The Powterosian War (Book 5) (28 page)

“I’ll not be a vassal to anyone.” I can see his point of view as he’s vassal to me, thought Kious. But I’m a king, a sovereign prince and subject to no one. I bow to no one. If I’m to lose my throne, it will be in battle fighting for our independence and not cowering before an emperor, which ever one succeeds to the continent’s supremacy.

“It’s a pity Your Majesty has rejected having a court wizard. A wizard might help in following the war’s progression and even in guiding your majesty to the wisest decisions in these matters.”

“We’ll have no wizard at this court. How many times must we tell you that?”

“Send us the Minister of War, the general who calls himself the field marshal, and the Admiral of the Seas. You may go.”

*

The Tixosian Admiral of the Seas arrived first for an audience with King Kious. The king dismissed the chatra and the court chamberlain to speak with the admiral alone.

“Are the secret arsenals filled as ordered?”

“They are, Your Majesty. We’ve secured private warehouses in the surrounding villages as merchants, filling them with weapons packed in commercial crates so as not to draw attention to the activities. Does the chatra know?”

“No one knows except the few select members of our family and you, admiral. The chatra is a good man, I think, but he’s weak and would sell us out to our enemy if he thought our throne was actually about to topple. He’s planning on surviving, no matter the cost.”

“It’s sad that your majesty’s highest minister can’t be trusted.”

“It is, but I cannot replace him now without his defection and the enemies suspecting our taking an active role in this continental struggle.”

“True.”

“Keep the fleet in top condition. Be certain you may rely on your subordinates if war comes. Keep a close eye on the sailors so that spies don’t infiltrate the ranks.”

“As you say, Majesty.” The admiral bowed as a knock came from the throne room doors. The general and Minister of War joined the king and admiral.

I wonder if anyone knows of King Saxthor’s secret message, Kious thought, searching the faces before him. We shall know soon enough.

* * *

At home in Hador with Persnella fussing around him, Hendrel fretted about how to reopen the city to the plain below. Their sons, Hendrel Jr. and Meklin, played on the floor at their feet.

“Be careful, son,” Hendrel said to Meklin who was playing with one of the magic tricks they had sold in their shop before the war. The boy loved the magic tricks though his brother had no interest in them. A spark popped and Meklin jumped back, laughing at his success. Persnella came and swept up the trick’s remains.

“One of these days that boy is going to kill us all,” Persnella said in a huff. “I don’t know why you insist on allowing him to play with those things.”

“They are locked up in here day after day, Persnella. They must have some entertainment.”

“They have their studies.”

“Well, Meklin seems to have a natural aptitude for magic. Maybe he too will become a wizard one day.”

“I should hope not,” the wife said. “One wizard in the family is quite enough. Look where it’s gotten you.”

“I’ve done all right, Persnella. You and the children haven’t wanted for anything.”

Persnella went back to sweeping the clean floor again, saying nothing, but the comment had hurt her husband.

“The duke is frantic to find some way to join the war effort. He commands all his ministers and me to find a solution for us to get off this mountain. He wants to attack the rear of General Vylvex’s army at Graushdemheimer.”

“You should stay right here with us, Hendrel. We’re safe here. Let the war go on beyond Hador.”

“If we lose the war, Hador will not be safe. No place will be secure, Persnella.”

“I don’t see why you insist in involving yourself in this. You have a home and family here to protect.”

“There will be no protection if Dreaddrac wins the war.”

Persnella began sweeping the same areas over again, twice as fast, with the broom nearly mashed into the floor.

“I’m going to the Hadorhof to consult with Duke Jedrac.” Hendrel rose and put on his hat. He left the house, closing the door softly, hoping not to incur Persnella’s wrath on his return.

At the Hadorhof, Hendrel found the duke pacing the floor of the gate room high in the fortress. From time to time, he went to the massive bronze doors and peeked out through a crack. Below, the straggling orc bands came down the plain to cross under the city and join General Vylvex at Graushdemheimer.

“Your Grace is disturbed today,” Hendrel said, approaching quietly but not wanting to startle Jedrac.

“This is maddening. They now pass under the castilyernov as if we weren’t even here.”

Hendrel joined the duke at the crack and looked down on a dozen orcs marching to the now open passage at the foot of the mountain.

“Throw down that basket of rocks there. It might kill an orc; that might make you feel better.”

“One basket of stones killing an orc won’t save us in this war.”

Hendrel stood by but didn’t respond. The duke returned to pacing the dusty floor then stopped suddenly, staring at Hendrel. “You must find a solution and quickly or the enemy will overrun Graushdemheimer and all the north. Not only will Graushdem be lost, but then Dreaddrac can take its time waiting us out. We’ll have to surrender unconditionally when the food runs out.”

Hendrel and Duke Jedrac walked back down through the Hadorhof, conferring about the city’s growing problems, food shortages, shattered nerves from attacks, and the perpetual confinement under the siege. They reached the castilyernov’s balcony overlooking the plaza at the people cautiously and nervously dashing from homes to shops. They glanced up frequently, checking the gray sky for signs of a dragon or griffin. Hendrel watched a small mass of ashes shoot up from a chimney and flutter out over the city.

“Up,” Hendrel said. “Look at that lift.”

“Up… Lift… What are you talking about?” Jedrac asked.

“The mountains on both sides of Hador were polished smooth by the dwarves that built the reservoirs when they helped build Hador generations ago. The soldiers could make use of that. They could cross the trail to the reservoirs and slide down the mountain during the day when the orcs are resting. Since Dreaddrac no longer considers us a threat, they no longer have large contingents of soldiers guarding the tunnel or traveling through it. We could send down cohorts and attack the orcs as they come out of the tunnel. Those same cohorts could scout for firewood and, using a tightly woven and sealed cloth sail pulled down and fastened to a wicker basket, fill it with hot air and smoke from a fire to carry them back up here later. They could ferry up supplies if they could find them. See the ashes flying up out of the chimney there?”

“It’s insane; it would never work,” Jedrac said, though he continued to watch the ashes flutter up out of the chimney.

“It was just an idea.”

“Sounds like your magic is getting the best of you,” Jedrac said, and he laughed. Hendrel flashed a weak smile, disappointed the duke dismissed the idea so quickly.

Hendrel returned home and asked Persnella to weave him a particularly tightly woven but light cloth, which she did, though she protested constantly at the waste of expensive yarn. The first cloth, the size of a large napkin, wouldn’t hold the smoke and collapsed once removed from over the fire. Hendrel smeared the cloth with tallow, but the hot air couldn’t lift the heavy cloth. Then Hendrel passed the yarn itself through tallow, wiped it gently with another cloth to remove any excess and, though Persnella complained constantly of the greasy material, she managed to weave another cloth. This one held the heated air and lifted the cloth, but it wouldn’t lift the basket.

“We’ll need a lot larger cloth to lift men in a basket,” Hendrel said to his wife.

“Such a large cloth filled with smoke will be too easy a target for the enemy,” Persnella warned, wrapping her arm around Hendrel’s and hugging it. “Where will they get enough firewood to fill such a big thing?”

“We can’t just sit here, Persnella. The city will run out of food and eventually the Dark Lord will return. His army will attack the city again if we don’t surrender soon enough from the siege. We must do something.”

“No dear, we can’t just sit here, but what can we do?”

“I’m going myself to see King Ormadese below in the mountain.”

Persnella drew back. “I don’t trust those dwarves. They’re different, they live underground; probably planning to steal what food we have left now.”

“Well, I’m going there if the king will see me.” Hendrel went at once to Duke Jedrac and told him of his mission. With first light next morning, Hendrel traveled over the precarious rocks to the obscure ledge he’d been told about. He found the cave opposite where he’d heard Saxthor and his band had stayed the night the dwarves opened the tunnel and brought them to King Ormadese. There he waited for nightfall to see if the dwarves would allow him to enter as well. As the moon rose high, Hendrel had a fire and was bedding down for the night when a dwarf suddenly appeared at the mouth of the cave. He motioned for the wizard to follow him.

“I came to see King Ormadese,” Hendrel said.

“We know,” the dwarf said. He had no smile; his appearance was grave. “After much discussion, the king has agreed to see you.”

The wizard and the dwarf traveled through the rock face and the increasingly magnificent tunnels until the dwarf stood at the entrance to the grand audience hall where the magnificently attired king sat on his throne. The chamberlain clacked his staff and the hall fell silent. The court turned to stare at the wizard. The dwarf guide beside him poked Hendrel and nodded that he should proceed down the aisle to the dais, which Hendrel did. There he bowed low and greeted Ormadese.

“You are Hendrel the wizard, friend and associate of the great wizard Memlatec in Neuyokkasin. This we know. What is it you seek?” King Ormadese asked. 

Hendrel flushed, surprised others knew so much about him. “Majesty, we have both worked to stop the invasion from Dreaddrac. The enemy has broken through the mountain and will return when they have conquered in the south to wipe out both your kingdom and Hador. We appreciate your assistance in thwarting the enemy’s advance, but again we must work together to stop the further passage of those that would destroy us.”

“We realize we must work in unison if we’re to survive this Dreaddrac plague. What further help do you propose?”

“Duke Jedrac received a message by pigeon that the Powterosian Empire is attacking Neuyokkasin in the south. King Saxthor must move to defend his kingdom there. He can spare no forces other than those sent from Tossledorn to relieve Graushdemheimer. We’re on our own in the north now. Duke Jedrac has the only force of consequence in the north that could mount a serious attack on General Vylvex. We must find a way to reopen the way in and out of Hador, so the troops there can mount such an attack and get supplies and reinforcements to Graushdemheimer.”

“The empire in the south is moving in league with Dreaddrac!” Ormadese repeated, jumping up from his throne then settling back down. “Are they acting together?”

“No one knows if they are working together or if the empire is just taking advantage of the war’s chaos, but the effect is the same…overwhelming invasions.”

“We must prevent the fall of Graushdemheimer at all costs,” the king said. “If Neuyokkasin falls, the peninsula is lost to one evil force or the other. We must hold Graushdem until the war in the south resolves this climatic struggle between civilization and savagery.

You say you must reopen the means to travel in and out of Hador. How can we facilitate that?”

“Do you think it possible to build a bridge over lake Hador that is both long enough to span it yet light enough to draw up when not in use?” Hendrel asked.

King Ormadese rubbed his chin, pulling down on his thick beard, contemplating such a thought. His councilors looked at each other left and right, but no one came forward with a solution.

“It would be a long bridge, master wizard. To span such a distance would make the bridge too heavy to lift. Still, rest for a day and we will meet again tomorrow night after my advisors have given this some thought.”

Hendrel nodded, bowed, and followed the chamberlain to the audience hall door. There, his former guide led him on a tour of the grand gallery, glittering with displays of so many of the fantastical dwarf creations. Hendrel marveled at the workmanship as well as the abundance of precious metals and gems incorporated in them. He spent the night with the dwarves and toured the kingdoms many workrooms the next day. He returned with his guide to the king’s presence early that night.

“Bamboo,” Ormadese said when Hendrel approached the dais. “We could build such a bridge as you require out of bamboo, but we have no ready source of it. Look here,” the king said and he motioned with his finger for two attendants to bring forward a drawing which they displayed, unfolding it between them for the dwarves and Hendrel to inspect. There was a long single arch bridge from Hador down and over the sunken lake to the former roadbed leading down to the Hador Plain. Hendrel moved close to inspect the drawing. The dwarf engineers nodded approval to each other.