The Dreaddrac Onslaught (Book 4) (36 page)

“Sergeant!” the duke commanded. “See if you can find any soldiers from the southwestern region of the dukedom that might have tried to report dangerous movements of foreign troops along the border with Prertsten.” The duke turned back to the farmer still crumpling his hat and bobbing up and down when the duke looked at him. “Continue.”

Well, as them foreigners started crossing the river at ‘Jandin’s Crossing’ over them shallows, the farmers scattered, went back to their farms, and set out for here after setting fire to their fields and homes. They should be coming in here in a day or two ifn them orcses don’t catch up with them first.”

The duke went around the table, putting down the scroll he’d held onto. He hunted across a great map of his dukedom, searching with his index finger for the place called Jardin’s Crossing. Having found it, he turned back to the farmer.

“What of the wolves?”

“We thinks them saber-wolves spread out to attack the farms. Most of the farmers had run off this way by the time the wolves and their riders done got across the river.”

“You there,” the duke called to the next soldier standing in line at the door for orders, “take this man to the kitchens and have them give him food and drink and find him quarters within the castilyernov. I may want to question him again.” The duke turned back to the farmer. “Go with this soldier and he will take care of you.”

As the farmer was bowing out of the room, the duke motioned for his senior military officer, a Graushdem general, to come forward. Young for a general, the man stood erect, his most ostentatious aspect being his new, vibrant uniform fully embellished with metals, ropes, and braid and his excessively plumed hat. The general lurched forward as if shocked to comply with his commander’s summons.

“Yes, Your Grace,” the general said.

“Are these reports on the state of preparedness correct and up to date?” the duke asked.

“Yes, Your Grace, as you commanded weeks ago after the warning from Wizard Memlatec, we have done an extensive inventory of our troops and armaments.”

“Give orders that the royal legions from the king and two of our four are to prepare to move out in twelve hours. We march on the invaders at Jardin’s Crossing.”

As the general was leaving to carry out the duke’s orders, Anton turned back to the table, the dukedom’s map, and picked up the scroll left on the table. He unrolled the scroll and read the message again. Yes, Feldrik’s commander sent word there was a clear buildup of troops across the Akkin meaning to cross and attack the fortress at the earliest possible opportunity. The duke slammed the scroll down on the table. 

Is Pindradese attacking all along the border, at Feldrik and Jardin’s Crossing, or is one attack a ruse to draw forces from the real attack at the other, he wondered. If I commit my troops at the wrong engagement, I could lose the real battle and the dukedom. He turned to his civilian assistant still wringing his hands in the corner.

“Send word to King Grekenbach as to the invasion, our current troop strength, and preparedness. Inform the king I’ll personally lead our forces against the invaders at Jardin’s Crossing, but that I think this is a ploy to distract us from a more serious invasion at Feldrik Fortress. I can’t allow those orc troops to run unopposed, plundering and ravaging the countryside in the southwest. I’ve no troops to reinforce Feldrik on the chance Jardin’s Crossing isn’t the objective. Clearly there’s a serious invasion planned to seize the dukedom.”

The assistant bowed and rushed out to write the necessary messages, saying nothing. The duke summoned another messenger, whom he sent off with a warning to King Saxthor at Konnotan in Neuyokkasin. Still another messenger was dispatched to Feldrik Fortress, warning of an attack and notifying the commander that he, the duke, would be leading a campaign against the invaders at Jardin’s Crossing. When these were routed, the duke would come to the aid of Feldrik. The duke was sending one legion to reinforce the fortress. The commander was to hold the fortress until the duke could come to their aid.

Then Heggolstockin went to the balcony and saw the first of the refugees coming across the plain from the southwest, driving before them their flocks and herds. Below the castilyernov, the city was abuzz with the news of the attack on Jardin’s Crossing. Everywhere, people rushed with baskets and carts, buying up everything they could get their hands on in the market place. Troops were rushing about on the walls and ramparts checking stocks of rocks, arrows, and other missiles capable of defending the city, as well as catapults, bows, spears, and swords.

If I’m unable to turn back the invaders, this city, Heggolstockin itself, will come under attack, thought the duke. He went back inside to his map table. “Summon the court wizard.”

As the duke studied his options on the map, he noted a flurry at the door. Looking up, he saw the messengers, officers, and officials swept aside by the Duchess Denubia’s dramatic entrance in swirls of plush maroon velvets. Her corpulent body was enveloped in layers of pleats, carefully embroidered, dangling sleeves, and a golden edged train all embellished and fluffed out further in ruffles and frills from which her small head, hands, and feet peeped out as an afterthought. Her bonnet was a massive bubble of more maroon velvet, pulled tight with ribbons and bows also edged in frills and lace. Her face seemed to barely escape. The large woman was all aflutter. Two ladies-in-waiting hurried after her, hoping to keep her ostentatious gown in order for the best presentation. The duchess was flailing too violently for the women to chance getting too close.

“What’s this I hear among my ladies that we are under attack, my dear?” Denubia said. The duchess stopped swaying from side to side long enough to swat at one of the serving women, who was trying to straighten her train. “How can this be? How could such nasty creatures get into the dukedom?”

“Nothing for you to worry about, my dear,” the duke said, coming around the table to comfort his wife.

“Well, is it true? Are we under attack?”

“A force has crossed the Akkin far to the west,” the duke said. He patted one trembling plump hand as the other patted her face and neck with a wad of lace handkerchief. 

“You’re not telling me everything. I know you’re not,” the duchess said, pulling her hand out of his and drawing back. Her face swelled, turning red around the eyes as she tried to restrain her tears. She swatted his hand away and blotted her eyes. “They aren’t coming here, are they? What shall we do; where shall we go?”

“There, there, my love. You’re upsetting yourself too much. I’m sure this is nothing. You must go back to your ladies and not trouble yourself about such things.”

“No, I must know all,” she said. She regained control of her emotions momentarily, grabbed the duke’s hand, and patted it. “You must tell me everything. I’m going to take care of you. I’ll stand by you no matter what.”

“Yes, dear, I’ll call upon you if I need your council, but for the moment, this is not a matter for you to concern yourself with. Now you go back to your ladies. I’m sure there is much to do to keep order with the palace in such turmoil. You must allow me to attend to this matter and not trouble yourself further.”

The duchess looked around the room. The duke noted the faces, so severe when she entered, now smiled indulgently at the lady amid the bobbing velvets in the center of the room. The duchess looked again at her husband. The duke smiled his best face to reassure her. He put his arm around her indiscernible waist and led her carefully to the door.

“You won’t be late for dinner, will you, dear?” the duchess said.

“I shall try not to be late, my love,” Anton said. And with that, she squeezed the mass of ornate velvets out the door and disappeared down the tower steps with her ladies in tow.

The duke gave a relieved glance to his attendants and returned to the map table. He was reviewing his plan for the counter attack at Jardin’s Crossing when the room was again disturbed, this time by the presence of the duke’s daughter. Demonica strode into the room dressed in leather pants, a pleated silk blouse, and a leather vest with silver studs. Short black hair framed her face. Black eyes were set in her dark olive complexion. She slapped her riding crop on the table. Her very presence made her father uneasy.

“What’s mother all in a tizzy about this time?” Demonica asked.

‘There’s been an invasion at the southwestern corner of the dukedom by forces clearly of Dreaddrac origin,” the duke said. He stood upright as if at military drill.

“How serious is it?”

“There is at least one goblin commander and, we think, three legions of orcs.” The duke hesitated and looked again at the map. He pointed to the invasion site. He looked at Demonica. “There are saber-wolves, too.”

Demonica looked at the map, too. She looked up at her father, then back at the map. The duke noted her vibrant eyes and her frown. She reached out and pointed to the lands between Jardin’s Crossing and their capital, Heggolstockin.

“There are no natural defensive formations between the border and Heggolstockin, are there?” she asked, her tone calm and even. She looked at her father.

He turned away and walked to the window again, looking out over the city toward the border. “No, we must drive them back across the Akkin in open pitched battle, or they will storm the city in a matter of weeks.”

“I’ll go with you to the battle,” Demonica said.

“No, you must stay here with your mother; she needs you. You know she is not strong. She’s never dealt well with stress. She will need your strength to sustain her through this.”

Demonica went to her father and pulled him around to face her. He was reluctant to look up.

“Father, I can lead the troops as well as you and Amenibus can.”

“Yes, and you are as a better warrior than your brother, but you must remain here to prepare the city. You know your mother isn’t up to it. She’ll swoon at the first thought of an orc or goblin within sight of the city, should something go wrong.”

Demonica grabbed her riding crop, slapped the table with it, turned, and strode back out the door without responding. The duke watched her go in silence.

“She’s a headstrong girl, Your Grace,” the duke’s brother said, stepping forward with a goblet.

“Yes, indeed she is that,” Anton said. He brushed away the offer of drink. “Something stronger, I think.”

His younger brother brought the duke a goblet of wine.

“Where she got her temperament, I’ll never know,” the duke said, taking a deep draft of the wine. He looked at the door as if to see her again. Then he looked at his brother. “Not from her mother, I know that.” The two brothers smiled at each other, then turned again to the map as if hoping to discover some formation that might assist in the defense of the city.

Hearing the sound of boots on the floor behind him, the duke looked up and saw Amenibus walk up between his father and uncle. He put his arms around their shoulders.

“I hear we have an invasion in the west, Father,” the duke’s son said. The young man had long blonde hair and blue eyes set in a smooth, fair-skin face. His supple limbs were defined in his tight, dark brown hunting outfit, trimmed in forest green. He removed the bow and quiver of arrows, putting them on the desk. The three looked at the map. “Where’s this invasion?”

The duke pointed to Jardin’s Crossing.

“Is it as bad as mother insists?” the young man asked, laughing. “Are we doomed and forced to flee with the rags on our backs?”

The duke smiled at his brother. The three men laughed, breaking the tension in the room. Seeing this, the fidgeting attendants nearby forced laughs. The duke put his arm around his son’s shoulder and drew him to the balcony, out of the attendants’ hearing. The duke’s brother seemed to move defensively between the two men and the rest of the room.

“The situation is grim, Son. Prince Pindradese has begun the invasion with a sizable force of Dreaddrac’s minions, attacking our western border. I think this is a diversion, but it’s too large to allow further penetration of the dukedom spreading havoc far and wide. I’ve sent one of the king’s legions to reinforce Feldrik Fortress, where I expect the main attack, but I must lead our remaining forces against this invasion and drive them back across the Akkin.”

Amenibus stood up stiff, his brilliant eyes searching his father’s face. The duke stood up straight, as well; his face tightened, but he was careful not to let his men see it.

“What will you have me do, Father?” Amenibus asked.

He’s heir to the ducal throne and knows his responsibilities should anything happen to me, thought the duke. Thank goodness I trained him from childhood for his future role as duke. 

“You will remain here at the castilyernov with your mother and sister. Take charge of the city and coordinate the actions between my force at Jardin’s Crossing and those at Feldrik. Keep me informed of any changes, and prepare the city’s defenses in case things go badly at either front.”

“But, Father, I should lead the army against the enemy at Jardin’s Crossing. You should remain here to coordinate all the battle plans. You are needed here to steady the dukedom and as the rallying point for all.”

“Leading this army against the goblin and orcs in the west is something I must do as the king’s vassal. We’ve held these lands since just after the Third Wizard War many generations ago. I’ll not fail the king or the people of Heggolstockin.”