She had a rebellion to fight.
THIRTY-FIVE
Execution
Argis barely had the strength to lift his head. He’d lost muscle mass, strength, and will during his incarceration. He refused to eat or drink, hoping death would come quickly and save him the pain Harnin deserved. It had been days since guards came to shovel out the muck. His cell was rank. Fetid. Rats came every so often to nibble on his toes and shins. He didn’t care. Argis was as close to broken as he’d ever been.
“You’ve looked better.”
Argis started to laugh but it hurt too much. “Come to gloat, One Eye?”
“Yes, in fact I have. You’ve given me more trouble than you’re worth,” Harnin sneered. “I should have done this years ago.”
“You always represented the worst of us, Harnin. Badron couldn’t see it, even though we tried to make him.”
Harnin stared back at the former lord. There was a time he considered Argis a friend. They’d shed blood together, broke bread, and drained endless flagons of mead. Harnin had few friends in life. They’d grown close during the Spring Campaign twenty-two years ago. Argis blocked a swing by one of the wild men that would have cleaved Harnin from neck to gut. Harnin frowned at the memory. There was no place for foolish sentiments in the new kingdom.
Instead of friendship he found only disdain. Argis was one of their best. A king in another kingdom. He lacked the fear required of most kingsmen, seldom lacking the patience to tell Badron those things he didn’t want to hear. Every kingdom needed advisors like Argis. Harnin despised him for that. Every petty argument pushed Harnin that much further from Badron’s favor.
Harnin spit. “Badron’s a fool. He made his destiny and abandoned Delranan by doing so. This kingdom should have been mine. Even his father knew it. Bahr was the smart one. He left as soon as he could and made his own life. I should have killed both of them when they were still boys. Perhaps we wouldn’t be in this situation?”
“You betrayed the king,” Argis insisted.
Harnin laughed. “You dare accuse me of betrayal? It was you who left the forgotten door open so our enemies could sneak in and kill Badron’s son. Your selfishness set us on a course to war, Argis. Not mine. I merely capitalized on your mistakes.”
“My only mistake was not killing you that night. You are a snake.”
Shaking his head, Harnin leaned closer. His nose crinkled at the overpowering stench. How anyone managed to stand such rot was beyond him. “I saved your life, you know?”
It was Argis’s turn to laugh. “I’m better off dead.”
“Yes, you are. What you don’t know is that a plague has taken over the kingdom. Thousands are lying dead in the streets, rotting as we speak. Rumor has it your precious rebellion was most stricken. Does that distress you?”
Wet strands of hair clung to his face. His broken nose itched suddenly. He refused to believe Harnin’s taunts. Enough harm had already been done thanks to the One Eye’s lies. He refused to believe that everything he had worked for, everything he’d risked over the last two years was wasted because of a random illness. So many friends… He let the thought fade. Death awaited them all; it was merely a matter of how that separated each other.
He’d seen the results of a plague once before. The results were devastating. Worst was the smell. Years had passed and he remembered the smell vividly. Argis wanted to weep, knowing even Harnin couldn’t conceive such hatred. No tears came. He’d used them all. Argis was a useless husk of what he wanted to be. For a moment only he thought his act of betrayal was the wrong decision. But no. Badron would have found another reason to go to war and many more would still be dead. The sad realization that he hardly mattered finally broke his spirit.
“A plague would have killed your people as well,” he said through coughing fits. “You’d lose just as much.”
“Sadly no. I was forewarned and able to protect the great majority of my forces. You should know better than that, Argis. Rulers always have private sources of information,” Harnin gloated. “You know what I speak of. He’s been in here. I can smell his taint even above your own piss and shit.”
“The demon,” Argis whispered.
Harnin shrugged. “Hardly what I’d call a demon though he does display rather vulgar traits. Regardless, he serves his purpose and has given me a new outlook on life.”
“How could you betray Delranan to work with a monster?”
“Would it surprise you to learn that Badron has been under the influence of another of these beings? They warped his mind. They must have convinced him to go into Rogscroft at the onset of winter. Only a fool would take his army across the mountains and get cut off once the snows piled up. But then, Badron always was impetuous.”
“The pair of you are fit for each other. Can’t you see? You’re both working towards the same agenda. Rulers! Ha!”
Harnin slapped Argis, knocking a tooth loose. “Mind your tongue before I have it cut out! I am nothing like Badron. Nothing! His family has led this kingdom into the ground. It has fallen to me to raise it up again. Don’t you understand you are on the cusp of witnessing true greatness?”
Argis spit a wad of blood. “Greatness and madness are close cousins, Harnin. You could have been so much more than the shadow you’ve become.”
“Perhaps, but none of that matters now, does it?”
Argis shook his head. “No. I don’t suppose it does. Have you come to kill me?”
“No. Well, not me personally. I have someone special for that. Your time is expired, Lord Argis. Tomorrow you will be taken to the main palisade and executed in front of as many survivors as we can round up. Your rebellion is finished. Your treason is finished. You are finished. I win, my friend.”
The door creaked shut with enough violence it left Argis’s ears ringing. Only when he was certain he was alone did he break down and sob.
Dawn was bleak, fitting of the day’s task. Dark and troubled clouds clung like a pall to Chadra. Freezing winds blew in from the east and distant Murdes Mountains. Heavier clouds rode low, threatening snow or worse. It was the middle of winter and the northern kingdoms were buried under feet of snow and thick ice. Crows landed on the crenellations and leering gargoyles as if anticipating a feast.
The soldiers of the Wolfsreik reserves were in their finest uniforms. Every weapon was new and impeccably sharpened. Boots were polished to high sheen. Dents were banged out of armor and helmets. They marched up from the barracks in ranks of two, their dark uniforms in contrast to the mild wooden walls of Chadra Keep. Pennants fluttered in the wind. Some tore, leaving jagged stains on emblems.
Harnin followed the soldiers. Dressed in the finest crimson robe and black uniform, his one good eye was red, sore. Late night discussions with Pelthit Re left him fractured in mind and spirit. His flesh was gaunt and obscenely pale. Dark blue veins popped out of the backs of his hands and neck. Patches of hair had fallen out, easily concealed with his hood. Sallow bags clung to his eye sockets, lending him a malevolent appearance. Those nearest cringed away on impulse. If he noticed he didn’t mind. Fear was a ruler’s most powerful instrument.
A crow cawed. Harnin admired the carrion eaters. You shall have your feast, bird. I want you to pick his bones clean while his precious people watch in horror. There shall be no new dawn for Argis. Reluctantly he took his gaze from the crow and settled on the massive X-shaped rack dominating the center of the palisade. He’d carefully detailed Argis’s torture and execution to the master torturers. A traitor’s death was too simple, too nice for one of Delranan’s former lords. Argis needed to suffer so much it carried over to the afterlife.
Hundreds of civilians had been rounded up and marched up the slope to Chadra Keep. Several coughed and sputtered with the lingering plague symptoms. Harnin cared less. They were all expendable at this point. He figured at least half were willing participants in the rebellion. The thought of turning his Wolfsreik loose on them the moment Argis’s head sailed over the wall tempted
him. He reluctantly decided against it, knowing the psychological damage of having one of their staunchest symbols carelessly tossed into the crowd would leave the pitiful remnants of the rebellion in utter shock.
The idea of crushing so many dissidents put a wry grin on his face. A bell chimed once and the crowd hushed. Harnin turned back to the entranceway. Four guards pulled and shoved Argis outside. The former lord immediately tried to shield his face from the blinding light. Weeks of captivity left him diseased, so weak he couldn’t stand on his own. The guards laughed, shoving him to the floor and kicking him repeatedly when he wouldn’t rise.
Harnin pursed his lips. Conflicting thoughts kept him silent. Much of his hatred fled as he looked on what Argis had become. Confronting the traitor in the quasi darkness of the dungeon was one thing. Seeing him exposed in broad daylight was vastly different. Killing him was a definite mercy. Still, he couldn’t help but feel the pull of old emotions. They’d been friends once. Harnin ignored the niggling in the back of his mind. Keeping Argis alive was dangerous. The Man needed to die for several reasons. Harnin straightened his back and clasped his hands in front of him. Steeling his gaze, he watched as the guards hauled Argis back to his feet and kept moving him forward.
A loud gasp rose from the crowds as Argis came into view. The strange combination of sickness and madness washed over them. Few could believe the degeneration Harnin had not only allowed, but condoned for the former lord of Delranan. Many already knew how far the One Eye was willing to go to achieve total victory. The kingdom quickly swooned under this new dictatorship. More than one onlooker wept for Argis as he fell again. The crack of whips was crisp, bitter on the morning wind.
Harnin ignored the crowds. People were little better than cattle. Their time was fast approaching. His eye never left Argis. Every jolt of pain, nuance of suffering was noted. He wanted to savor it. But there was no joy to be found. Every emotion seemed hindered, as if the Dae’shan lurked just out of sight. A fleeting shadow in that special space between light and dark. So long as Pelthit Re and the others remained, Delranan would never be recreated in Harnin’s image. But no matter how he tried to rationalize it, Harnin couldn’t find a way to remove the Dae’shan threat and make the kingdom his again.
Argis was hefted onto the wooden “x” and strapped down. His hands hung limply. His body sagged under its own weight. The wood groaned and leaned forward slightly. Good. That makes it easier for the people to witness what comes next. Harnin nodded to the head executioner. The bigger Man gave gruff commands and attendants began hoisting the “x” by a series of pulleys and gears. The wooden “x” slowly inclined forward until Argis was suspended over the crowds. Receiving a curt nod from the executioner, Harnin took his place upon the podium erected for the occasion.
“People of Delranan, you are here to witness the execution of a traitor. Lord Argis has disgraced this kingdom through seditious acts and turned you against the crown. Pay heed to his fate, for the same will befall you.”
Several shouted back and threw rocks but the walls were too high. Harnin searched for the Men Jarrik prepositioned in the buildings to the rear of the field. One hundred soldiers hid in full battle armor, ready to strike on the lord of Delranan’s command.
Reacting how he expected, Harnin frowned and turned his back on his people. “Lord Argis, you are charged with sedition against the crown and the willful intent to sow discourse among the people. For this crime there is only one sentence. Death. Have you anything to say for yourself before your head rolls from your shoulders?”
Straining to raise his head, Argis tried to look at Harnin. Instead of anger he felt only sorrow. Harnin had been a good Man before his descent into madness. Perhaps the afterlife would be kind to him, more likely not. Argis then turned his gaze down onto the people he’d sworn to defend and serve. The anguish in their faces wounded him more than anything Harnin’s Men were capable of. He felt their pain and something else. A faint sense of betrayal clouded their faces. How many have died for our hubris? We ruined this kingdom with our greed and arrogance. You deserved better, but alas such was not your fate. I pray you find the courage to continue and wrest Delranan back from the catastrophe we have left you.
“Have you nothing to say? Nothing at all to calm your soul before the end?” Harnin persisted. He’d expected more. A rant at the very least. A desperate plea to continue the rebellion. Argis’s silence offended him. “Commute the sentence!”
The executioner hefted a massive double-headed axe and took three ponderous steps towards the prisoner. Argis started laughing, much to the disdain of the crowds. Grunting from the strain, the executioner drew back and swung. Argis cried out and went silent. His head dropped down from the wall in a shower of blood. People screamed. Others fled. Most could only stand and stare at what remained of their last hope for victory.
Harnin stayed long after the crowds dispersed and the guards returned to their quarters. He stayed long after the sun set and darkness rose. The One Eye sat and stared at what had been his friend and peer. The corpse stopped bleeding long ago. Congealed blood formed a gruesome necklace. Nerves died. The body stopped twitching.
Harnin sighed. “What have we become, old friend? Delranan shouldn’t be like what we’ve made it. I’m going to miss you.”
Slowly he rose, stretched, and went back inside. He’d seen enough. Pelthit Re materialized from the darkness, watching Harnin leave. Hands folded within his robes, the Dae’shan struggled with sudden doubts. Perhaps he’d chosen wrong in the One Eye. Surely there were better Men to lead Delranan into the thrall of the dark gods. Scowling, he turned his gaze on Argis’s remains and thought.
THIRTY-SIX
Battle of Grunmarrow
The Goblin army arrived at dawn and was immediately attacked from the flanks by the combined mounted force of Wolfsreik and Rogscroft defenders. Scores died in those initial moments. Panic threatened to break the massive Goblin column. Sergeants and their cruel whips forced them back into defensive positions and kept the army moving forward. In a move of unanticipated boldness, Badron and Grugnak decided to strike Grunmarrow. The bulk of the Goblin corps in Rogscroft marched on the hidden village.
Fortunately word of their approach reached Grunmarrow first. Nothing so large could move quickly or stealthily without being noticed. Riders flooded into Grunmarrow with reports of the coming doom. Aurec acted quickly, sending the civilians and non-combatants up into the mountains. Battalions of Wolfsreik and Pell Darga hastened into defensive positions before the Goblins could reach the mountains. When the battle began it was on Aurec’s choosing.
The initial attack forced the Goblins towards the waiting spears of the Pell Darga. The stout Pell warriors attacked with zealousness as Rolnir’s cavalry continued to force the flanks closer together. Once massed, Aurec began a devastating catapult barrage. Hundreds of Goblins were slaughtered. Gaps formed in the center of the formation but the Goblins refused to break. Ranks of warriors stopped moving forward and faced outward. Spears were leveled, forcing the cavalry to withdraw.
Thinking they’d stymied the attackers, the front Goblin battalions surged ahead. They died on the Pell’s short spears but continued attacking. Soon the Pell were forced to withdraw, leaving a field of corpses being trampled under the weight of the Goblin army. Aurec ordered the barrage to continue in the hopes of deterring further offense but the Goblins had come to fight. They dug in and formed shield walls to block the Pell and deter Wolfsreik riders.
Mounted archers stormed across the killing field, loosing their darts into the exposed Goblin backs. They only managed to get off a few volleys before the enemy adjusted. Aurec slammed the looking glass shut and snapped off a string of curses that managed to get Sergeant Thorsson’s attention. The latter had the good sense to remain quiet while the newly crowned king vented his frustrations.
“They’ve already brought up shields to block the archers!” he fumed.
Rolnir wiped his eyes with an old rag. “We knew th
ey would. Goblins are professional thugs that know how to fight.”
Aurec shot a furious look to the Wolfsreik general. “We need to break them or they’re going to break us. Should the Goblins win through, all of our women and children will be exposed. I don’t want that slaughter on my hands, Rolnir.”
“There will be no slaughter. We need to intensify the catapult fire, adjusting target areas at random to keep them guessing. Once the center of their formation is unstable I will order a full charge. No army on Malweir can withstand a heavy cavalry charge.”
“They stopped your charge the first time,” General Vajna chimed in. He’d been given command of the infantry for the duration of the combined operation while Rolnir had overall command.
“As we figured on,” Rolnir replied calmly. Working with former enemies was new for him, and he expected certain levels of animosity and discourse, leaving him more than prepared to overcome their differences. “Have the infantry ready to attack as soon as the cavalry breaks into their formation. Attack from the flank while the catapults cover the head of the column. Order a ceasefire once the infantry advances and have the Pell attack again. We’ll break these bastards and send them running back to their mountain holes in the east.”
“I hope for your sake it works, General,” Aurec said flatly. “There is a lot on the line.”
“I’m not in the habit of losing.”
Aurec turned to Thorsson. “Issue the orders. Wipe this filth off of the field.”
Thorsson saluted and hurried off. Time was of the essence if the Goblins were going to be pushed off the field before sundown. The battle had already raged for half the day. Casualties were rising at a rate neither side could sustain for much longer. Aurec found it increasingly difficult to sit and watch the battle unfold. His instincts demanded he take to horse and ride into battle with his soldiers. Being king was vastly different from just a prince. That and not a one on his council was going to let him get anywhere near the front lines.
A Whisper After Midnight Page 28
