by Peter Plasse
“You know magic?” she asked.
“No,” he laughed softly. “I know of magic. I assure you, I cannot perform any magic. According to what I have read, only those of Elvin descent can perform magic; something to do with the Elves being able to draw power from the earth, the sun, the wind, and water. You don’t happen to have any blood of the Elves coursing through your veins do you?”
“I do not,” she said.
They cooked and ate their banquet in silence. As she was about to throw some water on the few remaining embers, he held up his hand. “No,” he said softly. “Let it burn out on its own. If you cool it off, we will get smoke, and we don’t want that.”
“Of course,” she said. “You must think I’m a ditzel.”
“Never,” he said. “Don’t worry about it. You’re doing fine. We have to help each other. There’s only us, and we need to put our heads together on everything.
“The whole has to be more than the sum of the parts if we’re to survive this, that’s all.”
Rolan frowned deeply at the report brought to him by Thargen. “If it is as you say,” he said, “it’s over. We have no choice but to surrender and try to preserve something of our races.”
“I can tell you this, My King: Neither I, nor a single Human, Dwarf, or Elf under my command will ever agree to surrender to those monsters. We would all rather die fighting. Why would we surrender, My Lord? To die in some cooking pot after they had their fun torturing us for countless hours for their sick amusement? Better to die fighting, I say.”
“I know what you’re saying, Thargen, and you carry the scars that back your words. But as King, I have women and children to think about, and the preservation of the three races.
“The way I see it, the only chance we have, other than to surrender under terms that give us some hope, is to organize into small groups of militia, freedom fighters living in the woods, with endless raids on an army that hopelessly outnumbers us. But biting like fleas on the leg of a dog this big, all must know that the chances of any sort of victory will be slim, and more likely we will all slowly die off; From the fighting, yes, but more from the slow processes of starvation, sickness, and exposure.
“Ravenwild has fallen, my good and loyal friend. I know this because you, the Commander of the Ravenwild fighting forces, have had to serve as a lowly messenger to bring me this horrid news.
“Perhaps Malance Venomisis will negotiate a surrender by which we stay out of the cooking pots and are allowed to live together in some sort of settlement. His military dog is spared the itch of our constant biting, and we might actually survive.
“We could offer ourselves as slaves, servants for now to be sure, with the hope that someday, generations from now, we might arise again strong enough in numbers and will to defeat this terrible foe. Other than that, as I see it, we will all die. And with our deaths, all that was ever Human, Dwarf, and Elf will be lost forever.”
Queen Isabella could stand it no longer. “Are you out of your mind?” she cried. “Surrender to that pig of a being? Never! Never! Never! Never! Your words are lunacy, My Lord. You need to get some sleep. Do you realize what you’re saying? You’re seriously considering brokering some sort of deal with this animal? Surrender, you say, so that we might live in some happy little slave-camp village? If we chose this psychotic pathway, what would happen is this: The day the survivors of our kingdom presented themselves to that hairy pig scum would be the day he exterminated each and every one of us.
“We can’t surrender, and to even suggest it is madness.”
Thargen and the wizard Taber both looked uncomfortable as she vented her spleen on Rolan’s commentary. Never before had either seen the Queen speak out against the King. Then again, neither had ever seen circumstances as grave as they faced right now.
“My Lord,” said the wizard Taber, “if I may speak.”
“Of course,” said Rolan, with a halfhearted wave of his hand. “Please.”
“Beyond question our situation is grim. Our kingdom is smashed. Our peoples, those that have managed to survive, have already run from their homes and taken to the wild, fending entirely for themselves and living off the land. And while both the Troll and Gnome armies occupy our land, it means they have extended themselves to a point that neither can have much of a force left defending their own lands. I suggest that we organize what we have left in the way of our own military into two contingents, each with the purpose of attacking Vultura and Slova. Attack them on their own soil, My Lord. ‘To what end?’ you ask. To force them to withdraw some of their forces in defense of their own lands and give our people some breathing room while they make new lives for themselves in the wilderness. I have a few wizards left. If you can get us within striking distance of the Gnome and Troll capital cities, we can do enough damage to the structures to allow our troops to enter. We might, conceivably, catch our enemies sleeping soundly enough to take out the leadership. Kill the head of the snake and the snake dies.”
“Let me understand this,” said Rolan. “You’re saying that we completely abandon the defense of our homeland, and our peoples, and attack,”
“Wizard Taber,” smiled Thargen. “Are you petitioning for my job?”
Taber returned his smile. “Not likely,” he said. “But the way I see it, it makes no sense to defend something that is already lost, and I am willing to bet that the vast majority of the citizenry of our land would support some sort of attempt by our military to take the offensive to Malance Venomisis. Even if it is the last offensive our military ever mounts.”
Luke, The Conqueror, knocked loudly on the solid door of their planning room with the hilt of his sword.
“That would be Luke,” said Thargen. He slid back the faceplate to look and, after confirming his assumption, nodded to Taber who motioned slightly with his hand, causing the door to slide open. When Luke had entered, Taber again motioned with his hand, and the door slid back shut.
Thargen and Luke clasped forearms, and Luke next put his fist to his heart, turning to his King. “My Lord.”
“Luke, Minister of Conquest, can I offer you something to eat or drink?”
Luke was in such a harried state that the words seemed to tumble out of him all at once, like a handful of beans dumped out of a can.
“May it please My Lord, not at this time. We sit on the brink of total loss. We have plans to make, urgent plans, that we needed to implement yesterday. I will eat on my way back to the lines.”
He turned to Queen Isabella. “My Queen.”
For the next several hours they discussed battle strategy, current troop locations, battle damage estimates, logistics for marshalling and organizing their remaining troops, and all of the other aspects of their military campaign. All present knew that this might well be the first of the last of such discussions.
“There is one thing that the good wizard Taber seems to have left out of his attack plan,” said Thargen.
“The annual Gnome winter retreat,” said Luke. “No question.”
“Oh, it isn’t that I didn’t consider it,” said the wizard. “I believe we need to attack them on two fronts, but the first will be merely to hold the Gnomes in Vultura. If we take out their bridge on the Dreams of Sky River, we will not only be able to hold them entirely out of the war for the winter, but position our troops to really hit them hard with the coming of spring.”
And so it went, on and on, around and around, as they worked out the details, down to the very smallest, as to how they would proceed.
When they finally adjourned, Queen Isabella and Rolan were alone. “What about our son?”
“Yes, our son.”
The Queen waited for the King to continue. He said nothing, but sat and stared at the bare stone walls of their bedchamber, deep within the hideaway at Mount Gothic.
“My Lord?”
Still he said nothing, so she repeated, “Our son? Have you forgotten about our son?”
Now it was the King’s turn to explode. He
jumped up, turning to face her, and screamed, “Do you honestly think I have forgotten about Erik? Our only son? Do you think his capture has slipped my mind? Do you think it has suddenly escaped me that he is in the hands of our enemies and being subjected to the most heinous tortures imaginable? Is that what you think?”
Outside of the room, Thargen and the wizard Taber, who continued to discuss some of the military tactics, overheard his outburst.
“Not good,” said Thargen softly.
“Agreed,” said the wizard.
“Makes me glad I’m not the King.”
The Queen approached him, taking him in her arms and trying to offer him some comfort, as he strained to deal with the dread that was threatening to overwhelm him. It looked like he was losing it right in front of her.
It was a one-way embrace and didn’t last long. He quickly pushed himself away from her and sat once again. Again he declined to speak; hence, she did.
“Forgive me, My Lord. But I thought the plan was to implement a three-step approach. First, find out where Malance is keeping them. Second, have the wizard Taber shroud a small squad to go in and get them, and, third, make for The Gate.”
“I suppose you think I’ve forgotten that too … ”
“Of course not, My Lord,” she snapped. “Look here. Nobody knows better than I how perilous our situation is. But you need to get hold of yourself. Right now. Sitting there and staring at the walls isn’t doing anyone any good. We need a plan, and it has to come from you.”
He knew she was right, of course. But the strain of it all was making it impossible for him to think clearly at the moment.
“And whatever happened to Blake and Jessica, the husband and wife doctor team, the ones that Pinus brought over from wherever it is that he brought them. Were they killed?”
“What’s that? Oh. Yes, the doctor team. When I left them they were very much alive, but there is no way to know. They were both extraordinarily capable with a sword, I can tell you that. I would be willing to bet that they might have even survived, but then again, who knows …
“Have one of the kitchen girls fix Luke something to eat. He is far too thin. He looks positively ghastly.”
“He has left, Sire.”
“That mule-headed Dwarf,” mused Rolan, and at the same time wished he had a thousand more like him.
“Shouldn’t we at least send a scouting party to try and locate them? It’s not their fault that they have become wrapped up in our whole struggle here. It would seem the least we can do. Besides, if they are good with a sword, we need all the help we can get.”
“Under different circumstances, I would,” he said, “But at this juncture we cannot afford the manpower for a scouting party. I will locate Dorin and let him know where it was that I last saw them and tell him to have his men keep an eye out for them, but I’m afraid that that’s all we can do right now. They know where we are. Hopefully, with the Gnomes withdrawing to Vultura for the coming winter, they will be able to make it here.”
She thought to herself that it was wrong of her husband to not take more definitive steps to try and secure the safety of the husband-and-wife team whose sole purpose was the recovery of their captured daughter, not to mention their own son, but she bit her tongue. With the kingdom falling apart right in front of their eyes, she could understand her husband making the necessary command decisions to try and save their peoples from annihilation at the hands of the invading forces. Such decisions were never easy, and it was clear that her husband was struggling greatly to maintain control.
“Well, we will certainly make every effort to save Erik and the girl, what was her name? When we storm the fortress in Ghasten.”
Rolan looked like he was not listening to her because he wasn’t. He glanced at her.
“Yes, of course,” he said.
He was once again staring at the walls of their prison. His eyes showed that he was haunted by the horrors that confronted them.
“I know one thing,” he said softly.
“What is that, Sire?”
“We were not meant to live in caves. Caves are the last refuge of a dying people. If we are to die, let us die outside as the free peoples we have always been.”
“Better than that,” she finished his thought, “Let us take the battle to Ghasten and at least attempt to kill the ugly leader of that ugly empire that would force us to live in caves. Even if we have to sacrifice every Human, Elf, and Dwarf in our remaining armed forces to eliminate him, a thousand years from now history will show that it was worth it.”
He reached for her hand and said one word. “Agreed.”
In his mind he wondered if the Human/Elf/Dwarf peoples would even survive to be a part of history in a thousand years …
Gracie nuzzled Lightning and gave him a small handful of oats from her saddlebag. It was now nearly empty. She patted him affectionately and hugged his proud head close to her chest. He nickered. “I promise we’ll come up with some real food for you, boy,” she whispered. “You must be tired of grazing on these awful plants.”
He nickered again and moved his head up and down as if to express that he understood her perfectly, he just couldn’t put words to it.
Once again they were hidden in a dense thicket of scrabble and brush deep inside Slova, awaiting the return of Forrester Ragamund. Again he had told them he had things he needed to do and to stay put.
“Orie,” whispered Ryan. “When was the last time we looked at the maps?”
Orie knocked himself in the head and whispered back, “You’re right. Let’s get them out.”
A few moments later, the maps were spread out in front of them. “No,” said Orie softly, “get the main one. I want to see the entire-world one.”
Ryan fished around and produced the one Orie wanted. Although it was dim in the copse of woods in which they were concealed, Inam'Ra’s dual moons provided enough light for them to make out the details. They peered at them intently. “Okay,” said Orie, “Here we are.” He pointed to the three small dots deep within the land of the Trolls. They faded and intensified rhythmically.
“And look, this must be Stephanie.” Gracie said. “Forrester was right. She must have escaped. How far is it to her, Orie?”
“Hard to say. Days and days, certainly.”
“These must be your mother and father,” said Ryan. “Way up here in the northern forests of Ravenwild.”
“Hey, wait a minute,” said Gracie, “Then who is this?”
She pointed to the dot in the lower part of the map.
All three children looked at each other. All three said the same word at the same time. “Jacqueline.”
“Oh my,” said Gracie. “Do you think it could be her?”
“Who else could it be?” asked Ryan. “Minos Arterios told us that the dots would correlate to us. That each dot would represent one of us, ya know, from Earth.”
“But how did she get way down there?” asked Grace. “She’s as far away from us as Stephanie, and your mother and father, but in the opposite direction.”
“We don’t know that it’s her,” said Orie.
“You don’t think she could be alone, do you?” asked Ryan.
“No way,” said Gracie. “Hemlock would never do that, would he?”
There was a brief lull in their hushed conversation as all three contemplated the significance of this startling new discovery.
“Well, whoever it is, we’re going there to find out,” said Orie. “And there better not be anyone who stands in our way, because if it is Jacqueline, and she’s alone, she’s going to need us more than Mom and Dad, and more than Stephanie.”
“When’s Forrester going to get back?” asked Ryan. “Did he say how long he was going to be?”
“You know him,” said Orie, “He tells us he’s leaving and then leaves.”
“Orie, you’re not considering trying to get there without him,” said Gracie. “The horses are out of food, not to mention us, and while we might have maps, we�
��re in the middle of an enemy country here. We’ll never make it.”
“I agree,” said Ryan. “We need to wait for Forrester. He’ll come back. I’m positive.”
“I’ll take first watch,” said Orie abruptly. “You two get some sleep.”
This was a tough one, for if Forrester didn’t show soon, they were going to have to take matters into their own hands. Man oh man, this was sure not getting any easier.
As he eased his way along, a conversation that he had with his father years before about hunting deer suddenly flashed into his head. “You will always hear the deer before you see them,” Blake had said. “People who don’t know what they’re doing walk into the woods thinking they’re going to see a deer pop up right in front of them. That’s wrong. You have to be more focused on listening than looking. The thing is, the deer already knows this, and he will almost always hear you before you hear him and slip away from where you are. That’s why those yahoos don’t come home with a deer … ”
He thought of Forrester, and how he had not heard him at all on his last approach until he was right up on them. He was huge, and it made no sense to him that he never heard anything as the Troll drew near them.
He sat on the trunk of a fallen tree. He unconsciously checked his sword to be sure it was loose in its scabbard.
True to his last thought, he turned slightly and started, as Forrester was suddenly standing right beside him.
“How do you do that?” he asked.
Forrester didn’t answer him, but moved towards the center of the thicket, saying only, “Follow me.”
Orie did as he was told. When they got there, they found Ryan and Gracie crouched in defensive positions, swords drawn.
“Man, you scared the life out of us,” said Ryan. “We gotta have some sort of signal that lets us know it’s you coming. I thought we were goners.”
“Good thought, young Ryan,” said Forrester. “But for a later time. For now, we have more important matters to consider. Sheathe your weapons and draw in close. Even hushed voices carry on a night as still as this, and our enemies surround us.”
