Overlords

by Matthew M Pyke

  Conrad came near them with Percival, whose tail slapped against King Pallan’s leg. Bending over the map as he ate a biscuit, its crumbs dropping onto the map, he noted after a few seconds, “Not right.” He bent back up and took a sip of his tea.

  King Pallan challenged him. “What’s, not right?”

  Conrad finished his sip of tea, its steam rising gently from the porcelain-like cup with figures of hound dogs around it. “The map. Not right.”

  Jaegar, seemingly irritated, leaned to the side to look at Conrad, and asked, “How is it not right; in what manner? Show us.”

  Conrad lifted his spectacles and then squinted hard at the map. Tracing some of the map’s features with his head, he soon shouted, “There; there’s no rise in the land, for one thing. And, the stream you suppose to lead you from the Resh Woodlands, ends in a creek that withers to nothing. Nothing but boulders and thick-rooted trees beyond that; quite impassable with infantry, I should think.”

  Jaegar grumbled quietly.

  King Pallan pressed, “Are you sure?”

  Conrad munched on a generous slice of homemade bread, coated with butter. “Quite sure; been there myself.” He paused to remember. “Oh, when was it …” He looked down at Percival. “When, my good laddie, did we encounter that witch near those rocks?”

  Percival looked up at his master with droopy eyes, wagging his tail.

  “That’s it!” Conrad said abruptly, causing Jaegar and King Pallan to jump a little. “During the yellow moon, at the time of Jarris. Yep, that’s the place. The river ends there. No way out from then on, unless you are prepared for some particularly inhospitable terrain.”

  King Pallan echoed softly, “At the time of Jarris …”

  Conrad snapped back, “Yep; that’s the one. Your map is wrong.”

  Jaegar turned to King Pallan. “Sire, assuming our host is correct—how will we make it out of these woods? The more we tarry here, the more dangerous it shall be. King Ibren is not stupid. It will be short work for him to find us at our present location if we do not move on, and quickly. We need to make it to those grasslands before nightfall.”

  King Pallan sighed, lowering his head. “That’s no short order; to make it there by nightfall. We have an injured man. Moreover, that’s quite a distance from here.”

  “According to your map,” Conrad quipped.

  King Pallan replied, squinting one eye in apparent irritation, “According to our map.”

  Jaegar asked, “How, then, are we to make it out of here? We can’t go back. And the path to the grasslands is not known to us.”

  King Pallan exhaled loudly in a sign of frustration. “I do not know.”

  Conrad declared abruptly, “Percival shall lead us to those grasslands!” He looked down at his dog. “Right, boy?”

  Jaegar put his head in his hand.

  King Pallan had an expression of stupefaction.

  After breakfast, King Pallan and Jaegar met with Jardarah, an exceptionally adept knight, Jaegar’s second in command. Night’s darkness still clung to the trees; the sun had not yet arisen.

  “The company—how do they fare?”

  Jardarah gave a quick bow to King Pallan and Jaegar. “My Lord, the regiment will be ready to move at the first signs of daybreak.”

  King Pallan asked, “How does Thralax fare?”

  Jardarah, of a lighter complexion with dark-blue eyes and reddish-blonde mustache, put his head to the side a bit and said, “Not good, sire. His wounds are grievous and our ability to mend them limited. I fear he may die if we cannot get him to a doctor.”

  King Pallan sighed slowly. “And the fever?”

  Jardarah said firmly, “The fever worsens—he babbles at times. But he is remarkably strong of will. He is fighting, sire.”

  “Stupendous—my only skilled crossbowman. And, he is at death’s door!” King Pallan glared around at the gloomy, slumbering forest; it gave the impression of resisting the onset of day.

  “My Lord—perhaps he will fare better than we think. We can always get—”

  “Get what, Jaegar? Hmm? Another crossbowman? And then what? No … he is not easily replaced.” King Pallan looked around him; he shortly curled his upper lip. “We need to get out of these woods …”

  Jaegar and Jardarah looked at each other with slight puzzlement. They both, however, said in reply, “Yes, My Lord, at once.”

  King Pallan, placing most of his weight on one leg, the other resting somewhat on a small flat section of raised ground, commanded, “Wake the scribes and the rest of the people; at the first sign of day, we move.”

  Jaegar and Jardarah at once replied, “Yes, sire.”

  At that moment, a man came calling to King Pallan, trying to mask his voice, but at the same time relaying a franticness that visibly startled the three men.

  “King Pallan! King Pallan!”

  King Pallan glowered suspiciously at the fast-approaching man. “Who are you? What is it? Silence your voice …”

  The man approached them, quite out of breath, for he had been running, apparently, straight from the castle. “My Lord, sire, forgive my intrusion.” Getting a better hold of his breathing, he then revealed, “I am Dyren, a messenger sent from the castle to you, by Lord Garrand.”

  King Pallan answered, “Speak. For the time, you have spared your life …”

  Dyren, suppressing a look of horror, tried to calm himself. “My Lord—sire—I bring news from the castle.”

  King Pallan very faintly nodded to him. “You have my ear.”

  Dyren appeared to swallow hard, his face turning pale. “You will not like this news, sire.”

  King Pallan prodded, “Proceed. I am listening …”

  Dyren paused. “It was found out that Prince Cassius had orchestrated the whole affair.”

  King Pallan’s expression transitioned from patient expectancy to burning rage. “What?!”

  Dyren’s lips began to tremble; he put his hands out, instinctively, to repel a potential attack by his king. “It is true, it is true, sire. I speak the truth! The attack on the castle, the invasion, was orchestrated behind the scenes by Prince Cassius. That is how Ibren and his men were able to subdue our defences so quickly.”

  King Pallan made a motion to put his hands on Dyren, as if to strangle him where he stood, but he checked his fury in an instant and began to calm down, if only by the smallest degree. “That duplicitous wretch. Traitor! I’ve always suspected that he was desirous of the throne.”

  Dyren stressed, “It is true, sire; the council knows all about it.”

  King Pallan, scowling, asked angrily, “And did they have a part in it? The fall of my kingdom.”

  Dyren shook his head emphatically as his apparent anxiousness grew. “No, sire. No! They played no part in the treachery.”

  King Pallan, revealing his teeth, looked in random directions. He soon placed his penetrating stare back on Dyren, who cowered. “How was this discovered—Cassius’s role in my downfall?”

  Dyren, shaking, remarked after a few moments, “His part in the whole affair is manifest—King Ibren has made him his royal prince. Just slightly beneath him in the kingdom. A Paladian spared, officially.”

  Jaegar interposed, “But that does not mean, necessarily, that he is guilty of betrayal. Just that he is an opportunist. What proof do you have of his actions in the matter?”

  King Pallan vented to Jaegar, “He’s always been an opportunist, my good Jaegar; I should have suspected him sooner.”

  Dyren confirmed with a tremulous voice, “He has admitted to it before all—to the council. That is proof enough.”

  King Pallan walked off, cursing under his breath, at times cleaving the air with his arm in fury. He soon returned to the startled men. “And the treatment of my people? How has this worm behaved thusly?”

  Dyren stammered, “Do you mean King Ibren, sire?”

  King Pallan came closer to Dyren. He gritted his teeth and growled softly. “Yes, Ibren.”

  Dyren
composed himself enough to reveal, “For the time being, he has spared the women and children.”

  “And what of Jaid and Barrow? Has he hurt them?” King Pallan came even nearer to Dyren, who attempted to back up, but Jaegar prevented his retreat.

  “No, sire, no; they live. As far as I know, they are unharmed.”

  King Pallan looked down and away.

  Dyren said, as he shook his folded hands at King Pallan, “Ibren is a foul and detestable man. We are all very afraid. He makes continual threats against us; no one is sure of their safety.”

  Lowering one eyelid, King Pallan commented, “When I have secured an army, I will come and flay that gluttonous pig. Afterwards, I will spread his rotting corpse on the highlands, as dung is strewn over a field. As for the traitorous, two-faced scoundrel Cassius, he shall be, from this moment onward, known in my kingdom as ‘Cassius the Betrayer’. And we all know the fate of betrayers …”

  The twenty-something bowl-cut-haired messenger, after swallowing hard, responded shakily, “Death at the stake … by burning.”

  King Pallan shot back as he lifted Dyren’s chin with his finger, “Aye! Death at the steak … by burning.” He then released his chin and began to walk in circles before them. He soon said as he gazed off at the trees, “There will be no further meetings between us.” He turned his gaze to Dyren. “King Ibren must not know where I am; it is too risky to abide here any longer.”

  Dyren, very frightened, asked, “What shall I tell the council?”

  King Pallan lowered his head a degree. Looking up at his frightened messenger, he said, “Tell them that I yet live; there is hope. Now go. At once.” King Pallan gestured for Jaegar to let him go.

  Dyren made a hasty bow. “Aye, sire! I shall send your message to them straightaway!” Giving both Jaegar and Jardarah anxious glances, he turned and sped for a thicket close by.

  Jaegar came close to King Pallan, who appeared distant. “Sire, we take a risk by leaving.”

  King Pallan swivelled his head to him, swiftly. “What do you mean?”

  “My Lord, by holding our people captive, using them as bait to draw you back to the castle.”

  King Pallan inhaled slowly. “Yes, I have already thought about that.” He gave Jaegar a serious look, one that expressed both frustration and anger. “Let us hope he doesn’t pursue that course …”

  The first signs of light peeked through the trees an hour later. The soldiers had risen from their sleep and were breaking camp. The scribes, along with their families, reemerged from the alcoves in the forest. Soon, the entire expedition group had assembled on the woodland path outside Conrad’s home. The last set of blankets and other provisions that Conrad and Margaret could spare were being sent to the neediest of the group. King Pallan meanwhile looked apprehensive; he appeared eager to leave.

  “Jaegar—have all assembled?”

  Jaegar ran over to King Pallan and made a quick bow. “My Lord, all have assembled. The final sets of provisions are being handed out as we speak. We should be ready to break camp within minutes.”

  King Pallan eyed the trees, the forest, around him. He remarked, “Good; I do not care to stay here any longer.”

  Jaegar replied immediately, “Yes, My Lord. The soldiers are ready.”

  King Pallan ran his hand over his mouth. “Let us hope our guide knows his way out of these woods, can lead us to the Jynip Grasslands.”

  Jaegar offered, “Who is to say our map is wrong?”

  King Pallan after giving a brief look around them, countered, “Who is to say that it is right? That map is quite old … I am not sure it can be fully trusted.”

  “And this Conrad; is he to be trusted?”

  King Pallan scanned Jaegar’s face for a moment. “My father knew of him; that is sufficient.”

  Jaegar swallowed faintly. “Yes, My Lord.”

  King Pallan smiled at him and placed his arm around his shoulder. “Be ready for anything. Ibren made a fool of me once. Never again.”

  Jaegar grinned with satisfaction. “Aye, My Lord; never again.”

  King Pallan shook his shoulder and smiled harder at him.

  The sound of Conrad’s voice cut in. “Laddie, laddie—Maggie and I are nearly finished.”

  King Pallan took his hand from Jaegar’s shoulder and turned. “With provisions?”

  “Aye, laddie, we have given to your people all that we can spare.”

  “What can I do to repay your kindness? Ask it.” King Pallan walked over to Conrad, who was hesitating whether to stay or run back into his house.

  “Aye, ’tis only a little thing, laddie. More than enough to assist my king in his journey. I shall be back in a moment!” Conrad swivelled and stumbled briskly toward his house.

  Jaegar approached his king and said in hushed tone of voice, “I think he is getting his dog.”

  King Pallan made a big, slow nod. “Yes, that is probably it.”

  “He is already dressed in his armour.” Jaegar tilted his head to watch Conrad disappear through the threshold of his dwelling.

  At that same time, Margaret came out and waved to them with a white handkerchief. “Bless you all! May all that is good and wholesome assist you on your journey. Bless you all!”

  There were many waves goodbye from King Pallan’s people; some even teared up. Margaret herself had to wipe away an occasional tear or two.

  Conrad reappeared minutes afterward, carrying his hound Percival. Swaying back and forth from the weight of his armoured suit and the heft of Percival, nearly falling hard into Margaret, he gave her a light kiss on the cheek and stumbled down the stone stairs to the small courtyard in front of his home.

  Jaegar summoned the people. They soon formed a column with civilians at the centre and troops at the head and rear of the company.

  Conrad set Percival down, the hound appearing as drowsy as ever. Taking his place at the head of the regiment, he shortly took out his bugle and blew hard.

  King Pallan had his back turned to him. He winced. “Blast!” He swung around.

  Conrad continued to play his tune, a nerve-rattling rallying cry for leading troops into battle.

  The soldiers at the head of the column looked at King Pallan with confusion. Their king attempted to holler a command to them, but his order was drowned out by Conrad’s bugle playing. The soldiers shrugged to him, as they did not understand his order.

  King Pallan, scowling, began to calm down as Conrad suddenly ceased playing.

  Jardarah came up to his rattled king and his commander and complained, “A dog?!”

  Conrad ceremoniously returned his bugle to the purple sack he had around his shoulder. He then snapped hard to attention.

  Jardarah pressed, “A dog is going to lead the company—sirs?”

  King Pallan answered him between his teeth, “Yes, a dog is going to lead the company.” He walked toward Conrad and Percival.

  Jardarah turned to Jaegar with an expression of astonishment. Jaegar shrugged and said, “Don’t ask.” He joined King Pallan at the head of the troop.

  Jardarah fell in line, quickly, near the head of the column, one row back from three particularly large soldiers known only as the Forward Vanguard.

  With one final farewell, Conrad gave an order to Percival to head off. Margaret continued to wave at them all with her handkerchief. Some of the women with small children held them in their arms so their little ones could watch Margaret waving them off. King Pallan raised his hand solemnly to Margaret and nodded to her. He then turned and ran for the column that was marching away.

  Rays of flaming-gold sunlight started streaking through the trees as the expeditionaries marched farther away from Conrad and Margaret’s rustic stone domicile. Breaks in the dense forest canopy revealed a radiant blue sky high above. Perfect weather for a long journey, it seemed. Instead of the damp coolness that had entrenched itself for many days, the air felt drier than normal—unusually warm and comforting. Songbirds sang their tunes high in the trees and in ever
y bush, it seemed, and every kind of animal was about, foraging for food.

  Percival’s trusty hound snuffed the ground intermittently, changing course with the least warning, heading, one hoped, to the Jynip Grasslands. At times, the dog would stop and simply gaze at birds flitting between bushes. At other intervals, the dog would halt to admire, it seemed, the fragrance or beauty of a flower, or the magnificence of the streaking sunlight penetrating the forest. The dog appeared to have an affinity for moths and other slow-flying winged insects; the hound would try to catch them in its mouth. Buzzing bees and teratytes (a small, brightly coloured insect with double wings) seemed of particular interest to the canine, much to the annoyance of King Pallan and Jaegar. The children (of which there were thirty), however, found great amusement in the dog, who took all the newly acquired attention in evident stride.

  The hours crept past. After stopping to rest for nearly an hour, the group headed down a section of tall trees of uncommon height and circumference. Ferns, bushes, vines, flowers, plants of innumerable kind grew everywhere beneath the immense, silent, wooden sentinels (garent trees appearing much like redwoods).

  Percival took, unexpectedly, a course following a stream down a narrow gorge that meandered through low hills. Rugged, exposed rock lined the sides of the gorge, and vibrant grasses draped over the edges of the ravine. After the group followed the stream for several minutes, somewhat down a straight section of the gully, a rock bridge stretched across the stream at a dizzying height.

  Jaegar pointed to the bridge. “Look, sire.”

  King Pallan stopped for a moment to squint at the rock passage. “Hmm … looks naturally formed.”

  Jaegar strained hard to analyse some of its features. “I’m not sure, sire; we should get a better look. These are unfamiliar woods. There could be others here.”

  King Pallan surveyed the stone bridge a few more seconds. “Yes, agreed. There could be another kingdom here unbeknownst to us, perhaps not elden (Paladian for humanoid).

  Jaegar looked at the company and then back at the bridge. “Yes, My Lord; we do not know what or who could be here. If the bridge is sturdy, we might pass over it. The dog seems to be leading us to it …”