Forgotten Hero

by Brian Murray

  General Gordonia walked towards them. “It’s time,” he said, bowing.

  Rowet stood and hugged both of his daughters. Then he turned and left without looking behind him – that would have been too hard.

  ***

  To maintain secrecy, the Chosen left the city via a different route from the king. They agreed the Chosen’s group would meet up with King Logan a few hours later, outside the city walls.

  The Chosen and General Gordonia left with a company of Royal Lancers, via the docks. En route, they escorted Admiral Rendel to his ship, the Gliding Falcon. At the dock, the admiral spoke to the Chosen.

  “I wish you all the best. I will see you in Kal-Pharina.”

  “I will see you there, Admiral.”

  “Please, call me Reedie.”

  “Thank you Reedie,” said the Chosen, offering the smaller man his hand. The admiral shook hands and left for his launch. The admiral would sail part of his fleet to the port of Calcaloin in the southeast of Phadrine. There, companies of Royal Lancers, would go ashore and march north to Kal-Pharina. Once the soldiers had disembarked, the admiral would block the other ports along the eastern shoreline.

  With the admiral safely on his launch, the company of Royal Lancers slowly made their way through the afternoon rush. The Chosen now saw the city of Teldor in a different light. People hurried everywhere, completing whatever tasks they had. They rode through the busy docks and headed for Downtown, passing the offices of the City Watch.

  ***

  Captain Zorain sat at his desk, readying himself to leave for his afternoon patrol. He saw the Royal Lancers pass his window, their golden buckles and sword hilts glinting in the afternoon sunlight. He thought back to his conversation with the king and realised that many of these men would not be returning home to their loved ones. This made the big man sad, but he had his own problems. He had found two more dead informants floating in the bay, and another one had gone missing. With his little information network falling apart, for the first time he felt as if he had lost the pulse of the city.

  He rose from his desk as the last Royal Lancer passed his window. Then he noticed five men wearing heavy cloaks. He craned his neck over his desk to get a better look, but could only see the men’s backs. Maybe they are magic-masters, thought the captain with a shrug.

  “Conn!” he called.

  “Ready, Zorain,” replied the constable as he entered the captain’s office.

  “Good, let’s go and see what’s happening in my city this afternoon.”

  “Have you got your club?”

  “Club, dagger, and crossbow.”

  “Good, then shall we depart?”

  The two City Watchmen in their distinctive red knee-length coats stepped out into the afternoon sunshine.

  “Which way shall we go?” asked Conn. “To the market square?”

  Deep in thought, the captain watched the Royal Lancers disappear around the corner.

  “Zor?”

  “Aye?”

  “Shall we go to the market square?”

  “Aye, let’s go,” he said, as the last Royal Lancers disappeared. He said a silent prayer to the Divine One for the safe return of all the Rhaurns, then strolled off.

  ***

  The Royal Lancers continued their slow march through Downtown, along the cobbled streets and past the Flying Vessel tavern.

  ***

  Rayth the innkeeper heard the sound of horses’ hooves clicking on the cobbled streets and peered up, seeing a company of Royal Lancers pass his door. He ambled around his bar and stepped out into the sunshine. Shielding his eyes against the sun, he squinted at the men in heavy cloaks. A soft hand squeezed his shoulder.

  “No good will come of this, Aurillia, mark my words. None,” said the man gruffly without turning.

  “Father, they said it was only a training exercise. They do that, don’t they?”

  “When was the last time the whole army went on ‘training exercises’? I cannot remember the last time, and I was in the army.”

  “Well then, they’re going to war,” said Aurillia, playfully pinching her father’s cheek, then kissing it.

  Rayth smiled. “Aye, child. Mind the tavern for a minute,” he said, spotting an acquaintance across the street. “I have seen someone I need to talk to.”

  “Aye, Father,” said Aurillia, turning and walking back into the tavern.

  Rayth crossed the street and walked a short way down an alley, glancing across at the soldiers.

  “You want me?” asked Rayth.

  “Yes. This is not an army exercise,” said the man. “From what I have heard we’re going to war.”

  “I thought something was up.”

  “It’s not good.”

  The two men stood in silence while someone passed them.

  “Any news?” asked Rayth, his voice low.

  “Well, from what I can understand there’s something afoot at the docks, someone trying to take over. I don’t know who, why or when yet, but from what I have gathered, many new felons are turning up. This could turn nasty for the Mistress.”

  “Don’t worry about the Mistress, she has things under control.”

  “Well let’s hope so, ‘cos there are many worried people, very worried.”

  “You tell everyone the Mistress is well, and waiting for her new adversary to make their move. She will not step in first, that’s not her way.”

  “I will pass the message on.”

  “You be careful, you hear me, Kilos.”

  The young man beamed a smile. “You know me, Rayth, as careful as you.”

  Rayth left the younger man in the alley and returned to his tavern. He looked down the street to the market-square and saw the Royal Lancers disappear into the distance.

  “Afternoon, Rayth.”

  “Captain Zorain, what a surprise,” he replied without turning, recognising the captain’s high-pitched voice.

  “Any problems?”

  “With me, Captain, of course not. Just watching our brave men go on their manoeuvres.”

  “How’s your daughter?” asked Zorain.

  Now Rayth turned to face the Captain of the City Watch. “She’s fine, thank you,” he answered coolly.

  “Good, we will be on our way then.”

  “Farewell.”

  Rayth watched Captain Zorain and Constable Conn walk towards the market-square. He did not dislike the captain, in fact he respected him, as the captain was a hard man but fair. The problem was they were on different sides of the law. Rayth shook his head, thinking about the upcoming war, as he turned and returned to his tavern.

  ***

  An hour after leaving the palace, the company of Royal Lancers escorting the Chosen reached the gates in the outer wall of Teldor. Once outside the city wall, the Captain of the Royal Lancers called for the raising of the standards. The first bore the royal family’s crest, a golden kestrel within a diamond on a dark blue banner. The second, the Royal Lancers colours, was blue with a gold diagonal strip.

  ***

  King Logan made a more public departure from the palace. His wife and daughter stood on the steps of the palace waving him off. He turned, smiled at his wife, and nodded. She just smiled back.

  He left heading eight companies of Royal Lancers, with General Brooks at his side. They rode through the main streets of Up Town and the trading district.

  ***

  Emyra watched from her garden as the king rode past with his Royal Lancers. She smiled and obediently waved when the king looked over at her, then turned and went back inside her home. Once inside, her serving girl poured her a glass of fresh apple juice. Emyra thanked the girl, who hurried back to the kitchens to finish her chores. Emyra sat in her study, deep in thought, and wrote a message for Rayth. Once finished she called the serving girl, and arranged for the note to reach Rayth at the Flying Vessel tavern.

  Emyra had no idea why she should be so worried; nothing had bothered her so much before. Perhaps the king leaving or the
problems at the docks irked her. She shrugged her shoulders when she found no answers. She decided to run herself a hot, perfumed bath and have a soak, as she usually managed to solve all her problems in a hot tub.

  ***

  The king made his way through the outer gates of Teldor. Following protocol, the guards raised his standard at the gate and then drew it down to half-mast. He passed through the gate and looked back, shivering, and could not shake off the feeling of dread that filled his heart. He quickly dismissed the thought and issued his orders.

  “General Brooks, please lead the men.”

  “Aye, sir,” replied Brooks, saluting. He turned to the nearest officer.

  “Captain, send out scouts and trackers.”

  “Yes sir.” The captain shouted his orders.

  “Your Highness, we should meet with the others around dusk,” advised the general.

  “Good.”

  “We should also be meeting our first band of foot soldiers the day after tomorrow. The cavalry is positioned an hour’s ride from the Glass Mountains and there are more foot soldiers on the other side.”

  “How many men will we have by the time we reach the Steppes?”

  “All told, Sire, around thirty thousand.”

  “Good, and the reserves?”

  “Most of the reserves are in the northern outposts, in case of problems from the Kharnacks. The remaining axe-wielders are in Sandall, southeast of Teldor.”

  “How many men are there, Brooks?”

  “There are two to three thousand seasoned warriors.”

  “Excellent,” replied the king, watching the scouts disappear over a hill. Logan swivelled in his saddle and looked back at his city. He still could not shake off the nagging, unsettling feeling in his stomach.

  ***

  Dax decapitated the Dark Brethren with one mighty swing of his axe, hacking above the warrior’s chain-mail neck-guard. Crimson plumed high into the air and stained the virgin snow in a long streak before the corpse toppled from his horse. With the other axe, he hacked a Kharnack from his mount. He breached the line and in his wake two heads tumbled to the ground. Now through the line, Dax grabbed the horse’s reins and yanked to the left, causing his horse to turn sharply. He saw Zane cut down another Kharnack as he pushed through the line. Dax did not wait, seeing the edges of the Kharnack line close in around the wedge. The charge faltered. Zane, Captain Waid, and the two Royal Lancers managed to punch through, but the others found themselves in the middle of a mounted swordfight.

  “Ride to Ubert and get help, we will be behind you but I do not think we can outrun the other group,” he shouted at Zane, pointing to the Dark Brethren thundering down the hill. “Now move, I will gather the men and join you, but get more men here now!” Without another word, Dax charged back into the melee, his murderous axes swinging.

  Zane stared at the others fighting the Kharnacks. “Captain, you and the Lancers ride to get help. I will stay here and help the others.”

  “But your Highness . . .”

  “That’s an order, Captain!” bellowed Zane. “RIDE!”

  Captain Waid did not hesitate. He knew that only with help would they all survive. “Lancers! Ride!” he ordered, turning his horse and galloping off towards Ubert. Several Kharnacks gave chase but Zane charged into them, his sword arm swinging and deadly.

  ***

  Thade, still weakened from his torture, battled from his stationary horse with both gladiator swords, but his energy quickly faded.

  ***

  Tanas fought coolly. He sensed his company was greatly outnumbered but battled on, his blades already covered in thick blood.

  ***

  Gammel found it difficult to swing his broadsword on horseback, but fought on grimly. Every part of him wanted to charge the Dark Brethren who loomed ever closer, but he would not leave his friends.

  ***

  The Dark Brethren galloped along the base of the valley towards the fighting. Most of them were not true warriors from the sect, but trainees recruited out of the Horde ranks for their mystic abilities. They thundered on, closing the gap.

  ***

  Dax and Zane charged into the backs of the Kharnacks, cutting and killing with every swing and stab. Then a gap appeared and Dax roared, “Ride!”

  The others did not need asking twice and as one, the group carved their way through the clansmen. Just as they escaped the Kharnacks, a stray sword slashed Gammel’s horse. The gelding reared up and fell, catapulting its rider into the snow.

  Gammel rose quickly to defend his position; luckily his sword was more suited for standing combat. A Kharnack rider charged the blacksmith, but Gammel kicked him, slicing down and across the man’s ribcage. A second managed to cut Gammel across his broad back before the big man smashed his spine with a backhand swipe. Swiftly, the Kharnacks surrounded him.

  Zane risked a glance over his shoulder and saw Gammel’s horse dive. He stopped his horse in a cloud of snow and turned to face the melee again. Emerging from the plume of snow, he held his curved cavalry sword outstretched to one side. Using his horse as a living weapon, he slammed into the Kharnacks. Cutting and kicking, Zane pushed his horse between the tiring Gammel and the remaining few Kharnacks.

  “Get a horse!” screamed the prince as he cut down the last Kharnack. “Now Gammel, we need to leave.”

  Zane looked up and saw the Dark Brethren bearing down on top of them, then watched Gammel climb into a horse’s saddle. Slapping his horse and Gammel’s mount, they charged after the others.

  Minutes later the Dark Brethren rode over the bodies of the fallen Kharnacks, flicking up clumps of blood-stained snow.

  Zane lay along the neck of his horse, giving it its head, and galloped across the snow-covered ground. He looked around and saw Gammel desperately trying to keep up, but swaying in his saddle. The wound on Gammel’s back began to sap his strength. Zane prayed to the Divine One for the big man to remain in his saddle. Looking forward again, he could only see the snow kicked up by the others. He craned his neck. Gammel was gone.

  The blacksmith had disappeared into the white background. Zane reined in his horse violently. Stopping, the beast skidded on its hooves, sitting back on its haunches to halt its gallop. In a cloud of snow, Zane wheeled his horse and headed back for Gammel. He found the former blacksmith face down on the ground. Zane dismounted, not looking to see how close the enemy was. He grimaced, seeing the wound on the broad back, and carefully he turned the man onto his side.

  “Gammel, you must get up,” pleaded the prince desperately.

  With great effort, Gammel rose and stood on his wobbly legs. Zane felt relief, but it vanished when he looked around. His horse had galloped off. There was no way to escape. Gammel crumpled to his knees, his legs no longer able to support his weight.

  Zane saw the dark riders bearing down upon him. He shot a glance back, seeing only snow. There would be no support. Fear struck the young prince, gnawing at his insides. He gazed at the fallen Gammel, reached down and helped the big man to his feet, supporting the man’s weight on his shoulder.

  “Gammel, we’re alone, but we must buy our friends some time. You must help me.”

  “My sword, boy,” whispered the former blacksmith hoarsely. “Give me my sword, I can stand against these whoresons.”

  Zane found Gammel’s broadsword and handed it to him.

  “Boy, if nothing else, it has been an honour to fight next to the heir of our Kingdom. You’re a good man.”

  Zane felt a lump in his throat as he watched the riders drawing closer, his fears growing.

  Then Gammel seemed to dig deep into his inner reserves and he bellowed in defiance.

  “Come on, you whoresons! Let Gammel and Prince Zane teach you a lesson. We stand here and now, men waiting. You can kill women and children, now try men.”

  Screaming his battle cry, Gammel charged on foot at the riders. Zane stood in shock, watching Gammel defiantly charge the riders as they massed upon him. The prince thou
ght he looked like a twig facing a tidal wave, but such a wave could not always break a lone twig. Realisation of pending doom struck and all fear washed away from Zane. He too ran at the riders.

  ***

  Through the flurries of snow behind Zane and Gammel came a huge battle cry. The sun caught and glistened on his bloodied death-dealers as Dax charged mercilessly through the snow to aid his friends. Again, Dax dropped the reins onto the horse’s neck and pushed it faster to close the gap.

  The first rider reached Gammel, but the big man quickly slashed through the warrior’s sword arm. A sword blade from another rider slapped Gammel on the side of the head and he collapsed into a heap on the snow-covered ground. As the warrior loomed over Gammel, ready to deliver the death stroke, Zane killed him. The black-clad warriors halted their gallop and surrounded Zane, who now defended his fallen friend with his life.

  Suddenly, Dax smashed into the warriors, swinging his axes in a crimson mixture of death and mayhem. Dax’s horse was cut from beneath him and he dived clear, rolling and coming up on his feet still swinging his death-dealers. Fighting to reach Zane, he received several wounds, but nothing was going to stop him.

  Then, unexpectedly, the Dark Brethren pulled their horses back and in unison calmly dismounted. Surrounding the three men, they slowly marched forward. A stillness filled the air, the calm before a murderous storm.

  The two men stood waiting.

  “Is he alive?” asked Dax, breathing heavily, his words misting in the icy air.

  “Yes, I think so,” replied the exhausted prince.

  “Thank you for coming back for him.”

  “He’s my friend and comrade, what did you expect?”

  “Nothing less.”

  Dax smiled at the prince, then turned towards the Dark Brethren.

  “Come on you whoresons, you have me, Dax, with my dealers of death, and Prince Zane, heir to the Rhaurien throne to deal with. You should know you cannot win, so be good fellows and make it easier for us by lining up one at a time.”