The Powterosian War (Book 5) (27 page)

At last, the sortie retreated through heavy orc placements that had moved in behind the men as they had fought furiously up the slopes to capture the wraith. The retreat was even more costly. Barely a third of the Sengenwhan force got back into the city. Tarquak had anticipated everything and had new ladders and towers built in the hills that were quickly sent into battle before the Botahar defenders could recover and properly defend the walls. By nightfall, Botahar was chaotic. The defenders hastily rushed to the walls, but the orcs now streamed down the slopes with all their implements of war, their screams in the attack terrorizing the city’s citizens. Morale collapsed among the defenders and rallied the orcs into frenzy.

“Are all them new troops in position?” Tarquak asked his aide.

“They is, general.”

“Signal those on the siege towers to move faster. Them towers will scare the defenders. Get them ladder men to move up quick like.”

Signals flew fast and furious and the new legion that Tarquak kept hidden in the hills poured down the slopes behind the already full force of the previous attack veterans. The numbers were overwhelming. The defenders shot arrows as fast as they could, but the ladders made it to the city walls. Half were thrown up successfully, with orcs racing up them before the defenders could reorganize after the failed raid and loss of so many men. Fires broke out within the enclave. The people began rushing around uncertain as to what to do.

*

Panic spread over the city when the first siege tower slammed against the city’s central gate and the massive battering ram smashed into the oak doors. A thunderous boom sounded through the city, shaking the contents of the homes and businesses like a death knell warning. With the battle raging on the city walls, Queen Dagmar watched from the governor’s palace tower.

“This time the ramparts probably won’t hold,” Dagmar told her aide. “Go to the docks. Have the commander prepare all the boats to evacuate the people. Open the warehouses and have the people there stock the boats with supplies for a journey to Favriana.”

“Yes, Majesty,” the aide said. He looked at the queen for a moment, then rushed out to the river docks. Dagmar turned to another aide.

“Ride through the city on horseback warning all women and children to evacuate to the docks with only personal possessions.”

“Won’t that create more panic?”

“Look down on the plaza. The people already sense the end. The streets are already chaotic. We must direct their actions. If we don’t act quickly, it might be too late. Look there on the battlements,” Dagmar said, looking out beyond the balcony at the hand to hand combat spreading along the walls’ crest. They could see more fires springing up near the stockade and people already rushing around with bundles, heading toward the river. “Go quickly and let nothing delay or stop you.”

Dagmar’s personal maid, tears on her cheeks, had already begun to pack the queen’s important possessions. Soon she had them ready for men to carry to the docks. Dagmar looked at her. Her heart sank when the woman carefully wrapped the state seal in a cloth and tucked it into a valise with near reverence.

“With that goes the state,” Dagmar said. The woman looked up at her, gave a quivering, feeble smile and returned to packing the last of the queen’s critical possession. “Only pack what is essential; there will be little room on the boats. I’m not sure we have enough vessels to evacuate all within the city. Call the servants and you lead them personally to the docks with the baggage.”

When her attendant left with the last of the valises, Dagmar turned back to the battle that was spilling down into the streets. She saw the old general fighting with an ogre on the tower above the city gate as flames licked around the tower base. The smashed gates flung open, admitting a flood of orcs as the ogre threw back the general’s sword arm with his shield. He thrust his own filthy sword into the general’s ample gut. The dying old man looked at the palace tower and his queen before toppling over the edge. Flames enveloped the turret, obscuring further sight. Dagmar rushed to the remaining aide and ordered him to have the attending trumpeter sound retreat.

With that done, she ordered the remaining forces in the palace, servants and troops, to abandon Botahar and make their way to the waterfront. The city streets were clogged with citizens fleeing to the river, clutching their chattel goods. Soldiers pushed in the opposite direction to try to delay the enemy advance through the city. Blazes flared up through the homes and warehouses, adding to the panic.

At the river, all was chaos. The harbor commander was trying to load the boats while his troops held back the throng pushing to board. Boats rocked alongside the docks as people broke through the soldiers and tried to jump into heavily laden vessels. Many boats had already left, sailing down river toward Lake Pundar into the descending bleak night.

Screams and weeping prevailed along the riverside. The sounds of the approaching battle unhinged the terrified masses waiting to board the diminishing available vessels. Some boats crossed the river, where the refugees disembarked. The boats returned to load more people, getting them out of the city ahead of the ruthless orcs that would take no prisoners.

“Over here, Majesty!” Dagmar’s maid shouted, waving her hands to get the queen’s attention.

Dagmar moved through the crowd with difficulty, even with her guards helping. The maid stood by a boat laden with the queen’s baggage and supplies for the journey. Two guards fended off desperate people trying to board any vessel they could get on.

“The city’s lost,” Dagmar said in a whisper to her maid.

“Yes, Majesty,” the maid said, grabbing the queen’s last bag and tossing it to the boatman to stow away. “We must leave right away. The fighting is only two streets from the wharf. Who knows how long the men can hold the docks. Who knows if that horrible ghost thing can get hold of the river too?”

The maid was making the last preparations for Dagmar to board when an explosion in an upper story warehouse blew out glass that sounded only one street over. All the remaining citizens erupted into a frenzied, disorganized rush for the boats. A craft only two up from the queen’s barge rocked furiously when the boatman couldn’t restrain the crowd and they jumped into the vessel. The violent rocking opened the side to the river. Water rushed into the overloaded craft. It plunged into the murky depths, taking the passengers with it. Most bobbed back up, thrashing on the surface, but few were willing to help them out of the water. Some just swam off into the darkness toward the opposite shore.

“You must board now, Majesty,” the maid insisted. She took the queen by the arm, leading her to the barge edge. Anxious guards took her arms to lift her over the railing.

As her maid fussed with bags to make her a comfortable seat, Dagmar stood, holding onto the mast, looking back over the city. Smoke from the burning city and the iron smell of blood accosted her lungs. The last of the citizens boarded anything floating as the orcs broke through the remaining and desperate defending soldiers and raced to the docks. Some soldiers, seeing the queen’s barge sailing down river and the last of the boats pushing off from the harbor, leapt into the river and tried to swim among the eddies to cross the river. Flames and silvery smoke billowed up over Botahar, engulfing the whole city as the queen sailed on into the darkness in the river’s channel. Dagmar noted the silence among the boats that suddenly seemed a stark contrast to the screams, crashing of burning buildings, and banging of arms in Botahar only moments before. They’re all in shock, she thought. There goes the last of Sengenwha. The kingdom is no more. So many cultured generations now lost to such vulgar savages.

“Where is the state seal?” Dagmar asked the maid. The devoted servant riffled through the bags and pulled one out. She reached inside and withdrew the cloth covered treasure, which she handled gingerly, and extended to the queen. Dagmar took the seal, unwrapped the great golden treasure, feeling its cold but reassuring presence to be safe. She rewrapped it and handed it back to the maid who returned it to the bag and sat on it.

“I hope King Saxthor can hold Hoya and the river,” Dagmar said to the maid.

“I hope Favriana is safe,” the maid said.

*

The stream of boats sailed down river through the night and on through the day, alert and watching for orcs in the marshes. They sailed closer to the Neuyokkasinian shore in case of attack. As the vessels landed at Favriana, with their still shocked passengers disembarking, the few that could told the story of the fall of Botahar and the kingdom. They told of the queen’s heroic effort and of the army’s desperate struggle to save the city. When the last boat landed the Sengenwhan people crowded the wharf below the fortress, but Queen Dagmar’s boat never arrived. Different people related how the queen had waited until nearly all the boats had gone to see as many of her people to safety as she could. When the queen’s barge went missing in the night of the second day on the river, they had finally abandoned hope.

The commander of Favriana Fortress wrote a letter as delicately as he could to King Saxthor, telling him of the investigation, the subsequent search of the river, and that all they could find was the queen’s barge half submerged in Lake Pundar, the bow hanging from a protruding log.

* * *

Bodrin hugged Tonelia in Vicksylva’s master bedroom. He had just received a message from Saxthor requesting he accompany the king in the race to confront the imperial army in the southern mountains. He’d tucked the message in his vest pocket. He knew Tonelia had seen the writing and knew it was from Saxthor.

“Now Tonelia, you must stay here this time. You’re not going with us to battle the imperial army and that’s final. I must have you here to hide the estate valuables and prepare our people for evacuation. If we lose the battle, and most likely it will be, I’ll need to rely on you to save what you can and lead the people to the mountains.” Tonelia shook her head most obediently and compliantly. “You will do as I ask, won’t you?”

“I’ll begin this very minute,” Tonelia replied. She called for a servant to bring down all the trunks from the palace attics.

“Tonelia, promise me you will remain here.”

“I’ll attend to the preparations as you asked.”

“That’s not a promise to remain here.”

“No, it’s not,” Tonelia said, moving to a table and picking up a delicate bronze statue. “This is a fine piece of work, it must be elfin?”

“Tonelia, promise me you will remain here when I leave for the front.” Bodrin put down the statue. “It’s dwarf made, very old.”

“I shall pack that,” Tonelia said, picking it up again, still not looking Bodrin in the eye.

“Tonelia, promise me you will remain here.”

“I can’t do that, Bodrin. You know I must accompany you. I’ll direct the servants and give them an evacuation plan should that become necessary, but I’m going with you if you’re off to war and that’s final.”

“Your father should have spanked you as a child. Maybe you wouldn’t have been so willful.”

“He did, but it made no difference.” Tonelia smiled at Bodrin and kissed him on the cheek.

“It serves no purpose to argue with you, but you know you worry me no end. How can I perform my duty when I have to be constantly watching out for you? You put me at a great disadvantage.”

“Your memory must be failing you, my lord. I think it’s as much me looking out for you as you for me.”

”Stubborn woman!” Bodrin grabbed his hat and left the room to ride into Konnotan and confer with Saxthor about the coming campaign.

* * *

King Kious of Tixos had followed the war ever since learning of the rock-dwarf migration back to the mainland. On his throne in the royal palace atop the hillside above Tixumemnese, the king pondered his relationship to the kingdoms of the peninsula and the empire. He had just read an imperial message warning him to stay neutral and not involve his kingdom in the current power struggles. He’d had a similar warning from the king of Dreaddrac the year before, when the orc presence in Sengenwha reached such extent as to alarm him about the future of that kingdom, his primary trading partner. He’d remained neutral so long as King Calamidese ruled in Sengenwhapolis. He’d begun to quietly build his military presence when rumors first reached him as to the wraith’s confrontation in Sekcmet Palace and King Calamidese’s first expulsion.

“What can we do?” King Kious said to his chatra. “We’ve no power to attack any of the continental kingdoms. Our army is slight, even built up as now. We’ve always relied on the Tixosian Sea to ensure our safety. We had no means to expel the rock-dwarves and those other monstrosities from Dreaddrac when they occupied the northern part of the island.”

“Your Majesty is quite right, we’ve no military power. The kingdom is too poor to build a real army. We must remain neutral and hope to survive this power struggle intact.”

“This is no ordinary power struggle, chatra. This will see Dreaddrac in a death struggle with the empire for control of the Powteros before it’s over. Once that is decided, they will occupy Tixos and abolish our throne, reducing Tixos to just another province.”

“Perhaps, Your Majesty, but if you challenge either side and the other wins, that victor will assuredly destroy you. It would be most advisable not to take sides; remain neutral. See who wins and rush to join the winner before the end of the war. Maybe you can remain on the throne as a subject prince. Better a vassal than a dead king.” The chatra bowed.