Kingdoms and the Elves of the Reaches: Omnibus

by Robert Stanek

  Vilmos’ mouth fell open. He gawked at the red and white banners, and the force of thousands on the move to the battle around Quashan’. The Kingdom soldiers would soon be completely overwhelmed, and if there had been even the smallest of hopes for winning the battle before, it died with the arrival of the main host from Sever’s forces.

  Before he knew what he was doing, Vilmos found he was racing down the hillside.

  Vilmos, stop, called out Galan, you will only get yourself killed. We are to wait here and give instructions when reinforcements arrive.

  Vilmos paused only to turn back and regard Galan. Magic flowed through him like a tidal wave. His eyes focused with rage told her what he couldn’t say. Then he cast off the voice in his mind that told him what he didn’t want to hear and raced off.

  Worriedly, he studied the distant battlefield. King Jarom’s forces had fallen back to re-form and wait for the fresh troops. The Kingdom soldiers also regrouped, but they did not wait to attack afterward.

  Vilmos, panting and straining for breath, forced himself to maintain a breakneck pace. Behind him, Galan with her longer strides was catching up to him. Vilmos fought to stay ahead of her but couldn’t, and soon they were running side by side.

  Vilmos, what good will dying do? This is pointless.

  “I am a magic-user, just as Xith. I do what I must.”

  You are an apprentice.

  Vilmos didn’t answer, he pushed himself to race still faster. Sever’s horsemen had already clashed with what remained of Quashan’s garrison. The Kingdom soldiers fell back, tried frantically to re-form, but each time they formed a hasty shield wall it crumbled, forcing another retreat. Soon it became painfully clear that the Kingdom army was on the run.

  Only a hundred yards to go now and Vilmos would be on the flat fields surrounding Quashan’. There he could stretch out his legs, and there he was sure he would leave Galan behind. He ran to the pace of the thump-thump in his ears, which drowned out the cries of despair and anguish that the wind carried. Once on the flat fields, Vilmos stretched out his legs, lengthening his strides. As he did this, his foot caught Galan’s. Both stumbled and fell.

  Vilmos was quick to regain his feet. He screamed at Galan, “You did that on purpose!”

  Galan turned Vilmos about, so he was staring up at the valley’s rim from the direction they had just come from. He had just started to protest when he saw them, a line of horse soldiers. The banners at the fore were green and gold. Prince Valam had come. He had found Keeper Martin and those of Imtal garrison.

  Behind the horse soldiers came the foot soldiers, thousands of them, and far more than Vilmos or Galan had anticipated. Amidst the green and gold banners were banners bearing a blue circle on a field of white. Galan asked Vilmos without words and strangely with only emotions who the others were. Vilmos could only shrug. He didn’t know.

  Prince Valam, there! shouted Galan.

  “Where?”

  There! repeated Galan. She grabbed Vilmos’ hand and pulled him to a start, and he chased after her.

  Chapter Thirteen:

  Last Play

  It was now late afternoon. During the day the battle had taken many turns. The arrival of nearly ten thousand troops, Imtal soldiers and free men, had changed the tide of the battle for a time. Still, this had only made the field more even and not equal.

  Adrina was in the middle of relating the story of their journey and of how Keeper Martin and Captain Adylton had managed to persuade the free men of Mir and Veter to join the Kingdom’s cause. “Most are oarsmen from the free city fleet, not soldiers, though still good with a blade,” Adrina said. “Gold surely persuaded their loyalty, also a fear of losing their freedom, for after he had captured the whole of the South, King Jarom surely wouldn’t have let the Free Cities remain outside his rule.”

  “Surely we cannot just sit here,” Vilmos said. “We must do something.”

  “I aim to do something, all right.” Adrina grinned. “Tell me exactly what the lady told each of you. She did speak to each of you, right?”

  Galan and Vilmos quickly told Adrina what they remembered of the conversation, though much of it seemed a blur.

  “She spoke of choices being like the branches of trees and for right or wrong you follow one or the other, and of good and evil,” concluded Vilmos.

  Adrina asked, “Did she tell you to remember something?”

  Vilmos was pacing. Adrina knew he was growing restless. She turned to Galan, and found an unexpected expression in the elf’s eyes. “What is it Galan, what do you see?”

  Galan was staring off into the distance, her eyes were unfocussed. Seth upon the walls.

  “Really, you can see him from here?” asked Adrina.

  Galan didn’t answer. She was apparently lost in what she was seeing and Vilmos explained what little he knew of her gift, which he deemed akin to corporeal stasis.

  It is not, Galan said, it is a projecting of thoughts. I can project feelings and images too.

  “Like an image in a dream,” Adrina said.

  Galan didn’t reply—she was again distracted by what she saw.

  “Is there a way we can see as well?” Adrina asked.

  Perhaps.

  Suddenly, Adrina saw Seth standing atop the upper battlements along Quashan’s southern wall. She could feel the wind blowing through his hair and the despair ravaging his heart. Seth’s emotions flowed to Adrina, mixing with her own, and soon despair ravaged her heart as well. The enemy had breached the southern gates of the city and a wave of humanity was pouring in. Torches were being distributed and many buildings were already burning. Cries of panic rose; she heard women and children crying as they ran from the homes they fled.

  When Galan broke the link, Adrina found she was trembling beyond her control and her cheeks were wet with tears. From their vantage point, they saw the billows of smoke, and eventually the flames as well.

  Adrina asked, “Is there no hope?”

  Neither Vilmos nor Galan spoke.

  Adrina turned to the group of guardsmen who Valam had insisted remain to see to her protection in case the worst happened. Their faces were racked with anguish and lament. She knew they wanted to join the fight, though it would surely cost them their lives.

  She stood and wiped the tears from her eyes.

  “I order you into battle!” Adrina shouted.

  The ranking soldier said, “His Highness ordered us to remain.”

  Adrina glared. “And I am ordering you into battle! Now, mount your horses and go.”

  “We cannot.”

  “If Quashan’ falls, I will have no need for fifty guards. I will have no need for guards at all.” Adrina turned away from the speaker. “I will count to five, when I turn around you will be gone, and I will speak never a word about this. One, two—”

  Adrina waited until the sound of hooves mixed in with the din of the battle before she turned back around. She was surprised to find that six guardsmen remained.

  She glared at them, but they held their ground.

  “We must stay,” one of the men said. “If it comes to it, we will ensure you reach Imtal.”

  Adrina didn’t offer a response.

  Vilmos seemed suddenly inspired by the sight of the retreating guardsmen and there was the same twinkle in his eye that Adrina had seen in her brother’s eyes earlier. “Take my hand,” Vilmos told Galan.

  Vilmos’ eyes glossed over, and it seemed he was in a trance. Adrina and Galan waited. Adrina was unsure what to expect.

  After a time, Vilmos released Galan’s hand. “In the foothills, the Wolmerrelle. Erravane.” His voice betrayed dismay. “William of Sever, she certainly is seeking him out.”

  Galan’s voice whispered in Adrina’s mind, You will find help in a most unlikely source.

  “To think, I once called him cousin,” Adrina said, “If only we understood why he turned against Great Kingdom.”

  “Perhaps we do,” said a voice from behind them.

 
The Kingdom soldiers rushed to protect Adrina. Adrina, Vilmos and Galan turned around and stared into the afternoon shadows. A man with gray hair and a distinctive salt-and-pepper colored beard slowly made his way from the shadows. Adrina said, “Keeper Martin.”

  Recognizing the lore keeper, the soldiers backed down.

  “You must excuse me,” Keeper Martin said, “I have been listening to your conversation for some time. I circled back about an hour ago.”

  Keeper Martin walked toward them. Adrina saw that his face was drawn and pale, and then she saw the deep stain of blood on the right side of his cloak.

  “An arrow.” Keeper Martin said simply as he eased to a sitting position.

  Adrina’s eyes went wide.

  “Yes, I will live.” Martin motioned for them to sit. Adrina, Galan and Vilmos sat.

  “I was in Gregortonn when King Charles was poisoned and, finally, I understand why King William has joined with King Jarom.”

  “King? What—” Adrina began.

  Jacob raised a silencing hand. “King Charles has passed on. The grippe took Phillip. William is heir. As you can see by the display in the field, there was no contest to his ascension. Yet, I am sure that it is with little pride and no love that the army of Sever sides with Vostok.

  “The truth is that I myself did not understand what I had seen in Gregortonn until some hours ago, but by then I thought it too late to act on what I knew. Yet, I can see the error of that now and you are responsible for opening my eyes.”

  Adrina furrowed her eyebrows.

  “Babbling, aren’t I? Perhaps—” Keeper Martin coughed and gripped his side. “—it is the wound. Yet, I tend to do that normally. It is the green and the gold.”

  “Green and gold?” Adrina asked.

  “All along I was sure agents of King Jarom had somehow seized power in Sever’s capital, for you see, I saw through the disguises and when I saw banners of green and gold—Kingdom colors—to me such colors were not out of place, but those of Sever knew at once the colors were foreign.”

  Keeper Martin’s face became extremely pale. He bit back pain, then took a long drink from a wine-bag. “Do you understand?”

  “I am beginning to,” Adrina said.

  “Brother Galan, as Lore Keeper of Great Kingdom, I know much more about your kind than the average Kingdomer, still your gifts are truly amazing. Can you truly project images into the minds of others?”

  May I? asked Galan, suggesting she wanted to take a closer look at Martin’s side. Keeper Martin nodded approval and then seemed not to notice Galan’s hands probing the outside of the wound. You did not remove the shaft of the arrow.

  “The shaft snapped.”

  Shock crossed Adrina’s face as Galan’s hand melted into Martin’s side. Keeper Martin gave no indication of sudden pain, in fact, he seemed at ease. Adrina, torn between repulsion and attraction, watched. The skin around Galan’s wrist rippled as if fluid, and as if nothing was happening, Keeper Martin turned to Vilmos and said, “What little I know of the Watcher, through Father Jacob, leads me to believe that you are gifted with the forbidden as is he, and while I do not condone its use, I believe, as does Father Jacob, exceptions must be allowed if they are for a greater good. Yet, you are also from Sever. Yes?”

  “My home is Tabborrath Village,” Vilmos said.

  Martin said, “Your Highness, come here, let me look at you.”

  Adrina didn’t move. Galan was withdrawing her hand and in it, she held the broken arrow.

  “Your Highness,” Martin repeated.

  Adrina looked up. Martin looked into her eyes. “You are the image of your mother, and Queen Elthia as well. Can you braid your hair in a triple

  braid and let it flow over your right shoulder?”

  Adrina caught a glimpse of a pink-yellow glow out of the corner of her eye. She looked back to Martin’s wound to find it was gone, as if it had vanished. Adrina turned back to Martin and said, “I think you should rest, you are not thinking clearly.”

  “On the contrary, I have never thought more clearly.” Keeper Martin waved one of the guardsmen over. He was a short, thin fellow. “Soldier, change clothes with the lad here. He will have need of your uniform.”

  Xith kneeled beside Captain Mikhal and cradled the man’s head in his hands. Most of the southern quarter of Quashan’ was ablaze, and a full evacuation had begun. The Kingdom army was divided and they were now defending against two fronts. King Jarom’s foot soldiers came from the west. The army of Sever pressed from the east. The horse soldiers of both kingdoms controlled the middle of the field.

  It all seemed so utterly hopeless.

  “Can you save him?” Xith asked Father Jacob who also kneeled beside the fallen commander.

  “The wound is grievous, I can only ease his suffering.”

  “Do so, he has earned a peaceful passing from this life.”

  Xith had been sore pressed to convince Captain Mikhal that his men needed his continued strength and guidance and that a single last rallying of his horse soldiers for a final charge would have been sheer folly. Xith found it a bittersweet irony that the commander had met the lethal blow while trying to return to the ranks of his soldiers a second time.

  “He is gone,” whispered Jacob.

  “He was a brave man.”

  Father Jacob bent his head for a moment of prayer and Xith did likewise.

  Shouts erupted from not far off. “Fall back, fall back,” the voices screamed.

  The former sub-commander beside them stood and urged them to retreat. Xith and Jacob stood and followed the new commander as his forces fell back to regroup.

  Beside Adrina, Galan and Vilmos marched silently. Adrina could only vaguely see the silhouettes of the five soldiers who preceded them amidst the glare of the setting sun. Slowly though, more and more shadows shrouded the foothills and nightfall steadily approached.

  Vilmos, dressed in the guardsman’s uniform, held tightly the prize Keeper Martin had given him. He was their eyes. He kept watch from overhead and Galan at his side directed him. She read his thoughts, and thus they were able to steer clear of any patrols set up in anticipation of an ambush as the field became blurred.

  Keeper Martin’s plan had seemed bold as he had revealed it to them, but now as they moved ever closer to the ranks of Sever’s army, it also seemed suddenly desperate and simple. They were to sneak into William’s camp, find his tent and convince him that Great Kingdom had no part in his father’s death.

  The guardsmen disguised as Sever soldiers and the banner Vilmos held but did not display would help them on their way. Still, the most difficult part—moving through the camp, finding William and convincing him—would fall to Adrina, Vilmos and Galan alone, but mostly to Adrina. She wasn’t entirely sure she could convince William of anything, though she knew she must try.

  Darkness fell, and still the battle for Quashan’ raged.

  Prince Valam conferred with his field commanders, the captains of the Imtal and Quashan’ garrisons. Only a short time ago his forces had finally managed to break through the enemy lines to join with the soldiers of Quashan’, and he had just now learned of the death of Quashan’s commander.

  Kingdom forces held the base of the southern and eastern walls of the city, yet the fire within the city still burned out of control. The enemy came at them along two fronts, but fortunately could no longer attack from the rear or squeeze them into a killing zone. At last, they had driven back the enemy horse soldiers and erected an inner and outer defensive line. In an ironic twist, they had taken control of the trenches dug by those that had besieged the city initially, and it was this that was helping them fend off the superior force.

  “The attack slows, Your Highness,” Captain Adylton said. He wiped fresh blood from his face and sheathed his blade. “I answered the call as soon as I could.”

  A soldier offered the captain water and he drank heavily. Captain Adylton continued, “It looks as if they’ll soon fall back to their lines.
The night comes.”

  Prince Valam said, “That is indeed news worth waiting for.” Valam surveyed his commanders. “Has anyone seen Captain Berre?”

  A sergeant with a soot-covered face answered. “He commands on the left flank, Your Highness. He sent me in his stead. He has the devil’s own fury in his eyes. His home, a wife and three children, were along Cooper’s Walk.”