Alutar: The Great Demon (30 page)

“General Montero is dead,” replied Garth. “He died during the invasion of Alcea.”

Juggler sighed. “That hardly helps either. The only known heir beyond Montero is Prince Harold, and he is a sickly lad if he still lives. Some say he is held captive in a castle in the Dark Forest, but it doesn’t matter. The people of Ertak would never accept him as king.”

“The people or the elite?” asked Garth.

“The people would accept anyone who would treat them decently,” answered Juggler, “but the elite would prevent his coronation. I am afraid that if King Harowin dies, there will be chaos in Farmin. Life will become worthless as the elite scramble for advantage. It will be a bloody mess. Thousands will die just to coronate another greedy fool, and I don’t expect that whoever wins will reign for long. The game will continue forever.”

“What if Prince Harold was not sickly?” asked Natia.

“Unimaginable,” the thief shook his head. “The stories of healers living in the palace for years were not based on fantasy. The lad was sent away with a very short life expectancy.”

“Would you and your people fight to see Prince Harold on the throne?” asked Garth.

“For what purpose?” balked the thief. “If the lad still lives, he won’t for long. I will not expend the lives of my men to prop up another spoiled brat who will probably be just as greedy as his father.”

“What if he were to turn into the type of king you want for Ertak?” pressed Garth. “What if he wanted the same future for Ertak that you wanted?”

Juggler did not answer right away. He stared at the surface of the table and sighed deeply. “I would fight to the death for such a king,” he began, “but not if he were only going to last for months. Why are you torturing me with hypotheticals?” he asked Garth. “There is no such person and there never will be. I am thinking of moving all of my people out of Farmin until the slaughters are over.”

Prince Harold could contain himself no longer. Unbidden, he stood up and placed his hands on the table, glaring down at the head of thieves.

“You claim to love Ertak and her people,” scowled Prince Harold, “but you are quick to flee and leave the suffering to others. If you have ideas on how to make Ertak a better place for all, why do you not do something about them?”

Juggler swiftly pushed back his chair and rose to his feet, a knife defensively sliding into his hand. He stared at the lad facing him, and his face distorted in confusion.

“Who have you brought into my lair, Garth Shado?” Juggler asked angrily.

Garth rose cautiously and eased Prince Harold back into his chair. He held up his hands to the thief, and Juggler sheathed his knife but did not retake his seat at the table.

“I apologize to both of you,” Garth said sincerely. “This meeting has not gone the way I had anticipated. I think both of you need to calm down and hear the thoughts of the other before lashing out at one another. You both want the same thing for the people of Ertak, and together, I think you can achieve it.”

“Together?” Juggler echoed in a curious tone. “You can’t possibly mean what I think you mean.”

“I can,” smiled Garth. “Prince Harold is no longer a sickly lad, Juggler, and he wants an Ertak as fine as the one you want.”

“A thief and a prince?” frowned Juggler. “Together? Is this truly him?”

Garth simply nodded. Juggler stared at the young man seated before him. There were signs of a family resemblance to the king, but the lad did not appear sickly in any way. After a moment of hesitation, Juggler bowed respectfully and sat down.

“Pardon my words from before, Prince Harold,” Juggler said sincerely. “Perhaps we are better off starting this conversation over again. While I did talk of fleeing, that thought was one of frustration and desperation. Prove to me that you will be a noble king, and my men will die to put you on the throne.”

A squad of soldiers marched through the wharf section of the city of Ur. They were not members of the 32
^nd
Corps that occupied Tyronia. They were members of King Mectin’s personal guard, and they were in search of women for King Mectin. The citizens of the city moved away from the squad of soldiers, a mixture of fear and disgust on their faces. With no women in sight along the wharves, the soldiers started entering the taverns that populated the area. When they entered the Pirate’s Cove, the sergeant issued a call for women who would like to be the Queen of Tyronia. No one spoke and the soldiers moved back out of the tavern.

“The queen?” spat one of the fishermen. “Is that what Mectin is calling his victims now?”

“He must have gone through all the women in the other parts of the city to be down here on the wharves,” sneered another. “If only that little pervert would come down here looking for himself, Tyronia would be one step closer to a decent place to live. But no, he stays holed up in the Old Keep where no one can get near him. The boy is a coward and a deviant.”

“Keep your voice down,” warned another fisherman. “Such words will see you swinging from a rope over the walls of the Old Keep.”

Althea came out of the kitchen carrying a tray full of ales. Instead of serving the ales to the customers and carrying the tray back into the kitchen, she lowered the tray to one of the tables. She stared at the door leading to the wharves and distractedly untied her apron. She dropped the apron on the floor and headed for the door. One of the young fishermen rose from his seat and rushed to intercept her. He grabbed her by the arm, and she spun to face her unwanted savior.

“Let go of me,” she demanded.

“Not if you are going where I think you are going,” retorted the young fisherman. “Surely, you do not believe that Mectin will make you a queen?”

“I hold no such illusions,” replied Althea as she tore her arm away from the man.

The man placed his hand on the door to stop Althea from opening it. “Then why are you going?” he asked. “It is a fate worse than death.”

“I have no future worth living,” Althea said with tears in her eyes. “Without Karl, life holds nothing that I want. This way I can at least do something for my country.”

“Your brother will be livid,” warned the fisherman.

“Woe to the man who speaks to my brother about this,” Althea said threateningly. “I will come back and kill any man who tries to stop my chance to do something meaningful for Tyronia. My life will have purpose. Now, get your hand off the door.”

The fisherman hesitated, and Althea pushed him aside. She tore open the door and stormed out of the tavern.

* * * *

General Askor of the Federation’s 37
^th
Corps ordered a halt on the Southland-Tagaret Road. He reviewed the campsite chosen by his colonel and nodded in agreement. He gave the order to make camp for the night, and the vanguard of the 37
^th
Corps began clearing trees to make room for the camp and to provide logs for the defensive barricades. The general ordered his large command tent to be set up in the center of the road and then dismounted, handing the reins of his horse to a nearby soldier. The general stretched and walked around the future campsite, letting the tension in his muscles lessen. He stopped in the middle of the road where the forward barricade would be built and stared into the distance in the direction of the unseen city of Tagaret. He knew that in two days his target would come into sight and then the fighting would begin.

“It is getting closer every day,” a voice said softly from behind the general.

The general did not need to turn around to recognize the speaker. Colonel Hildon was a close and trusted officer, and his voice was quite familiar to the general.

“Two more days, Hildon,” the general said. “Does it trouble you that we have not come upon any Alceans yet? It seems that someone should be traveling this road. It appears to be a major highway.”

“Alcea has just gone through a couple of weeks of intense warfare,” commented the colonel as he moved up alongside the general. “I do not find it odd that normal commerce has not restarted yet. Are you getting a bad feeling about it?”

“No,” the general shook his head, “but I had expected some small skirmishes by now. I do find it odd that a nation that just defeated twenty-four full armies is letting us march on one of their major roads unmolested.”

“They have no idea that another army is on their soil,” replied the colonel. “I heard Kyrga say that the defeat of our armies was due to a spy high up in the Federation. That is the reason that we left under such strict secrecy.”

“I heard the same,” the general nodded, “but I do not think that a spy alone could defeat so many armies. I think the Alceans are a lot fiercer than Kyrga is letting on. I expected major resistance as we neared Tagaret, yet here we stand just two day’s march from their walls, and not an Alcean in sight.”

The colonel did not bother to respond. The two officers stood in silence for several minutes, gazing along the empty road.

“Have the 2
^nd
Regiment begin foraging as soon as they arrive,” commanded the general. “I want them to be very aggressive in their hunting tonight and tomorrow night. We may not find good foraging close to the city, and I want to be prepared for that. Have them kill anything they can find that is edible.”

“I will see to it,” promised the colonel. “Anything else?”

The general remained silent for a few moments and then nodded. “I will have a bath tonight, but not until General Eylor arrives with the vanguard of the 38
^th
Corps. I want to discuss our strategy for attacking Tagaret when he arrives.”

The colonel did not respond. He retreated silently to carry out the general’s orders. The general stood in silence for over an hour before turning back towards his tent. By that time, the 2
^nd
Regiment was already out in force. One thousand soldiers scoured the forest killing every animal in sight.

Less than a league to the north of the huge army encampment, a short figure fell to the ground, thousands of screams ringing in her mind. She put her hands to her ears, but that could not stop the cries of pain and death. She struggled to get to her feet with the intention of running away from the cries, but she could not abandon her followers. Running one of her dark hands through her white-streaked red hair, Niki started walking towards the cries. Once her mind was made up to go to the aid of her followers, Niki started running southward towards the devastation she felt, but a part of her mind asserted itself forcefully, telling her to proceed cautiously. She smiled as she recognized the wise words of Fredrik, and she instantly obeyed.

The Knight of Alcea moved slowly through the darkening forest, carefully stepping where her footfalls would make no noise. After a while, the cries began to subside, but Niki did not alter her course. Instead, she sent her thoughts outward to her followers to find out what awaited her at the end of her journey. She frowned when only birds returned her call. She felt no presence of deer, boar or rabbit. No turkeys or pheasants acknowledged her. With little choice in the matter, she ordered the birds to investigate. The thoughts that came back to her were confused at first. The birds only reported hunters, lots of hunters, and that made little sense to the Knight of Alcea. Hunters never killed in such massive quantities. She knew it was something more sinister.

Eventually, she found a squirrel responding to her. She ordered the squirrel to spy on the hunters, but to keep hidden. The little creature seemed happy to oblige, and Niki pushed the birds from her mind. As the squirrel sent his thoughts to Niki, the picture became clearer. She learned that an army was camped south of her, and that the army had many, many men. The thought caused Niki to frown. Alcean armies only foraged when they needed to, and those armies were never so large that thousands of animals had to die each night. She suddenly realized that she was facing a Zaran army, an army allied with the demonkin that killed Fredrik. Niki gritted her teeth and inhaled sharply, the memory of her mate’s death flashing through her mind. With a newfound determination, the Knight of Alcea moved stealthily southward.

When she came within sight of the newly built barricade, Niki slumped down with a tree to her back. Wanting to wait until the camp was quiet, she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep. When she awoke hours later, the campfires had burned out, and the enemy campsite was quiet. She reached out mentally and searched for her followers. She detected a large family of squirrels nearby, and a sounder of boars not too far off. She also sensed an owl nearby and commanded it to survey the camp. She closed her eyes as the owl flew from its perch and glided over the encampment. As the vision from the eyes of the owl came to her, Niki felt her hands tightening into fists. She saw thousands of men sleeping and three tents set up on the road. The road was barricaded in each direction. There were also barricades through the forest on each side of the road, but those barricades were crude and ill fitted to one another.
 
When the owl was done with his reconnaissance, she instructed one of the squirrels to check the three tents to see if any demonkin was traveling with the army.

She watched as the squirrel entered each of the tents. She found the two large tents to be uninteresting, but the smallest tent held eight black-cloaks, and the sight of them sent a shiver up Niki’s spine. She wondered if the battle mages could find her and attack her, but she did not dwell upon it. Her plan called for striking out at the enemy camp and then disappearing into the woods. The first step of the plan required the squirrels, and she called them to her. The little furry creatures responded with enthusiasm, and soon they were dancing about Niki’s feet. She stooped and petted the creatures, soothing them to attention. Once they had calmed down, Niki explained their mission. The squirrels were excited to help their queen, and they dashed off with ardor.

The squirrels raced through the woods to the southern end of the encampment. They scampered over the barricade where no one would notice them and then raced towards the corral. Once among the four-thousand horses, they proceeded to chew through the tether lines. While the squirrels were preparing the corral, Niki reached out to the sounder of boars. She called them to her. The excitement level of the boars was not as intense as the squirrels, but Niki sensed a great willingness in them to act for their queen. Niki gave the boars precise instructions and sent them on their way.