by Sam Ferguson
“That is correct,” Lady Arkyn said. “I am one of the instructors at Kuldiga Academy.
“Who attacked you?” Lady Lokton asked.
“It was Senator Bracken,” Lady Arkyn said.
Erik and Braun exchanged glances. “Senator Bracken?” Braun asked.
Lady Arkyn nodded, staring firmly into his eyes. “It was him,” she said.
“Why would he attack Kuldiga Academy?” Lady Lokton asked.
“Because I attacked him,” Erik said truthfully. Lady Lokton turned on him and stared into his eyes. He was certain she would be able to see who he was. It had to be obvious to her then, as they stood silently, locked in a gaze that seemed to last a lifetime. Would she hate him? Would she strike him? Would she be able to forgive him for failing to rescue his father?
“Master Lepkin nearly killed him,” Braun put in. His interruption disrupted the stare and Lady Lokton looked to Braun expectantly.
“Nearly killed him?” she said questioningly. “What does that mean?”
“It means he uses powerful magic,” Braun replied. “He was able to escape.” He didn’t offer any more of an explanation than that, for which Erik was grateful.
“I see,” she said. “Well, don’t just stand there. The lady said they have wounded. Go and get them and give them beds.”
“My lady, it would be better to move them with the evacuation,” Braun said.
Lady Lokton snorted, not in a haughty, condescending way, but out of resignation. “Do whatever suits you, then,” she said. Her eyes looked off to some distant point and she slowly made her way back to the stairs.
Braun bowed his head briefly and then turned back to Lady Arkyn. “The wounded who cannot travel may stay with us, but I cannot guarantee their safety.”
“We are all staying,” Lady Arkyn countered. “We have lost friends already, and we’ll not be put out of the fight now.”
Braun leaned back and glanced to Erik. A grin crept across his face and he nodded his approval. “We could always use the extra help,” he said.
“Was a dragon with him?” Erik asked.
Lady Arkyn turned and knit her brow. “Are you expecting one?” she asked.
Erik nodded his head. “We went to Senator Bracken’s house. We were met by a servant he had trapped there. It turns out that he is actually a warlock who has assumed the form of Senator Bracken.”
“By the Ancients,” Lady Arkyn muttered.
“That isn’t the worst part,” Erik continued. “The warlock is allied with a dragon.”
Lady Arkyn sucked in a breath. “Then, there is no time to waste. I will bring everyone inside. With your permission, we could use a bit of food before we join the others outside in preparing the house.”
Braun nodded. “Anyone who raises a blade with me is my brother, or sister as it were,” he said. “Feel free to help yourselves and ask the kitchen staff for what you need.”
The front door opened again and in walked a man with long black robes, propping Orres up with Orres’ thick arm draped over his shoulders.
“Lepkin,” Orres said gruffly. “We don’t have much time.”
Erik sucked in a breath. At once he felt both relieved, and angered by Orres’ presence. He wasn’t sure whether to welcome him into his home, or to expel him for what he had seen in his journal. Orres noted Erik’s silence and studied him. Erik looked to the bandages, each stained dark with dried blood.
“Master Orres, welcome,” Braun said, breaking the silence.
“I may not be much for fighting, but I am here to offer whatever is left of me,” Orres said.
“Master Lepkin asked whether we saw a dragon,” Lady Arkyn put in.
Orres shook his head. “No, but the senator obviously has something else up his sleeve.” He turned to the man holding him up. “Tell him, Wendal.”
“I think the senator is working with a necromancer,” Wendal said softly. “Or, perhaps he is one himself.” Erik turned to look at Braun for a moment. Braun cocked a brow and nodded.
“That would fit with what I found at the senator’s home,” Erik said. “I stumbled upon some personal effects at the senator’s home that might help us understand our enemy.”
“First,” Lady Arkyn cut in. “You should know that the senator is dead, and we were attacked by a warlock that is impersonating him.”
Orres and Wendal glanced to her and then back to Erik for confirmation.
“It’s true,” Erik said.
“A copy of Aikur’s War was found along with some mementos of a family that has long been dead,” Braun added. “Actually it is my belief that the warlock is Master Pemo.”
“Pemo,” Wendal repeated solemnly. “If that is true, then we are in a lot of trouble.”
“Who is Pemo?” Orres asked. “I don’t recognize that name.”
Braun nodded. “We found a letter from a Governor Randal that informed Pemo that his wife son had been slain by a band of Tarthun raiders while Master Pemo was in service at the border.”
“Governor Randal,” Orres said under his breath as a wave of recognition washed over him. “I know that story. About thirty years ago Governor Randal was killed by a wizard that served in his court. Governor Randal had the duty of overseeing part of the border to the east and protecting the kingdom from Tarthun invaders.”
“Exactly,” Wendal said. “Except he failed because he spent more time trying to romance his wizard’s wife while he sent the wizard on dangerous assignments.”
Erik nodded. “We think the warlock who impersonates Senator Bracken, is this rogue wizard. We found numerous books on necromancy in the warlock’s library as well.”
“So he wants to bring his family back from the dead,” Orres said.
“That’s what we think,” Erik confirmed.
Wendal nodded and put a finger to his chin. “That would explain why he was working with necromancy.”
“We don’t know if he is Master Pemo,” Orres said. “A letter and a few books found in a man’s home doesn’t tell us everything.”
“True,” Erik said. “It would have been better if we had found his journal, then we could have learned all of his secrets.” He looked hard at Orres.
The big man returned the stare for several moments, as if the two were locked in a silent argument which could only be lost by blinking or turning away. Erik forgot all others in the foyer then, as he recalled how the journal detailed Orres underhanded dealings to win Lady Dimwater away from Lepkin.
“Well,” Orres said after a minute. “I suppose it matters little now. He is likely not far behind. If he is working with necromancy, then the only way to win the battle will be to get to him and kill him.”
Erik shook his head and turned away. “I did find your journal, Master Orres.” Erik blurted over his shoulder. “When this is over, we have something else to settle,” he said as he walked away.
“She never loved me,” Orres called out.
Erik froze in his steps, but kept his back to Orres. “Then why interfere?” he asked.
“Because I never loved anyone else,” Orres replied. “I only ever had eyes for her.”
Erik turned around and walked back to the group. “You say this now?” Erik chided.
Orres slid his arm off of Wendal and struggled to stand on his own. The grimace on his face showed that he was hardly fit to be moving, let alone fighting. “I never claimed to be a perfect man,” he said. His shoulders slumped, and there seemed to be very little of Master Orres left in this hulking body before Erik. The fire was gone from his eyes, and the strength that had always been evident in his booming voice, had been stripped from him.
Erik thought back to Lepkin’s lessons. What good would it do to rebuke Orres here, now? Why break the man down? It wasn’t even Erik that Orres had wronged, so why was Erik making it so personal? He sighed and hung his head low for a moment. He had to think beyond himself. He looked back up to Orres and offered a smile. “Let us focus on the task at hand,” Erik said. “Let u
s fight side by side when the enemy comes.”
“Can you so easily forget?” Orres asked.
Erik folded his arms. “Relinquish your claim,” Erik said. “You and I both know it is not just. Let it go and I will not only forget, but I will forgive as well.”
Orres’ mouth turned up into a half smile and he nodded. “I am not likely going to live through the battle,” he said. “But, whether I live or die, I hereby swear that I have no claim to Lady Dimwater’s hand, and I release her to marry whomever she chooses.” He turned to Wendal. “You are my witness.” He turned to Lady Arkyn and said, “Lady Arkyn, you are also a witness. Whatever becomes of me, Lady Dimwater is released from our engagement.”
Braun stood uncomfortably silent and shifted his weight. Wendal and Arkyn both nodded and looked to Erik. Orres stretched his hand out to seal the promise.
“Braun, you are also a witness to this,” Erik said. “Let all here today say that Orres and Lepkin are brothers, inseparable from this point on.” Erik reached out and took Master Orres’ hand and gave it two hearty shakes before pulling his hand back. He was proud to have finally ended the feud, and yet he felt a twinge of guilt. He knew that the real Lepkin had no idea what had happened. In fact, the last time Erik had spoken with Lepkin, he had sworn to challenge Orres.
“We should get back to preparing the field,” Braun said. “We are wasting time.”
Erik nodded. “Go and get yourselves fed. Where are the others?”
“They are waiting in the forest to the southeast,” Lady Arkyn said. “We three came alone to test your hospitality before we brought everyone else.”
“How many more are there?” Braun asked.
“Seventeen,” Wendal said. “Including us, that is.”
“That is not a lot,” Braun replied. “Go, get some food and we will go and get the others out from the forest.”
“It will be good to fight alongside you once again,” Orres said to Erik. “Let’s hope you have a few more tricks in that sly head of yours.” Then Orres reached up to steady himself by grabbing onto Wendal’s shoulder and they slowly made their way to the dining hall. Lady Arkyn walked behind them.
Erik watched the trio go for a moment and sighed. “We should go out and check on the men,” Erik after a moment.
“Then we can get the others that came with Orres. Any extra pair of hands would help tremendously,” Braun noted.
Erik nodded. He turned and looked up the stairs. “Can I count on you to make her leave?”
“Lady Lokton is not easily dissuaded once she has made up her mind,” Braun said sourly. “I don’t know if I can make her leave or not. As it is, no one else has actually prepared to leave either.”
“What do you mean?” Erik said hotly. “I told you that they needed to leave. Everyone who is not going to fight should be gone.” Erik sighed and pulled the front door open. “Why didn’t you listen to me?” Erik yelled as he stepped out into the late morning sun.
Braun was only half a step behind him. “I told them to be ready,” Braun shouted back at Erik.
“Then why are there no wagons?” Erik yelled. He pointed to the space in front of the manor where he had instructed Braun to assemble the wagons. Nothing was there. He turned back and sent a cold glare toward Braun, but he was unable to say anything else.
“Braun!” one of the men shouted from the trenches nearby “In the field!”
Erik and Braun ran out toward the field and stopped abruptly when they saw it.
“By the gods!” Braun said. “That is him!” he said. “That’s Senator Bracken!”
Erik noted the banners high on poles, carried by a sizeable troop of mounted warriors. On their flanks were ranks of footmen. “And he has an army with him,” Erik said. “Tell the men that he is not a senator. He is a warlock.”
“His army rides under the king’s banner,” Braun said.
“They are not the king’s men,” Erik said. “Come, we must sound the alarm.”
“We aren’t ready,” Braun said.
“Move!” Erik shouted as he slapped Braun’s arm. “Get the catapults out now!” Erik took off running back to the manor. “I’ll have Lady Arkyn get the others they brought.”
Braun broke into a dead sprint for the blacksmith shop. He shouted up to the rooftop, “Archers prepare for battle!” He looked back over his shoulder at the men in the trenches. “Shovels down men! To arms!” The men in the trenches abandoned their tasks and scrambled for their weapons.
CHAPTER TEN
Gondok’hr motioned for his lieutenant to come up to him. The officer galloped up beside and pulled his horse in close. The warlock grinned and pointed to the north side of the manor. “Send the first group of footmen there. The enemy has not yet finished their moat.”
The officer nodded and reached for his bugle. He gave a single, long blow and then shouted at the top of his lungs. “First squad, advance!” The lieutenant then broke off and galloped out to the first squad of footmen.
Gondok’hr didn’t halt the rest of his army, he kept them moving along with him at a slower pace to allow his footmen to advance ahead of the group. He still had much of the field to cross, but he had already seen Braun and Erik run away as they had in his vision. A feeling of triumph washed over him. “I will have your head, boy,” he promised. “Then I shall trade it for what I seek.”
The footmen sprinted out ahead of the main army, their armor clanking and causing a horrible ruckus. As they pulled about sixty yards ahead of the main army their captain halted them.
“Archers!” someone shouted.
Gondok’hr held up his hand and halted the army.
Several men fired bows from the roof of the manor. The arrows rained down onto the footmen’s shields. A couple men were caught by arrows that found gaps, but most of the men survived. The captain gave the order and they began running forward again, only to stop and take cover under a second barrage of arrows. This time, however, the arrows were aflame and they were aimed behind the footmen. Each arrow struck near a pile of hay and instantly burst into a roaring fire. Smoke billowed up from the field, reaching for the heavens above the manor.
The warlock sniggered. “Clever boy,” he said. Then his ears picked up the sound of squeaking wheels coming around the manor. He guessed at what the sound heralded long before he saw the catapults launch their black projectiles through the air. His stoic grin was wiped from his face when he noted that each projectile was dripping with dark liquid.
“Back!” Gondok’hr shouted. “Everyone back!” It was too late. The missiles slammed into the ground as if the god of thunder were attacking. Hulking, boulder-like globs of rock and oil pulverized several groups of warriors unfortunate enough to not get out of the way in time. Oil and tar splattered out onto anything near enough to get caught. Next came more fire arrows, and the catapults threw clay pots of flaming oil out.
The smoke from the burning hay was too thick to see the group of footmen anymore. It also veiled the battlefield as though a curtain of fathomless night had descended between him and the manor. What’s worse, it covered the sky so much that he could not see when the catapults fired next. Sizzling clay balls rained down around him, erupting in fire as they broke on the ground. Horses and men shrieked in horror as flames lashed out and engulfed many of them.
Gondok’hr looked to the sky just in time to see a clay ball descending out of the smoke. Its trajectory would have plopped it directly in his lap, but he cast a spell with a wave of his hand. A blue, bubble-like shield encircled him and a few warriors lucky enough to be within ten feet of where he sat atop his horse. The clay ball shattered against the shield and flames washed over it as the oil inside ignited and slid across the surface of the magical ward.
“Back!” Gondok’hr shouted again. A bugle blew three times and the army quickly moved into a retreat. He didn’t halt his army until they all stood at the far edge of the field, just out of range of the catapults, and far from the archers’ reach.
&
nbsp; The warlock’s lieutenant rode up next to him and saluted. Gondok’hr noted that the lieutenant’s armor was scorched on the left side. The man’s left hand was charred, but the officer didn’t make any mention of it. Then again, none of the warriors raised by Gilifan’s magic ever complained. That was one of their better traits.
“Take fifty men and go around to the south, through the woods,” Gondok’hr commanded.
The lieutenant nodded and galloped away, shouting orders to a group of footmen nearby. They broke into a run after him, making for the southern edge of the field.
Gondok’hr looked to the thick blanket of smoke and smiled. He could clear it, if he wanted to, but he had an idea of how to use it to his advantage. The smoke was drifting, covering the field, and slithering through the trees to the south.
*****
Lady Arkyn raced through the trees and bushes. She bent over slightly, keeping her head just below the thick, black smoke as it stretched into the forest. She found the others exactly where she had left them, huddled together in a small clearing edged with a large fallen oak on the north side.
“What is happening?” Master Gorin asked. The large, hulking man had his steel warhammer slung over his left shoulder.
Lady Arkyn noted the look on his face and nodded to him. “They are here,” she said. “Master Lepkin is inside with Wendal and Orres. All of House Lokton has been called to arms, but I fear we are in for a long, hard fight.”
“Well then, let’s go and give them a warm welcome,” Gorin said as he brought his hammer down to rest in his other hand.
Lady Arkyn held up a hand. “We have wounded,” she reminded him.
“Then send them to the house for respite, Gorin and I can move to the defenses,” Master Peren said.
“The enemy is sending men this way,” Lady Arkyn said quickly. “I need both of you to escort the wounded to the house.”
“Better we should stay with you and cover our friends,” Gorin said. “How many are coming?”
