by M J Webb
“We have lost many of our finest warriors here today. We have achieved nothing, except to bring down upon us the full might of King Vantrax’ armies! Armies which will soon grow even stronger and be led by Sawdon himself! King Artrex lies in his bed chamber seriously wounded, we do not know if we can save him. Lord Castrad may return to the fight in time, but time is something we no longer have, thanks to you! Our own beloved Prince Laertral, the leader of our cause, is dead! His light has been extinguished in the dawn of his manhood, depriving us all of a great King and leader I am sure. And for what? Can anyone enlighten me? What have we accomplished with the spilling of so much blood?”
“Eyatrav is right!” stated Yelena, angrily. “You have led us to our doom!” She stared straight into the young Princess’ eyes, accusing her of betrayal. “Who will lead us now? Who will our forces rally behind? Tell me, what is to be achieved by fighting on?”
An awkward and uneasy silence followed. Zephany wanted desperately to respond, the accusation was unfair and she was hurt by it. But, in her exhausted and emotional state, she could not find the words she needed, and she said nothing. Eventually, it was Lord Caro, favoured knight of the dead Prince and the Perosyan champion of many years, who stepped forward.
“I am sorry, Yelena, I cannot hear this and hold my tongue. You members of the Juyen are learned people, blessed with an intelligence which I can never hope to match. I know it and I would not try, for I do not understand your ways. I have served my Kings and Queens, and my Prince, loyally and faithfully for many years, more than I care to remember. I have watched from close by as you argued and fought between yourselves over every little issue. Argued and squabbled, when we should have been taking action! And for my part, I have done nothing. I have remained silent and I am as guilty as anyone here for letting our world fall apart before our very eyes! Watching everything we have built crumble steadily away. Well, no more I tell you, no more!!!
You ask Eyatrav, what we have achieved? I will tell you. We have finally drawn our line in the dirt. We have begun the final conflict which was always coming, and which has to happen before we can rid ourselves of our common enemy. There can be no retreat for us now, no surrender. These city walls must hold! There are those beyond them who may be inspired by our struggle if we succeed. The story of our survival against all the odds will be told in every village and every town. Many may decide to join the fight, if we do not perish and manage to hold out.
Prince Laertral is gone. The sweet Prince is dead. I grieve for him in ways you cannot understand, my heart is broken in two and it will never mend I fear. But, it was not Laetral who saved us today! It was he who inspired us to fight I grant you, yes. But only because Princess Zephany allowed him to! She was the first into battle, and the last to return if I am not mistaken? It was she who returned to the fight when she did not have to, to rescue our soldiers and lead our archers so brilliantly. And it is thanks to the Princess’ leadership that we stand before you now, for we all would surely have fallen without her actions. We who stand in this square are already dead. We breathe only because we were saved. We should have died out there on those fields today and we know it. Our lives belong now to the one who saved us!”
Caro turned to Zephany and took out his sword. He fell down on bended knee and held it out in front of him. “Princess... I, Caro, son of Truith of the house of Sirrannus, Champion of Perosya, do hereby pledge to you my sword and allegiance. I am yours, and I hereby swear to serve you faithfully, unto death. Lead us in this fight? Command us, and it shall be done without question. From this day forward, I proclaim you to be the chosen leader of our army, the knights of the Estian Alliance are yours!”
“But… You cannot do this!” cried Eyatrav in exasperation. He could not believe what he was hearing. “She is… An outsider! She has not…”
“Be quiet, Eyatrav!” shouted Lord Getron, as he took out his own sword and knelt beside Caro. “Hold your tongue you snivelling rachtis!”
Eyatrav did not respond to the forceful insult, though his face turned a bright red with rage.
“Yes. No more words are needed I think. The decision has been made and it is a good one!”
The entire crowd immediately turned around to see who it was who had spoken. Lord Castrad was standing at the doors to the Juyen, a tall stick tucked under his arm to serve as a crutch and a torn and bloodied rag wrapped tightly around his injured thigh. He struggled gamely to reach the Princess, the crowd parting to let him pass through their ranks. When he reached her, he knelt down on his one good leg with extreme difficulty, despite the searing pain. Then he shouted out loudly.
“Behold! Princess Zephany, Leader of the Estian Alliance!”
The warriors in the square immediately took out their swords and knelt down to pledge their loyalty to the Princess. There were no exceptions. Even some of the archers high on the ramparts of the walls above joined in. They were followed a brief moment later by the massed crowds of civilians. Last to fall to their knees were the politicians and diplomats of the Juyen, led by Eyatrav and Yelena. However, they all reluctantly conceded that they had no choice but to accept the decision of the army, at least for now. Though it did not sit comfortably with them and many would swear privately to oppose it at a later date.
Princess Zephany was utterly and completely overwhelmed. She did not know what to say. She had remained quiet throughout the entire discussion, believing it to be a private matter for the citizens and warriors of the Alliance to resolve. The tremendous honour being asked of her now was a bolt from the blue, a massive shock. But, although tongue tied a little, she knew she had to say something.
“Srr… Th-thank you, Lord Caro. And my Lords Getron, Castrad… All of you, thank you very much indeed! I will not let you down and I promise I will use my position solely for the good of the Estian people. Now please, please stand, all of you.”
Everyone rose to their feet, but the hushed silence returned as they awaited their new leader’s first commands.
“My friends, we have evaded defeat or capture today but we have not defeated our enemy. Some, like Eyatrav here, would call this battle a defeat. Well, it is not! We have retreated to where our defences are strongest. These walls have never been breached, the city has never been taken, we are strong here, if we work together. And we have friends, powerful friends, working to restore the stones for us, the most powerful weapon ever known! Do not lose hope, the Keeper of the Stones will return to aid us, he just needs time. Time which we can give him by holding out here and keeping the enemy occupied. I ask you all to put aside any differences you may have had in the past and work with me, with us. That is the only way we shall prevail.
Some of my decisions may not prove popular, but I assure you that, whatever it is, it has to be done. The Juyen I have learned is a magnificent tool of government. But, I am afraid that decisions need to be made far more quickly in times of war. I know it will not be greeted well, but my first act is to suspend the Juyen until further notice, until this crisis is over.”
The council members in front of the Princess began to object vociferously. Arms began flailing and many shook their fists at the young Princess as they voiced their opposition loudly. Eventually, the noise died down enough for the most vocal of the group to make themselves heard.
“But you cannot do this, we will not accept it!” shouted the enraged High Priestess Yelena.
“I am sorry, I have explained my reasoning. If you truly are not willing to abide my rules, then you are free to leave!” replied Zephany sternly. “That goes for anyone here. You may take your chances with the warriors on the other side of the wall.”
Yelena and all present fell quiet, nobody accepted the invitation.
“No? No takers? I did not think so. Listen to me, all of you. I do not want to have to do this! It must be. I will reinstate your Juyen as soon as I possibly can, I promise. I believe in it. But, my second act may alarm you even further, again it is a necessity and only a temporary measure unt
il this war is won. I hereby appoint my Geradas, in order of succession should I fall in battle. And my champion, to protect my person and whatever interests I have. Caro, I would like you to continue in that role if you would?”
Lord Caro sprung to attention and nodded happily. “It would be my honour, Princess.”
“Lord Getron, you are now my first. Lord Castrad, you are my second. Lord Dansell, you are my third.”
The experienced Knights all acknowledged Zephany’s words and were congratulated in turn by all around them.
“Now, go and prepare our defences to withstand a siege from the most powerful army you have ever faced. I will go to my father. I will hear your reports on our positions in one hour, in the Juyen. Our situation may be considered dire by some, but I assure you that it is not hopeless. Have faith, lift up your heads and stiffen your resolve, let your hearts cry for freedom, for while air still flows through our bodies, the rebellion lives on!”
***
By the evening of the 24th August, the Ruddite Rebellion was facing the bleakest moment in its relatively short history. Its leader, the warrior King Artrex, was lying unconscious in his bed chamber, perilously close to death and watched over by healers and servants who were trying desperately to break his fever. Princess Zephany visited him as often as she could, though her time was now severely limited due to her new position and responsibilities. Zephany was only a girl herself, she was just sixteen years of age, but she now had the hopes and future of an entire continent resting on her young shoulders. Though she was no ordinary teenager by any stretch of the imagination, the stresses and strains of such a heavy burden were beginning to show. In a rare private moment, she broke down in tears in her chambers and began questioning her own abilities and right to hold such an office.
‘Can I rise to this occasion? Do I have it within me to be the leader they expect me to be? Can I deliver these people from harm?’ she asked herself, all of a sudden filled with self doubt.
* **
King Vantrax and Sawdon had finally reached the approaches to the battlefield with their by now enormous force. The city of Dassilliak was well and truly under siege again. But, for it to be taken and for the evil King’s forces to achieve the victory they sought, Sawdon realised quickly that he would need far more siege equipment than his counterpart in the Southern Army, Lord Obreth, had amassed. He required siege towers, catapults, battering rams, ballistas, mangonels, trebuchets, Retian firethrowers... And for all of these, he needed more wood.
The Thargws and Falorians who had been raised from the Estian soil, the only force who needed no sleep and could work throughout day and night without tiring, were sent to cut down trees wherever they found them and set to work. Although the delay would be a source of intense frustration, King Vantrax and his Thargw Gerada were at least satisfied that they had their opponents trapped. That being the case, they were in no rush to finish the job. The rebels and their new allies were going nowhere, the longer they stood on the ramparts staring out at the terrifying forces ranged against them, the more their morale and desire to fight would crumble. The only real concern for King Vantrax now was the whereabouts of Jake and the stones. But, even this slight worry was lessened by the knowledge that the Lords of Srenul were in pursuit of the young Keeper and would surely catch up with him soon. The more the wizard thought about things, the more he convinced himself that everything was finally going his way.
‘At long last,’ he thought, ‘the Ruddite rebels and the Estian Alliance have run out of places to hide. They are trapped inside this city and they stand on the very brink of destruction. This wall will seal their tomb! In a few days we will storm their defences and kill every living creature we find, Dassilliak will be wiped from the map! And then, a new dawn shall begin. No one will oppose me. Finally, I will be King of Estia!’
Chapter 24
24th August – Readal Forest - Nadjan
Jake, Ben, Verastus and Tien had left Readal forest in the early hours of the 24th, riding their winged horses south into Perosya and heading for the Mountains of Adonelle, where they hoped to find the third of the stones they needed. Brraall and his warriors had immediately made their preparations to leave their wooded sanctuary. They were now travelling in a south easterly direction towards the besieged city of Dassilliak. Every man and woman old enough to carry a sword or fire a bow had joined the march, leaving behind them in the forest only those who could not fight. Brraall had planned his own route for their journey and by an unbelievable stroke of good fortune the long column narrowly avoided an unwanted encounter with the formidable Lords of Srenul, who were riding in the opposite direction.
By mid afternoon, the tribespeople in Readal forest had returned to their daily chores. They were happily going about their business, hunting food, skinning carcasses, building new dens in the trees and bush... When, all of a sudden, the air around them turned unnaturally cold. It was the kind of cold which has you shaking from every corner of your body and stiffens your muscles until they begin to hurt. The wind grew in intensity. It began to blow hard through the trees, bringing with it an icy chill which carried a sinister intent.
Disturbed, concerned and perplexed by the sudden and dramatic change in the atmospheric conditions, the remaining inhabitants of the forest gathered around the huge camp fire. Then, a loud and terrifying cry from the leader’s horse announced the Lord’s arrival.
The men, women and children of Brraall’s tribe immediately fell silent as they looked with horror and trepidation towards the trees from where the noise came. Leaves rustled and branches cracked as the horses weaved their way slowly towards the camp. The sounds exacerbated their fears. Then, five black knights, unbeatable foes astride enormous stallions, appeared from out of the darkness. Within seconds, they were in front of the horrified crowd.
The very sight of the Lords struck terror into the hearts of everyone there. They seemed unable to move, even though most were fearing the worst and thinking of escape.
It was the lead knight who addressed the crowd, from his position in the centre of his ghostly comrades. Amazingly, it was in their native tongue!
“Biethe vanuss, reasst eline? Varraak siett zelonn!”
“Where are the stones? Tell me now!”
The tribespeople looked at each other to see who was brave enough to respond. There was a momentary pause as all hesitated until eventually, an old man stepped forward. He was in the twilight of his years and assuming command solely because of his age, and because nobody else was willing to accept the task. He shuffled closer to the evil rider, his entire body shaking with fear.
“Reesell tach crruus thea vellek bachessd dorr...”
“He is gone. The Keeper has...”
Suddenly, the great warrior from the underworld lifted his right hand, interrupting the old man. He was furious. He spoke a solitary word which no one heard above the whistling wind. The old man’s body was instantly wracked with excruciating pain. It jerked violently and he screamed out in agony. He was lifted upwards into the air until he was about two feet off the ground. His head almost exploded as the knights probed his mind for the answers they sought.
Seconds later, the information was retrieved and the old man’s lifeless body dropped to the floor. The horrified onlookers immediately began screaming and shouting. They panicked and began running in different directions, trying desperately to escape from the five knights, hoping to disappear into the darkness.
“Deus prieux venesseell!”
“Kill them all!”
The leader spoke in a deep, merciless voice. His instructions were clear and his four companions sprang into action, taking to the task with extraordinary efficiency and speed. They charged forward and swung their heavy swords at anything that moved. It was a massacre! Within minutes, the forest clearing was carpeted in blood. Only a very few survived, the lucky ones who had chosen to go upwards and were able to scramble high into the treetops before the lords could catch them.
“Dennais
h nedeat renesht elinevuax Adonelle.”
“Now we head for the Mountains of Adonelle.”
With their work in Readal forest done, the Lord of Srenul turned their steeds and galloped swiftly away to continue their pursuit of the Keeper.
***
Rethick City was a thriving and prosperous place. It was home to many wealthy citizens. Pilgrims, travellers and merchants flocked there from far and wide to trade their wares. But most visitors to Rethick City came for one solitary purpose; to pay homage to the last remaining dragon, whose body had been immortalised in rock and was now as lifeless as the priceless gem it held tightly within its grasp.
The statue had long since become a symbol of worship and fascination for many of the Estian population, myths and legends surrounded it in mystique. It had taken on a religious significance that defied all logic to many of the cults that had thrived since Adonelle’s last encounter with Gellsorr on the mountain. They prayed upon it for salvation, believing it to be a gift from the Gods, a reminder to all of their awesome power and the consequences for them if they strayed too far away from their teachings.
Few had believed the story told by the young girl who had returned alone from the mountain. Even fewer had believed that the dragon had sacrificed himself for them. That was only one version of the tale out of hundreds that had been told in the years that followed. It was said that the Gods had killed the dragon in revenge for attacking the people, and that a sect of secret warriors had slayed it by turning its own power against itself with the aid of a giant mirror. Whatever the truth of his demise however, the dragon and the stone it held had brought wealth and commerce in the months and years that followed, a steady trickle of visitors which had quickly become a stream, and then a river. They had saved this otherwise desolate place and its people from misery and starvation. So, for the people of Rethick city, he was their dragon, it was their stone, and no one was going to steal them away!
