Michael Mathias - Kings, Queens, Heroes, and Fools

Battle Lord Ra’Carr gave out a defiant cry and charged the lines of Jarrek’s force right behind the remaining hellcat. The call he gave was, “For Ra’Gren! For your king!”

The hellcat ravaged a path for the Dakaneese to fill and much ground was lost. Jarrek’s estimation had been premature, but then another battle cry rang out, a deep and savage call. Jarrek looked around to find the Lord of Locar trying desperately to get a clear line of fire for his weapon. Jarrek almost laughed at the welcome sight. Then he stood in his stirrups and tried to help the half-breed. “Clear back from it,” he screamed, urging others to repeat his cry. “Clear away from the flying beast.”

Whatever happened next worked for the breed giant because Bzorch fired a spear. The hellcat gave out a horrible shriek as the barbed bolt shot through its gut. It flew up into the air, but couldn’t get away. Three breed giants had the other end of the rope. The hellcat looked like a huge malformed kite, swooping and twisting in the wind as it tried furiously to get itself free. But the barbs on the spear, and the rope, held it true. The three breed giants on the ground, heaved and pulled, and heaved and pulled, slowly dragging the creature down to the blades waiting below.

While this was going on, the Dakaneese pulled out of the bottleneck. Jarrek’s men held their position instead of pursuing. Having lost the passage, the Dakaneese soon realized there was nothing left to fight for here. Slowly, the sounds of battle fell away. To punctuate the end of the bloody ordeal the Lord of Locar let out a deep primal yell as he bodily beat the last bit of life out of the skewered hellcat. It was a victory scream, and feeling the rush of conquest surge through them, King Jarrek, and many of the men, raised their swords and joined in the call.

Seeing the Shepherds’ Goddess raising sail and easing away from them made Mikahl shiver. The little rowboat he and Hyden were in was heavily loaded with supplies that they knew were ultimately useless, and the slow rolling waves were huge. Mikahl let out a nervous laugh. Beyond the ship, the bright amber sun was setting.

“What’s funny?” Hyden asked, as he gathered up the oars and began to row them away from the sun.

“You and I, Hyden,” Mikahl laughed again, shaking his head in disbelief. “We’re either daft or just plain ignorant.” He turned away from the silhouette of the departing ship and looked at Hyden. Hyden had bright rays and a bunch of long dark hair in his face and was squinting. “We’re miles from land in a fargin rowboat, with the sun going down no less. What if we get switched around and row all night in the wrong direction? What if the current carries us right into Kingsport? We’d be caught and killed. What if…?”

Hyden spoke over him. “What if you quit acting like a worried old crone?” Hyden joked at his friend’s obvious nervousness. “In all of our travels, Mik, you’ve been the brave one. You’re the reckless swordsman, the one who shows no fear.” Hyden looked around them, and for a fleeting moment he felt as insignificant as an insect. “You’re afraid of the sea, aren’t you?” he asked with a grin.

“Not while I’m on a ship,” Mikahl admitted, with a scowl at Hyden’s mirth. His scowl faded as Hyden’s grin slowly turned into a shocked look of fear.

“Oh gods, Mik,” Hyden gasped, pointing behind Mikahl toward the sunset. “It’s a giant serpent!” Mikahl’s eyes grew wide and he twisted around clutching the sides of the boat.

Hyden burst into laughter. “You… are… as white… as a ghost,” he managed between guffaws.

“Stow it,” Mikahl growled. “That wasn’t funny.”

“Oh yes, it was,” Hyden laughed even harder. After a moment his glee subsided. He started rowing again and spoke in a somewhat serious tone. “You’d rather be out here at night, Mikahl, trust me. The sun would burn us alive, especially since you’re wearing your mail.” He shook his head at his friend’s lack of forethought. “Can you swim in that?”

Mikahl looked at him a moment then began peeling off his belts and packs so that he could get out of his mail.

“I don’t know why you even brought it.” Hyden began laughing again. “We’re supposed to swim through the underwater passage into the Dragon Queen’s dungeon. What were you thinking?”

Mikahl couldn’t help but laugh with his friend, though his laugh was tinted with sarcasm. “It’s a good day’s hike from where we’re making land, just to get to the lake.” He paused to get the shirt of armor over his head. “I brought it in case we’re attacked on the way.”

Talon called out from overhead, and after circling the rowboat, came swooping in to join them.

“Talon is our compass,” said Hyden. “You’ve forgotten who you’re traveling with, Mik. I’m a wizard with a familiar that can sense the land, even now. ”

“A jester and a glorified chicken is more like it,” Mikahl returned.

Talon cawed his disapproval of the remark.

“All right, Talon,” Mikahl conceded. “A jester and his chicken hawk.”

Talon flew to Hyden’s end of the boat and settled into a coil of rope on the floorboards as if it were a nest. Hyden rowed until the moon was above the sea, then turned the oars over to Mikahl.

It would be impossible to go the wrong way, Mikahl decided. The lights of Kingsport were tiny, yet clearly visible to the northeast. A glance over his right shoulder at them, every few pulls, kept him confident of his course. Before long, the sounds of the waves breaking against the rough shoreline told them that they were close. Talon took back to the sky and flew overhead. Hyden shared Talon’s vision, and the hawkling guided them safely to land.

“Should we wait until dawn?” Hyden asked.

“Aye,” Mikahl replied. “Let’s rest our arms, and at first light I’ll get my bearings. There is still a wild thing or two in this part of Westland. They don’t call Lord Gregory the Lion Lord for nothing.”

“There are lions in Westland?”

“Of course there are; far worse things too.” Mikahl shook his head as if to think otherwise was absurd. “Why would Westland’s banner boast a prancing lion if there were no lions in Westland?”

“Westland’s banner is the lightning star now,” Hyden reminded. “Or haven’t you been paying attention.”

Mikahl growled as they pulled the little boat up through the surf onto the shore. Once it was secured safely in the underbrush they ventured a few hundred feet inland and made camp.

“They call it a lightning star,” Mikahl said, “but I have to agree with Lord Gregory. It looks more like a fancy yellow snowflake.”

“They have a saying about yellow snow in the mountains where I come from,” Hyden said.

“Exactly,” Mikahl watched with curiosity as Hyden lit a small fire with a flame he conjured to his fingertip. “You’ll do loads of damage with that spell,” he commented dryly.

Hyden laughed and shook his head. “Go to sleep, Mik. I’ll take the first watch.”

Mikahl lay back and closed his eyes, but he dared not sleep. If he did he might dream, and that was the last thing he wanted to do now that he was back in Westland.

Dawn came sooner than either of them expected. They decided to leave the excess supplies Raspaar’s crew had loaded into the dinghy for them. They ended up flipping the boat upside down over the stuff and covering it with brush, but it was a hasty job and would only be camouflaged from distant passersby. Anyone who came close would be able to spot the deception. They hoped that they wouldn’t need the boat to make a retreat from Westland later, but neither truly thought that a clean escape in the little tub was a likely conclusion to this incursion. This was an all or nothing gambit, and both of them were committed to it.