Upon reaching the courtyard, Waxxon put on his wolf helm and drew his sword. Around the bonfires several dozen drunken Vykings lay sprawled out on the ground. Nightfall had yet to settle and already empty ale barrels were tipped over onto their sides. Waxxon placed the tip of his sword to the throat of one Vyking that seemed to have drunk more than his fair share.
The Vyking’s eyes opened and upon seeing Waxxon, they filled with sudden rage. “You best take your little blade from my throat before we split you in half.”
Waxxon’s eyes glistened from behind the helm. He leaned forward, pressing the sword tip harder. His voice became harsh and cold. “It’s best that you and your plundering brothers understand who’s in charge here.”
“You?” He laughed at Waxxon and tried to push the blade aside.
“What are you doing?” another Vyking shouted, rising to his feet.
Waxxon shoved the blade through the lying Vyking’s throat. Blood oozed out the back of his neck. Waxxon yanked the blade free and watched the Vyking squirm on the ground, clutching his severed neck.
The Vyking that had witnessed Waxxon’s attack stood quickly. He reached for his sword. “Brothers! The dog that wishes to be a king has slain one of ours!”
Waxxon growled and rushed the Vyking before he had a chance to get to his sword. “You’re worthless bloodsucking leeches! It’s time you either fight for me or get out of Hoffnung!”
He rammed his sword through the Vyking’s gut, twisted, and used his foot to shove the Vyking off the blade and to the ground. The Vyking placed his hands over the bleeding hole, gnashing his teeth in pain. He growled. Several dozen Vykings were now standing with their weapons in hand.
“What is this?” one asked, coming with his long sword in hand and his shield in the other.
“I’m the king of Hoffnung.”
“So? We don’t kneel before any king except Obed,” the Vyking replied with a harsh glare. “But I’ll be happy to gut you right here.”
The Vyking rushed toward Waxxon. An archer fired an arrow, piercing through the Vyking’s right eye, dropping him.
The Vykings stood in a line with their shields and weapons ready. They faced Waxxon and his guards, occasionally looking up, trying to see the archers on the dark balconies above.
Waxxon stepped toward them. “Armies are setting up camp outside of Hoffnung. I expect they will attack near sunrise, possibly sooner. Stand with us and fight these armies, or my soldiers and I will commence to killing all of you. We will throw your carcasses over the wall for them to see. Or, you can take the lifts down to the harbor and set sail for the Isles of Welkstone. Make your decision.”
A young Vyking with a blonde beard and braids pointed his sword at Waxxon and said, “I think removing your head from your shoulders sounds more satisfying.”
The Vyking crouched slightly, pretending to rush forward, and when the archer fired, he used his shield to block the arrow. He ran three steps, spun, and brought around his shield deflecting another arrow.
The Vykings behind him roared, encouraging the young warrior to fight.
Three arrows zipped downward. He caught one in the shoulder and rolled to the ground. The other two arrows struck the granite tiles. Keeping his momentum, he moved toward a pillar, and smacked a guard in the face with the pommel of his sword. The guard staggered, dropped his weapon, and the Vyking used the guard as a body shield. Five arrows struck the guard in the chest.
The line of Vykings beat their shields with their swords.
“Kill them!” Waxxon said.
The archers fired arrows at the Vykings, striking several in the throat and chest. The injured fell and thrashed on the ground. The rest dropped to their knees and hid behind their shields.
The young Vyking moved from behind the pillar and rushed toward Waxxon. Waxxon met his challenge. Their swords clanged and sparked. The impact rattled Waxxon momentarily, but he rebounded. He parried the young Vyking’s next strike. Instead of backing away, Waxxon moved in closer. With lightning speed, Waxxon thrust his dagger in between the Vyking’s ribs.
The young man stiffened, realizing the deadly strike. His eyes widened with defeat. Waxxon twisted the blade and pushed deeper. The Vyking dropped his sword. Waxxon held him close, watching his eyes weaken. After the Vyking fell to his knees, Waxxon jerked the blade free.
Arrows continued reflecting off the huddled Vykings’ shields. Waxxon raised a hand to halt. The archers lowered their bows.
The Vykings dropped the shields slightly and peered around.
“Fight with us or we finish you,” Waxxon said, pointing his bloody sword at them. “Not as my servants, but as hired warriors.”
The Vykings looked at one another, and then skeptically at Waxxon.
Through the wolf helm, Waxxon was intimidating. His boldness to stand against and kill the Vykings gained their respect. “I must add that we’re not just fighting armies, but also three dragons. I offer a chest of gold per dragon killed. That is, if you’re fearless enough to try.”
The Vykings grinned at that challenge. A Vyking stepped forward. “We have whale harpoons on a couple of our ships.”
“Can you disassemble one and attach it atop a watchtower?” Artos asked.
The Vyking nodded.
“Then do so,” Waxxon said evenly.
***
Shae’zar ran down the Corwin’s Pass and scrambled toward a large tree at the edge of road.
A Beast-Lord and four Goatmen stampeded behind her. Six imps squealed with wild glee as they sprinted to keep up. At her first glance she was convinced that she had seen lesser demons in the mob. Not seeing them now didn’t mean that they no longer pursued. They might appear in front of her, blocking her path.
Clutching the dagger in her teeth, she jumped and extended her claws, trying to grab the lowest branch. She missed and landed in a small thicket of bramble. Her pursuers encircled her at the base of the tree. She took the dagger from between her teeth and turned.
A deep rumbling laugh escaped from the Beast-Lord’s throat. His voice blended with the evil fierceness of an angered injured beast. He snorted, taking in her scent, possibly sensing her fear. “I can’t understand why Tyrann thought you to be such a problem. You’ve been the easiest prey I’ve captured in years.”
“I don’t recall ever seeing you,” she said. “What is your name?”
“Goraith.”
Goraith looked like the Goatmen but much heavier and taller. His horns were thick like a ram, curled backwards, and steel-coated to make them even stronger. A steel plate protected his forehead and ran down the bridge of his nose. Mucus leaked from his flaring nostrils and coated his long braided goatee. His violet eyes glowed. When he exhaled, a bleating sound murmured inside his throat. His goat-like teeth were sharpened to fine points and coated with polished steel.
Shae’zar sized him up. He was double her weight and at least two feet taller. Unlike the Goatmen that wore leather vests and pauldrons, Goraith wore steel plated armor. She looked into his eyes and sneered. “You’ve not captured me yet.”
She squalled with a bloodcurdling panther war cry. The sudden piercing sound sent several of the imps chattering and scurrying through the trees. A Goatman reached for her and she slashed his chest, ducked, and rolled. She grabbed the long goatee of another Goatman, yanked, and slit his throat with the dagger. As she rose to her feet, the Beast-lord struck the back of her head with his blunt mace. She fell unconscious on Corwin’s Pass.
“Bind her,” he said in a gravelly voice. “To appease Tyrann, try not to do any additional damage to her, as disappointing as that is for all of us.”
***
Boldair stood at the edge of the forest with Taniesse, who was in her human form again. A small campfire burned between them, making the dragon on her golden belt appear to be moving. He stared at her for a moment and then gazed into the fire.
“O’ Great One, why didn’t you tell me ‘bout me father upon our first meeting and the real
reason behind why he tried to kill ye?” His voice was glum.
“Would you have believed me, Boldair?”
“Ah, don’t know. Probably not.”
“Sometimes, you have to see the truth exposed before you can believe it.”
“That be true.”
Taniesse smiled when he glanced up at her. “And why didn’t you tell me that your father never viewed you worthy to lead an army?”
He waved his thick hands in the air. “I know all about war tactics. Studied them from the time I was able to read. Watched them on the battlefield and could set them up on maps to show him proper maneuvers. But nothing I ever did pleased him. He scoffed at me far more than he ever praised me.”
“Which is why you tell treasure hunting tales?”
Boldair grinned. “Aye, tis then everyone listening focuses their attention upon me. I feel more important then than at any other time.”
“You’re important in this battle,” she said. “Otherwise, I’d never have chosen you to lead the Oculoth troops.”
“I’ll do me best not to disappoint.”
She smiled. “I trust that you will, Boldair.”
“So! A dwarf at a campfire without any ale to drink! Can’t have that now, can we?” Drucis shouted.
Boldair and Taniesse turned. Drucis and Dwiskter were rolling a barrel close to the fire and eased the barrel upright.
Taniesse shook her head. “Now is not the time for heavy drinking.”
Drucis and Dwiskter looked at one another. They grinned. “No?”
“No. We will not wait until morning to fight. We act now.”
“At least let us have one to toast you and your sisters,” Dwiskter said.
Taniesse smiled. “One, but no more.”
“Aye,” Drucis said.
“Where is the wizard?” she asked.
Dwiskter replied, “I think he’s with your sisters.”
“So he’s conscious?”
“Aye. Seems back to his old self.”
“Good.” She eyed Dwiskter and Drucis. “Remember, only one drink. You need your wits about you. The attack for Hoffnung begins soon.”
Chapter Eighty-three
Lady Dawn stood at the edge of the road beside Caen. They faced the wooden castle gates, which were locked. Along the top of the fortress walls, fire pits roared. The flickering flames reflected off the archers’ mail coifs and revealed their positions. Nervousness tightened her stomach. She had never really taken the time to look upon the castle from outside the walls before. The citadel she had once viewed as home was now hostile and uninviting.
The three armies formed a brigade that spanned for hundreds of yards alongside the main road parallel to Hoffnung’s front wall. Ten to twelve soldiers stood or sat around each campfire. While they ate and drank, what might be the last meals for some of them, they exchanged stories, often laughing or throwing playful jibes at one another in what seemed a ploy to thrust out their fears of rushing into battle.
Where they had set up their campfires was outside of the archers’ range. The elves were the ones that seemed the most quiet. They spent their time watching the walls with keen interest, possibly calculating the best advancement toward the protected walls and the gates.
Behind Dawn, a dozen of the Dragon Skull Knights stood around the fires, but for her, they didn’t seem to even exist at this moment. Her attention focused on the gates, the archers, and Waxxon.
Every mistake, every injury, and every death at the end of this battle fell back on her. War always brought death to both sides. The aftermath is what she feared more than the battle itself.
Caen stepped closer to her. “This is what you were waiting for.”
“I know.”
“Nervous?”
“I just don’t want to fail.”
Caen looked into her eyes. “You won’t.”
“How can you be certain?”
“Because the fire of vengeance inside you cannot be quenched. Your determination is far greater than his. Waxxon only wants to keep the throne, which isn’t a real passion. You want him to pay for your mother’s death.”
Dawn’s eyes narrowed. “He will suffer first.”
“See? That’s what pushes you forward. But, there’s something you need to remember.”
“What?”
“Don’t let your hatred for him become a distraction. Keep your focus. There are hundreds between you and him. We will fight to clear the way, but remember, he’s not going to be the first person you have to kill.”
Dawn nodded. “I’ve prepared myself for that.”
“Good.”
“The biggest obstacle we have is getting through the gates,” she said. “King Staggnuns has cannons, right?”
“The dragon destroyed several of them, and the remaining three mired down in the snow. They couldn’t pull them out and were forced to leave those behind.”
Dawn stared at the gates while biting her lower lip. “I just don’t know what to do.”
Sarey approached from the south road and stood across from them.
“Where were you?” Dawn asked.
“Looking for Trevor.”
“Trevor? Your old boyfriend that left Esgrove because you were better than he?”
Sarey nodded. “He came back. Proposed marriage even. I found his horse near the sewer grate earlier, but still no sign of him.”
“He proposed?” Caen said.
“Yes.”
Dawn smiled. “What did you tell him?”
“I told him I was no longer interested in him and that I had a man.”
Caen looked surprised. “Who?”
She smiled. “A Dragon Skull Knight. You should have seen his face when I told him.”
Dawn gave Caen a look of concern and then she glanced at Sarey. “Which one?”
“Bausch.”
Caen took a sharp breath and closed his eyes. Dawn placed a hand over her mouth.
Sarey saw their reactions and teared up. “What? What is it?”
Lehrling stepped away from another campfire and stood next to Sarey. He gently placed a hand on her shoulder and turned her toward him. Reading the hurt in his eyes, tears leaked down her cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” Lehrling said with tears brimming in his eyes. “But Bausch was killed by the Vykings after we arrived at Glacier Ridge.”
Sarey’s mouth dropped open but no words came. Her eyes searched for meaning, understanding. Lehrling pulled her close and hugged her. “I’m so sorry, dear.”
Burying her face against his chest, she sobbed. Her body shook. He stroked the back of her hair over and over.
Caen and Dawn looked at one another with tears in their eyes.
“When did this happen?” she asked with a shaky voice.
Lehrling explained the events that led up to Bausch’s death and how he was killed.
Sarey pulled from Lehrling’s embrace and wiped away tears. “I kept awaiting his return. Every evening when the tavern door opened, I always looked, hoping it was him.”
“He was greatly attracted to you,” Lehrling said. “His loss hurts us all. He was like a son that I had never had.”
“The Vykings did this?” she asked again.
“Yes.”
Sarey nodded toward Riese and Manfrid at a neighboring fire. “Then why are these two here? They are our enemies.”
Roble approached. “They’re with us.”
“Vykings? They’re going to fight and kill other Vykings?”
Lehrling nodded. “They are.”
She rolled her eyes, turned, and rested her hands on her hips.
“It’s complicated,” Lehrling said.
“I imagine so,” she replied. “But I don’t think I can be near them right now. Not with how I feel. Not with my anger and hatred for what the Vykings did to Bausch.”
“You have to believe me,” Lehrling said. “I’ve seen Riese kill Vykings. He’s killed two of their generals. He despises them as much as we do.”
/> Taniesse walked to their campfire. Odessa and Neela were with her, and Zauber as well.
Taniesse gazed from one to the next and then she cleared her throat. “Lady Dawn, the time has come.”
Dawn took a deep breath. “I’ve been trying to figure out how we’re going to get through those gates. I was told that the cannons are not here.”
“Aye, that is correct,” King Staggnuns said, coming closer with the other two dwarf kings.
“We have no battering ram,” Dawn said. “We have Elven archers, but no protective walls for them like the Hoffnung archers have.”
Taniesse nodded. She looked at her two sisters and then back to Dawn. “There is something you must do first.”
“What?” Dawn asked.
“I want you to stand outside of the archers’ range, face the gates, and address your claim for the throne. Announce it loudly and clearly that you are Lady Dawn and have come to take back the throne.”
“What good will that do?” she asked.
“Dawn,” Taniesse said. “There are a good percentage of the citizens in Hoffnung who remain loyal to your mother and would offer their allegiance to you now. I believe quite a few of the guards might be swayed to turn against those who favor Waxxon and fight on your behalf. Nonetheless, the news that Lady Dawn lives will stir a ripple effect throughout Hoffnung.”
Dawn looked at Caen, searching his eyes. He nodded.
Taniesse smiled and turned her attention to Zauber. “While she’s announcing her rightful claim, my sisters and I need to talk to the wizard.”
***
Lady Dawn stepped onto the white cobblestone road. Seeing the arrows stuck along the grassy bank, she saw where the archers’ range ended. She scanned the top walls on both sides of the gates. With the turrets and curtain walls, figuring out the actual number of archers was not possible. She knew they were watching her and probably hoping she’d step into their range, but she stopped short.
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