreas with Nicholas at his side.

  “How in Suberia did you find me?” asked Achil.

  The surprise in Achil’s voice made the two of them grin broadly.

  “The stable hand saw you leave with the banner of the Mandrake in your bag, as soon as we heard that we knew what you intended,” said Andreas. “We told the Prefect and Prince Paladin we would go after you, and here we are.”

  “I’m not going back,” said Achil.

  “We know you have what the stable hand referred to as 'unfinished business'.” replied Andreas. “That’s it, you intend taking on the entire Mandrake army, all on your own.”

  This was exactly the type of rash act that Achil would tell others not to do and he was the one doing it.

  “Not the entire Army just that Marshal of theirs,” he replied indignantly. “Listen I am grateful you two are here, but what I intend is to challenge Marshal Ti to single combat under ancient codes of battle which are not changeable, which states that if in the heat of battle, the outcome remains undetermined between two opposing forces. Then any individuals that have fought against each other m
ay challenge to a duel in single combat that said foe, thereafter.”

  Andreas was well aware of the code, but also he was well aware of the size of Marshal Ti.

  “Well as long as it’s the thereafter, and not the hereafter then fine,” said Andreas.

  The three had their breakfast, saddled their horses and with barely another word rode further inland; they were now entering Mead. The land began to open up before them; it had become wooded, hilly, eventually it turned into a long vast prairie, a sea of grass that seemed to flow back and fourth in the wind, as though each jutting blade was dancing with the next.

  The Krakon was overhead spying out the way, but still no sight of the enemy. That night they came across an old crumbling tower, they set up camp and made a small fire. Finding time to eat and rest meant finding time to think. Andreas could see in the flickering light a sternness to Achil’s eyes, something he had not seen before.

  Nicholas stared into the heart of the fire; they had come a long way since the three of them had first sat around a fire.

  “Achil we’ve all seen Marshal Ti,” said Nicholas. “Do you really think you can best him, don’t take this the wrong way, but he did kill the King with little effort, and the King was not an idle man.”

  Achil gazed across at Nicholas and then across to Andreas, his eyes shining in the firelight, his determination obvious.

  “He may be stronger than me, but I’m going to give him a lesson in war that he will never forget,” said Achil.

  “What’s that?” said Andreas. “That in the end war drives all men mad.”

  “No, that those that have something to lose, will always fight harder than those that have something to gain," said Achil.

  “Maybe or sometimes those that are better warriors win as they are better at what they do, and I would say that there are always things in life worth living for," replied Nicholas.

  “War changes many things and can take many things away from a man," said Achil. "His home, his loved ones, his very being, but what it can’t take away is his sense of duty, to his home, to his loved ones, and that is why I am going after Marshal Ti, that is why I will defeat him.”

  There was another long silence Nicholas stared over at Andreas and placed his hand against his head gesturing as if to say Achil had really lost it this time. Andreas merely shook his head sadly; he turned away, pulled his blanket over his shoulder and lay back.

  “Have it your way Achil,” said Andreas. “You won’t mind though if me and Nicholas keep to a safe distance.”

  Achil threw some more brush wood onto the fire to give it extra life.

  “Sure besides the fight will be over so quickly we’ll be home before you know it,” replied Achil.

  "That's what we're afraid of," replied Nicholas.

  Achil stared up at the night sky; Nicholas’s shallow breathing the only disturbance to break the night air. The stars illuminated the dark veil that held them. From horizon to horizon they flickered like so many tears, in memoriam to a recent tragedy. And as the night wore on they began to dwindle and fade into the background, as the sky changed; first turning to a translucent mauve, then becoming a fiery orange mantle that was being pulled slowly across the sky. The light becoming more pronounced bringing with it a warm breeze and the refreshing dew of a new day.

  Nicholas woke before the others and began cooking breakfast. It sizzled away, the smell reaching out to Achil and Andreas reinvigorating them even as they slept, their eyes opened their noses filled with the simple smell of bacon and eggs. Nicholas passed first Achil, and then Andreas their breakfasts, which were eaten heartily. Soon it was time for them to move on: they packed their things away and left that quiet peaceful haven. The Krakon screeched over head, in the distance he had spied a hazy dust cloud hovering over what was the army of the Mandrake. They had ventured deep into Mead, were far from home, the question now was, would they see their homes again. The three of them rode off following the shadow of the eagle as it seemed to flash across the ground. They made good time that day not stopping to rest, by the evening they themselves could see the glow of the camp fires of the Mandrake. They decided to stop for the night and proceed on the next day.

  Achil was very restless that night, Andreas and Nicholas were both aware of his fidgeting but said nothing, all three lay awake contemplating what was to come. As midnight approached they heard a howl. Achil jumped up closely followed by the other two. Wolfmen were out foraging, Achil picked up his bow and took out two arrows ready to fire both of them. Andreas and Nicholas drew their swords listening to the dark. There was another howl but this time it was much closer. They knew that out there in that dark was a Wolfman maybe even more than one. They could hear it prowling around.

  Achil drew back his bow, as heavy guttural panting got ever closer. He swung round toward Andreas and Nicholas who fell to the ground as he fired over their heads. There was a yelp and a whimper, then silence as whatever creature had been stalking them disappeared into the still of the night.

  Andreas and Nicholas hesitantly got to their feet.

  “You might have warned us what you intended,” said Andreas.

  “It worked didn’t it,” replied Achil.

  They returned to their respective covers happy that some action had been taken against their unseen assailants. It was likely that the Mandrake would now be aware of their presence, which meant if they were now discovered before they made their intentions known, they could be killed as spies.