Destiny

by Pedro Urvi

  “No, your Highness. Beyond the river it’s all covered in mist.”

  “Then we’ll wait, it’ll soon lift.”

  Gerart looked towards the south, where the Noceans would appear sooner or later with their black standards bearing the golden sun of the deserts. The great army of the Nocean Empire was advancing from the south, pillaging everything in their way. How many men would they have amassed for the final attack on the capital? Rumors spoke of an immense host, and Gerart was praying to the ancient gods that it was false.

  They waited for the mist to lift while the sun began to rise, brightening the green moors with its golden warmth. A golden flash to the northeast caught Gerart’s eye, and he turned quickly to look. Under the mist he could make out shadows which rapidly became a long thin line. He half-closed his eyes and made out hints of red and white in a row that was not one, but many. The flash came again, and Gerart realized it was the light of the sun shining on steel. He went on watching closely, and as the mist lifted rows of armed men were revealed, so many they filled the plain as far as the distant forests.

  “They’re here…” said Gerart, with a heaviness he could not hide.

  “Norghanians, from the northeast…” Kendas pointed out, his voice troubled.

  The trumpets sounded with the unmistakable clamor of the alarm call. The whole city stopped its activity at once. A silence so terrifying it rivaled the fear of death itself took hold of the great metropolis, from the poorer quarters to the Royal Palace.

  Gerart stared at the enemy army. The mist had vanished completely and under the morning sun he saw a sea of Norghanians in close formation. The red and white of their armor and standards covered everything as far as the eye could see. Fear came over him for a moment, but he immediately banished it furiously. He had fought them before and he would do the same again, he would not permit the men of the snow to take the city. Never! They had defeated him once, but they would not be able to do it a second time.

  “How many do you think there are?” he asked Kendas in a whisper.

  “I’d say between thirty-five and forty-five thousand men.”

  Gerart continued to watch the advance of the enemy army while the Rogdonian soldiers took up their positions on the battlements. The advance continued all morning and did not stop until well into the evening. They occupied the whole plain to the east and north of the river in front of the city, divided into their four impressive armies. The standards, tall and proud, were thrust into Rogdonian soil and fluttered in the wind provocatively.

  “Yes, some forty thousand men…” Gerart said. “King Thoran must have sent his reserve forces.”

  “Make way for the King!” a soldier announced.

  Gerart and Kendas turned to see King Solin arriving in his splendid battle armor. He looked like a warrior god. Urien, the old Royal Counselor, was with him, with his albino hair and frail look.

  The King greeted his son with a nod. “Gerart.”

  “My Lord Father…” Gerart said, and bowed.

  The King watched the deployment of the enemy army before his walls with a keen eye. His presence was impressive, radiating power, the living image of Rogdonian integrity and courage. Nothing could dishearten this man. Nothing would hold back his determination. Gerart knew that well. With him in command the city would hold. He was convinced of it.

  “What do you think, Urien?” the King asked his Counselor.

  The old man greeted Gerart with an affectionate smile and took a closer look at the thousands of enemies deployed on the plains.

  “They’ve placed the Invincible of the Ice in their snowy clothing in the center, to frighten our men. All know of their reputation and their prowess at the Fortress of the Half Moon. On the right flank they’ve placed the Thunder Army, General Olagson’s men, with their red standards with white diagonal stripes. On the left flank I see the men of the Snow Army. General Rangulfsen will surely be leading them. A very intelligent man, brilliant indeed when it comes to military strategy. We must keep an eye on him. Bringing up the rear they’ve placed the Blizzard Army, the mixed one, led by the irrational General Odir, who doesn’t make me lose any sleep.”

  “Who’s in charge?” King Solin asked.

  “From the information we have, Count Volgren is in charge of all the armies. As to the strategy on the battlefield, it will be General Rangulfsen in overall command.”

  “How many are there?”

  “More than forty thousand,” Gerart replied gravely.

  “And the destructive war machinery hasn’t arrived yet, the siege weapons,” Urien said.

  “How long do we have?”

  “Five days, your Majesty, no more…” Urien said, bowing his head.

  “In that case we’d better finish the preparations for the defense of the city.”

  “How many men do we have, my Lord Father?”

  “I have ordered the enlistment of all able men in the Kingdom. Our losses at the Pass of the Half Moon and Silanda have been heavy. With luck we’ve managed to recruit fifteen thousand Rogdonians who will fight to their last breath for their King and for their families.”

  Gerart nodded, his heart full of pride at the courage of his countrymen.

  “Where are our allies in this hour of need?” Gerart asked his father. His expectation was almost desperate.

  King Solin shook his head and turned his gaze to the enemy, leaning his strong hands on the buttress.

  Urien came over to Gerart and put his hand on his shoulder.

  “The kingdoms of the mid-east won’t come to our aid. Something serious must have happened that we don’t know of, because the messengers haven’t come back… The Confederation of Free Cities on the East Coast has rejected our call for help. They don’t wish to get involved in the power-struggles of the west. The truth is that we haven’t enough gold to buy those greedy regents of the five city-states. The other lesser kingdoms don’t dare support us; they fear the retaliation of the Norghanians and Noceans, whom they already regard as the victors.”

  “And the highland tribes, the Norriel?” Gerart asked without much hope.

  “They haven’t spoken. They won’t come,” Urien said, shaking his head.

  “Then we’re alone…” Gerart said to himself, with growing sorrow.

  King Solin straightened as he looked out at the enemy. In his eyes shone the fire of wounded pride.

  “We might be alone against the enemy, a powerful enemy and much greater in number, but Rilentor will not fall, not as long as my House rules this Kingdom. We’ll fight with the courage, strength and resolution which have always characterized the people of this realm. Rogdon will survive! They will not destroy my kingdom!”

  They all watched the formidable military deployment at their feet: thousands of soldiers in long scaled armor, with round wooden shields and battle axes at their waists. Tall, strong, tough men with harsh faces, pale as snow and with long fair hair and beards: formidable warriors. Gerart glanced aside at his father, the great King Solin, and his doubts vanished like the mists of dawn. They would resist, and they would hold them off without fail.

  “Time to get ready,” the King said. He turned and left the battlements.

  The mingled smell of burnt oil and strong northern perfumes filled the command tent. Sumal, who was waiting patiently to be received, found those typically Norghanian smells quite unattractive; they were intended to cover up the smells of sweat and the stench of the soldiers, instead of delighting the senses as was the case of the Nocean perfumes of his own land.

  The spy looked around. The tent was big, albeit military and functional, with few decorations or comforts. Another remarkable difference from that of his own lord: Mulko, Regent of the North of the Nocean Empire, much more magnificent, comfortable, designed to relieve the pains of the campaign for their noble and powerful occupants. Sumal looked at the canvas of the walls, blood-red, decorated with white motifs as was customary among the men of the snow. Six brutal-looking, grim-faced guards wearing
battle armor were on duty inside and watched him in silence. Sumal smiled. Guards and soldiers had not intimidated him for a long time now. It was one of the advantages of his profession.

  From inside the rear of the tent two men came towards him.

  At last… he thought when he recognized them.

  “Sumal, my admired spy, to what do I owe this pleasure?” said the taller of the two.

  Sumal smiled and took a close look at him. The powerful Count Volgren, in command of the whole Norghanian army, was welcoming him.

  “My Lord, you honor me,” Sumal said, bowing deeply, without losing his smile.

  “A Nocean spy?” the other Norghanian asked in annoyance. Sumal had already identified the man with treacherous eyes as General Odir.

  “But he’s dressed as a Captain of my army! And he’s as fair and pale as any one of my own men. How can he be a damned Nocean?”

  “Let me assure you, General, that not only is he Nocean, he is also extremely intelligent and dangerous.”

  “In that case we’ll send him back without his head,” the General said with an ominous gleam in his eyes as he unsheathed his sword.

  The guards, seeing their General, unsheathed their weapons too. A tense silence filled the tent. Sumal did not move, but remained calm, cold as ice. He knew perfectly well that any reaction on his part would mean bloodshed and his possibilities of coming out of the tent alive would be minimal. He looked into the General’s eyes with a slight smile.

  Count Volgren took a step forward. With a gesture he ordered:

  “All of you, lower your weapons.”

  The guards obeyed at once, but the General took a little while longer. His face showed that he was not in the least convinced. The Count put his hand on the arm wielding the sword, and at last the General put it away.

  “Good. And now that we’re all much calmer, what do you want, Sumal? Or rather, what does that lord of yours, the damned snake, want?”

  Sumal bowed appreciatively.

  “My Lord Mulko, Regent of the North of the Nocean Empire, wishes to establish the terms of our alliance for the taking of the city.”

  General Odir, arms akimbo, burst into guffaws. “And why the hell do we need an alliance with those filthy desert cockroaches? The whole east and north of Rogdon belong to us, we’ve conquered every garrison, city and village. There’s only Rilentor left, then the whole Kingdom will be ours, and as you must have seen already our army has the city under siege. We certainly don’t need the help of a bunch of scorpions and treacherous snakes!”

  Sumal, conscious of his mission, listened to the General’s words without flinching. Insults and contempt have only one result, which is to bring on failure, and Sumal never failed in his missions, however complex or dangerous they might be. He smiled and looked at the man who truly held the power to decide.

  Count Volgren gave him the hint of a smile. His eyes shone with malice.

  “My General is right, don’t you think, Sumal?”

  Sumal breathed lightly, almost imperceptibly, and relaxed.

  “In fact the grand Norghanian army does have the city under siege, and their conquests throughout the west are already widely known. Their renowned Generals have effected a sublime strategy of conquest, and one cannot but humbly acknowledge it.”

  Odir stood proudly erect on hearing Sumal’s words.

  “However, this last stumbling block in the way of the conquest of Rogdon might turn out more bloody than initially foreseen… causing important damage to the glorious Norghanian army…”

  “What are you insinuating? That we won’t be able to take the damned city?” Odir thundered.

  “No, that’s not what he’s insinuating,” Count Volgren said. “He’s insinuating something much more dangerous, isn’t that so, my dear spy?”

  “It’s not my intention to be a bird of ill omen, but the tenacity and courage of the Rogdonians is well known. They’ll fight to the last man defending their land and families. They won’t give up. For them it’s victory or death. A frightened and wounded animal will fight more fiercely until it falls dead…”

  “And dead they will fall. Don’t doubt that, Nocean.”

  “Of course, my lord, your powerful army will take the city, led by generals of unequaled courage and experience. But the wounded animal, trapped, without any means of escape, must not be underestimated. Cornered and wounded, in its fury it will ravage whoever tries to take it in its last stand. Many more than those which would initially be expected in a situation like it…

  The General looked at Sumal thoughtfully.

  “Our friend the spy is warning us that if we try to take the city alone we’ll suffer massive losses,” Count Volgren said with a sarcastic smile.

  “I simply want what’s best for our allies…” Sumal said, his voice as subtle and soft as a whisper carried by the warm summer breeze.

  “Hah! What he wants is for us to wait for his army, which is about as slow and unappealing as the forest slugs. Listen to me carefully, Nocean, the city will be ours and your army will still be days away. Do you hear me?” Odir said.

  Sumal nodded and lowered his gaze.

  “I don’t think you fully understand all the implications of our Nocean friend’s good wishes,” Count Volgren said.

  “What didn’t I understand?” the General asked in annoyance.

  Sumal looked at Volgren, keeping his expression as neutral as he could manage.

  “You see, General, what our spy is implying in a veiled manner is that by the time the grand army of the Nocean Empire arrives in Rilentor from the South it’s very likely that the city will already be ours, but the losses we’ll have sustained will be so many that we might be left in an awkward situation…”

  For a moment the General looked at Volgren without understanding. Then realization struck him. Odir’s face turned red with fury.

  “They wouldn’t dare! Those vermin wouldn’t dare…!” he cried shrilly to the heavens.

  Sumal said nothing, but remained firm and unimpressed.

  “I’ll kill any Nocean who sets his eyes on Rilentor! You can tell your Lord that! I’ll gut those treacherous cowards myself!” brayed Odir in a fury.

  Count Volgren put his hands behind his back and took a few paces in a circle while apparently meditating his answer.

  “What does your lord Mulko suggest?” he asked abruptly, fixing his eyes on Sumal’s.

  Sumal breathed out. For a moment he had feared the General would skewer him there and then.

  “My Lord suggests an alliance to besiege and take the city. A joint attack by both armies to crush the Rogdonian resistance with massive military strength. With the forces of the Norghanian army, plus those of my venerated Lord, the city is doomed. It could be taken in a matter of a few decisive attacks. The assaults would be combined, but of course each kingdom would lead its own troops…”

  “Of course…” Count Volgren agreed. “And once it’s been taken? What does your lord suggest?”

  Sumal relaxed his shoulders and sweetened his tone. This was the key moment, he had to make Volgren take the bait.

  “My Lord suggests an equal and honorable division for the conquest of the city. Half the city for the Nocean Empire and the other half for the Kingdom of Norghana.”

  “That’s bullshit! We’re already here, we can take the whole city!” protested Odir.

  “Relax, General. Sumal, tell your lord Mulko that if he wishes to make a deal he has to grant me the Royal Palace and the upper part of the city.”

  “But that’s where the riches of Rogdon are… and the royal family…” said Sumal.

  “That’s my final offer,” Count Volgren concluded, and folded his arms.

  Sumal bowed deep. “You are a great negotiator,” he said.

  “And you, spy, are too cunning. I expect an answer by dawn.”

  “You shall have it,” assured Sumal. Turning on his heels, he left the tent.

  He went out and turned to the right, avoiding th
e guard at the entrance. He stopped outside, bent to tie his boot with apparent lack of haste and listened hard.

  He heard Odir raging: “You’re not thinking of accepting an offer like that, are you!”

  “When you’re dealing with snakes you have to know the right moment to catch them and cut their heads off. Otherwise you risk being bitten and dying.”

  “But victory is ours! Rogdon is at our mercy!”

  “The south of the kingdom is already in Noceans hands, and their armies are heading towards us. They’re a week away. What do you think will happen if they get here and find we’ve taken the city but we’re weakened? What do you think Mulko will do?”

  “He’d attack us…”

  “Exactly. He wouldn’t think twice about it. We’d have to pull back and they’d take the whole west of Tremia.”

  “Damned treacherous Noceans!” cried General Odir.

  “We’ll play the game. With one eye on the Rogdonians and the other on the Noceans. We have no other option. And when the opportunity arises… and it will arise… we’ll attack them. There won’t be a single one of those desert snakes left alive. Rogdon will be for the Norghanians, even if we have to impale the last Nocean the deserts send us.”

  “Hah! Let’s drink to that!” said the General.

  Sumal straightened up very slowly. With great stealth he went away from the Norghanian command tent, blending in among the thousands of soldiers stationed on the plain. A smile crept over his face. Everything was going as his Great Master Zecly had planned. Soon those Norghanian brutes would be nothing more than fodder for the vultures, and the flags of the Nocean Empire would crown Rilentor.

  Revelations

  “Quickly, we must get to the Temple!” cried Kayti, pointing to the great lake. She was aware that they had to enter it in order to escape from the Tiger Warriors, and they had to do this without delay or they would be lost.

  They had been traveling all day at a forced march, crossing forests, wading lakes, fleeing from their slant-eyed pursuers. Lindaro was breathless, so pale he looked like a corpse, and the purple half-moons under his eyes suggested that he would not be able to keep up much longer. Hartz reached the lakeside carrying Sonea slumped over one shoulder like a sack of potatoes. The librarian had stumbled a while before, her limited strength spent. The little scholar had a prodigious mind, but her body had never been exercised. The Assassin and the Masig brought up the rear, both being used to that kind of effort; they had barely broken into a sweat.