#
Thankfully, included in the new ranks of recruits they had received over the past couple of weeks were some skilled archers. Dane now had five men that he felt comfortable relying on, and they were even now moving into positions around the village. The plan was simple; with the layout of Oakwood, and the lack of defenses, simple was all that needed. They had surrounded the town with their superior numbers, and were slowly closing the noose. Once the archers were in place the attack would begin. The arrows flying would signal the rest to close in. The orders issued were to disarm and capture as many as possible, but only if it did not put lives at risk. They would give the soldiers a chance to surrender, and they would be allowed to live. If any resisted, they were to be killed.
Dane once again felt the churning in his gut at the thought of killing men in the uniform he used to respect, but forced those feelings down. A chance would be offered; if they did not take, it then it was on their heads. Some of these men may not have taken part in the atrocities that were being committed, but they all had to be aware by now. Sides had been chosen. The time for hesitation had passed.
The town had been sectioned off in a four block grid, with each of his men being assigned a block as their area of responsibility. Unless they received orders to the contrary, they were to keep to their area. Ten men were committed to enter each section with one archer and five more men staying outside the town and watching for runners. The fifth archer was assigned to the block encompassing the inn since that was where the greater concentration of soldiers were. Dane would enter that section with the ten men already positioned there, and try to end this as quick as possible. Aiden was left to watch over the battle and send out messengers with new orders if anything went wrong. A decision the man had vehemently protested, stating that Dane should command and let his Second enter the fighting. A General was supposed to lead, not run around swinging a sword.
This was something that Dane knew well, but he felt that he needed to be at the front. While it tore at him to attack men in the uniform, it offended him even more that these men would dare to wear that same uniform and commit the acts they were responsible for. He needed to be at the forefront.
A quiet call brought his thoughts back into focus just in time to see the two archers with them draw back on their bows. He could see the rest of the men tensing right along with him, and when the arrows were in flight they were running. The confusion that erupted as the soldiers near them watched two of their number crumple to the ground sprouting an arrow was just what they needed. Running full out, Dane struck the first man he reached in the back of the head with his cudgel without the man ever even knowing Dane was there. The other two men that were at the front of the charge with him had similar luck, catching their first opponents completely off guard.
The next man reached had already seen the onrushing men, and was yelling out a warning even as he drew his sword and hefted his shield. Dane slowed, feinted left, and whipped the truncheon in his right hand around trying to catch the man in the side. The soldier managed to get his shield around, and counter with a straight thrust toward Dane's middle. The maneuver worked in Dane's favor, though since it left the soldier fully exposed to the man that had been right behind Dane. The Guardsman was fast, almost managing to pull back enough to dodge the unexpected blow. Almost.
Dane stepped over the soldier being careful not to step in the newly forming puddle of blood gushing from the nearly severed neck. By the time he got to the inn there were already three of his men inside, and every Guardsmen in sight on the outside were either dead, unconscious, or subdued. There was a dead Captain lying in the middle of the common room, and two of the rebels were forcing another man to his knees back near the bar. More men entered behind him, and the rest of the inn was cleared very quickly. Feeling he was no longer needed, Dane went back outside to see if he was required elsewhere.
Aiden was walking toward him with a big grin.
"Village is secure. Twenty enemy combatants either dead or in custody. No casualties," Aiden said. The grin widened even further after he finished the last sentence.
"None?"
"Not one. We caught them so badly by surprise, it was almost over before we started. Not a single scratch on any of our boys." Aiden clapped Dane on the shoulder and then moved off to where their men were staging prisoners, barking orders all the way.
Dane took a slow look around the village feeling the tension begin to drain away. Here and there some of the people that had stayed began to peek out from doorways or windows. His men beckoned them out, smiles on every face. Taking a deep breath, Dane allowed himself to relax for a moment. A small victory to be sure, but pulled off without a mark on any of them. He would allow himself to have hope that this was a good sign.
CHAPTER TWELVE
A Mad King
The silence in the room was complete as Xavier processed what the Chancellor had just said. Erland Penner dared not make a sound, and was seriously contemplating whether he could sneak out of the room before Xavier turned back around from staring out the window.
"They sent us a warning... as a courtesy..." Xavier's voice, barely as loud as a whisper, was still chilling.
Erland cleared his throat twice before he could find his voice.
"It appears so, Your Majesty. Perhaps they do not realize the severity of the threat... at this time."
Xavier still had not turned, but the coronet he had pulled from his head was being twisted out of shape (the third this month) in the King's angry hands. With an incoherent shout, Xavier finally reared back and threw the golden circlet through the window in front of him. Glass could be heard shattering even further as it struck the ground out in the courtyard. Erland's King turned such a look of rage on him that he could not help flinching back. That was something that normally amused his pernicious monarch, but the man appeared to be too consumed by anger to even notice this time.
Xavier began to pace.
"Does the fool think that his... that those... soft, weak cowards filling the ranks of his army can stand against a foe that nearly succeeded in invading Rennick? Does he believe that the Orcs will not grind their bones under heel as they march right over them?" Xavier was breathing heavy and turning red in the face as he ranted. "He cannot possibly fathom the strength of this enemy. They will be slaughtered. They wi-"
"Perhaps, Your Majesty, Glendon believes that we will take care of the enemy before they can reach his kingdom in force." Erland knew interrupting Xavier was chancy, but if he did not stop him, the King would rave on for hours.
Xavier halted in his pacing and stared at the floor.
"Your right. The cowards expect us to protect them, to hold the evil at bay..." Xavier's heavy breathing was the only sound for a moment. "Or... perhaps he wants us to ask for their help? He wants us to invite him into our lands, let us throw our forces at the enemy while he insinuates his own men into position at our backs."
"Your Majesty?" Erland was becoming confused (was this not their own plan), and then began to panic as the King got a wild gleam in his eyes and forcefully stepped forward to within inches of Erland. The king began to rapidly, but lightly tap Erland on the chest with his right hand while bunching Erland's robes in the other. The smell of stale wine wafted over the Chancellor as the King continued, nearly panting in his delirium.
"Do you not see it, Erland? While we are engaged, they will strike. We will be caught between them, crushed. Roderic thinks we are fools. He will use this as an excuse to finally take Rennick for his own." Xavier whirled away, letting out a harsh laugh and swiping black, shoulder-length hair out of his face. He carried that motion into joining his other hand as it waved around wildly. "I will show him who is the fool. Fetch Thrask! We have some planning to do."
"Ahem, that was my other piece of news, Your Majesty. It seems Lord Commander Thrask has gone missing. No one can find him, nor knows where he might have gone." Erland held his breath as the King froze. "He's been missing for two days.
<
br /> "So... his treasonous nature finally comes to light." Xavier turned back to Erland, calm and collected as if the last few minute's craziness had never happened. "Relax, Erland. I have known that Tobias Thrask was a traitor for some time. Likely one of Roderic's lapdogs. No matter. Fetch his second in command and return with him. We have much to discuss."
Erland fled the room as fast as he could. He had wanted to believe that the King was just zealous about protecting his kingdom, rather than losing his mind as the ever-growing number of whispers suggested, but now he wondered if Thrask had the right idea.
#
Xavier watched his Chancellor scuttle through the doorway and into the hall with some amusement. The obsequious little man had his uses, but sometimes it was hard to take him seriously. Shaking that thought off, he turned back to the window and watched the courtyard while he let his mind run over what the Chancellor had just told him. He was momentarily distracted by a servant pretending to trim some hedges as he cast furtive looks up at Xavier. The man would look around at the other windows, but he always came back to this one at some point. Another of Roderic's spies, no doubt. Carefully marking the man's features, he made a mental note to have the man sent to Fiona for questioning.
If anyone could break a man trained in spy-craft, it was Fiona Warrith. The witch had proven successful many times, and seemed to enjoy making her prisoners suffer. Needing something to occupy his time until Erland returned, he made his way to the sideboard to pour himself a drink. For now he would concentrate on this new development, dismissing thoughts of the spy until later.
It was now obvious that Thrask had been in league with Glendon from the beginning. Perhaps he and the Traitor had even hatched their plans together under this very roof, the one a beneficent Xavier offered as shelter to them. It was already well known that Meric Vettor was devious enough to subvert some of the most loyal soldiers in Xavier's Guard. There was no telling how deep the corruption went. Thrask should have been one of the first soldiers purged when Xavier took over, but he had wormed his way into Xavier's trust. Said all of the right words; did all of the right things. They would all regret their actions.
As soon as Erland and the new military Commander got back, Xavier would set his forces on this little insurrection that he had been hearing about. Now he knew why talk of rebellion persisted; Thrask must have been assisting them in secret, and undermining Xavier's own authority over the peasant rabble. There would have to be another purge of men loyal to the former Lord Commander, and then they would crush this little uprising. While some small part of his forces were occupied with that, he would have his new Lord Commander begin gathering forces. The Orcs would be left alone, allowing them to march unimpeded to Glendon's border and over it. With the two forces occupied with each other in the north, Rennick's own army would cross the Gannett River to the south and march on Dallena, burning everything in their path. They would take the capitol city, and then Xavier would give Roderic's wife and children to Fiona. It would not take long for that weak excuse for a King to hand over whatever powerful artifact the Orcs were after, and then he would use it to subdue the rest of Glendon and the Orcs. From there he would turn his eyes north to the lands beyond the mountain and any other treasures the Orcs were hiding.
He would bring all of these lands under his control. No one would be able to stand in his way.
#
Fiona Warrith shook her head slightly in amazement as Xavier walked out of her quarters. The man was dancing perilously close to the edge, ready to take the final plunge. The hapless servant he had delivered was unconscious, thankfully. While she was trying to decide what to do with unfortunate fool on her table, a soft voice speaking from the darkness beyond the doorway into her bedchamber caused her to start.
"Perhaps you have been a bit too successful with your witchcraft. His mania was supposed to be a bit more of a slow boil."
Despite the fact that she always kept her workshop well lit, even at night, her gaze could not penetrate the shadows obscuring the speaker. She did, however, know better than to step any closer, or use her Art to investigate. Most of the darker spells and other workings she had knowledge of came from ones such as he. She had never been allowed to see their faces either. Fiona's mother had warned her about the dark Arts when she found out what her daughter had been doing deep in the night, hidden away in the bowels of the old fort ruins near their village. That crotchety old crone had been the recipient of her first experiment. Her new Master had even let a little pride creep into his voice when it was over and a pile of ashes and bone were all that was left.
"Apparently he was more unbalanced to begin with than I thought. Does it really matter, though? In the end, you will still get what you want... instability."
"Perhaps," the voice hissed. "Too soon, though, and someone might have time to step in and reinstate order. By now, the people must be craving some order. They would follow anyone that gave them a sign of having things under control."
"I will see what I can do to... curtail his dreams of conquest. In the mean time, were you able to discover anything about the one responsible for destroying my Tracker. When last we spoke, you were going to look into it." Fiona made sure to keep any demand out of her voice.
"We have more important matters to attend to than such trifles."
It took quite a bit of willpower to reign in the scoffing laugh that wanted to escape. He had obviously not been able to discover any more than she had. There was no doubt that a skilled practitioner of the arcane had found and destroyed the owl she had been using as a Tracker. It had been sent to follow the party from Glendon those few months ago, but whoever discovered the magical spy had disappeared and left no trace. Fiona believed that her new Masters were being a little too careless in ignoring the incident. If there was one unknown adept, there could be more. Perhaps her teachers had other enemies that were trying to stop them. She assumed this new magic user was from Glendon, and may even be a member of the party she had been following. Could Glendon have their own mysterious benefactor teaching them the Art in order to thwart her shadowy Masters? It was a something that had obviously never occurred to anyone. Xavier certainly would never believe his enemy had their own magic to wield, and she was not going to be the one to enlighten him. As long as the man thought she was his "secret weapon" then, for the most part, she had free reign to do as she pleased.
"Keep your focus on the task we have set you, Fiona. You will be rewarded accordingly." The low, sibilant voice faded into nothing, and she knew he was gone.
Even though she had never seen them, she was certain that her Masters were in fact Orc shaman. Who else was able to wield such powers and would benefit so much from the chaos she was trying to sew. They were not as clever as they thought they were. The few shamans she had seen during the war were not skilled enough to have shown her the things she now knew, but she doubted the Orcs would send their best to the front lines, anyway. When first introduced to them, she had been in complete awe. The things they taught opened a whole new world to her, and she craved more. Fiona had thought of them as all knowing, powerful beings. Almost God-like. That awe had faded a bit, since the more she had seen and heard, the less all knowing they seemed. If they were so skilled and knowledgeable, then they should have had no trouble finding the unknown adept. They also could have easily slipped the concoction that was affecting the King into his drink, or even used other methods of guiding his thoughts.
In the end, she did not care as long as they continued to teach her. Her fledgling abilities in the Art had grown in leaps and bounds once they had begun instructing her, and she knew that eventually there would be nothing else they could teach her. When that day came, she would take control of her own destiny and Heaven help any that stood in her way... even if it were her so called Masters.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
A Close One
Meric worked the arrow out of the smoldering troll carcass while still keeping his eyes on his surroundings. They had
been at it for several hours, and from what he could tell, were almost a third of the way across the city.
The sounds echoing through the streets and down the alleys of Roamet were still a mix of victorious or desperate shouts, angry or pained screeches, and occasional moments of eerie silence. All in all, it was creepy. Meric scanned the city in front of him, looking for his next high vantage point, even as he searched out any of his companions. He had mostly stuck with Yelic's squad, since they were assigned the grid line that ran to the right of the main thoroughfare, all the way to the city center. With plenty buildings of decent height lining the roadway, he saw no reason to roam. Brody's team had the next grid-line over, so he occasionally caught a glimpse of their group as they moved further into the buildings. Malina had the other side of the road, and was keeping even with them for the most part. He could not see her at the moment, but knew she was not far.
Once he retrieved his arrow, he straightened out of his crouch and moved to the building ahead. This one was taller than any of the perches he had used so far, reaching three stories high with plenty of open space around it. A brief thought of waiting on his adopted squad was brushed aside since it looked like the structure would be easy to scale from the outside. Satisfied with his choice he started to circle it when he heard a grunt followed by claws scrabbling on the paved path ahead of him. A quick dance backward for three long strides revealed the troll in the main roadway. He nocked the shaft he had pulled practically on reflex when he heard the noise. Forcing himself to remain calm, he steadied his breathing, drew and let fly almost entirely in one smooth motion. Before the fletching had finished brushing the top of his left hand, he let a satisfied smile start to form. He knew beyond doubt that the shaft would fly true, and the troll would be finished.
An Adept's Duty: The Scepter of Maris: Book Two Page 10
