***
The thousands of people that had gathered outside the chamber of equals started to disperse; there was much to be done over the next few days to ready themselves for the journey across the Planes of Dunne. The Prefect had turned and gone back inside; at his side walked Ulador, to the other strode Kyri, both were in full battle dress as befitted the Vangarian Guard, their swords held still by their sides, their ceremonial daggers with the hilt in the shape of a Dragons head, and the blade curled like a claw, hung from their belts.
The Prefect wore a deep frown as they went.
“We all knew the Mandrake would come,” he said. “And yet the people seem to have denied the very existence of such a day as this, as though it would come upon their heirs."
“My Lord you know that the people desire peace,” replied Kyri. “But though it is desired it is not always expected, they also know through bitter experience the necessity of War. Such a desire for peace might weaken a lesser nation and some other people might rather deny the inevitability of what we must do, and still hope to sleep peacefully at night, inviting danger to come upon them at a later time, rather than confront the horrors that wait them."
Kyri gestured towards the east before continuing, “Some other people might be content with that, but we have learnt long and hard lessons throughout our history when to meet challenges such as these.”
Kyri had long foreseen that such a day as this would come. As soon as Achil had first warned the Dragon People of the Mandrake, Kyri had prepared the people. By devising edicts that made it compulsory for the arts of combat to be learnt. So as the years passed, and the Storm Clouds grew, the people would be ready to face an uncertain future.
They swiftly approached the Alchemists chamber, as they entered they found him standing over a table, on it were maps of the entire kingdom, he was staring at the one with the lands of Findolin on it.
Looking up, he gestured for them to join him, “We should dispatch scouts at once, our fastest riders it is not for nothing that the Lord of the Mandrake has chosen now to strike.”
“What do you mean? What have you discovered? Have you looked into the Farsight Orb?”
“When I look into the Orb, all is misty; it is as if some brooding tempest covers my sight. But what I did find in our ancient records has troubled me deeply.”
Ulador stared apprehensively at the Alchemist, “Go on.” he spoke, with some hesitancy.
The Alchemist walked over to the wooden shelves where his records were kept, pulled one out and placed it on the table.
“This was written, in ages past, of which only a poor copy of the original remains. I believe it concerns these times.”
The great defiler in the second age
Rises out of Mead a monstrous Mage
Shields will be shattered Swords drawn
Calamity and death all shall mourn
The destroyer with a lust for power
Will come and burn the holy tower.”
As the last words were read out ’And burn the holy tower,’ the three of them shuddered; the Prefect was the first to speak.
“These prophesies can always be interpreted in many ways, the burning of the holy tower for example may mean the renewal of the old Gods the way farmers burn their fields at the end of the season to make them ready for the following seasons crops.”
Ulador shook his head, “I realise Prefect what you are saying but that prophesy seems fairly unambiguous to me. Alchemist are there any other words from that time of who prevails.”
The Alchemist looked at Ulador, “Unfortunately I have found nothing as yet, and I‘m afraid, I‘m looking more in hope than in belief."
The Prefect interjected, “Hope is good, and in fact that is what we will take with us to Findolin. Riders should be dispatched at once, all across the land.”
“If you look at the map,” said the Alchemist. “As we will need to ride light, the riders need to arrange that the Army can rest and be fed at these points; so that when we arrive at Findolin we will be fresh and ready for battle."
Ulador fixed his gaze at where the Alchemist was pointing.
“I shall send out riders at once, the people themselves have been told to carry a few days food with them so we won’t have to stop at this first point, the rest is as it should be.”
“Agreed,” said the Prefect. The others nodded, “We should all four of us retire for the evening to make our own preparations.”
They silently all left the chamber of equals for their homes. Ulador’s home was outside the City limits, a small farmstead. Even as he approached he could see the glow from inside the stone house, there was a clay tile slightly dislodged on the roof, he would deal with that when he got back, there was no time now. A small lantern lit up the front doorway. He stood for a moment outside, staring at what it had taken so long for him to build, the well to the side of the house that he had dug so that there would be fresh water, the coral for the horses, the barn, and the ploughed fields.
He walked up the few steps to his porch: by the front door to its side built into the wall was a small alcove within which was the statue of the Goddess Artemis. He touched the statue as he always did before entering his house and gave a silent prayer for the protection and safety of all.
Standing outside he could hear his wife telling the children they could not wait up any longer and that they had to go to bed. It brought a smile to his face as he opened the door and entered his home.
The children hearing him enter the house came running up to him, he knelt down, Ulrich was eight and Erin was six, he held them both in his arms.
“Come Ulrich, Erin it is getting late, to your beds.”
His wife came into the hallway, wiping her hands on a small towel that hung from a rail at the side of a small basin, which was filled with fresh water and fragrant flowers, giving the hallway a fresh spring smell of rose. On the walls were frescos which seemed to dance in the candle light. His wife smiled at him as he held the children.
“Come little ones to your beds,” she said in an almost whispered tone.
Alicia with her long dark hair and blue eyes was as beautiful now as when he had first met her, her smile could still make him catch his breath.
“Your brother has been waiting for you in the dining room: I have prepared the table and will bring the evening meal to you both.” She kissed him and took the children to their beds.
Ulathorn was reading a scroll as Ulador entered.
“Hi my brother how goes it with you," said Ulador, with a broad grin, as he gazed at his brother's youthful face.
“Ulador, I hope you are well, I came here once I had finished preparations for the long march, I have been in the fields all day and only when I got back this evening did I hear the news that we were to muster at the Planes of Dunne in a week. And ride to Findolin, dark times indeed if that mighty city were to fall.”
Ulador nodded in agreement, “The Prefect knows how desperate their need is, but I fear we will be too few and too late.”
Ulathorn considered this for a moment, “The Mandrake, so we finally meet the menace.”
“Listen Ulathorn it is because of the Lord of the Mandrake that they have grown so powerful, we have for far too long ignored the goings on in the Central Plains. Let us hope they can be driven back, if not...”
“You don’t,” said Ulathorn, “have to finish that sentence. What of your friend Achil, will he join our cohort tomorrow?”
“No,” replied Ulador thoughtfully, “the Prefect has sent him, Andreas and Nicholas ahead; I believe to scout out the lands east of here.”
The room fell silent as those last words of Ulador’s trailed off. They both wondered whether they would see their friends again.
Evan walked and prepared the table, as they ate the silence lifted, and for a time they forgot the troubles of the world outside, and spoke of the harvest, and talk of Ulathorn and whether or not he would finally find a wife and settle down and also if there was time for
Ulador to see Evropais new play.