The Powterosian War (Book 5) (43 page)

“What of General Vylvex and the orc army?” Jedrac asked suddenly. The men and elf king rushed up the city’s western gate tower.

The orcs were in chaos, rushing every which way. General Vylvex’s senior staff of ogres and goblins dashed here and there trying to restore order, but the orcs would have none of it. Grekenbach could see Vylvex ranting in front of his tent. As the last of the elves marched into Graushdemheimer, the panicked orcs erupted again into chaos.

“Look there,” Grekenbach said. He pointed to the orcs on the southern edge of their army. They see the approaching army from the southwest.”

“That’s the Grand Imperial Army with Emperor Saxthor leading it,” Memlatec said.

Grekenbach spun around staring at Memlatec. “Grand Imperial Army? Emperor Saxthor?” Grekenbach exclaimed. “What can you mean?”

“It’s a long story, but King Saxthor of Neuyokkasin is now the Emperor of Powteros having eliminated Emperor Engwan IV, won the loyalty of the imperial army, and been proclaimed emperor by them,” Memlatec said, smiling.

Grekenbach looked back and forth among the individuals in the tower room. Jedrac shrugged his shoulders. Grekenbach looked again out the window at the imperial army that extended now across the horizon. Then he noted the orcs again. Those closest to the advancing army bolted. An ogre whipping at the orcs, apparently attempting to restore them to their ranks, was impaled on a spear and toppled from his horse. Then troops turned away, rushing north. As they passed, others joined them. Soon the whole of General Vylvex’s army was scrambling north in absolute disorder.

“Vylvex is livid,” Jedrac said.

“He is, indeed,” Grekenbach said, seeing him ranting.

Vylvex snatched out his sword and whacked off the head of an aide for something that was said. Then the spinning head and body barely smacked the ground before General Vylvex jumped up on his black charger, slammed his heels into the startled horse’s flanks, and they raced off north, trampling orcs that stood in his way.

The Fall of Prertsten

General Vylvex, with his few remaining commanders and aides, rode to the Wizards’ Hall ruins where they attempted to gather together the remnants of his army. He soon discovered King Bordabrundese and his dwarf army had emerged from the Graushdem plain at night to slaughter his scattered and retreating orcs as they made their way north to the ruins.

“There ain’t many what’s made it here,” General Vylvex grumbled to an aide. He took a full goblet of some sour brew, the excess dribbling down his hairy chin. He wiped his face with his sleeve. “Dwarves in the mountains, dwarves now on the plain, I won’t warned about these here dwarves.” He threw the goblet at the wall, smashing it on the dusty stonework.

“General, if we return to Dreaddrac defeated and without the army, you know what our fate will be when the king hears of this disaster,” the aide said, handing the general another crude goblet of brew.

“We can’t win against all them men, elves, and now dwarves. There’s too many of them. They’re showing up everywhere.”

“Better to make a stand here behind these ruins than to be caught out in the open like at Graushdemheimer,” the aide said.

“No, tomorrow we abandons this place and try to beat that army behind us through the mountain pass at Hador. We ain’t waiting no longer for any more troops to get here. If the enemy gets to Hador before we gets through that tunnel, we’s all dead.”

“What will the king say?”

“The king can’t expect us to confront twenty legions with no more than two left. We leaves at first light so them dwarves can’t follow or harass us on the open plain.”

The sound of sword fights and orcs’ screams through the night beyond the ruins unnerved those that did make it there. None slept. General Vylvex abandoned the ruins at dawn when the dwarves returned underground. He led his tattered army northwest during the day, camping within a circle of sentries at night. Each night King Bordabrundese and his dwarves killed any orcs that ventured beyond the diminishing protective circle.

“Do we attempt to cross the Hador Mountains at the tunnel or travel west and try to cross the Akkin at Feldrik Fortress?” Vylvex asked one of the few goblins still with him.

“The remnants of the Heggolstockin army still hold Feldrik, or so the last report said,” the goblin mumbled. “We’ve no boats to cross the Akkin in. If we tried to build such a fleet we’d be set upon by the Feldrik garrison. If it took long to cross, that massive army behind us will catch us with our backs to the river. It would be best to take our chances with the tunnel.”

“True, that Duke Jedrac come on us at Graushdemheimer. He’ll be behind us and coming with a vengeance, too. If’n he’s brung all his army to Graushdemheimer, there’ll be no one defending the Hador tunnel. Best we make a run for it then.”

“But what of King Ormadese and his Hadorian dwarves?” asked an aide, but he got only a leer from the ogre.

* * *

The Dark Lord’s rage knew no bounds when he sensed the panic among the energy threads of his army. Orc bands dribbled back to the Munattahensenhov daily from his destroyed armies all through the southern peninsula. Sorrax cowered by the throne, one of the king’s few commanders still by his side. Smegdor avoided direct contact except when expressly called for. Since the tirade in the audience hall, the courtiers were few and disappearing daily for their refuges. In the quiet of the audience hall, the agitated Dark Lord babbled occasionally trying to decide on his next course of action.

“We destroyed Sengenwha only to lose it due to those cowardly orcs. They come crawling back here terrified of the Grand Imperial Army and Queen Dagmar. Who reported she died in the river? How can that be? After winning it, we lost a whole kingdom to fright.”

“Without the two generals commanding the armies there, the orcs were leaderless. Your majesty knows how quickly orcs lose their courage without someone to discipline them,” Sorrax said.

“How could that stupid Tarquak lose an entire army again?”

“He was a cowardly failure in life, Majesty. Even then, his military prowess was limited.”

“It’s Smegdor’s fault; he selected that black soul for the wraith,” the king said. And that miserable ally, Prince Pindradese… what a worthless worm he turned out to be. He fled the chaotic battle at Hoya, abandoning his army.”

“Has Prince Pindradese communicated with your majesty?”

“The worm cowers in the Prertsten Palace ruins, his guards surrounding him. He’s forsaken us and hopes to make a separate peace with this Emperor Saxthor to save his throne and scrawny neck.

“General Vylvex will bring back his army. Emperor Saxthor won’t attempt to cross into Dreaddrac even with the imperial army at his back. The border areas are to swampy and the pass at Hador is too small to allow an army of that size to cross while Vylvex surrounds the tunnel opening.”

“We are weakening,” the king said. “We’ve expended so much of our energy in our wraiths, dragons, and building this empire. Now it’s even difficult to read the energy threads and the planetary gradient impulses.”

“Your Majesty’s power is without limit,” the chamberlain said.

The Dark Lord grumbled, “Vylvex had better make it back through the tunnel and hold that pass.”

* * *

When Emperor Saxthor reached Graushdemheimer and Grekenbach greeted him, the rulers and their associates convened in the royal palace audience hall.

“We must march north right away and destroy the Dark Lord before he can rally his minions and form a defense,” Saxthor said.

“’There are two armies left of any size still south of Dreaddrac,” General Vicksnak said.

“The Prertstenian army is no longer a threat. What’s left of it is hoping to avoid angering Your Imperial Majesty further,” Queen Dagmar said, stepping forward.

Saxthor looked at Dagmar and felt a warmth flow over him. He caught her perfume scent. His thoughts flashed back to their afternoon rides beyond the walls of Konnotan before the war began in earnest. Then he made himself recover his thoughts when he noted the court watching him.

“Queen Dagmar, take your forces and, if King Ahkenspec and his Memtahhamin elves will go with you, march on Prertsten and take that principality. If offered terms and allowed to live, I think Prince Pindradese will agree to abdicate and go into exile. That will alleviate the threat on our left flank. We grant Prertsten as province to Sengenwha for all Sengenwha has suffered in this war. It’s time the Prertstenians had a monarch that cared about the people and not his own indulgences.”

Queen Dagmar bowed to Emperor Saxthor as did the elfin King Ahkenspec. The two monarchs left the audience hall to plan their march on Prertsten. Saxthor watched Queen Dagmar leaving, her delicate form moving with such grace. She looked back at him for a moment, smiled gently and, when King Ahkenspec put his hand on hers, they left. Saxthor glanced at Bodrin who nodded slightly.

“King Grekenbach, how stands your kingdom?” Saxthor asked, readjusting himself on his makeshift throne beside King Grekenbach’s.

“Graushdem is secure, Your Imperial Highness. Heggolstockin is in ruins. It will take time to restore that province, but we and the greater Graushdem army are at Your Imperial Majesty’s disposal in pursuit of General Vylvex. Our forces are motivated to hunt down those invaders that devastated our kingdom.”

“Then our forces will replenish supplies as far as your stores can stretch. We shall march on General Vylvex at Hador.”

* * *

Later, in the palace provided for Saxthor, Memlatec, Tournak, and Hendrel met to evaluate the situation. The Dark Lord’s power and his ability to tap into the planetary energy gradients were at issue.

“That was excellent shooting gentlemen,” Saxthor said to the wizards. “Seeing that dragon’s head explode was quite a surprise.”

“Lucky shot,” Hendrel said.

“Don’t be so modest, Hendrel. Duke Jedrac has told us of your miraculous destruction of the dragon Magwaddle at Hador. That was a brilliant solution to a monumental problem. It seems you are quite indispensable to the duke.”

Hendrel blushed and bowed to the emperor.

“I know the others think we have the Dark Lord in retreat, but we four know Dreaddrac is far from defeated. As his forces concentrate closer around him and he feels we’re closing in, he’ll become more dangerous.”

The wizards nodded to each other and to Saxthor.

“Memlatec, we march on Dreaddrac by way of Hador. Queen Dagmar and King Ahkenspec will neutralize Prertsten and the western front. Can we beat General Vylvex to the tunnel?”

“We’ve yet another ally,” Memlatec said.

“Yet another ally?”

“King Ormadese and his Hadorian dwarves have been working on closing the tunnel yet again. If the king is successful, General Vylvex will find the way through the mountains closed to him,” Memlatec said.

“If he doesn’t stand and fight at the Wizards’ Hall, we may catch him with his back to a stone barrier. We leave at dawn,” Saxthor said.

The combined armies of Neuyokkasin, Graushdem, and the empire marched from Graushdemheimer straight for the Wizards’ Hall, only to fine the ruins recently abandoned by Dreaddrac’s forces. After a thorough search and dragging any boxes and coffins into the sunlight to be sure no wraiths remained, the army marched on to Hador and the tunnel.

* * *

Memlatec delayed his departure long enough to revisit the great library at the Wizards’ Hall. The vast room was moldy. Dusty cobwebs draped the room’s contents. Things crunched on the floor as the great wizard walked carefully through it. Most of the great volumes were gone, taken by wizards or Dreaddrac’s minions, but there were still scrolls, volumes, and maps strewn here and there and on the great reading tables. Memlatec opened some windows and examined the various works. He piddled about for a while. Then he stretched out his arms and closed his eyes, reading the energy vibrations in the room. He searched to ensure there was no living presence nearby.

Fedra, the great eagle, silently alighted on the balcony rail outside the opened door, monitoring the approach to the ruins. Memlatec looked at the sentinel who stood with feathers flapping in the strong breeze. The bird showed no focused sign of elevated attention.

Memlatec moved to the great fireplace, still exuding the scent of stale smoke. He looked around once again then chanted a spell. A niche appeared in the stone beneath the right wall sconce. The wizard placed his hand on the cavity’s recessed back side then chanted a second incantation. The wall opened beneath the sconce revealing a tiny room; Memlatec entered.

“Still here,” he mumbled, looking around at the volumes neatly placed on two stone shelves at the back of the room. “
The Chronicles of Yensupov
, the seven books of the high wizards of the Wizards’ Hall, the three books of prophesy, the three books of dangerous incantations, they’re all still here and safe. The Dark Lord never found them.”

Memlatec resealed the room and left the Wizards’ Hall, riding fast to catch up with Saxthor and his imperial army. Fedra flew aloft high enough to avoid drawing attention.

* * *

King Ormadese observed as his small army of Hadorian dwarves hauled great stones through the tunnels, around the stone whingtang and into the rock-dwarf’s tunnel that cut through the mountain under Hador.

“How much longer?” Ormadese asked his construction chief.

“Three days, four at the most.”

“The tunnel must be closed before General Vylvex gets here.”

“I understand, Majesty,” the construction chief said. “The blocks must be fixed in place so they cannot be moved. The interlocking angles take time to chisel. It’s difficult to move them into place in the tight tunnel.”

“What’s that sound?” Ormadese asked. His head jerked up, looking toward the sound’s source. It came from the tunnel’s Dreaddrac end.

“What sound?”

“Rock scraping on rock?”

A dwarf sentry stationed at the front of the tunnel came scurrying to the king, nearly running into him.

“Rock-dwarves!” the sentry said, “rock-dwarves coming in force. They’re opening the entrance now.”

“Bring up the others,” Ormadese said. “We must battle it out with them before they can gain entrance. They’ll be looking for cover before dawn or turn back to stone.”

The sentry rushed off. King Ormadese walked cautiously toward the sound. He peered around a curve in the tunnel. The stones the Hadorian dwarves had blocked the tunnel with at the Dreaddrac entrance were intended to be temporary and to look like a cave in. They weren’t mortared or cut to interlock. Ormadese held his breath for an instant, seeing small pebbles tumble from the rock pile. Then a great hammering started, a boulder moved, others jostled, and some began to tumble down the pile. One rolled across the tunnel floor to just in front of the king. Ormadese withdrew.

He heard the sound of his army’s metal armor coming up behind him. “If they gain entrance to the tunnel, they can remain out of the sunlight and reopen the passage,” Ormadese said to his captains.

The dwarves took up positions on either side of the tunnel, waiting for the rock-dwarves on the other side to break through. When they did, the Hadorian dwarves rushed them, brandishing great mallets. The rock-dwarves anticipated the attack and swung their massive hammers at the Hadorian dwarves, driving them back. Being more primitive, the rock-dwarves were still virtually stone. An artful slash of the hammer was required to sever the joint connections, disabling them. The Hadorian dwarves were flesh and blood, though of more elemental make. They could be killed or wounded more easily. The struggle in the restricted tunnel raged through the night.