by Philip Blood
The Togs were still milling around on the cliff face, barking at each other in their language. Eventually, one of the larger brutes clouted another Tog in the face. That Tog moved back and then ran and leaped the gap to the ledge. Lor couldn't quite see if it made it because of a bulge in the rock, but she didn't hear it screaming or a sound of impact. After awhile she heard the sounds of small rocks falling and looked down the chimney. The Tog was climbing upwards.
There weren't any rocks on top of the spire, so she could not get rid of the Tog by pummeling him from above. Lor took stock; she had her leather juggling balls and one dagger. The situation wasn't looking good. She was just glad her friends had gotten away and freed the captives.
Gandarel was miserable. He rode in the center of the Bluecoat line with his twelve Guardsmen and three advisors arrayed around him. He felt like a prisoner going to trial. The idea that a military officer could come in and just drag him off to some far away city, at a moment's notice, ground on his soul, like a mason wheel on iron. Not only did they treat him as a child, but they also had no respect for his position, his councilors or his Guardsmen.
The captain in charge of these Bluecoats had made it plain to Gandarel that he considered this escort task beneath his status. He considered the lands east of the Dragonback to be hardly better than the wastelands beyond the border, and the people who decided to live in them, hardly human.
The Captain’s disdain was difficult for Gandarel to swallow. He’d been raised as a boy to think of himself as the heir to the Seat of Stone, the most important person in Strakhelm. To now have a mere captain look down his nose at him, like something that didn’t quite smell right, grated on Gandarel’s sensibilities. He couldn't wait to come before the Regent and denounce the officer for his rudeness. He pictured the man stripped of uniform and ridiculed before the great court. It was an image that pleased Gandarel.
Yet, Gandarel’s brief moment of pleasure changed when he thought of the capitol and meeting the Regent. What if the Regent didn't confirm him to his post? What if he found him wanting and instead elevated one of his officers, even this ridiculous captain, to the post of Warlord? Gandarel would then have lost his family's hereditary position, a rank that was once the second most powerful position in the Kingdom, it worried him.
Niler had been coaching him and telling him that everything would be fine once they got to the capitol. Enolive, on the other hand, agreed wholeheartedly with Gandarel on the outrageous treatment he was receiving from the Bluecoats and didn't think it boded well for the meeting with the Regent.
Hork, High Priest of The Hand, supported the Regent completely and told Gandarel it was time to shape up to the necessities of his post and embrace the Regent's policies. Hork told him that the Regent was a great man, and how he was the heart of the Kingdom, now that the King was dead. It was the Regent who had sent the High Priest to the borderlands several years ago to shape the young Gandarel.
But as they slowly rode up the dusty road toward the pass through the Dragonback Mountains, Gandarel grew angrier by the mile. He didn't want to be told when and where he had to go by some prissy captain, and he didn't want to be taken from his friends. He felt like some prize cow being herded to the slaughter.
He pictured Aerin, Dono, Lor, and Katek, back in the city, having fun. Perhaps they were having an adventure with the Skulls or getting into trouble at the Arena. He never spoke of this to Niler or Hork, but Enolive was sympathetic and lent him an ear. If truth be told, he was a little jealous of his friends as well. They didn't have the weight of the Seat of Stone on their shoulders, nor Mara's precious prophecies predicting their rise to greatness as some NexLord messiah. Gandarel wasn't even sure what was expected of a NexLord. To him, it was just another title that meant more responsibility and less freedom to live his life. All-in-all, he was miserable, he was not the master of his own life, but the puppet of his councilors, the slave to his heritage as Warlord, and the conscript in Mara's prophecies. Gandarel just wanted to make his own choices and do what he wanted in life. His anger was like a smoldering fire, ready to burst into flame at the right fuel.
The long column of three hundred men was just approaching a large mesa off to their right when there was a disturbance from the front of the column, and everything came to a halt.
"Now what?" Hork demanded, angry at the sudden stop.
Gandarel didn't care; anything that disrupted the Bluecoats path was all right with him.
A few minutes later a Bluecoat Corporal came trotting down the line of men. "Gandarel Trelic, you are required to attend the Captain at the front of the column."
Gandarel raised an eyebrow at the Corporal's tone, a mannerism he had picked up from Mara, but Gandarel swallowed his angry retort; the man's insolence was nothing new, and Gandarel wanted to see what was happening up front.
The future Warlord started his horse forward and motioned for his guards to follow.
"Just you," the Corporal commanded.
Gandarel stopped his horse and looked at the man. "I will bring my Guardsmen with me, and my councilors or your Captain can come back here to talk to me."
The Corporal actually sneered when he glanced at the twelve handpicked Guardsmen that were clustered around the young heir. "The Captain is not at your beck-and-call."
"Fine then," Gandarel stated, then started his horse forward, signaling to his entourage to follow.
The Corporal started to open his mouth but closed it with an audible snap. He whirled his horse and cantered away, leaving a trail of dust through which Gandarel and his followers would have to ride.
Gritting his teeth, Gandarel followed the Corporal.
As they approached the front of the line, Gandarel made out three riders surrounded by Bluecoats. He didn't see who they were until he drew near. From behind him, Gandarel heard a choking sound from Hork, just as the large form of Tocor came into view.
Niler spoke with a little anger. "Not that same troublesome woman, again! Confound her, how did we ever let her get the notion that she has any control over Gandarel's destiny? Will this woman never desist?"
The Bluecoat Captain addressed his Corporal. "Why is Gandarel's entire entourage following like a pack of dogs?"
"He wouldn't come without them, and I didn't have time to teach him manners," the Corporal answered.
Niler nearly sputtered with indignation. "I'll hear none of this! Gandarel is the future Warlord of this country, you will treat him with respect, or I'll have the Regent throw you in irons when we reach the capital!"
The Captain laughed. "My dear Councilmen, the Regent may or may not confirm this boy's position, though I have my opinion as to what that outcome shall be. Until then, he has no authority. As to you, I do not answer to councilors, nor does the Regent, so watch your tongue lest you lose it forthwith."
Niler’s bushy eyebrows quivered and his eyes grew wide in his shock at the Captain's rude statements and threats, but Gandarel put up a hand to head off his councilman's coming outburst. "Be that as it may, Captain," Gandarel said, putting as much derision into the military title as he could," I am still, as of this moment, the heir to the Seat, and that means you shall treat me as such. Now, what is going on up here, and why is Mara here?"
The Captain was angry, but he gathered himself after a moment. "You know this woman?"
"She is my teacher," Gandarel explained.
"Well, she has supposedly come to warn us of some great Togroth attack, for Gedin's sake, by an army hidden behind that mesa. Everyone knows that since the Last War the Togroths are just a nuisance that can be handled by untrained 'policemen'. There are only a handful of these brutes left in the world; they certainly don't have enough numbers to form an army. If there were a few of the beasts skulking around they wouldn't attack well-armed men. I only called you forth, before tying this woman to a tree and leaving her there for her insolence, because she told me that she knew you and I wanted to confirm that she was a liar. Since you say you know her it only proves
she wasn't lying about that."
Gandarel looked toward the mesa with a little fear; if Mara said there was a Togroth army, Gandarel believed her. "Captain, you can trust this woman when she gives her word. Is there really a Tog army behind the mesa?"
Mara nodded. "Yearl saw it for himself, over four thousand of them."
Hork spoke up, "Ha, Captain, she gives you the word of a Willowman."
The Captain looked at the lavender-skinned man with utter disdain. "We do not abide such trash to live in the west."
The Corporal laughed. "Four thousand Togroths, there aren't that many left alive in the entire world."
Gandarel was furious with the Bluecoat officers. "Didn't I tell you that an army of Togs far larger than that lay siege to the city not long ago?"
"That is a ridiculous claim, that won't do you well when you go before the Regent. Not that it matters anyway. You are just trying to justify an old position that has no more use. The wars are over, and the Togroths a myth you prolong, as did your father, just to maintain your post. Corporal, lash that woman to a tree and hang the Wiggin and that... bald thing, he looks half Tog himself. We'll leave her here and she can work her way loose over time."
Gandarel started with alarm as the Bluecoats began to close on Yearl and Tocor.
Mara shook her head sadly. "The Kingdom has let the blood thin in the ranks of the Worthy. I just hope that all officers aren't a tenth as bad as you or we are all doomed."
"Captain, I'll not allow you to hang..." Gandarel started.
The Captain whirled on Gandarel. "You shut up, or you'll join them!"
Hork smiled with triumph, as the Bluecoats converged on Mara and her friends.
Mara spoke to the grinning priest. "Hork, you know the truth, do you not wish to save lives here?”
"She begs ME for the wicked lives of the demon spawn," he answered in disgust.
"I speak of the lives of these soldiers," Mara explained.
Gandarel didn't know what to do; he started to signal his men to defend Mara when the ground began to shake.
"It is too late," stated Mara.
"What is that?” the Corporal demanded.
"That, my fine disbelieving Worthy, is the mythical Tog army reaching a gallop. They will be on you in minutes," Mara explained.
The Bluecoats were frozen, and Mara took that moment to rise onto her mount. Yearl and Tocor mounted at the same instant.
"Captain, you can't withstand them, but you can retreat into the hills and possibly elude them. They are fierce fighters, but they aren't the brightest of opponents, but you have to act now!"
The Captain saw a massive cloud of dust from the east and another from the west. There was panic in his voice when he spoke. "Form up the troops!"
His soldiers felt and heard the panic, and it immediately affected them.
"Don't show panic, you fool!" Mara declared. "You can still retreat!"
The Captain didn't even hear her, he started pointing and shouting conflicting orders to his men and officers.
Mara trotted forward, forgotten for the moment. "Gandarel, we must flee!"
"I will not abandon these soldiers," Gandarel declared.
Hork was confused, he still didn't understand that he was about to die. With the sudden realization, a look of complete panic descended on the High Priest of The Hand. He galloped away into the trees.
"Captain, gather your men and follow me," Mara tried, but the Bluecoats were in complete disarray, as soldiers from the rear of the column now rode up in panic.
The Togroths hit from the west first and cut into the milling Bluecoats like a pitchfork through hay. Any last semblance of order was destroyed, and the entire troop broke apart and fled in all directions. Those who managed to fight were so outnumbered that they were killed in minutes.
As the Togs hit, Mara grabbed Gandarel's mount by the bridle and spurred her horse to the south, heading for the trees. Tocor and Yearl were with her, and Gandarel's well-trained Guardsmen followed. The hurling panic caused councilman Enolive's horse to run and he was lost in the flight of the Bluecoats. Niler somehow managed to get his horse moving and chased after Gandarel.
As soon as they were moving in the right direction, Mara let loose of Gandarel's mount, he didn't argue anymore but kept following Mara at a gallop.
Lor made her decision, rather than wait to battle the ascending Togroth, once it completed the climb to the top of the chimney, she opted to descend the opposite side of the spire. From their position on the cliffs, the other Togs could not see that she was climbing down.
Lor descended at nearly breakneck speed. She was worried that the one in the chimney would reach the top too soon, and alert the others. Since she had no fear of heights, her mind stayed on the business of finding hand and foot holds. In the time it took the Tog to climb up the short chimney, Lor descended one hundred feet to the ground at the base of the spire. From there she darted from boulder to boulder and reached the base of the main cliffs to the east of the Togs. Once there, Lor ascended the cliffs hidden from the sight of the spire and the Togs on the cliffs, by using a gully to shield her. When she reached the top of the mesa she poked her head up and saw the Togs looking down at the flatlands trying to spot her. Obviously, the other Tog had reached the top of the Spire and found her gone. She just hoped they wouldn't believe she would climb back up to where they were waiting. Lor slipped over the edge and crawled from cover to cover, keeping an eye on the Togs on the cliffs and the top of the spire in case the one up there looked in her direction.
After twenty yards she was in thick enough brush to run at a crouch across the top of the mesa.
Once she traversed the top and arrived at the far side, Lor could see the dust of the recent attack on the Bluecoats. There were smaller trails of dust branching out into the tree covered hills and valleys. She figured those were made by fleeing Bluecoats, or Tog hunting parties.
Just great, Lor thought, now I will have to keep dodging more Togs to get back to the wagon. I hope that Aerin doesn't head those escaped prisoners THIS way.
She descended the cliffs and started making her way down the slope toward the wooded hills.
It was nearly dark when Aerin led their group of refugees into a clearing and found a group of fifteen Bluecoats. The soldiers were hiding in the clearing and watching to the southeast. Aerin stepped into the clearing from the northwest and startled the soldiers who leaped to their feet with drawn weapons, only to relax when they saw his human form.
"What are you doing out here, boy?" a soldier demanded, and then the refugees came into sight behind Aerin.
"We helped these people escape from the food pens of the Togroth camp that is over that way," he said, waving in the general direction of the Togroth camp.
"We were attacked by those beasts hours ago," the soldier exclaimed.
Aerin looked around. "Where are the rest of your men?"
"Dead, for all I know. We haven't seen any others for some time. There were ten or twenty thousand of those things!"
Dono looked at the obviously scared soldiers, some were wounded, and all of them had a shocked look behind their eyes. Their once pristine uniforms were torn and dirty from crawling through brambles and hiding in the dirt. Sweat and bloodstains were caked with mixed dust.
"What are you going to do?" Dono asked the man who seemed to have taken the lead for the soldiers, though Dono saw no sign of rank on his uniform.
"Gedin's blood, I don't know, look for the Captain once these devils have left."
Aerin considered the refugees and the wounded soldiers. "You'll never find your captain out in these woods, and the Togs are going to be hunting."
"Well, I suppose you have an idea," the scared man growled.
"I think your captain will fall back to the city if he's smart. There is protection behind the walls and medical aid for the wounded."
"That's a good idea, Boon," seconded another soldier with a wounded arm in a makeshift sling.
"Yea
h, well maybe it is and maybe it isn't."
One of the farmers came up to join the conversation. His clothes were in rags and his wife and two small children were almost clinging to him. "Sir, could you help us get back to the city? We're starving and there ain't no food."
Boon growled but nodded. "All right then, we're going to fall back to that city. We'll wait for full dark and then make our way."
Aerin nodded and went to talk to his friends. When they were out of casual earshot from the Bluecoats Aerin spoke in a quiet voice. "I doubt these guys are going to let some young boys go off on their own, but I'm not going back to the city. We have to get to the wagon in case Mara comes back."
Dono nodded. "OK, what about the people we rescued?"
"The soldiers should get them back to the city now if anyone can. I say our job is done," Katek stated.
Aerin nodded, "Yes, and I'm worried about Lor. We'll check the wagon first and if she's not there, we go out for her, agreed?"
"Right," Dono stated, "but how are we going to shake these Bluecoats?"
"Just wait until dark and then we’ll slip off back the way we came. They won't follow us, they're too scared," Aerin noted.
Katek grinned. "They need to be toughened up by Mara! That would put some starch in their uniforms!"
Both Dono and Aerin grinned. For some reason, even though they knew Mara had gone to warn the Bluecoats, they weren't worried about her surviving the attack. There was something strong about their old teacher. Besides, they figured Tocor could take all 4,000 Togs if it came down to it.
As darkness descended, Aerin told one of the farmers that they had to leave to go back and look for their friend, and to tell the others not to worry about them. The farmer thanked the boys for all of them and said he would take care of it. Then the three boys slipped off into the night.
At the wagon, Tocor was just mounting up, and Yearl was reaching for his horse's bridle when Mara held up her hand and pointed toward the woods. Yearl stopped and then listened for a moment before he moved. He was faster than could be believed, as he suddenly slipped off and disappeared into the woods. There was a yelp, and all of Gandarel's Guardsmen reached for weapons, but when Yearl appeared he was escorting a red-faced Aerin, Dono, and Katek.
