Kingdom Come (Price of Power Book 1)

by Blake Bisciotti

  All acknowledged that they did agree, except for the orc Minsheen. He stoically stared at Desmund Feon.

  “Minsheen, do you object?” Asked Argorok in a tone that suggested he would have been shocked.

  The orc scrunched his face at the human. His tusks seemed to show further. “No objections.”

  “Fantastic. Now onto other business.” The massive chairman of the council said to the others. They would speak no more of pending war in Southland. For the rest of the evening they would discuss housing, diplomacy, distribution of goods, trades, judgment of crimes and other topics relevant to keeping the nation growing, productive, and prosperous.

  ***

  Never before in his twenty-one years had Elberon ever seen so many soldiers. Just over three thousand eight hundred men were outside the walls of Rogsnelk, a much greater force than expected. It was a couple hours before dusk and the march was about to commence. Captain Antonel wanted to lay siege to the Faletonian city in just over one day. Their march would be quick, but not overly exhausting. They would set one camp on the way for rest. The humans would attack the Faletonian city nearest to their three cities. Scouts had given the best report they could of the defenses that they would go against.

  The cavalry, two hundred and fifty armored riders, were in a group to the side of the main force. In the rear, two hundred archers in light armor were in formation with bows strapped across their back and quivers filled with arrows over their shoulders. The bulk of the army was the infantry numbering over three thousand men. Foot soldiers worked alongside horses to pull huge pieces of siege equipment that would be assembled closer to the city. The army would use a battering ram and two large siege towers that would be quickly put together when they arrived.

  In the rear of the cavalry group were the twenty priests on horseback all wearing armor (or garments for those who were forbidden to wear armor) slightly more ornately decorated than the armor of all the other soldiers. They proudly boasted symbols of their orders on their attire. There was also a small horse drawn chariot, which carried the mysterious three mages, who would be monumentally important to the attack.

  Elberon could not help but feel nervous. He, like all of the other priests, spent a restless night praying to his god, asking for the ability cast battle and healing spells when needed. Due to his inexperience and young age, Elberon’s repertoire of spells was not extensive, but did contain some incantations that would be useful. He looked to the other priests and wondered how powerful they were. Some of the men were familiar to him, but only those who also served Phelios. He had either served ceremony alongside the men he knew or seen them at services to Phelios. There were some older men amongst the twenty that could be formidable spell casters. His glance lingered on the sole female that would be traveling, a priestess of Aya, goddess of air. She was stunningly attractive, with long light brown hair that was adorned by a small braid that hung down one side. She had an athletically toned figure, but with curves. Her sky blue robe fit her body like a glove and kept her breasts perked up and pushed teasingly together. Her leg was almost fully exposed from a slit in her robe as she straddled her horse.

  Her name was Katriel; she seemed to not even notice that most of the men gawked her way. The priestess embodied all that the goddess Aya was. She was gracious and light footed, friendly and intelligent. She carried a blade that was small and thin and was strapped across her back. Even with everything going on around him, marching formations, orders being yelled out, equipment being hauled, Elberon found himself unable to break his stare from the woman…until she turned her head and met eyes with him quickly. The young man jerked nervously and pretended to tighten a strap on his saddle. He felt so embarrassed and knew his face was likely red beneath his thin blonde beard; however she seemed to not notice his admiring gaze.

  “Prepare to march,” several commanders screamed. Elberon looked ahead and could see Victus Antonel riding his beautiful white stallion just ahead of the front line. His armor seemed to fit him to perfection and, of course, his white cape hung down his back. Ten paces away, with a slight tug of the reigns, The Captain turned his horse parallel to the army. He looked first to the cavalry then slowly eyed the whole of the army. His long brown hair was free of his helmet, which dangled off the side of his horse. His dark blue eyes had a luster of hope. Those who looked forward to a long speech to boost morale at the beginning of the march would not get it.

  “Men,” he screamed and let the word hang in the air then continued, “onward we march to victory.” He then followed with “Onward we march unto our honor!” He turned his steed and began a slow trot. The army followed. Almost four thousand men headed to war.

  As he got his horse going, Elberon looked to the descending sun in the west. His hand went to his medallion and the cleric kissed the symbol of his god. He thought of Esrella, then Ostinus, and also his parents who resided in Rogsnelk. He did not visit them in his brief stay in the city. He did not want his first contact in a couple of months to be a conversation informing them he was off to war against a rather unknown force.

  The sounds of the churning wheels of the wagons bearing the siege equipment, the trots of horses and the occasional clang of metal filled the open air. Hardly anyone spoke. Elberon was silent for many minutes until another priest of Phelios, a man named Doan that he knew from the temple in Lunemire, began to chat with him. He took some comfort in the other priests of Phelios. They were the closest people he felt he had on this voyage.

  They marched deep into the darkest hours of the night. It seemed that Victus would have them march straight through to sunrise, but about two hours before first light he ordered them to stop and pitch camp. The predawn was so warm that Victus ordered his commanders to tell all the troops that only a few fires could be lit. The Captain wanted to remain as discreet as possible. Although they marched slower than expected due to the haul of the siege equipment, they were not far from the city that they intended to conquer. Victus did not want more fires on the road than there were stars in the sky for this would surely alert the enemy of their mission.

  Victus did not order his men to awake at first light, but most were up at that time anyway. The Captain himself slept slightly past dawn, then got up and led the next procession. There would be no more sleep before battle. The day was quite dreary. Grey clouds filled the sky and thunder rolled in the distance. Rain began to fall an hour after sunrise. Fortunately for the human soldiers, the rainfall was not significant enough to disturb their march. For a brief period of ten minutes, they had to work on getting one of the wagons out from being stuck in a mud patch, but that was the only delay. The rain slowed to barely a drizzle, but the clouds lingered and kept the day gloomy and the air humid.

  It was about noon when they saw the city in the distance. All eyes stared at the settlement. It began as a spot on the horizon, but as the army moved closer and closer it became more apparent. Surrounding the city was stone wall that was over twenty feet high. Buildings that stood twice the height of the walls could be seen within the city. The land outside the wall, mostly farmland, was completely empty and the large thick wooden city gates were closed. The scene was quite marvelous. Astonished looks marked the faces of many soldiers as some thought that, at best, wooden ramparts would be the cities defense, yet they approached strong thick walls of stone. Flags of Faletonia blew in the wind above the gates, the black scorpion over a red background banners peered menacingly back at the humans.

  Victus ordered all units to stop within a half mile of the city. The Faletonians knew they were coming; they were prepared. It could be the only explanation for how quiet the city seemed. The Captain wasted no time giving his orders. He instructed a large faction of his troops to move towards the southeast wall of the city and another group to the southwest. With them they were ordered to pull the siege tower modules and then assemble them. It was at those eastern and western points that the towers would be deployed against the city walls.

  The battering ram rema
ined with Victus facing the gate. It was made of several large tree trunks bound together suspended over a wheeled frame. The bundled trees hung on chains from thick beams so that it could be pulled back and swung forward with force. On top of the ram was a large wood and stone canopy, under which the men pushing would be protected. This cover would have to withstand the inevitable assault that would come from the foes on top of the walls. Flags of the three cities flew off the back of the ram: The green moon of Lunemire, the eagle’s head of Rogsnelk, and the half checkered banner of Abellard. The front of all the trees were chopped into nubby points to smash against the gate again and again.

  Captain Antonel rode his white steed to the cavalry unit. He nodded to one of the commanders. “Go, take a small group of men, ride quickly around the city and inspect the back. Check for any weaknesses in the walls or for escape routes for the enemy.”

  “Yes Captain,” replied the armor-clad commander. He quickly gathered twenty other riders. “Follow me, men.” He and his men rode off at a quick pace to circumvent the city.

  Once all his orders were being carried out, Captain Antonel rode to the large force of men that he sent to the east. He rode amongst them nodding to his soldiers and repeating often “Unto our honor.” The men said it back to him. It was becoming a common expression amongst the soldiers.

  Victus’s presence inspired the soldiers. The set up of the siege towers would take some time so he was able to mingle amongst them. The Captain dismounted from his horse several times to help a soldier with his armor or even to carry equipment. He would pat young soldiers on the back and smile admiringly. He was their leader, but he was one of them, and they loved him for it. He then rode to the group to the south west of the city.

  The clerics and mages remained with the mass of the infantry by the battering ram, facing the city’s blockaded entrance. They waited nervously for their order. When Victus returned from his rides, he addressed the priests. His voice was calm and collected.

  “Six of you will go with each siege tower and the rest will remain with the battering ram. You know what you are to do. Protect these men, your fellow soldiers, use all that is within your powers to aid them, but do not hesitate to neutralize any particularly troublesome enemies. Four of Phelios, two of Tuemis will go to the East and West. The other five and the three devoted to Aya will remain with me near the battering ram. Go now, and may the gods be with you.”

  At that time the riders returned from their exploratory lap. Victus rode to them as they approached.

  “Tell me what you saw,” The Captain demanded, his face tense and his features sharp.

  “We rode rather close to the wall and saw some figures atop. We could see no exits anywhere else or no points weaker than others. But sir…” he paused.

  “Go on.”

  “The city is much larger than we thought, just an observation I thought I’d bring to your attention.”

  The Captain stared at the man for several seconds. The commander felt smothered under the weight of Victus’s gaze. “Of course it is large, its home to ogres and giants. It would be foolish to not think that beyond these walls there are not more than a couple of treacherous giants crouching, waiting to repel us.” As The Captain expected, the mention of giants made many of the men uncomfortable. “Fear not, they too shall perish.”

  “Captain!” A soldier yelled to Victus. All heads turned to the man who was staring at the city. All eyes followed. The large gate could be seen opening and four riders came out. The gate closed behind them. Two bore the flag of Faletonia on long spears. They rode halfway to the attacking army. The four Faletonians then stopped and the standard bearers took to the flank of the other two riders.

  “Arden, Bayloff, Andres,” called out Victus. The three commanders rode to him and awaited orders. “We ride to meet them. Bayloff, grab that,” he pointed to a nearby soldier who held a long poll with a flag bearing the standard of each city. The flag of Abellard was half solid blue and half blue and red check, the flag of Lunemire was a green quarter moon over navy blue, and the standard of Rogsnelk a black profile of an eagles head with a white backdrop. Bayloff, Victus’s top commander, did as The Captain ordered. The men rode slowly to meet the representatives of Faletonia.

  The four humans met two humans and two orcs. A human and orc each held a Faletonian standard and sat on their horses to the flanks of the other two. Victus and his men made it to within ten yards and then slowed their pace to a cautious gallop.

  “I am Thaiyed Griggs of Southland, southern city of Faletonia,” one man said confidently.

  Captain Antonel quickly looked over the Faletonians. They wore rather fine armor, and the two orcs were large and very powerful looking. “And I am Victus Antonel of Rogsnelk, commander of the armies of the three cities.” The Captain’s gaze remained on the eyes of Thaiyed. “I have come to conquer your city as protector of the three cities of the south and defender of our people.”

  Although the statement was bold, no one flinched. Customarily no one was in danger at a pre-battle meeting like this. It was a matter of proper honor to allow diplomatic negotiations before a battle. Although this was the case most of the time, all were ready in case either side violated these rules. None would.

  “What has Faletonia done to your three cities except offer peace? We ask that you turn your army around and send back diplomats one day to discuss trade. There is much we can learn and benefit from each other.” Again Thaiyed spoke with pride and assertion. “We ask that you respect our independence and attempt -” the human was cut short.

  “There will be no further conversation here. We will not end up like the dwarves of Orzalar. Word of your malicious actions has traveled quickly to our ears. Your city is a beacon of terror and is under siege. At least you can rest assured it will not be a long siege, for this city will soon be taken.” With that Victus turned his horse and galloped back with his men to the main force and the four Faletonians did so as well.

  One of the commanders, Andres, remarked sarcastically on the way back, “Very subtle my captain.” His mop of curly hair bounced as his horse trotted. A nervous smile creased his pale face.

  “Ha, to the point, like you’ve always known me to be,” replied The Captain. All the men smiled lightly. As they arrived back at the army, they returned to their men and spread the word of how Victus boldly rejected the enemy’s terms.

  Elberon watched the men ride all the way back from the meeting. He knew that they just rejected any terms and that a battle would ensue shortly. Of the priests of Phelios, Elberon was one of the few to remain with the main force that would enter through the gates once they were smashed by the battering ram. He was near the cavalry units who remained to the sides of the infantry. The priest could not help but accept the nervousness he felt in his stomach. He had never been part of such a siege, or even a large battle. To Elberon, like many, war was a tragic affair of which he never wanted to be a part; however he would do as his superiors and his god told him.

  “Prepare to attack!” Yelled two commanders. The formations tightened. Elberon looked east and saw a fully constructed siege tower over a hundred yards away. He then shot a look west and there was the other. They were ready to try and take the southern most city of Faletonia, known to its residents as Southland.

  The cleric stared ahead at the gate and the walls, which peered back defiantly. His concentration was broken by the sound of a woman’s voice. “May Aya protect you.” Katriel sat on her horse smiling at him.

  “And may Phelios watch over us all,” he replied. The brief exchange alleviated some of his nervous tension. He could only do what he could do, do what powerful Phelios would allow him to do. He strengthened his grip on the reigns of his horse and looked to the city. The feeling of Katriel’s gaze remained a moment longer and then she too faced their foe.

  Victus rode to the front of the battering ram, which was centered in the infantry. He turned his horse to his men and put on his helmet. “Brave men of Rogsnelk and
Abellard, protectors of the southern lands, behold the enemy that has settled at our doorstep and threatens our peaceful existence,” his voice was at a strong scream. “We will not wait until they stand before our gates, trapping us in our cities. No. We will rid the southern lands of this evil force that has arisen. They have already shown what their ambitions are by taking the lives of dwarves. It is undoubtedly their hope for us to be next. But that shall not be.” The Captain looked confident as he turned his horse back to face the other direction. “Men of the South Sea, united against conquerors and oppressors, we will have this city by nightfall, and then each of the other two cities of so called Faletonia shortly after. Hold your heads high and fight with might and honor in the name of your city and in the protection and observance of the gods. Unto our honor!”

  The whole force responded in unison “unto our honor” while raising their weapons in excitement. They roared towards the enemy.

  Victus looked to the city, “Now, smash that gate open. Attack!”

  Chapter 13

  Three knocks rattled Argorok’s large door. The stone giant breathed a sigh of anger and went to answer. He wanted no visitors, he desired some time to himself to reflect on things and contemplate his next plans. So much ran through his mind. The Council of Leaders had just been informed of the siege on Southland. Argorok had told the other leaders that he did not believe the humans meant war, but part of him always thought this would happen. The leaders of Faletonia were trying to avoid conflict with the southern cities. The humans were not meant to be enemies; they were too valuable in peace. The Council knew that they would be reluctant to be allies at first, but hoped, after months of peace, the humans would see to trading. Argorok and the other Council members wanted to concern themselves with finishing the building of Faletonia’s two new cities, not defending them.