The Eight Walls of Rogar: An Epic Fantasy Adventure Series! (The Lost Kingdoms of Laotswend Trilogy--Book One)

by Woodward, William

  As the meeting drew to a close, they stood and, following the king’s lead, saluted Gaven and Andaris. Andaris felt his face redden as he returned the salute. The King smiled at his discomfort, nodded to Trilla, and dismissed them.

  Andaris couldn’t remember a time when he’d been treated with such respect. He just hoped he didn’t disappointment them. Everything hinged on Marla. She had made it very clear what she thought of, as she put it, “their little war.” He would just have to make her understand. Everything depended upon it.

  The small troop left within the hour, galloping hard out the east gate, up the road and into the mountains—humankind’s last hope, taking with them the faith of the realm. They were armed with picks as well as swords, for the lake, though spring fed, sometimes froze over.

  On the way there, Andaris rehearsed what he would say to Marla, the burden of responsibility sitting like lead in his stomach. This was no game. All of their lives were in his hands.

  By the time they arrived, the mid-afternoon sun shone murkily through a gauze thin layer of clouds. They closed their eyes and turned their faces skyward, soaking up the rays as if it were the first day of summer.

  The lake, as King Laris had indicated, was little more than a pond. Although it did prove true to its name in one respect—the circle of trees gracing its modest shores were in fact pines.

  In spite of the trials to come, spirits were high, for to them, compared to the unnatural pall hanging over the castle, this was paradise. Indeed, under different circumstances, Andaris thought it would be a nice spot to spend an afternoon, to curl up with a good book and eat a picnic lunch.

  Two of the Sokerrans took out their picks and began chipping away at the ice, which fortunately turned out to be only a couple of inches thick. They broke through with a crunch and a splash and, in no time, had a hole large enough to accommodate your everyday average mermaid.

  Andaris knelt and, following a series of dramatic inhalations said, “Well, here goes nothing,” and plunged in his head. The water was shockingly cold. Marla, he thought, struggling to focus. It’s me. Andaris. I need you. Come as quickly as you can. When he jerked his head back out, Prince Palden handed him a towel. Andaris took the towel and began drying his hair. “Thank you,” he said.

  “So,” the prince asked, still sounding skeptical, “how long do we wait?”

  “I…I don’t know,” Andaris replied with a shiver.

  Just then the water rippled and Marla’s torso, in all its naked grandeur, emerged. The men stared with wide eyes and open mouths.

  “What is wrong?” she asked, glaring fiercely at the prince and his men. “Are these Sokerrans bothering you?”

  “She makes it sound like an insult,” whispered the prince.

  “No,” Andaris assured her, holding up his hand. “These are my friends.”

  Marla’s expression softened, becoming bemused. “Then what is happening?” she asked.

  Andaris took his time with the explanation, carefully detailing everything that had occurred since they’d last seen each other.

  “I would hate to involve the waterways in a war,” she said after he’d finished.

  Marla looked like a girl of about sixteen, but Andaris knew it would be foolish, and possibly even dangerous, to view her as such. He could see the truth in her eyes, the depth of her experience staring across the long centuries at him.

  “I understand your situation,” she went on. “I just do not think I can take the risk. You see, Andaris, we have a code that has lasted for many millennia. We exist in peace because those who would be jealous of it do not know of it.”

  “I understand your situation, as well,” Andaris said. “And I hate to put you in this position, I really do, but we’re…desperate. I don’t exaggerate when I say that you are Rogar’s last hope.” He pointed to Prince Palden and his men. “You see these people?” he asked. “These people are from a peaceful society. They fight only to defend that peace. In helping them defend their peace, you help preserve your own. If you turn your back on them, Rogar will surely fall, and I, along with countless others, will die. The Lost One won’t stop until he has destroyed everything—above and below.”

  Marla crinkled her nose at the thought. The soldiers stared at her with open desire, unable to control, even in the midst of such calamitous discussion, their lustful musings.

  No wonder mermaids have such a notorious reputation, Andaris thought. They are like sirens calling from a rocky shore. Men steer towards them with their hearts full of longing, hopelessly compelled.

  “Okay,” she said at last, “but on one condition. I will talk to my uncle if, and only if, you agree to come live with me, Andaris.”

  Andaris was taken completely aback. “To live?” he echoed, staring into her unblinking eyes, into those deep azure eyes. A man could get lost in those eyes, he thought. “But why?” he asked.

  “I like you, Andaris. You make me laugh. Is that not enough? Do you not like me?”

  “Well, yes…but…what about my family? I had hoped to find my way back home someday. And what of my friends? Would I be allowed to visit them?”

  Marla smiled sweetly at him. “Well, of course, silly. What do I look like, an ogre?”

  The men around him chuckled. Obviously, they didn’t think so.

  “And I would not dream of keeping you from your family. If, after one year, you do not wish to stay with me, you will be free to go. Think of it, Andaris. What I offer is a great and rare gift. So long as you are with me, you will never grow old and…you will always be happy.”

  She’s so beautiful, he thought, again becoming lost in her eyes. So beautiful, so beautiful…. It was cold out, and his hair was still damp. Even so, he began to sweat. “Must I decide now?” he asked.

  “You may do whatever you wish, Andaris. You have free will. You may decide whenever you choose. Yet…were you not in a hurry? Was I incorrect?”

  “All right!” he finally blurted. “I agree. Whatever you say. I’ll do it. To save Rogar and my friends, I will do it.” But deep down inside he knew it was more than that. The truth was, he suddenly felt desperate to please her, like he would burn up inside if he didn’t.

  Marla clapped her hands together and blew him a kiss. “How wonderful and brave you are, my knight, my savior, to speak such binding words to a mermaid.”

  Her praise filled him with instant joy. He felt so alive, almost like after drinking the honey water, every hair on his body standing straight, so strong and confident, like he could do anything. Kings on the battlefield after a great victory didn’t feel this good. He was stronger, faster, and smarter than anyone who had ever lived. He was invincible!

  But then, like a gnat buzzing in his ear, a little voice whispered, beware. He was quick to swat it away. He could not be bothered by such things, not at a time like this—could not allow paranoia to rule the day, not when he felt so utterly…splendid. Some people got to feel this way all the time. For him, it was so rare, such a relief from the ravages of insecurity, and thus doubly as sweet, that he was compelled to hang on with both hands and never let go.

  “Oh, and do not worry about my uncle,” she said, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. “I can usually find a way to get what I want.”

  Andaris gulped, certain that truer words had never been spoken. Marla winked at him, then slipped beneath the surface, leaving only a few ripples behind to suggest that she’d ever been.

  On the way back to the castle, Andaris couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d agreed to. As the euphoria began to wear off, the voice that had whispered, beware, now grew more insistent. Binding words. A whole year underwater because she likes you? More like a lifetime. A hundred lifetimes!

  Marla won’t let any harm come to me, he argued. And twelve months with a water goddess is certainly better than being slaughtered by the shapelings.

  A watery tomb for you and me, tittered the voice, a special grave wait and see.

  ***

  Ki
ng Laris, of course, was overjoyed to hear the good news. Andaris had made the prince and his men swear not to tell anyone about his promise, at least for the time being. Gaven and Trilla should hear it from him, but only when and if the shapelings are destroyed. No sense in worrying them needlessly.

  Five thousand heavy horse led by the prince would march into the lake, leaving the remaining troops to guard the wall. There was much saluting from one group to next as they departed.

  “May fortune smile on you!” the king shouted.

  “And on you!” replied the prince.

  The Sokerrans galloped out the gate and up the east road, heads held high, shoulders back. Long days of battle had taken its toll. Their armor no longer gleamed as it once did, and their colors were no longer so bright. Nonetheless, they were a grand sight to behold, and still a force to be reckoned with—no doubt about that.

  Ride, he thought. May Rodan grace your steps and grant you speed! The soldiers left to guard the wall rallied around the king, vowing to hold on until Prince Palden and his men returned, knowing that as long as they stood, Rogar stood.

  ***

  Andaris felt a deep sense of wonder rise within him as he watched Marla rise from the center of the pond—the water cascading down her nubile body, the sunlight sparkling off her golden hair. He’d witnessed it twice before, and each time it was like a miracle to him.

  Marla assured the Sokerrans that, so long as they stayed in close contact with her, they would have no trouble breathing and would feel none of the water’s cold. No one seemed to have a problem with that. The closer to her they could get, the better. She went on to explain how the last man in line would be as safe as the first. Provided, that is, the horses remained in an unbroken chain. Andaris noted with considerable amusement that she didn’t kiss a single mouth.

  The horses shook their heads and stamped their feet, perhaps reacting to the restless mood of their masters. Marla sang to them in a high, melodic voice, in a language made for music, every syllable more soothing than the last, flowing off her tongue in smooth, rounded tones. The horses became still as statues—eyes glassy, heads hanging—then one by one followed her into the water.

  Andaris had never seen anything quite so odd as five thousand mounted soldiers methodically walking their horses into a lake. He would like to have seen them swimming in a great long line through the water, but knew his place was back at the castle with his friends. After shouting, “Farewell!” he spurred Del forward, leaned low, and galloped west.

  By the time Andaris came clattering into the courtyard, his heart was beating nearly as fast as Del’s. He could hear the battle raging above—the now familiar booming of cannon and clashing of swords. He reined in, dismounted before coming to a complete stop, and ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time. When he reached the top of the wall, he drew his sword and wedged himself between Gaven and an especially tall Sokerran with a bushy beard and golden braids.

  “What did I miss?” he asked.

  “Nothing good!” Gaven yelled. “They had better show soon. Things are getting out of hand!”

  As if in demonstration, a round-bodied creature with pointy ears and a fluted nose leapt over the battlements and landed directly in front of them. To Andaris, it resembled a giant beetle, complete with glistening black armor and flicking antennae.

  Gaven spun and, with a backward thrust, planted his sword into the middle of its stomach.

  Thick yellow blood sprayed across the front of Andaris’ pant legs. “They’ll be here!” he yelled. “We just have to hold on!”

  Forbidden Passage

  Prince Palden found himself in awe of the vast aquatic world, the landscape of which was as beautiful as it was unsettling. Mountains rose to his left and to his right, steep slopes covered by a forest of incandescent coral, a forest which changed color from greenish blue to bluish green as it swayed in the shifting current.

  Six crystalline towers rose from the valley floor—tapering spires with oval openings joined by flowing strands of gossamer thin lattice. Translucent domes crowded the base of these towers, each glowing with a soft golden light. Seeming oblivious to the splendor surrounding them, mermen and women swam in and out of the oval openings, going about their business in a controlled, orderly fashion, lending the scene, despite its idyllic appearance, a militaristic feel.

  The prince had always assumed his people were the preeminent artisans of their time. Now he saw how wrong he was. This city, with or without its exotic locale, was far more impressive than anything even Sokerra’s best and brightest could create.

  Marla talked and pointed as they swam, playing the part of tour guide with alacrity. The horses moved through the water with choreographed precision, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, as if they believed they still had solid ground beneath their hooves.

  The prince had to make a conscious effort not to stare at Marla’s cute little tail as it flipped seductively to and fro, propelling her forward with smooth, steady strokes. Her allure was undeniable, enough to light a fire in the loins of a man three times his age. At the very least, regardless of how stiff of joint or stooped of shoulder, she would elicit a vague stirring, a wistful sparkle in the eyes and, provided it had been a life well lived, a regretful grin full of randy memory.

  The prince averted his eyes…again. He was a married man now. Certain things were no longer appropriate. Drooling over buxom young mermaids, no matter how fetching, was no doubt one of them.

  We are nearly there, she thought cheerfully. It is right over…oh dear. My Uncle. An instant later, the prince saw them—three mermen with long staffs blocking their path. The fellow in the middle had angry, cobalt blue eyes set within coppery skin, framed by long flowing hair the color and texture of seaweed. Marla held up her hand and came to a halt. The horses stopped with her, calmly treading water, legs moving in perfect unison.

  I thought you had his approval, the prince said in the telepathic equivalent of a whisper.

  Marla shrugged her shoulders at him…and then looked sheepishly back at her uncle.

  Marla! What is the meaning of this? he demanded.

  The merman’s human half was heavily muscled. The most powerful part of him, however, was his tail. Nearly twice the size of Marla’s, it was covered with crimson scales, similar in shape and thickness to dragon scales, darkening to the color of blood towards their serrated points. The staff he held in his right hand was made of glass—a shimmering rod full of swirling blue smoke and what looked, for all the world, like fireflies, the sort the prince often saw during his mid-summer walks in the palace gardens, the sort he and his younger brother used to capture and put in jars when they were children.

  In those days, there were few things as wonderful or as sought after as a firefly lantern. He and his brother used to compete to see who could catch the most, running through the gardens with lanterns held high, repeating the end of one of their favorite nursery rhymes.

  Communicating with Marla telepathically seemed to have opened a doorway to the prince’s past, making his memories more vivid. Despite the direness of their current situation, the words to the rhyme ran through his head. It was so tangible…the smell of honeysuckle on the vine…the sound of crickets and bullfrogs…the rush of excitement in young limbs. Almost, he could believe he was back in the gardens with his brother….

  Tiny stars dancing through the night,

  Winking with a playful light.

  Which way they will go no one can say,

  But vanish they must ere the break of day.

  You have brought Landwellers to our realm! her uncle shouted into their minds, jarring the prince back to the present. And by doing so have broken our most sacred law!

  But I had to! she explained. Their people are suffering. They are going to die. There is a war and the evil army is winning.

  Her uncle slashed his staff through the water, still only addressing Marla, as though he found the Sokerrans unworthy of his direct attention. We do
not involve ourselves in the doings of Landwellers, no matter how desperate their plight. His expression contorted. You forget, I have had encounters with them before. And each time, I have come to regret it. They are not to be trusted.

  I assure you, Palden began.

  Silence, Landdweller! I was not speaking to you!

  The prince held his head in his hands, recoiling from the force of the Merman’s thoughts.

  Uncle, no! I—

  Do not argue with me! he snapped. They will have to go back and their memories will have to be purged. You are fortunate I do not order their deaths. In fact, I am still not certain that I should not. It is within my power, you know. No one on the council would oppose me.

  The soldier beside Palden, a man in his mid thirties with premature gray hair and shoulders nearly as broad as the merman’s, reached for his blade. The prince grabbed his wrist and shoved his sword back into its sheath. Fool! If ever there were a time for cool heads it is now. If we drown down here, all those brave men atop that wall will die, along with thousands upon thousands of others.

  Marla’s uncle peered at the prince with a thoughtful expression, thoughtful and perhaps even a bit surprised.

  Uncle, please…I was just trying to help. Do not punish them for my mistake. They are good men fighting for peace. They have not made war themselves. They desire passage only to save their people. I would have taken them the long way around, but there are so many sharks about. It is dangerous to venture too far from Tolara this time of year. I could not obscure the city from them all, not at this distance. I would have erased their memories before they resurfaced. You must believe me. I would have done nothing to endanger the anonymity of our people.