Rage of a Demon King

  As trumpets blew down at the bottom of the hill, Erik said, “Then I suggest you start walking and get as far as you can on foot. If you’re not near a friendly campfire, find someplace sheltered to hunker down. Sometime in the morning the wagon carrying the wounded will come past you; flag it down and get a ride. I’ll pass word to pick you up.”

  “Can’t I stay?”

  Another trumpet blew and Erik drew his sword. “I wouldn’t advise it.” As he turned away he said, “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

  An arrow sped by overhead, a wild shot from someone below who was overanxious. Erik glanced over his shoulder and saw the magician running to the east with surprisingly renewed strength. Erik took the moment to indulge himself in a chuckle at the sight, then turned his attention to the bloody work ahead.

  “All right,” he shouted. “Archers, pick your targets and wait until I give the order.”

  A familiar voice came from behind as Sergeant Harper said, “Captain von Darkmoor, you’re forgetting yourself. If you don’t mind, sir?” He turned and said, “First one of you mother-lovers who lets fly an arrow before I give the word’s going to have to run down there and fetch it back to me! Understood?”

  Erik smiled again. He had never gotten the knack of being a proper bully sergeant and was pleased to have men like Harper, Alfred, and the others under his command.

  Then the enemy came.

  Erik welcomed the darkness. The enemy was retreating down the hillside, but had left their men in tatters. He had been wrong about the feint. The only reason he still held his position had been the enemy’s ineptitude. They had charged straight up the hill, into first the withering missile fire of the Kingdom’s archers, then a rain of the short, soft iron spears Erik’s commands had been training with since he had first come to serve Calis. Hundreds of the enemy had died for each yard traveled, and they had still reached the first trench.

  The defense had been a series of trenches and breastworks cut along the contours of the hillsides, and whatever natural slope of the landscape concentrated the attackers, there they found overlapping fields of missile fire waiting for them. When the survivors of the first wave reached the first breast-work, they found a highly banked, hard-packed earthen barrier, studded with sharp wooden spikes. The spikes caused little damage but forced the attackers to move slowly, making them easy targets for the defenders.

  But they had come and kept coming. After the first hour, Erik felt as if he would never be able to raise his arms again, but still he had to fight on. During the fighting, someone—a squire or town boy, he didn’t know which—had come by with a bucket of water and handed him a tin ladle during a tiny lull. He had drunk it quickly, handing the ladle back to the boy, and resumed fighting a moment later.

  For what seemed an eternity, Erik fought, striking down any head that appeared on the other side of the redoubt. Then the enemy was fleeing, unwilling to continue pressing the attack as the sun began to sink beyond the western horizon.

  Torches were lit, as much for reassurance as for the need—the twilight this time of year was lengthy—and those designated as hopitalers—local boys, old men and women, and court squires and pages—all started carrying water and food to the living, then carrying away the wounded and dead.

  Erik turned and sat where he had been fighting, ignoring the dead soldier from Novindus who lay in the dirt next to him. When a boy with water came by, Erik took a single drink, passing along the rest of the water to the men nearby.

  Soon a runner arrived with a note. He opened and read it, then, feeling so fatigued he didn’t know if he could will himself to move, he shouted, “Fall back!”

  As if by magic, Sergeant Harper appeared. “We’re pulling out, sir?”

  “That’s it.”

  “Then we’re making for the next defensive position?”

  “We are.”

  The wily old Sergeant said, “Then we’ll not be seeing much sleep tonight, will we?”

  Erik said, “I expect not. What is your point, Sergeant?”

  “Oh, none, Captain. I just wanted to make sure I understood everything.”

  Erik fixed the Sergeant with a baleful eye. “I think you understand just fine, Sergeant.”

  “Well, then, just so as it’s clear I’m not the one making lads who’ve spent a half day fighting pick up and move without a drop to drink or a bite to eat.”

  Erik realized the men were ready to drop. “I think we can hold off, then, until we’ve eaten.”

  “That’s lovely, sir. It’ll give us a bit of time to haul away the dead and get the wounded out in the wagons. A wise choice, sir.”

  Erik sat down again. As Harper moved along, Erik said to himself, “And I had the presumption to call myself a sergeant.”

  * * *

  The withdrawal was more difficult than Erik would have liked. Despite the food and rest for two hours, the men were still bone-tired when they were turned to march to the east.

  Erik inventoried his assets and realized he was beginning to see elements of those men he had trained over the last two years, two companies of men who knew how to handle themselves, who had arrived from a position to the north.

  Word came down that the enemy had broken through up north, but the gap had been closed. The bad news was that a contingent, numbering at least three hundred, possibly more, was loose on the wrong side of this current line of march. Erik sent his best scouts to the north, and hoped that if the invaders were coming this way, they would blunder into one of the heavier elements. Three hundred raiders could do quite a bit of damage to one of the smaller companies on the march before reinforcements could be summoned.

  Just before sunrise, Erik found a solitary figure marching next to him, the magician Robert d’ Lyes. “Hello, magician.”

  “Hello, Captain. I found a small rock under which to hide,” he said with dry humor, “but instead of a wagon I find an army marching my way.”

  “I told you we were leaving,” Erik said dryly. “I just didn’t think we’d be leaving so quickly.”

  “So I see. How goes the war?”

  Erik said, “I wish I knew. So far we’ve done well, but that last attack showed me we’re still seriously outmanned.”

  “Can you hold them?”

  “We will,” said Erik. “We have no choice.”

  Ahead they saw lights as the village of Wilhelmsburg came into view. Entering the town they saw that it was completely taken over as a military site. The townspeople had been evacuated days earlier, and Erik knew that once his men had rested for a day, eaten and tended wounds, they would abandon this town, after putting every building in it to the torch.

  A small figure ran toward Erik, shouting, “Captain von Darkmoor!”

  Erik recognized him, despite the filth that clung to the tabard of a page of the royal court in Krondor. “Yes . . . what is your name?”

  “Samuel, sir. A lady asked me to give this to you.”

  Erik took the note and sent the boy on his way. Erik opened the note. Inside, in simple handwriting, it said: “Gone to Ravensburg to find your mother. I love you. Kitty.”

  Erik felt relief that Kitty had reached here safely and was probably now staying at the Inn of the Pintail, where Erik had grown up. He turned to where the exhausted magician stood and said, “Let’s get something to eat.”

  “An excellent idea,” said the fatigued conjurer.

  They reached the Sign of the Plowshare, the inn where he had first met Corporal Alfred and Roo’s cousin Duncan. That caused Erik to wonder where his boyhood friend might be.

  Inside the inn, they found the common room crowded. Half the floor was littered with blankets, where a makeshift infirmary had been set up, while the other half was jammed with starving soldiers, eating whatever was being passed across the counter.

  A corporal whose name escaped Erik said, “We’ve got some rooms upstairs for the officers, Captain. We’ll send up food.”

  “Thank you,” said Erik.

  He le
d Robert up the stairs, and when they got to the first room, he pushed open the door and found an officer in the tabard of Ylith, sound asleep on a bare floor. Two other men sat eating. They glanced over, and Erik waved at them in apology and closed the door. He moved down to the next door and opened it, finding the room empty.

  Inside were two simple mattresses, woolen blankets sewn together and hay-stuffed; to Erik they looked inviting. He struggled to get out of his boots, and by the time he did, the corporal had arrived with two wooden bowls of hot stew and two large mugs of ale. Suddenly fatigue was forgotten as Erik’s mouth began to water.

  As the corporal made to leave, Erik said, “Make sure someone wakes me an hour before dawn.”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  Robert said, “I don’t envy you an early morning after a day such as you’ve just had.”

  “No need for you to envy anyone, magician. You’re up at first light, too.”

  “I suppose it’s necessary?”

  “Yes, we need to be out of this town before the enemy gets here. It’s the difficult part of this mission, keeping one jump ahead of the foe. When they reach Wilhelmsburg, they are to find only fire and ruin.”

  Robert said, “Such a waste.”

  “It’s more of a waste to give the enemy anything to aid them on their march.”

  “I guess so.” The magician ate a couple of spoonfuls of food, then said, “Pug said things were dire, and while he wouldn’t be specific, he led us to believe that there’s even more at risk than the sovereignty of the Kingdom. Or is that an exaggeration?”

  “I can’t say,” replied Erik between bites of food. After he had swallowed a healthy drink of ale, he said, “But let me put it that none of us can afford a loss in this war. None of us.”

  Robert sat back, resting against the wall, with his feet stretched out. “I’m not used to all this walking.”

  “I offered you a horse.”

  “Truth to tell, they scare me.”

  Erik looked at the man, then laughed. “I have spent my entire life around them, so you’ll forgive me, but I find that funny.”

  Robert shrugged. “Well, there are many who are frightened of magicians, so I guess I can understand that.”

  Erik nodded. “There was a time when I was a boy in Ravensburg when I would have been worried about you, if not frightened, but I’ve seen enough over the last few years that I choose to worry about things that I can face with a sword in my hand, and let the gods, priests, and magicians worry about the rest.”

  “Wise man,” said Robert with a sleepy smile. “If you don’t think it overly rude,” he said, putting down his bowl and mug, “I think I’ll get some sleep.” His head barely touched the mattress before he was snoring.

  Erik finished his ale and lay down, and it seemed only a minute after he closed his eyes when he found the young corporal shaking his shoulder, saying, “Captain, it’s time to get up.”

  Roo motioned for everyone to stop. Luis was semiconscious, his feet tied to the stirrups of one horse—with the rope passed under the animal—so he wouldn’t fall, as he hugged the animal’s neck. His wound was still seeping blood, and Roo knew he would not survive another night without rest and better care than they could provide on the trail. Willem rode with his arms around little Helmut, while Nataly rode with Abigail before her. Roo, Karli, and Helen led the horses.

  They had left the cave the morning before, trying to find a safe route to the northern road. Twice they had found themselves at impassable points in the woods, and Roo had followed his plan of going east when he couldn’t go north, then turning north when he could no longer go east.

  Only once had they found themselves blocked on the north and east, and he had cast back to the west and found another northern route.

  Roo had halted them because of the sound of riders, some distance off, but close enough he stated looking for a place to hide. “Wait here,” he said softly, handing the reins of the horse he was leading, upon which Luis sat, to Helen. He drew his sword and hurried off, looking for some elevation to give him a better view.

  He found a rise to the east and climbed it, which led to another, and that brought him to a relatively clear ridge. Sound was echoing, but when he stood still for a moment, he could hear that the riders were to his north.

  “Damn,” he said softly and hurried back to the others.

  The children had fallen into silence, as they reacted to the obvious fear their parents tried to hide. Roo said, “A large band of riders to the north.”

  “That road you spoke of?” asked Helen.

  “Yes, I think so.”

  “What do we do?” said Karli.

  “We go quietly, and slowly, and we hope those are Kingdom cavalry.”

  Karli was handling her terror far better than Roo would have guessed. He admired her willingness to put aside her own fear to protect her children. Roo glanced at Luis, who had lapsed into a half-doze, barely able to sit upright. Perspiration ran from his face, although the morning was cool, and Roo knew he had fever from his wound.

  “We’ve got to get Luis to a healer,” Roo said, and Helen and Karli both nodded.

  They set off slowly through the woods. A half hour later, Roo stopped. He glanced around a clearing and said, “I know this place.”

  “Where are we?”

  Roo said, “Karli, this is where your father, Erik, and I camped, the second night we traveled together. We met him a half day’s ride to the east.” He calculated. “Damn. We got turned around someplace, and were moving northwest instead of north. We’re not as far east as I hoped.”

  “Where are we?” asked Helen.

  “Still most of a day’s ride to a road that will fork down to Wilhelmsburg.”

  Karli lowered her voice. “Luis can’t ride another day.”

  “I know,” said Roo, “but we have no choice.”

  He led them through the clearing, and just a short distance to the north lay the road they had been seeking. Hoof prints showed that the patrol Roo had heard had ridden this way. He motioned to them to follow him down the road.

  The day passed without incident. Near sundown, they left the woodlands and found an abandoned farm, a squat stone-and-log affair with a sod roof. “We can stay here tonight,” said Roo. “The road that leads down to Wilhelmsburg is about another hour to the east of here.”

  They got Luis off the horse and into the house, laying him gently on a straw pallet. Roo took the horses into the unoccupied barn, untacked them, and found some hay there, which he let them eat. He knew from his training with Erik and the others while in the army that if the hay was bad the horses would colic and die, but from what he could tell, it still looked edible. He closed the door and went to the little house.

  Helen was looking at Luis’s shoulder. “We need to clean this,” she said.

  Roo looked around and found nothing. “Let me see if there’s a well.”

  He went out back and found the well, and there was still a bucket in it. He pulled up fresh water, untied the bucket, and brought the water into the house.

  Karli said, “I found this.” She held out a small sack. “Salt.” Roo took it while Karli said, “It must have fallen to the floor when whoever lived here fled.”

  Roo said, “It might help.”

  “Can we have a fire?” asked Willem.

  Roo said, “No. Even if we hide the flames from sight, the smell of smoke could bring raiders.”

  Helen lowered her voice. “If I can boil some water, I can clean his wounds.”

  Roo said, “I know.” He held out the salt. “Drink from the bucket, then when it’s half full, pour the salt into the water. Bathe his wounds in that.” He glanced at his unconscious friend. “It will hurt like hell, but I don’t think he’ll notice. I’m going to try to find something for a poultice.”

  Roo left the hut and stayed close to the buildings, in case someone might be coming along the road. He didn’t want to take the chance of being spotted. He hurried past the b
arn and the now-empty fields, into the woods. He had seen several mosses on the rocks the way they had come. Nakor had shown them all how to make a poultice, and Roo wished he had paid closer attention. But he thought he knew what to look for.

  After nearly an hour’s search, as night was falling, Roo found the spiderweb-like moss, hugging tree trunks and rocks near a tiny stream. He gathered as much as he could carry in two hands, then hurried back to the farmhouse.

  Karli and Helen had gotten Luis’s shirt off and had bathed the wound with the salt water. Helen said, “He didn’t move.”

  Roo said, “That’s probably for the best.” He studied his friend’s face and saw it was covered with perspiration. He also saw that the wound to his shoulder had been caked over with dried blond, but now lay open. “That needs to be sewn closed.”

  Karli said, “I have needles.”

  “What?” asked Roo.

  She reached under her dress and said, “Needles are expensive, and when we left everything, I made sure my needles were safe.” She tore a seam in the hem of her dress and took out a tiny rolled piece of leather, which had been lying alongside the seam. She unrolled it and presented Roo with six finely tempered steel needles.

  Roo blinked. “I’m pleased sewing meant so much to you,” he said. “You wouldn’t have any thread, by chance, would you?”

  Helen said, “Threads are easy.” She stood and lifted the hem of her dress. She reached under and pulled down one of her own underskirts, stepping out of it. With her teeth she worried a seam, and when she was satisfied with the damage done, she began unraveling threads. “Now, how long do you think?”

  “A foot and a half,” said Roo.

  She took one of the needles and worked the tangle of threads, pushing the one she wanted clear, then she took it between thumb and forefinger and pulled. Roo expected it to break, but to his surprise, it unraveled and she pulled out three feet of thread. She bit at the hem, and yanked, and handed the linen thread to Roo.

  Roo said, “I wish I knew what I was doing.” He allowed Helen to thread the needle, then said, “One of you at his head, and one at his feet in case he tries to move.”