The Vlakan King (Book 3) (29 page)

"Brevin's only one mage. What if there are other Vlakan with Ian?"

"Hmm. I see your point. Well, there's nothing we can do about it now. We just have to do our jobs and hope Davan has enough help."

"Yeah. He was a good kid."

Sneppe listened to the talk of the young men and his glanced settled on Gileas for a moment and then moved away. He admired her skill as a soldier and did not think of her as a female when there were things that needed doing. However, once in a while her pointed ears poking through the short sandy hair and her green eyes stopped his thoughts cold. He found it difficult to regain what he had been thinking about. His squad had been in the field too long and even he felt the strain of constant focus.

Sneppe spread his squad out over a hundred yards. When the Mordyn army passed they would follow when two-thirds of the soldiers had passed. Then Gileas would mingle in with the soldiers when they camped for the night. The Daerlan moved silently and melded with the shadows. She would be unseen for as long as she wished. Only another Daerlan or Turuck could see her. Even the Celaeri could be fooled.

The slow rumble of the Mordyn army soon filled the air and the first figures came into sight. Sneppe was alert; something didn't look right. In the front lines were figures with the wrong coloring for Mordyn. He waved Gileas over but even before she settled in next to him she whispered; "Celaeri".

"That makes a difference in our plans. You will have to be especially careful and I don't think I will send Polesnap in after all. Stay for two hours, and then get out of there. I don't want to chance the Celaeri sensing your presence."

"Understood."

When the army had passed Sneppe got to his feet and followed them; his company in his wake.

When the Mordyn stopped for the night signs of conflict were already visible. Two miles from the army's camp Sneppe's company found the bodies. There were nearly a dozen headless Mordyn bodies lying where they fell.

"What happened?" asked Docaw.

"The Celaeri is my guess," said Sneppe. "They are in charge and these fools must have disagreed with the leaders. Celaeri are not merciful, remember that. Kill or be killed."

"No quarter?" said Docaw.

"Are you deaf?" asked Polesnap.

"Just wanted to be sure."

"In the time it took you to be sure," said Polesnap. "The Celaeri would have gutted you."

"Make no mistakes," said Sneppe. "This will be the worst fighting we have ever endured."

Curesia fell to Pashar Bei so quickly and completely that many of the Celaeri found difficulty hiding their disappointment. Pashar Bei did not mind their impatience for Wierland's army waited for them at the border. It would be another short battle he was sure. Curesia and Wierland were under the thumb of the High King who would not let their armies rival Calendia. They were too weak to turn back the Celaeri and the High King did not send his own soldiers to reinforce Wierland. The Mordyn army must be on the move and word has reached Nantitet. The High King would not send his army away now; it would begin preparations to defend Nantitet. The plan was unfolding nicely. Pashar Bei allowed himself a smile. With five hundred Celaeri he was conquering the world!

The King of Curesia surrendered quickly to spare his people. Pashar Bei imprisoned the king's family and ensorcelled a core group to kill them if the king strayed from his duties as a servant of Pashar Bei.

The rolling hills of Curesia gave way to the flatter grasslands of Wierland. There were many farms and ranches in Wierland but it was not as populous as Curesia and the cities would fall easily. Pashar Bei debated the need for conquering Wierland at all as they could march straight through it and not be engaged by defenders.

"What do you think Machel?" asked Pashar Bei. "You traveled with Tag Makk as he led the Turuck armies through the free cities of the north. Did he ever leave one untouched that was out of his way? Or did he crush each one?"

"He left no city untouched. We crushed the leadership of each and installed new leaders who swore fealty to Tag Makk. He would personally execute the leaders who resisted him in view of the people. He crushed their skulls with his war hammer. He was very cruel. The Menaloch was driving him mad."

"Do you believe me to be mad?"

"I hope not. I have not spent much time in Mordyn and cannot gauge the touch of Lady Galamog. I did spend too much time in the company of the black box that held the idol of the Menaloch and it was not pleasant. Mere minutes would bring the buzzing voices into your head and hours would scatter your thoughts and you would be useless the next day. I do not know how he survived so long in close proximity to that thing."

"Ah, the Menaloch is not a subtle god. But then, few of the Jungegud are. They do not work from afar like their elder brethren but rather they like to meddle, push and prod. Lady Galamog has a light touch but its steel is evident. She has no desire for insane servants. I wish I had met Tag Makk."

"You are a strange man, Pashar Bei. How long have you been a sorcerer?"

Pashar Bei looked up to the taller Machel Moet.

"Twenty seven years. I am 53 years old and I have not aged a day during the last twenty six years." He called his captain to him.

"Loke Mar, take your men and deliver the city of Lathor to me. We shall not allow their king to rule without my permission. Bring him to me to swear fealty and then we shall move on to Calendia. Do not kill too many."

The Celaeri changed their direction toward Lathor and the Wierland soldiers waiting on the lowlands for them turned and retreated back to the city. The Celaeri yelled and gave chase determined not to allow the battle lust to pass.

"Come Machel; tell me more about Tag Makk."

"Well, he was tall and strong and skin dark reddish brown. He had been Overlord of the Turucks for a long time when the Warlords decided it was time for a new Overlord. They attacked and he fled into the desert wandering for weeks. The Warlords kept hunting him until they found him, but they were too late. He had found a black stone idol buried in the sand and dug it out. It whispered to him, told him secrets and promises and when the Warlords cornered him, he killed all of them with the help of the Menaloch. He returned to his people and demonstrated his new powers and the people kneeled before him. He made a gold box to carry the black idol and kept it with him at all times."

"The Menaloch was this idol?" asked Pashar Bei.

"Yes. The Altengud Cothos had fooled the Menaloch into triggering the spell that cut it off from the outside world and imprisoned it. Over the centuries the Menaloch found ways to send its thoughts out to sentient beings but there were few in the desert."

"So what did Tag Makk do with his iron control over his people?"

"The Menaloch hated the Daerlan and at one time the Turucks and the Daerlan were one race. The Menaloch must have thought it poetic to warp the mind of Tag Makk to drive him to destroy the Daerlan."

"Ah, that would entice the Jungegud. Very good. So the Turucks began conquering their neighbors? I believe that was in the histories."

"Yes," said Machel "Each time they grew stronger and the Menaloch's grip was tighter. Finally, Tag Makk decided to cross the sea to Amloth and seek out the Daerlan."

"And he was defeated in Eslenda? By Men?" asked Pashar Bei.

"Not just Men. The Talos Company was fighting with the Eslendians."

"Ah, the Talos Company. Did you see them?"

"Yes, before I fled. I am not fighter and the outcome was becoming clear."

"I do not blame you," said Pashar Bei. "Before I had magic I would have been running ahead of you. Was the leader of the Talos Company the legendary Kerreth Veralier who died at the hands of Wulfgeld?"

"Yes, the very same. I was uncertain if Wulfgeld would defeat him."

"As was I. Veralier was very powerful almost a creature of magic himself. It was said he was the only Zidar without magic."

"Many half breed Zidar have magic, why wouldn't Veralier? Perhaps he wasn't Zidar. What race had tusks? I never heard of any."

"I do not know. The tusks always intrigued me. Perhaps he was part god?"

"That is scary," said Machel. "Is he really dead?"

"Wulfgeld decapitated him to be sure. If he was less than a god, then he will remain dead. So, back to Tag Makk. Was he insane at the end?"

"I believe so," said Machel. "He was driven to attack even when the odds shifted. He once was a fine strategic mind but it abandoned him. At the end he rushed into battle without planning. He just followed his rage."

"The Menaloch took over him by then I believe. The Jungegud never ease their touch on your mind." Pashar Bei seemed to have a new thought and was quiet for a moment.

Machel Moet looked at him.

"Are you curious about Tag Makk to compare to your own situation? Do you feel Galamog eating away inside your mind?"

Pashar Bei looked at Machel and his eyes grew cold.

"Fall back. I will walk alone from this point."

Machel felt rather than heard the faint crackle of sorcery and quickly put several yards between himself and Pashar Bei. Lockwell had warned him to step carefully. He focused on calming his heartbeat as he walked to join the soldiers at Lathor. The Celaeri had already forced the gate and stormed inside the city. The speed of the Celaeri cut through the defenders and they were merciless. Wierland would soon fall.

Captain Amatir abandoned his collapsed horse and ran to the woods, his lungs burning. Panic had nearly overcome him but he was thinking again now. His legs felt heavy and he stumbled often but soon the stress began to subside. He leaned against a tree breathing hard.

Curesia had surrendered. It's capital, Jespin, was battered, its gates thrown down. Pashar Bei controlled Curesia and the royal family locked inside their apartments in the castle. The remainder of the Curesia army now marched under the flag of Pashar Bei. The sorcerer's goal was Calendia and he was passing through Curesia and Wierland without concern for those kingdoms but if they stood in his path, then he would conquer. At least that's what Amatir thought until part of the Curesia army took up their swords and followed Pashar Bei. It had to be sorcery, but it still made the odds greater in Pashar Bei's favor.

He could see the faint images of the Celaeri soldiers veer from their easterly course and head north directly to Lathor. Amatir had hoped the city would get a pass since the Wierland king had wisely not set soldiers to contest Pashar Bei's passage through Wierland. But Pashar Bei did not appear to be content with passage through Wierland; he wanted it under his heel. King Rallot would feel the might of the Celaeri after all. Amatir wondered where Corporal Perat was. He hoped the corporal was safe in Nantitet by now. There shouldn't have been any reason for Perat to stay long in Lathor. If he was still there it could cost Perat his life.

The Celaeri appear to have reached the walls of Lathor before the first defender launched an arrow. Amatir turned and made his way eastward, praying Perat warned Calendia. He ran as far as he could and then sat down for a rest. He needed a few minutes so he could continue.

Amatir rested and woke up from a nap he did not mean to take. He jumped to his unsteady feet and saw movement to the west. The Celaeri were closing fast. He raced ahead of them certain the scouts had seen him.

Amatir skirted along the top of the valley keeping an eye on the Celaeri behind him but they did not give chase. They marched in an orderly fashion toward the valley. Amatir saw soldiers on the far side of the valley edge. At this distance it was difficult to be sure but the colors appeared to be Calendian. It wasn't a large army; only an advance company and the numbers were far too few to stop the Celaeri. Where was the bulk of the High King's army? Why hadn't they come to fight the Celaeri? What could keep them from defending against the Celaeri advance? Amatir had first hoped to gain protection from the Calendian army but the lack of numbers changed his mind. There was no way the small company could withstand Pashar Bei's advance. He would have to continue on to Nantitet.

Pashar Bei's soldier's march into Wierland did draw the attention of the Calendian army and an advance company was sent to test the mettle of the invaders. One company was all they could afford to spare with the larger Mordyn army matching from the east. Captain Percane waited for the scout's report. He stood on a rise with a view to the valley below. Beyond the valley were the highlands where the Wierland city of Lathor snuggled under the mountains. Pashar Bei's soldiers would come through the valley if Lathor fell. Percane had six hundred men in his company; enough to slow the advance of the Celaeri for word to reach Nantitet if attack was imminent. His soldiers were disciplined and would resist the images thrown at them by the sorcerer to unnerve them. With such a small force Pashar Bei had to be relying on his magic to intimidate his opponents. He would find the Calendian soldier a different creature altogether. It had only been a few days since word that Curesia was under attack had come to Calendia. Percane had already set out from Nantitet and was deep within Wierland when word reached him of Curesia's fall. He immediately sent a messenger back to the High King and decided to wait for Pashar Bei to come to him.

One of the advance scouts came riding back from the west. It was Monty, the most experienced soldier Percane had under his command. The man could smell an enemy at a hundred yards.

"What? They only attacked Jespin with five hundred. Where did they get the rest? Are they all Celaeri?"

"Five thousand! Did they come out of the air?" asked Percane. "That many Celaeri change the complexion of our strategy greatly. Let me think. How best to slow down so many soldiers faster than we are?"

"Pardon me, Captain, but aren't they led by a sorcerer?" said Sergeant Lankel.

"Yes. Pashar Bei is his name I am told. He's Mordyn."