It wasn’t until Mikahl finally drew Ironspike before the nobles and merchants crowded in his court that true hope began to set in. To a man, the room took a knee. No one had seen the power of the blade since King Balton sat on the throne. Due to Balton’s cunning, Glendar never once possessed it, and the Dragon Queen only carried her Spectral Staff. Mikahl settled Ironspike's blade into the display sleeve that was built into the throne at the end of the right armrest. He'd seen his father do this a thousand times, and he wasn’t surprised when the whole throne lit up with the blade’s humming blue power. The soft glow radiated a kind of promise not seen in Westland for years.
Mikahl had been fighting evil since he left the place, but something King Balton once said came to him: “Fear of the blade, and respect of its power, are far more potent weapons than the blade itself. The more you display Ironspike’s might, the less you will have to use it.” He thought about his father’s words as he told the people to rise.
The people in court had seemed uncertain about him, but they were swelled with confidence now.
“De’Rain,” Mikahl said softly. “Make a sending to our magister in O’Dakahn. Tell him that Commander Lyle is on his way and is to have full cooperation from all involved. A count of the skeletal remains should be made and the debris stored. All witnesses should be made available to the commander so that he can make a full, detailed report for me.”
Until that day, Mikahl’s stay in Westland had been filled with joy. Recollections from his early childhood came to him often and left him smiling. Queen Rosa was distracted from the places in the castle that caused her grief. Lady Able was pleasant, and the most capable of castellans. Rosa spent the days with the other ladies from the area, visiting in the great ladies’ hall. There, women sewed and played games, but mostly gossiped about one thing or another. Several of Westland’s strongholds were vacant, having been emptied by the Zard invaders. Aspiring noble-born and notable citizens were vying for lordships, and their wives pursued Rosa’s favor relentlessly. Lady Able managed to keep things civil, but rumors and dirty looks were sometimes more plentiful than smiles among the women.
Rosa loved it. She had been raised in Seaward City and was accustomed to the games the lesser nobility played. Her mother, Queen Rachel, had taught her well. She found and marked her place as queen quite easily. From there, she used all the tidbits of information Lady Trella had fed her. Knowledge of a secret affair by a lady who was portraying innocence, or the many secret rivalries and friendships that existed among the women, came in handy when judging who to trust, and in whom to only feign interest.
With Rosa busily occupied during the day, Mikahl decided to see off the Lord of Locar and his marsh patrol. The Zard who had taken the knee and chose to remain in Westland were vocal against this intrusion into their lands. King Mikahl told them quite civilly that it wasn’t their land. He was the High King of the realm. That included the marshlands. Many of the Zard found no love among the Westlanders they had once conquered anyway. Most of them had either fled back to the marshes or taken up residence around Lion Lake in the growing Zard community there.
The next morning, long before dawn, Mikahl kissed Rosa goodbye, and on the wings of the bright horse, he flew to Settsted. It was a sad sight to see the place where Lady Zasha had grown up in such a state of disrepair. The familiar smell of the marsh filled his nostrils and mingled with the smell of the boats and the refuse from yesterday’s catch. It all stirred up memories long forgotten.
Many a week he had been at Settsted, both as Lord Gregory’s squire, and then as King Balton’s. Lady Zasha’s father, Big Lord Ellrich, was the lord of Settsted then. Pael and King Glendar had emptied the outpost of men. Glendar did this because Pael told him to. Pael did it so that his daughter could lead the Zard out of the swamps and take over Westland with no resistance. Mikahl found that he had a bit of respect for Pael’s military planning skills. Had the wizard not gone mad with demon power, he most likely would have succeeded in conquering the realm.
Mikahl landed the bright horse near the ruined wall that faced the marshes. He was struck by a particularly fond memory.
Lady Zasha had been Mikahl’s first love, and a friend since childhood. In his teen years he had fished with her from the docks while his liege and her father hunted dactyls in the marsh. By all rights, Settsted Stronghold should go to her and her new husband, Wyndall. They currently lived on the Isle of Salazar. They owned the Lost Lion Inn and were instrumental in harboring refugees during the Zard occupation. Zasha had just given birth, Mikahl had heard. He knew she would refuse the position, but he would make the offer to them anyway. They had found happiness, and Zasha did not want her husband to be duty bound to anyone but her. Mikahl had to respect that. He could make the offer to no other, though, until after she formally refused her birthright. There was no doubt that the place would have to have a lord soon. His plan to reestablish a constant marshland patrol demanded it.
Most of the damage to the stronghold had been repaired, but not the side where Queen Shaella and Claret had first attacked. Most of the wall, and a good swath of the outlying village leading up to it, had been scorched permanently black with dragon’s fire.
Climbing up onto the rubble of the ruined wall, Mikahl was surprised to see nearly twenty river boats and barges gathered along the shoreline. They were tied to bollard poles, personal docks, and even grappled to the bank for nearly half a mile. The sun had lit the sky and the soldiers were breaking camp. There was no way to house that many men at the stronghold, and Mikahl was actually surprised that more than two hundred men could be mustered to duty in Westland on such short notice. As he approached the camp of breed giants, where Bzorch was conferring with a pair of sergeants and a captain, he realized that the men weren’t all Westlanders. Several were Dakaneese sellswords, and a few were tattoo-covered Seawardsmen.
“You’ll have to tell them to forget the heavy armor,” Mikahl said to the group of bowing commanders and the breed giant. “At ease,” he snapped, so that they would get back to business. “The marsh is soft and wet. A man with heavy plate will get stuck or drown. Leather, or light ring mail is all that should be allowed.”
“Make it so,” Bzorch growled to the captain.
The order was relayed to both sergeants, who scurried off quickly, leaving Bzorch, the captain, and the High King relatively alone among the busy soldiers.
“Captain, Lord Bzorch is going to lead the foray. I want you to advise him.” Mikahl smiled up at Bzorch when the captain paled. “You’ll have to be firm. He might be big and ugly, but he’s quite capable. And he will listen, if you voice your concerns.”
“Yes, highness,” the captain said uneasily.
“I don’t want you to turn this into a Zard hunt, Bzorch,” Mikahl said. “If you see large groups of armed Zard, take action. If you see that fargin lightning star banner flapping over their encampments, remove it.” Mikahl looked up and met the breed giant’s eyes. “I do not want you attacking family groups or peaceful settlements. The Zard are not your prey.”
Mikahl was glad that only a small bit of disappointment showed in the breed giant’s feral expression.
“What about hellcats and wyvern?” Bzorch asked hopefully.
“Hunt them down and bring me their heads,” Mikahl said coldly. “There is a Choska loose, as I told you before. Since we last spoke, it has attacked O’Dakahn with a bunch of the skeletal men. If you see any of these fleshless or rotting men, take them apart. It’s the only way to make them stay dead.”
Mikahl turned and looked out across the vast grassy marshland. “It’s that fargin Choska demon I want, though. It attacked O’Dakahn and killed fourteen men.”
Bzorch gave a slight bow. “King Mikahl, it would please me to pike the Choska’s head at O’Dakahn's front gate personally for you.”
“Aye,” Mikahl chuckled. “That would be spectacular. The sooner the better. You'll find it around the Dragon’s Tooth Spire, I’m sure. Are we understood?”
Both the captain and the breed giant nodded in agreement.
“Good,” Mikahl said. “I hope to hear news of your success soon.”
With that, he strode away as another memory, one of skinny dipping in the river with Zasha and other adolescents came to him. It made him think of Queen Rosa and the passionate nights they had been spending back at Lakeside. He decided that he would pick a handful of fragrant river blooms for her. He was sure they would make her smile.
