The Powterosian War (Book 5) (5 page)

“Does Your Majesty think Tarquak will draw those troops here to renew the attack or abandon this front and move his forces south to attack Neuyokkasin directly, leaving the river under our control?” Bodrin asked.

“You gentlemen know more about war strategy than I do.” Dagmar looked to the general.

“My guess is that he’s in real trouble with the Dark Lord, having lost Sengenwhapolis once and now being unable to overthrow this harbor town,” the general said. “He won’t have long to deliver; the vile king has no patience. Tarquak’s been told to deliver Botahar. Without that conquest, he won’t be allowed another opportunity to succeed. Tarquak will have to renew the attack here, and quickly, or he’s done. I think he dare not try to attack Neuyokkasin while the southern kingdoms still control the river and could cut his supply lines behind him.”

“Then, if he’s going to try to rally the scattered orcs in the southern swamps for reinforcements; I must try to rally support to defend Botahar once again,” Dagmar said. She looked off in the distance collecting her thoughts.”

“How may we help, Majesty?” Bodrin asked.

“Bodrin, return to Saxthor and let him know of the current status here. He will need to be appraised of the situation since he would be cut off if Tarquak takes Botahar. Tell him we will hold the city until we can get allies to drive out Tarquak’s army.

“As for me, I’m leaving today to find those allies we will need to keep the city out of enemy hands until I can get help in expelling them out altogether.”

The two men left. Dagmar dressed for travel as her maids packed supplies for her journey. She took sail down river and mounting her horse, rode southwest toward the Morass Mesas, and help.

Memlatec was working late in the tower when the great horned owl flew up. He circled the room, and flew silently out the balcony door into the night in search of food. The wizard looked up at the sudden breeze and watched the bird go, noting it startled Fedra on the balcony rail. The great eagle settled back down for the night, tucking his head under his wing, an occasional feather fluffing in the breeze. Memlatec went to stir the fire and was replacing the poker when Aleman called up to him from below. There was a man at the door demanding to see the great wizard.

“What does he want?” Memlatec asked. “The hour is late.”

“Well, you’re a wizard and keep strange hours,” Aleman snapped. “How should I know what he wants? He didn’t tell me nothing. I asked, but he didn’t want to tell me a thing. Now, you want me to send him up or away?”

“All right, you grumpy old poop, send him up.” Memlatec watched the man from the stair landing.

He’s Neuyokkasinian. I recognize the man’s face, but I can’t place him, Memlatec thought. As the man climbed higher, Memlatec recognized him as one of Chatra Rakmar’s staff he’d passed in the palace many times. What could he want at this hour?
When the man reached the landing he rested on the railing a moment, then Memlatec invited him into the workroom. He showed the man to a seat, which he took, hat in hand, breathing heavily. Memlatec gave him a moment to recover and offered him a goblet of refreshment that he promptly emptied. Wonder if I should offer him food? The wizard wondered.

“I come on most urgent business, Your Worship,” the man said, putting the goblet on a tray, looking around the room at the strange wizard things, then at the Memlatec. His facial features were stiff but his eyes were gleaming. Watching the man’s every feature and movement, Memlatec sat down at the desk facing the man fidgeting with his hat.

“And what business would that be?”

“Chatra Rakmar sent me to the Grand Imperial Court of Powteros at Engwaniria,” the man began, pausing to clear his throat. “I traveled through southern Neuyokkasin to the mountains at the border and began meeting more and more travelers hurrying along the roads. I first thought them just merchants trading between the kingdom and the empire, but increasingly, the farmers and merchants seemed agitated. I stopped at an inn near the border one night before going into the empire. I chanced to sit with a merchant that night for dinner. He told me that the imperial guards were increasingly refusing admittance to the merchants, especially those traveling to the interior and the capital.”

“Why would the empire turn away trade?” Memlatec mumbled out loud.

“Listening to the room conversations after dinner, I picked up grumblings of the local farmers to the same effect. The imperial guards were turning them back with their farm produce, unless they were willing to sell it at the border.”

“This is very strange. Have there been reports at the palace of this repudiation of trade?”

“I have heard some complaints from merchants, but gave no heed to them as I don’t work with the commercial aspects of the chatra’s office. But as I was saying, I attempted to cross the border the next day. I too, encountered resistance from the border guards. I was to find our ambassador at Engwaniria or to find out why he has been sent away from the court. And you know there has been no word from Prince Augusteros. I believe you requested the chatra send such a mission.”

“Yes, yes, go on.”

“Well, at the border, I presented my diplomatic credentials and was at once turned back without explanation!” The man’s eyes looked straight at Memlatec, his body leaned forward, and his voice cracked.

“Refused entry into the empire; a courier on official court business?”

“Yes, Your Worship. The imperial guard tensed, he stood upright clutching his spear with white knuckles. His face turned to a frown. He got fidgety and looked to his companions, then called the commander of the border crossing. That official strutted up as minor bureaucrats tend to do, and on reviewing my papers, he turned red, cleared his throat, and handed my papers back, telling me I must return to Konnotan.”

“Refused entry into the empire by an imperial court official? None would dare that without specific instructions from the throne itself.”

“Well, I rushed back and, passing your tower first on the way to the chatra, I thought I should report this incident to you right away as you instigated the inquiry, I believe. I hope I did the right thing. I wouldn’t want a breach of security to anger the chatra.”

“You did the right thing,” Memlatec assured the man. He got up, came round the table, and placed his hand on the man’s shoulder. “You must not tell anyone you stopped here first, however.”

“I must inform the chatra, but no one else, as you say.”

Memlatec looked the man in the face with a grave stare. “No, tell no one you stopped here, not even the chatra. Report the incident to him; but do not tell him or anyone else you told me this.”

The man jumped up, knocking back his chair. He spun his hat round and round by the brim with both hands.

“But I must inform the chatra, he will be furious if he finds out I told you and didn’t tell him I did so.”

“Sit back down,” Memlatec said. He patted the man’s shoulder and brought the chair forward for him. I’ll have Aleman bring you food. I must insist that you do as I say, and not mention your stopping here to anyone, even the chatra.” Memlatec went to the landing and called down to Aleman, who came shuffling to the staircase. “Bring this gentleman food, Aleman.”

“Send him down here if he needs something to eat this late at night,” Aleman responded, still wiping a dish with the towel. Memlatec was silent. Aleman looked up to the landing and nearly dropped the plate. He understood the stare’s gravity. The housekeeper turned without a word and hurried off to the kitchen. Memlatec returned to the room where the messenger was still fidgeting, thumbing the buckle on the diplomatic pouch.

“Everything will be all right; just you return to the chatra and report your findings and stay out of sight thereafter.”

The courier said nothing in response, but looked up at Memlatec, studying his face. Then he nodded agreement to Memlatec’s warning. The wizard asked what else the man had noted in the border area, but the man seemed reluctant to divulge anything more.

Huffing and puffing, Aleman trudged up the stairs and into the room with a tray which he slid on the desk before the messenger, pushing back a stack of scrolls. The housekeeper took one look at Memlatec and rushed to the door, not even stopping to catch his breath, and disappeared down the stairs.

“Eat your food,” Memlatec said, his tone emphatic.

The man ate but more so pushed the food around the plate. Memlatec moved out onto the balcony, looking to the south, then returned to his desk where the courier rose quickly and insisted he must get back on the road to Konnotan.

“Tell no one you stopped here or told me of your findings,” Memlatec repeated.

The messenger nodded, jerked his hat down on his head, and rushed out and away. Memlatec watched him riding fast down the road to the city.

I’ve all my watchers stationed in the north, Memlatec thought. I’ve not anticipated trouble with the empire. What trouble is brewing with the emperor, Saxthor’s cousin? Where are Prince Augusteros and the ambassador? Too many unknowns…

* * *

Saxthor marched east with the Heggolstockin general’s army, hoping to catch the goblin general before he could attack the provincial capital. The total force would just match Dreaddrac’s army. The outcome wouldn’t be assured, but at least Saxthor’s assistance would even the odds. Besides, without any supply line, the goblin would be forced to live off the land. Saxthor and the general rode at the head of their combined troops as fast as the men could keep up.

“Do you think they will attack Girdane or go straight for Heggolstockin?” the general asked Saxthor.

“You know your lands better than me, but I don’t think there is a lot left on the plain here to sustain the orcs on their march to Heggolstockin. The farmers have likely moved most of their goods and livestock to Girdane for safety, I expect. When I was in Girdane long ago, there was only a small contingent of soldiers stationed there to support the customs house. Not much there to repel the orc army. Yes, I think the goblin will need to take Girdane for supplies to sustain his army at the siege of Heggolstockin.”

“Then I must send a messenger at full gallop to warn Girdane to get all supplies and livestock out of the city and down river before the enemy arrives,” the general said. He summoned a rider and sent him on his way.

“If the goblin attacks Girdane, we must catch up with him there,” Saxthor said. “We must defeat him before he gets those provisions.”

“Can we reach Girdane with these exhausted men before the goblin destroys the town, slaughters the inhabitants, and marches on to Heggolstockin with captured supplies?”

The tired army marched on, turning slightly southeast.

* *

The messenger from the Heggolstockin general had reached Girdane a day and a half before their army. Everyone was in a flutter, scurrying here and there getting goods and possessions onto boats sailing south. Livestock was slaughtered, salted, and carted onboard other boats. The governor of Girdane had ordered the city emptied of all supplies that could sustain the demon army. When the goblin came down out of the mountains overlooking the town, he saw people darting around like frenzied insects in the city below.

“But if we attacks Girdane, the Heggolstockin army behind us will trap us between the town and them,” an ogre protested.

“Yes, but if my old reports are correct, there's no army at Girdane. We should be able to subdue it in no time and get the supplies before the Heggolstockin army arrives. That is if these stupid orcs do their duty.”

“But General…”

“Shut up! I’ll tolerate no more whining,” the goblin said. His horse whinnied and stamped the ground at the tension. “See those boats sailing downriver there. They’re taking the critical supplies beyond our reach. If we delay, there will be no provisions left for us.”

“But general,” the ogre started to protest.

The goblin spun to the side and flung out his fisted hand. The spiked metal wrist guard smashed the ogre back handed, sending him flying backward off his saber-wolf. The beast roared and ran off.

“Sound the attack. Now!” The general spurred his slick black horse and galloped down the hillside straight for Girdane and the rations.

* *

At Girdane, a guard posted at the city gate sounded the alarm, seeing the orc army breaking out of the forest on the hillside above the town. The great goblin general in black leather on his black steed, with sword swirling, led a larger and larger mass of orcs coming out of the trees. They streamed toward the city. Wiping his brow, the squat, paunched governor looked up at the alarm. All aflutter at each sounding of warning horns, he frantically issued orders right and left, some countering the previous orders.

Heavily laden boats cast off ropes securing them to the harbor docks. They raised their sails and jockeyed for position to sail down river before the orcs reached the town and seized them and the supplies. The last of Girdane’s inhabitants now scrambled, looting the abandoned buildings and rushing the harbor for any boats to escape the city. The last wagons, most overloaded, rolled out of the city down the southern road. Their drivers whipped the horses and mules, leaving a thick trail of dust. Only the small garrison remained with the governor to defend the wooden walls of Girdane.

The last of the boats were safely away and down the river before the goblin reached the town. Seeing he was too late to capture the boats, he ordered orc contingents to pursue the escaping wagons. Meanwhile the main orc army surrounded Girdane. The goblin demanded the town surrender, and grossly outnumbered, the governor was about to do so.

“Hold on, Governor,” the Heggolstockin general’s messenger said. Sweat ran down the official’s balding head and over his ample cheeks faster than he could mop his brow. “There’s an army on the way to relieve the town. You must not surrender. Hold the goblin here until our forces can overtake him. We must not allow any remaining supplies to fall into enemy hands.

The rotund governor raised his eyebrows and leaned back slightly, trying to puff up his chest. He only succeeded in making his paunch protrude more. He slapped his hands on his tummy. “Who do your think you are, son? I’m the governor here. I say when we stand and fight and when it’s time to save the citizens and evacuate this town.” He pursed his lips looking at the messenger and jerked his head emphatically.

Just then a shower of arrows flew over the city wall. Several slammed into buildings just beyond the governor. The man jumped back and hunched down, as much as a ball can hunch. He deliberated the situation there and then and stood back up. “Son, I’m no warrior. I appoint you governor in my absence!” With that, the former governor grabbed his fallen hat, turned, and fled the city not to be seen again.

A sergeant came running up as the governor fled. “Sir, where is he going? We need orders as to how to proceed.”

“He appointed me governor in his absence and fled,” the young messenger said. “Take your men to the walls and defend them to the last man. There is an army not far behind the orcs. We must hold out until that army arrives to relieve the town.”