Kings, Queens, Heroes, & Fools

by M. R. Mathias

  The clothes were easy. Many a home had a line full of drying laundry, where the structures were built closely together washing lines had been strung between them. Phen shopped them until he found his fit and then changed into the garments he’d chosen. Now properly attired in an oversized, roughspun shirt and leather britches, he went in search of food. He kept the ring on, just to be safe, as he made his way through the streets looking for a hawker’s cart or a table stand. He didn’t find any. In Xwarda he would have come across a hundred food hawkers by now, and ten times as many people selling pottery, jewelry, cure-alls, and the like. Well, he corrected the thought, Xwarda had been that way before Pael’s undead showed up. Of course, Xwarda was a hundred times bigger than Kingsport, maybe even a thousand times bigger.

  He finally found some food at the Kingsport inn. In the common room, a group of men had just finished eating, and he was able to snatch a few pieces of sliced pork and a biscuit from the table. The earlier arrival of the Dragon Queen’s wizard on the zard ship was the talk of the town. It didn’t take long for Phen to learn that Flick had commandeered a carriage to take him and a few others to the castle through Old Town. Phen decided all he could do was follow. He was already a murderer, so being a horse thief on top of it didn’t seem like that big of a deal. He hung around the common room until he gathered enough food to last, then he stole a horse from in front of a bakery and started off.

  Spike fit in one of the saddlebags well enough. The lyna rode with his head poked up out of it, and curiously took in the small range of mountains that rose up to the east, and the rest of the lush, relatively flat landscape immediately around them.

  At some point Phen decided to put the ring back onto the necklace he wore. Then he ran the horse for as long as he dared to distance himself from any pursuit. He stopped once to relieve himself and fill his belly. While rummaging through the saddlebags he found a blanket, a clean brown robe, a wineskin full of watered sour wine, and a pouch with three silver coins and a handful coppers in it. He hoped that it was enough for a room and a hot meal. There was also a small dress, daisy yellow and trimmed with lace. Phen dropped his chin to his chest in disgrace. It was probably a father’s gift for his young daughter. He had stolen it. As the day wore on he found that the dress bothered him more than killing the seaman the night before. He tried to tell himself that, if the Silver Skull fell into Queen Shaella’s hands, then the little girl might lose more than just a dress, but it didn’t matter. The deed was done.

  Old Town came upon him sooner than expected. It was more of a village than a town, though it looked like it might have once been bigger. As if he were nothing more than a curious boy, Phen asked a man if he had seen the wizard.

  “The carriage went through around midday,” the man said. “It’s probably half way to the castle by now. Where you from that you talk like that?”

  “I’ve been visiting my Aunt in Weir,” Phen lied. “They all talk this way. Is there a baker in the village?”

  The old fellow told him that he could get hot stew at the local inn. Phen wondered if the man really believed him. After eating the first proper meal he’d had in weeks at an inn, Phen walked the horse out of town and laid out his bedroll under some trees. He wondered if adding ‘bold-faced liar’ to his list of dishonorable deeds would matter. Spike curled up close to him and they slept until the birds woke them just before dawn.

  It didn’t take long for the Northwood to wrap itself about the castle-raised boy. The road picked and twisted its way between the forest’s edges and the foothills. The Northwood was dense and imposing, but Phen wasn’t afraid. He decided that being a lying, stealing, murdering outlaw had hardened him to fear. He told himself that, right up until the giant geka lizard, with its four zard-men riders, came scurrying down the road toward him at an unnatural clip. His heart nearly stopped and he was forced to correct his assumption. He wasn’t immune to fear.

  If the zard riders wanted to do him harm, it would have been done. Phen was defenseless, save for a few spells. Loak’s ring was on his neck chain, so he couldn’t just disappear. Four well armed zard would have no trouble dispatching him. Their mount could have eaten him whole. Phen was glad when they passed without considering him. They only hissed and laughed when he and his horse ducked like terrified rabbits into the trees at the side of the road.

  Later in the day, the forest grew dense. It wasn’t the thick wet jungle they’d been in on the island. It was more like the Evermore, with oaks, and elms, and a few pine trees scattered among them. The trees were full of chatty birds and the occasional squirrel or rabbit darted across the shady narrow wagon road.

  Phen decided that these woods would be a good place to hunt, but he wasn’t in need of food. He wondered if Hyden or King Mikahl ever felt as he was feeling. Both had killed men to protect the realm. If this was what it felt like to be a hero, Phen wasn’t sure he wanted to be one anymore.

  As the sun set, Phen was debating on stopping for the night when he caught his first glimpse of the distant lights of Castleside. It was still long hours away, and it looked like nothing more than a cluster of fireflies frozen in place from his vantage on the crest of a hill. He decided to ride on.

  It was almost dawn when he rode into the outskirts of the city, and when the sun finally lit the sky he saw the silhouette of Lakeside Castle rising up out of the forested hills like a dark hulking monster. It wasn’t as big as the castle at Xwarda, or nearly as ornate. It was huge, though, with a dozen fat towers, all sporting black triangular banners with the bright yellow lightning star on them. Its crenellated towers and walls sported hundreds of armed guards moving about. The city outside its wall seemed reluctant to wake up in the ominous shadow.

  One look at the great iron-banded wooden gate of the outer wall, and the dozen skeeks guarding it, told Phen that he would need Loak’s ring to get inside. After he and Spike ate up the last of the food, he threw the saddlebag over his shoulder so that Spike would have a place to ride. He put on the ring and waited patiently outside the gate for a chance to sneak through. Once again, he found himself wondering why he wasn’t afraid.

  ***

  A message from Queen Willa arrived at the Red City of Dreen by bird. General Spyra quickly dispatched a rider to carry it through the Wilder Mountains to King Jarrek. The man didn’t get it there in time.

  Earlier in the day, a different rider had arrived at King Jarrek’s command post on a horse that had nearly been ridden to death. That messenger said that more than two thousand Dakaneese sell-swords had overrun the men posted at Seareach. The enemy troops crossed into Wildermont and took to the hills as if they were preparing for a battle.

  “Preparing to fight who?” Jarrek asked. “If they sacked Seareach then there is no one to fight save our men here, and at Low Crossing.” No one had an answer.

  A few hours later, when the rider from Dreen arrived with the message from Queen Willa, Jarrek understood all too clearly. Leaving all the foot soldiers behind to watch over the freed slaves, he took the Highwander Cavalry, along with the mounted Valleyan troops, and sped south in hopes of saving the five thousand soldiers that Queen Rachel had sent through Dakahn. Ra’Gren had set a trap for them. Jarrek doubted that those men could be warned. He sent riders ahead with orders for all the men at Low Crossing to hurry south as well.

  Once everything was in motion, and there was nothing left to do but ride, Jarrek thought about the strange offer he had received from the breed giant lord across the river. He didn’t have the authority to grant Lord Bzorch the city of Locar. Only King Mikahl could do that, and as much as the might of the breed giants could soon be needed to defend Wildermont, Jarrek didn’t think that Mikahl would agree to such a strange bargain. The breed giants had raped and killed their way across Westland for Queen Shaella. Mikahl wouldn’t be able to forgive or forget the atrocities they committed. Mikahl had been at the Battle of Coldfrost. Besides that, Jarrek didn’t have any idea where the High King was at the moment. Still, the ferocio
us man beasts would be a great ally in the inevitable war that was to come.

  Even if Queen Rachel’s troops were caught in the trap, the narrow passage, where the lower Wander Mountains, and the wide sluggish flow of the Leif Greyn River came together, couldn’t be left to the Dakaneese. It was such an easily defendable bit of terrain that, even with his ragtag force, King Jarrek felt that he could defend Wildermont. Had he more men, Ra’Gren wouldn’t have dared the surprise attack. Now that Queen Rachel had finally decided to join forces with him, he might have been able to man a proper defense. If the Seaward men were slaughtered in Seareach, though, they would be back to where they were, only without control of the bottleneck. Hopefully the men could defend themselves long enough for Jarrek and his little army of Valleyans and Blackswords to get there.

  As the day’s ride progressed into a moonlit dash, Jarrek wondered about the rest of Queen Willa’s missive. A little surprise from Doon was coming his way. He knew that Doon was some sort of dwarven god or underground city. He understood that she was trying to convey something to him covertly, but her meaning was lost to him.

  Willa was a strange woman, but her free spirit and strong demeanor had captured Jarrek’s heart. Her beauty and elegance were things that crossed his mind frequently. He was sure she didn’t know how he felt. Once his people were freed from Dakahn, he hoped to find the chance to tell her. There was much to do before that dream could be realized, though.

  Late the next afternoon, tired and hungry, Jarrek’s troop crossed the bridge at Low Crossing. They could see carrion in the dusky sky, circling to the south, so they didn’t rest the horses long. Instead they pressed on with dread building in their hearts.

  They found the battle in the dark. Jarrek barely had time to don the wolf skull helmet that completed his red enameled armor before a blazing torch went hurling by his head. There were other torches, mostly on the ground, and deeper into the fray an oil keg had been smashed against a tree and set aflame. Not many fighters braved the illuminated areas for fear of the enemy archers in the hills.

  Jarrek rode his horse deep into the skirmish, and despite his fatigue, he fought in a precisely controlled rage. Steel rang on steel. Men cried out in agony, while other men danced around them in the wild shadows. Every few minutes, at a different part of the battle, a torch went sailing down from the hills. Mercenary arrows would then come streaking into the illuminated area. Queen Rachel’s men, and now King Jarrek’s, would suddenly sprout quills, while the swift sell-swords would dart in with their steel then disappear.

  More soldiers, uniformed Dakaneese, came up behind the Seaward force. There was no retreat. Along an alley barely half a mile wide, between the river and an up thrust of mountain, thousands and thousands of men fought savagely through the night.

  The men were tired and the horses exhausted, but they battled anyway. When dawn finally broke Jarrek was still darting his horse into the Dakaneese ranks hacking and slashing fervently. Seawardsmen and Dakaneese sell-swords lay dead or dying everywhere. The uniformed soldiers, Jarrek saw, were mounted city guard from O’Dakahn. They pushed hard, trampling the bodies under their mounts. By midday, the surviving Seawardsmen, and what was left of Jarrek’s group, had been pushed back over the bridge at Low Crossing. The Dakaneese seemed content to stop there. It was obvious why. They now held the passage. The bottleneck was behind them. Maybe fifteen hundred of Queen Rachel’s five thousand men had been saved, but the single most important piece of land in the realm had been lost. Defending Wildermont from a full Dakaneese invasion would be all but impossible now.

  Jarrek decided that, since this was now all-out war, he would promise the breed giants Locar in the High King’s name. If Mikahl didn’t back him, he would give them a piece of Wildermont instead. It would take a long time to get more men from Valleya, much less Highwander or Seaward. If they didn’t force the Dakaneese back beyond the bottleneck before they fortified the position, Wildermont was lost.

  Jarrek handpicked an escort, commandeered the freshest of the horses, and rode with haste back to Castlemont. He would bargain with this Lord Bzorch. If the savage breed beasts were willing to fight for Wildermont, King Jarrek wouldn’t deny them the opportunity.

  ***

  The only thing Queen Shaella loved more than flying on a dragon’s back was Gerard. But, since she had been deprived of the glorious feelings of flight for so long she couldn’t help herself. The Silver Skull of Zorellin and her hell-bound, mutant lover could wait just a little while longer. After putting on the controlling collar, she boldly mounted the young black drake, her blood electric with giddy anticipation.

  “Fslandra, go fetch my staff,” she ordered her zard servant. Then to her two wizards, “I was about to ink a reply to a request from King Ra’Gren,” she told them. Cole, Flick’s near twin, was standing beside him holding the Silver Skull. Flick was beaming over having delivered Shaella the artifact and her gift successfully. He had spent all afternoon getting Shaella’s dragon harness adjusted down to the black wyrm’s size.

  “I think I’ll go see the bastard instead,” she giggled and patted the creature.

  Behind the two bald-headed wizards, the three remaining red-robed priests of Kraw looked on in awe. The will of their demon god was at work before their very eyes.

  The group was gathered on the long stairway in front of the castle's great arched entry. A reluctant group of uniformed zard had formed a loose ring around them because a crowd was beginning to gather. Tales of the beast had spread like a wildfire through the inns and taverns, and soon everyone inside the vast walls of Lakeside Castle knew about it. Everyone wanted to see the Queen and her new dragon.

  Phen eased around the spectacle and positioned himself by the great oaken doors to the castle. Flick had given the Silver Skull to another bald-headed wizard—a thinner, taller one. Phen planned on following him when he came in, so that he could nab the skull, or at least see where it was placed. All the attention the sleek black-scaled dragon was drawing made it easy for him to move around. He figured that he didn’t even have to be invisible to get into the castle. Nevertheless, he kept the ring on his finger. There was no sense in tempting fate.

  The dragon’s mighty roar caused him to look back. He was halfway up the steps. The dragon looked at him, and Phen knew beyond any doubt that the wyrm could see him. Luckily it was in no position to worry about him. The sound of hurried footfalls startled Phen back around just in time to avoid a young zardess. The reptilian girl, defined by the feminine cut of her strange attire, was carrying a wicked looking staff that had a melon-sized crystal orb for a headpiece. She didn’t slow as she made her way through the group of people past the ring of zard soldiers to the dragon’s side. With little show of fear she handed the staff up to Shaella.

  With her partially scarred scalp and her long raven black hair, Phen thought that Shaella looked even more beautiful and intimidating than the rumors portrayed her.

  Too bad you’re gonna die soon, Phen thought as he started up into the castle to wait on the skull. He was wondering why he still wasn’t feeling afraid when the dragon leapt from its haunches into flight. Zard soldiers hissed and people jeered and cheered alike. When a man heaved open the door, Phen steeled to the task, and darted into Lakeside Castle.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Shaella was exhilarated. The young black drake wasn’t nearly as big or powerful as Claret, but he carried her effortlessly. His anger suited Shaella’s demeanor. Before long it was clear that the dragon favored her too. They were flying east over the vast expanse of her kingdom. She was the Dragon Queen, and he was her wyrm.

  Even though it wasn’t necessary, Shaella leaned forward and spoke loudly over the wind. “What are you called?” she asked.

  “Daragrathomlegenvrot,” the wyrm replied into her mind.

  “Dar-agra-thom-legen-vrot,” Shaella repeated carefully. “I’ll just call you Vrot.”

  “You are the ones with control,” Vrot chuckled sarcastically. “Cal
l me whats you will.”

  As they circled higher, Vrot picked up the scent of fresh death. Through the link of the controlling collar, Shaella sensed it as well. She told him to seek out the smell.

  At first Shaella thought they were going to fly over the marshland that separated Dakahn from lower Westland, but Vrot followed the scent north of the swampy regions. Soon the dragon was circling the lower Wilder Mountains where they met the split in the Leif Greyn River.

  Vrot flew high enough that the men below didn’t notice him. Shaella cast a spell that allowed her vision to zoom in and focus on details below.

  Thousands of corpses lay in scattered masses, from Low Crossing all the way to Seareach. A torn and bloodied banner lay among them displaying the rising sun of Seaward.

  So Ra’Gren wasn’t exaggerating, Shaella mused. Nearer to Seareach where the passable land narrowed, there was more life. Men in uniform, flying the Dakaneese trident had made an encampment. Seeing that Ra’Gren had sent his own men told her how serious he considered this matter. King Jarrek had jabbed a thorn deeply into his pride.

  When they circled back around they saw that there was another encampment north of Low Crossing. Shaella could tell by the banners fluttering in the breeze that this group was a mix of Highwander men, Valleyans, and Seawardsmen. At the moment they didn’t look like much, but Shaella knew that if all three of the other eastern kingdoms had come together to help King Jarrek, soon many more men would be marching to his aid. Now that she had the Silver Skull of Zorellin, she could summon Gerard into the world, and other demons as well. She thought that it might be wise to quell the enthusiasm of this eastern coalition before it grew too strong. If King Jarrek and the High King somehow managed to defeat Dakahn, then Westland would certainly be next.