The Dreaddrac Onslaught (Book 4) (11 page)

*

“Many enemy warships, with fully half the transport and cargo ships, escaped last night,” an aide reported to Agros when dawn burned off the fog.

Sitting on the side of his bed, Agros wrung his hands. “Too many got away.” Agros realigned the combined fleet and pursued the enemy, but they were not sighted again on the open sea.

*

The remaining enemy fleet docked the next morning. While he was successful in sinking much of the enemy rock-dwarf army and their arms cache, enough disembarked on Dreaddrac to create a serious threat in the Southern war.

* * *

I may as well die now, Earwig thought, jostling along on the manure cart over rough country roads. I’ll never see Dreaddrac traveling with this idiot. She looked at Dreg. Her head slumped, shaking side to side. The fool’s even unluckier than I am. Together, we have no hope. I’ve tried and tried to kill him, but he won’t die. Earwig settled into a sullen state resigned to the next disaster.

Eventually, Zendor dragged the cart along farm roads around the Favriana Fortress to the shores of Lake Pundar.

“Why did we have to go so far around Favriana?” Dreg asked as Zendor plodded along.

“Who knows what the garrison’s reaction would be us looking like this.” She looked down at her tacky tattered robe stretched over her corpulent folds. “I want to avoid being noticed.” I’m not showing weakness in front of this half-wit, she thought. She jerked her head up and pulled the tattered, strained cloak closer around her. “What would they think of you?”

As days then weeks passed without a catastrophe, she regained some confident. I can still cause the king some serious damage before I leave old Neuyokkasin.

One morning Earwig was stooped over washing her permanently bruised, scared face at the lake’s edge. A wild goat charged her apparently challenging posterior. The blow sent her flying head first into the lake bottom mud. When she pulled her head out of the muck, she heard clearly the deep suction sound. A mushroom of muddy water splashed up in her sludge covered face. She stood up in the lake, mud and rotting foliage sliding from her scraggly hair and face. The goat and she stood staring at each other in a standoff. The goat spread his legs slightly, hunkered down, and lowered his head with horns forward apparently daring Earwig to come out of the water. No matter how foolish, Earwig was never one to back down from a challenge.  

A medrax, Earwig thought summoning her power to cast a spell on the goat. Though lacking ingredients and the second animal, I’m going to make that goat wish it had never been born.

Earwig raised her flabby, dripping arms and shot her knobby fingers at the goat. Her enraged eyes narrowed to slits when she chanted the spell as she remembered it. The goat quivered and stumbled backward. Earwig put her hands on her hips and chuckled at the changing creature.

The animal turned into roughly a goat-headed man, but retained the goat’s brain and temperament. When Earwig had conjured medrax in the past, they had obeyed her, but then she’d combined an animal and a man. This creature was a transmutation of a single animal rather than a combination of two, and the goat’s will triumphed. The goat-man staggered into the lake, heading for the witch with eyes staring straight at her.

“Get back!” she screamed, backing further out into the lake. “Back, I say.”

She kept backing up but the goat-man, standing erect, came on faster. Earwig soon backed out in water over her head. Bloated and misshapen, the blob bobbed around with her arms and legs franticly flailing in an attempt to swim away.

“Help!” Earwig yelled.

“I’ll save you, Miss Earwig,” Dreg said. He rushed to the lake’s edge and threw a rock at the goat-man, drawing it away.

As the animal came out of the lake, stamped his feet, and chased after Dreg, they passed by Zendor, who promptly kicked the goat-man in the head ending the threat. The creature fell to the ground as an unconscious goat. Dreg rushed back to the lake’s edge to save his mistress, still bobbing like a cork in the water watching the proceedings.

“Are you all right, Miss Irkin?” Dreg asked. Unable to swim, Dreg tossed Earwig a rope and she thrashed around in circles until she got the line and was humiliatingly hauled to shore.

When Earwig, Dreg, and Zendor continued their journey, Earwig sat beside Dreg again in a sullen mood, staring off the side of the cart into nothingness.

“Looks like it’s going to be a sunny day,” Dreg said.

“Shut up,” Earwig said. “Don’t say anything today, nothing at all, all day.” Her old enthusiasm was gone again and had lasted only a few hours.

“Excellent news!” King Saxthor said. He read the correspondence from King Calamidese. Saxthor turned to Princess Dagmar, who was now frequently at his side. “Your brother has retaken Sengenwhapolis.”

“That is indeed splendid news,” the princess said. Her green eyes flashed above her smile that soon faded. Dagmar looked off in the distance.

“What’s the matter?” Saxthor asked.

“Nothing.” Looking back at Saxthor, she perked up again, but again, the cheery look drifted away.

“There’s something wrong?” Saxthor said. He put down the dispatch and looked at her. “What has upset you? I thought you’d be thrilled at the news.”

Dagmar glanced up at him; a beaming smile sprouted. “It’s nothing, it’s just conflicting feelings.”

“And what would they be?”

“Well, I’m excited for the liberation of my home and capital, of course, but I might soon be returning to Sengenwhapolis, leaving my new found sense of place here.” Dagmar glanced at Saxthor for an instant, then turned away. “You see, at home I was never really involved with the government or the people. Here, well, I’ve been accepted and allowed to work on the war effort, you see.” She flicked the paper, spinning it on the table and looked at Saxthor. “I’ll be returning to Sekcmet Palace soon. Perhaps my brother will need me to supervise the capital’s restoration, which I’m sure is now in ruins.”

Saxthor turned back, leaning on the desk. He picked up the correspondence then dropped it again. “I really hadn’t thought of your returning to Sengenwhapolis.” I hadn’t considered her leaving me, he thought. He tenderly put his hand on hers. “We’ll see about that when the time comes, Dagmar.”

*

A week later King Saxthor was meeting with his councilors, analyzing the new Sengenwhan situation in the private audience chamber. Suddenly there was a knock on the door. When told to enter, the guard came in bowing and struck his lance firmly on the floor.

“What is it?” Saxthor asked.

“A messenger from Admiral Agros to be delivered only into your hand, Your Majesty.”

Saxthor rose and his councilors rose immediately. “Enter man, what news do you have?”

The messenger, his boots still muddy, bowed then rushed to the king with a scroll. “Great news, Your Majesty.” The messenger knelt and handed the scroll to Saxthor then awaited the king’s reply, if there was to be one.

Saxthor broke the seal and read the dispatch. He looked about the room at his councilors, still standing. “Magnificent!” Saxthor motioned for the messenger to rise. “Guard, take this man to the kitchens and see to it he’s well fed. Then accompany him to the treasurer and tell him we instructed that this man should receiver a month’s bonus pay at once.” As the messenger was leaving, Saxthor turned to his advisors. After the door closed securely, Saxthor shared the news.

“Gentlemen, Admiral Agros, and the combined Southern Fleet have routed Dreaddrac’s fleet off Tixos, capturing, sinking, or burning a third of it.” Saxthor held up and shook the document in the air.

The councilors rushed to congratulate the king on the success of his strategy. I hope this isn’t exaggerated, as is the custom with military reporting, thought Saxthor. A third may not be enough. He shook hands with those around him.

After all the rejoicing, pouring of drinks, and sharing congratulatory toasts, the chatra rose and bowed to the king. He turned to the assembly and said, “It will bring great relief to all Neuyokkasin to know that twice in as many weeks, the southern initiatives have pushed the Dark Lord farther from Neuyokkasin.” He turned back to the king and again raised his goblet. “Long live King Saxthor!” All rose and toasted the king’s success.

A sad thought passed over Saxthor amid the celebration. With King Calamidese in control of Sengenwhapolis and the invasion delayed by the Dreaddrac fleet’s defeat, Calamidese is more likely to recall his family.

The joyous news troubled Saxthor for a week. Finally, a confident King Saxthor made up his mind. He sent a royal courier with a sealed message to King Calamidese requesting Calamidese allow his mother and sister to remain in Konnotan until Dreaddrac’s forces were expelled from Sengenwha, for their safety, of course.

* * *

In his private office back in Sekcmet Palace, King Calamidese read the request. He summoned his new chatra.

“What do you make of this request?” Calamidese asked. He rose and walked around the room, head down and arms crossed behind his back. “Why such a formal request?”

“King Saxthor seeks to keep Princess Dagmar near him. I think it’s an excellent match, Your Majesty. It will seal the relationship between Sengenwha and Neuyokkasin after generations of hostility and mistrust. There’s no better match on the peninsula. We need assistance and friendly neighbors now with all this internal strife,” the chatra said.

Calamidese stopped suddenly, looking up sharply at the chatra. 

“Match! You mean King Saxthor and Dagmar?” Calamidese walked to the refreshment table. He poured himself something to drink and offered some to the chatra, who declined. The king turned back to his minister. “We’d not thought of a match in this. Sengenwha and Neuyokkasin have been arch enemies for generations. What would the people think of such a match? Still, we fear it’s too dangerous for the dowager queen and crown princess to return just yet, in any case.” Calamidese walked to the balcony and looked out over the noisy reconstruction below to the countryside beyond the city walls. “The land is still occupied by orc contingents and as yet we’re not secure on the throne.”

The chatra approached the king. “Your majesty should encourage the marriage, the sooner the better. Unmarried, Princess Dagmar shouldn’t remain at Konnotan indefinitely, even with the dowager queen as chaperone. While the capital remained in enemy hands, the people were relieved their princess royal and dowager queen were safe outside the country but now the people will expect their return.”

Calamidese put down his goblet and looked up at the chatra.

“Your majesty should undertake the trip to Konnotan to recuperate, following your recent success in battle. More importantly, you must go in person to give your sister encouragement and strengthen the bond with Neuyokkasin. We need King Saxthor’s support and aid.”

“We agree,” Calamidese said. “We believe this marriage would secure peace and security on our southern and eastern borders, while the Sengenwhan forces finish hunting down and destroying the Evil One’s minions in our kingdom. You’ll manage the kingdom during our brief absence.”

The king departed shortly thereafter to the southeast and Konnotan.

* * *

Memlatec stood in the background at court, monitoring the activities north of Neuyokkasin. His watchers reported a buildup of troops on the southern Prertstenian border.

“It’s not likely the Dark Lord will abandon his gains in Sengenwha so easily,” Memlatec said to the great owl apparently sleeping in the corner. The great bird opened his huge yellow eyes, looked at Memlatec, then closed them again when the wizard had no more to say. “Perhaps there’s more to be learned on the waterfront at Olnak.” He looked at the owl again, but the bird just ruffled his feathers and settled back to sleep without opening his eyes again.

As the king’s representative, Memlatec took his leave from court later that day and traveled to Olnak to greet Admiral Agros on his triumphant return. After the official celebration and acclaim in the city, Memlatec arranged to meet with the admiral privately in the admiral’s rooms at the finest inn overlooking the harbor.

“Your victory was a great achievement, Admiral,” the wizard said.

Agros puffed up his chest and cleared his throat, his metals dancing on his finest naval uniform. “Will you take a glass of wine, Memlatec?”

“Thank you, no, we wizards avoid alcohol. It dampens our sensory perceptions. Please help yourself as you should at your celebration.

Admiral Agros, I must ask a more delicate but critical question. How seriously did you damage Dreaddrac’s forces?” Memlatec’s eyes were fixed on the admirals.

The admiral took a long look at the wizard, gazed at the door, then walked quietly over and opened it to check outside. Returning, he put down his goblet; his face and stance stiffened.

“Memlatec, I know as royal court wizard, you’re the strongest force in the kingdom other than the king. Also, I know you’re privy to such information as the king’s chief advisor. My answer will have a profound effect on the war preparations not to mention my career.”

Agros moved to Memlatec and put his hand on the wizard’s shoulder to relieve the sudden tension. The two moved to the balcony and looked out over the harbor. “I must be frank with you.” The two looked at each other. “Truth is, we sank or burned a third of the Dreaddrac fleet, proportionally distributed between their war triremes and their cargo and troop transports. While Dreaddrac’s western war fleet will not engage a southern force anytime in the near future, we weren’t able to prevent all the rock-dwarves and their arms from reaching Dreaddrac. They were able to land a formidable force, perhaps half the rock-dwarves and their arms to aid Dreaddrac’s war effort.”

“Thank you for that honest evaluation, Admiral. From my watchers, I knew a sizable force landed, but not the strength or details.” Good that I can rely on the admiral to report situations without exaggeration for career advancement, he thought.

“There’s something else.”

“What’s that?”

“During the battle, I thought I saw something like a dark haze or shimmer come across the water from the trireme that almost rammed us.”

“A haze or shimmer?”

“Yes, could be my imagination, things were intense, but I’m pretty sure I saw it.”

“What happened to it?”

“It was almost at my flagship, when I turned to fend off arrows and didn’t see where it went. I’ve not seen it since on the ship. Could be my imagination, but I’ve never seen such a dark shimmer before.”

“Doesn’t sound like something you’d imagine. I’ll look into it. Could be a tracer a wizard put on you.”

“Tracer?”

“If you’ve not seen it since, it’s using you to get to someone or something else.”

“Gad!” The admiral’s eyes were wide open, staring at Memlatec.

“I’ll look into it, Admiral.” Memlatec shook his hand. “Please return to the celebrations, and again my heartfelt congratulations for your victory.”

Memlatec saw Admiral Agros was still watching him. He realized the admiral had hoped for a more definitive response. He was careful his face betrayed nothing. He returned to his room and saw the admiral below scanning beyond the door before leaving the inn. As Memlatec watched from his balcony, he saw the commander returned to the street celebrations where his glorious victory lifted the spirits of Olnak’s inhabitants. Their relief is genuine and personal, Memlatec thought. The citizens of Olnak feared an attack by Dreaddrac’s fleet. This victory effectively ends further naval threats from the north at least.

As he turned away from the window, the wizard caught a glimpse of the dark shimmer at the corner of the inn. It’s not following the admiral now, he decided. It’s transferred to me most likely, must be trying to get to Saxthor or someone at court. Well, it won’t get there. He vaporized it before sunset.

Memlatec returned to Konnotan and Saxthor’s growing romantic interest. In the excitement, the wizard withheld his council. The king should have a little joy and happiness before the northern darkness cast its shadow on the kingdom. Where are those rock-dwarves, and how significant is the weapons cache landed on Dreaddrac? He wondered.

* * *

King Grekenbach of Graushdem and his noble retinue journeyed south to Konnotan to conclude an alliance with King Saxthor and Neuyokkasin. The king was all the rage as his six foot three inch tall, athletic figure enhanced by his elaborate, polished armor, brilliant curly black hair, and full beard passed through the streets to Helshian Court Palace. After all the official activities celebrating his arrival subsided, the two kings consulted with each other about the war preparations on the peninsula. During the month long visit working out the details of the treaty, Grekenbach noticed Saxthor’s sister, Princess Royal Nonee, more and more. At one such session, King Grekenbach decided the time was right to bring up another subject.

“Something is on your mind, Grekenbach. What is it?” Saxthor asked. He brushed Twiddle off the desk, where he was chasing a moth.

“Saxthor, I’ve thought about that lovely sister of yours since seeing her at your coronation. Her vivaciousness and beauty have intrigued me. I’d like to ask for her hand in marriage, with your approval and permission, of course.”

“I must say the thought has occurred to me. I’ve noticed your infatuation with Nonee,” King Saxthor said. He glanced over at Grekenbach, pleased to see the earnestness staring back. “I’ve noted Nonee pays you special attention as well.”

Seating normally shy Nonee next to Grekenbach at state dinners certainly helped, he thought. Asking her to write King Grekenbach a letter of appreciation for his attendance at the coronation was a stroke of Chatra Rakmar’s cleverness as well. I suggested the subject. Nonee worded the letter so that the developing and encouraged political alliance could be a reference to Grekenbach and Nonee as well. Clever girl, that Nonee.