Even Gods Must Fall

by Christian Warren Freed

  “We’ve already bloodied their noses in the west. Harnin’s lost significant supplies, weapons, and manpower. Orlek, this is the only chance we’re going to have.”

  “We abandoned Chadra to change the war,” he said.

  Ingrid nodded. “Now it’s time to change it again. We need to move into the end phase of the rebellion. Delranan can’t sustain the kind of warfare it’s been subsumed with. How many more sons and daughters are there to throw into the flames? This is our chance, Orlek. We can break Harnin. Argis is gone. Jarrik killed himself. The others haven’t been seen or heard from since Badron left. Only Skaning remains and his focus is moving east. We have to presume he’s chasing Bahr and forgetting about us.”

  The decision to return to what little remained of Delranan’s capital wasn’t easy to make. Ghosts haunted the streets, worsened by the plague. Still, Orlek reluctantly admitted Ingrid’s plans bore at least a little measure of merit. Bahr’s return was no secret and Harnin would be frothing at the mouth to get his claws on the king’s brother. Orlek’s only issue was the rebellion lacked up-to-date intelligence on what was happening in the east.

  Speculation of Badron’s return continued to circle the campfires nightly but without confirmation Ingrid couldn’t react accordingly. Orlek knew the rebellion teetered on a constant edge. All it would take to push it too far beyond the recoverable line was one fell move. They needed to get back in the fight before idle minds bled them all dry. Reluctantly he began to follow Ingrid’s thinking.

  “If we can do this, if, we could bring the war to an end before summer,” Orlek spoke slowly.

  “We can,” she affirmed.

  He forced a grin. “If, we’re going to have to push scouts forward immediately. We can’t march on Chadra without knowing what we’re getting into.”

  She resisted the urge to rush forward and hug him. Her personal feelings continued to strengthen towards the normally stoic warrior. Love was forming, but she couldn’t allow any more than a passing thought until the rebellion reached its destined conclusion. She’d already lost one husband, the pain of going through it all over again frightened her more than any other aspect of this war.

  “Summon Harlan. We need to begin drawing up plans. Our forces need to find a convergence point a day’s walk from the city,” she ordered.

  Orlek agreed. “I’ll push out scouts in the morning. Moving against Harnin blindly turns my stomach.”

  * * * * *

  Lord Skaning peered intently through his spy glass. He closed it just as fast, disgust twisting his features. What he had in enthusiasm failed to translate into results. The decision to abandon his persecution of the rebellion hadn’t reached Chadra yet. Otherwise Harnin One Eye would have already sent assassin squads. He didn’t relish the thought of undergoing the same ordeal his fellow lord, Jarrik, did. Of course Jarrik committed suicide during the rebel attack on the western fort a week ago.

  The younger lord maintained reservations towards hunting down one of his friends. Skaning wanted power, making it easy to cast aside bonds of fellowship and follow orders. Harnin was adamant about Jarrik’s removal. Not only did Skaning fail to execute his former friend, he had lost the ex-rebellion leader, Inaella. Her continued existence was proving to be a bane to Harnin’s rule despite abandoning the rebellion in favor of the crown. Skaning had never placed trust in the pock-marked woman.

  She should have died a dozen times over. The plague ravaged her body while the betrayal of lower-ranked rebels twisted her mind. Inaella was a broken woman. Her worth to Harnin’s efforts diminished daily despite delusions of self importance. Skaning saw through her. The woman was trouble. More than she was worth. Harnin’s alliance with her would hurt the crown.

  Thoughts wandering down paths he didn’t care about, Skaning refocused his attentions on the barren fields of snow stretching lazily out before him. Seven hundred soldiers waited impatiently behind him. The hunt was more intensive than anticipated. Thoughts of desertion spread. Being reservists, none of the soldiers wanted to be away from home longer than necessary. Skaning was leading them on a fruitless chase as far as they were concerned.

  “Explain to me how a group that large can simply disappear in the middle of all this openness?” he asked sharply. “No tracks. Not even a pile of horse dung. I’m losing faith in your abilities.”

  “My lord, we’ve found nothing,” the scout said and shifted nervously, fully expecting the executioner’s blade against his neck.

  Skaning snarled. “Double your efforts. A group that large can’t just disappear. I don’t care if we are in the middle of the wilderness. Bahr must be found and destroyed before he reaches his goal in the east.”

  “We’ve got more than a hundred soldiers scouring the countryside, my lord. Bahr may be cunning but there is a lot of land to cover.”

  Skaning swung to the mercenary captain. “Perhaps I no longer need your services, captain?”

  The veteran shrugged nonchalantly. “Doesn’t matter to me. Give us our back pay and we’ll be off to warmer climes.”

  “Careful, mercenary. I still have enough soldiers to handle your company,” Skaning threatened.

  The captain stiffened. “Can you afford to lose them? I don’t need you, Skaning. You need us. We’re the best fighting element you have, and you know it. Like I said. Makes no difference if you keep us or cut us loose. It comes with the job.”

  Trapped by his own anger, Skaning had no option but to swallow his pride and push forward. He knew there was no way his reservists were capable of hunting down Bahr and his motley assortment, not with a wizard and Gaimosian with him. The Vengeance Knight alone would be too much for the majority of his soldiers to handle. Worse, time was running out. Harnin’s rage would be unparalleled once he discovered Skaning’s disobedience. Skaning had to make his move, quickly, if he hoped to retain his place in Delranan’s current court.

  “Double your search efforts, captain. The Sea Wolf needs to be found before he reaches his destination,” Skaning said, finally succumbing.

  The mercenary grinned savagely. More like before that one-eyed bastard learns of your traitorous actions. No one likes a man with secret agendas. “Very well. We’ll find this forgotten son and bring your army down right on top of him.”

  Skaning cursed his ill fortune. All bridges behind him were burned. His only option was to continue ahead, no matter the outcome.

  TWO

  Bitter Homecoming

  Cold, almost bitter winds kissed Piper Joach’s face. Raw from prolonged exposure to the elements, his flesh was constantly pink with several areas peeling away. His lips blanched. His nose burned. His body ached from continual long days in the saddle. Yet he wouldn’t change any of it for the reward stretched out before him. A long winter’s campaign robbed him of what might have been. He’d seen friends die and killed enemies who were now considered friends. All for what? He didn’t know. The war in Rogscroft was unlike any he’d envisioned all of those years ago when he decided to join the Wolfsreik. He was tired--exhausted, more accurately--and he was finally home.

  Piper stared down on his kingdom. Delranan, at least this part, was an untouched wilderness. Snow clung to pine branches, covering bushes. The air was crisp, kissed by clear skies as far as the eye could see. He should have been content. The long winter war was over. He was home. Home, however, wasn’t what it had been when he’d deployed. Delranan had become a wicked land. Brother murdered brother out of fear. Trust died. Harnin One Eye had turned this one standard for justice into a pit of the foulest quality.

  “Seems peaceful enough,” Vajna commented. He stifled a short yawn. “It certainly doesn’t look like there’s much war going on in this sector.”

  Piper cast a sidelong glance at the Rogscroft general turned friend. They’d ridden together since King Aurec and General Rolnir forged the alliance between Wolfsreik and Rogscroft. Various battles honed their friendship and understanding of one another, enough that both old soldiers were comfortable wor
king with the other. More importantly, they had no issues with allowing their soldiers to take orders from the other.

  “Perhaps Harnin just hasn’t made it this far east,” Piper countered cautiously. He’d had the misfortune of working with the One Eye on more than one campaign. Harnin always seemed to struggle with containing an inner rage.

  Vajna yawned again. Long days in the saddle left him tired and sore. He, like the rest of the combined army, was more than ready for the war to end. “We should push ahead and secure the immediate area before he realizes we’ve arrived.”

  “You realize it might be a trap?”

  Vajna snorted. “I didn’t get my rank by looking pretty.”

  Piper laughed. Grey and slightly overweight, Vajna was anything but handsome. Time, battles, and more worries than a sane person should be expected to shoulder brought wrinkles, lines, and liver spots aplenty to the middle-aged general.

  “I’m surprised you got married looking like that,” Piper quipped. “I’ll send out scouts to secure the perimeter. Go back and have the light infantry begin deploying to valley floor.”

  Vajna wheeled his horse about, back towards the haunting mountain pass. “You don’t really suppose he’s waiting for us?”

  “I wouldn’t put anything past that bastard,” he replied after a moment. “We’d best be on our guard. The fun part of our travels is over.”

  “Fun? I’m ready to retire.”

  Vajna clicked softly and rode back to the first of the main army units. Rolnir’s premier infantry were massed by the thousands, filling the slender mountain pass. Rogscroft regulars, militia, and a few small units of Pell Darga fighters composed the rest of the five-thousand-strong vanguard. Cavalry and engineers forced their way through the Murdes Mountains. The air stank of horse flesh and sweat. Heavy weapons, catapults, and trebuchets disassembled for easy moving clogged the pass in anticipation of establishing firing positions. They were a force capable of stopping any army. Getting them deployed in fighting positions before they were overrun was the difficult part.

  Each soldier harbored individual demons. More than one held doubts about his ability to attack his own people. Civil wars were vicious acts of desperation from all angles. Fears of returning home only to find relatives or loved ones opposing them threatened to bring the army to a halt. More than one soldier considered desertion, but pride and discipline kept them in place. They were the very best of Delranan’s sons. Each languished under the combined weight of tradition and family.

  Piper looked back on his soldiers. They were his source of pride, having conducted themselves professionally from the moment the Wolfsreik invaded Rogscroft to their exodus from King Badron’s service. While consecutive campaigns were successful, the second in command of the north’s most powerful army couldn’t help but wonder how many of his soldiers weren’t going to live to go home again. It was a sobering feeling.

  “Sergeant at Arms! Deploy the scouts. Double screen. Just because we can’t see the enemy doesn’t mean he isn’t there,” Piper ordered.

  The veteran scout saluted crisply. Flakes of snow peppered his beard. Flint-like eyes took in his commander with a measure of approval, as if saying it was about time. Harnin One Eye went disliked by nearly all of the army. Piper hoped it would make his job easier.

  It was near dusk by the time the scouts returned with curious news. Harnin had no forces deployed along this stretch of the Murdes Mountains, having little to no knowledge of the Pell Darga’s secret passes. Several teams of scouts rode as far west as the line of freshly constructed fortresses running from north to south.

  Piper took the news with casual interest. Static defenses always held the same inherent weakness: they could be ridden around and totally avoided while the invading army continued towards the exposed capital. The risk of leaving active combat forces behind the advancing elements was practically negligent considering most of the soldiers garrisoning the forts were ill-equipped infantry. They’d be ridden down and wiped out without causing much hassle to the invaders. That sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach returned at the thought of invading his own kingdom.

  Delaying served no purpose. Piper regretted what needed doing, but saw little point in avoiding the inevitable. The time for action was once again upon him. He listened as the scouts went into detail, drawing maps with sticks in the fresh snow. Piper recognized many of the prominent land features. Wheels began turning. He knew Rolnir trusted him implicitly so the slender man started forming plans for attack. The maneuver was risky, but might prove beneficial if his forces were able to claim the first fortress before Harnin caught wind of their presence.

  “How large is the garrison?” he asked, suddenly impatient.

  The scout cocked his head and gently stabbed the bowed stick into the snow repeatedly. “Can’t be more than a hundred, sir. Shouldn’t be an issue if we hit them in the middle of the night.”

  “A night raid on unfamiliar ground? The end result may not be what we’re looking for,” Piper countered. He didn’t want to dismiss his scout’s suggestion, knowing that in doing so he would effectively severe the free-flowing line of communication through the ranks. “What about pickets? Roving guards? What kind of defenses do they have emplaced to halt our progress?”

  “Didn’t see any pickets or anything,” a second scout said quietly. “We ran into a bunch of trenches and pits, though. Ought to prove troublesome for cavalry and such.”

  “We can’t risk an open charge anyway. The thunder of hooves will alert the defenders well enough in advance for them to reach their positions and open fire with whatever they have. Arrows and scorpions I’m assuming.” Piper paused. His mind reeled through various options available to him. A spark ignited. He turned to the lead scout. “Sergeant, bring me the engineer captain. I’ve got a job opportunity for him.”

  Nodding at his subordinate, the sergeant folded his arms across his chest and continued studying the crude map. “Got something devious in mind, commander?”

  “Perhaps. That all depends on if our wonderful engineers can bridge the defenses and blow a hole in the outer wall,” Piper said.

  “Light skirmishers or heavy infantry for the assault?”

  Piper thought for a moment. Both had advantages and disadvantages. Skirmishers weren’t designed for lengthy battles in confined spaces. Their lack of armor and limited selection of weapons reduced nearly fifty pounds from their fighting weight, however, giving them a distinct advantage over more cumbersome infantry. Casualties threatened to be high if Piper decided on them. Without knowing the depth and capacity of Harnin’s army, Piper was loath to trade lives for ground.

  Heavy infantry offered a different scenario. Slow and unwieldy, they were armed enough to render every living soul within the fort dead without much trouble. Strength in numbers often relied on interlocking shield walls on the open plain. That specialized defense was immediately rendered useless the moment they breached the walls. Conversely, their armor and weapons were enough to literally crush any opponent.

  “I want archers to slip down within range as soon as it gets darks. They’re to begin firing to cover the infantry attack.”

  The scout nodded again. “What about them engineers? Oden won’t be too pleased with getting shot at while his boys are busy filling in holes.”

  “He’ll get over it. The engineers need to employ without cover. We can’t risk giving away our attack plan while they prepare the way,” Piper said and grinned.

  “I’m sure he’ll come looking for you,” the scout said and shrugged. The move was well rehearsed, too well for Piper’s comfort.

  “Good. I need to see him immediately. Time is slipping away from our advantage. Get the archers emplaced.”

  The sergeant saluted crisply and wheeled about.

  “Sergeant, has there been any word of General Vajna’s return?” Piper asked, already knowing the answer.

  The scout shook his head and kept walking.

  * * * * *

&nb
sp; “Well, my friend, this appears to be the end of our time.”

  Venten stood erect, gazing up at his former pupil and friend-turned king. He’d done all he could for young Aurec but it didn’t feel enough. The kingdom was slowly rebuilding, but from the raw chaos Badron and his Goblin horde visited it would be decades before Rogscroft returned to any semblance of normalcy. The purifying mission into Delranan would not only remove a tyrant from the throne, but secure Rogscroft’s western borders for at least another generation provided Aurec and Rolnir found a suitable candidate for the throne.

  The former general–now advisor--struggled with his emotions. He’d been around Aurec since the boy was born. Guiding, leading, scolding when necessary, Venten was the epitome of what a mentor should be. His love for the freshly crowned king of Rogscroft went beyond vocalization. The boy was like a son to old Venten.

  “This is not the way I would part company, Aurec,” Venten said before his voice betrayed him.

  “It is what’s best for the kingdom. I need to accompany General Rolnir and the army. Rogscroft needs you to come out of retirement, Venten. I can’t imagine a snake like Paneolus worming his way back into politics with all of us away.” Aurec winced at the memory of dismissing the self-serving politician only weeks before. He started thinking more severe actions should have been taken.

  Venten frowned. “Paneolus doesn’t have the backing to make a bid for the throne. He’s more vulture than opportunist. A lesser man can defend Rogscroft while the army is deployed. I won’t ask again. Allow me to accompany you on this campaign.”

  Though it hurt him to do so, Aurec couldn’t allow Venten to tag along. “I can’t, Venten. Rogscroft needs your experience. There’s no telling how long it’s going to take to subdue Harnin and find Badron. The kingdom can’t be left without strength. I do not ask this of you lightly. You’ve been my conscience whispering in my ears for many years. I am going to miss you.”