“Bad luck, the entrance is guarded by a group of orcs,” Saxthor said. “I guess our earlier escape with Bodrin and Tonelia has alerted them to the vulnerability of this entrance. The invisibility ploy won’t work this time.” He looked back at another approaching group. “There are too many people for the wand to hide, sneaking through the palace.”
“What if we hid the others, and you and I pretend to be vendors, delivering food for the kitchens?” Tournak asked. “We could borrow that cart from up the alley and load our foodstuffs on it. It already holds several barrels.”
“Best idea we have,” Saxthor said. He turned to the others behind him. “There’s a change of plans.”
Tournak explained his idea. The king led the growing personnel into a lot next to the palace wall, whose shrubbery could hide them from passing patrols.
“You go up the street and keep the others out of sight,” Saxthor said to a guard. “You two bring that cart down here and load the supplies on it. Then hide in the shadows on either side of the door.”
Tournak banged his fist on the kitchen door. When two orcs opened it, Tournak pretended to be half-drunk. He wobbled a bit then said, “Good ethening,” he wobbled a bit more. “Coulth you genthlemen help me unload the ale from my cart?” He wobbled a turn and pretended to lose his balance, then caught himself. The scene tickled Saxthor.
I’ve got to talk to Tournak about his drinking, thought Saxthor, peering through a bush. He’s too good at this.
“What you got on the cart?” an orc asked.
“Oh juth some food, and a few kegs of ale,” Tournak said.
The grinning orcs looked at each other. “We’ll help you unload the ale.”
A young orc from the back pushed through. “We ain’t got no orders for ale.”
He couldn’t see, but Saxthor heard a cracking sound, and the dissenter said nothing more.
“Yeah, well, ain’t no people gonna be bringing ale voluntarily to us orcs,” the first orc said.
Two guards propped their spears against the wall and came out to get a barrel of ale. As they reached into the cart to get the barrel, the embassy guards popped out and knocked them unconscious. Saxthor, Tournak, and the guards hid the unconscious orcs in the dark alley. They returned to the door and knocked again. As orcs came to the door, Tournak repeated his request for help.
“What happened to them others what come to the door before?” a suspicious orc asked.
Weaving in the doorway, Tournak replied, “The others said they were taking that barrel around to another door.”
The orcs grinned and nodded to each other, stepped out to get a barrel, and two more orcs joined the unconscious ranks in the shrubbery. The invaders gagged and tied the eight orcs and hid them down in the cellar.
The remaining embassy personnel arrived at the palace as Saxthor hid the last incapacitated guards. Again, Saxthor, with the king, took the lead to find the hidden entrance to the tunnel beneath the city.
As the only wizard among them, Tournak stepped forward and cast several spells. He was finally able to expose the gate, but it remained sealed when Tournak ran through his known spells.
“You have any more ideas?” Saxthor asked.
Tournak shook his head. “We can’t stay here, there’re too many of us, and the orcs will soon discover us.”
Calamidese shrugged his shoulders. The others milled around, glancing at Saxthor and Tournak with increasingly furrowed brows.
“We’ll have to go back,” Tournak said. “We can’t stay here.”
“We can’t go back,” Saxthor said, “The embassy compound will be in flames now. There’s nowhere else we can go.”
“What can we do?” Tonelia asked.
“Well, for want of a better idea…” Saxthor raised the dragon ring and commanded the door to open. Nothing happened. He tried again, nothing happened. An orc groan close by reminded him time was running out. His heart raced, and nerves tingled.
He thought back to the time when, as a boy, he commanded the shackles to open and release Habbernee in the rock-dwarf chamber on Tixos. Saxthor remembered extreme stress coupled with exceptional concentration activated the ring’s power. He concentrated hard as the pressure of discovery and failure excited his own energy on the third try. Another, louder groan alarmed him.
This try must succeed, he thought, focusing on the consequences if it didn’t. He concentrated on the door lock. The dragon ring glowed as if molten and a blue spark popped. The portal sprang open.
When the ring’s glow dimmed, Saxthor wilted back against a table. Tournak helped him stand, and he rested against the wall, while the other group members passed through the gate and under the city. As the last group went into the passageway, Tournak, supporting Saxthor, started through the opening.
A sudden stench of sulfur engulfed the room. Saxthor looked up to see the master-wraith’s vapor floating into the chamber, taking form above the boxes and barrels.
“The energy surges alerted the wraith to our presence,” Saxthor said. “It’s traced the energy here.”
“He’s transmuting his essence into mass to strike with full power,” Tournak said. He tried to push Saxthor behind him while drawing his sword.
“Your sword will be nothing against the pure concentrated energy charge in the wraith,” Saxthor said.
“We can’t outrun it.” Tournak hunched down to confront the transmuting monster.
Saxthor held onto the doorframe, exhausted.
The outline of a heavily muscled man formed from the vapor. It was twice a man’s size and naked to the waist. Its dark gray and mustard colors reflected the charcoal and sulfur dust origin in the crucible. For a moment, in its translucency, they could see veins begin and then the red glow of blood streaming through it before its skin began to form. While still semi-vaporous, the vile head stood backdrop to pools of glowing yellow eyes punctuated by vertical, coal-black snake pupils. Two thick, short horns grew out of its skull above the high, pointed ears. The creature was unlike anything they had seen, even among the wraiths with which they were by now familiar.
I must act now, Saxthor thought. In a moment, the creature will be solid mass enough to shoot wizard-fire bolts, vaporizing both Tournak and me. Tournak’s wizard powers are no match for this thing. There’s no reprieve in sunshine this night.
Leaning against the wall, Saxthor shoved Tournak into the tunnel.
“Good-bye, my friend and mentor, I can’t let you waste your life in a futile attempt to resist this fiend. Run!”
Maybe if the creature destroys me, it will let the others go, he thought. Cripes, the jewels are in my tunic. If it vaporizes me, it will expose the crystals. The wraith will take them to his master in Dreaddrac. I’ll have failed not only myself but also all Powteros. There’ll be no stopping the Dark Lord with these gemstones in his possession.
He slapped his hand on the crystals in his tunic. Surging energy pulsed through Saxthor. The predicament in the tunnel chased by Yamma-Mirra Heedra, where giving up would’ve doomed Bodrin in his youth, flashed in front of his eyes.
I’ll not fail and let everyone down after all my friends have been through so much for me, he thought. Anger swallowed his momentary self-doubt, as the prince turned to face the wraith. A wraith is only a wraith, after all, he thought. This wraith’s hatred is second-hand from Dreaddrac; the love of my friends is direct. I’m the stronger. The great dragon Yamma-Mirra Heedra, whose strength is the greatest I’ve ever known, the dragon and I are one.
That realization activated the dragon ring, and it glowed. “I am Yamma-Mirra Heedra,” Saxthor’s said, standing straight. “The dragon, the ring, and I are one!”
Energy surged he’d never known. A powerful energy pulse slammed back the wraith, seeming to singe it as it formed.
Tournak stuck his head back through the gate and froze.
The glow radiated out from the ring. Saxthor felt it spread surrounding him as he stretched out his hand, pointing his finger at the specter
. A silent gasp appeared on the wraith’s partially formed face. The creature drew back; but partially formed, it couldn’t escape. The two adversaries stared at each other as the golden dragon ring pulsed. The Celestial Blue Fire Topaz sucked energy from the wraith that squirmed as it dimmed.
The two men watched the blue topaz triple in brilliance. The twin dragons holding up the gemstone appeared to focus the stone on the specter. The trapped wraith writhed; its lined and shrinking face trembled. A stream of brilliant blue light shot from the dragon ring striking the wraith. A shower of sparks exploded as the two energies clashed. A brilliant light flashed in a thunderous boom; then, both died away to the former silent darkness. All traces of the wraith were gone leaving only a trace of sulfur dust settling onto the floor.
Tournak dashed in. “Are you all right?”
Saxthor slumped, and Tournak caught him as he sank to the floor.
Saxthor felt more alive than at any time in his life. I am the Yamma-Mirra Heedra, he thought. The dragon is the projected manifestation of my being. We’re one. This is the power Memlatec spoke of.
He rested for a moment, adjusting to the new realization of his potential.
“What’s the holdup? Come on,” Bodrin said, sticking his head back into the room. He sniffed, smelling the smoke and sulfur. They both stared at Saxthor, who still radiated an intense aura.
“Give us a minute,” Tournak said.
“Something incredible has happened to Saxthor,” Bodrin said. “Look at his face. I saw that look once before when he came out of the dragon’s lair.” Bodrin’s sword hung in his hand.
“He destroyed a wraith with his force,” Tournak said, staring.
“A wraith?” Bodrin asked.
“What’re you dragging your feet about back here?” Tonelia chimed in, sticking her head between Tournak and Bodrin in the doorway. “You boys are always playing with fire. If I weren’t here to keep an eye on you, you’d burn the place down.”
Saxthor and Tournak stared at each other. Bodrin stared at Tonelia.
“What did I say?” Tonelia looked to each of them with palms turned up and her mouth open. Saxthor and Tournak shook their heads. Tonelia helped Bodrin, Tournak helped Saxthor, and the four of them followed the king and embassy staff out through the tunnel under the city. They came out in a thicket beyond the walls and waited for Saxthor and King Calamidese to lead them to Botahar.
Bodrin walked up beside Tournak. “Something sure happened back there.”
“He’s not a young man anymore,” Tournak said.
Saxthor sensed his regal self-assurance gave them all courage and a sense of security just being near him. The Sengenwhan princess royal, Dagmar, was first outside of Saxthor’s immediate group to notice it.
* * *
Although they didn’t know it, the master-wraith’s destruction shattered the will of the orc contingents in Sengenwhapolis. The ogres kept the cohorts under control with whips, but the orcs were frightened of something powerful enough to destroy the most powerful wraith they’d ever seen. Fearing the source that destroyed the wraith was still in Sengenwhapolis, the orcs wouldn’t leave their protected places. That kept them in the city, and no one pursued the refugees as they fled across the hills toward Botahar.
8: Return to Botahar & Lake Pundar
In Dreaddrac, the Dark Lord ranted for days. The power surge, then collapse, had drained his strength as another of his master-wraiths evaporated. He noted his cowering attendants felt his power loss, too. Hesitant at first, Smegdor helped him up from the floor. Once up, the king shoved him away, causing Smegdor to fall backward onto the floor.
“I’ve only the orc armies, my last master-wraith, and my new prize, Magnosious left to stop the prince and secure the crown. What power spares this prince? How could I have overlooked and underestimated him so long?
“The orcs pose no threat to the prince. He’s destroyed four wraiths, two of your majesty’s most powerful,” Smegdor said.
“I can’t rely on the last wraith to succeed either. I’d hoped to retain Magnosious to support the armies when they march south, but I must stop the prince before he gets back to Konnotan and unites his power with Memlatec’s. I have to send my best dragon to destroy the Neuyokkasinian prince, as was Earwig’s intent in the first place.”
The Dark Lord went to the dragons’ grotto, high on Munattahensenhov’s summit. Though snow covered the mountain, heat from the furnaces far below warmed the dragons’ stable.
“Hurry up, Smegdor,” the Dark Lord said.
He stood at the grotto’s entrance sizing up the giant reptiles. They stamped about in their individual stalls, snorting fire and tossing about the crumpled orc cadavers left after they’d eaten their fill. Sour decaying manure gases mixed with smoke and soot, seeping from the opening. The stench was stifling. Smegdor struggled, climbing the cliff, but his labored breathing and wrenched body only annoyed the self-absorbed wizard.
“Magnosious is the herd’s prize beast,” the Dark Lord said, patting Magnosious’ clawed toe. He looked at Smegdor, gasping for air, then indifferent, looked back at the dragon. “Magnosious is unequaled in size, ferocity, and devotion. Ironic isn’t it, Earwig doted on him as the only thing she thought liked her, and he despised her.” He chuckled indifferently to Smegdor, holding his nose.
“She fattened him on condemned prisoners, exercised him over the sulfurous fumes of The Crypt, and taught him every sly underhanded cruelty she could devise. The dragon can snort fire farther and hotter than any dragon in the stable and stamp out whole villages in a single rampage. If anyone can stop the powerful prince, it will be Magnosious.”
Smegdor nodded.
When the sun warmed the winter morning near midday, the Dark Lord released Magnosious from his stall. “Search out and destroy this Prince Saxthor, traveling somewhere in Sengenwha. You won’t need his scent, as Earwig thought. You’ve heard of him; your mistress told you about him before. Magnosious, you’re a clever dragon, you can find the prince. Don’t fail me in this. I had you brought into being for just such a purpose.”
Cold as granite, Magnosious flicked his long thin tongue and nodded, snorting fire.
“No restrictions,” Magnosious said.
“You understand me then, good, and no restrictions. You’ll be able to find the prince without his scent?”
Nodding, without looking back, the dragon stamped to the grotto opening, faced the wind, and leaped into the air. His great wings whipped out in elegant arcs, the smooth skin between the bones caught the wind and snapped taut as sails. Before his great bulk crashed on the snow-covered rocks below, the monstrous reptile flapped his wings with powerful, deliberate strokes, rising above the Munattahensenhov. He circled the mountain using the rising air currents from the subterranean furnaces to gain altitude and soared three times around the mountain peak, gaining airspeed. Comfortable with his flight, Magnosious straightened his course and sailed off in the sun toward Sengenwha.
* * *
The Dark Lord's third master-wraith knew at once when Saxthor disintegrated his sibling in Sengenwhapolis. With the second master-wraith’s demise, the third abandoned organizing the border orcs and flew to Sengenwhapolis to identify and trace the culprit, which vaporized his kindred wraiths.
* * *
In the palace, Memlatec was in consultation with Prince Regent Augusteros. They were assessing what they might do to bolster the kingdom’s defenses.
“General Sekkarian holds Hoya and monitors the garrison at Talok Tower to the east,” Memlatec said. “General Socockensmek has arrived and is building his new army at Heedra for the defense of Hyemka and Heedra, but their training will take time. Those two cities have no defensive fortresses, where the general can garrison the new army.
The nearest castilyernov is Favriana Fortress at the southern tip of Lake Pundar. The Castilyernov Fortresska overlooking Olnak is strong and its garrison adequate, but it’s to the extreme west. In short, the southern border with Sengenwha is
vulnerable.”
“Is there any way you can think of to strengthen the border before the orcs’ attack in the spring?” Prince Augusteros asked. “My generals demand more troops and castilyernovs. It’s too late to build another stronghold.”
“I’ve thought on the matter, a lot, but I’ve no solutions as yet. Let’s hope General Socockensmek can train his army in time to thwart and assault. You must begin building a wall around Heedra and a castilyernov there. What news of Crown Prince Augusteros? It’s a painful subject, but Your Majesty needs to settle the succession.”
There was a long silence. The regent’s whole body slumped, and he lowered his head. He turned from the map table and went to the window, where he stared blankly out at the horizon.
“I don’t think he’s coming home.” His lowed head exhaled a deep sigh.
The queen’s death and the cold rebuff of his heir have drained the man, thought Memlatec. “Your Majesty must decide the succession. The chatra has asked me to approach Your Majesty on the subject.” Memlatec walked over to the window and stood beside Augusteros. Both looked off at the horizon. “If the crown prince refuses to return home, he must renounce his claim to the throne in favor of Prince Saxthor.”
“Yes, I know that. We waited so long for young Augusteros to come to his senses, but he’s not coming back.” The wind, whipping his thin hair, magnified his desolation.
“Your Highness must name Prince Saxthor as Prince of Hoya so there’ll be some succession plan. If anything should happen to you, the nobles won’t support the princess royal on the throne alone. You must look at the situation realistically. They’ll build individual armies. The kingdom will disintegrate into civil war among warlords. Without the succession established, young Augusteros may raise an imperial army and challenge Saxthor for the throne at a later date.”
The regent turned back into the room and went to the map table. He ran his hand over the cool parchment as if feeling the kingdom’s topography. “We’ll make arrangements with the chatra tomorrow for the investiture of Prince Saxthor as Prince of Hoya in absentia. My sons are strangers to me.”
The N Arc of Empire- Complete Series Page 88