Minzkala Page 4

  The next morning, we began to pack up our gear. Mother had filled our supply packs with muffins, bread, and fruit. Father met us just outside the door. He had been out preparing some of his special arrows for us. He pulled me off to the side and gave me the dagger he had kept close to his side, the one that belonged to my grandfather, Phrank.

  “I hope it proves useful on your journey,” he told me, “And tell the King that I hope all is well with him.”

  We said our good-byes and our parents watched us from the lift as we made our way through the forests of Evergrove. We didn’t talk for the first few hours. Vamble was traveling with us. He and Cyrow were going to the same city. We were given horses to ride and enough provisions to get us through the two days’ journey to our various destinations.

  We would travel to Kenkara, the first city on the way. After dropping me off, the other three would continue to Vicete. Then the twins would make their way up to the Saola Mountains to find the small Elven city of Vamei.

  As we journeyed along, we witnessed the distress of the land. The houses on the smaller farms were now in ruins. Entire villages were deserted, their residents forced to retreat to larger cities. We met no one on the desolate path that carried us to the training sites. In fact, Kenkara was the first town large enough to stave off the bandits and trolls that were controlling the countryside.

  I said goodbye to Vamble and my brothers and got settled in to my bunk in the barracks. After dinner, I was led to a small room with only one other warrior, a Dwarf named Mabashi. We were the only two who would be going to Minzkala from this group. There were a few more, but they were coming from farther away. We were told that once we arrived in Minzkala, we would receive special abilities above and beyond what our lands could offer. Very few had been chosen for this path. I could tell the Dwarf felt as humbled as I did at the thought, but I don’t think he shared my fear of failure. He had the cocky Dwarven personality I had learned so much about. He was very interesting, to say the least.

  The remaining warriors would be sent to Rhalas, the largest city in Maralune. They would serve under King Ederich and be trained to support the Minzkalans in battle. In total, the King of Rhalas planned to have around thirty-thousand men. It was far from being enough, but with the help of the Ancients, it was worth a shot.

  The Legion, in comparison, would eventually call any and all beasts, humanoids, and other minions to fight for them. By the end, we figured they would have nearly three-hundred thousand. Chaotic and evil, the Legion would have to deal with inner conflict between the various races to accomplish their goals. But would this be enough to give the Ancients an advantage?

  Five

  No Draw Backs There

  Archaos, Imperial Elf

  In the cities throughout Maralune, local militia groups had been set up to combat the Legion’s weaker forces. They were destroying small encampments of trolls and bandits on a regular basis. Carrion Drakes and other beastly sky creatures rarely strayed into the regions well-guarded by militias. And Slickers never crept too closely to the cities’ walls.

  “Grab those grappling ropes for me, Archaos. I need you to run out to the tower with me before quitting time.”

  “Yes, sir, Sarge.”

  There was nothing but silence for twenty minutes as I followed the Sarge down the path from the city gates of Khala to the guard station. Sargent Snider and I were a lot alike, no need for unnecessary chatter, especially in this forsaken landscape.

  Sure, the city was nice. But out here in the land surrounding it, you couldn’t build a farmhouse, a mill, or anything else we needed to help the people survive. It was too dangerous to hunt or fish. Even the critters seemed on edge as the snap of a twig. They’d scurry off to hide, leaving you to look over your shoulder for an even bigger threat than yourself. Food and supplies had to be shipped in military-style from Rhalas, which drove the cost up. People were packed into the dank city streets. It wasn’t a prison, but it was getting close to feeling like one.

  Who would build a city so far from the rest of civilization anyway? Oh, right. The Dwarves. Leave it to them to head for the hills…literally.

  The guard tower isn’t much to look at. A circular 10-ft wall surrounds the tower base. To reach the doors, you must enter a gate on one side of the wall and travel a one-eighty to the opposite side of the tower.

  The men stand together in five-man posts throughout the tower yard. The interior walls are lined with men taking a break or catching a meal. There are sleeping quarters on the third floor.

  From the top, you can see for miles around the rocky ledges that lead to the city of Khala, home of the Dwarves, set in the side of this wretched mountain.

  I’m not sure if it’s because the Digvi’ja are closing in on us all or that the fiery beasts just can’t stand the thought of neighbors, but the creatures that are spawned far below the earth’s surface have been making every effort to make living here impossible. Combine that with the Legion’s frontal attacks, and you’ve got a recipe for the sure-fire annihilation of this rocky top city.

  I’ve been assigned to both tower and mining posts since I’ve been here. The tower is cold and dark. The men here speak very little, making it a lonely watch to keep. About the only meals we get out here those that are military issued.

  In the mining tunnels of the city, the atmosphere is vastly different. The Dwarven miners aren’t about to give up their source of income, especially with the cost of everything now.

  So, every day when they come to work, they haul in kegs of stout beer for the soldiers, as well as other supplies. For a fee, of course. Die, cards, and smoking tobacco. The men often hear things in the tunnels when they’ve had too much to drink. There are fights between them regularly, and thievery is common.

  Ten days for each assignment, then we rotate. I’m more of a tower guard soldier myself. I think the Sarge knows where I want to be, too, because I’ve been out here for the last four assignments.

  “Archaos, take those ropes up to the top and tell Rikon to send the old ones back down.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I’m taller than everyone here, which is a little awkward, especially around the Dwarves. Imperial Elves stack on the inches upward while they stack them outward. Most of these people have only seen an Imperial Elf maybe once in their lives. I get stares all the time, and most are a little afraid to start up a conversation with me. But I sort of like that.

  Lately I’ve been working closely with the Sarge. His second is out with a fever right now. He fell when a repelling rope broke, one of the ones we’re replacing today. He had some internal injuries.

  Doc said he was better, but this week, he’s picked up an unexplainable fever. Probably fighting off some other infection that resulted from the fall. We’re out of the meds he needs, too, so the poor guy’s got to suffer through it.

  “Hey, Archaos!” My buddy Rike yelled out from the stairs.

  “What’s up?” I told him.

  “Got that smoke?”

  “You know I don’t do that crap. What do you take me for?” I smiled and looked up at him. He raised his eyebrows, but the smile didn’t leave his face. Nope, he didn’t believe I’d forgotten. “Here ya go.”

  I gave him his tobacco and the ropes. He handed me the old ones.

  “Anything exciting been going on?” I asked him.

  “Nah. Not really. Sent a band out last night for a couple of hours. We heard screaming off in the distance. Thought I heard a baby crying as well, down by the creek. It went on for a while before the men got out there. Turned out to be a couple of panthers.”

  “Ahh, panthers. Fun, fun. Well, take it easy man. I think we’ll rotate out here together in a few weeks. Might wanna find another runner for your little habit around that time.”

  “Ha. Yeah. Thanks, man.”

  “Anytime. Catch ya later.”

  I wat
ched the last remnants of light fade from the sky as the Sarge and I trudged the uphill path back to the gates of Khala. There was snow on the ground and the Mountain Rams started bleating as we approached.

  “Just throw those ropes in the barrels there and take off for the night. Meet me here at dawn. I have some things I’ll need help with in the morning.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I took off in the direction of the Olde Towne Store, hoping to make it in time for a bite to eat. It was a bakery, but they served soups and sandwiches, too.

  One side of the store was lined with baking supplies. The shelves were practically empty considering the current difficulty in getting things into Khala. The other side was raised a bit with a wooden plank floor and railing that set it off from the rest of the store.

  There was a small bar there, but nothing fancy. Not enough to attract the riff-raff that normally stormed the taverns around the city.

  I chose a small table in a quiet corner, picked up a menu on my way past the counter. When I looked back up, I noticed a familiar face, a Conjuror I had known from my days in Rhalas. He noticed me, too. He waved and turned to finish his conversation with some Dwarf and then headed toward me.

  “Archaos!”

  “Cenathor.” I smiled heartily and rose to shake his hand, clasping his shoulder with my free hand at the same time. Cenathor and I had fought together in Rhalas, and after that, in the Battle of Zemylar.

  He was a Conjuror, tall and prestigious looking. His hair had rifts of gray throughout and sat shoulder-length, and his beard was trimmed short. We were both extremely young during the Battle of Zemylar. His graying hair? It’s premature.

  His voice was scratchy, but it didn’t make him hard to listen to. He sounded like he was a pipe smoker, but I’ve personally never seen him smoke.

  “It’s been, what? A year?” He said.

  “Too long. Join me. I was just about to get something to eat.”

  Cenathor had changed. His spirit seemed to have grown weary. I think everything going on in recent years has done that to most of us. When we fought together in the Battle of Zemylar, he had been assigned to my group and was a little livelier than I cared for. As a result, we didn’t bond so well. But when it came time for business, I must admit, he knew what he was doing.

  It was rare to see a Conjuror around the cities. They were wanderers for the most part. Cenathor was first rate in his class, too. He was from Nebal, near the Southern coast of Maralune.

  The one thing that always stood out about him is the way he catches everything. He can be in the middle of an intense debate over something like war tactics or politics and then tell you what the couple three tables away ordered for dinner while he was talking.

  It’s confounding at times, and he used to flaunt that ability, but something about his demeanor tonight was different. He was more reserved. The constant attacks from the Legion were changing all of us. You’d think I would be one to welcome this sort of change, solemn nature and all, but even I missed the occasional obnoxious goofball reverting to adolescent behavior from time to time. I haven’t been getting in my daily dose of eye-rolling.

  “Word is we’re getting ready to assault the Digvi’ja. Some say the King will be calling in warriors soon.” Cenathor began to inform me immediately.

  “I’ve heard rumors. A friend of mine, Rike, says that most of us are going to be sent to Rhalas soon. Anything would be better than here.”

  “I’m sure you’ll be among the first called,” Cenathor said. “I went through there last week, and they look like they’re preparing the city for the influx of people. The inns are all remodeling for extra space and they’re putting the finishing touches on a new training facility, supposed to be state of the art.”

  We both stopped talking as the waitress brought my soup. Ham and cabbage never get old. We continued our discussion only after she had left the table, worried that we might sound like a couple of hopeful vagrants with only wishful thinking for stratagem. As soon as she left, Cenathor leaned over the table and looked me in the eyes.

  “Minzkala is leading this.” His statement shocked me. I reconsidered his words. Nope. The word ‘might’ wasn’t in there.

  “How do you know?” I asked him.

  “I was there. King Ederich met with Captain Brackus when I was with him. Every instruction began with ‘King Naethan’. Apparently, King Ederich had just returned from a meeting in Minzkala, and King Naethan told him about the preparations that needed to be made to Rhalas, the ones I mentioned to you. He told the Captain he would be returning to Minzkala, too.”

  “So, this might be for real? Hmm…” I sat back and pondered the possibility.

  Some of us had whispered about the need to confront the Legion. But coming from near destruction only a century ago made things difficult.

  For starters, we weren’t organized, at all. Each city had its own militia. And cities would bring in hired men, such as my group, to provide extra protection when needed. Sometimes they would hunt down the immediate problem. But there was no real cohesion among forces from different cities yet.

  We needed the Minzkalans. It was evident.

  I would have continued my thoughts on the matter, but I noticed a disturbance near the counter.

  “You forgot to pay.” The clerk called out to a guy as he was attempting to leave the store without a visit to the counter first.

  The Halfling began to move quickly for the door. Oh brother, not again. I really shouldn’t complain; these pesky people earn me a bonus.

  I got up, hand on my hilt, and began to run after him. Cenathor had obviously been paying attention, or not, and he just did that special trick of knowing all the goings-on around him; so, he had called forth a web in the threshold before the guy could escape. I hope I don’t have to split my bonus with him.

  I grabbed the Halfling out of the sticky conjuration and restrained him well enough to walk back into the store a little. The waitress was busy packing up my food. Heh, she knew the routine. I laid some coins on the counter, enough to cover the Halfling’s meal, too.

  “Keep the change,” I told her. “Thanks.”

  It gets hard, you know? When you grab a thief up by the collar, and he’s lighter than most. You search his pockets, and they’re empty. And the look in his eyes simply says he was hungry, nothing more.

  Nevertheless, rules are rules. And if we let thieves carry on like this, we’d end up no better than the Legion. There. My eye-rolling for the day complete.

  I looked at Cenathor, who was still standing near the table. “Are you going to be around for a while? We could meet up sometime and continue our conversation.”

  “Yes. I’m not leaving out just yet. I’ll look for you tomorrow.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Cenathor bid me good night and I carried the thief down to the Sherriff’s station near the front gates.

  The Halfling ended up telling me he was a Demon Master from Ewiniar, said he was on an assignment which carried him through Khala and ran into some trouble on the road here. No doubt some of the Legion’s minions and their handiwork, but I didn’t ask for any details.

  After completing the necessary paperwork, I walked to my bunkhouse. I was exhausted and needed nothing more from my day than to rest my weary body.

  The next day was my day off. I saw Cenathor mid-morning. He was about to meet with the Dwarven king, Oberon. We agreed to get together for a late noon meal. I would have never guessed there was anything more to our lunch than two friends catching up on old times. But when I showed up at Khari’s Corner Café, Sargent Snider and Captain Linius were with him.

  “Archaos!” Cenathor greeted me. I also shook hands with Sarge and the Captain. After ordering, Sarge grew pensive. I could tell there was something serious to discuss and that he had been elected to speak first.

  Sargent Snider was a
human, slightly shorter than me. The top portion of his blonde hair was pulled back into a braid with the lower hanging free. His deep-set blue eyes weren’t upset about anything. He was looking at me like he was pleased with me.

  Good. I felt concerned when I walked in. My mind was racing through the past few days, searching for anything I might have done wrong. But the feeling at the table was now lightened.

  “How would you feel about going with Cenathor to Minzkala?” Sarge asked me. He never was one to beat around the bush. He’d lay it all on the table and leave the specifics for later.

  “Minzkala?” I could hardly imagine the truth in the statement, much less think about whether I wanted to go or not. “Do you know why?” I glanced at Captain Linius then Cenathor.

  “Well, we’ll be going to Vicete for a couple of months first. Then to Minzkala.” Cenathor said. “King Naethan and King Ederich are gathering men for training, as I let on a little to you last night. We will confront the Legion before the year’s end. And you and I have been chosen to represent the Ancients. It’s a very special honor, less than twenty chosen altogether.”

  I sat in silence, thinking about what he was saying. The waitress brought our food. I was speechless about the opportunity to be one of the warriors chosen for Minzkala. I was overwhelmed to think that I would be able to visit the great city I had only heard stories about. No renown, no nobility. Nothing spectacular had ever happened in my career as an Archer. I suppose you could say I felt humbled.

  I was released from duty that afternoon in order to get my things together. Cenathor came at dusk. We would be traveling by night. The journey on horseback would have us in Kenkara in two days’ time. Then on to Vicete, which is only about another day’s travel.

  “I would have told you last night, but even I am bound to following procedures. I had to speak with your superiors first.” He told me as we packed the horses.

  “No problem.” And that was the last thing we said for hours. Minzkala. That’s all I could think about. Confronting the Legion. Yes. This was something I wanted very much.