The Powterosian War (Book 5) (26 page)

“But if we could trick the imperial army into going there… Perhaps no one in the empire knows the history of the place.” Saxthor said.

Memlatec grew agitated. His demeanor shrank inward. He folded his arms across his chest. Saxthor had never seen any sign of fear in the wizard, but he saw a tinge of it then. His face turned slightly as if to deflect some evil. “You must not awaken that which dwells there to protect the planetary power.”

“I must try to save the kingdom,” Saxthor said, his stance now open and hand outstretched. “I’m against impossible odds, I’ve little time, and I’ve no defensive positions between the border and Konnotan should I fail to stop the army in the mountain pass. I must risk this catastrophe if there’s a possibility it can save the kingdom.”

Memlatec leaned back, staring at Saxthor, almost defiantly withdrawing.

“You don’t know what you are thinking of unleashing.”

“I’ll have to risk that. If you can tell me anything that might help control the thing and direct its anger at the enemy, I’d really appreciate your input. If not, I must go there and do the best I can on my own.”

Memlatec hesitated, but Saxthor held his stare. “The Chowzenshwang is a primal force, Saxthor. It’s a being of energy that lives but unlike life as you know it. It was created with the planet and nothing can withstand it. Its being is to protect the energy concentration at the confluence of the gradients where they rose too close to the surface for the planet alone to protect it. It will destroy anything that awakens it by coming too near. No living thing can stand against it.”

Saxthor whistled at the prospect. “So if I waken it and get out of its way, it would destroy the imperial army if they were close by.”

“Do you hear my warning? You have no idea of what you risk.”

“I’m risking everything in any case, Memlatec. It’s all or nothing now.”

“In that case, Your Majesty, I’ll withdraw.” Memlatec left Konnotan, returning to his tower.

A courier knocked on the door as Memlatec left. Saxthor bid him enter, watching the wizard leave, feeling for the first time in his life an open breach with his mentor.

“Majesty, the general said to inform you that the legion from Favriana is approaching the city. He’s arranged for them to camp outside the walls to await the legions from Heedra and Hoya, as you commanded.” The messenger left, bowing, and closed the door.

“Well Tournak, it seems we’re about to undertake what may be our final battle,” Saxthor said.

“Yes, and I hate that Memlatec is not in agreement.”

“He still thinks of me as a little boy, I’m afraid. It’s hard for him to see me take such a risk. He’ll be all right. I just hope we will be. And now I must go to the Dowager Queen. She must be told of the situation in Sengenwha, the peril approaching Konnotan, and that she must prepare to evacuate again and take refuge at the mountain war palace on Lake Peeplos.”

As Saxthor walked to the dowager queens’ apartment at the other end of the palace, he thought of Dagmar and wondered where she was. I’ve not heard from her since learning of her campaign in Prertsten. That was a brilliant stroke for all of us. I wish it might have saved Heggolstockin as well. I wish she was with me. I need her here in Konnotan to work with Rakmar and Memlatec to oversee the city’s defenses. Yes, and I need her. I wish I had asked her to marry me before she became queen. I suppose it’s impossible now, but I miss her terribly. Well wishes don’t correct mistakes,
he thought. He walked on down the hall, but there was less spring in his step.

* * *

Avoiding the scattered orc contingents that prowled the kingdom, Queen Dagmar rode through the Sengenwhan countryside with a light escort. They looked for unattached groups of soldiers and potential enlistees to send to Botahar to reinforce that last substantial garrison. Once she rode within sight of Sengenwhapolis, she saw the ruins standing silent and dark in the night. Lights here and there suggested someone was still living in the city, but from the orcs spotted around the fallen capital, she guessed it was orcs that encamped there. She wept at the sight then regained her resolve, and rode on in search of more of her countrymen to gather together in defiance of General Tarquak at Botahar.

Having searched through the northern plain, Dagmar turned south and rode around the Morass Mesas, searching out possible support in the southern farmlands. She soon ran into larger and larger groups of orcs marching south to the border swamps. Once she had made a circuit of her country, she rode back north toward Botahar.

One hundred miles from the city, the queen and her escort dismounted in a forest clearing to rest for the night. It was a thick pine forest with tall trees, perhaps three decades old. The forest floor was a deep mat of needles interrupted here and there by dead limbs. The trees swayed slightly from the wind passing overhead. Below the canopy, the fir scented air was relatively still, warm, and quiet. Even the running ground pine club moss seemed to add to the pleasantness.

“This will be a well hidden place to camp,” Dagmar said to her senior aide. “Too bad it’s still cold; I can see from the brown seed pods this place is lush with lady slipper orchids that will raise their wondrous pink blossoms later in the spring.” She tapped a dead seed pod with her fingernail and millions of dusty seeds puffed out the open slits onto the years of mounded pine needles. She sighed, relaxed by her vision of the carpet of pink orchids and golden jasmine cascading from the trees where sunlight broke through above. The vision evaporated when suddenly a twig snapped in the forest beyond their range of vision.

“What is it?” the queen asked. Suddenly alert, her muscles tensed. Her aide’s head jerked upright at the sound too, but then he hunkered down slightly. His head turned so his ear faced the source of the sound. Both their hands were on their sword hilts. They scanned the forest, searching for what caused the limb to snap.

“I can’t see for all the tree trunks,” the aide whispered. He moved one foot to the right, careful not to step on a branch, trying to see further into the woods.

They both relaxed a bit when, after some minutes, nothing moved toward them. The other members of the queen’s escort came up behind them with the bedrolls and supplies, having settled the horses for the night.

“It was likely a deer,” another man said.

Dagmar turned back toward her companions, but she noted the senior aide still searched the forest.

“Was no deer,” the aide said. “A deer has small pointed hooves to slip around such a branch and not step on it. The clear snap means it was on the surface and dry. The deer would have noted it.” The others seeing his stance quietly put down the supplies and stood alert.

Dagmar felt a chill and pulled her cloak around her but kept her hand on her sword hilt. Perhaps ten minutes passed and they spotted nothing approaching. Finally, the men relaxed and began to make camp. They cleared the pine litter and made a bowl in the ground beneath for a fire. They’d set the twigs and sticks for the campfire and started to prepare food for a pot when another twig snapped on the other side of the camp.

“Don’t light it,” the senior aide said.

“We should light a blaze,” another man said. “If there is something threatening out there, it’s probably aware of us by now. If it’s an animal, the fire will keep it away. If it’s an orc or something worse, we’ll need to be able to see it to fight it and it’s getting dark.”

“Perhaps we should just ride on and find another place to spend the night,” Dagmar suggested.

“Too late, it’s too dark to move tonight with orcs all around,” the senior aide said. “You two, walk quietly toward where we last heard that twig snap and see if you can see what broke it.”

The two men moved out quietly toward the last sound’s source. The senior aide and remaining soldiers made a circle around the queen and waited, but the two men sent out made no sound. Too much time passed, and the two men didn’t return.

“OK,” the senior aide said. “We take the supplies and move together to the horses.” One of the horses began to whinny. “Grab the supplies; let’s go.”

A soldier grabbed the cooking pot while another grabbed the bags of supplies and the group moved in unison toward where the horses were tied for the night. As the men surrounding the queen moved to the horses, the steeds were trampling about trying to jerk loose their tethers from the rope that held them between two trees.

“What’s that in the shadows, beyond the bay?” a soldier asked. He dropped the cooking pot. His hand snatched out his sword.

The senior aide held the torch higher. The light reflected from the staring eyes of a ghoul with a bloody arm in his hand like a foul’s drumstick. The living-dead creature growled, its yellowish fangs glistened in its bloody mouth. The thing froze in the light, reluctant to back off, but then it shrank back in the shadows.

All of a sudden, the ghoul dropped the bloody arm and lunged for the stunned queen, swiping at her with flailing arms. Dagmar jumped back screaming as black claws slashed by her throat, ripping free a fine gold necklace Saxthor had given her. She tripped on a branch and fell back.

“Nasty ghouls,” the aide shouted as he dashed forward, his sword raised and arching in a flash.

The ghoul’s rotting grey hand spun through the air, fell back, bouncing off a terrified horse’s side, and landed near the queen. The ghoul grabbed his stump and bolted back into the forest gloom. The soldier rushed to kill the thing but tripped over something on the ground beyond the horse at the edge of a briary mass. He fell but got up quickly before the ghoul could pounce on him. Dagmar scowled, looking down on the body of the soldier her aide tripped over. The ghoul had gnawed off an arm.

“We must leave now and take the dead with us,” Dagmar said to her protector. Both stood over the two dead soldiers. “We can’t leave them here. That thing will dig them up and eat them.”

The men hastily repacked their supplies on the horses and sadly tied the two bodies over their mounts. By moonlight, the band rode out of the pine forest and on through the night. They stopped at dawn to bury their two fallen comrades and found a nearby abandoned, partly collapsed barn where they could sleep for a few hours.

“Nasty ghouls,” the senior aide said. His grimace displayed his disgust. “There are lots of them here now, drawn by all the battles and dead bodies lying out at night.”

“There will be more as we approach Botahar, anticipating the battle that must come, not caring which side wins.” Dagmar said. They rested for a few hours, taking turns watching the road for signs of orcs. In early afternoon, they traveled on toward the Nhy where boatmen took them upriver to Botahar.

Dagmar thought of how close she had come to death. Then she touched the broken gold chain she’d found again and put in her pocket. It brought back memories of Saxthor in the afternoon summer sun.

*

Stragglers had been slipping into Botahar, sent by Queen Dagmar, and slowly a substantial force held the city walls. Supplies continued to arrive by river, supporting the defense until the general in charge felt he might even take the offensive in the war with Tarquak. Queen Dagmar’s arrival was timely.

“What’s that insane Tarquak planning now?” Dagmar asked the general.

“Look there, high on the slopes,” the commanding general pointed out to her from the tower above the central city gate. The legions remain sedentary beyond the wall, but there is a lot of recent activity around Tarquak’s tent.

“You think he’s going to try another attack?” Dagmar asked.

“I think Dreaddrac’s king is out of patience with the wraith. I think he must attack again soon or suffer his master’s wrath.”

“I’ll send a message to King Saxthor telling him of our situation in case he can spare us troops again. Meanwhile, recheck the barricades in case of another attack. At least this time we have men enough to man the walls.”

“I was thinking we might mount an attack of our own, Majesty. The stress of just standing around waiting for something to happen is straining the men.”

“General, if it were to fail, it would substantially weaken our forces and their ability to repel an attack as well as bolster the enemies’ morale.”

“Of course, it’s your decision, Majesty, but we think it might give our army hope.”

“Very well, general, but remember the consequences if you fail.”

*

The general made his preparations for a raid and a third of the Sengenwhan force volunteered to participate. As the general prepared his sortie, a traitor within the city forces got word to General Tarquak of the impending attack. Tarquak left minimal forces to tend the fires around the city at night. He withdrew the rest to the foothills beyond the city at night to dig and cover holes for the horses to stumble into. They built spiked impediments to force the cavalry through tighter openings where they could attack one or two at a time and so on. The wraith was ready when the general led his force in the attack on General Tarquak’s headquarters.

The raid was unsuccessful in capturing the wraith and his officers. Worse, Tarquak positioned his forces to his advantage with the attackers riding into the afternoon sun, blinding them to the numerous unexpected impediments. The Sengenwhan general lost many of his men in the battle before the general reached Tarquak’s headquarters to find he and his staff had long since removed to another location.