Samual (60 page)

“Elders.” Sam bowed respectfully to the elders as he approached.

“Samual.” Elder Bela greeted him on behalf of the Council as he usually did. But for once there was a different expression on his face. Sadness perhaps. “We know the Dragon's next target.”

If they did then that should have been a good thing Sam thought. If you knew where he was going to strike you could prepare for him. But it didn't seem to be in this case. Elder Bela's face was longer than ever, and the rest couldn't even seem to look at him. That worried Sam.

“Where Elders?”

“Fair Fields. He's coming for Fair Fields.”

The moment he said it Sam's legs went weak as he realised what he was saying. His family home was about to be destroyed. And there was nothing anyone could do about it. Thanks to Heri the entire kingdom was in chaos. The noble families had withdrawn to their various little corners of the land. And many of them were licking their wounds after Heri's attacks. None of them would come together to stand as one against an army of machina. And none of them were strong enough to stand alone.

He understood why the troll was constructing the wolves too. Fair Fields was a realm of flat lands and shallow hills, farms and open spaces. The forests were few and far between. The mountains uncommon. And the towns were largely undefended. In short, it was a land set up for wolves to roam. The wolves would run in packs and overrun the towns one after another. They would murder any travellers on the roads as well as those with homes in the farmlands. Refugees fleeing the towns would be hunted down and killed. There would be nothing left. No survivors.

“Show me.” It was presumptuous of him to just order an elder about, but Sam had to see for himself. And when Elder Bela nodded to the young sage operating the Window for them, he did see.

The sage brought the image of the Dragon's chamber flying back from the massive army he was creating to a smaller chamber inside the mountain where he was sitting at a table. But the Dragon wasn't the sage's target. Instead he turned the view around until they were staring from above straight down at another table. One on which the map of Fair Fields was laid out. Several maps actually since it seemed he had plans of all the major towns. There was no doubt that the Dragon was studying Fair Fields extensively. And with the massive army he was building, little doubt why.

There was also no doubt that the Dragon knew he was being watched. The fear that they had been discovered had been confirmed. When every single map had all the names scrawled over and scratched out so that they couldn't be read, it was obvious that he didn't want anyone guessing where they were. But Sam knew the realm. He knew the contours of the land and the positions of the towns. He would not be so easily fooled. Nor apparently would the others.

Sam resisted the urge to bury his head in his hands. But it wasn't easy. Especially when he already understood why the Dragon was focussing his armies on Fair Fields. Heri!

Obviously since Heri had not been heard from for some time by the Dragon, he had decided his threats no longer held any weight. And he wanted Heri dead at all costs. Presumably he had decided that if he destroyed all of Fair Fields, murdered every man, woman and child he would have a good chance of doing just that. It was a simple plan. But it would work.

Why did it always have to be his little brother? Sam asked himself the question silently as he had so many times before. Whenever things went wrong of late, it always seemed to him that it was Heri's fault. Once it had just been him and Ry who had suffered. With Ryshal locked away and a continual string of assassins arriving in the middle of the night his anger and outrage had been purely personal. But lately it had grown worse. Heri was ruining everyone's lives. He had completely destroyed Fall Keep killing probably thousands. He had then gone on to destroy a number of the noble houses, probably killing thousands more in the process. The kingdom was engaged in civil war thanks to Heri, and the death toll from that would be beyond counting. And now there was an army of machina bent on wiping out every Fair Fielder. All of it was Heri's doing, and there could be no thought at all that he had not intended for it to happen.

Sam should have killed him long ago. It might have been murder. It might have been shameful as well. It might even have gone against his father's wishes – he had always hoped and prayed that Heri would have one day grown into a better man. But it would have saved so many lives.

Now though, they had to save as many more lives as they could.

Sam didn't even need to see the plans on the Dragon's table to know how he would mount the attack. There was only one way. Fair Fields was land locked. The nearest ports were the ones in Ore Bender's Mountains south east of Fair Fields. But there were only three of them and all were beside massive dwarven cities. All of them had heard about the attack in the Bronze Mountains, and had prepared defences in case the machina came for them. Plans that would no doubt begin with sinking the ships that carried them. No ships meant no enemy armies. It was that simple. Which was why their docks were now lined with cannon.

So the Dragon would not do that. Instead he would send his armies by air. He would land them somewhere where there would be little opposition. If Sam was to guess it would be at the ruined city of Fall Keep where few people remained. There he would build his forces up, behind the remains of the city walls. And finally once he thought he had enough he would send them out to destroy the realm town by town.

There would be no one to stop them. No thought of a common defence. Not when thanks to Heri the kingdom was at war. The noble houses were all fighting one another. Many had been badly weakened. So even though Fair Fields was not a particularly useful strategic target such as the Bronze Mountains had been, it would be an easy victory for him.

Or could there be a strategy he wasn't seeing? In the Bronze Mountains the Dragon had sought a base from which he could grow his armies of machina. A realm surrounded by other realms which his armies could strike at. There were few realms that the Dragon's armies could strike at from Fair Fields. Just the dwarves in Ore Bender's Mountains and the gnomish of the Fedowir Kingdom – and that was a long trek. Neither was there a protected mountain home where his armies would be safe while he grew them. The only fortified city in the kingdom had been destroyed by Heri. Its walls had holes. Would this Dragon really launch such an invasion just to kill one man for no strategic advantage? Sam didn't know. But it did occur to him as he stood there worrying, that he might be missing something.

“How long do we have?” Sam asked what was in the end the only question that mattered, and got no answer. He wasn't surprised. They didn't know. They couldn't hear the Dragon without opening the window and revealing themselves. And they weren't going to do that. But even if they could have heard the Dragon it wouldn't have helped. The troll blood had no one to talk to. He didn't speak with those people his armies abducted. He fought and killed the men and raped and killed the women. That Sam thought, did not bode well for them. And of course the Dragon was not writing his plans and dates down for them to read. It was just lucky that he had some maps on his table for them to see.

But one thing Sam did know was that the attack would be soon. The chamber of the volcano was packed full of wolves, and he knew that they had to number in the many thousands. Thousands more were outside on the grass, lined up and waiting to be picked up by the balloons. Thousands of balloons!

“Elder we must stop him!” Sam spoke from the heart, frightened and desperate. “We cannot let the slaughter happen.”

“How?”

“Can you not use your magic on the Dragon? Compel him to stop?”

“He is a mage of nature as am I. He may not have the command of others as I do, but his gift grants him protection against such magic just as yours does against fire.”

Of course it did. Sam knew that. He had known it before. Others had asked the same question and the same answer had been given.

“Then amongst Heri's stolen ancient treasures? Surely there must be something?”

“No.” Elder Bela shook his head sadly. “There are a great many weapons, but none that can destroy from such a distance. All we can do is warn the people. The window will allow us to do that at least. And we will continue to try to forge alliances where we can. But it will be with limited success. The realms are so divided. By distance. By people. By rulers. And by trust.”

“The sylph of Racavor are the most powerful of the magical. The ones who could perhaps stop the Dragon. But they will not get involved. In fact they refuse to speak with us. They have even found a way to prevent the Window of Parsus from seeing into their Kingdom. The city of Istantia is dark to us.”

“The dwarves of Ore Bender's Mountains are the strongest fighting force remaining, but they will not leave their cities. They fear the Dragon will return while their forces are divided. The gnomes of the Fedowir Kingdom have neither the fighting strength nor the magic to wage a war against the Dragon. The elves of Golden River Flats cannot reach Fair Fields in time. And both Shavarra and the Dead Belly Wastes are empty of people.”

“It is sad but Fair Fields it seems must stand alone.”

Elder Bela was right Sam knew. But the tragedy was that if Heri had not destroyed Fair Fields it would at least have made a credible stand. They had walled cities and towns and cannon. Even an army of steel wolves could not have broken the walls of Fall Keep. And now that they knew the steel drakes' weaknesses they could have hired weather mages. The termites could have been stopped by earth mages. Enough at least for the larger towns. But the city had been destroyed, the lords of the realm had gone to war with one another and there was no thought of mounting a common defence.

“Then I must go to the island and destroy him myself.”

“It's more than five hundred leagues to the nearest coast and then there is a sea journey as well. You could not make it in time,” the Elder told him sadly, his long face hanging even lower than normal.

He was right Sam knew. The distance was far too great. Even using his magic it would take over a month of hard riding just to reach the south east tip of the continent. And the sea journey after that posed even more problems. Possibly he could hire a ship, but a hundred and fifty plus leagues over open ocean was a big journey. Few would risk it. And he had no idea as to how long it would take. It depended on the winds he supposed. But that still wasn't good enough.

They needed to fly. But there were few who could, and none of them could fly such a distance. The weather mages who could lift themselves on a curtain of wind, could only manage that for short periods of time. Those who could shift shape into the form of a bird were equally limited. And of course, he could do neither.

“We must do something Elder!” But even as he said it he knew that they were just as helpless in this as he was. He could see it in the elders' faces as he looked around. They had brought him here to tell him the news because he had a right to know. But not because there was anything they thought he or they could do.

“And we will. As I have said, we will send warnings. And with luck those who heed our warnings will escape to other, nearby realms in time.”

But how many would that be? That was the question. Sam could not see the noble houses fleeing. They would not abandon their homes. Their seats of power. It was who they were. And many of them would not allow their people to flee either. What was a fiefdom without people after all? They would stand and they would fight – and they would fall and they would die.

As he stood there, trying to think of something, anything to do, Sam slowly realised the awful truth.

Fair Fields was doomed.

Stonebridge. What a miserable ruin it was, Heri thought as he wandered in to the ancient village. And what a waste of a journey. He'd spent a month at least crossing Fair Fields on foot to get here, and every one of those days had been a torment.

His feet ached as they never had before, and his soft boots had been reduced to shreds. His back hurt too; the injury of his brother's blade was always with him. He was twisted as he walked, and bent a little to one side. And though he could use a staff to help him walk in a more upright position, it just wasn't as it had been. He was crippled.

Yet worse than that, his mind had gone as well. He didn't know exactly how, though he did know it was the elves' doing. Them and he assumed the cursed potion they had made him drink. Thanks to it he could no longer speak the name of another god. Nor could he lie. In fact too often the truth would just come pouring out of him when he was asked a question. He also had no control over the path his feet chose to travel – which was why he was here. He could not even draw his knife. Not in anger anyway.

But by far the biggest curse he had had to deal with was his complete lack of ability to hold on to his coin. If he saw someone in need he would be compelled to give his coin to them, regardless of the fact that it was his! He needed his gold! And yet he kept giving it away. Even worse than that he'd seen a healer tending to the injured in a small village a while back and had suddenly found himself walking to him. Once he reached him the first thing he had told him was the location of one of the crypts where he had stashed some of his gold. Similarly he had seen a priest of the All Father tending to his flock and had immediately told him the location of another stash. There had been others.

Soon he would have no gold left. And it was his gold! By right!

Before he had drunk the potion he had at least had some hope of ending his days with enough gold to see out his days in comfort. Now even that hope was gone. He was a complete peasant with not a coin to his name. If he wanted a hot meal he had to scrounge it for himself. Occasionally he had no choice but to eat the things that others had left behind or thrown away. Sometimes he even had to beg. It was humiliating! He had never begged in his life. But if he was to eat he had to.

And now here he was. In an ancient ruined village surrounded by no one. There was no one around to beg from. No one who could even put him up for the night. He could see no orchards from which he might steal some fruit. He couldn't even see a place where he could find a roof to shelter him from the rain. The only thing he could see in the village were stones. Piles and piles of stones.

To the right an ancient stone bridge spanned a narrow river chasm. It was all that was left of the ancient village and the structure for which it had been named. All around him he could see hundreds of piles of collapsed rubble that had once been peoples' homes, however many thousands of years ago. There were also acres upon acres of scrub and tough looking grass surrounding them. That was all there was, save for the wind that never seemed to stop blowing.

The place was dead. It had been dead for a thousand years. Maybe even two thousand. Some even claimed it was older than that. That it had been destroyed during the Dragon Wars. Heri didn't know. He didn't even care. All he knew was that it had been dead for so long that even the ghosts had left.

“All right I'm here! Now what?!”

Heri yelled it at no one. Because there was no one around to hear him. Then again maybe there was – whoever or whatever was controlling him had brought him here for a reason. But either way he wanted to be gone from this place. Whatever reason he had come here for, he at least wanted it to be over and done with. After that maybe whoever or whatever controlled him would be done with him. It was a faint hope but it was all he had. And he was hungry. That was something he had never known before. People had always brought him food when he wanted it. He needed to leave this place and find some food.

Unfortunately no one answered him and his feet refused to let him leave. Every time he tried they just marched him in a circle back to the bridge. Which in the end left him with nothing to do but sit down and wait – and hope he wasn't going to be here long.

It was a long wait. The sun reached the zenith of its arc and then started heading down the other side while he sat on the grass leaning against the crumbling stone blocks of the bridge. And while he sat there all he could do was stare at the ruins that had once been buildings and wonder what they had looked like before they'd crumbled away. It wasn't much of a mystery to set his mind to. The sages had spent decades arguing about how the ancient world had worked and what sort of people they had been before the Dragon Wars. Not that this was necessarily built by them. And they had never found an answer they could agree on. But it was all he had to do. And by the time the sun was settling into the distant hills he couldn't even be bothered thinking about it anymore. Who cared? He certainly didn't.

What he did care about was that just as the sun touched the hills he suddenly felt the need to get up. And then once he was up to wander through the piles of rubble that had once been a village to the far end. He walked toward a small copse of trees that had grown up in what he suspected had once been the entrance to it.

Why he was there he didn't know. It looked like any other small copse of trees he had ever seen. Maybe a sage or a forester would have seen something special in it. But he didn't. All he saw was a small stand of tall trees. Fir trees that looked like any others.

But obviously there was something about them. He didn't know what. But why else would his feet suddenly start carrying him into the copse? Why would they force him to work his way around and through scrub and weeds as high as his chest? That wasn't something any normal man of normal wit would do. Especially when the scrub was so thick that it tore at his already ragged clothes and scratched any skin it could reach. When there were thistles as well. And it wasn't as if he could weave his way around any of them. His feet wouldn't let him.

Heri pressed on, doing his best to push away the branches of the offending foliage, but still taking a lot of cuts and scratches as he forced his way through the scrub. The only blessing he was given was that the copse was small. Because by the time he reached the middle of it, he was bleeding from a hundred different scratches.

In the middle of the copse he found nothing other than a rotten tree stump and he realised with surprise that it seemed to be his destination. His feet were heading straight for it after all. And the rays of the setting sun, were playing directly on it – something that he was sure was no accident. But why? There was nothing there. No altar or shrine. No one waiting to speak to him. No structure of any kind. Just a rotten tree stump sitting out in the middle of a scrub filled copse by itself. Why would anyone want to visit a tree stump?

He was still wondering that when he reached it and saw fairly much what he'd expected to see – nothing. It was old and rotten. Hollowed out to an extent by time, but with nothing inside it. It might have been a good place to hide a treasure, but there was no treasure to be seen.

He was disappointed by that, though really he knew he would never have been allowed to keep it anyway. Still, to have walked all this way for nothing seemed hard.

A growl suddenly pierced the air and sent his heart racing. He looked up to see a huge pair of eyes staring at him. Eyes attached to a head full of fur and teeth. A head as high off the ground as he was. He saw fangs and razor sharp teeth as the mouth opened and then snapped shut with a bony crack. And his blood chilled as he knew he was staring at a snap wolf. Cousin to a dire wolf but bigger. Much bigger. Big enough that the beast could bite him in half with just one snap of those jaws. This then must be the reason he had been called here. To die. The snap of those jaws was death. It was generally the last thing anyone ever heard before they died. But why bring him all this way to die?

Heri was terrified. He'd never seen one of the beasts before. They weren't even supposed to be in his lands. Not in Fair Fields. He'd had them all hunted down. But suddenly he was staring at one, and it was close enough to just reach over and bite him in half. Close enough that he could smell its foul breath so very clearly. The odour of rotten meat and filth was nearly overpowering.

But then instead of running as he should he reached across the stump to the far side where a small, spiral shoot was growing up out of it and he knew he hadn't come for nothing. He knew it even more clearly when the instant his fingers wrapped themselves around it he felt some force flowing through them. Mostly though he knew it when the shoot came instantly free in his hand.

And though the snap wolf was still standing there watching, and it had been close enough to bite his hand off as he'd reached for the shoot, it did nothing. Maybe it wasn't going to? Maybe it was also controlled in some way? He had come here to retrieve this shoot. The wolf had been left here as its guardian. And for some reason he was allowed to take it.

That helped Heri. It let his heart stop racing a little. Because in the end despite everything that had happened to him, he didn't want to die. And the snap wolf was death on four legs. But he still didn't trust the beast. It was a predator. A savage creature. Even if it wasn't meant to kill him, it could still do so in a heartbeat should it change its mind.

The sooner he was away from it he thought, the better. But unfortunately his body didn't seem to think the same thing. Because all it wanted to do was stand there and stare at the shoot.

What was it? He stood there staring at the shoot, wondering. He even managed to put the wolf out of his mind as he did so. Because it didn't look like anything much to him. If it had been a stick with a sharp point on the end it could perhaps have worked as a dagger. But really he thought, the wood of the shoot was too soft and springy. It would bend before it pierced someone's body. And though it was likely some sort of magical sundry, it was nothing like any of the treasures he had once owned. Those had all been crafted and spelled. They showed the work of the artisan. This was just a shoot.

Still, it was clearly important to whoever was controlling him. He knew that when instead of simply tossing it aside he carefully tucked it inside his vest. It also seemed that it was what he had come for. That too was obvious when he turned around and started forcing his way back through the scrub and brambles to where he had come from. Now he had somewhere else to go it seemed.

It also seemed he had a companion. Heri discovered that when he finally escaped the copse to discover with some shock that the snap wolf was right beside him. He hadn't heard it forcing its way through the undergrowth. And it wasn't covered in rips and scratches as he was. Clearly despite its size it was far more agile and able to walk though scrub than he was. But as he headed back to the bridge it walked beside him. It stuck to him like a shadow.

Heri groaned quietly. At least he still had the freedom to groan. Why did he have to have a companion? And why this one of all creatures? He would never be safe with it around. Especially when he realised why the snap wolf was accompanying him. It wasn't. It was the guardian of the shoot. He was just a pair of hands to hold it and feet to transport it. Everything was about the shoot!

And yet he knew as he walked back to the bridge, he didn't have a choice. He was a king! And yet somehow he had become a peon. A slave. Even less than a slave. No one could have truly understood the anger he felt at that. Or the helplessness.