Chapter 2
“You know Uldred may have been right, perhaps Argile has gone mad.” Dredrik said as he secured his saddle upon his black warhorse. He now donned black plate armor with a griffin etched upon the chest plate traced in dark red. His helm was removed and secured upon his mount along with his shield which was also similarly adorned as his armor.
The appearance of his armor along with his name and fighting reputation of his men had earned his troop the moniker of the Dread Legion. One hundred and sixty three out of three hundred and forty two men were all that remained of the men that marched to war from the various tribes in King Argile’s name. Hardly a legion, but the men had latched on to the title so Dread Legion it was.
Dredrik still tried to fathom how he would get all eight of the tribes to stand under one banner. Originally there was one tribe united as outcasts from society, but as the numbers swelled it became increasingly hard to find enough food and resources to feed the masses so a decision was made by the elders to split into smaller nomadic tribes in order to lower the strain on any given area where they made camp.
After leaving Argile’s tent Dredrik and Wikkid had roused the men. Within an hour the Legion had packed camp and stood ready to depart. However they would not be leaving as one unit. The men would split up and head to their respective tribes to gather their people at Delentray to await the ships Argile had promised to carry the tribes to their new home. A smile crossed his lips at the thought of the panic the self-proclaimed duke of the rogue city would endure when a Eebrookian fleet sailed into his port.
Dredrik and Wikkid would go to Calington to gather King Argile’s family and secure the aid promised. Of course Eertu and Hadrenn had volunteered to accompany them.
“Of course he’s mad,” Hadrenn replied mockingly. “He made you a king,” Hadrenn mounted his dirty white warhorse, his long black hair and beard frosted by the still falling snow. He wore chain mail underneath a long black overcoat, a large claymore slung across his back. “King of an island that there is little known of and which we may or may not have to conquer when we arrive, personally I think it is a ploy to rid his lands of us while still keeping his promises.”
Dredrik considered what Hadrenn had said. Hailing from a nation of barbarians in the far flung northern lands he often stated exactly what was on his mind even if he softened his opinions with jesting undertones and sarcasm. “Perhaps, but it’s a chance I’m willing to take. I don’t know about the rest of you but I’m tired of either selling my sword to the highest bidder of scavenging just to get by. I say we do this errand then maybe, just maybe we finally earn a chance to settle down somewhere.”
“Aye,” Wikkid agreed, “our people deserve a place where we are not constantly harassed, murdered and looked down upon as vagrants. It will be a struggle I’m sure, but am certain the end result will be worth the effort.”
“And what of Argile’s appointment of me as king? Are you not more worthy than me old friend?”
“Don’t you lay those responsibilities at my feet lad. I did not spend all that time and energy turning you into the man you are just to have you imprison me with a title. This plan to earn us respect and a home was yours. I believe Argile chose well.”
“I agree,” Hadrenn said. “Besides all you have to do is divide up the land among the other tribal leaders, bestow them with title and rights I’m sure they will come around.”
“Dredrik,” Eertu spoke for the first time since the order to break camp came through. “Look to the east.”
All the members of the party steered their mounts eastward. The dull dusk-like glow still remained in the eastern horizon as it had all night. “What are we looking at?” Hadrenn asked.
“Wait for it,” Eertu replied. “I can feel it, a great power is building to the point of release. I’ve never felt anything remotely like it.”
In a brilliant flash the dull glow from the east turned to day followed by rolling thunder that continued for many seconds. As the light faded a dull glowing green haze took hold of the horizon. Slowly the glow grew brighter and brighter until it hurt the eyes. Men from all over the camp scrambled to find a better view of the spectacle. Then as quickly as it had happened the night sky turned to normal, the red hue of fires many leagues away now barely visible.
Eertu sunk to his knees, head swarming with dizziness, nausea threatening to overtake him. Dredrik, Wikkid, and Hadrenn all dismounted and came to Eertu’s aid.
“Easy lad,” Wikkid encouraged taking the bulk of Eertu’s weight as the warlock fought to regain his footing.
“We must go there Dredrik,” Eertu gasped. “We must see what happened. If for no other reason than to discover what we may face in the future we must go there.”
“Go east? Have you gone mad as well?” Hadrenn asked. “Forgetting what we just saw there is the small matter of the Dukes army. I doubt we’d be greeted with open arms not matter what the circumstances.”
“Dredrik,” Eertu pleaded. “If what King Argile told you is true, then the Dukes army will not be there.”
Dredrik gave pause to look out across the eastern horizon. “What is it you expect we’ll find?”
Eertu shrugged. “I do not know, but there is a presence in that direction that I can feel. I need to get closer and see if I can make any sense of it. After an investigation I can check the archives at Calington when we arrive and see if I can make sense of it.”
“What do you think Wikkid, head east and take a peak, or go west and seek our fortune?”
“I could tell you what I think, but I’d bet my last sovereign you’ve already made up your mind. Don’t you worry none, if I thought you were leading us needlessly to our dooms I’d be the first to tell you.”
“East isn’t it?” Hadrenn asked. “Of course it’s east,” he continued when Dredrik failed to respond. “Well we came all this way to see the Dukes army broken we might as well finish the trip.”