by Bill Smith
The battering rams, three of them, approached the southwestern gate of Allanon, and met no opposition. By now, arbalest darts or boulders should be raining down on the Minion, but nothing came. Aside from the creaking of the cat's wheels, the morning was silent.
Mist blanketed the field thickly, so none of the invaders could see to the top of the castle wall, but if they could, they would have found it to be empty. The battering rams nestled as closely as possible to the gate, and their methodic pounding echoed through the fog.
Falgor sat atop his dais, and listened to the distant booms. "Why aren't the half-trolls doing anything?" he asked.
Beside him, a Shadow replied, "I do not know, sire."
"Find someone who does," Falgor growled. This was making him uneasy.
The Shadow dissipated.
Behind Falgor, unseen, Marath narrowed his eyes. The Overlord leaped into the air and allowed his massive wings to carry him toward the city. After a few minutes, Marath flew above the city walls, and noticed that they were unmanned. There were no soldiers on the outermost battlements, not even patrols. A glance into the second ring of the city showed burning torches and streams of smoke. For some reason, the half-trolls had abandoned the outer ring of the city.
The demon dropped into the fog, and he glided through the empty streets. There was an odd smell. Marath pulled up, and landed. He almost fell on his back. With a scowl, the Overlord bent close to the street, and sniffed. Naphtha.
Naphtha and phosphorous and oil.
Shit.
Behind him, Marath heard the gate giving way. He sensed more troops pouring toward the city. He launched up from the street and beat his wings furiously, returning to Falgor.
With a loud splintering sound, the gate gave way, and one of the doors fell from its hinges, toppling into the empty street. Below him, in the fog, Marath could see hundreds of torches flowing through the broken gate. The Minion's howls of victory echoed through the outer city. A moment later, Marath landed in front of Falgor heavily, but the orc king just stared through the Overlord.
"Break off the attack," Marath said.
Falgor snapped his fingers and the Shadow reappeared.
"Break off the attack," Falgor ordered. "Now."
"Of course, Sire."
Marath spun around, just in time to see the invaders of Allanon die in a huge fireball. One of the Minion had slipped on a thick patch of oil, and dropped his torch. It landed in the mixture that coated the streets. The fire swept through the city like an angel of death, and swallowed up orcs before they could even see their killer. A huge plume of fire billowed up from the city, followed by coiling black smoke. Distant screams could be heard from the outer ring. Within the inner ring of the city, half-troll drums began beating.
Marath cursed, and restrained himself from directly attacking the half-trolls. It wasn't the loss of life that annoyed him, it was his carelessness. Because he had failed to keep watch from above the city...that was what annoyed him. The Minion that had died, probably over 1,000, could be replaced easily, but his carelessness in this matter was blatantly irresponsible. It ashamed him.
However, the half-trolls had finally surrendered the outer wall of the city. Marath knew It was only a matter of time before the rest of the city fell.
***
Cheers rose up from the Karoks as the Minion were roasted before their very eyes. Though they all wanted to rush down and slaughter the stragglers that had escaped the flames, that would be unwise. Thousands more orcs and Shadows would attack within the next few minutes.
Of course, the cheering stopped when the smoke began rushing across the battlements. Karoks knelt and covered their mouths with wet cloths, coughing from the burning air. But that didn't diminish their enthusiasm.
After weeks of slow penetration by the Minion, this trap had been a slap in the face for Falgor. Though the loss was insignificant, it showed the enemy that the Karoks would not go down easily.
From his tower in the citadel, Jorak smiled. It pained him to see part of his city destroyed, but that was inevitable. Falgor would not relent until every Karok lay dead.
"Your Majesty, all strike teams are in position."
"Good," Jorak replied. "Wait until one hour past midnight, then attack."
The messenger bowed and left.
Unfortunately for the Minion, that first trap was one of several Jorak had left behind. Beneath the largest inns, tunnels had been dug, leading to the inner city. In the middle of the night, his strike teams would crawl through the tunnels, and set fire to the wooden supports beneath the inn. Of course, this was all based on the speculation that Falgor would house his armies in the outer city. And there was no reason he shouldn't; none of Jorak's weapons could reach distance more than 800 yards.
Several buildings had been rigged to collapse when the roof door was triggered. Most of these buildings were advantageous locations to position a catapult or ballista. So Jorak had hired his engineers to make the building collapsable. When the roof door was opened, it would trigger spring-loaded rams, that would smash all the building supports simultaneously. Anyone inside the building would go down with it.
Jorak was not a devious person; he believed that open war, on a battlefield, was the best way to fight. The Minion had left him no choice, however. Jorak would use any means necessary to gain victory. Now, victory...survival was hopeless, but he could spare the humans some grief.
All of these traps Jorak's men had built were products of Engineering in Tactical Warfare, by Olrick Mahr. It had been a gift from Mahr himself, as a joke. The human knew that Jorak would never have use for it, but he wanted to get the king a present. Wasn't that ironic?
With a sigh, the king leaned against the windowsill. Jorak knew it was only a matter of time before the city fell.
***
It had been a while since they had stayed at an inn, and Lia was enjoying every minute of it. She was sprawled across the bed with her arms and legs sticking out in various directions. Bolthorn lay on another mattress, snoring softly, and Aleya and Borim were curled up in each other's arms on the second bed. The coal in the brazier glowed orange, and gave off a little heat. Occasional horse snorts were the only noises, except for the crickets' chirping.
In the darkness, Lia's eyes opened, and she scanned the room. Everyone was still asleep. The elf girl stepped out of her bed and found her pants. She pulled them on, then a pair of shoes, and wrapped a cloak about her shoulders. Lia carefully stepped over Bolthorn, and opened the door. She walked out into the hall and closed it quietly.
A few minutes later, Lia was standing out in front of the inn, crouching by a barrel, when a gray ghost walked down the dirt road. Just as the figure reached Lia, it turned toward her.
A pair of green eyes glimmered from beneath the man's hood.
Lia motioned at Alinor, and he walked over to her. "What do you want?" she yawned. "It's pretty late."
"It's very late," Alinor knelt by Lia and looked her up and down.
Lia scowled. "What was that?"
"What?"
"That look you gave me. You're pathetic, you know."
"What?" Alinor asked innocently.
"Can't you ever stop worrying about me? Don't you think I'm old enough to take care of myself?"
"To me you're still young."
"To you, everyone is young."
Alinor shrugged.
"Now, what did you-" Lia scowled then grabbed Alinor's hood. She threw it back over his head.
"Why'd you do that?" Alinor complained, pulling his hood back up.
"You always have it down when you talk to me. I hate that thing you do with your eyes. Like a pair of floating eyeballs. That doesn't make anybody comfortable."
"It's not supposed to. Now listen, Barai'lach will be conquered within a few days. Allanon is on the brink of defeat. Jorak has no other options but to take out as many of the Minion as he can, and that's what he's doing. But I found something interesting...he's set traps for the Minion in the abandoned parts of the city. He's using a book called Engineering in Tactical Warfare."
"Oh! I read that!"
"You did?"
"Well, part of it. Most of the book is tactics for when you're doomed in your city. I think Olrick meant it as a joke. He never figured Jorak would have a practical use for it. Neither did I. A solitary Lienite showed it to me when I stayed with him for a few weeks."
"Well, I need you to find Olrick."
Lia raised her eyebrows in approval. "You're thinking, Father. Excellent idea."
"Also, I want you to get rid of Bolthorn."
Lia's face darkened. "Why?" she demanded.
"He has no use, and I don't trust him."
"I do."
"Yes, but-"
"Father...do you trust me?"
"Of course I do, Lia, it's-"
"Do you think I have sound judgement?"
"Well, yes, but-"
"Well, I judge Bolthorn to be trustworthy." Lia stood up, and Alinor stood up with her. "Thank you, father," she kissed his cheek. "Good night."
When Lia went back in, Alinor sighed. She was so stubborn.
***
In the outer circle of Allanon, just as Qak the goblin was curling up in a wool blanket, he sniffed something strange. Qak blinked and sat up. He looked around the common room, at the twenty other sleeping orcs. Nothing looked suspicious, but...
The small goblin sat up and pulled on his shoes. He looked around the room again, and sniffed once more. Smoke.
Smoke!
Qak suddenly felt a little warm, and he looked down. Small tendrils were rising from the cracks between the floorboards. In a panic, Qak scampered to the door of the inn, and threw open the door. The entire inn groaned, suddenly.
The goblin desperately leaped out the door, and he felt the air rush past his feet and heard thunderous crashes behind him. When Qak turned around, he gaped. The entire inn had collapsed, and was now just a pile of rubble. A pair of Shadows materialized next to him.
"What happened?" one of them demanded in its rasping voice.
Qak swallowed. He opened his mouth to speak, and heard another distant boom.
***
"My first advice to you is this," Galnor said, looking up from the papers.
Garen and Bree turned away from the balcony window. "What?" Garen asked.
"No offense, Bree," Galnor said, "but Garen, you need to lose Bree, or buy her. If you keep her with you as much as you have been, your account will be dried up in less than a month. Not to mention, you should move into your manor."
"It's not completely finished," Garen scowled. "And why would I buy Bree if I don't have a place to live yet?"
"Your manor isn't completely finished," Galnor replied, "but even you said the main building is done. That's plenty to live in until it's completed."
Garen shrugged. "Fine. I'll do it."
Bree's breath caught.
"Do what?" Galnor asked.
"Both. Buy Bree and move into the manor."
Bree suppressed a scream of joy.
"Good," Galnor said, scribbling something onto the paper. "Now, when you pay off Red Feather's charge, that'll leave you with about 15,000."
"15,000?" Garen gaped. "Last I heard it was 90,000!"
Galnor shrugged. "Well, your estate has a net cost of 54,000. That's not including the labor force-"
"Don't tell me all this crap," Garen said. "So I've got 15,000, what does that mean?"
"Now? Not much. We should be able to capitalize on the upcoming war, though. When spring rolls around, the Crown's demand for weapons will skyrocket. It probably already is skyrocketing. There's no doubt that Harnash will try to take advantage of the war, and market weapons to Althoria. Naturally, Althoria will have to buy from Harnash, but they won't want to. The first place they'll look is local, Althorien, but they can only get so much of it here. There are only so many weapons that you can get locally, if you get my meaning. Now, if we buy options for a shitload of swords from all local distributors, we can create our own weapons distribution company, stemming out of theirs. It's a little risky, and complicated, but the profit gain would be tremendous. Though we'd be selling options at nearly twice their normal rate, it would still be less than Harnash's price, so-"
"Stop," Garen said. "You lost me when you said 'spring rolls around'. Just tell me: do you think it will work?"
"There's a high probability, yes."
"Can you make it work?"
"If anyone can, I can."
"Will I make money off it?"
"Things will be tight for a while, since you've only got 15,000, but yes."
"Fine. Do it. Bree and I are going to the manor now. When you finish things up here, let me know."
"I'll meet you there later."
Garen stashed his things into his backpack, and motioned for Bree to follow him. He walked out the door, and Bree stopped by Galnor. "Thank you!" she whispered, kissing the servant's cheek.
Galnor nodded, already absorbing himself in Garen's financial records.
"You'll remember to get my money, right?"
Galnor nodded again.
Bree skipped out after Garen.
***
The castle of Althorien was located on the second level of the city, on the first cliff. Of course, Ranon wanted to be as far away as possible from the castle during the first few days of their journey, so he and Alleria rented a room at the Feral Tiger Inn, in the outskirts of upper Althoria.
In the morning, Ranon pulled on his leather armor and his sword, then put on his cloak. "It would be best if you stayed here," Ranon said. "I'm going to the bazaar, to find you some decent clothes."
Alleria looked up from her mug of soup. "Why?"
"You look like a reject from the Chinaraso family."
"What!? I do not!"
"Trust me, you do."
Alleria scowled, then drank more of her soup.
"And cut your hair."
"What? Why? My hair-"
"Is too long," Ranon said. "When we're out of Althoria, you can lengthen it, but right now, anybody would recognize those braids."
"I never keep my hair in braids, nobody-"
Ranon pulled out his dagger and walked over to the princess.
She scrambled back, but Ranon grabbed her pony tail, and pulled up. Alleria squawked and slapped at his arm, but he pushed the sharp blade against her hair, and severed the braid from her head. For a fraction of a second, she clutched the back of her head desperately, feeling for her hair, then she ran over to the mirror.
Alleria gasped and looked at her head from different angles. "Ranon! How could you!" she shrieked, hurling herself against him and beating at his chest with her fists.
In his right hand, Ranon grabbed both ends of the blonde braid, and whacked her over the head. Alleria yelped, and Ranon beat her back to the bed with her own hair. When she was curled up in a ball, in the corner, he stopped.
Alleria was trembling. She cautiously peeked over her raised hands, and Ranon said, "Listen, here. If one of Borric's guards finds us, we're dead. Understand? They'll take us into the castle, and I'll be stripped of my rank, thrown in the dungeon, and you'll be dishonored and sent to a fucking convent. I thought we went over this last night." Ranon threw the braid at Alleria, and said, "The harder it is to recognize you, the better."
Alleria stared at Ranon as he walked out the door and slammed it behind him. Guilt overwhelmed him as soon as he was out in the hall, but he continued walking.
He had never spoken that way to anyone before, and he never should, especially to Alleria. She was supposed to give the orders, not him. But he was only trying to protect her. Alleria was just too ignorant to understand the implications of her pregnancy.
Ranon wished there was another way.
***
Karok warfare rarely revolved around a siege, especially at one of their own cities. Mainly, they relied on open battle. It was the simplest, and the bloodiest. Critics of the Karoks claimed that it was because they were too dumb to understand anything but hack-and-slash. Though that was not true, it hit closer to home than some other theories. Generally, Karoks had an insatiable bloodlust, that could only be alleviated, temporarily, by physically hacking down their enemies.
Just because they were no good at siege warfare didn't mean the city was shoddily built. Exactly the opposite. The city had seven rings, and each ring was more defensible than the last. Walls became taller and thicker, towers became more frequent, and the inner battlements bristled with spears and spikes.
Despite Allanon's fortifications, the siege was unnerving for many, since patience was not the Karoks' strong suit. All hours of the day they would sit upon the battlements, crouching behind merlons, listening to the Minion's assault. More siege machines were being built every day, and Falgor's progress was quickening.
However, the Karoks were adapting to this new style of battle, as Jorak's traps had shown. A large portion of the outer city burned from Olrick Mahr's "liquid fire" mixture of naphtha, oil, and phosphorous. That which wasn't incinerated was being inhabited by Falgor's army. More traps had been spread out randomly through the buildings, as the Minion were discovering. But the Karoks were not engineers, so less than half of the traps successfully deployed. It was enough to give the Minion a pause, at least. Defeat was inevitable, but the Karoks didn't care.
Jorak's plan was to kill as many of the Minion as possible, but he doubted it would make much difference. Falgor was no idiot, yet he was throwing away hundreds of lives by attacking Allanon. Obviously, Falgor's army was bigger than Jorak had suspected. Even if Falgor had a million orcs, there had to be a reason why he was needlessly killing so many.
Before Jorak retreated to Allanon, five orcs fell for every one of his warriors. Now, the Minion's casualty rate had tripled, at least. There was no reason for Falgor to press on; all he needed to do was surround the city and wait.
It was a mystery to Jorak, but he never complained. Now, his men could die with honor. They could die in battle, instead of becoming victims of disease or starvation.
From the western battlements, Jorak looked down at the Minion, as they prepared for the morning's assault. Thousands of orcs, Shadows, and trolls milled about the burnt buildings of Allanon. More than a dozen siege engines were spread out in two rows, armed with boulders and dead animals. In front of the siege machines, four covered rams waited for Falgor's signal.
To the south of the main army, and the burnt section of the city, laborers tore apart Allanon's buildings. Any decent lumber was carried outside of the city, and used to help construct a siege machine, just outside the city walls, beyond Jorak's sight. Stones were hauled up to the catapults, to be hurled against the second ring of the city.
Overseeing it all was Falgor Bloodfist. The orc king's dais could be pinpointed on the battlements above the western gate, but it was far out of range. The black flags were the only indication of his presence.
Jorak looked down at the catapults again, and noticed that one orc had drifted from the group. He was straying nearer and nearer to the city, unaware of his position.
The king walked to the nearest arbalest and said to its operators, "See that orc? I want you to hit him."
The soldiers nodded and began cranking the enormous crossbow. When the cord was taut, one of them began aiming it, while the other one lodged the dart into the notch. After the huge dart was in place, the soldier checked its trajectory again, then nodded.
The cord's loud snap signaled the dart's release, and it whistled through the air, at the lone orc. Barely a second later, the dart struck the orc's leg. It exploded into the back of the orc's knee, splattering blood and bone all over the ground. Almost like someone had hit him in the face, the orc was slammed backwards into the cobblestones. His lower leg did a somersault and landed near a Minion catapult. None of them made a move to help their fallen comrade. If the orc was screaming, no one heard it: the Karoks' cheers drowned out all noise from the Minion. Jorak knew that a single orc would make no difference whatsoever.
The cheers cut short when Falgor signaled his army.
The siege machines began crawling forward.
***
Borric's staff was once again gathered in the conference room, and this time Jerik led the meeting. In the middle of the table was a map of Althorien and the surrounding land.
"We all assume that Falgor will attack Althoria first," Jerik said. "And that is probably true, but I don't think he'll move straight for Althorien. We should have plenty of time to prepare the city for a siege. I will handle the additional construction of Althorien's defenses, in addition to the evacuation of the countryside."
Jerik unrolled a cross-section of Althorien and the cliffs. There were two cliffs: at the bottom of the first cliff was the lower level of Althorien, on top of the first cliff, at the bottom of the second cliff, was the middle level of Althorien, and on top of the second cliff was the upper level of Althorien. The Althorian River ran through all three levels of the city, creating two waterfalls down each cliff face.
Much of the city was actually built above the river, sitting on stone foundations that protruded from the water. Several yards beneath the city streets was the river. When Althorien was first built, all the sewage was dumped straight into the river, but that soon became a problem for the lower city levels. All waste and excrement from the upper levels was now directed into a pipe that pumped it into the Althorian river, a few miles south of the city.
"I'm sure you all know the defenses of the city, but I'll refresh your memory," Jerik said. "The greatest danger to Althorien is posed by the river. Access to the city would be quite simple if the Minion gained access to the river beneath the city. We have vertical gates in place beneath every city wall, but I'm going to add spiked grating to every access point of the river inside the city. During the siege, I strongly recommend that all public access points be closed, and built over with stone."
"Even the wells?" Borena asked.
"Tolir will talk about that in a few minutes," Jerik replied. He continued, "Now, the only way for Falgor to attack Althorien is from the bottom up. He has no way of accessing the middle level of Althorien until the lower level is destroyed."
"How do you plan to deal with the wagon roads?" Daren asked.
"Falgor could easily transport his army up those," Corin added.
Each cliff face was sheer, and for the upper two city levels, this was advantageous. However, it also made travel between the levels difficult, so two roads had been built for each city level, for merchants and travelers. For any merchant that wanted to travel from one level to the other, in a wagon or horse, he would have to travel outside of the city, and take the steep cliff roads. The roads ran away from the city, and halfway up the cliff, turned back toward the city. When the merchant arrived, he would be back near the city again, only on the next level of Althorien. These roads had been constructed for both cliffs.
"My engineers have devised a way to destroy the roads," Jerik replied. "When we hear that the Minion are nearing, we will clear the roads, and destroy them." Everyone knew that travel would become difficult after the war, but many things would become difficult after the war. "In order to reach the next level of the cliff, with his army, Falgor would need to construct his own road to the next level. He would probably construct it from wood, out of the nearby trees. I think that would be the quickest way."
"Quick?" Tolir said. "It would take him at least two months, probably more."
Jerik nodded. "Yes, and that would give us time to prepare for the next battle. We could recover and build better defenses while he-"
"'While he' my ass," Corin sneered. "Don't you see?"
"While Falgor is attacking the lower level of the city, he'll begin building his wooden road, immediately," Daren said. "He won't wait until he's captured that level."
"We could be fighting a siege on three different fronts," Corin said.
Jerik gaped, then swore. "I'm glad you two thought of that. I'll think of a plan for tomorrow's meeting. In the case that a lower level is taken while we still have the level above it, then the connecting tunnels can be sealed to prevent the Minion from following. There are ten specific tunnels connecting the lower level to the middle, through the cliff, and ten tunnels connecting the middle level to the top. A cave-in of each tunnel would prevent the Minion from following through the tunnels, so they would have to build their road.
"If one of the upper cities is taken first, then we are in serious trouble. Althorien is as good as gone if that takes place. They could literally drop rocks on us from the upper levels. No, if the Minion even gain a foothold in one of the upper levels, we would have to abandon the lower levels just to keep the upper one. You see? If they take the top level of Althorien before the bottom level, then we would move all soldiers from the lower levels to fight up top, if necessary. But that won't happen."
"Aside from Althorien's defenses," Borric said, "what have you done?"
"I have doubled patrols along the Mistland border, and all outposts have a triple compliment. As soon as I get a monetary figure," he looked pointedly at Olis, "then I will begin signing off for weapons and armor and recruits. With Your Majesty's permission, of course."
Borric nodded.
"Personally, I am researching Minion battle techniques, and known weaknesses. I will pass this information along to my commanders at the earliest convenience."
Jerik wrapped up his speech, and sat down. Tolir stood up and said, "Now, Jerik and I spent much of the time discussing a possible siege of Althorien, yesterday afternoon. One of the dangers is poison, if the Minion ever reach the Highlands. They could merely dump poison in the Althorian River, and we would be done for. Now, the best alternative I've come across is to use the Baring Caves' springs. Inside the cliffs runs an intricate maze of caverns, the Baring Caves. According to a long-standing law, set up by King Dorrik IV, we are not allowed to explore the caves."
Corin snorted. "Who would want to?"
"Just because his son was eaten by a wraith doesn't mean that-"
"Moving on," Tolir interrupted. "If we are allowed to store and grow food in the Baring Caves, we could avoid starvation if Falgor attempts to surround all three levels of the city. That's not likely, but poison is, so we could tap into the underground springs within the Baring Caves for water."
Borric nodded. "Good plan. Remove Dorrik's regulation from the books," he told Borena.
"In conjunction with Borena's war tax, I've added that 2/10s of the local grain be gathered for storage in the caves."
"Why the caves?" Borric asked. "There are other places in the city."
"Well, I'm thinking that the caves may be used as an escape route if Falgor conquers Althorien."
"Gods!" Borric frowned. "Everyone in here is a pessimist! Show some hope! I don't believe that Falgor will defeat us."
"If the Minion defeat the Karoks, then they'll surely defeat us," Corin said. "That's what they're thinking, anyway."
Borric sighed. "I know that Jorak said our chances aren't good, but he believes humans are puny weaklings. He seriously underestimates our strength, and Althoria's strength."
"Do you think Falgor underestimates our strength?" Daren asked.
***
With all the money gained from selling Ghin's old treasures, Bolthorn and Lia had each purchased horses. Travel was much easier, now. Bolthorn had never really cared about horses, one way or the other, but now that he was riding one, he loved it. It was much better than walking thirty miles a day, with a backpack.
As they approached the city of Althorien, Bolthorn wondered what job he would look for. Though he was still concerned about the others' safety, he reasoned that it was their fault for following him.
Meanwhile, Lia was wondering how she could get Bolthorn to follow her up to Merindegard. That was the last place she had seen Olrick Mahr. He had been living with the dwarves at the time. Wherever Bolthorn went, Aleya would follow, and Borim would follow her.
Althorien was a beautiful sight, sitting almost in the middle of the waterfall. Tons of water rushed beneath all three levels of the city, pouring over the two cliffs onto the bottom two levels. Then the river continued south, for leagues, until it reached Harnash, and emptied into the Sea of Storms.
The morning fog had not yet lifted. This late in fall, it might never lift.
They rode through the western gate, into the city. A few people were up and about, but most were still in bed. Bolthorn was surprised the waterfall didn't keep them awake all night. Every time he was here, he lost sleep.
Lia rode up next to him and said, "What are we looking for?"
"I'm going to go to the local guild and see if there are any jobs I could take."
Lia thought for a moment, then said, "Have you ever heard of Olrick Mahr?"
"No. Who is he?"
"He's an engineer. He lives up in Merindegard."
"The Dwarven Mountains? Those are all the way up in the Highlands...why? What about him? You don't expect to go see him, do you?"
"Actually..." Lia looked aside.
"What do you want to see an engineer for? And since when did you know about geography? I thought you didn't know your way around the northern continent at all."
Lia sighed. "Well, we have enough money to live off of for months, and your getting a job wouldn't make a terribly large difference, so..." she shrugged.
Bolthorn gaped at her. "You want to travel over two hundred miles to see an engineer because why?"
"Olrick Mahr specializes in tactical warfare. If we brought him back to Althorien, he could assist King Borric in the construction of siege machines and things of that sort. It could be a great help to the war."
"Where did you hear of him?"
"A Lienite told me about him."
"When?"
"Before I met you."
Bolthorn shook his head. "I see no reason to..."
Lia put on her best puppy-dog face and cast a charm spell on him.
"Gods! I hate myself!" Bolthorn rolled his eyes. "Fine, we'll go. But you know that Merindegard is in the Highlands, right?"
Lia nodded.
"You know they're dangerous, right?"
Lia nodded.
Bolthorn shrugged. "As you wish. We'll have to leave the city and take the wagon roads up to the Highlands."
***
Balan walked swiftly out of the rear door, just before dawn, and just during the guard change. Tightly pressed against his chest was Belana, in a pair of winter pants and a long-sleeve shirt that didn't fit. He wrapped his cloak around her again, and hoped that the bulge she created would be mistaken for his girth.
When he entered the stables, he swung up onto his pony and turned it around, then headed out of the Red Feather. Just as he was leaving the gate, someone yelled, "Hey! What are you doing?"
Balan turned around to see a guard running after him. When the guard saw that it was Balan, the guard stopped. "Oh, sorry Balan." The guard motioned him on.
Balan waved and then rode out into the chilly morning air.
It took him nearly a half hour, since he hadn't been to her house in over a year, and his memory was hazy, but Balan finally found Brynhild's house. He and Brynhild had been lovers for several years, but that was a long time ago, when he was still young. Now, they were distant friends, and she visited him from time to time. It had taken some persuasion, but Brynhild had agreed to take Belana, if the girl's gold was handed over to Brynhild.
Balan agreed, since it was Belana's only chance of survival; she was getting worse, every day. He had finally found a replacement, some 12-year old by the name of Laurel. Just by her eyes, Balan could tell that she had elf blood in her. It was surprising that she had been sold to Red Feather, since elven prostitutes were generally taken by the royal families.
King Borric despised prostitution and adultery, so he banned all concubines when he was crowned king. The other ruling families still had prostitutes, though. And the city Arangrad, up in the Highlands, had many concubines. Elven concubines especially.
Balan stopped in front of the house and slid down from the horse. He knocked twice, and the door opened. Brynhild motioned for him to come inside, and Balan walked in. He disentangled Belana from his chest, and set her down. She looked around, shivering from the cold.
"Go warm yourself by the fire, dear," Brynhild said. Belana did, and the woman stepped close to Balan.
"You'll take care of her, right?" Balan said.
"Of course I will. I'll make her forget she was ever a whore. When she's recovered, mentally you know, I'll let her start working in the shop, and I'll teach her to sew. She'll learn some things about linen. Maybe I'll have somebody to hand this place off to, after all."
Balan nodded. He reached into his cloak and pulled out all the gold that Belana had earned, which was just over 500. "Don't waste this money; use it to help the child."
Brynhild took it. "Of course."
Balan watched for any greed or sign of mischief, but he saw none, so he was satisfied. "Take care, Brynhild." He took one last look at Belana, then walked out into the city.
***
Marian plopped onto the bed next to Lyn and said, "Bastard."
"What?" Lyn mumbled, still half-asleep.
"That guy in 501, he's a sadist." She rubbed her butt and winced.
"Mm," Lyn rolled over.
Marian crawled under the covers next to Lyn and pressed her body close to the younger girl's. "Are you tired?" Marian asked.
Lyn mumbled something unintelligible.
"I'll take that for a no," Marian grinned. She slid her hand down Lyn's smooth stomach, and down between her legs.
The blond girl shifted and groaned. "Quit," she said sleepily. "I'm too tired."
Marian pressed her nose against the other girl's neck, and whispered, "I'm not."
She began slowly rubbing her finger along Lyn's nether lips, waiting for a response. A few moments later, Lyn moaned, "Quit it. I'm tired."
Marian slipped a finger into Lyn's moist pussy, and the younger girl drew in a sharp breath. Another finger slid next to the first, and Marian began thrusting them in. When Lyn's hips began grinding against Marian's hand, Marian pushed her head beneath the covers, and licked Lyn's cunt lips. Her lips found Lyn's clitoris, and Marian began teasing it with her tongue.
"Quit!" Lyn moaned, more awake this time.
Marian placed her mouth over Lyn's clit, and began sucking on it. She pressed a third finger into the girl's pussy, and began thrusting them into her tight vagina.
Lyn cried something unintelligible. Her back arched and she thrust her hips into the girl. Her muscles began spasming as she climaxed. Wet juices poured all over Marian's face, and the older girl pulled out from beneath the covers.
"Now I'm all sticky," Marian complained. She glanced around to make sure the other girls were still asleep.
When Lyn stopped gasping from her orgasm, she said, "I'm gonna have to stop sleeping naked." Then she turned to Marian and said, "It's your fault you're sticky, not mine."
Marian licked her fingers. "Who said I didn't like it?" she grinned.
Lyn touched Marian's wet nose and said, "You know, we should probably go in the bathing room and wash you off..."
Marian was about to agree, when the door to the bunkroom opened.
Both girls lay still as Laurel came in and closed the door quietly. Laurel was the last one to come back from her client, this late in the morning. Aside from Marian and Lyn, everyone else was sleeping in their beds.
They watched the new girl go to her bed and strip, then walk into the bathing room. Laurel made most of the other girls uncomfortable, for some reason. Perhaps it was her elven qualities. Her ears were pointy near the top, and her brown hair had the color of tree bark. It had a fullness that human hair didn't possess. Laurel's eyes were leaf green, and she had brown freckles. It looked as though she had come straight out of the forest. Her body was exquisite, even for such a young girl.
"Maybe we'll wait until she's done," Lyn said.
"Why?" Marian asked.
"Well, she's...you know..."
Marian shrugged. "If you want. Somebody's going to have to introduce her, though."
***
By the end of the first assault on the second wall of Allanon, five hundred Minion and twenty Karoks had died. All of Falgor's battering rams had been destroyed, and three of his other siege machines were inoperable. One of Jorak's arbalests was broken, and that was due to a loose gear. It would be fixed by morning. The gate was splintered in several places, but was still holding strong.
Falgor stood on his dais, situated on the outer battlements of Allanon. He stared over the charred buildings of the outer city, and watched the Karok patrols on the opposite battlements. The king wondered how long it would be before he finally crushed these persistent half-trolls. Their existence was beginning to annoy him.
One of Falgor's faults was his impatience. He knew that the Karoks would be destroyed, but, even though it had only been two months, he tired of seeing them die. Karoks never showed fear, and none of them cracked under torture. Their spirits never broke, so Falgor couldn't enjoy seeing the defeat in their eyes. Always, defiance.
Humans were different. There had never been a human that didn't crack under torture. Some were harder than others, but that was part of the challenge. Falgor enjoyed discovering new ways to break human spirit.
Next to Falgor, unseen, stood Marath. The demon's huge body towered over the orc king's, standing more than nine feet tall. His huge wings cast a shadow over the dais, but the king did not see it. Marath was contemplating the siege. If things continued at this pace, the Minion would never reach Althorien before spring.
Doubtless, by then, Alinor would have maneuvered Aleya into a safe place, and he would have found the Death Rose. If Aleya ever possessed that stone, Marath would never be able to confront her. Only Kra would be able to defeat them both, but His time was nowhere near.
Marath's burning red eyes swept over Falgor's army, and then came to rest on the city gate, above which, Jorak pondered the siege. For a moment, Marath debated, and then his resolve solidified. Though it was risky to expose himself, Marath knew that time was of the essence, and delay could be fatal.
"It is time," Marath told Falgor.
The Overlord took a giant leap into the air, and flew toward the gate.
***
Garen looked around his bedroom and sighed. It was twice as large as his room in the Red Feather, and, as he had requested, was adjacent to a bathing room. The tub sat in the floor, as it had done before, with polished marble flooring surrounding it. Garen's balcony faced south, and he could see for leagues. Since his manor was outside of the second level of Althorien, his view looked over the cliff. The Althorian River flowed through the Aragnon Forest, carrying several trading boats. On clear days, Garen could glimpse the Stone Mountains to the southwest. East, as always, was the gloomy fog of the Mistlands. And north, he just faced the second cliff.
As Garen stood on his balcony, staring at the red glow of dusk, he knew that Aleya was nearby. A shiver ran through his system when he sensed her presence. He hungered for her, needed her, but now, she was too well guarded. If they saw him, they would kill him. No, Garen would wait for another day. When that day came, Garen would possess Aleya.
***
Marath landed a few yards in front of the gate, and turned around. Behind him, the Minion were forming ranks in the main street of Allanon. Most of them were confused, but they wouldn't be for long. The Overlord turned back to the gate, and hoped he wouldn't be killed in the next few minutes. He removed his invisibility.
***
"What is it?" Jorak asked, climbing the ladder and peering down into outer Allanon. Tens of thousands of the Minion stood among the burned buildings, weapons drawn, waiting. Falgor's dais had been moved into the middle of the army. They all appeared nervous.
"Something's wrong," the soldier next to Jorak said. "Why are they just standin-"
"Oh fuck," swore another soldier.
Jorak looked down. Directly below him, standing in front of the gate, was a huge demon. Its eyes burned red, and its wings spanned more than twenty feet. If there was ever a demon that came from Gehenna, this was it. The Karok king spun around, and put his warhorn to his lips. The blast shattered the night air, and left a ringing vibration in its absence.
For a moment, only the horn's note hung in the air, but then the demon roared. The spine-chilling sound ripped through the streets of Allanon, from one end of the city to the other. Then creature pulled back, and blasted the gates apart with an enormous fireball. Burning timbers showered the Karoks, but they ignored it, and fearlessly attacked Marath.
***
Alinor and Jonas stood on the lake of ice, ignoring the biting winds and freezing snow. In this weather, it was impossible to see for more than a few feet, but they didn't need to. When Manjinar arrived, both of them knew it.
The Overlord walked forward, wearing a white tunic and pants. "I asked you here to inform me of your progress."
Alinor scowled and said, "What do you think? The Karoks will be destroyed in a matter of days, and the Minion tear through Barai'lach as though it were paper. Marath will attack during the winter, and the Minion will crush Althoria. It hasn't been three months since Falgor began his attack, and already he has crushed the Grey Shield. Yet you still concern yourself with-"
"Matters of more importance," Manjinar replied. "As I told you before, I dare not interfere until Marath exposes himself. If I attempt to-"
The three men heard a distant rumble. The air around them reverberated, and they stood silent. Then Alinor said, "I would call that an exposition, wouldn't you?"
Manjinar looked at the wizard, then nodded curtly.
All three vanished.
***
Marath snatched up a Karok and squeezed. The half-troll's rib cage collapsed. As the front of the Karok army closed on him, Marath leaped into the air, and threw both his fists forward. A blast of energy exploded from his hands, and incinerated a dozen of the Karoks.
Just as Marath was about to throw another bolt of energy, two arbalest darts burst into his back, and protruded from his chest, and the Overlord screamed. Marath's concentration wavered, and he fell among the Karoks. With howls of animalistic fury, the half-trolls fell upon the Overlord, hacking and swinging wildly.
In a move of desperation, Marath dove into a nearby building, crashing through the stone wall. Half-trolls followed him through the hole, but he jumped up through the ceiling and flew up into the sky. His wings pounded violently, and carried him into the clouds. He lowered himself slightly so he could see the battle. Marath panted, watching as the Minion and Karok slaughtered each other.
The Overlord was disturbed that he had been struck so easily, but it mattered not. The-
His only warning was a flicker of light, but that was enough. Marath narrowly avoided a lightning bolt. It crackled past him, and Marath looked back for its source.
Manjinar.
The other Overlord snarled, and fired off another bolt of lightning at Marath. The demon of Tir erected a shield just in time, but it almost collapsed from Manjinar's attack.
Marath hurled back a stream of fire, but Manjinar dodged easily, and counterattacked. When the evil Overlord dodged this one, he was almost struck by another bolt of light, from a different source.
Alinor hovered above Marath, and said, "You came too soon, Marath."
Marath growled and almost attacked, but Manjinar did first.
It only took a moment for the evil Overlord to realize he was outmatched. With a curse, Marath dove back into the city, and landed among the Minion. His invisibility returned. When he looked back into the sky, Manjinar and Alinor were gone.
On the battlements, Jorak stared at the destruction. He took one last look at Allanon, then jumped from the battlements to the roof of an inn. He slid down the roof and landed on top of the stables, then jumped on a troll. The troll landed on its back, and Jorak's huge battleaxe cleaved its head open.
Filled with rage, Jorak leaped into the Minion, his axe swinging wildly. Dozens of blows struck the king, but most of them glanced off his armor. When a trio of Darknesses closed on Jorak, another warrior appeared out of the fray. The warrior's sword shone brightly, dancing with electricity. He was wearing black full plate armor, and he was human.
Before Jorak could register all this, the human's sword ripped through the Darknesses like butter.
Just as the king decapitated another orc, the human grabbed his arm. "This way! Follow me!"
Jorak nodded numbly, not understanding why, but he did. The human displayed battle prowess that Jorak could not comprehend. The man's fighting style was almost that of a dance. His speed was incredible, and he felled dozens of the Minion before they had even reached the gate.
When they passed beneath the destroyed gate, Jorak knew where they were going. They were going to kill Falgor. Now, with a sense of purpose, Jorak's rage renewed, and he battled alongside the human. The pair cut a swath through the Minion, defeating any that stood in their way. Soon, though, they were moving through the enemy so quickly, everyone they came upon was unprepared. Most of the Minion were too startled to react.
Though it wasn't long at all, before Jorak knew it, he was standing in front of Falgor's dais. He leaped up in front of the throne, and faced the orc king, seeing him face-to-face for the first time. Falgor Bloodfist was big, for an orc, standing almost six feet tall. His muscles bulged, and he had many scars on his face and arms. A single scar passed over his left eye, which was covered by a patch. His left hand was missing. The king wore no crown, but his whole attitude exuded leadership.
Falgor gazed at Jorak steadily, then drew his scimitar.
Next to the two kings, Jonas faced Marath, his sword pointed at the Overlord. "Marath, I hate to kill," Jonas said, "but for you, I'll make an exception."
The demon sneered, and lashed out.
Jonas's sword swung in a tight arc, and Marath screamed, clutching his hand. The demon jumped back when Jonas swung again, and when Jonas pressed the attack, Marath jumped back into the Minion, who swarmed on the human.
Falgor had fought many battles, but his skills were not what they used to be. When Jorak swung his axe down, Falgor merely blocked. His scimitar was shattered, and he was split down the middle, from head to groin. The two halves of the king fell away from each other.
For a moment, there was a silence on the dais, and Jorak just stared at the body of his enemy. Then he spat on Falgor.
The human flickered out of existence, and the Minion poured onto the dais, screaming for Jorak's blood. Jorak tore down the first three in one swing, and for a few breaths, the last king of the Karoks was the hand of Death.
The Minion attacked him, and their blows rained down on Jorak's armored body. Those strikes that penetrated the weak points in Jorak's armor were ignored, and he continued fighting. Minion fell like grass to his axe.
When he was finally brought down, his axe, and his entire body were deep red.
***
Alinor, Jonas, and Manjinar stood atop the citadel, watching the final hours of the Karoks. Though they fought with their ever-present courage and savagery, their inferior numbers gave the Minion the advantage. It was an agonizing final stand, as the Karoks were slowly driven back through the streets of Allanon, through each section of the city, toward the citadel.
After the initial collision at the demolished gate, the Karoks broke into several groups, and were forced in different directions. The largest portion moved straight into the heart of the city, and attempted to close each new city gate as they passed each city wall. But the Minion always forced their way past the gates before they would completely close.
A few Karoks were driven along the second city wall, into a tower. After the Minion broke through the door, they fought the Karoks up to the top of the tower, until the Karoks were all dead.
Another party of Karoks detached and led a running fight through the third level of the city, until they were cornered in a small inn. The Karoks set up behind the counter and bar tables, then the Minion burnt the inn down.
Several more groups broke away, but most of the Karoks retreated to the citadel. As soon as the citadel gate was closed, Shargoth, one of the three generals, walked up to the gate. Around him, the Minion panted and watched, waiting for the final hour of their victory.
Shargoth's eyes flared, and he positioned the tip of his sword against the gate. His voice rose in a powerful incantation, filling the night with ancient evil. The chanting continued for several minutes and Shargoth's sword began throbbing with energy. A fiery pulse shot down the blade, and erupted into the door. The gate split down the middle, and cannoned into the citadel.
Shargoth staggered back, and the Minion charged past him, into the fortress.
Atop the highest point in the citadel, Alinor looked down and said, "Do you see Marath?"
Manjinar shook his head. "No."
"It's amazing, isn't it?" Alinor said. "In two months and a half, all Karoks have been wiped from the face of Tirn Aill. For all the time they have existed, and all the wars they have fought and won..." he shook his head sadly.
Manjinar looked down at the Minion pouring into the keep. "I have seen far worse a tragedy than this."
Jonas looked at him sharply.
Manjinar added, "But it is still a great calamity." He looked at Alinor. "If there is a way to prevent any more destruction, then I will assist you to the best of my abilities. Now, however, there is another matter that calls my attention. If you will excuse me." The Overlord flashed out of existence.
Jonas said, "Remember when he used to be so carefree?"
"Things have changed," Alinor replied. "The universe is no longer a place where you can build your own dimensional houses."
Jonas laughed. "That I know."
***
One hundred leagues north of Allanon, Olrack's division of the Minion had just finished burning the Karok town of Ch'rak. Huge plumes of smoke rose into the sky, like black ink diluting water. All of the Karoks in the town had been slaughtered, except for one young girl.
By human standards, she was not pretty. Her hair was cut short, and she was thick-boned. Karok females were often too masculine for human tastes, but they suited Karok males perfectly. This particular female had just broken two orc necks, and was about to personally take on Olrack's entire division.
The troll she was aiming to surprise heard her approach, however, and it spun around, axe in hand. At the sight of her, it grinned. Though this troll usually ended up killing all the women it raped, that didn't matter. Perhaps she would be strong enough to last more than a day.
Before the troll could move, there was a flash of light. Manjinar appeared between them, and both opponents froze in shock. The Overlord waved his hand in the troll's direction, and its brain exploded. He turned to the girl, and held out his hand. "Come with me," he said. His voice left no room for argument, and his will was so compelling, that she had to obey.
The girl put her hand in his, and they vanished. Far beneath the Black Mountains, a large crystalline structure appeared, in a cave. Inside the crystal was a sleeping Karok girl.
Moments after they disappeared, Jekra appeared and looked around. "Damn," he swore. Manjinar was gone.
***
In the citadel, the Karok warriors were slowly being beaten into separate hallways and rooms. A few were pushed into the dungeon, and locked in. Those Karoks fell on their swords when they realized what had happened. Some retreated into rooms, where they were killed. The last survivors were beaten all the way to the top of the tower, where they held out for more than ten minutes. Finally, a Darkness materialized in the midst of the Karoks. He killed three of them, and the last Karok bear-hugged the Darkness, and then smashed the creature into a merlon. Black smoke poured from its head, and it slowly melted into the stones. Before the warrior could turn to face the others, a troll chopped his head off.
Only a few feet away, invisible, Alinor hung his head. "That's it, then."
Jonas closed his eyes. The strain was visible as his hands clenched and unclenched next to his sword. "If only we could fight them."
"You know we can't. Not yet."
Jonas nodded. "I know."
"If you don't mind, I'm going to the Tower, to get drunk. Would you care to join me?"
Jonas nodded. "I'll join you in a bit."
Both of them vanished.
A few hundred leagues away, Jonas rematerialized in the middle of a dirt road. He tightened his cloak and waited. Minutes later, Lia walked out of the trees.
"Jonas?" she grinned. Lia walked up to him and kissed him on the mouth, and pushed her tongue past his lips. Her arms wrapped around his neck.
The warrior pulled away and put a hand on her shoulder.
"What is it?" Lia asked, sensing his mood.
"Allanon just fell."
The elf closed her eyes and looked down. She sighed and nodded. "Where's Father?"
"Getting drunk in the Tower. I'm going to join him."
She turned back to the woods and said, "Thanks for telling me."
Jonas nodded, then disappeared.
For a moment, Lia stared up at the moon, then she walked back to camp and sat next to the cold ashes of the fire.
***
The Minion cheered for their victory for several minutes, before they realized that Falgor was dead.
Shargoth stood on the king's balcony, and addressed the army. "Today, we have wiped a pest from the face of Tirn Aill, forever. But-" his grating voice shouted over the deafening cheers "-but, Falgor Bloodfist has fallen in battle. Rising to take his place, is-"
In that instant, Shargoth sidestepped. Jorgash was behind him, and thrust a knife out. The blade passed through the air where Shargoth had been standing. Shargoth's hand snaked out. He grabbed the opposing general, and spun around, then held Jorgash over the assembled Minion. Below the general, the Minion cleared a space for the orc general to fall.
"Jorgash is a traitor, a coward, and a backstabber," Shargoth spat. "He will not be the ruler of the new empire." Two bolts of liquid fire lanced from Shargoth's eyes, and punched the orc full in the face. At the same time, the Darkness released Jorgash's wrist, and the general flew backwards, screaming. When his burning body hit, no one moved on it at first, until one goblin rushed forward and grabbed the general's purse. Then the other Minion jumped on the body and began stripping it clean.
The Minion began chanting Shargoth's name, and he stepped up on the railing. "Your new leader will not be me," Shargoth bellowed. "Instead, the new empire's destiny will be fulfilled by the god Marath!"
The Overlord appeared in a pillar of fire, which then vanished. Marath stepped forward, and was received with an awed silence. According to orc mythology, Marath was an ancient demigod that was trapped in ice for thousands of years. Now, obviously, he had broken free, to destroy those that had imprisoned him.
His presence was immense, and filled the courtyard with a potent sense of power. Evil seethed from the demon, creating a repulsive stench around him. In their eyes, Marath was evil incarnate. Falgor was nothing more than a shadow in Marath's presence; now, there was no doubt that the Minion would attain victory. Tir's will was obvious.
Marath's voice reverberated throughout the inner city, retaining its deafening volume. "It was I who handed you Allanon; it was I who destroyed the gate. It is I who will lead you to your destiny. We will rule Tirn Aill, and you shall be the ones who take it from the despicable humans."
Cheers.
"If there are any Karoks still within the city," Marath shouted, "kill them! And eat them!"
The Minion roared their approval and began running through the empty city, searching for loot and living half-trolls.
"Stupid," Marath muttered, disgusted. "Stupid sheep."
Shargoth leaned against the railing, his cloak flapping in the wind. "What of Olrack? He is north, gathering grain and raiding towns."
"Next time you see him, kill him," Marath replied. "I don't trust orcs. They are too traitorous, as you found out."
Shargoth nodded. "When do we attack Althorien?"
"As soon as possible," Marath replied. "We move the army as soon as Olrack returns with our supplies, and as soon as the reinforcements arrive."
***
A few days later, Garen's manor was finished. Galnor's investment was already beginning to pay off, since Borric was ordering mass weapons for the Legion. Garen had begun to worry about his life, even after the first night in his mansion.
After all, he was only sixteen, and somehow richer than most people would ever be. What would he do with his life? Live in a mansion until he was old and decrepid? Garen knew he needed a purpose, but he didn't know what it would be.
When he woke up, three days after the completion of his manor, he knew he had a purpose. He didn't know exactly what the purpose was, but he had one. Garen pulled on some clothes and grabbed his sword, then skipped down the stairs. He saw Nor, his servant, and said, "When Bree wakes, tell her I'll be gone for a while. If she needs to spend money to keep herself entertained, that's fine. Galnor has final say on all my financial transactions, understand?"
Nor nodded, mouth agape.
Then Garen jogged outside, readied his horse, and rode into the Highlands.
***
Lia, Bolthorn, Borim, and Aleya rode along a rarely-used trade route, toward the Dwarven Mountains. Merindegard was a dwarven city, and was, according to Bolthorn, situated in one of the most inconvenient places in the world. Lia knew this, but for some reason, she still refrained from telling Bolthorn of her true nature, or knowledge. For once, she enjoyed playing the ignorant party. So many times, people had relied on her, and put their faith in her...but not now.
Naturally, this was only a shallow ploy to avoid leadership, but she knew that it was still on her shoulders. Lia was the only one who knew the true purpose of their mission, and she was the only one who knew what the future held.
Unless Aleya knew. That girl was an enigma to Lia; Aleya's powers were mysterious, and seemed to come and go. What was her purpose?
***
A day south of Lia, Ranon and Alleria rode along another trade route, even less frequently traveled. The sun hung low on the horizon, and a cold wind blew from the west. The steady hoofbeats from the horses was the only sound.
Two days ago, Alleria's voice had grown hoarse from complaining, literally. Though Ranon knew of a remedy for this, he declined from using it. Until Alleria had shut up, Ranon had never known the beauty of silence.
He couldn't quite admit it to himself, but he really disliked the princess. Her attitude was so selfish; everything she ever did revolved around her (he forgot the entire day she had given up, allowing him to practice with Orin Lanash). To Alleria, Ranon was a brainless bodyguard, despite his constant arguments of that point. Though he was still bound to her by oath, their situation had altered enough to say that they were on equal footing. Ranon deserved decent treatment.
And the sad thing was, he would be treated like this for the next nine months, at least. Perhaps when they returned to Castle Althorien, Alleria would mellow a bit. Until then, they were both going to be living in the same house, for three quarters of a year. Ranon dreaded it, but at least he wouldn't be around her all hours of the day.
They definitely didn't have enough money to live off of for that long, so Ranon would have to find a job. Hopefully, it would be something worthwhile, instead of a stableboy, or farmhand. Maybe he could convince the town guard that he-
"Ranon..." Alleria said hoarsely.
"What?" he sighed, looking over to her.
Alleria pointed, and Ranon pulled back on the reins. Standing a few yards in front of them, a man stood with a crossbow. The man smiled, revealing a single yellow tooth. "Howdy!" the man said, pointing his crossbow in their direction. "Fine evenin', isn't it?"
Another man, with a sword, walked into the road behind them.
"Can we help you?" Ranon asked calmly.
"I would like to think so," replied the man cheerfully. "Just set everything you own down on the ground there, leave the lady with us, and be on your way."
Ranon laughed. "I hope you're joking, my friend. If you even think that..." Ranon cut off when the man pointed the crossbow at him. He shook his head and said, "Please, don't be offended, but that is a truly cowardly way to fight. It is no measure of your strength if you are able to pull a lever and shoot a man from ten feet away."
"Are you calling me a-"
"I believe I am," Ranon said. When he thought about it later, he was amazed that it actually worked. Anyone dumb enough to fall for this deserved to die.
The man threw aside the crossbow and balled up his fists. "Come on, little boy! You think you can fight! Get down here and show me!"
Ranon slid from the horse, and glanced at the other bandit. The second man hadn't moved. Ranon handed the reins to Alleria, and walked up to the bandit. The bandit started dancing back and forth on his toes, and Ranon put his hands up. They started circling each other, and when Ranon was facing Alleria and the horses, he saw the second bandit was right behind the princess.
Ranon's guard dropped, and he cried, "Alleri-mph!"
The bandit's fist smashed into Ranon's jaw, and he staggered back. As the second punch came flying in, Ranon blocked, and tangled up the man's arm. He wrapped his right arm around the man's left, and forced the man to his knees. Ranon yanked out his dagger and stabbed the man in the neck. A startled look crossed the bandit's features.
Blood spurted from the wood, all over Ranon's leg and hand. He yanked the blade free, in time to see the second bandit rushing toward him. Ranon had time to draw his sword and parry the first blow. When he saw the second swing coming, Ranon just slipped inside the attack and impaled the man on his sword.
A grunt escaped the second bandit's lips, then he slipped off the blade, and fell next to the first bandit.
For a few seconds, there was silence, and Ranon stared at the two men, appalled. He looked at the sightless eyes and the thick blood, then looked at down. Ranon dropped his dagger and his sword, then stared at his hands in mute horror. He ran for the side of the road, and tripped over one of the bandits. He scrambled the rest of the way, and then began vomiting into the grass. Ranon dry heaved several more times, and frantically wiped his hands on his cloak. For a few minutes, Ranon held a hand to his mouth, gagging, until he felt Alleria's hand on his shoulder. He stood up and turned away. Alleria put her hand on his shoulder again, and Ranon slapped it away.
"Leave me alone," he said, pulling out his waterskin. He put it to his lips and then swished his mouth out, and spit the water out. "I'm fine. Let's go."
***
"Is ther any word on Alleria?" Borric asked.
Jerik shook his head. "No, sire. But I don't believe that sending out soldiers to search for her is such a wise plan at this point in time. With the imminent attack of-"
"My daughter's been kidnapped!" Borric snapped. "I won't just sit around and-"
"Sire," Borena said cautiously, "with all due respect, it was the conclusion of the investigators that she ran away. If Alleria was kidnapped, we would have received a ransom note, and there would have been evidence of breaking and entering. Besides, Ranon would have killed anyone who broke in."
Borric's eyes widened. "Then he ran away with her! That bastard," the king hissed. "When I get my hands on Ranon, I'll-"
"He didn't force her to run away," Daren scowled. Then he turned red.
"What?" Borric turned to the prince.
"What he means is, if Alleria ran away, Ranon wouldn't have forced her to do it. She has a reason of her own," Corin said. Then he leaned toward his brother, "That is what you mean, right?"
Daren nodded.
"I think you'd better tell me later," Corin whispered.
Jerik pressed on. "Your Majesty, we need all the soldiers here. I need to begin training them immediately, and I cannot do that if they are searching for the princess. Please, I need your permission to bring them back to the castle."
Borric exhaled, then nodded. "Very well."
Jerik sighed with relief and sat back. "Now, all the equipment should be arriving before the end of the month, if my distributors are reliable. Actually, if my distributor is reliable."
"What do you mean?" Olis said.
"The Windy Cliffs Weapons Company has purchased all the options from the local weapons distributors, so I've had to buy everything through them. If they're unreliable..."
Olis shook his head. "They're reliable. They have to be, unless it's foreign-run. I just suspect someone is exploiting the war. It's a pretty ingenious plan, if you ask me. Don't worry about it."
"Actually, they were selling at high rates," Jerik said, "but it was still lower than Harnash's offers. Of course, in order to meet quota, on time, I've still had to order about half of the equipment from Harnash."
Borric said, "They'll be rich by the end of this war."
***
Kra watched, and waited.
END OF ODIN FIVE
******
(c) 1996 by Bill Smith (micro@oz.net)