Chapter 18
“What do you think it means?” Hadrenn asked as he and Dredrik stood watch above the main gate of the eastern wall. Below them troops finished up their tasks for the evening as the setting sun cast them in the growing shadow of the Fortress.
Captain Barnes had declared the earth works and barricades complete earlier in the day. Three rows of trenches now stretched the entire length of the wall with rows of sharpened stakes jutting eastward in and on either side of the trenches with a few small paths built in to allow refugees or troops to move in single file. Palisades lined the western side of each trench as well adding to the woes of any would be invader. All the labors now were focused on training and moving remaining resources into the fortress.
“I don’t know,” Dredrik replied. Arms folded across his chest staring vacantly towards the tree line far downhill from the decimated city walls. “I’ll have to chat with Anja when time permits, but right now I need her and Eertu focuses on the tasks at hand. I seriously doubt my unusual scarring has any bearing on the upcoming conflict.”
Hadrenn shrugged, “I’ve never known a mystic to find great interest in mundane things. If she took an interest in you I’d bet good coin it’s worth looking into.”
“No argument here, but it will have to wait. Tell me truthfully Hadrenn, am I doing the right thing here?”
“You have doubts?”
“In my mind,” Dredrik thought silently for a few moments, “no. But it could be argued that we should have given Barnes what information we had and rode on to Calington collected the prince and princess as Argile requested then made for Delentray to proceed with the exodus of the lost from these lands.”
“You said it yourself. What good would it do to run if the nation of Eebrook falls? What chance would a few thousand tribesmen have of defending our new lands?”
“None,” Dredrik admitted.
“And I agree,” Hadrenn stated flatly, “and in case you missed it so does Wikkid or he’d done told you otherwise.”
“Of that I have no doubt,” Dredrik said while trying to stifle a yawn.
“And nor should you,” came a familiar gruff voice from behind them.
“For a man who believes strongly in the virtues of brute force you could teach our new found assassin friends a thing or two about stealth,” Hadrenn jested.
“That’s because I’m a dwarf,” Wikkid responded taking position next to Dredrik. “We tend to do everything better.”
“Or maybe you just tend to get overlooked,” Hadrenn deadpanned.
“That supposed to be some kind of joke lad?”
“A small one.”
Wikkid sat the head of his great axe on the floor and leaned heavily on the haft. “Keeping a low profile makes it easier to keep my head on my shoulders.”
“Any progress today?” Dredrik asked.
Wikkid straightened his back with a muffled grunt, “Some, their marksmanship has come a long ways. As long as we can hold this wall,” Wikkid stamped his foot for emphasis, “they will make a decent accounting of themselves.”
“And after it’s breached?” Hadrenn quarried
“We lose the fortress and western city in a matter of hours,” Wikkid stated flatly.
“Without reinforcements it is a matter of when,” Dredrik added.
“Still no word from Calington then?”
Dredrik shook his head, “No, still either not responding or simply not getting our requests. We’ve dispatched riders in case it’s simply a problem with the telepath but the chances of them reaching Calington before the enemy presses its advantage are slim. Then take the time needed to organize and march. No my friends unless help is already in route we are on our own.”
“Well,” Hadrenn said nonchalantly, “in that case it’s up to us to welcome our new guests.”
Wikkid shot Hadrenn a puzzled look, “And who might that be?”
Hadrenn grinned, “The army breaching the tree line. Course you’d seen that if you were tall enough to see over the battlements.”
Wikkid let loose a torrent of dwarven expletives under his breath before bellowing “Sound the alarms! Everybody fall back to the fortress!
Dredrik watched expressionlessly as more and more soldiers filtered into the clearing between the forest and city wall as the massive gong atop the center wall began to ring out followed by the spread of panicked voices repeating Wikkid’s orders. “Where the devil is our patrol?”
“Might I direct your attention toward the twin black banners marked with horned silver skulls?” Hadrenn replied.
“Of course,” Dredrik muttered. Even at that distance in this light there was no mistaking the towering form astride a massive pure black warhorse leading the main column into the clearing, “Mareth.”
Already the on duty guards were rushing to their positions along the wall with well-rehearsed efficiency as the troops still within the remains of the eastern district scrambled for the safety of the great gate. Dredrik was relieved to see Arianna leading her mule drawn wagon toward the gate with the help of a few fellow Galnathians. Too many of the people he had recently began to think of as his would soon die, seeming them all make it to safety at least in the opening stages gave some comfort.
“So this is the dread that as loomed over us these past weeks,” Captain Barnes voiced boastfully, peg leg clicking every other step against stone as he approached. “Tis not so bad,” he continued as he evaluated the army forming ranks just past the outer city walls.
“This is merely a scouting force meant to size us up and cut off anyone still trying to make safety or bring us word,” Dredrik replied in a voice just above a whisper.
Barnes simply nodded, “I’m old not senile,” he stated matching volume with Dredrik. “But moral is important at times like this. Enough of our recruits panic there is no way we can stop them from fleeing. Regardless of threats”
“All we can hope is that what training they have received and the lives of loved ones in the balance give the majority the courage to stand in fight.”
“Courage will hold if we can show them they have a chance.”
“Riders approaching under flag of truce,” Hadrenn interrupted. “Looks like Mareth and two guards.”
. . . . .
Mareth waited patiently as three riders weaved their way through the recently erected maze of deterrents. It was no surprise to him that he recognized them all. The dwarf and barbarian were of little interest to him, but the paladin was another story. Indeed a chance for a face to face meeting with the paladin before the siege began was his soul reason for volunteering his men to lead the advanced force.
Along the fortress walls archers covered the riders’ advance, as well somewhere upon the battlements Mareth was sure the warlock he had pursued across eastern Eebrook would be lending his magic to the riders’ protection. As expected the trio came to a stop well within range of their support.
Eagerly Mareth spurred his horse forward his escorts following suit. His captain Shamus riding just behind and to his right, the standard bearer to the left holding high the silver skull on black banner Mareth had adopted for himself through every incarnation. In the home lands the banner was a thing of legend known to herald death and destruction. Soon the people of these lands would know the same.
“Mareth,” the paladin greeted with a slight nod. The man’s tone was cool and casual with no trace of fear on his exposed facial features or in his body language. Not smug or overbearing, merely confident.
“Dredrik, I was hoping we would meet again.”
“Well that makes one of us. Tell me, what brings you here? Run out of small villages to burn?”
“No need to be rude, Lord Airasmau. I have been sent as an emissary ahead of the Lord General’s legions.”
“And those are what, two thousand well-armed aids?”
“I’ll make this simple,” Mareth continued choosing to ignore Dredrik’s attempt to anger him. “Surrender this fortress and join the leg
ions, or die.”
“Tell your master if he wants Veegal’s Wall he’ll have to take it from us.”
“You have seven hundred men at arms and refugees that have already fled from our forces once. By this time tomorrow there will be fifteen thousand battle tested soldiers and magic wielders ready to decimate everything in their path marching against you. What hope do you have?”
“Come tomorrow evening we shall see.”
“So be it, throw your lives away. Try not to die too quickly, I wish to seek you out.”
“I promise you this Mareth, before my end I will see your head removed from your shoulders.”
Mareth bowed slightly before wheeling the massive warhorse back toward camp. “He seems confident enough,” Shamus said as they rode out of earshot.
“They have a plan. I feel the warlock must have found what he was looking for before I flushed him from the assassins’ sanctuary. Would it not be grand to see Merca rendered inconsequential? Then perhaps we will finally find a fight worthy of our time.”
“We have new problems,” Wikkid observed as Mareth lead his party away.
“Bah,” Hadrenn scoffed. “Mareth is old news.”
“They have a telepath on the inside,” Dredrik said. “Called me lord and new our numbers, let us hope we have kept Eertu’s findings close enough to the chest we retain some element of surprise.”
“One of the sisters perhaps,” Hadrenn suggested. “We know Mareth has one of their number in his grasps whether willing or not.”
“No, most likely came in with the refugees.” Wikkid answered.
“The sisters have the ability to find telepaths,” Hadrenn added helpfully Anja talked briefly about it. It is how they recruit.”
“Set them to task,” Dredrik ordered. “Until the treat is eliminated we keep recruits away from the command staff during the siege to eliminate eavesdropping. Order all citizens and non-combat refugees from the fortress and western district, it’s time they moved on to safer grounds. When the time comes that we are forced to retreat ourselves we don’t need them in the way.”