WORRLGENHALL

by Luke, Monica

  When Baric heard about their inhuman deed, he was more than riled. He was enraged, and swore by the very blood within him that King Gegorad would die painfully.

  **

  To make it quickly to aid to men of Worrlgen, or more so Ovfren, Enek rode harder than he had for anything in his life, stopping for nothing, not even to rest the horses.

  “We shall meet at the neck of the river to cross,” he said, as if even possible, he spurred his horse harder. “Grand Commander will be with us soon.”

  “He spoke of no such thing,” Enek’s second in command, who was keeping to his pace, shouted over at him.

  “He will join us.” Enek had no doubt, “And the king as well.”

  **

  “Divide!” Laad shouted, before going left.

  As the horn signaled, the men divided, with Baric charging on his horse straight down the middle, yet, King Gegorad still stayed far back behind his men on his two-horse chariot, having not drawn his sword once.

  With each flail of his sword, Baric kept him in his sight, as he smugly stood in his chariot.

  “By my hand!” Baric yelled, as his will and his might drove him into the thick of fierce fighting, determined to cut through to get to him.

  “We are pushing them back across the river!” Loth yelled out.

  The men seemed to retreat, and as Laad caught a glance of Loth across the grassy plain, his quick smile, turned somber when he saw the reason for the retreat. A horde of men charging towards them from the west, they realized it was only a momentary ploy.

  “Such a fool I am.” Laad cursed to himself, then shouted a command, “High guilds, break and charge west! Footmen and gruels stay the course!”

  Laad’s command reaffirmed by horn signal, the high guilds broke from fighting and charged west, and when King Gegorad saw it, knew his allies were coming.

  “Attack, our time is at hand!”

  Loth and the high guilds rode to engage the men head on, and from their strange clothes, already gathered they were men for hire. The thought of them fighting for no real cause other than selfish greed disgusting them, the hearts of the men from Worrlgen resolved to humble, as well as, humiliate them, sending them to their deaths, or retreating home with their tails between their legs.

  Their war cry in a tongue none could understand, other than the men sounded like they spoke with a mouth full of water gurgling in their throats, Loth called them gurglers, as he charged into the thick of them.

  “Kill every last gurgler or die trying!”

  As both clashed head on into the other, the gurglers slowly swinging their axes and overly weighted swords making their movements seemingly slow, the swift men of Worrlgen use both hands skillfully to wield their swords, chopping and slicing into them like quartering meat.

  “Aaaahhh, blow the horn!” Loth cried out; when he realized his own sword had cut the last man down, “Aaaaahh, Worrlgen!”

  Stopping only briefly to listen to the horn triumphantly blown, Baric continued slashing his way to King Gegorad. His blood spattered face completely covered such that he looked like he painted his face red, when an arrow struck his shoulder; he simply switched his sword to his other hand.

  “No mercy!” He cried out.

  **

  “Enek, we must rest the horses,” Hyal yelled, “They will die if we keep to this pace.”

  Enek looked out, and saw the valley knowing they were close, but close wasn’t there, and although anxious, he knew as well, if the horses did not cool down and rest, he wouldn’t make it.

  “So be it,” he relented, “Only enough to let them cool down, eat, and drink, then we are off again.”

  Hyal nodded; then when Enek walked a few paces ahead to be alone, after he twisted around the braided cord on his wrists, he stared out at the slowly setting sun.

  When he noticed how lost in thought he looked, and as if longing for something, Hyal walked over to him and put his hand on his shoulder.

  “Commander, what plagues you?”

  “Worry from love,” he said, briefly glancing at him, then back at the setting sun.

  “Love of the men of Worrlgen?” he asked, as he gave him his pouch to drink from, realizing he hadn’t bothered with eating or drinking anything since they rode out.

  “Love of one from Worrlgen who is fighting.”

  Hyal looked at him puzzled; Worrlgen didn’t allow its women to fight alongside the men. “What woman?”

  Enek didn’t answer and only exhaled hard.

  Hyal thought back on any clues to get his answer; then remembered the stunt on the horses with his brother, and that one from WorrlgenHall watched it and cheered when they finished. He also remembered that Enek actually rode out him to talk to him.

  “…the one with the strange eyes?”

  Still no answer came from him.

  “Commander,” Hyal understandingly said, again putting his hand on Enek’s shoulder. “Dare I fight and face death for a king and a commander who openly show all they are in love with each other, then judge and scorn my commander and friend. You have my loyalty even now, just as you will always.”

  Enek looked at his friend and nodded. “When the horses are rested we shall ride again and cut down those against the people of Worrlgen.

  **

  The Hemrock men forced closer to the river, knowing crossing it would mean defeat; King Gegorad had a final destructive plan.

  “Did you give him enough?”

  His commander looked at him. “I did. If he puts the ordered amount they and he will become slow and when they do, we shall over take them.”

  King Gegorad gave him a speculative look. “Can you trust him?”

  “Never would I, but hate is what I trust will see that the deed is done.”

  “When will they feel it?”

  “Soon.”

  King Gegorad stared ahead, as always, the smug look still resting across his face, he thought of his stay at WorrlgenHall. Pleasant enough it was, and in truth, King Baric was very likeable, and honorable.

  Yet, the temptation to great to resist, and his commander’s constant words into his ear that he should be sole ruler of the western region; his ego could no longer ignore him, and he colluded with Atorad of Celgon.

  He had no inkling, that the king from the north would come to the vies, escalating it all into a war of kingdoms, but the plan already in full effect made it to late to change the course of it.

  His commanders driving purpose, personal, and one he would only reveal bits and pieces of, other than those from Worrlgen destroyed his village forcing him to flee. The kingdom would forever be a source of resentment for him that he would dedicate his life in seeing destroyed.

  “Well, we shall wait.”

  **

  One third of the foot soldiers and two commanders ordered to remain within the former kingdom of Celgon, Belon sent Cyorec and his men back to WorrlgenHall to aid them in any way possible.

  “Grecia,” Aderac suddenly blurted, as they rode west to aid those from Worrlgen.

  “Who is that?”

  “That was my grandmother’s name.”

  Belon smiled. “And I gather is the new name for Celgon?”

  “How does it sound off the tongue?”

  “Anything off your tongue sounds pleasing, and is.”

  Aderac blushed, remembering just nights before he did indeed please Belon with his tongue.

  “Let us ride,” Belon said, spurring his horse forward. “Enek should only be a half a day ahead.”

  **

  The sky painted orange and red, when the sun began gradually to sail into slumber the determined keen look in Baric’s eyes began to blur.

  As he fought, he suddenly looked startled at the man in front of him when suddenly he split into three; then as he shook his head rapidly until he became one man again, he sliced into him.

  After the man fell dead at Baric’s feet, a chill sweep across him, and a feeling all to familiar returned.

  �
�Ogorec,” Baric called to him, now felling sick to his stomach and woozy.

  Barely able to answer, Ogorec managed a grunt.

  “How much ale did you drink?” Baric groaned.

  “…t...tw...two cups,”

  Remembering, he drank very little while he talked with Ogorec, who had drained both cups. Baric knew Ogorec would feel the full and possibly deadly effect.

  “Laad!” Baric called out. His own body swaying while he watched Ogorec suddenly slump.

  Laad was by his side in a matter of a blink, and Loth in two blinks.

  “What has happened, King?” Laad said, as he went down to one knee.

  “We have been poisoned.”

  “What did you drink?”

  “Ale, some is still in my skin pouch.”

  Loth sprang into action. Rushing over to Baric’s horse to get it, then once back in front of him, he pulled the bung out and smelled it, but nothing smelled strange. “Did you eat any same thing?”

  “No.” Baric groaned.

  “It has to be the ale.” Loth knew.

  About to pour it out, Laad stopped him. “We will need it.”

  “We have a traitor.” Loth’s blood boiled.

  Slowly, Laad’s eyes rose looking to his left and right at the men around him, not once moving his head. “Carry the king and Ogorec back behind the slings,” he ordered, “Put them in a tent and have-”

  Laad looked at Loth, his eyes asking him who to trust.

  “Gret, Vindal, and Yergic,” Loth whispered.

  “Have Gret,Vindal, and Yergic guard them.”

  “What shall we do?” Loth asked, as he stood close to Laad, still whispering.

  “Root him or them out.”

  No sooner than he spoke, suddenly high guilds to low guilds began to double over from stomach pain, swagger, or slump.

  “Pull back!” Laad yelled.

  The horn peeled and men pulled back, some of them barely able to escape with their lives.

  **

  When he heard the horn, then groans, and sounds of men vomiting, King Gegorad laughed pleased at the sight of guilds leaning from the side of their horses vomiting as they pulled back.

  Approvingly, he nodded. The man, who had been his commander for over ten winters, verified by the vomiting men of Worrlgen that he indeed had skill for making subtle poisons.

  “It is now,” he finally told Commander Alden.

  With a determined purpose of their own, the Hemrock warriors charged forward, as now the gruels and footman took over the fighting, to keep them from breaking through the lines.

  Back in the camp, Baric lay on his side vomiting, while Ogorec trembled violently in a bed across from him on his back.

  “Have any died yet from the poison?”

  “A few have fallen.”

  “You have sole command,” Loth said to Laad. “The king’s head is no longer able to reason in his state.”

  Laad looked at the pouch, then thought of the night before.

  “We did not want to drink,” he spoke his thoughts aloud, knowing he and Loth would be in the same state as Baric and Ogorec, along with the guilds.

  “I was in no mood and you had other worries,” Loth commented.

  Both men looked at each other.

  “Who served the ale?” Laad asked first.

  Only minutes later after asking the question, Laad scowled at two gruels forced to his feet. “Did you poison the ale?”

  “No!” the two cried out their innocence, although certain death was imminent.

  Something about their eyes, or rather surprise, shock, and sympathy in them for the king and the guilds seemed to strike Laad that they spoke the truth. If they did such a deed, why would they care, or better yet, why had they not fled?”

  “Did you leave the ale for any reason?”

  “A man came up to me as I got the barrel out of the wagon,” one answered, “And asked for my help lift a large box.”

  Laad looked at the other man. “And where were you?”

  “I was on the other side, taking out dried meat.”

  “Who was the man?”

  “He was cloaked, I could see his face… but”

  “But what…”

  “I knew he was one of the high guilds by his wristband carvings.”

  Only guilds with carvings in their wristbands those who fought in at least five battles, at least it narrowed down the culprit.

  “It was one of the higher guilds.” Loth fumed.

  “You know all when it comes to the men,” Laad sought Laad’s ever-knowing knowledge of disgruntled men.

  “Whoever it is seems to have held his tongue well.”

  “Or is it that he has not, and we have overlooked him?”

  When Ogorec groaned and vomited, Laad called for one of the gruels to tend to him.

  “Should I call for the priests?” the gruel suggested, but when both men gave him a scowl without answering him, he lowered his head and silenced.

  “Let us step outside for more words.”

  As they were about to walk out of earshot of anyone to talk more, Laad noticed Adeon standing staring blankly.

  “Is something wrong Adeon,” Loth asked.

  “Such dread if I am wrong, but I know who could be behind this.”

  Loth put his fingers over his lips as a sign for him not to say another word, but follow him and Laad, then once they got alone he urged him reveal all he knew.

  “We you commanded us to ride out and follow King Gegorad on his return,” Adeon revealed. “As we watched, Osgorad’s mood seemed strange. He spoke that his stomach pained him and that he needed to go relieve himself. He was gone for a long time, and when he came back, I heard his pouch jingle, which I did not hear before he left.”

  Not waiting for him to finish, Loth rushed off. “Where is Osgorad?”

  “Neither he, nor his brother have I seen for most of the day,” a man answered.

  Now gathering they were behind the treachery Loth became so angry his jaw clenched making his teeth ache, and he rushed back over to Laad. “Osgorad and his brother Egan are behind this deed.”

  **

  The gruels and footmen held the men of Hemrock at bay, although, not very long, as the horse guard and footmen charged up the gradual slope with Alden in the lead brutally cutting down those less experienced.

  “They are breaking through, sound the horn!”

  When Laad heard the horn, he rushed to a mound and looked down at the gruesome spectacle.

  “It is time to reason as would a king?” Loth commented, as he climbed the mound to look down with him.

  Laad noticed one in the midst vain enough to decorate his horse charging up the slope and gathered he was one important, but couldn’t see his face because it was covered. “Look at that one!”

  “He is bold.” Loth commented.

  “More so foolish.”

  After noticing the vain one, Laad took out his bow and nocked his arrow; then as the man wielded his sword and killed one of the footmen; about to kill another Laad released it.

  Again, as if destined another of Laad’s arrows, just as the one that killed the man who stabbed Orem in the throat, seemed guided by an unseen force.

  It gracefully sailed across the stilled sky, landed in Alden’s cheek on the left side and came out the backside of his ear.

  Somehow still alive, he fell off his horse to the ground pleading for help, which he soon got from a gruel, who helped him on his way into the afterlife.

  Noticing the ferocity of how the men, his men, fought Laad filled pride and like an unleashed storm let it pour out onto the men, in his voice.

  “Men of Worrlgen, you will not fall or fail!” His thunderous peal into each man’s ear, “You will not die! You cannot die! You are men of a powerful kingdom, and you will make all know it and tremble in fear!”

  His very words seemed to embolden the gruels and footmen to fight as if each had the strength of ten men combined.

  When Ald
en fell from his horse and the gruels cut him to pieces, the men on either side of him gasped shock, before some turned to retreat, while others still fought, and when King Gegorad saw it, just as he had done from the first day of battle, showed his cowardice.

  Quickly, he turned to flee, resolved he’d wage war against Worrlgen again someday, but halted when he saw a great stir of dust in the sky moving towards his direction.

  “I hear the sounds of battle,” Hyal commented, following Enek, who had already charged ahead.

  As Enek, Hyal, and the men rounded the ridge by the neck of the river, Enek caught sight of a colorful chariot fleeing in the distance.

  “I gather that is the King of Hemrock tired of battling,” Enek said sarcastically.

  “He is within the aim of a spear,” Hyal commented.

  “Aim it at his chariot man.”

  Hyal did just that, and as he fell forward dead, just as Enek gathered would be the chain of events the chariot overturned and flipped the king out of it.

  Landing on his head, he was unconscious when they caught up with him, but still breathing, so several men picked him up and strapped him across a horse, then after they fought and killed the few that were fleeing with him, continued.

  “Look!” Loth yelled, when he noticed men suddenly riding in behind those who still fought on for Hemrock, not knowing their king abandoned them, “That looks like Belon’s commander.”

  **

  While the priest spoke words over Ogorec, Ovfren burst inside the tent and fell to his knees beside him. Ogorec’s body trembling, he was drenched in sweat and cold to the touch, but his eyes opened.

  “Ogorec!”

  “Ovfren,” Ogorec rasped.

  “Do not die,” he said, as he grabbed his hand and squeezed it hard and put his hand on his cheek.

  “I do not want to, yet I fear…”