“Hello,” Brin called out, his word quickly dying in the cold emptiness. “Hello?”
There was no response. He quickly dismounted and scanned the terrain to make sure no one was in the vicinity. He wanted no witnesses when he carried each of the bodies and placed them in back of the cart. Brin moved fast, eager to find his cousin and, hopefully, a raft and crew waiting for him on the river. If he could reach them by morning, he would consider himself lucky as he didn’t think the sleeping elixir would last much time beyond that according to what the apothecary had told him.
As Brin knelt down on one knee next to Ivy to lift her over his shoulder, he noticed a gold chain around her neck. He pulled it out from beneath her blouse and studied the silver medallion attached to it. On the front was depicted an immense stone structure guarded by pine trees with mountains and a winding river in the background. The other side showed a horse galloping through a field of tall grass under two rising full moons with a sword engraved on either side of the image. From his studies on the Northern Isles, he instantly recognized the image of the Blue Citadel.
“I’m delighted to finally meet you, Princess Megan,” he whispered while slipping the medallion back underneath her clothing. “Oh, and no need to introduce your friend. I’ve already met King Justin’s personal spy–and I presume the love of your life by the way I saw you two dancing.” He chuckled softly while looking upon the sleeping couple. “So, ready to begin our journey? Vellan will be pleased to meet you both when I take you to Kargoth. Very pleased indeed,” he said, anticipating with drunken giddiness the rewards that Vellan would bestow upon him once he presented the wizard with such valuable prizes.
END OF PART SIX
PART SEVEN
A CLASH OF ARMIES
CHAPTER 64
A Brief Parley
Eucádus stood unmoving upon the morning field. He stared down King Drogin’s forces poised atop a low ridge across the browning grass less than a mile away. Upon Lake LaShear to his left, a fleet of ships from Zaracosa were gathered on the water like silent vultures eyeing their prey. Though the armies of King Basil, King Cedric and those from the tiny nations in the Northern Mountains had planned a surprise attack on Drogin, they now found themselves beaten to the punch on their very doorstep.
Eucádus wondered if Drogin’s spies had intercepted their plans for the secret attack. Or had they been given faulty information from the Hamilod Resistance about Drogin’s final push up the coast and across the lake? In either case, war had found them, though not fully unprepared. As the lingering tendrils of ghostly white fog evaporated in the growing light and on a freshening breeze, the young but weary soldier from Harlow anticipated a day of bloodshed and sadness. As the horrified whispers of the men around him mingled with the crackling bonfires, Eucádus’ heart broke and his throat tightened. He wondered how many of these brave soldiers under his leadership would survive to see the sun rising tomorrow morning over the glorious blue waters of the lake.
A soldier from Drogin’s army was dispatched on horseback to request a parley within the hour with King Basil of Rhiál or his representatives. The man, a native of the Northern Isles, returned to his leaders with the message that such a meeting would be accommodated. Soon afterward, Eucádus, King Cedric, Captain Silas and a handful of other captains gathered in a large tent upon the field in view of King Basil’s estate to debate their next move.
“No doubt Drogin will want to discuss terms of our surrender,” muttered Ranen, defiantly pacing upon the cold, hard ground. His long black hair, tied in back with a piece of scarlet material, highlighted the tension in his facial muscles. “Well, he will get no such response from me!”
“Nor from any of us,” Eucádus replied, silently noting that Ranen was exhibiting the same steely determination now that he always did when solving even lesser matters as leader of the Oak Clearing. Yet that was why Eucádus could trust him as a friend and fellow soldier.
“We will confront Drogin, not surrender,” Captain Silas assured everyone, “whatever our fates afterward. And if I may be so bold as to speak for King Basil, I know he would echo those same sentiments. We have not gathered the best of our countrymen and those from abroad to simply lie down at the first sight of the enemy. We will indulge their words and then send them on their merry way before we draw swords.”
“Those indeed are my sentiments–and nicely phrased.”
A voice spoke from behind them, low and weak, yet still with the force of authority. When the men turned their heads, they saw that King Basil had stepped through the tent flap with one of his aides beside him holding onto his arm to keep him steady. The King wore a heavy brown cloak with silver embroidery. His unruly gray hair of late had been combed so that he appeared like the monarch of old.
“Sir, what are you doing here?” Captain Silas asked with fearful surprise. “You should be resting at the estate. I had planned to send constant dispatches to you regarding the battle.”
“I know, I know,” he replied dismissively with a wave of his hand. “And I could have watched the battle unfold from my bedroom window as well, but that wouldn’t have been as entertaining either,” he added with a playful wink.
“Have a seat, my friend,” King Cedric kindly encouraged him. “Your advice will be for naught if your weakened state prevents you from thinking properly.”
“Please,” Eucádus urged, offering him a small wooden bench to sit upon near a large table where a crude topographic map of the local terrain had been spread out.
King Basil graciously accepted and was soon immersed in the military discussion with his peers as if the upcoming parley had already occurred and had been soundly rejected. Captain Silas and Eucádus presented their plan of attack to the others, explaining that there would be a two-prong assault–one south on the field and one east along the docks and shoreline of Lake LaShear.
“I’ll direct the campaign along the water and Eucádus will confront Drogin’s men to the south,” Captain Silas said as he traced his finger over the corresponding locations on the map.
“Captain Tiber and I will go with you, Eucádus,” King Cedric added. “Our forces have been together since they combined in Drumaya and endured the long road across the Kincarin Plains. There is no reason why we should not join now in battle.”
Eucádus nodded. “I will be honored to ride with you into the storm, King Cedric.”
In the end, Jeremias, leader of the Fox Clearing, would also charge onto the battlefield with Eucádus. Ramsey vowed to accompany them as well. Ranen volunteered to make a stand along the docks with Captain Silas who would also be joined by Uland and Torr, leaders of the Pumpkin and Haystack Clearings. They, along with other captains and the thousands of men gathered on the south and west fields along the King’s estate, pledged their lives to preserving a free and prosperous Rhiál. They were still outnumbered by several thousand troops. The enemy from Kargoth and the Northern Isles was fiercely committed to seizing Rhiál for both Vellan and Drogin’s designs.
The discussions were abruptly concluded when someone outside the tent uttered three simple words in a bleak and ominous tone. “Here they come.”
Eucádus looked up, a hint of a smile upon his face. “Time to greet our guests. Let’s not keep them waiting.”
“The sharpened point of my sword is eager to greet them,” Captain Tiber replied, his eyebrows arched above his steely blue eyes.
“Steady now,” King Cedric replied to one of his finest captains, though he spoke his words with good humor. “First we talk–but keep a ready hand near your hilt.”
King Basil remained inside the tent with an aide as the others exited to the breezy outdoors. There they observed three men on horseback galloping northward up the field in the morning light. One of them carried a flag in muted tones of orange, brown and black symbolizing King Drogin’s reign. It was a recently created emblem which Drogin valued highly, even displaying it above the official flag of Maranac. When the riders reached the encampment
, they wordlessly sauntered along a pathway to the main tent with haughty expressions, their contempt for Rhiál and its allies not the least bit in doubt. While the man carrying the flag was a citizen of Maranac and a stanch supporter of King Drogin, the other two were not native to this region. One was from the Northern Isles, dressed in traditional military garb. The other, who appeared to be in charge, was a citizen of Kargoth sent by Vellan to secure these lands by any means.
Eucádus and King Cedric were both quick to note a subtle, cloudy haze within the man’s brown eyes similar to that of the dying soldier from Kargoth they had talked to after the attack on the Kincarin Plains. Those who were familiar with the legend of Vellan casting a spell upon the Drusala River in Kargoth were convinced that this man had drunk from the river and had become a devoted follower of the cruel and corrupt wizard. But whether the drink was by choice, accident or deception, none could say.
“My name is Irabesh. Are you prepared to discuss the terms of your surrender?” asked the man from Kargoth with little ceremony. His nearly lifeless eyes looked down from a pale, unshaven face as his mop of jet black hair waved in the breeze.
“You presume much about our intentions,” King Cedric calmly replied, not intimidated by the man’s arrogant demeanor. “But if you and your associates care to join us with King Basil inside, we shall be happy to discuss many issues.”
“Very well.” Irabesh dismounted his steed, signaling for the others to do likewise. “But our only issue of concern is your swift and complete surrender. Otherwise these talks will be brief.”
Eucádus studied the man, knowing there wasn’t a shred of trustworthiness or honor in him. “And why isn’t King Drogin gracing us with his presence this morning?”
“He prefers to remain across the water in Zaracosa awaiting word of our victory,” he replied.
“Of course. Follow me,” Eucádus said as he led the trio into the tent where King Basil waited at the head of the table. Moments later, their animated exchange was underway.
“I’ll come to the crux of the matter,” Irabesh said, seated opposite King Basil. His two associates stood behind him. “Your chances of victory are nonexistent as you face a larger fighting force more powerful, loyal and far more determined than your own.”
King Basil grunted with contempt. “You do have a greater number of men, but I’ll argue about the other points.”
“Argue all you like, but you know I speak the truth, sir.”
“You and your kind know nothing of loyalty!” Ranen interjected, his face flushed with disdain. “By your mindless devotion to Vellan, there is no doubt that you have consumed the poisoned waters of the Drusala. Yours is a false loyalty.”
“My friend may be no diplomat,” Eucádus said, “but does he not speak the truth?”
“You want the truth about loyalty?” Irabesh replied, unfazed by Ranen’s remark. “I’ll tell you the truth. We recently learned that traitors to King Drogin in the Hamilod Resistance passed information to you about our planned assault on your capital. But as you can see,” he added with a self-satisfied smile, “we also learned that you were going to attack us before we got underway. So while you dithered, we charged at your door ahead of schedule, ready to break it down.”
“What has that got to do with the subject of loyalty?” Captain Silas asked, showing mild impatience as he leaned back in his seat and ran a hand through his shortly cropped hair. “I was expecting a lesson of some sort.”
“The lesson is this–don’t let a young prince of Montavia and his urchin friend wander around the docks at night unprotected,” he coolly replied. “Especially a prince privy to military secrets.”
Eucádus, King Basil, King Cedric and many others in the tent felt a deadly chill run through them, fearing some horror had befallen Prince William and Aaron. Yet despite the emotional punch, all kept their composure.
“What are you saying?” King Cedric asked, noting that King Basil seemed unable to speak.
“I am saying that Prince William revealed the details of your attack plans to us two days ago,” Irabesh replied. “For which we are utterly thankful.”
“Where is he?” Eucádus demanded, pounding the tabletop. “What have you done to him and the other boy?”
“They are both fine–for now.” Irabesh delighted in having the upper hand. “They are safely tucked away should we ever need them again. But my point is that it didn’t take much for your young prince to supply us the information we desired. Is that loyalty?”
King Basil spoke softly, his words steaming with subdued rage. “If you harm them in any way…”
Irabesh smirked. “You’ll do what exactly? Attack us?”
“We are prepared to defend Melinas to the death–ours and yours,” Eucádus said.
“I think it will be more of yours if it comes to a clash of swords and a torrent of arrows,” he confidently replied. “However, that can be avoided with a simple surrender. Your people will be treated justly, King Basil. Once Rhiál is reunited with Maranac, you will be astounded at the prosperity and good will that King Drogin’s rule shall unleash.”
“I’m only too aware of what Drogin’s touch can accomplish,” the King replied before placing a hand over his mouth to conceal a nagging cough. He appeared pale and tired. “My oldest son, Morton, was killed fighting Drogin’s thirst for power. And Victor, my youngest, has been missing for five months after a raid in Zaracosa, though I presume he is dead as well. So do not tell me about the good will of Drogin the serpent!”
A strained hush fell over the gathering as a glint of fiery anger from King Basil of old ignited the atmosphere inside the tent. But just as quickly, the King slumped his shoulders and sighed with growing exhaustion, knowing the odds were not in his favor. Captain Silas, who sat next to him, gently laid a hand upon his shoulder in silent support.
“Let me spell out what King Drogin has in store if you still cannot grasp the logic of surrender. Maybe it will pound some sense into your royal head before subjecting your populace to more useless warfare.” Irabesh’s words were strident and cold. “The first wave of soldiers waiting for you upon both land and water are those from Maranac who are most loyal to King Drogin. We have purged any officers that King Hamil had installed before his untimely death in New Spring.”
“Tell me, did you have a hand in planning King Hamil’s assassination, too?” Ranen remarked. “Or were you only in charge of his daughter Melinda’s disappearance?” He glared coldly at the man. “Just wondering.”
Irabesh ignored the comment. “Standing next to King Drogin’s finest fighters will be our allies from the Northern Isles and, of course, my fellow countrymen from Kargoth. We are all well trained and will show no mercy if you pursue a challenge against us.”
“We had expected no less,” Eucádus replied matter-of-factly. “Our troops are similarly prepared.”
“That you will have to prove when our forces bear down upon you,” he said. “And if that isn’t enough, just a few miles south of here is a second wave of men from Maranac who stand ready to strike–not that we will need the assistance. And as for your planned attack on our ships at Zaracosa, King Basil, let me assure you that that will not happen. King Drogin has marched several companies north along the eastern shore of the lake to confront your allies from Altaga who were building rafts for your predawn invasion of our ships.” Irabesh noted the trace of dismay in King Basil’s eyes and upon his haggard face. “Yes, Prince William kindly told us about them as well, so expect no help floating down from the north tip of Lake LaShear. One of these days soon, King Drogin will pay a visit to Altaga in repayment for such treachery. If they think the mountains will protect them, they are sadly mistaken.” He folded his arms, studying the stunned countenances surrounding him. “I think that covers everything I wanted to say.”
A weighty, hopeless silence hung over the gathering. It was as if defeat had already been declared in response to Irabesh’s words. As most of the men around the table cast their eye
s downward, Eucádus and Captain Silas glanced at one another and simultaneously stood up. They walked partway around the table and stopped, standing opposite their enemy. Both men glared at Irabesh and his companions for a moment before a thin smile spread across Eucádus’ face.
“Nice speech. Are you done now?” Eucádus looked askance at Captain Silas. “Is he done?”
“Oh, I hope so,” he replied. “He does go on a bit.”
A soft ripple of laughter spread among the other men like tiny waves across a pond. Even King Basil and King Cedric couldn’t conceal their amusement at Eucádus and Captain Silas’ antics which instantly dispelled the fatalistic gloom that had seeped into the hearts of everyone in the tent. Whatever persuasive advantage Irabesh had brought with him by his force of personality or through some residual effect of Vellan’s enchantment, it was now utterly extinguished. Still, Irabesh knew he had the superior force of men behind him and that was what mattered most.
“Enjoy your little joke,” he muttered. “It won’t save you from what awaits if you do not surrender.”
“We have no plans to surrender to you or your puppets,” Captain Silas remarked, tossing a reassuring glance to King Basil. “Ride back and tell them so. Shortly you will find out what the men of Rhiál, Drumaya and the nations of the Northern Mountains are made of and to what lengths we’ll fight to defend our freedom.”
Irabesh stood, fuming with contempt. “These discussions are over! I’ll see you on the battlefield forthwith,” he said in something resembling a snarl. He signaled to his men and they followed him out through the tent flap like dark clouds in a storm. Moments later the sound of three horses were heard galloping down the field.
King Cedric looked at King Basil and offered a faint smile. “Well, my friend, I guess the moment has arrived that we’ve both dreaded and planned for over many fretful hours. Yet in a strange way, I’m glad it’s here.”
Nicholas Raven and the Wizards' Web (The Complete Epic Fantasy) Page 103
