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@joelle-stone @denali-christianson

 

Here’s Chapter 3. Just work on it at your leisure. Thanks again for helping!

 

Chapter 3

 

Abner entered the private stables reserved for royalty, urgency in his every step. Bedecked in battle gear, the moon glinted through the narrow windows of the stables, glimmering off the cool metal armor. Having said his goodbyes the previous evening, and getting a very small amount of sleep, he awoke restless, and decided to get to the meeting point early, where the king was supposed to rendezvous with  a few officers, who would then ride to the cavalry camp which was fifty miles to the southeast.

He stopped for a moment, inhaling the cold, crisp air. He looked at the moon, which, for the first time in a while was unveiled by cloud. It’s subtle beauty shone in it’s pale, silvery light, illuminating the night sky. He sighed, and wondered if he would be back home in the palace in a week, or if he would be out in the fields, managing a war. He prayed it would only be a short skirmish.

He shook out of his moonlight thoughts, and continued his walk to where Breanon, his horse, was kept.

He came to a intersection where the stables split, the tack room to the left, the hay barn straight ahead, and the horses to the right. He rounded the turn, and jumped when he saw his stable-boy, and close friend Gabriel.

Abner smiled, recovering from his fright. “Gabriel, what are you doing out here?”

The young man smiled beneath a thick woolen hat. “One of the horses was a little fussy, so I gave it some hay to calm it down.” He frowned. “What are you doing here, Sire?”

Abner smiled sadly. “Gabriel, duty calls. I must ride to Ensteyr.”

Gabriel frowned, and nodded slowly. “I heard that there was trouble brewing, but didn’t know for sure. But now…” He trailed off, shoving his hands deeper into his coat pockets, a grim silence in the air.

Abner smiled reassuringly. “Don’t worry. It’s probably just bandits who want to stir up trouble. I’ll be back in a few days, and nobody will think of it again.” Abner said this to comfort his friend, concealing what he knew all too well. Perhaps he was trying to comfort himself, as well.

Gabriel chewed his lip, then asked, “Shall I get Breanon tacked up for you, Sire?”

Abner smiled appreciatively. “That would be excellent, thank you.”

As the stable boy went about his business, Abner muttered a prayer in the frosty silence, one he learned in the Old Tongue. “Galrath, rax deus nomi bretes morg, gessel viri meus.” It translated to, ‘Galrath, god of kings, be with me unto death, my comfort in the grave.”

Abner never had been devout in his prayers, but on the eve of such an event, he felt it necessary.

HIs rooftop conversation with Jethro came back to him, and he wondered again on those ominous words his old friend and ally had spoken. “A King of kings.”

Those words sent a shiver down his spine. Though he had not gone to the Great Temple recently, or been religiously active by any means, still, the deconstruction of the religion he had known his entire life terrified him. But he was more terrified of who was deconstructing it. Could there really be a deity more powerful?

Abner decided then and there that after his campaign, he would seek out if there was another deity, if indeed He was contending with Galrath, and why. But for now, the campaign required his complete attention. Religious matters could wait. The invasion was pressing.

 

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

 

 

Hours later, Abner was riding southeast, Breanon’s hooves pounding the cobbled road. A group of ten cavalry officers rode behind him, all seasoned veterans with grim faces. Cold air blew in Abner’s face, and driving the smell of the marshy plains to his nostrils.

Hours passed, and he was relieved when he finally saw the torches of the camp. He slowed Breanon, and they descended a small plateau by way of a winding path. Most of the soldiers were asleep, but the sentries immediately recognized the king’s standard and stood at attention, saluting as they rode past.

Abner was led to the officer’s stables, where he dismounted and left Breanon in the hands of a servant.

Major Maguire, one of his father’s trusted military leaders, showed Abner to a tent, where he gladly laid down and rested.

Sleep eluded him however, so soon enough, he was up again, and found himself working on a letter to Lorraine. He finished it, folded it, and tucked it away beneath his pillow. He went outside, sitting by a fire with some soldiers who he quickly told to be at ease. The dark of the night was waning and the morning silence was broken by the gentle singing of the birds, and the groaning of the trees. The sun lazily rose above the mountains far to the east, and soon the sky went from sullen gray to a light orange.

As he watched the sunrise, he felt a tap on his back. It was an aide of Major Maguire’s, alerting the king of an imminent meeting of the officers, which he was required to attend.

He led Abner through a maze of tents and fires until they finally arrived at a tent distinguished by a large  red and gold flag; the standard of Arhon.

Inside the tent, about seven officers stood around a large table that was covered with sprawling maps. Major Maguire turned and called the room to attention at the arrival of the king.

After the formalities, Abner came to the table, and looked at the maps they had been inspecting.

“Gentlemen, give me the details.”

The officers obliged and Abner was filled in.

“Sire, our camp numbers 500 strong. We are positioned 20 miles north of the Barrow River, and 30 more miles to Ensteyr. If we press hard we can make it there early tomorrow morning. However, we’ll have some difficulty crossing the river as there are only two bridges, positioned ten miles apart, and they can only fit two horsemen abreast.”

Abner chewed his lip and mulled the information over, but before he could respond, Major Maguire spoke.

“We have also received reports of the situation at Ensteyr. They have sent us a letter, and have told us the desperate nature of the siege. Food supply is scarce, and the garrison has dwindled to less than 200, while they estimate the enemy force to be of at least 1,000. They don’t expect to last more than a few days.”

Abner swallowed, and he stroked his chin slowly, gazing at the map of the surrounding area.

An idea popped into his head, and he mapped it in his mind, checking if indeed it could work.

Then, “Major Maguire give me fifty of your fastest riders, and one other officer. We shall take the west bridge,” he tapped his finger on a point on the map, “while you shall lead the remaining troops over the east bridge. Since we have less numbers and baggage, my fifty will arrive sooner and perhaps be able to hold the enemy until the rest of you arrive.”

Major Maguire nodded approvingly. “Understood, my liege. I shall assemble the men immediately.”

He exited the tent, and Abner dismissed the meeting. He then walked back to his tent, and fastened his sword belt around his waist. He found the letter he had left under his pillow, and tucked it under his plate armor. He then walked out of the tent, to be met by a young, blonde-headed man, wearing the uniform of an officer. Abner recognized him as one of the men in the Command Tent, and suspected this was to be his requested lieutenant.

“Your Highness, Lieutenant North at your service.”

“Pleased to meet you, Lieutenant. Why don’t you show me to your command.”

The lieutenant obliged, and led him to a quadrant of the camp, where a group of dirty, sweat-stained men were tacking up horses, and strapping on boots. Many looked groggy from waking at the reveille which Abner had missed while in the Command Tent.

Abner nodded and turned to Lieutenant North. “Have them ready in ten minutes. I’ll address and then we’ll be on our way.”

With a swift nod, North carried out the task, and Abner watched him get the rag-tag band into a semblance of formation.

A young servant whom Abner had dispatched to the stables led Breanon to the young king. Abner mounted and rode to the front of the formation beside North. All eyes fixed on Abner, waiting expectantly  for the king’s address. A brief wave of nervousness rose in his gut, before he pushed it down, and spoke.

“Gentlemen, I am King Abner.” Silence. Not even a horse nickered. “I will be leading your detail away from the main camp, to the west crossing of the Barrow River.” Abner paused for effect, “Gentlemen, we are the vanguard of this army. We will be the first to arrive at Ensteyr, and we will be responsible for the defense of it until reinforcements arrive. Speed is crucial, so we must make haste toward the fort. We will not stop until we get there.” Abner looked at the men, and saw only determined eyes, faces set like flint toward their king. Inwardly, he was touched by the dedication of these men, so intent on rescuing their fellow countrymen.

“Lieutenant North, you may lead us out.” Abner concluded, and with that, they rode southwest, a hot sun beating down.

 

 

 

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

 

 

 

Abner wiped sweat off his brow, and examined the horizon. The detail had been riding for much of the day, and Abner suspected the fort to be somewhere nearby. Dusk approached, and darkness was settling over the land. The men strained their eyes to see anything so much as a light or torch, or to hear the sounds of battle. The dusty earth they rode on kicked up polluting trails, making breathing quite unpleasant. At long last, a man cried out that he saw it, and indeed there, a few miles away, was the fort of Ensteyr.

The horses hooves thundered toward the gate, lit by two large torches. Abner looked long and hard int the dark, wary of a night ambush, but to his relief, they reached the gate without incident. A knot of sentries were stationed at the gate, and quickly came to a defensive formation.

“Who goes there?” Barked a harsh, gravelly voice.

Lieutenant North spoke up. “Reinforcements from the capital.”

The sentries’ leader narrowed his eyes. “A red sun rises.” He said.

“But the stars rule all.” North replied. The distinctly Arhonian code word set the sentries at ease.

“How many do you bring?” He asked.

“Fifty horsemen, with over 400 more on the way.” Abner said.

The leader nodded, then asked, “May I ask the name of your detail’s leader?”

North glanced at Abner, then said, “It is led by King Abner himself.”

The leader’s eyes widened, and he saluted Abner. Abner quickly returned it, and glanced again at the dark terrain surrounding them.

“Lieutenant, we should get inside as soon as possible. You shall report to the fort commander. I will see to it that the men are given food and lodging. I’ll head over to the commander’s office when I’m done.”

North nodded, and spurred his horse inside the wooden walls. The sentry leader pointed Abner to the stables where the men could hand off their horses to the stable boys. Abner led the detail there, and soon handed the charge of the men over to a captain. He gave Breanon to a stable boy, and stretched, happy to finally be out of the saddle. He asked the captain where the commander’s office was, and soon was on his way up a enclosed stairwell to a room on top of the wall. Abner suspected that in daytime the office must have good visibility of the land around, giving the commander a good way to evaluate the enemy.

He came to a crude wooden door, and knocked three times. A low, monotone voice said, “Enter.”

Abner stepped in, to see North and a slim, uniformed man seated across from each other. Both stood in respect of the King, but Abner wasted no time.

“Commander, I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of meeting you, sir.”

“Commander Wise, sir.” The commander’s face was covered in scars, and marks of war. His eyes bore the grim determination of a soldier, and his trim uniform displayed his pride in his position.

“Well then, Commander Wise, I would appreciate a briefing. Major Maguire will be arriving with over 450 cavalry, and supplies in the next few days, but we must hold till then.”

Wise nodded, and took a long puff on a wooden pipe between his teeth, taking his time choosing what to say. “Quite frankly, your Majesty, we are hopeless. Even with reinforcements, its worse than we thought.” He looked at Abner, clenched his jaw, and shook his head. “We thought this to be a small band of near 1,000, and at first it was. But over the last few days, they’ve received more and more troops. We estimate a force of 6,000 now.”

Abner chewed on his lip. His fear of all-out war was coming true.

Wise continued. “For the first few days, they engaged, and assaulted the walls, and we were able to push them back. But after a while, they just encamped around us, and waited. They waited, and waited, and waited. The dastardly wretches cut off our food supply, and it’s a wonder our messenger was able to  reach the capital.”

Abner sighed, and leaned back in his chair. “Commander, this is disheartening news. But what do you suggest that we do about it. We cannot send for more troops from the capital, because they will be slow, and won’t get here in time to help. We are outnumbered, and out-positioned. What say you?”

Wise looked at Abner, and the look of resignation and hopelessness chilled his soul. “The choice is already made for us, sir. They have surrounded us. We must hit them head on; we can do nothing else. Our troops will charge into a crucible of fire and steel, and there shall be no sepulcher for them. No memory for the dead.”