Michael Mathias - Kings, Queens, Heroes, and Fools

For the first night since Jarrek’s soldiers had taken back the bottleneck, the encampment was quiet. At least until Lord Gregory told his wife that he wouldn’t be traveling to Dreen with her. Lady Trella’s anger rang through the night like a shrill bell hammered by an ornery child. Her rage was soon replaced with sobs of disappointment and worry. Eventually, though, the Lion Lord made her understand. He wasn’t going into battle, he was just staying to help make plans and advise King Jarrek as the High King would expect him to do. Despite her anger and disappointment, she made love to him. His ever dutiful sense of loyalty to the good of Westland and the realm was one of the things that had attracted her to him in the first place. He promised to come to her just as soon as things were worked out and the battle plans were made.

“You’d better,” she told him severely from his shoulder. “I didn’t suffer that crowded ship and that smelly dwarf just to be sent away once we got to the mainland. I would have been plenty safe back at the Lost Lion with Zasha and Wyndall.”

“Aye, m’lady,” Lord Gregory sealed his promises with kisses. “I’ll be with you again before you even get settled.”

“You’d better be,” she repeated, as she gave in to temptation and kissed him back. They made love again, and she managed to convince him to let her stay at Low Crossing with him for one more day. That way she could take the messages for General Spyra herself, at least that was the excuse she used to get him to agree. He didn’t like the idea of her staying, but he couldn’t resist her.

Two messengers arrived in the morning, one with news that made Jarrek swear and Sholt shake his head in disgust. Oarly and Lord Gregory, as well as General Diamondeen and a few others, hurried over to find out what had the normally reserved King of Wildermont cursing loudly in this pavilion.

“More Dakaneese cavalry arrived at Seareach during the night. Four, maybe five thousand men, and thrice as many are coming behind them.” Jarrek looked to the other messenger, who was holding a scroll case bearing the mark of Queen Rachel of Seaward. “Ra’Gren’s going to try and take back what we’ve just regained. He’ll have the men to do it this time.”

“And most likely a dragon riding wench in the sky too,” added Oarly.

Jarrek looked at the seal on the scroll he pulled from the case. The impression in the wax was one he didn’t recognize.

“Come on, General,” Oarly suggested to the leader of the dwarves. “Let’s go have a look at those tunnels you were telling me about.” He and General Diamondeen excused themselves while Jarrek opened the scroll and read it to himself.

At first Lord Gregory thought the Wolf King was laughing, but then the man wiped a tear from his cheek and sniffled.

“What is it, Majesty?” Sholt asked. He gave Lord Gregory a look. “As if we needed any more bad news.”

“Enough of the ‘Majesty’, Sholt,” Jarrek replied with a strange smile on his face. The tears were flowing freely now. “It’s not bad news this time. It’s amazing. Sir Hyden Hawk Skyler truly is one of the greatest wizards to ever grace this realm.”

“What?” Lord Gregory asked, not sure if he’d heard the Wolf King correctly. “According to the High King and Master Oarly, Hyden has yet to cast a spell that worked properly.”

“Let me see,” Sholt took the parchment from King Jarrek’s hand, and after skipping over the formalities, began to read it aloud:

“ ‘ 688 women and children of Wildermont, formally held in Dakahn, have arrived in Seaward City. Other ships carrying similar numbers have left Dakahn and are en route as well. Already we have negotiated the purchase of several thousand of your people’s freedom. As soon as the great treasure that Sir Hyden Hawk’s party found is recovered, we will proceed to extricate as many of them as possible. The transportation of such a number of freed slaves has become an issue, but I assure you that we are working on that problem as well. We were concerned that the wealth Ra’Gren is amassing because of our purchases might work against your other efforts, but after his vicious actions against innocents were reported to us, we decided to free as many of your people as we can, as quickly as we can, in order to save them from a similar fate.

Queen Rachel and Queen Willa are working to fund and provide food and shelter for them.’

“There’s more, but you get the gist.” Sholt shook his head at the wonder of it. “It’s signed by a Lord Northall, of Salazar.” He handed the curling parchment to Lord Gregory.

“Northall must have acted on Hyden’s initial suggestion with coins out of his own coffer,” Lord Gregory told them. “Captain Trant and Master Biggs couldn’t possibly have recovered any of the pirate booty yet. We just left them on Salazar Island a week ago.”

“It doesn’t matter why, or how,” King Jarrek said. “With ideas and words alone, that mountain boy cast a spell that has freed thousands of my people.”

“He is a remarkable young man,” Sholt agreed.

“I wouldn’t wish the burden he carries on the Dark One himself,” Lord Gregory said.

“How so?” asked Jarrek.

“He holds himself to blame for everything the Dragon Queen has done as of late. Apparently he had the chance to kill her once and didn’t do it.”

“We must call a war council, Your Highness… King Jarrek,” Sholt corrected. His expression showed that he didn’t like breaking the hopeful mood with the matters at hand. “We must be ready in case Ra’Gren or Queen Shaella try something. Far too many men are amassing to the south of the Seareach passage for us to do otherwise.”

“It would be a shame for all those who’ve just found freedom to not have a land to return to,” Lord Gregory observed. “It’s bad enough that they will have to come home to ruin, even if we do keep Ra’Gren out of Wildermont.”

“I tend to agree with what you were discussing yesterday evening, Lord Lion,” Jarrek said with a huff of defiance and some newfound determination in his voice. “I think it’s time to take the fight to the Dakaneese.”

Later, in a pavilion tent, around a couple of tables that had been pushed together and covered with maps, King Jarrek gathered his war council. Sholt, Lord Gregory, Oarly and General Diamondeen, along with several captains from the Seaward, Wildermont, and Valleyan forces, all stood in the crowded canvas structure listening to the sad count of troops, and the dire news of the preparations that the Dakaneese were making. The only good news was that Queen Rachel’s Seaward army would soon cross the Kahna River into Dakahn and hopefully give King Ra’Gren something other than the passage at Seareach to worry about.

“It’s not just the men you’ve got to worry about,” said Oarly dramaticly. “It’s the fargin dragons, and demons, and all them bald-headed wizards.” He was more than a little drunk.

“And don’t forget the Dragon Queen herself,” Sholt added. “She’s more powerful than any of her minions, I assure you.”

“How do we defend against them?” one of the cavalry captains asked. “Our archers have little effect, and we have no real defense against the spells they cast.”

“Unfortunately, my colleague Master Amill is with the Seaward army,” Sholt said. The heat of the bodies all crammed into the pavilion had him sweating. The salty perspiration was finding its way into the burns on his back and legs that hadn’t healed yet. He looked as uncomfortable as he felt. “I’ve asked Queen Willa to send some of our more accomplished apprentices, and any others who might be able to help shield the men from the arcane, but it will be days before they arrive.”