WORRLGENHALL (120 page)

**

 
      Aderac paced while he waited for Belon to return, then when the old woman came in with food for him, when he saw her secretly glance at his face, stopped.

 
      “He loves you as much,” she spoke when he did.

 
      Not offended by her remark, or that she spoke without permission to him, instead he gave her a smile. “What makes you believe so?”

 
      “The hard look on his face softens at once, no matter what he is doing when you look at him.”

 
      “Your name?”

 
      “Aerma.”

 
      Aderac nodded, and smiled again. For her kindness, he had already decided to give her the hall and the land around it, but now decided that for the rest of her life, he would see to it that she and her husband, along with all of her children, never wanted for anything again. “Thank you for your words, Aerma”

**

       Their bodies so close the men could see the beads of sweat forming on the other’s brow. The men from Hemrock fought with fervor, but fighting with fervor is nothing against men fighting for the lives of their loved ones and homeland, which those from Worrlgen knew was at stake, and fought down to the skill of their very core.

 
      The horse guards charging pass the fighting men on foot, cutting off limbs, heads, or whatever was in their path, with boulders and spears hurdling above, made for a spectacle of what war entailed, as men on both sides cursed, groaned, cried, and yelled out loved one’s names before dying.

 
      The death toll high, as the clash of swords rang in the other’s ears became almost a deafening sound, all knew eventually would come silence and a victor.

 
      “Arrerrr!” Loth groaned as he disemboweled one in front of him.

 
      “Remain on your horse or on foot!” Laad shouted down at Laad, as he sliced open one about to hack into Loth.

 
      “Both for me when it suites me!” Loth shouted, then jumped back on his horse and continued fighting.

 
      Both knew they kept the other in their sight, ready to come to his aid if needed, and as the bodies now began to stack, the kills between them became to many to count.

 
      Ovfren holding his own, he slashed, hacked, and plunged into many, glancing over to Ogorec whenever he could to make sure he was unharmed, while close by, Ogorec fought alongside Baric harder than he had ever fought before.

 
      Baric’s groans and shouts encouraging his warriors, he kept his sights on one in the far distance to unskilled or cowardice to fight his way to him.

 
      “I am coming for you Gegorad!” Baric would shout every time he advanced closer, causing those from Worrlgen to reaffirm his words with a thunderous war cry.

 
      “They fight as would men under a potion for madness,” one of the men from Hemrock commented noticing the bloodthirsty look in their eyes.

 
      “The madness of fools!” one shouted.

 
      “Fools or not, they are driving us back.”

**

       The anticipation was great, as all within court waited for the doors to swing open, and the king from the northern region to walk through them.

 
      “I can feel him near,” the seer said tensing.

 
      “Their steps are getting closer,” Tagia mentioned.

 
      No sooner than she stopped speaking, the doors unlatched and swung open, before heavy walking echoed off the hollow court stones.

 
      “Great king of the north,” Tagia bowed.

 
      Aderac looked at them both, then around the enormous room.

 
      “A grand court this is.” He noticed. “The stone must have come from quarries far beyond the sea.”

 
      “It was not so, until my father died.”

 
      “Ah.”

 
      Inhaling softly, Aderac walked in front of the throne, observing the elaborate red plush pillows on shiny black and green marble, before frowning.

 
      “I had them put new cushions upon it should you want to sit on the throne,” Tagia quickly said.

 
      When she suggested he sit, Belon had already grabbed a chair and sat it in front of the throne for him.

 
      “I have my own throne at Ivodgald, which suits me,” Aderac said tersely, and sat in the chair Belon provided for him.

 
      Tagia quickly silenced.

 
      “You wanted to speak with me.”

 
      “I beg you king,” she immediately prostrated herself at his feet, “Do not enslave Celgon. The man behind this treachery is dead. I had no hand in it.”

 
      Aderac frowned. The thought never came to him, nor did he want Belon having to deal with marching them across the plains. “Get back on your feet. You have my ears.”

 
      “Celgon has fallen to Ivodgald,” she said humbly, “I pray you do not tear down the stones. I am, as well as, all within now loyal to you great king. We will pay a great tribute for your mercy with salt and gold from the mines; and spices and silk on ships that port here from vast lands.”

 
       “All this you speak as if a gift to me,” Aderac still terse remarks, “And all, I can already take at my will.”

 
      Tagia suspected merely by how each looked at the other that there was powerful emotion between Belon and Aderac.

 
      “True,” she now used his want to be home with those he loved to sway him, “But such toil to crumble these stones, enslaving or executing many, when keeping them standing and those within alive will only add to your great wealth. Harsh colder weather is coming making such a march deadly and slow, delaying all from being warm and safe with love ones.”

 
      Her words worked and Aderac immediately thought of home with Belon and the children.

 
      “This is no longer Celgon. Remove any symbol or engraving, no matter how small off everything,” he said, as he stood, “I will give it a more fitting name when I am ready.”

 
      Tagia nodded and offered yet another act of good will. “These I found hidden away”

 
      Belon retrieved them; then after quickly glancing over the papers and deeply scowling, looked at Aderac.

 
      “What is it?”

 
      “Hemrock will be aided in their attacks by men from the west once the fighting reaches the river.”

 
      “By what kingdom?”

 
      “Not a kingdom. They are men bought to aid in feuds and wars for a price.”

 
      Belon turned to two messengers.

 
      “You will ride as swiftly as the wind with a message to WorrlgenHall and another to King Baric of this!” Belon ordered quickly.

 
      Once two messengers hurried out, Aderac stood and walked in front of Tagia.

 
      “You have won my favor and may sit at the table of the council of men I will send here. You may also keep your chambers and servants, but you will have no ruling power,” he said exact, “Do not cause me to regret allowing you to live.

 
      Aderac turned once again to stare at the elaborate throne, then at the intricate designs of snakes etched into the marble. “And crush this eye sore into powder.”

 
     
W
hen Belon walked out of court and into the hallway, Enek was anxiously pacing waiting for him.

 
      “He will be fine.”

 
      “Do you believe so?”

 
      “I do.”

 
      Enek jaws slightly unclenched, but his worry was far from gone. He loved Ovfren, and knew no matter what Belon tried to reassure, in the end would go to him. “Grand Commander.”

 
      Belon halted, when he heard his title. “Go, Enek.”

 
      After giving Belon a quick nod, he wasted not even a second, and assembled those under his command.

 
      “When will we follow?” Aderac asked, as they walked.

 
      “Follow?”

 
      “I know full well you will not let Enek fight alone against those from Hemrock, and you know full well, I will not let you go without me.”

 
      Belon stopped and briefly put his hand on Aderac’s chin.

 
      “You will stay far behind any battles lines,” he said in a soft, but firm tone.

 
      “Yes, Belon.”

**

       “Old men wearing robes are at the gate,” a guard informed Rulgesic.

 
      “What do they want?”

 
      “One speaks that he once lived here and seeks refuge for him and the others with him.”

 
      Rulgesic went to the wall to look down at them.

 
      “We are in a time of peril!” he yelled down, “The gates are closed to all outsiders when it is so.”

 
      “Do you reason I do not know that?” The man snarled, “Look to the west, where we lived is ablaze. Men burned it as they passed.”

 
      “The gates are closed.”

 
      “What is your name?”

 
      “My name is none of your concern.”

 
      “What is your name?”

 
      Rulgesic impatiently looked at the man insisting on knowing his name, noticing his clothes. “You are an Erlbanic priest?” 

 
      “I was not always.”

 
      “How do I know you were not sent to spy, and are sided when those who burned the forest?”

 
      “What is your name?”

 
      “Rulgesic.” He huffed, now even more annoyed with the ornery old man.

 
      “For the reason your grandfather is Adgor and your brother is Ogorec. I am who took a piece of wood out of your eye when it broke as you fought with your brother. I was once the high healer here.”

 
      “Your name?”

 
      “Apalgohor.”

 
      Rulgesic had the men raise the gate.

 
      “You were a pain then, just as you seem to be now,” Apalgohor annoyingly said when he walked pass him, as if he had never left.

**

       The black smoke seen from far south caused the men to fear it was WorrlgenHall.

 
      “What is burning?” one of the gruels in the back line asked when he saw a messenger riding in, after offering him water.

 
      “The Forest of the Lost,” he answered, while he took a quick drink.

 
      “With haste, get word to King Baric that it is not WorrlgenHall burning,” a guild rode by and said while moving him along, annoyed that he stopped to answer the question.

 
      “Cowards!” Baric seethed when read the message, knowing now that King Gegorad would try any diversion to win.

 
      “Cowards indeed,” Laad agreed.

 
      “Have the men hold for a time before we force them to the river,” Baric decided, “This has been a long hard fought day.”

 
      “Should we?” Laad questioned, “We have a strong hand on them?”

 
      “The men are tiring,” Baric’s decision, “We still have the high ground. Let me rest.”

 
      “Blow the horn!” Laad ordered.

 
      When King Gegorad heard the horn, he was incensed. He too wanted the battle over, but to his own advantage. He knew the signal would come at the river, but since the men of Worrlgen held a good distance before it, the leader would not attack.

 
      “Rile them to anger just as they have done to us.”

 
      “Attack them?”

 
      “No. Attack those innocent.”

 
      From his order, two bands of men rode south to a peaceful farming village, and solely to rile those from Worrlgen, they forcefully took several of the elderly men.

 
      Once they had them gathered, they made the line along the plains so those from Worrlgen could see them. They promised them freedom if they ran fast enough, but when they began to run, one by one, they summarily killed them by throwing spears into their backs until every one of them lay dead.

 
      When Baric heard about their inhuman deed, he was more than riled. He was enraged, and swore by the very blood within him that King Gegorad would die painfully.

**

       To make it quickly to aid to men of Worrlgen, or more so Ovfren, Enek rode harder than he had for anything in his life, stopping for nothing, not even to rest the horses.

 
      “We shall meet at the neck of the river to cross,” he said, as if even possible, he spurred his horse harder. “Grand Commander will be with us soon.”

 
      “He spoke of no such thing,” Enek’s second in command, who was keeping to his pace, shouted over at him.

 
      “He will join us.” Enek had no doubt, “And the king as well.”

**

       “Divide!” Laad shouted, before going left.

 
      As the horn signaled, the men divided, with Baric charging on his horse straight down the middle, yet, King Gegorad still stayed far back behind his men on his two-horse chariot, having not drawn his sword once.

 
      With each flail of his sword, Baric kept him in his sight, as he smugly stood in his chariot.

 
      “By my hand!” Baric yelled, as his will and his might drove him into the thick of fierce fighting, determined to cut through to get to him.

 
      “We are pushing them back across the river!” Loth yelled out.

 
      The men seemed to retreat, and as Laad caught a glance of Loth across the grassy plain, his quick smile, turned somber when he saw the reason for the retreat. A horde of men charging towards them from the west, they realized it was only a momentary ploy.

 
      “Such a fool I am.” Laad cursed to himself, then shouted a command, “High guilds, break and charge west! Footmen and gruels stay the course!”

 
      Laad’s command reaffirmed by horn signal, the high guilds broke from fighting and charged west, and when King Gegorad saw it, knew his allies were coming.

 
      “Attack, our time is at hand!”

 
      Loth and the high guilds rode to engage the men head on, and from their strange clothes, already gathered they were men for hire. The thought of them fighting for no real cause other than selfish greed disgusting them, the hearts of the men from Worrlgen resolved to humble, as well as, humiliate them, sending them to their deaths, or retreating home with their tails between their legs.

 
      Their war cry in a tongue none could understand, other than the men sounded like they spoke with a mouth full of water gurgling in their throats, Loth called them gurglers, as he charged into the thick of them.

 
      “Kill every last gurgler or die trying!”

 
      As both clashed head on into the other, the gurglers slowly swinging their axes and overly weighted swords making their movements seemingly slow, the swift men of Worrlgen use both hands skillfully to wield their swords, chopping and slicing into them like quartering meat.

 
      “Aaaahhh, blow the horn!” Loth cried out; when he realized his own sword had cut the last man down, “Aaaaahh, Worrlgen!”

 
      Stopping only briefly to listen to the horn triumphantly blown, Baric continued slashing his way to King Gegorad. His blood spattered face completely covered such that he looked like he painted his face red, when an arrow struck his shoulder; he simply switched his sword to his other hand.

 
      “No mercy!” He cried out.

**

       “Enek, we must rest the horses,” Hyal yelled, “They will die if we keep to this pace.”

 
      Enek looked out, and saw the valley knowing they were close, but close wasn’t there, and although anxious, he knew as well, if the horses did not cool down and rest, he wouldn’t make it.

 
      “So be it,” he relented, “Only enough to let them cool down, eat, and drink, then we are off again.”

 
      Hyal nodded; then when Enek walked a few paces ahead to be alone, after he twisted around the braided cord on his wrists, he stared out at the slowly setting sun.

 
      When he noticed how lost in thought he looked, and as if longing for something, Hyal walked over to him and put his hand on his shoulder.

 
      “Commander, what plagues you?”

 
      “Worry from love,” he said, briefly glancing at him, then back at the setting sun.

 
      “Love of the men of Worrlgen?” he asked, as he gave him his pouch to drink from, realizing he hadn’t bothered with eating or drinking anything since they rode out.

 
      “Love of one from Worrlgen who is fighting.”

 
      Hyal looked at him puzzled; Worrlgen didn’t allow its women to fight alongside the men. “What woman?”

 
      Enek didn’t answer and only exhaled hard.

 
      Hyal thought back on any clues to get his answer; then remembered the stunt on the horses with his brother, and that one from WorrlgenHall watched it and cheered when they finished. He also remembered that Enek actually rode out him to talk to him.

 
      “…the one with the strange eyes?”

 
      Still no answer came from him.

 
      “Commander,” Hyal understandingly said, again putting his hand on Enek’s shoulder. “Dare I fight and face death for a king and a commander who openly show all they are in love with each other, then judge and scorn my commander and friend. You have my loyalty even now, just as you will always.”

 
      Enek looked at his friend and nodded. “When the horses are rested we shall ride again and cut down those against the people of Worrlgen.

**

       The Hemrock men forced closer to the river, knowing crossing it would mean defeat; King Gegorad had a final destructive plan.

 
      “Did you give him enough?”

 
      His commander looked at him. “I did. If he puts the ordered amount they and he will become slow and when they do, we shall over take them.”

 
      King Gegorad gave him a speculative look. “Can you trust him?”

 
      “Never would I, but hate is what I trust will see that the deed is done.”

 
      “When will they feel it?”

 
      “Soon.”

 
      King Gegorad stared ahead, as always, the smug look still resting across his face, he thought of his stay at WorrlgenHall. Pleasant enough it was, and in truth, King Baric was very likeable, and honorable.

 
      Yet, the temptation to great to resist, and his commander’s constant words into his ear that he should be sole ruler of the western region; his ego could no longer ignore him, and he colluded with Atorad of Celgon.

 
      He had no inkling, that the king from the north would come to the vies, escalating it all into a war of kingdoms, but the plan already in full effect made it to late to change the course of it.