Chapter 8 : Pylanatehk

“We seek passage for our supply train via your Main Street through to the main road to the capital on the other side,” boomed Lord Korwyn to the assembly of the city of Pylanatehk’s movers and shakers. “We are not here to threaten you or to take by force anything from your city. We do want to purchase some supplies from your market stalls and shops, namely food, shoe leather, oats for our horses and no doubt other commodities, and we have good money to pay fair prices for the goods and provisions we need.” He paused and smiled, “I personally need a new shaving brush, so individual members of my army will wish to visit the markets and shops. We will avoid tarrying in taverns, we want no trouble with your citizens. Once provisioned, we will be on our way. Our cavalry will traverse the road around the city. We are not an invasion force but here passing through on an important mission to call my uncle Goadrik to account for arranging the murder of my father, his full brother the Crown Prince, and my grandfather, our late ruler King Eldryndre The Wise.”

There was a collective gasp from the assembly.

“Councilmen of the ancient City of Pylanatehk, we have demonstrable proof,” Korwyn declared, “that agents of the Little Prince, as he was then known, murdered an ancient hermit Elf, a learned librarian of the Forest of Deheem, many centuries ago he was once a warrior, and used his elvish bow and arrows to kill my father, Lord Hadryn, the Crown Prince Fyrdrik and our beloved King Eldryndre, as well as an arrow that wounded me and put me in a hospital for months.” He paused as he pulled the arrowhead on a thong around his neck and held it up for all to see. “I carry it still, at first to remind me of my thirst for vengeance against the Black Dragon, but now it reminds me that not all that happens is exactly how it appears. The cold-bloodied murder of the King, my beloved grandfather, prompted the Imperial Guard to charge at the Elves in retaliation. It was only then that the Black Dragon appeared on the scene to take on the whole of the blame for the Battle, as he rained fire down on my father’s mounted Militia, who were hemmed in by allies on one flank, a ravine on the other and infantry in front. My whole squadron was destroyed in one single breath of that evil dragon. The Black Dragon then turned his attention on the Imperial Guard, which were spread out in their charge on the Elves and, while most were wiped out by dragon fire, a few survived to tell their tale in taverns all over the world. After burning the Guard, he turned on the Elves to their surprise, then he turned to collect a dragon-fist full of bodies from around where my grandfather fell, no doubt to feed upon, before doubly burning the body of my dead grandfather and those around him to a crisp and departing the scene.”

“Your grandfather was identified only by his half-melted crown, my Lord Korwyn,” spoke one of the Councillors, a man dressed in the gown and wig of a Judge, who pulled off the wig to reveal his own terrible burn marks on one side of his face and missing an ear, “I was one of those Guards cut down by the Black Dragon and was fortunate to survive. I was in the same temporary first aid recovery tent with you, Sir, we were lying among the ones who were particularly not expected to survive their injuries. You were in the cot almost opposite me, in a coma for weeks after the surgeons dug out that Elf arrowhead you hold, while all around us the seriously wounded died one by one. Your mother was constantly by your side seeing to your sleeping form’s every comfort, and helping the rest of us where she could, thus more of us survived than the surgeons expected. I had always thought back to that scene, that the motivation of Dragons and Elves for starting a battle simply didn’t sit right, they both lost heavily, in that battle and ever since.”

“I thank you for your service to the Army and to this city, Sir.” Korwyn bowed his head.

“I am afraid we have done a disservice to you, my Lord,” the old Councillor spoke, “we have allowed you to step into a trap, I am so sorry, but they threatened our children, our wives and our mothers.”

With that, the chamber doors opened and Imperial Guard troops marched in and fanned out around the circumference of the chamber. The public gallery above suddenly bristled with archers, pointing their arrows at Korwyn and his three Dwarf companions.

Korwyn could see there was no possibility of escape or rescue in the city. He hoped, in fact he was certain, that Zyndyr would continue with the mission even if he was among the fallen. She wanted justice for all the dragons she had slain just as much as he did.

“We will still need Judges, Sir,” Lord Korwyn called out across the chamber to the speaker, “though you may be threatened and powerless in the face of imperial tyranny now, but your time to sit in judgement for the injustices now and of the past, will come, the law will prevail, mark my words.”

Then, into the chamber marched Korwyn’s uncle, King Goadrik, dwarfed by an escort of tall Imperial Guards all dressed in black.

“Ahh, my once dear Uncle,” Korwyn grinned before addressing the man himself. “Have you come to confess and answer to the accusations and stacked up evidences for your crimes against Mankind in front of the judgement of your peers, or to skulk in here behind these high city walls while my Army lays siege to the city?”

“Neither,” the King snarled. “I am here to direct my troops to a glorious and memorable victory that will massacre your puny Army of misfit creatures, like the ugly Goblins and stunted Dwarves they are, not forgetting your green-haired Elf woman. I promise you that what the Black Dragon did at Hawkshart was nothing compared to the individual deaths each will suffer, including your wife and accursed unborn child. Yes, I have heard of your impending freak who will never see the light of day. I will leave your execution to last, so you can experience every ounce of grief that I can pile upon you for however long you manage to live.”

“You will find my Army nowhere near puny, Goadrik,” Korwyn declared, “they are among the best fighters I have ever fought alongside. And they have a purpose behind their march, built on justice and the setting to rest of the troubled spirits of their families and colleagues who fell in that terrible and wholly unnecessary battle that you instigated by your treachery. You head your Army only in the pursuit of your greed for personal power.”

“Bah!” the king spat. “Once I have trodden your Army into the dust of our homeland, we will march on Goblinia and take their kingdom into ours before taking Dharibia and the other Dwarf kingdoms by storm. If any dwarves or goblins survive, they will become our slaves. My Agent, Montoule, has told me how much you have depleted your precious High Queen Myr’s personal guard.”

“We will see how far you get, Goadrik, but the flaw in your plan is that you intend to impose your will and rule on proud independent people who will simply not stand for it. To hold onto any gains that fall your way you will have to fill garrisons with many of your soldiers, fighting far from home in a continuously hostile environment. Goblins and Dwarves are fiercely independent and even if you initially succeed in your selfish ambitions you will create a situation which only result in failure. But let us look at the facts, so far our two armies have clashed in battle just the once and you lost a whole regiment, killed, wounded or captured, while my army suffered no loses at all. Give up now, Goadrik, and throw yourself upon the mercy of the judiciary through the courts. If you stop the carnage from happening, the courts may well be more understanding when it comes to sentencing and spare the forfeiture of your life.”

“Ha! It is you who will face courts martial for leaving the Imperial army without fulfilling your service requirements after Hawkshart. That should result in a flogging of thirty lashes for starters. Then you will be tried for treason for raising an army of aliens against your king.”

“You are no longer my king,” Korwyn spat, “you were a traitor to your own family and the people of this realm, and the courts will find that too when they look at and hear the evidence.”

“The high courts are mine to control, so you will spend a long time in my dungeons whether you are tried or not. Ah, and guess who your gaoler will be for the rest of your very short and thoroughly miserable life, my traitorous Nephew?”

“I care not who you choose.”

Montoule marched into the chamber, as bold as bronze, with two guards laden down with ropes of rattling iron chains in their arms.

“Lord Korwyn,” Montoule said with a sneer, “it would give me great pleasure to clap you in irons and march you to the dungeons of the castle at Llandoryn where you will soon meet your fate.”

Korwyn was stripped of his battle-axe and Dwarf sword by members of the Imperial Guard, the City Militia had to stand by helpless.

“Careful with the sword,” Montoule warned the Guardsman who was about to draw it, “The hilt burns the hand of anyone other than Korwyn who holds it. Just take it by the scabbard and belt.”

Korwyn’s Dwarf companions were also stripped of their weapons.

Then heavy chains were wrapped around tightly round Korwyn’s neck and torso and he was dragged out of the Council Chambers. Korwyn looked around the chamber as he was dragged away. Surrounded as they were by armed men and loaded archers, the Councilmen were silent, but all their faces were grim and many looked ashamed or angry, but very few of them looked him in the eye. The judge with the terrible burned face did hold his gaze, and Korwyn took the trouble to send him a wink, and the judge nodded almost imperceptibly in response.

Outside in the narrow cobbled street, Korwyn’s Dwarf companions were bundled into a one-horse four-wheel cart and were driven off, presumably to the city lock up. A company of Imperial light lancers was waiting for him, a space left in the middle of their ranks to accommodate him. Korwyn was dragged to the gap and, with four walking guards with him, he was forced to move as the horses moved off at a walk towards, he recognised, the west gate leading out of the city, towards the crossroads. Any refusal to walk was encouraged by prods from the four lancers walking with him.

A moment later Montoule, now mounted on a horse, joined the column next to him.

“Where exactly are you taking me, Montoule?” Korwyn snarled at the traitor.

“To the castle at Llandoryn, where they have deep, dark windowless dungeons carved into the bedrock from which the castle rises. Your Dwarf companions you took into the city will stay here to witness the destruction of your army from the city battlements before they are beheaded, their heads impaled on poles as a warning to all non-mankind.”

Korwyn nodded, no mercy from his murdering uncle had been expected. He had no fear of the dungeons. As a child he remembered exploring the dungeons of Llandoryn whenever he visited his Grandfather. They hadn’t been used as dungeons for many years under his grandfather’s rule and they had stored all sorts of old artefacts down there which fascinated him. They were a warren of corridors and rooms and so deserted and quiet that he could hear underground streams far below the foundations.

The entourage left the city and rode or walked onto the crossroads towards the capital city and the Castle. Of the Skirmishers or Zyndyr, Korwyn noted, there was no sign.

Korwyn was dragged in chains all the way on foot to the king’s castle, the four lancers encouraging or dragging him by chains, changes by rote during each day and night. It took two days of forced marching without stopping to reach the Castle.

Montoule taunted him all the way, “It was me who killed the old Elf in the forest of Deheem.”

“Repeat that in front of a court, Montoule, make an honest man of yourself and plead for mercy.”

“Are you crazy? Why would I do that? I am a faithful servant of my king. I have the ear of His Majesty, I am set up for life.”

“So, how did you kill my father, my grandfather and uncle, all members of the Royal family to whom all men swear allegiance?” Korwyn spat, his voice full of contempt for this traitorous murderer.

“It was easy, too easy.” Montoule boasted. “I used the old Elf’s bow and arrows and employed three fellow archers, all old mates of mine, to shoot the four members of the Royal Family, on Goadrik’s orders, all fired at the same time, from a well-disguised hide in a small wood next to where the Elves were expected to line up. It was a simple task to set up. We hid there since before dawn. No-one could pinpoint exactly where the Elf arrows came from, only that they were from the general direction of the Elves. And we sneaked away before the fighting even began and got away free and easy.”

“You murdered Pearambre, Montoule, you should expect no mercy from Man or Elf.”

“Who?”

“Pearambre, the Elf Keeper of the Scrolls at the Library of the forest of Deheem. That is the name of the Librarian who you murdered. Not a warrior, just an ancient and learned old Dwarf who wouldn’t have harmed any creature, unless it was a bookworm.”

“Bah! I care little for who he was or how naïve my victims were. I was one of the many assassins employed by King Goadrik over the past ten years to try and kill you and other perceived enemies, although our paths never crossed again until I heard that you had just formed your Dwarfish army. King Goadrik’s spies had heard you had joined the service of the High King of the Dwarves to save a Princess, so I was sent to their domain in order to kill you.”

“And why didn’t you?”

“You were considered a hero by the time I got to you, so you were continually surrounded by these silly little people, there was no way to sneak up on you through the crowd and shiv you in the back and get away clean. I had to bide my time. But this wait gas been well worth it. By the time you are safely in the dungeons, my King will bring your Elf-woman in chains so heavy she could never take off and fly away. Perhaps before I gut her and hang your abominable unborn daughter around your neck by her umbilical cord, I will pleasure myself with her repeatedly until I tire of her. What do you think on that?”

“I think you are delusional to think that you could capture an Elf that is expecting you, or that any army led by Goadrik could succeed against my Army. You’ve seen them in action, you know how good they are.”

Montoule nodded, but maintained his grin, “Aye, they be good fighters, and the best the Dwarves and Goblins had to offer, but they are not only outnumbered by six to one, there is another force they have never encountered before which will shock and surprise them. I know they will not survive this and I’m glad to be here away from them.”

Korwyn pressed him for answers but Montoule replied only with smiles so evil that would have made him sick with worry if he didn’t take the position that he couldn’t cloud his mind with worry about things he had no influence over, only what he could do, limited to his own situation.

Carole picked up her phone and pressed the shortcut button for her Mum, while still sorting through the unpacked holiday clothes. Then she noticed that Clive hadn’t left any of his dirty clothing, so she guessed he would wash them separately on Monday. Maybe she would leave Clive to do all the washing, which he had been doing anyway ever since he was laid off. Before she could think about anything more, her mother answered the phone call and started speaking.

“Oh, you’re back, Carole. What’s going on, has Clive given you a good spanking and the complete rogering that you probably don’t deserve after your recent actions, yet?”

“No, Mother,” Carole took up a defensive stance, “bloody Clive has chickened out and buggered off, probably up the pub to drown his sorrows on the two beers that is probably all he can afford from his doled-out allowance on Family Credit.”

“Ah, and that’s our grown daughter speaking, who had to ring up her parents by reversing the charges and borrow three hundred quid sent online so she could enjoy the rest of a dirty week away from her loving husband with some strange bloke that we don’t even know.”

“I’ll pay you back when I get paid at the end of the month, Mum. Now, look, we’ve just got back from where we’ve been and there’s no milk or food in the house, so I need some groceries picked up and a babysitter for tonight.”

“What, aren’t you thinking of going out looking for Clive? He could be anywhere. Does he have a favourite place to go to where he can sit and think?”

“No, I’m not going looking for him, er, I’m just going out tonight. It was a date arranged days ago.”

“You’ve just got back today—”

“No, I got back last night, but the kids have only just come in the door—”

“So, if you got in yesterday, what were you doing all day today?”

“I was er ... out all day, I only got back home to get unpacked, bathed and changed about an hour before Clive and the kids—”

“You’re unbe-fucking-lievable!”

“Mother! Language!” Carole was shocked. She couldn’t remember her mother swearing anything more blue than ‘blooming’ or ‘bugger’ before, and certainly never anything as vulgar as... ‘fucking’.

“You’ve done enough stupid things in the last few days to make the Pope turn the air blue, you silly girl, and now you’re going out on the first evening your children and husband’s home in a week and you’ve been out all day and all last night? What the hell were you thinking of, Carole? Do you actually want a divorce?—”

“No, anything but that, Mum.”

“Tell me, now, why don’t you want a divorce, Carole? Think about it and then convince me that you really know what you want, or even that you have a clue of what you’re doing to your family.”

“Well, we are a family, still, a great family. We do need to stay together, to support each other in a stable home as the children grow up and develop their different interests. We need to be together so we can ferry the kids around in their various directions, university and all that. Then, when the kids leave home, we can then grow old together.”

“And all the time you’ll be seeing your boyfriend and Clive’ll be seeing his girl—”

“No, Mum, Clive wouldn’t do that to me.”

“But why shouldn’t he? You’re doing that to him!”

“Yes, but he brought this situation on himself, Mum. He’s the one who’s let the family down. He lost his job, he lost his self respect and now he can’t get another j—”

“He was made redundant, love, it wasn’t his fault that he’s out of work. His company went bankrupt and closed up shop. Your Dad now tells me that all the machinery was sold by the official receivers and bought by a Bulgarian company, so someone’ll still be making the same stuff as before but in a different location and using lower paid staff.”

“Well, the wanker still can’t get a new job and, other than once every other week when he has to go down to the Labour Exchange where they’ve got nothing for him, he’s getting nowhere. He’s only had two interviews in the three months since they let him go. And Clive told me himself that one of those interviews was just a company who needed to demonstrate that they’d included Clive for interview to show a wide spectrum, but then admitted to him that they really wanted a young woman for the role to fit in with the rest of the team. It would’ve been sex discrimination if they advertised that fact, so he was invited along to interview as the token older male.”

“Carole, honestly! For a start they don’t call them ‘labour exchanges’ anymore, honey, they haven’t done so for years,” Mum chuckled, “they’re Job Centres. It takes anyone months to get another job, everyone knows that. And it does sound as though Clive’s trying his best to get a job, don’t you think so, Carole?”

“No, I don’t, not at all. I think he spends most of his time on the computer reading up shit, or watching daytime TV all day, instead of getting out there and getting a job.”

“Have you looked through the papers for jobs, Carole?”

“Yes,” she replied imperiously, “in the summer there were lots of teachers’ jobs going. At the school we are crying out for physics and chemistry teachers. Clive’s got a BSc in something or other, but I’m sure he could do one of those jobs easily enough if he boned up on the subject.”

“Carole, when you did your Masters in Mathematics you also took a teaching course over the two years and got a teaching certificate as well as the Masters. You needed a teaching certificate before you’re allowed to teach children. Clive hasn’t got that and it would take him at least a year or more likely two years to get it in a specialised science, a year with no income and having to pay out a fortune in tuition fees before he could even apply for jobs in that discipline. I doubt if Clive’s BSc in practical engineering would do for any subject taught in school so he would also have to do two or three years in college to get a BA in education.”

“OK, teaching is a different issue because he would need training. But there are lots of other jobs he could do now, today, the local supermarket are crying out for staff to stack shelves or make up online shopping requests. It may be minimum wage but at least he’d be paying his way.”

“Do you seriously expect Clive to do an 18-year-old’s job, on minimum wage, for forty hours a week? If he spends all his working time doing that, when’s he going to be able to find time to search for decent jobs, research the companies who are advertising and apply for those decent jobs with a well-thought out application? And what is the prospective employer going to think when he looks through the CV and finds that Clive’s currently doing one of those unskilled nothing jobs?”

“But I’m so angry with him, Mum, all the time.”

“And you don’t think he’s not also angry with you, especially after openly acting like a tramp in front of him and the children? Where has he gone now, has he taken your car?”

“I don’t know where he went.” Carole sounded miserable over the phone. “He took a taxi I think. He’s probably gone somewhere to have a drink, if he has any money in his pocket.”

“And you don’t know where he goes for a drink?”

“No, he doesn’t usually go out drinking without me.”

“Well, I’m not babysitting for you while you go out on a really stupid date, having a sordid bloody affair, while your husband, the father of your children that you just said you wanted to grow old with, is out somewhere possibly feeling suicidal because of your disloyal attitude.”