Veegal's Wall

  Chapter 4

  “She’s coming to,” Eertu stated flatly, “Hadrenn, water please.” The young woman moaned as she tried to set up. “Try not to move,” Eertu ordered as he helped her lean up against the wall inside the small dilapidated shack they had taken refuge in then accepted the canteen from Hadrenn. “You have been unconscious for some time and your wounds are considerable. Sip this slowly.”

  The woman swallowed thirstily as Eertu dribbled the cold water in her mouth until she began to choke a bit.

  “Enough for the moment,” Eertu said as he sat down the canteen.

  “It’s cold,” the woman said hoarsely.

  “Apologies, but I am afraid it is too dangerous for a fire.”

  The woman closed her eyes and took a few slow deep breaths before asking, “Where are we?”

  “In an abandoned farm house a little over a day’s ride from Montrel,” Dredrik replied closing shut the tattered wooden shutters to the buildings only window. “Hungary?”

  The woman nodded that she was so Dredrik removed a piece of dried meat from a satchel and handed it to her. “It’s not much, but it beats nothing.”

  She accepted the jerky and bit into it hungrily, “It’ll do.” She motioned for the canteen which Eertu handed back to her. She washed the morsel down with a long gulp, “My name is Vessa.”

  “Dredrik, your caretaker there is Eertu, that’s Hadrenn sitting in the far corner.” Dredrik pointed toward each in turn as he spoke. “Wikkid is outside doing a final sweep of the perimeter.”

  “So we are hiding out in a rotting hut with no fire. I take it we are in some trouble.”

  “More than you can possibly imagine.” Dredrik paced across the small room and gingerly slid down the wall next to Vessa trying to not aggravate his burns. “It would help if you could tell us what happened at Duke Harriman’s war camp.”

  “The Duke,” Vessa repeated. “You must be from Argile’s army.”

  If Vessa felt threatened by that revelation she did not show it. “Formally in the employment of and no you are not a prisoner. I’ll explain shortly but we really need to know what happened.

  Vessa shook her head. “I’m really not sure. There had been a strange light all night long. It seemed to linger over the camp. People became really tense, nervous. A commotion, no more than a brawl broke out between a pair of hot tempered half-wits. Next thing we knew the people who had tried to break up the fight started to turn on each other. From there it just spread. Almost all who turned on each other had a gleam in their eye, a half mad glint of uncontrollable rage. We thought we were about to gain control of the situation when the sky lit up as if night had turned to day. Streaks of fire rained down upon us.” She closed her eyes tightly as if trying to recall a memory. “Then nothing, I must have been knocked cold.

  “Just as we witnessed when Montrel fell,” Eertu said, “although we are not sure if the same chaos that gripped the camp also took hold of the city.”

  “Montrel fell!” Vessa tried to jump to her feet but dizziness forced her back down. “That’s not possible, not that quickly. Montrel should have been able to hold off Argile’s forces for weeks.”

  “Months,” Eertu said, “but it was not the Kings army that took Montrel. Eertu looked toward Dredrik

  Dredrik gave a slight nod “Show her.”

  “This might feel a bit odd. I am going to show you what I saw. It is not painful, just disorienting. May I?”

  “You may.”

  Eertu locked eyes with Vessa. They both fell into a trancelike state for several moments until Eertu broke the connection.

  Vessa was breathing hard, adrenaline surging through her veins after having just felt the emotions and experiences of the day from the encounter at the war camp to the siege of Montrel. That’s… impossible. That much magic would take a being infinitely more powerful than anything ever recorded.

  “We estimate over a hundred magic wielders,” Eertu said. “One seemed to be far more powerful than the rest.”

  “At first light we will continue on to Veegal’s Wall,” Dredrik said. “It should take some time for this new threat to advance that far west. Add in the time it should take them to secure their supply lines we should arrive quickly enough to warn them well ahead of the advance. Maybe they can conjure up a defense.”

  The door creaked open and Wikkid stepped through the entrance. Fresh snow covered his helm and shoulders, his beard frosted. The dwarf nodded a greeting as he shut the door behind him. “Should be safe enough for the night, nothing is moving in this weather.”

  “Wikkid, this is Vessa. Vessa, Wikkid.” Dredrik said by way of introduction.

  “Las, it’s good to see you awake.”

  Vessa smiled. “Thank you.”

  “When we get to Veegal’s Wall,” Hadrenn began. “What are our plans? Do we stay and fight?”

  Dredrik shrugged. “I don’t know. My instincts are to honor our original oaths to Argile, but I think we will continue on to Calington, fulfill Argile’s last wishes then see to our people. The King has never missed on a prophecy before. If what he believed was true then it would be best to get the tribes to safety.”

  “So you are who I thought.” Vessa said.

  “You know us?” Hadrenn asked.

  “You are all members of the Dread legion. Mercenaries belonging to the Lost Tribes who signed on with the crown, but until today I have never heard of the lost being referred to as a people.”

  “And what have you heard?”

  “That you are all outcasts, criminals who could not function in society. Considered a blight on the country by many.”

  “We’ve heard the same many times,” Dredrik said. “Even so we are a people.”

  “You may be interested to know there is a large bounty out on all members of the Dread Legion.” Her lips formed a frown. “Well, there was.”

  Hadrenn grinned. “Not surprising considering the amount of trouble we caused Harriman,” he boasted.

  “I would not be too proud,” Vessa countered. “My entire order was hired to kill the lot of you. There may be some who have not heard the Duke is dead.”

  “And what order was that?”

  “The Order of the Black Rose,” Vessa said proudly.

  “Bloody telepathic spies and assassins,” Wikkid grumbled. “We’ve seen the handy work of your lot many times over the past few years.” Formidable fighters to be sure even if lacking in basic battlefield honor.”

  “Honor has nothing to do with it. We are paid for a job and we do it. Are you not the same?”

  “We were fighting for a place to call home,” Hadrenn argued. “I’d consider that a bit more honorable than blood for gold.”

  “Gold, land, even freedom is a currency when plied right. Fool yourself if you like, but it is all the same.”

  “Lucky for us there is nobody left to pay out the bounty.” Dredrik stated.

  “Doesn’t mean I’m going to sleep any better with her in striking distance,” Hadrenn growled.

  “Fear not barbarian. Nearly the entire order was at that camp and we were not paid in advance. You are safe from little ole me.”

  Hadrenn waved his hand dismissively. “Bah.”

  “If you’re a telepath, then who and where is your bondmate?” Dredrik asked. “Is it not common that if one dies a violent death then the other dies as well?”

  “True enough, mine is my twin sister. I sent her away to Calington not long before the war broke out. She is not a fighter, twin in appearance, but not in personality. Still she is very valuable for gathering intelligence. Or at least that is the excuse I gave the order before sending her. I think that most everybody knew that the Duke’s hand was forced before he was ready to make his move so I wanted her safely away. Given a few more years of preparation perhaps he could have pulled off his ambitions, but as it was Argile’s victory was all but certain.”

  “Then why fight for the losing side?” Eertu asked.

  “Because the mor
e desperate side pays better,” Wikkid answered.

  “Exactly,” Vessa agreed. Had Argile’s offers been better we would have taken up arms for him. It was just business. Now I find myself out of work and heading in the same direction as you fine people. Not to mention I now have a debt to repay. Besides to be perfectly honest I am not sure how I would fair alone in my current condition.”

  “You want to join us!” Hadrenn exclaimed. “You told us you were supposed to kill us just moments ago!”

  “I also said we were never paid. I don’t work for free.”

  “Lady, you’re mad.”

  “Better with us than behind us lad,” Wikkid said as he unrolled a blanket across the dirt floor. “She did not have to tell us what she is, or was.”

  “You’re all crazy. I guess that’s why we all get along so well.”

  “Sleep well Hadrenn,” Vessa stated as she too closed her eyes. “Hate for you to be dead on your feet tomorrow.”

  “Ha ha,” Hadrenn mocked as he settled down on the far side of the room. “I’ll be watching you.”

  “Pervert.”

  “Eertu could you at least put some kind of hex on her, you know something to stop her from waking in the middle of the night and changing her mind?”

  “Yes,” Eertu answered as he wrapped up in his blanket.

  Hadrenn sighed. “Well good to know I guess.”

  . . . . .

  Lord Merca examined the four prisoners on their knees before him. All of them were female, young, attractive, and most importantly deadly. According to reports they had been resistant to the madness the shamans had released upon Duke Harriman’s forward war camp.

  The memories he had stolen from the late King Argile were not all comforting. Despite his best efforts to misdirect the King’s visions and that of his seers he had not been entirely successful. The good king had managed to throw an unexpected kink into Lord General Kuzzak’s plans and by default his own. Four names from Argile’s memory disturbed him. Three not so much, mere mortals but mortals of a destiny he was sure. The fourth had been a rarity, a rival power and potential threat.

  Other reports passed along to him by outriders had placed four men matching the description of those from Argile’s memories and a wounded woman leaving under the cover of darkness as the battle for Montrel closed. A mind scan of one of a dead footman left behind to patrol the war camp looking for survivors had enough readable thoughts to show a short pitched battle involving the four. If only he had been privy to this information sooner he could have acted quicker, killed the cancer before it had time to spread. That is where the four prisoners came into his plans.

  “They tell me you are assassins, trackers,” he did not wait for a reply, he already knew the answers. “I have a job for you, a continuation of a contract already given if my information is accurate. Four primary targets, with the most important being this man.” With a snap of his fingers the images of three men and a dwarf appeared life-sized before him, more as apparitions than solid form. One of the apparitions stepped forward, slighter in build than the other two men wearing the robes of a magician.

  “He is a warlock who goes by the name of Eertu. Do not underestimate this man. You may have hunted mages before in the past but a warlock is far deadlier than any mage. If possible I would like the warlock returned to me unharmed, but the other three are kill on sight. You will be escorted by a contingent of men and four blood trackers to aid in your endeavor. Mareth will be in charge, follow his orders or suffer in ways that will make you beg for death.”

  “If successful I will double the original bounty on these men and find you even more lucrative work. What do you say?”

  “We have an agreement Milord,” the one known as Jillian replied.

  “Good, leave me and gather provisions. Mareth will meet you in the courtyard within the hour, dismissed.”

  Without a word the four women stood, bowed, and then exited what was once the throne room of Duke Harriman. As they exited Mareth in his solid black plate armor adorned with silver glyphs came from a side room which he had been listening from.

  “You heard all?” Merca asked.

  “I did.”

  “Use the shackles I gave you earlier. They should nullify the warlock’s powers once you get them on. Dispose of the assassins once the job is complete.”

  “Fear not sorcerer I will take care of your problem.”

  “Watch your tone Mareth. You are not so important to my designs that I would not see you removed. Do not take long. It will be hard to hold the Lord General at bay. He is anxious to press his war despite my council of caution.”

  Mareth waved a dismissive hand in Merca’s direction. “Your games with the Lord General are not my concern. I am here for my glory alone. I will track down this warlock of yours because it sounds like a worthy challenge. My entertainment is the only reason I chose to serve you. I have been briefed on Kuzzak’s time table. I will rejoin you when the task is complete.”

  Merca watched with irritation as Mareth left. There was a hole in the man’s memories. If Mareth every recovered those memories he would become a great liability. Until then he was a useful asset.

  Merca left the throne room to seek out the Lord General. He would have to fill the man’s head with false prophecy in an attempt to stem his desires long enough for the warlock to be dealt with. Merca had no wish to face off against this Eertu across a battle field. If he was to see his own desires met the first step was to take the fortress city known as Veegal’s Wall.