by Brian Murray
“I thought you needed a little help, Sire,” he said with a guilty smile.
Zane returned the smile. “Most appreciated, my big friend.”
Gammel scooped Zane up into a bear hug and boomed, “WE WON THE DAY!”
Nearly choking, Zane managed to reply, “Aye, we did.”
Dax arrived and tapped Gammel on the shoulder. “I know you are happy, my friend, but smothering our prince may cause us a wee problem.”
Gammel looked at Zane over his hug and smiled. He kissed the prince’s forehead and put him down, patting him hard on the back, nearly sending Zane sprawling over the wall. “The boy can take it. Solid, this one.”
Zane smiled weakly, looked around the compound, then called, “Captain.”
“Yes, Sire,” replied Waid wearily, his face splattered with blood.
“Can you report in an hour?”
“Aye, Sire.”
Dax took Zane by the shoulder and led him down the stairs.
“What happened to Gammel?” asked Zane. “He looked like a madman up there.”
“It’s a long story, but to answer your question, those Dark Brethren are the ones who killed his kin.”
“Ah.”
“You did well up there, Zane. I saw you defend the big man and for that you, again, have my thanks.”
“He’s a friend, Dax,” replied Zane, frowning.
“I know.”
“Damn, I need a bath and some sleep.”
A rich, deep laugh boomed and Dax hugged the younger man. “Aye, you do. You smell like a horse’s arse.”
“And you don’t smell any better.”
“That I know, boy . . . That I know.”
They crossed the outpost to Zane’s office where Thade and Tanas joined them. Both men looked like the walking dead, dragging their feet.
It started to snow again; the white flakes soothed the tired, hot defenders. The snow did not stop.
***
Inside Zane’s office, the prince and Dax waited for Captain Waid to arrive and report. Both men expected the worst, as the night had been a bloody affair.
A knock on the door filled the quiet room.
“Come in, Waid,” called Zane anxiously.
The captain had washed but the dark smudges around his eyes highlighted his tiredness.
“Waid, have a seat. Would you like some tisane?”
“That would be most kind, Zane.”
Zane poured Waid some hot tisane and placed the goblet before him.
“How bad is it?” asked Dax.
Waid cupped the goblet in his hands, warming his fingers and answered, “We didn’t fare too well last night, Dax. We lost seventy-three men and a further fifty-two were injured and will not fight again. However, it seems we did kill roughly eight to nine hundred of the Kharnacks and the armoured warriors.”
“How many fighting men do we have left?” asked Dax, grimacing.
“In total, we have two hundred and fifty able men.”
Zane shook his head. “With so few men, we will not be able to withstand another night like the last. What do you think, Dax?”
Dax pondered before answering. “Well, we have few choices; either fight as we have done or give up the walls.”
“But giving up the walls means giving up Ubert,” said Zane sharply.
“I know.”
“What about taking the fight to them?”
“Well, with the snow falling, I do not think that would be a wise idea. However, if the snow remains this thick, there is a chance we could sneak out of the outpost and make a run for it.”
“I will not give up this outpost,” protested Zane, adamantly.
This change in attitude did not faze Dax and he continued, “Zane, we may have to give Ubert up. We need to join your father’s forces and find out about the relics.”
“That I know, my friend, but I . . . will . . . not . . . let . . . Ubert . . . fall.”
The men in the room stayed silent for a while.
“Zane, it has been over three weeks and we have to decide when to leave.”
“I know, Dax,” said the prince, rising from his chair. “We have to be on our way, but not just yet. We can still win this fight.” Zane started to slowly pace up and down the room.
“The only way we can win the situation is if the snow keeps falling and the Kharnacks go home.”
“Well, you never know,” answered Zane, smiling his crooked smile that quickly faded.
Outside, the attack alarm sounded again.
***
In Kal-Pharina, Tucci had met all the local business leaders and senior officers in his army. He had imprisoned thirty men, including the new Master Armourer, Platos, and two generals for not pledging their allegiance. The rest were businessmen unwilling to give up their fortunes and bow to their new emperor, whispering carefully chosen words.
During the day, Tucci spent most of his time taking his black crystal drug. This meant that the emperor spent most of his time hallucinating, seeing assassins and killers at every turn. Most men and women walked through the palace petrified to see the emperor. He was as likely to throw them in the dungeons or execute them, as talk to them. More likely, the man would rant and rave. With saliva running down the side of his mouth or flying, Tucci would shout at anybody over anything. He had several people tasting his food, and even people trying his bath before he entered – though after a while he gave up bathing. His life now circulated around the Darklord, his three guests, and the black crystals. All ate away at the young man’s mind.
At night, Tucci enjoyed the Darklord’s quiet company. He said little, but the mage’s presence alone kept Tucci content. Later in the evening, he would either visit the dungeons to interrogate a prisoner or have a woman or child waiting in his room. The palace servants did not like entering the emperor’s or his guests’ rooms. They hated removing the small bodies left behind, sometimes dismembered and never alive.
***
At Ubert, the Kharnacks attacked during the day, but without much conviction, and the defenders easily repelled the clansmen with minimum loss of life. At dusk, the Kharnacks retreated and the Rhaurns reduced the patrols on the wall to a minimum watch.
The snow fell more heavily and visibility from the wall was reduced to a couple of strides. This worried Zane and he asked Captain Waid to increase the security around the outpost. Waid suggested having all the men ready in case the Kharnacks managed to sneak up, breach the wall, or get to the gates. Zane agreed. For the next couple of days, the snow continued to fall heavily, whipped up and blown into blizzards by a gusting northern wind. During this time, the Kharnacks had not attacked, but Waid maintained the watches along the wall.
On the fourth day the weather finally broke. Dawn greeted the men with clear blue skies and bright sunshine blessed the outpost, though an icy chill remained. Captain Waid came running into the prince’s office, forgetting to knock, and charged straight in. Dax, Thade, Tanas, and Zane looked at him, puzzled.
“Zane, I think you should come and have a look outside,” yelled Waid excitedly.
“Look at what?”
“It’s better if you come and see it for yourself,” persisted the captain.
The men left the office and followed Captain Waid to the northern wall. Crunching through the fresh powder of snow, the men carefully climbed the stairs and reached the parapet.
To the north of the outpost, where once five thousand odd Kharnacks had camped lay only virgin, white powder snow.
“When?” asked Dax, not believing his eyes.
“I’m not too sure, but they have definitely gone,” said Waid, stating the obvious. He beamed at the others.
“There are no footprints, which means they must have left a couple of days ago, during the storm,” added Thade.
Realisation struck Zane and he smiled broadly. “We have done it. WE’VE DONE IT! Ubert is still a Kingdom outpost,” he yelled happily.
The news spread like wildfire and more and more men
from the outpost spilled onto the northern wall. Within minutes, every able man stood on the wall looking north in disbelief. Reality set in – they had won. They HAD won.
A single voice started a chant. “Zane! Zane!”
More and more men joined in. The chanting reached a crescendo as Dax and the other friends added their voices. Zane raised a sword aloft and the men roared with delight. Zane beckoned the crown to hush. Silence engulfed Ubert.
“Men, this is an historic day. We have defended the outpost of Ubert with stout hearts and pride and I am proud of each and every one of you. However, let us take a moment to remember our friends and comrades who have fallen during his time. They will never be forgotten.”
Zane paused for the men to reflect and remember their dead friends and comrades.
After a moment of silence, he continued. “It has now come time for me and my friends to leave Ubert, as we have business elsewhere that is a matter of urgency for the Kingdom. Captain Waid here will remain and take command of your outpost and as soon as possible I will arrange for relief. If anyone asks me, I will say I am proud to have fought alongside the men at Ubert as they fought like warriors, like true Rhaurns. I cannot reward you men now for your efforts, but again I will arrange for suitable coin to be sent. If any man here is down on their luck, come to Teldor, go to the palace, and say that you fought at Ubert alongside Zane, and I will help you all I can. Once again I am proud of you all. You truly are Rhaurns. Thank you all.”
A huge cheer went up when Zane finished his speech, and every man he passed shook his hand or patted his back.
***
Back in the office Zane asked Dax, Thade, Tanas, Gammel, and Gan-Goran to join him.
“The time has come for us to leave this place,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone.
“Which way are we going to go?” asked Tanas.
“Well, it’s too late for us to travel back to Teldor, so we must try and reach Kal-Pharina.”
All of the men in the room nodded in agreement.
“The only decision we have to make is which way to travel. We can head south back to Evlon, then across the Steppes to try and catch my father. Alternatively, we can head east from here along the Great Mountains and then turn south when we have passed the Steppes.”
“Well, the safer route would be to head east first,” added Thade. “However, with the snows, I’m not sure how safe that would be.”
“I agree with Thade,” said Gan-Goran, nodding. “The snows could hinder us as much as the Steppes. We need to choose our route to Kal-Pharina very carefully.”
All eyes turned to Dax, who sat in the corner. So far, he had not said a word.
“Dax, which way would you suggest?” asked Zane.
“Of the two options, I would prefer to travel east and then south. The Steppes are an unforgiving place and the heat during the day can kill. At least in the mountains where it may be cold, we can build fires to keep warm. There is nothing in the Steppes to keep us cool.”
“So it’s decided,” announced Zane, “we will head east. Now we need to prepare for our journey. I suggest we leave today and get a good start.”
“What about the Kharnacks? Which way did they go?” asked Gammel.
“That we do not know. But we will be travelling light and can take to higher ground to avoid them, if necessary. The Kharnacks could have gone in any direction including south, so we should not worry about them unless our paths cross,” answered Dax.
“Good, let’s get ready to leave. Commander Waid!” called Zane.
“I still cannot get used to the title,” said Waid, as he entered the office with a wry grin.
“That may be, but it suits you. Please can you arrange for a rider to go to Teldor? I have two letters to go as soon as possible.”
“I will arrange it now, Sire.”
Annoyed, Zane looked at the newly promoted commander.
“Sorry. Zane.”
“Waid, if we don’t meet each other soon, thank you for everything, and I wish you all the best in the future.”
Zane rose and walked around the desk. He paused in front of Waid and held out his hand. Waid took the prince’s hand and smiled. Zane pulled Waid into an embrace and whispered, “Thank you, my friend.”
Waid was lost for words when the prince released him.
“Now my friend, I have commandeered your desk for far too long.”
“Thank you, Zane.”
“Good luck, Waid,” said the prince, and he left the office. Waid watched Zane leave his new office and nodded. Deep down, he knew some day the man would make a great king. He smiled, sat at his desk, and called for Calac to arrange for a messenger – his first order as commander.
***
The six men packed their belongings and obtained supplies for their journey. By midday they had said their final goodbyes to Commander Waid, Calac, and the men and women of Ubert. Proudly, they passed through the gates and headed east. As they departed, a dark cloud rolled over the mountains from the north and once again it started to snow.
***
The Chosen rode ahead of the Rhaurien army, with ten Royal Lancers dressed in civilian clothes. They headed for the first watering hole, due east from where they had entered the Steppes. A few hours after midday, they could see the lush, green trees surrounding the large oasis. The Chosen called a stop to the march and removed his tunic to show the Chosen tattoo, then they continued. Around the watering hole camped the Dar-Phadrin clan known as the Landbow. The Chosen slowly approached the watering hole, passing the outer guards.
The clansmen in the camp did not know what to do; riding into their camp was their Emperor, their leader, the Chosen.
The Chosen dismounted from his horse, gazed around at the camp, and suppressed a smile when he spotted the clan’s colours.
“Is this the way you greet your emperor? Where is the Landbow’s chieftain? Where is Membis?” boomed the Chosen in his native tongue, his voice strong, radiating power.
A small, old man stepped from a tent and shuffled slowly towards the Chosen. Of all in the clan, only he had seen the Chosen before in the flesh. Many looked at the pale-skinned soldiers warily – most of the Dar-Phadrin warriors had hands gripping their sword hilts, but waited for orders. With every passing heartbeat, the tension thickened.
The old man stood close to the Chosen and squinted up at his face. Realisation struck him and he dropped to his knees.
“Your Highness, I apologise for my clan’s rudeness. We were told you had been killed and that you had gone to visit our ancestors.”
Seeing their leader drop to his knees and bow low at the feet of the newcomer, the men and women of the Landbow clan followed suit.
“Please don’t kill my people for disrespect, we were told your son now rules.”
“Only for the time being,” hissed the Chosen. “Now rise Membis, my friend, we have much to discuss. Bless your ancestors.”
The old man groaned as he tried to get to his feet and the Chosen helped him up.
“Thank you, my boy, sorry – your Highness.”
The Chosen told the Royal Lancers to water their horses and rest, then entered the tent of Membis and as custom dictated, the Chosen took Membis’s seat; the old man deferring to his superior.
“I am glad to see the stories of your demise are untrue, my lord. It is good to see you well.”
“Thank you, Membis. What news from my capital? I have been gone a long while.”
“Well, what I have gathered from the gossip is that your son has taken control of the palace and is going quite mad.” Membis paused, fearful, as he had spoken ill of the Phadrine prince in front of his father. But the Chosen just nodded for him to continue. The older man swallowed. “He has had all the priests and your Imperial Guards found either captured, or brutally killed, so many have gone into hiding to survive. There is an army of those barbarians from the mountains camped outside Kal-Pharina and evil men inside. It is said . . . it is said the palace is not a safe
place to go, especially for our little people.”
“You mean children?” asked the Chosen coldly.
“Aye, they go in and only bodies come out.”
“I will cleanse this foulness from our lands,” hissed the Chosen, his tone dark.
“I will follow you, my lord.”
The Chosen smiled. “That is good to hear, old friend.”
“But you will need a big army to defeat those barbarians.”
“I have one following me about half a day’s ride behind. They are the Rhaurns, led by their king, to help me capture my throne.”
“But the Rhaurns are our sworn enemy and always have been!” exclaimed Membis, in shock.
“We have a common enemy and they have come to help me. Will you help me?”
“I will gladly follow you, your Greatness,” replied the old man without hesitation.
“Good. The whole army will need water when they arrive. You can then join the force. However, in the meantime I will need some of your warriors to join me as I travel towards the capital.”
The old clan leader smiled. “My warriors are the strongest, the most ferocious in all your lands. They will protect you as your Imperial Guard would.”
“Thank you, old friend,” replied the Chosen.
After taking some refreshments, the Chosen and Membis emerged from the tent. Membis looked around at his clan proudly, nearly in tears, and announced, “Warriors of the Landbow, the true Chosen lives!” A huge cheer erupted. “He lives and has selected us to protect him against the evil in Kal-Pharina. You will ride at his side as his Imperial Guards and protect him against all. The evil in his home will be removed and our rightful leader will have his throne again. Warriors of the Landbow, prepare to ride.”
Another great cheer went up from the clansmen and all bowed towards the Chosen. An hour later the Chosen, the Royal Lancers, and over three hundred Landbow warriors headed southeast. Twenty other riders headed out, north, east, and south to spread the news. The message was simple: ‘The Chosen has returned.’
***
It started. News of his return would spread like a bushfire through parched shrubbery.
