Steely-eyed men wary of newcomers warded the few people that remained. They told fearful tales of Morne riders that haunted the night.
On the ninth day of the march, they were spotted by a man on horseback. A scout of Goliad’s, he raced back towards Rodderdam driving his horse relentlessly. His flight was cut short by the Keshian outriders. His mount no match for the horses of Kesh, which were bred for both strength and speed.
Once he realized the futility of attempting escape the man drew his blade and attacked. He was cut down before he could injure anyone.
By mid afternoon the temperature once more dropped as the sun lay hidden behind a thick wall of dark clouds that drifted down from the northeast. The wind rose and freezing rain began to fall.
The army made the shelter of a dense stand of oaks. The trees were bedecked in cloaks of wilted leaves that offered some relief from the freezing down pour.
Crude shelters were hastily erected, fashioned from cloaks and spears they served to keep the men dry. By nightfall the rain had turned to a fierce snowstorm. The gusting wind shaking the tree tops scattering leaves through the air. The men were miserable for no fires could be lit that night, the fallen timber being too sodden to burn.
It was a dark night, the thin sliver of the waning moon hidden from view by the blanket of clouds overhead. Only a dim glow in the gloom above gave evidence to its existence.
Casius had just drifted off to sleep when he was awakened by the sentries calling out. The army was stirring and the dawn was yet several hours away. Wrapping his blanket about his shoulders he crossed the camp stomping his feet in an attempt to warm them. He found Connell talking with his father near the edge of a dying fire.
“Is anything amiss?” He asked joining them.
“Nay,” Connell answered. “We are breaking camp now, by first light our forces will stand before Rodderdam.”
Casius shivered in the cold, “Then we are to lay siege to the city?”
Connell shrugged, “Perhaps,” he said. “If we do, it will be short lived. The house of Thorunder has become less a fortress than it was in the days of its youth. We are hoping our sheer numbers will force Goliad to surrender, he has few men about him but not even the Morne within the keep can hope to withstand us. In his zeal to remove Gaelan he has left himself vulnerable. His army in the north will be of no use to him now.”
“I think it will take more than a show of force to make this Goliad surrender.”
“As do we Casius,” King Wolhan agreed. “They day will end in our favor, of that there is little doubt.” He looked to the men breaking camp. “But many of these men we stand among will come to their end as well.”
“King Wolhan,” Marcos said approaching them. “This is but the first battle, a crucial one nonetheless in a war that is just beginning.”
“A futile war lest your quest succeeds.” King Wolhan replied.
“Fighting for ones freedom is never futile,” Connell interjected.
“It seems your years in Lakarra have made you into a revolutionary.” King Wolhan said with a smile. “Prepare your mounts we ride within the hour.”
Connell and Casius bowed taking their leave of the King. They gathered their gear and saddled the mounts.
“Casius,” Connell said while wrestling his saddle into place on a recalcitrant Tantalus. “Gaelan has come forth with a plan to take back his fathers hall. It is bold and places us at great risk, but I would have you at my side in its execution.”
“I would be honored.” Casius replied surprised by Connell’s request. “But there are men here of greater skill, why not chose one of them?”
“I trust you Casius,” He answered. “Now you must learn to trust your own skills.” Connell mounted his horse and adjusted his cloak. “Remember what you have been taught and all will be well.”
Casius mounted and followed Connell out of the wood. Behind them came the host of Wolhan and Gaelan.
Once beyond the shelter of the trees a harsh wind tore at them from the darkness. With icy fingers it clawed at their clothing and cast stinging snow into their faces. The incessant howl covering the sounds of their advance.
Within an hour the dim lights of Rodderdam came into view, little more than a scattering of golden lamps upon a dark hill rising above the plain.
At the sight of the city the men grew quiet. A grim resolve spread through the ranks, they knew battle was all too near.
Within a mile of the towering hill the army stopped its advance. Two hundred men under Irson’s leadership moved off into the darkness circling to the west. Their goal was to enter the city undetected and take up positions near the keep.
They waited patiently for two hours to pass. With little warning the host set forth once more. They arrived at the foot of the hill before sunrise. The impending dawn nothing more than a faint rose-colored glimmer on the eastern horizon.
The hill was broad its sides covered with buildings of all sizes. The streets were a maze of narrow alleys winding about the hill until reaching the keep at its summit. A single roadway led up into the city, its base a shallow ramp of set stone.
“Long ago this was an island in a shallow body of water.” Marcos said to King Wolhan. “Many times I sailed upon Ythia’s gentle waves.”
Some of the men overheard his remark and stared at him as if he were mad. Only a chosen few had been informed of Marcos’s true identity and even fewer of them actually believed it to be true.
Casius suddenly had a grim thought. He imagined the waters reclaiming the plain, a cascading torrent washing away the assembled army to a violent death.
“So you are a seaman as well Marcos?” King Wolhan asked.
“Still waters do not an able seaman make.” Marcos replied. “Only those whose mettle has been tempered in the wind torn forges of a gale are worthy of that title.”
King Wolhan nodded in understanding. “Such as times like these.” He said softly. “The days to come will prove the merit of each of us I’m afraid. Whether he is a King or peasant no man will escape the testing”
“It has been thus since the beginning of time.” Marcos said. “Each new day brings challenges, only by overcoming them do we survive.”
“Only for a short time,” Wolhan added. “Death does claim us all.”
“The true measure of a man’s worth is how he has lived his life. Our days are but a short breath in the long eternity that lies ahead.”
King Wolhan raised an eyebrow at Marcos’s last statement. “Kings and Heroes are remembered. What of the common man?”
“All men are measured by the character of their soul. The lives we lead here determine our final destiny beyond the veil between our worlds. Neither gold nor title has any value after our last breath. In death there is equality.”
All conversation stopped as a bell began to toll in the city above. Within moments many others joined it until the dawn rang with their clamor.
“I believe we have been seen,” King Wolhan said with a grim face. “For good or ill the game is at hand.”
The men of Trondhiem stood in two giant squares before the road into Rodderdam. Twenty five hundred men each dressed in full armor. Over their tabards they wore cloaks borrowed from the riders. To the men of the city they appeared to be Keshian soldiers.
Behind them arrayed in an immense curving arch stood the Keshian cavalry. The rising sun reflecting from thirty thousand burnished shields. The plain below the city was afire with their light.
King Wolhan gave the signal and ten thousand bronze horns rang out. A clarion call of challenge that could be heard for a score of miles, drowning out the tolling bells above.
King Wolhan accompanied by Gaelan and Connell rode his horse to front of the army. Behind them came the standard bearers flying the flag of Kesh. The crimson and gold standard of King Wolhan snapped loudly in wind, the bells above the city having gone silent.
Casius sat tall in his saddle; he could not help but admire the beauty of the city. Snow clad building
s huddled close together upon the sides of Cal’Arev their chimneys etching the overcast sky with light smoke.
To the west the sun glimmered upon the surface of Lake Bri’Amor. From its surface a faint fog drifted over the plain obscuring the western horizon.
The city above stood silent, not a soul could be seen moving in the streets or on its many balconies. For the better part of an hour the only sounds were the occasional barking dog and the snapping flag of Kesh.
Casius nearly jumped as a squad of fifty Keshian horseman thundered off to the west, another group rode eastward. Scouts Casius realized, King Wolhan would not be taken unawares.
“What the hell is going on up there?” Gaelan fumed, his anger causing his mount to step about.
“Goliad is asserting his authority,” King Wolhan answered. “By making us wait he is trying to show us who is in charge here.”
“Here comes his response now.” Connell announced pointing to the lone rider appearing on the upper reaches of the roadway.
Chapter Ten
A lone rider trotted down the cobbled lane. In his upraised fist he held a white scarf. The man wore no armor, only a heavy cloak over robes of azure. From beneath the cloak the end of a scabbard was plainly visible. His face was thin with dark hawkish eyes that narrowed in anger when they fell upon King Wolhan.
“Vernal!” Gaelan hissed menacingly from behind his helmets visor, his hand coming to rest upon the hilt of his sword.
“Hold your anger,” Connell whispered at him. “The time for blood shed draws near soon enough.”
Gaelan grunted and reluctantly let his hand slide away from his weapon.
Vernal stopped his mount several paces before King Wolhan, his eyes roaming among the assembled men. Although he feigned indifference the sweat upon his brow betrayed his fear.
A few of the men flinched beneath his gaze, fearful of discovery. By all rights Vernal should have recognized some of them from their service within the keep. He failed to do so however, it had always been his practice to pay little attention to those he considered to be beneath his station. Seemingly satisfied with what he saw he turned his gaze to King Wolhan.
“You bring arms to a land not your own,” He said haughtily. “Do you mean to insult our King?”
“King?” Wolhan said feigning surprise. “Word has reached Kesh that it is Queen Weyass who rules here. Has Gaelan gained the throne?”
“You would know better of Gaelan than I.” Vernal answered. “Did you not encounter his men at Tro’marg pass?”
“The pass stands unguarded and Carich tower is home to only a few stray dogs.” Wolhan replied.
“Unguarded?” Vernal repeated in disbelief, a puzzled look flickering across his perpetual sneer.
“I have traveled far to speak with my niece,” King Wolhan said interrupting his thoughts. Leaning forward in his saddle King Wolhan met Vernal’s gaze and held it fast. “I will ask you this only once more. Who now wears the crown of Trondhiem?”
“Goliad,” Vernal answered quickly his voice filled with hatred. “The Queens husband.”
King Wolhan sat back in his saddle. “The Landsmarch approved of this.”
“There is no more Landsmarch,” Vernal said happily. “Traitors all, it is they who are responsible for the Kings…” Vernal paused considering. “Your half brothers death.”
“I was led to believe it was Gaelan who slew his father.”
“Aye he did,” Vernal added. “The houses of the Landsmarch aided him in his treachery.”
“Those that murdered my brother should be dealt with harshly.” King Wolhan said looking away in disgust from the villain before him. “Only a man who carries the blood of Thorunder can by rights be called King.” Wolhan returned his gaze to Vernal. “Goliad can make no such claim.”
“Times change,” Vernal said with a shrug. “This is a new era and many of the old traditions have been abandoned.”
King Wolhan shook his head in disbelief. “I grow tired of your banter Vernal.” He said dismissing the man. “Have Queen Weyass come to me.”
“The Queen is ill, you will have to deal with King Goliad.”
Wolhan’s face grew red with anger. “Then have this Goliad ride forth.”
Vernal smiled with arrogance. “It is you who have come unbidden to Trondhiem with an army at your back. King Goliad will not be summoned, if you would speak with his majesty then come to his hall to do so.”
“My King,” Connell said before his father could answer. “Goliad insults you by sending this…” Connell paused searching for the right words. “Perfumed lapdog. Allow me the honor of going in your stead. I see treachery afoot here and if it does exist it is you who should lead the blades into combat.”
King Wolhan rubbed his chin as if giving careful consideration to Connell’s words. “Very well,” He said. “Take a guard of twenty men with you.” King Wolhan turned to face Vernal once more. “Should any harm befall my son I will burn this city to the ground and slay every man within it.”
“No harm will come to him,” Vernal said hastily. He knew King Wolhan meant every word, and he had the manpower with him to see the deed done. He only hoped Goliad would see the dangerous situation that they were now in.
From the men around him Connell made a show of selecting his guard, among them stood Marcos, Suni, and Casius. The men had already been chosen the night before from a long line of volunteers. Each man knew what he was to do when the time came.
With a nod to Vernal, Connell followed the man up the sloping ramp to the road above.
Beside King Wolhan, D’Yana sat in her saddle with a back as rigid as a spear shaft. Her cheeks were ruddy and her eyes burned hotly with contained anger.
King Wolhan saw her expression and knew the emotions she was feeling. “They ride into certain danger.” He said softly. “It is because he cares for you that he has chosen to leave you behind.”
D’Yana was not placated by the King’s words. “He was to choose me,” She reminded him. “Noble intentions do not lesson the humility I now feel.”
The King nodded, “I know, but this scheme of Gaelan and Marcos is risky at best. But if the mages suspicions are correct then we may all be in grave danger shortly.” He watched the men disappear into the maze of streets above them. “Pray we don’t miss their signal.”
“If I know Marcos,” She answered with a slight smile. “Half the people in Kesh will see it.”
Unlike the orderly streets and broad avenues of Red spire, Rodderdam was a maze of narrow lanes and alleys sandwiched between buildings that at times leaned over them.
The horse’s hooves echoed loudly on the cobblestones. The streets were deserted, with only a few stray dogs lurking about the dark alleyways. From the narrow windows the cities citizens watched the riders pass with fearful faces.
They passed more than a few buildings that had been recently gutted by fire, the blotches of black soot staining the walls giving the burned out shells a leprous look.
Casius could feel the anger within Prince Gaelan. From within his concealing helm his eyes shone dangerously. Casius hoped the Prince could maintain his hold on his anger. It would only take a moment of weakness to end Lord Vernal’s days and ruin their plans.
Passing between two large buildings bordering on an open square they came before the gates of the house of Thorunder. Connell reined his mount to a stop.
It was not the sight of the large stone keep that gave Connell reason to pause. It was what lined the low berm before the curtain wall that both horrified him, and filled his heart with rage.
Several score of bodies in various stages of decay hung impaled upon long stakes of sharpened wood. Their flesh torn beyond recognition by the feasting crows, that cawed loudly at the riders approach.
Casius held his breath against the overwhelming stench of corruption. He turned his eyes skyward unable to meet the vacant eye sockets that seemed to cry out to him. The crows lined the merlons above their dark eyes watching the new com
ers warily.
Connell’s eyes burned with murderous rage. “Is this the charity Goliad affords his subjects?” He asked Vernal threateningly.
Vernal held a satin cloth over his nose and mouth to hold the foul smell at bay. “These are hard times,” he said avoiding Connell’s eyes. “They rebelled against the crown. Goliad needed to make an example to save the monarchy.”
“A monarchy that perpetrates such atrocities does not deserve to continue.” Connell answered sharply.
“Treason cannot be overlooked.” Vernal said defensively. “Order must be maintained, mercy will be granted once the crown is secure.”
“Your security is but an illusion.” Connell said turning his eyes away from the grisly scene. “Now the traitors meet in secret, their numbers growing by ten for every one slain before this gate.
“Trondhiem is not a nation of cowards, these are brave proud men who will not sell their lives or freedom cheaply. They will talk and plan awhile and when the time comes they will take action. Your lord Goliad is a fool. His iron fist will only serve to shorten the days of his reign.”
Vernal’s back straightened in indignation. “This is Trondhiem not Kesh.” He reminded Connell in a voice dripping acid. “Your father does not rule this land.”
Connell ducked his head at the rebuke. “For the moment he does not.” He said with a smile spurring his mount through the gate past a fuming lord Vernal.
Casius rode through the gate alongside Gaelan. He stole a quick glance at the new King. He could see the anger in the way Gaelan gripped the hilt of sword.
The courtyard was filled with men preparing the keep for a siege. There were little more than two thousand men to man the walls. Goliad had risked much in sending his army northward to pin Gaelan at Carich. He was now forced to deal with King Wolhan; his plans had not counted on the sudden appearance of Kesh’s army.
The small number of men reassured Casius. He knew there were Morne here as well but they could not be many. There was no way Goliad could withstand Wolhan’s forces. Even if Marcos’s plan failed, Goliad’s days upon the throne were coming to an end.
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