by M J Webb
Sawdon nodded his head sharply in acknowledgement and left the room quickly, grateful for the chance to redeem himself and determined to succeed this time.
“Forgive me again, sire.” said Melissa, clearly frustrated at being overlooked for such an important task. “But, if you are so determined to get those stones, why not send an army through? Why send only three warriors?”
“The Lichtus is not powerful enough to send more than three.” answered Vantrax. “We tried before, several times, each attempt failed. It was a long time ago, before you joined us, only small numbers made it through, the rest...? I do not pretend to know all of the Lichtus’ secrets, but somehow there is a limit on what it can do, crossing between worlds at least. I only know that three is the maximum we were ever able to send. Besides, Sawdon will not fail me a second time. He knows the consequences!” he declared boldly.
Vantrax turned to address the others in the room. “This news has shocked us all. But, as my young Sebantan Princess has stated, it is a great opportunity. And it is one which we shall seize. We continue as planned. I will strengthen the Southern Army, I will use the Lichtus once more to locate the rebels, and Stryos will command my Northern Army in a battle which will defeat them, once and for all. Melissa will proceed to the port of Riemkyn, where ships and soldiers of my raiding force await. She will recruit more soldiers and slaves. Obreth will return to the south and consolidate, hold what we have until Melissa joins him with fresh warriors. This event may yet provide us with a weapon to defeat both our enemies swiftly and decisively. But we will prepare all the same for every outcome.”
The evil King sat down in his chair, his mood had changed completely and he was now feeling rather pleased with himself. Obreth and Melissa bowed their heads and left the room.
“Strymos, come, stand next to me, and we shall see where your destiny lies. Nytig! The bowl!” he bellowed to his manservant, who’d been present throughout the meeting without saying a single word.
Nytig was an evil looking man with black, cold eyes, a long pointed nose and oversized ears, which were both ragged and deformed. His face and hands bore several warts and his teeth were black with decay, giving him the foulest smelling breath. He was of average height, but he walked with a stoop and a permanent limp; the result of having been born with one leg longer than the other. His clothes were all black, they were tattered and torn and hadn’t been washed for years, creating an even fouler smell that only King Vantrax seemed oblivious to.
He shuffled out of the room and returned almost immediately with a large bowl of water, which he placed on the table in front of his master without saying a word. Vantrax opened his shirt and pulled out the Lichtus, he lifted it from around his neck and held the stone out in front of him, above the bowl of water. Then he closed his eyes and began to speak in an ancient Rhuaddan dialect.
“Brystolanu psof kashtuk allanakshue deshlish
Brystolanu psof kashtuk allanakshue deshlish
Brystolanu psof kashtuk allanakshue deshlish
Brystolanu psof kashtuk allanakshue deshlish, metroush!”
The white stone suddenly began to shine dimly, then it began to hum quietly.
“Tarowel bishtuk ishmir valanararg ashash!”
A bright beam of light shot out of the stone and down onto the water, causing it to ripple. When the water had calmed, a picture was clearly visible.
“There. There!” cried Nytig, excitedly clapping his hands and laughing.
“Control yourself, Nytig.” shouted Vantrax. “Let us see what we shall see.”
The vision was of an aerial, bird’s eye view of wide open countryside, large green meadows and hills, but as it kept moving rapidly over the land, they gave way and a huge forest of tall, leafy trees was revealed.
“They’re in Erriard Forrest!” shouted Strymos. “That’s good defensive ground.”
“Silence!” snapped Vantrax, annoyed once again at Strymos’ attitude and staring intently at the picture which was now weaving down at ground level, moving rapidly through the trees until it came to a clearing in the forest, where it stopped abruptly.
They could see a number of small groups of soldiers, all of them sitting around the remnants of campfires. Then the picture moved again, roaming from group to group as if searching for its quarry, until it settled finally on one particular group. And then, it focussed on one particular man.
“Artrex!” cried Vantrax triumphantly. “I have you now brother!”
Chapter 5
14th August – Ruddite Rebel Army Camp - Erriard Forrest - Rhuaddan
King Artrex was a thick-set man in his early forties. He had dark brown hair, green eyes and an almost permanent stubble on his face that came as a result of always being on the move and living off the land. He bore a permanently tired and haggard look which was accentuated by the ever present stubble. In years gone by Artrex had been a fine warrior. He possessed a powerful physique which he’d been trained to use well in combat. But a seemingly endless run of defeats and retreats had demoralised him in recent years and this once proud son of Kings was now a shadow of his former self. His stocky, muscular frame was now more portly in appearance and his once considerable strength and fitness had greatly diminished. Despite all of this though, he still maintained the image of a great warrior King. He wore splendid Jintan armour from head to toe, the chest plate of which bore the crest of his forefathers – a black horses head. Strapped proudly to his side was a long, majestic, silver sword, housed in a beautiful leather scabbard which was adorned with red jewels.
King Artrex and his Rebel Army had long since become accustomed to having to move constantly to avoid encirclement and capture. They had been heavily outnumbered for years by the superior forces of King Vantrax’ Northern Army. They travelled light, camps were deliberately erected and located so that they may be struck at a moment’s notice, lookouts were posted religiously and maintained at all times. Most of the rebels were Rhuaddan veterans who had fought in the ‘War of the Succession’ and had remained loyal to Artrex, despite the downturn in his fortunes. They had done so partially due to a genuine belief in their King and their cause, but mostly because of King Vantrax’ decree that no pardon would be given to any rebel soldiers if caught. Capture by the enemy they knew, would therefore inevitably lead to either immediate execution, or a lifetime of slavery in Vantrax’ Rhuaddan mines. As a consequence, the majority of Artrex’ forces were men and women of advancing years, supplemented by a few younger volunteers and the sons and daughters of existing soldiers, many of whom had been born on the move as rebels and fugitives in their own country.
King Artrex still commanded around eight or nine thousand veterans. However, they had been fighting for many years and their morale was dangerously low. They were all weary of war and in particular retreating. They were devoid of hope, fighting merely for survival, against a relentless enemy who had sworn to hunt them down to the last soldier. Their numbers were dwindling along with the shattered remnants of their morale. And Artrex knew it!
“Why so troubled old friend?” the King asked of his most loyal and trusted companion, who was sitting by his side on and old tree stump. “We are safe enough here in Erriard are we not? We are alive and amongst friends. Why then do you look so glum?” he continued, in a half hearted attempt to raise his friend’s spirits, even though his own were so desperately low.
The warrior looked at him and forced himself to smile a little. He wanted to respond to his King more cheerfully, but he was unable to conceal his true state of mind.
Knesh Corian was as good a soldier and friend that Rhuaddan had ever produced. He was a master swordsman and a brilliant tactician in the art of warfare. He’d led the King’s armies for many years, masterminding brilliantly all his military campaigns, which were always fought against far superior forces. He had personally been responsible for ensuring the ongoing survival of the rebel army beyond all military logic, for its very survival was considered by many to be a major feat of arms
in itself. Knesh was of a similar age to the King, he was a fit and powerfully built man who possessed awesome strength. He stood a mighty six feet three inches high and was almost as wide. His face and body bore the scars of many battles and since the King’s youth he’d been his friend, champion, adviser and Gerada. He was addressed, uniquely in Rhuaddan, using both his first and last names, a major honour bestowed upon him by King Artrex many years ago as a token of his people’s appreciation for his service to the royal family. He was fiercely loyal to Artrex and rarely left his side. He was respected and admired by everyone who knew him for his courage, leadership for the example he set to others. He was the major reason why the Ruddite Rebel Army had maintained its morale and discipline for so many years in the face of extreme adversity, despite being effectively defeated.
Gerada Knesh Corian wore a simple Jintan chainmail suit underneath a brown, thigh-length tunic, fastened tightly around his waist by his sword belt and scabbard, which housed a fine Rhuaddan longsword that he wielded expertly. Tucked into his belt was a hand fighting dagger and two smaller throwing knives were concealed in each of his brown leather boots. He wasn’t a man to be crossed. He possessed a fiery temper and he was cautious and sceptical of everyone and everything he didn’t know.
“Hmmn… We are safe here, for the time being sire I grant you. As for ‘among friends’? I hope so. But I must say what I feel my King.” stated Knesh.
“Tah, I would have it no other way my friend.” interrupted Artrex. “Go on, please.”
Knesh thought for a second and then replied. “We are as safe here as anywhere in this realm. But, we have been camped for two days now, we must keep moving! Forgive me, but your brother’s army may not be far away, we know he can see us with that stone of his, we must not allow him the time to organise and strike.”
“I hear you, Knesh,” replied Artrex, using just his friend’s first name as only he did, “as usual you speak the truth. But my people are tired. I am tired! We have sick and wounded with us who need to rest, we need food and provisions that these forests can provide. Believe me, I am aware of the dangers. A few days more and we shall move old friend, I promise you. Come now, I would hear you laugh and sing again. Let us try to relax a little while we can, I do not think we have done so in a very long time?” he said, smiling warmly at his companion.
Knesh Corian nodded. He could see that there was no point trying to change the King’s mind. In any event, he agreed with him that the army needed to rest. He and Artrex had shared many hardships together over the years. ‘Surely we have earned the right to relax, if only for a short while?’ he thought.
Against every one of his warrior’s instincts, he conceded the argument. Conceded, and hoped for the best.
As they sat down again with a group of soldiers who were resting by the remnants of a campfire, they each allowed themselves the rare luxury of relaxation. They listened for a time to the stories and songs of their compatriots and, for a short while, they forgot all about their dire situation and the lack of hope it fostered. But inevitably, their thoughts soon returned to the subject that weighed heavily on their minds. Artrex found himself thinking of the past, of the childhood he’d spent with his brothers, their parents, and some of the happier times he’d experienced as a youth. ‘How did it all come to this?’ he wondered, ‘I have been fighting for so long now that I’ve actually lost sight of what it was I began fighting for.’ He couldn’t remember at first why or when it had all begun. That seemed so strange to him. He chuckled silently to himself at having forgotten something so important. But the hatred he knew his brother felt towards him returned to his thoughts and jolted his memory. Suddenly, everything came flooding back.
As young Princes and heirs to the throne of Rhuaddan, Artrex and his brothers had wanted for nothing. Their every wish and whim was catered for. Their parents had ensured that they had the best tutors for all required subjects, from warfare or education, to manners, dancing and soc etiquette. For Artrex in particular, being the first in line to the throne, his whole childhood had been one long preparation for Kingship. His personal tutoring had taken precedence over that of his brothers, which had often been regarded as favouritism by his younger siblings, particularly the young, ambitious and jealous, Prince Vantrax. A rivalry developed between the two brothers that grew more and more intense as they aged. They drifted apart noticeably and Vantrax began to ally himself with the northern nobles, whose territories encompassed the lucrative mines of Rhuaddan, the ambitious Lords seeing nothing wrong in courting the favour of the young Prince who might one day succeed to the throne.
Artrex however, was too busy learning how to be a King and enjoying himself spending time with a young soldier called Knesh, who’d been inducted into his warfare classes and had quickly become a good friend, to be concerned about his brother’s activities.
The situation would have continued to develop as it had been, not ideal, but hardly disastrous, if it were not for two factors. Vantrax met and became fascinated by an old and evil wizard called Notorold, who lived in the caves near to the Lidzenstor mines. Notorold happily took the eager Prince Vantrax as his young apprentice, secretly teaching him the dark arts until his own death in the ‘War of the Succession’. It was during this time that Vantrax’ greed and ambition grew beyond measure, swayed by the influence of the evil wizard, he grew impatient for real power and he began formulating plans as to how and when he might take it.
The catalyst for action arrived in the King’s court around the time of Artrex’ eighteenth birthday and took the form of an extraordinarily beautiful Princess from Perosya, whose name was Eronene. Both Princes fell in love with her at first sight. Vantrax’ heart actually melted a little and he became determined that she would be his. He began attending court regularly and visiting the young Princess whenever he could. Over many months, he tried and tried to get her to love him. He really began to believe that he’d succeeded, but one day his father, King Vechtor and his mother, Queen Lloran, held a lavish ball to celebrate the arranged marriage of Princess Eronene to his arch rival and brother, Prince Artrex. The news completely devastated Vantrax, he retreated into his own solitary world of evil, becoming increasingly angry and bitter. He learnt as much as he could about wizardry and began plotting his revenge on the brother who, in his eyes at least, now had everything that should have been his.
Time passed by and Vantrax steadily but surely built up his forces, secretly recruiting allies and increasing his own vast personal wealth. He arranged clandestinely for the murder of several Rhuaddan nobles, managing to ensure that their wills were not contested when they surprisingly bequeathed everything to him, acquiring the great mine of Lidzenstor in this fashion amongst others. Vantrax rapidly became Rhuaddan’s richest and most powerful man. But all of this couldn’t be achieved secretly and the King and his advisors now determined to do something about it.
Vantrax was summoned to attend the Palace. On the night in question he was only half way there when King Vechtor’s servant placed an odourless and colourless poison into his drink, which killed the King instantly. The servant of course was in Vantrax’ employ, the poison was known to be used only by exponents of the dark arts, but Vantrax was en route to the Palace at the time of his father’s death and had the perfect alibi.
In the pandemonium that followed there were accusations and counter accusations but nothing could be proven. The arguments and divisions within Rhuaddan grew rapidly and two rival factions emerged when the subject of who should be the next King arose; those who supported the rightful heir to the throne, Prince Artrex, and those who wanted Vantrax to reign, motivated by greed, money and the pursuit of personal ambition. As war seemed inevitable Artrex’ ranks swelled initially with loyal subjects enraged at the challenge from his brother, but Vantrax brought in large numbers of foreign mercenaries, paid for by his secretly amassed personal wealth, and a bloody civil war began.
In the midst of all this upheaval, Artrex and Eronene were married (a mo
ve chiefly designed to gather support from the country of Perosya) and Eronene quickly became pregnant. She gave birth months later to the young Princess Zephany, who had the misfortune to be born near to a battlefield on the plains of Astelli. Possibly due to the stress of the situation and/or the conditions at the time, Eronene died in childbirth. Artrex was unable to be at her side as he was fighting a battle not far away. He’d never forgiven himself for not being there when his wife had died and, as he thought of it now, a tear rolled down his cheek.
The war raged for many years, taking the lives of many of Rhuaddan’s population, including the young Prince Nestus (younger brother to Artrex and Vantrax) who was killed fighting alongside Artrex, having reconciled any issues they once had. Again, the perverted logic applied by Vantrax blamed Artrex for Nestus’ death. The evil King now reasoned that he had far too many reasons to hate his elder brother and want him dead. He recruited more and more soldiers and he hunted his brother and his army down mercilessly. Vantrax’ superior forces won battle after battle until the war was effectively over and Atrex’ army was on the run. All that remained was to capture and deal with Artrex. But this final task had never been achieved. It was a problem that Vantrax was trying desperately to resolve.
