The Powterosian War (Book 5) (44 page)

“We can’t push them back, Majesty,” a Hadorian captain said.

“It’s nearly dawn. We’ve lost this battle,” Ormadese said. “General Bor will reopen the tunnel for Vylvex. Pull the others back. Use the remaining stones to seal off our own tunnels to the rock-dwarves.”

The Hadorian dwarves retreated into their own kingdom’s passageways.

“Through the stone, you can hear them smashing up the wall we just built,” King Ormadese said. “They’ve surged past to reopen the almost completed wall. They will expose the tunnel for General Vylvex coming across the Hadorian plain.”

* * *

At dusk, General Vylvex led the rush back to the Hador Mountains with minimal attempts to organize the retreat or save his troops. Within sight of the tunnel, a goblin aide to General Vylvex pointed out the dust cloud that arose from Saxthor’s pursuing army. Vylvex looked back over his ragtag troops strung out over the plain, dragging their weapons, rushing with what strength they had left.

“They’ll be on us before we reach the tunnel if those clods don’t hurry,” Vylvex grumbled. “Ride back among them and order commanders to whip the troops if need be, but get them moving faster.”

The goblin galloped off and Vylvex whipped his horse, rushing on to the tunnel. He met General Bor who was just directing his rock-dwarves to haul the great stones onto the plain that blocked the entrance.

“Is the tunnel passable?” Vylvex shouted to Bor without even a greeting.

“The tunnel is open, though it’s still tight in places.”

“Then get your rock-dwarves out of there so my army can pass through before the enemy cuts us off.”

General Bor nodded, then hesitated.

“Remember we dwarves must be back inside the shaft before dawn,” General Bor said, staring General Vylvex in the face. The dwarf’s face was without emotion but the warning and tone were clear. “Your army’s gotta be through the tunnel so that we can take refuge there out of the sunlight.”

“Agreed,” Vylvex said, offhandedly. “Now get those dwarves out of the tunnel.” Arcing his arm, Vylvex signaled the troops closest to rush to the tunnel. He looked back at the dust cloud growing on the horizon even as night fell. His aide returned.

General Bor directed his dwarves to leave the stones where they were and to evacuate the passageway for the orc army to pass. Vylvex heard him tell them he would call them back into the tunnel before dawn. Vylvex’s aide rode up beside him, the horse’s mouth frothy and his flanks sweaty.

“I’ve told all I could reach to run for the tunnel,’ the aide said. The enemy is catching up with us. The orcs are worn out from the long forced march.”

“Worn out? They’ll be dead soon if they don’t hurry.”

With that, Vylvex didn’t wait for his army to arrive but rushed to the underpass ahead of them, leaving them on their own to make it or not. He looked back at his troops from the tunnel’s Hador entrance, seeing large numbers running toward him.

* * *

“What do you mean crawling back here to this ruined palace with those wretched men straggling in behind you?” Demonica yelled at Prince Pindradese, who sulked in the shell of his private apartment. “I gave up my family and home to be princess of a state on the rise. Now you come back here trembling for your life.”

“Shut up, woman,” Prince Pindradese retorted. “I only married you to lay claim to Heggolstockin after your brother’s death. I’ll not sit here and listen to your tirades and demands.”

“I’ll not shut up. I’ve a right to know what’s going on. And what right has that woman out there, holding siege to this city, to demand your abdication?”

“That woman, as you put it, is Queen Dagmar of Sengenwha, newly resurrected it seems. She’s the favored choice of the now Emperor Saxthor. With her newly assembled army, and the aid of King Ahkenspec and his elf army, it seems we’re out numbered. Our own troops hate us. They refuse to fight further to save our throne. So it seems, my dear, that we are about to abdicate and go into exile on some obscure island. You made a play for the wrong ruler.”

Demonica went into a violent rage. She drew her dagger and she stabbed Prince Pindradese, leaving him dying. With his last gasps of breath he saw her racing out the door, presumably to disappear forever.

* * *

“Dead you say?” Queen Dagmar repeated to the trembling Prertstenian chatra. He, with the leading generals, knelt before her in her tent.

“Yes, Your Majesty, Princess Demonica stabbed Prince Pindradese and fled the palace through one of the warrens running under it.

“We, that is the generals and I, have come to surrender the city and the state to your rule. Our troops are worn out and disheartened by long-suffering and abuse under the prince. We seek only amnesty for the soldiers. We here throw ourselves on your mercy.”

“Amnesty is granted to all Prertstenians who lay down their arms, denounce the rule of Dreaddrac, and swear allegiance to our throne. Henceforth, Prertsten shall be governed by a governor as a province of the Sengenwhan kingdom. If this is acceptable to you, we will sit in review tomorrow. Your nobles and generals shall come before us to swear allegiance.”

“It shall be done as you say, gracious and merciful Majesty. We shall need time to summon the nobles from their estates, but it shall be done as quickly as possible.”

And so began the absorption and healing of Prertsten in the new age.

* * *

Within the Munattahensenhov, Sorrax followed the Dark Lord around his workroom. The evil wizard fumed, occasionally grabbing and throwing things at the walls, then he paced again. Smegdor watched from the doorway. The shaft of energy shooting up through the side of the room reflected the tension there, where hair on the Dark Lord and the goblin stood on end.

“Perhaps you should send the witch to counter her nephew.” Smegdor suggested.

“Earwig, she can’t even clean out the stables. She’s useless; better to leave her up there mumbling to herself about how ill-used she is. The wraiths are all gone now and I’ve not the energy to create new ones,” the king said. “Most of the generals are dead as well. You, Sorrax, will have to organize the forces left here, and those crawling back with their tails between their legs. General Vylvex can’t win his battles; he had better at least bring back the remnants of his army intact.”

“I shall not fail, Majesty.”

“No, you will not or you won’t live to whimper excuses. Now, go organize the orcs left here into a force capable of stopping this new emperor.”

Sorrax left and Smegdor watched him go down the hall. He had a nervous twitch. When Smegdor turned back to the workroom, the Dark Lord was studying the great map of the peninsula.

“There is little defendable ground between Hador and the mountains here. I’ve only Ozrin left to me now. That silver-scale dragon will wipe out half the army by himself.” The Dark Lord looked up at Smegdor with the yellow reptilian eyes focused and narrowing. “Send me your protégé, Dreg. Let’s see what you have taught him.”

“He’s a simple lad not much suited to war, Majesty.”

“Send Dreg to me, now.”

The Crown of Yensupov and Yamma-Mirra Heedra

General Vylvex watched as bands of orcs came stumbling through the tunnel under Hador. General Bor stood beside Vylvex, alternately watching the night sky and the general.

“Worried about the dawn, Bor,” Vylvex asked with a sinister curl on his lip.

“It’s gonna soon be dawn,” General Bor said. “Look at my rock-dwarves; they’re agitated. They know the sun will come shortly.”

“Yes, well, my troops should be through the tunnel any time now.”

There was commotion in the passageway and Vylvex went down to see what the disturbance was about. “What’s going on here?” Vylvex asked the latest band to rush through the tunnel.

“The Neuyokkasinian army be right on our heels,” an ogre said. He repeatedly looked around and behind him.

“Are all our troops through the tunnel, are you the last?”

“Many of them others died trying to get to the tunnel. The mens is attacking the stragglers. I don’t thinks many more is going to make it to the tunnel.”

Vylvex scratched his chin. He peered down the pathway, fidgeting. “I needs to bring most of this army back to the Munattahensenhov or the king gonna take my head.”

“General,” Bor said, coming up behind them. “The first rays of the sun are on the mountain peaks. I need to get my rock-dwarves into this underpass.”

“Hold as you’re ordered!” Vylvex snapped. “My army is to save the king; your rock-dwarves are of no importance.”

General Bor’s hand tightened on his sword hilt. He stood up straight, the stones of his being grinding slightly.

“Your army has only been able to run away because my rock-dwarves reopened the tunnel for your retreat.”

“And well you did, now move away from the tunnel so this army can get back through. I’ll tell you when you’re to come back inside.”

General Bor stepped back, turned, and rejoined his fidgeting dwarves. They shuffled back and forth, constantly looking up at the sunrise as the line of light slid down the mountainside ever closer. Ever fewer orcs scrambled through the tunnel.

“Go see how many more orcs is in the shaft,” Vylvex told his aide.

“Me?” the aide said.

“Get to it. If the way be clear, and our troops are through, we’ll let the rock-dwarves rush the entrance at the last minute. The sunlight will turn them to stone and seal the tunnel.” He flashed an insidious smile at the aide who hesitated for a moment, then rushed into the passage with sword in hand. “What’s taking the fool so long?” Vylvex mumbled as time passed.

“We must enter the tunnel now,” Bor said, confronting Vylvex. He pointed to the line of sunlight a man’s height above the dwarves.

“A moment, my aide is in the warren seeing if there’re any more troops in there.”

The aide came back, rushing up to the general moments later. “No more orcs coming, well, none still alive. Men are already entering the south entrance of the shaft.”

Vylvex looked up at the golden sun on the rock above the passageway entrance.

“You cans get in the tunnel now,” Vylvex said to Bor who didn’t even move. The sun struck his granite head, turning him back to solid stone. The rock-dwarves rushed for the entrance but few made it before the sun caught them. A great stone field lay on the plane before the Hador mountain tunnel.

“Bad timing,” Vylvex said. “Now the tunnel ain’t gonna be blocked. Pass the word among the commanders; fall back to the plain at the foot of the Ice Mountains. We reforms up there and be ready for the final battle where we’ll slaughter the southern army once and for all.”

With that, Vylvex mounted his horse and rode off north ahead of the exhausted army lying around on the plain where they’d thought it safe to rest.

* * *

Saxthor stood mounted on his stallion at the underpass entrance. His Neuyokkasinian force was first to the tunnel, and quickly but cautiously advanced through with little resistance. Duke Jedrac took his men back up the mountain where they manned the defenses above, firing the catapults with rocks and other missiles to drive the orcs further from the opening.

“Take the tunnel and secure the exit before they can seal it off,” Saxthor ordered the general nearest him. “General Vylvex would have been wise to hold the passageway since it’s the only way through for a force of any size,” Saxthor said to King Grekenbach. Bodrin and the imperial army generals stood on the precipice above the entrance near where he and his band had once gone through the mountain’s stone to King Ormadese. “Now we are the greater army. Vylvex should have used his resources to better advantage.”

Once the army secured the tunnel, the remaining Neuyokkasinians marched through and set up a defensive position to protect those coming through behind them.

“Vylvex’s organization is poor and now he’ll be subject to his master’s constant interference,” Grekenbach said.

“Yes, we must not assume our greater numbers mean superiority. Still, we must retain the momentum of this string of battles. Our army senses victory. We must capitalize on that,” Saxthor said.

“As you did with our imperial army, you should confuse Vylvex and do the unexpected,” the senior imperial general said.

“I’ve already ordered Admiral Agros to bring the garrison from Olnak and the legion from Hyemka to fight off the Dreaddrac fleet and land on the western coast of Dreaddrac. If he is successful, the diversion will make the Dark Lord divide his forces, thinking this is a pincer attack. That will weaken his already depleted forces further.”

By the time all the southern forces were through the underpass and reformed on the plain, an escaped Dreaddrac slave rushed into camp. The sentry brought him to Saxthor. “Have mercy, Great One,” the slave said, falling to his knees, his face mashed into the tent floor.

“You’re a free man, a slave no longer,” Saxthor said.

The man rose slowly scanning around him.

“What can you tell us of the conditions and disposition Dreaddrac’s army?” Grekenbach asked.

“The orcs are scared. They’re running back to the Ice Mountains. The plain between here and there is open country where we slaves find some food for those filthy orcs. You can cross it without much resistance.”

“Have you heard any news or rumors?” an imperial general asked.

“There’s confusion everywhere. Some say there’s an army coming from the west too.”

“Have you heard anything of what General Vylvex is planning?” Bodrin asked.

“I don’t know the general and would be afraid to get near to that nasty ogre. Some of the other slaves that have served him said the talk in his camp is of dividing his force to take you on here and that other force to the west too, but it’s only talk. Most think he will retreat back to the Ice Mountain foothills and then try to build a final defense there.”

“Can you lead a party to monitor their movements?”

“I can, Majesty, but if I’m caught, it’s instant death for me.”

“Will you undertake such a risky proposition?” Saxthor asked.

“They killed my family, keeping only me and my oldest son to serve them. My son died, worked to death. I’ll lead your men wherever you say.”

The advance group left at dawn. Saxthor allowed his men the day of rest before reforming and marching up the plain to the Ice Mountains. They encountered no real resistance along the way other than the scorpions and snakes that inhabited the desolate land. At the foothills, they saw the Munattahensenhov looming high above the mountain range with dark, sulfurous smoke and steam billowing from its crest above the sooty mantle of snow and ice. As they formed up, they saw General Vylvex’s army forming up as well. The appearance of whips lashing the orcs suggested they were no longer enthusiastic defenders.

“This is not a good scenario,” Saxthor said. “We face a disillusioned army, but they hold the high ground. If Vylvex reminds them that they must fight or die, they will fight.”

“The decisive battle must be fought here,” Grekenbach said.

“Yes, but we can change conditions,” Saxthor said. “With the imperial and Graushdem armies with us, we have the advantage in numbers. We must lure them down off that uphill defensive position.”

“What are your disposition orders, Majesty?” the imperial general asked.

“My Neuyokkasinian infantry will command the center. The imperial army with the cavalry will hold the left flank. The Graushdem army with its cavalry, the Neuyokkasinian cavalry, and the auxiliaries will take up the right flank. My Neuyokkasinian infantry will march up the slopes in the center, but fall back when the orcs begin fighting. If the orcs think we are retreating and they think the battle is turning in their favor, they may abandon the high ground and charge downhill at our retreating Neuyokkasinians. Initially, expose small numbers on the flanks. They must appear restless and hesitant to fight. Once the Dreaddrac forces abandon their orderly structure and charge into chaos, the flanks will close in. The cavalry can attack around the rear preventing the enemy from retreating back up to the defensive positions when we reveal our numbers and fully engage.”

“Sounds like a workable plan,” the imperial general said.

“Agreed,” Grekenbach said.

“Then let us see to the disposition of the troops. If the scouting parties return with confirmation of General Vylvex’s troop placements, we shall begin the attack tomorrow,” Saxthor said.

After the others left, Memlatec stepped forward from the shadows. “Saxthor you must remember the Dark Lord is not just a general. He’s a wizard of the greatest magnitude and will not rely totally on his army now.”

“What do you mean?”

“Army against army, you should win, but no army alone will defeat the Dark Lord.”

Saxthor studied Memlatec who looked at the crown on Saxthor’s head. He reached out and lifted Saxthor’s hand, looking down at the dragon ring without touching it. Saxthor felt even more puzzled.

“You, and you alone, wear the Crown of Yensupov. Do not forget it or the power it holds.”

“And what’s that power, Memlatec? You’ve told me the gems each contain the concentrated power of a human strength, but I don’t know what that means or how to use such power.”

“The crown reformed can pull together those individual strengths into one unified force, drawing on those qualities of all men around you to intensify those elements in them. It allows you to project that power against the evils of the world.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“I believe you have used the power of the dragon ring before,” Memlatec said.

“Yes, once in the Highback Mountains to shatter the chains that held Habbernee. I wasn’t sure just what was happening at the time. I was under a great deal of stress, and somehow the heightened strain released some energy or something that broke the chains.”

“The dragon lives, Saxthor. You are the dragon. You alone can wield its power, given to you by the high wizards of the Wizards’ Hall.”

“The dragon lives,” Saxthor said, his tone subdued. “I am the dragon?”

“Use your powers wisely. They were left to you alone. They have already brought you the devotion of the imperial army. When the time comes, you will know. Use your powers with care.”

“What does this mean?”

“Men, elves, and dwarves can unite to defeat orcs, ogres, and goblins, but the greater evil requires a greater power. You wield that power. It’s what you were born to command, what you alone can call upon to combat the evil the Dark Lord has summoned to his will.”

Saxthor looked at the dragon ring on his finger and remembered the dying Yamma-Mirra Heedra’s last look. “Yamma-Mirra Heedra wasn’t angry when I killed him,” Saxthor said. This was the first time he had spoken of it and chills ran through him. “He didn’t show anger or sorrow at dying but looked as if going to sleep.”

“Yamma-Mirra Heedra didn’t die; he transformed. He is you, Saxthor. Dragons are concentrations of primal energy given life form to serve the needs of life itself. The energy can be for good or evil depending on who controls it. The great wizards created Yamma-Mirra Heedra to retain a great power for him that would come when the need arose. He was the wizards’ gift to you, if you can control and direct his power.

Saxthor suddenly became aware of warmth emanating from the dragon ring. He looked at it. For the first time, he sensed it was not gold and crystal but a warm living thing wrapped gently around his finger. The crystal glowed. The light changed in the room. Saxthor took the Crown of Yensupov off his head and studied it for the first time since his coronation as King of Neuyokkasin. The gems glowed fresh and warm as well. Their lights radiated from each stone in a shimmering rainbow of colors.

“They contain the concentration of humanity’s best qualities, Saxthor. Only you can summon them and weave their individual powers into the correct wavelengths and pattern to become the one power that can defeat the Dark Lord.”

“How do I do that?”

“Only you know.”

“This is like back on Tixos, when Tournak said only I knew where we were to go. I had no idea how to know that either.”

“And yet you did. That is why you were chosen.”