Chapter 17
Dredrik made his way through the throng of recruits amassing outside the eastern wall for meal call. The warm air had given hope that the late winter had finally subsided, all traces of the blizzard erased except for the muddy saturated soil. Trees were beginning to bud, and the grass greening. Life coming alive all around while the inhabitants of Veegal’s Wall prepared to face down death itself Dredrik thought.
Like every day for the past five his mornings had been filled with the duties he had taken upon himself when taking command of Veegal’s Wall. Up before dawn, a bite of bread, water, food being rationed the only real meal came at night. Then it was off to the training grounds and earth works to check on the men and defensive preparations. All and all things were shaping up nicely, but he could not shake the feeling of lingering doom. He had seen the powers being brought to bear against them and they were formidable. Meanwhile his command had untested magical counters, seven hundred men at arms ranging from hardened veterans to untested and nearly fifteen-hundred civilian volunteers.
There was good news though. Wikkid with the assistance of the Galnathians had truly done wonders in the short time they’ve had to drill the recruits. Some could even pass for Royal Army regulars in a pinch.
Then there was Eertu and Anja. Just a few hours ago Hadrenn had demonstrated some interesting enchantment work Eertu had been working on. In fact he had dropped to the ground along with three dozen recruits when the archery target Hadrenn had shot erupted into an earth shaking ball of flame that threw debris for thirty yards. After much cursing the recruits quickly warmed up to the new ammunition.
Anja had spent her time warding the eastern walls from magical attacks. She had warned him that with the available materials the wards were weak and would eventual falter under assault. He had assured her that whatever time it bought them he was deeply grateful for her efforts.
With his morning rituals done and no pressing matters for the evening it was time to take care of some personal business. First he would take Anja’s advice and talk to the Galnathian smith Arianna about the mace he had procured from her shop during the fight if for no other reason to either give it back or offer payment. Secondly He longed to spend some time with Eitreen. She had been as busy or more so tending to the wounded patching them up enough they can continue to retreat further west, and the fighters injured from training or wounds acquired prior.
As he had hoped Arianna was at her wagon which she had parked near the remains of a blacksmith shop after growing tired of the smiths employed within the fortress. Hadrenn had offered to put the other smiths in their place but Arianna said she liked it much better this way. Less bull shit to step in.
She waved from her perch at the rear of her wagon where she worked at a bowl of porridge in a tin bowl and utensils she had crafted herself. After one more mouthful she carefuly set her meal aside and slid to the ground to greet him.
“Lord Airasmau,” she greeted with a slight nod, “what can I do for today.”
“So they’ve got you calling me that to?”
She smiled, “Hadrenn says it helps with moral for the troops to know at least one person of importance stands with them, even if that person is in theory a foreign king.”
“Hadrenn huh, sounds about right,” He made a mental note to tell Vessa about Hadrenn’s run in with a transvestite whore in Belran. “Listen, as you may have noticed this mace,” he patted the weapon, “I got it from your shop dur.”
Arianna held up a hand to cut him off. “It is yours, always has been.”
“What do you mean?” he asked taken by surprise.
“My father was one of the few men who survived the raid all those years ago. Seeing a need and no son nor male villager to take up his trade he began to teach me. After a few years of apprenticeship I came across that weapon and asked him about it. Your father had designed and paid in advance for it. Seems your dad had a thing for designing and acquiring interesting weapons, and my father had a passion for making them.”
Dredrik leaned against the side of the wagon, one arm resting upon its side rails, “your father ever speaks much about mine?”
Arianna laughed, “At length, seems the two were fast friends, your mother as well with mine. The tales my father told me of their adventures were the favorites around the dinner table, especially in those first few years when everything looked so bleak.”
“So my father was an adventurer of some kind then?”
“My father would say he was the second best swordsman he had ever met.”
“Your father being the best no doubt?”
Arianna shook her head, “Nay, dad said he was a brute force kind of a fighter. He said it was your mother that was the best he had ever met.”
“My mother?” Dredrik laughed. “That’s not something my father ever mentioned when I was growing up.”
“Probably that whole male ego thing,” she said with a smile then hoped back on the rear of her wagon and began rummaging through her wares.
Dredrik laughed, “Probably, our egos can bruise easily.”
“That’s what the old man said when I surpassed him at my craft,” she called, head buried in a crate.
“He ever mention either of my parents having any special abilities or past?”
“If his tales could be believed then yes. Ah ha, here it is.” Arianna hoped back out of the wagon carrying a long cloth wrapped object. “A lot of stories he told about mystical powers such as smiting an enemy with a single word and a flip of a wrist, maybe absorbing a blast of magical energy from a mage.”
Dredrik rubbed his breastplate where he was still healing from a fireball to the chest. “That would have been useful,” he muttered.
“As far as past,” she said holding out the still wrapped object for Dredrik, “I’m afraid I don’t know. This is for you also, made by me from one of the designs found in a trunk after father’s death.”
Dredrik carefully removed the wrappings to reveal a beautifully crafted long sword with razor sharp doubled edged blade and intricately decorated hilt once again bearing the mark of the griffon. He quickly went through a few practice swings with the weapon and whistled. His former blade had been more of a stabbing weapon, but he was sure he could get use to this if given a few days practice. But he did not want to take advantage of Arianna’s generosity. “This is fine craftsmanship for sure, but I can’t take this you’ve already helped enough.” He held the weapon in both hands, blade in one, hilt in the other offering it back.
“Is a gift,” Arianna said gently pushing the sword back toward Dredrik. “I am of no use with a sword myself, so how else am I to find out how it fairs if not wielded by a true warrior.”
“At least let me pay for it.”
Arianna simply shrugged. “I have made a good amount of coin doing odd jobs out here for these folk, even taking into account I’ve been making needed repairs for free. Please take it. That mace I am sure gets heavy carrying around all the time. The sword is much lighter. If you want to help though I could use more materials from the Fortress, I am running low and the local smiths are stingy.”
Dredrik bowed to her. “It will be done,” he replied slipping the blade through his belt until he could find a fitting scabbard in the armory. “And thank you, for everything. Perhaps later you can tell me these tales.”
“It would be a pleasure.”
Dredrik gave a second slight bow then spun on his heal. No sooner had he taken a step when Arianna called his name.
“Milord, if you’re going to see Eitreen there was a lilac bush beginning to bloom out near the well. If any have bloomed they are her favorite.”
Dredrik spun around but continued to walk backwards mouthed a thank you as his cheeks blushed uncontrollably then swiftly did an about face and continued on his way.
. . . . .
Dredrik fumbled with the latch to his private chambers within the fortress where Eitreen had planned to meet him for lunch. They had both been maki
ng a point to eat with the recruits but Dredrik needed the few moments of quiet time. When the troops settled down for the night he and the rest of the command staff spent late night hours going over the day’s events and the newest news and rumors to trickle in with the seemingly endless stream of refugees. In one arm he held a chunk of bread and a small pot of beans, the other a bottle of wine Hadrenn had handed him with a wink and chuckle.
Eitreen was seated at the small table near the head of his bed her head resting on her arms. Her head jerked up as the door creaked open, startled expression quickly turning to a smile as she blinked away the cobwebs. “Sorry, I must have dozed off.”
“Don’t worry about it, everybody here is overworked and exhausted,” Dredrik replied as he sat the pot and bread on the table then produced two wooden spoons. “We’ll have to share the pot, but seems Hadrenn found us something descent to wash the food down with if you don’t mind also sharing the bottle.”
“Such a romantic,” she teased.
“But I am,” Dredrik replied producing the lilac blossom he had safely and gently tucked away and presenting it to Eitreen.
Eitreen blushed slightly, “My favorite,” she said sniffing the fragrant flower before tucking the stem into her hair. “How did you know?”
Dredrik took the chair opposite of Eitreen, the only other chair in the room for that matter. “I have my ways.”
Eitreen removed the lid from the pot and scooped up a spoonful of beans, blowing on them to cool them down before taking a cautious bite. “I’ll bet,” she said after swallowing. “Either I’m hungry or those are surprisingly good.”
“Both,” Dredrik replied after sampling some himself.
It did not take long for the two to eat up the minuscule meal, but it was warm, the wine good, and Dredrik thought, the company radiant despite her tired state. He smiled, she smiled back. “Have you given any more thought to coming with me when I leave these lands?”
“Actually I have, and I will, but there is a condition.”
“Oh,” Dredrik cocked an eyebrow.
“We all want to go, all the remnants of Galnath.”
“I have already discussed that with Wikkid, He has pointed out that I might be accepted as King among the rest, if I have had my own tribe to have led. If the Galnathians wish it they become the newest tribe, led I guess by me.”
“You’re not really into this king idea are you?” she asked taking Dredrik’s hands into hers.
“No,” Dredrik replied shaking his head. “But some reason King Argile made those stipulations very clear in the documents I carry. I can only assume it was to help ensure the safety of his children.”
“And what happens to your,” she smiled and corrected herself, “our people if you die here?”
“The Prince, and Regent both know the orders I have been giving I assure you. When I sent Joshua with the rest of the Dread Legion to round up our people and lead them to Denathral I sent a document written by me that if I, Wikkid, Hadrenn, and Eertu fall, he is to carry out Argile’s wished and act as regent until a leader can be agreed upon. I can only hope that my will is acknowledged by Calington’s remaining rulers.”
Eitreen kissed Dredrik’s hand. “I understand and agree with what you are doing here, but I’ve talked with your friends, they all wish you would depart and make way for the Lost’s exodus.”
“Aye, but they know I won’t. I will not abandon my friends, the people here, or my love.”
Eitreen smiled. “Did you say love?”
Dredrik did not realize he had said that last bit out loud. “I guess I did.”
“Good,” Eitreen said.
“Good?”
“Yes,” she smiled. “Now take off your breastplate, I have not tended to that burn in over a week. I need to make sure you’re taking care of yourself.”
Dredrik stood and complied as Eitreen went to the bed and rummaged through the satchel she had carried with her until she found the now nearly empty bottle of sab she had been treating Dredrik with. When she turned around she gasped. The burn was healed but with an interesting side effect.
Dredrik looked down but could not make out anything but the darkened skin where he had been burned. “What is it?”
Eitreen rummaged through her bag again then handed Dredrik a hand mirror. When he held up the mirror in its reflection was the perfect monotone copy of the griffin emblazoned upon his armor.