Chapter 22
About two or three days later, the nobles were starting to grow anxious, having heard no updates on the situation, and were wondering what was taking so long. Fritzer decided to organize a meeting so the nobles could discuss whether they should send more troops to find out the cause of the delay. As the nobles began to pour into the temple, a horseman was heard barreling down the road.
“Make way!! Make way!!” the horseman shouted. Startled women and children rushed to the sides of the road to get out of the way of this horseman, who apparently had urgent business. Bundor, one of the Sodorfian nobles, was making his way towards the temple for the meeting when he heard the commotion. He could hear the pounding of the horse’s hooves against the hard stone road growing louder and louder. Bundor shouted inside the temple, “Hey, come out here!!”
The nobles looked at each other in bewilderment and quickly began walking towards the entrance. As the horseman came nearer, Bundor noticed a rope around the rider’s torso securing a passenger that was either dead or unconscious. He approached the horseman, who brought his horse to a halt just outside the temple entrance.
“Found’em just outside of Seihdun,” he announced. “Found’em just like this. I was goin’ on a hunt, and lo’ and behold I come across this here fella runnin’ down the muddy road barefoot, drenched in blood, and scared to death. He was shakin’ all over and stammerin’ terrible. The last plain words he spoke before passin’ out was something like, ‘Get me to the City of Sodorf; I must speak with the nobles!’ I spent a few years in the Sodorfian army, and I could tell by his armor, in spite of all of the blood coverin it, that he was a Sodorfian regular. I hadn’t been to the City of Sodorf for a long time, and I knew it was going to be a long ride, but I could tell that this young fella had somethin real important to tell y’all, so I rode down here as fast as I could, armed only with ma bow n’ arrow, to deliver’m to you. He couldn’t ride by hisself, so I had to strap him tightly on my horse while I rode. It wasn’t exactly a comfortable journey—no, sir!”
Fritzer emerged from the temple and was horrified. “Uchinweld!” he uttered in astonishment. “What in Kasani has happened?” he asked, quickly approaching the Sodorfian regular. “Quick! Let’s get him inside. Hurry!”
Fritzer and Bundor each grabbed one end of the pale, nearly lifeless body and took it inside the temple. They then took off the soldier’s bloodstained armor to see if he had sustained any serious wounds. Upon examining him, it did not look like he had . . . at least not physical ones. Some scrapes and some bruises but nothing more.
“He must just be in shock,” one of the nobles said. The man’s face was deathly white. He was breathing, but sporadically. For a few moments he would breathe lightly, and then suddenly begin wheezing and struggling for air.
“We’ve got to find out what this man had to say before we lose him!!” Fritzer screamed. “Someone bring cold water now!!”
One of the nobles stepped outside the temple and barked the order at a servant standing outside the temple. He quickly ran towards the nearest well to comply with his master’s request. He came back about twenty minutes later with a bucket full of ice-cold water. The Sodorfians had a system of deep underground tunnels that brought freezing cold water from lakes high up in the mountains to wells located throughout the city.
The bucket was brought inside the temple and handed to Fritzer.
“Hold him upright,” he said.
Bundor grabbed the soldier and sat him up. Fritzer carefully poured some freezing cold water over the soldier’s face and down the back of his neck. The soldier moved a little, as if he could sense the contact the cold water made with his skin, but did not wake up. Fritzer waited a few more moments and then tried again, cautiously. The soldier stirred more this time, and even mumbled something in a soft voice, but didn’t come out of his unconsciousness. Forgetting for a moment the extremely fragile condition the soldier was in, Fritzer grabbed the bucket of ice-cold water and flung all of its contents full-force at the soldier’s face and began shaking him, saying, “Wake up! Wake up!”
Suddenly, the soldier came to, his eyes open wide like saucers, and he began to scream, “No! No! Don’t kill me! Please don’t kill me!!”
He began struggling frantically and violently to free himself from the grips of the several nobles trying to hold him still. The look in his eyes was one of an utter lunatic. His pupils were widely dilated. The utter horror and terror in his eyes unlike anything the nobles had ever seen.
“What on earth are you talking about?!” asked Fritzer. “You’re safe; no one here wants to harm you. Calm down!”
The soldier’s eyes darted about rapidly, evaluating his surroundings, trying to figure out whether the men surrounding him meant to do him harm. He was drooling and stammering, and one of his legs was twitching violently.
“For Kasani’s sake,” said Fritzer, “would someone get this man a good stiff drink!!”
Fortunately, for this it wasn’t necessary to even leave the temple, as the temple itself contained a large cache of strong liquor. It was usually only drunk on special occasions and in relatively small quantities, as this was some of the finest, oldest, most expensive spirits in all of Sodorf. However, there was to be no moderation in this case. Bundor brought Fritzer a large bottle of Haftler, one of the strongest brands.
“Hold him steady!” said Fritzer. A few more nobles joined in to help steady the writhing, paranoid soldier.
“Open wide!” said Fritzer. Fortunately, his mouth was already slightly open, since he was stammering and moaning incessantly. A noble standing behind the writhing soldier sensed perhaps he was going to close his mouth as soon as the bottle came near, so he grabbed the soldier’s mouth to keep it open. He did the right thing, because just as Fritzer brought the bottle near his mouth, he tried to close it and turn away. It took all of the noble’s strength to keep this wild man’s jaws open, but he somehow managed. Fritzer began pouring the Haftler right down the man’s gullet. Although still terrified, the soldier felt a warming sensation come over him as the Haftler went down his throat, into his stomach, and started producing its powerfully intoxicating effects. Sensing the slight relaxation of the man, the noble holding his jaws open cautiously let go. The soldier grabbed the bottle with both hands and began drinking the strong spirits with all the vigor and enthusiasm of a lifelong drunk.
After about ten seconds of non-stop guzzling, he pulled his mouth away.
The nobles looked at him anxiously.
Slowly, his leg ceased twitching. The drool that had been running out of his mouth stopped. He started to relax. Although he was now utterly drunk.
“They’re all dead,” he said plainly, looking straight ahead with glassy, nearly lifeless eyes, not looking at anything or anyone in particular.
“All of them,” he repeated, “DEAD!”
Fritzer could tell he was quickly beginning to lose consciousness again, so he knew he had better not waste time.
“Tell us everything,” he said softly, in a soothing voice.
“We were marching,” he said. “The Dachwaldians were in front. They were going to show us the way. They were going to show us where—” Suddenly, the soldier began coughing violently. He wheezed and hacked for a few minutes and then finally regained most of his composure. “Forgive me. They were going to show us where all of the damage had supposedly been done to their farmland. Suddenly, arrows came out of the forest from everywhere. It was a well-planned, well-executed ambush. No doubt about it. There must have been over a thousand of them. We tried to flee, but the mud made running impossible and walking difficult. Suddenly, a huge device that must have been tied hundreds of feet up in the tallest trees and attached to a large rope came swinging down. There were spikes all over it. It smashed, impaled, and otherwise tore to pieces hundreds of men. I could see the Dachwaldians—they were
the only ones on horseback—fleeing northward as soon as the ambush began. It looked to me as if they all made it out of there alive. It was a trap. Plain and simple. I saw my friends die and—”
Before he could finish, he passed out.
“Get this man to a hospital!” barked Fritzer. The nobles ordered the servants inside the temple, and they hastily grabbed the soldier and began transporting him to a hospital.
“So,” said Fritzer, “the Dachwaldians once again wish to wage war against us and enslave us; and we believed they came to us in a spirit of peace and lawfulness!” He smiled a strange, angry smile that bespoke his mixed feelings of anger and astonishment at just how thoroughly the Dachwaldians had deceived them. “We will have to look to our defenses,” he announced.