“Lord Antone,” Ra’Gren growled from his throne, trying to keep his anger in check. “As of this moment Battle Lord Ra’Carr is relieved of duty. He cannot demand more men.”
“Who’s to lead the forces against Jarrek then?” the now stupefied messenger asked.
The King of Dakahn cocked his head thoughtfully before answering. “It seems that we took the bottleneck in the first place, after Captain Da’Markell arrived with my cavalry.” Ra’Gren was speaking aloud, but mostly to himself. Then sharply he commanded the attention of the court’s scribe with a bump of his trident’s butt on the floor. “Write up a command! Declare Captain Da’Markell as my new Battle Lord. Lord Ra’Carr is to travel to Oktin immediately, where he will take command of the forces that are arriving there. He is to use those men to defend the Valleyan border from Oktin north. There are no bridges across the Kahna north of Oktin, and the river is far too deep to be waded, so he might just be able to manage the task.”
The scribe chuckled dutifully, as did a few of the other court attendees.
“Also,” Ra’Gren added, “have Lord Cryden accompany him. “The slave trainer did well harassing the Seaward troops as they marched through Archa, and Alliak. Rank him as lieutenant and make sure he knows to report all of Lord Ra’Carr’s actions to me.”
A representative of Overlord Paleon of Oktin had been listening from the front pew. He stood and bowed his head and waited for the King’s attention. Ra’Gren stared at him for a few long moments then harrumphed and gave the nod for the man to speak.
“Majesty, I am one of Lord Paleon’s underlords. He sent me to request troops to replace those that the Seaward army killed when they passed through, but I see that your wisdom is far ahead of our requests. How many men can I tell my lord that he should expect and what…?” He made a pained expression of confusion. “What pray should I tell my lord of Ra’Carr’s ascension to the command of his men in relation to my lord’s current position.”
Ra’Gren sighed. He was of a mind to empty the coffers into the hold of a ship and sail to Harthgar, leaving these boot-licking cowards behind. Either that, or put on his armor and lead his army into Wildermont himself. These fools wouldn’t dare ask half the questions they did, not if he was hefting his trident on his shoulder.
“Tell Lord Paleon that, until a time when the military concerns of my kingdom are settled, Lord Ra’Carr is assuming the position of overlord of Oktin. Assure Paleon though, that he will assume the seat that Pa’Peryn’s death left vacant once this skirmish with Valleya and Seaward has reached a conclusion.”
“My thanks, Majesty,” the advisor groveled with a deep bow. “May I enquire the number of men you’re sending?” he asked hesitantly.
“You may not,” Ra’Gren dismissed him with a wave. Out of curiosity, the King asked a man sitting at the scribe’s table a question. “How many men did we leave here in O’Dakahn?”
The man began rummaging through scrolls, most of which tried to curl back up as quickly as he unrolled them. After a moment he scratched his head. “Some forty-five-hundred cavalry, approximately eight thousand swordsmen, and twenty-five-hundred archers are left, Majesty.”
“It seems to me that, with Ra’Carr and Cryden guarding the Northern Valleyan border, the Dragon Queen’s demon beast guarding the Lokahna Bridge, and Battle Lord Da’Markell pressing Wildermont, we need not worry about being attacked here.” Ra’Gren spoke matter of factly, but he was fishing for suggestions, or faults in his line of thinking from those gathered at court. The only fault of thinking, though, was the fact that he actually thought someone might speak up and point out an error in his judgment. He’d gigged more men with his trident in the last few months than he had in a decade. No one dared to voice an opinion.
“Even if Shaella’s demon fails, she has Princess Rosa,” Ra’Gren continued assessing the situation aloud.
Lord Antone listened intently. He had been sent here to get more men for the upcoming invasion of Wildermont, and he liked where his king was headed.
“If we leave twenty-five hundred cavalry, half the swords, and fifteen hundred archers to guard O’Dakahn, that leaves what, ten thousand men to send to Seareach? Do you think that will be enough to take Wildermont?”
The question wasn’t asked to anyone in particular, and Lord Antone didn’t want to correct his King’s arithmetic, especially since the error was favorable to his cause. “Ten thousand more men would serve our new Battle Lord perfectly,” Antone said encouragingly. “In fact, with the reinforcements you’ve already sent, the taking of Wildermont under Da’Markell’s leadership should go quite smoothly.”
Ra’Gren smiled at Antone as if the young lord had just helped him defeat some great enemy. “Is there anything else we need for the invasion?”
“Should we expect any help from the Dragon Queen, or her wizards?” Lord Antone couldn’t help but ask.
“Do you think they’re needed with all of those men?”
“No, Majesty,” Antone said. “I just wanted our new Battle Lord to know what sort of aid to expect. Of course, their presence couldn’t hurt our efforts.”
“Once Wildermont is ours, your work here won’t be forgotten, Lord Antone. Is there anything else at hand? I’d like to be finished with the day’s buisness before anyone comes bursting through the door.”
The court officers and the regular attendees had a good chuckle at that. After the mirth subsided, the announcer answered the King’s question.
“All that’s left is another request from Lord Northall for the purchase of two thousand more head.”
“If the crown can claim half of the transaction, approve it. But slip in one of our better handlers among the slaves. That’s six thousand head of mostly Wildermont folk he’s purchased already. I’d like to know what he’s doing with all of them. Do you know how he is shipping so many out of Dakahn so quickly?”
“Majesty, the rumor is that Salazar has purchased a large amount of Harthgarian ore and is using the slaves as smiths to work it,” the announcer answered.
“Nevertheless, I want one of our men in the next herd. Once those orders are written, have someone find me.” He stood and stretched, and strode out of the throne room, pausing only to give the announcer the order to dismiss court.
“What in the devil is it?” the tattoo-covered commander of the Seaward muster asked Master Wizard Amill. They were standing on the Valleyan side of the bridge at Lokahna, looking at the huge gorax beast standing guard vigilantly across the span.
“Exactly that,” the Highwander wizard answered. “A devil or a demon of some sort, as best as I can tell.”
“Should we try to cross?” Commander Escott asked.
“Those are Queen Rachel’s orders, though I don’t envy you the task,” answered the wizard.
“It’s a fargin big bastard,” the commander said. “But if it bleeds, we can kill it.” He gave Master Amill a look. “It does bleed, doesn’t it?”
“Who knows?” Master Amill responded with a shrug. “Most demon kind are formed supernaturally. Their earthly bodies are just shells that can die. The essence of the demon moves on. With devils, who knows?”
“I guess we are about to find out.” The commander wheeled his horse away from the wizard and rode back to where his nervous troops stood. “Long archers come forth!” the commander yelled. “First pike, form up six abreast at the bridge. Captain Galen, I want your swords to follow them across on my command. Archers, get lined up along our side of the river. I want that thing killed. Send your arrows at the beast until our men get across and engage it. Then give them cover where you can. I see a few hundred Dakaneese cavalry camped at the city’s edge over there. Make sure they don’t get to our pike men.”
As the men formed up to make the crossing, Master Amill rode over to the commander. “I’ll blast it with a kinetic ray to start things off,” he said. “It will most likely stun the thing long enough for your men to swarm over it and finish it off.” He glanced back at the several thousand troops formed up behind the ones making ready. “I think that, if it falls, you should get as many men across as you can. We can see those cavalry camped over there, but if Ra’Gren has any sense, there are a few thousand more soldiers hidden in the city as well.”
Commander Escott nodded his agreement. “Let me know when you’re ready to send your kinsmatic wave, or whatever you called it. I’ll order the attack on your mark.” The commander spurred his horse back into the ranks of soldiers, calling out orders for them to follow across in an orderly fashion.
The Seaward commander was an intimidating looking man, with his huge muscles and bird of prey body tattoo. The point of the ink-worked beak started at the bridge of his nose and ran back over his bald head giving his brow an extremely angry looking ‘V’ shaped set. Nearly all of the Seaward soldiers were heavily muscled, covered in tattoos, and in prime fighting condition. Commander Escott was bigger than most of them.
The Seaward soldiers wore sleeveless chain mail hauberks that belled into knee length skirts below their wide leather belts. High plated boots and similar gauntlets finished the uniforms. Some of them wore helmets. Some chose to let the wicked ink that covered them from head to toe work as intimidation. Dragon skulls, fierce demon eyes, and huge toothy shark maws could be seen among the ranks.
Master Amill didn’t envy the commander for having to send his men to face the gargantuan demon beast, but deep down he had more sympathy for the huge monster. These men looked like they would savage it to pieces if they had the chance. When he was ready to cast his spell, and in a favorable position for his work, Master Amill gave the commander a nod. After making a few last minute adjustments and calling out orders, the commander returned the nod and raised his long serrated sword up into the sky.
Master Amill made the finishing gesture and spoke the word that released his spell. As the crackling static roar of it shot forth from his outstretched arm, Commander Escott dropped his sword, sending several hundred arrows hissing up from the thumping bowstrings along the riverbank. They seemed to be chasing the hot purple swath of magical energy that shone plainly in the brightness of the day.
The ray of magical force hit the gorax full in its slick black chest, but it only staggered back two steps and growled. The heavy clawed hand that wasn’t clutching the huge knotted bone club shot out, pointing directly back at Master Amill. Powerful magic flowed from the demon in a searing streak. The blast exploded a divot of earth out of the Valleyan shore before the Highwander wizard. Master Amill and a few dozen Seaward archers went tumbling through the air. One was shredded to bloody pieces. Another man impacted a tree like a limp sack of grain. Master Amill hit the ground hard, but rolled to his feet. Blood and angry disbelief poured from his face equally. The demon seemed indifferent, even as arrows came raining down about its head and shoulders. The missiles all seemed to tangle in the beast’s thick silvery pelt before they could actually pierce its flesh.
The bone club came crashing down into the first wave of pike men who crossed the bridge. Several were smashed flat and others were severely maimed. Then the monster took a full swing with its weapon, batting several more of them across the ground. A small group managed to get by the huge monster, maybe a hundred men, but the demon was making short work of anything that came within range of its deadly weapon. The middle of the pike men’s group halted midway across the bridge, stalling the flow of men to a complete stop. None of them wanted to face the creature.
“Retreat! Come back,” Commander Escott yelled. He watched in horror as the group of Dakaneese cavalry came riding up and started harrying the knot of his men who had managed to get across. On foot, the Seawardsmen had no chance against the swift horses and expertly wielded spears of the Dakaneese.
The screams of a drowning Seawardsman, fighting with all his might to keep afloat in the river with his armor on, added to the horrible chaos of the debacle. Less than half an hour after the crossing had started, the bridge was empty. The Seaward army was two hundred and seventy-four men lighter than it had been before. Other than a few arrows that had found the demon’s hide, the Dakaneese force hadn’t taken any injury. Whether to discourage further attempts at crossing into Dakahn, or just out of sheer meanness, the Dakaneese cavalry made a show of herding the last few of the Seawardsmen they had corralled toward the demon. Tired and utterly defenseless against the forces around them, the stranded men were either crushed by the pounding club, or run through by the cavalrymen’s spears. It was a sickening sight to behold, and both Master Amill and Commander Escott swore to avenge the brutal show of butchery.
Their oaths wouldn’t be easy to keep though. To kill the heartless Dakaneese cavalrymen they had to find a way to get across the river. And at the moment, that seemed like that might be impossible.