Even Gods Must Fall (9 page)

“You can’t change people’s minds when they’re convinced, no matter how hard you wish it,” Vajna answered. “Those fellows knew what they were doing. Harnin had them all spun up to think we were coming to kill them all. If you think about it their defiance makes sense. I don’t think I’d have the courage they displayed, though. Tough bastards, that’s for sure. I only hope the other forts we run up against lack the same conviction.”

Piper wanted to comment that the defenders were of the same blood as the Wolfsreik. Nothing was bound to be easy. His premonitions aside, he felt confident breaking the defensive line would be trying but a victorious endeavor before too long. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt almost rushed. Time never meant too much to Piper, but now, finally back in his own kingdom, he felt the seconds slowly slipping away as they marched towards an uncertain end.

“Hey, you listening?”

Shaken from his premonitions, Piper turned back to Vajna. “Sorry, I was just thinking.”

Vajna shrugged. “There’s not much that needs thinking on. We’ve got a war to win, and I’ll be damned if this isn’t the worst cup of coffee I ever drank. The cooks need to be sent to the front lines.”

“You presume they’re better swordsmen than cooks. Ha.” Piper laughed. “Of course, our enemies might not appreciate a bad meal.”

“That makes two of us,” the Rogscroft general agreed. “Looks like a rider’s come in. I guess Rolnir is here.”

“The army should have been moving down from the mountains the moment we launched our assault.”

He didn’t add that the operation’s success depended on speed. The faster the combined army wiped out the defensive line of fortresses the faster they’d be able to push westward and reconquer their kingdom.

Instead Piper decided it was time to admit his orders to his friend. “Vajna, I’m afraid I already have my orders.”

“Great, where are we heading next?”

Piper shook his head. “Not this time. Rolnir and Aurec agreed that I am to lead the assault on the second fortress while you maintain control of the vanguard. I’m heading out as soon as the lead infantry units arrive.”

Vajna was instantly angered. He’d never wanted to be teamed up with one of his enemies in the first place but after several battles and days on campaign he and Piper had formed bonds that only soldiers can. They’d overcome kingdom differences to forge a near perfect union of military complements. Vajna was a born infantryman whereas Piper had a head for tactics and cavalry. Together they were responsible for winning seven battles for the fledgling combined army. No other pair of commanders matched their prowess or success.

“They’re splitting us up? I should be going with you,” he protested. “You’ll need me in the next assault.”

“I agree, but that’s not my decision to make. Your king and my commanding officer believe you serve better purpose for the war by remaining here with the vanguard. I suspect, but can’t prove, that they intend on driving the main body west while I slug it out with the rest of the defensive line.” Piper paused, shifting his lower jaw slowly. “I’d rather be going with you. Taking another ten of these monsters isn’t going to be fun, or easy.”

“I expect you’ll suffer fierce casualties given what we went through here,” Vajna added. His voice darkened. Logically he should be the one to lead the assault on the forts. Delranan was Piper’s kingdom, not his. The Wolfsreik needed to be seen leading the drive across their own lands in efforts to maintain a measure of security among the population. His people didn’t take kindly to seeing a foreign army sweeping across Rogscroft. Vajna didn’t imagine the Delrananians would differ much.

“Let us hope not,” Piper concluded. He extended his arm for Vajna and the two shook as brothers. “Take care of yourself, old timer. I have a feeling our two kingdoms are going to need people like you when the dust finally settles.”

Vajna laughed and gave his steadily expanding belly a soft pat. “Old my ass! You’ll pay for those words when we meet in Chadra.”

Nothing else needed saying. Both were seasoned professionals and had been through similar circumstances too many times before. It was just part of the job. Piper headed towards the front of their makeshift camp. Each had a specific purpose in this new phase of the war. Should the gods will it, they would meet again after the hostilities ended.

Homecomings

“My lord, we weren’t expecting you.”

Venten waved off the unnecessary concern from Elstep, the house chamberlain, as he swept into what remained of Rogscroft castle. The elder statesman begrudgingly admitted the renovations had come a long way since Badron’s defilement. Men and women busied with sweeping, painting, cleaning, and removing broken furniture and debris. Few bothered to stop and acknowledge his passing. Nor did he expect them to. He wasn’t a king or even a noble. In fact, Venten wanted nothing more than to fade back into obscurity, much the way he’d been transitioning before the war started.

Thoughts of being a retired general and politician had to wait as he was determined to uphold the charge Aurec had given him. He was the voice of the king, an extension of wills manifested in the form of one person with the unmitigated ability to choose how and where his kingdom began the healing process. Any self-assured whispers he spoke in the quiet hours of the night seemed insignificant in comparison to the enormity of the task before him. Venten was given a handful of ruins, the remnants of a broken people, a skeleton military force, and told to rebuild an entire kingdom. It was a daunting task, one he wasn’t sure if he could accomplish or not.

Thankfully the tenacity of his people already shined in the darkness before dawn. He viewed a ramshackle village housing more than five hundred refugees. Mounted patrols circled the city and castle proper, providing the necessary protection to assuage the general population’s fears. The sounds of hammers and saws working throughout the night suggested all was not lost. That his people remained strong despite their losses. Venten took hope. Perhaps they had a chance of rebuilding it after all.

Venten glanced at the partially removed burn marks scoring the wall inside the castle entrance. “No need to fret, Elstep. I’m only an extension of the king, not the king himself.”

“Begging yer pardon, sir, but yer more than that,” Elstep protested. “Word’s already come from Grunmarrow that you are the acting regent.”

“Elstep, truly, I appreciate the deference but it’s only me. Now, where do we stand on reconstruction efforts?”

Elstep shrugged. “Eh, can’t speak for most a the city but the castle is almost habitable. Crews been working round the clock to remove the filth them Goblins left behind. Vile creatures they was. At any rate, the throne room is cleaned and ready for a new throne. Most of the royal chambers are getting there. The kitchen’s been running since before you left for the war so there’s food and drink aplenty for the work crews. All in all I’d say the castle is progressing nicely.”

“Nicely isn’t good enough, my friend,” Venten said quietly. “We’ve got a very large charge set before us. Aurec expects the city to be taken care of first. Royalty has its privileges and our young king has decided the population comes first. I want all but a skeleton crew shifted over to the city. The sooner we get homes and shops rebuilt the sooner we can concentrate on renewing trade with our neighbors and try to get our economy moving again. Winter is nearly finished, despite the feet of snow still refusing to melt, and I expect our trials will lessen considerably once we have free range of the roads and mountain passes again. Who is in charge of the reconstruction?”

“Don’t reckon I heard his name but I’ll send a lad out to get him once the sun comes up. Why don’t you head down and get some food in yer belly before he arrives? I’ll send him up to the antechamber for you.”

“Antechamber?” Venten asked.

Elstep nodded. “Been using it as an administration center since the king left. The lads’ll be real glad to have you back. Not all of them are as bright as me, my lord. They need some help over there.”

Venten smiled at the chamberlain’s candor. “Thank you, Elstep.”

Red streaks ran horizontally through his eyes. The ride back from the army encampment at the base of the Murdes Mountains had been long, though not particularly grueling. Venten found the only harrowing part was from not knowing whether all of the Goblin threat in the lands between the castle and the mountains was cleared out. Fortune allowed him trouble-free passage and he was able to make the journey in three days. Limited food left him slightly famished, a condition he managed to remedy after meeting with Elstep. Stomach full, he only lacked sleep, but at his age he figured there’d be enough time for rest once he was put in the ground.

An unmerciful stack of unread reports and requisitions stared back at him from the corner of the small field desk. Normally he preferred something much bigger but all of the real furniture had either been cut up and used for firewood or had been desecrated by the Goblins. Coming from the field, Venten found little room for complaint, though not even a full belly was enough to prompt him to dig into the paperwork.

Clerks and random administrative personnel busied about their work, just as eager to finish their day as he was to avoid it. Venten had hoped to be done with public life. He wasn’t suited for menial tasks involved with the daily operation of a major city. Life demanded more than hiding behind reports or sitting in one meeting after the other. The open steppes often called to him during those brief moments of isolation when he was able focus on himself. Never one for love or material possessions, Venten tried his best to live a simple life. Devotion to Stelskor and the winter war prevented that from happening.

“Lord Venten, I have Major Brun here. He’s the Wolfsreik officer placed in charge of the security forces.”

Rubbing his tired eyes, Venten waved Elstep to continue. The chamberlain bowed and stepped aside so Brun could enter. The soldier of the Wolfsreik snapped a crisp salute, albeit an unnecessary one, and clasped his hands behind his back.

“Sir, welcome back to Rogscroft,” Brun said with pleasant tones.

Venten took in the young officer. Slender with just enough muscle concealed beneath his leather-plate armor, Brun had thick black hair and almost piercing blue eyes. He stood a hand taller than six feet and wore a broadsword strapped to his right hip.

“Major, salutes won’t be necessary. I am not royalty,” Venten said.

“Understood, but for the sake of appearances I believe it wise to maintain proper decorum, especially in front of the rank and file. With the war so far to the west it is easy for them to forget there is still a very real threat.”

“Of course. Very well, Major Brun, I agree,” Venten conceded. “I trust you have something good to report this early morning. Elstep is a cruel taskmaster. I only arrived at dawn and he’s yet to afford me the opportunity to sleep.”

He grinned at hearing Elstep cough in the background.

Brun offered a curt nod. “Sir, to date we have yet to encounter any remnants of the Goblin army or loyalists to Badron. Bandits are our major concern. We’ve doubled patrols after discovering a few recently burned farmsteads in efforts to counter the threat.”

No matter how dire times grew there were always others who preyed on those less fortunate, even amongst themselves. “Have there been any civilian-related casualties?”

“A handful, no more than fifteen,” Brun confirmed. “Thus far they’ve been confined to a pair of families trying to endure the hardships on their own. We’ve also captured or killed over a score of bandits.”

“I don’t foresee these raids lessening until the king returns,” Venten guessed. “Still, we must take a more active role in protecting the outlying properties, especially the farms. Too many fields will remain fallow come the spring.”

Brun appeared uncomfortable with the order but was professional enough to follow it without question. “Yes sir, I’ll order increased presence patrols. Might we also look into finding the source of these bandits and attempt to root them out?”

Venten gave the matter some consideration. He dreaded wasting resources on finding an elusive force more interested in self-preservation than occupation. Time, money, and manpower were in limited supply. His first priority was to ensure the city was able to support the current and projected population. That couldn’t be accomplished without hunting down those who preyed on the weak. He felt trapped.

“Yes, but keep them at a minimum,” he said. “This city must come first. Am I correct in assuming you are also in charge of reconstruction efforts?”

Brun flushed. “Unfortunately. I must confess to not being trained in nation rebuilding. I’m a warrior, Lord Venten, not a statesman.”

“I can assist with that. I’d like to take a tour of the city after lunch. Once the people see there is a civilian at least partly responsible for helping rebuild, I believe they will calm down slightly,” Venten said.

Brun was clearly relieved. Extreme stress had added years onto his face. The knowledge that Venten, a person the people of Rogscroft knew and respected, had finally arrived to assume control melted years of stress on the young major.

“Sir, I’ll have a detail sent to escort you to my command post in the city.”

As much as sleep hounded him, Venten couldn’t allow himself to rest until after he’d made his rounds in the city. He returned Brun’s salute and hesitantly reached for the first report.

Amazed was the best he could describe the efforts underway in Rogscroft’s center. Hundreds of workers erected scaffoldings, hammered boards, raised trusses, or carried supplies back and forth. Venten was reminded of colony ants, ever busy and tireless. Dozens of houses had already been rebuilt along with a handful of shops. He spied two large warehouses further down the road. Progress was well beyond what he or Aurec envisioned at this stage.

Venten found Brun overseeing a series of outgoing work details. Reports indicated that reconstruction continued around the clock, suggesting strong feelings of hope among the general population. The elder statesman took heart. All was not lost after all. Waiting for Brun to finish issuing orders, Venten studied the crude map tacked onto the back wall of the tent. It represented the city and immediate areas. All rebuilding efforts seemed to be working out from the castle. Work crews cleared one street at a time while others swept in behind to begin new construction. Checkpoints and way stations had been established at strategic points throughout the city to facilitate safe passage of personnel and supplies. Impressed, Venten helped himself to a clay mug of steaming coffee.

“I expect this street to be cleared by nightfall. Our pace has been slacking lately. It’s time to pick it back up.”

A silver-haired carpenter with thick webs of lines creasing his leathered skin frowned. “What’s the rush? Winter’s near done and we don’t have any timeline to follow. Not like we’re being paid for this, Major.”

Brun’s frown outdid his accuser’s. “We’ve been through this before, Iocta. The war’s not going to last forever and there’ll be thousands of soldiers returning home when it’s finished. This city needs to be as far along as possible in order to house so large a force.”

“I’m not arguing that part, Major, but some of the folks are ready to head home and start seeing to their own lives again,” Iocta pressed. “This ain’t our war.”

“But it is.”

All heads turned towards the unassuming Venten. Most clearly didn’t know who he was.

“Who’re you to say? We done our part and now it’s time to go home.”

Brun spoke up first. “This is Lord Venten, regent of Rogscroft until the king returns.”

Iocta’s eyes widened. “My…my apologies, Lord Venten. We wasn’t aware King Aurec had sent you back.”

“I don’t see as to how that matters any. We all have a duty to our kingdom. The war may no longer be active here but it is far from over. Our obligation, if ever there was one, is to restore our city and kingdom to as much of its former glory as possible before King Aurec returns. You are the blood of Rogscroft, Iocta. You and everyone else like you. The army fights for us, but the life of this kingdom flows through your blood.”

“That’s all well and fine but folks are tired of hiding in these stinking ruins. We got our own lives to look to.”

“Indeed. Farmers need to be preparing for spring planting. Herds need to be replenished. Trade routes reestablished. Need I continue? Let the army worry about beating Badron and the Goblins. They aren’t my concerns. I need you, all of you, to help me try and restore order to this once great land. Are you willing to do that for me?”

Iocta rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he digested Venten’s words. A lifelong carpenter, he’d never bothered sticking his neck out beyond the circumference of his business. Now he was one of the more prominent advisors to rebuilding an entire kingdom. The responsibility was enough to force him to the cups. He appreciated Venten’s return, making his decision almost too easy. “I will keep the crews at work. Like you say, this is our kingdom too.”

It was a minor victory but one Venten claimed vigorously.

* * * * *

“Commander Joach departed shortly before your arrival, sire,” General Vajna said with a flare of disappointment.

King Aurec and General Rolnir exchanged deceptive glances. Clearly the decision to part their two most successful commanders hadn’t been an easy one to arrive at, but both felt it was in the army’s best interests. They hadn’t expected such stiff resistance among Harnin’s forces. Devoting time, effort, and personnel to the current problem distracted from the overall objectives both had set forth before departing Rogscroft, but was a necessary part of the reconquest campaign.