The Powterosian War (Book 5) (32 page)

The courtiers scurried forward to congratulate the king. They slinked toward the throne, showing clearly demanded adulation and approval. The messenger still trembled on the floor. He glanced up at the king who stared down at him. The gleaming smile melted from his sinister face. The messenger dropped to his knees with face to the floor.

“You’re shaking,” the Dark Lord said, his voice restrained yet ominous. “You have more news?”

The messenger lost his voice. The king stepped down from the throne and the courier saw his sandals at his face. The claws protruded through the ends, scratching on the stone. He heard the shuffle of feet slipping away from him nearby.

“What is this news you withhold?”

A dark, clawed finger then slipped under his chin; cold fingers tightened around his throat. The messenger rose, lifted by the king, until his face looked into the sorcerer’s leering grimace. The monarch released the dispatch rider who dropped to the floor.

He caught his balance and cleared his throat but dared not rub it. “Majesty…”

“Yes.”

“Majesty, General Vylvex has once again failed to overthrow King Grekenbach and Graushdemheimer.” The messenger felt immediate relief at having said what he couldn’t avoid saying. Then, instantly, panic threaded through his body and his stomach churned. He wet himself but didn’t move.

“Vylvex failed once again,” the king mumbled. He snatched the messenger by the throat again, his claws digging into the neck muscles. The messenger involuntarily thrashed to free himself from the vice, but the grip only tightened. He felt the muscles of each finger digging into his neck. Warm blood ran down, and blood squeezed in his head made it throb. His eyes buldged from the pressure. The creature gasped for breath, but his throat muscles were clamped. His head pounded. He scratched at the arm clutching his throat, but it was like stone. His vision darkened and he was about to lose consciousness when the hand let go and he collapsed on the floor coughing, gasping to breathe. Then the foot flew up, ripping through his entrails. It jolted him before he flew through the air, slammed against a column, and slid down it, the life draining out of him.

*

The king looked around the hall at the shadows of courtiers hiding behind the great monster-carved pillars. Smegdor and the court chamberlain stood back out of reach, off to the side of the throne.

“Send me another messenger,” the king said.

A groveling, large-eared creature half ran, half crawled up the aisle, to crouch with face to the floor, before the king.

“Take a mini-dragon and fly south to Sengenwha at once. You’ll find General Tarquak at Botahar, no doubt celebrating his victory by torturing the unlucky few that attempted flight too late. He’s to take his army immediately to the southern Sengenwhan border. There, he is to gather and organize the forces in the swamps and incorporate them into his army. He has only a short time to complete the task. Then he’s to report to me when he’s ready to cross the Nhy River and attack Neuyokkasin. I want his battle plan. He is to give it to you and you are to return here immediately. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Magnificence.”

“Go!”

The creature crawled on hands and knees half way back toward the doors.

“Go!” the Dark Lord screamed, spitting as he did so. He flashed a spark that singed the creature’s rump. The go-between jumped up and ran out of the hall with a limp. “Where is the goblin, Sorrax?”

Sorrax stepped from behind a column close to the throne. The Dark Lord noted his cold, confident stance. He leered at the king and held the stare. It pleased the king, who displayed a smirk at his arrogance.

“Take a dragon and go to Graushdemheimer at once. Find General Vylvex. Pluck out one eye and lop off one ear. Tell him if he fails again, he’ll know an eternity of pain as he loses all else.”

Sorrax smiled at the order and started to leave the hall when he was called back.

“No, inform the general he has one last chance to take the city and kill King Grekenbach. You are now his new second in command. See to it that order happens. Call for the goblin that was his second in command. Disembowel him in General Vylvex’s presence so that he understands his fate, should he fail.”

Sorrax frowned, but then he left the hall with a slight smile.

“That twisted goblin loves to inflict pain,” the Dark Lord said to Smegdor and the chamberlain as he resumed his seat on the throne. “Vylvex knows that, too. He’ll not miss the implication when the goblin general’s entrails spill out in front of him.”

“Isn’t that the goblin general that conquered western Heggolstockin and burned Girdane?” Smegdor asked.

“It is, but King Saxthor was in Girdane and survived. The general missed his opportunity to kill him. He should pay for that mistake.” The king glanced at Smegdor, then fixed his eyes on the chamberlain. Smegdor dropped his head, avoiding the gaze; the chamberlain stood stone-faced as always, unaffected by any emotion or news. “Now, we shall see who seizes Neuyokkasin first. The emperor will simply be closer and die sooner for daring to preempt me in seizing that kingdom.”

“Can King Saxthor possibly win this war?” a courtier asked.

The flash of blue fire and the smoke that rose from the settling ashes was the only answer.

“What of Witch Earwig?” Smegdor asked. “She comes to me daily begging for the opportunity to be at the overthrow of Neuyokkasin.”

“Witch Earwig,” the king chuckled, “are the dragon stables spotless?”

“They can never be spotless with the dragons making messes constantly and the beasts tossing body parts and bones about for play when sated,” Smegdor replied.

“Well then, she won’t be leaving the stables until everything is tidy.”

The Dark Lord glanced about the audience hall at the courtiers coming out from behind the columns, hearing the chuckling. The chamberlain grinned as did the courtiers. Only Smegdor stood silent and unemotional.

“What’s the matter with you?” the king asked.

“The witch harasses me daily.”

“Have her slave, Dreg, report to you for some training. He can be your assistant. Earwig alone is now to clean the stalls. That should keep her busy and stop her bothering you.”

The king saw Smegdor smiled too.

King Saxthor marched ahead of his legions through the southern plain of Neuyokkasin as it slowly climbed to the foothills below the great mountains that separated Neuyokkasin from the Powterosian Empire. The going was quick paced across the plain. They marched late into the night in a race to get to the border before the approaching imperial army could violate the kingdom.

“I know the troops are exhausted,” Saxthor told his commanders at a meeting one night. They had reached the crest of the first range of hills and he’d seen the troops barely ate before collapsing to sleep. Many wrapped themselves in blankets without even raising tents. “We must beat the imperial army to the mountains at all costs.”

“Majesty, if we continue this forced march much longer, the men won’t be able to fight the enemy,” a legion commander said.

“Send in the farmer that arrived this afternoon,” Saxthor said to the guards.

A man, still in his dusty farm clothes, came into the king’s tent looking left and right. He bowed to everyone there, his hat clutched in his hands, fearing to say anything.

“Come forward man,” Saxthor said. The farmer hurried and dropped to his knees before King Saxthor. “Tell these men what you told me this afternoon.”

“Your Majesty, the imperial army spreads to the horizon coming toward the gap where the mountain range drops for a mile before rising again. They move slowly, but they are beyond counting.”

“You hear that, gentlemen, they are beyond counting. We must beat them to that pass in the mountains or we’ll never stop such numbers with a mere four legions.”

“Majesty, only four legions… We can’t stop such numbers with just four legions,” a commander protested.

“No, not there, but you will proceed at dawn up into the mountains. This man will lead you to a pass there. It will be my task to see to it the imperial army does not cross through the breach between the mountains this man speaks of. The imperial army marches to cross there, but I shall force them to detour to the higher mountain pass. We will stop them there.”

“How will you force them to change course? How can you, with only a small force, prevent such an army from crossing that valley?”

“That, gentlemen, is my responsibility. It’s your responsibility to make sure they do not cross the mountain pass at the old Castilyernov Helgenstat ruins. Colonel Count Vicksnak will lead the expedition.” The commanders looked around at each other, but none dared to question the king’s command. “That will be all. I suggest you get some rest. You leave at dawn with the army for Castilyernov Helgenstat.” The commanders left the tent, some mumbling to others.

“Bodrin, warn Tonelia to keep quiet and not to be conspicuous. The army is not used to traveling with a lady amongst the leadership. Some of the men could consider her an ill omen, as some men do on ships. Listen to every word the farmer says. All depends on his leading the army to those ruins.”

Bodrin nodded agreement, saluted, and left. Memlatec came shortly afterward.

“What’s this warning,” Saxthor asked his wizard. He was studying the map of the mountains on the field table before him.

“Saxthor, you must avoid disturbing the Helgenstat. There is a force there that, if awakened, no one can control.”

“Yes, yes, you’ve warned me of it before, but I must make use of what I can to stop the imperial army. I can’t fight them one on one. They outnumber us at least five to one.”

“There are forces in this world that none of us know or understand. Nature fights back if threatened.”

“That is a serious warning, Memlatec. I shall take it under advisement.”

“Your army must not enter the Helgenstat.” Memlatec’s violet eyes fixed on the king.

When Saxthor looked into them, he sensed a fear he’d not seen before. “We shall see.”

*

The next morning as the legions started up into the eastern mountains, Saxthor took with him a cohort, Memlatec, and the valley farmer’s brother. They headed to the southwest for the valley’s river source in the mountains. Riding all day and into the night, they rode until the horses could go no farther. They traveled for days, crossing abandoned farms and passing near roads choked with refugees fleeing north toward Konnotan. Eventually they reached the Cipefar River that meandered through the mountains. Over eons its floods had built an alluvial plain a mile wide that provided the kingdom’s richest southern agricultural region. They turned east and followed the river up into the mountains.

“Where are we going, Saxthor?” Memlatec dared ask, seeing the men with him whispering to each other. They watched the land rise, turning into forest as the band climbed higher into the foothills.

“If the maps are right, and the stories we were told about the history of the kingdom, there is a small valley not far into the mountains where two lines of mountains come together in a tight gorge. We go there.”

Memlatec shook his head, seeing he wasn’t going to get the answer he and the men wanted. At mid-morning next day, as the horses struggled to gain their footing up the mountains, they came upon the valley and the gorge Saxthor was looking for.

“There it is,” Saxthor said, extending his arm to point at the white water rushing over the rocks beyond them.

“Yes, it’s a lake spilling out through a gorge. What now?” Memlatec asked, his brow pinched showing annoyance.

“You, Memlatec, will use that staff of yours to strike those boulders above and dam the gorge. It will back up and the lake will build until I need it.”

“Dam up the river?”

“Yes, if you please, dam up the gorge.”

“To what purpose, Saxthor?”

“I ask that you trust me in this.”

Frustrated, Memlatec shook his head. He glared at Saxthor, hoping to force an answer, but it was clear Saxthor would say no more. The wizard jerked his stallion’s reins a bit more forcefully than he would normally have done, and the steed moved up further among the trees to a clearing overlooking the steep ravine. There he dismounted and mumbled an incantation, thrusting his staff at the boulders atop the mountain across from them. Wizard-fire shot from the staff’s crystal and the boulders tumbled down the mountain into the canyon. Several more such jolts and the dam closed the gorge to all but a trickle of water. The wizard returned to Saxthor and his men who watched the exercise with curiosity.

“What now?” Memlatec asked.

“Now we return to the valley below and dam up the Cipefar at the other side of the valley.”

“You’re thinking to flood the plain between them,” Memlatec guessed.

“Exactly.”

“Clever idea, if it works. But you will only gain time, not stop the imperial army.”

“I don’t expect to stop them there. I want to force them to detour.”

“I see, so that’s why you sent the legions to the pass at Helgenstat.”

“Precisely, if the emperor wishes to snatch Neuyokkasin before the Dark Lord, he will have to do so quickly. He can’t wait for the valley to dry out. He’ll detour, if I’m right, and the only other pass is at the Helgenstat.”

“What if he doesn’t know about the old pass at the Helgenstat?”

“After the farmer leads the army to Helgenstat, I have sent him to the emperor to pretend fear and submission. He’s to let slip the mention there is a mountain pass.”

“You’ve left nothing to chance, I see,” Memlatec said. “What if the valley doesn’t flood?”

“Why Memlatec, I rely on you to be sure it does. There should be enough water building up behind that dam you just made to flood the plain extensively by the time the imperial army reaches the valley. I count on you to break that damn you just created, when the time is right.”

Memlatec hemmed and hawed, stamping around, kicking a limb into the gorge. I don’t like being the instrument of a plan instead of the author of it. But I must admit, if it works it’s a brilliant plan, he thought. Without another word he got back on his horse and the men all rode back down across the valley, following the river to where the mountains rose again on the other side of the plain.

“This should do,” Saxthor said, looking around at where the forest closed in on the river, and it again cut through the mountains. “We have need of your magic once more, Memlatec.”

The wizard dismounted and walked around among the boulders and trees, looking for where the river opening narrowed in the rock. Finding such a suitable site he again thrust his staff with incantations and rocks tumbled into the gap, closing off the river.

“Not too much as yet,” Saxthor said. The river’s trickle began to back up and fill the riverbed. Soon it looked like the river prior to the blocking of the gorge in the mountains.

“What now?” a commander asked.

Saxthor grinned. “Now we wait for the Grand Imperial Army.”

*

The river was just beginning to flood over its normal banks when the Grand Imperial Army reached the edge of the valley. The legions formed up and spread out, camping on the edge of the fertile valley. Hidden in the forest above the valley, Saxthor and his band watched the legions as more kept coming.

“It’s going well, don’t you think?” Saxthor asked Memlatec, who pursed his lips and didn’t respond.

“How many legions does this army consist of?” a cohort’s leader asked.

“I’m told there are approximately twenty legions,” Saxthor said. His voice was calm and smooth. There was no sense of alarm or surprise.

“Majesty, how can we resist such an army?”

Saxthor didn’t respond.

Memlatec grew agitated. “He’ll have some trick or other, you may rely on that.” The wizard smiled at the man who shook his head and started back to his men. Then Memlatec turned to Saxthor, “Yes, so what’s your trick then?”

“Be patient,” Saxthor said. That was all he would say. He picked up a branch and snapped it into several pieces, watching the imperial army’s growing numbers lining the valley edge. Memlatec stormed off. Saxthor came to his wizard who chewed a piece of dried meat by his horse. “They’ll camp here before crossing the border and the valley to invade. They’ll want to reconnoiter and know if there is an opposing army here. It will affect how they cross the valley so they’ll have to wait until they form their plans. When we see them again pack up and prepare for the invasion, having scouted and found no army, they’ll be careless and start across the valley chaotically. Without tight control of the men, they will scatter and collapse as an army when the flood waters sweep down from the mountains. By the time Engwan can gather together what’s left of his army, we’ll be up in the mountains with our army at Helgenstat.”

“I see,” Memlatec said. He offered Saxthor a piece of the jerky. Saxthor bit off a chunk. The two men chewed the food while watching the enemy spread into the valley.

“Look there,” Memlatec said, pointing to the river that had been little more than a stream. “The current is picking up, the stream is widening. We’d better break that dam tomorrow. It’s spilling over the top of the dam. I don’t know how much longer it will hold back the lake.”

The two men both looked back down the slope for the source of a horse’s hooves clacking on stone. It was a messenger for the king, leading his horse over the steep incline.

When he reached Saxthor, he took a moment to catch his breath. “Majesty, General Socockensmek sent word that General Tarquak is heading south from Botahar, apparently to join with the orc forces in southern Sengenwha. An attack across the Nhy River on Heedra or Favriana is imminent.”

“How long did it take you to get here?” Saxthor asked.

“Weeks, Majesty.”

“The attack could come at any moment,” Memlatec said, the alarm in his voice clear.

“We will have to end this war and quickly; we can’t manage wars on opposite borders with overwhelming numbers in both enemy camps,” Saxthor said. He threw down a stick he’d been fiddling with and rode up the mountain to the dam. When Memlatec joined him, they studied the brimming lake and dam carefully.

“You must break the dam tomorrow; we can’t wait any longer,” Saxthor said to the wizard who examined the dam for weaknesses.

“As you say, Saxthor.”

*

At midday the next morning, the assembled imperial army began to march across the border into Neuyokkasin, crossing the alluvial plain four legions across. Saxthor’s band watched the legions dressed out formally and carrying full packs in a magnificent parade display for the Emperor Engwan who stood in his gilded carriage on a bluff above the plain.

“Good that we stayed out of sight when the scouts came looking for signs of our army,” Saxthor said. Memlatec nodded agreement but kept his eyes fixed on the marching legions moving down into the valley and across the plain.

“Go to the dam and break it when I give the signal,” Saxthor said to Memlatec. He turned to his accompanying cohort. “You men, go with the wizard and offer what help you can. One of you stay here to relay the message to open the dam.”

The legions down on the plain were dazzling in their red uniforms. The archers led the parade followed by the infantry carrying full battle gear of swords and lances. Not expecting a battle, they carried additional packs with their supplies, apparently for displays of strength. The first eight legions were now fully onto the plain when four more started down the slopes.