Saving Olympus- the Dark Army

by R D Wolfe

  Marenya looked between Evatra and Rist, clearly trying to find some way out before burying her face in her hands.

  “I’ll send the scouts,” the Queen sighed. “I’ll also send word to all the surrounding cities and request their aid. They don’t have much more than militias to keep the peace within their own cities, save for maybe the Peronia, far to the northwest. Chorrun, could you help me coordinate with the riders? We need to get the sword back into the vault and…”

  Darien found he wasn’t able to be very useful in any of the discussions which quickly ensued. He knew nothing of sending scouts, or planning a citywide defense potential attack, or any way to help in planning for possibilities in a world he knew virtually nothing about. All things considered, he was useless. He stood in the back of the room for a few minutes before slipping out the council chamber doors and walking down the hallway.

  “Darien!”

  He turned to see Evatra calling after him.

  “We need you in there, there’s a lot to do,” she said, watching him as he stared back at her for a few blank seconds.

  “No, you don’t,” Darien shook his head. “I don’t know anything that’s useful for this kinda stuff. Besides, after last night I…”

  He let the sentence fall into silence as he thought of what the stranger had said to Rist from beyond the door.

  “Last night doesn’t matter Darien, it wasn’t your fault,” Evatra reassured him.

  “Yes it was, Evatra. It was my job to stop him, and I failed. I couldn’t even beat one guy on my own. One. There’s an army coming, full of soldiers like him. I’d just be getting in the way.” He couldn’t take it. He had to get out of the castle.

  “Please, come back in there. I know you can—”

  “Enough, Evatra, okay?” he cut her off. “Just… just enough.”

  Darien turned away, leaving her standing alone in the hallway. He could feel her hurt gaze burning into him as he left the castle.

  Darien wandered through the city, catching a mix of sad, curious, and even excited looks in his direction, though no one spoke with him directly, making him feel even more isolated and alone. Eventually, he found himself in the market where the thief had defeated him. Darien had never lost a fight like that. The weight of it pressed against his mind, refusing to relinquish its hold. If he couldn’t beat opponent how could he expect to be part of the Four? Rist was wrong. Darien didn’t belong here.

  They might have better chances without having to watch my back.

  Sighing, Darien turned to leave the market. As he exited through the large gate, no longer chained shut, a child ran up and hugged his leg. Caught by surprise, Darien looked down at the small troll.

  “Aren?!” a woman’s voice cried out towards him. “Aren, what are you doing? Come back here!”

  Darien saw a woman catching up to where he was. She pulled at the young troll until they released their hold on Darien’s leg.

  “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” the woman apologized profusely. “I don’t know what’s gotten into him.”

  “No, that’s okay,” Darien smiled weakly, turning back towards the gate.

  “You’re going to protect us, aren’t you?” The child’s voice sounded so innocent, reminding Darien of the second year he had saved from Lia. “You’re going to stop the bad guys from coming out of the mountain?”

  Darien winced as the words fell into his ears. Looking around, he saw a stillness fall over the small crowd, as the other trolls in the market looked at him surreptitiously. They were all waiting for what he was going to say, they had just lost their king and were looking for someone to give them answers. Darien wasn’t sure what to do. How could he carry the confidence of these people if he couldn’t even shoulder his own? Mustering up what he could, Darien knelt down to meet the young troll’s eyes.

  “We are going to do everything we can,” Darien said. “I promise.”

  The young troll beamed at him, running back to Darien and throwing his arms around him. Darien fell backwards onto the stone street, almost falling on his back and bit back a cry of pain for his arm. He put his arms around the young troll, giving what comfort he could. What the child couldn’t possibly be aware of was in that moment, Darien was trying to take what hope he could from the innocence and confidence of the child, in the same moment that the youth was taking his own hope from Darien.

  Aren released him and returned to his mother. Darien stood and waved as Aren looked over his shoulder one last time, before turning back towards the castle.

  “The people here need us,” an icy voice jolted Darien in surprise, hand instinctively flitting down to where his sword belt would have been if he had put it on, which he supposed he should have.

  Rist was standing around the corner, out of sight from Darien as he exited the market. The dark robed man had a clear view of the scene that had just taken place.

  “Are you my babysitter for the day? Aren’t you supposed to be inside?” Darien said, irritated at the idea.

  “Even if we face impossible odds, we are still heroes to them, they need hope.” Rist ignored him. “We have to give them that hope.”

  “Can we, though?” Darien asked, doubt souring his tone as they began to walk through the street back towards the castle gates side by side with his dark ally.

  “Don’t let anyone’s words take hold inside you,” he said, his voice growing warm again. “Some people will trust you implicitly, others will be hot-tempered, but most have no idea what they’re talking about. Let your heart give you influence, but let your mind be your guide. The heart will give you purpose, and your mind will give you direction and action on that purpose. When one commands the other, you lose sight of your purpose.”

  “I don’t understand,” Darien said, more confused than ever.

  “You will,” Rist said, falling silent as they walked.

  “Rist, can I ask you something?” Darien was cautious, unsure of how to ask what had been bothering him.

  The dark figure gave a short nod under the hood.

  “What if I’m no good here? What if you have to protect me the whole time, and I’m just like a piece of baggage you carry around until we get to the mountain? What if we get to the mountain, and we can’t get to Cyprin because I’m not strong enough? He’s got all this magic, and Tahmer barely had any. If I can get beaten by him so easily, what chance do I have against Cyprin?”

  Darien had stopped halfway through the large gates to the castle and stared up and Rist waiting for an answer. Rist stood in silence for several moments.

  “From what I’ve seen of you, the only way that will come to pass, is if you choose to let it.”

  Rist turned and walked the rest of the way into the castle, leaving Darien alone on the castle steps.

  Chapter 17: The Plan

  The next few days were a whirlwind of activity, as they prepared for the battle. The ballista on the castle walls were restrung, oiled, and tested. Soldiers were retrained in the art of close combat by those who had never seen a battle in their entire lives, unless you couted street fights. Darien found himself enjoying the busy work of the preparations. His arm still stung from time to time, but he worked through the pain. It allowed him avenues to distract himself, and to think on the events of the last few days.

  Over time, the city began to feel less like a center of trade, and more like a fortress. Trenches had been dug around the perimeter of the city, and barriers created from the moved earth. Mighty trees, felled from the forests along the lake, filled in the gaps. The branches had been left in place and sharpened into fine points, filling out a dangerous barrier. The battlements began to take the shape of a funnel, which would direct any approaching forces exactly where the defenders wanted them.

  Three days after Marenya had sent the scouts towards Zanarchin, Darien was working on one of the castle’s ramparts. He worked to reinforce and repair one of the archery towers atop the castle ramparts. After hammering a particularly stubborn support into place, h
e climbed into the tower and surveyed the natural beauty of the lands around him. Looking east toward Zanarchin in an effort to see any sign of the approaching army, Darien spotted something in the distance. He watched for a few minutes, observing the motion of the odd speck moving just ahead of the horizon.

  Darien rushed down from the tower, looking for Chorrun, Rist, or any of the others. He pushed past a handful of the city’s residents as he ran full speed towards the castle at the center of the city. Most were helping with the defenses, all had haunted looks on their faces. Those he did come across attempted dashed out of his way, some calling after him to slow down. Darien ignored the calls to watch where he was going and bolted through the open doors of the keep and up to the council chambers where they would likely be.

  Darien burst in past the two guards out front, who now wore a full set of battle armor. The level of security had been raised with the death of the King and the spectre of an approaching army. Marenya, Chorrun, the Scillan, Rist, and Evatra, along will a heavily armored troll named Oratrin, leaned over a table, inspecting a detailed map of Olympus. They all looked up at him when he came in, falling on his hands and knees, gasping for breath.

  “Darien? What is it?” asked Marenya.

  “It’s… the scouts…” Darien panted. "One of them… came back…”

  They all frozen for a moment before exchanging anxious looks.

  “Are you sure?” Oratrin asked seriously.

  Darien nodded, punching himself in the side trying to relieve the cramp from his sprint.

  They all shuffled around the table towards the doors. Evatra walked by without so much as a glance in Darien’s direction. He followed behind them, still attempting to catch his breath. The group made its out into the courtyard, eagerly awaiting the scout. They all stood in silence, except for Darien who groaned in pain, the stitch refusing to let go.

  “Are you well?” Rist asked, turning towards him.

  “I’ll be fine,” Darien groaned, nodding.

  “If you could act like it, then?” A note of prude formality crept into Rist’s icy voice.

  Darien stood up straight, the pain in his side letting up a little. It wasn’t long before they could hear a pattern of hoofbeats in the distance. The sound grew louder, and they spotted the horse pounding against the city streets, its rider driving his steed to crash through the gates. The troll slowed down just in time to stop in front of them and dismouted with an agile sweep of his leg over the saddle.

  “Your Majesty, I have word!” The rider spoke in rushed tones.

  “Tell us, what did you find?” Marenya beckoned.

  “It’s true, my lady.” The troll’s eyes flashed from side to side. “A force gathers in the east. We were spotted. and I managed to slip away. The others I rode with…” The troll trailed off, and the group fell silent.

  “How far are they?” Oratrin asked quietly, the scout’s eyes dashed quickly to meet his.

  “Seven, maybe eight days’ ride from here, but it’s hard to tell how fast they’ll be able to move. I estimated their number to be almost twice the population of Farkland Reach, itself. Your Majesty… it is a massive force.”

  Darien thought Marenya looked pale for someone whose face was grey to begin with.

  “Thank you Poltin,” she kept her voice calm. “Please go inside. My people will see that you’re given food, water, and rest. You’ve done your duty well, and you have our thanks.”

  The troll thanked her and made his way past them all. The Queen returned inside, heading towards the council chambers. No one spoke as they followed into the now-familiar room. The Queen collapsed into her chair. Darien noticed she still sat to the side of where Aghemnon had been before, leaving his chair sitting empty. The rest of the group took places along the table, their faces grave and somber.

  “Your Majesty,” Chorrun began, “I sent word three days ago to Taitron to have what forces we could gather there meet us here in the city. They should arrive in a few days’ time. They will have informed the other villages in the area as well, and from what I know of our numbers, we can offer you the support of our cavalry.

  “Thank you, Chorrun. Their assistance is welcome, but I fear it may not be enough.” The Queen’s voice was heavy with worry.

  No one spoke for several minutes. Darien’s eyes wandered and eventually fell on the maps spread out on the table. He hadn’t been able to see a full map of Olympus since that time weeks ago in Chorrun’s hut. He studied the images of the cities, noting Taitron to the south, Farkland Reach in its center, and then, in the northeast corner of the map, he saw a large mountain, encircled by a smaller range. Darien was unable to read the foreign script, but he knew that had to be the heart of their problems, the home of Cyprin. Then his eyes worked south. Looking at the markings of the map, and jolting. He looked again to make sure before he pointed at a spot along a mountain ridge just south of Farkland Reach.

  “How long would it take to get there?” Darien asked, cutting through the noise.

  They all looked at him, then to the map.

  Oratrin looked back at him with confusion. “There? Why would you want to go there?”

  “How long?” Darien insisted.

  The room fell silent while the general pondered the question.

  “Three days. Two, if you rode quickly. But it doesn’t matter. That’s the Mist Caves. No one goes in there. Or, no one comes outta there anyway. The wraiths see to that.”

  Darien’s eyes locked on Evatra, who stared back at him. She hadn’t so much as looked at him after he left her standing alone in the hallway.

  “You don’t think...” Evatra asked.

  “Yeah, I do.” Darien nodded. “I have to go talk to them.”

  The room went quiet again.

  “Are you mad?” Oratrin exclaimed.

  “Maybe,” Darien said, determination creeping into his face for the first time in days. “But I’ve spoken with a wraith before, and it promised to help me if I needed it. This seems like as good a time as any to go collecting debts.”

  “Darien, this is a big risk.” Chorrun said with worry. “Wraiths have never been bargained with before. There’s no telling what they’ll do to anyone who goes into their caves. And if you failed…”

  “Why don’t we send someone in your place?” Marenya picked up where Chorrun had trailed off. “Besides, the King’s funeral is in two days. He would have wished you to be there.” Her voice broke.

  “No.” Darien shook his head and looked at the Queen, remorse plain on his face. “I mean no disrespect to the King, but I don’t think that would work. The only reason it was willing to talk to me back in the camp was because I’m one of the Four. No one else, except Rist and the other two, wherever they are, can claim that title. I don’t think it would work.”

  “Besides, I’m the only person, even of the Four, who has talked with a wraith. It has to be me.” Darien sat down into one of the high-backed chairs, his voice distant at the thought of what he planned to do.

  Darien found himself oddly dedicated to the idea. After days of implementing repairs, building defenses, and other odd jobs, he finally had a real contribution to make.

  “I’m going with you,” Evatra said, the tone in her voice left no room for argument.

  Darien looked at her, shocked at her sudden willingness to accompany him. She had intended to leave after their dinner the King had thrown in Darien and Rist’s honor, but Marenya convinced her to stay after Aghemnon’s sudden passing.

  “We’ll have to leave, now,” Darien said, confidence returning to him for the first time in days. “We can’t waste any time if we’re going to make it back before that army gets here.”

  “Hold on just one moment.” Rist said, almost indignantly. “I think if anyone is to ride with Darien to the cave of the wraiths, it should be me.”

  “Rist, they need you here,” Darien answered carefully. “You’re more valuable coming up with ways to defend the city. If anything does go wrong, it sho
uld only happen to one of the Four, not two.”

  “Besides,” Evatra added, looking at Rist, “I was with the marauders when the wraith first attacked. I know the area better than anyone.”

  The black robes stood still, the inky blackness of where his face should be staring straight at back at Darien. For a moment, he thought he would have to find some other way to convince Rist to stay behind.

  “Fine,” Rist reluctantly acquiesced. “But take the fastest horses, and waste as little time as possible. We need you both here when this battle begins.”

  With that, the group returned to discussing the details of the plan. Darien and Evatra would ride alone to the mountains. The land between them was mostly made up of open fields, which would provide the speed they needed. Before he knew it, Darien found himself mounted on a dappled mare, alongside Evatra’s own black steed, galloping out of the city and across the sloping fields.

  Chapter 18: The Caves

  Their journey out of the city was faster than their journey towards it had been. Despite all the time he had spent riding, he was still not completely used to riding a horse. There was something about horsemanship that he found more difficult than it should be. He and Evatra rode the rest of that day in silence, tension still lingering between them.

  The pair ate quietly that night, a stew made over a small fire for the two of them. Before Darien could make any attempt at diplomacy, Evatra quickly turned away from him and went to sleep. Deciding he would make another attempt the next day, he crawled into his bedding and quickly drifted off.

  They rose the next day, and after an hour of riding, the mountains came into view. Darien tried to judge their distance to them but given his lack of experience with reading maps, didn’t feel he was able to make a good estimation.

  “How close are the mountains?” Darien asked, breaking the silence.

  Evatra didn’t answer at first, staring sternly over the head of her horse at the ground ahead. Her eyes flicked up to the peaks rising out of the horizon.