The Dreaddrac Onslaught (Book 4) (14 page)

“We’ve gathered food, weapons, and volunteers to escort the supplies to Sengenwhapolis as soon as all can be packed,” Dagmar said. “Bodrin, we would like you to lead the expedition to relieve Sengenwhapolis.”

“I would be honored to undertake the mission, but why aren’t you sending General Socockensmek or General Sekkarian?” Bodrin asked, perplexed.

Saxthor looked at Dagmar hesitating to respond. I don’t want to alarm her, but the answer to Bodrin’s question wouldn’t make her happy, he thought. The servants were finishing serving the trio. When they’d eaten, Saxthor waved his hand and the servants left the room, closing the doors.

“The generals must remain here to fortify the Neuyokkasinian borders,” Saxthor said. “We are not yet formally at war with Dreaddrac. Sending a standing army under the command of a principal general would invite open war. Also, should Sengenwha fall to Dreaddrac, the sorcerer’s forces would stream down the western peninsula and attack Neuyokkasin before we have adequate defenses in place. We need for you to discretely support Calamidese in his struggle with General Tarquak. We need you to stall the evil forces, while the generals strengthen the defenses here. The generals must focus full attention on the castilyernov's defenses and training the armies here. That’s why we must ask you to undertake the relief of Sengenwhapolis with just a band of volunteers.” Saxthor watched Bodrin’s face trying to read his response.

“I understand. Thank you for being so straightforward,” Bodrin said. “You know Tonelia will want to beat you soundly for sending me away so soon.” He laughed; Saxthor squeezed Dagmar’s hand under the table.

“You must on no account take unnecessary risks with your life in this endeavor,” Saxthor said. “As king, I must ask and do things I would rather not ask. We’ll all be engaged in this war very soon. Any means of stalling the northern advance gains us vital time to prepare our defenses, as well as save Sengenwha, Bodrin. That’s what we’re asking you to do, get the supplies to Calamidese so his forces can sustain the city’s defense, preventing Dreaddrac’s consolidation of forces and expansion south.”

“Your wish is my command,” Bodrin said, smiling and giving Saxthor the official salute. He winked at Dagmar. “When do I leave?”

“We hope to have the expedition ready to leave by day after tomorrow. I hate asking you to leave Vicksylva and Tonelia so soon after your arrival back home from training, but you must get the supplies to Sengenwhapolis before the city is forced to surrender.”

After eating, Bodrin rose to go. “By your leave, I’ll go now to prepare Tonelia for this news.” He hesitated a moment, looked back at the table and reached for two rolls and stuck them in his pocket. “I never know when I’ll have another good meal.”

Dagmar rose and went over to Bodrin. She held his hand in hers. “Thank you for this valiant effort to aid my brother.” She stepped forward and hugged Bodrin, handing him a packet of his favorite roasted chicken legs.

Bodrin blushed and bowed to the princess, then Saxthor, and left for Vicksylva to take his leave of Tonelia, his wife.

* * *

About the time Bodrin left Helshian Court Palace, Dreaddrac’s king summoned Smegdor to open the second front of his war on the South. In his bedroom, the king rose from his iron bed and dressed in his stained magician’s robes. Eating silently from a tray brought when the king awakened, he suddenly hurled a haunch of meat against the far wall, rose, and turned to his aide. “Smegdor, is General Bor waiting?”

“Yes, Your Majesty, the general awaits your orders.” Smegdor removed the king’s breakfast tray and handed it to an attending orc outside the chamber door.

“I suppose I should wear some uniform with order broaches, medals, and a sash of some sort to impress the simpleton. Send the general to the throne room,” the king said, his tone a warning growl.

At his leisure, the Dark Lord entered the audience hall, ascended the dais, and sat on the throne, adjusting his posture to impress. Guards admitted the day’s attending courtiers.

“Admit General Bor.”

The guards opened the throne room’s double doors and the lord chamberlain announced the rock-dwarf.

“General Bor, it’s been a long time since I saw you last. It’s good to have your arms and rock-dwarves back with us,” the king said, thinking, I’m sure the dwarf won’t notice my lack of sincerity. He has no concept of social graces.

The stiff rock-dwarf lumbered up to the dais. His token attempt at a bow was accepted. “It’s good to be back close by at your service, Majesty. Those of us what survived the crossing are safely underground again.”

“Your dwarves are finally in the Hador Mountains, are they not?” the king asked.

“Yes, Majesty, they await your orders.” General Bor’s tone was sterile.

The Evil One leaned forward on his throne, “We see you’re anxious to rejoin your kind. Take your army down the mountains to the enemy’s fortress city, Hador. The orc scouts will show you the way. Beneath the city of Hador is a secret entrance to the citadel that has been blocked up, we understand. We have invested a lot of time and effort in securing that entrance to Castilyernov Hadorhof, only to have it inexplicably shut down at the last minute. We suspect that Neuyokkasinian prince was involved somehow as it happened about the time of his visit there. No one seems to know for sure. You must somehow work your way through the mountains there and open a way into Hador and the eastern peninsula. We think you might start with the secret entrance and go from there.”

“I can’t hide an army in a small tunnel, and they can’t be outside in the daylight. How do I do that?” the perplexed general asked.

“You will come up with something!” the king growled. He jumped up from his throne and descended the dais. “Must I think for everyone? Use your imagination!”

The comments would have upset normal people, but the king himself had created the original rock-dwarves. Being early experiments, he hadn’t thought to include either imagination or feelings in them. Still the general’s head slumped.

“Take the latest maps of the mountains and the Hadorian defenses we know about, but find a solution and fast. You’re dismissed.”

*

General Bor left the Munattahensenhov and traveled back to his rock-dwarves. He convened a meeting of his engineering advisers to discuss how they would break through the defenses at Hador. The council reviewed information the general brought back. When their scouts returned and joined the council with their reports, the rock-dwarves just looked at each other as if hoping someone might see something overlooked. The consensus was Hador was impregnable.

* * *

Bumping along on the rickety cart, Earwig was quite typically irritable about everything. She continued to grumble to Dreg about the slow pace they were making up the peninsula. Every time she opened her mouth to speak, the cart would squeak or Zendor would break wind exasperating the witch further. She fidgeted more and more as if her posterior had a bad itch.

“The war will be over before we get there. I won’t share in the spoils if we don’t make a significant contribution,” the witch mumbled, glaring at the horse’s rump.

“That stupid Zendor plods along as if he knows he’ll be dragon fodder when we reach the Munattahensenhov.” Just then, the cart’s right wheel rolled into a pothole. The cart jolted. Earwig grabbed at the seat to keep from being thrown off. “You see, that nag is deliberately trying to kill me.”

“Zendor is doing his best, Miss Earwig. He’s just one horse and this cart ain’t getting any lighter,” Dreg said. “Besides, he’s all we got.”

“That stupid beast should be beaten; then he would move faster,” she complained. “You’re too lenient with him.”

“You do remember the last time you beat him, don’t you?” Dreg asked, reminding her of the spill into the ditch.

“Yes, yes!” the witch said, deciding to keep her own council since the impertinent lout wouldn’t agree with her. “What’s that up ahead there?”

“It looks to be a farmer in trouble. Seems his wagon has lost a wheel.”

“Well, we’ll have to stop and help him,” the witch said, her tone devious. She cocked her head, beaming her signature insincere smile at Dreg.

“What you up to, Miss Earwig?” Dreg asked. His eyes narrowed when he looked at her. “You never wanted to help anyone before. What would make you suddenly want to help a stranger?”

“Shut up and drive on; we must help the farmer. I’m a new person after that last disaster. I feel sorry for the poor man.” The failed smile disappeared. She flicked her hand forward toward the farmer. “Move on.”

“It would be the right thing to do, Miss Earwig. I’m glad you thought of it.”

“Stop calling me Earwig!”

When their cart pulled up beside the broken down wagon, Dreg got down, while Earwig stayed put.

“I’ll help you, sir. I’ll hold your cart up, while you slip the wheel back on the axle,” Dreg said. He walked to the back of the cart.

“Thank you, sir,” the farmer said.

While Dreg strained holding up the cart, the farmer wrestled with the wheel to get it back on the axle. Earwig got down and slowly, silently crept to the front, unnoticed. She unhitched the farmer’s horse.

“I’m going to tie your horse to our cart so it won’t be startled and jerk the wagon while you two are repairing the wheel,” Earwig said, when the farmer noticed her leading the horse.

The farmer did a double take, looking at the thing holding his mare. “That’s mighty considerate of you…Madam,” the farmer said, a cautious look on his face.

Earwig saw Dreg’s suspicious look from behind the cart but he was struggling, holding it up and couldn’t do anything.

With the horse tied securely, Earwig climbed up on the seat. All of a sudden, she whipped poor unsuspecting Zendor. The horse jumped and started up the road. Earwig looked back at the farmer and Dreg, staring at her as the cart pulled away from them at the pace of a slow walk, the farmer’s horse in tow.

“Where’s she going?” the farmer asked.

“Maybe she’s trying to move our cart out of the way,” Dreg responded. His sweat-beaded face was now puffing, holding up the farmer’s wagon. “Good thing your cart is empty.”

Seeing that she wasn’t going to get Zendor to leave Dreg and that the farmer could walk up and untie his horse at any time, Earwig pulled back on the reigns and put on the break. She climbed down and hobbled back to the two men, still watching her with curiosity.

“Say, would you consider selling that horse?” Earwig asked the farmer.

“Might, if the price be right,” the savvy farmer said. The man’s demeanor became more alert and he studied Earwig with a twinkle in his eye.

Farmers trade horses all the time and take horse-trading for an art, Earwig thought.

It took some time and careful sizing up of each other but Earwig eventually got the farmer’s horse, even though she was sure he got the best of her in the deal. Poor Dreg was left to repair the farmer’s cart alone, while the two of them haggled over the horse. He was quite exhausted, when he finished at the same time as the haggling. It could’ve been coincidence, but Earwig was suspicious the farmer kept haggling until the wheel was repaired. Nonetheless, Earwig had the horse, and Dreg. She drove on up the road, the victor in the encounter. The next morning, the mare most unfortunately came into season!

“Would you look at Zendor,” Dreg said. “I thought he was smitten when he saw Zinnia yesterday. Now the mare that sneered at him finds him quite the stallion.” Dreg laughed.

“Don’t be crude, you oaf,” Earwig said, rolling her eyes. She didn’t want to look at Dreg, but she couldn’t resist peeking at the horses.

The loving couple just couldn’t take their eyes off each other. Zendor kept stamping around. When Dreg untied him to harness horse to cart, Zendor began bucking and kicking like a spurred bronco.

“Would you look at that bag of bones suck up his gut and strut over to the mare to present himself,” Earwig said. “I’ve never seen that walking glue pot act like that before. Being wild animals, horses know no shame or self-restraint for that matter. It’s indecent. That mare has turned out to be, well, shall we say, uninhibited as well.”

Dreg chuckled. Earwig cast a scrunched eyebrow frown at him. He looked away but she saw the grin didn’t diminish. Then she noticed Zinnia…

“Watch that mare!” Earwig said, but Zinnia pulled her reigns from the tree where she was tethered. The two horses trotted off down the road back toward where the travelers left the farmer. Earwig watched them with her hands on her ample hips.

“You shouldn’t have bought another horse.” Dreg said.

“I had to replace that ambling dog food you bought,” Earwig insisted. She watched both horses moving with considerable enthusiasm, tails swishing down the road.

Dreg and Earwig sat by a fire trying to decide what to do next, when Zendor returned dragging his hooves one in front of the other.

“Would you look at that,” Earwig exclaimed. She looked at Dreg.

“Is that a smile on his face? I guess Zinnia’s gone back to the farmer” Dreg said, through a smirk. He went and patted the wheezing Zendor on the withers. “Zendor the Magnificent, for sure!”

Earwig shot Dreg a look to shame a rock. The rest of that day, Zendor just strolled about here and there, munching grass in a dreamy state, keeping just out of Dreg’s reach.