by R. E. Palmer
Perdew shifted in his chair. ‘Again, ma’am, I don’t want to appear a doom-monger, but do the southern wards have sufficient supplies to spare?’
Elodi smiled. ‘I would expect nothing less from you, Perdew.’ She turned to the other councilors. ‘I can assure you they are able to supply us. The aforementioned riders also carried a decree to cease sending the levy to Archonholm.’ She paused as the councilors murmured.
Again, Perdew voiced the concern of the Council. ‘But, ma’am, not since the closing of the gate has Harlyn failed to meet her obligations to Archonholm.’
‘Ah yes, but never in that time has the realm experienced an existential threat. This morning, I informed Archonholm, I have declared a state of emergency in Harlyn, allowing us to postpone our levy in the current circumstances.’ Out of the corner of her eye she saw Wendel grin. She continued. ‘Archonholm has already invoked its emergency powers’ — she failed to prevent the smile spreading across her lips — ‘I am simply applying the same law. I have sent word to the Vice-Archon who will have to accept my decision. Produce already stacked up ready to be sent south, will shortly head to the port of Seransea to be distributed where needed.’
Perdew nodded. ‘An astute move, ma’am. Your father would have been proud.’
Elodi’s smile faded. ‘Let us trust it won’t be in vain.’ She stepped back to the map. ‘We can expect no more help from the Archon. As you are all too aware, the realms face the threat of an onslaught upon the Caerwal Gate. I cannot yet talk about the specifics, but the Archon has plans he expects will give us the upper hand.’ She eyed the wide line marking the Draegelan Trench spanning the north. ‘We live in troublesome times, but we have to stand as one against the threat. Should Calerdorn fall, the south will be open to the Ruuk. Should the unthinkable happen and the Golesh break through the gate, then Archonholm falls, we will be trapped as a horseshoe between the anvil and the hammer.’ She clapped her hands. ‘But while the challenges we face may seem daunting, I am certain we will rise to meet them.’
‘Has he spoken?’ Elodi’s footsteps echoed down the corridor as they approached the cell.
Wendel shrugged. ‘Very little, ma’am, well not to me. He speaks all the time to himself but rarely acknowledges there’s anyone else in the room.’ He turned to Elodi. ‘I don’t see the need for you to be here. It’s hardly the place for the head of the realm to frequent.’
‘A few weeks ago, I would have agreed with you, Wendel. But much has changed in such a short time. The abomination in the wood commanded that poor wretch to end my life.’ Her pulse raced. ‘In my realm, Wendel. In my realm! I’m sure you’ll agree I cannot tolerate such an action. I want him to look me in the eye and tell me what he knows. We must find out where this creature, Uleva, has gone, and what evil deeds she’s hatching. I cannot abide the thought of her roaming this land as she pleases.’
Elodi lowered her voice as they neared the guard outside Dohl’s cell. ‘Whatever came out of those trees drove my knights to the edge of madness. We’re not dealing with a troublesome wyke, Wendel. I need to know exactly what we face.’
‘As you wish, ma’am.’
The guard leaning against the wall jumped to attention as if he had just woken. Wendel nodded to the young man. ‘If you please.’ He fumbled with the chain on his belt and found the correct key. The guard turned it in the old lock, put his shoulder to the heavy door, and heaved it open.
Wendel led the way. ‘We’ve scrubbed him clean, although I can’t say he appreciated our efforts.’
Inside, Dohl sat on a wooden stool with his head resting between two chained wrists. Light streamed onto his thin, gray hair from a narrow aperture in the ceiling leading up to ground level. The prisoner kept his head down. Elodi stood before him. ‘Dohl? Do you know where you are?’ He mumbled into his hands. Elodi continued. ‘Then I shall tell you. You are being held in a cell in the walled city of Calerdorn. You have no chance of being rescued, and no one has ever escaped from these dungeons.’ She paced the small cell. ‘Bearing that in mind, you may as well tell us what you know, and I’ll show clemency.’ She glanced to Wendel; what that might involve, she had not considered.
‘Where?’ Elodi jumped. Dohl’s cloudy eyes stared straight at her. Her hand rested on the handle of her sword she had worn since Durran Wood. His brow knotted. ‘Where? Where did you say?’
‘Calerdorn. The principal city of the realm of Harlyn.’
‘Calerdorn?’ Dohl spoke as if trying to remember. He slowly slid off his stool, kneeled and stroked the rough, stone floor. He sat back. Tears ran down his scarred face. He whispered. ‘Calerdorn? Calerdorn?’ Elodi looked to Wendel; he shrugged. Dohl’s his eyes widened like an excited child. ‘I’m home?’
Elodi gaped. ‘Home? Calerdorn was your home?’
Dohl sobbed, talking to himself. ‘I’m home?’ He tipped back his head, threw up his hands as far as the chains allowed, and cried out. ‘I’m home! My Lord! I’m home.’ His arms fell and his head dropped as he sagged to the floor.
Elodi’s gasps filled the cell in the sudden silence. She stared aghast at Dohl’s crumbled form. ‘What do you think he means, Wendel? Did he once serve under my father?’ Dohl snored.
Wendel sat back on the stool and rested his chin in his hand. He let out a long sigh. ‘I suppose it’s possible, but I don’t recall a man with his name on your father’s staff.’
Elodi crouched by Dohl’s side. ‘What should we do? We can hardly keep him in chains if he served my father. Could he also have been a prisoner in the wood? If so, we can hardly blame him for the wrong Uleva has wrought upon him. Did he have any choice in the matter regarding his attempt on my life?’
Wendel kept his eyes on Dohl. ‘But there remains the risk Uleva may still influence the wretched soul.’
‘Do you honestly think that’s possible? She must be fifty leagues from here by now.’
Wendel raised his eyebrows. ‘If she can summon an apparition of drayloks to scare the wits out of Aldorman, I would have thought controlling this broken creature from a mere fifty leagues would present little challenge.’
‘Then we should at least make his incarceration more comfortable.’ She turned to the door. ‘Guard? When did this man last eat and drink?’
The guard entered, keeping kept his eyes to the floor. ‘He… he had the standard issue of bread and water at midday, ma’am.’
Elodi gestured to Dohl. ‘When he wakes, I want him to have a full meal and a glass of ale.’
The guard caught her eye. ‘Ale, ma’am?’
‘Yes, ale. This man is being kept in this cell as much for his own safety. He may yet be worthy of our sympathy and even praise for his past service to the realm.’
The guard glanced at the miserable form on the floor. ‘Yes, ma’am. I’ll inform the cook.’
Elodi moved to the door. ‘And remember. I want him fed as soon as he wakes.’ The man saluted as Elodi and Wendel left.
Wendel chuckled. ‘You do realize, ma’am, their prisoner will receive a dinner far superior to one they can expect in the coming months.’
Elodi frowned. ‘Is that so? These men perform a difficult and valuable service, they should at least receive one decent meal a day.’ She stopped. ‘See to it, Wendel. I want their ration improved.’
Wendel sighed. ‘That may have to wait, ma’am. I fear we shall all be on prison guard rations should we find ourselves forced to endure a siege.’
Watches placed on the major routes into Calerdorn had yet to see signs of an invasion, but in a way, that fueled the dread taking hold of Elodi’s heart. Had the Ruuk attacked immediately after securing the fort at Draegnor, she could have disrupted such a reckless assault, even with their superior numbers. The delay signaled their intention. This would be no raid, no temporary incursion to steal supplies, or to wreak havoc and plunder settlements at the border. This time they meant to stay. Never in recent times had Calerdorn faced such a threat; Elodi gave thanks to her father’s tenacity w
hen convincing the Council to maintain the city’s defenses despite years of relative inactivity. She had dispatched a messenger bird to Archonholm, but she knew no aid would come.
Elodi had insisted a watch also be placed on the coast. No Ruuk had ever been known to sail, but in the light of the new weapons and tactics employed, she could not dismiss a surprise attack by sea. The deep inlet offered a safe harbor for a sizeable fleet, whether they be friend or foe. And should the enemy venture as far as Calerdorn’s docks, it would stretch her resources to breaking point defending the city on both fronts.
Scouts further north reported more Ruuk pouring over the border into Draegnor, no doubt chancing their luck as news of the attack on the Caerwal Gate must have reached their ears. But it was not just the numbers troubling Elodi. Sightings of huge oxen pulling dozens of large wagons, resembling those housing the weapons used at Drunsberg, trundled into Draegnor daily.
Elodi stood on the battlement above the main gate of the city. Her hands rested on the thick stone wall that had protected Calerdorn for a millennium. She looked to the snowy peaks of the Dornan Mountains as she recalled the stories of her realm in its youth. Depleted by the efforts to drive out Ormoroth and his dark hosts from the land, the newly formed Seven Realms feared a counterstrike. But despite their weakened state, her ancestors had undertaken the immense task of constructing a line of defense well beyond the ability of today’s realm. Named in honor of the Archon of the time, the Draegelan Trench spanned the narrowest part of the land separating the frozen north from Harlyn and Broon. One of Elodi’s favorite stories from the archives told of the laying of Calerdorn’s foundation stone from the largest rock excavated from the trench. The footings of her ancient city ran deep, but could its current inhabitants honor its splendor in this dangerous time?
Elodi pressed down on the wall as if trying to fortify the stone against the projectiles the new weapons would unleash in the days to come. A gust of wind chilled her face. She turned back to the north. Her ancestors had underestimated the guile of its foe. By his dark arts, Ormoroth harnessed the forces of nature, driving snow and ice against them. For a hundred years, the cold crept relentlessly south, packing the deep trench with snow until its span became impossible to defend against the numbers swarming across the bridges of ice.
The realms had no option but to retreat thirty leagues south, building fences and watchtowers across the hastily formed border. The dire situation called for a powerful leader and warrior, and up stepped Dorlan at their time of greatest need. Elodi’s face flushed as the young girl in her remembered the hours she had stood in front of his portrait in her father’s chamber.
Ormoroth’s forces soon came to fear Dorlan as stories of his deeds spread through their ranks. The noble knight of Calerdorn patrolled the barricade astride his white stallion, Draego, leading the enemy to believe he fought in more than one place at a time. But while Dorlan frustrated the invasion, Ormoroth had waited, growing stronger, not committing his full strength until ready. And when he finally struck, he came like an avalanche, crushing all before its unforgiving, thunderous advance. Untold numbers perished in a single day as Ormoroth obliterated the defensive line, capturing the watchtowers and newly built fortress at Draegnor.
Yet, despite the defeat, the Seven Realms could still muster a formidable force in those days. Dorlan and his knights held back the onslaught long enough for Draegelan to bring re-enforcements from the south. Together, Draegelan and Dorlan formed a powerful alliance the mighty Ormoroth could not take lightly. Both sides suffered terrible losses as they fought to a standstill for every inch of land. After weeks of ferocious battle, Dorlan prevailed and broke through the right flank on the frozen plain at Draegnor. Draegelan exploited the gaps left by Ormoroth’s hordes rushing to repel Dorlan, pushing on and forcing Ormoroth to abandon his foothold and retreat behind the Trench. While Draegelan secured the border, Dorlan’s army rode on, deep into the ice-bound lands in pursuit of Ormoroth; it was said none returned.
Draegelan himself ventured north seeking Dorlan but found only a deep rent in the bedrock, blasted free of ice. At this place, the two great rivals fought their last duel. None survived. Of Dorlan’s army, only shattered armor and broken weapons remained, strewn about the battlefield as if cut down and scattered by a single sweep of a giant’s scythe. It was said, Draegelan knew of the source of Ormoroth’s fatal blow, believing the last commander of the Evil One had unleashed a perilous, unworldly force. In the last throes of the battle, unwilling to accept defeat, Ormoroth, in an act of spite, had sacrificed himself to slaughter Dorlan and his brave knights.
Elodi’s fingers stung. She looked down to find she clutched the rough edges of the battlement’s stone. She may not be facing a force as daunting as Ormoroth, but she had neither Dorlan nor anything like the strength Draegelan had at his command. Elodi turned and gazed out across the darkening plain and imagined Dorlan galloping to the city’s aid on his mighty steed, Draego. She shook the frivolous thought from her head.
Below, a mother called out to her children. Elodi watched her progress along the cobbled alleys, visible between the haphazard rooftops nestling between the inner and outer wall. She gazed out to the plain, making a silent vow to do everything within her power to spare her people the ravages of war.
‘Ma’am?’ She turned. Ruan saluted. He glanced at her bloody fingertips but said nothing.
She placed her hands behind her back. ‘Are your men in position, Captain?’
He nodded. ‘At Tunduska’s Gorge as requested.’
‘And you’re certain they’re all volunteers?’
‘Yes, ma’am. When a captain of Broon asks for a volunteer, all step forward.’
‘Your men are very brave, Ruan. Uldrak is poised to strike south at any moment. The Mawlgrim Mire to the east is no place for his heavy weapons as thankfully, it swallowed the old roads years ago.’ Elodi turned to the Dornan Mountains. ‘The only path to Calerdorn open to him is the pass.’ She placed a hand on his shoulder. ‘I am heartened by your presence, Ruan.’
‘We won’t let you down, ma’am.’ He saluted and left the battlement. Elodi watched him descend the stairs. Ninety of his men would attempt an ambush to inflict damage on Uldrak’s war machines and slow their progress. They had taken positions at a small fort guarding the Tunduska Bridge in the Dornan Pass. Elodi’s ancestors built the road through the mountains for quick passage between Calerdorn and Draegnor. Yet, in these dark times, it would regrettably prove useful to Harlyn’s foes. But her forefathers had the wisdom to foresee such a threat and had constructed a small, but strategic defensive position at Tunduska’s Gorge. Elodi had made the journey to Draegnor with her father and had admired both the bridge spanning the deep gorge, and the keep hewn into the sides of the mountain on the southern side. But she had wished the builders had not been so capable. It would be wise to demolish the bridge and close the pass, but Calerdorn had neither the means nor expertise to bring down the structure that had stood firm for centuries.
Elodi had bid Ruan’s men farewell as they marched tall under the banner of Broon, proud to support an ally in need. She had been both impressed and horrified at their determined faces as they departed with the knowledge their ambush could likely result in their death. But she had no choice. Commanding an army meant making tough decisions, decisions Elodi could not avoid. And each war machine his men destroyed would improve their odds on breaking the expected siege.
Elodi turned to leave and jumped. Wendel stood a few feet away. She knew the look on his face. He drew up his frame as he took a breath. ‘News from Lord Broon, ma’am.’
Elodi straightened. ‘Please, go ahead.’
‘It’s written in the old tongue of Lunn, ma’am. He’s obviously cautious about it falling into the wrong hands. I hope you don’t mind, I asked Gundrul to translate. I assumed he could be trusted with its content.’
‘Yes, yes, of course.’ She gripped the hilt of her sword. ‘What does Lord Broon have to report?
’
‘He states the Archon will lift his invocation on the seas to the east soon.’ Wendel cleared his throat. ‘The fleet will set sail on Summer’s Eve, ma’am.’
‘That’s four weeks from now!’ Elodi found herself staring south. ‘Our world will change, Wendel. What we’ve known for centuries is to come to an end.’ Her eyes followed the line of the mountains. ‘Things will never be the same.’
Wendel grumbled. ‘Then let’s hope it’s not a change for the worse, ma’am.’
Elodi sat on the edge of her bed and covered her eyes. She collapsed back and let out a long sigh as the weight of command pushed her down into the soft bedding. But her body refused to let go of the responsibility. Shortly, the Archon could see fit to unlock the Caerwal Gate, a gate that had protected them for over three hundred years would be thrown wide open to whatever lay beyond. She pictured Bardon at the head of the fleet and hoped he would make a better sailor than she had managed. The night they had spoken of their doubts for the Archon’s plan seemed so long ago, but the doubts remained fresh. If the Golesh had received word from the spies the Castellan believed operated in Archonholm, would Bardon be able to put ashore? If the landing went as planned, what awaited them on the route through the Lost Realms to the old capital of Elmarand? And once the gate opened…? Elodi’s stomach sank through her back. The very existence of the Five Realms lay in the balance. She could do nothing to change events at Archonholm, but she had to hold Calerdorn.
Elodi sat up, convinced she would not sleep. She sought for a ray of hope among the gloom. The Celestra! She could be thankful for the fine ship from the glory days of times past. Calerdorn’s carpenters had done the city proud, completing the repairs to the satisfaction of Helmsman Horace. He had taken the role of captain and set sail with his crew to Seransea to collect valuable supplies in readiness for the siege. The men and women of Dorn’s reserves still streamed into the city, swelling the population two-fold, making the supplies from Seransea crucial. Reluctantly, Elodi had decreed half of the reserves from all over Harlyn come to Calerdorn and the borders. She knew this would create fear in the realm, but should her city fall, the enemy would be free to sack the smaller and less-defended settlements to the south. She had watched farmers, blacksmiths, millers and old guards arrive with their makeshift weapons, but all had looked determined, and under Gundrul’s command, she trusted would give a good account of themselves in combat.