The Laila Mythology

The mountains of Gamolham

 

                                            Chapter Fourteen

 

                             The Mountains of Gamolham

 

 

Through the great forests and across the plains the imperial armies marched unopposed.  Like an encroaching tide upon the shores of the Grayweald they flooded the land with their might. A war machine hell sent to murder. Ploughing the soil beneath their feet and devouring the land as they went.

Heading the march was Lhanna herself astride a huge white shire horse with prince Ibora by her side. She had waited many years for this moment and was not going to miss the opportunity to witness her final triumph.  

“I had a feeling that the acquisition of the Grayweald would be a breeze once the last world tree had fallen” said Lhanna. “Without their precious dragon to protect them the race of Goblins are feeble and will offer no resistance to our forces” she smiled.

“Indeed your majesty” replied Ibora humbly. “And with the recent defection from a renegade Goblin tribe to our cause, their intentions to ambush us in the gorge will also prove ineffective, as I have already sent a thousand men at arms ahead of us to clear them out”.

“Good work Ibora” said Lhanna. “And what news of the rebellion blockade at Wickham fell?” she asked.

“It appears your majesty that their resistance at Wickham fell is purely a stratagem to hamper our invasion, whilst they conduct a mass exodus of their women and children to the refuge of the Gamolham Mountains, under the protection of a Green man and a young witch girl by the name of Laila who escaped from the citadel”. Lhanna’s eyes widened with menace.

“So they think they can outsmart me by concealing their despicable prodigy in the mountain caves do they?” she uttered in quiet deliberation before abruptly pulling the reins on her steed.

“Ibora!” she said assertively. “Order the infantry to continue their advance upon Wickham fell. I want all cavalry units to escort me immediately to Gamolham!”.

“Right away your majesty!” he said sounding the cavalry horn.

At the eve of the new moon on the far side of the Grayweald, tens of thousands of Goblins began to arrive at Puo Landum. Young and old, frail and fearful, carrying their lives upon their backs.  It was a desperate scene to behold and one assured to strike remorse upon the onlooker.

Amongst the din and commotion in solemn witness stood the elders.

“What have they done to deserve this?” said Glundaloch looking at the faces of the frightened children.

“Their innocence is all they are guilty of” replied Sardaloch dolefully.

“Yet it is they who pay the price for war” said Juldaloch. “The victims of warfare it seems are seldom those who instigate it”.

“True, but we must also remember that even those engaged in combat are victims too, slaves to the arrogance of others, blindly sacrificing their existence for what they believe is right” said Glundaloch.

 “The only campaign worth fighting is that which opposes it” uttered Sardaloch.

“If that be the case my sister, then you give me at least some consolation in the knowledge that I fight not for victory, but for the preservation of the innocent” said Glundaloch parting company to join his troops who stood waiting expectantly upon a nearby hill., their Bowe’s and Pike’s grasped firmly in their stubby blue hands, reckless and spirited for the battle ahead, like a bevy of fawns to a wolves lair.