Loch Laern - Twelfth Night
"This cursed moor is going to be the end of us!" Duncan said bitterly as he spat at the ground in frustration. "We spend half our time digging the wagons out of the muck, meanwhile, J'honsa-only-knows how much closer the Horde draws."
"It is so, Brother." McDougil said as he and the cavalryman threw themselves against the back of the most recent wagon to fall victim to the seemingly endless mire. "The land here is....so low that the water seems....over-eager to devour it."
"Aye...." Both men grunted with effort and finally, with an almost painful, exaggerated slowness, the wagon came free."
"God's Teeth, but that was harder than it should have been." McDougil panted.
Duncan slapped him on the shoulder. "Come, Brother....there is no rest for us yet...by now, surely at least three others that we unstuck before have become trapped again."
McDougil rolled his eyes and smiled a weary smile. "One thing's sure, Duncan....if the damnable Nilroggi find us shortly after these exertions, we'll be nearly as physically strong as they!"
Duncan nodded, and the two men trudged wearily forward, in look of another wagon in need of rescue.
~~Ж§Ж~~
"Our pace of late has been treacherously slow....surely there is something in that cursed tome that can help us?" Mourngrym snapped in irritation.
Now that he had The Eight firmly under his thumb, it was all too easy to guide their thinking without using his annual "favor" with them.
Ahhh yes. Victory in this case had been sweet indeed. He knew the wizards coveted the book, but he never imagined they'd simply give in and agree to all his demands. Their true names, which bound them to him and made it impossible for them to deceive him. And an annual favor....anything his heart desired....passing to his ancestors in the form of a favor every ten-year.
Yes....the here and now was truly his to command.
He smiled. Nothing like the heady intoxicant of power to soften one's mood.
"We have been attempting to master Talesian's Incantation of Long Leagues, yes...but our understanding of it is not perfect."
The words of the wizard brought him back to the moment, and he sneered. "Tell me then...what is your current understanding of the incantation?"
"Well...as we understand it, we can move everyone in our current company long distances with it, but it requires a level of finesse and control that we are uncertain if we, even collectively, can accomplish."
"Nonsense! You are learned men, all! If I didn't know better, I would think that you eight were somewhat eager to see the Nilroggi face to face!"
They blanched at that as one, and after a moment of reflection, the leader among them said simply. "We will try, M’Lord Mourngrym."
"Yes....do that." He replied.
~~Ж§Ж~~
That night, something decidedly strange happened. One minute, the band of refugees was half mired in the muck of the land south of the Loch, and the next, the world seemed to darken and spin, and they were...elsewhere.
Many of the common folk screamed in panic at the sensation, and sudden realization of their new surroundings, and what happened next was even stranger still. The screams of those ragged voices were taken up by the wind and the strange acoustics of the place and magnified until it sounded like all the souls of the damned had been released at once, and in the same place.
So loud it was, that the crashing sound literally brought hundreds to their knees. This sound too...the sound of men falling was taken up and magnified until it sounded like thunder. It echoed and slammed through the hills around them for long minutes, and only reluctantly began to fade to silence.
"Mother of the Earth." Duncan whispered (noting that even his whispered voice seemed unnaturally loud here). "What has....happened to us?" He asked in a tone as hushed as he could manage.
"I know not, Brother....I know not." McDougil whispered in reply.
"What in the name of all the God...." Arliss asked in a thundering voice, cutting himself short when he realized what effect the hills around were having on his voice.
After a moment, when the hurricane of sound had died away, he tried again...this time, in a whisper. "What in the name of all the Gods' Angels is this witchery? How did we come here?!"
Duncan shrugged, and was about to say he did not know, when he spied the eight monks making their way hastily toward the wagons of Jacob Mourngrym.
~~Ж§Ж~~
Jacob felt like shouting to the heavens, but having seen the results of that, he decided against it. "You did what?!" He asked in a harsh whisper.
"Our understanding of the spell was incomplete, and our control over its effect was even less so...we estimate that we have traveled back the way we came by some forty leagues."
Mourngrym let that sink in for a moment. "You mean to tell me we have lost days....perhaps weeks of traveling because your incantation misfired?! Do you realize the danger we are now in?"
Just then, he heard the almost frantic call of a battle horn...three short blasts signifying immanent danger. Those sounds were taken up by the strange echoing nature of the place and made to sound so loud that he wondered if his eardrums might bleed and burst.
His eyes narrowed and he stuck his head out the back of his wagon, looking eastward and knowing before he did what he would see. True, they were still far off, but now in sight.
Swarming over the ground like man-sized locusts, and their numbers were legion and beyond. They stretched out as far as they eye could see. Thousands. And more. The Horde was close. And, having heard clearly the arrival of the refugees on the hilltop, they were coming.
They were coming.
~~Ж§Ж~~
"Cast it again you fools....and this time, send us in the proper direction!" Mourngrym hissed. "We shall all die here and very soon if you do not!"
"M’Lord, we cannot....the spell has drained us to the point that it will take at least a day to recover."
"A day...." Mourngrym said softly. And in a day's time....he fought off a shiver and tried to put the image out of his head.
It could not be! Now was his time! He would be the Master of a new Kingdom!
And yet, the Nilroggi approached, and swiftly at that. Too swiftly.
Just then, the curtain of his wagon parted, and Arliss Castillar entered without knocking, followed immediately by Duncan Fury and McDougil.
To say that Arliss looked displeased was....understatement at its finest.
"Duncan." He hissed. "I order you to take these men into custody at once!" Duncan put his hand on his sword and took a step forward.
Jacob Mourngrym stepped in front of the Wizards. "No...I will not allow this, Arliss Castillar."
"You have no choice in the matter! The course is clear. These men are practicing the Dark Art, and they will be put to death by public stoning or I am not a Priest!"
"Father....Arliss....have you not taken note of what lies just east of here outside these wagon walls? With all that's approaching us, it would seem you have greater worries than stoning these eight men, though if you think it will save us from the approaching Nilroggi, by all means, have at them."
"I fear he is right, friend." Duncan whispered softly. "I know what they have done is an affront to the HighFather, and I agree they must be punished for it, but at present, if we are to survive, then you must leave.....Now."
You must leave. Those words stung like fire on his soul.
You. Not us.
Specifically not "us."
He turned to face the cavalryman, now Marshal of their forces. "You mean to delay them as best you can while we make our escape."
Duncan nodded slowly. "Aye."
"No friend...there must be some other way....even with ten times the men in your company....even with a hundred times, you would simply be washed away."
"Look into your heart, Father...you know there is no other way. If some of us die so that more may live, then we must....." He let the words hang in the air for a long moment. "We must try." Duncan said again.
Finally, painfully and blinking back tears, Arliss gripped the cavalryman's forearms and nodded. "You are as a son to me....you know that, yes?"
Duncan nodded. "Go....go before I change my mind on it."
Wordlessly, Duncan left the wagon, with McDougil right behind him.
Arliss wiped his tears away and turned back to Mourngrym and the wizards. "This is not finished. And when those men die, their blood will be on your hands! If we survive this flight, I'll see you all burn for it!" Without bothering to wait for a reply, the Priest spun and made haste from the wagon, leaving no doubt in the minds of the men still inside that he meant every word he had spoken.
~~Ж§Ж~~
Half an Hour Later
“Okay, we've sketched out the beginnings of a plan." Duncan whispered. "Lead the wagons off now, due west, and make a production of it."
Arliss was about to open his mouth to say something, but Duncan held up a hand. "As soon as you're out of their sight, come about and strike due south, staying behind the hills and ridgelines so they cannot see where you have gone. Make for the coast, and thence westward to the Harradis. We can use the nature of this place to our advantage and make our numbers sound greater than they are. I'll break the men into three groups and we'll each take turns having a go at them from horseback...the damned fools never did learn how to effectively deal with a cavalry charge, and broken up as we'll be, we can hit them day and night, which will further the illusion of greater number."
Arliss again opened his mouth to speak, but could not bear to voice the awful words in his heart. "This is madness." He whispered at last. "It is madness and you know full well."
Duncan nodded. "Believe me, Father....I have no wish to die, so if you can come up with a better plan in the next span of minutes, then I would be happy to hear it....otherwise, your people....your flock needs you. They need you to lead them away from this...."
Though he did not say the word 'slaughter,' Arliss heard it all too clearly in his mind and winced away from it.
He nodded one final time and hugged the cavalryman fiercely. "Fight bravely....my son."
"Aye.....I will." Came Duncan's emotion-laden reply. The two men held each other's gaze for a long moment, and then Arliss tore himself away and made for the wagons. There was work to do if any were to be saved.
~~Ж§Ж~~
"Sir! Armando and the Gypsy Contingent reporting for duty!" The cheery, brightly dressed Freeman said with a curt salute.
"Are you so ready to die, Master Armando?" Duncan asked him as he strode toward his men.
"We all die, sir....it is a question of how, and with what dignity." That brought Duncan up short and he turned to study the young man more closely.
"You are the leader of the Free-Folk, are you not?"
"When they have need of leadership, I provide it, yes."
"And if you die here, with us, what then?"
"Then one of my wives will take my place." He said simply. "The Free-Folk will continue....it is our way."
Duncan nodded. "And how many men to you bring with you?"
"Twenty-two...riders all, on some of the finest steeds you'll ever see." Armando said proudly.
"Steeds we need. We're many short if we're all going to go at them from horseback. Have you any extra?"
"Eleven not currently accounted for. I shall have them brought at once."
"And the nine he sold me." Mourngrym said, striding forward. "If you have need of them, Commander, they are yours."
Duncan met Mourngrym's eyes for a lingering moment, waiting to see if there would be any strings attached to the offer. When none was immediately forthcoming, he nodded. "We need them, and I accept your offer."
Jacob nodded. "I'll bring them out to you personally...and Commander?" "Yes?" "Good luck and Godspeed to you. I fear you will need every blessing the Saints can provide."
"Aye." Duncan murmured, feeling suddenly very tired. "Aye."
~~Ж§Ж~~
"How many men have we, in all?" Duncan asked, not really wanting to hear whatever pitiful number it might be, but knowing it was his duty.
"One hundred fifty-two, counting the volunteers who recently signed on."
"And horses?"
"One hundred sixty, exactly....granted, many of them were taken from wagon hitches, but they're what we've got."
Duncan nodded. One hundred fifty-two men, and unless his eyes deceived him, there were more than a hundred thousand Nilrog approaching, probably closer to double that if he included the ones not yet in sight.
He sighed heavily. "All right...here's how we're going to do this....we take shifts, each company operating eight hours at a stretch....that's a full day's work on, but sixteen hours to rest and prepare....on horseback, we are faster than they, and with the blankets co-opted from the wagon trains, we can cover the leggings of our mounts and our own arms....granted, it's scant protection, but we lack proper armor, and the time to fashion any...not that it would hold up much better to the spray from their cursed swords."
The men were stock-still, waiting for him to continue. "The goal is to buy our women and children time to escape....make no mistake about this...we cannot defeat the forces approaching."
As if you needed to tell them that, he thought sourly. "We ride in hard and fast, hit them once, come about and vanish into the hills. Understood?"
Nods of agreement all around. "No one is to take any unnecessary risks....one strike...one charge, and you flee. There is no glory in this fight....only death. It is only a matter of time until they surround us, and we will let them....we draw them westward and north, letting them chase us...letting them surround us...the Nilroggi only attack what they see, and as long as Father Castillar heeds my advice and keeps to the western side of the ridgelines, they should not spot his group at all and they can make safe to the Harradis."
Another moment of silence. "Join hands men....let us bow our heads a moment and pray....it will likely be the last chance we have."
As one, they did.
~~Ж§Ж~~
