Cordially the disguised elf called as soon as he was within normal human earshot. “Well met, gate master!”
“Well met, well met,” the guard muttered.
Before he could get in another word Dri’bu pulled out a flask and raised it in salute. “Share a drink with me! I’ve traveled far too long this last week and I’m nearing home.” He took a big swig and caught the greedy man’s eyes as he patted his pockets and shrugged to passively indicate that he had no booze to return the toast with.
Dri’bu held out the container and nodded. The guard snatched the flask and guzzled a huge portion of it as the elf leaned aside and discreetly spat his swig down his horse’s flank.
The man’s cheeks quickly flushed as the herbal concoction took hold. He tried to say something, but then he staggered aside in a stupor, as if Dri’bu wasn’t even there. A few minutes later, the ruffian had wandered off into the bushes and was soundly asleep.
Checking for prying eyes, the elf stripped the guard and glued on him a prosthetic nose and ears. With a quick application of makeup and a haircut, the snoozing man looked very elven and nothing like a citizen of Lol. Dri’bu pulled a tiny vial from his satchel and poured it into his mouth. The man swallowed and the elf grinned, knowing that the sound of the faux elf’s voice would surprise even its owner for the next several hours.
Dri’bu quickly cleaned up any traces that he had been there and guided his horse inside of Jakhku.
He was not met by much more than the typical, local glances of suspicion that most outsiders received. He finally found the store he was looking for and ducked inside.
The shop keep paid him little attention until Dri’bu leaned over the counter and cleared his throat. “I was told a man could by Regal Red-Tails here,” he said.
Narrowing his eyes, the old man sized up the thin-framed buyer. “You might’ve heard right,” he stated. “Very expensive, you know.”
Dri’bu nodded. “I’m aware,” he smirked.
“How many would you like?” he joked, still disbelieving the customer could afford a single bird.
“All of them. How many do you have?”
The vendor laughed and abruptly stopped when Dri’bu tossed a sack of gold coins onto the counter. He whistled. “Is that gold?”
Dri’bu nodded.
Opening the purse, the seller verified the contents and pulled a randomly selected coin out for verification. “Well, you’re the real deal, I can see—but it’s not enough for all my birds”
Dri’bu tossed a second, larger pouch next to the first.
Opening the coin bag he narrowed his eyes to slits as he looked Dri’bu up and down again. “Take off your hat,” he demanded as he pulled out a coin that had clearly been minted by the elvish community in Eastern Gleend. “Where did you get this coin?” He growled his demand.
Removing his hat, Dri’bu tossed it atop the pile of coins. The imposter lifted his locks of hair to display the convincing prosthetics he’d donned. “Is there a problem? Do you want my hat as a part of the deal too?”
The retailer held up one of the coins and repeated himself. “This coin—where’s it from?”
Dri’bu feigned ignorance and shrugged. “I don’t exactly know. I took it off of some elvish thug who tried to rob me just outside of town—a big one, too. Maybe the biggest elf I’ve ever seen. I knocked him out and left him in the ditch… took his coins and figured I’d double my purchasing power.” He grinned and put on his most convincing face.
The elf didn’t need it. His mark had been so overcome by his prejudice that bought the story immediately.
Suddenly a mob crashed by in front of the storefront. They dragged the unwitting elf as they shouted insults and abused him. The unwitting decoy screamed and insisted that he wasn’t an elf at all and couldn’t understand why none of his friends recognized him or why his voice had suddenly raised an octave.
Dri’bu chuckled at how justice had somehow found him.
Clearly wanting to join the crowd and join the action, the shop keep snatched up both purses and struck the deal before hollering out for his assistant to complete the transaction. He eagerly sprang through his door and merged into the faceless, bellicose crowd.
Dri’bu put his hat back on and cocked it how he liked to wear it before greeting the assistant. He turned to the woman in her young twenties and pulled out another coin purse. “Tell me, miss. Can you also sell me a cart and horse to transport these amazing birds with?”
***
The Christians awoke to a deep red sky in the morning. It seemed as if some giant flame had scorched the atmosphere. Despite the omen they proceeded with their normal business. Their current task was to prepare for the coming journey that they would all take part in.
Kevin, as typical since their settlement first formed, led his leaders in morning lesson and prayer. It had become a growing trend in the settlement and many small groups had begun meeting for morning prayer and planning.
With another incursion of so many new believers, they had to restructure the encampment so that everyone could benefit from its layout. Groups had been organized into several large precincts, each one under the leadership of a member on the council; they had also broken the precincts into smaller manageable chunks, each headed by responsible, capable leaders.
The preacher led a devotional discussion and spoke about the compassion of Jesus Christ. Kevin proceeded with his morning meeting. They discussed the current events and the coming division when they paused. They felt the noise; it rumbled like a tremor in the air long before it was audible to the ear.
They turned their heads north as the tremor escalated and became a dull roar of noise.
Dust billowed far off. The horizon blurred with the burgeoning cloud, which grew in the distance: a sure sign of incoming horses, lots of them. A dark silhouette outlined the approaching force against the horizon. It grew larger and darker as it drew closer. Horsemen blanketed the hills; they approached the Christian settlement at a steady, practiced canter.
An alarm immediately arose within the camp and men ran to take defensive positions at the perimeter of the settlement. Though it had been kept low-key, many of the Christians had been prepared, trained, and drilled for just such an encounter. With the news that Rashnir brought to the council on the previous afternoon, several men had been placed on high alert. They’d expected their opposition would come to bear, and soon.
While many of the men prepared for a likely battle, Kevin had called so many others to prayer for safety and protection. As the roar of hooves echoed in the distance Shinna took Jibbin with her and stayed near Kevin. The little boy resisted, wanting to go with Rashnir. Even though he didn’t speak, he could still make a great deal of noise.
The preacher left the battle planning in the hands of Jorge and Rashnir. Still, the Christians had hoped that they could find enough time to fully prepare for their mass exodus before the tension broke; they recognized the brewing hostility and wanted to depart before full scale battle broke out and hoped that removal from the area would dispel the hateful sentiment that had been stirred up in the city. Those hopes had overstayed their welcome.
As the mounted soldiers drew closer, they slowed to a trot. The line of soldiers stretched across the entire field of view. The Jandish Royal Army had arrived.
The horsed warriors halted in silence, drawing a long line across the Christians’ northern boundary, prohibiting them from leaving by any northward route. Those roads branched off of the Grinden trade routes and were the easiest paths to travel by, but they were inaccessible now.
The royal cavalry trampled the fields where Kevin had preached only two nights ago. Tent poles and banners clawed for the sky behind the battle line as the opposition entrenched themselves. Military officers claimed the same soil where people had so recently given their hearts to Christ.
Surrounded on the north, the Christian people looked to the west, but the Quey forest blocked tha
t direction. A great many people would become lost if they tried to escape that direction, scattered aimlessly in the hostile wood. To the east rushed the river; news from the eastern perimeter of the encampment reported that the militia men of the city had apparently been crossing the river all morning, coming across the bridge, fording the shallows, and ferrying across on skiffs. The eastern edge was also hostile.
The southern direction became the only side that did not present signs of immediate danger. Rashnir and Jorge discussed options and then spoke with Kevin about the situation. They did not want to go south if they could help it. Not only was it insulting to be herded like cattle, but it would significantly detour their missionary travel plans. Very few options for convenient travel lay south of their location.
Kevin verged on making a decision, but he stopped, mouth agape, and then chuckled. “I was about to give my input like the foolish man I can be at times. Return in twenty minutes; let me pray about this first. God will give me insight.”
Jorge smiled. “I think that would be the wisest.” He knew well of human tendency to jump ahead of God’s plans after watching the men of Earth for millennia.
The angel and ranger surveyed the situation for the following twenty minutes; those minutes passed in a flash. The eastern banks had been boxed off entirely by the city’s militia—the near bank crawled with militiamen. The far bank of the Rashet was lined with city folk who had come to watch the battle from a safe distance.
Rashnir and his counterpart discussed the pros and cons of an organized escape through the forest when they felt another low rumble in the ground. Distinctly different, it was impossible to distinguish what the noise was—even for the angel. It sounded as if many more horses approached in the distance, though it carried an even more ominous note.
Kevin’s time had nearly passed and the two returned. As they walked they noticed droves of people kneeling vigilantly in prayer; the encampment had packed and readied for travel. The people could move at any moment.
Kevin approached them wearing a look of resolve on his face. He knew what course of action was required.
“I had so hoped that we could avoid all of this,” the preacher sighed. “Even though we are packed and it is physically possible for us to move on, we are not yet ready.”
Rashnir raised his eyebrows, “I know that if it was I who had gone, I would understand being left behind.”
“I know, I know. But I am not worried about Dri’Bu. I know that he can provide us with much valuable insight into this realm and is a great resource, but he was not a factor in my decision. While he is running an important errand for us, I speak of our very purpose for existing in this wretched placed: our commission.
“We are not yet fully prepared for departure. Even if we could depart within the hour, we would only make smaller groups for this army to isolate and destroy. They would ride down upon us and annihilate our friends, cell by cell. The Lord has shown me that we have no option but to fight against this enemy who is bent on our destruction. We cannot present them with our weak side. I know I left battle plans to you both, but God desires us to meet them with our strongest front.”
Kevin turned aside to Jorge, “It comes down to battle, but promise me that you will honor my request. You must leave if our situation appears doomed.”
Jorge reluctantly nodded his head, “If we are overwhelmed, I will see to it that the Christians in Driscul continue the work.”
“Thank you, my friend. Even if we are all killed in this battle, the message must continue, the Gospel will go on. And if the Christians in Driscul fail, then seek out the King of Gleend, Lo-sonom and his brother Havara have also become Christians. God’s will shall be accomplished, even if my part was only to begin this work.
“You two must direct this battle. We shall let them push us until we can go no further. The Lord has shown me that they will force us south. We will yield to them before we strike, like a snake recoiling.”
The three men turned their eyes to the south. It was an illogical move, surrendering the high ground. All of the ground sloped downward as they stretched south towards the sea. Relatively nearby a large quarry would bisect their path. They ran a huge risk of being trapped in it with such a move. A southward retreat meant that they would lose their best chance of breaking through their lines, circumventing their blockades, or any other kind of escape; it meant a fight to the finish.
“This is the will of the Lord?” Rashnir asked for confirmation.
Solemnly, the preacher replied, “It is.”
Rashnir nodded his head. “So be it. My life is His to command, even if He should require me to give it up. It shall be done.”
A shout rose up on the northern front. Jorge and Rashnir ran to investigate.
On the northern battle line, mounted cavalry made a tight formation. They lowered their spears as the equine wall began to press towards the Christians’ settlement offering a spearhead to any who might try and push against their wall. Even in the distance they could discern the crimson glint of the ‘ãbêdâh oiled weapons.
The order went out and the Christians moved southward at a pace only a fraction faster than their oppressors. Rashnir picked up Jibbin, who growled at him, upset at being left during the tense time. He was glad to be back in Rashnir’s arms, sitting in the front of his saddle.
The Christians let the army herd them south for a while and the quarry soon became visible in the distance. Flanking horsemen rode into the distance to keep them from going around the excavation site—but they were not an overwhelmingly large force in the plains to the east and west of the quarry. As Kevin and Rashnir discussed the possibility of escaping on either side, they recognized strange movement in those directions. A dark line seemed to form like a pool on the ground, leaking upward to the surface.
Jorge spotted it too. His eyes were keen enough to distinguish what it was: holes. Goblins opened paths to the surface and cut off any possible escape routes
Rashnir’s gut tightened. They could still make a stand out in the open, but had chosen to rely on the Word of the Lord. The people continued southward at a pace just quick enough to give them some breathing space between them and the battle line.
***
Kevin led his people down the harsh slope which led to the bottom of a heavily-mined pit. The bottom of the quarry was gravel-strewn and hard. It looked like a ghost town; abandoned mining equipment and dilapidated structures leaned on tenuous support and dotted the hill.
On the south-most side newly arrived warriors poked their head over the ridge, closing the noose on all sides. There was no escape from the pit.
Kevin led his people through the valley and up another steep slope in the center of the quarry; they would make their last stand there. Zeh-Ahbe’s kinsmen set to work as fast as they could, keeping in their human forms and not wanting their opposition to know that they had regained their superhuman abilities.
The Say-awr’ tore down scaffolds and gathered massive piles of lumber in mere moments. They stacked them near the base of the conical hill that rested in the middle of the quarry. As quickly as possible they stocked piles of flammables around the bottom of the hill at various intervals so that the Christians could ignite them in the evening for light, should they survive so long.
At the edge of the quarry, the slow-moving wall of mounted troops eventually came to a halt before the drop-off. The steep slope created a natural boundary that the army decided to momentarily honor. No aggressive movements were made against them.
The day lingered on, making it apparent that the Luciferians waited for darkness to attack, when the glowing of the flame-wreathed blades would reveal the Christians wherever they were. Afternoon turned to evening and an uncanny silence fell over the scene, a pall that undercut the Christians’ morale as the massive force surrounded the abandoned quarry.
The giant, cone-shaped mound of earth at the center of the quarry rose only slightly higher at its peak than the
ridge held by the Luciferians and their allies. Kyrius stood on the summit and surveyed the landscape while the rest of the Christians mustered around the hill slightly below him, completely encircling the prominence. Enemies surrounded them on every side. Combat monks marched in from the distance, carrying with them pieces of war machines. Parts from catapults and other war engines could be easily distinguished in the distance.
Kyrius reported his findings to Kevin. It was suppertime, but no adults took food; only the children ate. Everyone else fasted.
“Only God can save us from this situation,” Kyrius reported.
Kevin almost smiled, “Then our chances are pretty good, all things considering.” He maintained a humorous sense of irony, at least. There was no better fight to participate in than one were only God could gain glory through victory.
***
Prock had been entrenched in ritual for hours now, preparing for the beast’s awakening. On this mountaintop, the giant drake had long ago been cast into torpor by the early Luciferian mages as they directly channeled the forms of the first demonic council. In those early days of magic they’d barely managed to cast such a powerful creature into a permanent stasis.
The science of magic had come a long way since then. In the early days of man this task had been a nearly impossible one.
So powerful was this monster that it had threatened to tear Paradise from the sky! In those days following the departure of hay-lale’ the demons fought each other at every end and little had been done to explore the nature of magic. The Dragon Impervious, according to Luciferian legend, had been crafted with a specific purpose—to force the overlords to align. Individually, before they discovered the depths to which they could harness the leylines that siphoned power from sins of humanity, no demon could stand against the invulnerable dragon, and several had tried. But things were different now with the multiplication of man and the linkage of the babel thrones.
The Dragon Impervious still possessed power enough to destroy any of the firmaments with its raging, ferocious strength. But so did many of the lords of the Gathering if they were bent upon it. Brute strength could be controlled with a well-crafted plan and high magics. The Dragon Impervious was a hammer, and Prock would wield it. Prock was gifted when it came to dominating the wills of other beings.
The Kakos Realm Collection Page 48
