The New Age Saga Box Set

by Timothy A. Ray

  “And—,” he began, looking to the elves on his right.

  “Princess Isabella, Erik’s daughter, has indeed been kidnapped. My King remained to see to the castle’s defenses as I set out with our Queen. She sent us south to assist you while she maintained pursuit of the kidnappers. I don’t know anything more than that,” Sir Uriens relayed in turn.

  His mouth pulled to the side in a grimace while he tried to work things through, to try and make sense of what was happening. “So, she’s attacking the dwarves from the north, then has the Elven Princess kidnapped in order to draw out the elven army. Then sends a token force to occupy our forces and prevent us from acting,” he stated aloud, trying to picture the maps of the lands and track the Phoenix’s movements.

  “Windel, bring me a map of the kingdoms,” he ordered his aide, wanting a visual reference to better plan what came next.

  Bordin grunted. “You call that a token force? Thirty thousand minions of hell?”

  “You heard it yourself. The witch called it a speck compared to the forces under her command,” he countered. “I don’t know about you, but I haven’t ever been to the Deadlands to ascertain how many live in those wastelands, and I haven’t heard of any that have either. I understand it’s hard to think of it as small, I was there, I know how I felt looking at it, But the fact remains that when that army got here they outnumbered us five to one and they did not do much in the way of laying siege other than make camp to the south. They didn’t cut off the routes to the castle or prevent reinforcements from arriving. Your army never should have been allowed to enter the castle walls unmolested. They could have swarmed you as soon as you were in range and there would have been nothing either of us could do about it. There are standard operating procedures when laying siege to a castle, otherwise you’re just out for a picnic; they did none of it. It was almost like they didn’t care. Either their commander was overconfident in their numbers, thinking to overwhelm us by sheer force, or they didn’t have a plan once Clint was found out and his plans foiled.”

  “Had I been laying siege to a fortress with thirty thousand under my command,” he continued, “I would have immediately encircled the fortress walls. I would have sent patrols out to warn of approaching armies. I would not allow any size force to get anywhere near the walls, and I would ensure that no communication nor supplies were allowed to enter the castle. Otherwise, what’s the point? Am I wrong?”

  Tar Reiz was nodding, “I see what you’re getting at. It was like they were just for show and were here to distract rather than engage. But why? That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “I think I understand, just hear me out. Tell me,” he started, glancing at Bordin, “what did they do when they got here? They approached, offered terms, made one half-ass attack, then sat back and licked their wounds for three days.”

  “And dropped bodies on our heads,” Bordin sneered; he still wasn’t convinced.

  He knew it sounded insane to suggest that a horde that size was arbitrary, but the picture forming made the entire thing seem to be a ploy, a stalling tactic. He sighed. “In response to the undead ravaging their camp, sure. But those winged devils could have created a lot more problems for us than they did. And where were they during the main assault? Where were the orcs? I think I saw three groups of them the entire time. That army was mostly made up of goblins, and Lord knows they have plenty of those vile creatures to spare. Did any of your men actually fight one of those gargoyles that we saw on that first day? Were they even there at the end? What of the jackyls, hobgoblins, harpies, and other beasts of hell that we know are under her command?”

  “Then,” he continued, “there’s the subversion of Bendor. Mark, yesterday when I suggested that we attack the main force, what was the general’s reaction?” he pushed, knowing as he talked that he was right about all of this.

  Mark coughed, he hadn’t expected to be a part of the conversation this early; nor to question the actions of his former commander. “He was dismissive, rude, and told us to wait it out. To not risk the men and treat it like any other siege.”

  “I’ve known our dwarven friend my entire life, never have I seen him shirk from a fight, never heard him not advocate himself for a direct attack. Yet, he told us to wait, even when threatened with demotion and removal. Looking back at his cranky mood, the out of character opinions, I know that it wasn’t Bendor I was talking to that morning. Which means the Phoenix wanted us to wait? Why?” he asked the others gathered around him.

  Windel walked in with the map and unrolled it on the table, taking paperweights out of his pocket and setting it on the corners to hold it down.

  He rose to his feet and the others did so as well. “Okay, Alamar’s lost,” he told them, “I think that’s safe to assume at this point. She also said the human villages to the north had been wiped out by Famine, so let’s count Pathiel to Shoftiel out as well. Now, apparently, this Pestilence is working his way south from here at Kamdeac, heading to Branham next,” he went on, placing a rock over the cities as he named them off. “Then she sends a small army here to occupy us, drawing dwarven forces from the west, elves from the northeast, and the army at Griedlok west. Now, tell me what you see.”

  “She said villages, not fortresses, so maybe Senatorian still stands,” Uriens offered, placing a rock next to the mountain stronghold, not yet willing to cover it up.

  Bordin’s eyes were studying the map intensely, shaking his head as it finally fell into place. “There’s nothing standing between the Deadlands and Forlorn. No resistance, no villages to send a warning, it’s all been wiped out.”

  He was nodding. “And you’re here, the closest army of any size able to march to their defense.”

  “Before the next full moon Forlorn will fall,” Tar Reiz intoned, the timber so closely matching the Phoenix’s that a shiver ran up John’s back.

  “She threw it right in our faces,” he told them all.

  Mark had moved closer to peer at the map, then looked up at his King. “How do you know it’s not a ploy to draw us out instead? Aren’t we just as vulnerable now as Forlorn?” As the new leader of the army, it was his place to concern himself with their kingdom’s safety first and he felt appreciation that the man was quickly assuming his new responsibilities.

  “If she was serious about taking us out, we’d already be dead. She hit us just hard enough to draw our attention south, even more so by parking her army there instead of attacking us from the north, the direction they marched to get here. Sure, there are forest to the north, but that only makes it more convenient for them to build more siege machines in order to overrun our walls. No,” he told his concerned general, “she’s going to march on Forlorn and I will not let them face her forces alone. They will be larger than what we faced here, you can be sure, because despite her words, she is worried about whatever my brother is doing and whether Erik will play a part in her demise. She’s going to move on them before Tristan can get there and if the elves fall—.”

  “We all fall,” Brigette finished, nodding. “I agree. Looking at what’s been going on, the reports we’ve received and her words first-hand, Forlorn is going to be the next place she’ll attack.”

  “Then why tell us?” Bordin interjected. “Why give us time to stop her?”

  Noelani chuckled. “Can we gonnae-no 'er? Wa nae teel us? Leid us aw intae a body convenient place in order tae slaughter us aw wi' a body feel swoop, th' easier tae move sooth afterward an' tak' th' noo defenseless cities wi' nae armies left tae oppose 'er. Ah will teel ye thes, mah Rí ruirech isnae gonnae commit mair forces, despite yer “gut feelings”. He’ll march north tae Branham lang afair he sends me mair troaps tae help th' elves.”

  “That’s comforting,” Tar Reiz snorted.

  The dwarf glared across the table. “If Taegen ur Earhen waur under lat at, woods Erik send his armies sooth tae help us? Don’t pretend thes is some racial —,”

  “King Erik would do everything he could to help the dwarves at th
e same time as reinforcing our own cities!” Uriens interrupted, anger starting to flush the elf’s cheeks.

  He slammed his hand on the table. “We can’t fight amongst ourselves; it only serves the Phoenix’s purposes. Look at this map, at all the lives lost already, and tell me we can afford this petty bickering. General Noelani, you were sent here to assist me, I’m marching to Forlorn, will you continue “helping” or are you going to return home?”

  The dwarf was still eyeing the elven knight and after taking another long drink, he finally turned to John and nodded. “Aye, I’ll gang wi' yah laddie, Ah ne'er meant tae say Ah wasn’t. Jist wanted tae say 'at mah men main be aw mah Rí ruirech will send. Thaur woods be nae point tryin' tae sae th' warld if we return haem tae a nation fa'en tae plague. We will try tae assist, but we main protect uir ain an aw.”

  Before Tar Reiz could say anything, John pushed forward cutting him off. “It’s more than enough and I thank you.”

  The elven king on his left was shaking his head. “If the—witch sends an army larger than what we just fought, how can we possibly hope to defeat her armies? We have sixteen thousand soldiers currently encamped here, half of her token force, how are we supposed to survive anything more than a speck of her hordes?”

  “I’m assuming Erik’s already mustering his army, including calling the other elven kingdoms for aid?” he asked Uriens, the fuming commander needing a moment before finally nodding. “Then we send messengers south immediately, from Guoldi to New London, and ask that every available soldier march north as soon as they’re mustered,” he told Bordin, then glanced at Windel.

  “Including Kershaw?” the elf aide asked curiously. He knew their history as well as John did.

  He shook his head. “Best leave them out of this. Make sure to have those dispatches written as soon as possible for me to sign, I want to leave any doubt that their presence is not a request. Lancaster is the capitol of the Human settlements and each swore fealty to my father when he was crowned. They owe him and now that he’s gone, they owe me. Make sure that’s clear.”

  “Yes, Sire,” Windel acknowledged. “If I may, there is one other item I’d like to add, if you’ll allow.”

  It was odd for the aide to be so squirrelly. What was making him so nervous? he waited, but it was clear that he had to actually tell the elf to proceed before he would. “And that is?”

  “Sire, when I was traveling with Merlin, a member of our group was an orc,” Windel stated plainly.

  “Oh, what the hell is my daughter mixed up in?” Bordin suddenly raged. “You told me that she left with the mage to avoid coming to harm by agents of the Phoenix, and that they were simply retrieving a sword to take to Erik! What’s the hell is she doing running around with an orc?”

  The knights were nervous as well. The hatred was well established between the two races and even Windel was hesitant speaking about it. “Sire, the orc’s name is Kore and he is a runaway slave that is working with Merlin to bring down the Phoenix, so that he may free his people from slavery.”

  “And you believe him?” Tar Reiz interjected, just as skeptical as the rest of them were. “They don’t act like slaves. In fact, every orc I’ve come across has relished in combat, not driven to it by a whip.”

  Windel nodded. “I can’t speak to what you’ve seen, only what I have. We were in the woods hiding from an enemy patrol, and he led the charge against them when we could have easily stayed within the shadows and let them pass. He is not like any orc I’ve ever met and my personal experience with him makes me believe he’s sincere. And if there’s one orc willing to fight—.”

  “Then others might be as well,” he finished. “Look,” he told the others at the table ready to jump in and argue further, “I don’t see how this changes things. If there are other orcs wanting to be freed of slavery, how are we to help them? March to the Deadlands, palms up, and hope they don’t kill us? If it were that easy, this orc friend of yours would be doing that instead of running around with that mage.”

  The others were nodding in agreement, and he knew that even if there were a way, the racial hatred bred over two thousand years would not so easily be put aside. “If they end up showing up and offering aid, we’ll deal with it then. Til then, I suggest we table that conversation, and each spend time thinking of what that would really mean for our chances to destroy the Phoenix. Remember, the orcs only made up a small percentage of the horde attacking our home. Is that because the Phoenix did not trust them enough to send, or because they make up the main force marching on Forlorn? We can’t know and it’s useless speculating. Let’s focus on what we can do and let fate decide the rest,” he finished.

  His aide nodded his head, relieved that he’d at least tried, and backed away.

  “See that those dispatches get written up and General Brasten, I want the army ready to march as soon as possible. The elves are about to have their hands full and I will not leave them to fight the Phoenix’s hordes are their own,” he told them, standing up.

  “Anything else?” he asked.

  Uriens rose as well, offering him his arm. “On behalf of my King and the Elven Nation, I thank you for your support and assistance.”

  He accepted it and smiled. “I made that witch a promise and I may be a lot of things, but what I’m not is a liar. I just wish I could see her face when we take her best and shove it right down her throat. The others cheered. Even Noelani raised his mug in support. “We should get something to eat, we’re all going to be cursing field rations for a very long time. Hope you brought more Grog with you, we’re all going to need it,” he told the chugging dwarf, who slammed down his mug and grinned mischievously.

  “Ye’re damn reit Ah did,” the dwarf muttered, then chuckled.

  Now that they had a plan, all that was left was to put it into action. Maybe it was a mistake to march to Forlorn, it could be a ruse. Yet, he felt the Phoenix’s overconfidence, her surety in what was to come, and knew in his heart that he was right. Turning from the table he ordered the stewards to prepare lunch, there was a lot to do if they were leaving and not a lot of time to do it.

  II

  They made camp at the edge of the Drago Mountains.

  Though he had been exhilarated by his ride on griffin back, he wasn’t as happy with the soreness between his thighs or his rear. It wasn’t the same as being on a horse. If he fell off a horse, he’d bruise an arm, maybe break a bone. If he fell off the griffin—well, best not to think on that. His legs were sore from trying to stay in the saddle, regardless of the straps holding him in place and he twisted his thighs a few times as he walked in an effort to loosen the bunched muscles up.

  Willow was massaging her lower back as she helped him gather firewood from the nearby forest, it hadn’t been pleasant for her either. Kylee had passed them a short time before, Tuskar had not been very pleased with being put to sleep. The ranger had taken him to find food and to let him run his frustration out a bit. Reyna and Jared were preparing to make dinner while Merlin and Kore unsaddled the griffins for the night. He had no idea where Trek went, and after earlier, he didn’t really care. Melissa passed on his right and he smiled at her weakly while she poked through some underbrush looking for smaller branches to get the fire started.

  “How did you know about Melissa?” he inquired, as they started their trek back to camp with an armload of wood.

  Willow chuckled, “like you could keep something like that hidden from Jared. He told Reyna, who found it funny enough to share. Merlin felt that her inability to change was a mental, not physical problem. Thought if we angered her enough, she’d react out of instinct and shift on her own.”

  “And you figured picking on me would do that for you, huh?” he countered, still feeling anger over the incident.

  “It worked, didn’t it?” she giggled, brushing a strand of loose hair back over her pointed ears.

  “Next time leave me out of it,” he answered, glowering. Try as he might, he couldn’t be angry at her for too
long. One look at her reminded him of how much he truly cared about her, and the anger would start to disappear, with only remnants left behind to remind him of it while idle and alone. She had a powerful hold over him and yet—he was still having problems reconciling what had happened days before and allowing himself to once again be touched, to be loved. It was a process, one he was only just beginning.

  He dumped his wood next to the fire pit, and Reyna went about getting the fire going so they could start dinner. Looking over to where Merlin was setting down the last saddle, he caught movement on his left and was startled at the sight of an older man with a wooden walking stick watching him intently. “Can I help you?” he asked, not sure why nobody mentioned they had a visitor. The idea that the man entered their camp unchallenged while in the presence of three telepaths and a seer, much less Tuskar’s keen nose, was ludicrous.

  Reyna shifted her gaze, thinking he was talking to her, then followed the direction of his glared towards the man hovering nearby. Immediately she jumped to her feet, the smoldering fire forgotten, her hand on the pommel of her sword.

  “Can’t an old man rest his weary bones without being threatened with a pigsticker?” the newcomer asked, drawing Merlin’s attention at last. “That’s how it always is with knights, quick to yank it out and poke things, never once stopping to consider of whom they poke.”

  “I haven’t threatened you, yet. State your business or I’ll get to the poking bit and see if you’ll talk then,” Reyna snapped back. “I’ve just about had it with uninvited guests and I’ll quickly show you what this pigsticker can do.”

  Willow had laid her wood down and was clutching her amulet, Melissa at her side. He glanced at Jared and saw a confused look on his face.

  “That’s quite disrespectful youngling, foraging around someone’s head without their permission,” the older guy fired back, giving Jared a nasty look. “Someone ought to teach you some manners.”

  Reyna bristled at the retort, her hand drawing her sword free and holding it ready. “You want to be the one to try?”