The Crown Of Yensupov (Book 3) (29 page)

“It’s okay, Tournak, I know you mean well. I told Saxthor about my raid and asked him not to tell you. You worry too much.”

Tournak gave Bodrin a grumpy look, “You pay for that?” When Bodrin nodded, Tournak patted him on the back. Only then did Tournak go inspect the night’s culinary haul.

“You all know we don’t dare have a fire at night, especially since we know there’re orcs nearby,” Saxthor said. “You’ll have to control yourselves until morning.”

All four watched the bag of food on and off until they fell asleep, hungering for it. Next morning, they couldn’t wait for the daylight so they could start a fire and cook the feast. Tonelia made a memorable stew from the sausages, turnips, carrots, and other starchy roots they didn’t recognize. She cooked some fresh greens and made some cornmeal dumplings for the pot to pick up the flavor. They ate their fill and got apples for dessert.

Bodrin burped. “Oops! Excuse me. Tonelia, you outdid yourself.”

“No matter how the day goes, it’ll be a success after that delicious meal,” Saxthor said.

They packed up and got a late start, but not even Saxthor complained about the delay that morning. The band started up into the hills before midday and passed into the tree-covered mountains late the next afternoon. That evening they camped in the mountains and could hear cohorts of orcs, tramping along the trails most of the night. Though they hid in a cave high up on a hillside, no one slept well. Just before dawn, they woke to the sound of footsteps not far from the cave’s entrance. Saxthor woke first and shook the others to be prepared for discovery.

“How many are out there you think?” Bodrin asked. He looked at the cave’s opening but couldn’t see movement in the moonlight.

“I don’t know, but more than a few. More than we can safely overpower,” Saxthor said. “We should hide. Maybe they’ll pass on by.”

They shuffled further back in the cave. It began to rain. The fresh scent of wet fir trees gave way to a stale odor. Heavy footsteps plodded on the leaf litter beyond the cave entrance. A wet dead branch crunched just outside, breaking the pitter-patter of rain.

An orc’s silhouette stood in the moonlight at the cave entrance. It was looking in. “Yous come up here,’ the deep voice called out to the others.

Eight orcs and an ogre trampled the wet leaves on the hillside beating a path to the shelter. Saxthor and his companions hid behind rocks. The orcs settled down near the cave opening and started a fire.

“If all them farmers hadn’t attacked us, we’d be eating fresh apples tonight,” an orc said. He threw a pebble out the entrance and Bodrin noted he rubbed a lump on his head.

“How many you say there was?” a smaller orc asked.

“Must’ve been a whole village,” the first orc said. “They was ‘bout to carve us up, but we was too fast for’em.”

“Yeah, we got the best of them,” another orc said with a similar lump on his head. “It were good we weren’t in a bad mood, or they’d all be dead.”

“You two shut up and fix the food,” the ogre said. “If you hadn’t bungled it, we’d be eating better tonight. We was ordered not to anger these here peoples; I should cut all three of you from ear to ear.”

Bodrin grinned at Saxthor and saw Saxthor’s teeth in his grin. Bodrin put his finger to his lips, and held up his flat hand for the others to stay put. His heart skipped a beat when an orc stood up and turned back toward them. He came deeper into the cave; the group crouched. Almost on them, the orc squatted down to answer a call of nature. As he did so, Bodrin cracked him over the head from behind. The orc fell over, unconscious. Bodrin froze at the thud, when his staff smacked the creature’s head. He stared at the others… no response. After a minute, another orc came to relieve himself and suffered the same fate. Without a sound, Tournak and Saxthor lifted the unconscious orcs, moved them out of sight. Tonelia tied and gagged them. After a third orc failed to return, the ogre scratched his head. He got up and came to the back, looking for the orcs. He stopped, staring down at a boulder across from Bodrin

Bodrin dared not breathe. He looked to the boulder and saw an orc boot, sticking out from behind the rock. His heart began racing. His sweating fingers gripped his staff.

Hesitant, the ogre advanced toward the boulder to see what had happened. He slowly drew his sword. The ogre reached the rock and scanned around before reaching down to inspect the orc’s boot. The
crack
the other orcs heard didn’t alarm them, but they, too, began looking around. Another orc got up to see what the ogre found, and that orc fell to Saxthor’s staff.

The final three orcs got suspicious, looking all around. Hearing strange moans from the back of the cave, another rose and drew his sword. The four adventurers jumped up from the darkness and rushed them.

In their flight from the cave, the orcs ran over the ledge tumbling all the way down the hillside. It was daylight by then, and the adventurers hurried on their way. No one followed them into the daylight.

-

An orc that had fallen over the mountainside crawled back up and found his comrades tied up. He laughed at them at first, then untied the furious ogre.

“Them farmers must’ve planned this ambush,” the orc that untied them said. To save his pride, and his hide from the ogre, the orc said, “I told you there was at least fifty of them farmers.”

The victims not wanting to admit less than a hundred surprised them, agreed with the orc about the ambush. All agreed it was at least a hundred of them farmers. Word spread about the attacks by mobs of vigilante farmers near the mountains. Orcs no longer troubled the farmers thereafter.

-

When the adventurers came out of the mountains, they got their first look at Sengenwhapolis. From high on the hills, they saw it was an old and powerful city. Its high walls had stood the test of time and another older smaller circle of walls defined the city at an earlier age. The legendary Sekcmet Palace stood at the center, its towers stabbing at the sky. Even from the distance, the adventurers could see there was unusual, frantic activity abuzz within and without the great walls.

“What’s this?” Saxthor asked.

“That’s not right,” Tournak said. “People are spilling out all the gates in swarms, streaming away in all directions. They’re not merchants, some are prodding donkeys straining to pull over-laden carts. Others are carrying sacks, their children, straggling along behind. It’s a panicked exodus.”

“No one seems to be entering the city,” Saxthor said.

“They’re terrified,” Bodrin said. “Look at their faces, fear evident even from here.”

“We’ll hike to the main road and see what’s going on,” Saxthor said. “We’re farmers from Botahar with satchels of goods for the Sengenwhapolis market, if they ask.”

As they come near the capital, Saxthor approached an old man sitting hunched over at the side of the road, trying to catch his breath. “Excuse me Sir, what’s going on?”

The old man looked the three over with a suspicious eye. “Go back where you came from. Don’t go into the city.”

“What’s wrong?” Saxthor asked.

“King Calamidese made a treaty with Dreaddrac that allowed their creatures to pass through the kingdom. Then he closed the borders to them and Dreaddrac’s ambassador had some sort of fit. There were fireworks shooting around in Sekcmet Palace last night. The light flashed all over the city. There’re many orcs in the city already. Rumor has it; the orcs to the south are marching here now to sack Sengenwhapolis.” He looked back with watery eyes at the metropolis. “You better take your friends and hide in the hills, too.”

“We’ll come later, but first we must rescue my sister who lives near the palace,” Saxthor said, noting suspicious looks from the fleeing horde. Saxthor saw the old man’s eyes twitched. His hands trembled as he lifted the handles of his small, two-wheel cart. Filled with his few worldly possessions, the man strained to pull it back on the road. Saxthor picked up a box and secured it back in the cart. He pushed the cart to start it rolling, and the refugee trudged on up the road.

“That old man had his entire world in that cart,” Bodrin said.

Saxthor looked up at the city towering over them. “What do you know of Sengenwhapolis, Tournak?”

“Sengenwhapolis is a major city packed in behind her high walls said to be thick enough for carts to travel along the top. King Calamidese V built these new walls after the Neuyokkasinians’ victory. The king feared your grandfather would continue to march north and seize the capital. These walls were a last defense against the expected invasion that never came. The Neuyokkasinians didn’t seek territorial expansion and stopped at the present border.”

“The walls aren’t much use now that Dreaddrac forces are already in the city,” Bodrin said.

“We have to get into Sekcmet Palace,” Saxthor said.

The adventurers worked their way against a streaming current of fleeing civilians. No one stopped them at the city gates, and once inside the walls, the congestion got worse. It was difficult to make any headway against the surge.

“Cut over to a side street,” Bodrin said.

Tonelia asked directions to the Neuyokkasinian embassy.

“You mean the old Talok-Lemnos embassy,” the man said. He pointed then hurried on his way, with pack over his shoulder. The troupe kept close together and worked their way along the streets, where people darted out of buildings and up or down streets.

Groups of heavily armed orcs marched this way up a street, and troop of Sengenwhan soldiers sprinted that way. When the sounds of sword battles rang out in the distance, the crowds would press forward. Dust rose everywhere from falling stonework. The iron smell of blood spread with it. The clang of swords and shield thuds rang out from all over the city.

The adventurers turned a corner and saw a group of orc soldiers, sacking a shop with the merchant, lying slain on the street. The further they moved into the city, the more chaotic the activity. As the civilians massed at the gates, the abandoned inner city teamed with looters and troops. They made their way past broken windows and smashed, empty packing crates.

When the group got to the former Talok-Lemnos embassy, they pounded on the gate beneath the new ‘Neuyokkasinian Embassy’ sign. After repeated hammering, a soldier opened the viewing port.

“What you want? We aren’t taking in anyone here.”

“We’re Neuyokkasinians and demand to see the ambassador,” Saxthor said.

“Wait here,” the soldier said. He closed the port.

“Even in peaceful times it must be rare that anyone comes to the embassy claiming to be a Neuyokkasinian in Sengenwhapolis,” Tournak said as they waited.

The ambassador himself opened the port to view the strangers.

“Who are you? You there, the older, bearded man; didn’t I see you once at court with Wizard Memlatec?”

Tournak moved closer; the others listened. “Why, yes, I used to serve as apprentice wizard under Memlatec. It’s been many years now.”

“And who might these people be?” the ambassador asked. “Under the current circumstances, I can’t take chances on admitting Dreaddrac sympathizers to the embassy.” Guards stood on both sides of him.

“This is Lord Bodrin Vicksnak de Vicksylva,” Tournak said, pointing. He turned to Tonelia, “And this lady is Miss Tonelia Tezentok of Hoya.”

“Yes, and the other one?” the suspicious ambassador asked.

“Well I think you might want to ask him that yourself, in private,” Tournak said, smiling at Saxthor.

“You’re all Neuyokkasinian,” the ambassador said. “I suppose I should admit you, but don’t touch your weapons.” He turned to the guards. “Let them in, but maintain a tight watch on them. These people might be part of a plot to seize the gates from within and admit others to sack the embassy.”

“Are things that bad?” Saxthor asked, passing through the gate.

The ambassador looked hard at Saxthor, clearly wondering who would ask such a question. “The city has been in absolute turmoil since last night when a wraith appeared at court and threw another fit in the audience hall.” He turned to the captain of the guards. “Admit these three only.”

Behind the travelers, the soldiers resealed the gate. Soldiers surrounded the troupe, while others stood ready to repel an attack on the gate.

“Come with me,” the ambassador said. He led them into the embassy to the official reception hall, where he offered them seats and ordered some refreshments. The ambassador seemed to calm down and took his seat at a large desk.

-

“We need your assistance, ambassador,” Saxthor said, standing.

Before he could say a word, the ambassador again looked at Tournak. “Who is this man?”

“I am Prince Saxthor Claremendak Calimon de Chatronier of Neuyokkasin,” Saxthor said. He stood straight, facing the ambassador, his tone regal.

The ambassador’s mouth dropped open, staring at Saxthor. He then looked at Tournak. Tournak turned up the palm of his hand and pointed to Saxthor, nodding to the ambassador. The ambassador’s eyes seemed to swell with the realization that his prince was standing before him. He studied Saxthor’s features, then jumped up before falling on the floor, groveling.

“Your Highness, you must forgive your worthless ambassador for not recognizing your personage. No one’s seen you since you were a child. Have mercy.”