Overlords

by Matthew M Pyke

  The Errosian king chuckled so hard that spittle flew from his mouth, some of it settling on his beard and freezing in moments. His big, round belly shook heartily. His horse appeared to sag under his weight. “I think not, my good king,” he boomed back. “May I remind you that it is I who enjoys the favourable position. Think of your men … they are at my mercy. Why waste your strength by bandying about the inevitable with me? You are defeated. Surrender.”

  King Pallan became pensive. The Second Guard (the one immediately under Jerreth) remarked to King Pallan, “He has a point, sire. We are low on arrows, and most of our men are out there, in the field. The defences at the castle are scant.”

  King Pallan grumbled, “Those who are left in the field.”

  The Second Guard (Keas) quickly scanned the scene before them. “We are not on equal footing; Ibren and his men have the advantage.”

  King Pallan vented, “Which raises the question—how did they achieve such a position? So quickly?”

  Keas shook his head and declared, “I am not certain, sire.”

  King Pallan, with an expression of desperation said, “Jerreth—is he still alive? And the other men with him, the First Regiment?”

  Keas glanced left and right. Whispering, he revealed, “The First Regiment was badly beaten. We are not certain of Jerreth’s state. If he is still with us.”

  King Ibren, growing more impatient, shouted, “I am waiting! What is your answer to my query? I grow impatient. Speak!”

  Errit scrambled down the castle wall toward Keas and King Pallan, at times ducking in case of an opportune arrow. “My Lord-My Lord!”

  King Pallan, trying to subdue his voice, replied, “Yes—what is it?”

  Errit came to their side. Glancing anxiously at the snowy meadow before the castle dotted with men, some slain, he stressed, “The council has reviewed the current situation and recommends that you flee at once; a regiment of specially trained soldiers will take you past the boulders at Glaven.”

  King Pallan challenged him. “By whose authority was this regiment formed?”

  Errit appeared frustrated. “There is not time, sire; Jerreth had formed the regiment in secret in case of extreme emergency.”

  King Pallan looked down. “Then he has my blessing.”

  Errit’s apprehension multiplied. “You must go, sire! We do not have the men and equipment to drive them back. Reports of startling casualty rates are starting to trickle in. We have women and children in the castle; if we negotiate with King Ibren, he will perhaps show them mercy.”

  King Pallan fired back, “Bah! I will have that maggot from the west to crush in my hand—to feel his entrails slip down my dampened flesh.”

  Keas came very close to his king and warned, “My Lord—your captain of the guard is missing—presumed dead. Many of the catapults are no longer working; we are low on bolts and men to fire them. We have provision for fresh water in the castle for perhaps two days, three at most. Ibren is a tactical wizard. He has humiliated our forces. We cannot allow both the castle to fall and our king along with it. You must heed the advice of the counsel.”

  King Ibren shouted again. He flicked his hand for his soldiers to approach the castle.

  Errit added, “And the external threat to the kingdom—sire—you must go. You must find the Kaiper Stone of Ayren—the preliminary search of the temple (Xydan) did not find any such stone referenced by the drawing on the wall and the Mysterious Ones. You have the council’s blessing. Strange things continue to occur throughout the kingdom … the weather continues to worsen. We will soon face the real threat of famine unless fairer weather returns.”

  Their king looked torn. Glancing at Ibren and then at Keas and Errit, King Pallan winced and shook his head vigorously. He muttered, “Stuck between mountains; no way out.”

  King Ibren’s army made its way slowly over the frozen meadow; stumbling before them were freezing and wounded Paladian soldiers. King Pallan turned back and forth between them and his aides. Soldiers had come by them with long pikes to protect their king, the rightful heir to the throne.

  Jassen, a council member, ran toward them, holding his robe up to avoid tripping over it. “Sire-sire, the regiment is ready. We beseech you to flee the castle.”

  King Pallan squinted hard at the frantic scribe.

  Jassen nearly flew into them, Keas catching him in his arms and letting him go. “Sire, you have the blessing of the people, of the army. Go—go now, before that madman defiles all Paladia has left. If you flee, the throne remains the rightful property of the Pallan line. An impostor will usurp the throne, but he will always be seen as illegitimate, not as the rightful heir to the throne, as long as the actual heir lives. If you stay and he runs you through with the sword, all is lost …”

  Errit nodded to King Pallan, his expression dire.

  King Pallan, breathing hard and glancing back and forth between the audacious intruders and his frightened men, made a sudden move to bolt but stopped. Looking once more at King Ibren and his army, he then shot for a nearby ladder that led down from the castle wall.

  IV

  “All is lost …” King Pallan stared vacantly at a tree line a hundred yards away.

  “Sire—we are nearly beyond the boulders.”

  King Pallan did not respond to his chief soldier, Jaegar.

  Jaegar gently took King Pallan’s arm and pleaded, “My Lord, we must press for the tree line. It is paramount that we increase our distance from King Ibren and his men; seek shelter in the Resh Woodlands.”

  King Pallan only very slowly returned his gaze to Jaegar, a soldier hand-picked for escorting high-profile members of Paladia’s ruling class over great distances. “Hmm. Yes, I will follow the soldiers …”

  Jaegar scanned his face for a moment or two. “My men are prepared to take you as far away from here as possible.” He gave King Pallan’s arm a timid pull. “Come …” Glancing around and up at the sky, he continued, “It is night; the cover of darkness will aid us in evading any Errosian patrols. If we are careful.”

  King Pallan bobbed his head and said, very softly, “All right.”

  Jaegar led the defeated King of Paladia over large, jagged rocks, the process painstaking and risky. On point were a group of elite soldiers, men trained since their youth in the battle arts. Following them were equally adept warriors, surveying the ravine behind with nervous eyes. The group had escaped from the castle through a secret tunnel.

  Jaegar soon announced, “Sire, we are nearly beyond the boulders. And Glaven behind us. The Forests of Resh lie directly ahead.”

  King Pallan nodded. “Aye.”

  “We shall be at Conrad’s domicile within the hour.”

  “Good, Jaegar. Let us hope your king has the strength of mind to follow.”

  The group of soldiers, scribes, their wives, and the vanquished Paladian king navigated, carefully, the last set of large rocks separating them from a lush forest with massive trees. A light rain began to fall, adding to their misery. The night, of unusual darkness, provided scant details of the terrain. Special precautions were put in place to limit the possibility of a stray beam of light from a lantern or torch, giving away their position. As such, their progress was slow and methodical.

  The Resh Woodlands were a series of forests that surrounded the castle several miles away. The dense woodlands, home to a plethora of exotic plant and animal life, were also the abode of an aged knight, unswervingly loyal to the kingdom, a soldier from a bygone era. Many a tale had been told about these woods. Some said that the forest itself was somehow alive—beyond its animated material substance, as if the trees, ferns, and mosses somehow formed a conscious will and could see and hear intruders on its vibrant-coloured domain. Others remarked that upon passing through them, they had a sense of being followed, closely, by a distant yet strangely close being or beings. There was a rumour that a dragon lived somewhere at the heart of the forest, in a cave by a shimmering river, edged by pink and yellow lilies, whose striking
colours bewitched the eyes. There was a story of a strange monster, with eyes at the end of its tentacles and steak-knife-like teeth, that rummaged about for small children to devour. Whether any of these tales were true could not be made certain. One thing, however, was certain—there was an overwhelming sense of foreboding to certain parts of the forest that sent chills down one’s back and gave ample incentive to vacate the mysterious woods as expediently as possible.

  The expeditionary force, some one hundred and twenty strong (soldiers), entered the dense forest somewhat after the middle of the night, as darkness had reached its height. The group made its way down a natural forest path with great alertness, scrutinizing every sound. Towering trees, ferns, large mushrooms, some fiery and others a dull off-white, lined the path on either side. The ground, a deep brown, was moist and scattered with leaves, ferns, clovers, and soft grasses. Long tree roots spread across the pathway, presenting a tripping hazard. Now, as it was so dark, so close, the group had no choice but to light a few extra lanterns. The vividness of colours revealed by the faded yellow light seemed to pop out at them, as if it were almost day or the trees and flowers—and peculiar mosses—were illuminated from within.

  Jaegar remarked, “We are almost to the Numay Rivulet; only a few more minutes’ walk from there.”

  King Pallan stopped for a moment and gazed around him, his shoulder-length, dark-brown hair straggly and damp. “These woods spook me. I sometimes get the sense of being watched …”

  With a perplexed look, Jaegar glanced around him. “I do not have that sense, sire. Perhaps you are sensitive to such things.”

  By now the regiment had come to a halt.

  “Perhaps … he served my father.”

  “Conrad?”

  King Pallan dipped his head slowly at Jaegar. “Aye. My father spoke of his loyalty when I was but young. Now I seek him out. Perhaps he can help us—me—on our journey. Our present predicament.”

  “He is quite elderly at present, My Lord …”

  King Pallan looked over at Jaegar; his expression soured a degree. “Yes—but he is all I have now. I cannot trust anyone else.” He gave a look around him; up at the obscuring forest canopy high above. “Not this far from the castle.” He looked Jaegar squarely in the face and said, “Not until I have better distinguished opportunist from loyalist.”

  “Yes, My Lord; your servant understands. These are dark times …”

  “Then, my good soldier, we will tread lightly in this world. For we are outcasts in a realm of potential enemies.” King Pallan smiled at Jaegar after he spoke these words, placing his hand on his shoulder.

  Jaegar gazed down at the forest floor in a brief period of reflection. Nodding sporadically, he said, “We are all prepared, my soldiers and I, to die for you, if necessary.”

  King Pallan looked into Jaegar’s eyes; a faint grin appeared on his face, his hand still resting on the man’s metal-segmented shoulder. “Let us hope your promise is not put to the test.”

  Jaegar gazed back at his king with faint astonishment, smiling gradually.

  Minutes after resuming their course, King Pallan and his people came to the Numay Rivulet, with its slippery rocks and crystal water. Passing over it, they followed a narrow stone path through a particularly dense part of the forest. Rainwater from high above tapped leaves and bushes, leaving the stones slick. The path soon ended in a small clearing. Travelling through high grass, they eventually came to a row of huge ferns and giant mushrooms. Passing under them, the band of Paladian escapees noticed a thread of light-grey smoke rising from a stone house, one that appeared to be fused with a knoll and surrounded by tall trees.

  Jaegar checked his map hastily. Glancing between the map and the stone house, he shortly remarked, “That’s it, I believe, sire.”

  King Pallan turned to him. “Are you sure?”

  Jaegar, mouthing something to himself, and looking down at the map and back at the mossy, ramshackle structure, in time confirmed, “Quite certain. I believe we have reached Conrad’s home.” He turned quickly and signalled for the company to come to a halt. “Shall we investigate it, sire?”

  King Pallan surveyed the mossy structure, the trees, and the path behind them; he seemed uneasy. “I would hate to think that, somehow, Ibren was aware of our plans and is waiting there with his men to capture us.”

  Jaegar squinted a little at the structure; the thread of smoke continued to snake upward. “Impossible to tell. A possibility—remote, but nonetheless a possibility. Sire, I do not believe King Ibren and his men know where we are at present. Our flight from the castle was without his knowing; we left before they could reach the atrium.”

  King Pallan hesitated. “What choice do we have, any of us? We will knock at the home and see who answers. Ready the men for anything …”

  “At once, My Lord.” Jaegar barked an order to the soldiers, who stood in a column behind him and King Pallan, to be ready for anything. The soldiers tensed; some drew swords. “We are ready, My Lord. Shall we proceed?”

  King Pallan gave one last studying look at the odd-shaped dwelling, and then responded, “Proceed; at the first onset of trouble, the prime duty is to protect the women and children. Do you understand?”

  Jaegar nodded. “We understand, sire; the women and the children.”

  “We must protect the scribes with us as well; I will need them to negotiate for me and for counsel. The future before us is murkier than ever.”

  “Understood, My Lord.” Jaegar made a fast motion with his hand for the regiment to approach the structure cautiously.

  The Paladians crept toward the home. A light could be seen inside. Jaegar whispered to King Pallan for him to go to the rear, but King Pallan refused, angrily. Freezing momentarily at the dwelling’s lichen-dotted wooden door, King Pallan knocked once, gently. There was no answer. Closing and opening his eyes, he knocked harder. A voice inside could be heard coming nearer. The wooden door swung open suddenly, revealing a large, old woman wearing an apron.

  “Aye! Come at t’middle of the night, ay? Who the lot are you?”

  King Pallan went to answer. “We are—”

  “Shoo-shoo! Be gone, you and that lot o’yours. No righteous people go a’wandering around these woods in t’middle o’night!”

  A man’s voice, gravelly and weak, cut in. “Who’s there, Margaret? The fuss all about? Ah … where are my spectacles. Let me see …” The man approached the door.

  “Master, them come a’knocking at a late hour!”

  “Ease off, Maggie. Ease off.” The man waved her away.

  Putting her hand on her hip and scowling lightly at the hunched, elderly-looking man carrying a cane, she scoffed, “Aye Master, you can deal with them!” She turned abruptly and headed back into the house to attend to a fire.

  The smell of roasted potatoes, celery, carrots, and herbs wafted into the night air.

  “Sorry about her! She’s an obstinate one, that Maggie!” The man leaned forward a degree to get a better look at the strangers at his doorway. “Say … there’s quite a few of ya here. Never seen you before; had this many people a’visitin’.” He gave a brief look around at the dark woods. “Especially at this late hour.” The venerable codger squinted hard at King Pallan. “Aye … I thought I recognized ya, lad. You Paladian.” The man hastily scanned the line of men, women, and children leading away from his doorstep. “You all Paladians. My-my, thought I’d never seen one ever again; just me and my dog Percival, and my housemaid Margaret. Course you’ve already met her!”

  King Pallan interrupted, “Sir, my people and I have come some distance to meet you. I am sorry to put you off at such an hour.”

  The man answered, “Oh?”

  “You must be—”

  “I am Conrad, laddie.”

  King Pallan grinned faintly. “Conrad … you served my father in the Paladian Army. As a knight.”

  Conrad put his head down briefly to think. He exclaimed all at once, “Ah! Yes, laddie. I almost forgot!
Paladia; yep. I did wear the armour for the sire. Pallan II, or was it III? Can’t seem to remember …”

  Jaegar smirked at King Pallan, who sighed.

  Conrad resumed. “Yeah, those were some days. I was quite the knight, you know.” He stopped so abruptly in mid-thought that the crude lenses mounted before his eyes seemed to rattle for a moment. “Why the blazes you come see me? Who are you?”

  King Pallan took a step closer to the old man, who at times swayed gently in place. “Sir—I am King Pallan of Paladia.”

  Conrad gasped. “King Pallan?”

  King Pallan motioned with his arm at his followers. “And these are my travelling companions.”

  Conrad, adjusting his glasses and giving brief, hard looks at the Paladian escapees, soon commented with rising apprehension in his voice, “Travelling companions? Where to? And you come here, to me? For what purpose, my good man? The only king I know—and recognize—is the one seated on the throne of Paladia. My King.”

  King Pallan muttered to Jaegar, “He doesn’t seem to recognize who I am.”

  Jaegar looked back at Conrad and said nothing.

  King Pallan placed his right hand to his chest. “My old man—Conrad—the one who sits on the throne of Paladia is before you. This night.”

  Conrad nearly stumbled backward. “Tonight? You—the king?”

  King Pallan smiled at him by degrees. Nodding, he answered, “I am the son and heir of King Pallan the Second. I am Pallan the Third.”

  Conrad, seemingly stunned by this, stammered, “If this is true, why the blazes have you come here to visit me? I am just an old man.”

  King Pallan placed his hand, very softly, on Conrad’s shoulder. And looking him in the eyes, said with gentleness, “You were once a loyal knight of the kingdom.”

  Conrad shot back, “Still am!”

  King Pallan grinned widely. “My father spoke of your loyalty and bravery … when I was a little boy.”

  Conrad seemed to struggle momentarily to remember something. He responded gravely, “Aye, I remember … King Pallan the Second was a good man. Very kind to us soldiers. And we loved him.”