The Dreaddrac Onslaught (Book 4) (32 page)

“I told you to stop that!” the wraith said through the orc. It stepped forward, sword in hand over the defenseless witch.

Earwig looked to Dreg under the cart. 

Frozen, Dreg stared, too afraid of the malignant orc and gleaming sword to move.

“Well, I had to be sure you were who you said you were,” Earwig said. Her voice was now pathetically maudlin in its sweetness like a coy young girl. Then the insincere smile and batting eyelashes displayed, making Dreg nauseous.

“Get up, Witch,” the orc said. Dreg saw its lip snarl in disgust as it shoved its sword back in the sheath with a clang. “I’ll go make arrangements to get you to the king.”

“You’re taking us to the king, to the Munattahensenhov itself?” Earwig said. Wheezing, she rolled on her side trying to push herself up.

Again Dreg noted the orc glanced at Earwig, frowned at the disgusting lump floundering around, unable to get up. It looked at Dreg. “Go help her up.”

Turning again to Earwig as Dreg scrambled out from under the cart to help, the orc shook its head and started to leave. “I’ll send word to the master that you’re coming,” the hybrid said over its shoulder. It moved into the shadows.

Finally standing with Dreg’s help, Earwig was brushing herself off. She backhanded Dreg, attempting to push him away and knocking him down. She didn’t appear to notice or care. Earwig heard the remark and moved a step closer to the departing orc. “You have direct contact with the king?”

Apparently hearing her move toward it, the orc spun around, whipping out its sword in an arc again. “Stay here; I’ll be back later after I’ve made arrangements.” And with that, it turned and ran off into the darkness toward the Wizards’ Hall ruins.

“What're you doing lying there on the ground when we have work to do,” Earwig snapped at Dreg.

General Vylvex stood on the southern rock face of the Hador Mountains. He surveyed his now exposed forces below Hador city on the great plain that stretched before him, open to Graushdem and its capital, Graushdemheimer. He looked down at the muddy mass below, speckled with orc carcasses. The sight looked like the mountain had gaped open, swallowed, and regurgitated the foul orc bodies with its liquid contents. The general looked south toward Graushdem, then back at Hador, perched menacingly at the apex of the two mountains above him.

“What a mess,” the general said to his adjutant. “We’re cut off from the rest of the army now.”

“General, does I form burial details for them orcs?” the ogre adjutant asked.

The general looked back at the ogre. “They’re dead and useless now. Don’t be wasting our forces on burials. Something moving in the night will clean up the mess. We needs to move on. Them festering carcasses will demoralize the army.”

“Yes, sir.”

The general turned back again, appraising the situation. He mumbled to himself, “Do I consolidate our forces here until General Bor reopens the tunnel and our supply lines, or do we move south quickly and try to take Graushdemheimer before King Grekenbach can prepare his defenses?”

“I’m sure I don’t know, General.”

“Of course you don’t know, you idiot. I’m the general; I make the decisions.”

*  *

The Dark Lord stormed about his workroom raging, bellowing, and destroying anything in his path. That included the messenger that brought him the news of the collapsed tunnel under Hador’s fortress city. The disaster blocked the way south. He knew Smegdor huddled outside the room just out of sight, available for instant response should the king call for him. He stared out beyond the foul smoke still rising from the dead messenger sprawled just inside the door.

“How could those two let this happen?” the king raged. His hands wrung as he paced about the room. He came to the dead messenger and kicked the smoldering corpse as hard as he could, then continued storming about the room, mumbling to himself.

“General Bor should have sensed other dwarves in close proximity. I’d forgotten those Hadorian Dwarves still lived under the mountains there. King Ormadese is behind this, and I’ll bet Memlatec had a hand in it, too. If King Ormadese would dare this bold a move, what’s his brother plotting further down on the plain. King Bordabrundese is the wiser of the two. He’ll be up to something if Ormadese attempted this.”

“Smegdor! Summon General Bor from up on the Hadorian border.”

“At once, Majesty,” Smegdor responded from outside the doorway. 

The dark king heard his shuffle in the corridor as Smegdor turned to go.

”Summon General Vylvex, too.”

“But General Vylvex is cut off beyond the mountains.” Smegdor stuck his head in the door.

“Send a messenger over the mountain, you idiot. It’s his problem how he gets here.” The king hurled the first object that came to hand, but Smegdor was already gone when it struck the door frame and clanged to the floor.

“Well, if I’m forestalled on the eastern front, there’s always the western front,” the king mumbled.

“Smegdor!”

The guard at the door glanced at his counterpart opposite, but the other guard refused to acknowledge the glance.

“What is it, you idiot?” the king asked, seeing the gesture.

“Your majesty just sent Smegdor to summon the two generals,” the guard responded, his body rigidly at attention.

“Yes, that’s right,” the king said. He looked away, but he glanced back at the guard from the corner of his eye. Then he stole a glance at the other guard. “You there, since you’re so alert, go find Smegdor and have him summon Prince Pindradese of Prertsten, as well.”

“At once, Your Majesty.” The guard dashed out the door and was gone in a flash.

The silent guard stood upright at attention, but his spear made a tiny tattering, rattling on the floor. The king’s yellow eyes narrowed; he turned to this remaining guard. “Your friend seems unusually attentive to my business,” the king’s cold, hushed tone said. It was like the ominous rumble of an avalanche below the snow and ice. 

“He’s not my friend, Majesty,” the guard said, keeping his head fixed, staring forward. His face broke out in a sweat; his shaking caused his sword’s scabbard to tingle against the metal plates of his belt.

“Good, because when he returns, you are to disarm him, drag him to the dragon stables above, and give him over to my children to play with.”

The guard jerked a quick glance. “The dragons, Your Majesty? He didn’t mean no harm.”

“Are you questioning my decisions?” The king moved directly in front of the guard, whose gaze dropped to the floor.

“No, Majesty.”

“I don’t like guards minding my business. You’re here to guard the door and nothing else, understood?”

“Yes, Majesty.”

“Now stand outside the door and intercept your ‘friend.’ Take him to the dragons. I’d better not see him again.”

The guard jerked up his spear. With sweat streaming down his face, he clumsily bowed to the king and disappeared out the door.

Prince Pindradese, yes that sniveling worm. He’s not shown his greasy face at court in far too long. Time he paid for his protected existence in Prertsten, he thought. 

* * *

King Saxthor arrived with his forces at Botahar and met with Bodrin there. Queen Dagmar started on a tour of the city’s defenses immediately. In the privacy of the governor’s palace, limited as it was, Saxthor heard the distressing news of the state of affairs in the city. 

“You saw for yourself how small this city is, though it’s the largest inland city in Sengenwha,” Bodrin told his king and friend. He placed his helmet on the table in front of Saxthor sitting opposite, reviewing the latest plans of the city’s defenses. “These people are farmers and merchants. They’re not equipped or trained to defend a city against orcs, much less wraiths and dragons. It’s likely General Tarquak will bring other things to bear on Botahar, as well.”

“We brought food and other supplies with us,” Saxthor said. He looked up at Bodrin. “We saw earthen works being thrown up around the city, and King Calamidese added fortifications when we retreated here after the first fall of Sengenwhapolis.”

Bodrin leaned over the table, putting his hands on it for support and to the king’s face he pleaded, “How can this city withstand a dragon’s breath? It’s almost entirely built of wood. The city, it’s little more than a town, won’t stand up long against a siege coming from General Tarquak’s army that will be coming this way. Refugees coming in are saying the general is building his forces daily.”

“What forces do we have here? Are the Sengenwhan soldiers and their people coming to the city’s aid?”

“Saxthor, most of the able bodied citizens of Sengenwhapolis and the soldiers that escaped its initial fall rallied behind Calamidese when he retook the city. After his death, what was left of them tried to refugee here. They were promised safe conduct but most were slaughtered on Tarquak’s treacherous orders. They should've known that foul wraith never knew the meaning of honor.”

Saxthor got up and walked to the window. He looked out over the ill prepared city, watching its citizens and the soldiers scrambling to build fortifications everywhere. He turned to Bodrin. “What do you recommend?”

“All must abandon the city and withdraw across the Pundar to Hoya.”

“Bodrin, you must know Dagmar will never agree to abandon this city. It would in effect relinquish the kingdom to Tarquak and Dreaddrac. As its rightful monarch, Dagmar must try to preserve the last stronghold from which the citizens can mount a counter attack to drive out the invaders.”

“The kingdom’s lost already, Saxthor. You must convince Dagmar of that.”

The door suddenly opened and Queen Dagmar flowed into the room like a breath of fresh air. Her raiment under the ceremonial armor reflected her status as head of her military now.

“Bodrin! How wonderful to see you again,” Dagmar said. She thrust out her hand for him to kiss, where Saxthor noted she would formerly have hugged him.

Bodrin dropped to one knee and kissed the queen’s hand.

“Your majesty is too radiant, as always. I’m sure your people are relieved and rejoicing at seeing you among them. You bring them hope.”

“Saxthor, your charming friend is a flower garden of words. He quite renews my spirits.”

“Dagmar, we must talk,” Saxthor said, coming to take her hand.

“Saxthor, I’ve reviewed the fortifications, and they are coming along very well,” Dagmar said. She gazed out the window at all the work below. She looked at Bodrin for confirmation, but he lowered his head. She looked back at Saxthor. “What’s wrong?”

“Have a seat, Dagmar.” Saxthor led the queen to the chair behind the table. The two men stood opposite, facing her. “Bodrin thinks the city isn’t defendable.”

Dagmar jumped up and looked at both men in succession.

“How can you say such a thing? There are new earthen works going up daily. The warehouses are filling with supplies in case of a prolonged siege, and when my uncle arrives from the northwest at the head of his troops, we will have quite a compliment of defenders.”

“Dagmar, your uncle and his forces were wiped out with Calamidese when Sengenwhapolis fell. There are no more forces of consequence coming to relieve the city.”

Dagmar fell back into the chair. They were all silent while Dagmar thought of the consequences of this revelation. Saxthor came around the table and took her hand, but she withdrew it.

“Why haven’t you told me this before now?”

“You were so distraught at the news of Calamidese’s death. I didn’t have the heart to add the news of the grand duke’s death, too. I’d hoped to find a better time to tell you, but it just never came.”

Dagmar rose slowly from the seat and walked to the window, looking down at the bustling activity below. “Those poor people, we’ve led them to believe there’s hope for them and their city.”

“There’s hope for the people, Majesty,” Bodrin said. He looked at Saxthor.

“Dagmar, Bodrin thinks we should abandon the city and retreat to Hoya, where the fortress can protect them. Supplies can still reach them there via the Pundar,” Saxthor added. He moved to the window and put his arm around the queen.

Dagmar moved away. “This is the last stronghold of resistance for Sengenwha, Saxthor. If we retreat to Hoya, we are no longer a sovereign nation but wards of Neuyokkasin. You know well the history of our families. My people have been told not to trust Neuyokkasin for generations. Their last king is dead and the country in chaos. How can you ask me now to tell them we are doomed and to submit to Neuyokkasin without resistance? Do you not see that they would see that as a betrayal at this crisis? I’m their lawful queen and all they have left to look to for hope. I can’t ask them to give up all now.”

“But, Dagmar, they must retreat to Hoya or they’ll all die,” Saxthor said.

“Then we will all die,” the queen said, looking into Saxthor’s eyes.

“I won’t have it!” Saxthor said, and grabbing his sword, he stormed out of the room.

“You can see my position, can’t you, Bodrin?”

“Yes, Your Majesty, but I can see that staying to defend Botahar will end in the annihilation of your people and the kingdom,” Bodrin said. He turned to the door where Saxthor had just left. “He loves you more than life I think. Don’t be too harsh with him. His family is gone from him. You are all he has. This dilemma is destroying him, too.”

Dagmar went to Bodrin and wrapped her hands around his. She squeezed them and looked into his eyes. “You’re the most steadfast and devoted of friends, Bodrin. Take care of him for us both.” She then moved to the door.

“But, Your Majesty, what shall I tell Saxthor?”

“Tell him I shall always be with him.” And she disappeared out the door.

*

When Bodrin found Saxthor on the wharf, his friend and king stood watching streams of men unloading supplies, moving them to the warehouses.

“Look at them, Bodrin, like lines of ants on a mission.”

“Saxthor, I think Dagmar is gone.”

“Yes, I know; she’s gone to raise an army.”

“Why didn’t you stop her?”

“Stop her? She’s the monarch now, the sovereign ruler. This is her country, these her people. If I’d tried to stop her, it would’ve destroyed her and us in the end.” Saxthor turned away from the wharf and started back up the bank to the city. Bodrin followed.

“Why didn’t you ask her to marry you, Saxthor?”

“Why? Because she can’t marry me now, not now.”

“What do you mean? You two love each other as Tonelia and I do. You are right for each other.” Bodrin grabbed Saxthor’s sleeve, almost as a plea.

Saxthor stopped and looked up toward the governor’s palace where he’d last seen Dagmar. He turned to Bodrin, who released his sleeve. Saxthor was looking past Bodrin into the past. “If I’d been sure of her love, and she of mine, back when she was just a princess…If I’d had the courage to ask Calamidese for her hand when he was at Konnotan for Nonee’s wedding, we might have been married. But I hesitated; I wasn’t sure if she loved me, or if she was just grateful for our rescuing her and her mother. By the time I had my courage up to ask Calamidese and her, he’d been killed and she was the queen, not just queen but the sovereign monarch.”