Chapter 12: Showdown

Above in the sky, Red had Korwyn’s scent imprinted on him, his first scent recorded, the most important scent of his short life so far. Even from this distance above the castle he could smell that the female standing on the platform also had Korwyn’s smell on her and by that he knew they were one pairing together, thus Red regarded the female as another parent, possibly his adopted Mother.

He was tuned to Korwyn’s mind and, as the Man looked at the Woman, Red had also seen her image deeply imprinted on Korwyn’s mind, as if the female was continually on his adopted father’s mind, Red could feel the love his adopted father has for the woman, even though she appears so different from him in form. Red readily accepts that one kind of being can love another, just as he can love his father, he can love his mother. Her name forms in Korwyn’s mind, “Zyndyr” and that she is an Elf.

He could also feel the love Korwyn has for the unborn child, which Zyndyr carries, forming inside her body acting as if she is a living egg for the baby girl, destined to be Red’s sister by adoption. Red had also imprinted the smell of the little princess, he had just made friends with, his first non-family friend, and sensed the anxiety and protective feelings from her mother and considers that he should protect this child that Korwyn’s mind called “Prince Bydon”. Red recognised that he was also a small child of yet a different race ... a Dwarf, a friend, a beloved friend, according to Korwyn, and that the child also had Zyndyr’s smell on him because she had so recently comforted him.

Red knew not who the tall man tied up with them was, but as he was Korwyn’s enemy’s enemy, he felt he should be treated as a friend and trusted until he acted otherwise. Trust was something he had learned early with his Father, it was instinctive and comforting, and it felt good to trust and discovered that it felt even better to be trusted.

Having thought these things through in his keen young mind, absorbing so many wonders learned in such a short space of time, his thoughts ran wild and beyond what he could see in front of him and thought of something that amused him.

Red spoke to Korwyn’s mind, “Father, I need to go back to the nest now. I will not be there long. Can you have five barrels of food and drink delivered in the killing field, that you called it in your mind, just in front of you ... Er, no, can you make that 20 barrels?”

“Why?” Korwyn asked in his head and Red shows him a formulated image why. Korwyn laughed out loud, shook his head in amusement at the request, saying “yes of course” in his mind.

Then Korwyn hailed Goadrik once more in as loud a voice as he could manage across ‘the killing field’.

“Wait, Goadrik, please hold your command, one that once carried out could never be undone. Can we both carefully consider our options here before you make your usual hasty decisions?”

“What are you offering me by way of options, nephew?” Goadrik hailed in return, his face now wreathed in smiles as he sensed a capitulation and utter victory in the air.

All the soldiers facing the field silently listened in rapt attention to this strange and fascinating negotiation between two such powerful but opposing kin, bold nephew standing virtually alone against his uncle with a depleted but still powerful army.

“See nephew, you face my army here and now, while yours is too far away to help you. Unless they can fly here all the way now, they would be far too late to save you and your pathetic friends.”

“Well, Goadrik, I was actually thinking that your remnant army of three regiments had just arrived at the walls of this castle, hotfoot from your routed army’s battlefield of two days ago and now they stand on their last legs on the wrong side of the wall as regards the castle kitchens, bakery, butt room and pantry. I wonder, Uncle, have your regiments slept or rested in those two days? Have they eaten their fill of breakfast, lunch and hot, tasty supper yet? Have they refreshed themselves with fresh water, wine or ale?” Korwyn cast his eyes around the array of waiting soldiers. “Well, men, have you broken fast and refreshed yourselves at all today?”

A few soldiers on the opposite battlements cried out, “Nay” and one Trooper, even bold as bronze, shouted out, “Not stopped for a moment all day today nor yesterday, running away from a crushing defeat by your army. Even without you at their head the Dwarves fought brave as men twice their size and they won a resounding victory.”

As this one brave soldier yelled out from the heart, others added their voices spoke and many were the rumbling murmurs of discontent called out, Korwyn recanted the spell taught him by the witch Queen Mother Urmah and, in the field in front of him, suddenly appeared, popping up here and there some hundred barrels of food as if by magic. Korwyn had agreed twenty with Red, but in his mind was an image of what Red was seeing and Korwyn knew that twenty barrels was not enough.

All the grumbling and murmurings among the men were cut off — as if by the stroke of a axe — the sound of voices no longer existed. A hush fell over the castle. One moment the field of the training ground was empty of anything but worn grass and sand, with criss-cross paths of stone or gravel, but now the surface was dotted with barrels, large barrels. Recognised by all who witnessed the scene as being the same provision barrels carried by most armies upon the Campaign March.

Korwyn stepped forward and used the pommel of his dwarf sword to smash in the top cover of the nearest barrel to where he and the Queen stood.

“Ah this smells of salted beef, ready for the pot.” Korwyn didn’t even have to shout to be heard, the silence of awe still so complete.

He moved to another barrel and stove in the top in likewise manner, dipped in a finger and tasted it, “Ale, cool refreshing dwarf ale, strong and invigorating to the tired and thirsty, and there’s enough here among all these barrels to feed a whole hungry army ... an honest loyal army, one that deserves such good honest food and one that has flown here fresh, eager and willing to obey the commands of their captain for the rewards of refreshment.”

Korwyn stepped back to stand alongside the Queen and her children. Then he bellowed out to the crowd of armed men confronting him once more.

“But this refreshing food and drink is not for you, men of Goadrik’s army of Men. You, the Imperial Guards will have to ask your commanders or your quartermasters for your rations, unless, in your leader’s haste to save his worthless and guilty hide, I wonder, has he left your breakfast, dinners and suppers behind on the battleground as well as the rest of his beaten army, where he has already lost this war that he alone has declared against my army that is here only in search of justice not gain? No, this fine grub ready for the pot and cool, refreshing drink you see before you is for MY ARMY and they will be here, in this place before you, in numbers outnumbering you by many, any moment now.”

Goadrik screamed out in angered response, aimed at his men as much as for Korwyn’s benefit, seeing them lick their dried and crack lips in consideration of the desirable food on the field before them.

“Forget all this foolish sorcery, men. If he could wish his army here like that he would have done it months ago and dispensed with the march. He stands alone, or virtually alone. We can sweep this puny commoner from nowhere aside, and any of the traitorous Queen’s Guard foolish enough to stand against us. Then, you will have the kitchens and the buttery to satisfy your hunger and I’ll drink wine and ale beside you as we celebrate glorious victory against rebellion. This man Korwyn is naught but a traitor to us, not just me but to all mankind. He is in league with elves, dwarves, goblins and giant eagles and no doubt witches and sorcerers. Enough of this delay, pitch the elf-whore, the undead man and that half-breed Prince over the wall and then kill Korwyn like the dog he is! I command you all, do it now!”

Clive met Deidre in person for the first time and discussed the job interview with the company she had in mind on Tuesday and Wednesday. The company that were apparently interested in meeting him was called Acme International Inc and she pointed out to him that they have substantial fingers in pies all over the world across a wide range of manufacturing industries and service providers. Clive’s job, if he secured it, would be at Vice President level, covering processes for ensuring quality control procedures and testing of all products was in place, looking at supplying appropriated materials, production processes, improved outputs, assessing capacities and standardising or adapting to local conditions as necessary. He would be liaising with sales and marketing and with R&D so that new products are placed and production capacity geared up for anticipated demands. He would be based for the first six months in California learning about the global business, but after that, much of the meeting time would be by Skype, Teams or Zoom, with flying visits to worldwide production plants, so he could be based and live wherever he and his family felt most comfortable. They were truly a global company. Deidre explained the application forms and interview techniques.

“Now, Clive, I asked you to keep Tuesday and Wednesday free for interviews, are you completely free on both those days and evenings?”

“Yes,” Clive said, “I have no job to go to and my mother-in-law is willing to babysit if needs be, such as when the children’s mother is unavailable. I have moved out of the family home into a flat, so I am completely free.”

“Good, because the interview with Brock and I will occupy all day Tuesday and all day Wednesday, 9am to 9pm, during which we will breakfast, lunch and dinner together, travel to at least two, possibly three, of Acme’s plants in the UK and look at production processes in the raw, giving you a practical insight of what they do.”

“Wow, and that intensity of contact works in securing new staff?” Clive asked, “how do managers even spare the time?”

“It is intense, on both sides, but the time spent is necessary where important appointments like VPs are being made. You have already been shortlisted from your application form so we know you can physically do the job, you have both the experience and capabilities but can you convince both Brock and me that you could be the specific man Acme need for the job and that you would also be able to realise the potential we see to grow with the company?”

“Well, I suppose we’ll find out and, if it doesn’t work out, it’ll be an experience like no other, which will help me get a job elsewhere.”

“There we are Clive, we knew you had the right positive attitude. And what is at stake is not just this job, but future positions in the company over the next twenty to twenty-five years of your working life. This is a global player, with many opportunities for advancement in the future. Now, you are already being booked into a hotel from tonight until Thursday morning, at Acme’s expense and if you need to get enough smart casual clothes for the duration there is capacity for reasonable expenses.”

At Llandoryn Castle, it was as if time stood still. Goadrik’s order to execute his prisoners was ignored by those soldiers on the platform, there was a hush over the castle as if everyone was holding in their breaths, waiting for an end to the stalemate, yet no-one wanted to make that first fatal and undoable move.

Goadrik turned his attention to the immobile guards on the wooden platform, “Get on with it you lazy malingerers or I’ll have you all flogged until your backbones see daylight. Execute the prisoners now!”

“If you want us tipped over the side, Goadrik,” yelled out the high-pitched voice of the child Prince, Bydon, in his best Man-tongue, so that all around the parade ground could hear and understand every, “it looks like you’ll have to do it yourself!”

“What? You insolent deformed little pipsqueak! How dare you address me in such manner, I am King Goadrik the King of Man.”

Bydon goaded Goadrik further. “Huh! You’re a foppish king of naught! You run home sucking your thumb for comfort as soon as your first battle was lost. I was there, you know, looking down from my giant eagle mount and saw you run like a coward. You’re not fit to be king of a, a ... bundeshotter!”

The boy Prince turned to Zyndyr and asked sotto voce so all around them could hear clearly, “What is bundeshotter in Man-tongue?”

“‘Midden pile’, my Prince,” came the ringing reply from Zyndyr at a similar volume for all to hear, shaking her head and stifling a smile on her lovely face. A few titters arose from some of the Imperial Guards.

Bydon turned his head to look back up at the king and continued, “Aye, you’re not fit to be the King of a Midden-Pile, because you’re a weak, spineless monarch who even needs a servant to wipe his lazy fat arse.”

Goadrik angrily stomped down the steps from the curtain wall onto the wooden platform apparently wanting to push the offensive child off the outer wall of the castle himself, and drew forth his dagger. He stamped his boots for emphasise on the wooden surface as he advanced towards the half-dwarf child, who turned away from him into a hunch at almost the king’s last stride.

“Ha!” Goadrik stopped and goaded the young prince in return, “You were full of shit while you were down here and I was up there, but now as I tower over you, ready to dispatch you to the dwarves’ afterworld, you shrink and cower from me in fear. Turn and face me child! Face your superior Lord and Master one last time before you die like the little deformed dog that you are!”

Bydon turned quickly. Only now he comfortably held a familiar dwarf sword, well, familiar to Korwyn and Zyndyr who had used or seen it used in action before. Now Bydon held it tightly in both his rope-bound hands and boldly slashed the sharp blade across the centre of both Goadrik’s thighs, the freezing cold edge of the magically enhanced blade sliced through the king’s clothing and muscles down to the bone and Goadrik tumbled to the floor in agony, blood from a severed artery in his right thigh spraying into the air. He clamped both his hands to the wounds trying to contain his life blood, which squirted through his desperately clutching fingers.

“Ahh! What devilment is this, thou foul dwarf?!” the wounded king cried in shock and pain.

“My great grandmother is half-Dwarf-half-Witch and I am half-Sorcerer. She gave me a spell that would deliver my king-slayer sword into my hands whenever I needed it. I found that luring you close to me was the best time for me to use it. Now you know why I am called Prince Bydonkriankryar, ‘Kingmaker-Kingkiller’. I have already killed one king who boasted that he would kill me. He was my late grandfather, who was at the time king of the Seven Kingdoms of Dwarves, so unless you want to be my second dead king, you best call for your physicians to tend to your wounds, to me they look mortal.”

Bydon turned and used his dwarf blade to cut the ropes binding his fellow prisoners Zyndyr and the Undead Man that Bydon recognised had once commanded the Orcs of Blearn Mount. Zyndyr helped Bydon free of his bindings. The guards, confused by the turn of events simply stood by, unsure of what to do, if anything.

“Kill them, archers,” Goadrik growled through gritted teeth to his officers standing above the platform, “kill them all, these three scum and my traitorous nephew over there!”

Meanwhile, Korwyn’s mind was on other matters. Almost nodding to himself as if in private conversation, he cast one of the food spells that the witch Queen Grand Mother Urmah gave him and summoned up a few more barrels, this time specifically of meat, biscuit, butter and apple cider. He smiled as he chanted the spell and ordered them ready opened on the field in front of him and a further two opened barrels each of meat and ale on the platform where Zyndyr and Bydon stood with the other prisoner.

Almost immediately, the Red Dragon burst forth from the doorway leading down to the dungeons and flew towards the open barrels of food and drink on the green.

Then there followed was certainly the most amazing display anyone on this world had ever seen, possibly any creature on any world had seen for at least 5000 years, if ever.

The Red Dragon was followed by hundreds of small goose-sized flying dragons, in hues of all the colours of the rainbow and many more shades in between.

They emerged from the doorway as a flock, enthusiastically flying into the air, breaking off to glide or soar in every direction, trying out their new wings, calling out raucous cries of joy, somehow missing each other in swoops and dives like a murmation of colourful dragons in the skies over the Castle, which itself towered over the spread out city of mankind below. A sight of wonderment for all who were summoned from their parlours and workshops to witness it.

A deeper cry from the Red Dragon focused their attention on the first born dragon, the largest of them all as he majestically wheeled in the sky with them. Then he swooped down and landed in the open field of the training ground, which was covered in opened and unopened barrels of food and drink. The rest of the dragon flock followed Red to the waiting food on the field, many started to tuck into the opened barrels, while others flew around close to the ground, squawking and impatiently waiting their turn, the field simply not big enough for them all to land. From there, Red flew to the wooden platform, followed by a small cohort of a dozen or so tiny dragons who descended onto the two open barrels of food and drink that awaited them there.

Red landed in front of Zyndyr and Bydon just as the fallen Goadrik ordered his archers to open fire on his enemies. One or two arrows were launched at each target but all hit or bounced off the combined dragons’ thick skins and the archers’ own commanders barked out orders to cease firing and lower their weapons, countermanding those desperate commands from their stricken king.

Korwyn yelled from the castle gates, “Zyndyr, Bydon, the red dragon is my friend, he is your friend and protector too. He, he will protect the Undead Man, too. The little dragons will not harm you either, they’ve been instructed to not harm living creatures unless any threaten them. They are hungry and will feed from the barrels, once satisfied they will fly up to roost on the battlements while others feed in their turn.”

Korwyn then directed his voice to all those soldiers of the Imperial Guard, “Guards, your ruler has been deposed, and brought to his knees by a boy, a most extraordinary and noble boy Bydon, who is Crown Prince of the Seven Kingdoms of the Dwarves, who are my friends and long been the allies of mankind. The Prince is my ward and therefore under my protection. Your Queen now rules this Kingdom, she rules in place of my incapacitated uncle until the deposed king answers the accusations of treachery and murder at Hawkshart in the highest court in this your kingdom. My army of dragons and my other army of Dwarves and Goblins, plus a few good Men who joined me, will soon be here to see justice and the maintenance of the rule of law here in this place. We are not and never have been an invading force and, once we have seen justice served, and rested here ready for our return, will leave this place with your own chosen ruler left in charge. Loyal Imperial Guards, down your weapons and await the orders of your Queen.”

“Korry!” hissed the Queen, trying to keep her voice low, “where have all these dragons come from? Is this witchery or sorcery?”

“Nay, Mona, a nest of dragon eggs has lain hidden below the castle since before the building began. I believe they may have lain there for up to 5000 years, waiting to be awoken by fire. I may have left a few embers glowing, fanned by leaving all the doors open. Red sensed the eggs hatching and the hatchlings needing food and a guide to escape their chamber. I believe he used his own fire to accelerate the hatching. They are our friends, Mona, they will not harm us so long as we do not harm them.”

Queen Pleasmona stepped forward, raising her voice, “Imperial Guard, now hear me, I am your Queen. We are no longer at war with Lord Korwyn’s Army of Dwarves and Goblins, or his friends, these ... utterly amazing Dragons. They never declared war on us, only seeking to ensure justice for crimes Goadrik is accused of. Of all of us here, only my husband Goadrik wanted to pursue this war against his own nephew’s armies, not for the salvation or future of mankind, but for his own ends, the perpetuation of his own selfish power. Lord Korwyn’s armies are not invaders as you were led to believe by my husband, but friends and allies seeking justice for the treachery of Hawkshart Plain and I intend to welcome them, welcome them all, in peace with open arms as liberators, our hearts and minds joined together in friendship and peace. How could we so easily forget that we lost our beloved King Eldryndre The Wise that fateful day, along with my husband’s half-brother Crown Prince Fyrdrik, who was betrothed to my mother, and Lord Korwyn’s dear father Lord Hadryn at Hawkshart Plain. I too, lost a beloved uncle, two young cousins who served in your Guard Regiments, and some of my very best school friends during that awful day of tragedy. Now, my courts will be free to sit in justice, to carefully and solemnly listen to all accusations and counter claims and examine every example of proof of the causes and crimes of Hawkshart. My husband will in due course answer for those accusations of crimes in front of his court of peers. I order you, my soldiers, to form up in your regiments and march through these gates behind me to your customary quarters, but you will temporarily surrender your arms at this gate to the Queen’s Guard upon your entry to the castle. Then you will be confined in your quarters, where you will be fed and refreshed as expected until your officers inform you otherwise. Your commanding officers will report to me in the central court tomorrow morning after breakfast at ten o’clock.”

The Queen paused for a moment. “What say you men? Am I your Queen? Will you obey my commands Will we have peace here today and peace and prosperity for the foreseeable future?”

“Aye, Your Majesty, and aye again,” one of the regimental commanders shouted, followed by many more “Ayes!” from the ranks before one soldier lustily shouted “Long live the Queen!” And that joyful cry was repeated over and over and echoed around the battlements, including the jubilant Queen’s Guard standing tall and proud behind her slim and regal frame, with Queen Pleasmona holding her head up high and to a man the men knew they loved her and would follow her orders while they ever had the strength to.