The Powterosian War (Book 5) (2 page)

“Agreed,” the general said. “Start the army east at once, Major.” The officer rode off as Saxthor opened and read the message from Bodrin.

Bodrin warned Saxthor that Botahar was under attack from General Tarquak’s whole army. Should Botahar fall, Tarquak would be able to close the river, trapping Saxthor in the north unless he marched all the way around the Talok Mountains to get back south. He warned Saxthor not to stay long in Heggolstockin. There were increasing reports of the orcs organizing in the southern Sengenwhan region, which could only portend an attack on Neuyokkasin when Botahar fell.

Saxthor tucked the message in his coat. He hesitated to say anything to the general, who appeared absorbed with the horrific implications now threatening his capital and the duke.

If I stay here and provide critical assistance to the general in defeating the goblin’s army, I risk getting cut off and losing Botahar. If I leave the general now and race to Botahar to bolster that defense, I risk the general’s defeat here and the loss of all Heggolstockin. Which is the least bad scenario? He wondered.

* * *

In the provincial capital of Heggolstockin, Duke Anton finally came out of seclusion at the palace to take charge of the city’s defense. The duchess was still distraught and remained in her palace apartment. The duke summoned his chief minister and the general in charge of the city’s resistance.

“Get me the status of the city’s defense plan, the war in the west, and the status of Feldrik and Prince Pindradese’s army there,” Duke Anton said to the two men. “I want reports that have come to the palace since my son’s death.” The men hurried away.

Alone, the duke took a drink from his goblet. He brushed back his thinning, disheveled hair and scratched his cheek. What’s to be done that can save the city now? He sighed.

The door opened behind him and Demonica entered, dressed in her tight leather pants and a delicately laced blouse that he thought revealed too much of her.

“What are you going to do to save this city?” Demonica asked. She plopped down in a chair and commenced cleaning her long fingernails with a dagger.

“Don’t do that, my dear. I’ve told you many times, a lady doesn’t clean her nails in public and certainly not with a dagger.”

Demonica tossed the dagger back onto the desk. She stood up and faced her father, waiting for a reply.

“Thank you for carrying on after your brother’s death. I’m sorry I was remiss in attending to the demands of state at this critical time.”

“Yes, yes, but I asked you what you were planning to do to save this city now.”

“Well, we must rely on the defenses put in place since the invasion started. Feldrik is held in check by Prince Pindradese, so there’s no help coming from that quarter. The general hasn’t been able to drive back the invasion in the west. The goblin and his army have eluded the general even with King Saxthor’s assistance. It seems the goblin slipped past them in the night and that army is heading here also. The last of our troops here were lost at Feldrik. We only have the citizens and retired military to defend the walls at this point. King Grekenbach can’t send us help. Things are bleak, to say the least.”

“So all is lost?”

“No, not lost, but desperate. I must go talk with your mother. She’s in a bad way I understand.”

The duke attempted to pass around his daughter, but she grabbed his arm. “Why don’t you save the city and the people? Surrender to Prince Pindradese.”

The duke spun around and faced his daughter whom he felt he was seeing for the first time. He studied her face and saw a sinister downturn in the corner of her mouth he’d never seen before. “Why would I do that? The armies haven’t reached here yet.”

“Heggolstockin is doomed. We should make our peace with Prince Pindradese before all is destroyed.”

“But that would be treason,” the duke said, watching every inflection of his daughter’s face. “King Grekenbach expects us to defend the kingdom’s western province to the end. He can’t sustain a defense of Graushdemheimer if attacked by both the combined armies now converging on Heggolstockin and that of General Vylvex. We must fight to the end here.”

“Don’t be foolish, Father. Pindradese will give us good terms and spare the city. We need only swear allegiance to him and Dreaddrac.”

Duke Heggolstockin stood back. He looked at his daughter, around the room trying to think, and back at her. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Your brother just died fighting to save the dukedom. He died for his family, his home, and his people. You are suggesting we submit to the enemy without so much as a fight?”

The artificial smile drained quickly off Demonica’s face, replaced by something that made the duke shutter. She stood erect, her hands on her hips, her eyes narrowed. “Defense is useless; Prince Pindradese will take the city in any event.”

“Why are you promoting that degenerate, Prince Pindradese? How do you know what his capabilities are in this matter?” The duke held his breath. He didn’t really want to know the answer that was becoming clearer by the moment.

“I’m going to marry Prince Pindradese,” Demonica said bluntly. “Don’t speak badly of your future son-in-law.”

The duke gasped. He could hardly stand, but held his stare on his daughter, a stranger. Her bold smile now hit him like a slap. She started to leave the room and the duke caught her arm.

“What are you saying, Demonica? What can this mean?”

A cold creature turned to face him. She jerked her arm free. “You’re a weakling, father. Mother never should have married you. I’m the granddaughter of a grand duke. Mother should have married a prince or a king. Her father was King Grekenbach’s uncle, the former king’s brother. He should have married mother to royalty, and I’d have been a princess or a queen. As it is, I’m only Lady Demonica; my prospects are poor. Well, I intend to be a princess at least. So I’ve made my own alliance with Prince Pindradese. He’ll soon come and marry me whether you destroy the city or surrender it.” She turned and walked out of the room, leaving the duke with his jaw hanging.

The duke couldn’t comprehend what she had said. He rushed to the duchess’ apartment and, knocking, entered not waiting for permission. He went to the duchess who was prostrate on her bed, barely conscious, attended by her ladies-in-waiting, mopping her brow with cold compresses.

“Denubia, my dear, you must rally your spirits,” he said, taking her hand in his and patting it with the other. He nodded to the ladies-in-waiting and they slipped out quietly.

“Poor Amenibus, cut down in the first flower of youth,” she cried and began weeping anew. “What is there for me now?”

“Denubia, I need your support. Do you love me, my dear? If you do, you must rally your strength and help me now.”

The duchess stopped sobbing and looked up at her husband. She wiped her eyes with her lace handkerchief and cleared her throat. “What can you mean, Anton? Of course I love you, haven’t I always been at your side?”

“Yes, you have, but I need for you to tell me again that you love me and don’t regret marrying me.”

The duchess’ strained face tightened, her brow furrowed. She searched his face for some meaning. She pushed her ample self up on one elbow facing the duke.

“What is it, Anton; what’s wrong? Why are you asking me such a question now?”

The duke sat down on the bed beside his wife of thirty five years. He held her hand firmly. “Demonica is lost to us,” he said.

The duchess pulled back her hand and sat up. She looked about, apparently trying to understand. “Demonica?” she said, hesitating, staring at her husband, “Lost to us? What can you mean?”

“It seems she resents your marrying me. She thinks your father should have arranged a better marriage to a prince or king. She has it in her mind to be of a higher station. She intends to marry Prince Pindradese. Seems they’ve been in communication and he’s offered to marry her if we betray King Grekenbach and surrender the dukedom to Dreaddrac.”

The duchess gasped and fell back on the bed. At first she stared, open mouthed, at her husband, then the ceiling. “You cannot mean it.”

The duke stood up and the duchess sank back in the bed, turned her sobbing face, and buried it in a pillow. The duke left the duchess to her ladies-in-waiting. As he passed beyond the door, he whispered to the attendants to prepare the duchess for travel and exile.

I must face this crisis alone. My children are gone and my wife is too distraught to face the dire circumstances before us, he thought. Feeling the weight of years and disappointment, he climbed ponderously to a balcony higher in the tower and looked out over the city, then the countryside he’d known and loved all his life. He surveyed the courtyard where the militia now practiced, using the weapons they would soon need to defend the city. He remembered, when still a child, he’d drilled the soldiers who’d performed so well for him playing at being their commander. He saw the family estates outside the city walls, where as a boy, he’d played with his father, sister, and grandfather. He looked further on to the stream that lead from the moat where he’d sailed toy boats with his father and later with Amenibus.

He smiled at his memories before a galloping horse caught his attention. It was Demonica racing away from the city, down the road to Feldrik and Prince Pindradese. I will not see her again, he thought and hot tears filled his eyes, yet again, so soon after his son’s death.

“We shall hold this city and this dukedom for the king,” a voice behind him said. It was familiar and yet had a resolve that he didn’t recognize. He turned and behind him stood Denubia. She took his arm and wrapped hers in his and she, too, looked out over the city.

“Are you all right, my dear?” the duke asked. He saw she stood tall; her hair blowing in the breeze had a few grey strands, yet it was full and lustrous, nonetheless. It was her face that had a solemn resolve he’d never seen before. Love and gentleness he’d known there as she hovered over her children. She had buttoned their shoe buttons, made delicate needlework for their clothing, and special treats for them all, but he’d never seen the firmness in her face he witnessed now.

“I’m going to be fine,” she said, squeezing his arm. “We’re going to be fine and Heggolstockin is going to stand against Pindradese and Dreaddrac, still loyal to Graushdem and the king.”

He took her hand in his and the two of them looked out over the city, knowing it would soon succumb to the privation and strain of a siege.

“Your father was a strong man. I hope I'll be a credit to him and you, as Amenibus was to us,” the duke said.

“Father was right to approve you for my husband,” she said, still looking out over the countryside. “You know there was never anyone else.” Then she looked into his face.

“Well, come what may, I shall always be the happiest and luckiest of men to have found you, my dear.” He kissed her on the cheek, and she wrapped her arms around him. Then they went back inside.

Over the next week, the duke redoubled his efforts to complete the city’s defenses. The duchess scurried about organizing the city’s ladies into brigades to prepare medical bandages and supplies, preserve as much food as possible, distribute clothing where needed, and generally support the men in their work. Morale had fallen after news spread through the city of Lord Amenibus’ death and the army lost at Feldrik. Now, spirits rose as the citizens saw the confident duke and duchess so actively leading the defense efforts.

“If only the general and King Saxthor can defeat the goblin’s army, we may be able to save Heggolstockin from Dreaddrac’s forces,” the duke said to the duchess one evening as they rested by the fire.

“I’m sure the general will be victorious with King Saxthor’s aid,” Denubia said, not looking up from her needlework. A dead calm, like that in the eye of a storm, had settled over the city. The two particularly appreciated the moment of peace, not wishing to think of what was coming for the moment.

I need to hear from the general, the duke thought.

A knock at the door brought an exhausted messenger from the commander, hat in hand. The duchess’ head drooped with a slight frown seeing the messenger’s downcast face and white knuckles, clutching his wrist. The young man rocked sideways in his muddy boots. The duke took the message. The courier bowed again and withdrew to await a reply, if necessary. The duke looked down at the sealed scroll, hesitating to open it. Traces of blood had been wiped off the edge.

* * *

King Bordabrundese read and reread the message from Memlatec. Since the Wizard Wars, his band of dwarves had lived within this stone base of the northern Graushdem Plain. Poor in soil, it was rich in mineral deposits. Farmers tended to be few and far between, but for the dwarves it was just right. They had mined the iron ore, and smelted it with coal dug there also, to make fantastic steel and iron works. They encrusted the metal works with gems they bartered for with their cousins in the Hadorian Mountains. No one had bothered them. They had made noises and snatched things in the night to frightened away men that did venture overhead, giving rise to tales of ghosts that inhabited the land.

Now Memlatec called the dwarves to expose themselves again in the world of men. They would have to do battle with the minions of Dreaddrac that threatened the land.

We cannot avoid the confrontation, Bordabrundese thought. If we remain hidden, The Dark Lord will hunt us down after crushing mankind. He hasn’t forgotten that dwarves fought beside men in the Wizard Wars. And yet, once exposed among mankind, men in such expanding numbers will drive out our diminishing race. I suppose we are doomed here in either case. We may as well strike for the good rather than abstain and leave the world to Dreaddrac’s evil. He tossed the troubling message to his scribe, “Lock it in the chest.” The king looked out over the audience hall at tense, wise-eyed courtiers watching him.