The Neuyokkasinian Arc of Empire Series: Books 1-3 Box Set High, Epic Fantasy on a Grand Dragon Scale! Kindle Edition

by C. Craig Coleman

  In the council chamber, Memlatec paced, waiting yet again. Sunlight shone down on the council table from the one window. Memlatec ran his finger across the table, leaving a dark streak through the dust.

  “It’s been quite a while since the prince conferred with the nobles.”

  The unresponsive chatra stood near the door. A noise caught his attention, and he snapped his finger for a guard. “Close those draperies! I told the captain to be sure and draw the draperies.”

  His frown followed the guard as he rushed to the window. A placating smile replaced the chatra’s frown looking back at Memlatec.

  “The light pains Prince Henri’s eyes.”

  “Yes, you’ve mentioned that before.”

  The prince arrived on a litter carried by eight guards, who placed it at the head of the council table. Prince Henri opened the litter curtains but remained on the litter.

  “Greetings to Memlatec, High Court Wizard of Neuyokkasin. It’s good of you to visit us in our convalescence.”

  Memlatec bowed. “Greetings to you, Prince Henri. I thank you for meeting me this morning. I hope your health is much better after a good night’s rest. Even in her poor health, she expressed concern for her cousin.”

  “How is Queen Eleatsubetsvyertsin?”

  “The queen is recovering well, thank you for asking.”

  “I’m not much improved myself.” The prince made a feeble cough. “I must return to my bed shortly. What brings you to Hoya?”

  “Might we dismiss the guards?” Memlatec stepped closer to the head of the table. “I have some confidential news concerning the queen’s proposals for defense alterations here at Hoya.”

  The wraith perked up.

  “Changes to the fortifications, did you say? Chatra, dismiss the guards at once and leave with them.” The wraith turned again to Memlatec, who stepped still closer to the litter. “What sort of changes?”

  Memlatec pulled an official-looking scroll from his sleeve and unrolled it on the table. His eyes squinted, struggling to read. The wraith leered, trying to see the plan, but Memlatec let it slip, and it rolled up. The wraith stepped from the litter; his hand extended to hold one end of the document.

  “I don’t see so well these days,” Memlatec said, stepping imperceptibly to the hall’s east side. “Can you see, Highness?”

  The wraith began unrolling the scroll. The wizard’s heart pounded as he watched the vile creature obsessing over the plan. He must not notice my movements, Memlatec thought. “I need some light to read this.”

  Memlatec turned and threw back the long heavy curtains.

  “Don’t open those draperies!” the wraith screamed. His image quivered, dissolving to transparency, looking at Memlatec. The strong midmorning sunlight over the Talok Mountains streamed into the council chamber onto the table and wraith.

  “Aughhh…!”

  The chatra and guards rushed into the room, hearing the wraith’s death moan. It shriveled and disappeared like fog evaporating in the morning sunlight. Panicked, the guards fled the room, rushing past the chatra, his face frozen in a gasp as he stared at the empty litter.

  “So much for your protector,” Memlatec said. He took the moment of maximum chaos to walk out of the Hoyahof. Without the wraith’s power, all the Dark Lord’s minions would realize they were behind enemy lines with no support or hopes for reinforcements. The orc guards would hold their posts for the moment, but their confidence would waver as the news spread.

  The great wizard’s smile puzzled many citizens who saw him leaving the city.

  *

  When his attendants saw the trembling chatra, sweat streaming down his double chins, packing and flitting about the palace, panic spread among the orcs. Soon they were all collecting this and that for flight.

  “The Dark Lord will destroy me if I desert my post and abandon the citadel to the Neuyokkasinians again,” the chatra said to a contemptuous ogre standing by as he packed. He handed his few valuables to the sneering ogre commander, who hurled them in the chest, one atop another. The chatra, fretting, didn’t notice the breakage and handed more valuables to the aide.

  “I can hold the Hoyahof without the wraith so long as the orc guards support me. They do still support me, don’t they?”

  The chatra looked up at the ogre. The ogre slammed the top down on the chest. His sneer faded as he looked to the door. Both heard the chaos outside the chatra’s suite. The ogre dropped a gold goblet that clanged on the floor as he walked out.

  “How dare you? Where are you going? I’ve not dismissed you.” The ogre didn’t even look back.

  After a sleepless night, the chatra’s orc aide burst into his bedroom. The chatra snatched up the bed linens around him at the sudden intrusion.

  “General Sekkarian and his army, they’s set up just outside the city walls. When the news come the orcs, they freaked. Most done snuck off before first light.”

  The chatra jumped from his bed only to see his treasure chest missing. “Summon the commander.”

  “The commander were the first to run off.”

  The servant turned and fled, not waiting for more orders. The chatra sank back on the bed. During the day, a few at a time, the remaining orcs slipped away from the palace, into the city crowd, and fled north. By the next morning, only a handful of orcs remained with the chatra. The enemy had effectively abandoned the Hoyahof.

  General Sekkarian entered the city and took the remaining orcs and the chatra prisoner. Per Memlatec’s instructions, the general had come by way of Tashia and brought the loyal Tashian guards back to hold and defend the Hoyahof.

  Memlatec stood on the balcony of the Hoyahof’s imposing entrance tower overlooking the grand plaza and addressed the assembled Hoyans.

  “Citizens of Hoya, the chatra, and his guards are under arrest.” Cheers erupted. Memlatec gave the crowd a moment. He then raised his hands and said, “We’ve restored order at the Hoyahof.” The citizens began dancing in the streets. “I’m sorry to report the prince has died. A memorial ceremony will take place shortly. Until such time as Queen Eleatsubetsvyertsin appoints the new Prince of Hoya, the city will be under the direction and protection of General Sekkarian.”

  There was a silence as the citizens, now freed from the chatra’s harsh rule, remembered their old Prince Henri, last lord of the noble House of Tulak.

  Memlatec was free to return to Konnotan, but the wizard now had new worries. He conferred with the general in the conference room.

  “Having seen how completely the wraith secured and held Hoya’s defenses, I’m now concerned about the extent to which the Dark Lord has infiltrated other northern defenses. General, remain here to govern the city but order your troops back to Konnotan. The Tashian guards will restore faith in the city’s lawful government.”

  “As you say, Memlatec.”

  “General, appoint your ablest commander to lead the army home by way of Talok Tower. Leave a garrison there to restore and defend the eastern gate.”

  The general turned and left, to dispatch his senior officers and men not needed at Hoya.

  * * *

  Hendrel slipped past Hoya on his way back north. He knew Memlatec would be arriving shortly and didn’t want to be caught up in that confrontation. Needing to find Saxthor fast, he stayed on the Pundar River almost to its source in the Heggolstockin Mountains. He stopped at the river town of Girdane in Graushdem to get supplies for his hike up the border to the Wizards’ Hall and to check on the local rumors and gossip.

  Girdane was a medium-sized town, the largest on the western plain of Graushdem. The town’s economy relied on storing, consolidating, and shipping products from across the peninsula’s north-central region to trade with the South. Warehouses lined the river docks and covered a third of the town. The neat, well-kept cottages reflected the city’s prosperity, if not wealth. Its citizens were relatively happy and enjoyed the tales at the alehouses to liven up ordinary lives.

  In an alehouse just off the docks,
Hendrel heard there was a Neuyokkasinian prince visiting King Grekenbach in Graushdemheimer. It was the talk of the establishment.

  “No Neuyokkasinian prince has visited Graushdem since anyone can remember,” a portly merchant said, turning his dripping mug to friends at his table. “Perhaps we’ll be permitted to trade officially now.”

  “Officially or not, nothing stops trade when each side has the goods the other wants,” another merchant said, and the two merchants tapped mugs and drank to that reality.

  Hendrel smiled, seeing the citizens of Graushdem were impressed with Saxthor. They were warming to closer relations with Neuyokkasin. That was a good development and an unexpected benefit from Saxthor’s mission. Hendrel took another sip of ale and caught another conversation.

  “Strange things is happening in them Heggolstockin Mountains,” a middle-aged man still in his hunting clothes said. He sat at the table beside Hendrel’s. The wizard turned his head to hear the conversation better.

  “I ain’t gonna be out in them mountains after dark until something be done about it.”

  “The word be the Astorax is loose in them mountains,” another hunter said. “Them people up there don’t ships their goods much anymore. The mountain folks is too scared to work or risk leaving their homes to bring stuff to market.”

  “The duke oughta send soldiers to hunt down that there monster,” the first hunter said, nodding his head. He gulped ale, then plopped his mug on the table.

  “What’s that?” the weighty merchant from the table across from Hendrel asked. “Did you say the Astorax?”

  “Yes, the Astorax,” the hunter said. “It terrifies them mountain peoples.”

  “Girdane is the consolidation point for the products of northern Sengenwha, the Heggolstockin Mountains, and western Graushdem,” the merchant said, looking around the room. “The warehouses must have goods to store for shipment down the Pundar. This is a commercial town, and anything hampering that commerce, the duke should attend to.”

  The Astorax is big news in the alehouse, Hendrel thought.

  The other merchant spoke up following a gulp of ale. “I say we need to send a delegation to the duke for troops to hunt down this beast before it destroys our business or decides to attack the town. My business is down by half this fall, and it’s all due to that Astorax.”

  “What’s the Astorax?” Hendrel asked.

  The patrons turned to see who asked the question. From their stares, Hendrel guessed everyone around there knew about the Astorax. The suspicious, small-town locals wanted to have a look at the stranger.

  “Where you from, friend?” the second hunter asked.

  “I’m from Hador, and I’m on my way back from Neuyokkasin.”

  The faces looked to each other, eyes tightened, and lips closed. The regulars studied Hendrel with his full black beard and his dark eyes. Hendrel saw the change in mood. Several leaders at one table whispered as they watched him. Apparently, they decided he was like themselves and acceptable to include in their conversation. That, or with enough ale in them, they liked hearing themselves too much not to respond.

  “You ever been in them Heggolstockin Mountains west of the river?” the first hunter asked. One eye twinkled; the man’s lowered head focused on Hendrel. His grin suggested it was a pregnant question.

  “Well, I’ve passed the mountains a few times coming downriver from Hador,” Hendrel replied. “I’ve heard of them, but in my travels, I’ve never been there.”

  “Them mountains, they have a dark history, friend,” the hunter said. “Back during the Wizard Wars, them wizards up at The Hall, they used to experiment, like, and they brought some of them experiments down here and released them in the Heggolstockin Mountains. Used to make them farmers up there mad.”

  The hunter sipped his ale and looked around the table.

  “What does that have to do with the Astorax?” Hendrel asked.

  The hunter had the whole room’s attention and watching the crowd, it was clear he didn’t want to give it up so long as his ale held out.

  “Well, seems them wizards was making something from parts when an orc army from Prertsten crossed into Heggolstockin and passed through them mountains. There won’t no time to move that thing they was working on. Them wizards hid it with a spell and run back to The Hall.” He took another swallow of ale. “I’m sure they meant to come back and get it, but they must’ve forgotten it.” The man chuckled.

  “And was that the Astorax?” Hendrel asked.

  “That it were, that were the Astorax.” The hunter’s expression grew stern-looking around to heighten the drama. “That thing be upright like a man. It has big hindquarters and cloven hooves like a bull, but its chest and upper body be like a man. And it has a great mean face with a long snout and fangs like a giant woof.” The hunter paused, and every eye in the room focused on him. “And that thing has horns like a deer!”

  “Horns like a deer?” a voice from the crowd asked. “The Astorax can’t have horns like a deer, too!”

  “Come on now, every time you tell that story, you add another part,” another man said from a neighboring table. They all laughed, relieving the tension in the room. “Next, it’ll have yellow eyes and eagle talons on the hooves.”

  Again they laughed. The deflated speaker sat back down as the various groups in the room turned back to their individual conversations. The innkeeper moved around the room with a big pitcher of ale, refilling mugs. The general hum of conversation picked up in the room.

  The man with the tale stood up again. “That Astorax thing, they say it eats the farmers’ stock what lives in them mountains.”

  He looked about the room. It failed to rekindle their interest. He sat back down and looked into his empty mug.

  Hendrel knew a tall tale when he heard one. He drank his ale alone in the corner. After a while, the hunter got up and staggered over to Hendrel. He looked down through his ale-fog and issued a warning.

  “If you be traveling north, friend, you be particular about where you camps. People hereabouts says that Astorax comes down out of the mountains now and hunts the lowlands ‘tween the mountains and Girdane.” The hunter, his breath strong, stared into Hendrel’s face, then turned and went back to his table.

  Hendrel finished his ale and went to bed.

  Back in his room, he lay in bed, thinking. He hated people accusing the wizards of Wizards’ Hall of creating strange creatures that now terrorized these town folk. The wizards of old had used their powers for good, not to create bizarre beasts. It was true that occasionally, a wizard hadn’t had the strength to control the power he conjured, but rarely did they fall victim to darkness. Hendrel turned on his side and gazed out the window at the stars.

  When we get all the problems resolved with the Crown of Yensupov, I’m coming back to investigate this Astorax, he thought.

  He was about to doze off to sleep when he heard a terrible commotion in the inn below and out on the streets. Thinking it might be a fire, Hendrel dressed and took his satchel downstairs in case he had to flee.

  “What’s all the commotion, innkeeper?”

  “It’s just some rumors they’ve sighted the Astorax down by the river. Too much ale, I expect. You’ve nothing to worry about, Sir.” The stocky innkeeper continued polishing a mug with the bar cloth. “You should go back to bed and not trouble yourself about it.”

  Hendrel took his satchel back up to the room, but he couldn’t sleep. The townsfolk were obsessed with the Astorax. He decided to go out and investigate the sighting. He was sure it would turn out to be a dog nosing around the wharf, but he couldn’t sleep until he saw for himself what stirred up the people.

  Hendrel slipped out into the street and made his way down to the river. In the night, it seemed quite peaceful with silent swirling eddies in the current under the wharf’s lamplight. The wizard could hear quite a commotion further down the docks, where a number of men had torches searching in all directions for the dreaded Astorax.

&nb
sp; Hendrel walked a ways and stopped, shaking his head. He’d seen hysteria before. A man who loved the feeling of power from controlling people convinced the local citizens that someone or some group was evil and a threat to their way of life. Once they were afraid, the controller whipped up fear to hate. Convinced of the imagined threat, the controller offered the vulnerable people salvation. He’d come to save them from the imagined evil. Such controllers used ignorance and fear to their benefit, yes they did. Hendrel felt sorry for people misled so easily. He knew the controller was the one to fear; the hated targets were the victims.

  Hendrel walked up behind the crowd, where the people hung on the speaker's every word. When he paused, they’d look at each other and nod their heads as if mutual agreement confirmed truth. Fear spread like mold across old bread.

  “I tell you that beast is lurking about and will snatch your children if you’re not careful,” the speaker said. “Remember this fall, when you’re voting on our town leaders. Them men didn’t keep that beast from this here town. I’ll hunt this beast myself and save your children.”

  The voice was familiar. Hendrel looked around the bird’s nest hat in front of him and saw the hunter from the alehouse earlier, again loving the attention. He’d save them, no doubt.

  “We’re gonna make him burgomaster come the fall election,” the woman in front of Hendrel said to the woman next to her. The second woman nodded.

  This man is portraying an unknown creature as a monster without any verified evidence, he thought, shaking his head. The people have already judged the unidentified thing. It’s most likely a wild dog or just someone’s imagination, but it’s too late to stop the condemnation.

  Hendrel left the crowd and walked back along the wharf toward the inn. In the silent shadows just beyond the last lamp’s light, two sets of large, dark fingers grabbed the edge of the wharf’s planking. Silver-edged eddies swirled into the dark river just beyond where something large struggled in the undercurrent.

  Hendrel froze, waiting to see what was about to surface and confront him on the dock. The fingers just held onto the planking. When nothing emerged, Hendrel walked to the edge to see if his approach would spur action. His chest pounded.