Soldiers of Legend

by Stephen L. Nowland

  Chapter Nineteen

  The hustle of the busy camp woke Aiden just after dawn, his eyes sandy and his body aching from the punishing journey. Around him, horses were being saddled and campfires extinguished as weary cavalrymen prepared to move out once more.

  Dozens of newcomers had doubled the size of the camp overnight; the beleaguered survivors of Trinity. Seeking to flee the war, they seemed unaware that by joining the Aielish forces, they were headed directly for the fulcrum of the conflict.

  “The enemy is ascending the escarpment!” cried one of the men positioned near the edge of the precipice. “They are mere minutes away.”

  “Relentless,” King Seamus muttered as he was assisted back into his armour, an island of calm amidst the sea of activity. He was a towering figure of a man, barrel-chested and solidly built. The black-enamelled surface of his armour showed signs of being damaged and repaired, over and over again until the golden dragon emblazoned on his breastplate was barely recognizable.

  Men, women and children, along with many of Trinity’s soldiers picked up what little possessions they had brought along and immediately started heading north, unwilling to wait for their metal foes to reach the camp.

  Aiden helped Criosa with her equipment, as she and their other companions prepared to move out. Criosa was subdued and appeared to have missed another night of sleep. Aiden knew she was still plagued by nightmares, but he couldn’t spare a moment to console her now.

  “Majesty, I have recovered enough to teleport us directly to the fort,” Terinus advised the king in his rasping voice. The wizard was a disconcerting sight as always, for nothing was visible underneath the darkness of his hood, save for his chin and mouth.

  “I don’t want to leave my men,” the king replied firmly, testing the straps on his armour.

  “Sir Nigel is more than capable of leading the army to the fort,” the wizard counselled, leaning heavily on his tall staff. “There is no further need to risk yourself on their behalf. I urge you to return to the fort and rest more before the battle is upon us. If nothing else, think of the safety of your daughter.”

  “Very well,” Seamus reluctantly agreed. “Sir Nigel knows what is required of him?”

  “I have already made the arrangements,” Terinus assured him with a slight bow.

  “Why am I not surprised,” Seamus rumbled. Aiden, sensing an opportunity, stepped forward with Criosa in tow.

  “I’d like to request my companions and I accompany you,” he asked of the wizard, who stared back at him.

  “Sir Aiden, we meet again,” he remarked. “I have already spoken with Sahar, who mentioned your excursion into the desert. I am eager to discuss your findings, but I see little reason to bring along others when such numbers would further tax my strength. I…” his voice trailed off as he caught sight of Sayana, her tattoos starkly visible on her exposed skin.

  “It’s impolite to stare at a lady, mate,” Robert offered in a friendly voice edged with a subtle warning. He’d been given a spare breastplate the army carried, and he looked every bit the soldier once more as his piercing blue eye settled on Terinus. Sayana, ordinarily self-conscious of her tattoos, straightened and stood proudly, defiantly gazing at the black wizard.

  “If you have something to say, just say it,” she dared him. His response was not exactly what they had expected, however.

  “We need to move you all out of here immediately,” the wizard suddenly declared. “Gather around, and I shall transport us to the fort.” Aiden exchanged a confused glance with Sayana, but kept silent as he linked hands with the others. Terinus stood at the centre of the circle and after speaking an incantation for nearly a minute, the sight of the departing cavalry was replaced with a brief, purple sensation and a jarring sense of being thrown in two directions simultaneously.

  As quickly as it began, the brief transit ended, and Aiden recognized the surrounding confines of the small library at Highmarch where he had first met Terinus.

  “My word, that was unsettling,” Sahar breathed as she reeled from the effects of the incantation.

  “I’ll never get used to that,” Robert added, rubbing his forehead thoughtfully. The black-robed wizard staggered to one side and leaned heavily on his staff to avoid falling. The king grabbed him by the shoulders and looked at him with concern.

  “You accuse me of pushing myself too hard, when you can barely stand yourself, old friend,” he said reproachfully. “Why did you bring along all of these people as well?”

  “My motivations will become apparent in due course,” Terinus whispered as the familiar bearded face of Desmond appeared around the corner of the doorway.

  “Your Majesty,” he offered in a low bow to cover his surprise. “I had not anticipated your return quite so soon.”

  “Time waits for no man, Dean Foster,” Seamus responded, straightening himself up to cover his fatigue. “Is Lord Alastair decent?”

  “The baron is indisposed at this time, Your Majesty,” another man answered as he entered the library. Aiden recognized him as Sir Leonard, whom Criosa had placed in command when the baron had been overcome with grief.

  “He is well, I trust?” the king asked warily.

  “There are many things we need to speak of, sire. If you would come this way, I will bring you up to date on our current situation.”

  “As you wish,” Seamus answered cautiously. “Come along Criosa, I want to hear more of your story, too.”

  “Yes, father,” she replied, giving Aiden a quick look as she scurried along after the thumping armoured steps of the king.

  “We’re going to track down some fresh clothing,” Nellise mumbled, hugging herself to ward off the sudden chill of the mountain fortress. Sayana accompanied her out the door, glancing at Terinus with a mixture of curiosity and wariness. Robert followed directly behind with a similar look at the wizard, while Aiden took out the staff, its headpiece and the lead box containing the amulet.

  “We’ve found something of importance that might be useable against the Ironlord,” Aiden said to the two wizards.

  “What, so now you don’t even have a greeting for your tutor?” the old wizard blustered.

  “I’m… sorry, Dean Foster,” Aiden stammered. “It’s good to see you again.”

  “We don’t have time for chit-chat man, show us this damnable relic you’ve found.”

  “Er, right, of course,” Aiden replied hesitantly. “Sahar and I have determined these pieces fit together in some fashion. I might be able to figure it out with time, but I thought I’d run it past you.”

  “Wait, didn’t your little box explain how to assemble it?” Sahar interjected.

  “The translation is more challenging than usual,” Aiden admitted. “What little direction I could understand, I followed. I’m not even close to figuring it out. Maybe I’m just too tired. It’s been a rough week,” he added as he recalled the incredible sights — and dangers — of his journey.

  “We’ll take a look at it,” Desmond offered absently. “We could really use your insights though, lad. How about we get you a nice hot meal, and you can sit down next to the fire?” Without waiting for a reply, he called over a servant and ordered a platter of food. Resigned to his task, Aiden took off his breastplate for the first time in days and settled into a comfortable chair.

  After the food arrived, Aiden ate his fill, and then took out the Lexicon and began a careful study of the information concerning the staff. At a small table nearby, the sage and the two wizards conducted their own examination, drawing upon their combined knowledge of the arcane arts to find any clues as to its function.

  Aiden lost track of time as he delved deeply into the mysteries within the glowing pages. His weeks of study of this ancient language had proven useful time and again, but the detailed explanation of the staff seemed to be written back to front and upside down. He was constantly forced to reference the language section, as well as his own notes to unravel meaning from the Lexicon.

  When h
e took a moment to stretch his muscles and yawn, he noticed Terinus sitting across the room, looking in his direction.

  “A curious device you have there,” he remarked, gesturing at the worn little magic box with a gloved hand. “You seem to be full of surprises, Sir Aiden.”

  “Not as many as I’d like,” he replied. “I haven’t been able to decipher the purpose of the staff yet. Have you had any luck?”

  “Our work has nothing to do with luck,” Desmond remonstrated absently as he scrutinized the headpiece. “But as to the meaning of your question, I think it’s safe to assume that the headpiece has been damaged.”

  “We haven’t agreed on this point,” Terinus rasped.

  “I can find no other reason why it won’t fit,” Desmond insisted in exasperation. “Was it damaged when you found it, Sahar?”

  “It is now as it has always been, while in my care,” she answered. “I can’t speak as to whether or not it’s damaged, given that we have no other example to compare it to.”

  “We have not yet attempted to fit the gemstone to the centre of the headpiece,” Terinus pressed.

  “Wait, I have an idea,” Aiden interrupted as the conversation started to take a turn for the worse. He picked up the Lexicon and hurried over to the table, then turned it to the page where a diagram of the staff was displayed. He reached over and picked up the headpiece and held it close to the image, and felt a sinking feeling in his stomach as his fears were confirmed.

  “They look different,” Aiden explained sombrely. “The neck where it connects to the top of the staff is bent out of shape.”

  “The headpiece is made from auldsteel,” Terinus remarked gravely. “It would take considerable force to bend, and more than a blacksmith’s hammer to repair.”

  “So… what do we do?” Aiden asked, receiving silence from those around the table.

  “We still aren’t entirely certain what the connection to the Ironlord is,” Desmond remarked. “I’m not certain it’s worth wasting further time upon, given the situation.”

  “The situation is that monster is on its way here and nothing anyone has ever thrown against it has stopped the damned thing,” Aiden reminded him gravely.

  “I do not believe this to be a weapon,” Terinus interjected. “The Ironlord is already sufficiently armed, and a staff makes no sense. Furthermore, its shape suggests that it was not designed to be held by the Ironlord, but by individuals of roughly human size.”

  “… Its creators?” Sahar suggested.

  “Its controllers,” Terinus affirmed. On a hunch, Aiden peered closely at the staff, taking note of the runes he saw etched upon its surface. Then he searched through the Lexicon’s pages for those symbols, and finally located them in a reference section. The meaning was not entirely clear, but one of the words did stick out from the rest.

  “That series of runes roughly translates to the verb of ‘order’,” he said. “Whatever the rest of them do, it seems to me it’s the last rune to be lit in any sequence. It must be to command the Ironlord in some fashion.”

  “I have heard enough,” Terinus declared, picking up the artifacts. “I will teleport to the University in Fairloch and see what can be done to repair this relic.”

  “You have taxed yourself enough already,” Desmond reminded him. “I shall take us both there, that I might assist you in your efforts.”

  “If it isn’t too much to ask, I would like to accompany you further,” Sahar added.

  “Of course, my dear, your input would be most welcome.”

  “Very well, inform His Majesty of our task, Sir Aiden,” Terinus rasped. “It is my hope that we can return before the setting of the sun.”

  “Do be careful, my boy,” Desmond added. “Try not to get yourself killed before our return.” The three gathered together and the old wizard spoke the incantation to return them to Fairloch. Before Aiden knew it, they were gone in a rush of air, leaving him standing by himself.

  Raised voices could be heard as he made his way to the lord’s chamber. It was Criosa engaged in a heated discussion with her father, and Aiden was fairly certain it would be poor form on his part to walk in on a family meeting. While he stood mulling over his options, the clanking of Robert’s armour could be heard ascending the nearby stairs.

  “There you are,” the mercenary said as he spied Aiden in the hallway. “There’s something out here you’ve got to see.”

  Curious, Aiden hurried after the mercenary and met up with Sayana downstairs. She was now wearing a new set of simple but warm clothing. Together, they headed out the northern entrance to the keep and straight on towards the gate through the freezing mountain air.

  Captain Marshald waved them over as they approached, and moments later Aiden found himself at the northern gate of the fort. Nellise was already there, properly attired in a warm robe in addition to the remainder of her plate armour. The look on her face was one of wonder, and Aiden thought he saw a tear falling trickle down her cheek.

  The gate itself was open, but half a dozen guards held their pikes across the entrance, barring passage to a column of rough-looking people dressed in heavy furs lined outside on the frozen road.

  “Morik?” Aiden breathed as he laid eyes on the Akoran chief. His appearance at the fort was a surprise, but it was the people behind him that astonished Aiden, for queued up outside the gates were several hundred Akoran women, standing tall and proud behind their Chief.

  “Aiden, it is good to see you once more, my friend,” Morik called to him upon spotting him.

  “I hadn’t expected to see you here, let alone with an army of women,” Aiden answered as he moved closer.

  “Before your recent visit to my homeland, neither would I,” Morik remarked. “We have come to make amends for past wrongs, and to stand with you in your darkest hour.”

  “Let them through,” Aiden advised the captain, who nodded to his men to stand aside. Morik hefted a great axe over his shoulder and led the women of Akora through the gate.

  “They remind me of Valennia,” Nellise said wistfully. “Remember her strength? Imagine and army of her.”

  “We don’t have to, it’s right in front of us,” Aiden replied with a smile. The Akorans carried an assortment of heavy weapons on their backs, and the glint of armour was visible underneath the animal skins. More obvious than this, was the glint of proud resolve in their eyes, something Aiden and his companions hadn’t seen on their last visit to the frozen highlands. Morik stopped before Nellise and gave her a curt bow.

  “I would never have dreamed you’d ask this of your women,” she said quietly.

  “I didn’t,” Morik replied simply. “They insisted on helping when I would not, much to my shame. Long have the women of Akora conducted their own affairs far apart from the men, and to my surprise, they are more proficient with combat than I ever gave them credit for. The past few days have been a learning experience for me, my friends. We are small in number, but filled with courage.”

  “It all helps,” Nellise replied with a warm smile as the women marched past, each giving her a look of unabashed admiration along the way. Sayana was similarly emotional at the sight of her cousins marching to defend the realm, but Robert had a thoughtful expression on his face.

  “I’d feel better about this if I knew what they were capable of,” he confided to Aiden. “You saw the kind of punishment the legionnaires can dish out, and I don’t relish the thought of these people on the receiving end of that.”

  “Whether it’s them or us, someone has to do the fighting,” Aiden reminded him. “The more we have in this fight, the better our chances of surviving.”

  “You should get used to the fact that a lot of people are about to die,” Robert warned.

  “They will do us proud,” Sayana assured them confidently. Captain Marshald led the newcomers toward the southern area of the fort, with Aiden and his companions in tow.

  “Any sign of Spartan yet?” Aiden wondered, glancing up at the skies.

&nbs
p; “No, nothing,” Robert answered. “I hope he can make it in time or he’ll miss all the fun.” Aiden suddenly spotted Colt and some of the other rangers talking with the local guardsmen and a group of sailors from the Royal Navy.

  Standing near the big ranger was the tall, willowy figure of Mona. She seemed perfectly at ease amongst the other rangers, yet there was still some tension between her, Colt and Commander Armin.

  In contrast to the sparsely populated fort they’d left a few days ago, Highmarch was teeming with activity. There were thousands of people working away, the most prominent of whom were the dwarves of Stonegaard. Aiden had been expecting two thousand of them to come and it appeared as if they had kept their word. Roughly a third of the fighting longbeards were finishing up on the buttresses, heaving reinforced supports for the wall into place with a system of pulleys and ropes.

  A team of masons were inspecting the walls themselves, which appeared as if they had just undergone extensive repairs. Finally, the mainstay of the fort’s defences was being tended to by the remaining dwarves — the ballistae and catapults which would be instrumental in defeating the Iron Legion.

  A dozen of the oversized crossbows sat atop the battlements, with teams of engineers ready to operate them and rain down spear-like missiles. In the courtyard behind the walls, half a dozen catapults sat beside mounds of large rocks, ammunition that would soon be sent hurtling through the air.

  “Not bad, eh?” Robert smirked as Aiden took in the frenetic scene with astonishment.

  “Maybe we have a chance after all,” he murmured, noticing a large tarpaulin covering something in the compound near the catapults. “What’s that all about?”

  “Not rightly sure. It might be more ammunition for the catapults, but let’s ask the man in charge.” Robert led Aiden over to a group of the stout engineers who were busy discussing matters in their rumbling native language. The catapults towered over the surrounding defenders, a reassuring sight as one could hope for. One of the dwarven engineers was listening patiently to the others while puffing on a pipe.