The Powterosian War (Book 5) (29 page)

“Such a bridge would be entirely too heavy to draw up,” Hendrel protested.

“The first half would be steel grounded in the mountain rock,” Ormadese began. “The second half would be bamboo which has the strength of steel but is light weight. The second half will roll in and out from the steel portion. Great ropes from Hador will use pulleys to move the extension. Use timber bamboo poles to push the bridge back out when you wish to extend the bamboo portion and use the bridge.”

“And you think this would work?” Hendrel asked, perplexed at the picture.

“Well, we dwarves know about these things. We’re already constructing the steel work as we speak. Once we find a source of timber bamboo, we’ll complete the job in a week. It will take a few days to install it and then you’re on your way.”

“This sounds impossible. You can’t build such a structure in a week.”

Ormadese frowned at Hendrel. His councilors looked at the king, then Hendrel, then each other. Hendrel felt tension in the room.

“You have little faith, Master Hendrel. Perhaps you do not know what a dwarf kingdom is capable of when the whole body works as one.”

“Forgive my lack of confidence, Your Majesty. It would be impossible for men to complete such a task in a week and that is all I have to judge by. I bow to your immense capability, which I knew was incredible but had no idea of such magnificent extent.”

Ormadese beamed with the flattery. The whole court followed suit. The king ordered a great feast and all shared in it. Later, Hendrel returned to Duke Jedrac with a copy of the bridge drawing and a tight, distended stomach.

Duke Jedrac stared, transfixed at the bridge drawing. “Incredible! But impossible,” the duke decided. He handed the picture back to Hendrel.

“Your Grace, King Ormadese is making you a gift of this splendid bridge. You must show your appreciation and allow him to install it. You lose nothing in the attempt.”

“How can anyone build such a thing to span the lake in the first place? It can’t be done.”

“These are dwarves, Your Grace. Do not underestimate them.”

“Well, we lose nothing in the attempt, except probably that the lake will be obstructed when the whole mess collapses into it. We shall indulge the king and see what he delivers.”

True to his word, King Ormadese appeared before Duke Jedrac and Hendrel suddenly and unannounced when they were alone in the great audience hall of the Hadorhof some days later.

“Duke Jedrac,” King Ormadese said. The startled duke sat bolt upright when his name was called out in what he thought was an empty hall except for Hendrel. “The bridge is ready for installation.”

“Greetings, King Ormadese,” Duke Jedrac said, jumping up and descending the dais to greet his guest. “We thank you for your contribution to the war effort.”

“We need work together as one or all will be crushed by the evil forces of Dreaddrac, one by one. We seek only that you agree to come to our aid should Dreaddrac attack our kingdom within the mountain.”

“Done,” Jedrac said.

After more pleasantries, several goblets of ale, and a goodly last minute feast, the two parted company. King Ormadese departed late and the duke went to bed, almost wondering if the king had actually been with him. The next morning Jedrac was awakened by the excited chatra and a calmer Hendrel. They insisted Jedrac come with them. Rubbing his eyes, the duke stumbled along in his nightshirt, trying to tie the sash to his robe. The chatra led their little party to the battlements over the city gate. All stared down at the most splendid steel bridge half arch imaginable attached to the rock at the city gate. Dumbfounded, Jedrac was speechless. Soon they noticed more and more of Hador’s citizens crowding onto the parapets and walls to look at the half bridge.

“Incredible!” Jedrac said. “How could they have moved and attached such a thing during the night and with no one noticing?”

Hendrel just shook his head and kept looking up and down the bridge half.”

Dawn the next day revealed the dwarves had installed the bamboo half of the bridge. The citizens were stunned by the magnificence of the whole thing. Yet no one dared to step onto the flimsy looking bridge.

That evening, King Ormadese again appeared in the Hadorhof’s great hall. “We insist Duke Jedrac and Wizard Hendrel join us at the bridge” Ormadese announced.

There, with the whole city on the walls, having followed the leaders, King Ormadese commanded his dwarves to open the bridge. There was a dead silence on the crowded walls. The slightest creaking of the cables and structure sounded clearly over the city. The dwarves turned a huge crank, pulling cables through pulleys, pushing out two massive poles that pushed the bamboo half of the bridge out over the lake. Other dwarves slowly lowered the bamboo structure so that it carefully settled on the roadbed on the far side of the lake. Jedrac jumped slightly at the sound of the bridge sliding onto the roadbed. In the torchlight, the structure was magnificently imposing.

“Shall we test it?” Ormadese asked Jedrac.

The duke meticulously scanned the entire length of the bridge. With a twitching jerk of his head, he nodded agreement, though his white knuckles clutching the rail revealed his hesitation. Ormadese grinned at the duke’s reluctance. Taking the lead and, turning to bid the duke to follow, he proceeded over it. Jedrac followed close behind. Noticeably contrasting Ormadese’ bold swagger, his heavy boots scuffed on the bridge boards, Jedrac gingerly placed one foot ahead of the other as if each step was his last. Hendrel had to look away, fearing others would see his grin. The gathering marched across the great bridge without so much as it swaying.

“King Ormadese, please instruct your craftsmen to show my Hadorians how to operate the bridge’s inner works.”

Before dawn, when the dwarves had gone underground again, Duke Jedrac had a fantastic and workable means of transporting his army to the plain and back in a single day.

“Do you think we’ll be too late?” Jedrac asked Hendrel and his councilors.

“Well, we can’t take the whole army. Hador still needs defending. We don’t have that large an army relative to the Dreaddrac forces now surrounding Graushdemheimer, but perhaps we can create havoc among the enemy’s defenses and take some pressure off the capital.”

“Well, at least we can put a stop to the enemy crossing under the mountains, unless another dragon appears and burns the bamboo structure,” Hendrel said.

Jedrac, the chatra, and the generals quickly scanned the sky. Only fluffy white clouds rolled over the mountains that day at least.

Emperor Engwan IV rode in a glittering imperial state coach, arriving at the Grand Imperial Army’s encampment in late morning. His baggage train had arrived the day before so that the servants could setup his multi-chambered, royal purple tent in time for his arrival, complete with all its countless elements for his comfort. Also, this allowed his generals sufficient time to arrange for a grand reception and extensive acclamations of their emperor’s bravery and wisdom. The carriage rolled slowly along an avenue hastily laid out. The troops were stationed along both sides with instructions to cheer for their emperor (or suffer severe ramifications on his departure). He’d spent the better part of the morning at the provincial governor’s palace arranging his attire for his reception. His scarlet robes displayed embroidered golden dragons rampant beneath the plush purple and gold cape, sparkling in the morning sun. The resplendent emperor condescended to casually wave to the well-orchestrated, cheering troops as he passed. He’d timed his entrance to catch the rays just so, setting off his brilliance.

Watching the imperial procession, the generals whispered to each other. One of the generals on the dais, awaiting the emperor’s arrival, whispered to another in whom he had strict confidence. “How absurd that entrance is. Look at that outrageous display. He must think this is a palace audience. The troops look at him, then around at each other with undisguised contempt. Look at their faces. They can barely keep from laughing. How will we convince them to fight for such a leader?”

“They’ll fight so long as their pay comes on time.”

“It’s been a long time since we’ve been involved in action. There’s not been a war in more than a generation, the last a minor rebellion. For these troops, the army has been a series of sentry duties interrupted by occasional parades. I hope these men will stand and fight when they see their comrades die beside them.”

“Yes, the provincial auxiliaries worry me. Look there at the back of the lines. Those men have been pulled from their homes and shops to support this campaign. They aren’t cheering with any enthusiasm. I worry they may not remain fighting long.”

“Well, this is our emperor. We must obey his orders.”

The generals took their places on the sides of the dais, making way for the emperor whose carriage rolled up in front of it. Engwan stepped out and strolled up the steps, turning once to wave to his adoring troops. The emperor positioned himself before his magnificent field throne while his lackeys dashed about, arranging his robes to best enhance his imperial figure.

“How they love me,” Engwan said to his senior general standing to his side. He waved slowly to the left and right.

“He thinks that haughty wave delineates his imperial status, but it only inspires more contempt,” a colonel whispered in the back. 

“Quiet. If he hears you, or a jealous commander does, we’re both dead men.”

The general that first spoke heard it but pretended not to, thinking instead. Who knows who else heard it. We don’t need rebellion within the ranks when we’re about to begin a war. Engwan is a fool to make such a display.

“How they love me,” Engwan said. He waved once more, then raised his hands to silence the already diminished cheering.

“Yes, how they love you, Imperial Majesty.”

“Tomorrow, our devoted children, you will begin your march to the Neuyokkasinian border. There you will open our glorious campaign for the conquest of that kingdom, liberating it from the Calimon dynasty. We will bring it into our beloved empire where it may take its place among our contented provinces.” The emperor paused a moment for cheers.

The general noted there was hesitation and began clapping, the gesture for the army to cheer. The response was unenthusiastic.

“Our brave children,” Engwan said to the general. “They are eager to begin the campaign.”

“They wish to show their appreciation for Your Majesty by adding to your glory,” a new general said, stepping forward, bowing deeply. The others starred at him but said nothing. Engwan nodded his approval to the general and waved to his troops once more. The new general noted his counterparts’ coolness and blushed. He stepped to the back of the line of commanders and remained quiet.

The senior general saw his troops sweating, having stood in full battle gear in the late morning sun before the canopied dais for two hours waiting for the emperor to arrive.

“Your Majesty must not exhaust yourself,” the senior general said. “I’m sure your magnificence has inspired the troops. You mustn’t spoil them, allowing them to bask in your presence too long.”

“Quite right,” Engwan said and, waving once more, he returned to his carriage and rode off to his massive tent complex upwind of the army. The soldiers quickly lowered their spears and shields and returned to their tents.

“We’ve delayed nearly a month waiting on his majesty’s arrival,” the general said to the general beside him once again. “I’m sure we’ve lost the advantage of surprise.”

“Let’s hope our sheer numbers will overwhelm King Saxthor,” the other general said. “After all, he was last reported at Hoya in the north. It would be impossible for him to assemble an army and bring it here in so short a time.”

“We shall know soon.”

“What was that?” the senior general asked.

“What?”

“I thought I saw something like a dark shadow pass over or into the emperor’s tent.”

“Just the shadow of a bird overhead. You’re getting jumpy with the campaign starting tomorrow.”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

* * *

“Are the legions assembled and ready to march?” King Saxthor asked his officers at the evening audience at Konnotan’s Helshian Court Palace. King Saxthor stood before them in his general’s uniform, Sorblade on his side. The commanders facing him appeared confident and eager to get underway.

“The legions from Hoya, Favriana, and Heedra are all assembled. They will need to rest tomorrow, but will be prepared to march at daybreak day after tomorrow, Your Majesty,” The ranking general said. The legion commanders began to shout out their legion names to assure the king the legion was prepared to fight to the last man to defend the kingdom.

Saxthor knew his generals were competent, but he’d led through his most experienced Generals Socockensmek and Sekkarian. Now, with them holding the northern perimeter with minimal garrisons at Heedra and Hoya respectively, he, Saxthor, would have to lead this critical confrontation with commanders he knew less well.

“We march at daybreak day after tomorrow. Colonel Vicksnak will be at the door to issue you marching assignments as you leave. There must be no delay beyond tomorrow. War is upon us and our survival will depend on this campaign.”

The generals and senior commanders returned to their legions; Saxthor and Bodrin returned to the royal apartments.

“I’ve always loved this palace,” Saxthor said, walking through the grand halls, noting the elegant details that made the palace proportions and details supremely elegant yet refined and not ostentatious. “I spent the worriless years of my youth here. Now it seems, I’m never here to enjoy it.”

“We played in the great library so many times amid all those books. We thought at the time they were for display,” Bodrin said with a laugh.

“Yes, I love the warm antique pine paneling and the fires in the fireplace amid the fine elfin carved woodwork and mantels. It’s such a comforting room. There’s never time to enjoy it anymore,” Saxthor said.

“You’re thinking of Dagmar, aren’t you?”

“Yes, we used to spend evenings in the library. Cool spring mornings we’d walk amid the tulip magnolias with bulbs underfoot. The cherry trees showered their silvery pale pink petals on us as we passed under them. I wish I knew she was all right.”

“Majesty,” Chatra Rakmar called out, rushing up the hallway.

“What is it, Rakmar?” Saxthor asked. His peaceful thoughts vanished at the sight of the disheveled minister.

“Urgent dispatches from Graushdemheimer and Favriana Fortress.”

Saxthor grabbed the dispatches. He read the message from King Grekenbach first as they walked through a mirrored gallery. They reached the royal apartments and Saxthor flopped into a chair.

“What is it, Saxthor?” Bodrin asked.

“That will be all for now, Rakmar. Stay close by; I may have need of you shortly.” Rakmar bowed and backed out of the king’s presence.

“Graushdemheimer is besieged on all sides. They’ve destroyed monstrous burrowing beasts before the things could collapse the walls. More forces have broken through under Hador and augmented General Vylvex’s army. It appears King Grekenbach can’t hold out much longer. He seeks our help in relieving the siege. I can’t spare men and supplies now with the imperial army on our southern doorstep. There’s no mention of the forces sent from Tossledorn either. We’re besieged from everywhere. I don’t know if the peninsula’s southern forces can withstand the attacks from the north much less this imperial army from the south.”

“Don’t despair now, Saxthor. You’ve held all together so far. The Neuyokkasinian army must see you as strong and confident leading them into battle against the overwhelming Grand Imperial Army.”

“We’ll have to hope Graushdemheimer and Botahar can hold out until I have resolution with the emperor’s treachery. The emperor is without honor or integrity.”

“Maybe there’s better news from Favriana,” Bodrin suggested.

Saxthor looked at the Favrian letter with trepidation. He hesitated to open it. He looked up at Bodrin then opened the message. A feeling of despair drained him. His hand dropped to his lap and the letter fell to the floor.

“What is it, Saxthor? You look so pale.” Saxthor said nothing, just looked out the window. Bodrin jumped up, grabbed the letter, and read it. He too sank back down in his chair. “She’s lost, Saxthor, that doesn’t mean she’s dead.”

Saxthor looked up at Bodrin. “Dagmar’s not dead, she’s gone missing. I know she’s not dead. She can’t be.”

Bodrin got Saxthor a goblet of wine, but the king waved it away, so Bodrin drank it. Saxthor picked up the letter and went to the balcony overlooking Konnotan. “Saxthor, you must pull yourself together. The army needs to believe in your strength. They need your courage. The people of Konnotan need to see you strong, in charge, confident of success or they will panic. Your garrisons on the Nhy need to know that they’re defending a king worthy of their sacrifice. You must not give in to grief now.”

“King Grekenbach needs me desperately, and I can’t rescue him. Now my beloved is in dire need of me to rescue her, and I can’t abandon the kingdom here to go to her. We’re losing everything.”

“Saxthor, you can’t be everywhere at once.”

“Well, I know that. But I live for Dagmar, and now I can’t save her.”

“Saxthor, you live for your dynasty. You were bred and have trained all your life to serve your kingdom. You must concentrate on this war with the empire. Give that all your attention. Dagmar can handle herself. If she’s gone, well, I’m sure she gave a brave accounting of herself. You should be proud of her. Dagmar wouldn’t expect or even allow you to abandon Neuyokkasin to try to rescue her in this crisis.”

Saxthor looked down across the city at all the frenzied movement as people strained to defend their capital and kingdom.

Bodrin put his hand on Saxthor’s shoulder. “They are your people.”

“They are our people,” Saxthor said. “I live but to serve.” His head hung low as he shuffled back into the room and went to the desk where he thumbed through a stack of papers and maps.

Belnik knocked on the door and entered the room. Once again he had a food tray.

“The chatra said you had news. Here Bodrin, here’s food. I know you must be starved.”

Thanks Belnik, but I’m not hungry.” He was eyeing the food on the tray.

The valet looked up at Bodrin, “Are things that bad?” Then he looked to the king and put the tray on the table. “Is there something I may do to aid Your Majesty?”

“No, nothing, thank you Belnik,” Saxthor said.

“Speak for yourself,” Bodrin said, selecting a drumstick in hand. He nodded to Belnik, pointing his head at Saxthor but said nothing.

“Graushdemheimer is severely pressed under the siege, and…” I can’t say Dagmar is missing, he thought. It would be like making it so.

Bodrin whispered, “Botahar has fallen. Sengenwha is no more. Queen Dagmar has gone missing on Lake Pundar.”

Saxthor looked up and saw Bodrin had stopped eating. Belnik looked pale. Saxthor slammed his fist on the table, making the papers jump and the lamp rock. “She’s missing, not captured or dead.”

“Of course, she’s just missing,” Belnik said. “Her Majesty is resilient. She can take care of herself; she’s a tough lady, a true queen. She’ll turn up at some battle front and give an excellent account of herself. Now, your majesty must focus on the war with the empire and give a good account of yourself as well. You’ll make her proud of you.”

Saxthor smiled at his valet. Delia came up and nuzzled her head into Saxthor’s hand. Saxthor looked down at her. She looked up and licked his hand. Twiddle flew to his shoulder and pecked his ear. Saxthor brushed the wren off but Twiddle flew back and pecked his ear again.