Emerald of the Elves (13 page)

“That is hard to say,” responded the advisor. “There is now a council that is sympathetic to the crown, so it would be harder for the players to turn that around, but in Tagaret anything is possible. Are you thinking of promoting Niki again?”

“No,” snickered Hanchi. “Niki is nobody.”

“I thought she was Sarac’s descendent?” questioned Zorn. “She wore the cloak of Aurora.”

“The cloak was real enough,” nodded Hanchi, “but Niki is not Aurora’s daughter. Aurora was a master magician. Niki cannot even begin to comprehend what that means. Wherever she got the cloak, she is not worth worrying about.”

“Surely we could find the descendent of Sarac by interrogating her, though,” suggested Zorn.

“Perhaps,” shrugged the emperor, “but we do not care who Sarac’s offspring is. It really doesn’t matter to our plans. All that matters now is the conquest of Sordoa and getting this army positioned to attack Tagaret when the time is right.”

“You will have no problems with an army this size,” declared Zorn. “When does the conquest start?”

“The attack of Landoa begins in the morning,” replied Hanchi. “All of Sordoa shall bow before me soon.”

* * *

Azmet sat in the dining hall of the castle in Klandon. His closest advisors shared his table.

“Now, Klandon is a real city,” smiled Azmet. “Cleb always gave me the feeling that I was staying in someone else’s house, but this is grand. One could be quite happy with such a city to rule.”

“Tagaret is a much finer city,” interjected Lotfi. “The Royal Palace would put this castle to shame.”

“Ah, yes,” sighed Azmet, “but Tagaret is a long ways off. Klandon is here and it is mine.”

“Tagaret will also be yours,” assured Lotfi. “Abuud will grant you whatever you desire.”

“Why are you in such a hurry to leave, Lotfi?” questioned Nassar. “All the time you push on about Tagaret. Why can’t you enjoy what we have before rushing off to somewhere new?”

“I just said that Tagaret was a finer city,” defended Lotfi. “I have been there and seen it. Have you?”

“I have seen it,” retorted Nassar. “I have seen its walls, and I have seen its army. We will lose a lot of men when we sack Tagaret. Do not be in such a hurry to die.”

“There is truth to what Nassar says, Lotfi,” shrugged Azmet. “I had planned to use the captured men of Klandon to swell the ranks of my army. The cowards chose to sneak out of the city like thieves. Now it will take time to recruit more men from the surrounding areas.”

“They took rafts down the river,” countered Lotfi. “We do not have to guess which way the men of Klandon went. I am willing to bet that they wait for us at Mya. By dallying here, we are just allowing them time to regroup. Maybe they are already seeking outside assistance. We should strike while they are on the run.”

“You have become an aggressive one,” chuckled Azmet. “Tagaret will fall when I am ready for it to fall. Mya will not be an event even worthy of a ballad. Rest and feed your face. This castle is much more likeable than camping out in a field outside some city’s walls.”

“I am getting the feeling that you have other purposes for your advice on Tagaret,” Nassar accused Lotfi suspiciously. “What is the real reason for your hurry to get to Tagaret?”

Lotfi bit his lower lip as his hands clenched under the table. His mind whirled as he looked around the room. A trickle of fear coursed up his spine as he worried about being discovered. Everyone waited for his response.

“Alright,” Lotfi finally said, “I admit that there is another reason for my desire to move on to Tagaret, but that does not mean that my advice is suspect. I still think that we have momentum here. We should not waste it idly.”

“And what is this other reason?” questioned Azmet suspiciously.

“Tagaret is where Arik is,” Lotfi declared.

Achmed gulped his ale and slammed his mug down hard on the table. “I shall kill him,” bellowed Achmed. “I will tear his limbs off and feed them to him. I will drive large spikes under his skin.”

“Enough,” warned Azmet as he cringed in disgust. “I am eating here. Whatever you do to Arik, you do with my blessing, but that does not mean that I wish to hear about it over dinner.”

“I see that I am not the only one who has strong feelings towards this Arik,” smiled Lotfi. “Remember that he defiled the statue of Abuud. He defied you personally, Azmet. He defied the Prophet of Abuud. He thinks you are nothing.”

Hatred creased Azmet’s brow as his eyes narrowed menacingly.

“The loss of the statue of Abuud almost ended our campaign to bring peace and harmony to the world,” pushed Lotfi. “It was only by the grace of Abuud that I was in time to stop Arik from stealing the second statue.”

The prophet nodded knowingly as he thought back to the near collapse of his following.

“We shall continue on to Tagaret,” decided Azmet. “I am sure the splendor of the Royal Palace there will be much greater than this castle. Arrange it, Nassar. We leave in the morning.”

* * *

King Altaro gazed out over the Boulder River as he sat at an outdoor table of one of the inns in Mya. He tuned out the conversation of the two men sitting with him as he watched the ferries gliding across the water. It was a peaceful setting, yet King Altaro knew that the peace was fleeting. Of all the places he could think of to defend, Mya was not one of them. The wall surrounding the city was woefully inadequate and in desperate need of repair. The Boulder River split the town in two, with neither half having the slightest bit of defensive works. He sighed as he watched the children across the river singing and playing on the docks.

“I fear that we have failed to maintain your interest,” intruded the voice of Baron Tratter, the recognized leader of Mya.

“Sorry,” sighed King Altaro. “I let my mind wander, I suppose.”

“You have been doing that more of late,” noted Lord Parsiki. “Is something the matter?”

“Something the matter?” echoed King Altaro. “Blessed sword, Lord Parsiki, of course something is the matter. Look around you. Eight out of every ten people you see will be dead before Azmet is through with Mya. We have no effective plan to defend this city. I am not even sure if Mya is defendable against such an opponent as Azmet.”

“That is little reason to be upset,” retorted Baron Tratter. “We will do the best we can. What more can be asked of man?”

“Ten thousand troops from Tagaret would help,” countered King Altaro. “Then we could meet Azmet on the plains surrounding the city instead of waiting here to die.”

“Ten thousand men is all that Tagaret has,” declared Baron Tratter. “While I am sure that they will send some men, you cannot expect them to empty the city garrison. How many men they can afford to send will depend on how firm a grip Queen Marta has managed to get on the affairs of Tagaret.”

“We will know soon enough,” commented King Altaro as he saw Sergeant Tember stepping on to one of the ferries. “Our emissary to Tagaret has arrived.”

The conversation halted as a girl came to refill their mugs of ale. The three men watched the ferry cross the river. Sergeant Tember leaped off and hurried to the table.

“I thought I recognized you from the ferry,” the sergeant stated as he sat down.

“When will the army arrive?” King Altaro asked without preamble.

“There will be no army from Tagaret,” the sergeant report.

“No army?” bellowed King Altaro. “Whatever is going through Queen Marta’s mind? How does she expect us to hold this city against Azmet and his horde?”

“Queen Marta was assassinated,” interrupted Sergeant Tember. “Prince Oscar fears that they may have trouble maintaining control of Tagaret.”

“Treacherous,” scowled Baron Tratter.

“Treacherous indeed,” spat King Altaro. “Surely, they don’t need ten thousand men to secure Tagaret. They could spare some.”

“If there were men available,” retorted Baron Tratter, “Prince Oscar would send them. Be reasonable, King Altaro. If Mya falls it is not the end of the world. The same cannot be said for Tagaret. I am sure that Prince Oscar has thought this out carefully.”

“You appear to have a great deal of faith in a prince who has been hiding for the past twenty years,” countered King Altaro.

“I do,” admitted Baron Tratter. “Prince Oscar stands for the good of the people of Targa. He always has. Look what he did to rid the kingdom of the bandits that used to plague us.”

“Plus there was no real reason for the prince to remain in Tagaret all these years,” added Lord Parsiki. “The fact that he returned after the death of King Byron shows that his devotion has not waned.”

“Prince Oscar will not be accepting the crown,” interjected Sergeant Tember. “He abdicated that right before the Collapse. It is his son Arik who will be crowned.”

“Is Prince Arik in Tagaret?” inquired Lord Parsiki.

“No,” frowned the sergeant. “They are searching for him now.”

“Alright,” sighed King Altaro. “That does make the situation in Tagaret perilous then. It does nothing to further a solution to the problem here at Mya, though.”

“Prince Oscar has suggestions on how to proceed here,” offered Sergeant Tember. “He suggests that we immediately evacuate the women and children.”

“To Tagaret?” questioned Baron Tratter.

“No, Southland,” replied the sergeant. “He feared that if Tagaret was under siege that there would be problems with food.”

“That is not a bad idea,” nodded Lord Parsiki. “There is more than ample room in Southland.”

“Acceptable,” agreed King Altaro. “What else?”

“He suggests that you only try to delay Azmet here at Mya,” continued the sergeant. “He does not think that you should actively engage the enemy, but rather threaten to. When the situation appears to have gone Azmet’s way, you should evacuate to the north.”

“To the north?” questioned Baron Tratter. “That is elf country. I would fear invading their land more than facing Azmet and his brutes.”

“I meant from the northern half of the city,” corrected Sergeant Tember. “Prince Oscar thinks we should travel the northern banks of the Boulder River and return to Klandon.”

“I thought of such a strategy myself,” declared King Altaro. “We could retake Klandon from Azmet’s people. The one problem that I see is that Azmet may forget about Tagaret and follow us. Then we would be right back where we started, except they would have the defensive position.”

“That possibility was discussed,” nodded Sergeant Tember, “but Prince Oscar thinks that Azmet’s desire to attack Tagaret will overrule following our forces to Klandon.”

“He may be right,” offered Baron Tratter. “Mya is not a defendable city. Azmet must realize that if we head west that he risks exposing his rear to forces out of Tagaret, should he decide to pursue us.”

“There will be no forces out of Tagaret,” Lord Parsiki pointed out.

“Azmet will not know that,” smiled Baron Tratter.

“The Army of the West will meet up with you to retake Klandon and then march towards Tagaret,” continued Sergeant Tember. “Azmet will never be expecting such a large force behind him.”

“Has there been any news of the disposition of the Army of the West?” questioned King Altaro. “How are we to coordinate with them?”

“This is the great part of Prince Oscar’s plan,” grinned Sergeant Tember. “There are fairy people in Tagaret that are friendly to the crown. They have offered to act as runners between all of our forces to aid in communications.”

“Fairy people?” questioned King Altaro. “Have you seen one of these fairy people?”

“One traveled with me from Tagaret,” nodded Sergeant Tember. “He left me to check on the situation in Klandon for us. He said he would return with news about Azmet. The fairies are also searching for Prince Arik.”

At that moment, a fairy shot down out of the sky and landed on Sergeant Tember’s shoulder. He smiled broadly and bowed his little body to each of the men present at the table.

“I am Droplet,” chirped the green fairy. “I am to help you communicate with the forces of the Bringer.”

“The Bringer?” echoed King Altaro as he stared at the little man.

“You call him Prince Arik,” informed Droplet, “but to the fairies he is known as the Bringer. All fairy people are sworn to him.”

“Well, welcome to Mya,” grinned Baron Tratter. “Your ability to fly will prove to be most beneficial.”

“What is the situation at Klandon?” asked Sergeant Tember.

“The forces of Azmet are on the march,” frowned Droplet. “They are only an hour away from Klandon, but they are heading this way. It is a very large army.”

“What of the city of Klandon itself?” asked King Altaro. “Have they left many men inside the walls?”

“I did not dally to count them,” admitted the fairy, “but I would estimate around a thousand were left behind.”

“What of Prince Arik?” inquired Baron Tratter. “Has there been any sight of him yet?”

“Not yet,” frowned Droplet, “but he will be found. Nobody can hide from fairies. The search is concentrated far to the south right now. That is where he is expected to be.”

* * *

Alex halted at the top of the hill. He gazed at the trail cutting through the forest in the valley before him.

“That trail marks the boundary between the Kingdom of Klandon and Elderal, Land of the Elves,” declared Alex.

“That is the trail we took to the fairies long ago,” commented Tanya.

“Yes, it is,” added Arik. “Wasn’t that the trail where you chased Garth into the woods for several days?”

“That is in the past,” glared Tanya. “You would do better to concentrate on your future.”

“What is that?” Jenneva pointed behind them.

The Rangers turned and looked at a column of people heading eastward.

“A rather large army,” frowned Alex. “There is little east of here besides Mya and Tagaret.”

“Check it out, Prince Midge,” ordered Arik.

Prince Midge leaped off of Arik shoulder and flew south.

“These elves that lie ahead,” inquired Prince Darok, “are they like the elves of Sorelderal?”

“They were once the same,” answered Jenneva. “The Sorelderal elves near Dorgun came from Elderal. They maintained good relations before the Collapse. Who knows what has happened since?”