"That's your last one, you drunken sot of a wizard, one more delay, and I'll shove my axe handle up your arse to get your attention," said the king softly, promise in his eyes. Regin knew the king’s accent grew thick when he was irritated and quickly continued.
"So all the people knew, and all the people prayed to Mortis. They prayed day and night, without stop. They did not want to die. They did not want their children to die. Mortis heard their prayers and those prayers drove him to tears of frustration and then desperation. Frantic, he called out into the heavens, across the universe and even beyond the boundaries of space into other realms. As another year went by, the people and Mortis grew even more terrified that nothing could be done. Mortis sent out one last prayer, then vowed to spend the remaining time with his subjects, the Thana, and decided he would allow himself to perish with us. That is how much our god loved us. But, as Mortis was descending to be beside the people in their final hour, his own prayers to the heavens were answered by the Goddess Hera, who vowed to help. As an elder god, she had the power to open a rift, or membrane, I think it's called. This membrane ripped a hole in the very fabric of space from our planet to another. This new planet would be safe for the Thana, she said, to grow and prosper, to be happy again." Regin paused for another quick swallow before continuing.
"But, they were almost too late. The planet was already breaking apart. Quickly both Mortis and Hera grabbed the Thana by the tens of thousands and shoved them through the membrane, which spanned many miles wide. Other people simply ran through it to safety. Rocks shot straight into the air on pillars of magma, and at last, Mortis pushed Hera away, and said he would die with the people that remained. But Hera would have none of that. She grabbed Mortis and dragged him through before closing the membrane, keeping the new world safe from the destruction that would have followed. The great Goddess Hera told Mortis that the Thana needed their god, not the memory of him. Mortis wept tears of both happiness and sorrow. So many were lost, but some few saved. In the end, only one hundred thousand out of almost a billion made it. But it was enough for us to start over." Regin took a quick swallow and kept speaking at Thorvald's angry glance.
"When the Thana arrived here on Corvalis, we had nothing. Simply the clothes on our backs, though some had managed to bring crop seeds and tools in those last few moments. This was fifteen hundred years ago, by the way. In the first few days, the people almost starved to death. Infants cried; adults stood around despondent. The membrane deposited us near what is now our southern border, in the grassy plains we use for grazing. To the north, we saw the majestic peaks of mountains and the smoke and glow of volcanoes. The north looked like home, even though it was not. It was not enough for the Thana that survived. Some of the people simply walked off to their doom, but only a few, as we are a strong race."
"Then on the third day, as our people started to die again, another miracle happened. The Lorr came in great wagons, hundreds of wagons, no thousands! They lined up across the plains from the south leading to Earthhaven, four abreast. The caravan stretched as far as the eye could see. Overhead rode their giant feathered birds, keeping an eye out for predators and thousands more of their warriors rode on horseback to either side, ensuring our protection because the Goddess Hera had told them of our plight. They had responded with empathy and caring. It was at that time we learned we were not alone, but one of eight races that shared this planet." A pause while Regin emptied the last remaining dregs of his tankard, then he looked at the barrel with longing eyes, and Thorvald shrugged.
"Go ahead and get another. I have to admit, I probably slept through half of this story as a child. I was too busy learning to fight and hated reading, as I said. I find the tale interesting and illuminating.” Regin quickly shuffled to the barrel and filled his tankard again before sitting back down and began speaking as the king grinned at him. By this time, crowded into the room was most of his council of advisors. Two were yet missing, but he waved for Regin to continue. The story was cheering him up, and he really needed cheering up right now.
"Thank you, Sire. So, the Lorr came because the Goddess Hera had told their God Apollo that we needed help, and he told his people. At that time, we did not know each other's language, so the goddess gifted one from each race with the gift of tongues.
The Lorr stayed with us for years. They are also a long-lived race, and the relatively small time they spent with us was not a burden. In fact, their lifespan is longer than ours is, and they knew what it was like to lose your world for they had also lost theirs. The wagons they brought contained everything we needed to rebuild. Food in plenty—food we could eat. Temporary shelters we could use while we dug our great caverns. Metal smiths to help ours. Masons to build side by side with our own and their children playing with ours, teaching each other their language. They even taught us magic, a new skill and one we had never known of. Once again, it was a happy time for our people. A hundred years passed before they left us, for it took that long to build the first great city underground, but before they went we found out they had been here for over five thousand years. Like the Thana, they too came from a great civilization before their world vanished. In coming here, they vowed to stay close to nature, to give up the trappings of technology and live happier simpler lives. As you know, they are now very good friends of ours and use our lower plains to graze their horses with our blessing and the blessing of Mortis. Mortis was still filled with sorrow but was happier now that his people were once again prospering." Another pause for a large swallow of ale, the tankard almost empty, and Thorvald noticed that not only were all his advisors now present, but that they were all listening with rapt attention to the story. As Regin drained his mug, another was immediately thrust into his hands. Thorvald figured, like him, his advisors had not listened to their history either. Regin cleared his throat after a large swallow and continued.
"Years passed, and a new city was built every hundred years. Then when we needed more room, we simply expanded the ones we had. We were comfortable, happy. We traded with the Lorr and the humans, occasionally with the others but not so much for we had trouble from the beginning with the dark ones. In fact, they tried to raid us many times but we ignored them, for we lived in the ground. Then the first Great War with the dark ones broke out, almost five hundred years after our arrival. Well, not the first Great War, as the dark ones had been here for almost as long as the Lorr, but about every five hundred years, they tried to rule the world. Each time they tried, they lost with only a fraction of their number surviving, but still they kept trying. That first Great War for us came almost as a surprise, though the humans and Lorr had warned us. The Goddess Hera went to Mortis to seek our aid for the humans. The dark ones also wanted our aid, but we refused it. Because Hera helped our people escape certain destruction. For our race, we agreed to assist them. We tried to get the Lorr to also help, but they refused. However, we went in our limited numbers, because we owed the goddess. Of the six hundred thousand, we had at that time, almost half our number left their homes and loved ones to fight a war for the greater good. Two hundred and fifty thousand volunteers marched forward into war with axes drawn, marching beside our human friends. Almost all our able males went to war, even those too old to fight drew an axe because the human's goddess had saved our people. We owed them." A great shudder ran through Regin as he drained his new tankard, and yet another was thrust into his hands. The wizard looked down into its contents, tears trickling down his bearded cheeks. Finally, he continued.
"It was a horror beyond imagining. I have read all the journals and accounts of a war that lasted fifty years. The terror, devastation, hunger, disease, you name it. Of those men that left, less than fifty thousand returned. The rest, buried where they fell, in one battle after another, in an endless wave of death. So many lost…" he whispered the last and looked up. "If we had not lost those two hundred thousand we might number fifteen million by now, instead of only five. It was too great a loss and scarred us for hundreds of yea
rs. We still bear mental wounds from that war. When the last Great War occurred, like the Lorr we refused to fight. The memory of the last one was too recent and most of us remembered listening to the tales of our elders who had been in the one before. It was too much as I said, so we collapsed the passes and with the Lorr, we vowed not to fight, to support only each other but no one else. Oh, the dark ones tried to get to us, but we held the advantage because most of their numbers were in the south fighting. The humans, decimated, still managed to prevail in the end, and now it is happening again. Please, my King. Give up thoughts of vengeance. We breed slowly. Not like humans or the dark ones, who breed fast. Let us close our shafts and remain below for the next fifty years. Please, Sire!" The last was said in almost a gasp, and the old wizard slumped in his seat.
The story told, the faces somber, history unfolded for fresh eyes to see. As Thorvald slowly stood, he looked around at the men standing before him. A few eyes looked at the wizard with compassion and concern as the old man would not even accept another tankard of ale, which Thorvald doubted had ever happened before. The telling of their people's tale of flight and survival, and then eventual rescue and succor had a deep psychological impact on those assembled. There were even a few eyes wiped and more than one back turned to hide the emotions crossing their owners’ bearded faces.
But, most eyes were on Thorvald, who drew himself up to his full five feet one inch height and glared uniformly at those present. With a snarl, he snatched up his great broad axe with one handed, swinging it overhead and slamming it down, almost splitting the desk in half. A great crash of wooden splinters pelted everyone in the room. He had their full attention now!
"Our people shall not go un-avenged," he roared and pointed a thick stubby finger at Hrani Ardgarson. "What is the total of our militia, Hrani?"
"Well, let's see. Total garrison strength is approximately ninety thousand. That is five thousand in six of our cities and fifteen thousand at each of the four cities closest to the passes leading to the dark ones’ territories. In addition, if you count the peacekeeper force that patrols the cities themselves, add another thirty thousand," Hrani answered.
"Okay. Any way to expand that number?" asked Thorvald.
"We can, but it will have an economic impact. Right now, almost all work except for the old and infirm, and of course the children. If you were to increase the number by one hundred thousand, for instance, you would need to reduce the number of our people in the mines, or farms, or even civil services. Obviously, we could triple that number, or even more if went to double shifts and let a few services lapse, but then you're looking at civil unrest."
"I see." The king turned to another. "Siggurd Baugsson! How does our metal stockpile look?"
"Well, over quota, and honestly I was going to talk to you about that soon. We have practically run out of room to store the metal ingots after smelting, even though we're continuously carving out new vaults. Even with normal consumption, and average exports, we have easily a five-year supply in storage of all base metals and even most precious ores. I was going to ask you to either reduce mining or shut it down altogether for a period, but I don't know what to do with the men. Either that or drastically reduce the price of commodities to increase export sales, but I know how you feel about that," the flustered Thana replied as he gave a gesture of the helplessness of things beyond his control.
Thorvald grinned evilly. "How are we looking with our carbon stockpiles?"
"Since the last wood harvest this spring, I've got it coming out my ears."
"If you went to half output on all major metals and shut down on precious ores, how many would that free up?"
"Let me think, Sire." The Thana was busy counting on the fingers of both hands for a full minute before he reluctantly answered the question. "Quite a few actually, since five percent of our people are miners. By shutting down, gold, silver and platinum completely, I could part with around one hundred and thirty five thousand, give or take." Thorvald nodded at his words then turned to another.
"Fyri Runolfson, status of food supplies and stores!" he barked.
The older Thana looked at him then pulled the pipe out of his mouth he was about to light, pointing the stem at his king. "If you're wondering how many people I have standing around doing nothing, I would have to say about half. Only two thirds of our cleared caverns for agriculture are under cultivation. You know, when we build, we build big. Food storage is optimum. Like Siggurd, I have run out of room for dried storage. We probably have a greater stockpile than he does. I was already making plans to cut back. Even in dry storage, the foods will only stay preserved for a decade. Those new overhead watering pipes we installed really cut back on our labor requirements."
"How many," demanded Thorvald.
"Good question. Only a third of my workers are male, and many of those have disabilities. Maybe fifty thousand, all told," Fyri replied.
"Good. Geirr Ornson!" Now the king pointed at another. "What's the status on overall manufacturing? Give me that, then break it down to metals."
"We are currently running two-thirds single shifts on most lines in all cities. Make that half shift for weapons. I see where you are going with this, we all do, and I really cannot calculate at this time how many men I could spare. I would have to look at line quotas, which lines use men or women, or both, and which products we have an overabundance. I will need a few days to figure it out, but it would be a lot, probably more than you've obviously set aside already." The king nodded thoughtfully.
"Here's what we're going to do, me lads. Manufacturing, get me those numbers, cut out all non-essential lines, and bring remaining crews to full shifts. I want three shifts working weapons production with a priority on the heavy crossbows and bolts, then armor, and then axes and swords. I want steel and spring steel; hold off on anything non-essential. Agriculture, I want those able-bodied men. Also, I want to start mass production of field ration packs for troops, start using up those stores and make small wagon sized packets for easy transportation. Have each break down into individual portions. You know what to do. Put your excess women on it. Get with Niall over there, and get all the fish you require for the rations. I know he has an over-abundance because I toured the fishery here last week." Now, Thorvald pointed at his fisheries advisor."Hrafn Lambson, I want an ambassadorial team sent to the Lorr. I would seek their council on an appropriate response to this cowardly attack by a cowardly god. Last, but not least, Lyting Hradason. Find a place to train all the new recruits or retrain the ones who used to be militia. I do not care where you find it. The center squares in each city, if need be. Make it happen, or I'll find someone who will." Thorvald said with a snarl for the buildings advisor had started to object. Now, that advisor closed his mouth and simply nodded.
"My King, it's hopeless. Can't you see that? Your own advisors have just informed you the maximum you could bring to war might be upwards of six hundred thousand. The dark ones will have millions. They breed like flies, with most giving multiple births yearly. We will be slaughtered," wailed Regin, who while holding his hands to his face rocked back and forth in the chair.
"Shut up, Wizard. Blood begets blood. They drew first, and we will sheath last. We will avenge our dead. Now Go!"
Chapter 10
~Elsa~
It did not take three days to reach the previous town; it took four, then another to get the refugees settled. The bad news was that by the time they reached the village, they were out of food and hungry. The good news was plenty of food was available once they arrived. Elsa signed government chits for a three-day supply for her company and emergency supplies for the refugees to get them settled. The morning after, she and her company rode hard for Crystal City. The seriously wounded were left behind to be transported in wagons on a bed of straw to ease their discomfort. Ricon once again pressed to continue onward to Fort Brandor, and this time Elsa simply ignored him. The man was a great second in command, as long as there was a commanding officer in charge ove
r him. However, protocol was clear, and she would follow it.
A day out from town, they came across a priest of Edorta, the Goddess of Healing. This was obvious by the tattoo of a spiral sun upon his cheek, under that of his birth tattoo of Jordache. With him were four acolytes or servants, or at least that is what she thought they were. They had a train of eight pack mules fully loaded with whatever it was that traveling healing priests carried with them. She knew she needed to get word back to the capital, which was still three days away, and something told her time was of the essence. Though she had prayed to Hera, the goddess had not deemed to answer her. She reined up as she neared, taking a chance, signaling her company to halt.
"Ho, Priest of Edorta. Blessings to you and your company!" she called out as she neared.
"Blessings to you in the name of Edorta also, Captain, and these are my acolytes," the priest said with a kindly expression. As she stopped, she noticed he was already in deep conversation with one of his people, who immediately ran to a pack mule and began removing objects. "I assume you or someone in your company is in need of healing?"
"Not really, Priest. What wounds we have can wait. I had an entirely different need."
"And what might that be, daughter?" Elsa was not offended by the familiar term, for all priests and priestesses used it.
Swinging down from her horse, she strode quickly to stand before him, and, seeing his eyes immediately shift to the bloody bandage on her thigh, she waved her hand across the wound to indicate it was of no consequence. She already knew it was healing and would add another scar to the many she had. She needed to know if this priest could do her kingdom a favor and nothing else.
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