An Empire Forged

by Michael Greenfield

  Although the Duke had been forthcoming once captured, there was still no word as to where the treacherous advisor to the now dead Lord Holdur had gone to.

  “Dorrin, that’s your job. Find that bastard and drag his carcass back to Bor’a for your cousin to deal with. I know it’s unlikely he’ll return to Bor’a, someone’s bound to have got word to him, but I still want him.”

  “That’s an order a man can follow with relish Commander.” Dorrin’s voice hung in the air of the tent, seemingly coming from a few feet above the globe.

  “Good. How long to get the Bor’a garrison ready to march?”

  Ramon answered this one, “A few days. From what I gather, the Joorat garrison had most of its better officers diverted or sent to their demise. We were luckier here.

  Call it three days to get the supply train organised, and then any time thereafter.”

  “Good, we’ve started aggressive patrols here. Our first task is to retake Holdur.

  Teegan, how long to get a couple of Ranger detachments down to us?”

  “We can get them to meet up with you south of Holdur within a week. I’ve got a couple of lads ready to make the run up to the fort, they may even manage to contact one of the southern patrols, in which case it could be as little as four or five days.”

  “Good, have them leave as soon as they can. Magron?”

  “Avrim,” Farsighter could already guess what was going to be asked.

  “Travel with them, I want you and Balton to put your sneaky heads together and come up with a plan to cause both the Shaler and the J’dar some considerable amount of pain.

  Collett didn’t need to see the older mans face to know it would be grinning. “Of course, My Lord.”

  “Now, bugger off!” Laughter filled the air from both sides of the magical conversation.

  After the mage had left the tent, leaving Collett and Westrom alone, the younger officer turned to his commander.

  “So, what exactly do you want me to do, Sir. We all know I wasn’t the most gifted cadet when it came to tactics and strategy.” His self-depreciation confirmed the impression both Collett and Dorrin had of the young man.

  “No, but you’re damn good at organising.

  Initially I’m going to need you to act as quartermaster to these troops we have here as we start for Holdur. Once we’ve managed that little miracle, I’m giving you the even bigger headache of organising the smooth joining and operation of not just the Joorat and Bor’a garrison, but a Helmer army coming from the north and a dwarf force joining us from the east.”

  “You’re what? I might not be the brightest when it comes to strategy, but that’s an invasion force. Where exactly are we going?”

  “That all depends on our young Queen. If she’s successful, we’ll continue north to take the battle to Mythra. If she fails, ignoring the fact that we’ll probably have to rescue her again, we’ll need to subdue Galorn before we make any further decisions.”

  “Damn Commander,”

  “When we’re alone its Avrim. The Gods alone knows how much I’m dumping on you with this. You’ll need rank to carry this out, otherwise some of the resentment the other officers are bound to feel might cause issues.”

  Westrom gave him a curious look, something in Collett’s voice made him think he was planning something out of the ordinary.

  “In order to avoid such issues, I’m not promoting you to colonel, or similar. As you already said, you’re not here to provide tactical advice, so I’m re-instating a rank that used to be attributed to a Commander’s second. Not necessarily the second-in-command of the force, but the man tasked with ensuring the commanders plans and orders were co-ordinated and carried out as he expects.”

  This time Westrom managed to find some humour in the moment, “I may not be a great tactician, but I’m willing to bet I’m the only one of the junior officers in the camp that would know what you’re talking about.

  You mean to give me the rank of Adjutant, as opposed to just saying that someone is your adjutant?”

  “Correct,” Collett grinned, “and you’re right. I doubt any of the other officers in camp realise that it used to be an actual rank.

  No worries there, I’ll remind them quickly enough.”

  Collett stood and walked over to a smaller table at the side of the tent. Sat upon it was small pile of documents. “Your first task is to organise the latest intelligence that’s come in.”

  The newly promoted officer joined his Commander and looked at the pile questioningly.

  “Whilst we haven’t got any Rangers providing patrols for us, we recruited a couple of local woodsmen. Vorston, the dwarf, is out with them at the moment. Probably to relieve the boredom, there’s not a lot for him to do round here.”

  “There seemed to be an unusual number of dwarves down in the Isles over the last few months.”

  “They’d been fleeing the Shaler and J’dar. Either on their own they could have handled, but they couldn’t stop both at the same time.

  Not to worry though, a lot of them will be heading back this way shortly. Vorston sent messages so their warriors will be with us in time for the main push past Holdur.”

  This time Westrom gave Collett a dirty look, “You didn’t say that some of the dwarven part of the army could be appearing from any direction.” Collett looked confused for a moment. “Well, if they’re coming from the Isles, they could return via Joorat, Bor’a or Nibar’a. Not to mention a dozen other small fishing ports.”

  “See, that’s why you’re the Adjutant.” Collett slapped the man’s back as they both laughed.

  Impatience

  Harlin sat in the Great Hall of Dwarfhome, muttering. Garron could hardly contain his amusement as he watched his father. He knew that the Dwarf Lord hated inaction, and at this present moment they were stuck awaiting word from Vorston and Collett.

  “You can stop grinning.” Harlin new full well that his son found the entire situation highly amusing.

  “Who, me? I wouldn’t dream of it. You know that they won’t send any message until they’ve taken Holdur and met up with Maargsson coming from the north.”

  “I know, I know. That still doesn’t mean I have to like it. I need a walk.” Garron just nodded.

  Together, they left the Hall and started down toward the main gates. Even from the street inside the wooden walls, they could see a glow thrown up into the sky from the pasture in front of the town.

  As they cleared the gates, they could see a sprawling camp that spread its way across the field and was still growing. Groups of dwarves had been arriving for a couple of weeks now and Harlin knew that before too much longer the bulk of the dwarf army would be set up at this location.

  Then the real problem was trying to avoid the same impatience their lord was feeling from being felt by the idle warriors. Garron gazed out over the camp. At this time of the morning it was almost its own bustling little town.

  Camp fires were spread randomly between the tents, being used to prepare food and hot drinks for the morning meal. He could see dwarves stood in small groups, just chatting. Some were sat or stood working on various pieces of equipment, preparing for whatever was to come over the next few months.

  “How long before we expect most of the clans to be here?”

  Harlin glanced toward his son, “Another week perhaps. Why?”

  “A thought. Let’s head back to the hall. I need to look at some maps.”

  The Dwarf Lord shrugged but followed his eldest son as they turned and headed back the way they had just come.

  Garron had called several of the clan chiefs to the hall during the morning. By lunchtime a lively discussion was taking place with two distinct groups involved. Harlin was stood with five others, all of whom advocated action of some sort, three stood by themselves wanting to wait for word from Boraan before proceeding further.

  The dwarven heir was ignoring them at the moment, as he studied the maps laid out over the largish table they were clustered round. />
  “M’ur.”

  “Sorry?” Harlin and the others looked at him curiously.

  “M’ur. That’s the key for us.” He spread out one particular map that showed the central portion of the southern kingdoms. “If we wait for word to arrive before acting it’ll take what, six weeks to reach Miri travelling cross country?”

  They all looked at the map before one of the chiefs stood with Harlin spoke, “If the weather stays fair, about that.”

  “I think our allies would prefer if we were slightly quicker than that.”

  Harlin considered his son shrewdly, “What did you have in mind?”

  “Ketla, the capital.”

  Again, everyone considered the map.

  “M’ur doesn’t have much of a standing army,” Harlin mused, “and it would put us closer with good roads to use between there and Miri.” His finger traced the route between the two cities

  “I’m liking this idea, but how do we let Collet know what we’re doing?”

  “That’s part of the beauty of the plan, we don’t need to yet. We can wait until we reach Ketla and then send a messenger to catch up with the army and inform them.”

  “And how do we find the army?”

  “Oh, whoever we send to deliver the message will find that simple. Travel west until you don’t have to dodge Shaler or J’dar patrols any more, then turn north.”

  There was a moments silence as the gathered dwarves took this in, then they all started to laugh.

  “You realise you just volunteered to be the messenger, don’t you?” Harlin placed a hand on his son’s shoulder.

  “I thought that might be the way. Not to worry, we’ve got to reach Ketla first.” He grinned as he answered.

  “That should be the easy bit. Gentlemen,” he returned his attention the others, “Let’s see to getting this rabble organised and on the march by the end of the week.”

  Several grunts of agreement concluded the meeting, as they all stood away form the table and started to think about what needed to be done in the next few days.

  Waiting

  Myriana sat on the veranda at the back of the house. Her uncle had been right, they had watched the sunrise on the second day of their stay with him, and it had indeed been spectacular. It had definitely convinced the Queen that she must not leave visiting her uncle so long next time. If there was a next time.

  She was unaware of the fact, but her grating at their current inaction mirrored Harlin’s almost identically. The difference being, she couldn’t do anything to relieve the feeling until they had held their meeting with the people that her uncle vouched for.

  Cal came wandering out to join her, “Morning.”

  “Cal, good morning.”

  He stood for a moment, admiring the view. Low rolling hills, with the mountains just poking above the northern horizon. The sunlight glinted of a small lake a few hundred yards beyond the walls of the ornamental gardens. A few deer drinking on the far side caused Cal’s hands to twitch slightly, thinking of his bow stored up in his room.

  Tinkling laughter broke the silence, “You’re not a woodsman anymore, leave the deer alone.”

  Cal had the good grace to look embarrassed. “It seems so long ago.”

  “I know what you mean. When this all over, just think what your family will make of it all. As far as they know, you’ve joined the Rangers and are either undergoing training somewhere, or possibly in the field tracking Shalers.”

  “Do you know, I’d not thought about that.” He looked to his companion, “I mean, I think about my family. Wondering whether they’re alright, what they’re doing.

  But I haven’t thought about the fact that they have no idea the things that have happened to me. I think becoming a noble is probably about the last thought they would have had about my fortunes.” He smiled, “Not that I’m complaining.”

  “Of course not. Besides, its too late to change now anyway, Tamala would have my guts if I took away your title.”

  Laughter from the doorway caused them both to turn to see both Astridson and Kormick stood observing them.

  “I think I would like to hear your full story my dear Baron. From what Myri has told me, you are a figure of awe-inspiring power, yet you look to me to be not more than twenty summers old.”

  “Yes, come one Cal,” Astridson joined in, “I know some of it, but would like to hear the rest.”

  “Go on Cal,” Myriana egged him on.

  “Well, I suppose.”

  Cal spent the next half hour telling the tale of how he had been picked by Farsighter to join the Rangers, through finding Dorrin on the trail east of Fallon’s Glen. Tears formed in Myriana’s eyes as he described the fall of Holdur and the murder of the old Lord.

  As he spoke of the Shaler raid on the caravan where he met Vorston Kormick’s eyes took on a faraway look for a moment. Neither of the others noticed, but Cal did, making a mental note to ask the reason when they were alone.

  Laughter flowed when he described the sailors producing an imitation uniform for him aboard the Hurricane, with Myriana being quite shocked to discover that being good with a needle was a handy skill while at sea.

  Describing the events at Mid’gra, Cal explained to the Queen and her uncle that although he could give them some of the detail, he couldn’t tell them everything that happened there as he and Tamala were separate from the others.

  The stay at Agorel and the trek through the mountains to Churek and onward to the rescue of the queen were told much quicker, as Astridson and then the Queen herself were present for much of those events.

  After describing the fight with Cor’dell, and their final escape, Kormick pulled up one of the loungers arrayed about the veranda. Settling on the edge of it he spoke.

  “I think that my niece may have something there you know. Firstly, you acquire a Lighter bow, a family heirloom in a family that has no connection to the Lighter people. And then Vorston gives you a blade that turns out to be a mythical Fireblade.

  Whether or not you are a warrior to match the heroes of legend remains to be seen, but it would definitely appear that someone is trying to give you the best chance possible in what we face.”

  “I’m not sure I understand Uncle,” Myriana looked quizzically at him.

  “Cal mentioned this Asrak, who it would appear knows an awful lot more than the rest of us.”

  “We know something,” Cal responded, “we know that he is one of two Source Guides, although I haven’t had a chance as yet to find out more about them.

  The Light at Agorel seemed reluctant to discuss him further.”

  Astridson cleared his throat at this moment, “Perhaps the Light had been told not to explain further?”

  “Possible, do you know anything more that you might tell us?” Cal looked hopeful that he might gain some answers.

  “About the Source Guides, I’m afraid not. I know some more about the Lighter people that might be of interest. Like the fact that Agorel is not our home.”

  “Oh?” all three of the others were surprised to hear that.

  “But your people have been there for as long as our history has been recorded.” Kormick looked a little disturbed at this news.

  “We’ve lived in the gorge for over fifteen hundred years, but our own history tells us of the city of Idyllas. Our true home.” Astridson lapsed into silence as he remembered ancient lore past to him during his childhood living in Agorel.

  “What happened to it?” Myriana could see that the Lighter was moved by what he was recounting.

  “Our scrolls don’t hold all the detail, but there are hints of other sources for the information.”

  “Where?”

  “That is the question. Some of the tales I heard as a child point toward a man that lived alongside my people centuries ago that put together a record, but we don’t know what he did with it.

  We do know, however, that he was a direct ancestor of the original Baron Galorn that conquered these lands and named the kingd
om after himself. It’s possible that there might be something in the archives kept in the catacombs under Saldar.”

  Myriana pondered this revelation for a short while, the others remaining quiet while she thought.

  “Why do I get the feeling that this might be something important?”

  “I have the same feeling,” Kormick stared toward the horizon before continuing on, “perhaps the young Captain would feel up to a research position sometime in the near future?”

  “As in once we’ve managed to complete all the other little tasks we’ve set ourselves?” Astridson couldn’t resist a little smile.

  “That would seem the appropriate time, yes. Majesty?”

  “I agree. Once we’ve returned some semblance of order to this troubled land, I want you to use all the resources you can to try and discover more about this hidden history.”

  “Of course.”

  “I’ll ensure you get all the assistance you need,” the Duke spoke with a quiet conviction, “but until then, we need to be prepared for when my fellow countrymen arrive. Have you given any thought as to exactly what you’re going to be asking of them?”

  “We need them to gather as much information as possible for a start. We still don’t know whether the King is being kept against his will somewhere, or whether something worse has occurred.

  Our actions in the first case would obviously to come up with a plan to liberate him and restore his rule of the kingdom. If otherwise, I’m not entirely sure.

  We’ll need to come up with some way of returning control to the land in such a way that the other countries will acknowledge the rule. That could be complicated.”

  “Could be?” Kormick tried not to look amused, “Do you have any idea how many factions there are in the Council?”

  “Probably as many as the High Council in Bor’a. That’s why I’ll try and find excuses not to meet them.”

  Call had kept quiet for most of the conversation up until this point. “Who on the council can claim blood ties to the King?”