by RM Wark
“Were they headed for Cordova?”
Lord Spencer shrugged. “That would be my guess, but I cannot say for certain. Let us hope that Lord Jameson reaches Cordova first.”
Lady Delia frowned but remained silent with her thoughts.
“If I may, my Queen,” began Lord Spencer, “I do not believe the Eastern Wizards would have been so brazen in their attack unless ….”
“Unless what?”
Lord Spencer lowered his voice and glanced around to make sure they were not being watched. “Unless they somehow knew … unless they knew about the King.”
It was a suspicion that she had shared, but no one had given voice to it until now. “Come, Lord Spencer. There is much to discuss with the others,” she replied.
Within the hour, the Western Wizards were assembled around the oval table in the primary dining hall. The number of wizards had grown to about two dozen in recent days. Several had arrived from Northern Aberdeen and Western Stratford. There were no wizards from Quintara or Durango yet, but Lady Delia did not expect them anytime soon. The marching Eastern army shall see to that.
Lady Tessa and Lord Harlan were still the only wizards from Laureline thus far. Lord Milton and the others were likely en route. The thought of her former lover gave her pause, but the Queen did not dwell on it long. There was no time for such thoughts.
“My fellow wizards, please,” beckoned the Queen. “We have an update from Lord Spencer.”
Lord Spencer briefed the attentive wizards with his observations of the Eastern army. His words were met with gasps and nervous chatter, but when he finished, the room fell silent.
The Queen stepped forward. “The situation is dire, indeed. But we Western Wizards have survived for a myriad of centuries because we are formidable. We are resourceful. We are not easily defeated.”
She had repeated the rhetoric that every Western Wizard was taught in school, but now she truly believed what she said. It was one thing when your own kind said such things; it was quite another when you heard much of the same from your enemies.
Lord Etan’s attempt to reeducate her had not quite gone as planned. Where he saw proof of evil, she saw proof of superiority. Most of the battles with the Eastern Wizards had ended in a stalemate of sorts. But the West could claim a handful of victories: The Battle of Tens, The Battle of Knaves, The Battle of Rhyne. In contrast, the only decisive victory for the East had been the Battle of Asan – the first and only time the West had tried to invade the Eastern Territories.
“We have time yet to mount a defense,” she continued. “Lady Iris is in Thorpe now, informing the residents of the Eastern army’s advance.” She turned her gaze to Lord Spencer. “Lord Spencer, how many fighters from Thorpe could we count on to come north to aid in our defense?”
Lord Spencer was slow to answer. “Perhaps fifty, my Queen,” he said at last.
“Good—”
“But,” Lord Spencer interjected, “that assumes they come north. With such a large army advancing, they might flee west instead, to avoid the conflict all together.”
It was not the answer Lady Delia had wanted to hear, and she frowned in disappointment. “Let us hope that Lady Iris shall convince them that there is no honor in fleeing in fear.”
The statement had come across more harshly than she intended, and the room fell silent once more.
“Well, there are at least one hundred fighters in Yukon, plus all of us here,” Lady Delia continued. “That is not a trivial number.”
“But it is not three hundred, my Queen,” said Lady Tessa gently. “It is not even close.”
“This is not our first battle with the East, Lady Tessa, and we are on our own soil. That counts for something.”
“Aye, but we have never had to face so many at once before, and they have Westerners among them, who also know this land,” Lady Tessa argued. “In addition, there is another army marching west as we speak, destroying countless villages and lives – lives that we are currently powerless to protect. This is not merely another battle, my Queen. This is war … a war I fear we are not prepared to win.”
“What would you have us do, Lady Tessa? Surrender before we even try to fight?” she asked in frustration.
“It would save countless lives, my Queen,” Lady Tessa replied calmly. “At least hear the Eastern army’s terms. We are always so quick to fight and not quick enough to listen. Perhaps we may reach a common ground before any more blood is shed, before another wizard turns to dust.”
Lady Delia opened her mouth to retort but slowly closed it without speaking. Her thoughts spun in circles within her head, confused and full of argument. It was not that long ago that Lady Delia felt as Lady Tessa did. And Lord Etan was adamant that the Order of the Ancient’s seal was improper, she thought. But as she searched her inner-self for a means to a peaceful resolution, she found only anger.
The Emperor is an evil man. He locked me in the dungeons and killed Lord Gideon before my very eyes. A small voice in the back of her mind could not deny that her father was no better. He had tortured Lady Yelena’s husband, among others. But she made me march. She is a cruel, wicked woman. And Lord Etan … he is kind. He set me free, but …. She knew she could never truly forgive Lord Etan for what he had done that night.
Lady Delia looked around the room. It was impossible to read the expressions of the wizards seated around the table. Her eyes returned to Lady Tessa, who seemed hopeful that her words might have resonated with the Queen.
With a sigh, Lady Delia spoke. “Fine. I shall hear the Eastern army’s demands, but we must also be prepared to fight if we are unwilling to abide by their terms.”
“A wise choice, my Queen. Thank you,” said Lady Tessa with a smile.
Lady Delia did not offer a response. She simply turned and walked out of the room. The Queen found Philipe standing guard at the entryway to the west wing of the castle. She paused momentarily and whispered into his ear, “With the utmost discretion, please have Lord Nigel, Lady Grace, and Lord Spencer join me in my father’s study.”
“Aye, my Queen.”
Later that night, the requested wizards gathered in her study. Many hushed words were spoken. Many heads nodded in agreement. They left as discreetly as they came.
*************
It had taken two full days of walking through desert sands turned to grassland – two days of constantly looking over their shoulders at the path behind them, two full nights without the benefit of fire lest it be seen by their pursuers – before Fallon and Gentry came upon an immense forest riddled with small streams. The water from the first stream they encountered was clear and cold, and they drank greedily from its banks.
“Have you ever been here before?” asked Fallon, wiping the water from his lips.
“No,” answered Gentry, looking around at the giant trees surrounding them. “I wish I had my father’s old maps with me now. Perhaps they might have told us where we are.”
“Aye. It was foolish of me not to pick up a map while I was in Aurora,” Fallon admitted. “But I left much sooner than I had intended.”
“If you had stopped for a map, you might not be here now.”
Fallon frowned at the grim reply.
“Take heart, my friend,” Gentry continued. “I should like to believe our pursuers would have found us by now if they discovered our trail. And whether we know the name of this forest or not, we now have the benefit of its vegetation and streams to keep our path hidden.”
“Aye.” Fallon could not argue with that logic.
Walking north along the stream bank, they soon discovered a coarse path that seemed to cut east across the forest.
“This path is as good as any to follow – it may even lead to your elusive lake of green,” Gentry said with a wink.
Fallon found himself smiling at the first indication that Gentry’s mood was finally lifting from the dark place it had been.
They walked along the winding path until they came upon a decent clearing not too far from ano
ther stream.
“We should set up camp here tonight,” Gentry suggested.
Fallon was quick to agree. He busied himself building a fire while Gentry set off in the forest to hunt.
“We shall feast tonight on something other than stale bread and cheese,” Gentry boasted when he left.
Gentry returned a short while later with four dead squirrels in hand. Fallon never imagined craving squirrel meat, but his stomach grumbled at the sight of the dead animals and his mouth began to water. In truth, the meat that night tasted just as good as any lamb Fallon had ever swallowed.
“That was quite a feast, my friend,” Fallon acknowledged. “But now you should get some rest.”
Gentry was fast asleep before Fallon could say another word.
They had been sleeping in shifts the past few days, and Fallon had intended to continue the prudent measure. Perhaps it was that his hunger had finally been satisfied and that his worry over their pursuers had lessened – whatever the reason, Fallon found his eyes growing heavy in spite of his desires to remain awake.
It was a fitful sleep. He tossed and turned for hours. And then the dream came.
In his dream, he and Gentry were being chased through the forest by two horsemen in black robes. Gentry was swift on his feet, and he kept having to stop to call after Fallon.
“Hurry, Fallon. Hurry!”
Fallon willed his legs to go faster, but the horsemen were faster still. His legs failed him. Fallon fell to the ground and covered his head as he prepared for the inevitable. But instead of the chaos of an attack, Fallon’s world fell into an eerie sort of silence. When he finally summoned the courage to look up and survey his surroundings, Fallon found himself surrounded by a dense fog.
“Gentry?” he called out timidly, but there was no response.
Fallon pulled himself up and began walking aimlessly through the fog. He tripped over a branch and fell to his knees. Before he could stand up, he heard a snort from a nearby horse. Fallon was overcome by a desire to run, but he was paralyzed by fear. The horse drew ever nearer, but Fallon could not move.
A shadowy figure finally emerged from the fog. It was a figure that Fallon knew well.
“Casper?”
“Fallon, wake up!”
In that instant Fallon was abruptly awoken from his dream.
“We must leave. Quickly!” Gentry urged. “Gather your things. I shall be right back.”
Though Fallon was still groggy from his sleep, he nodded obediently. He yawned and tried to focus. To his dismay, he noticed a fine mist that had settled upon the morning – an unsettling reminder of his dream.
“Gentry!” he cried. But his friend was already gone.
*************
Lady Delia found herself admiring the old wooden desk in her father’s study. She carefully opened each drawer, taking note of the random things hidden inside: a broken quill, loose sheets of parchment, a brass key. She took the key in her hand and brought it closer for inspection. I wonder what this unlocks?
Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door.
“Come in.”
“My Queen,” said Philipe with a slight bow, “Lady Iris and Lady Grace are here to see you.”
“Please, send them in.” Lady Delia placed the brass key back in the drawer and closed it. She greeted her guests with a smile.
“Lady Iris, you must be exhausted from all of your traveling. Let me have Philipe bring you some tea.”
“No, I shall be fine, my Queen.”
“Very well. What news do you bring of Thorpe then?”
Lady Iris sighed. “I fear there is not much left. The Eastern army pillaged everything and set it afire. Several good men were killed trying to protect their homes, but most heeded my warnings and fled.”
“And what of those who fled? Are any coming north to aid in our defense?”
“Aye. Some are headed this way, my Queen. But many who lingered behind long enough to see the fury of the Eastern army fled west instead.”
Lady Delia frowned at the news. “How many might we count on?”
“Perhaps thirty strong men, my Queen.”
“How long until they arrive?”
“Perhaps another two or three days,” Lady Iris offered. “My young son, Lord Edmund, is leading the way.”
“And shall we expect the Eastern army to be at their heels?”
“No, my Queen. The Eastern army is too large to travel with much speed. I cannot say for certain, but I would think it shall take them two more weeks to arrive.”
Lady Delia nodded and turned to Lady Grace. “And what news do you have of Yukon?”
“The wives, young children, and the infirm are being sent west to Norman. About one hundred and twenty men and boys have remained behind to fight.”
“Boys?”
“And possibly some girls,” Lady Grace replied. “Everyone over the age of thirteen who knows how to use a weapon. They are working to reinforce the southern wall of the village as we speak.”
“Good.”
“Any news from the others?” inquired Lady Grace.
Lady Delia shook her head. “I have not heard from your husband, Lord Nigel yet, though I imagine he has just now reached Norman. Lord Spencer has a much longer journey to reach Lord Milton and the other wizards from Laureline. I do not expect to hear from him for some time.”
*************
The ranger and Len had come upon the forest right as the sun began to set in the western sky. Len marveled at the height of the trees as he pushed his horse through the dense vegetation in search of the stream that his ears told him was nearby. When he finally reached the stream, he was somewhat disappointed to find the ranger already there. How did he reach the stream before me?
“We should head upstream in search of a trail,” the ranger said, not bothering to look at Len. “The water is not too deep for the horses.”
“Aye,” Len agreed. It would have been difficult for the horse to fight his way through the vegetation.
By the time they found a small trail, the sunlight was all but gone, and they were forced to settle in for the night.
When Len awoke the next morning, he found himself alone.
“Damn ranger,” he muttered aloud. “Always leaving me behind.” I am useful. He would know this if he ever gave me a chance.
The horses were still tied up to their trees.
He must be out hunting. Len grabbed his bow. I shall show him. I can hunt my own food.
Len started walking farther down the trail. He noticed a quick movement in the trees ahead of him, and he took aim at a squirrel. He released the string, but his arrow went wide. Damn.
Len waded into the vegetation to retrieve his arrow. As he approached the location where he thought his arrow had fallen, he noticed he was standing on a ridge. He carefully scanned a small clearing below, searching for his arrow. He stopped short when he saw movement in the clearing.
Is that a man?
Len squinted his eyes. He was certain it was a man, but he could not get a very good look at him from his present location. Ever so quietly, Len began moving to another location on the ridge with a better line of sight.
Len winced when his foot snapped a twig. Wizards be damned!
At that moment, the man turned so that his face became fully visible. Len’s heart began to pound. The man in the distance was Fallon. He was certain of it.
Did he hear the twig snap? Does he see me?
To Len’s relief, Fallon turned back around. Len’s heart was beating even faster. He quickly dismissed any thoughts of returning to the camp to alert the ranger of his find. He may not be there. And besides, when he discovers it was I who captured Fallon, he shall have no choice but to show me some respect.
Len loaded another arrow from his quiver and pulled back the string of his bow. The Minister wanted him alive if possible, he recalled, taking aim at Fallon’s leg.
He was so focused on Fallon, his heart beating so loudly, that
Len failed to notice the sound of footsteps fast approaching until his stalker was merely yards away. He turned and quickly fired an arrow, but it missed its mark by a large margin.
Len’s face fell as he recognized his stalker. The other Reedite!
He stood frozen with fear as the Reedite tackled him. A panicked cry escaped him as he fell to the ground, but he was soon silenced by the cool blade of a knife cutting open his throat.
*************
Lord Nigel was the next to return.
“There are thirty eager fighters from Norman camped out only a day’s march from here.”
“Excellent. Does anyone suspect?”
“No, my Queen. I have been very discreet.”
“Good.”
“How far out is the Eastern army, my Queen?”
“A week or so,” she said with a frown. “I wish we had more time.”
Lord Nigel reflected for a moment. “Perhaps mother nature shall be of some assistance in that matter.”
“Oh? How so?”
“The Normans have certain ways of predicting the weather. One of the village Elders warned me that I should return quickly to Mt. Xavier because a mighty storm was approaching.”
Lady Delia raised an eyebrow. “Really? And what made him think a storm was on its way?” She looked towards the window with hope, but was disappointed to find that the skies were bright and clear.
Lord Nigel shrugged. “I cannot say, my Queen. I did not think to ask.”
“Well, let us hope their predictions come true, Lord Nigel,” she replied with more optimism than she felt.
*************
Lord Conrad, General of the Eastern army, watched with despair as the western sky filled with ominous clouds of black, occasionally set aglow by strikes of lightning. One such lightning bolt struck near the campsite with a sound so violent that it left a persistent ringing in the General’s ears.
Though the lightning and thunder were quick to pass, the torrential rain that followed did not stop the next day or the next. In fact, the Eastern army would not see the sun again for three days.
