Piper’s force crashed into the Goblins like avenging angels. The air grew hot with escaping body heat. Blood colored the snow in random patterns. The body count rose. Only a few Goblins turned to flee. They were hunted down before getting very far. What had begun as a successful ambush ended in dismal failure. The Goblin attack was finished.
“Commander Joach, it’s good to see you,” Mahn said with a wry grin. He carried a begrudging respect for the senior officer. They’d never be friends, but as warriors, Mahn recognized professionalism. Piper Joach was a man he could follow into combat without any concerns for personal safety.
Piper removed his helmet. His hair was thick and clung to his head. His eyes were circled with heavy rings and struck through with thin red veins. He was exhausted but killing the Goblins helped invigorate him. Or perhaps it was saving so many lives that made him feel better about his situation. With each life saved the memories of guilt over that very first battle upon entering Rogscroft at the beginning of winter faded.
“I didn’t want to arrive too early, Mahn. Being a glory hound doesn’t suit me,” Piper smiled in reply.
“You could have come awhile ago and no one would have held it against you.”
“What happened here?” Piper looked over the mass of twisted, broken bodies. Will this ever end? Or are we destined to die in this gods forsaken wasteland?
Mahn struggled to make sense of it before relaying what he knew. “We were moving in loose formation. The boys are good at what they do but we never spotted the Goblins. My best guess is they were hiding under the snow. They must have been tipped that we were coming. Caught us all by surprise and gave us a good thrashing before we managed to pull ourselves together and fight back.”
“It’s not surprising that they are expecting us,” Piper replied. “They may be crude mockeries of life, but they aren’t stupid. Contrary, they have a highly developed sense of battle awareness. It is impressive you managed to save so many of your command.”
“If that’s what you want to call it,” Mahn said, his eyes lowered to the blood-stained snow.
Vajna climbed down from his horse and clasped the scout’s arm. “You did well, Mahn. We know the enemy is awaiting us. They’re not going to flee and give us back the keys to the kingdom without a fight. While your losses are grave they are not without purpose. Remember their names, their faces. The time will come when we can avenge them all.”
“Your general is correct,” Piper added. “We have all lost soldiers in combat. It is no small matter but one every leader must endure. Don’t let grief consume you as it did me. Nothing good can come of it.”
Mahn shifted his gaze between them. Their words were logical and offered solace for the pain in his heart but he wasn’t sure if he was capable of overcoming. He wasn’t a proper soldier. “Thank you, gentlemen.”
“What are your casualties and where is the rest of your command?” Piper pressed. The business of war was fluid and couldn’t wait for one soldier to overcome personal obstacles.
“Thirteen dead, most of the rest are wounded,” Mahn said absently. “The others are spread out in a line almost a league across in groups of twenty. I didn’t want to get caught in this type of situation.”
“Sound tactical planning. I could have used you long ago,” Piper approved. “I’ll have the surgeons look at your wounded. Details will bury the dead and a marker will be raised so that we remember this sight. It doesn’t do for a Man to die without anyone ever knowing.”
“No sir, it doesn’t,” Mahn said. He offered a halfhearted salute and went to see to his surviving scouts.
From his knees in the snow, Raste looked on Piper Joach with newfound respect.
THIRTEEN
The March
“Word has just arrived of a severe ambush leagues ahead of the main body,” Paneolus said, worried. His double chins quivered.
King Aurec winced, more from the annoying minister than from news from the front. He’d been fighting the Wolfsreik and then Goblins for nearly five months already with no end in sight. Losses were to be expected. He knew, as did every other soldier in the army, that they weren’t going to win every battle. It was a lesson civilians like Paneolus would do well to learn.
“These things will happen, Minister,” he said tersely. “Try as we might, there are going to be casualties.”
“It was my understanding that our enemy was broken and Rogscroft was ours for the taking,” the elder, fatter minister countered. “We never would have sanctioned marching on the city if Badron still had a sizeable force.”
“I don’t recall giving you a choice,” Aurec growled.
Paneolus stiffened. His voice lowered threateningly. “You may wear the crown but your father did a poor job educating you in the ways of leadership. Stelskor didn’t run the kingdom, Aurec. He was merely the figurehead for the decisions we made.”
Flexing his fingers, Aurec squared on the minister. “What treachery is this? My father ruled Rogscroft and you served only at his discretion.”
“Is that what you believe?” Paneolus laughed. “He did as he was told. Kings don’t have power. He knew that truth and accepted it.”
“Lies!” Aurec spat.
“No, but you wish they were. There is no kingdom in Malweir run solely by one person. Without the support of the council, who happen to be the wealthiest and most influential people in the kingdom, your father would have been an abysmal failure. Just as you will be unless you start listening to your betters.”
Aurec felt like he’d been slapped in the face. He refused to believe the lies Paneolus spun about the ineffectiveness of his father. Stelskor was a good king who put the needs of his people ahead of his own. Hence his surrender to Badron and summary execution. Petty tyrants and despots ruled through fear, subversion. Not his father. Rogscroft enjoyed unparalleled periods of social justice, prosperity, and equality. No other kingdom in the north had been as progressive. Aurec took great pride in his father’s accomplishments, hoping to follow in his footsteps.
Hearing Paneolus’s accusations stung bitterly. Aurec struggled against the urge to plunge his blade through the minister’s heart and burn the corpse. Discretion stayed his hand. He needed to know how many others were entrenched with Paneolus before acting, how many and how far they were prepared to go in order to ensure the future of Rogscroft went according to their plans. He was learning the hard way that he was in bed with snakes.
“What are you saying, Minister?” he said with clear warning.
Paneolus, emboldened by the apparent lack of confidence, pressed, “The crown you wear is through the whim of others. It would be a shame for you to lose it, or your head due to the lack of vision. These are troubled times, young Aurec. All is not what it once was. Badron has all but destroyed our way of life. A new order must rise from the ashes of the old. The wolves of winter have seen that the weak will perish before the end. Only strength can defeat what so many have already lost their lives to. Think of the future. Are you willing to boldly throw away the chances won by your sacrifices? Are you a better Man than all of your ancestors?”
Satisfied with his threat, the minister felt his power growing. He’d stood in the shadows for so long. Wasted decades of his life riding on the coattails of Stelskor. He managed to get petty bills signed but never anything substantial. Never anything that would have him remembered by future generations. Delranan’s invasion gave him the window of opportunity he knew would never come. Now it was a matter of emplacing all of his carefully constructed pieces and using them to full advantage.
While shrewd, Paneolus was no fool. He’d already waited a very long time. Aurec’s youth and inexperience would work against the fledgling king, opening the way for Paneolus to enact the first steps in his plan for domination. He paused. Domination wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted, needed, to be heard. To have a voice that registered with the people. He wanted to be adored by masses of leadership-starved people so that his name would be long remembered across t
he face of Malweir. Anything less was insulting.
He stared smugly at the open conflict twisting Aurec’s face. That self doubt opened new doors for Paneolus. Each moment Aurec spent dithering over the merits of what he’d just been told was a step closer to his eventual collapse. No one could successfully control an entire kingdom alone. Aurec had to realize this. The alternatives were as damning as they were restrictive. Worse, he didn’t have enough military power to take the throne by force. Paneolus had thrown all of his efforts into a singular gambit with every chance of failure.
Aurec opened and closed his mouth repeatedly before fixing his gaze squarely on Paneolus’s puffed face. He studied the shorter, fatter Man with newfound light. What he’d assumed was a loyal advisor to the king was no more than a twisted serpent begging to find light. Men like that were best discarded and removed from the histories. He briefly wondered how his father had been so blinded, if in truth he had been. Did Paneolus argue for Stelskor to stand and deliver his head to Badron’s axe? There wasn’t a place on Malweir the minister could hide if he did. Aurec would hunt him down to his last breath to find that measure of vengeance.
“Tell me, Minister, what would you have me do? Cede my position of rightful authority to a handful of dithering idiots who’ve never handled a blade? Perhaps you would like to lead the assault into the city you so dearly wish to reclaim for your own?”
“Don’t make threats you can’t…”
“No, Paneolus. You’re making the threats to the king of Rogscroft. Our kingdom might be shattered, our people nearly finished, but I will not bow my head to the likes of you. You’re a worm that needs to be exposed for what you are. How many soldiers have followed your lead? How many enemy soldiers have you killed? Truthfully, what good are you?” Aurec demanded, his voice rising with passion. “My family built this kingdom through blood, sweat, and tears. They built it on the backs of proud Men and Women. They built it with their own calloused hands. Your hands are soft.”
Blustered, the minister struggled to find a way past this unexpected reversal of momentum. “I serve the crown! Your father may have been king but it was through the wisdom and vision of myself and others like me that helped Rogscroft prosper. Don’t be so blind as to believe he did it himself. But what would you know of these things? You, the wayward son, who so often chose to hide behind a sword and go gallivanting around the northern kingdoms like an ill-mannered whore. Perhaps you have forgotten that it was your illicit love affair with the princess of Delranan that started this whole mess?”
Aurec struck incredibly fast. His fist smashed into Paneolus’s face with unchecked fury. Blood and saliva spurted from his mouth as a tooth broke free. He sputtered, throwing up his hands to ward off the next blow. Aurec struck again and again. Months of pent-up rage exploded through his knuckles. Reluctantly, he drew back and left the minister quivering in his own blood.
“You will not speak of her again in such fashion, Minister. Do I make myself clear?” he barked between heavy breaths.
Paneolus could barely hold his head up without tears building in his eyes. Unimaginable pain lanced across his face. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d been punched. “More threats? I didn’t think the king of Rogscroft would resort to violence so trivially.”
“These are not sane times, as your words have so carefully shown me. Get on your feet, Paneolus, before I run my blade through your gut.”
Slowly, deliberately, the battered minister rose, leaning on the field table for support. His legs trembled in anticipation of the next blow. His mind, already despondent, wandered off on shameless paths of regicide or worse. The hardened look in Aurec’s eyes ended those shamefully. He wasn’t a killer, but the newly crowned king was. Paneolus made his bid for power and came away wanting. There was but one thing left to do to reclaim any semblance of honor. “My lord, I made a grievous mistake. My life is yours to take.”
His head bowed in shame. Paneolus refused to look Aurec in the eye.
For his part, King Aurec managed to contain his hostility. Instead of a power-mad snake, he only saw a weak, old Man incapable of rising above his base emotions. “You are a sad figure, Paneolus. To think my father listened to the likes of you turns my stomach. I will not take your life, but let this moment serve as a reminder that your days of whispering in the king’s ear are finished. The next time you speak to me I will slice your tongue from your mouth. Sergeant Thorsson!”
The grizzled sergeant burst into the command tent on cue. He wore a bemused look, as if he’d overheard the entire conversation and was merely waiting for the call. “Sire.”
“Get this filth away from me,” Aurec ordered. “I want him under escort at all times, even when he goes to piss. He is hereby stripped of his titles, lands, and holdings. Upon return to Rogscroft and the reestablishment of the kingdom, he will be fortunate to serve as court jester.”
Thorsson snatched Paneolus by the collar and jerked him towards the door. “This way, Minister. We’ve got a lovely spot picked out for you near the corrals. Perhaps mucking out the shit will clear your mind.”
Saluting, he left Aurec to his demons.
Another day passed and with it another score of leagues. Aurec was forced to call an operational halt in order for the rear of the column to catch up. The army was getting strung out. Horses moved faster and further than the infantry. Each night the rear battalions trudged into camp later and later. Worn out, they weren’t going to be able to fight once they arrived at the capital. Aurec’s concerns compounded almost by the minute. Too many halts and they’d be forced to cut rations and waste too much time foraging. He couldn’t see a way out and that caused many sleepless hours tossing in his cot. No king ever had an easy life.
“We’re making good time,” Rolnir said, taking a mighty drink from his canteen.
Aurec eyed the general suspiciously. His own ideations differed vastly. “How can you say that? We’re falling behind schedule.”
Rolnir grinned sheepishly. “You’ve never led an army this size in the field, have you?”
“I’ve been fighting since the first day you crossed the Murdes Mountains,” Aurec replied tartly, still unsure where Rolnir was going.
“Young king, there are a great many mysteries in the world. The movement of a large body of soldiers one of them. We set a goodly pace at the beginning but it was never sustainable. Horses will come up lame. Infantry will get sick or injured. Supplies will run low and we’ll just get plain exhausted. Don’t let a few leagues un-walked dampen your spirits. We’ll get to the city, but we need to be in fighting order to confront whatever Badron has in store when we do.”
Reluctantly, Aurec relaxed. Rolnir was an accomplished soldier and leader, far more experienced at leading troops in the field than Aurec. That didn’t mean the young king felt secure in their partnership. He’d already been stabbed in the back by who he had thought was a trusted advisor and friend. Rolnir was the enemy not too long ago. What was there to keep him from switching sides again? Or worse, using this advance as a ploy to get Aurec in the open and destroy him once and for all?
Noticing the hesitation, Rolnir asked, “You’re troubled by more than just this, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” he said. He struggled to find the right words. “None of this sits well with me, Rolnir. A few short weeks ago our two sides were desperately trying to kill one another. Now we’re allies against your former king. You can see where my hesitation lies.”
“You worry that I’ll betray you and finish the job,” Rolnir finished.
Aurec looked the general in the eye. “I am.”
“The sign of a good leader. Never fully trust those you surround yourself with.” He paused, choosing his next words carefully. “Badron had never given me reason to doubt where his intentions rested. He wasn’t what I’d call a good king, but he was fair. Much of his despair arose after the death of his wife. She loved him dearly and it broke something inside when she died in childbirth, with your very own Maleela.�
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Aurec felt his stomach twist. He knew her mother had died in childbirth, a private memory best left unspoken. To hear it from the mouth of a relative stranger was almost insulting.
Rolnir continued before Aurec could interrupt. “He blames her for the death. Maleela was always a good child, but suffering from the lack of love. Her uncle, Bahr, tried to give her the fatherly love Badron deprived but he soon left the kingdom to his brother and Harnin. Badron stumbled deeper into grief. Torment prevented him from making quality decisions. Combined with his jealousy for your father it was only a matter of time before the war started. Your mission to steal Maleela was the spark he needed. It was our duty to follow his orders. The invasion wasn’t going to stop. Neither was he until your entire kingdom lay in ruins.”
“Planning a winter war cut off from resupply and home by the Murdes Mountains doesn’t make sense,” Aurec said.
Rolnir shook his head. “No, it doesn’t, but something darker was driving him. I don’t know what. Many times I felt a dark presence surrounding him, lurking just out of sight. I’ll be damned if I know what though. Then came the Goblins. How Badron knew to contact them or why is beyond me. Fighting alongside them didn’t sit right with many of my boys. They’re a filthy breed. Watching what they did to your city helped make up my mind. Combined with Badron’s growing dementia it was only a matter of time before the leadership spoke of abandoning our king.”
“I can’t pay you,” Aurec said lightly.
Rolnir barked deep laughter. “If that was the mitigating factor I’d never have turned against the crown. All my soldiers need is food, water, and a place to lay their heads. Our payment will come from winning this war and going home.”
“I don’t know what home is anymore,” Aurec admitted. “This war has claimed more than I ever thought I had to give. I wish this was over.”
Empire of Bones Page 11
