The King's Ring (The Netherworld Gate Book 2) (11 page)

Dalynn nodded. “They think that because I am a woman they can frighten me.” She folded her arms and sighed hotly. “There is little that frightens me anymore.”

Kelden closed the envelope. “What would you have us do?”

“There are now four in the group, yes?” Queen Dalynn asked. “You two, Yeoj, and Pendonov?”

Kelden nodded, he hadn’t yet told her of Kai or the dwarves. “Though, I am afraid that Yeoj is going to be out of commission for a while.”

“From fighting, perhaps,” Queen Dalynn said. “But I need his eyes and ears. Get him up, and send him out to collect information. With so many traitors around lately, I want Kobhir scoured for any more. Get Pendonov on it as well.”

Kelden bowed his head reverently. “Queen Dalynn,” he began. “Yeoj’s wounds are not to be taken lightly. I have seen them myself.”

Dalynn held up a hand to silence him. “Wounds heal, but have you ever seen dead corpses rise from the grave?” she asked.

“No, milady,” Kelden said.

Dalynn cocked her head to the side and arched her right brow. “Then shall I worry about Yeoj’s wounds and let him sleep in the few days we have left before Kobhir is besieged, or shall I send him out to get information?”

Kelden nodded. “As you command,” he said.

“Very well then,” she replied. “See that Pendonov gets right on this as well.” She turned to face Murdok. “I have been thinking how to use you,” she said. “I have a special role for you to play in this.” Queen Dalynn clapped her hands twice and a small door on the left side of the chamber opened. In walked Karmt, holding a bundle of clothes in his arms. He marched up to Murdok and held the clothes out.

“This is the uniform of a conscriptor,” Karmt said. “You may take it.”

Murdok took the clothes and looked from Kelden to the queen, and then back to the clothes. “I don’t understand,” he said.

Dalynn pointed to the uniform. “You will wear this, and take up the office of conscriptor. You will be accompanied by two of my personal guard. Your task is to go house to house, and shop to shop, and enlist as many volunteers as you can for the army. Pendonov and Yeoj can scour the underbelly of the city easily enough between the two of them. You will give me information about any family who appears to show disloyalty. In the meantime, you will also be gathering able bodied men for the upcoming battle that is sure to take place.” The queen stepped forward and placed a hand on Murdok’s shoulder. “I am not expecting to find many families who will give you trouble beyond the usual balking at such an assignment, but your service will help me even if no disloyal citizens are found. Use your story of the attack at Rasselin to help stir up a volunteer army that is ready to shake off the invaders. Do you understand?”

Murdok nodded resolutely. “I will bring every man of fighting age. Tell your armorer to have swords and shields ready for them,” he promised.

Dalynn nodded and then turned to address Kelden. “You have a different task.”

“Whatever you command, I am at your service,” Kelden said.

“I want you to sail north, to Khatthun. I am sending most of my ships there to bolster Khatthun’s defenses from an attack by sea. You will ride along with them and take this letter with you. Give it to Governor Pixier.”

Kelden took the sealed envelope, eyeing the red wax seal imprinted with the queen’s stamp. “What of the cube?” Kelden asked, changing subjects abruptly. “Are you still planning to open it?”

Queen Dalynn sighed and her head drooped forward as her shoulders slumped. “It will not open.”

Karmt piped up. “It is not on any full moon that it can open. It has to be the first full moon after the winter solstice.” The man’s usual confidence was obviously lacking from his voice. “It was a mistake on my part when reading the texts,” he muttered in a nearly inaudible tone.

Kelden nodded. “So we move forward with preparations for war then?”

“We do,” Queen Dalynn said resolutely. “As soon as the time comes, I will open the cube, but until then, I must do what I can to defend my people.” She turned and looked to the main doors of the hall before continuing. “I have riders and falcons to Khatthun and Blundfish to warn them of imminent attack, but the letter you hold has something else for Governor Pixier that I could not trust with anyone else. I do not want it being intercepted by anyone.”

“I will ensure it reaches the governor,” Kelden promised. “After my delivery, shall I return, or would you have me do something else in the field?”

Queen Dalynn shrugged. “Honestly,
if
you make it to Khatthun before the enemy, I will count it as a blessing from the gods. Should you succeed, then wait for the governor. He will give you your next assignment.”

Karmt cut in with a forced smile. “Well, at least thanks to these two, General Tehrigg’s treachery will not go unanswered. What’s more, we are ready for him.”

“That is true,” Kelden agreed, “but I would wager he will soon have reinforcements. One does not plan out such an act of treason lightly.”

“Nor without allies,” Queen Dalynn added.

Kelden turned to Murdok, then placed a hand on his shoulder. “Be sure to recruit as many as you can,” he said. “Khatthun, Blundfish, and Kobhir are almost equal in their distance from Rasselin, but Tehrigg would want to keep the element of surprise on his side. I believe he will march straight to the heart of Zinferth rather than waste numbers by first taking the other cities.” Kelden turned to the queen with a faint smile. “There is a possibility that Tehrigg may remain in Rasselin and build up his defenses for the time being, but once he feels strong enough, there is only one target he would strike.”

“I know,” Queen Dalynn said evenly. “I have worked with him for decades. There is no doubt in my mind that he would bring the fight directly to me.”

Karmt stroked his chin and then arched a brow. “Tehrigg knows our defensive positions,” he said. “He knows our strengths and weaknesses.”

Kelden cleared his throat. “After I deliver the letter, let me go to Rasselin,” he offered. “If I can, I will slay the traitor. If I fail, you have only lost one man.”

Queen Dalynn was silent for a moment. Finally she shook her head. “The idea has merit, but even if you could succeed, I need you to take care of the assignment Governor Pixier will give you.”

“I have two others who would like to join the unit,” Kelden said quickly. “They are a pair of dwarves, and they are excellent fighters. They are always good in a pinch, and have proved to be very resourceful. Perhaps they can go with me to Khatthun. If I fail to return from slaying Tehrigg, then the dwarves can take care of the other assignment in Khatthun.”

The queen eyed Kelden carefully, narrowing her blue eyes at him and cocking her head to the side. “You trust these two?” she asked.

Kelden nodded.

Silence ensued. No one stirred. The queen and Kelden stared at each other, wrestling with their eyes. Kelden won. Queen Dalynn nodded. “I guess now there are six in the group.”

Kelden and Murdok bowed deeply and then turned to exit the hall. They could hear Dalynn and Karmt talking about something, but they didn’t slow to eavesdrop.

Once they were clear of the palace, Kelden stopped Murdok and turned the man to look at him. “When we first met, you had told me you were from Shinder, is that correct?” Kelden asked.

“Yes, sir, that is correct.”

“Where exactly is it located?”

“It is just over one hundred miles northwest of Blundfish, right in the mountains.”

“Go home to your village,” Kelden ordered.

“What?” Murdok questioned. “I cannot leave my post,” Murdok protested. “You heard the queen. I am to recruit more soldiers for the army. Even you told me to recruit as many as I could!”

“Murdok, listen to me.” Kelden seized Murdok’s shoulders. “This counter attack may not work. If Tehrigg is working in league with King Sarito, they will likely launch a naval offensive before the ships can make ready. Kobhir is much farther away from Khatthun than Valiv, the Shausmatian capitol, is. If the Shausmatian navy has already set sail for Khatthun, we may be too late. The northern seas are usually smooth sailing, whereas the waters between here and Khatthun are often rife with storms this time of year.

“You fear Khatthun is already lost?” Murdok asked.

Kelden nodded his head. He motioned for Murdok to walk with him down the street. “I think it is a strong possibility, or soon will be. I think we will not be receiving support from Katthun in any upcoming attack against Kobhir. We need to increase our numbers some other way. I want you to recruit warriors from Shinder.”

“Shinder has only a few hundred people at best,” Murdok argued. “I would do better here.”

Kelden shook his head. “You start here, recruit for two or three days. Then turn it over to the merchant guard. They can continue recruiting here while you go out and recruit from the smaller towns and villages. Start in Shinder, where you are known. Then work your way around the other villages. There are at least a dozen small villages near the mountains on the other side of the desert, am I right?”

Murdok nodded. “Yes. Some of them are roughly the same size as Shinder, but others have a couple thousand people. Still, they will only have ten or twenty men who know how to fight. The smaller villages don’t have large guard units like the big cities do.”

“But most of the working men are farmers, miners, and loggers,” Kelden pointed out. “They are hardy folk. You could stay here, but the Merchant Guard can rouse the populace here without you. On the other hand, if you came back with a couple hundred people from each of the thirteen or fourteen villages on the other side of the desert, it would be an additional thousand or so fighters who otherwise wouldn’t be recruited at all.”

“I can see your point,” Murdok said. “But I don’t know if anyone in the other towns will listen to me.”

Kelden nodded. “We’ll stop off at the merchant guard. I still retain command of my unit there. I will assign them to you. With Pendonov’s injury, the men won’t question the orders. Leave half of them here to continue recruiting efforts, and take the other half with you.”

Murdok nodded and the two continued down the road at a slightly faster pace toward the Merchant Guard building. “Alright, I’ll do it.” The two of them walked for a few moments before Murdok cut in with a different question altogether. “What is the group’s name?” Murdok asked. “I mean,
our
group’s name, what is it?”

“It has none yet,” Kelden replied.

“We should name ourselves the roadrunners,” Murdok said as he stretched his hands out before them. He grinned back at Kelden.

“Not exactly something that strikes fear in a man’s heart,” Kelden commented.

Murdok shrugged. “I think it’s an apt descriptor for what we do. We run along the roads from city to city, never sleeping, always on the move, ready for action.”

“You do know that the roadrunner is a tiny little bird out in the desert, right?” Kelden asked.

Murdok nodded enthusiastically. “It also eats snakes,” he said smugly. “Tehrigg is a snake if I ever saw one.”

Kelden grinned slightly and shook his head. “I’ll think on it, but let’s concentrate on surviving before we put too much energy into a name.”

The fog hung low over the sea that morning. The tall towers of Khatthun rose above the billowing, thick mist and gave the appearance that they stood watch over an ocean of clouds rather than the waters off the coast. A single, red-haired man stood on guard atop the tower. His shift was almost over. He leaned out over the edge of the battlement and watched as a hawk dove down into the fog. He turned and stretched with a large yawn, taking in a huge breath of salty sea air. He turned his eyes away from the mist-covered ocean and surveyed the rooftops of the city, scanning the church spires and taller towers of Khatthun that stretched above the thick, whirling blanket of white that obscured the view to anything below thirty feet within the city. The red-tiled roofs of the city reflected the few rays of sunshine that bore through the clouds above.

“Everyone will stay indoors today,” he said to himself. He rubbed the sides of his arms to break the chill brought on by the fog. Even if the cold mist hadn’t descended upon the city, he knew of the warning from the queen. A falcon had arrived over the course of the night. Now the militia was on standby, while the imperial army had been given strict orders to prepare for an attack. What he didn’t know, was the extent of Rasselin’s destruction, nor the fact that General Tehrigg had conquered the city. None of that was conveyed from the officers to the lower ranks.

“There isn’t any real trouble,” he huffed as he turned back to stare at the wall of white that covered the sea. “It was probably a skirmish with Tarthuns, or some Varrvar tribes. The gods know
they
would like to escape from the mountains and caves near that gods-forsaken hole in the desert.” The guard continued to mumble for a few minutes and then something caught his eye. He couldn’t be sure, for it vanished into the mist almost as quickly as he saw it. Some sort of spike, or perhaps a large bird. He rubbed his eyes and blinked to help them focus. He stared out to the same spot. Nothing.

“Going fog-blind,” he grumped. He turned to move to his stool so he could rest his legs.

At that moment something whizzed past his head with alarming speed.

The guard wheeled around and looked out to the foggy sea, scanning through the thick mist. A gust of wind drew the silvery fog aside like the grand curtain of a theater. He then instantly realized what he had seen. There, in the water, he saw a vast array of military vessels with their masts up and stabbing through the fog as the wind filled their sails and drove them toward Khatthun’s shore. He raised his spyglass to his right eye and saw that they were heavily armed with ballista launchers and catapults. He saw many soldiers running about on the decks getting into formation. Then he saw a flash of sunlight from the crow’s nest. He dropped the spyglass in bewilderment. A moment later he felt a hard punch in his chest.

He looked down and his eye twitched when he found an arrow shaft sticking out from his body. His chest-plate did almost nothing to prevent the arrow from diving deep into his chest. The initial shock gave way to an overwhelming, stinging pain and the guard leaned forward on the parapet to catch his balance. He turned to his left and stretched his arm out to strike the warning bell. Another arrow tore through his armor, this time the shaft was higher and to the guard’s left. His knees buckled, succumbing to the pain before his hand ever reached the bell. The guard wheezed, coughing bubbles of blood up from his throat. It was all he could do just to hang onto the wall. He barely noticed the glint of light in front of him before a third arrow struck his exposed face, destroying all hope of an alarm.

*****

“Sound the alarm, we are being attacked!” Captain Didger dove behind a large, wooden crate just as a large missile tore through the feeble guard post by the docks. Soldiers scrambled to get into a defensive formation, sailors ran out to their ships hoping to launch before the opposing fleet could get to them, but that was impossible. Missile after missile rained down onto the docks from the invading fleet’s ballistae launchers. Captain Didger signaled for his men to fall back to the protection of the city’s walls, but hardly anyone noticed him. The din from the missiles, the shrieks and wails of those who were impaled, and the cracking and thundering of buildings and ships as they were struck by the missiles was far too loud for the captain to compete with. Even if they could hear him, it was nearly impossible to see with the thick fog rolling over the docks.

Only when another gust of wind pushed through could he see the enemy fleet clearly. He counted twenty vessels sailing directly for them. They were close. Much closer than he had hoped. The fleet seemed to glide toward the docks with an ethereal speed. Didger could see soldiers lining up on the ships and raising bows. “Basei help us,” Didger prayed. A flood of arrows swamped the docks. Nearly all of the Zinferth sailors were struck down as they ran along the boardwalk. Ballistae flew fast and furious with chains trailing behind them destroying the masts of the docked ships, while catapults launched large stones and devastated the hulls. The attack was perfectly organized, executed, and destructive.

Didger was able to round up a few soldiers by hand and lead them back to the city wall at the top of a small hill above the docks. He had almost reached the portcullis when he noticed that the guards on the inside of the wall had given the order to close the gate.

“Wait, you fools!” Didger shouted frantically. “You can’t expect us to remain out here, let us in!” Didger stood ten yards away from the rapidly descending steel jaws of the gate and cursed his comrades.

One of the soldiers next to Didger decided to try his luck. He sprinted for the gate.

“No, you won’t make it!” Didger yelled, but it was no use. The young soldier wasn’t listening. The man let out a yell and dove for the quickly shrinking space under the portcullis. Didger turned away and clenched his jaw against the thunderous sound of the gate slamming into the ground.

“Captain, he made it!” exclaimed the soldier on Didger’s right.

“Praise the gods,” Didger said.

The soldier jumped up from the dirt and brushed himself off. He turned back and waived to the captain. “I will get the gates open, just give me a second,” he shouted.

“Huzzah!” shouted Didger and the rest of the stranded soldiers.

Their levity was short lived, however. The soldier inside the gate looked up in horror and barely was able to utter a word of prayer before three large boulders crashed into the portcullis in rapid succession. The gate groaned for just an instant before the entire gatehouse shattered as though it were made of glass and crashed down. A great wave of dust washed over Didger and the others, forcing them to shield their faces and retreat from the debris. When they finally were able to see through the clearing dust, they knew there was no hope for their comrade.

Didger knew he couldn’t afford to wait and mourn for the man, so he ordered the rest of his men to climb through the mess and take defensive positions on the wall. The five of them sprinted and bounded upon the rubble like jack rabbits with swords. They clamored up, hands and feet grappling for secure holds to propel them through the mess. Didger made it to the highest part of the rubble and then he felt a sharp pain in his right knee. He looked down to see an arrowhead protruding from his leg just to the side of his kneecap. None of his men had noticed and they were already clear of the pile of debris. The captain bit his lip and tried to run on. The instant his weight fell onto his right leg he faltered and crashed to the pile of stone. He screamed in agony and rolled onto his back.

At that moment, the large shaft of a ballista missile glanced off of the stone wall to his left, showering him with fragments of stone. He sat up and wiped the dirt from his face. He looked out to the sea and saw that none of the soldiers had disembarked from the ships yet.

“What do you wait for?” Didger asked aloud.

He then noticed that several ships were stationary, broadside to shore. Didger grunted when he saw large catapults being pushed to the rails of the decks. For an instant, everything moved in slow motion. The wind slowed and its whispers quieted. The only sound Didger heard was the rush of air when he drew in a deep breath. One after another a heavy, metallic
clank
sounded from the ships. Within seconds the catapults started to launch large, clay pots. The ceramic bombs shattered everywhere, spewing black goo all over anything within range.

“Oil and pitch,” Didger sighed. He pulled his knife from his belt and stuck the handle in his mouth. His teeth nearly cracked as he bit down on it to distract himself from the pain in his leg as he broke the arrow shaft and pulled the head out through the other side. Blood and tissue clung to the bit of arrow he had pushed through. He spit the knife from his mouth and gasped for breath. He rose to stand on his left leg on top of the rubble and drew his sword. He stood defiantly as the enemy archers let loose flaming arrows to ignite the pitch. “So this is how it ends,” the captain groaned. Thick, ebony smoke rose up from the flames and obscured his vision. He knew that the cover of smoke would blind his own archers atop the city walls, thus allowing the enemy soldiers to take the beach with few casualties. He raised his sword and waited for the shouting voice of his enemies to emerge from the smoke in front of him.

As he watched the swirling, thick smoke mix and dance with the silvery fog, he uttered the warrior’s prayer to the demigod of battle. “Oh Basei, father of the sword, bring down your might and lend me your vengeance. For the enemy outnumbers me, yet I will not run. I am no coward, I am the battle’s son. No blade shall I fear, no enemy spare, till they break my body with sword and spear. Oh Basei, patron of fire, accept my soul in your obsidian spire.” When he finished the prayer, he put his weight equally on both legs. In that moment, he felt no pain. His prayer had given him strength, and his heart was ready.

The smoke and fog whirled in circles as two men charged through. One held a large axe and the other a sword and shield. Didger effortlessly hacked them down and watched as their bodies tumbled back down the rubble toward the smoke. Another soldier emerged from the smoke. This one held a mace. He scurried up, but slipped on a piece of granite that skipped across the larger hunks of stone. As the soldier fell, his neck came within reach of Didger’s sword. The mace-man’s head bounced down the heap to disappear under the smoke. A pain shot through Didger’s leg as he turned to reposition himself. He knew he would not be able to stand for very long.

Another soldier came into sight.

“Come on, you son of Khullan,” Didger cursed at the soldier. “Come and taste my steel.” This soldier was large, and instead of armor he wore only leather trousers. A series of scars covered the man’s chest from shoulder to navel, drawing thick purple lines down his leathery, tanned skin. The man smiled, revealing a missing front tooth, and then moved in with a pair of scimitars. Didger managed to dodge the soldier’s first swing and he countered with a great, upward chop of his sword. The soldier’s hand was severed from his arm. It, and the scimitar it still held, fell to the rubble below. Didger blocked the second scimitar effortlessly, as the large soldier roared in agony. Didger then worked his sword around his enemy and drove it back into the man’s chest. Without armor, the blade easily pierced through the man’s heart and stole the soldier’s life from him. The large corpse fell over backward to crash upon the stones.

The smoke closed in on him, decreasing his visibility. Didger’s breathing quickened, and his eyes darted around him. He could hear shouting and fighting beyond the smoke, but he had no way to know what was happening. He could only hope the others along the dock were at least taking down a few enemy soldiers for each of them.

A shadow emerged from the swirling smoke at Didger’s left and a gash was opened on Didger’s back. Didger turned and only saw a bit of the attacker’s boot as he darted into the smoke at Didger’s right. Didger clambered backward, trying to put distance between him and the encroaching black screen. The smoke opened again and an attacker came rushing toward him with a long knife in each hand. The first blade tore through Didger’s right shoulder and the second struck point-first at Didger’s chest. The captain roared defiantly and moved his blade in just in time to deflect the killing blow. The attacker didn’t stop running, he just kept sprinting across the open area to reach the smoke again. Didger was faster. He spun around, grabbed the attacker’s neck with his left hand, and threw him down in front of him. The soldier struck his head and Didger heard a resounding
crack.
Didger moved in to finish the attacker with a quick thrust of his sword. Before he could pull his blade out, two more soldiers rushed up the rubble, one of them struck out with an axe and the other jabbed his spear at Didger’s abdomen.

Didger parried the spear with his sword, moving the handle to direct the blade while the tip was still inside the dead knife-man, but the axe hooked his weapon and wrenched it free from him, pulling the knife-man’s corpse down the heap a bit as well. Empowered by his rage, Didger leapt from his perch, ignoring the pain in his leg. He drove his shoulder into the spearman and grabbed the other soldier with his hands. The three of them crashed down to the stone and tumbled over the jagged masonry. The spearman’s head slammed hard into a piece of granite and that was the end of him. Didger yanked the spear from the fallen man and thrust the tip into the axe-man’s throat. His foe twitched wildly, but Didger held on, driving the point home until the man coughed and spurted blood from his mouth and his eyes glazed over.