The Crown Of Yensupov (Book 3) (34 page)

Tournak dashed in. “Are you all right?”

Saxthor slumped and Tournak caught him as he sank to the floor.

Saxthor felt more alive than in any time in his life. I am the Yamma-Mirra Heedra, he thought. The dragon is the projected manifestation of my own being. We’re one. This is the power Memlatec spoke of.

He rested for a moment, adjusting to the new realization of his own potential.

“What’s the holdup? Come on,” Bodrin said, sticking his head back into the room. He sniffed, smelling the smoke and sulfur. They both stared at Saxthor, who still radiated an intense aura.

“Give us a minute,” Tournak said.

“Something incredible has happened to Saxthor.” Bodrin said. “Look at his face. I saw that look once before, when he came out of the dragon’s lair.” Bodrin’s sword hung in his hand.

“He destroyed a wraith with his own force,” Tournak said, staring.

“A wraith?” Bodrin asked.

“What’re you dragging your feet about back here?” Tonelia chimed in, sticking her head between Tournak and Bodrin in the doorway. “You boys are always playing with fire. If I wasn’t here to keep an eye on you, you’d burn the place down.”

Saxthor and Tournak stared at each other. Bodrin stared at Tonelia.

“What did I say?” Tonelia looked to each of them with palms turned up and her mouth open. Saxthor and Tournak shook their heads. Tonelia helped Bodrin, Tournak helped Saxthor, and the four of them followed the king and embassy staff out through the tunnel under the city. They came out in a thicket beyond the walls and waited for Saxthor and King Calamidese to lead them to Botahar.

Bodrin walked up beside Tournak. “Something sure happened back there.”

“He’s not a young man anymore,” Tournak said.

Saxthor sensed his regal self-assurance gave them all courage and a sense of security just being near him. The Sengenwhan princess royal, Dagmar, was first outside of Saxthor’s immediate group to notice it.

* * *

Although they didn’t know it, the master-wraith’s destruction shattered the will of the orc contingents in Sengenwhapolis. The ogres kept the cohorts under control with whips, but the orcs were frightened of something powerful enough to destroy the most powerful wraith they’d ever seen. Fearing the source that destroyed the wraith was still in Sengenwhapolis, the orcs wouldn’t leave their protected places. That kept them in the city, and no one pursued the refugees as they fled across the hills toward Botahar.

In Dreaddrac, the Dark Lord ranted for days. The power surge, then collapse collapse had drained his own strength, as another of his master-wraiths evaporated. He noted his cowering attendants felt his power loss, too. Hesitant at first, Smegdor helped him up from the floor. Once up, the king shoved him away, causing Smegdor to fall backward onto the floor.

“I’ve only the orc armies, my last master-wraith, and my new prize, Magnosious left to stop the prince and secure the crown. What power spares this prince? How could I have overlooked and underestimated him so long?

“The orcs pose no threat to the prince. He’s destroyed four wraiths, two of your majesty’s most powerful,” Smegdor said.

“I can’t rely on the last wraith to succeed either. I’d hoped to retain Magnosious to support the armies, when they march south, but I must stop the prince before he gets back to Konnotan and unites his power with Memlatec’s. I have to send my best dragon to destroy the Neuyokkasinian prince, as was Earwig’s intent in the first place.”

The Dark Lord went to the dragons’ grotto, high on Munattahensenhov’s summit. Though snow covered the mountain, heat from the furnaces far below warmed the dragons’ stable.

“Hurry up, Smegdor,” the Dark Lord said.

He stood at the grotto’s entrance sizing up the giant reptiles. They stamped about in their individual stalls, snorting fire and tossing about the crumpled orc cadavers left after they’d eaten their fill. Sour decaying manure gases mixed with smoke and soot, seeping from the opening. The stench was stifling. Smegdor struggled, climbing the cliff, but his labored breathing and wrenched body only annoyed the self-absorbed wizard.

“Magnosious is the herd’s prize beast,” the Dark Lord said, patting Magnosious’ clawed toe. He looked at Smegdor, gasping for air, then indifferent, looked back at the dragon. “Magnosious is unequaled in size, ferocity, and devotion. Ironic isn’t it, Earwig doted on him as the only thing she thought liked her, and he despised her.” He chuckled indifferent to Smegdor holding his nose.

“She fattened him on condemned prisoners, exercised him over the sulfurous fumes of The Crypt, and taught him every sly underhanded cruelty she could devise. The dragon can snort fire farther and hotter than any dragon in the stable and stamp out whole villages in a single rampage. If anyone can stop the powerful prince, it will be Magnosious.”

Smegdor nodded.

When the sun warmed the winter morning near midday, the Dark Lord released Magnosious from his stall. “Search out and destroy this Prince Saxthor, traveling somewhere in Sengenwha. You won’t need his scent as Earwig thought. You’ve heard of him, your mistress told you about him before. Magnosious, you’re a clever dragon, you can find the prince. Don’t fail me in this. I had you brought into being for just such a purpose.”

Cold as granite, Magnosious flicked his long thin tongue and nodded, snorting fire.

“No restrictions,” Magnosious said.

“You understand me then, good, and no restrictions. You’ll be able to find the prince without his scent?”

Nodding without looking back, the dragon stamped to the grotto opening, faced the wind and leapt into the air. His great wings whipped out in elegant arcs, the smooth skin between the bones caught the wind and snapped taut as sails. Before his great bulk crashed on the snow-covered rocks below, the monstrous reptile flapped his wings with powerful, deliberate strokes, rising above the Munattahensenhov. He circled the mountain using the rising air currents from the subterranean furnaces to gain altitude and soared three times around the mountain peak, gaining airspeed. Comfortable with his flight, Magnosious straightened his course and sailed off in the sun toward Sengenwha.

* * *

The Dark Lord's third master-wraith knew at once, when Saxthor disintegrated his sibling in Sengenwhapolis. With the second master-wraith’s demise, the third abandoned organizing the border orcs and flew to Sengenwhapolis to identify and trace the culprit, which vaporized his kindred wraiths.

* * *

In the palace, Memlatec was in consultation with Prince Regent Augusteros. They were assessing what they might do to bolster the kingdom’s defenses.

“General Sekkarian holds Hoya and monitors the garrison at Talok Tower to the east,” Memlatec said. “General Socockensmek has arrived and is building his new army at Heedra for defense of Hyemka and Heedra, but their training will take time. Those two cities have no defensive fortresses, where the general can garrison the new army.

The nearest castilyernov is Favriana Fortress at the southern tip of Lake Pundar. The Castilyernov Fortresska overlooking Olnak is strong and its garrison adequate, but it’s to the extreme west. In short, the southern border with Sengenwha is vulnerable.”

“Is there any way you can think of to strengthen the border before the orcs’ attack in the spring?” Prince Augusteros asked. “My generals demand more troops and castilyernovs. It’s too late to build another stronghold.”

“I’ve thought on the matter, a lot, but I’ve no solutions as yet. Let’s hope General Socockensmek can train his army in time to thwart and assault. You must begin building a wall around Heedra and a castilyernov there. What news of Crown Prince Augusteros? It’s a painful subject, but Your Majesty needs to settle the succession.”

There was a long silence. The regent’s whole body slumped and he lowered his head. He turned from the map table and went to the window, where he stared blankly out at the horizon.

“I don’t think he’s coming home.” His lowed head exhaled a deep sigh.

The queen’s death and the cold rebuff of his heir have drained the man, thought Memlatec. “Your Majesty must decide the succession. The chatra has asked me to approach Your Majesty on the subject.” Memlatec walked over to the window and stood beside Augusteros. Both looked off at the horizon. “If the crown prince refuses to return home, he must renounce his claim to the throne in favor of Prince Saxthor.”

“Yes, I know that. We waited so long for young Augusteros to come to his senses, but he’s not coming back.” The wind, whipping his thin hair, magnified his desolation.

“Your Highness must name Prince Saxthor as Prince of Hoya so there’ll be some succession plan. If anything should happen to you, the nobles won’t support the princess royal on the throne alone. You must look at the situation realistically. They’ll build individual armies. The kingdom will disintegrate into civil war among warlords. Without the succession established, young Augusteros may raise an imperial army and challenge Saxthor for the throne at a later date.”

The regent turned back into the room and went to the map table. He ran his hand over the cool parchment as if feeling the kingdom’s topography. “We’ll make arrangements with the chatra tomorrow for the investiture of Prince Saxthor as Prince of Hoya in absentia. My sons are strangers to me.”

“Well, you should be very proud of Saxthor, Your Majesty.”

Augusteros’ health is failing with his will to live. If I don’t change the subject, he’ll descend into melancholy, Memlatec thought. “We must call up soldiers from Lemnos as well. In event the enemy overruns the armies along the Nhy; you’ll need an army to defend Konnotan until other forces come to relieve the siege.”

Augusteros nodded his assent to this as well.

Memlatec saw he hadn’t been listening. He was looking far away. “Thank you, Your Majesty, for your time and attention,” Memlatec said. He bowed, but the prince was still looking off some place, where he went alone.

The prince waved permission to withdraw to the wizard without looking. Memlatec left to discuss the orders with the chatra for the next day. The regent wouldn’t remember the details, and Memlatec wanted the chatra to have the decrees written up for the regent’s signature in any event.

Following his brief meeting with the chatra, Memlatec returned to his tower in the hills. He trudged into his home late at night and found old Aleman sitting in a chair, propped back against the wall by the door, sound asleep and snoring.

I’m exhausted, but this is my chance, he thought.

“Fire! Thieves!” Memlatec yelled next to Aleman’s good ear.

Aleman leapt up in stark terror, but because of the angle, fell back onto the falling chair, dumping the old man on the floor. Then Aleman, head spinning, saw Memlatec bent over him, laughing. The befuddled housekeeper got up and dusted himself off. He brushed back the remnants of his disheveled hair and cleared his throat, while giving Memlatec the evil eye.

“I’m leaving this very night.” Aleman jerked a single affirming nod. “I’m not appreciated here. I was sitting up to see if you needed anything, when you got back, and this is the thanks I get.”

“Leaving…you…leaving?” Memlatec’s grinning face pinched serious as he could make it and still be credible. “You might as well; with you on guard at the door, thieves could steal the whole tower and you wouldn’t wake up. Only that snoring frightens them away.”

Aleman puffed up his chest and stuck out his lip. “You’ll never find anyone else that’ll take care of this dump like I do.” Aleman brushed himself off and regained his composure. “What you pay me wouldn’t support a rat. You know you won’t find anyone else to work as cheap as I do. You just take advantage of me because I’m old and have nowhere else to go.”

This saucy old man can hold his own with a wizard, Memlatec thought. “You mean feeble, don’t you? I pay you too much, and in turn, you creep up to my workroom and shuffle the ingredients in my cases. Now take your tired old self off to bed, or I’ll have to nurse you in your convalescence tomorrow.” Memlatec started down the hall to his bedroom.

“Why should I climb all those stairs to make a mess in that dust bin just to confuse your muddled mind?” Aleman snapped.

Memlatec glanced at him; Aleman still grumbled, ambling off to bed.

“I feel refreshed after that little tiff,” Memlatec said to the owl that landed on the balcony rail with a rat dangling from his beak. “After all, I got the best of him. That old man would’ve made a tenacious wizard. I must make a mental note to be nice first thing in the morning to keep him off guard.”

With that, Memlatec made notes for the next day and went to bed.

* * *

By morning, Saxthor and King Calamidese had brought the refugees east into the hills above Sengenwhapolis. Just before dawn, they could see fires burning in the city behind them. The orcs hadn’t followed them, so the refugees stopped to mourn the city, eat, and rest. The forest was thick there, and the people could hide at a moment’s notice if necessary.

-

I’m an urban wren for sure
,
thought Twit, but the experience in Sengenwhapolis was enough to make a bird love the countryside. I miss my perch in Astorax’s antlers and the man too. I’ll make do on Tonelia’s shoulder. She’s less tolerant of my gastrointestinal activity for sure, but I think she’s developing a soft spot for my charming self. That girl can sure swat at an old arthritic bird, when he makes a mistake. Oh, well.

-

Twit flew up in the tree, where he could watch the horizon for the enemy and not be bothered about his housekeeping.

“Where to now?” Bodrin asked. “Are we still going to Botahar?” He was unconsciously picking leaves off a bush, while talking with Saxthor, King Calamidese, and the ambassador about their next move.

“Yes, that’s our destination,” Saxthor said. “We need to get there before the Dark Lord’s forces regroup and come after us. With no leader and the city in disarray, the wizard-king will have to send a new commander to regain control over the orcs.”

“Who knows how long it will take for them to realize we fled from the burning embassy and escaped,” the ambassador said. He puffed up and grinned at everyone near him.

“We should be in Botahar by then,” Calamidese said.

“We must move on fast. We don’t know how soon that will happen,” Bodrin said. A leaf ripped, making them edgy.

“We don’t know Botahar’s situation either,” Calamidese said.

The king is very pale, and his face droops
,
Bodrin thought, turning from side to side, testing the welts on his back. My wounds still hurt, too.

“The orcs’ strength around Botahar will affect how we approach the city,” Saxthor said.

“Botahar is under the control of a very capable general,” the king said. “He won’t surrender the town. I doubt the orcs converged on it. Before last night, Dreaddrac didn’t want their threat or positions known. Their forces are primarily on the southern border. I expect the wraith ordered the orcs throughout central Sengenwha to the capital.”

“Now that we’ve rested and eaten, we must get moving again,” Saxthor said. He and Bodrin turned to the assembled refugees, “Fill your canteens for the journey east. We don’t know the situation on the other side of these hills.”

With Bodrin and a guide in the lead, they hiked through the lush hills east of Sengenwhapolis, the forest providing cover. On the eastern slopes, they looked down on the plains between them and Botahar.

“Send an embassy soldier ahead to scout out the area around the city and determine if it’s safe for us to go there,” Saxthor told the ambassador. “Meanwhile, we’ll continue moving east, as fast as the ladies can travel.”

Bodrin brought the exhausted soldier to Saxthor, when he returned days later. “Botahar is aware that Dreaddrac’s forces overran the capital,” the soldier reported. “They’re preparing to defend themselves from a land attack.”