A Different World: Part 1 - The Siege of Penthorpe Keep - 8. Now or Never

Skold stood in the middle of the court yard breathing in the smell of smoke and dead bodies. Everywhere he looked dead eyes looked up at the sky; some mouths hung open in permanent screams of terror while others were closed in grim contemplation. Many (usually those who had never been in the midst of a battle) believed people died with their eyes open but more often than not this was not the case.

There was one corpse he found himself staring at in particular. General Cevna seemed to stare back with the glazed avidity of a wooden dummy. The only thing keeping his head from being fully severed from his body was a thin scrap of bloody meat. Until we can find the counselors I’m the general now, he thought. He felt an odd reluctance at the thought. The feeling was foreign to him as were most emotions. It was one thing to be commander but to be a general...that was something else all together.

He’d sent a raven to King Yaldon’s castle in Blanchett, Germany with a short detail of the battle that had occurred at Penthorpe Keep. He would not wait for King Yaldon to send a raven back with orders - assuming the raven Skold himself had sent wasn’t intercepted by one of Paladin’s troops. Not when Maeglin and Yaldon’s counselors were out there. God only knew what would happen to them out there if they were even still alive. Skold had a strong hunch they were the reason why Paladin’s troops had retreated so fast. They were here for the counselors. By killing them King Yaldon would have little influence over the rest of the fae world. This could also affect the alliance Yaldon was trying to forge with the humans. Skold could not quite see the full picture; the picture was too big and he had little understanding of politics. But he knew the implications.

Bodies were being piled on carts and wheeled out of the castle where several large pits had been dug. There was no time to give everyone their own individual grave and the proper burial rights. It would take days for them to clear out all the bodies. Skold had ordered the corpses of their adversaries to be burned. Let the spirits of Valhalla smell their burning flesh.

“What now?”

He turned to face Konstantine who stood on his left; Sonja stood on his right. He’d been so lost in thought he had forgotten they were there.

“Call everyone into the Great Hall. Be quick about it.”

“Aye aye, sir,” said Sonja and together they walked off to carry out his order.

He waited a moment, watching the crows that had begun to circle in the air. He had the sudden feeling he was being watched. He turned and found Eolyn standing at the edge of the court yard. She looked ghostly in the midst of the gathering gloom which Skold was starting to think was permanent. She approached him slowly, gracefully, looming out of the thin vapors of mist like a wraith who has broken free from the fathomless depths of the Ferryman’s underworld.

“I know where they’ve gone, Maeglin and his counselors,” she said. “I can take you to them.”

“Where are they?”

“They’re being held captive.”

It was as Skold had suspected, the reason why Paladin’s troops had made such a hasty retreat.

“What way are they heading?”

“East towards Transylvania...where Paladin resides.”

“Paladin is in Transylvania?”

“Yes.”

This was news to Skold. Up until now no one had known where Paladin was. His location had remain hidden. Skold had begun to think Paladin was nothing more than a name...or a ghost...not a real thing.

“If you hurry you can save Maeglin,” said the seer, “but you must be quick.”

“I will,” he said.

“Take me with you. I can help you.”

He sneered. “Right, because you’ve been so much of a help already, right?”

The seer’s eyes glittered dangerously. “Don’t be spiteful, Skold Gileppsie.”

There was no time to debate whether or not he wanted her along. Time was short. If he was going to save Maeglin and the king’s counselors then he had to act now. He sighed. “Very well.”

Together they walked into the great hall.

                        …

For a moment he watched them all fight. Fight and argue, their shouts filling Penthorpe Keep’s hall, pale morning light streaming through the circular window above Skold’s head. Konstantine and Sonja were doing their best to silence them but no attempt they made was doing any good.

The humans had always been treated as second class, higher than animals but lower than the fae. They were thought as barbarians, treated with derision and indifference. Up until now Skold had had no views on the subject. The humans shared the same earth the fae did and that was that.

We fae are just as barbaric, he thought. Look at what Paladin’s black plague has done to us, everyone tearing at each other’s’ throat like a pack of frightened animals. Perhaps we all deserve to die, humans and fae alike, so the world can start over.

He had never felt such disgust.

“SILENCE!” His voice filled the hall. Everyone fell silent immediately. Hundreds of eyes turned to look at him. His eyes scanned their faces and he saw fear, fear so putrid he could almost smell it. He felt no sympathy towards them - let them be afraid. They should be afraid, he thought. With each passing day the world grows more empty.

“You are all are acting like the human animals many of you claim to hate so much,” he said. He paused for the simple reason of letting his words sink in.

“Who are you to say such things to us?” an elf said, stepping forward boldly.

Skold turned his full gaze on him. “As of this moment I am General Skold Gileppsie and until we can find the counselors I am in command.”

The elf’s upper lip peeled back into a snarl. “I will not follow a damn eunich, a cockless bastard.”

There were a few nods and murmurs of agreement but a majority of the bodies in the hall were silent, watching in rapt silence, watching to see how Skold would react. His lips spread into a long, slow smile. He saw the first sparks of light catch in the elf’s eyes, a momentary spark that went out just as soon as it appeared. But Skold saw it nonetheless. “I would reconsider what you just said very carefully,” he said, his grin never leaving his face. Anyone who knew Skold well enough knew when he smiled like this it usually meant someone was going to die. The tension in the hall rose. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Konstantine wiping his fingers around his mouth, a nervous tic. Yes, Konstantine knew Skold all too well. So did Sonja. Her anxiety showed in the way her jaw was clenched and the pouty pucker of her lips.

The elf foolishly puffed his chest out. “I will not follow you.” He turned to the faces surrounding him. “Anyone else with me?”

Before anyone could open their mouths to answer Skold was on the move, nothing more than a blur. He came forward, sword unsheathed. Not a breath’s moment later the elf’s head rolled across the hall’s floor, the elf’s mouth gaping open in silent question, the eyes narrowed with confidence. For a moment the headless body stood, as stiff as a board, blood spurting from the clean stump of a neck before toppling to the floor.

Skold turned his smile towards the crowd standing in front of them. Blood dripped the blade of his sword. “Does anyone else have any objections?” he asked.

No one had any.

                        …

The war room was at the top floor of Penthorpe Keep’s west wing. It was here Skold, Sonja, Konstantine, and Eolyn gathered, poring over maps and trying to come up with a plan to save Maeglin and the counselors. The room was large, dominated by the large table in the middle. The sunlight streaming in through the large window did little to chase away the grim tension filling the warroom, and consequently, the whole castle.

Skold leaned against the table, looking down at the expansive map. His eyes followed the marks: rivers, fields, and villages. Though he wasn’t looking at her, his attention was focused completely on the seer. For the last ten minutes she’d been pushing around the pegs, demonstrating the path Paladin’s troops were taking back to Romania. “They’ll be traveling through the Swineshead Wood,” she said, pointing at a sketch of trees. “This is where they’ll also be camping for the night.”

“Are you sure?” Skold asked.

The seer nodded. Her lips curved slightly. “They think the trees will provide them cover should you try to attempt a rescue mission. They don’t know you have a seer on your side who knows exactly what they’re going to do.”

“Splendid,” said Sonja. “But you still haven’t told us who led the siege that happened this morning.”

“An orc by the name of Flesheater,” said the seer. “He was newly appointed chief by Paladin.”

“How come we never heard of this?” Konstantine asked. “Any time a new chief has been appointed word has traveled fast.”

“Paladin wanted to keep this information hush hush I imagine,” Skold said. “Just like there were no banners or any signs of Paladin or this Flesheater. Without this information it makes it harder for us to know who we’re dealing with. Paladin loves to play with smoke and mirrors.” He glanced at Eolyn. “Without this information we would be in the dark. Do we have any chance of launching a successful rescue mission?”

“They have more forces than we do,” Sonja said. “More brute force. They caught us with our pants down this last time.”

“Perhaps this time you can catch them with their pants down,’ said the seer. Moving the pegs around the board she pointed at the map. “See this circle of pegs here? This is how the orcs will be forming their camp...close together in a circle. From what I saw in my visions Maeglin and the counselors will be kept somewhere on the east side of the camp.”

“But you can’t tell us which tent for sure?”

“My visions aren’t always so specific when it comes to details. But they will be there.” To Skold the seer said, “If I may, General Gileppsie, I would like to make a suggestion.”

Skold nodded. “Alright.”

“Doing this as quietly and quickly as possible might be best. Flesheater and his clan will no doubt be celebrating their victory, no doubt drunk with drink and food. I would use that to your advantage instead of planning an all out affront. Unless you want to send word to King Yaldon and wait for more reinforcements.”

Skold shook his head. “There’s no time to wait. Every minute we waste is a wasted opportunity. If we’re smart about this we can do it.” To Sonja and Konstantine he said, “I need fifty men - the best fighters we have, no more. We must be able to get in and get out quickly, without being noticed.”

“Don’t you think we should try and come up with a plan first?” Sonja asked.

“We’ve come up with plans before. We’ve tried to preparing for every contingency. Where has that gotten us so far? General Cevna is dead and the king’s counselors are in grave danger. Either we do something now or nothing at all. I’m going to write a letter to our dear fae king and tell him what happened. Dismissed.”

It took every ounce of will Maeglin had left to keep going; if they whipped him again for falling to his knees he wouldn’t be able to get back up this time.

His wrists had been bound together by rope. The rope was coarse and the orcs had made the bindings so tight the rope cut into his wrists hard enough to draw blood. The wounds on his back stung horrendously from where they had whipped him. His teeth chattered and he couldn’t stop himself from shivering. But worse than the pain was the fear, not knowing what would happen next, what their fate would be. He’d never dreamed he’d be taken hostage. And the orcs themselves, their more barbaric genetic cousins, were not known for taking hostages. Usually they just killed their victims...and occasionally ate them. The fact this was not happening bothered him more than he would ever admit out loud.

Counselor Yethlossa Alagossa looked no better than he did: Her dress had been ripped in several places where she too had been whipped; her hair, usually perfectly and pinned up, hung down in her face. He knew from the way she kept straightening up and resetting her shoulders she was trying to look brave and save her dignity. But Maeglin could sense her fear, almost smell it. In front of her was Viktor. If there was any courage left in him he made no effort to displaying it. His usual snappy bravado would make no appearance tonight...or possibly ever again. Valyuun was directly behind him. Maeglin kept looking over his shoulder to make sure his ward was still alive. At the end of the line was Althon.

There was no sense in trying to escape. They were surrounded by orcs. At least a hundred of them. The others, the rest of Maeglin’s men and women, were dead. Maeglin could still remember everything clearly as they’d made it to the end of the secret passage. They had exited out into the night, now directly on the other side. It seemed the coast was clear. There was no one on this side of the mountain.

Had Maeglin not been so eager to get everyone as far away from the occupied keep as possible, had he actually slowed down, he might have sensed danger. They came out of the woods, seeming to materialize out of the shadows. Maeglin didn’t have to count heads to know they were outnumbered. Still his men had fought valiantly, courageously, until death...until Maeglin, Valyuun and the counselors were the only ones standing.

They were waiting for us, he thought. Whoever commands them must have told them who to look for. This is the reason why they were here, for the counselors. Yaldon was a bloody fool to send them here. All he did was sign their death warrant.

Then there had been no choice but to drop his sword...if nothing else but to keep the counselors alive longer. To continue to fight pointlessly would have only gotten them killed. There was a chance, a very slim chance someone would notice they were not at the Keep and come looking for them.

Maeglin shoved the brief glimmer of hope away. It was best not to get your hopes up.

They were now in the middle of the Swineshead Wood. The trees provided perfect cover for the orcs should anyone from General Cevna’s army attempt a rescue mission. Maeglin couldn’t help but feel surprise...and a certain bitter admiration. Orcs were not known for being tactical fighters. They were more compulsive, spontaneous, driven by the need for carnage. Carnage was their religion which was why they’d joined Paladin’s cause in the first place. It was the first alliance between elves and orcs to ever occur in the vast history of the fae. If not for what Paladin’s Black Death was doing to the world it could have been considered a victory, a monumental turn in history.

The sky was starting to lighten, going from pitch-black, to navy-blue, to marine. They’d been trudging through the woods, through the cold, for hours.

The orcs had been silent, only speaking when there was need to punish Maeglin or one of the counselors when they tripped or were moving to slow. The rumbling shouts were followed by the sudden crack of a whip.

This is how the humans must feel, victims caught in between a war they didn’t start, Maeglin thought. He felt a pang of regret at this insight. While Maeglin had never felt the same derision most of his people did, he’d always felt indifferent towards them. He’d always felt that though they were genetic cousins, physically separated by nature’s whim - just as elves were from orcs and the other species of fae - their world was further spread apart by religion and philosophy. As was the way of many species, neither camp wanted to set aside their differences. Which was why King Yaldon’s alliance with the humans was so crucial in the face of the Black Plague.

What happens after? What happens after we defeat Paladin, assuming I’m around to see it?

From behind him, Valyuun cursed, his foot catching up against a root. He went down in a crash of dead leaves and brambles. Almost at once the orc who’d been standing to Valyuun’s side was towering over him, the whip lashing blindingly through the air.

“Get up!” the orc roared. Each word was synced with a crack of the whip. “On your feet elven scum!”

Each lashing had Valyuun writhing in pain, a scream emitting from his mouth.

Blinding rage enveloped Maeglin. Counselors or no counselors to think about he couldn’t stand to see his ward in torment like this. He felt Alagossa’s fingers try to grab his shoulder, heard her hiss, “No, Maeglin!” His armor had been taken, along with his sword and dignity, and his fists were bound, but he could still fight with his body such as it was. He raised both fists as one and swung them at the orc as hard as he could. His fists collided with the orc’s face and sent the brute stumbling back into a tree.

Before he could reach Valyuun, several orcs were on top of Maeglin, lashing at him with their whips, kicking him with their steel boots. There was no rolling away from it, nothing to relieve the pain from their brutish attacks. His head slammed against the very root Valyuun had tripped over and he could taste blood, coppery and cloying, in his mouth. He rolled back over just in time to see a boot fly towards his face and then...nothing.

At first the pain was a distant thing, something which seemed to belong to someone else. Then steadily, as he floated to the surface of consciousness, the pain grew slowly, teasingly.

Maeglin tried to sit up but it was difficult to do so. His arms were bound tied to something over his head so it was impossible to use them; instead he had to use his back muscles. Doing so made the wounds on his back sting agonizingly. He gritted his teeth, forcing the stiffness of his spine to bend to his will. Tears oozed from the corner of his eyes but he refused to cry out.

The smell of wet straw, piss, and dung touched his nose, followed by an all-numbing cold. For a moment he wanted nothing more than to crawl his way back into the darkness where there was nothing: no thought, no feeling, not the fear of what would happen next. But the cold and the pain wouldn’t let him; they held him in place as securely as the ropes which bound his hands together.

Maeglin found himself staring at the bars of a rusty cage, and beyond it, the night sky. I’ve been out for a while, he thought. The last thing he remembered before being pummeled unconscious was seeing the morning sky. Then he remembered Valyuun and the others. In the shadows of the night he could see four other shapes in the cell with him, their arms tied above their heads just like his. Directly diagonal from him was Valyuun’s shivering form.

“Valyuun,” Maeglin said.

“Maeglin?” Despite his chattering teeth, Maeglin did not fail to notice and felt touched by the sound of relief in his ward’s voice. “You’re awake...I wasn’t sure if you would...”

“I’m fine. Uncomfortable and cold, but I’m not dead.” Not yet anyway, he added silently.

Out of the corner of his eye Maeglin saw a flickering light. Several yards to his left were several crude looking tents made out of animal skin. In the center of the camp the hulking forms of orcs. They sat around a large blazing bonfire. The light reflected off their dark, thick skin - how much they looked like demons out of a child’s nightmare. It’s hard to believe we’re so closely related, Maeglin thought.

For a moment he listened to them talk in their strange way: the Old Language mixed with grunts and growls and gravelly laughter. There was no one standing guard over their prisoners. They probably felt there wasn’t any need to. Maeglin and the others had no way of escape and there was no one coming to their rescue.

You don’t know that.

He looked up at the sky, at the very stars. It was said each star was the soul of a fae who had moved onto the halls of Valhalla, shining for the whole world to see. If you can see us, he prayed, if you truly care, help us. He’d never been religious. He’d always been an agnostic. But now, in facing the ever growing certainty of death he was willing to set his doubt aside and believe in a miracle.

“Maeglin?”

It was Alagossa. Her voice was a dry croak, almost a whisper.

“Counselor?”

“I’m scared.” She sounded on the verge of tears.

Hearing her say this hurt his heart more than he could have imagined. Between the three counselors, between Viktor and Althon, he’d always respected Alagossa the most. She was fierce when she needed to be, and like the others she demanded respect, but she also returned the sentiment. She was the most humane of the three, the most willing to listen and empathize. Yet while this display of naked emotion scared him it also made him respect her more.

“Someone will come for us,” Maeglin said. His breath came out in white wisps of smoke. “The spirits of Valhalla will not leave us to die.”

She let out a dry chuckle. “You’ve never put much faith in the spirits, Maeglin.”

He closed his eyes; he’d never felt so much guilt in his life and he’d been alive for centuries. Looking to the future often made him feel exhausted. He’d fought in many wars, had protected the fae king before Yaldon. All he’d ever done for as long as he could remember was risk his life to protect another. But now, when he looked back, life seemed so short, like a candle being blown out by the smallest gust of wind.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Her eyes were like diamond pinpoints in the dark. “Whatever for?”

“I’ve failed you...I’ve failed all of you.”

“No.” She shook her head, grimacing slightly; her neck was probably just as stiff and numb as his. “You’ve always done your absolute best. There’s not another soul on this crazy earth I would want watching my back. Besides we all die...and if I’m to die tonight then let it be in the name of our king.”

To this last part Maeglin felt only scorn. King Yaldon was the last person he would’ve died for.

And yet you’ve always served him just like you always served the king before him, he told himself, not without bitterness. Did you ever have any desire to just live for yourself or did you only want to follow in your father’s footsteps?

“Shh!” Viktor hissed. “They’re coming!”

Maeglin turned his head in the direction of the counselor’s nakedly frightened eyes. A group of orcs, at least a dozen of them, were walking towards their cave. It was then, since coming to, that Maeglin realized his bladder was heavy to the point of bursting. It reminded him of the smell of piss and shit. How many helpless victims had sat in these cages, in the cold, waiting for the inevitable?

The orcs stopped just outside of the cage and talked in their primal dialect. Maeglin had to strain his ears to understand what they were saying.

“Look at them sitting there like helpless pigs,” one said in the Old Language.

“Like little bitches more like it,” said another.

They all laughed, their large heads pointed towards the moon.

“I think one of them has done pissed themselves. Yes, I can smell it.” The orc who had spoken walked around the cage and poked a whimpering Valyuun in the back with a long nail. “Was it you, little elfling? Yes, I think it was. You’re pretty though. I think I just might make you my little fuck toy.”

Valyuun began to sob helplessly. Maeglin clenched his eyes shut and hoped this night would end. Even if it ended in death an end to this torture would be a mercy.

The rusty screech of hinges made him open his eyes and he saw one of the orcs standing at the entrance of the cage. “The chief wants to see you,” he said in the Old Language. “And see him you all shall.”

Maeglin felt warm liquid begin to seep through his pants as his own bladder let go.