Michael Mathias - The Wizard and the Warlord

Most of the damage to the stronghold had been repaired, but not the side where Queen Shaella and Claret had first attacked. Most of the wall, and a good swath of the outlying village leading up to it, had been scorched permanently black with dragon’s fire.

Climbing up onto the rubble of the ruined wall, Mikahl was surprised to see nearly twenty river boats and barges gathered along the shoreline. They were tied to bollard poles, personal docks, and even grappled to the bank for nearly half a mile. The sun had lit the sky and the soldiers were breaking camp. There was no way to house that many men at the stronghold, and Mikahl was actually surprised that more than two hundred men could be mustered to duty in Westland on such short notice. As he approached the camp of breed giants, where Bzorch was conferring with a pair of sergeants and a captain, he realized that the men weren’t all Westlanders. Several were Dakaneese sellswords, and a few were tattoo-covered Seawardsmen.

“You’ll have to tell them to forget the heavy armor,” Mikahl said to the group of bowing commanders and the breed giant. “At ease,” he snapped, so that they would get back to business. “The marsh is soft and wet. A man with heavy plate will get stuck or drown. Leather, or light ring mail is all that should be allowed.”

“Make it so,” Bzorch growled to the captain.

The order was relayed to both sergeants, who scurried off quickly, leaving Bzorch, the captain, and the High King relatively alone among the busy soldiers.

“Captain, Lord Bzorch is going to lead the foray. I want you to advise him.” Mikahl smiled up at Bzorch when the captain paled. “You’ll have to be firm. He might be big and ugly, but he’s quite capable. And he will listen, if you voice your concerns.”

“Yes, highness,” the captain said uneasily.

“I don’t want you to turn this into a Zard hunt, Bzorch,” Mikahl said. “If you see large groups of armed Zard, take action. If you see that fargin lightning star banner flapping over their encampments, remove it.” Mikahl looked up and met the breed giant’s eyes. “I do not want you attacking family groups or peaceful settlements. The Zard are not your prey.”

Mikahl was glad that only a small bit of disappointment showed in the breed giant’s feral expression.

“What about hellcats and wyvern?” Bzorch asked hopefully.

“Hunt them down and bring me their heads,” Mikahl said coldly. “There is a Choska loose, as I told you before. Since we last spoke, it has attacked O’Dakahn with a bunch of the skeletal men. If you see any of these fleshless or rotting men, take them apart. It’s the only way to make them stay dead.”

Mikahl turned and looked out across the vast grassy marshland. “It’s that fargin Choska demon I want, though. It attacked O’Dakahn and killed fourteen men.”

Bzorch gave a slight bow. “King Mikahl, it would please me to pike the Choska’s head at O’Dakahn's front gate personally for you.”

“Aye,” Mikahl chuckled. “That would be spectacular. The sooner the better. You'll find it around the Dragon’s Tooth Spire, I’m sure. Are we understood?”

Both the captain and the breed giant nodded in agreement.

“Good,” Mikahl said. “I hope to hear news of your success soon.”

With that, he strode away as another memory, one of skinny dipping in the river with Zasha and other adolescents came to him. It made him think of Queen Rosa and the passionate nights they had been spending back at Lakeside. He decided that he would pick a handful of fragrant river blooms for her. He was sure they would make her smile.

The Skyler Clan hadn’t welcomed Corva and Dostin very well. The two were scolded severely by Hyden’s father.

“If people just followed you haughty elves around, your precious hidden forest city would be full of kingdom folk, beasts, and other unwanted intruders as well,” he told them. “Here you are, hungry and cold, and not dressed for the weather, and no less than trespassing in our village, and you have the gall to ask about things that are not even our concern. Be gone from here.”

The lecture had been so cold that, after they left, Dostin cried. The verbal lashing made him feel small and wrong for being there. Corva didn’t let it get to him, though; he led them around the village until he found the quest party’s trail. The tracks were fairly recent and this heartened Corva. After they put some distance between themselves and the angry Skyler Clan, Corva hunted while Dostin warmed himself by the fire. He killed a doe and they ate greedily. The elf showed the monk how to line his boots with scrap cloth from the extra clothes they carried. Multiple layers of britches and shirts under the monk’s robe went far to keeping him warm. Corva doubled up his clothing, but suffered the cold so that Dostin might stay warmer. They walked the horses often to keep their blood flowing. Ultimately, the two traveling alone made better time than the quest party.

One day, the frigid mountain air pummeled them for hours, and the poor monk’s fingers and ears turned black with the bite. The next day, when they pressed on into the deeper snow, Corva was losing his confidence. The previous night’s snowfall had all but erased the trail they were following.

Dostin didn’t complain, but Corva knew that they might soon have to turn back. After they skirted a cliff trail that the elf was sure the others had used, Dostin finally faltered.

Corva picked up the exhausted monk out of the snow and built a fire. He heated snow in a tin until it boiled. After it cooled, he made Dostin soak his purple fingers in it. One of the monk’s ears was already blackened at the edges. Two of his fingers looked like they would be lost. Corva had all but decided to give up. He paced to stay warm while Dostin lay bundled in all of their blankets by the fire. That night was a bitter one, but the next morning was clear and sunny. Miraculously, Corva smelled the smoke of a cook fire on the breeze.

Dostin was already awake. The monk was praying and rocking back and forth where he sat. After a time, he rose and told Corva that he was ready to travel. Corva looked at Dostin’s fingers. They looked better than the night before. The monk’s ear, though, was awful to behold. Corva decided that if he could smell the cook fire, it couldn’t be that far away; besides that, he wasn’t sure anymore if he could get them back out of the mountains.

There wasn’t much choice about it: either freeze to death trying to get out, or take a chance and hope that they found the others. It was with that grim thought that he continued leading them north.

They crossed a couple of rocky ridges and skirted the run of a valley when Corva saw a pile of frozen horse dung. The smell from the cook fire had disappeared for most of the day, but as dusk stole the light from the sky he picked it up again. He didn’t want to, but they camped. Fuel for burning was scarce, so their fire was small. The next morning, one of Dostin’s ears tore from his scalp like a scab. He whimpered in pain, but didn’t otherwise complain. Their perseverance was rewarded when they crossed the next ridge. Below them, waiting, as if they knew they were being followed, was the quest party. It was a shock when a pack of great wolves came bounding up to escort them into the camp. It was even more shocking when they finally gained the warmth of the bonfire and Princess Telgra looked at them as if they were strangers.

If he hadn’t been in shock, and on the verge of freezing to death, Dostin would have cried.

The Queen Mother sat at the base of the Heart Tree in the throne formed by its tangle of roots. Behind her back, its trunk rose up hundreds of feet. It marked the center of the magical elven forest that was currently amid the trees of the Evermore. The dense woods were littered with piles of brown, russet, and gold. Most of the trees were bare, resembling grotesque bark-skinned beasts looming among the taller firs and pines that rose up proud and green like soldiers at attention. The elven court was gathered there in a long, narrow glade before the towering Father Tree. Word of Princess Telgra’s appearance in the Skyler Clan village was revealed to them. The Queen Mother was worried, frightened, and angry all at once. More mother than queen at the moment, her state of distress was a concern to the family heads gathered there.