The Pool And The Pedestal (Book 2) (28 page)

These men spend months of sleepless nights lying in the shadows of the Scythtar Mountains, worrying that at any moment the Horde will sweep down from the mountains and grind them up. At least by retreating the men will feel confident they are lying in the arms of Zodra herself. If the Ulrog attack the Guard now, they must travel far from the Scythtar. When they turn to run back to their protection, the cavalry will thin their numbers.”

“What if they don’t turn to run after their next attack?” questioned Cefiz.

“By retreating, the Guard moves itself that much closer to its support.” stated Granu. “It is the proper course of action.”

Kael’s horse crested a low rise in the rough road and the reality of his situation slapped the boy across the face. Before him, across a short flat plain, rose the white peaked caps of the Scythtar. Beyond that wall of mountains raged all the hatred and evil Amird was capable of creating over millennia. Kael shivered and brought his horse to a halt.

“They make you feel very small don’t they?” came a voice from the side of the road.

Kael turned to see Lilywynn standing near a thistle bush.

“Small and weak.” replied Kael.

The girl’s laughter rang across the hollow plain and brought the entire procession to a halt.

“I’ve said it before, Kael Brelgson.” smiled Lilywynn. “The value of small is an unappreciated asset. Think of how easy it would be to remain hidden amongst all that.”

The girl’s hand swept across the towering vista before her.

“What news?” interrupted Ader riding in close.

Lilywynn’s expression grew serious as she turned from the boy to the Seraph.

“You’ve passed the last remnants of the Guard between you and the Scythtar.” said Lilywynn. “There is no protection between you and the mountains.”

“What of the Ulrog?” questioned Ader.

“There are several ancient villages spread across the plain. “ said Lilywynn. “They show evidence of recent occupation by the Guard, but haven’t been reclaimed by the Ulrog ...  yet.”

“So we are in no immediate danger on this side of the river.”

“No, but I must race ahead and scout into the mountains.” said Lilywynn.

“What?!” exclaimed Eidyn. “There’s no need to scout the mountains! If we seek the Eru, we must turn to the East now. We’ve come as far North as any Eru unit ever would.”

Ader turned to the Elven prince and frowned.

“I said you could accompany us if you didn’t interfere with any of our tasks. My task lies with the Eru. The people of Sprite choose a different path.”

Eidyn looked pleadingly to Lilywynn. The young woman set her jaw.

“We will scout behind the great wall.” she said determinedly. “We will assess the Ulrog force North of the Scythtar.”

“What!?” exclaimed Eidyn. “It’s suicide. Are you crazy? If the Ulrog don’t kill you the conditions will!”

Lilywynn narrowed her eyes and glared at the Elven prince. Eidyn turned back to Ader.

“There’s no need for this information. We know the Ulrog will attack from the West!” pleaded Eidyn. “Granu’s information bears this out! It’s too dangerous! Why did you make such a request!?”

“I made no such request!” boomed Ader. “Nor do I direct the actions of anyone in this company! You’re all creatures of freewill and make decisions of your own accord! If it were otherwise,
you
would not be standing here, Prince Eidyn!”

Eidyn’s eyes widened in anger. The Elf prince boiled with rage and protest but could find no words to express himself. Lilywynn raised her chin and without saying another word she turned and dashed into the wilds growing near the side of the road. Eidyn looked to her just as she disappeared from sight. The Elven prince leapt from his mount and ran after her, but halted at the road’s edge.

“Lilywynn!” called Eidyn.

There was no reply and all those standing on the roadside knew it was futile to try to chase the Sprite. Eidyn glanced back over his shoulder at Ader and the others staring at him. His eyes flashed defiance, then he looked out into the green of the wild countryside.

“Be careful!” he cried.

CHAPTER 17: A MADMAN’S RAVINGS

Manfir sat in his small office once more pouring over requisitions and work orders. An older man with a colonel’s insignia sat across from him, his back to the door, working as diligently as the prince. Neither man’s head left their work as a short rap emitted from the closed door.

“Enter.” called Manfir.

The door swung wide and the prince glanced up into the face of Sergeant Brelg. The sergeant smiled to the prince and it was readily returned. The colonel remained hunched forward peering at a ledger crammed with tiny writing. He was so engrossed in his work he neither turned nor stood to greet the sergeant. 

“You summoned me, my lord?” questioned Brelg.

The smile on Manfir’s lips grew as he glanced at the face of the colonel seated across from him. Finally, the prince rose and moved toward Brelg.

“I believe I’ve discovered a method to add supplies to our desperate situation.” stated Manfir.

Brelg raised an eyebrow in surprise and pleasure. The old sergeant spent days trying to assess the stores of the capital to no avail. Manfir smiled and waved a hand at the shoulders hunched over the ledger before them.

“Sergeant Brelg,” said Manfir. “I believe you already know Colonel Ipson.”

Brelg’s eyes widened as the tanner of Kelky roused himself from deep thought at the sound of his name. Ipson, former commander of the Kelky militia, captured a few more bits of information from the ledger then dragged his eyes from its writing and absently looked to Brelg.

“Ah, yes Brelg .... ah, good to see you.” muttered the tanner distractedly as he glanced back to the ledger.

Ipson screwed his face into a knot of concentration and flipped backward through several pages.

“These figures make no sense.” mumbled the tanner to himself. “The balance cannot be accurate.”

Brelg turned a questioning eye upon Manfir and the prince smiled broadly.

“He’s a bit preoccupied to offer a proper salute.” whispered Manfir to Brelg with a chuckle.

“What is he doing here?” replied Brelg in an equally hushed tone.

“ ... three hundred barrels are gone! Just gone! Tsk! Tsk!” clucked Ipson to himself, shaking his head in disapproval. “Shoddy accounting if I do say so myself.”

The tanner dipped a quill in an inkwell and scribbled notations in the margin of the ledger. He rapidly flipped through its pages and added more notations all the while frowning in obvious disgust.

“I’ve been beating my head against a wall over our supply issues for days.” Manfir stated to Brelg softly. “When suddenly Ipson marches into the yard with a contingent of Kelky volunteers. It was as if Avra sent an answer to my prayers.”

“There’s no man in all of Zodra happier in front of a stack of ledgers than Ipson.” returned Brelg under his breath. “A clean balance sheet is like a work of art to him.”

Ipson’s head rose at the mention of “balance sheet”.

“Do you possess one from this ledger?” asked the tanner. “Because this volume is most certainly missing entries.”

The tanner eyed Brelg critically for a moment then recognition crossed his face. He addressed the sergeant as if he had not seen him but a moment before.

“Ah! Brelg Kelson! Good day to you, sir.” said a now alert Ipson.

The tanner rose and extended a hand toward Brelg.

“And to you, sir!” returned Brelg saluting sharply.

The tanner’s hand hovered in front of the sergeant and Ipson’s face once again contorted in confusion. He glanced down to his extended hand then up to Brelg's smart salute and looked at a loss for where to place his hand.

“The sergeant is required to salute a superior officer.” laughed Manfir heartily.

Ipson furrowed his brow in confusion.

“You are a colonel in the Guard now.” smiled Manfir. “The head of my supply staff must have rank.”

Ipson weakly drew his hand across his chest and returned the salute.

“I thought the uniform just for show.” grimaced Ipson. “I was prepared to join the others and fight as best I could for my country, but to give orders ... well, you’re both aware of how that turned out in the past.”

“Fabulously I should say.” returned Manfir.

“Fabulously!” scoffed Ipson. “I lost command of the Kelky militia because I and a good deal of its members were obviously unqualified to be a part of it. We were weak, ill-trained and tactically irrelevant.”

“On the contrary.” replied Brelg. “I came to Kelky and found a cohesive unit of men loyal to their town and with a passion to protect it.”

Ipson frowned.

“We must have looked a regular bunch of fools playing at soldier.” said the tanner.

“I’m a soldier.” stated Brelg. “I’ve fought in many a battle under many commanders. I’ve been in groups in desperate situations, out manned and nearly overrun. Two things always stood as the cornerstones of our eventual salvation and victory. Brotherhood and belief in the cause.

You can’t train a leader to instill a sense of purpose and commonality in his men, he just instinctively exudes it. Through the example of his own character or actions, a leader demonstrates to his men the importance of their struggle and faith in one another.

When I arrived in Kelky, I observed a group of men who owned these attributes. A group of men training for the protection of their homes. Yes, their skills were crude. Yes, their tactics simplistic. However, it was evident from day one these men possessed the building blocks to grow into a great unit. Building blocks provided by their leader. It pained me deeply to tear apart a group that had grown as close as the militia of Kelky.”

Ipson stood for a moment holding onto the pride that Brelg rekindled in his heart. After a moment he bowed deeply to the sergeant and the prince.

“I acknowledge that I’m but little value on the battlefield.” said Ipson. “But my true value has always been in business.”

The purveyor of some of the finest leather goods in the South turned and lifted the dirty ledger from Manfir’s desk.

“I’ll make sense of the riddles these fools set before you and see if I can add to the comfort and strength of our fighting men.”

Manfir and Brelg smiled deeply at the tanner and each put a hand on his shoulder. Ipson bowed once more and spun to the desk dropping the ledger before him.

“Now be gone, the pair of you.” snapped the tanner. “Your presence is more of a distraction than a help.”

The two men turned and stepped from the office. Manfir drew the door closed behind him.

“And send someone here with a kettle of strong tea!” called Ipson from behind the door. “A large kettle! I shall be up most of the night.”

Manfir and Brelg exited toward the yard discussing the needs of the many new arrivals encamped on the southern plains outside the great city. There were hundreds of men willing to fight, but keeping them fed took its toll on the Guard and the citizens of Zodra. Manfir  sent officers out to live amongst the volunteers in order to train them. A small positive but of no use if they were too hungry to fight.

The pair turned into the yard as a group of recruits led a weary, wild eyed man into their path. Flair stood at their lead and sharply saluted.

“What news, Flair?” asked Manfir.

“My prince. This runner just arrived from the borderlands to the West.” informed Flair.

Manfir eyed the man up and down, taking in his bedraggled state.

“What news can be so important that you can’t get the poor soul a bed and meal?” asked Manfir.

“He demanded to deliver the message himself, my lord.” replied an anxious Flair turning to the man.

“My lord.” stated the runner hoarsely. “The Keltaran attack.”

“What?! Have they  increased their harassment of the border settlements?” questioned Brelg, concern growing in his eyes.

“No, sergeant.” answered the man glancing to Brelg. “They leave the mountains. A massive force. They march on Zodra herself!”

Men crowded the small war room beneath the Hold. They sat about the huge rough-hewn table or leaned against the aging maps affixed to the cold walls. Most of them held high rank within the Guard and wore the accouterments to display such rank.

The men gathered in small groups and held hushed conversations. Wynard was there. Ipson as well. A group of militia commanders fidgeted nervously in the shadows of the deepest corner. Brelg and a few of the training staff maintained positions by Manfir. The prince stood near the end of the room rocking back and forth on his heels, waiting.

A clatter abruptly issued from the stairway leading to the chamber and the door slowly opened with a loud creak. Flair and three other green-garbed recruits bowed their heads as they ducked into the room and forced their way into a position by one of the walls.

“Beg your pardon, my prince.” said Flair. “Once we were summoned, we came as quickly as we could.”

Manfir nodded in acceptance of the apology.

“Now we may begin.” stated the prince.

An older, gray haired general leaned forward with an obvious look of displeasure on his face.

“Begin, my lord?” questioned the general. “We are to debate the fate of the empire in a room full of both enlisted men and recruits?”

“Yes, General Yully.” replied Manfir. “We are.”

“Your father would not approve, your highness.” clucked Yully. “Strategy is the arena of men trained to provide it. These others have their place on the frontlines, not here in the war room.”

Manfir paused for a moment and let the words sink into the room. Yully’s expression grew into a satisfied smirk.

“Perhaps ... “ mused Manfir.

The smirk turned to a grin.

“Or perhaps we need fresh ideas!” snarled Manfir glaring at General Yully. “Obviously, what we’ve been doing thus far hasn’t worked!”

The grin quickly dropped from Yully’s face.

“Yes, my lord.” coughed the general.

“Excellent.” snapped Manfir eyeing the rest of the room. “If there are no other objections to the presence of the recruits and our militia support, we will move on.”