Fate Rides Wicked: Volume I of the Lerilon Trilogy (20 page)

“They are on the western border, trying to hold off the
armies of Efreiden. A few weeks ago, they marched on us.
We didn’t know why until about a week ago when one of
our intelligence people reached us. Apparently, they have
been put under the spell of a very powerful magician, a
wizard I think they are called.”

“Excuse me, Your Majesty,” said Tych, “Evil
magicians like this one are called sorcerers. Only good
magicians are called wizards. In case you ever have to
interact with one, it would be a good thing to remember.
Without powerful magic, a sorcerer cannot claim to be a
wizard and vice versa.” Tych shut up, noticing that the
room had become very quiet.

A huge sigh from the gathered citizens filled the air as
Daubert said, “Thank you very much for that lesson, but I
will let the offense pass since I consider myself to be
among friends. Now, what is your request of me, since I
owe you a lot now?”

“I want to add your armies to mine, but under my
command.”

Aquendar leapt to his feet to cut off Daubert, fury on
the King’s face. “Uh, my friend, he does not ask much
considering what he could do for your Kingdom. Maybe it
is time to bargain, then, perhaps, you can still be angry.”

“I will require more of you before I take command
away from my loyal, strong current commanders. They
would not be happy about giving up command.”

“I will free Efreiden from the grips of the sorcerer.
Your commanders will still command, only the orders you
give them will be mine. If I free up the soldiers fighting on
the border, that will give you all of your strength. Until it
is time to march, I require only two thirds of your forces.
The rest can protect the interior of your kingdom.”

“Because I trust Aquendar, and he has faith in you, I
will consider your request and confer with the new ruler of
Efreiden once you have liberated them from the grip of
evil. Come now, it is nearing time for the midday meal.
Please join me at my table.”

The three warriors stood and followed the king and two
guards into a door next to the throne. Inside on a table sat a
feast like the one held on Tych’s birthday. Hungry from
the earlier scuffle, the two male warriors dug right in while
Lendril ate slower and told Daubert of their journey to this
place.

When the Princess reached the death of Damarin,
Daubert stopped her and looked at Tych. “I had not heard
of the death of Damarin, nor did I hear that you killed him.
Well done, you have earned even more respect. Now if
your lovely wife would continue her story.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty. I could not have done it
without Lendril’s help. She’s an excellent warrior. I do
not, however, order her around. She will continue if she
wishes.”

“Ah, yes, I have heard that endarilan women also
sometimes become warriors but I did not know of their
equality. I apologize, My Lady. Please tell me more of
your adventures.”

Tych turned back to his food and Lendril continued. So
the meal happened and they ate their fill. Afterwards, they
retired to the King’s study and he showed them maps of
Efreiden for their next task.

With a new objective running rampant in his mind,
Tych returned to the camp. As he came near his tent, he
slowed. He had a standing order that the sentries bring all
new arrivals to his tent immediately. Lendril almost
bumped into him and Aquendar quickly put on the brakes.
Sitting on the ground in front of the flaps to the command
center, three figures in cloaks sat cross-legged, singing
songs. The sentry laughed heartily, but blushed silently as
Tych reached them.

One of the three leapt to his feet and cried out, “Why
you must be the young fellah in charge of this ratty crew of
quilted races. Blard at your service, illusionist extra
ordinaire.” His bald head reflected the sun for a moment
while he bowed.

Also bald, another of them placed his feet behind his
head, which was quite immodest considering he wore
nothing under his cloak, and began to spin on his rear end
until he became a blur. Blard and the other man laughed
loudly and the sentry struggled to keep his composure.
Suddenly, like a wound up toy, the spinning man sprang
into the air close to thirty feet and floated down to a soft
landing. “I am the less modest of the two. Dnard the
Incomparable at your service. I too am an apparitionist, but
don’t class me with my brother here, for I am much better.”

A flustered Tych looked at Lendril and Aquendar, who
quickly wiped away smiles of mirth. He turned to the third
man, “Who might you be, ‘the all powerful quiet one’?”

Nandel made a show of using his staff to get up slowly.
“Nandel, the eternal wizard at your service. I am not
related to these two but I brought them here when I felt
your presence. Your ‘explosions’ almost cost me my life
once, Prince Tych.”

“For that I apologize. Well, since all three of you are
obviously ready and willing to be of service, come into my
tent. I have a task to prepare for and you should be
perfectly suited to advise me on how to approach it.” In
one push, Blard jumped clear over Nandel and landed at the
tent flap. He pulled it back and gestured that they should
enter, which they did.

In a moment they all sat around the command table.
Tych went right to the topic at hand. “I have to destroy a
sorcerer, one powerful enough to mesmerize a whole
kingdom. How should I go about it?”

Blard rubbed his short goatee and Dnard played with
the hanging bar of his mustache. Nandel leaned forward.
“The key is to make it uneven. Any magician who has
reached the rank of wizard or sorcerer is the equal of any
other, short of intelligence in how to use the magic.
Therefore, use more than one magician, and maybe a
warrior or two.”

“Yes, that way we could travel quickly.” Blard placed
his hands flat on the table. “What is the name of this
sorcerer?”

Dnard cleared his throat with mock importance. “Ten
or eleven magicians, including a few apparitionists. One of
them needs to have been in the castle in Efreidenak, so that
the teleportation can work.”

Tych opened his mouth to speak but a sentry burst into
the tent, out of breath. “Commander, a scout brings news.”

“Let him in, quickly lad.”

In stepped a woman in leather from the neck down.
The armor had been painted green and brown, the only two
colors readily available in Li and perfect for a scout. Her
long brown hair hung in a braid similar to Aquendar’s and
she stood an inch taller than Tych. With a bow she said, “I
have been striving to reach here for days but a small army
of forangen made my journey more light-footed as they
chased me up here. They are a day behind and are just one
part of the movement north.”

“What do you mean ‘movement north’?” asked Lendril.

“I traveled from the Kingdom of Seftrel, and in the
mountains we have seen the movement of the xadineft by
night towards the Andarins in the north and in my journey
here I encountered band after band of forangen moving by
day, in small groups to move quickly, and with little
equipment to avoid detection. They did not, however,
escape my attention.”

“And who might you be?”

“I am Ofeldar of Seftrel, scout of the highest
magnitude.” She looked right at Lendril in recognition.
“And also a warrior.”

Lendril pushed back her chair and stood. “What
weapons do you carry besides your sword?” She began
towards the entrance of the tent.

“My long bow, arrows and war hammer are right
outside the tent.”

Lendril turned to Tych when she reached the end of the
table. “I’ll lead an expedition to ambush them with Ofeldar
here. You take care of the sorcerer, and then we’ll discuss
our plans.” With this she gestured for Ofeldar to follow
and left the tent. In a few minutes, the magicians also had a
plan and Aquendar went to round up two other soldiers.

Filled with a new confidence and forgetting all about
his lesson in humility, Tych strode toward the part of the
camp set aside for the magicians, with Aquendar walking
next to him. Thoughts of trouncing Blackdrad and crushing
him like he did Damarin filled him with expectancy. By
the time the two warriors reached the magicians’ area, the
prince’s ability to think rationally had vanished.

They stepped into a tent as long as the mess. Fifteen
magicians of all sorts milled around tables studying large
tomes spread out before them, arguing about the merits of
this spell or that and taking naps in the chairs. Some were
pudgy or fat, others could have been mistaken for their
staves and still others tugged on long beards while they
read or argued. The smell of sweat permeated the air, since
from the long hours it took to memorize some spells, things
like sleeping and washing became matters of secondary
importance.

Nandel, Blard and Dnard had told him which ones to
choose before they went to unpack their tents and get their
equipment out. Tych cleared his throat, demanding the
attention of everybody arguing. “I need two masters of
illusion and seven magicians for a mission. Preferably,
they should own staves.”

The magicians looked around at each other, as if
counting, then all nine not studying came forward, three or
four of the wizards carrying staves or wands. With puzzled
looks on their faces, they followed Tych and Aquendar out
of the tent and down towards the practice field. On the
way, Aquendar stopped at his tent and brought out his bow,
which stood almost as tall as Tych, and his quiver of
arrows. His sword already hung on his back and his
daggers sat on his belt.

As they reached the field, two soldiers leaning on a tent
stood and crossed their arms on their chests in salute.
Nandel and Blard waited a few feet away and came when
they saw who had arrived. “Aquendar, come stand next to
me. When I squeeze your shoulder, envision the courtyard
of the castle in your mind.” Aquendar went and stood next
to Nandel and the wizard placed his hand on the horsemaster’s
shoulder. “Everybody else hold hands touch the
staff or somebody touching it and send as much magical
energy to me as you can muster, except you, Tych.”

After some shuffling around they all stood linked, every
one of them connected in some way to the staff. Clouds
had rolled in during Tych’s conference with the king and a
light drizzle began to fall as they vanished from the field.
In a few moments, the rain came down so hard that
practicing became dangerous and the soldiers headed for
cover under the command of Prince Cort and each race’s
leaders.

Ofeldar and Lendril quickly rounded up thirty soldiers
skilled in archery and helped each find a horse to ride.
Within a half hour of leaving the command tent, the squad
rode out of camp. Ofeldar led the way, taking the road
going south at first, then turning off into the fields, across
farmland sparsely dotted with small houses and huts, as
well as herd animals. Farmers always kept part of their
fields unattended to encourage the constantly moving war
parties, forangen or human, to avoid their crops.

The squad combined thrandril, mendar and human, the
first renowned for its skills with the bow and arrow. Each
wore leather armor but for Ofeldar and Lendril. The
princess still wore the white royal armor, since the scout
had assured her that it would rain within the hour. The
armor would magically reform itself overnight if damaged,
so she had no fear of ruining it. Her only concern lay in the
fact that she wanted her magic armor.

Sure enough, as they came closer and closer to the tree
line they angled for, the drizzle began. It became steadier
and soon they had to slow the horses to a walk. Ofeldar
dropped back to Lendril’s side. “I knew this would happen,
that’s why I pushed it. We’re close to a good point to set
up an ambush. There are only a few hours before nightfall,
but they should pass by the spot I have chosen before
making camp.”

“Will we have the high ground?”

“A little bit. There is a trail that passes between two
mounds about neck high. The mounds are long enough for
sixteen of us to get on each side and the trail is narrow
enough to pack them in as thick as mud. We should get
almost all with arrows before they can reach us.”

“Good, in this rain they will have a tough time climbing
up dirt. Keep impressing me, Ofeldar.” The scout nodded
and turned onto a trail wide enough for three horses. They
rode in about a quarter of a mile then she called for a stop.

“Lead your horses in to the trees about ten deep and tie
them down. When you’re done, come back here to the trail
and we’ll get a count.” Besides Lendril and Ofeldar, only a
thrandril and a mendar were female. They all dismounted
and led the horses into the trees. In less than five minutes,
thirty soldiers and their leaders stood on the trail, weapons
drawn. Each cloak weighed twice its normal weight from
the rainwater that filled it.

Ofeldar counted off each, giving each archer a ‘one’ or
a ‘two’, denoting which side of the trail they would set up
on. When she had returned to the front, she said, “The
‘ones’ follow me. Lendril will lead the others.” She turned
to the warrior. “Watch for me to turn off the trail to my
left. We have about five minutes of walking.”

Lendril just nodded and followed after the scout. A
couple minutes passed by and then disaster almost struck. In the
distance in front of them they saw two large figures, mere
black silhouettes in the rain but too big to be human. Both
the forangen and the squad stopped walking and looked at
each other. One of the monsters began to turn. In the blink
on an eye, Lendril dropped her axe, unslung her crossbow
and dropped to one knee.