Michael Mathias: Kings, Queens, Heroes, and Fools

King Mikahl, still burning and itching from the deep destructive wounds he had taken, approved of the plan. Though Ironspike had somewhat healed his flesh, his left forearm and hand were ruined. He could barely grip a cup, and the length of limb from elbow to wrist looked more like a stick than anything human. Other than that, his shoulders had several deep pocks corroded into them, and they were itching terribly. He could scratch the ones on the left side, but reaching the ones on his right hurt his left arm so badly that he had to suffer the irritation.

He was well enough to give Jarrek and the dwarves protection from the back of the bright horse, though. When he was sure that they were clear, he was going to carry Master Sholt to Lakeside Castle so that he could aid the Westlanders and establish communication with Lord Gregory.

Just before they started south, Master Sholt informed them that Queen Rachel had organized a flotilla of Seaward ships. They were already en route to take up positions along the Dakaneese coast to prevent Ra’Gren from receiving supplies and fortifications that way. It would take some time to get them into position, but already five thousand more soldiers had left Ultura and were marching toward Lokahna.

With Master Sholt riding nervously on the bright horse behind him, Mikahl conversed with Lord Gregory. The Lion Lord didn’t tell Mikahl of General Spyra’s mad charge, or the demon’s destructive passage through Dreen. He rightly figured that just having knowledge of those events would distract Mikahl from what he was about. Mikahl asked the Lion Lord to explain the breed giants’ involvement in all of this, but Lord Gregory quite bluntly told him to ask King Jarrek.

Mikahl contemplated the fact that Bzorch had saved his life, but still it was hard not to hate the breed. When he was King Balton’s squire they had come out of the northern mountains and regularly attacked Westlander innocents. He had been at Coldfrost, and though he was never allowed to raise his blade against them, he saw many a man meet a gruesome end there. He remembered clearly watching Bzorch from across the icy flow through the glassine shield King Balton had created. He remembered wondering what so many huge beasts would eat on the small glacial island prison.

He knew now.

They had eaten each other.

He had never really understood the happenings at Coldfrost. His friend King Aldar, the ruler of the true giants did, though, and since he had a message to deliver to his friend Borg, he decided that when this was through he might pay them a visit. Thoughts of the starved giant he and Hyden had found in the dungeon, and the venomous wound Hyden Hawk had taken there, saddened him. Mikahl’s heart grew hollow for a time.

His mood lightened when he flew low enough over Jarrek’s group to see the dwarves flailing in the saddles of the horses they were riding. Their stumpy legs weren’t long enough to actually straddle the big Valleyan destriers. If the horses hadn’t been so well trained it would have been a fiasco. Even with the big steeds compensating to balance the squat little men on their backs, a few of the dwarves hit the ground tumbling. Luckily none of them were seriously injured, and even with the occasional delay of waiting on a dwarf to dust himself off and remount, the small group managed to get beyond the reach of the Dakaneese troop that was marching to Seareach.

Mikahl was thankful that they were safe. He was fighting exhaustion. If he fell asleep, he was certain that the ground would be the last thing that ever passed through his mind. He couldn’t remember when he last slept. Not since he was trapped and put under the red priests spell could he remember even resting.

Before he and Master Sholt peeled off for Westland, Oarly rode up under them and waved them down.

“I know you’re the High King and all,” the dwarf said, choosing his words carefully. “Young Phen is my friend, as was Sir Hyden Hawk Skyler. I know that Hyden’s soul will rest easier if Phen is located.” Oarly picked at the knee of his pants for a minute, letting his emotions cool. “The lad is a hero in my book.”

“I looked and looked for him, Master Oarly,” Mikahl told him. “I swear I’ll put Master Sholt, and any other I can, to the task of finding him.”

“Aye,” Oarly conceded, seeing the sadness and fatigue on the High King’s newly scarred face. “If I could get there, I’d search the fool boy out myself,” he added before urging his horse away.

“On my honor, I’ll do my best to find him,” Master Sholt called after him.

“Tell King Jarrek that I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Mikahl yelled as the bright horse lifted them away.

Mikahl took them north to check on the progress of the men and dwarves that had been sent back through the tunnels at Alliak. On the way, they passed over the body-strewn field around the buildings where Flick had trapped King Jarrek’s force. Some of the Dakaneese were arriving and milling about the carnage aimlessly. Another group of them were huddled around the big Choska’s carcass. Mikahl’s lightning bolt had pretty much cooked its insides and then the dwarves had swarmed over it and finished it off.

A small group of Dakaneese looked to be following the trail of the men bound for the tunnels. Mikahl, with Master Sholt gripping him more tightly than the tiny girl had, dived on them. He sent them scattering with a pair of hot crackling lightning bolts. Master Sholt relaxed a little bit and sent a few fiery blasts of his own down among them. After a second pass, the pursuit stalled and the remaining men began skulking back to their commanders.

Apparently Jarrek’s men, and the dwarves, had already gone into the tunnels. Mikahl didn’t see any of them out around the opening. He took this as a good sign and wheeled away to the west.

The sun was setting into the ocean when they came down out of the clouds over Lakeside Castle. Mikahl noticed that an attempt to clean the garden yard had been made. As he landed his magical pegasus on the balcony of the Royal Apartments, the half dozen people milling around the bedchamber screamed in startled fear. When they saw who the rider was they quickly recovered, but stayed away nonetheless. Master Sholt found a divan and collapsed into it. He leapt back up with a yelp when his arse hit something solid and invisible that was already lying there. He was too sore and worn from the long ride to worry about what it was, and he quickly found another place to rest.

Lady Able straightened the hem of her apron and smiled broadly at Mikahl. She ushered him to the side of the great bed and called for food and refreshments to be brought. Mikahl managed to introduce Master Sholt, and then listened as Lady Able proudly told him the reasonably stable state of things at Lakeside Castle. Mikahl only heard about half of it, and when she was done, he conveyed that the Highwander master wizard he had brought with him was at her service. After that he lay back in the soft feather bed and fell into a deep, much needed slumber.

Lady Able eyed Master Sholt suspiciously. She wasn’t sure what to think of Willa the Witch Queen’s master wizard. He and the High King both had burn scars about their neck and shoulders, and holes worn all through their dingy clothes. She wondered if she should find Master Sholt some frogs to eat to be hospitable. He looked to be as worn and weary as the High King was. Already he was snoring softly where he sat. Rest is what these men needed, she decided, and she left them to go find some clean garments for them to wear when they woke.

Flick sat at King Ra’Gren’s table. He had been busy flying along the western bank of the Leif Green River from one Settsted outpost to the next, rousting the zard and the marsh beasts, and giving them orders. He had returned to Ra’Gren’s palace to enlighten the man of his new plans.