“Will it eventually bring us back to the north so we will be able to get to where we are going?” asked Prince Garong.
“Depends on where you are going,” shrugged Jorgel. “The mountains are full of trails. The problem is that not many of them have any kind of cover. You will be terribly exposed up there.”
“It sounds like good advice to me,” decided King Arik. “No matter which way we go, we will be exposed sooner or later. It is something that we must be prepared to deal with.”
“You have no idea what you are getting yourself into,” Jorgel shook his head. “It is a deadly trip that you are planning.”
“King Arik did not win the loyalty of the dwarves by sitting in a chair,” interjected Prince Darok. “He faces danger every day.”
“The humans call him the Warrior King,” added Pioti. “He will get us there safely.”
“I think Jorgel gets the point,” King Arik shook his head. “This discussion is not about me. It is about the Dragons’ Onyx. We still have to think about how to approach the dragons about it.”
“Approach the dragons?” gasped Jorgel. “Are you crazy? If you must do this, find the gem and steal it before the dragons discover you on that mountain. These are not pet goats that you are talking about. I have seen the human carcasses that they discard. It is not a pretty sight.”
“I am not a thief,” replied King Arik. “I might end up having to steal the Dragons’ Onyx in order to fulfill the Ancient Prophecy, but it will be last choice in ways to approach this. I think the first should be to talk to the dragons.”
“Talk to the dragons?” echoed the old man. “What are you going to do? Can you breath fire out of your nostrils? Can you screech like some flying demon? They won’t understand a word that you say.”
“I believe that they will,” countered King Arik. “I have seen a vision of the dragons, and they were talking the same as you and I do. It is worth a try.”
“That is right,” nodded Prince Darok. “I didn’t even think of that. I hope we find a friendly one.”
“Well if they can understand you,” scowled Jorgel, “Tell the one that tore my leg up that I am not happy. Tell him to leave me alone. If he agrees, then I will believe you.”
King Arik grinned at the old man and nodded. “I will tell him just that,” the king chuckled. “Leave my friend, Jorgel, alone from now on.”
Jorgel lost his scowl and began laughing.
Chapter 7
Game of the Immortals
“Hold,” called Bin-lu as Tedi rode through an intersection of roads.
Bin-lu reached into his pouch and extracted a small map while Tedi and Natia turned around and rode back towards the Lanoirian.
“What is it?” Tedi asked as his eyes scanned the surrounding trees.
“I think this is where we part company,” frowned Bin-lu. “You are heading too far west for me.”
“We must follow the rock maps,” apologized Natia. “It is the only way that we will every rejoin my people.”
“I am not complaining,” smiled Bin-lu. “I am sad to part company with the two of you. It has been a very enlightening trip. I hope to spend some time with the gypsies when this is all over.”
“If any of us are still around,” frowned Tedi. “I am not thrilled about the Knights of Alcea splitting up like we are.”
“It is necessary,” shrugged Bin-lu. “Nobody could accompany me on this mission anyway.”
“I guess not,” agreed Tedi. “You never did say why you were so anxious to speak with Prince Garong when we left Tagaret. Did the elf prince have something of yours? Should I try to retrieve it for you if I return to Tagaret first?”
“No,” Bin-lu shook his head as he dismounted and placed himself behind his horse as he disrobed. “I asked a favor of Prince Garong. I was just anxious to find out if he was able to comply with my request. It is not something that you should concern yourself with. How do I look?” he asked as he stepped around his horse and displayed himself to his friends.
Tedi’s face split into a wide grin as he examined Special Officer Bin-lu of the Lanoirian army. “You look great,” Tedi replied. “You bring back memories of our mission into the palace in Ongchi. Is it wise to wear that uniform before you reach the Lanoirian army though?”
“It is the only way that I will ever get there,” shrugged Bin-lu. “They would not let anyone else through their defenses.”
A green fairy yelled and crawled out of the pocket of the tunic that Bin-lu had taken off. “You forgot about me again!” accused the little man. “Someday I may end up drowning in the wash. You have to be more careful.”
“I am sorry, Shrimp,” apologized Bin-lu. “I do forget about you. I will try to remember in the future. I promise.”
“Give him a break,” countered a small blue fairy that was sticking her head out of Tedi’s pocket. “These humans are not any more used to carrying us around than we are to being carried.”
“Perhaps if Shrimp spent more time getting to know Bin-lu instead of trying to cavort with you, Button,” giggled Natia, “Bin-lu would remember about him easier.”
“He does like me,” giggled Button.
“What’s not to like?” quipped Shrimp. “You are as pretty as a…”
“Button,” finished Tedi. “We know Shrimp. We have heard that line every night since leaving Tagaret. You have to learn to be more original.”
“There might be another way for you to infiltrate the Lanoirians,” offered Natia as she changed the subject.
“How is that?” inquired Bin-lu as he lifted Shrimp and placed him in the pocket of his uniform.
“The gypsies are going to be raiding the Lanoirians,” explained the gypsy princess. “You could mix in with one of the groups that we attack during the battle. You could make up some story about you having just arrived before the battle. When they return to the main army group, you will be seen as just another Lanoirian returning from a patrol.”
“That might actually work better than my original plan,” mused Bin-lu.
Bin-lu’s eyes went skyward to judge the time of day. He frowned when he realized that they were back under the Darkness.
“I do that, too,” chuckled Tedi. “Even though I grew up under the Darkness, I have quickly grown used to looking at the sun to tell the time. It is late enough in the day that we could camp for the night to give you time to think about it. We would not ride much farther today anyway.”
“I like that idea,” chirped Shrimp. “Surely, another night together could not hurt anything.”
Natia rolled her eyes and giggled in unison with Button.
“Your plan actually makes sense,” nodded Bin-lu as he walked behind his horse and began removing the Lanoirian uniform. “I will accept the offer to camp for the night and think about it.”
“Not again!” complained Shrimp as a green streak shot upward from behind the horse and hovered in the air. “I wish fairies had stingers like bees. That would remind you that I live in your pocket.”
* * *
“We are not getting out of this,” whispered Fardez as he peeked out from behind the trees at the Lanoirian army. “We should have left for Trekum earlier.”
“You are probably right,” Captain Orteka nodded in agreement. “We cannot change our past actions. One of us must get through the Lanoirians to report to General Mobami. He needs to know what is coming against him. We should split up to better our chances of getting to Trekum.”
“That is agreeable to me,” whispered Fardez. “I still don’t think that we can get through, though.”
“A lot of people depend upon us to get the word back to General Mobami,” sighed the mercenary captain. “Many of them will die without our information.”
“We are all going to die anyway,” frowned Fardez. “Nothing can stand in the way of this army.”
“We may indeed die,” frowned Captain Orteka as he peered out at the enemy encampment that blocked their escape, “but it will not be here and
now.”
“Unfortunately,” Fardez shook his head, “you do not get to choose the time and place. I know that you are thinking of climbing back up the mountain and looking for another route down, but I know this country well. I grew up not far from here. There is no way past this army that will get you to Trekum before they attack.”
“But there must be a way,” insisted Captain Orteka. “Too many people depend upon us. They won’t have any chance at all if we do not get word back to them.”
“The only chance of living that they have is to abandon Trekum and flee,” Fardez sighed. “I understand what you are saying, though. They will not know enough to do that if we fail to report in. Well that settles my question for me. Mount up and prepare to ride.”
“What do you mean?” questioned the mercenary captain. “We can’t just ride out of here. We will be cut down before we can get a tenth of the way across their camp.”
“Something like that,” nodded Fardez as he mounted his horse. “I will draw them off of you. Ride like the wind, my friend. Get word to Trekum so our people can flee.”
“No,” protested Captain Orteka even as Fardez charged into the camp.
The young soldier rode into the enemy’s ranks, screaming at the top of his lungs. He did not pull his sword, but tried to draw as much attention to himself as possible. Captain Orteka uttered a foul oath under his breath as he leaped atop his horse. While Fardez was drawing the attention way from him, the mercenary rode deliberately in the other direction, pretending to be calm. Shouts and laughter surrounded him as everyone was focused on the crazy Sordoan.
Captain Orteka avoided the light as he wove an undetectable pattern through the maze of campfires. He could feel perspiration dampening his skin, and he found it hard to swallow as the sounds of Fardez’s escapade faded into the background. The encampment seemed endless, and he realized that the campfires that he rode by now were probably not even aware of the diversion that Fardez had created. His chance of escape appeared hopeless.
After minutes of trying to ride calmly through the Lanoirian encampment, the stress began to show signs of giving him away. The mercenary’s hands began to shake, and he tried to make his mind focus on something other than the enemy’s camp that he rode through. He wanted to kick into his horse and charge for freedom, but he knew that he would never make it. Any quick move on his part and he would be immediately captured or killed. He had to ride calmly as if he belonged there. He drew some slight relief from the very thing that frightened him, the size of the Lanoirian army. With so many men, it would be impossible for everyone to know everyone else. For the first time, he began to believe that he might actually make it out of the camp.
If he was going to make it back to Trekum, he reasoned, he might as well check out the Lanoirian army up close. Captain Orteka gazed surreptitiously around the encampment as he rode. Most of the Lanoirians paid no attention to the strange rider. Some of the soldiers did look his way, but only curiously.
Suddenly, Captain Orteka felt his left foot being forced upward. His mind spun with confusion and he tried to turn his gaze in that direction, even as he fought to keep his body on his horse. Both efforts failed miserably. Whatever had forced his foot up, it was done with such force as to toss the mercenary off of his horse. Orteka hit the ground hard, stars swimming around in his head.
“I thought there would be two spies,” snarled a soldier. “They never send just one.”
The mercenary tried to make sense of what had given him away, but he could not think clearly. He felt himself being kicked hard. As his head spun, he became aware of a large crowd gathering around him. Someone pulled his sword from its sheath. Someone else kicked him again. He winced with the pain to his side.
“So this is how a Sordoan fights?” laughed one of the Lanoirians. “It looks like he is trying to go to sleep.”
“Feel the blade of his sword,” jeered another. “It is so dull that it could not scrape the dung off of a stone street.”
“Let him know the sharpness of a Lanoirian blade,” swore another.
Captain Orteka felt cold steel slice into his left cheek. It was not a sensation of pain as much as it was cold, a cold that chilled him to the bone. Someone kicked him again, and then he felt his other cheek exposed to the cold.
“Stop this,” ordered a commanding voice. “Are you men so refreshed that you have time for sport instead of sleep? Perhaps you shall walk further tomorrow then?”
“He is a spy,” protested one of the Lanoirian soldiers.
“Of course he is,” acknowledged the authoritarian voice. “And what are you told to do with spies? Are you told to beat them? Kill them? No, you are told to capture them and bring them to the emperor. Perhaps some of you would care to be taken to the emperor in the spy’s place?”
The crowd reverberated with low grumble as it quickly dispersed, leaving the mercenary curled in a ball on the ground.
“Get up,” commanded the voice.
Captain Orteka’s body was wracked with pain. He rolled onto his stomach and tried to push himself to his feet. His head began to swim again, and he collapsed on the ground. A boot slammed into his ribs, and the mercenary heard an audible crack through his scream of pain.
“When I tell you to get up,” commanded the voice “I do not mean later. I mean NOW.”
Orteka gritted his teeth as he gasped for breath. He kept waiting for another kick as he struggled to get to his feet. Instead, a hand reached down and grabbed his collar. It hauled him to his feet and then some. The mercenary was only able to open one eye, but he saw the owner of the authoritarian voice. The man’s uniform had the gold trim indicative of the Emperor’s Guard. The man glared at him, but Orteka realized that someone else was holding him above the ground, his feet dangling helplessly.
“So spy,” sneered the voice. “What have you seen here today? What did you plan to tell you master in Trekum?”
Captain Orteka swore to himself that he would not give the Lanoirian the satisfaction of an answer, but he swiftly changed his mind. The Emperor’s Guard held a razor in his hand, and the man holding the mercenary was laughing wickedly.
“I was going to tell them to run,” gasped the captain. “Never has there been an army so enormous. There is no way that we can win.”
He was not sure what had made the words come out of his mouth, but Captain Orteka was in too much pain to care anymore.
“A wise thing to say,” the Emperor’s Guard said with surprise in his voice.
“He would say anything to be let free, Chadic,” announced the voice of the mercenary’s holder.
“Correction,” sneered Chadic. “He would say anything just to be allowed to die quickly. Still, freedom is what he has earned tonight.”
“Is that wise?” asked the holder.
Chadic ignored the holder as he stared the mercenary in the eye, “You will return to your master in Trekum and tell him those words. While it would not take us long to march over all of the new graves in Trekum, the Emperor prefers to avoid the battle. Tell your master to flee while he can. Anyone who is still in Trekum by the time we arrive will die.”
“Where should we go?” croaked Captain Orteka.
“Far, far away,” laughed Chadic. “Wherever you go, don’t let me find you between here and Tagaret. Get him out of my sight.”
The holder raised the mercenary higher into the air and tossed him onto his horse. Captain Orteka’s body was quickly tied to his mount. The horse was led to the edge of the encampment and whipped to make him run.
* * *
“They fight well,” Tanya commented to Alex as she watched the four Alcea Rangers spar. “I think I can understand why you loved being with the Rangers so much. Competent warriors are something that gives you a warm feeling.”
“The whole purpose of the Rangers was to create an elite unit that was well versed in all types of fighting,” nodded Alex. “I chose the best of the best to form their ranks, and then I trained them mercilessly. Th
ey were the finest fighting force ever assembled.”
“I would think that they still are,” smiled Tanya as she thought back to her sparring in Miriam. “I would not care to spar with three of them at the same time.”
“You are an excellent fighter,” replied Alex, “but do not get too cocky. Every fighter will meet his match someday. When you allow yourself to get overconfident, you develop a weakness that can be exploited by your foe.”
“I think my problem is that I am female,” frowned Tanya. “I feel as if I constantly have to prove myself to the world.”
“That is all in your head,” smiled Alex. “While many people will always categorize a female as a victim, they are fools for blinding themselves to reality. You do not have to prove anything to them. Strive only to become the best that you can be, so that your skills can help the poor unfortunates that are incapable of defending themselves. You have been given a gift, Tanya. Several gifts actually, but it is incumbent upon you to develop those gifts for the good of all people.”
“Is that the way you see it?” inquired Tanya. “Do you feel obligated to protect the innocent? Is that why you spent your life searching for the Children of the Ancient Prophecy?”
“I guess that is part of it,” Alex mused. “I did not grow up wanting to be a warrior. It was thrust upon me at an early age. I had a whole village put in my care during my youth. I guess that responsibility made me seek to become the best defender of those women and children that I could become. It was years before I realized that I had a special gift. By that time I had already dedicated my life to helping others. It just seemed natural after that.”
“You said that was part of the reason,” probed Tanya. “What was the other part?”
“The Mage,” frowned Alex. “He tasked Jenneva and me to find the Children of the Ancient Prophecy. It was a heavy responsibility, but neither of us ever gave a thought to abandoning it. Are you still bitter about us not using the time to look for you instead?”
Tanya sat and stared at the ground for a long time before answering. “I was disappointed in people that I had come to know as perfect heroes,” she began. “At the time, I did not even know that you were my parents, so I do not think that you can call it bitterness at being abandoned. It just seemed to me to be a flaw in otherwise perfect people. I have learned much since those days, and what I have learned is that you and Jenneva acted the only way that you could. Had you done differently, you would not be the great people that you are.”
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