by E J Gilmour
‘Horse Master Jorg, this is Eben, a friend of King Ignis. The King has requested you give him your best available warhorse.’
‘Certainly,’ said Jorg. The young Horse Master led them along the edge of the camp to where several horses were tied to a wagon. ‘These are three of my best,’ said Jorg. There were two dark brown warhorses and a grey one. They were all obviously bred for war. ‘I recommend this one,’ he said indicating the grey horse. ‘His name is Swiftwing; he is very fast and the wisest of the three. He was given to General Hugo by a drifter who said he had ridden him all the way from the lands beyond Irvaria. The foreigner also said that Swiftwing has fought in several battles in the Western Lands.’
Eben walked up to the huge horse and touched his nose. The horse was friendly and clearly liked him.
‘Good, I’ll take Swiftwing,’ said Eben.
‘I’ll saddle him up and have him taken to you. I heard you’re going to go with the King into Orelin. Swiftwing will be a good horse for your mission. He won’t be frightened.’
They left Jorg and walked back toward his tent. An armoured soldier came running over to him.
‘Eben, look at me,’ said Red with a huge smile and a glimmer in his eyes. His new armour was shining brightly and was similar to armour Eben had been given by the Weapons Master. Red also had a new finely crafted sword latched to his side. He had his beard shaven to look neat and had tied his shaggy hair back.
‘You look great,’ said Eben.
‘Like a knight,’ cried Red heartily. ‘I can’t wait for Stella to see me like this,’ he said as he ran off to find her.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The town of Orelin had served as the southern capital of Scaldonia since ancient times. It was often said that the Ecorian Emperors of old took a particular interest in the town as it was the gateway to the Scaldonian Highlands where the mysterious Scaldonian Oracle was said to live. The town’s proximity to the Iron Gate Pass led to it being the central point of many battles throughout the ages. The Scaldonians who lived in the south were regarded as a rugged and battle worn people.
The day was dark and clouds rumbled with thunder in the east. King Ignis and Eben rode together toward the main gate of Orelin. King Ignis was adorned in magnificent armour with intricate designs depicting two golden lions. His long red cape was draped down over his horse. The day was nearing noon when they reached the main gate. The wall stood about fifty feet high. Eben could see hundreds of men lining the walls.
‘I am King Ignis of Ortaria! I have come to meet with Duke Egil!’
There was a silence for several moments and then the gates opened enough to let them ride through. The King led the way through the open gate. On the far side were five rugged knights on horseback waiting for them. Their armour was unpolished and dark, and their capes were dark blue. They carried shields with them that had a depiction of a white eagle with outstretched wings, and they all wore helms with visors that covered their faces. The knight in the centre looked particularly rugged and fierce. He had his visor up and stared at them with angry eyes. For a moment Eben was worried they had ridden directly into a trap.
‘I am Sir Leif of Scaldonia; Gaurdian of the South; Commander of the Orelin Guard,’ said the severe looking knight in a rumbling harsh voice.
‘I am King Ignis of Ortaria; direct descendent of the Ecorian Arbiters and rightful ruler of Ortaria,’ said King Ignis.
‘Duke Egil awaits you; follow me.’ Sir Leif turned his horse and led them through the dreary looking town toward the main keep. The streets were mostly empty as almost all the people were indoors. The townsfolk that they did see looked to be living in complete poverty.
The keep was surrounded by a second smaller wall about two hundred yards from the southern gate. They were taken up to the gate of the keep and entered into a large courtyard. Two lines of armoured spearmen formed an honour guard for them. Sir Leif led them up to a big arched door and then dismounted. The other knights also dismounted and King Ignis did the same. Eben followed their example.
‘I will now take you to see Duke Egil,’ said Sir Leif. He led them in through the door which opened into a long corridor that had no windows and was lit by burning torches at intervals along the wall. Sir Leif led the way through the corridor; the other knights followed them closely.
They reached a second door; Sir Leif pushed it open. Directly before them was a large throne room with stained glass windows and white marble floors. The hall was about a hundred feet long and had two rows of spearmen lining both the long walls. Across the marble floor was a bright silver throne. Seated upon the throne was an old man with long grey hair that fell to his shoulders, a clean shaven face, and a very fearsome look in his grey eyes. He was dressed in amour of the manner of his men, and he stared at King Ignis with a look that bordered on contempt. Beside him on the right was a knight and the left was a crazy looking man wearing a worn brown robe; his hair was frizzy and flew out in every direction. Further to the right of the Duke stood three young maidens, all wearing fine dresses, impressive jewellery, and beautiful attire. To the left of the Duke stood several men who wore no armour; they appeared to be scholars or advisors.
Eben and King Ignis followed Sir Leif across the marble floor toward the Duke.
‘Duke Egil, I present to you, King Ignis of Ortaria,’ said Sir Leif. He then bowed to the Duke and walked aside. The Duke clapped his hands a few times and sat back deliberately in his chair with a smug smile on his face.
‘To be honest, I thought you wouldn’t come,’ said Duke Egil, his voice was deep and strong. ‘After all that my people have suffered at your hands, I can hardly believe that you would dare to come here unprotected. Of course I will let you explain yourself, King Ignis, but only because you apparently have some courage left in your old veins. Why have you brought your army to our gates? My knights say you have over twenty thousand men. Clearly we didn’t invite you. First you ask me to surrender, and now you want to make peace. It looks like a trick to me. Explain, King Ignis.’
‘Duke Egil, this is no trick. I only reached my army two nights ago. I came to put an end to this madness. I never asked my army to invade Scaldonia, and I never asked for the Iron Gate Pass to be closed...’
The Duke started laughing heavily and folded his arms across his chest. ‘Trying to be innocent doesn’t suit you, Ignis,’ he said. King Ignis frowned and his eyes narrowed. He was clearly offended by the statement.
‘I have been in a dungeon for three years!’ said King Ignis firmly. ‘I escaped the Dungeons of Zyran only recently. I had to race north to stop my army from invading your lands. An imposter sits on my throne; he was the one who ordered this invasion. Now I have returned I plan to repair all the damage that has been done.’
The Duke stared at King Ignis with wide eyes at hearing the revelation. The throne room fell completely silent. Duke Egil looked to the man at his side in the brown robes with the crazy hair.
‘Garnock, is this true?’ The wizard stared intensely at King Ignis for a few moments; his eyes then darted across to Eben. He gazed at Eben with his crazy wide eyes. Eben wondered what he was thinking and felt uncomfortable.
‘Yes,’ replied Garnock, his extremely high tone made him sound completely insane. ‘It’s all true, Duke.’ Garnock continued staring intently at Eben. ‘You must ask the Ortarian who that is he brought with him.’
The Duke looked from the King to Eben. ‘Who is your guardsman?’
‘His name is Eben,’ said King Ignis, surprised by the question.
‘Why do you want to know about his guardsman?’ asked the Duke, looking to the crazy wizard.
‘He is not who we think he is,’ said the wizard. ‘The sea shall bend for this one.’
The Duke rolled his eyes at the cryptic reply of the wizard. ‘What are you talking about? Why do you always speak in riddles?’ The Duke looked from the wizard back to King Ignis. ‘King Ignis, this story of your imprisonment is news to me; I knew nothing of it.
We Scaldonians suspected Zyran had fallen beneath a shadow; however, we have never known for certain. You must know these are terrible times for us. Our northern city of Aldokan has fallen to the Kaznor Empire. There is an evil growing in the north, and armies of muckrons have landed on our shores. King Vidar, my brother, was captured by the enemy and taken as a prisoner to the Dungeons of Zarkanor. We have been pushed south and our people have suffered greatly. You should also know that our scouts say there is an army of muckrons camped about ten miles north of Orelin.’
‘An army of muckrons!’ exclaimed King Ignis, surprised that such an army was so close to Orelin. ‘How many muckrons are there?’
‘Thousands,’ replied the Duke. ‘And they have a wyvern with them.’
‘A wyvern!’ cried King Ignis, clearly shocked.
Eben’s adoptive father Erako had told him that wyverns were very evil dragons. It was said that some wyverns flew and others crawled. Erako had also told him that real dragons were much larger than wyverns and often majestic and good creatures. Generally only the smaller wyverns were evil in nature. Eben had always thought they were just creatures in stories.
‘Yes, the wyvern flies in circles above the muckron horde. It’s not very big, only about five yards in length, but it is very ferocious. The beast killed two of our northern scouts and only one returned to tell the tale. It swoops down and takes them from their horses, like an eagle taking a rabbit,’ said the Duke.
‘An army of muckrons and a wyvern; these indeed are evil times,’ said King Ignis. ‘Armies of muckrons have not been seen in these lands since the Forgotten Age. I recently heard news that one such army landed on the shores of Ortaria. I plan to lead my army south to destroy the evil army that threatens my kingdom.’ There were a few moments of silence as the two rulers stared at each other. ‘We must rebuild our alliance of old. If we can reform our alliance we could march on this muckron army in the north, and together the Ortarians and Scaldonians could destroy all the evil that plagues our lands.’
The Duke glanced across at his knights and then uneasily looked back toward King Ignis. ‘My men don’t trust you or the Ortarian army beyond the gate. They told me that you would try to trick me into opening the gates of Orelin.’
‘This is not a trick. You know I tell you the truth,’ protested King Ignis.
‘Yes, I know,’ said the Duke, staring down at the white marble floor for a moment. ‘But if you want the alliance restored you must prove to my men and my people that you and your army are trustworthy. If you lead your army north of Orelin and destroy the army of muckrons you will have the alliance you seek.’
King Ignis nodded and realised there was no other way. Duke Egil was resolute in what he had said.
‘I see,’ said King Ignis softly. ‘I will consult with my commanders and inform you of our intention.’
**
They returned to the encampment and King Ignis arranged a meeting with General Hugo and the other commanders and knights. Eben, Meara, Cassiel, and Baftel sat at the command table with them.
‘Garnock,’ said Meara, intrigued by the revelation. ‘He is a very powerful member of the Fire Order. I wonder why he is in Scaldonia, so far from the Old Guardian Mountains.’
‘I don’t know what he is doing here, but he was interested in Eben,’ said King Ignis.
‘What did he say about Eben?’ asked Meara.
‘He said that the sea would bend for him,’ said King Ignis. Meara looked to Eben, and she pondered the saying for a moment. ‘What does that mean?
‘I’m not entirely sure; I think one day we will find out,’ said Meara. She gave a slight smile to Eben before looking back to King Ignis.
‘He will restore our alliance if we destroy the muckron army which is camped ten miles north of here,’ said King Ignis.
‘A muckron army!’ cried General Hugo.
‘Indeed, we need to assess our options. How many men do we have?’
‘Almost twenty five thousand,’ replied General Hugo. ‘We have sixteen thousand infantry, two thousand archers, five thousand light cavalry, one thousand heavy cavalry, and fifty knights. We also have eight mobile catapults and several other siege machines, but I think we should consider turning south. If we spend our strength fighting the muckron army in Scaldonia we may risk not having the men to fight the muckron army in Ortaria. Perhaps we should forsake rebuilding the alliance. The Scaldonians only have a small army remaining here in Orelin. We would be wise to focus on the needs of Ortaria and return home.’
The King contemplated in silence what General Hugo had said. Everyone at the table was looking at him and waiting for his answer.
‘No, Hugo. We must keep our honour. If we lose our honour we would forsake everything we have fought for; I will never let that happen. Ortarians don’t turn away from a fight. We stand by our allies and friends. That’s who we are, and we won’t change now or ever. The Scaldonians have suffered, and they are our friends; we will fight for them. Anyone can be a friend in peaceful times; I have learned it is in the dark times that loyalty and honour are truly tested.’
‘I will order the army to prepare,’ said General Hugo.
‘We will need to send scouts to assess the muckron army. There is a problem though; they have a wyvern with them.’
‘A wyvern!’ gasped Meara.
‘Yes,’ said King Ignis. ‘Duke Egil said this beast has already killed some of his scouts. Send only scouts who know the danger and are prepared to take the risk.’
‘It will be a challenge to find a man willing to take on this task, especially if you give him a choice,’ said General Hugo.
The King thumped the table with his fist. ‘Forget the scouts, if we can’t beat this army of muckrons now it will eventually arrive in Ortaria and destroy us there. This battle will test our strength and bravery. Order the army to prepare; we ride north in the morning!’
**
The army started to make preparations for leaving that afternoon. Eben sat by a campfire with Cassiel.
‘We are going to war in the morning,’ said Cassiel. ‘I have never seen a muckron. I wonder if they are as terrible as the old stories say they are?’
‘I fought one once,’ said Eben. Cassiel was very surprised. ‘They’re fast and strong.’ He remembered back to the fight with the muckron in the forest. ‘If I didn’t have Red with me I would have been killed. He saved me.’
‘Red saved you?’
Eben nodded. A moment later Red walked quickly over to where they were sitting by the campfire. His face was pale, and he was deeply frowning.
‘Eben, you have to talk some sense into Stella, she’s gone mad! She’s preparing to fight in the battle tomorrow. You have to convince her otherwise.’
A moment later Stella came into view and marched over. Her eyes were blazing, and her face was red with anger. She was wearing a chainmail shirt, shoulder guards, shin guards, and she had two short swords latched to her belt.
‘What are you talking to them about, Red?’ she asked angrily.
‘Stella! The danger is too great,’ argued Red.
‘You know I can fight, Red. So stop trying to...’
‘But…but, you’ll be the only woman on the battlefield.’
‘Meara will be there, so I won’t be the only woman,’ she replied defiantly.
‘That’s true, Red. Meara will be there,’ confirmed Cassiel.
‘Shut up, Cassiel,’ yelled Red.
‘I’ve been through all this danger with you: Zyran, the wilderness, Lantern Hill, and the draug. I’m not going to stand aside now and watch from afar.’
Red didn’t know what to say. Eben could see Stella was determined and would not back down.
‘If we fight together and stay close we can defend each other and make sure that no one gets into trouble,’ said Eben. Red reluctantly accepted the fact that Stella was going to fight.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The army moved out the next morning and followed the road no
rth away from the Orelin basin. The army looked like a giant metal serpent winding its way up through the rocky hills. Thick dark clouds hung low in the sky, and the air was dense as a morning mist was rising from the ground. A little rain had fallen earlier. Eben rode with King Ignis, Red, and Stella toward the front of the troops.
‘Do you feel like fighting in a battle today?’ asked King Ignis, looking across at Red.
‘Not really,’ replied Red. The King laughed heartily.
‘I’m sure you will fight well.’
‘I’ll do my best,’ said Red.
‘Not since the Forgotten Ages have armies of muckrons roamed these lands. The Prince of Shadows brought them to Veredor in those days from a dark place in the cosmos. At the end of the Forgotten Age the muckron armies were destroyed by the Astarian Fiora. The Prince of Shadows was cast into the darkness beyond the boundaries of Veredor.’
‘So why have they come back now?’ asked Red.
‘I don’t know,’ said King Ignis.
‘Maybe the Prince of Shadows has come back from the darkness,’ suggested Red.
‘I hope not. The Prince of Shadows was the most terrible adversary the people of Veredor have ever faced.’
‘What’s an Astarian?’ asked Eben, curious to know more about the Astarian Fiora.
‘The Astarians were immortals who lived in ancient times. They were a goodhearted and benevolent race.’
‘Do any still live?’
‘I have never heard of any who live near men. It is said the Scaldonian Oracle is an Astarian. I have also heard there is an oracle in the Far Western Lands. I don’t know of any other Astarians living in Veredor other than the oracles, and many people don’t believe that the oracles actually exist.’
The oracles were mystical beings that lived in the wilderness, one in Scaldonia and the other in the Far Western Lands. Eben had heard stories of heroes having to overcome many obstacles to find the oracles. It had long been said that the oracles could give insights into the deepest mysteries.
They rode on for an hour. The mist cleared. The hills came to a sudden end and a plain stretched out before them. Thick storm clouds had settled low in the sky above the plain. There was no rain at all and the air was still. From the hill they could see across a plain that extended about ten miles to another mountain range in the north. The road continued for two miles and they could see smoke rising from the encampment of the muckron army. The Ortarian Army halted. Eben could see the silhouette of the wyvern flying in circles through the smoke that hovered over the encampment of muckrons.
