The Kingdom of Liticea: The Sorcerer Prince

Chapter Fifty-Four: Digging In

One last ray of sunlight passed over Rainguard before it was enveloped by grey clouds. Like gigantic, otherworldly apparitions they filled the sky, trapping the world below in the clasp of winter. That little streak of light was the last bit of natural warmth that Tauron expected to feel in the coming months. At this moment the air was clear. There was no rain, no snow, only the circling birds above. Tauron had been watching those flocks of crows and vultures creep closer and closer. They knew that a feast was being prepared for them. A feast of slain men and slaughtered horses.

"Prince Tauron," captain Bartera Noc approached him. Her voice filled with apprehension.

"They're here, Captain Noc. Did Helg make it to safety?"

"The riders have returned saying that they have settled in a keep about ten miles down the road."

"Then they are out of immediate danger. Good."

They both looked out over the approaching carrion birds. The sounds of the boots of the enemy hitting the ground was now prevalent.

"Remind me again of the estimates of their numbers?"

"Seventy thousand, my Prince. And we have about seven thousand."

"Those are indeed dismal odds, Captain Noc."

"If there were ever a place to make a stand, it would be here. They will lose thousands just trying to get across the bridge."

"Lord Nicholi says that they have no intentions of attacking," Tauron said.

"My Prince?" she looked at him in confusion.

"He says that they will only have to wait a few weeks for our supplies to run out. He was of the mind that we should retreat and fight another day."

Noc did not think Tauron expected her to say anything.

"But the Dayvey brothers said we had to stay and as did the Oarans. Of course the Rydens were their usual snide selves. Do you think we made the right call here, Captain?"

Noc swallowed, "I never considered myself much of a strategist. I focus on making sure the Brukalil is in top shape and ready to do the King's bidding. And yours."

"It's a pity that the Brukalil is not as large as it was in the days of Harros the second. I believe then it was around ten thousand. With that many professional soldiers he could have driven that rabble down there back to their holes before breakfast. But of course there had to be a limit on the size of the Brukalil," Tauron scoffed.

"My Prince, I fail to see your point."

"What I am asking is if you are with me, Bartera," he turned to her and with the blue eyes that were as dark as the owl on his banners he looked into hers, "Can I count on the Brukalil to see us through this battle."

Bartera straightened up and went down onto one knee, "My Prince, the Brukalil and I shall defend you, Rainguard and all of Liticea until all the breath has been driven from our chest and all the blood leaked out of our veins."

"Rise, my Captain," she rose and he nodded, "I will be relying on you in the coming months to not just fight off whatever the Morcars throw at us, but also to keep order in the Castle. The Brukalil are known as the finest warriors in Syandor. It is times like these that that reputation will be put to the test."

"We will not fail."

"Good. Now go and make it so."

Noc saluted her future and went to return to her soldiers. Prince Tauron continued to look out over the great river. He now saw shadows darting in between the tree trunks. Now is the time for our destiny to be decided, he said to himself. Here is where the fate of Tauron Heflite, the Sorcerer Prince of Liticea will be made.

When he first laid eyes on it, Haldo Morcar was frightened by the sight of it. He had heard of Rainguard, built on the banks of the Great River and in the side of the mountains, that was said to be untakeable. But across the river he saw a solid, wall of stone that seemed to reach halfway up the mountain. The only way across a treacherous bridge where they would be hampered by arrows and bolts, and then a winding trail up to the giant wooden gate, where they would be pelted by rocks, tar and logs.

His father made him well aware of the dangers when he gave him the task of bringing these people into the 'light'.

He would not bring the shame to his family that Wrorc brought. He would not be chased away by some trick. He was Haldo, the Great Prince and future King of the Morcars. He would not be laid low. 

But this great castle. And the fierce river that protected it.

"Oh, father," he said out loud, "What path of madness have you led us down?"