Remma stood atop the scaffolding inside the village walls. She stared out over the walls, dumbfounded at the scene that was about to unfold. Her father, King Maximilian, was turning over the battle to Andres! She was sure they’d crush the enemy if her dad was leading the way. But Andres? How could her father ask someone who was so young to do something so important? Remma couldn’t stop trembling as she continued to look out. Then the thought occurred to her: Dad is sending Andres to a certain death! She just couldn’t bear the thought. Oh, Andres was a terrible tease to her, and more than once in her life she’d had to slap his face to keep him in line. But he was her brother, and...well, if he was going to die, then she ought to as well.
So Remmaline reached down, grabbed the bow and quiver that Andres had been using before he took off, and jumped down from the scaffolding. She was determined to go join Andres in battle. Andres hadn’t left any arrows, but there were all kinds of arrows lying around on the ground from the enemy’s many volleys. Within minutes, she had a quiver full of them. Remma then started to run toward the village gate. Before she got there, she started to look for a mount. She figured that she’d have a hard time keeping up with the other soldiers on foot. It didn’t take her too long to find a nice, brown horse tied to a fencepost. She untied the horse, mounted it, and resumed her flight to the gate.
As she approached the gate, she saw that it was closed. That was odd; just moments before, she was sure that it had been wide open. She dismounted from the horse and pushed on the gate. It wouldn’t budge. She looked for some kind of handle or knob or something that would open the gate. But she couldn’t find anything. She was infuriated. Her brother was out there, and he was about to die, and she was powerless to do anything to help! She took a couple of steps back, lowered her shoulder, and ran and the gate, hoping the force of her lunge would push it open. Once again, the gate remained unmoved. Remmaline grabbed her painful shoulder in despair, slid to the ground, and started to cry.
Moments later--she wasn’t sure exactly how much later, though it seemed like a long time--she heard Andres’ voice pierce the night air. “Charge!” he cried out. Then Remmaline heard the roar of men, the beating of hooves, and the clash of steel. The battle had begun. And here she sat. She continued to sit and cry, paralyzed by frustration and helplessness. Finally, in a fit of despair, she cried out, “Help!”
“What can I help you do?” came a voice from the darkness.
Remma was startled by the voice. She abruptly stood up, grabbed her bow, and looked around. To her astonishment, no more than ten feet away from her stood a man. She couldn’t make out his face in the dim moonlight, but she was sure he was friendly enough. Frantically trying to wipe away her tears, and with a slight feeling of embarrassment, she asked, “Have you been here the whole time?”
“Yes, of course I have,” replied the voice.
Remma was surprised by the answer. “Well, why didn’t you do anything?” she asked.
“I didn’t do anything, because you didn’t ask me to do anything,” was the reply.
Remma was somewhat indignant. If a man sees a little girl crying, then Remmaline figured that he ought to ask why she is crying. But Remma didn’t feel like pointing that out to the stranger. So she asked, “Were you the one who closed the gate? I’m pretty sure that it was open just a few minutes ago.”
“It was I,” replied the voice.
“Why did you close it?” asked Remma.
“Because the field of battle is no place for a beautiful young lady like yourself.”
Something about the man’s statement made Remmaline shake inside. The horrible memory of Mitch cutting her hair came flooding back to her mind. Tears again started streaming down her face. She felt ugly and ashamed. “I’m not beautiful at all,” she said. “I look like a boy.”
“Oh, that’s not true,” replied the voice. “Look at you! You love your brother so much, you want to go out and fight with him. You would lay down your life for him! That kind of beauty can’t be hidden by a haircut, young lady. Your beauty comes from who you are, not from what you look like.”
Remma looked up toward the face of the shadowy figure. She was mystified by this man. She tried to open her mouth and speak, but nothing would come out.
Before she could utter another word, the man said, “Besides, I don’t think you look like a boy at all. I rather like your short hair! It looks cute, and if I had a daughter as courageous and as pretty as you, I’d be the proudest father in the world.”
“Who are you?” Remmaline asked.
“Someone who has been waiting a long time to see you again,” replied the voice.
And now Remmaline knew who it was. She ran over to the man and hugged him and melted in her arms. She couldn’t believe it had taken her so long to recognize her own father. Perhaps, she thought, it was because she just hadn’t been looking for him.
She clung to her father and kept squeezing him until she was convinced that it really was him. At last she released him and said, “Oh Daddy, what can I do to help? I’m afraid that Andres is in trouble, and there is nothing I can do!”
“Oh Remmaline,” her father replied, “your brother surely needs your help. But the brother that needs your help is not Andres, but Cable.” With those words, Maximilian opened the village gate. The sounds of battle came flooding inside the walls, and Remmaline cringed when she heard them. But Maximilian grabbed her shoulders and made her look him in the eye. “Don’t worry about the battle, Remmaline,” he said. “I will take care of Andres. You are needed elsewhere.”
Maximilian then turned and pointed off in the distance. “Do you see that tall pine tree in the distance, the one that towers about the woodline?” he asked. Remma followed his finger, found the tree, and nodded. He then continued, “Hop on your horse and ride straight for that tree. To its right, you will find a path. It won’t be obvious, and you may need to trudge through some bushes. But it’s there--trust me. Follow that path to Cable. He’s wounded and needs you.”
Remma quickly mounted the horse and found the tree in the distance. Before she left, her father pulled off a satchel that had been draped over his shoulder. He handed it up to her and said, “This satchel contains a little bit of food, a waterskin, and some bandages. Fill the waterskin as soon as you reach water. You will need it to drink, and you’ll need it to take care of Cable’s wounds. You’ve had lots of practice here in the village, taking care of people that are hurt. You’ll know just what to do when you see Cable.”
Remmaline took the satchel and draped it over her shoulder. She was about to spur the horse onward when her father reached up and grabbed her leg. “One more thing,” he said. He then reached inside of cloak and grabbed something from his breast pocket. It was a small bag. Handing it to Remmaline, he said, “Please put this in your satchel as well. The bag is small, but it has a very important message in it. You see, I’m afraid that an old friend of mine is in grave danger. If you see him along the way, please do whatever you can to help him. And then give him the bag with the message. He will need that if he is to have any hope of surviving. Do you understand?”
Remmaline nodded. She didn’t say a word. She was afraid that if she uttered even one syllable, she’d break down into tears. She dreaded the idea of leaving her father and riding off into the dark woods. But for some reason, the thought of refusing his request never even entered her head. After all, Cable needed her help. And though part of her just wanted to be safe and secure, most of her wanted to do anything she could to help.
And with that last thought, Remmaline blew a kiss to her father and galloped off into the night.
Sunday, May 6, 2012
Sunday, April 29, 2012
Chapter 45 - Leading the Charge
From the ramparts of Cliffton, Andres continued to stare out at the battlefield that was taking shape in front of him. His father remained still, facing the enemy, his sword held aloft. Other white knights flanked him, to his right and to his left, likewise poised for battle. The enemy forces to their front continued their raucous jeering and laughter. The ghastly creatures that Andres had first seen earlier that evening seemed to be floating through the air, encircling the city, cloaking the night sky with a heavy blackness. Though it was difficult to see, Andres figured that at least fifteen ranks of the enemy surrounded the city. And as far as Andres could tell, their weapons were all aimed at him.
But yet his father, King Maximilian, remained unmoved. He was a step in front of everyone else, armed with nothing but a sword, yet he was fearless. The sounds of the enemy intensified, and it even seemed as though they’d started to advance. But Maximilian never flinched, never wavered, never cowered. At that moment, his father was an absolute giant in his mind. He’d never felt so proud of his father in all his life, staring down an enemy that had the power to crush him, yet dared not.
Then his father did move. While he kept his sword held aloft and pointed toward the enemy, he turned back toward the walls of Cliffton to face Andres and the other warriors. With his other hand, he gently beckoned for the men to come down. Above the din of the enemy’s roar, he bellowed, “Come down and join me! There is a battle to be fought and a victory to be won!”
Somehow, his words penetrated through the thick night air and penetrated to the ears and hearts of every Cliffton soldier. Slowly and somewhat hesitantly, the men left their posts and began to file out. Andres followed Thomas, the once-fearful soldier who had regained his courage at the sight of the king. As they neared the city gate, Andres noticed Thomas stop for a moment. Thomas looked up and saw a soldier still standing atop the scaffolding, refusing to leave his post and come down.
“Hey Stu, what’re you doin’ up there?” Thomas asked. It didn’t take Andres long to remember who Stu was. He was a fierce soldier who’d been at his best in the thick of the battle. He’d stood tall near the city gate, repelling every enemy thrust to try and enter the city. And earlier in the evening, when Andres and the others had made their mad dash back to the city walls after the confrontation with Dor-ko, Stu had been the one to risk his own life to open the gate. He was fearless. Why then was he so hesitant to come?
As these memories rolled through Andres’ brain, Stu continued to stand unmoving atop the scaffolding. So Thomas called out again, “What’re you waitin’ for, Stu? Let’s go!”
Now Stu moved. He turned to Thomas and replied, “Look...I just can’t do it. I just can’t leave! This is my post! I can’t abandon it!”
“But Stu,” Thomas replied, “the king is calling for us!”
Stu shook his head. “I know, I know. But he’s the king! He’s got the greatest warriors in the land by his side! Does he really need us? Does he really need me?”
Thomas answered, “Need? What does that have to do with anything? Of course he doesn’t need us. Like you said, he’s the king! But he wants us. And that’s enough for me.” Then turning back to Andres, Thomas cried out, “Let’s go and stick it to these guys!” And with that, Andres grabbed a hold of his shield and rushed out through the gates and toward his father.
When Andres came within a few feet of his father’s horse, he looked up and saw that his father was staring right at him. His right hand still held the sword high, and his left hand pointed toward Andres and waved him over to the left side of the horse. Andres slowly approached the horse, not knowing what to expect. The king then reached down to Andres and grasp his hand. He pulled upward, and in an instant Andres sat behind his father astride his great white horse.
“You’ve done well, my son,” said Maximilian, facing back toward the enemy.
“Thanks, Dad,” was all Andres could reply. He could feel a sense of fear creeping back into his soul as he stared out at rank upon rank of the enemy. All the weakness that he’d felt just a few minutes before--the hunger, the parched throat, the scars from battle--came rushing back. He felt completely inadequate to even stay atop the horse, let alone fight a battle.
Then Maximilian’s voice pierced through his feelings. “Son...reach up and take the sword,” he said. Andres reached around his father with his right hand and grabbed the hilt, just above where his father’s hand rested.
“Careful, son,” his father said. “Don’t move an inch. The men are watching you with their eyes on your sword. Be steady. Be courageous.” And with those words, Maximilian took his hand off the sword and then slipped off the horse.
Andres didn’t dare to move. He held the sword up, even though it felt as though it weighed a hundred pounds. He then said, still staring at the enemy, his voice wavering just a bit, “What are you doing, Dad?”
“Andres, you have been a great warrior today. I know what you did to Dor-ko. You were the only one who was able to fight through the fear and attack the enemy. Now it’s time to finish them off. You’ve earned the right to lead the men. Now when the time comes, you must lead the men to battle.”
“But Father--I can’t do this! I’m too weak, and too small, and too young. What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking that your whole life has prepared you for this moment.”
“How will I know when the time comes?”
“Don’t worry, son. You’ll know. Your brother will let you know.”
Andres thought about that for a second. He asked, “What does Cable have to do with this? Is he okay? How is he going to let me know anything? What are you talking about?” The questions started flowing, and the more he thought, the more questions he had. But he received only silence in return.
Finally, Andres allowed himself to turn his upper body around, being careful to not move his right arm. He saw his father walking away, back toward the city gates. With what little strength was left in his voice, Andres cried out, “Where are you going?”
His father stopped and turned. Evidently, he was willing to answer this question. “I need to see your sister, Andres,” he replied. “She has been brave, and she needs me as much as you do. Now face the enemy and prepare to fight!” And with those words, King Maximilian turned back toward the village.
Andres obediently faced the enemy once again. Hundreds of thoughts flooded his mind. If I need you as much as Remma does, why do you leave me to fight? Why am I the one that has the impossible job? I’m just a kid--how am I supposed to lead an army into battle? Does my father have any idea what he’s doing?
Andres wanted to crumble under the weight of self-pity. Yet as he looked to his right and to his left, he saw that everyone was looking at him. They needed him to be strong; they needed him to lead the way. Andres realized that if he faltered now, hundreds of others would fall with him. That realization alone kept him atop the horse and facing the enemy.
Then--after what seemed like a few minutes or a few hours, Andres couldn’t tell--a flash of light in the distance caught Andres’ attention. Andres felt a rumbling under the feet of his horse, as though the ground was rocked by a great explosion, or by a gentle earthquake. Seconds later, a great trumpet sound filled the air. The sound started quietly, but gradually rose till it completely drowned out the sound of the enemy. As the trumpet’s blare grew louder, the ground began to shake even more. Andres’ anticipation grew; it was all he could do to keep the sword held high. Finally the sound stopped. A silence gradually descended upon the battlefield.
Andres then realized two things. First, he noticed that the enemy’s noisy jeering had completely stopped. Second, as he stared up into the night, he noticed that the black veil that had seemed to cloak the night sky was lifted. The air seemed lighter, and the stars seemed brighter. The crescent moon, which had been barely visible earlier, now cast a glow over the battlefield. As Andres looked out, he thought he noticed a trembling in his enemy.
Andres didn’t know what his brother had to do with it. But he knew it was time. He swallowed hard, lowered the sword and spurred on his horse. He took a step forward. The white knights to his right and to his left moved forward in unison. Mustering his courage, Andres cried out, “Charge!” The other knights, in full-throated yell, echoed Andres’ call. Their cries not only filled the battlefield, but they filled the men with courage as well. As one, the army of Maximilian--following Andres’ lead--galloped toward the enemy.
But yet his father, King Maximilian, remained unmoved. He was a step in front of everyone else, armed with nothing but a sword, yet he was fearless. The sounds of the enemy intensified, and it even seemed as though they’d started to advance. But Maximilian never flinched, never wavered, never cowered. At that moment, his father was an absolute giant in his mind. He’d never felt so proud of his father in all his life, staring down an enemy that had the power to crush him, yet dared not.
Then his father did move. While he kept his sword held aloft and pointed toward the enemy, he turned back toward the walls of Cliffton to face Andres and the other warriors. With his other hand, he gently beckoned for the men to come down. Above the din of the enemy’s roar, he bellowed, “Come down and join me! There is a battle to be fought and a victory to be won!”
Somehow, his words penetrated through the thick night air and penetrated to the ears and hearts of every Cliffton soldier. Slowly and somewhat hesitantly, the men left their posts and began to file out. Andres followed Thomas, the once-fearful soldier who had regained his courage at the sight of the king. As they neared the city gate, Andres noticed Thomas stop for a moment. Thomas looked up and saw a soldier still standing atop the scaffolding, refusing to leave his post and come down.
“Hey Stu, what’re you doin’ up there?” Thomas asked. It didn’t take Andres long to remember who Stu was. He was a fierce soldier who’d been at his best in the thick of the battle. He’d stood tall near the city gate, repelling every enemy thrust to try and enter the city. And earlier in the evening, when Andres and the others had made their mad dash back to the city walls after the confrontation with Dor-ko, Stu had been the one to risk his own life to open the gate. He was fearless. Why then was he so hesitant to come?
As these memories rolled through Andres’ brain, Stu continued to stand unmoving atop the scaffolding. So Thomas called out again, “What’re you waitin’ for, Stu? Let’s go!”
Now Stu moved. He turned to Thomas and replied, “Look...I just can’t do it. I just can’t leave! This is my post! I can’t abandon it!”
“But Stu,” Thomas replied, “the king is calling for us!”
Stu shook his head. “I know, I know. But he’s the king! He’s got the greatest warriors in the land by his side! Does he really need us? Does he really need me?”
Thomas answered, “Need? What does that have to do with anything? Of course he doesn’t need us. Like you said, he’s the king! But he wants us. And that’s enough for me.” Then turning back to Andres, Thomas cried out, “Let’s go and stick it to these guys!” And with that, Andres grabbed a hold of his shield and rushed out through the gates and toward his father.
When Andres came within a few feet of his father’s horse, he looked up and saw that his father was staring right at him. His right hand still held the sword high, and his left hand pointed toward Andres and waved him over to the left side of the horse. Andres slowly approached the horse, not knowing what to expect. The king then reached down to Andres and grasp his hand. He pulled upward, and in an instant Andres sat behind his father astride his great white horse.
“You’ve done well, my son,” said Maximilian, facing back toward the enemy.
“Thanks, Dad,” was all Andres could reply. He could feel a sense of fear creeping back into his soul as he stared out at rank upon rank of the enemy. All the weakness that he’d felt just a few minutes before--the hunger, the parched throat, the scars from battle--came rushing back. He felt completely inadequate to even stay atop the horse, let alone fight a battle.
Then Maximilian’s voice pierced through his feelings. “Son...reach up and take the sword,” he said. Andres reached around his father with his right hand and grabbed the hilt, just above where his father’s hand rested.
“Careful, son,” his father said. “Don’t move an inch. The men are watching you with their eyes on your sword. Be steady. Be courageous.” And with those words, Maximilian took his hand off the sword and then slipped off the horse.
Andres didn’t dare to move. He held the sword up, even though it felt as though it weighed a hundred pounds. He then said, still staring at the enemy, his voice wavering just a bit, “What are you doing, Dad?”
“Andres, you have been a great warrior today. I know what you did to Dor-ko. You were the only one who was able to fight through the fear and attack the enemy. Now it’s time to finish them off. You’ve earned the right to lead the men. Now when the time comes, you must lead the men to battle.”
“But Father--I can’t do this! I’m too weak, and too small, and too young. What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking that your whole life has prepared you for this moment.”
“How will I know when the time comes?”
“Don’t worry, son. You’ll know. Your brother will let you know.”
Andres thought about that for a second. He asked, “What does Cable have to do with this? Is he okay? How is he going to let me know anything? What are you talking about?” The questions started flowing, and the more he thought, the more questions he had. But he received only silence in return.
Finally, Andres allowed himself to turn his upper body around, being careful to not move his right arm. He saw his father walking away, back toward the city gates. With what little strength was left in his voice, Andres cried out, “Where are you going?”
His father stopped and turned. Evidently, he was willing to answer this question. “I need to see your sister, Andres,” he replied. “She has been brave, and she needs me as much as you do. Now face the enemy and prepare to fight!” And with those words, King Maximilian turned back toward the village.
Andres obediently faced the enemy once again. Hundreds of thoughts flooded his mind. If I need you as much as Remma does, why do you leave me to fight? Why am I the one that has the impossible job? I’m just a kid--how am I supposed to lead an army into battle? Does my father have any idea what he’s doing?
Andres wanted to crumble under the weight of self-pity. Yet as he looked to his right and to his left, he saw that everyone was looking at him. They needed him to be strong; they needed him to lead the way. Andres realized that if he faltered now, hundreds of others would fall with him. That realization alone kept him atop the horse and facing the enemy.
Then--after what seemed like a few minutes or a few hours, Andres couldn’t tell--a flash of light in the distance caught Andres’ attention. Andres felt a rumbling under the feet of his horse, as though the ground was rocked by a great explosion, or by a gentle earthquake. Seconds later, a great trumpet sound filled the air. The sound started quietly, but gradually rose till it completely drowned out the sound of the enemy. As the trumpet’s blare grew louder, the ground began to shake even more. Andres’ anticipation grew; it was all he could do to keep the sword held high. Finally the sound stopped. A silence gradually descended upon the battlefield.
Andres then realized two things. First, he noticed that the enemy’s noisy jeering had completely stopped. Second, as he stared up into the night, he noticed that the black veil that had seemed to cloak the night sky was lifted. The air seemed lighter, and the stars seemed brighter. The crescent moon, which had been barely visible earlier, now cast a glow over the battlefield. As Andres looked out, he thought he noticed a trembling in his enemy.
Andres didn’t know what his brother had to do with it. But he knew it was time. He swallowed hard, lowered the sword and spurred on his horse. He took a step forward. The white knights to his right and to his left moved forward in unison. Mustering his courage, Andres cried out, “Charge!” The other knights, in full-throated yell, echoed Andres’ call. Their cries not only filled the battlefield, but they filled the men with courage as well. As one, the army of Maximilian--following Andres’ lead--galloped toward the enemy.
Sunday, April 15, 2012
Chapter 44 - The Trumpet's Call
Cable’s eyes remained fixed on the second captive that was sitting on the log below him. And just as he couldn’t seem to move his eyes, he also couldn’t seem to move any other part of his body. He knew that he should grab his trumpet, leap to the ground below, and blare into the fearsome door that provided entry into the smoking, flaming mound. But Cable dared not move an inch. After all, he’d just barely been able to drag his trumpet up to the top of the mound. The last time he’d touched the instrument, it felt like he was carrying a boulder the size of Jimbo himself. How could he hope to even pick it up, much less jump with it, put it to his lips and blow, all the while fending off two hooded creatures who would like nothing more than to take a sword and remove his head?
So Cable stayed where he was and watched. He saw the first hooded creature walk over to the captive and grab the captive’s shoulder. The captive, whose vision was still obscured by the hood that remained over his head, seemed to jump at the creature’s touch. The creature laughed eerily into the night. “Ah-ha!” he cried out. “You are as fearful as the coward that went before you!” The second creature then joined him for another round of ghastly laughter that persuaded Cable even more that he should stay right where he was and not move an inch.
The captive leaped to his feet. “I am no coward!” he yelled.
Two things about the captive’s statement captured Cable’s imagination. First of all, the statement was very unconvincing. The man seemed to be sobbing even as he said it. But second, Cable was sure that he’d heard this voice before. Of course, the voice was muffled somewhat by the hood. But all the same, it sure did seem familiar...
Cable felt something grab his arm, and he immediately recoiled. He turned to his left and saw that Jimbo had slid up next to him. “Easy there, Herc,” he whispered. “That voice...I’m almost sure that I know who that is.”
“You’re kidding!” Cable replied softly. “I thought it sounded familiar, too. Who is it?”
“I don’t know, mate,” replied Jimbo. “I said I’m almost sure who it is, not that I knew who it is. There’s a big difference, chap.” And with that, both of the onlookers resumed watching the scene that was unfolding below them.
The first creature guided the captive over to the entrance to the flaming mound. The smell of smoke again rose and enveloped Cable. The rippling orange glow of the flames almost seemed to grow in brightness and intensity as the helpless captive neared the doorway. The second hooded creature assumed his position behind the captive, the tip of his sword pointed into the man’s back. Cable felt pity for the man, but not enough pity to do anything. Once again, the twin emotions of shame and fear washed over the sixteen-year-old boy.
The first creature now spoke. “I am about to remove your hood,” he declared. “When I do so, regard your fate with courage! Don’t back away in fear, but run to your destiny! Leap through the door and live forever! Don’t back down and join the ranks of the useless slaves, as your pathetic comrade did. Shed your cowardice and embrace immortality and power and service to Lord Dor-ko and Lord Slumbutter!”
With that verbal flourish, the creature pulled off the hood. And Cable couldn’t believe the face of the man that stood below him.
It was Mitch.
Cable started to turn to Jimbo, but before he could say a word, Jimbo stood to his feet. “I never thought I’d see him again!” Jimbo declared, no longer whispering. He then looked down at Cable and said, “Look, Herc, I’m done playing the part of the coward. I’m going down. If I don’t make it back, it’s been good knowing you. But it’s better to live in power than to die in fear.”
As Cable stared at Jimbo, by the light of the flickering flames below, he saw a look on Jimbo’s face that he’d never seen before. Gone was the goofiness and the good humor. Those expressions had been replaced by a look of sheer rage. Jimbo grabbed his knife and ran over to the edge of the hill. Leaping off, he cried out, “Brother! I’m coming!”
At that point, the world seemed to move in slow motion for Cable. He saw Jimbo hit the ground and roll. He saw Jimbo run toward Mitch. He saw Jimbo grab Mitch by the waist and wrestle him away from the hooded creature’s grasp. He saw a look of utter surprise come over Mitch’s face when he saw Jimbo set him temporarily free. It must have all unfolded in a matter of a couple of seconds, yet to Cable it seemed like hours.
And still, Cable couldn’t move. He just watched the great drama unfolding below him.
Jimbo cried out, “Brother! Take this!” as he handed Mitch his own weapon. Mitch grabbed the knife. But instead of facing the creatures and fighting, Mitch turned and started to ran.
Jimbo now stood powerless against the creatures. The first creature reached into a hidden pocket and pulled out a knife of his own. He then drew back and let the knife fly toward Mitch. Jimbo instinctively reached up into the air. The knife that was meant for Mitch’s head pierced Jimbo’s hand instead. Jimbo rolled to the ground, writhing in pain.
Cable saw the second creature approach Jimbo with his sword upraised. Jimbo cried out, “Cable! Help!” And at the sound of his cry, the two hooded creatures turned and looked up toward him.
Cable now realized that he could hide no longer. He had two choices--remain where he was and be killed, or move and be killed. As he stared below, he saw the first creature take a step toward him, while the second creature turned back toward Jimbo. While Jimbo cried out in pain, Cable finally resolved to act. He reached down and grabbed his trumpet. Amazingly, it felt as light as an onion in his hands. It was as though, having resolved to act, he was filled with power to fulfill the task that he had once felt impossible. Cable then held the trumpet tight to his chest and hurtled to the ground below, aiming toward the second creature who was preparing to slay Jimbo. Cable hit the ground and rolled. He struck the second creature’s legs, causing him to fall. Cable then rolled to his back and looked up. The first creature was now moving toward him, a knife in his hand. The creature again prepared to throw. Cable tried to roll away, and as he did so, he happened to catch a glance of Jimbo. Moving with unimaginable speed, Cable saw his friend draw the knife out of his hand and hurl it toward the first creature. It struck the creature in the face and caused him to collapse.
Cable got to his feet, just in time to see the second creature rise to his feet, his sword raised high in the air. Cable heard Jimbo’s voice one last time, bellowing out, “The trumpet! Blow the trumpet!” Cable then ran away from the second creature and approached the entry to the fearsome mound. And while his mind was full of doubts, and while he braced for the blow of the sword that would surely come at any moment, he put the trumpet to his lips and blew.
And, somehow, the majestic sound of that horn filled the air. The ground trembled and flames burst forth from the mound. Then Cable was struck on the side of the head. The boy fell to the ground. Yet in his last moment of consciousness, Cable was strangely reassured.
His mission was accomplished.
So Cable stayed where he was and watched. He saw the first hooded creature walk over to the captive and grab the captive’s shoulder. The captive, whose vision was still obscured by the hood that remained over his head, seemed to jump at the creature’s touch. The creature laughed eerily into the night. “Ah-ha!” he cried out. “You are as fearful as the coward that went before you!” The second creature then joined him for another round of ghastly laughter that persuaded Cable even more that he should stay right where he was and not move an inch.
The captive leaped to his feet. “I am no coward!” he yelled.
Two things about the captive’s statement captured Cable’s imagination. First of all, the statement was very unconvincing. The man seemed to be sobbing even as he said it. But second, Cable was sure that he’d heard this voice before. Of course, the voice was muffled somewhat by the hood. But all the same, it sure did seem familiar...
Cable felt something grab his arm, and he immediately recoiled. He turned to his left and saw that Jimbo had slid up next to him. “Easy there, Herc,” he whispered. “That voice...I’m almost sure that I know who that is.”
“You’re kidding!” Cable replied softly. “I thought it sounded familiar, too. Who is it?”
“I don’t know, mate,” replied Jimbo. “I said I’m almost sure who it is, not that I knew who it is. There’s a big difference, chap.” And with that, both of the onlookers resumed watching the scene that was unfolding below them.
The first creature guided the captive over to the entrance to the flaming mound. The smell of smoke again rose and enveloped Cable. The rippling orange glow of the flames almost seemed to grow in brightness and intensity as the helpless captive neared the doorway. The second hooded creature assumed his position behind the captive, the tip of his sword pointed into the man’s back. Cable felt pity for the man, but not enough pity to do anything. Once again, the twin emotions of shame and fear washed over the sixteen-year-old boy.
The first creature now spoke. “I am about to remove your hood,” he declared. “When I do so, regard your fate with courage! Don’t back away in fear, but run to your destiny! Leap through the door and live forever! Don’t back down and join the ranks of the useless slaves, as your pathetic comrade did. Shed your cowardice and embrace immortality and power and service to Lord Dor-ko and Lord Slumbutter!”
With that verbal flourish, the creature pulled off the hood. And Cable couldn’t believe the face of the man that stood below him.
It was Mitch.
Cable started to turn to Jimbo, but before he could say a word, Jimbo stood to his feet. “I never thought I’d see him again!” Jimbo declared, no longer whispering. He then looked down at Cable and said, “Look, Herc, I’m done playing the part of the coward. I’m going down. If I don’t make it back, it’s been good knowing you. But it’s better to live in power than to die in fear.”
As Cable stared at Jimbo, by the light of the flickering flames below, he saw a look on Jimbo’s face that he’d never seen before. Gone was the goofiness and the good humor. Those expressions had been replaced by a look of sheer rage. Jimbo grabbed his knife and ran over to the edge of the hill. Leaping off, he cried out, “Brother! I’m coming!”
At that point, the world seemed to move in slow motion for Cable. He saw Jimbo hit the ground and roll. He saw Jimbo run toward Mitch. He saw Jimbo grab Mitch by the waist and wrestle him away from the hooded creature’s grasp. He saw a look of utter surprise come over Mitch’s face when he saw Jimbo set him temporarily free. It must have all unfolded in a matter of a couple of seconds, yet to Cable it seemed like hours.
And still, Cable couldn’t move. He just watched the great drama unfolding below him.
Jimbo cried out, “Brother! Take this!” as he handed Mitch his own weapon. Mitch grabbed the knife. But instead of facing the creatures and fighting, Mitch turned and started to ran.
Jimbo now stood powerless against the creatures. The first creature reached into a hidden pocket and pulled out a knife of his own. He then drew back and let the knife fly toward Mitch. Jimbo instinctively reached up into the air. The knife that was meant for Mitch’s head pierced Jimbo’s hand instead. Jimbo rolled to the ground, writhing in pain.
Cable saw the second creature approach Jimbo with his sword upraised. Jimbo cried out, “Cable! Help!” And at the sound of his cry, the two hooded creatures turned and looked up toward him.
Cable now realized that he could hide no longer. He had two choices--remain where he was and be killed, or move and be killed. As he stared below, he saw the first creature take a step toward him, while the second creature turned back toward Jimbo. While Jimbo cried out in pain, Cable finally resolved to act. He reached down and grabbed his trumpet. Amazingly, it felt as light as an onion in his hands. It was as though, having resolved to act, he was filled with power to fulfill the task that he had once felt impossible. Cable then held the trumpet tight to his chest and hurtled to the ground below, aiming toward the second creature who was preparing to slay Jimbo. Cable hit the ground and rolled. He struck the second creature’s legs, causing him to fall. Cable then rolled to his back and looked up. The first creature was now moving toward him, a knife in his hand. The creature again prepared to throw. Cable tried to roll away, and as he did so, he happened to catch a glance of Jimbo. Moving with unimaginable speed, Cable saw his friend draw the knife out of his hand and hurl it toward the first creature. It struck the creature in the face and caused him to collapse.
Cable got to his feet, just in time to see the second creature rise to his feet, his sword raised high in the air. Cable heard Jimbo’s voice one last time, bellowing out, “The trumpet! Blow the trumpet!” Cable then ran away from the second creature and approached the entry to the fearsome mound. And while his mind was full of doubts, and while he braced for the blow of the sword that would surely come at any moment, he put the trumpet to his lips and blew.
And, somehow, the majestic sound of that horn filled the air. The ground trembled and flames burst forth from the mound. Then Cable was struck on the side of the head. The boy fell to the ground. Yet in his last moment of consciousness, Cable was strangely reassured.
His mission was accomplished.
Friday, April 6, 2012
Chapter 43 - The Last Stand
Once again within the village walls, Andres stood on the scaffolding, taking his place beside the brave Cliffton warriors who still remained. By the dim light of a crescent moon dangling overhead, Andres surveyed the landscape around him. What he saw, and what he heard, filled him with dread.
The ghastly creatures that had emerged earlier surrounded the castle. They came within about 50 yards of the walls and then stopped. Rather than attacking, they just stood and laughed. It was an eerie laugh that pierced the air and made the souls of the men of Cliffton tremble. Their laughter droned on and on and on. Occasionally, the laughter would fade away, only to be resumed moments later at an even higher volume.
Behind the ghastly creatures, more of Dor-ko’s warriors assembled. They did not press the attack either. They simply stood back and yelled and clanged their swords and shield together. Occasionally they would chant Dor-ko’s name in unison, repeating it over and over and over. They took their cue from the ghastly creatures that stood before them. When the creatures were silent, they were silent. When the creatures laughed, they joined the relentless cacophonous roar.
Andres reached up and rubbed his left shoulder, grimacing as he did so. After slaying Dor-ko, Andres had led the charge back into the village. It hadn’t been easy. A group of about 20 of Dor-ko’s soldiers had assembled in front of the village gate and attempted to keep them out. Andres and his companions--Samek, Legs, Pipes, and Annala--had fought their way through in a violent clash of swords and spears. One of the enemy’s spears had made its way into the back side of Andres’ shoulder. Andres shook his head, realizing that such a wound could only come when the enemy attacked him from behind. What kind of coward attacks like that? Andres had been taught to enter combat face-to-face with the enemy, but these soldiers of Dor-ko were, in Andres’ estimation, both brainless and spineless.
As the soul-shaking din from beyond the city walls continued on, Andres heard footsteps behind him. It was his sister, Remmaline, running around with a jug of water. Very little water remained in the village, and the throats of Andres and all his comrades were parched. But Remma had taken what little water she could find and was offering a swallow to each of the soldiers.
Andres marveled as he saw his little sister doing whatever she could to help. What had happened to that annoying little girl that used to shriek whenever she saw a drop of blood? What had happened to the girl that used to yell at Cable whenever he made too much noise and kept her from sleeping? Here she was, in the midst of battle, running around tirelessly with a gentle smile on her face. Andres figured he’d never understand that girl. But, for just a moment, he was immensely proud of her.
Andres turned his attention back to the field in front of him. The forces that surrounded the castle seemed to grow in number. Dor-ko’s forces seemed to keep pouring out of the woods and lining up behind the ghastly creatures. Though Andres couldn’t see very well, he guessed about 30 ranks of Dor-ko’s men had assembled. Their continued arrival made the spine-tingling noise even louder. Their continued arrival also convinced the soldiers of Cliffton to hold onto their ammunition. If they used all their arrows at this point, they might bring down the first couple of ranks. But then they would have nothing left when the attack finally began.
Andres craned his neck to the left. There was one portion of the castle that wasn’t surrounded--the portion that faced the Great Swamp. Then Andres realized Dor-ko’s strategy. When they attacked, they would force the vastly outnumbered people to face a horrible choice--surrender to Dor-ko, or flee to the swamp. If they surrendered, they would no doubt be made slaves--or worse. If they fled, the only path of retreat was through the swamp. But only Spartacus, the great horse of Gregorex, knew how to navigate through the great obstacle. So the people would face a grim choice--be enslaved by Dor-ko, or be devoured by the swamp.
Andres looked to his right and to his left. The soldiers next to him were shaking, as though losing their nerve. He tapped the shoulder of the man to his right, whose name was Thomas. The man immediately dropped his bow and arrow and turned to Andres in wide-eyed fear. He tried to jump down from the scaffolding, but Andres grabbed him and kept him from leaping. “Thomas!” he yelled. “What’s wrong with you?”
Thomas couldn’t respond right away. He just stared at Andres, his head shaking, his hands trembling. He then said, above the roar of the soldiers of Dor-ko, “Pardon me, Your Majesty! I...I just can’t take it any more! If they are going to slaughter us, I wish they would just get on with it!”
“But Thomas, don’t you see what they’re doing?” Andres replied. “They are just doing this to make us scared! They want to defeat us before they ever even attack us! They want you to fill you with fear. You’ve got to fight it! My father wouldn’t have sent us here if it was hopeless!”
“But don’t you see?” said Thomas. “It is hopeless! I don’t know what the king was thinking. What are so few of us, against so many of them? We are about to get slaughtered, Prince Andres! And I will stand and fight by your side, but my eyes don’t lie. And my eyes say, that the fifty soldiers that remain can’t stand up against an army of thousands!”
Andres then realized that his enemy’s strategy was working. The men of Cliffton had waged a brave battle, but the men were now too tired, too hungry and thirsty, and too fearful. Any attack on the part of the enemy would be brutal and short-lived. The soldiers that remained had fought the good fight, but they didn’t have the strength to wage war any longer. The only reason that they didn’t flee right now was because they didn’t have the strength to leave their posts.
The thought of imminent defeat now started to weigh Andres down. He stared out at the enemy that was arrayed before him, and he began to envision the assault that was about to unfold. Would he draw his sword and fight till his last breath? Would he lay down his weapon and beg for mercy? Would he try and run away, hoping that for some reason he could defy the certain death that awaited him in the Great Swamp? None of the options were particularly good. Andres shuddered as he continued to stare out, his hope dwindling by the minute.
Suddenly, Andres was jarred out of his reverie by the arrival of someone on his scaffolding. It was Samek, whose broad girth made the planks tremble beneath him. Samek had brought a stool with him which he placed down on the scaffolding. He then stood on top of the stool, his body towering above the walls. Andres feared for him. His whole body was exposed to any assault from the enemy’s archers. But Samek was apparently not intimidated by the thought of any such attack. Instead, he cupped his hands and bellowed out, crying--
“SILENCE!”
Samek’s cry echoed across the plain. Andres had never heard a human voice sound so loud. The cry seemed to shock the creatures and the men that were assembled around the city walls. For just a moment, the eerie laughter and the annoying rattle of swords stopped. Samek then spoke again.
“Here you are, an entire army against a tiny little village. Yet we’ve been fighting all day, and still you cannot conquer us! You assemble here in battle array, yet you do not attack! You attempt to scare us, but YOU are the ones that are filled with fear! We defy you! We will not bend our knee to you! We will stand against you to the last breath of the last soldier standing! You may conquer our village, but you will never conquer our spirit. And you shall never conquer our great king. Hail to the king! Maximilian reigns! Maximilian reigns! Maximilian reigns!”
As Samek repeated himself, Andres started to shake his head. What good were a few words in the face of so great an enemy? But then Andres noticed that the few soldiers that remained started to pick up the cheer. “Maximilian reigns!” they shouted from the depths of the parched throats and heaving lungs. “Maximilian reigns!” At first, Andres just couldn’t join in. He was too discouraged and too exhausted. But he noticed that soon the entire village of Cliffton rang out with the cheer--”Maximilian reigns!” Over and over the people said it. The women and children that remained said it. Thomas, who just moments before was ready to flee the battlefield, now held his weapon high and joined the shouting chorus. “Maximilian reigns!”
The laughter and jeering of the enemy grew silent in the face of this defiant cry. And Andres noticed something else as well. The soldiers of Cliffton stood taller than they had just moments ago. The trembling and quaking of the soldiers had stopped, replaced by firm-footed resolve. Andres thought he could even see a smile start to creep over Thomas’ face. And soon the shouting grew even louder: “Maximilian reigns!” It echoed across the field of battle. Each cry seemed louder than the one before. Eventually Andres joined in the chorus, unable to help himself, “Maximilian reigns!”
It was crazy, Andres thought. Here we stand against an overwhelming enemy. We our outnumbered, we are almost out of ammunition, we are famished, we are thirsty, we are--in a word--powerless. Yet here we stand, acting as though we are on the winning side, sounding as though triumph is imminent. It made no sense, yet it was real. And as Andres thought about his father, and remembered how good he was, and how he’d never disappointed them, and how he’d never asked them to do the impossible unless he went with them to help, Andres now knew what this battle cry was all about. It was the ridiculous, invigorating, rebellious cry of faith.
Minutes passed. The weakened soldiers of Cliffton couldn’t shout forever, and soon their volume started to diminish. As their voices started to quiet down, the jeers and laughter of the enemy started to emerge from the battlefield. It wasn’t long before the voices of the people of Cliffton were drowned out once again. Yet the people continued to shout: “Maximilian reigns! Maximilian reigns!” Soon Andres felt a tug on his arm. It was Thomas. “Look over there! To your left!” he said, pointing. Andres followed his finger. He saw a stream of men, riding on horseback, emerging from the area of the Great Swamp. They were clad with white armor, with a shield in one hand and a sword in the other. They silently made their way around the walls of the village, facing outward against the enemy. The people of Cliffton cheered their arrival, yet the white knights never turned and waved. They simply took their posts and silently faced the enemy, a single rank of horsemen poised for battle. The taunts and jeers of the enemy didn’t stop, but the knights were undaunted and unmoved. The simply stood shoulder to shoulder against an enemy that easily outnumbered them ten-to-one.
Andres saw Samek, who was still standing to his left atop the stool. “How is this possible?” Andres asked. “Only Spartacus knows the way through the Great Swamp! How did these men get here?”
Samek squinted his eyes and surveyed the field. He looked to his left and to his right. Andres tried to follow his gaze; he found it difficult to make out anything clearly in the dim moonlight. But then something off to his right caught Andres’ eye. It was a majestic white horse, topped by a tall man in a white robe, galloping in their direction. “Samek, look!” he exclaimed. “Isn’t that Spartacus?”
“Yes!” replied Samek. “It is indeed! And that must be Gregorex atop him! He lives after all!”
But as the rider approached, Andres realized something. “Samek, that’s not Gregorex! It’s...it’s...”
Andres didn’t finish his sentence. He didn’t have to. Everyone within the gates of Cliffton, who had seen the great white horse approach, knew who rode atop him. It was the one man they had all longed to see, the one man that held the hope of escape, the one man they would follow to the death whether he was there or not.
It was Maximilian.
Yet the king made no grand entry into the village. He didn’t even look at the soldiers that cheered his arrival. He just took his place in front of the row of white horsemen and faced outward. He raised his sword in his right hand and held it aloft, unmoving. Andres expected that at any moment, he would lower the sword, point to the enemy, and lead a charge of deliverance. Yet he held his arm in place, sword pointing to the heavens. Everything else continued on--the white knights silently waiting behind him, the ghastly creatures and black knights jeering and taunting before him.
Andres was dumbfounded. He turned to Samek again. “Samek, what is going on?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” replied Samek. “It’s as though he’s waiting for a sign, for a signal of some sort.”
Then Thomas chimed in. “But I’ll tell you this much. When that sword drops, I’m finding the nearest horse, charging through the village gates and following. I’d rather die by that man’s side than live a life of cowardly comfort.” Andres could hardly believe this was the same guy that had tried to run away just a few minutes before. Then Thomas cried out at the top of his lungs, “Bring it on, O King! We’re ready!”
And still the king sat atop his horse, his white robe rippling in the light night breeze, his body unmoving, sword held aloft. Waiting.
The ghastly creatures that had emerged earlier surrounded the castle. They came within about 50 yards of the walls and then stopped. Rather than attacking, they just stood and laughed. It was an eerie laugh that pierced the air and made the souls of the men of Cliffton tremble. Their laughter droned on and on and on. Occasionally, the laughter would fade away, only to be resumed moments later at an even higher volume.
Behind the ghastly creatures, more of Dor-ko’s warriors assembled. They did not press the attack either. They simply stood back and yelled and clanged their swords and shield together. Occasionally they would chant Dor-ko’s name in unison, repeating it over and over and over. They took their cue from the ghastly creatures that stood before them. When the creatures were silent, they were silent. When the creatures laughed, they joined the relentless cacophonous roar.
Andres reached up and rubbed his left shoulder, grimacing as he did so. After slaying Dor-ko, Andres had led the charge back into the village. It hadn’t been easy. A group of about 20 of Dor-ko’s soldiers had assembled in front of the village gate and attempted to keep them out. Andres and his companions--Samek, Legs, Pipes, and Annala--had fought their way through in a violent clash of swords and spears. One of the enemy’s spears had made its way into the back side of Andres’ shoulder. Andres shook his head, realizing that such a wound could only come when the enemy attacked him from behind. What kind of coward attacks like that? Andres had been taught to enter combat face-to-face with the enemy, but these soldiers of Dor-ko were, in Andres’ estimation, both brainless and spineless.
As the soul-shaking din from beyond the city walls continued on, Andres heard footsteps behind him. It was his sister, Remmaline, running around with a jug of water. Very little water remained in the village, and the throats of Andres and all his comrades were parched. But Remma had taken what little water she could find and was offering a swallow to each of the soldiers.
Andres marveled as he saw his little sister doing whatever she could to help. What had happened to that annoying little girl that used to shriek whenever she saw a drop of blood? What had happened to the girl that used to yell at Cable whenever he made too much noise and kept her from sleeping? Here she was, in the midst of battle, running around tirelessly with a gentle smile on her face. Andres figured he’d never understand that girl. But, for just a moment, he was immensely proud of her.
Andres turned his attention back to the field in front of him. The forces that surrounded the castle seemed to grow in number. Dor-ko’s forces seemed to keep pouring out of the woods and lining up behind the ghastly creatures. Though Andres couldn’t see very well, he guessed about 30 ranks of Dor-ko’s men had assembled. Their continued arrival made the spine-tingling noise even louder. Their continued arrival also convinced the soldiers of Cliffton to hold onto their ammunition. If they used all their arrows at this point, they might bring down the first couple of ranks. But then they would have nothing left when the attack finally began.
Andres craned his neck to the left. There was one portion of the castle that wasn’t surrounded--the portion that faced the Great Swamp. Then Andres realized Dor-ko’s strategy. When they attacked, they would force the vastly outnumbered people to face a horrible choice--surrender to Dor-ko, or flee to the swamp. If they surrendered, they would no doubt be made slaves--or worse. If they fled, the only path of retreat was through the swamp. But only Spartacus, the great horse of Gregorex, knew how to navigate through the great obstacle. So the people would face a grim choice--be enslaved by Dor-ko, or be devoured by the swamp.
Andres looked to his right and to his left. The soldiers next to him were shaking, as though losing their nerve. He tapped the shoulder of the man to his right, whose name was Thomas. The man immediately dropped his bow and arrow and turned to Andres in wide-eyed fear. He tried to jump down from the scaffolding, but Andres grabbed him and kept him from leaping. “Thomas!” he yelled. “What’s wrong with you?”
Thomas couldn’t respond right away. He just stared at Andres, his head shaking, his hands trembling. He then said, above the roar of the soldiers of Dor-ko, “Pardon me, Your Majesty! I...I just can’t take it any more! If they are going to slaughter us, I wish they would just get on with it!”
“But Thomas, don’t you see what they’re doing?” Andres replied. “They are just doing this to make us scared! They want to defeat us before they ever even attack us! They want you to fill you with fear. You’ve got to fight it! My father wouldn’t have sent us here if it was hopeless!”
“But don’t you see?” said Thomas. “It is hopeless! I don’t know what the king was thinking. What are so few of us, against so many of them? We are about to get slaughtered, Prince Andres! And I will stand and fight by your side, but my eyes don’t lie. And my eyes say, that the fifty soldiers that remain can’t stand up against an army of thousands!”
Andres then realized that his enemy’s strategy was working. The men of Cliffton had waged a brave battle, but the men were now too tired, too hungry and thirsty, and too fearful. Any attack on the part of the enemy would be brutal and short-lived. The soldiers that remained had fought the good fight, but they didn’t have the strength to wage war any longer. The only reason that they didn’t flee right now was because they didn’t have the strength to leave their posts.
The thought of imminent defeat now started to weigh Andres down. He stared out at the enemy that was arrayed before him, and he began to envision the assault that was about to unfold. Would he draw his sword and fight till his last breath? Would he lay down his weapon and beg for mercy? Would he try and run away, hoping that for some reason he could defy the certain death that awaited him in the Great Swamp? None of the options were particularly good. Andres shuddered as he continued to stare out, his hope dwindling by the minute.
Suddenly, Andres was jarred out of his reverie by the arrival of someone on his scaffolding. It was Samek, whose broad girth made the planks tremble beneath him. Samek had brought a stool with him which he placed down on the scaffolding. He then stood on top of the stool, his body towering above the walls. Andres feared for him. His whole body was exposed to any assault from the enemy’s archers. But Samek was apparently not intimidated by the thought of any such attack. Instead, he cupped his hands and bellowed out, crying--
“SILENCE!”
Samek’s cry echoed across the plain. Andres had never heard a human voice sound so loud. The cry seemed to shock the creatures and the men that were assembled around the city walls. For just a moment, the eerie laughter and the annoying rattle of swords stopped. Samek then spoke again.
“Here you are, an entire army against a tiny little village. Yet we’ve been fighting all day, and still you cannot conquer us! You assemble here in battle array, yet you do not attack! You attempt to scare us, but YOU are the ones that are filled with fear! We defy you! We will not bend our knee to you! We will stand against you to the last breath of the last soldier standing! You may conquer our village, but you will never conquer our spirit. And you shall never conquer our great king. Hail to the king! Maximilian reigns! Maximilian reigns! Maximilian reigns!”
As Samek repeated himself, Andres started to shake his head. What good were a few words in the face of so great an enemy? But then Andres noticed that the few soldiers that remained started to pick up the cheer. “Maximilian reigns!” they shouted from the depths of the parched throats and heaving lungs. “Maximilian reigns!” At first, Andres just couldn’t join in. He was too discouraged and too exhausted. But he noticed that soon the entire village of Cliffton rang out with the cheer--”Maximilian reigns!” Over and over the people said it. The women and children that remained said it. Thomas, who just moments before was ready to flee the battlefield, now held his weapon high and joined the shouting chorus. “Maximilian reigns!”
The laughter and jeering of the enemy grew silent in the face of this defiant cry. And Andres noticed something else as well. The soldiers of Cliffton stood taller than they had just moments ago. The trembling and quaking of the soldiers had stopped, replaced by firm-footed resolve. Andres thought he could even see a smile start to creep over Thomas’ face. And soon the shouting grew even louder: “Maximilian reigns!” It echoed across the field of battle. Each cry seemed louder than the one before. Eventually Andres joined in the chorus, unable to help himself, “Maximilian reigns!”
It was crazy, Andres thought. Here we stand against an overwhelming enemy. We our outnumbered, we are almost out of ammunition, we are famished, we are thirsty, we are--in a word--powerless. Yet here we stand, acting as though we are on the winning side, sounding as though triumph is imminent. It made no sense, yet it was real. And as Andres thought about his father, and remembered how good he was, and how he’d never disappointed them, and how he’d never asked them to do the impossible unless he went with them to help, Andres now knew what this battle cry was all about. It was the ridiculous, invigorating, rebellious cry of faith.
Minutes passed. The weakened soldiers of Cliffton couldn’t shout forever, and soon their volume started to diminish. As their voices started to quiet down, the jeers and laughter of the enemy started to emerge from the battlefield. It wasn’t long before the voices of the people of Cliffton were drowned out once again. Yet the people continued to shout: “Maximilian reigns! Maximilian reigns!” Soon Andres felt a tug on his arm. It was Thomas. “Look over there! To your left!” he said, pointing. Andres followed his finger. He saw a stream of men, riding on horseback, emerging from the area of the Great Swamp. They were clad with white armor, with a shield in one hand and a sword in the other. They silently made their way around the walls of the village, facing outward against the enemy. The people of Cliffton cheered their arrival, yet the white knights never turned and waved. They simply took their posts and silently faced the enemy, a single rank of horsemen poised for battle. The taunts and jeers of the enemy didn’t stop, but the knights were undaunted and unmoved. The simply stood shoulder to shoulder against an enemy that easily outnumbered them ten-to-one.
Andres saw Samek, who was still standing to his left atop the stool. “How is this possible?” Andres asked. “Only Spartacus knows the way through the Great Swamp! How did these men get here?”
Samek squinted his eyes and surveyed the field. He looked to his left and to his right. Andres tried to follow his gaze; he found it difficult to make out anything clearly in the dim moonlight. But then something off to his right caught Andres’ eye. It was a majestic white horse, topped by a tall man in a white robe, galloping in their direction. “Samek, look!” he exclaimed. “Isn’t that Spartacus?”
“Yes!” replied Samek. “It is indeed! And that must be Gregorex atop him! He lives after all!”
But as the rider approached, Andres realized something. “Samek, that’s not Gregorex! It’s...it’s...”
Andres didn’t finish his sentence. He didn’t have to. Everyone within the gates of Cliffton, who had seen the great white horse approach, knew who rode atop him. It was the one man they had all longed to see, the one man that held the hope of escape, the one man they would follow to the death whether he was there or not.
It was Maximilian.
Yet the king made no grand entry into the village. He didn’t even look at the soldiers that cheered his arrival. He just took his place in front of the row of white horsemen and faced outward. He raised his sword in his right hand and held it aloft, unmoving. Andres expected that at any moment, he would lower the sword, point to the enemy, and lead a charge of deliverance. Yet he held his arm in place, sword pointing to the heavens. Everything else continued on--the white knights silently waiting behind him, the ghastly creatures and black knights jeering and taunting before him.
Andres was dumbfounded. He turned to Samek again. “Samek, what is going on?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” replied Samek. “It’s as though he’s waiting for a sign, for a signal of some sort.”
Then Thomas chimed in. “But I’ll tell you this much. When that sword drops, I’m finding the nearest horse, charging through the village gates and following. I’d rather die by that man’s side than live a life of cowardly comfort.” Andres could hardly believe this was the same guy that had tried to run away just a few minutes before. Then Thomas cried out at the top of his lungs, “Bring it on, O King! We’re ready!”
And still the king sat atop his horse, his white robe rippling in the light night breeze, his body unmoving, sword held aloft. Waiting.
Sunday, March 18, 2012
Chapter 42 - Paralyzed by Fear
Cable looked down from his perch on top of the mound. He followed Jimbo’s finger, and he saw that Jimbo was pointing to a group of four figures slowly moving up the hill. Two of the figures seemed to trudge along reluctantly, almost against their will. They occasionally stumbled, and as Cable stared further, he could see why.
Each had a hood on his head.
The other two figures, by contrast, seemed to be almost gliding up the hill. They emitted an eerie glow as they moved, and they each carried a sword. The swords were used to prod the other two when they moved too slowly, or when they fell to the ground. It didn’t take Cable long to realize what they were, and his heart sank and his stomach cinched up in a knot when he realized it. He turned to Jimbo and whispered, “Those...those are the two ghostly creatures, aren’t they?”
Jimbo nodded. “Yep, Herc. That’s exactly what they is,” he replied softly. “Only I think there’s a lot more than two of ‘em. Sometimes I feel like this land is crawling with them. And Herc...our job just got a whole lot tougher. We should have jumped down there and blown the trumpet when we had the chance. Now we’ve got to contend with these boys...”
Cable bit his lip and resisted bellowing out in frustration. Jimbo was right--his hesitation had cost them dearly. Now the only way to fulfill their mission was to somehow wrestle their way through two more creatures that seemed invincible. And somehow, they had to do that while carrying a trumpet that seemed to weigh more than an anvil. Cable was overwhelmed with frustration and despair. He grabbed Jimbo’s cloak and whispered, “Why don’t we just leave? Why don’t we come back in the daylight, after they’ve gone?”
Doofus uttered a low growl that made Cable jump. He wanted to kick the opinionated beast, but that would require him to stand up. And if he did that, the ghostly creatures would certainly see him. So he again restrained his fury. Meanwhile, Jimbo replied, “There’s no turning back now, mate. Ronaldus has sent us on a mission, and we’ve got to fulfill it. If the task was too great for us, we wouldn’t have been asked to do it. And besides, Herc, there are two chaps down there who likely need our help. We’re not going to just leave them, are we?”
Cable didn’t know what to think. Almost every part of his being wanted to just run--to just leave his burdensome trumpet on the ground and flee. The urge was almost beyond his ability to resist. Yet Cable knew that Jimbo was right. He couldn’t turn his back on the captives that were walking just below them. And he couldn’t compound his error of procrastination with an even graver error of cowardice.
So Cable waited and watched. By the dim light of a crescent moon and the faint glow of the fearsome creatures, Cable could see everything quite clearly. He saw the creatures lead the captives over to a log that lay about 15 feet in front of the doorway to the mound. The hooded captives were turned around to face the mound, and then they were prodded with the swords to sit down on the log that lay behind them. The captives quickly obeyed.
The first creature now spoke. The voice was low and gravelly; it made Cable’s skin crawl. “Gentlemen,” the creature began, “it has been a long journey, but you have finally reached your destination. You may breathe easily now. With a few more steps, your pilgrimage will be complete.”
The creature paused. The captives said nothing. After a few seconds, the creature resumed. “You have come to Dor-ko and to Slumbutter of your own free will, have you not?” he asked. The two captives still remained silent.
The second creature moved behind the captives and poked them with the tip of his sword. “Answer!” he said. “Do not hesitate, or your lives will be worthless! Answer!”
The two captives nodded their heads.
The first creature then resumed. “You were wise, gentlemen! It is always wise to turn your back on a cowardly, weak king. Maximilian offers you nothing but restraint. You wish to be great, and he keeps you under his thumb. You did well to turn away. Greatness is now yours! And it is only a few steps away!
“In a few moments, each of you will be brought forward to the door of immortality. When you pass through it, you will become like us. You will live forever! The wretched subjects of your weak king will tremble at your presence, even as you have trembled at ours. Nothing will be able to stop you. Together in service to Dor-ko and Slumbutter, you shall work to destroy the shackles that your king has placed upon this once-great land. The greatness that you have sought shall be yours!”
The second creature, who still stood behind the log, then tapped one of the captives on the shoulder. As he did so, the first creature called out, “Come!” The captive immediately obeyed and rose to his feet. The first creature stepped forward and grabbed him by the shoulder. “You do well to rise quickly,” he said. “Come forward now, and stand before the door.” The captive walked haltingly toward the door to the mound. When he came within about five feet from the door, the creature stopped him. The creature then reached out and opened the door.
As Cable looked downward at the scene below him, he saw the area drenched in a glow of flickering orange and red light. The flames from the mound were illuminating the ground below him. The captive seemed to sense the light and turned his head, even though his head was still covered with a hood. Cable felt warm air start to rise over him. At first, it felt good to his drenched and chill-filled body. But when he realized that it was the heat of an inferno that was about to consume the helpless captive, he was filled with an even deeper chill inside.
Cable watched as the first creature said to the captive, “I shall now remove your hood. Once your eyes are open and you see clearly, you are to walk through the door that is before you. You are to walk through the door and experience the great joy of being transformed to serve Lord Slumbutter and Lord Dor-ko. You shall give up the bonds of your pathetic king, and you shall be immortal! But let me warn you now...do not hesitate!”
The first creature then reached out and pulled off the captive’s hood. The captive squinted at first, his eyes struggling to adjust to the bright light of the inferno that lay inside the door. But as his eyes opened, Cable saw a look of great fear come across the stranger’s face. His eyes soon became as wide as saucers, and his mouth gaped open with an expression of shock. His head shook back and forth quickly, and he cried out, “No! No!” The then turned and tried to run away.
However, he didn’t take more than two steps before the first creature grabbed him by his cloak and held him still. The captive tried to keep moving, but the creature would not relax his grip. The creature cried out, “This is your last chance, you fool! Walk through the door! Live forever! You’ve turned your back on your first master; you cannot turn away again! The only hope you have is to enter! Enter! Enter!”
The captive would not turn, but neither could he overcome the strength of the creature. He twisted and squirmed and churned his legs and attempted to push away his captor. As Cable watched, he felt Jimbo tap him on the shoulder. Cable turned, and Jimbo asked, “Shouldn’t we try and help, mate?” But Cable couldn’t move. He felt as though his body were nailed to the ground. And he was just unwilling to try and overcome his fear.
Meanwhile, down below, the resistance of the unmasked captive was futile. Finally, the second creature approached. He swung his sword and struck the captive in the head with its flat side. The captive fell to the ground, unconscious. The second creature stood over the captive for a moment, then turned to the first creature. “Let’s throw him in anyway,” he whispered.
“Has a man ever been thrust through the door against his will?” asked the first creature.
“Our masters, of course, prefer that the men walk through willingly,” replied the second creature. “But I see no reason why a creature shouldn’t be tossed in unwillingly. I heard that some of our brethren were sent to throw Prince Cable into the fire. They tried to persuade him to go through willingly, but they persisted when he proved unwilling.”
“Was he thrown in?” asked the first creature.
“The fool escaped,” answered the second creature. “But he shall be found. He cannot run forever. And he shall be destroyed, as he deserves.”
Cable shuddered as he heard the discussion below him. He resolved to stay right where he was. He would not expose himself to what he knew would be certain destruction if he tried to help anyone.
The creatures continued their dialog. The first creature said, “But brother, what you are saying is that no one has entered through the door unless they were willing. I has not been done. Indeed, I don’t know that it can be done. Why don’t we just slay him where he lies?”
The second creature replied, “Are you a coward as well? What do you mean, it can’t be done? Of course it can! Just watch me!” With those words, the second creature stooped down, grabbed the unconscious captive, and threw him over his shoulder. He walked toward the door and prepared to sling the body into the flames. However, before he could release the body, a voice from the woods thundered out, “Halt!”
Both of the creatures turned back toward the woods. Cable’s eyes followed the gaze of the creatures. In the dim light of the moon, Cable could see a man approach on horseback. He rode high atop a black horse. As he emerged from the woods, Cable could see that he was followed by two knights clad in black armor. When the group entered into the clearing in front of the mound, the two black knights quickly caught up to their leader. One guided his horse to the leader’s left side, while the other went to his right side. Both of the black knights, who appeared to be bodyguards, remained a few feet behind their leader. Neither spoke.
At the sight of the approaching entourage, the second creature took his captive and dropped him to the ground. The two fearsome creatures then bowed before the approaching man. The first creature spoke and said, “Welcome, Lord Slumbutter. We are here to do your bidding. Speak, Master, and we shall act.”
Slumbutter paused and looked around for a moment. He saw the unmasked and unconscious captive lying on the ground. “Who is that?” he asked.
“It is the first of the two captives that were dispatched to the mound, Lord Slumbutter,” replied the first creature. “He...was not persuaded of the great privilege of immortal service to you, O Master. He cowered in fear and turned his back. He is worthy of destruction.”
Slumbutter nodded slowly as he listened to the first creature. “It is true,” he replied. “But one who is destroyed is of no use to us. I have a great need for a slave. So leave the weakling alone. I shall bind him up and take him with me.”
The second creature then spoke. “First, O Master, let me mark him,” he petitioned. Slumbutter nodded and granted the creatures request. The second creature then grabbed his sword with both hands and held it high in the air. As he held it, Cable saw the sword begin to glow. It became red and started to smoke. As the smoke rose, the second creature laughed. His laugh echoed through the woods, and its fearsome ring made Cable want to burrow himself into the ground. Cable wanted to turn his head away from the scene, but he couldn’t turn his gaze. Instead, he watched as the second creature took his sword and slashed the captive across his back. He made a mark in the shape of an “S” and seared it into the flesh of the helpless captive. The captive screamed and immediately awoke from his unconsciousness. But any thoughts of fleeing to freedom were quickly squelched when Slumbutter’s bodyguards dismounted and grabbed him. The captive was quickly bound hand and foot and was tossed over the back of Slumbutter’s horse. The captive’s hood was also put back on his head. Without a word, Slumbutter turned his mount and headed back into the woods. His bodyguards silently remounted their horses and followed him. Silence again descended upon the woods as the hoof-beats of the horses faded into the distance.
Cable was suddenly awash in guilt. A man was now marked for life as a slave of Slumbutter, and Cable had refused to even raise a figure in the man’s defense. Cable tried to convince himself that the man actually deserved his fate--after all, by his own admission, he had willingly turned his back on Maximilian in order to come to Slumbutter. But then Cable recalled the expression on the captives face when he looked into the mound. Cable couldn’t get the image of sheer terror out of his mind. He didn’t think he’d ever forget it.
And now Cable continued to stare below him. The second captive remained sitting on the log. He hadn’t moved throughout the entire ordeal. As Cable looked, he saw the man tremble slightly. Cable thought the man was probably sobbing. The man now knew what was coming, and he knew he was helpless to avoid his fate. Cable asked himself, Am I just going to sit here while another captive has his life taken from him? He felt powerless to help, and powerless to turn his back from the spectacle that was unfolding before him.
Each had a hood on his head.
The other two figures, by contrast, seemed to be almost gliding up the hill. They emitted an eerie glow as they moved, and they each carried a sword. The swords were used to prod the other two when they moved too slowly, or when they fell to the ground. It didn’t take Cable long to realize what they were, and his heart sank and his stomach cinched up in a knot when he realized it. He turned to Jimbo and whispered, “Those...those are the two ghostly creatures, aren’t they?”
Jimbo nodded. “Yep, Herc. That’s exactly what they is,” he replied softly. “Only I think there’s a lot more than two of ‘em. Sometimes I feel like this land is crawling with them. And Herc...our job just got a whole lot tougher. We should have jumped down there and blown the trumpet when we had the chance. Now we’ve got to contend with these boys...”
Cable bit his lip and resisted bellowing out in frustration. Jimbo was right--his hesitation had cost them dearly. Now the only way to fulfill their mission was to somehow wrestle their way through two more creatures that seemed invincible. And somehow, they had to do that while carrying a trumpet that seemed to weigh more than an anvil. Cable was overwhelmed with frustration and despair. He grabbed Jimbo’s cloak and whispered, “Why don’t we just leave? Why don’t we come back in the daylight, after they’ve gone?”
Doofus uttered a low growl that made Cable jump. He wanted to kick the opinionated beast, but that would require him to stand up. And if he did that, the ghostly creatures would certainly see him. So he again restrained his fury. Meanwhile, Jimbo replied, “There’s no turning back now, mate. Ronaldus has sent us on a mission, and we’ve got to fulfill it. If the task was too great for us, we wouldn’t have been asked to do it. And besides, Herc, there are two chaps down there who likely need our help. We’re not going to just leave them, are we?”
Cable didn’t know what to think. Almost every part of his being wanted to just run--to just leave his burdensome trumpet on the ground and flee. The urge was almost beyond his ability to resist. Yet Cable knew that Jimbo was right. He couldn’t turn his back on the captives that were walking just below them. And he couldn’t compound his error of procrastination with an even graver error of cowardice.
So Cable waited and watched. By the dim light of a crescent moon and the faint glow of the fearsome creatures, Cable could see everything quite clearly. He saw the creatures lead the captives over to a log that lay about 15 feet in front of the doorway to the mound. The hooded captives were turned around to face the mound, and then they were prodded with the swords to sit down on the log that lay behind them. The captives quickly obeyed.
The first creature now spoke. The voice was low and gravelly; it made Cable’s skin crawl. “Gentlemen,” the creature began, “it has been a long journey, but you have finally reached your destination. You may breathe easily now. With a few more steps, your pilgrimage will be complete.”
The creature paused. The captives said nothing. After a few seconds, the creature resumed. “You have come to Dor-ko and to Slumbutter of your own free will, have you not?” he asked. The two captives still remained silent.
The second creature moved behind the captives and poked them with the tip of his sword. “Answer!” he said. “Do not hesitate, or your lives will be worthless! Answer!”
The two captives nodded their heads.
The first creature then resumed. “You were wise, gentlemen! It is always wise to turn your back on a cowardly, weak king. Maximilian offers you nothing but restraint. You wish to be great, and he keeps you under his thumb. You did well to turn away. Greatness is now yours! And it is only a few steps away!
“In a few moments, each of you will be brought forward to the door of immortality. When you pass through it, you will become like us. You will live forever! The wretched subjects of your weak king will tremble at your presence, even as you have trembled at ours. Nothing will be able to stop you. Together in service to Dor-ko and Slumbutter, you shall work to destroy the shackles that your king has placed upon this once-great land. The greatness that you have sought shall be yours!”
The second creature, who still stood behind the log, then tapped one of the captives on the shoulder. As he did so, the first creature called out, “Come!” The captive immediately obeyed and rose to his feet. The first creature stepped forward and grabbed him by the shoulder. “You do well to rise quickly,” he said. “Come forward now, and stand before the door.” The captive walked haltingly toward the door to the mound. When he came within about five feet from the door, the creature stopped him. The creature then reached out and opened the door.
As Cable looked downward at the scene below him, he saw the area drenched in a glow of flickering orange and red light. The flames from the mound were illuminating the ground below him. The captive seemed to sense the light and turned his head, even though his head was still covered with a hood. Cable felt warm air start to rise over him. At first, it felt good to his drenched and chill-filled body. But when he realized that it was the heat of an inferno that was about to consume the helpless captive, he was filled with an even deeper chill inside.
Cable watched as the first creature said to the captive, “I shall now remove your hood. Once your eyes are open and you see clearly, you are to walk through the door that is before you. You are to walk through the door and experience the great joy of being transformed to serve Lord Slumbutter and Lord Dor-ko. You shall give up the bonds of your pathetic king, and you shall be immortal! But let me warn you now...do not hesitate!”
The first creature then reached out and pulled off the captive’s hood. The captive squinted at first, his eyes struggling to adjust to the bright light of the inferno that lay inside the door. But as his eyes opened, Cable saw a look of great fear come across the stranger’s face. His eyes soon became as wide as saucers, and his mouth gaped open with an expression of shock. His head shook back and forth quickly, and he cried out, “No! No!” The then turned and tried to run away.
However, he didn’t take more than two steps before the first creature grabbed him by his cloak and held him still. The captive tried to keep moving, but the creature would not relax his grip. The creature cried out, “This is your last chance, you fool! Walk through the door! Live forever! You’ve turned your back on your first master; you cannot turn away again! The only hope you have is to enter! Enter! Enter!”
The captive would not turn, but neither could he overcome the strength of the creature. He twisted and squirmed and churned his legs and attempted to push away his captor. As Cable watched, he felt Jimbo tap him on the shoulder. Cable turned, and Jimbo asked, “Shouldn’t we try and help, mate?” But Cable couldn’t move. He felt as though his body were nailed to the ground. And he was just unwilling to try and overcome his fear.
Meanwhile, down below, the resistance of the unmasked captive was futile. Finally, the second creature approached. He swung his sword and struck the captive in the head with its flat side. The captive fell to the ground, unconscious. The second creature stood over the captive for a moment, then turned to the first creature. “Let’s throw him in anyway,” he whispered.
“Has a man ever been thrust through the door against his will?” asked the first creature.
“Our masters, of course, prefer that the men walk through willingly,” replied the second creature. “But I see no reason why a creature shouldn’t be tossed in unwillingly. I heard that some of our brethren were sent to throw Prince Cable into the fire. They tried to persuade him to go through willingly, but they persisted when he proved unwilling.”
“Was he thrown in?” asked the first creature.
“The fool escaped,” answered the second creature. “But he shall be found. He cannot run forever. And he shall be destroyed, as he deserves.”
Cable shuddered as he heard the discussion below him. He resolved to stay right where he was. He would not expose himself to what he knew would be certain destruction if he tried to help anyone.
The creatures continued their dialog. The first creature said, “But brother, what you are saying is that no one has entered through the door unless they were willing. I has not been done. Indeed, I don’t know that it can be done. Why don’t we just slay him where he lies?”
The second creature replied, “Are you a coward as well? What do you mean, it can’t be done? Of course it can! Just watch me!” With those words, the second creature stooped down, grabbed the unconscious captive, and threw him over his shoulder. He walked toward the door and prepared to sling the body into the flames. However, before he could release the body, a voice from the woods thundered out, “Halt!”
Both of the creatures turned back toward the woods. Cable’s eyes followed the gaze of the creatures. In the dim light of the moon, Cable could see a man approach on horseback. He rode high atop a black horse. As he emerged from the woods, Cable could see that he was followed by two knights clad in black armor. When the group entered into the clearing in front of the mound, the two black knights quickly caught up to their leader. One guided his horse to the leader’s left side, while the other went to his right side. Both of the black knights, who appeared to be bodyguards, remained a few feet behind their leader. Neither spoke.
At the sight of the approaching entourage, the second creature took his captive and dropped him to the ground. The two fearsome creatures then bowed before the approaching man. The first creature spoke and said, “Welcome, Lord Slumbutter. We are here to do your bidding. Speak, Master, and we shall act.”
Slumbutter paused and looked around for a moment. He saw the unmasked and unconscious captive lying on the ground. “Who is that?” he asked.
“It is the first of the two captives that were dispatched to the mound, Lord Slumbutter,” replied the first creature. “He...was not persuaded of the great privilege of immortal service to you, O Master. He cowered in fear and turned his back. He is worthy of destruction.”
Slumbutter nodded slowly as he listened to the first creature. “It is true,” he replied. “But one who is destroyed is of no use to us. I have a great need for a slave. So leave the weakling alone. I shall bind him up and take him with me.”
The second creature then spoke. “First, O Master, let me mark him,” he petitioned. Slumbutter nodded and granted the creatures request. The second creature then grabbed his sword with both hands and held it high in the air. As he held it, Cable saw the sword begin to glow. It became red and started to smoke. As the smoke rose, the second creature laughed. His laugh echoed through the woods, and its fearsome ring made Cable want to burrow himself into the ground. Cable wanted to turn his head away from the scene, but he couldn’t turn his gaze. Instead, he watched as the second creature took his sword and slashed the captive across his back. He made a mark in the shape of an “S” and seared it into the flesh of the helpless captive. The captive screamed and immediately awoke from his unconsciousness. But any thoughts of fleeing to freedom were quickly squelched when Slumbutter’s bodyguards dismounted and grabbed him. The captive was quickly bound hand and foot and was tossed over the back of Slumbutter’s horse. The captive’s hood was also put back on his head. Without a word, Slumbutter turned his mount and headed back into the woods. His bodyguards silently remounted their horses and followed him. Silence again descended upon the woods as the hoof-beats of the horses faded into the distance.
Cable was suddenly awash in guilt. A man was now marked for life as a slave of Slumbutter, and Cable had refused to even raise a figure in the man’s defense. Cable tried to convince himself that the man actually deserved his fate--after all, by his own admission, he had willingly turned his back on Maximilian in order to come to Slumbutter. But then Cable recalled the expression on the captives face when he looked into the mound. Cable couldn’t get the image of sheer terror out of his mind. He didn’t think he’d ever forget it.
And now Cable continued to stare below him. The second captive remained sitting on the log. He hadn’t moved throughout the entire ordeal. As Cable looked, he saw the man tremble slightly. Cable thought the man was probably sobbing. The man now knew what was coming, and he knew he was helpless to avoid his fate. Cable asked himself, Am I just going to sit here while another captive has his life taken from him? He felt powerless to help, and powerless to turn his back from the spectacle that was unfolding before him.
Sunday, March 4, 2012
Chapter 41 - Counterattack
Andres steadied himself behind the village walls as the Army of Dor-ko advanced. Hundreds of warriors from the village of Cliffton stood to his right and to his left, with arrows notched and bows bent. All was silent inside the walls; there were no cheers, shouts, or battle cries. Everyone was quiet with their eyes on their attackers. The men knew the range of their weapons. There was no need to waste their ammunition on an enemy that still was too far away.
Slowly the enemy line approached. It was not the entire army--just fifty men or so walking shoulder to shoulder. As Andres peered over the walls, he thought it odd that the first wave did not appear to be armed. They just walked slowly, carrying several objects above their heads. Try as he could, Andres could not make out what they were carrying. After a few moments, a bugle call sounded out from the enemy’s side. That was when the advancing line began to run.
“Let the arrows fly!” bellowed Samek. Andres joined the rest of his comrades in sending his first arrow across the field of battle. It found its mark, striking one of the soldiers in the heart and sending him tumbling to the ground. Andres trembled and broke into a cold sweat. He’d always trained for such moments, but he never thought he’d actually have to kill someone in battle. But before he could drown in his thoughts, he felt a hand grip his shoulder. It was Pipes.
“Well done, Your Majesty!” Pipes shouted above the roar of the battle. “Stay steady, and don’t despair. We’re fighting for your father! We didn’t want this fight, Andres, but they are the ones who are attacking. So for the sake of your father, your family, and for the Kingdom of Aberdeen, we must fight and take them all down if need be! So grab another arrow and keep battling, Andres! This is the day that you were born for!”
Andres looked Pipes in the eyes. He was reassured by the calm determination in the man’s eyes. Andres nodded, grabbed another arrow, and returned his mind to the combat at hand.
The men of Cliffton shot volley after volley at the advancing line. Strangely, no arrows were shot in return. The line simply staggered forward until, one by one, the enemy soldiers fell. After just a few moments, the line was entirely struck down. An eerie quiet descended over the battlefield. Andres couldn’t understand what had just happened. What kind of attack was that?
As Andres stared at the fallen enemy soldiers, he could make out what they’d been carrying. They appeared to be tall ladders, and now they were strewn around the field. He turned to Pipes, and Pipes answered his question before he could ask it. “I guess their plan was to try and scale our walls with those ladders,” he said. “There is something awfully strange about this whole thing...”
Before Pipes could finish his thought, another bugle call sounded forth. Andres and the rest of the men of Cliffton stared intently at the enemy’s battle array. This time, he looked out and saw two lines appearing to form. The first line again was unarmed and began to advance forward at a slow trot. The second line, however, was armed. They moved forward as well, staying about 10 yards behind the first line.
When the first line came within bowshot, the men of Cliffton again sent a volley of arrows downrange. Again, many arrows found their mark, and several of the advancing men fell to the ground. But still the first line advanced. And as they did, the second line knelt down, grabbed their arrows, and returned a volley of their own.
Andres ducked to avoid an arrow that seemed to be aimed right at his head. He could hear Pipes grumble. “Those miserable wretches!” he cried. “If a fight is what they want, then a fight is what they’ll get!” He then grabbed another arrow, quickly took aim, and let it fly. Andres didn’t see where it landed; he hardly dared to look. He’d fought plenty of fun battles with his brother Andres, and on more than one occasion the brothers had sort of felt like killing each other. But this was different. Now there was an entire army that wanted to nothing but kill him and the rest of his fellow warriors.
Andres’ hands trembled as he tried to reach for another arrow. “What...what should I do?” he stuttered.
“Those scoundrels are making us choose!” Pipes replied. “The boneheads in the first rank have one job--to grab the ladders and bring them to our walls to set up the assault. They are defenseless--poor, dumb, witless creatures!--and we can kill them easily. But we can’t only focus on them, because now they are being covered by the boneheads in the second rank. And we can’t just stand here and fire at the second rank, because if we do, then the first rank will get closer and closer to our walls. So we’ve got to pick our poison! We shoot at first rank and risk being shot through by the second rank. Or we shoot at the second rank and risk having the first rank get their dastardly ladders in position to invade our city!”
Andres tried to process it all. It was too much for his 14-year-old mind to absorb. But as he thought, another arrow went flying overhead. He shook his head and blinked hard, trying to collect his wits. Again he felt the hand of Pipes on his shoulder. This time, the hand grasped him hard and shook him vigorously. “Prince Andres!” he cried. “Please either join us in this battle, or retreat to safety inside the village! You will be in danger here at the wall if you don’t engage the enemy!”
Andres was embarrassed at his hesitation. He swallowed hard and turned back toward the battle. He resolved in his mind that today he would fight...even if it cost him his life. He grabbed another arrow from his quiver, notched it, took aim at one of the bedeviling archers in the second rank, and let it fly. Once again, his arrow found its mark. From that moment on, Andres’ mind was engaged in the battle--a battle that seemed interminable.
The enemy launched wave after wave at the village of Cliffton. The archers of Cliffton were fearless, and their aim was true. It seemed as though every arrow that they launched found a target, and soon the battlefield was littered with the bodies of the enemy. But still they attacked. Wave after wave of unarmed soldiers marched forward and advanced the ladders, and wave after wave of archers stayed behind and covered their advance with a volley of arrows. The enemy’s archers weren’t as accurate as the men of Cliffton, and most of their arrows soared harmlessly overhead. But they were relentless. And every once in awhile, an arrow found its mark and felled one of the brave men of Cliffton.
As they day advanced, the sun rose high in the sky and beat down on the men that stood their positions inside the city walls. Andres throat was parched. He yearned for just a swallow of water, yet he could not divert his attention for even an instant from the battle. He just couldn’t get his attention off the “body” that had been dropped by the hooded man. The man had declared that it was the body of his father, King Maximilian. Andres doubted it was true. But what if it was?
The body continued to lie on the ground, just beyond the range of Cliffton’s archers. Behind the body remained the hooded man atop his horse. But as the day progressed, more warriors came and encircled the body. As noon approached, Andres thought he could see no less than 6 knights, all arrayed in black armor, sitting on horses and protecting the body. If the king is dead, Andres thought, then why are they so worried about protecting a corpse? It just didn’t make sense.
But there was little time to think. Though hundreds of Dor-ko’s army lay strewn across the battlefield, still they advanced. There seemed to be no end to the enemy forces. They just kept streaming out of the woods, and wave after wave of ladder-bearers and archers came forward. By late afternoon, the ladders had made it to the village walls. The men of Cliffton tried valiantly to knock them down and slow the advance. But they found that the enemy archers used the ladders as a target. If a warrior of Cliffton stood up above the walls to try and dislodge the ladder, an enemy archer would almost always send an arrow flying his way. After losing nearly a half-dozen soldiers in this way, Samek ordered his soldiers back.
“Just let ‘em come!” Samek bellowed to his exhausted warriors. “We’ll just have to get them one by one as they reach the top of the ladders. I need about two men to guard every ladder from behind, and as soon as you see their ugly heads pop over the top, let an arrow fly right up their huge noses!”
One of the soldiers cried out for water. Andres suddenly remembered how parched his own throat was, and he turned around and saw a couple of girls approaching. It was his sister Remma and her new-found friend, Kaelanna. They were awkwardly carrying a bucket of water between them. “Remma, you’re awesome!” Andres cried out as he rushed over to her and prepared to take a drink. But just before he could reach in for a gulp, Andres saw something out of the corner of his eye. He jerked his head upward saw a volley of arrows flying in their direction, but this time there was something different about them. When they landed, he could see what it was.
They were flaming arrows. And they had found their mark--one of the nearby houses, where many of the warriors wives and children were staying.
And now, the battle changed. Half of the warriors had to scramble to put out the fires that were being launched by the enemy archers, while the other half perilously guarded the ladders. The precious water that was so desperately needed by the courageous warriors had to be used to quench the fires that threatened to engulf the village. Andres was enraged. Dor-ko’s seemingly endless army was about to utterly destroy a small village. And all Andres and his comrades in arms could do was to try and make sure they paid a high price for their conquest. It seemed hopeless.
Andres positioned himself next to Pipes, and together they picked off Dor-ko’s men as they clambered over the village walls. But there were just too many ladders and too many men. For every one of the enemy that was sent tumbling by an arrow strike to the head, another one of Dor-ko’s men successful made it over the wall in a different spot. Soon about ten of Dor-ko’s men were over the wall and attacking. Legs quickly gathered some warriors together and engaged Dor-ko’s men in hand-to-hand combat. Yet while Dor-ko’s men were quickly defeated, the distraction allowed still more of Dor-ko’s soldiers to scale the wall in another part of the village. The attack was unrelenting.
As the afternoon wore on and sunset approached, Andres became exhausted. He had helped fend off and end the lives of nearly two dozen of Dor-ko’s men, yet it all seemed for naught. The enemy would not be deterred. They just kept advancing. As Andres gathered with Legs and Pipes to prepare for another wave of the onslaught, he asked, “Where is Gregorex? We sure could use him right about now!”
Legs tried to answer, but he couldn’t. His throat was too dry to even speak. Pipes mumbled something, but he was fighting just to catch his breath. Andres stared around him and saw that all of the warriors were drenched in sweat. Many were badly bruised and scarred. Off to his right, Andres saw Fred. He had a bloody wound in his shoulder, where an arrow had grazed him earlier. All of the men were grim-faced. They weren’t ready to give up, yet neither were they ready to fight on much longer. Their spirit was willing, but their flesh was weak--and growing weaker by the moment.
Finally Samek spoke up. “Gregorex...,” he said while panting, “he...he left last night. He...he took his horse and...headed back toward the castle. He...he...was hoping to urge them along. He thought...it was...our only chance at...defeating these vermin.”
Then Legs spoke. “But...we fear the worst for Gregorex. He mounted Spartacus at about midnight...and started to heading toward the Great Swamp. The last time we saw him was...when he rode through the village gate. But a few minutes after he left, one of the sentries came running up to us. He said that he saw Spartacus trotting through the swamp...but that Gregorex was not on top of him. My dad and I immediately ran to see if we could find him anywhere, but he was nowhere to be seen. We’re afraid that he was either slain with an arrow, or captured.”
Samek grimly added, “So we’re not expecting a lot of help from Aberdeen. Spartacus will do what he can, but even if he manages to find someone, he won’t be able to tell them what kind of trouble we’re in.” He paused for a moment, bit his lip, and then said, “We’re going to have to fight this one...alone.”
Suddenly Andres had an idea. “Samek,” he said. “We’ve only got one chance.”
“Tell us, Your Majesty,” replied a Samek with some skepticism. “I’m out of ideas, and we’re about out of time.”
“We’ve got to attack,” declared Andres.
Samek just looked up. He didn’t say a word.
“Look--we can’t stay here,” Andres said. “When night falls, and we can no longer pick out the attackers as they advance, they are going to swarm all over the village. So we’ve got to do something now. And you know our enemies--these guys are brainless. They just do what their leader tells ‘em to do. Do you remember the hooded guy that’s standing next to the body that they claim is my father? Well, I’m betting that is Dor-ko himself. I think if we launch a swift attack and take him out, then maybe the whole wretched army will collapse.”
Samek turned to Pipes. “What do you think?” he asked.
“I think it’s crazy,” replied Pipes. “But it may also be our only chance. What we’re doing right now...well, we’ve killed a lot of them, but it’s not stopping anything.”
“And anyway,” said Andres. “If...if that really is my father, we need to go get him. We...we just can’t let him...stay out there. We just can’t.”
A brief silence followed. The exhausted warriors looked at one another as if looking for someone to make a decision. Soon Samek’s voice rose up. “The boy is right,” he said. “Look, those accursed flaming arrows will soon by sailing our way again. Most of us will need to stay and defend the village. But I’ll take Pipes and Legs and we’ll mount up and make a mad dash. With a little luck, we’ll make it through the enemy line, take out that hooded scoundrel, grab the body, and return with our heads still intact. It sounds crazy, but that’s only because it is. Let’s roll!”
Samek turned to head toward a covered stable, where some horses stood by. When he didn’t hear any footsteps behind him, he turned and groused, “Why aren’t you guys right behind me?”
Pipes grabbed Andres by the shoulder as he spoke up. “Samek...with all due respect, sir, we’ve got to let the prince come with us. After all...it is his father.”
Samek was indignant. Lowering his voice, he walked up to Pipes and said, “You know as well as I do that this is practically a suicide mission! There isn’t a single one of us that will make it back! I can’t do that to the one who might be the last living heir to the throne!”
Pipes replied in a calm, slow drawl. “Samek...if that was your wife out there, lying in a heap, could you imagine staying back here and letting someone else risk his life to rescue her? Because that’s what you’re expecting Andres to do. He’s a warrior, and he wants his father back. We’re all in danger this day, and not a single one of us may live to see the sun rise tomorrow. So let him come, Samek. We...we need him.”
For once, Samek held his tongue and looked around before he spoke. He looked in the eyes of Pipes, Legs, and Andres. All returned his gaze and nodded their heads. Samek then swallowed hard, nearly gagging in his parched throat. He whispered, “That settles it. Let’s go.”
The foursome proceeded to arm themselves for the assault. They decided to travel lightly, valuing speed and agility over all else. All they truly needed was some protection for the mad dash toward the hooded figure, and a weapon to slay him and his henchmen when they arrived. So they carried nothing but a shield and a sword. When all were armed and mounted, they trotted over to the gate. Samek gave the signal, and the guardian of the gate opened the doors. The warriors spurred their horses onward, and they flew through the gate as the wind whistles through a narrow alley. Soon they were heading straight toward the hooded figure. Samek was in the lead, with Andres following a few yards behind. Pipes rode to Andres’ left, while Legs rode to Andres’ right. Andres’ gaze was fixed on the mysterious body that lay in front of the hooded man. And as he stared ahead, he raised his shield to protect himself from the deadly hail of arrows that he was sure would be launched their way in a matter of seconds.
But two things surprised Andres as he surged forward. First, the hail of arrows never came. The archers of Dor-ko seemed to be so stunned by the sight of the men galloping straight at them that they just knelt and stared. To Andres, it seemed as though his world was moving at the speed of light, while the rest of the world moved in slow motion. And as he continued to ride, he was surprised to hear a sound to his rear. He quickly looked over his shoulder, and he was shocked to see someone actually riding behind him. The mysterious rider wore a mask, and he carried a shield in his left hand with a sword raised in his right hand. The sword swirled through the air as the rider gracefully galloped behind him. Andres couldn’t think of who it was. But then again, there really wasn’t much time to think. The hooded figure and his henchmen were now just about twenty yards away.
Soon, the five valiant riders closed the distance. Andres tried to head straight toward the hooded man, but he was quickly intercepted by the black knight to his right. Andres struck the first blow, nearly knocking the knight from his horse as he slashed downward with his sword. The knight quickly regained his balance and tried to counter-thrust, but Andres deftly blocked it with his shield. The two warriors then fought back and forth, with Andres getting closer and closer to the mark, and his enemy just barely managing to block his attacks. The thought came into Andres’ mind as he battled...this guy is nothing compared to Cable. Andres could see frustration mount in his foe’s face. But Andres also knew he must strike quickly, for he was feeling the weakening effects of a lack of food and water. When he saw his enemy turn his attention away ever so briefly, Andres reared back and thrust his sword into the man’s heart. The soldier silently fell off his horse and tumbled to the ground.
Andres then looked around and was amazed at what he saw. All of the hooded figure’s henchmen had been slain. The hooded figure had been struck down from atop his mount, and he lay down next to the mysterious enshrouded body. The masked man that had ridden behind Andres stood above the hooded figure, with his boot placed precariously on the hooded figure’s throat. Samek, Pipes and Legs were all still atop their horses, and they encircled the hooded figure and the masked man. Meanwhile, the battlefield beyond had grown eerily silent.
The masked man reached down and yanked off the hood of the figure who lay at his feet. Sure enough, it was the scarred face of Dor-ko. However, he did not have a face of fear; rather, he sneered and spat at his victor. “You are scum!” he cried out. “Who are you, who masks his face from his adversary? Unmask yourself!”
The victor obliged Dor-ko and pulled off his mask. Andres--along with everyone else--gasped. For it was not a man it all. It was a woman.
It was Annala.
Before anyone could utter a word, Annala put her sword to Dor-ko’s throat. “Four years ago, you ripped my mother and me from our home. I’ve escaped your pathetic hands, but I’ve not seen my mother ever since. I swear, if you’ve harmed her at all, I will stick the tip of my sword through your throat this very instant!”
Dor-ko didn’t flinch or blink. He just stared up and smiled. Annala pressed the tip of her sword into his neck and drew a drop of blood. Still, Dor-ko didn’t budge; he just continued to smile. Finally, he spoke. “It’s funny you should mention your mother,” he said. “Before you get too audacious with that sword of yours, I’d suggest that you open the body bag. You might be...interested in what you find.”
Andres vaulted off his horse and leaped toward the body bag. He deftly inserted the tip of his sword and ripped the bag open. To his great relief, there was not body in it whatsoever. There were just a few pillows that had been stuffed into the bag in order to give it some shape. However, there was something curious lying at the foot of the bag. Andres reached down and grabbed it.
“It’s a scroll,” Andres said.
“Unroll it and read it, O Prince,” growled Dor-ko. “I think that Samek will be interested in reading this note from...his lovely wife.” The sneering grin never left Dor-ko’s face as he spoke.
Andres glanced over at Samek. Samek just nodded, as if to give Andres the go-ahead to speak aloud. In the fading light of the setting sun, Andres read the following:
My dearest Samek-
Please forgive me if the handwriting is not very clear. I am writing this by candlelight, deep inside a cave that I was taken to by Lord Dor-ko. When I finish writing, Lord Dor-ko is going to snuff out the candle and abandon me. He tells me that he is the only one who knows where I am. If he doesn’t return to free me, then I will die, alone.
I just wanted you to know that not a day has gone by over the past 4 years that I’ve not thought of you, dreamed about you, and wept over our separation. The memories of our years together have been a daily source of treasure for me--the kind of treasure that can never be taken from me. Whatever happens, please know that I have been your faithful Susannah, and my heart will forever rest in your hands.
Before the light goes out, I have this poem to share:
So Love Abounds. You
Have Inflamed My
heart
today, even now.
trust me, believe me now,
Or Whenever Love
is seen.
Farewell.
Andres finished reading. There was a moment of silence, as the group slowly absorbed the message that had just been read. As Andres continued to fix his eyes on the note, Annala stepped away from Dor-ko and pulled back her sword. Dor-ko slowly rose to his feet and laughed.
“That’s right, Annala,” Dor-ko cried out, a trickle of blood spilling down his throat. “You will pay dearly for the blood you’ve shed, you miserable little whelp! The life of your beloved mother lies in my hands, and mine alone! For every drop of mine that is lost, your mother will lose tenfold!”
“Lead us to her this instant,” bellowed Samek, “or I’ll squash your pathetic head like a grape and squeeze the information out of you!”
“If you so much as lay a hand on me,” replied Dor-ko in a slow, steady tone, “you will never see your little woman again. She’s been sitting alone for a very, very long time. I might suggest that you surrender this very instant. If you do...well, I might just lead you to her cave. And she just might still be alive. And...and you can take her place. It’s you or her, Samek. Who will it be?”
Samek couldn’t respond. He wasn’t accustomed to feeling so powerless. As he paused, Dor-ko spoke again. “I can see by your silence that you are having a hard time surrendering. Let me see if I can help you with your decision.” Dor-ko then turned around and faced the woods that lay a couple of hundred yards behind him. He raised his right arm and yelled out, “Come! Come! Come!”
If Andres had let his eyes rise from the scroll, he would have seen hundreds of ghoulish figures emerge from the woods. Some were carrying swords, some were carrying scythes, and some were carrying nothing at all. Yet, armed or not, these creatures were utterly fearsome and loathsome.
If Andres had looked up, he would have seen all of the warriors--Samek, Pipes, Legs, and even Annala--drop their weapons. If he had looked in their eyes, Andres would have seen that each one of them had a look of surrender in his eyes. For none of them had ever seen creatures as ominous as this, which seemed to glide over the ground, relentless advancing and emanating fear with every step.
If Andres had turned his eyes from Susannah’s note, he would have seen his comrades slowly back away from Dor-ko and the advancing horde. If he had been listening, he would have heard Dor-ko declare, “Ladies and gentlemen, the creatures that you see before you are the souls of men that have turned their back on your detestable King Maximilian. They have given themselves to the relentless advancement of the kingdom of darkness--the kingdom of Dor-ko. There is nothing you can do to resist them. They have killed Cable, they are about to decimate your filthy village, and they will soon overrun the entire kingdom. You have two choices--surrender this instant, or be crushed a few instants later. What will it be?”
If Andres had been paying attention to anything but the scroll, he would have heard Dor-ko fill the air with a dreadful laughter that shook the souls of his friends, and filled the souls of the black knights with delight. He would have heard the black knights that remained on the field give a great shout. He would have seen them start to resume the battle against the Village of Cliffton with renewed vigor.
But Andres saw and heard none of this. He just couldn’t get his mind off the poem that was scrawled on the scroll that remained in his hands. But as his friends retreated, his enemies advanced, and Dor-ko gloated, Andres suddenly saw what he was looking for. He thrust the scroll in his pocket, grabbed his sword, and took two steps toward Dor-ko. The proud rogue was so entranced by his apparent triumph that he never even saw Andres move. Andres thrust the sword through Dor-ko’s heart. Dor-ko crumbled to the ground.
Before anyone could speak, Andres ran and mounted his horse. “Don’t blame me!” he cried. “Susannah told me to do it! Now let’s get back to the village and keep up the fight!”
Slowly the enemy line approached. It was not the entire army--just fifty men or so walking shoulder to shoulder. As Andres peered over the walls, he thought it odd that the first wave did not appear to be armed. They just walked slowly, carrying several objects above their heads. Try as he could, Andres could not make out what they were carrying. After a few moments, a bugle call sounded out from the enemy’s side. That was when the advancing line began to run.
“Let the arrows fly!” bellowed Samek. Andres joined the rest of his comrades in sending his first arrow across the field of battle. It found its mark, striking one of the soldiers in the heart and sending him tumbling to the ground. Andres trembled and broke into a cold sweat. He’d always trained for such moments, but he never thought he’d actually have to kill someone in battle. But before he could drown in his thoughts, he felt a hand grip his shoulder. It was Pipes.
“Well done, Your Majesty!” Pipes shouted above the roar of the battle. “Stay steady, and don’t despair. We’re fighting for your father! We didn’t want this fight, Andres, but they are the ones who are attacking. So for the sake of your father, your family, and for the Kingdom of Aberdeen, we must fight and take them all down if need be! So grab another arrow and keep battling, Andres! This is the day that you were born for!”
Andres looked Pipes in the eyes. He was reassured by the calm determination in the man’s eyes. Andres nodded, grabbed another arrow, and returned his mind to the combat at hand.
The men of Cliffton shot volley after volley at the advancing line. Strangely, no arrows were shot in return. The line simply staggered forward until, one by one, the enemy soldiers fell. After just a few moments, the line was entirely struck down. An eerie quiet descended over the battlefield. Andres couldn’t understand what had just happened. What kind of attack was that?
As Andres stared at the fallen enemy soldiers, he could make out what they’d been carrying. They appeared to be tall ladders, and now they were strewn around the field. He turned to Pipes, and Pipes answered his question before he could ask it. “I guess their plan was to try and scale our walls with those ladders,” he said. “There is something awfully strange about this whole thing...”
Before Pipes could finish his thought, another bugle call sounded forth. Andres and the rest of the men of Cliffton stared intently at the enemy’s battle array. This time, he looked out and saw two lines appearing to form. The first line again was unarmed and began to advance forward at a slow trot. The second line, however, was armed. They moved forward as well, staying about 10 yards behind the first line.
When the first line came within bowshot, the men of Cliffton again sent a volley of arrows downrange. Again, many arrows found their mark, and several of the advancing men fell to the ground. But still the first line advanced. And as they did, the second line knelt down, grabbed their arrows, and returned a volley of their own.
Andres ducked to avoid an arrow that seemed to be aimed right at his head. He could hear Pipes grumble. “Those miserable wretches!” he cried. “If a fight is what they want, then a fight is what they’ll get!” He then grabbed another arrow, quickly took aim, and let it fly. Andres didn’t see where it landed; he hardly dared to look. He’d fought plenty of fun battles with his brother Andres, and on more than one occasion the brothers had sort of felt like killing each other. But this was different. Now there was an entire army that wanted to nothing but kill him and the rest of his fellow warriors.
Andres’ hands trembled as he tried to reach for another arrow. “What...what should I do?” he stuttered.
“Those scoundrels are making us choose!” Pipes replied. “The boneheads in the first rank have one job--to grab the ladders and bring them to our walls to set up the assault. They are defenseless--poor, dumb, witless creatures!--and we can kill them easily. But we can’t only focus on them, because now they are being covered by the boneheads in the second rank. And we can’t just stand here and fire at the second rank, because if we do, then the first rank will get closer and closer to our walls. So we’ve got to pick our poison! We shoot at first rank and risk being shot through by the second rank. Or we shoot at the second rank and risk having the first rank get their dastardly ladders in position to invade our city!”
Andres tried to process it all. It was too much for his 14-year-old mind to absorb. But as he thought, another arrow went flying overhead. He shook his head and blinked hard, trying to collect his wits. Again he felt the hand of Pipes on his shoulder. This time, the hand grasped him hard and shook him vigorously. “Prince Andres!” he cried. “Please either join us in this battle, or retreat to safety inside the village! You will be in danger here at the wall if you don’t engage the enemy!”
Andres was embarrassed at his hesitation. He swallowed hard and turned back toward the battle. He resolved in his mind that today he would fight...even if it cost him his life. He grabbed another arrow from his quiver, notched it, took aim at one of the bedeviling archers in the second rank, and let it fly. Once again, his arrow found its mark. From that moment on, Andres’ mind was engaged in the battle--a battle that seemed interminable.
The enemy launched wave after wave at the village of Cliffton. The archers of Cliffton were fearless, and their aim was true. It seemed as though every arrow that they launched found a target, and soon the battlefield was littered with the bodies of the enemy. But still they attacked. Wave after wave of unarmed soldiers marched forward and advanced the ladders, and wave after wave of archers stayed behind and covered their advance with a volley of arrows. The enemy’s archers weren’t as accurate as the men of Cliffton, and most of their arrows soared harmlessly overhead. But they were relentless. And every once in awhile, an arrow found its mark and felled one of the brave men of Cliffton.
As they day advanced, the sun rose high in the sky and beat down on the men that stood their positions inside the city walls. Andres throat was parched. He yearned for just a swallow of water, yet he could not divert his attention for even an instant from the battle. He just couldn’t get his attention off the “body” that had been dropped by the hooded man. The man had declared that it was the body of his father, King Maximilian. Andres doubted it was true. But what if it was?
The body continued to lie on the ground, just beyond the range of Cliffton’s archers. Behind the body remained the hooded man atop his horse. But as the day progressed, more warriors came and encircled the body. As noon approached, Andres thought he could see no less than 6 knights, all arrayed in black armor, sitting on horses and protecting the body. If the king is dead, Andres thought, then why are they so worried about protecting a corpse? It just didn’t make sense.
But there was little time to think. Though hundreds of Dor-ko’s army lay strewn across the battlefield, still they advanced. There seemed to be no end to the enemy forces. They just kept streaming out of the woods, and wave after wave of ladder-bearers and archers came forward. By late afternoon, the ladders had made it to the village walls. The men of Cliffton tried valiantly to knock them down and slow the advance. But they found that the enemy archers used the ladders as a target. If a warrior of Cliffton stood up above the walls to try and dislodge the ladder, an enemy archer would almost always send an arrow flying his way. After losing nearly a half-dozen soldiers in this way, Samek ordered his soldiers back.
“Just let ‘em come!” Samek bellowed to his exhausted warriors. “We’ll just have to get them one by one as they reach the top of the ladders. I need about two men to guard every ladder from behind, and as soon as you see their ugly heads pop over the top, let an arrow fly right up their huge noses!”
One of the soldiers cried out for water. Andres suddenly remembered how parched his own throat was, and he turned around and saw a couple of girls approaching. It was his sister Remma and her new-found friend, Kaelanna. They were awkwardly carrying a bucket of water between them. “Remma, you’re awesome!” Andres cried out as he rushed over to her and prepared to take a drink. But just before he could reach in for a gulp, Andres saw something out of the corner of his eye. He jerked his head upward saw a volley of arrows flying in their direction, but this time there was something different about them. When they landed, he could see what it was.
They were flaming arrows. And they had found their mark--one of the nearby houses, where many of the warriors wives and children were staying.
And now, the battle changed. Half of the warriors had to scramble to put out the fires that were being launched by the enemy archers, while the other half perilously guarded the ladders. The precious water that was so desperately needed by the courageous warriors had to be used to quench the fires that threatened to engulf the village. Andres was enraged. Dor-ko’s seemingly endless army was about to utterly destroy a small village. And all Andres and his comrades in arms could do was to try and make sure they paid a high price for their conquest. It seemed hopeless.
Andres positioned himself next to Pipes, and together they picked off Dor-ko’s men as they clambered over the village walls. But there were just too many ladders and too many men. For every one of the enemy that was sent tumbling by an arrow strike to the head, another one of Dor-ko’s men successful made it over the wall in a different spot. Soon about ten of Dor-ko’s men were over the wall and attacking. Legs quickly gathered some warriors together and engaged Dor-ko’s men in hand-to-hand combat. Yet while Dor-ko’s men were quickly defeated, the distraction allowed still more of Dor-ko’s soldiers to scale the wall in another part of the village. The attack was unrelenting.
As the afternoon wore on and sunset approached, Andres became exhausted. He had helped fend off and end the lives of nearly two dozen of Dor-ko’s men, yet it all seemed for naught. The enemy would not be deterred. They just kept advancing. As Andres gathered with Legs and Pipes to prepare for another wave of the onslaught, he asked, “Where is Gregorex? We sure could use him right about now!”
Legs tried to answer, but he couldn’t. His throat was too dry to even speak. Pipes mumbled something, but he was fighting just to catch his breath. Andres stared around him and saw that all of the warriors were drenched in sweat. Many were badly bruised and scarred. Off to his right, Andres saw Fred. He had a bloody wound in his shoulder, where an arrow had grazed him earlier. All of the men were grim-faced. They weren’t ready to give up, yet neither were they ready to fight on much longer. Their spirit was willing, but their flesh was weak--and growing weaker by the moment.
Finally Samek spoke up. “Gregorex...,” he said while panting, “he...he left last night. He...he took his horse and...headed back toward the castle. He...he...was hoping to urge them along. He thought...it was...our only chance at...defeating these vermin.”
Then Legs spoke. “But...we fear the worst for Gregorex. He mounted Spartacus at about midnight...and started to heading toward the Great Swamp. The last time we saw him was...when he rode through the village gate. But a few minutes after he left, one of the sentries came running up to us. He said that he saw Spartacus trotting through the swamp...but that Gregorex was not on top of him. My dad and I immediately ran to see if we could find him anywhere, but he was nowhere to be seen. We’re afraid that he was either slain with an arrow, or captured.”
Samek grimly added, “So we’re not expecting a lot of help from Aberdeen. Spartacus will do what he can, but even if he manages to find someone, he won’t be able to tell them what kind of trouble we’re in.” He paused for a moment, bit his lip, and then said, “We’re going to have to fight this one...alone.”
Suddenly Andres had an idea. “Samek,” he said. “We’ve only got one chance.”
“Tell us, Your Majesty,” replied a Samek with some skepticism. “I’m out of ideas, and we’re about out of time.”
“We’ve got to attack,” declared Andres.
Samek just looked up. He didn’t say a word.
“Look--we can’t stay here,” Andres said. “When night falls, and we can no longer pick out the attackers as they advance, they are going to swarm all over the village. So we’ve got to do something now. And you know our enemies--these guys are brainless. They just do what their leader tells ‘em to do. Do you remember the hooded guy that’s standing next to the body that they claim is my father? Well, I’m betting that is Dor-ko himself. I think if we launch a swift attack and take him out, then maybe the whole wretched army will collapse.”
Samek turned to Pipes. “What do you think?” he asked.
“I think it’s crazy,” replied Pipes. “But it may also be our only chance. What we’re doing right now...well, we’ve killed a lot of them, but it’s not stopping anything.”
“And anyway,” said Andres. “If...if that really is my father, we need to go get him. We...we just can’t let him...stay out there. We just can’t.”
A brief silence followed. The exhausted warriors looked at one another as if looking for someone to make a decision. Soon Samek’s voice rose up. “The boy is right,” he said. “Look, those accursed flaming arrows will soon by sailing our way again. Most of us will need to stay and defend the village. But I’ll take Pipes and Legs and we’ll mount up and make a mad dash. With a little luck, we’ll make it through the enemy line, take out that hooded scoundrel, grab the body, and return with our heads still intact. It sounds crazy, but that’s only because it is. Let’s roll!”
Samek turned to head toward a covered stable, where some horses stood by. When he didn’t hear any footsteps behind him, he turned and groused, “Why aren’t you guys right behind me?”
Pipes grabbed Andres by the shoulder as he spoke up. “Samek...with all due respect, sir, we’ve got to let the prince come with us. After all...it is his father.”
Samek was indignant. Lowering his voice, he walked up to Pipes and said, “You know as well as I do that this is practically a suicide mission! There isn’t a single one of us that will make it back! I can’t do that to the one who might be the last living heir to the throne!”
Pipes replied in a calm, slow drawl. “Samek...if that was your wife out there, lying in a heap, could you imagine staying back here and letting someone else risk his life to rescue her? Because that’s what you’re expecting Andres to do. He’s a warrior, and he wants his father back. We’re all in danger this day, and not a single one of us may live to see the sun rise tomorrow. So let him come, Samek. We...we need him.”
For once, Samek held his tongue and looked around before he spoke. He looked in the eyes of Pipes, Legs, and Andres. All returned his gaze and nodded their heads. Samek then swallowed hard, nearly gagging in his parched throat. He whispered, “That settles it. Let’s go.”
The foursome proceeded to arm themselves for the assault. They decided to travel lightly, valuing speed and agility over all else. All they truly needed was some protection for the mad dash toward the hooded figure, and a weapon to slay him and his henchmen when they arrived. So they carried nothing but a shield and a sword. When all were armed and mounted, they trotted over to the gate. Samek gave the signal, and the guardian of the gate opened the doors. The warriors spurred their horses onward, and they flew through the gate as the wind whistles through a narrow alley. Soon they were heading straight toward the hooded figure. Samek was in the lead, with Andres following a few yards behind. Pipes rode to Andres’ left, while Legs rode to Andres’ right. Andres’ gaze was fixed on the mysterious body that lay in front of the hooded man. And as he stared ahead, he raised his shield to protect himself from the deadly hail of arrows that he was sure would be launched their way in a matter of seconds.
But two things surprised Andres as he surged forward. First, the hail of arrows never came. The archers of Dor-ko seemed to be so stunned by the sight of the men galloping straight at them that they just knelt and stared. To Andres, it seemed as though his world was moving at the speed of light, while the rest of the world moved in slow motion. And as he continued to ride, he was surprised to hear a sound to his rear. He quickly looked over his shoulder, and he was shocked to see someone actually riding behind him. The mysterious rider wore a mask, and he carried a shield in his left hand with a sword raised in his right hand. The sword swirled through the air as the rider gracefully galloped behind him. Andres couldn’t think of who it was. But then again, there really wasn’t much time to think. The hooded figure and his henchmen were now just about twenty yards away.
Soon, the five valiant riders closed the distance. Andres tried to head straight toward the hooded man, but he was quickly intercepted by the black knight to his right. Andres struck the first blow, nearly knocking the knight from his horse as he slashed downward with his sword. The knight quickly regained his balance and tried to counter-thrust, but Andres deftly blocked it with his shield. The two warriors then fought back and forth, with Andres getting closer and closer to the mark, and his enemy just barely managing to block his attacks. The thought came into Andres’ mind as he battled...this guy is nothing compared to Cable. Andres could see frustration mount in his foe’s face. But Andres also knew he must strike quickly, for he was feeling the weakening effects of a lack of food and water. When he saw his enemy turn his attention away ever so briefly, Andres reared back and thrust his sword into the man’s heart. The soldier silently fell off his horse and tumbled to the ground.
Andres then looked around and was amazed at what he saw. All of the hooded figure’s henchmen had been slain. The hooded figure had been struck down from atop his mount, and he lay down next to the mysterious enshrouded body. The masked man that had ridden behind Andres stood above the hooded figure, with his boot placed precariously on the hooded figure’s throat. Samek, Pipes and Legs were all still atop their horses, and they encircled the hooded figure and the masked man. Meanwhile, the battlefield beyond had grown eerily silent.
The masked man reached down and yanked off the hood of the figure who lay at his feet. Sure enough, it was the scarred face of Dor-ko. However, he did not have a face of fear; rather, he sneered and spat at his victor. “You are scum!” he cried out. “Who are you, who masks his face from his adversary? Unmask yourself!”
The victor obliged Dor-ko and pulled off his mask. Andres--along with everyone else--gasped. For it was not a man it all. It was a woman.
It was Annala.
Before anyone could utter a word, Annala put her sword to Dor-ko’s throat. “Four years ago, you ripped my mother and me from our home. I’ve escaped your pathetic hands, but I’ve not seen my mother ever since. I swear, if you’ve harmed her at all, I will stick the tip of my sword through your throat this very instant!”
Dor-ko didn’t flinch or blink. He just stared up and smiled. Annala pressed the tip of her sword into his neck and drew a drop of blood. Still, Dor-ko didn’t budge; he just continued to smile. Finally, he spoke. “It’s funny you should mention your mother,” he said. “Before you get too audacious with that sword of yours, I’d suggest that you open the body bag. You might be...interested in what you find.”
Andres vaulted off his horse and leaped toward the body bag. He deftly inserted the tip of his sword and ripped the bag open. To his great relief, there was not body in it whatsoever. There were just a few pillows that had been stuffed into the bag in order to give it some shape. However, there was something curious lying at the foot of the bag. Andres reached down and grabbed it.
“It’s a scroll,” Andres said.
“Unroll it and read it, O Prince,” growled Dor-ko. “I think that Samek will be interested in reading this note from...his lovely wife.” The sneering grin never left Dor-ko’s face as he spoke.
Andres glanced over at Samek. Samek just nodded, as if to give Andres the go-ahead to speak aloud. In the fading light of the setting sun, Andres read the following:
My dearest Samek-
Please forgive me if the handwriting is not very clear. I am writing this by candlelight, deep inside a cave that I was taken to by Lord Dor-ko. When I finish writing, Lord Dor-ko is going to snuff out the candle and abandon me. He tells me that he is the only one who knows where I am. If he doesn’t return to free me, then I will die, alone.
I just wanted you to know that not a day has gone by over the past 4 years that I’ve not thought of you, dreamed about you, and wept over our separation. The memories of our years together have been a daily source of treasure for me--the kind of treasure that can never be taken from me. Whatever happens, please know that I have been your faithful Susannah, and my heart will forever rest in your hands.
Before the light goes out, I have this poem to share:
So Love Abounds. You
Have Inflamed My
heart
today, even now.
trust me, believe me now,
Or Whenever Love
is seen.
Farewell.
Andres finished reading. There was a moment of silence, as the group slowly absorbed the message that had just been read. As Andres continued to fix his eyes on the note, Annala stepped away from Dor-ko and pulled back her sword. Dor-ko slowly rose to his feet and laughed.
“That’s right, Annala,” Dor-ko cried out, a trickle of blood spilling down his throat. “You will pay dearly for the blood you’ve shed, you miserable little whelp! The life of your beloved mother lies in my hands, and mine alone! For every drop of mine that is lost, your mother will lose tenfold!”
“Lead us to her this instant,” bellowed Samek, “or I’ll squash your pathetic head like a grape and squeeze the information out of you!”
“If you so much as lay a hand on me,” replied Dor-ko in a slow, steady tone, “you will never see your little woman again. She’s been sitting alone for a very, very long time. I might suggest that you surrender this very instant. If you do...well, I might just lead you to her cave. And she just might still be alive. And...and you can take her place. It’s you or her, Samek. Who will it be?”
Samek couldn’t respond. He wasn’t accustomed to feeling so powerless. As he paused, Dor-ko spoke again. “I can see by your silence that you are having a hard time surrendering. Let me see if I can help you with your decision.” Dor-ko then turned around and faced the woods that lay a couple of hundred yards behind him. He raised his right arm and yelled out, “Come! Come! Come!”
If Andres had let his eyes rise from the scroll, he would have seen hundreds of ghoulish figures emerge from the woods. Some were carrying swords, some were carrying scythes, and some were carrying nothing at all. Yet, armed or not, these creatures were utterly fearsome and loathsome.
If Andres had looked up, he would have seen all of the warriors--Samek, Pipes, Legs, and even Annala--drop their weapons. If he had looked in their eyes, Andres would have seen that each one of them had a look of surrender in his eyes. For none of them had ever seen creatures as ominous as this, which seemed to glide over the ground, relentless advancing and emanating fear with every step.
If Andres had turned his eyes from Susannah’s note, he would have seen his comrades slowly back away from Dor-ko and the advancing horde. If he had been listening, he would have heard Dor-ko declare, “Ladies and gentlemen, the creatures that you see before you are the souls of men that have turned their back on your detestable King Maximilian. They have given themselves to the relentless advancement of the kingdom of darkness--the kingdom of Dor-ko. There is nothing you can do to resist them. They have killed Cable, they are about to decimate your filthy village, and they will soon overrun the entire kingdom. You have two choices--surrender this instant, or be crushed a few instants later. What will it be?”
If Andres had been paying attention to anything but the scroll, he would have heard Dor-ko fill the air with a dreadful laughter that shook the souls of his friends, and filled the souls of the black knights with delight. He would have heard the black knights that remained on the field give a great shout. He would have seen them start to resume the battle against the Village of Cliffton with renewed vigor.
But Andres saw and heard none of this. He just couldn’t get his mind off the poem that was scrawled on the scroll that remained in his hands. But as his friends retreated, his enemies advanced, and Dor-ko gloated, Andres suddenly saw what he was looking for. He thrust the scroll in his pocket, grabbed his sword, and took two steps toward Dor-ko. The proud rogue was so entranced by his apparent triumph that he never even saw Andres move. Andres thrust the sword through Dor-ko’s heart. Dor-ko crumbled to the ground.
Before anyone could speak, Andres ran and mounted his horse. “Don’t blame me!” he cried. “Susannah told me to do it! Now let’s get back to the village and keep up the fight!”
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Chapter 40 - Dor-ko Attacks
“Please--get up, Your Majesty. I beg your pardon, but I plead with you to get up. You need to see this.”
Andres felt his shoulder being shaken, and he struggled to open his eyes. When he did, he looked up and saw a vaguely familiar face, barely illuminated by a lantern that the man was holding. Andres looked around and found himself in a strange room which actually appeared to be a small house. He shook his head back and forth in an attempt to knock loose the cobwebs of his mind. Finally, he recalled what had brought him here.
After the tussle by the campfire had been concluded, and after Pilch had diligently recorded all of the events that had transpired, the group hastily entered the village gates. Everyone had been exhausted and all were eager for some sleep; the only question was where to put everyone. Pilch offered to host Fred and Kaelanna at his house, as long as they didn’t make a mess. Old Ferd, who had the biggest home, invited Annala and Remma to stay in his guest chamber. Samek brought Andres and his companions--Pipes and Legs--to the home that he shared with Gregorex. Andres welcomed Gregorex’ offer to sleep on his bed. As he laid down, he’d seen Gregorex drag some blankets outside. But before he could think about it too much, he’d drifted into unconsciousness...
Andres again felt his shoulder being shaken and again heard the voice saying, “Your Majesty, you really need to get up!” He now recognized the face of the person who was waking him. It was Samek. And Andres, who was particularly observant about people’s mannerisms, noticed that Samek’s eyebrows were furrowed and that his voice was gradually rising. Andres took the hint and rolled out of bed. As he stood and started getting dressed, he thought to himself that his brother Cable would almost certainly have taken 10 times as long to wake up, and probably would have raised the ire of Samek in the process.
“So where did Legs and Pipes sleep?” Andres asked, as he noticed that there was no other bedding in the room.
“Why do young people have to ask so many questions?” Samek muttered under his breath. Then in a louder tone he replied, “They slept outside, at the entrance to the doorway. They...were concerned about Dor-ko launching an attack last night. But let’s hustle, son! Less talk and more movement!”
Andres hastily put on his cloak and grabbed his weapons. Samek then dashed out the door with a staggering Andres close behind. It crossed Andres’ mind that Samek, while certainly a brave soul, was not the most patient man in the world. As Andres exited the house, he looked about him and quickly got his bearings. It was dark outside, though there was a glow off to the east. Andres judged that it was about a half-hour before sunrise. His first thought was discouragement, as he recognized that he’d probably only gotten about four hours of sleep. His aching bones told him that he’d needed much more than that. But his second thought was of even greater concern. His father had always taught him that most attacks occur just before sunrise. Was this why Samek had raised him up, because they were about to be under assault?
Within a few moments, Andres and Samek reached the walls of the village. Andres noticed that some scaffolding had been erected at various points along the wall, allowing the men to stand and look over the walls in order to help defend the village from attack. As he glanced to his right and his left, Andres saw that men were positioned atop the scaffolding. Armed with bows and arrows and spears and shields, the men were all staring intently off to the south. Andres followed Samek as he climbed a small ladder and mounted the scaffolding himself. Standing tall and peering over the edge of the wall, Samek pointed to the distance and said simply, “Look!”
Andres looked and at first saw nothing but clumps of trees in the distance. But as he continued to stare, he noticed that these trees appeared to be moving in his direction. In fact, there appeared to be about three large groups of these “trees”, and they were all moving toward the village. Before Andres could speak, Samek answered his question.
“We’re about to face three companies of Black Knights,” declared Samek. “The wretches! They love the darkness, they gather in darkness, and they use darkness to cover their assault. But they’ve lost the element of surprise, thanks to your warning. While you slept, I rallied our men, and we are ready for them.” Samek then turned toward the open field to the south and bellowed, “Bring it on, you yellow-bellied good-for-nothing cowards! If you want to go to an early grave, that’s fine with us! We’re not afraid, and we’re not about to beg for mercy! But you will pretty soon!”
Samek’s voice echoed across the plain. It was answered shortly thereafter by the sound of a bugle. “That’s their signal to attack!” Samek yelled. “Be ready, be steady, and stand firm, men! This is why we were called here--to defend the Kingdom. This is our hour. Are you ready?”
The men rattled their weapons and shouted in unison, “Ready, Samek!”
As the soldiers stared at the approaching enemy, Samek turned back to Andres. “Son,” he said, “I wanted to show you what was about to happen. But I cannot leave you here. You...you are an heir to the throne, the son of the great Maximilian himself. If you were to die, I wouldn’t be able to bear it. Who knows--you might be the only one left! We’ve not seen the king, or Prince Dorian, or Prince Cable. If Slumbutter targeted you, he very well set his sights on the other royals as well. I simply cannot let the prince stay in harm’s way. I beg you--follow me back to my home. You will be safe there, until we sweep these vermin from the field of battle.”
Samek then grabbed Andres’ arm and started to lead him over to the ladder that would descend the scaffolding. But Andres, who had a stubborn streak that revealed itself from time to time, refused to budge. He planted his feet and shook his head. After pondering his words for just a moment, he replied, “No, Samek...I can’t do it. I can’t just leave. With all due respect, sir, I must stay.”
Samek’s voice elevated as he bellowed, “But your Majesty, you don’t understand! We’re about to get assaulted! The arrows will be flying within a matter of minutes! I cannot leave you in this kind of danger!”
But Andres was unyielding. “Look, Samek. If you absolutely insist, I will obey. You’re the man in charge of this village. And if my dad has taught me anything, it’s that I need to listen to the men in authority. But my dad has also taught me that my job isn’t to stand around and let other people serve and protect me. My job is to serve and protect others. He has told me that again and again and again.
“And so here we are, with the enemy about to attack us. If I sit back in safety, what happens if you defeat them? I will have done nothing to help you. I’d feel ashamed. And what happens if you get overrun? Then they will capture me and use me as a trophy of their conquest. Again, I’d feel ashamed. Either way, I bring no honor to the family name, and I do nothing to help the people. So if it’s all the same to you, Samek, I’d really rather fight. If I stand and am killed, someone else will fill my shoes. The kingdom will go on, Samek. Just let me do my part to throw back the miserable creatures that are coming our way.”
Samek shook his head but said nothing. He himself was a stubborn man; he knew an unyielding soul when he saw one. Finally, he mumbled, “Have it your way, Prince Andres.” Then he turned to the soldiers gathered round the city wall and declared, “For Maximilian!” His cry was echoed by the men in a shout that Andres figured must have been heard clear back to the castle.
Andres grabbed his bow, notched an arrow, and stared in the distance. Pipes shuffled around some of the men and positioned himself next to Andres. He bent over and whispered, “Your Majesty, if you’re not going to listen to good sense and get out of harm’s way, then at least allow me the honor of standing by your side in battle.” Andres just nodded. He knew that Pipes had protected him in the past, and would do everything in his power to protect him today.
The light was gradually brightening, and he could better make out what was about to unfold. He saw the three companies march toward the walls and begin to merge together. They formed a great line about 100 yards wide and several ranks deep. They marched toward the walls slowly but relentlessly. And as Andres looked beyond them, he thought he could see still more soldiers emerging from the distant wood line. Andres feared that this was to be no small skirmish; rather, the small village of Cliffton was about to feel the weight of the entire army of Slumbutter and Dor-ko.
The men of Cliffton notched their arrows and got poised to launch their first volley toward the approaching army. But Dor-ko’s forces stopped their advance just outside of range. For a few minutes, they simply stood still and rattled their weapons. Then they started chanting, “The king is dead! The king is dead!” Over and over, for what seemed like an eternity, the army repeated this chant. At first, Andres rejected the thought that his father was indeed dead. His father would never allow himself to be slain by those worthless rebels! But as the chant droned on and on and on, he began to doubt. What if it were true? What if his father truly had been killed? Should he flee to safety away from the village walls, as Samek had urged him?
As Andres entertained these thoughts, he noticed that the chant was dying down. At the same time, the middle of the enemy line of soldiers parted. A hooded man riding a horse slowly came through the gap and stood in front of the army. In his arms he was holding what appeared to be a body wrapped from head to toe in some sort of garment. The hooded man stood in his stirrups, hoisted the body high in the air, then tossed it to the ground. He then bellowed out, “This is your king! Prepare to join him in death this very day!” He then uttered an eerie, devilish laugh that seemed to penetrate to Andres’ very soul. But before Andres could even process what had just happened, the army of Dor-ko launched its first assault. The battle was under way.
Andres felt his shoulder being shaken, and he struggled to open his eyes. When he did, he looked up and saw a vaguely familiar face, barely illuminated by a lantern that the man was holding. Andres looked around and found himself in a strange room which actually appeared to be a small house. He shook his head back and forth in an attempt to knock loose the cobwebs of his mind. Finally, he recalled what had brought him here.
After the tussle by the campfire had been concluded, and after Pilch had diligently recorded all of the events that had transpired, the group hastily entered the village gates. Everyone had been exhausted and all were eager for some sleep; the only question was where to put everyone. Pilch offered to host Fred and Kaelanna at his house, as long as they didn’t make a mess. Old Ferd, who had the biggest home, invited Annala and Remma to stay in his guest chamber. Samek brought Andres and his companions--Pipes and Legs--to the home that he shared with Gregorex. Andres welcomed Gregorex’ offer to sleep on his bed. As he laid down, he’d seen Gregorex drag some blankets outside. But before he could think about it too much, he’d drifted into unconsciousness...
Andres again felt his shoulder being shaken and again heard the voice saying, “Your Majesty, you really need to get up!” He now recognized the face of the person who was waking him. It was Samek. And Andres, who was particularly observant about people’s mannerisms, noticed that Samek’s eyebrows were furrowed and that his voice was gradually rising. Andres took the hint and rolled out of bed. As he stood and started getting dressed, he thought to himself that his brother Cable would almost certainly have taken 10 times as long to wake up, and probably would have raised the ire of Samek in the process.
“So where did Legs and Pipes sleep?” Andres asked, as he noticed that there was no other bedding in the room.
“Why do young people have to ask so many questions?” Samek muttered under his breath. Then in a louder tone he replied, “They slept outside, at the entrance to the doorway. They...were concerned about Dor-ko launching an attack last night. But let’s hustle, son! Less talk and more movement!”
Andres hastily put on his cloak and grabbed his weapons. Samek then dashed out the door with a staggering Andres close behind. It crossed Andres’ mind that Samek, while certainly a brave soul, was not the most patient man in the world. As Andres exited the house, he looked about him and quickly got his bearings. It was dark outside, though there was a glow off to the east. Andres judged that it was about a half-hour before sunrise. His first thought was discouragement, as he recognized that he’d probably only gotten about four hours of sleep. His aching bones told him that he’d needed much more than that. But his second thought was of even greater concern. His father had always taught him that most attacks occur just before sunrise. Was this why Samek had raised him up, because they were about to be under assault?
Within a few moments, Andres and Samek reached the walls of the village. Andres noticed that some scaffolding had been erected at various points along the wall, allowing the men to stand and look over the walls in order to help defend the village from attack. As he glanced to his right and his left, Andres saw that men were positioned atop the scaffolding. Armed with bows and arrows and spears and shields, the men were all staring intently off to the south. Andres followed Samek as he climbed a small ladder and mounted the scaffolding himself. Standing tall and peering over the edge of the wall, Samek pointed to the distance and said simply, “Look!”
Andres looked and at first saw nothing but clumps of trees in the distance. But as he continued to stare, he noticed that these trees appeared to be moving in his direction. In fact, there appeared to be about three large groups of these “trees”, and they were all moving toward the village. Before Andres could speak, Samek answered his question.
“We’re about to face three companies of Black Knights,” declared Samek. “The wretches! They love the darkness, they gather in darkness, and they use darkness to cover their assault. But they’ve lost the element of surprise, thanks to your warning. While you slept, I rallied our men, and we are ready for them.” Samek then turned toward the open field to the south and bellowed, “Bring it on, you yellow-bellied good-for-nothing cowards! If you want to go to an early grave, that’s fine with us! We’re not afraid, and we’re not about to beg for mercy! But you will pretty soon!”
Samek’s voice echoed across the plain. It was answered shortly thereafter by the sound of a bugle. “That’s their signal to attack!” Samek yelled. “Be ready, be steady, and stand firm, men! This is why we were called here--to defend the Kingdom. This is our hour. Are you ready?”
The men rattled their weapons and shouted in unison, “Ready, Samek!”
As the soldiers stared at the approaching enemy, Samek turned back to Andres. “Son,” he said, “I wanted to show you what was about to happen. But I cannot leave you here. You...you are an heir to the throne, the son of the great Maximilian himself. If you were to die, I wouldn’t be able to bear it. Who knows--you might be the only one left! We’ve not seen the king, or Prince Dorian, or Prince Cable. If Slumbutter targeted you, he very well set his sights on the other royals as well. I simply cannot let the prince stay in harm’s way. I beg you--follow me back to my home. You will be safe there, until we sweep these vermin from the field of battle.”
Samek then grabbed Andres’ arm and started to lead him over to the ladder that would descend the scaffolding. But Andres, who had a stubborn streak that revealed itself from time to time, refused to budge. He planted his feet and shook his head. After pondering his words for just a moment, he replied, “No, Samek...I can’t do it. I can’t just leave. With all due respect, sir, I must stay.”
Samek’s voice elevated as he bellowed, “But your Majesty, you don’t understand! We’re about to get assaulted! The arrows will be flying within a matter of minutes! I cannot leave you in this kind of danger!”
But Andres was unyielding. “Look, Samek. If you absolutely insist, I will obey. You’re the man in charge of this village. And if my dad has taught me anything, it’s that I need to listen to the men in authority. But my dad has also taught me that my job isn’t to stand around and let other people serve and protect me. My job is to serve and protect others. He has told me that again and again and again.
“And so here we are, with the enemy about to attack us. If I sit back in safety, what happens if you defeat them? I will have done nothing to help you. I’d feel ashamed. And what happens if you get overrun? Then they will capture me and use me as a trophy of their conquest. Again, I’d feel ashamed. Either way, I bring no honor to the family name, and I do nothing to help the people. So if it’s all the same to you, Samek, I’d really rather fight. If I stand and am killed, someone else will fill my shoes. The kingdom will go on, Samek. Just let me do my part to throw back the miserable creatures that are coming our way.”
Samek shook his head but said nothing. He himself was a stubborn man; he knew an unyielding soul when he saw one. Finally, he mumbled, “Have it your way, Prince Andres.” Then he turned to the soldiers gathered round the city wall and declared, “For Maximilian!” His cry was echoed by the men in a shout that Andres figured must have been heard clear back to the castle.
Andres grabbed his bow, notched an arrow, and stared in the distance. Pipes shuffled around some of the men and positioned himself next to Andres. He bent over and whispered, “Your Majesty, if you’re not going to listen to good sense and get out of harm’s way, then at least allow me the honor of standing by your side in battle.” Andres just nodded. He knew that Pipes had protected him in the past, and would do everything in his power to protect him today.
The light was gradually brightening, and he could better make out what was about to unfold. He saw the three companies march toward the walls and begin to merge together. They formed a great line about 100 yards wide and several ranks deep. They marched toward the walls slowly but relentlessly. And as Andres looked beyond them, he thought he could see still more soldiers emerging from the distant wood line. Andres feared that this was to be no small skirmish; rather, the small village of Cliffton was about to feel the weight of the entire army of Slumbutter and Dor-ko.
The men of Cliffton notched their arrows and got poised to launch their first volley toward the approaching army. But Dor-ko’s forces stopped their advance just outside of range. For a few minutes, they simply stood still and rattled their weapons. Then they started chanting, “The king is dead! The king is dead!” Over and over, for what seemed like an eternity, the army repeated this chant. At first, Andres rejected the thought that his father was indeed dead. His father would never allow himself to be slain by those worthless rebels! But as the chant droned on and on and on, he began to doubt. What if it were true? What if his father truly had been killed? Should he flee to safety away from the village walls, as Samek had urged him?
As Andres entertained these thoughts, he noticed that the chant was dying down. At the same time, the middle of the enemy line of soldiers parted. A hooded man riding a horse slowly came through the gap and stood in front of the army. In his arms he was holding what appeared to be a body wrapped from head to toe in some sort of garment. The hooded man stood in his stirrups, hoisted the body high in the air, then tossed it to the ground. He then bellowed out, “This is your king! Prepare to join him in death this very day!” He then uttered an eerie, devilish laugh that seemed to penetrate to Andres’ very soul. But before Andres could even process what had just happened, the army of Dor-ko launched its first assault. The battle was under way.
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