The Kingdom of Liticea: The Sorcerer Prince

Chapter Five: A First Day's March

 There was hardly any sleep for Tauron the first night of the expedition. Even the soft, feather pillows felt hard and cold in the face of the task. The visions of the Morcars that was instilled in the mind of every Syanian child danced on the walls of the tent; hideous half-human creatures, some pig-like, some bull-like, many with malformed and twisted bodies, their mouths all had long, sharp, broken teeth. Their eyes were either pitch-black or blood-red, sometimes both. Their cloths made from the bones and skins of human children. Severed heads strapped to their belts, fingers and toes made into necklaces.

When sleep did come to him, the dreams tormented him. The Prince saw staring at him a whole crowd of people, like the one that bade farewell to the army, all staring at him, their faces emotionless with doubt. What haunted him the most was what lay in the place of their eyes; instead of brown, blue, or green eyes, there was nothing but a grey, empty void that looked onto Tauron without sympathy, without encouragement, and without love. There was only doubt. Behind him was the mutant hordes of the Morcars, now reduced to little more than hair, claws, and teeth. The white-eyed ones expecting him to stand and drive them off, but the horde stretched beyond the horizons of the mind. When they came upon him, Tauron finally awoke, still finding himself in the middle of the night, alone in his tent. There was no one to comfort him, not his father, or mother, or Master Borlin. If he sought help from anyone here; Malken, Noc, he would lose whatever respect he had.

No one to comfort him, except himself. Perhaps for him to learn that was another one of his father's goals.

The camp was busy with activity when Tauron stepped out into the morning light. He rolled and cracked his stiff neck around his shoulders, releasing a knot that had been annoying him since the early morning. Observing the tents collapsing in a neat order, every man seeming to have a job, and roll out moving efficiently, he guessed that Malken had already taken command for the day. He looked around to find Malken. He spotted him hurrying along some troops that were taking their time with their supplies.

"Come men," he cried, "War waits for no one!" he said very enriching and high voice. Tauron chuckled to himself. He was up there on his steed, giving orders as if he were the commander. After a day of being in his dust cloud, the Prince was tired of having his army being commandeered. Next to his royal tent, his brown stallion, Jerod stood ready to be mounted. Without hesitation the Prince hopped on and rode over to meet Malken.

"Good morning, Lord Malken," he said as he approached.

Malken turned and gave a pointed smile, "Ah, my Prince," he bowed, "I trust you slept well."

"Not terribly at least," Tauron took his eyes off the general and observed all the men scurrying to move out, "I see you've got the men up already," he commented.

"Yes, I ordered Noc to wake them at dawn about an hour ago."

Tauron nodded, "Very good. However," he said, "I am quite irritated that you prepared the men without my authority," he began to stare down the general.

Malken's exuberance came crashing down. Now the face of a child who had been caught stealing cake plastered his face, "I wanted to let you sleep, sir. I d-didn't want to disturb you."

"I see, well now you understand; from now on in this army moves a muscle," he held his finder an inch from Malken's nose, "without my knowledge and approval, and that especially means you."

The color drained from Malken's face, his red hair was like a bonfire on a hill of ice. Prince Tauron was surprised at just how much control he managed to invoke over the general.