Dexter of Pozzelby
I had disappointed the Duchess de Venie by telling her that Tabor Till would not allow her or the other women to leave. I had not asked and felt guilty about it, but I was convinced that anyone who left would be in imminent danger, regardless of what Tabor Till might promise. She was also not happy with her new quarters off of the north dining room, complaining that the room was no bigger than her shoe closet. I promised to put Tayu to work correcting the problem. Of course, my chief steward was much too busy with real problems, but the duchess seemed mollified.
I took a working dinner with my staff and friends. Brin and Francis had learned a good deal.
“Lady Nightshade provided a pretty detailed account of the final battle against Garegon. It was a titanic undertaking. He exerted tremendous power during the Unified War. The first thing that they did was force him to take a physical avatar. Nightshade and the High Priestess Jgell worked the magic that achieved that. Once that was done, Garegon was vulnerable to attack but still incredibly powerful. About half of the heroes who went never returned. In the end, Nightshade reported that it was Coenbrand who struck the final blow, destroying Garegon’s avatar and banishing him from our world,” Francis said.
“King Coenbrand’s sword was Harbinger,” I said. “No one knows what became of it. It has been lost for hundreds of years.”
“But Garegon’s followers obviously believe that either the sword is here, or a clue to its whereabouts. Harbinger was forged by King Theof’s people, the elves of Elon, but it was enchanted by Nightshade. I found a detailed description of how she did it, but I fail to see how that would help the Twelve Sect Order. Only a wizard of Nightshade’s skill could replicate the process. And even if they managed to perfectly duplicate the sword, it would still not be the same sword. It sounds like they need Coenbrand’s actual sword and not a copy,” Francis said.
I rubbed my eyes. I did not have any suggestions just then.
“Mother, were you successful?”
“To a point. I believe that Duke Grimwulf managed to get outside of the castle. He seems to be with your General Tabor Till.”
“Wonderful, of course he is,” I said. “Well, I guess it makes sense. Callis and Doctor Ahem, they are with him too I suppose?”
“Callis is invisible to me,” she said. “I think he is protected somehow. When I looked for the Doctor, I saw only blackness.”
“He too is protected,” said Layred Vu.
“I don’t think so, not now. I think he is in a dark place. I think he is weakened and I got the sense that he is alone. I could not see anything else.”
“It is enough,” I said.
I rested for a time after the meeting. I managed to sleep, but it was troubled. I dreamed of darkness and black giants with eyes like glowing brands. I was awakened at some point by gentle shaking. I looked up into the eyes of my mother.
“There has been no attack,” she said. “It is time to put your father to rest.”
It was a solemn procession that climbed the stairs of the Sunrise Tower. Brin and my mother walked on either side of me with Francis right behind. Many others trailed him, including the visiting nobles, Myrick, Layred Vu and various courtiers and castle staff. The high priest, Geldan was waiting at the top.
Geldan stood before four low pyres. I looked at the faces of my father, brothers, and uncle for the first time since their deaths. Francis had done a good job preserving them and their faces looked calm. The rest of their body was wrapped in a gauzy shroud.
Geldan began the rites; I hardly heard the words. My eyes were fixed on the lifeless bodies. Until I met my mother a few days ago, those resting on the pyres were the only family I had ever known and despite some differences, I loved them. But they’d had their lives stolen, cut short by the people below who were now trying to kill me.
Geldan stopped talking and Francis gave me a nudge. I picked up a torch and approached the pyres. I lit the first one.
“Goodbye, Alden,” I said to my oldest brother.
I lit the next pyre. “Goodbye, Cedric.”
My father was next, I said no words to him—I couldn’t, my throat had a knot in it, but I thought my goodbye as hard and with as much love infused into it as I could. Lastly, I lit my uncle’s pyre.
The fires burned fast and bright as they consumed the physical shells of those I loved. I had intended to be stoic, but I was suddenly aware that tears were streaming freely from my eyes. I knew that if I looked, I would see the tiny lights of the fires from the enemy army. I wondered what they were seeing from below. Did the tower look like a torch, a giant torch belonging to a giant or a god? Did they realize what it was? Some of them would, I was sure.
For me, the flames heated my resolve and stoked the fires of my anger. Four who were close to me were gone. Others had died since. I was responsible for every death since this had started—I was the king and these were my people to protect. Somehow, I would protect these people. If I couldn’t, I pledged then on the ashes of my father that I would take my enemy with me.
I think he would have approved.
Chapter Eleven
King Coenbrand and General Garris Stone are known to have met in personal combat on three occasions during the Unified War. Two meetings were indecisive. However, at the Battle of Crobern General Stone nearly severed King Coenbrand’s left arm. King Coenbrand is reported to have continued fighting until General Stone had to retreat to supervise the withdrawal of his forces. After that King Coenbrand had to be assisted from the field by his squires. The only other one of Pozzelby’s kings on record as having fought Garris Stone in single combat was King Jeremiah, who was almost killed in the short battle...
Excerpted from J. R. Grimble’s Pozzelby: A History
“Caw, caw!”
Porknoy came abruptly awake. A raven was perched on the end of his cot, looking at him with its head cocked slightly to one side. He was about to shoo it away, when he noticed that the bird appeared to have something tied to its leg. It was dark outside, but the moon was nearly full and cast enough light into his tent for him to make out a small, wooden tube.
Lieutenant Porknoy—Captain Draylor had given him a promotion in Earmund, bypassing the rank of sergeant all together—sat up on his cot. The raven hopped forward onto Porknoy’s lap and held still while he removed the tube. As soon as it was off, the large bird hopped back onto its perch at the end of the cot. Porknoy took the end cap off of the tiny tube and pulled out a slip of paper. Lighting a lamp, he was just able to decipher his uncle’s thin script. The message read—
Porknoy, Tabor Till is a traitor. An army of 1000 men have been sent to stop you from arriving at the castle. We are facing approximately 6000 here, Pozzelbian and foreign troops—12 Sect Order. Use extreme caution. –Francis.
Going out into the camp, he judged the hour to be close to midnight. They were camped on the north side of the Ipex River, in the same area of sandstone cliffs and crevices in which they had camped when they had fled from Earmund two weeks prior. The area was not extensive but extended through most of Litford and into Pozzelby province. Porknoy liked the area because it was forested but still offered open spaces in which there was a lot of natural cover and concealment. And the trails were adequate for their horses.
Porknoy reached the edge of the camp and was stopped by a nervous sentry.
“Ah, just you Pork, excuse me—Lieutenant. That bar captain gave you looks good,” said the sentry, a man named Sack Telner.
“Everything quiet, Sack?”
“Has been, but I’ve been on edge. The horses have been nervous.”
“I got word from my uncle that General Till is the traitor and apparently he’s sent some men after us. Pozzelby regulars, most likely—his own men. Till has the king and Francis holed up inside of the castle it sounds like. I’m going to send out some scouts through here soon. Pass the word around to the other sentries and to your relief; any royal army tr
oops we encounter will probably be hostile.”
“Yes sir.”
Porknoy awakened his officers and sergeants. After explaining the situation, he said, “I think we have some advantages here. First, we know the situation. Second, I don’t think Tabor Till knows about the Mirall men. If he did, I think he would have sent more troops. We can use that.”
“But those are our own countrymen,” said Sergeant Scabies.
“I know and I don’t want to fight them anymore than you. But we can’t assume that they feel the same way. More than likely, if they knew the truth of the matter they would be fighting with us, not against us. But I am unsure of how to prove it to them, so I think we have to fight. I’ve sent out scouts, and I sent a messenger to Litford to see if the Earl Halfstrup will help us, because even if we were to defeat this force unscathed our eight hundred wouldn’t be much help against six thousand.”
“Aren’t you getting ahead of yourself?” asked his second, Lieutenant Fe’rin Longarm. “We still have to defeat this force before we can even consider helping the king.”
“I have to wait for the scouts to return before I can completely commit, but I have a plan,” Porknoy told the others. “Listen closely...”
****
Two hours before dawn. Emily sat straight up in bed, suddenly awake. I had moved from my suite to a room near the north hall and was in it with my mother and Brin. I hadn’t really been sleeping, so Emily’s movement brought me alert.
“The attack is starting,” she said. “Someone is opening a magical gate, summoning something outside.”
Francis was in the next room, half the size of ours, sharing it with three others. Brin woke him up by gently lifting his eyelids and saying, “Are you awake?”
He was up a moment later and the moment after that we all headed for the Sunrise Tower. Captain Talon and Myrick were already there peering down at the army below.
“Sire, something is happening down there. They are up to something. I can feel it,” the captain said.
“The camp has been quiet most of the night. But I am starting to see some movement. Within the next hour, we’ll probably see them preparing their catapults and such, readying for a dawn attack,” said Myrick.
“That isn’t the worst of it,” I said. “Emily says she can feel them conjuring something below.”
“More sorcery?” asked Talon.
“Aye,” said my mother. “Something is happening. A lot of magic involves opening tiny rips in the fabric of the barrier that keeps our realm separate from other worlds. This is how summoning works, open a hole or gate, entice the creature through and, hopefully, control it once it gets here. Sometimes smaller holes are created for the purposes of communing between one world and another. I can’t say for certain what’s happening down there, but the disturbance feels larger. I think someone is trying to bring something across.”
“Shadow monsters?” asked Myrick.
“Garegon?” I asked.
“They don’t have the sword yet,” Francis said.
“As far as we know,” said Myrick.
“No. I don’t think it is either of those,” said Emily. “It is too close to dawn to summon shadow monsters. If they were trying to bring their god back into our world the disturbance would feel much larger.”
“Can you counter what they are doing?” Myrick asked.
“Maybe. I need more room though. I’m going up to the roof.”
My mother climbed the stairs to the roof, the same stairs that we had all climbed a few hours earlier to put to rest the murdered members of my family whose pyres still smoldered above. The rest of us watched anxiously from the balcony and the windows, waiting to see what would happen. For an hour, we watched. The sky in the east gradually lightened. As Myrick had predicted, the activity below increased as the whole camp was roused and engaged in preparations for the imminent assault. Captain Talon left to oversee the last minute preparation of our defenses.
Our only hint that the spell being worked by our enemies had been cast was a slight shimmer that radiated out from the barracks compound like a gentle ripple on the lake. I might have thought that I had imagined it, except that a moment later a nimbus of red light flared to life around the command building. The light died down after a moment to a dull, ominous red glow that shined out through the windows.
The doors burst open and a score of misshapen creatures lumbered out. They were squat and powerfully built with vaguely simian features. However instead of arms, each of the beasts possessed between four and ten long, sucker-filled tentacles. They did not have legs, but pulled themselves along by their appendages with remarkable speed. The monsters ignored Tabor Till’s troops and came right for the castle.
“They are the Gasparion of Mascalon,” Francis said. “If Emily can’t think of a counter, we will be hard-pressed in a moment.”
Our archers fired their bows at the unnatural beasts to no effect—the arrows either failed to penetrate through their hair and thick hides, or, if they did find purchase, did not seem to harm them. When the creatures were right next to the castle walls, the guards poured cauldrons of boiling pitch down on them. I could hear a sizzling sound and smoke rose from the monsters but they did not slow. They reached out with their tentacles and affixed them to doors and walls. A few started to climb the castle walls. Those who were not climbing, began to pull with inhuman force. I could hear deafening popping and cracking noises as the stone and planks quickly began to give way.
****
At the first light of dawn, Porknoy marched out at the head of four hundred men, two hundred on foot, one hundred archers, and one hundred horsemen. His scouts had told them that the enemy force was not too far ahead in the open with their lines blocking the road between the river and the tree line. The enemy force was half infantry, supported by about three hundred cavalry and two hundred archers.
Lieutenant Porknoy rode out flanked by Lieutenant Longarm and Sergeant Scabies. He went halfway out to meet the enemy and stopped and waited. After a few minutes, three riders from the Pozzelbian force rode out to meet them. Porknoy recognized Colonel Tholla. The colonel was accompanied by two captains whom Porknoy did not know. He had only met Tholla twice, but had gained the impression that Tholla was a rather sour man, not unlike his commander, General Till.
“Corporal...my apologies, Lieutenant Porknoy, I see that you have received a rather significant promotion recently—are you in command of this force?” asked Tholla.
“Yes sir, Colonel. King Dexter has requisitioned these men to bolster the ranks of the castle guard. Are you on maneuvers?”
“Hardly. I am actually here for you. I have the unfortunate duty to inform you that King Dexter has been removed from the throne. Evidence has come to light that he was part of the plot to assassinate King Ardwulf. Grimwulf is king now and he does not require the assistance of Earmund. You are commanded by the king to return to your homes immediately,” Tholla said.
Porknoy feigned surprise. “But Colonel, there has been a mistake. I am in possession of indisputable physical evidence showing that the conspiracy was perpetrated by none other than Grimwulf and General Tabor Till. There is no mistaking it.”
Colonel Tholla sat up a little straighter in his saddle. Porknoy had gotten his attention. “What evidence? Show me this evidence.”
Porknoy narrowed his eyes and pretended cagy wariness. “I can’t do that, Colonel. I am under orders. You understand. But trust me, once I arrive at the castle there will be no doubts.”
“Lieutenant, I am ordering you to surrender this so-called evidence as a superior officer acting in the name of the king.”
“And I am doing the king’s business—the true king, Dexter. And if you try to hinder me then you are either a fool or a traitor yourself. Now move your men out of here so I can proceed!”
Now Tholla was cool. “Lieutenant, you are misguided. Because I am generous, I will give you
one more chance to hand over whatever it is that you think you have and return to Earmund.”
“It isn’t going to happen,” Porknoy said. “And this,” he waved at the men arrayed against him, “doesn’t scare me. One Earmunder is worth at least four of yours.”
“Very well, on your head then!”
Tholla wheeled his horse and galloped back into his ranks. Porknoy and his officers did the same.
“That went well, I thought,” Porknoy said. “Was I convincing?”
“Yes, sir,” said Scabies. “I want to see your evidence myself, even though I know you made it up.”
“Now is the hard part. We have to make good on what I said about Earmunders, at least long enough to make sure they chase us when the time is right.”
Tholla signaled his archers and Porknoy did the same. The unfortunate targets on either side were the footmen as the cavalry’s greater mobility allowed them to stay out of range and still be effective. Some of the arrows struck home, but more were blocked by shields or struck the ground harmlessly. Each side loosed a second volley, and then Tholla ordered three hundred infantry forward. The Pozzelbian regulars were disciplined, advancing in a tight formation with increasing speed. The Earmund ranks, on the other hand, had lost some cohesion during the archer’s attacks. The Earmund archers started to fall back in an unorganized fashion. Only the Earmund horsemen, outnumbered three to one by the enemy cavalry maintained any semblance of order.
“Let them come in closer,” Porknoy said to his troops. “Like we planned it.”