The Dreaddrac Onslaught (Book 4) (30 page)

“Good afternoon to you, sir,” Belnik said, startled. “I was afraid no one was home.”

“What brings you to my house?” the solemn man in the doorway asked.

“King Saxthor is passing through and would like your permission for the army to camp on your fallow fields for a day,” Belnik said. “We have marched for a week, and the last leg through the swampy forest just south of here has worn out the men.”

“Encamp if need be, but the king and queen must come ask permission themselves,” the man said. His thin, unkempt hair and weathered, wrinkled face suggested years in the sun and hard work, but his eyes were stark, cold, and held an unyielding stare.

“Sir, the king has many important matters to attend to regarding the disposition of his troops. Surely you understand his responsibilities won’t allow him to pay a social call.”

The gaunt man stood blocking the doorway with his stare fixed on Belnik. “They must come ask permission themselves,” the cold voice said with unyielding force. There was no hint of a smile, no emotion at all.

“But, you must know the king can march the army where he deems necessary in times of war. His majesty doesn’t need to ask the landlord’s permission.”

“The king and queen must come to ask permission themselves.”

“Very well, I’ll convey your message, but I can’t promise you the king will be able to come in person,” Belnik said. The man can’t be reasoned with, he thought. “Where’s your fine wife?” If I can talk with the wife, she might soften the stubborn man or even get him to approve of the army’s camping here.

“Don’t have no wife.”

“Well, the army will be camping on the land through tomorrow,” Belnik said, standing straight, his hand on his sword. Who takes care of this large farm is a mystery that bothers me. Just one man certainly can’t have kept it up, he thought.

*

Saxthor met with his commanders and allocated the available space to the various army factions. The commanders were on their way back to raise their standards at the appointed sites so that their contingents would find them and set up their tents accordingly. Belnik returned, troubled by the incident at the farm house.

“What is it, Belnik?” Saxthor asked when his valet entered the king’s presence and bowed.

“Majesty, the farmer requests that you and Queen Dagmar come personally to request permission for the army to camp on his land. I told him you were busy with setting up the camp, but the man insisted. I told him you wouldn’t be able to come and that it was the king’s right to encamp wherever necessary while on campaign, but he didn’t change his demand. I just thought you should know.”

Saxthor and Dagmar looked at each other there in the king’s tent.

“This hasn’t happened before. What subject would make demands on the king in time of war?” Saxthor asked.

“It’s a dangerous precedent. I shouldn’t imagine you’d want to encourage such behavior,” Dagmar agreed.

“The man is a fool,” Saxthor said, incensed by the mandate.

“Yes, but perhaps we could go and thank him for his hospitality, thus being polite, yet not acknowledging his ultimatum?” Dagmar suggested. She put down the goblets she was carrying and put her arm in Saxthor’s. “Perhaps that compromise will still placate the man but won’t encourage challenges to the royal prerogative.”

”This is ridiculous!” the king said in a huff. “It could set a bad example at a time when we need loyalty and unquestioning support in the kingdom. We want the people’s backing, of course, but this insults the crown.”

“Well, you don’t want bad feelings festering behind you in the kingdom, Saxthor. Let’s make a quick visit, thank him, and leave. That should be enough,” Dagmar said.

Saxthor snatched his cape and helmet. “Lucky thing for this lout I hadn’t taken off my armor, or we’d not be going.” He picked up Dagmar’s cloak, and they turned to Belnik.

“We must hurry to the farm house; it’s getting dark,” Belnik offered, coming out of a daze at the last minute decision.

“Very well, but only to thank the man, then we leave promptly,” the king said grudgingly. He checked Sorblade in its scabbard and turned to Dagmar. “Remind me to double this man’s taxes when we return.”

“Yes,” Dagmar replied with a smile. “And be sure to draft him into the army!”

Saxthor dropped his head, then grinned back. 

Belnik sighed with relief.

The royal couple, a dozen guards, and their guide Belnik set out immediately and arrived at the farmhouse after dark. No candles or lanterns burned in the house, though the man had demanded his king and queen visit. Only the fireplace light lit the home’s open door.

“You sure the man is expecting us?” Saxthor asked.

The riders dismounted, and the guards stood by the horses as Belnik went to summon the farmer. He called as before, but no farmer appeared; yet there was the fire in the fireplace and the door stood open. As before, Belnik entered the house and called for the farmer.

“This is outrageous,” Saxthor said. “I don’t demand groveling from my subjects, but I’m not about to tolerate this kind of insult.” The king signaled the queen, and they mounted their horses as the tall emaciated man appeared in the doorway.

“Do your majesties beg permission to encamp on my fields?” the farmer asked. All those standing with the horses looked to Saxthor at the tone. Belnik was still in the house, searching for the farmer, but the guards put hands to swords.

“Hold your weapons,” Saxthor said, raising his hand. “What’s the meaning of this? Your king doesn’t beg anyone’s permission. You’re lucky we don’t have you imprisoned for your impertinence. Queen Dagmar and I came to thank you for your hospitality, that’s all. Your lack of respect for the throne is duly noted. For the present, your farm isn’t forfeit, but be mindful of your manners in the future.”

The farmer turned and disappeared into the house without being dismissed, leaving the visitors standing shocked.

“Did you see that?” Saxthor growled. “Such rudeness, and in front of Queen Dagmar, is insufferable.” His agitated stallion began stamping the ground. Saxthor pulled back on the reins and patted the horse’s neck to settle him down. “Bring that man back out here. He must apologize to the queen at once.”

Four guards immediately entered the house, searching for the farmer, but all they found was Belnik coming down the stairs. The guards and Belnik returned to the king. “He’s simply disappeared,” Belnik said.

“Nonsense, people don’t just disappear.” The king dismounted and stormed into the house. His guards followed immediately and searched again for the man they all saw go into the house.

They combed the ground floor, and then inspected the upper floor as well, but as with Belnik, there was no one to be found. Finally, the king led the way toward the cellar, where a guard lit a candle at the door.

“Well, the man must be here somewhere,” the king said angrily. They started down the stairs. “Watch your step down here. He must have some secret hiding place.” Then they heard the faint muffled sound of the queen calling for Saxthor out front.

“That’s Dagmar!” Saxthor exclaimed. Instantly he turned and raced up the stairs, followed by the guards.

Saxthor came through the doorway, seeing two guards that had remained with Dagmar were dead, smoldering on the ground beside where their horses had bolted. Belnik stood beyond, forming a bolt of wizard-fire. His eye gleamed above a snarl just as he was about to hurl it at the queen. Dagmar stared at Belnik, a look of utter shock and horror on her face.

Saxthor whipped out Sorblade; the runes glowed green as it approached his aide. Saxthor threw the sword and, true to the elfin magic, it flew straight for the evil wizard, slashing through his heart before he could hurl the wizard-fire. Instantly burned by Sorblade, the wizard crumpled to a pile of cloth, then disintegrated in a wisp of smoke.

“Dagmar! Are you all right?” Saxthor was instantly at her side. She was trembling, staring at the smoldering wizard’s cloak they had thought was a devoted servant. As the wizard disappeared, the farm family’s bodies materialized through the evaporating illusion. It was a grisly sight, and all who witnessed it stood there shaking.

“Thank you, Saxthor,” Queen Dagmar said, breaking the awful silence. She buried her head in Saxthor’s embrace. He felt her warmth return. When she looked up, the color returned to her face. After a moment she stood again on her own.

“I shouldn’t have left you, my dear,” the king said, retrieving Sorblade and returning it to its scabbard. “Forgive me for being so careless.”

“It wasn’t your fault. You and the guards were expecting the man, a farmer, to be in the house. You couldn’t have known the farmer and Belnik were the same.”

Saxthor and Dagmar returned to the camp, leaving several guards to bury the dead. When they reached the royal tent, still quite shaken, who should greet them but Belnik!

“Where have your majesties been? I was quite worried,” Belnik asked with obvious innocence as he approached, carrying his towel and a cooking spoon from dinner preparations.

Saxthor started to draw Sorblade when Dagmar stayed his hand.

“Where have you been Belnik?” the queen asked.

Belnik looked surprised at the question and responded that he’d gone to the creek to wash the ingredients for dinner on his return from the farmhouse. The look of surprise at the question and hurt at the demanding tone was genuine. “When I returned, you were gone, so I continued to prepare dinner for your majesties.”

“What happened when you went to the farmhouse this afternoon?” the queen asked.

“The farmer demanded you and the king come in person to ask his permission to encamp on his land,” Belnik answered. His forehead wrinkled, and his mouth pursed. He was clearly hurt, looking at each monarch in turn. “I didn’t tell your majesties since the man seemed rude and his demand was unreasonable. Why do you ask these questions, may I ask?”

“The wizard followed him back here and assumed his appearance to lure us to the farmhouse and away from the army,” Dagmar said.

“Yes, then changing appearances, he assumed the farmer’s guise while we thought he was searching the house. He wanted to lure me into the house so he could attack you,” Saxthor said. “We hadn’t thought the evil had penetrated this far, but in future, we’ll be suspicious of everyone.”

“What are you talking about, Majesties?” Belnik asked in a breach of protocol, which they allowed. He stepped forward, imploring to know his offense. “Have I done something to offend you?”

The king and queen looked at each other, then at Belnik.

“The farm family that owned this land is dead. An evil wizard sent from Dreaddrac killed them and cast an illusion to hide the bodies. He took on your appearance after your visit there and lured us to the house, where he killed two guards and almost got the queen,” Saxthor said.

Belnik’s mouth fell open. He stepped forward and put his hand on Saxthor’s stallion.

“Are your majesties harmed?” Belnik asked, his eyes now wide. He visually searched each quickly for signs of damage or blood. “May I assist you in any way?”

“We’re unharmed,” Saxthor said. He turned to Dagmar. “The queen will be returning to Helshian Court Palace tomorrow at first light. Arrange for an escort.”

“Wait, Belnik,” the queen said. “Saxthor, I’m not going back. You’ve only a small army to work with, and you must not diminish it by taking troops for an escort for me. With the wizard dead, I’ll be fine.”

“I don’t dare risk your life, Dagmar,” Saxthor said, patting her hand.

“Well, that’s my decision, my dear, and I’m continuing on with you to Sengenwha to be of whatever help I can. The Evil One’s minions can find me as easily at the palace as on this mission if there are others still looking for us. Don’t forget the vile wizard would have killed you as well as me if he could have.”

“You’re a very stubborn woman, Dagmar,” the king said, clutching the horn of his saddle with both hands. He rose to reposition himself on the horse. “The queen will be traveling on with us, Belnik. You may go.”

The king and queen were so unnerved that a dark wizard had snuck into the heart of the kingdom, assumed the appearance of their most trusted of servants, and nearly killed the queen, they didn’t speak of it further, but both remained troubled and alert to those close to them thereafter.

* * *

“King Saxthor has foiled my plans again,” the Dark Lord said, his voice a near hiss. “Accidentally or intentionally, he always seems to appear at the wrong time to do something unexpected to mess things up. I really must do something special for him.”

“I’m sure you know best, Your Majesty,” Smegdor said. He remained by the door, watching his master’s every move.

“If he’s killed the wizard I sent to intercept them, he has traveled north from Konnotan. I wonder where he’s heading.” The Dark Lord put his finger down on a spot on the worktable map. Thinking, he rolled his finger on the spot, Botahar.

“Smegdor, send a message to General Tarquak in Sengenwhapolis. He's to stop piddling around there and march on Botahar. Wherever King Saxthor is leading his army, he’ll be forced to come to the aid of Botahar for fear Tarquak will cross the Pundar and lay waste to the Neuyokkasinian province of Talok.”

“Yes, Majesty,” Smegdor said. He turned to go prepare the document. “I’ll send a wraith this night to find the general and have him comply with your orders, post haste.”