A Whisper After Midnight

by Christian Warren Freed

  “We’ve known they were working together but never in such a major offensive,” Venten added quickly. “Badron seems almost desperate to cross the mountains.”

  “Or destroy the Pell utterly,” Mahn said.

  Aurec assimilated the data quickly, having already made up his mind. “The Pell are a major nuisance to General Rolnir but Badron thinks them beneath concern. However, he knows that the mountain folk bar the way back to his homeland. He can’t get his army home without engaging the Pell.” He paused. “One thousand? How many are Wolfsreik?”

  “Two full battalions,” Vajna answered. “Close to three hundred men.”

  “Not exactly the largest chunk we could take out of his combat strength but still large enough to send a message to Rolnir and his commanders. We need to make Delranan fear us again. I think this is a prime opportunity to remove a significant portion of their fighting power.”

  “Sire, they have an estimated twenty thousand Men and Goblins at their disposal. We can’t possibly compete with that,” Mahn countered.

  “A day ago I would have agreed but matters have changed. We’ve bled them from the moment the vanguard first came down from the foothills. They are demoralized and now realizing they’re involved in a guerrilla-style campaign they aren’t trained for. This is our moment, friends. We’ve taken the war to the enemy in just this manner from day one. Now it’s time to unleash all of our pent-up fury and aggression and make them pay. General, how many soldiers can you assemble to meet the combined task force?”

  Vajna grinned, folding his arms across his chest. “A little more than they have. Enough to give a good fight.”

  “Numbers are in our favor. All you need to do is drive them up into the mountains and into the Pell. Between your fighters and the Pell hunters we’ll be able to crush them to the man,” Aurec’s voice rose with previously unfelt passion. “This will send a clear message to Rolnir and Badron. We are a force to be reckoned with. There is fight left in us. Today begins a new age. Rogscroft will rise again. We will rebuild our cities, our homes and our families. Today we become a people again and shout in one loud voice that we cannot be conquered! We are the masters of this kingdom! The hour and glory belongs to you, the Men of Rogscroft!”

  Cheers and applause spread quickly. Too long had they languished under the oppression of uncertainty and lament. Heavy losses forced them underground where they licked their wounds and hid from the enemy. Aurec’s bold proclamation changed all of that in a single moment. The campaign to retake Rogscroft was at last underway.

  Aurec let them cheer, knowing they needed it after so much hardship. Gradually it faded and he continued, “Prepare your troops and leave at your earliest convenience. It shouldn’t take the enemy more than two days to get into the mountains where they will be bogged down by the Pell. I have assurances from Gol Mad that the Pell will fight. Venten and Sergeant Thorsson, I want you to step up training of those who remain. Take everyone willing to fight: men, women, I don’t care.”

  “That won’t sit well with many of the traditionalists,” Mahn said, his own feelings clouded. The possibility of fighting alongside women never entered his mind until Aurec mentioned it.

  “I don’t care. Traditions are dead, Mahn. The only way we can survive as a people is by embracing the change necessary to continue the fight. Besides, we’ve all heard rumors of warrior women in southern kingdoms. We’re not breaking any new ground.”

  “Agreed. Are there any age restrictions?”

  “So long as they can hold a spear or sword and march alongside their compatriots, no,” Aurec answered. “We need soldiers to fill the rank and file and I need an army to reclaim our kingdom. Do not let this dishearten you. Ours is a long, arduous road, but one we must travel if we hope to find peace at the end. Nothing easy is ever worth doing. We will survive this and see our days renewed. Rogscroft will become a symbol of righteousness. A beacon for other kingdoms to follow.”

  “How far will you take this war?” Venten asked. “Your father wanted only peace with our neighbors. Recall he and Badron were once boyhood friends. He would not wish for you to visit such violence on Delranan.”

  Aurec paused. When he spoke his voice was measured, calculated. “My father is dead. I will take the war as far as I must. Badron will either stand down or surrender.”

  Murmurs broke out. No one expected him to announce invading the strength of Delranan. The thought was preposterous. Rogscroft had limited resources and a small army. Certainly not enough to tackle a kingdom so powerful. The Wolfsreik was the source of that power. Aurec’s plan hinged on being able to break them down and force negotiations. Without the Wolfsreik in the field Badron would have no choice but to fold.

  Aurec met their gawking looks with confidence he hadn’t felt in weeks. “There is no other way. Anything less is suicide.”

  “Attacking Delranan will also prove suicidal,” Venten argued. “We have neither the strength nor the will to do so. Not with ten thousand Men could we hope to take their kingdom.”

  “I don’t want Delranan. I want Badron gone and reparations made for what they’ve done here,” Aurec countered. “Rogscroft comes first, before all our needs.”

  “Precisely why we can’t risk an invasion this close to being conquered.”

  “We haven’t been conquered yet, old friend. There is fight left in us. I have seen it just by walking through the camp. Our people want to fight, but have followed my foolish lead. Paneolus, you have been one of my father’s staunchest supporters. You are also the only surviving member of the former government. I need you to continue your service.”

  The older diplomat shifted uncomfortably, as if he’d just been asked to kill his firstborn child. He’d lost much of his excess weight in their exile, now the unused skin hung from his neck. “My lord, I have spent many long years in the service of the kingdom and while I would like nothing more than to retire into a life of obscurity I will do as you ask.”

  Aurec nodded. “Thank you. My first task to you is to build support for my intentions. You have the gift of speech. Use it. Garner enough support that the minor issue of sex is forgotten for the needs of the greater good. It is the only way.”

  “It will be done,” Paneolus said more quietly.

  Aurec scanned those assembled. “Time is of the essence. General, you may depart on your own accord. Mahn, I need you to go back to the field. Travel with Gol Mad back to Cuul Ol’s camp and tell him our plans. We must have their support.”

  “Raste is going to love you,” Mahn grinned. “We’ll depart in the morning, sire.”

  Aurec couldn’t help but chuckle. The laughter felt surprisingly good. He’d languished for too long and needed mirth. “Begin your preparations. It’s time to take the fight back to our enemies.”

  TWELVE

  Unexpected Allies

  Vajna leaned heavily on the nearest spruce. His breath came in ragged gasps. His muscles trembled from exertion and his eyes burned from beads of sweat stinging him. Dark blood, so foul it appeared black, washed the front of his armor. Great notches had been carved into his finely honed sword and still the battle was far from over. He wiped his brow with the back of an arm and surveyed the battlefield.

  Small, rolling foothills surrounded him, making it next to impossible for the enemy to have any sort of visual range. Coordination and detailed movements became next to impossible and the battle quickly devolved into singular combat. Without the ability to control the Wolfsreik, commanders lost the advantage. Vajna watched as Men battled Men. The combat was fierce but nothing compared to the natural ferocity of the Goblins. Born and bred under the mountains, their squat, powerful bodies were perfect for hand-to-hand fighting and their independent aggressiveness ensured they worked better alone than in a regimented unit.

  Goblins hacked and bit their opponents. Body parts littered the snow, though the quickly cooling blood melted much of it into a soupy mess. A Wolfsreik soldier stabbed his blade deep into the belly of one of Va
jna’s Men. The bright red tip punched out the spine with a spray of blood and steam. A Goblin fell dead from an arrow buried in its throat. Dozens already lay dead. Scores. And still the carnage continued unabated. Even with the arrival of the Pell Darga, Vajna found it difficult to envision any type of victory. The Goblins were simply too powerful. Neither he nor Aurec took that into account.

  Already pushed to the point of exhaustion, Vajna pushed off the tree and readied to lead a counter charge. Three mounted soldiers appeared suddenly from behind, trapping him against the trees. Cold dread filled his heart. He knew he couldn’t run. Death had come at last. He raised his sword to a low guard and waited.

  The sudden attack didn’t come though. The riders pulled up short and watched him from behind their helmet visors. Steam puffed from the horses. Hooves stamped impatiently. Magnificent animals bred for war, they wanted to be free to trample the enemy. Only the strength of their riders prevented that from happening. After what felt like hours, the lead rider slowly removed his helmet. He stared down on Vajna with mild interest, quietly admiring the spirit of the Man.

  “Lower your weapon. I am not here to fight you.”

  Vajna didn’t move. “What trickery is this? You are Wolfsreik. My enemy.”

  “Not so much an enemy as you think. I am Herger and I come with an offer from my general.”

  “What offer?” Vajna remained wary. The long spears could skewer him effortlessly despite his willingness to talk.

  “There will be time for that later. For now I propose that we join forces and destroy these Goblin scum. Their very sight offends me,” Herger said with a disarming smile.

  Vajna searched Herger’s face for signs of treachery but his instincts were unconfirmed. If Herger plotted, he did an impressive job of concealing it. Lowering his sword, Vajna nodded. “Very well. I am Vajna. Let us kill the Goblins and speak as Men.”

  Herger returned the nod. “Good man. Captain, order the charge. No Man is to be harmed by any Wolfsreik under penalty of death.”

  “Yes sir.”

  They watched the junior officer ride off to begin the counter attack. Vajna relished the idea of his enemies turning on each other, knowing how much easier his task had just become. At least for the moment. Battle cries and cheers rose from the Men as they ceased fighting each other and turned on the dumbstruck Goblins. The body count rose drastically.

  The battle turned to a rout and then an all-out slaughter. Goblins were killed where they stood. Very few escaped. An hour later the combined commanders ordered their forces to halt. Without an accurate body count there wasn’t any viable way to ensure every Goblin was accounted for and Herger was inclined to let it be. Enough killing had been done for one day and word would eventually get back to Badron and Grugnak. The alliance was shattered. From this day forward the Wolfsreik and Goblins would be as the gods intended, bitter enemies.

  Herger found Vajna being treated for a wound on his right thigh. Medics finished bandaging their general with scowls and harsh words. A leader wasn’t useful dead and the new armies of Rogscroft needed their senior commander. He waved off their concerns with gruff comments and a stern look. Good leaders needed to be in the front to inspire their Men, putting their own regard last.

  “You fought well,” Herger commented sharply. “Not many would be willing to put themselves in harm’s way for men they hardly know. It speaks greatly for the wealth of Rogscroft, General.”

  “We are left with very few choices,” Vajna replied. “Farmers become heroes and the old rise above the youth. War makes strangers of us all.”

  “No truer words have been spoken. By the gods, it felt good slaying the grey skins.”

  “It felt better not having to worry about your wolf soldiers though I can’t help but wonder about your true intent. Why did you stop fighting us?”

  Herger took a seat on the field stool beside Vajna and ran a hand through his hair. “General Rolnir believes the time has come to part ways with our unwanted allies. The Goblins are no longer necessary to our war efforts.”

  “You haven’t beaten us that soundly, Colonel,” Vajna scowled. “Why does Badron send away such a massive force? He has to know he wastes his greatest combat multiplier.”

  Herger remained quiet for a few moments longer than Vajna felt comfortable with. “King Badron doesn’t know.”

  Even the medics were forced to stop in shock.

  Gol Mad and one hundred Pell Darga warriors came down from the foothills with spears in hand. Blood and gore dripped from body and blade and they sang terrible songs of victory and honor. More than one Pell carried a bloodied scalp at his belt. None showed signs of exhaustion, contrary to their lowland counterparts. The Pell were bred in the high mountains and better adapted to the limited oxygen and harsh conditions. Every warrior wanted more.

  They halted at the edge of battle and curiously stared at the two groups of men. None of it made sense. The Wolfsreik had come to Rogscroft and the Murdes Mountains to kill and destroy two distinct ways of life. Goblins added problems but weren’t overly difficult to deal with. The Pell watched the nervous alliance, quietly wondering what was going to happen next.

  “This is not good.”

  Gol Mad thumbed his dulled spear tip. “No. We must be cautious. These lowlanders do not hold honor as we. Perhaps they have good reason to stop fighting.”

  The first warrior bristled, insulted by the apparent betrayal. “We should attack now, while they talk.”

  Gol Mad studied the youth, a lad of barely eighteen years. Once, long ago, he held the same beliefs but the war aged him in more ways than he realized. Gol valued patience now, and prudence. There was a time and place for everything. He’d seen too many friends fall because of their own ignorance. Every man had limitations but fools failed to recognize them in time. Gol Mad was a survivor. He knew that now. It fell to him to train the young, teach them how wars were really fought.

  “We do not know why they talk. Attacking is not good, Daf Hu. Rushing into battle unprepared is good for only death. We wait, watch, and learn.”

  The youth tensed at the rebuke, but was wise enough to keep his tongue. He’d seen others beaten for less. They lived, but bore the scars of shame for the rest of their days. Daf vowed to abide until his time for leadership arrived.

  Gol Mad looked back at his warriors. “Wait here. I will speak with the wolf soldiers and our allies. Eat, drink. Prepare fires and sharpen your blades.”

  They grumbled consent and followed orders as Gol marched over the blood-painted ground to the meeting place. He bowed curtly to Vajna and halted just far enough away to have room to maneuver should the meeting prove deadly.

  “Ah, Colonel Herger, this is Gol Mad of the Pell Darga,” Vajna introduced. His voice was stern, betraying no hint of weakness or fear. Vajna knew the Pell’s respect hinged on his ability to project confidence and command under the worst circumstances. Anything less would result in the Pell returning to their mountains as enemies.

  “We are not friends with the wolf soldiers,” Gol Mad said crisply. He planted his feet shoulder width apart, a move intended to show strength and power. It was an old Pell tactic normally used during mating rituals and rites of passage. The Pell were fierce and proud. Only the proper display of force would garner respect from a warrior.

  Herger took in his enemy for the first time. Barely taller than a Goblin, Gol Mad had dark brown skin, aged and weathered by constant exposure to foul weather. Shoulder length black hair was stringy and unkempt. Almond shaped eyes were so black they appeared endless. His muscles were thin, wiry. Everything about the man suggested a cagey warrior capable of killing a Man with barely an effort. Herger was impressed.

  “Nor does the Wolfsreik consider you a friend,” he replied just as strongly. “Your kind has killed many of my warriors.”

  Gol flexed his shoulders. “As have yours.”

  Vajna felt his heart ready to burst. He cursed his own ignorance for allowing the two sides to interact. Pel
l and Wolfsreik had been mortal enemies for generations. Scores had been killed during the war and neither seemed willing to back down and accept the other. Aurec never dreamed of a scenario where all three worlds collided. None of them did. Yet the impossible was developing before his eyes and he felt powerless from keeping it intact.

  Gol broke first, pointed teeth showing in a terse grin. He nodded his approval. The challenge had been successfully met and, while neither would ever be friendly towards the other, they respected the other as warriors. “You have a strong voice, wolf soldier. I like that.”

  Herger extended his thick slab of a hand. “There shall be no more bloodshed between our two clans this day. You have my word, shadow warrior.”

  Only now did Vajna exhale his nerves. His worst case scenario didn’t come to pass, yet. “What about the surviving Goblins? They can bring reinforcements.”

  “Their main body is leagues away,” Herger said. “We don’t have anything to worry about in that regard.”

  THIRTEEN

  A New King

  Grunmarrow finally came alive on Mid Winter Day. Normally a day for massive celebrations among the northern kingdoms, it bore special significance for the resistance of Rogscroft. This day of days Prince Aurec was to be crowned to king. Winter flowers were strung across the buildings and cleared pathways. Men and women worked tirelessly to improve the grim camp to a small measure of regality. Huge fires were stoked overnight and the smell of cooking pig and cattle hovered over the buildings. Children played, giddy in excitement they couldn’t comprehend. Finally, the people of Rogscroft had reason to feel good.