The Dragon Rock

  Chapter 11. The Army without hope

  The next morning was troubled and gloomy, like a thought of death. They woke on the meadow in the middle of the forest, surrounded with tall oaks. A light breeze stirred the old branches, and the rustling of the leaves was the only music. Of the elven court, there was no trace. The day drove the magic away, and the events of the last night seemed now like a fading dream to the two friends. Only through the presence of the king of Ledonia the dream and the solid world were connected. In the daylight, it was visible that the half-elven was much older than it seemed last night. The long black hair was sprinkled with shades of grey, and his forehead was furrowed with deep wrinkles. The weight of age covered the gifts of the elven blood.

  “We need to return to the castle,” he stated.

  They mounted the tall black horses which were waiting not far from them. “A gift from my brother,” explained the king.

  “His people will follow us to the edge of the forest. My escort from the castle awaits us there. The elven people would be an excellent ally in war,” he said, “but their power doesn’t reach beyond the last trees. Without forest, they die. My blood is half elven, so I always return here. The forest has tough roots. Without it, there’s no life for its dwellers.”

  The sorcerer never rode a horse until now, but the animal was intelligent and well trained, and it patiently endured the inexperience of its rider.

  The journey through the forest went quietly. Riding the narrow forest path, the companions caught just the glimpses of movement among the trees, a rustling of leaves not caused by the wind.

  On the edge of the forest, a company of ten strong, well-armed soldiers awaited them. They were dressed in solid armour made of leather and bronze, and on their heads they wore helmets decorated with horse tails. Their rough faces were covered with long, thick beards.

  “The royal guards,” said Seton. “Mercenaries gathered from all sides of the world, searching for fortune or death. I’m offering them the latter, probably.”

  After the greetings for the king, the small company went northward, to the Forest Castle, the capital of Seton the Third. The landscape they were moving through was inhabited, but the fields were barren, and the doors and windows of the houses were closed. The thudding of the horseshoes on the dusty road was the only sound, which only deepened the silence.

  A thick blackness appeared on the north, hiding the Dragon Rock from the horizon.

  “An illusion!” said Orin bitterly. “And you knew all the time what a fool I was! You knew we’ll never reach the goal!”

  “I didn’t know it.” Arios was calm. “I don’t like to predict anything. I knew only one thing from the beginning - that I must follow you on your way, wherever it may end. That feeling never left me, although I couldn’t explain it. Maybe we are dolls on somebody’s string after all, don’t you think so?”

  “Maybe. Maybe somebody’s directing this whole game. And maybe everything that happened was just a pure coincidence, nothing else, just a concurrence of bad luck. A mad prince has had a wish for the ultimate power which he planned to gain in some non-existing place, he ran into a sorcerer even crazier than himself, and here they are now, riding into a certain death, their dream gone without a trace. But, damn it, life would be much easier if we could know there is some meaning in everything.”

  Orin spurred his horse trying to catch up with the King, who rode on the head of the column.

  “I’m going to consider some military issues with him!” shouted he to Arios.

  Finally, the moment you waited for a long time is close, thought Arios, looking at the prince. A great battle against the forces of evil, in which you are playing one of the leading roles.

  He smiled ironically.

  But, you still don’t believe you can die, not really. All this looks like an adventure to you, adventure you can walk away from when it starts to bore you, or turns to be too serious. You went through countless perils, together with me, and you learned nothing. And what’s most amazing, that is your greatest power. Unlike me, you never think of giving up.

  Unaware that the sorcerer was looking at him, Orin rode to the King, who was talking to the captain of the guard. When he reached them, Seton spoke to him: “This is Lao-Min, the leader of the mercenaries from the east, and the captain of my guard in these troubled times. His hundred horsemen are the backbone of my army.”

  The man was tall and strong, his face covered partly with a metal visor, partly with a thick, black beard. A long, curved sabre was attached to his belt, the same kind which Orin’s teachers from the east used to wear. He rode a powerful charger, black, with armoured thighs, which carried his weight with ease.

  “In the whole world you’ll not find their likes, young man!” shouted the tall warrior, swinging his arm. “They are ready to confront all the devils from the depths of hell! Are you worthy to ride with us?”

  On some other occasion, Orin would be insulted with the question, but Lao-Min’s voice was good-natured, and his eyes friendly.

  “That question will be answered at the battlefield,” answered Orin with a smile. “But, would you mind introducing me to your strategy, and the odds we are facing? What are we fighting against, in fact?”

  “Ha!” exclaimed the captain. “If we knew that, half of the victory would be in our hands!”

  “I’ve heard various rumours,” said the prince.

  “Most of it is true.” Seton interrupted the conversation, darkness in his voice. “At the head of the conqueror army rides the terrible Lord of Doom, a creature whose face no one saw and lived to talk about it. They say his black sorcerers are summoning the demons which were forbidden to enter this plane from the dawn of time. And his army is composed of the worst human scum ever born on the world, and many other horrible things, things without name.”

  “I know,” said the prince gloomily. “We had the privilege of meeting some of them.”

  “They have our number of soldiers many times over,” continued the king. “Ledonia is a peaceful country; the last wars were fought over a century ago. My army is small and without experience. Most of it consists of peasants who decided for themselves that it’s better to confront the enemy than to hide until they’ve been driven out from their holes and slaughtered.”

  “How many warriors does your army have?” asked Orin.

  “Ah, hundred times fifty,” shouted Lao-Min, answering for the king. “And the number of our enemies isn’t known to us. But we know he blackened the northern wastes with his hosts! Good odds! Ha!” he spitted in despise. “It doesn’t matter! In the right moment, every soldier of our army will be worthy fifty of these wretches!”

  “Lao-Min believes in victory, sometimes,” said Seton with a smile. “That’s something I like about him.”

  “My king, wise old men said: Never fight with thoughts of victory or defeat. Think only of your actions and the actions of your enemy and the gods shall decide which of you they shall take to themselves!” said the warrior.

  “One could only wish it were so easy,” answered the king.

  “Ah, but it is! I don’t know anything else, and here I am - and my enemies are worm-food!”

  “Enough joking,” interrupted the king. “I would rather have you explain the battle plan to our friend. Let’s see where he could fit in. You told us you’ve learned strategy, didn’t you?” he asked Orin.

  “The best war leaders of the Plain Countries were my teachers. I studied the ancient battles, and led armies in the annual War games in my father’s country. I also led parties against brigands in our forests. But I never took part in a real war. Plain Countries have kept peace for a long time.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” said Lao-Min. “Our strategy is this: Ledonia is separated from the northern wastes by enormous, deep Gray River, which flows from distant western countries and runs far to the east. It’s impossible to get across it at any place, except one crossing which connects us with the north.”

  ??
?We used to trade with the northern tribes,” explained the king. “Forest Castle was built near that road, several hours ride southward from the river ford. Unfortunately, the enemy is now at our threshold.”

  “I understand,” said Orin.

  “Our army is positioned on this side of the Grey River,” continued the warrior. “The last few days, scouts bring us news about the massing of the enemy troops. It’s only matter of moments when they’ll try to get across the river. Some of their scouts have already succeeded to come behind our backs. Our only chance lays in stopping them on their side. We cannot allow the main body of their host to cross over. Then, they will really be unstoppable.”

  “How do you plan to accomplish that?” asked the prince.

  “Two thousand archers have been deployed on the surrounding hills. When the enemy starts with crossing, they’ll be confronted with swarms of our arrows. Those who succeed in reaching our side will be met by thousand of our pikemen who will push them back into river. Our advantage is steep river bank. Besides, there are two hundred elite warriors, mercenaries like us, whose duty is to solve any difficult situation which could arise on the battlefield. Fifteen hundred men-at-arms will guard the flanks of the cavalry, and in the rear, we’ll have five hundred swordsmen waiting as reinforcement. They also have the task to overview the whole area and to prevent any attempt of the enemy to get behind our backs.”

  “The plan seems good, but couldn’t they prevail by sheer number?” frowned Orin.

  “I say to you, young man,” said Seton, “it’s not their numbers we’re afraid of. It’s their nature. Even if half of the rumours from the north were lies, the remaining truth is terrible enough.”

  “Maybe,” said Orin.

  They rode slowly the whole day, stopping only once to rest and refresh. They raised a small camp near the few birch trees, and started preparing the meal. Later, the prince confronted the king’s guards in several mock-fights. Lao-Min was the most skilled of them, but it turned out that Orin’s last teacher was much better than the prince thought. And much more famous.

  Catching his breath after many exchanged strokes, the tall captain of the guard lifted his hand, seeking truce.

  “There is much more about you than it seems, lad,” said he to the prince, who was smiling. “I could almost swear that one old friend of mine gave you lessons, but he disappeared without a trace many years ago. Some of your moves reminded me of him.” He was breathing deeply.

  “Ha!” uttered Orin, “And would the name of that man be Keol?”

  “By all gods of war, I was right!” shouted Lao-Min in surprise. “Keol! But, where did you meet him? Where did he go?”

  “We met in the south, in the Blue Mountains. We travelled together for some time, fighting side by side. I’ve learned a lot from him. He was really a great swordsman...”

  “Was?”

  “Was.” Orin’s face darkened. “He was killed in a stupid struggle with the Eagle men, misled by lies. Ah, it’s a sad story. I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Keol dead!” exclaimed Lao-Min, stunned. “I didn’t think the old weasel could be killed. He was too smart for it. What battles we fought together, and went through without a scratch!”

  “But, he didn’t worry,” stated Arios, who was standing nearby, watching the fight.

  “What do you mean?” asked the mercenary.

  “I mean he didn’t care too much whether he lives or dies.”

  “Yes, he was too nonchalant.” admitted Lao-Min. “But, if we had several such warriors to lead our army, our chances would be much bigger!”

  “But, we have his last apprentice!” laughed the sorcerer.

  “Even that’s worth something!” added Lao-Min.

  The mercenaries gathered around the two fighters, commenting the duel loudly. They were short-tempered men, and kept together, all but one. A short man with dark face and black hair was sitting under one of the birches, seeming uninterested in the events in the camp. His look was focused at something in the distance. He had two curved swords in black scabbards at his belt, one long, one short.

  “Who’s that man?” Arios asked Seton who was sitting on a low wooden folding chair, watching his soldiers practicing. “There, under the birch?”

  The king looked away from the combatants.

  “That one? No one knows. He came few months ago and requested to enter into my service. His behaviour was always irreproachable, but he never said more than it was necessary. I don’t know myself why I took him into my personal guard. No one ever saw him drawing his swords out from the scabbard. Ha, they may be made of wood,” he smiled. “He doesn’t hang out with the others. He said he had no name. That’s why they call him by many names, most of them not very pleasant. My men are rough a bit when it comes to humour.”

  “And if I go to talk to him?” asked Orin, who gave up any further fighting and was sitting by the sorcerer. “Maybe he’s a spy.”

  “I don’t think so...” started Arios, but Orin was already on his way to the strange warrior.

  He approached slowly and sat down, looking at the distance.

  “It’s hot today, isn’t it?” said he. “The air is stuffy before the storm.”

  The man looked at him, a trace of smile on his lips.

  “Yes”, said he. “And on the stuffy days mosquitoes are especially boring to the weary men.”

  “What?” Orin was confused, but he continued. “I wanted to ask you, where do you come from? I never saw such swords. They look somehow thin, like they would break with the first hard strike.”

  “Exactly,” said the warrior, still looking at the branches on the birch, waving gently on the breeze.

  The prince was embarrassed, not knowing how to continue the conversation. Then Arios sat near them.

  “Your country lies much more to the east from Otram. I think I’ve heard stories about it.”

  The man looked at him, but said nothing.

  “Why didn’t you practice with others?” asked Orin.

  “My practice is different,” said the warrior.

  “Our teachers have a saying - practice saves life. You cannot leave everything to luck.” continued Orin.

  “The goal of the fight isn’t to save one’s life.” answered the warrior. “He who wants to save his life must lay down the weapons.”

  “Are you saying you actually want to die?”

  “No. I don’t want anything. I simply act. In the life of a warrior, only action exists. No wishes.”

  “It’s a strange philosophy,” said Orin, confused.

  The warrior smiled and said: “If one wants to do his duty properly, one must die before. Only a dead man can lead a proper life.”

  “I don’t understand,” sighed Orin.

  “It’s quite simple”, said the man, “but it can’t be understood.”

  “I give up this conversation,” said Orin, rising. On the other side of the camp was the company he could communicate with. Arios looked at the man’s dark face and smiled. The short warrior returned the smile.

  “You’ve heard of my country?” asked he.

  “I came here from the east, also.” said Arios. “From the kingdom of Otram. And I’ve heard many stories, about a distant country, on the end of the world, where sun rises from the sea waves. A country where honour and rightness of a man are much worthier than his life.”

  “And where beauty is honoured above all else,” added the warrior. “Yes, that was my country.”

  “Why did you left?” asked the sorcerer.

  “It’s a long story.” said the man, and then continued. “But, in short, I was the first warrior of my master. It’s a very high position in our society. It brings many enemies and false friends on one’s way. The latter convinced the master in my betrayal. As a punishment, he condemned my whole family to death, and asked me to take my own life in public, which would be a right thing to do, but I didn’t want to give my ‘friends’ the satisfaction of a complete victory. I
left the country and my name behind me, and became a nameless mercenary. I was sure I would return and take revenge on my enemies. But, bad luck drove me too far. Now, I’m here. I haven’t found the revenge, but ahead of me there is honourable death in a great battle. It seems I was lucky, after all,” he smiled bitterly.

  “Yes,” said Arios, lost in thoughts. “The battle we are awaiting will be remembered until the end of time, no matter who wins.” He was confused with the man’s indifference. It’s something I always lacked, thought he. I always pretended, fooling myself that I don’t mind what’s happening. In fact, I never did lose hope that something will change and that I’ll be able to live my life again. That is why I’m here now. It serves me right.

  “Our army cannot win,” said the warrior with conviction.

  “You don’t think we have a slightest chance?” Arios was aware of that fact, but tried to avoid thinking about it. “I know you’re right. But we human beings are made that way. We never lose hope completely. That’s what keeps us going.”

  “I don’t live. I don’t need hope.” said the warrior quietly, and added:

  “The blooms have

  Fallen from branches

  In my orchard, long ago.”

  Arios was silent.

  After a while, they resumed their journey. There was only a few hours’ ride to the castle. Seton was reckless, deciding to continue even after the sunset. Soon, only the weak moonshine was casting light on the road. The small party moved carefully through the night.

  Suddenly, Arios felt the presence of a stranger’s mind ahead. The night was not empty any more. Someone was in front of them, working on the complex magical incantations. A black sorcerer! Arios pulled his horse’s reins strongly. “Stop!” shouted he. “Ambush!”

  The terrain they were passing through was plain, without advantages for setting the ambush. As far as they could see, there was no one in the darkness.

  Seton turned in surprise.

  “What are you talking about, sorcerer?”

  The mercenaries stopped their horses, turning around carefully.

  Arios did not hear the question. His mind struggled to break the illusion of the invisibility which surrounded the attackers. After a few long moments, from the darkness ahead, a cry of pain came. Then, just fifty paces from them, a host of berserkers, armed with axes and swords, riding on the wolf-horses emerged out of nowhere, charging at the confused king’s escort. From the throats of the attackers, many of which certainly were not human, terrible war-cries came, striking at the defenders before the rusty blades.

  “Battle formation!” the loud Lao-Min’s command could be heard. The old mercenary did not loose his head. Ten horsemen prepared for the onslaught. In a few moments, the enemy will be on them. The tension and fear were almost tangible in the hot night’s air. The horses jumped restlessly, in fear of the scent of the attacker’s beasts. Suddenly, everyone felt a strange exhaustion and fear. The enemy is much stronger, the confrontation is meaningless. It is best for us to surrender, they want only the king, the rest of us will be spared... the swords began to lower. Weakness and despair was visible on everyone’s face.

  Orin, realizing what’s happening, used the last remains of his will and shouted:

  “Magic! Lie! Fight!”. Then he fell from the horse. He couldn’t move, like in a nightmare, completely aware of the terrible danger, which was closing on him very fast.

  Arios was struggling to bind the strong mind of the black sorcerer who gave up the invisibility spell and was trying to destroy the will of the guards. After several difficult moments, the will of the necromancer started to crumble. The howling of the attackers was out-shouted by the disgusting shriek that came from the figure in black, which was sitting on an enormous horse. The black sorcerer clutched his head, and then fell on the ground. The swords in the hands of the defenders rose again, just in the moment of the encounter with the attackers. The steel rang through the night, sound more piercing than the yelling and screaming of combatants. The first wave of the attackers fell down, slaughtered, too weak for the enraged mercenaries. Two horses fell on their backs, mortally wounded, dragging their riders with them. Both of the unfortunate soldiers were under several enemies at once, and their screams abruptly stopped.

  The wild wolf-horses without riders attacked everything that moved, including their own masters if they were close enough.

  Arios stood in the rear, exhausted, trying to gather his strength to help the guards.

  Seton wielded his sword with great power, preventing his opponents from reaching him. Lao-Min was fighting two of the wolf-riders. In a split second, the head of the first man flew through the air, and the general’s horse fell under the sharp claws of the beasts. However, the old warrior landed on his feet, and extended his sword instinctively. The wolf roared, skewered, and the sword flew from his heart to the belly of the second rider who was trying to hit Lao-Min with the axe. The next moment, he was dead, and Lao-Min went in search of another foe to kill.

  The stench of the spilled animal and human guts filled the night. Orin jumped on his feet, while the last traces of the evil spells evaporated from his head. A black-faced creature with long, sharp teeth attacked him, trying to bite his neck. The prince swung his sword mechanically, and the monster fell, howling in pain. He tried to turn around and meet the next enemy charging at him, but a powerful axe stroke from the other side thrashed his sword out from his hand. An enormous man, two heads taller than the prince, raised his axe triumphantly. In that moment, Orin saw the dry face of the death in front of him. But the final strike never fell. Something flashed from the darkness, and the heavy hand holding the axe was severed from the body and falling on the ground. Then, the prince saw the smiling face of the short eastern warrior. Blood was dripping down his thin, elegant blade.

  “Take the sword!” shouted he. At that moment, five big warriors attacked him simultaneously.

  “Watch out!” cried Orin, because he did not had no time to do anything else. He could only stand and watch the man who just saved his life losing his own. But, that didn’t happen. The nameless warrior moved with ease, and the blade of his sword was the extension of his thoughts. First of the men was cut in half, not knowing what befell him, and the others had time only for one strike, which missed, because the short man was not there any more. In only few seconds, all of them were dying, or dead.

  “Impossible!” whispered the prince, frozen, but the time for thinking was short, because the enemy still had more men, and they fought with wild abandon.

  The rusty blades cut down three more guards, but at that moment there were only five attackers left. They stopped their charge, and stood silently, watching their would-be victims carefully. Seton was still on his horse.

  “Let’s finish it,” said he hoarsely, and spurred his horse forward, toward the wild faces, now shaken with fear.

  Silently, the mercenaries followed their king.

  However, not far away, the black figure was slowly rising from the ground. The sorcerer lifted his arms and uttered the words of power, in deep voice, speaking in an evil language, which was not known to common people. He began to grow, swelling to a size three times his own. The black robe was stripped. The guards stopped, watching in awe. A large black beast on two muscular legs, with powerful jaws filled with sharp teeth, roared in challenge and moved toward them. The wild men went several steps aside.

  “Sorcerer, help us!” cried Seton, forgetting his position and courage.

  The monster grabbed swiftly the nearest horse which was trying to run away, lifted it off the ground, and tore it apart in one motion.

  Arios was paralyzed, watching the display of wild strength. The transformation of the black sorcerer was not an illusion. Behind his power, a much larger and stronger power stood, a power that was hard to confront. The king’s warriors could not overcome the beast. His magic had already failed once before in the confrontation with the demon from the village. His only chance was
the word which he uttered only once, a long time ago, in Otram, and swore he will never use it again. His spirit was not strong enough then to control the destruction which was released. Would it be different now? Would it be strong enough, thrown against the power of the demon? Every second of delaying the decision could be fatal. There was a time for think and a time to act. Now, it was time to act. Later, if they survive, there will be enough time to think about the consequences. If not, then it’s not important.

  “Arios, help!” Orin was shouting. The men were in panic.

  He turned from the horrible view and fell on his knees. A spell of power rose from the dungeons of his memory, erasing all other thoughts. He rose and faced the enemy. The creature roared again, sensing the direction of the real danger, and went for the small man which stood in front of it.

  The word of power, spoken in an ancient language of magic, filled the space. Arios pointed his finger toward the beast. Men fell to the ground. The monster stepped forward, howling, intending to crush the worm who dared to oppose him. The sorcerer stood unmoving, looking straight into the glowing red eyes. Suddenly, the creature shuddered, and started to shake. In some incomprehensible language, its voice thundering, it called its master, craving for help. But there was no answer. Small flames emerged on the muscular body, and then it became a huge living torch, which fell on the ground, still howling. Magical fire scorched the body in a minute. The remains of the wild bunch watched in horror the death of their leader, and then they scattered, disappearing in the darkness. No one went to hunt them. The king’s guards were still paralyzed with fear.

  Arios stood still. The fear in his mind retreated slowly, realizing that the magic worked, and he was strong enough to control it before it continued to consume everything around. The word of power was under his command. Does it mean he will be able to oppose the whole army with it?

  Orin noticed the broad smile on the face of the sorcerer, who watched the fire going out. He stood up, his legs still shaking, and leaning on his sword, approached Arios slowly.

  “You did it!” exclaimed he. “You burned it!”

  “Yes,” said Arios. “And what’s more important, I can control the spell.”

  “If you do this to Lord of Doom’s army, our chances for victory will be much greater!”

  Men gathered around the sorcerer, everyone talking at the same moment. The feeling of relief flowed through the night.

  “You saved us.” said Seton.

  Lao-Min was more sober. “If this is the nature of just a small part of our enemies, then we are doomed,” he was shaking his head, disbelieving what he saw.

  “Arios wields great powers!” exclaimed Orin. “He can prevail! He can burn the whole army away!”

  “Then we have nothing to be afraid of!” shouted someone.

  “Why didn’t you tell us before?”

  “It could be a fine surprise for those devils!”

  Arios walked away from the enthusiastic crowd, unnoticed. Optimism was not dominant in his thinking patterns. This time he has won, yes, but who can be sure it will be so the next time? He knew something no one else knew. When the black sorcerer transformed into a monster, his magic powers disappeared. Arios’ opponent was an animal. Extremely dangerous, but just an animal.

  “When a warrior underestimates his enemy, he makes the first step toward his grave,” a quiet voice came. He turned around.

  The little eastern warrior stood in the darkness, wiping the blood from his blade.

  “If he overestimates himself, then, he makes the second step.”

  “How many steps does it take?” asked the sorcerer, smiling.

  “It’s the question of the length of the steps. In this case, two are enough.”

  “I understand,” said Arios. “I haven’t made them. But it seems I pushed these people in that direction,” he pointed to the soldiers.

  “But, it was not your fault. It was inevitable,” said the warrior. “Victories are food for the human vanity. It’s hard to resist.”

  “But you do. You’re already dead.”

  “Only a dead man can be a good warrior.” said the easterner, with a cold smile.

  “As I see it, you’re making a great effort to stay alive,” said the sorcerer ironically.

  The face of the man did not show any emotions.

  “No,” said he. “I’m trying to kill my opponents. This is the difference. This is the whole philosophy.”

  “Yes,” said Arios. “This is the way of the warrior. One must kill all enemies, and to accomplish this, one must be already dead. Is there a place for living in this world? Or is life only a long, painful way to the death?”

  The man looked at him and said: “Maybe, but between the two battles, how sweet is the song of the nightingale!”

  He finished cleaning his blade, and sheathed it back in the scabbard.

  “In fact, I wanted to thank you for saving our king. Without you, we would all be dead by now.” He turned and went away, not waiting for an answer.

  Soon after that, the rest of the company was ready to move. With some effort, they distributed the surviving horses, and got on their way, into the night.