The Powterosian War (Book 5) (34 page)

“They’ll be building rafts then,” the commander said.

“We must stall them as long as we can then,” Socockensmek said. “King Saxthor needs time to deal with the imperial army on the southern border.”

“The only way to stop them is to burn the logs. That won’t work easily; the wood is still green and wet,” the commander said. “And if there’s a legion of them working there, we couldn’t get enough men across the river unnoticed to attack them without losing the element of surprise.”

“If we could get monster termites, they could eat the logs,” the commander said. “I remember hearing about how the Wizard Hendrel in Hador grew monster mites to eat a dragon.”

“Termites don’t eat green wood, sir” the scout interjected.

“Summon the wizard,” Socockensmek ordered. Heedra’s wizard appeared shortly thereafter.

“We have an army of orcs chopping down trees for rafts to cross the river. Can you use your magic to grow giant termites to attack the stacks of logs and eat them?”

“No general, I’ve not the knowledge to grow such creatures, and if I did it would take too long. Then there would be no way to make them target the stacked logs. Such creatures would likely stop to eat the whole forest before getting to the logs.”

“Thank you, that will be all,” Socockensmek said. He turned back to the commander and scouts. “Say nothing to the other men about this. We don’t want to start a panic. If we can’t burn the logs or have some creature eat them, what alternatives are left to us?”

“Excuse me, general,” the wizard said, stepping forward.

“Yes, have you another idea?” 

“We may not be able to destroy the logs, but we could destroy the vines the enemy will use to bind the logs together for rafts.”

Socockensmek turned bodily to face the wizard and the others followed suit. “How so?”

“I’ll find a spell in my reference books,” the wizard said and rushed away to his workroom.

“That would be even better,” Socockensmek said to the other three men. “If we destroy the logs, the orc legions remain to build another fleet. If we destroy the vines that tie the rafts together, we could potentially drown a lot of the orcs in that current.”

*

The wizard feverishly flipped through the spell books in his library.

“Decomposition, decomposition…” he mumbled, checking index after index. He was a bit careless, tossing the books aside in his frustration. He looked at a book that offered magical incantations for the farmers’ aid and was about to toss that aside when it opened to a page on hastening decomposition, clearing a forest for a new field. He began to read and, finding what he was looking for, he slapped the book closed on his finger to hold the place and dashed off.

“General,” the wizard said, rushing up to the men, nearly knocking one of the scouts aside in his excitement.

“What have you found?” Socockensmek asked.

“There is a powder I can concoct that will break down the rafts’ vine ropes.”

“Will it act fast enough?”

“It should work within hours, no more than half a day.”

“Then, if we can find the stockpiles of vines they’re gathering to build the rafts and calculate when they intend to build them, we could have the ropes disintegrate just after launch.”

“But how would we get the powder to the vine stockpiles without being detected? If discovered, the enemy might well suspect a trick and delay building the rafts,” the commander asked.

“That is a problem,” the general said. “Will this powder harm birds or men?”

“Neither general, it will only work on green plant tissue.”

“Then make up the powder; we’ll find means to deliver it to the vine stockpile.”

The wizard rushed away as the men huddled, trying to think of ways to deliver the powder.

“There’s a man near Heedra that I heard could talk to birds,” one of the scouts said.

“Rubbish,” the commander said. “That’s an old wives tale.” The dejected scout looked down, scratching at the ground with the tip of his boot.

“Don’t be so quick to dismiss such an idea,” Socockensmek said. The scout looked up. “Memlatec speaks to the eagles, hawks, and owls that are his watchers. Where is this man supposed to live?”

“He’s a hermit,” the scout said. “He might not work with us; he dislikes people and their cruelty.”

“Find him; bring him here.” With that the man rushed off.

The scout returned that night with the scruffy old man whose tangled graying hair and beard surrounded bright blue eyes. The recluse was timid, slightly hunched over, and bowing to all he met.

“Can you speak to the birds as this man says?” Socockensmek asked.

The man glanced at each of the men staring at him, and after hesitating for some personal evaluation, nodded affirmatively.

“No one believes it, but he can,” the scout said. “I saw it myself.”

“We need you to talk to your birds. Can you have them carry packets of powder and release it over stockpiles of vines? Will you get the birds to do that?” Socockensmek asked.

“What birds?” the fidgeting man asked. “Why should the birds help humanity when humanity just mistreats and eats them?”

“Any birds, birds that wouldn’t be noticeable or out of place in the forest near the river.”

“I might be able to get the pigeons to do it,” the man said. “This powder, it won’t hurt the pigeons will it? I won’t ask them to help you if it will hurt them.”

“The wizard tells me it will not harm your birds. It will only affect the vines they drop it on.” The man searched the men through their eyes. He was clearly looking for signs of reliability and honesty. “If it harms my birds, you will all pay for it.”

“We’ll not harm your birds, but we need your help to save countless people, maybe the kingdom. This may help to destroy the orcs about to attack us and the orcs don’t respect your birds. They kill and eat anything they come across. As we speak, they are clearing the forest.”

“People tend to do that too,” the bewildered man mumbled. “I’ll help you this once.”

When the wizard had his powder and it was packed inside small light packets, the wilderness man called down Heedra’s pigeons and asked them to carry the packets to the vine stockpiles which others had found and reported while the wizard made his powder. The pigeons strutted and cooed in the great plaza as they waited their turns for the packets on the day the watchers reported the orcs were moving the logs to the river. The city’s population was tense, having been warned by military decree not to disturb the city’s birds or to enter the grand plaza while the military operation was under way.

When all was ready, the pigeons flew off one or two at a time to the destinations the wild man had told them about. They had instructions to carry the packets close to their bodies while flying so the packets wouldn’t be noticed by the orcs below. Then, using one foot to hold the packets, they were to use the other to pull the string releasing the powder and return. As the first pigeons were returning, the last of the pigeons were leaving.

“Do you think they were able to get the powder on the vines?” The commander asked the general. The scouts watched the operation intently. The wild man’s contact saw him smiling and approached him. “Did it work?” he asked the grizzled old man.

“The pigeons did their part. If your powder works and the timing is as you needed, it should work. We’ll know when those rafts come down the river.” His bright eyes danced above his grin.

* * *

Orcs approached the mighty granite-walled Castilyernov Tossledorn with trepidation, yet vengeance was on their minds. The old story of an entire battalion being wiped out by the garrison at Tossledorn and at Talok Tower in spite of the commanding wraiths still unnerved the orcs. The massive walls and imposing stone towers shot up from the coastal plain atop a granite outcrop where the Talok Mountains ended near the eastern sea. King Grekenbach’s predecessor had built the castilyernov to block an anticipated invasion from Talok-Lemnos after King Henri died and Neuyokkasin absorbed the kingdom of Talok-Lemnos. Being the strongest fortress on the eastern shores of the peninsula, it would take perhaps years to win by siege if it was still inhabited.

Out of respect, the Neuyokkasinian garrison had left the Graushdem flag flying above the keep’s tower roof, but its fluttering was the only movement visible. A herd of deer grazed on the lush grass of the stream delta that flowed by the citadel. First one, then more looked up, barked alarm, and stamped their feet watching the approaching orcs. Before the invaders could get close enough to shoot the deer with their arrows, the herd fled back to the mountain slopes above the plain. The flag fluttered in the sea breeze as if warning away the orcs, but the great gates remained closed. No troops dashed out to attack the approaching army.

The orcs moved cautiously through the tall grass, sprinting in a zigzag fashion as they came within range of possible arrows. Still, no defenders appeared on the battlements. The Graushdem flag suddenly stopped fluttering and sank like the dying breath of the fortress, giving the orcs renewed enticement to attack.

“There ain’t nobody home,” an ogre in command of the orc battalion said.

His second in command, another ogre, crouched beside him in the grass, sniffing the air. The sound of the sea air softly murmuring through the waves of grass seed stalks was the only sound around. “They done abandoned it for sure. It’s ours for the taking,” the second ogre said.

“Signal the others to attack.”

The second in command stood up in the meadow, motioning with his spear for the orcs to attack the fortress gate. He led the rush through the prairie, trampling a path the others crowded through, heading for the gate. The commander watched the attack, still crouched before the walls.

A hawk soared over Tossledorn from the mountains and landed on the keep’s tower. The superstitious ogre watched it, feeling a sudden surge of foreboding, which he quickly dismissed. As the ogre leading the charge for the main gate approached its shadow, a massive volley of arrows soared over the battlements and showered down on the concentrated orcs caught by surprise. Half the force fell dead; the other half froze, seeing the ogre leading the attack fall dead in front of them. Then they turned in panic and rushed back through the grass toward their commander.

“Cowards!” the ogre commander screamed. He jumped up, thrusting his spear forward to motion for the fleeing orcs to turn and renew the attack. An arrow flew near to him with a thud, sinking deep into the muddy plain near the stream. For a moment he hesitated, but then he, too, turned to retreat back out of range of the arrows. His orcs continued to flee, seeing their commander running for cover as well.

*

“We got’em on the run,” a crusty old custodian said, peeking through a hole in the battlements over the main gate.

“Yeah,” another old retired soldier said. He had hastily put on his former armor; some of the leather thongs were still untied. He scratched his graying, untrimmed beard that surrounded his gaping grin. “You suppose them others got them banks of bows loaded with arrows by now?”

“That was a clever idea of that Neuyokkasinian commander to set up banks of bows all tied to one release rope so us retirees that refused to leave could put on a show if we was attacked. I never knowed them Neuyokkasinians was that clever.”

“Well, it’s worked to scare them orcs off. Looks like we done got half of them. Don’t know how long a couple dozen men can hold off all them orcs, but we’ll give a good account of ourselves.”

“That we will,” the custodian said.

They looked out through the peephole again. The orcs had reassembled beyond the range of the arrows. They were agitated, chattering back and forth left and right, apparently trying to figure out who was in Tossledorn and what should they do next.

“Look there at that tall one on the left. He must be an ogre, their commander. He’s an ugly thing, ain’t he? He must be kinda dumb to rush the walls like that straight on. Good thing them deer barked when they did and that I was raking up trash near the gate.”

“You done good, Smiley.”

“Better reload the bows with arrows in case they get the guts to come again.”

“Right, I’ll get to it.”

*

The orcs surrounded the ogre in a cacophony of protests, each relating how they were outnumbered, the ogre leading the charge was killed, and how they couldn’t take Tossledorn. They turned one to another for support, assuring themselves as well as the commander, the few remaining orcs couldn’t possibly overrun the fortress’ defenders. The ogre commander let them ramble on until they’d expended their fears, his eyes narrowing more with each passing protest.

“You’re all cowards,” the ogre pronounced. The orcs fell silent. The ogre looked over the troops left in his command.

“There ain’t enough of us to take that castilyernov,” one brave orc with a scar the length of his face said. His yellow teeth snarled.

“No, there ain’t enough of us to storm them walls, seeing as it’s still got all them soldiers inside.” The ogre sensed mutiny among those that surrounded him. “That story about it being abandoned was wrong.”

“What do we do now?” the orc speaker asked.

The ogre scanned the threatening looks that had replaced the fear on the orc faces just moments before. “We marches back to General Vylvex. We tells him an army still holds this castilyernov. We all tells him the same thing, you got that? There’s an army still holding Tossledorn.”