The Dreaddrac Onslaught (Book 4) (38 page)

“You must not take the troops to Feldrik,” she said, pushing him back, trying to regain her composure. She saw his youthful overconfidence. He won’t take my warning seriously, she thought.

Lord Amenibus tried to move his mother aside, but failing, stepped around her to retrieve the scroll from the desk. He nodded to a servant. Still the duchess refused to move out of his presence. The servant brought up the duchess’ attendants. The frightened ladies took Denubia by each arm and slowly led her away back toward the palace. At the door, she jerked an arm free and looked back at her son, blotting her tears. He studied the scroll and wouldn’t look at her.

I feel like I’m looking at my boy for the last time, she thought. She broke into fresh tears in her despair, lowered her head, and, drained, allowed herself to be led slowly away.

* * *

Dripping with sweat, Duke Heggolstockin rode furiously, commandeering horses along the route to the capital. By the time he could see the fortress’ spires, looming almost to the clouds above Heggolstockin, fear seized him. Where are the troops I left encamped around the city? he wondered. He spurred the horse, whose mouth foamed, gasping for breath. The saddle slid slightly on the horse’s sweaty back, but the duke rode full gallop on to the city.

When he reached the gates, there were only old men in armor guarding them. The great coat of arms in iron with brass flourishes stood above the city gate’s massive oak panels. The duke looked up on the battlements, abnormally bare of sentries, spears, or any show of defense.

Maybe Amenibus has moved the troops into the barracks. A sickening nausea came over the duke as he rode through the gates to see almost no soldiers anywhere. The citizens were rushing about, hardly noticing his return. They pushed carts of produce and arms about to stockpile the city for a siege. Yet there were no military men of any rank directing the movements.

As the duke moved through the streets to the grand plaza before the palace, he noted to his horror, the men drilling there were either too old or too young to fight. An old retired sergeant trained them. 

Sitting on his wet horse, Anton came to a standstill. His noble wife, who’d never thought about anything military, who would start to swoon at the mention of swords, came out on the balcony over the plaza to direct the sergeant’s training exercise. The sunlight was strong at midday, and the duke put his hand over his brow to shade his vision.

That cannot be the duchess, he thought. He squinted for a better look, but for any action taken, it was still she. Has it come to this? he thought. The duke rode on to the gate of the citadel and surrendered his horse. The gate keeper bowed low at the duke’s unexpected arrival. The duke strode through the fortress to the palace inside and walked up the marble steps to the audience chamber and out on the balcony. There was the duchess, directing the maneuvers below. In her frenzy, she hadn’t noticed his arrival.

“Are you general now, my dear?”

The duchess whirled around to the sound of his so familiar voice. She rushed over to him, collapsed in his arms, and began sobbing uncontrollably.

“Amenibus has taken the army to Feldrik. We’ve no one to protect the city. I’ve drafted the militia, but they aren’t enough.” She turned back to face the balcony but didn’t let go of her husband’s arm. “Those poor old men and boys out there, they’ll hardly be able to defend us should those savages get this far.”

“Well, let’s hope our general can crush the orcs at the Akkin and return here before any enemy army descends on this ancient city.” He clutched his wife in his arms, and she melted as a heap into his security. She tucked her head into his shoulder, wrapped her arms around him securely, and all but squeezed herself into him. He felt her racing heart beat and trembling shoulders. He held her tight until he felt her fear subside and her heart stop pounding. He then pulled one of her arms free. They walked arm in arm back inside to their apartments, where he was finally able to get her to go to bed.

“You must rest now, my dear. You have exhausted yourself in your most excellent efforts to prepare Heggolstockin.” As he pulled her hand from his and tried to slip away, she grabbed his hand yet again and sat up in bed.

“What if the general can’t turn back those monsters at the Akkin?” She gasped and started crying again. “And our Amenibus, what if he should fall at Feldrik?” She looked up at him, sobbing. The duke took her hand again and sat beside her on the bed, patting her hand. She sobbed more, pressing his hand to her cheek.

“It will all turn out well, my dear. You must try to get some rest,” he said, rubbing her hand tenderly. She cried herself to sleep before he was able to get her fingers to release their grip on his hand. He tiptoed to the door and slipped out without a sound, ordering her attendants by gesture to watch her carefully while she slept. Outside, the duke found his chamberlain and got from him the state of the defenses.

“Lord Amenibus took the army to Feldrik, though the duchess pleaded with him not to abandon the city,” the faithful servant reported. “His lordship felt certain you would be successful at driving the goblin and his army back into the Akkin, so he took the army to aid Feldrik. He wants to make you proud of him, Your Grace.” The man bowed, but the duke just looked ahead, thinking of the consequences his son faced at Feldrik.

* * *

King Saxthor sailed up the River Nhy, across Lake Pundar, and on to Hoya, his fortress city that stood guard at the northwestern border junction with Sengenwha and Graushdem. General Sekkarian met him at the docks and gave the king a full review of the city and Castilyernov Hoyahof’s preparedness. The city was bustling with goods coming downriver and refugees fleeing the Heggolstockin war in the west. Also, supplies from the southern peninsular flowed north to support war demands. The city was abuzz with building defenses and stocking armaments. The castilyernov was well garrisoned. Sekkarian maintained frequent correspondence with the garrison at the Talok Tower and even with Graushdem’s southern fortress, Tossledorn. Saxthor noticed everyone, civilian and military, moved quickly, nervously about their tasks. There were few smiles on the faces these days.

After the review, Saxthor consulted with General Sekkarian in the former Prince Henri’s Hoyahof tower apartment. Amid the sad memories, Saxthor questioned the general on his feelings as to the state of the region. Tournak was again at Saxthor’s side on the tour since his timely arrival at Favriana. His preventing the destruction of that city’s defenses and its imposing new fortress made him indispensable.

“General, we believe you have on staff two wizards sent by Memlatec. Have them report to Tournak here and confer on a sweep of the city and the castilyernov to be sure there have been no new infiltrations. Since that wraith seized the city in the guise of my great uncle, we don’t feel easy about the city’s security. This is our first line of defense, and it must hold. Sengenwha is lost to Dreaddrac’s minions, and Hador is neutralized for the moment. Now the duchy of Heggolstockin is under attack in the west, and there are rumblings General Vylvex is marching on Graushdemheimer itself. If Graushdem should fall, our entire northern border across the peninsular would be open to direct attack. We’ve ordered an additional legion be brought up to support Hoya. It should arrive within a week. Have accommodations prepared for their disposition,” Saxthor said.

The general sent for the two wizards already stationed at Hoya. They arrived as Saxthor’s conference with Sekkarian and Tournak ended. The general left to arrange the accommodations as the two Hoyan wizards entered and bowed into the king’s presence. Saxthor made the introductions and placed Tournak in charge of the sweep of the city and the Hoyahof to check for any signs of Dreaddrac’s influence and infiltration.

“It’s our wish that you three make a thorough search. Once before, a wraith managed to infiltrate the city and replace its ruler and all Neuyokkasinian forces with Dreaddrac minions. That must not be repeated. It will be hard enough to hold out in a siege without the city being betrayed from within. Are there any questions?”

“Majesty,” the senior of the two Hoyan wizards said, “we make such sweeps each week.”

“Do so again, this time with Tournak in your company,” Saxthor said. “Tournak, go with these wizards and formulate a plan. Commence the sweep tomorrow and report to me on what you find.”

Tournak bowed but said nothing. He started for the door.

“Your Majesty, we have just completed such a sweep yesterday,” the wizard who had spoken before blurted out.

Saxthor turned to Tournak and not the wizard. Tournak looked at Saxthor. Both knew all citizens knew not to speak to the king unless spoken to first. The wizard had breached protocol; both Saxthor and Tournak recognized the wizard’s stressed insistence that such a search was a waste of time. Saxthor withdrew Sorblade from its sheath; there wasn’t a green glow. The king nodded almost imperceptibly to Tournak, who returned the slightest of nods that apparently neither of the other two wizards noted. Tournak motioned the wizards to come with him, and the three left the king’s chamber.

Sekkarian returned, awaiting further orders from his king. Saxthor studied the maps of the city, its harbor, and the details of the Hoyahof itself. Sekkarian stood by the window, looking out over the city and harbor. He bent forward, straining to see something.

His movement attracted Saxthor’s attention. “What’s disturbed you, General?”

“Another log jam coming down the river. Those farmers and woodsmen at Girdane have been felling the forest on the heights above their town and the mountains of southern Heggolstockin, fearing the orcs might use the timber to build catapults and siege towers should they break through. They float the logs down river to sell them here. I see another jam building above Hoya. I must send troops to break it up.”

Saxthor went to the window. The two men looked upriver, visible only from the lofty heights of the tower, spotting the logs.

“What causes that shimmer above the logs?” Saxthor asked.

“I don’t’ know that I’ve seen that shimmer before,” Sekkarian said. His eyes squinted trying to focus on the logs and see the phenomenon. “Could be the sunlight.”

Saxthor looked down on the harbor and saw logs clumped against the shore opposite the harbor. Then, in the forest across the river, there was the slightest shimmer like he saw on the log jam up on the lake.

“Come with me!” Saxthor said. Sekkarian jumped to attention, his hand automatically on his sword hilt. The two men dashed for the door. Tournak was climbing the stairs to the tower apartment when Saxthor almost ran into him.

“What is it, Tournak?”

“I haven’t placed it yet, but there is something in the vicinity of the city that isn’t right. There is a strange energy around the city.”

Saxthor slid past Tournak and down the stairs with the wizard and general close behind. Delia, Saxthor’s devoted and constant companion, raced down the stairs behind the lot.

They reached the harbor, and Saxthor felt a heat sensation in the dragon ring. Its deep blue crystal was radiant, giving off a reddish hue like a tanzanite. Saxthor raised Sorblade’s hilt; the pale green glow was unmistakable. He looked across the river at the forest.

Delia nudged her way between Saxthor and the general and peered across the river where Saxthor scanned. She snarled. She stood defiant, looked up at Saxthor, and then back across the river, growling. Other dogs in the city began to bark.

“Sekkarian, summon your archers,” Saxthor said without taking his eyes off the forest.

The general gave orders to the commanders that had hastily joined the king and general on the way to the harbor. They in turn dispatched runners to the barracks, and troops with bows and arrows quickly rushed onto the wharves lining the river. Citizens, seeing the military commotion, fled the area, some dropping their goods in their flight. The troops quickly formed orderly rows, awaiting the general or king’s orders.

“Look there, Tournak, across the river at the edge of the forest,” Saxthor said. “We dare not point lest we let them know we are aware of their presence.”

Tournak and Sekkarian peered into the forest. Saxthor studied their faces. Sekkarian squinted but apparently saw nothing. Careful not to point, Tournak raised his hand to the forest and felt the slight sizzle of energy concentrated at the forest edge.

“An invisibility spell,” Tournak said.

“And on top of the log jam now coming down the river,” Saxthor said.

Tournak turned his hand to the logs bobbing in the river.

“Another invisibility spell.” He turned to the king.

“General, order your archers here to shoot into the edge of the forest. Those at the end of the wharf are to shoot just above the logs floating down the river,” Saxthor said.

Sekkarian looked at the king, his puzzled eyes somewhat narrowed, his head cocked slightly, but he turned to his commanders and nodded. They in turn issued the orders to the troops.

Tournak flashed a wizard-fire bolt into the forest. It splashed on the shimmering only Saxthor and Tournak saw. Sekkarian jerked upright.

“It’s a powerful spell, Saxthor,” Tournak said. “There’s a wizard holding it in place. I can’t break it from this distance, but it’s an invisibility spell. It won’t deter arrows.”

“Fire!” Saxthor said.

The archers had been looking at each other, mumbling, asking their comrades if they saw anything where they were told to prepare to shoot.