“A simple letter updating me on events in the south would have sufficed, Duke Angus. You really did not need to grace me with your presence.” King Cassien leaned back in his chair and held up his hands in front of his face, pressing his fingertips together as he rested his elbows on the arms of his chair.
“I understand, my lord king, and normally I would have done so. The reason for my visit is more about the matter of Master Pilk’s dealings with the academy,” replied Duke Angus formally. King Cassien turned to Master Pilk and urged him to speak.
“Grand Master Rotager was not cooperative, even with Grand Master Reibeck at my side and your royal order, my lord king. He said that you were making a mistake trusting the matter to a master wizard and not a grand master. He ushered us quickly out of his office stating that he would discuss the matter with you personally as he had the time to do so.” Pilk noticed the kings cheek’s flush and twitch as he ground his teeth.
“Grand Master Rotager said I was making a mistake did he?” boomed King Cassien, the sudden fury of his voice startling Pilk. “I’ll see about this.”
King Cassien once again wrote a note and sealed it and called over the door warden.
“Deliver this to my personal guard.Norric. I want them to fetch Grand Master Rotager at once. I don’t care how busy he is, they are to escort him back immediately — in chains if they have to.” The king’s voice was stern. Pilk imagined Grand Master Rotager being dragged along in chains and had to stop himself from smiling. “Now, while you have my attention you can update me on how the negotiations went.”
* * *
Sylestra had led Gerard through elaborate corridors and into a salle. As they walked along, Gerard stole the occasional glance at the woman and was forced to admire her grace of movement and superlative beauty. She wore thigh-high leather boots and black, tight fitting pants much as he had observed her wearing the previous day. Her emerald top clung to every shapely curve of her body. He had to keep reminding himself how dangerous this woman could be.
The salle appeared to be as large as the one he used to train in at the Arthean barracks and so he became very surprised when Sylestra informed him that it was her private salle. Along one wall stood a wide variety of weapons, both wooden training weapons and steel ones. Down the other end an assortment of practice dummies and other such training equipment could be seen. While there remained a large area of flat floor, the centre of the room consisted of multiple levels. Obstacles such as large wine barrels, wooden crates, steps, hanging ropes and many other such things were scattered over the uneven floor.
“Select a practice weapon of your choice from the racks. You should find a suitable sized gambeson hanging up there as well.” Sylestra pointed to the weapon racks and then next to them where an abundance of protective clothing hung.
“You want to spar with me?” asked Gerard surprised.
“It has been a long time since I have fought someone of your skill. My usual sparring partners present no challenge to me one on one and therefore I normally fight a number of them at a time to keep my skills sharp. Our fight yesterday was far too brief as I had some pressing matters to attend to, but I’m curious to see how good you are,” replied Sylestra.
“My friend Jeff is just as skilled as I am,” stated Gerard.
“And yet he didn’t have the presence of mind to watch his back as he walked away from me,” replied Sylestra seriously.
“Had your pet wyvern struck at me instead, I likely would have been hit as well. We did not consider you a threat.” Sylestra laughed a mocking laugh.
“You considered me a big enough threat not to ride with me. You are on a hostile world far away from your home. You should consider everyone and everything a threat. Anyway, enough of this banter. Select a weapon and strap on your gambeson and let’s get started.” Sylestra accompanied Gerard over to the weapon racks and immediately chose a slender, curved wooden sword and a curved dagger — the same weapons she had used against him the day prior.
Normally Gerard would have used a two-handed great sword as was his preference, but he had already witnessed the speed and unnatural strength of this woman and so he chose a long sword and dirk configuration. Walking over to the gambeson rack, he leant his wooden weapons up against the wall and began to rummage through them for one that would best fit him. It didn’t take him long to find one as his size was comparable to the full blooded orcs of this world, however the shape of it didn’t fit him as it should have.
“Please me today and I’ll have a gambeson custom made to fit you.” Sylestra had taken a few steps away from all the racks and was starting her warm up exercises as she watched him struggle into his gambeson.
“You’re not wearing one?” Gerard asked as he tried to calm himself down after observing the lithe, stretching woman.
“I find them too cumbersome. Fear not, you won’t hit me and if you do I will be extremely impressed.” Sylestra’s confidence unnerved Gerard a little, but he was an experienced fighter and soon steadied himself as he began his own warm up routine.
As he awkwardly struggled through his stretches due to the fit of his gambeson, he watched and admired the unnatural flexibility of Sylestra. It seemed to Gerard that every one of her joints had no limit to their extremities or the directions in which they could bend. A large smile formed on her face which made him realise that he had been gawking too long and all of a sudden he felt very uncomfortable.
Once they had both warmed up and stretched their muscles and joints, Sylestra led him out to the flat floor.
“We’ll start slowly here if you’d like and then we’ll see whether you can manage the platforms.” Sylestra readied her weapons and Gerard did likewise.
They started out slowly; getting a feel for each other’s style and movement and loosening up their limbs. Gradually they increased momentum and Gerard began to regret wearing the awkward fitting gambeson as he struggled to keep pace with Sylestra.
“If I get a solid strike on you I could hurt you quite badly given how little you are wearing,” said Gerard trying to psyche her out and distract her.
“Don’t hold back on my account, Gerard. If you see a chance to strike me, take it with as much gusto as you would in a real fight.” Sylestra’s confidence was unwavering and Gerard could understand why. He tried some manoeuvres that had defeated a great many experienced fighters in the past and she easily blocked or deflected them.
She came in hard at him with her wooden weapons a blur of motion. Gerard managed to defeat the first three attacks, but then her wooden scimitar had a glancing hit at the side of his ribcage. Through the padded clothing, Gerard barely felt it, but had it been a real weapon it would have made a nice gash in the leather armour he normally wore or drawn blood had he not worn armour at all.
Gerard recovered fast from the contact, and was able to deflect the follow up attack from her dagger with his dirk as he pushed her scimitar away from his body with his long sword.
“Very good,” commended Sylestra, “that would have defeated any of my usual sparring partners. You move fast for someone of your size.”
“Efficiency of movement and speed are two totally different things I keep telling my son. If you rely solely on speed, you will tire very quickly and lose your advantage. It was one of his main weaknesses,” explained Gerard as he stood back.
“Sound advice indeed. You have a son?” Sylestra stood back and while she made no threatening moves, she continued to circle Gerard forcing him to be on his guard.
“I do. I had a wife and daughter too until recently.” Gerard’s blood began to boil as he thought about the murdering orcs that had butchered two of the most precious people in his life.
“They died?” Gerard nodded at Sylestra’s question not wanting to go into any more details with her. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
Her tone sounded incredibly sincere and it caught Gerard off guard; as did her sudden strike as quick as a cobra. Her wooden scimitar hit with such force that it kn
ocked Gerard off his feet and even through the padding it was a painful blow.
“There is no place for feelings on a battlefield,” said Sylestra sternly as she stood over him and put her scimitar to his throat. “You are defeated.”
A Royal Treatment
“Did you find out anything useful?” asked Krak’too as Great Shaman O’tukka approached.
“I wasn’t able to talk to Supreme Mistress Sylestra as she was in Izlalek. I waited for as long as I could for her to return, but she still had not by the time I left.
“I did however get to speak with a human necromancer who told me that they captured some humans and dwarves who were wandering near the border,” explained O’tukka.
“The one’s the fierce one released?” asked Krak’too.
“Presumably so and apparently the supreme mistress suspects that too even though I hadn’t told her about their release,” replied O’tukka.
“You’re surprised that she would have other spies among the Black Skull?” asked Krak’too incredulously.
“Not really, although I get the impression that her spies are in place to keep a track on me just as much as the Black Skull.” O’tukka allowed his eyes to wander and take note of the defence preparations for the town and was very impressed.
Houses near the outskirts had been ripped apart and the materials used for erecting basic walls. The taller houses had been modified into makeshift towers, allowing archers to hide within and shoot over the wall. Houses outside the walled zone had been burnt to ashes to prevent them being used as cover and, instead acting as obstacles, an advancing army would need to navigate around. O’tukka assumed that this was being done around the entire perimeter and no doubt retreat zones were being set up as well.
“I would imagine so. Any information on future targets for the Ta’zu or their ultimate goal?” asked General Krak’too.
“No. I’d imagine the Ta’zu will secure Izlalek over the next few days before they march for their next target.” O’tukka turned back to face the general.
“So you think they will pursue another target?” asked Krak’too curiously.
“I can’t see why not. Supreme Mistress Sylestra is likely taking advantage of the war between the Red Axe and the Black Skull to push her borders. Namolak would be the next likely target,” said O’tukka.
“Perhaps, although the Red Axe and Black Skull have been at war for years. It’s odd that she would choose now to attack.” General Krak’too looked thoughtful.
“You think she wants control of the Gate?” asked O’tukka voicing his own concern.
“She did implant you into the Black Skull at an early age to see to its construction. It’d make sense that she’d now want to take ownership of it.”
“This is not the world she seeks. I would’ve imagined that she would ask me to attempt another gate, but she has made no such request.” O’tukka left unsaid that she still took an earnest interest in this world and she has some fascination with dwarves.
“Either way I think it’s best if we speed up our progress and I have an idea of how to achieve that.” A sly grin found its way to the general’s face. “For now though, I need you to get the rest of these prisoners out of here. The Raziyans are gathering an army at Ingtai and I’ll need every available warrior to defend the town.”
“Understood General,” replied O’tukka. “Oh before I forget, Duke Angus approached the fort earlier today in search of you. He told the guard to let you know that he wished to speak with you and that’d you’d be welcome to visit him in Arthea.”
“As it so happens, I need to speak to him as well. Once you have moved all the prisoners to Gnash, you can accompany me to Arthea.” General Krak’too turned and walked away.
“As you wish general,” replied O’tukka to his retreating back.
* * *
Grand Master Rotager entered escorted into the king’s office by two guards. Master Pilk supressed a smile as the grand master wizard noticed him and scowled.
He was a tall thin man wearing his wide-brimmed, tall pointy hat which made him look even taller. He had an untrustworthy looking face with a short, white beard hanging from his chin which joined up with his manicured moustache. His flamboyant, silky robe hung to the floor and was royal blue with aqua trimmings covered with different sized stars of white, yellow and aqua.
Even escorted, he walked with his head held high and back straight, holding tightly to his darkly stained and polished staff with an alexandrite gem mounted on the end and his other arm likewise extended allowing his voluminous sleeves to hang low. With his half-glass reading spectacles he always enjoyed looking down on those he spoke to with an air of arrogance about him.
“So nice of you to join us, Grand Master Rotager,” said King Cassien as the guards brought him nearer. “I hope I have not made another ‘big mistake’ by bringing you here.” Grand Master Rotager’s mouth twitched at the obvious reference to his own words.
“My lord king,” said Grand Master Rotager bowing his head and looking a little uncomfortable, “I only meant that such an important assignment should be handled by a more experienced wizard than Master Pilk.” A guard fetched a chair from the corner of the room and brought it over for the grand master to sit on.
“Master Pilk was instrumental in the defence of Arthea. Without his power and experience, the city likely would have been overrun by orcs. Master Pilk’s battlefield experience exceeds your own and possibly every other wizard in Lertia. He has seen these orcs up close, fought against them and spoken to them. I also believe he was accompanied by Grand Master Reibeck when he came to see you. So why, in your infinite wisdom, did you decide that these two wizards were unfit for the task?” The king’s tone hinted at barely controlled rage.
“Master Pilk has a long history of being reckless with his powers and has the trust and respect of very few wizards of the academy. I feel that many wizards are unlikely to place themselves under his charge, my lord king,” replied Grand Master Rotager a little hesitantly.
“And Grandmaster Reibeck?” asked the king.
“He is a very knowledgeable and powerful wizard who has been of great assistance to the academy over the years, but he lost the respect of many when he took Master Pilk on as an apprentice. His age may also make him slow to act when quick decisive action is needed.” Grand Master Rotager seemed to choose his words very carefully.
“Quick and decisive action is needed!” shouted King Cassien, “which is why I am so confused as to why you have seen fit to delay proceedings. If you have it in mind that you should be in charge in this matter, then you have already proven to me that you are unfit to do so. Grand Master Reibeck and Master Pilk are the reason why we know as much as we now do and they are both well aware of the urgency in dealing with this threat. You will cooperate with them fully or I will have you locked up in the dungeons. Do I make myself clear, Grand Master Rotager?”
“Yes, my lord king,” replied Grand Master Rotager with his eyes lowered.
* * *
O’tukka and General Krak’too approached the western gate of Arthea with their arms spread wide to show they were no threat. The guards noticed their approach and made no move to sound an alarm and so O’tukka assumed that they had been suitably informed.
“Welcome to Arthea, General Krak’too and Great Shaman O’tukka. Duke Angus told us to be expecting you both,” said the lead guard formally. “My name is Sergeant Keazan and I am to direct you to the Castle.”
The sergeant stood erect and spoke with confidence even after looking into O’tukkas eyes which told him that he was a strong-willed man. He had a young, clean shaven face and a large, solid frame. Dressed in the brown leather armour over the dark blue tunics standard to the soldiers of Arthea, he held a double triangle symbol below the crossed sword emblem of Lertia on his breast which signified his rank of sergeant.
“Thank you Sergeant Keazan, you may lead on,” replied Krak’too.
They were escorted down the cobbled st
reets with a stone wall looming up on their right which was almost as high as the cities outer wall. Great Shaman O’tukka was no general but he had seen enough battle to realise that any army breaking through the western gates would continue to be harassed by archers along that wall as they stormed into the city.
On their left were double storey houses with balconies on the upper floor, sharing a common wall with the neighbouring houses. The occasional laneway broke this pattern, but they were walking down a possible slaughter zone should the security of the city be breached.
Eventually they came to the end of the wall and turned right at a busy junction. Merchants selling their wares lined either side of this road and O’tukka almost smiled at the terrified glances they received. The gate allowing access to the Castle grounds came into view soon enough and there they were searched thoroughly and had to hand in their weapons.
The sergeant continued to guide them along the road and to the steps leading up into the Castle — a massive structure with high reaching spires and orange, cone-shaped rooftops. Even without the knowledge he had from Gerard, O’tukka would have been able to tell that the web-liked structure on his right was the soldier’s barracks as many of them grouped around the front of the building. At the top of the steps they were stopped by a man blocking the large wooden doors.
“You… you can’t bring them in here,” said the man emphasising the word ‘them’.
“Step aside Bertraud, I have been instructed by Duke Angus to personally show them to him,” said Sergeant Keazan in a threatening tone.
The Gate - An Ancient Connection Page 20
