Chapter 22

The ocean trip to the city of Tellismere was somewhat delayed by contrary winds, which at this winter season came near head on, from the northwest. The fleet was running close-hauled, tacking back and forth beating their way upwind. In better weather, the trip could have been made in less than a week, but instead they felt lucky that the trip had only taken two full weeks.

From off-shore, the situation with tracking the progress of the Eorfleode horde remained simple. With their slow progress north they remained days at the very least behind their trail until they passed the ruins of the coastal city of Evesham, at the mouth of the Bekingham River. Here it seems the horde mostly left the coastal road and headed straight north, up the river towards Applewood, and Crystal Lake. Some smaller war-bands continued to follow the coast north but these groups didn't leave the complete wake of destruction behind them that the main horde had.

Indeed, it quite appeared to even the casual glance that there was going to be precious little of Tellismere left to save. With every passing day, the mission turned more into one of revenge rather than rescue and salvation. With each day that passed, seeing naught but burning smoke coming from sacked towns, villages and farms onshore, the Lady Ayleth's hope began to fade, and only the firm presence of Boyle by her side kept the faintest sparks of hope alive in her heart.

She was certain, once they approached the mouth of the Klure River, that she would soon see her home city aflame, but instead the skies were clear and the city walls seemed strong and firm, although nearly everything else around the city showed signs of siege and ruin.

Dashing first off of the ship onto the docks, Ayleth ran to look for her father the Duke, but he had not come to greet their rescuers and had remained in his chambers at the castle. In fact, as everyone soon realized, if they had expected a sincere hearty welcome, they were in fact much mistaken!

"So, the Foole arrives back with yet more unwelcome guests and an ungrateful daughter who greets me with loud shrill demands for things that cannot be done! Fie upon you all, and may the Eorfleode take you first upon their return, for their numbers are endless, like the waves upon the Great Western Sea, and drowned already this land is, from their vast numbers!"

"And greetings as well to you, my Duke!" The Foole replied. "And just what would your most unreasonable daughter have you do?"

"She would have me gather up all of my remaining arms-men, and every man, lad or lass who is capable of bearing arms, and lead them to the defense of our land! Doesn't the daft girl realize that it is too late? There are too many of them, and their hordes cover all parts of this land, north and south, east or west. Most of my men I did indeed already send, scattered to the villages and the towns to protect the harvest as it was brought in, and gone they are ... lost to a man!"

"So, you sent what were in effect raiding parties of your own, to gather in all of the harvest to bring it here, to plan to stand here alone in siege, rather than to protect the people of the Duchy? Rather than using your men in numbers, to better defend each of the towns and cities assaulted in turn, you instead scattered your forces piecemeal, thrown to the wind in handfuls like ill-sown seed, or grain scattered to feed chickens.

"Useless ... worse than useless in fact!" The Lady Ayleth shouted, so that her voice filled the entire great assembly hall, where her father and his remaining nobles miserably sat. "Did you command the assembly and training of conscripts? Did you withdraw the scouts and the defenders from the wilderness forts in time before they were overwhelmed one by one? Did you order the evacuation of the threatened areas where the horde was marching, to bring the refugees to a strong place of safety?"

"How could we?" Her father muttered! "We had no warning that the horde was coming, or that it was so huge! The barons wouldn't have agreed to release their workers so soon before harvest time, or pay the many golds that it would have taken to assemble, arm and train an army of conscripts. Instead, they begged only for more of my soldiers, so I sent them all that I had! As for the peasants, only a little food could be gathered up in time, little even enough for the men of this city. We couldn't admit those that fled to us for safety from the countryside ... we couldn't! We didn't have the food to feed them, food that was now needed for my remaining guardsmen. So we ordered the gates and drawbridges closed ... and closed they have remained."

"So, my dear darling father has indeed lost the very last of his senses! You have had a great many months of warning, but you wasted your soldiers and abandoned them; you tried to steal what little food you could find for yourself and your lackeys from the mouths of your peasants, and then barred the hungry survivors of raid and ruin from the safety of your city walls, leaving them to die outside; and worse, like a frightened child, you and your so called advisors cringe like terrified children in this dark hall, wringing your hands together and whimpering that there was, or still is, nothing that you could do! I am ashamed that I lived to see this day, that no honor remains within Tellismere, nor is there the will to fight for what was ours!"

"Ever the whining malcontent, my willful daughter! As always a girl of passion but no sense ... unable to see the world for the way it is. Indeed, for my eyes do see that your hand is now held firm by another. What low base creature have you now found to dally with? Have not your quest guardians kept your frequent amoral urges restrained? Indeed, I see the accused lad, now apparently a grown wicked man, who daemonic weapon certainly has added to the great and near completely destruction of my land! The man by your side seems familiar but unknown to me, undoubted a scoundrel of low birth and lower morals! Send him from this hall, or I shall summon my guards to have him whipped like the dog he is out of my castle and taken out from our walls, for he has a lean hungry look and I like him not at all!" Boyle had indeed lost nearly all of his previous portliness and was indeed much changed since his last meeting with the Duke.

"Her companion is of quite noble standing." Rowan stated, with an angry white knuckled grasp of his sword hilt. "He is the Viscount d'Bournyss, and acknowledged champion and benefactor of the great temple of Árfæsliss, Goddess of Mercy, the Hearth & Healing in Corælyn. His deeds are most resplendent, and of much honor, acknowledged as such by the four other Dukes of the Southern Duchies, whom even now wait for your recognition outside the doors of this hall. He is my oath-companion and my friend, and I will no further words of ill-respect spoken of him. He is worthy of your daughter, and should it ever become their will to consort, as her acknowledged champion, I shall witness their consorting-oaths with pride and satisfaction."

"Well I shall not!" The Duke shouted, as angry and as red in the face as a beet. He leaped up onto his feet and dashed up to his daughter and shook his daughter hard with both hands. "Send him from this hall! And send away the other Dukes as well, for they are only here to pick over my yet living carcass. I command it! Whip this miserable refugee from a dungheap away from my presence, for I would sooner have my slut of a daughter marry a stable-boy than this swarmy smug Aldarian!"

"That my Lord, can be quite arranged!" Boyle laughed.

"Indeed, my father!" Ayleth giggled. "For yon nobleman, the famous Viscount d'Bournyss, is quite none other than my companion, Boyle ... formerly the farrier of the stables of Swanford. His birth might have been common, but he has been accorded with honor and great honors at every point in our travel. His blood is indeed quite noble, perhaps now far more noble than yours! He and Rowan have fought had shed their blood for the defense of our lands ... which is much more than can be said for you, my craven father!"

Duke Emdyn de Mosena, then slapped his daughter hard, and tried to strike her again before Boyle seized his hand and restrained the nearly berserk Duke.

"My Lord," Boyle calmly stated, "gather yourself and find your noble spirit! The Duchy is in flames but the hour is not too late! Gird yourself and find the will to act, for all is not yet all lost!"

Instead, shaking in a fit while restrained in Boyles strong arms, the Duke's eyes lost focus and rolled up to their whites, and he collapsed into a fit as Boyle gently laid his shaking body down to the stone floor. The guards and nobles standing around the hall were paralyzed as well, uncertain of what to do.

The Lady Ayleth had no remaining uncertainties in her heart and knew at once exactly what must be done. With a brief glance at her sickly father, who was being now tended by Oddtus, she strode across the hall floor to the high chair where her father had sat, and she stood in front of it and turned to face her nobles and the guardsmen.

"It appears that my father is unwell, too indisposed to continue with his duties for this day, or perhaps even for the rest of his life. Accordingly, I, Lady Ayleth, daughter of Duke Emdyn de Mosena, do so assume the duties and responsibilities of this Duchy as its Duchess, vowing to defend this land and her people, both noble and low born in honor and uphold its laws with justice and mercy. I do so swear and affirm!"

Rowan then drew his sword and the dim light of the hall was bathed in the glow of its flames. As he glared at the assembled nobles, the threat was unmistakable; kneel and bow and offer their homage to their new ruler, or face immediate summary execution.

It was the guardsmen who acknowledged her first, stamping their boots to attention and then as one drawing their weapons in salute. Slowly, the assembled nobles bent their knees in submission, one by one. Each in turn was escorted to the Duchess to make their individual supplications and give their homage-oath. When the last of the nobles had been so sworn, she ordered them to remain on their knees while the four waiting Dukes were finally admitted to the hall.

If they were surprised to see the limp form of Duke Emdyn being carried away to his private chambers, no one commented upon it. Each Duke in turn made a small bow of greeting to the Duchess, and she curtsied in turn to accept their acknowledgement of her power. Now truly the entire Southern Duchies were united with one single thought, the location and destruction of the Eorfleode hordes, of which there seemed to be several somewhere in the area.

With her first official act, Boyle was commanded to be her Chamberlain, her final word in all government matters, and Rowan was publically acknowledged to be her official Champion of the Duchy and commander of her army ... what little of it still remained. Gwenda, not at all forgotten, was assigned to be her Lady of the Bedchamber, a position of considerable castle authority, commanding all the attending servants, stewards and other ducal household staff.

The minor formalities done, the assembled Dukes and Duchess gathered out on the ceremonial balcony, where after a short speech, each of the great lords briefly cajoled the vast growing crowd to prepare for war, true war, as everyone capable of fighting was soon about do so. The days of indecision and hiding were over — the Duchy was going to fight, and win!

The cries and shouts of praise to Ayleth's ears seemed both satisfying and yet hollow. She had taken over her stricken father's duties and was now determined to do them well, but she was growing increasingly scared about making a mistake, any mistake that would doom her people.

"Now my lass, you quite know how Rowan feels every single waking moment of every day." Boyle whispered, and kissed her ear. "Duty is heavy, sometimes soul crushing so, but know that we all have our trust in you! Let the Dukes and Rowan handle the weighty battle matters, and instead kept your head and your spirits high to lift the morale of our people. When we win, not if, it will be your poise and confidence that everyone will remember. That you did your duty and did it well, with honor!"

"But so many of them, perhaps many or most of us as well, are going to die! And I will be the one giving the real order to send them to their deaths!"

"Yes, but no one will really hold that against you. Duty and honor compels it. That too gnaws away at Rowan, but if many thousands die it is so that many other thousands, and their children can live. You've managed to leave your past behind you, and now you should only struggle with living in the present; the future is only known by the Weaver's and we are all helpless in their hands. Give me a kiss now and a smile if you can manage it, and dry your eyes, for we have a great council meeting to attend to and the fate of five duchies, not just ours hangs in the balance!"

It was indeed the biggest council meeting of war that anyone could ever remember attending, with each of the Dukes and the Duchess assembling their wisest advisors, top military commanders, and an endless collection of scouts, admirals, quartermasters, and senior sergeants reporting to them, each updating the war leaders with the latest available information.

Already the fleet was unloading their armies at the city docks and marching up to the great field outside of the city, making it now quite secure from the random raids of the local war-bands. Boyle had immediately sent riders to locate Loren and the light cavalry, and as the heavy cavalry was unloaded it was given orders to go out and clear as much of the area around the city as was possible. If they were lucky, few if any accurate reports of the great army that was landing would reach the infamous boarman leader. Already every able-bodied lad, lass, man or woman of Tellismere city was being gathered, ordered into conscription, armed and sent to the arms-masters of the four ducal armies for training and instruction. There had been some survivors from the local towns and villages that had been refused entry inside of the city walls, and after some initial anger, they too largely volunteered for military service, as long as their dependents could now receive shelter inside the walls. They couldn't hope to become veterans before the great battle, but they would at least make adequate reserves.

Stores and provisions also seemed to be more than adequate, according to every report. It was hoped that this final campaign would be short and quick, but if necessary the Great Southern Army could march straight to the Brittle Mountains, chasing the Eorfleode every single step of the way, for many seasons if necessary.

From the first, the Duchy had been nearly overrun right from the very start, with little or nothing having been done to at least delay the invasion. One horde of Boar-Men had arrived at Crystal Lake in the early fall, about at harvest time, and had quickly overrun all of the lake lands to the northeast. The island towns in the lake remained safe so far, except for a few raiding parties conducted from rudely cut canoes. This horde crossed Crystal Falls in the mountain wilderness to the north, and ravaged the relatively few settlements to the north of the Klure River, sacking rather completely the fortress town of Northoak on the northwestern coast. Crossing the great northern bridge, the Eorfleode made a brief half-hearted siege of Tellismere City before turning east and south to ravage the mostly unprotected towns and villages along the coast toward the Bekingham River. The walled town of Ghasby fell after a brief siege, as did the fortress town of Glideuch. Some women and children had been evacuated by boat to Osweleg Island, but otherwise there had been very few survivors.

Loren's large combined light cavalry force, riding swiftly from Penryn, had quite caught up with these Boar-men now, and they were skillfully harrying them, preventing them from crossing at Roper's Ford, to join forces with the larger horde now at Applewood. Now in contact with the fleet and the Great Southern Army once more, the council had agreed to continue this harassment, to prevent the horde from receiving its reinforcements and to keep the attention of their leader towards the south, and not their fleet to the west.

Rowan told Boyle to give the order to keep the cavalry moving and flexible and to avoid pitched battle. Keeping the squadrons spread out and near the thick forests for cover in case the leader took too personal an interest in them. In flight, if necessary, they should keep to the cover of the woods and only emerge in the open near Lacestone, where the army hoped to meet them.

At the same time, another smaller group of war-bands had been working their way west, after they had crossed the Emerald River, but these groups were less disciplined and not in as great of a hurry to advance. To their dismay, Rowan and Boyle learned that Swanford had indeed been first raided and then later burned to the ground, as was the Duke's island keep, but fortunately the villagers had been forewarned, and most of them were currently secure inside the walls of Haldyne and Lacestone. Haldyne was currently under siege now, but the effort to take the walled town had been under-supported and lackluster so far.

Of the Everdun heavy infantry supposedly now travelling down the Emerald River, there had not yet been any word. They detailed a couple of small, fast but shallow boats to try to work their way up the winter rain swollen Emerald River at least as far as Swanford, or even better yet to the old river-watch post a league further up the river, to look for signs of their approaching boats, but they were to also avoid trouble where possible.

The great horde with its magic-wielding commander, after his sack of the walled city of Klith, at the coastal border with Broadmore, had led his vast army largely intact north up the Bekingham River and it had just recently arrived outside of the great walls of Applewood, according to the best reports of the scouts. In an additional report from a ship's captain that was one of many that had been trying to bring out refugee women and children from that doomed town, it was said that the great boarman leader, riding his flying enormous creature, put flame to many of the evacuation ships and that there was much loss of life, as few of the other ships escaped destruction. Questioned further by the council, the captain added that the creature appeared to breath fire as well!

The sound of the Lore-Master Oddtus falling quite out of his chair in astonishment startled everyone in the room, and the hall became quite loud with nervous discussion.

"A dragon! One of the first-born ... a Draca! How is this possible?" The gléaman ranted later in the privacy of Rowan and Gwenda's chambers. "It was thought that a few might have survived the last final campaign of destruction that Gældra's seven great wizards undertook in the final years of the war. Indeed, not a few of those seven fell while completing this necessary deed. But of the Draca, none of their kind have been seen again since. Perhaps brooding, hiding and waiting, they still lurk in the deepest mountains where even the Boar-Men fear to go! This portents much, and much of it is ill indeed!"

"A dragon. The most ancient enemy of men ... how can I hope to fight and defeat such a foe?" Rowan muttered. "Indeed, we dare not even sail down to relieve Applewood, as our fleet would become tinder for its flame. Our army would sink into the lake and be forever lost! But I fear by our caution we only doom that great city to its destruction!"

"The council ruled wisely, I'm afraid. So far, their leader knows not of us, and if we can move our fleet in secret to the east, perhaps to Lacestone or Haldyne, from there we might march safely and quickly to their relief. Caught in the open water, much if not all of our fleet and our army would indeed be destroyed, to the loss of hope by all! Fear not about the Draca, for I feel that your flame might prove much a match for its, or so I pray!"

"Still, I am now very much afraid! How can I lead men into battle against such a foe? They will flee, and none shall blame them!"

"Warriors shall find their heart and hold to their duty; they did so over an age ago on these very lands and held, against worse odds. Although powerful and terrible in their wrath, the Draca are still mortal, like you and me, and brave men and women have held in the past against their fury ... often with terrible loss, but still they held. There is no time to gather the second-born once more, if indeed they could even come to our calling. This world belongs now mostly to men, and it is by your blood, will and valor that you will keep it!

Having just unloaded the vast army into Tellismere, Rowan found it agonizing to watch the slowness of the process of reloading it once more onto the ships of the fleet. With the additional Tellismere merchant ships still in harbor, there was enough stowage to handle the additional conscripts from the city, and as each ship completed loading, it was given immediate orders to sail out into Crystal Lake, to be rejoined with the fleet at Beran Harbor, off of Bear Island. At worst, the ships sailing one or two at a time would attract little attention or notice, even if the boarman leader and his dragon flew off into the lake to scout. Rowan, and the rest of the council, rather hoped that this rather unusual Eorfleode wizard would be kept too busy keeping all of the hundreds of different war-bands organized and focused upon their objective to go out patrolling much.

As for the regular scouting reports of the western tribes that were still trapped on the western side of the Bekingham River, the last report that Rowan had received, a mere two days old since it was dispatched, reported that these rather disorganized war-bands had been pushed off rather considerably towards the coast, further from the ford, so that their chances of being able to even slightly reinforce the great horde were close to nil. Loren was going to try and extract the greater part of the light cavalry force, leaving a weak screen behind to gently harass the isolated enemy and keep it relatively in-place and impotent. With the greater force of the cavalry, Loren was going to push them hard, but secretly, to ride around and bypass the great horde at Applewood, rumored to be in the tens of thousands to meet with the main army at Lacestone, hopefully in less than a week. Rowan and Boyle prayed that it would be so, for the former bandit was indeed a quite skilled cavalry commander and he could wield his squadrons in battle like a medicus with a sharp scalpel excising diseased skin.

As their flagship left the docks of Tellismere a few days later, with the vast bulk of the army loaded and already enroute to Beran Harbour, Rowan and Gwenda and Ayleth and Boyle, each took advantage of the relative quiet to find some private time for each of the couples. In the solitude of their cabins, each couple rejoiced at their moment for intimacy, and many hours later that evening, as Boyle emptied his seed inside of Ayleth's cunt, he first spoke of his willing to consort her, and he made his troth-oath to her. Each couple spoke private words of love all that long dark night until, as they were about to drift to sleep, a messenger knocked to announce to each that they were nearly at the harbor, and that a swift message ship was approaching them.