Armies of the Silver Mage (18 page)

“You can close your mouths at any time,” Hallis leaned over to them and said.

Delin almost giggled. “I can’t help it. We’ve heard stories about the rest of Averon and how beautiful the king’s city is, but seeing it now I know no story can capture the true essence of it.”

Jin and Storr shared a laugh at their naivety.

“Then you are in for a host of surprises,” Jin told them. “There is enough to amaze

you for the rest of your days inside those walls.”

“Remember why we’ve come here,” Hallis reminded. “Have many companies reported in, Storr?”

“Yours is the last to return from the west. I’ve no idea how many from the rest of the lands are here,” Storr answered. “They say more than half of the host is assembled.”

Clarions rang out across the plains and towered walls, announcing their arrival.

“Is that for us?” Fennic asked.

“Aye. Word travels fast among the army,” Storr smiled back. “Couriers passed the word days ago. By now all of Averon knows the Gnaal slayers have come to Paedwyn.”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” cautioned Norgen. “Men have a tendency to forget great deeds as quickly as they occur.”

Hallis nodded slowly. “Indeed we do, as must all races through the course of time.”

“Sad but true,” the Dwarf agreed. “It is the doom of mortality.”

“Keep your heads high,” Jin whispered down. “These people are expecting a band of heroes, not gawking country boys and grizzled old soldiers.”

Hallis couldn’t stop the smile from breaking through. “That’s enough out of you, Jin. I don’t know about you, but I’m not feeling very old today. Welcome to Paedwyn friends.”

Trumpets sang the moment the first rider entered the massive gates. Hundreds of citizens lined the way, eager to catch a glimpse at their reason for elation. Imperial guards keep the crowds back, while priests and clerics formed two ranks at the end of the main boulevard. Behind them sat the castle proper, separated from the city by a natural stream and long stone bridge. A high ranking officer with dozens of decorations on his uniform strode out to greet them.

His raven black hair danced on the wind, covering his stern face from time to time. He wore a thick moustache and kept a beard close cropped. Well developed muscles from years of hard work lay hidden beneath his armor. He was just past middle age and bore the scars of more than his share of battles. All in all, he was as formidable warrior as Averon had ever fielded.

A think smiled wrinkled his face.

“Sergeant Hallis. It has been a long time,” he said in a rustic voice.

“Longer than I can tell, High Commander,” the veteran replied with a crisp salute.

Steleon eyed the cast assembled. “I was told of your deeds, but from the queer look of your companions I think some things left out.”

“Yes sir. The story is long and interesting to say the least.”

Steleon laughed. “Then perhaps we need to hear it over a cold tankard of ale. I trust young Storr treated you well at Dill Rock?”

“As well as can be expected, sir,” Jin answered.

“Good. I’ll have my men escort you to your quarters so you can freshen up before your audience with the king. He is most anxious to meet you all.”

Fennic caught himself staring wide eyed at the highest ranking man in the Averonian army. And now he was going to meet an actual king. He wished his family were here to share this moment with him. Sadly, they didn’t even know where he was or even that he was still alive. All of the victories and hardships suddenly felt empty. Meaningless.

“How fares the siege at Gren Mot?” Hallis asked after summoning up the courage.

A foul look came over Steleon. “I know it was hard for you to leave so abruptly. If you are to place blame then use me. The good of the kingdom is at stake and I feel safer with men like you here training our recruits. You’ve seen the enemy and can compensate for the lack of experience in other instructors. Most of whom haven’t touched a sword in battle in years. I need you here.”

Hallis was no fool. He listened to the way Steleon danced around the question until avoiding it altogether. A rash of bad and painful memories came back to him. He remembered standing side by side with a Colonel Steleon then at the battle of Elst, watching helplessly while hundreds of friends were captured and put to death. Steleon had saved his life that day, but his life was never the same again. There seemed little doubt in the ancient mountain fortress. Hallis swallowed his fears and spurred his horse forward to the bridge. The heavy pounding of drums echoed through the crowded corridors of Paedwyn. Steleon mounted in one fluid motion and led the procession into the castle. Children tossed dried wild flowers into the streets, smiling and cheering the column as it passed.

Trumpets and horns played Averon’s anthem. Hallis and the others returned the smiles in kind and waved until their arms grew tired. Only Norgen remained motionless. Dwarves, he argued for the thousandth time, did not ride horses. The insult was nearly overlooked by the shock of him sitting atop the enormous beast. Compared to the relative smooth ride of the Centaur, the horse was turning his stomach on end.

“How much longer afore I can move about on my own two feet the way the gods intended?” he scowled.

Jin clapped his back lightly so as not to throw him off. “Fear not, master Dwarf. These people are as shocked to see you riding a horse as you are to be on one. We’ll be inside the castle soon enough. Try and enjoy this, for it happens but once in a life.”

“I’m glad you find my plight so amusing,” Norgen growled.

Delin and Fennic snickered from behind.

The last man rode into the heart of the castle and the crowds dispersed, though they were reluctant to do so. Folks knew there would be rare times for such excitement in the coming months. The company rode through the smaller buildings in the castle grounds until they came unto the enormous compound of the royal army. Steleon turned the company over to the ferriers and stable boys. He left a pair of guides to escort them to their guest chambers before returning to his office on the second floor of the army headquarters.

Companies of recruits sparred with wooden blades under the instructor’s watchful eyes on the main training field next to the stable. Would be archers loosed shaft after shaft into bails of hail from a hundred paces. The distant thunder of hooves announced the training of new cavalrymen. Pikemen danced with quarter staffs. Fennic found it all highly alluring, for he desperately wanted to learn how to use Phaelor before going through with his plan to enter Gren. He and Delin had spent hours learning and developing the basic movements and techniques needed to keep them alive. Far more knowledgeable from when they left Fel Darrins, they still had much to learn if they were going to survive the coming storm.

“Patience, young ones,” Hallis quietly told them after noticing their looks of longing.

“You’ll be forced to become warriors soon enough. Let things develop on their own accord.”

Fennic pretended to agree. He’d told no one yet of his intentions, not even dear old Delin. Marching in to Gren and slaying the Silver Mage was his secret for now. Death was almost a foregone conclusion, and he wasn’t willing to let his friends, new or old, share the same fate.

“I for one wouldn’t mind a go at one of those pikes,” Delin broke in. “Arrows are well and fine, but what happens when the quiver’s empty?”

“Are all the folk of your village so stubborn?” Hallis asked.

Delin laughed. “Only the ones old enough to talk.”

“Come, I’ve been looking forward to using the baths for weeks and don’t intend on being the last in line,” urged Hallis. If there was one thing he couldn’t stand it was a bath of cold and dirty water.

Together, with Norgen and Jin, they left the others under the guidance of their soon to be instructors and headed for the baths. The water was a great luxury and unlike anything either boy had ever known. Days of toil and sweat were washed away in what seemed like long hours. After only a half an hour, they dried off, dressed and headed for the mess hall. Evening was closing in on them as Norgen finally arrived.

Just then Delin spied a commotion to the east and a rising cloud of dust. A herald soon followed and summoned all able bodied men to the courtyards. A great wagon train was fast approaching the compound. Palace guards marched out to secure the main boulevard.

“What’s going on?” Delin asked.

Hallis sat quiet, painstakingly watching the train wind closer. The sheer size of it could mean but one thing. He felt his heart fall.

“Wounded, and a lot of them. From Gren Mot most likely,” Jin replied. He too was quiet and sick to the stomach. “This does not bode well.”

“I’m going down to meet them,” Hallis announced and left before they could stop him.

One by one they followed. They found Steleon standing at the front of the reception. Glancing their way, he offered a dispassionate look and said nothing. Fennic started to speak but Norgen cut him off.

“Careful lad,” he whispered. “Tis an ill omen we see. That many wounded means their commander has given up hope of defending the fortress. It won’t be much longer before they are overrun.”

“Why can’t they leave and fight again?” Delin asked, confused.

Norgen shot him a stern look. “Would you? How many will die if that army comes down from the mountains? They are buying time with their lives.”

“Indeed they are, Master Dwarf,” Steleon murmured. “And their gift is more precious than a thousand gems. We have much to prepare for, else their bravery be in vain.”

The vanguard of escort riders rode up, halting their spent horses and saluting the High Commander. Each bore expressions of defeat. Their armor was scored and stained black from blood and flame. All had some sort of wound. Their beards were wild and unkempt and their eyes seemed to stare in to forever.

“What news from Commander Fynten?” asked Steleon.

The lead rider wiped his parched lips. “Dire news, sir. The enemy has advanced to the walls and will make their move within the week. Fynten believes he has yet some time. Their casualties range in the thousands and still they attack.”

Wagons were rolling up.

“We all fought bravely, sir, but they keep coming. It’s as if their numbers are endless,” he went on.

Steleon watched and waited for each wagon to go by. Wounded were jammed into them, some stacked atop each other. The smell of blood and death turned the air ripe.

“How many are in this train?” Steleon asked.

“A hundred by seven and fifty.”

Seven hundred and fifty men out of over the original two thousand and some will not see the dawn, he mused. Fynten is paying a higher toll than I would ask. Norgen cast his hood over his head out of respect. War was truly come to Averon at last. Fennic and Delin stood aghast. They refused to believe what they were seeing. Averon was the most powerful kingdom in the land and a fifth of its army was in the process of being destroyed. What hope did the world have?

The rider saluted again and pressed, “Sir, my men and I request to return to Gren Mot and stand the watch.”

Steleon’s smile was sad and proud. “I admire your courage, Captain Crespith, but I cannot afford to sacrifice more of my cavalry. I need you here, son.”

Crespith hung his head, fat tears stinging his eyes. “I understand.”

The High Commander grasped Crespith’s calf. “I know your pain. I’ve known it from the moment we received word the enemy was moving. But there is much to be done if we are to save Averon. The attack will soon be upon us and I have need of every asset I can get. You’ve seen them. You know their composition and strength. What you’ve seen may well help us win and put an end to the evil in Gren forever. Will you help me here?”

Crespith stiffened with pride. He had a newfound purpose in life. The pain of abandoning his comrades would never heal, but at least he had the chance to take revenge.”

“It will be an honor, sir,” he said with authority.

“Good. Report to my office in the morning so we can begin planning. In the meantime I suggest you see to your men. No doubt they are alone and confused as well. Good night, Captain.”

Steleon saluted the man dismissed him.

“Men like him are the future of this kingdom, mayhap the world,” he went on to say.

“Would that I had ten thousand more.”

Hallis agreed. “Perhaps you do. Look at the recruits I brought in. they were ambushed, forced to watch their friends die and not a one broke ranks and ran home. They’ve killed and been killed without any formal military training. War is a fickle thing. These two boys from a village unknown to most managed to kill a Gnaal single handedly. I think all of them have the hearts of lions.”

“We’ll see soon enough, I’m afraid. I need to make my report to the king. Fortunate your dinner was postponed until the morrow,” Steleon said while walking away.

They watched the saddened warriors for a while longer until each had had enough. More than a few of the wounded spoke with Hallis along the march. He offered what encouragement he could. Their pain slowly shifted to him. Fortunately Jin saw what was happening and intervened.

“I think we can all use a good drink. The boys included,” he announced, motioning towards Delin and Fennic with a smile. “Anyone who can kill a Gnaal is good enough to share ale with me any day.”

“Here here,” Delin said with a sparkle in his eye. “It’s been a long time since I enjoyed myself.”

Jin put his arms around their shoulders and said, “then come and let me show you how we enjoy the night here in Paedwyn! First round is on me.”

The last brought Norgen from his silence. “Now you’re talking. Let me show you how a Dwarf drinks!”

Laughing all the way to the tavern door, they bragged and joked through the near empty streets. Once inside the tavern the merriment continued. Their mirth quickly spread through the room until all inside pushed the misery of the day behind and found cause to laugh. Jin and Norgen bragged so much they eagerly joined in a drinking game. Soon a large assortment of empty mugs crowded the table.

“I hope they’ve enough barrels out back to keep this going,” Delin said, a line of foam bubbles on his upper lip.