The Crown Of Yensupov (Book 3) (25 page)

“Tie’em up,” the ogre ordered. “We’ll takes’em back north after nightfall.”

“Can we eats the deer one?” an orc asked.

The ogre again thrust up his sword and the orcs all moved away. Curiosity got the better of the ogre. “Wonder why do the wraith want this band of worthless peoples?”

An orc leader shrugged his shoulders and turned away. The ogre stepped closer and looked over the circle of people. “What they wants you for?”

“We’re just travelers, you’ve got the wrong people,” Saxthor said.

The ogre shook his head.

When an orc brought some disgusting food for the prisoners, the ogre stepped over and kicked the bowl from his hand. The frightened orc scurried back to his comrades and watched the commander, perhaps fearing he’d get more of a beating.

Whispering, Bodrin asked, “Why are orcs that generally fear nothing so afraid of ogres?”

“Orcs fear ogres because they’re twice an orc’s size and even meaner,” Tournak said. “Ogres beat orcs for any reason. Since the sorcerer first bred orcs, orcs have feared ogres and wraiths. There’s no reprimanding an ogre that kills an orc; it’s an ogre’s right. That’s why ogres usually command the orcs. The ogres enjoy cruelty for its own sake, and the orcs know that, too.”

“Shut up over there,” the ogre said. He got up, came over to Tonelia and glared at her. She looked away. Bodrin jerked at his ropes.

“Leave the girl alone,” Saxthor said.

Fearless, the ogre spun around and backhanded Saxthor, knocking him over and visibly jarring the jewels in his tunic. Hands tied behind his back, Saxthor struggled to sit up. The grinning ogre approached Saxthor staring at the bulges in the tunic. “Them’s what they wants?” the ogre asked. “What you hiding there?”

The ogre reached down and grabbed at the jewels, as Saxthor turned away. With one huge hand, the ogre grabbed Saxthor’s tunic at his chest and snatched him to his feet. The ogre tore open a pocket Tonelia had sewn closed. A glistening jewel fell out on the ground. The sunlight that streamed into the forest exploded as it passed through the jewel radiating a red glow.

The surprised orcs jumped at the brilliant fiery rays from the Red Ruby of Courage before realizing the source was the jewel. Devoid of feelings for their companions, greed surged through the orcs. They rose as one and lunged for it. Their chaotic onslaught overpowered the ogre, whom they trampled in their frenzy to get the ruby. Orc turned on orc for the crystal and swords flashed in the dappled light until orc blood splashed all.

In the frenzied fight for the ruby, none noticed Saxthor and Bodrin, squirming toward swords dropped in the slaughter. Both were able to cut their ropes. Saxthor grabbed and pocketed the ruby. Staying on the ground and sliding to their companions, they were able to cut the others’ bonds.

The last half dozen orcs were fighting it out, when Saxthor and his companions jumped up and joined the fray. The orcs were exhausted from slaying their companions and were no match for Saxthor, Bodrin, and Tournak. Astorax had a sword, too, but was inexperienced in its use. He rose to aid the others.

“Stay with Tonelia, Astorax,” Saxthor said, Sorblade slashing at an orc.

“I want help, too,” Astorax said. He pulled out his sword.

An orc slipped around Bodrin and charged Astorax.

“No, you’ve no experience,” Bodrin said. He dispatched his adversary and turned to defend Astorax. The charging orc slashed the deer-man across his stomach before he could defend himself. Bodrin thrust his sword into the orcs’ side, but he was too late. Astorax fell to the ground mortally wounded, while the others fought and destroyed the last of the orcs.

Crying, Tonelia rushed to Astorax holding his head in her lap. “I can’t stop the bleeding.”

With the orcs dispatched, the others rushed over to Astorax surrounding him but were unable to help. Astorax’s life’s drained from him with his blood. He had a faint smile on his face, taking shallow breaths.

“I love you, Astorax,” Tonelia cried. “We’ve been through so much together, you can’t leave us now.” She looked up at the others with pleading eyes, but there was nothing they could do.

“Astorax saved us many times from certain death and now, in this skirmish with the stupid orcs, he’s mortally wounded,” Bodrin said.

“We all love you, my friend,” Saxthor said, choking. “You’re such a part of us all.” He squatted down and held Astorax’s hand.

Astorax gently squeezed Saxthor’s hand. “I know that; I’ve felt that.” Astorax winced, then the peaceful smile returned. He looked up into Saxthor’s eyes, and around to each of the others. “I lived half my life alone and have been feared by everyone around me. With you, I found acceptance and love. Don’t be sad for me. I’m going to be with my family and with Hendrel. I’ll take care of them until you, too, come to join us one day.”

They all wept openly as Astorax slipped away.

Saxthor turned to Bodrin. “We’ve been privileged to know this gentle man with the special ‘gifts’ who has taught us the meaning of acceptance, tolerance, understanding and sacrifice. He’s so appreciative of his friends and comradeship. He’s the heart of our band and now he’s leaving us. It’s too much to endure, and we just lost Hendrel, his best friend, too.”

They buried their friend on the grove’s eastern edge, where the morning sun would warm his grave. As they stood around the it, choking back tears, Saxthor broke the silence. “We can’t stay here to mourn him longer. The afternoon’s nearly gone, and we have to find another hiding place far from here before nightfall. Most likely, the orcs move along similar trails, and soon another cohort will come and find this massacre. They’ll want revenge, and we can’t press our luck with another orc cohort.”

Bodrin nodded, unable to speak. He put his arm around Tonelia, still weeping and hugged her.

“We understand,” Bodrin managed to say.

“We need to get to Sengenwhapolis as soon as possible,” Saxthor said. “There’ll be other wraiths looking for us as well, and those can travel fast on the night wind.”

The group gathered their belongings. Reluctantly, they left behind the woods heading south toward Sengenwhapolis.

Before he lost sight of the grave, Tournak looked back and said, “Rest in peace, Astorax. I hope you’re with Hendrel. We’ll all be together one day.”

Tonelia heard and looked over at Tournak. Tonelia, Bodrin and Tournak walked arm in arm down the path following Saxthor's lead.

Emotionally drained, Saxthor and his companions trudged along the edges of pastures and over rolling hills, seeking refuge for the night. As the afternoon wore on, it seemed they moved slower, finding no shelter, but sighted no orcs either.

After the recent disasters, Saxthor didn’t want to remain out in the open, exposed to passing wraiths. I don’t want to tell the others, but the second wraith that hovered over us must’ve followed our scent, he thought. How else could it have found us so fast out on the plain? If the sorcerer-king is sending wraiths with super-sensory abilities, the troupe is in for more trouble in the immediate future.

At dusk, they sighted what appeared to be a gully down between two rolling hills.

“It can’t be much protection, but it looks like the best we can find in the fast fading light,” Saxthor said. They hurried down the sloping land and discovered an area, where erosion dug out a small ravine deep enough to hide them.

“There’s even a dry ledge for us to sleep on,” Tonelia said. “If we don’t have a campfire, we shouldn’t be visible to prying eyes.”

They scurried into the ravine as night swallowed the last light. Tonelia pulled dried fruits and jerky from the packs without much enthusiasm and passed them around. Although not hungry, the men took the offerings with polite smiles.

“When do we get to Sengenwhapolis, Saxthor?” Tonelia asked, her exhausted tone sorrowful. She was repacking the knapsacks, as was her custom soon after they ate.

“I don’t really know, Tonelia.” She is preparing to escape fast if that becomes necessary, he thought. Exposed in the countryside, it’s quite possible we’d have to make an unexpected escape. Half his mind was on the survivors and half was on those gone. He brought his thoughts back to the living, hoping to cheer the others up.

“We should be there in a few days, two weeks at most, I should say. Bodrin, are you going to buy this nice lady a new outfit when we get to Sengenwhapolis?”

Bodrin came out of his memories and smiled at Tonelia. He gave her a little squeeze.

Tonelia looked at Saxthor and forced a tender smile. With one hand, she swept her hair back over her right ear and set Bodrin an exaggerated pose.

“He sure is, aren’t you, big boy?”

Bodrin blushed and looked at Saxthor, not Tonelia, “I don’t know; she never wears that special outfit I bought her in Hador.” He then winked at Tonelia, who exaggerated huffiness.

“Well if you two would take us somewhere besides caves and mudflats, I just might have a chance to wear that outfit.”

“She has a mind of her own,” Saxthor said. “She isn’t afraid to speak it, and we’re not afraid to work it.” The three grinned then laughed. It felt good to chuckle again. Then Saxthor caught sight of Tournak staring over the ledge.

“What is it, Tournak?”

“Maybe you’d better not laugh so loud.”

Tournak was watching the horizon against the rising moon. They ducked down and rose to the ravine’s edge just above their heads.

Saxthor moved to the ledge, past Tonelia already collecting their gear and supplies. “What do you make of it, Tournak?”

“Looks like an orc cohort. They’re moving along single file. I don’t think they’re following our trail.”

“From here, and in the dark, I can’t tell how far away they are,” Bodrin said. “Even if they cross our trail, it’s not likely they’ll realize it’s someone’s path in the dark. It’s a good thing the snow melted yesterday.”

“Keep an eye on them, Tournak,” Saxthor said. “If they change direction and move this way we’ll need to get out of here.” He turned away from the ledge. “There’re so many orcs moving south through Sengenwha.” Despair sounded in his voice.

Tournak looked back at Saxthor, but said nothing.

Saxthor turned away, where the others couldn’t see his face. All he could think of then was his mother the queen, and wonder whether, after so many years, she still thought of him. Has she prepared for the invasion that is building daily in the Sengenwhan marshes? And what is this little band going to do when we get to Sengenwhapolis? Why would the king allow so many orcs within his borders that could rise up and seize his throne? Had they already overthrown the king? Was King Calamidese so evil that he approved of this wholesale invasion of his country that will eventually enslave his own people? What am I leading my remaining friends into, Saxthor wondered.

When he went to sleep after his watch, he dreamed about his mother. In his dream, she was as he remembered her before Memlatec had spirited Bodrin and him into exile. It was his mother and not the queen that held him when he was frightened as a small child. She held him now in the dream. Then she faded away, and Saxthor awoke, searching for the reason she did so. He realized it was a dream, but it had been years since he dreamed of her so vividly. It seems ominous that he’d do so now.

Saxthor went back to sleep after drawing Sorblade to be sure it didn’t glow. This time he dreamed they were before King Calamidese in Sengenwhapolis. They were in chains and a wraith peered into a crystal ball looking for the same things they’d been hunting for. Then the wraith looked up, its yellow eyes and mouth stood out in the dark form. Excited, its horn tips glowed red, and the wraith held up a huge glowing stone.

“Is this what you’re looking for?” the dream-wraith asked, holding up the jewel in his claws. The vile grin glowed in the dark face. Again, the shock woke Saxthor, who got up and joined Bodrin on watch.

“What’re you doing up?” Bodrin asked.

“Just couldn’t sleep.” Saxthor didn’t want to trouble Bodrin with his dreams.

* * *

Queen Eleatsubetsvyertsin and the Prince Consort Augusteros were walking in their private palace garden in Konnotan. The winter winds had died down and the light covering of snow accented the garden’s sculptural forms. A hellebore stood out above the snow, having recently opened its flush of dark pink flowers.

“Look there, my dear,” Augusteros said, nodding toward the hellebore. She looked at the flowers bright against the snow and squeezed his hand in a private moment of shared affection. The queen walked over to the winter flower, looked at it then beamed a smile back at Augusteros.

”The rich pink seems warm against the snow.”

She bent down to lift the flower and look into its bold, waxy face. Instead, she slumped to the ground.

“Are you all right, my dear?” Prince Augusteros asked, leaning forward to help his wife of so many years to regain her footing.

It wasn't her footing that failed. The queen fell forward onto the flowerbed as the prince tried to hold her and give her support. She was a petite lady; she prided herself that she had always kept her figure, but the prince wasn’t able to pick her up at his age and condition either.

“Help us!” Augusteros yelled. He struggled to lift the queen up, but she sank to the ground despite his efforts.

Two palace guards at the garden entrance rushed over to help. They picked up the queen ever so gently; their love and respect for their monarch expressed in tenderness. The guards took the queen to her private bedchamber and laid her on the bed.

By then the queen’s personal herbalist came rushing in after an emergency summons. The ladies-in-waiting changed the queen into her bedclothes and positioned her comfortably for resting. Prince Augusteros was at her side. Her breathing was irregular and she was only semiconscious.

“What does the court herbalist say about the queen’s condition?” Prince Augusteros asked.

“I’ve prepared a tea to thin her blood, but, Your Highness, I must tell you, I’m not hopeful,” the fidgeting herbalist said. “Her condition is grave.”

“Well, what’s wrong with her?” Augusteros asked wide-eyed. The Prince Consort had been the queen’s calm stabilizer for forty years, but now he was agitated, wringing his hands and pacing. He looked at Eleatsubetsvyertsin, and then back at the herbalist.

“A sort of paralysis that affects one side of her body struck her down. I can try to thin her blood, but there isn’t a lot that I can do.”

“Can Wizard Memlatec’s power help? We’ve sent for him to come at once.”

“I don’t think even the wizard’s magic can extend the time of man,” the herbalist said. “He may try what he thinks will help. I only know the power of the natural healing, Your Highness.”

Augusteros noticed the man’s lip trembling.

Everyone in the room and the small reception chamber outside waited for improvement in the queen’s health. Fear and worry were everywhere. How long before the queen recovers? What will happen if the queen passes away? Who will succeed? Where is the crown prince? Where is our lost Prince Saxthor? Courtiers kept filling the private reception room beyond the queen’s bedchamber as word of the queen’s collapse spread through the palace.

The chatra rushed to Prince Consort Augusteros as soon as he heard of the queen’s condition. Augusteros granted Chatra Rakmar permission to kiss the queen’s hand. Then he returned to Augusteros.

“Your Highness, rest assured I shall attend to matters within the palace to keep the government running smoothly and to calm the people’s fears.”

“We authorize you, Lord Chatra, to do what is necessary to maintain order during this crisis.” Augusteros turned and looked over at the queen. “I shall be away but a moment, my dear,” he said to Eleatsubetsvyertsin, though he doubted she could hear him.

The prince went to a small writing table and wrote out a statement about the queen’s condition. He rose and motioned the chatra to him.

“Have this copied and posted around the palace. I want to quiet the court and prevent rumors from spreading that could cause panic.”

The chatra bowed and withdrew to attend to the court functions. Augusteros wrote a letter to the crown prince in Powteros to return immediately or forfeit his claim to the throne. The prince gave the letter, sealed with the royal seal, to his aide to take with all speed and hand deliver to Crown Prince Augusteros at Engwaniria, capital of the Powterosian Empire. Then Augusteros returned and sat on the bed beside his wife.

“I’ll be here if she needs me,” he told the herbalist. He held her hand, then, hearing the hum of constant conversation speculating on the queen’s condition, he rose and turned to the room.

“We appreciate your concern, but would the officials and courtiers, except the herbalist and the queen’s ladies-in-waiting, please wait outside in the reception room?”

Augusteros sat again beside the queen on her bed. He lovingly caressed his wife’s hand and brushed back her hair, while he waited for her recovery.

“She likes her hair to be presentable at all times,” Augusteros said to the herbalist almost like a child, grabbing for anything reassuring rather than face something he can’t endure.

After a time, the queen rallied and regained consciousness. She cleared her throat and looked around. “I never should have tried to make a hellebore hold its face up,” the queen said. There was a frail smile on her trembling lips. The prince patted her hand and let her say whatever she wanted. “We had a pretty good run, didn’t we, my love?” She looked up at him, and he felt his eyes watering, wiping away a tear in her eye.

“We did magnificently, my dear,” the prince replied choking back his tears.

“Father would have been proud that we restored the kingdom’s fortunes after his death.”

Augusteros saw fleeting strength in her eye, a look of pride on her face. He patted her hand and nodded; he wanted to answer without robbing her of her time to speak.

“Remember how bad things looked then?” She looked up at the ceiling, and he saw she was remembering. “We showed them what true royalty is, and how majesty can restore the confidence of a nation. We showed a nation how to believe in itself and fight back.” She noted his smiling confirmation.

He nodded. “Yes, my dear, you did.” Augusteros didn’t see the limp side of her face, or hear the slur of her words from that side of her mouth. How beautiful the queen was to him, as beautiful then as the queen he’d loved all his life. “I’m so proud of your strength and accomplishment through all the trials and tribulations of our years together. We’ll show them yet again.” He squeezed her hand.

After so many years together, they understood each other’s thoughts even without speaking. Emotional pain was seizing him, but he patted her feeble hand and forced a smile.

I must hold myself together so my pain won’t show and frighten her, he thought.

“Our poor son Augusteros, he had it all and threw it away,” the queen said. A tear rolled from the side of her eye. Augusteros tenderly dabbed it with his handkerchief. “Augusteros could’ve been such a king if he hadn’t weakened and given in to self-indulgence.” She looked at the ceiling; not wanting her disappointment to reflect on her husband. “We do all we can as parents and hope for the best.”

“The boy will come to his senses soon, my dear. I've sent for him to come at once.”

“He won’t come, Augusteros, you know he won’t.” The queen couldn’t hold back her tears and so gave in to the years of disappointment. “His interests lie elsewhere and he’s been so long away from Konnotan and Neuyokkasin, he feels nothing for his people.”

“He’ll come, my dear, you’ll see,” the prince said, refusing to accept that their eldest son wouldn’t return now.