Michael Mathias: Kings, Queens, Heroes, and Fools

The two of them were alone, but the table held enough food for twenty. Huge game birds, both fried and baked, several types of fish, and edible crustaceans, along with a good sized honey-glazed piglet were among the many different dishes laid out before Ra’Gren and his sole guest.

The King of Dakahn could afford such opulence a thousand times over, Flick knew. After Pael had leveled Castlemont he’d ordered King Glendar to load the gold and jewels they pulled from the wreckage onto wagons and haul them to O’Dakahn with the survivors of King Jarrek’s kingdom. The wagon train of slaves and wealth had been given to Ra’Gren, not only as payment for arming and armoring the zard troops Shaella had used to take Westland, but also to purchase several ships that had eventually sailed, carrying King Glendar and his personal battalions. A strange illness had come over the King’s ship and it was reported that the captains of the other vessels set it afire and sank it so that the affliction died with it.

Flick wasn’t interested in Pael or Glendar, though, he was curious as to what happened to the men from those other two ships. He knew something about them that no one else knew. As he had done with his entire army, Pael had poisoned those men and spelled them to rise again after death. Flick had an idea how to use those few hundred undead, if he could find them.

After hearing how Flick planned to save O’Dakahn from the mass of eastern soldiers that were marching across Dakahn unhindered, Ra’Gren happily sent out orders to seek out and capture the men that Flick was interested in. Ra’Gren knew who captained those ships. Other men on the docks would know who the crews were as well. Some of them would be easily found, and information about the others could be gained from them. It was a small price to pay to have the new, self-proclaimed Dragon King of Westland, and his army of skeeks, crush King Jarrek and Queen Willa’s forces against his walls when they arrived to put him under siege.

Mikahl woke to a grave faced Master Sholt. The High King had slept for two whole days. Sholt stubbornly wouldn’t tell him what had him looking so somber until after Mikahl bathed, put on fresh clothes, and ate a healthy meal. Only then did the Xwardian wizard explain what he’d found.

“Turned to stone,” Sholt said. “A fine white marble like substance anyway? He had an elven ring of invisibility on when he was transformed, or petrified, however you want to classify it. It won’t come off without breaking the finger off with it. Without a spell, or a handful of flour, you can’t even see him.” Sholt rubbed his eyes with a thumb and a forefinger then sighed heavily. He was exhausted. Casting the spell required to see Phen while examining him, had drained him.

Mikahl put down his goblet. His eyes were filled with sadness. “That’s terrible,” he mumbled. “It won’t be easy breaking the news to Master Oarly.” He looked at the ceiling. “Isn’t there a way to break the spell?”

“Before I answer, Your Highness, there’s more.” Master Sholt stood and walked to the large window of the small private dining room. “It seems that Talon, Sir Hyden Hawk’s familiar, was guarding over Phen when it happened. The bird is in the same condition as the boy.”

“Talon,” Mikahl growled and stood abruptly up from the table. His sadness slowly morphed into an angry simmer. “Can’t you do anything? Can Master Amill? What will it take?”

Sholt held up a hand, trying to politely stall the High King’s emotion. “I don’t know yet,” he said honestly. “There may be ways to undo what’s been done, but I must study the situation. I don’t want to exaggerate the sliver of hope I hold. When I say sliver, I mean parchment thin, Your Highness.”

“Aye,” Mikahl sighed. Over the last few years he had lost more friends than he could count on his hands. With Hyden gone, and Phen and Talon possibly dead as well, he didn’t think that he could feel any more sorrow than he already did. “You have my leave to do anything and everything necessary to revive them, Master Wizard. Spare nothing,” Mikahl said sternly. It was all he could do.

“Rest assured, I will do all I can,” Sholt promised.

A long hour later, after a trip to the guard barracks where he’d often trained in his youth, Mikahl was wearing a heavy hauberk over his clean shirt, and flying east on the bright horse. He was going to join Oarly, and King Jarrek. He had no idea how far south they had gotten while he slept, so he flew over the marshes, hoping to find them close to O’Dakahn. As he passed over some of the deepest swamp he’d ever seen, he noticed a flurry of activity below. A large group of creatures was moving through the overgrown terrain with a purpose. He circled lower and made a few passes. He scared up a small flock of the big long-beaked dactyls, but saw nothing like what he thought he’d seen. A few large gekas and a pair of zard-men rooting around in an area that was infested with snappers was all. They were probably hunting. As he winged the magical pegasus back on a southerly course, he wondered why he’d thought he’d seen so many things moving. Tired eyes he told himself.

When the marshlands were behind him, and he was over Dakahn, he flew south, pushing the bright horse’s pace to its limits. He experimentally took some sharp turns and other evasive maneuvers. He’d seen how agile the dragon was in flight and wanted to mimic that grace. If he met Flick again in the air, he wanted to know what his own capabilities were. After only a few attempts to move as the dragon had, he knew that there was no way to out fly the wyrm. With its long tail to balance it, it could spin and stop, or twist in midair, right out of a streaking dive. With its elongated neck it could fly in one direction and attack with its acidy breath in another.

The one thing Mikahl knew for certain was that he did not want to be anywhere below the dragon. He knew he would have to be more than lucky to win a battle with a creature like that. He hoped it didn’t come down to an aerial confrontation, but he was pretty sure that it would. How else could he keep the wyrm off of the troops? Maybe one of the breed giants would get lucky and pull the nasty black bastard out of the sky.

Breed giants! Mikahl shook his head in angry wonder. The breed acted controlled, almost civil, while he and Jarrek were speaking. They weren’t the savage animalistic beasts he remembered from Coldfrost. Mikahl wondered what sort of an arrangement Jarrek had made with them. The way Lord Gregory passed the subject on to the old Red Wolf made Mikahl wonder. He trusted Lord Gregory and King Jarrek explicitly, though, so he decided to let that concern wait until another day.

Mikahl wondered what King Aldar would say about the situation. He knew that the true full-blooded giants hated the breed. He found that he didn’t relish his role as High King of the realm. There was far too much to worry about, too many responsibilities and decisions to weigh. His old horse, Windfoot, a good long bow, and a camp in the Reyhall Forest, or the Northwood, sounded far better. No battles, no dragons or demons, no slaves or skeeks, just a good old fashioned hunt for a boar or a stag. He could almost smell the pine needles and feel the soft earth under his boots.

His reverie was broken by the sight of not only Jarrek’s small group and the tattered Red Wolf banner they still carried, but another far larger force flying the rising sun of Seaward, the Blacksword of Highwander, as well as the red and yellow checkered Valleyan shield. From his vantage point in the sky he could see the dark smear to the south that was O’Dakahn. It was a huge metropolis, larger than Xwarda, Southport, and Dreen combined. The size of the encampments of soldiers below paled in comparison, and suddenly Mikahl didn’t feel so confident with their plan. Pael had failed to take Xwarda with an army that was twice as big, with soldiers that couldn’t die. He decided that, as soon as he landed, all the commanders and wizards, all of the kings, and queens as well, needed to be gathered. If he had no choice other than to be the High King of the realm, then at least he was going to try and be a good one.