CHAPTER 32 - Making The Bad Men Go Away

Lord Aahron Mournfall, Baron of Trazon Keep, defender of the realm by

the grace of His Majesty King Tanric, and protector of mankind against the
orcs, ogres, trolls, and the gods of darkness, slouched back into his chair
as his lieutenant left the room. Relieved to be alone for even a few seconds
after Alec departed, he let himself sigh deeply. What am I going to do?
No matter how he looked at it, he could see no way out of the predica-
ment his little fiefdom found itself in. Everything Tarn and Alec had told
him had proven to be true. An orc horde of unprecedented size had indeed
crossed into human lands, laid waste to his croplands and pastures,
burned his largest city to the ground, and was laying siege to his castle. On
top of that, all he had to safeguard his remaining portion of the realm were
a mere handful of archers and men-at-arms, along with a few score of half-
trained and very frightened militiamen. Indeed, he could think of nothing
worse than their current predicament.
And it’s all my fault. He knew that wasn’t the whole truth, that others
were as much to blame as he was. The wars back west and the inattention
of Earl Stoutheart had more to do with the situation than anything else.
The Earl had promised him a flying column was on the way, with several
hundred men-at-arms and a supply of food and other vital stores, but even
that column of mounted warriors was days away. As for an army which
could break the siege…
He harrumphed loudly to himself. Such an army, the Earl assured him,
was being formed. That was well and good, but the Baron and the Earl both
knew that by the time the Earl’s other vassals could pull enough troops
together and march them here, it would be the height of summer at the
earliest, three to four months at the outside. While he put on a brave face
for his men, he doubted that they could hold out that long.
More importantly, Alec knew it too.
Aahron could see the doubt festering in the knight’s heart, growing like
one of those tumors he had heard about from his chirurgeons, gnawing
away at Alec’s ability to function as a leader. So far the other man seemed
to be in control, but Aahron was increasingly worried about him. Some-
thing had happened to him out on those plains; had broken him in body
and in spirit.
Alec wouldn’t talk about it – not to him or anyone. If it wasn’t for the fact
that all of his advisors and the various priests and mages were vouching
for him – and the fact that his skills were so desperately needed – he would
have trusted his instincts and dismissed the man days ago. But with events
what they were, he had no choice, no matter what he felt about it. After all,
if not for Alec, who would command the men? He himself?
He snorted again. Now there’s a laugh. He had tried that when Alec
disappeared, and that decision had almost proved to be a disaster, for he
had long known that while he was good at many things, soldiering was
not one of them. Oh, he could still fit into his armor, and he was decent
at jousting in the lists, and even in swordplay; but as a real knight, let

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alone a commander of men? He suffered no delusions that he would ever be
anything more than adequate in those areas.
This made Alec’s growing instability more disturbing. Aahron knew
that before his capture the knight would never have started a confrontation
such as the one he had just witnessed. Something had happened out there.
He just wished Alec would talk about what it was.
Well, we can do nothing about that. Such things are the will of the gods,
not of mere men. He sat up a little straighter in his chair, looking at one of
the candles burning at the center of the table. By the amount of wax left,
he guessed they were still several hours from dawn. Figuring he should at
least try to sleep, he was about to stand up when he was halted by a small,
high voice coming from the shadows at the far side of the room.
“Daddy? I can’t sleep.”
Aahron looked over his shoulder and saw his daughter wander into
the room, dragging a small blanket behind her. Simply seeing her there
refocused his mind, and he blocked out all the other worries of the day,
concentrating instead on being a father. “What’s wrong, Pumpkin?”
“It’s all the noise, Daddy. There’s all the soldiers about, and they all
sound so angry. I went in by Mommy, but she was sleeping. Aunty Tawnya
sent me in here ‘cuz she said you were still awake.”
Aahron smiled and held his arms open wide, secretly blessing “Aunty
Tawnya,” his daughter’s governess. The older woman – old enough to be his
own aunt, he realized – probably suspected that it would do him as much
good to see the girl as it would her. She rushed toward him as he invited
her into his open arms. “Come here, sweetie. Do you want me to tuck you
back in?”
“Un-unh,” she said as she claimed up onto his lap. It was times like
this that made him realize just how much he loved his daughter. Nine years
old. She’s growing up so fast! But now, for this moment at least, she was
still his baby girl.
“Well, should I read you a story?” She shook her head no and snuggled
up deeper into his lap. “Allyson, honey… What do you want me to do?”
She looked up at him, her deep blue eyes full of the innocence of youth,
as he stroked her long blond hair. Even this little action, he saw, was easing
her fears, and her eyes were getting heavy. “Daddy, I want you to make all
the bad men go away. I want you to make… to make everything like it was
before.”
Her plea tugged at him, and he tried to think of something to say, but
he couldn’t. He continued to stroke her hair, and whispered soft things to
her as she slowly drifted off toward sleep again. He started to sing her a
soft lullaby next.
“Hush little baby, don’t say a word
Daddy’s gonna buy you a mockingbird
And if that mockingbird don’t sing,
Daddy’s gonna make you a brand new swing….”
The words weren’t exactly the ones he had learned as child, but he
didn’t care. They were the words he’d taught his little baby girl, and that
was all that mattered right now. He sat there for a few minutes longer after

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she dozed off, and was about to stand up and bring her back to her bedroom
when his wife entered.
Imelia was about to speak when Alec held up a finger to his mouth,
shushing her before she could speak and wake the girl up again. “She just
fell back to sleep,” he whispered.
A look of relief crept across her face. She crossed the room and sat
down in one of the armchairs next to her husband. “What was it now?” she
whispered.
He shrugged. “We’re at war. She’s a child, and it’s affecting her. Gods
know it’s affecting me. Why wouldn’t she be upset?”
His wife sniffed. “What do you intend to do about it?”
“The siege? Hold fast, of course.”
His wife stifled a small chuckle. “No, about your daughter.”
His cheeks flushed slightly as he returned her smile. “Oh, sorry. Well,
she’s asleep now.” He stood up, cradling the girl in his arms. “I’ll bring her
back to bed. Tawnya should be able to handle her now.” He wrapped his
arms tightly around the girl and started to stride out of the room.
“Aahron,” she called out softly. “What do you intend to do?”
He looked back at his wife, saw the consternation and fear on her face.
“Don’t worry, my love. Everything will be fine.”
A furrow creased her brow. “Don’t patronize me, my dear. Platitudes
won’t change anything. I assume after all those meetings tonight you’ve
come up with some sort of plan?”
He’s been married to his wife for ten years now, and so he knew he
couldn’t lie to her, or even give her false assurances he himself didn’t feel.
He looked back at her and sighed. “What we must. We will hold this fortress
as long as it takes.”
He heard his wife mutter back at him, “As long as what takes?” He
pretended not to hear her, for his only answer was a murmured, “I wish I
knew.”

***

Aahron awoke with a start; for a moment, he wasn’t sure if he was

awake or dreaming. The sounds around him were so real, though, that
he realized he was now in the real world, and where he’d been was only a
dream.
Pity. I liked the dream world better. In his dream, everything was as it
had been. He’d been walking through the market down in the city below
the castle on a feast day. His daughter hung on one arm, and his wife on
the other. Allyson had her hair braided in a pair of pigtails, and she was
laughing gaily at a story his wife had told. All of them were eating some
sweet treat provided for them by one of the townsfolk, and he couldn’t think
of anything he’d rather be doing. The castle was safe, the village below it
prosperous and real, and all had been right with the world.
Reality came crashing down around him far too quickly.He heard the
sounds of soldiers marching by his door, and suddenly it was all he could

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do just to sit up in his bed. He stood up and walked over to the wash basin.
A dream. Just a dream. But such a good dream…..
Shaking himself, he splashed water on his face from the basin to chase
away the cobwebs as he tried to focus on what needed to be done. His valet,
Argent, had left clothes out on the chair by his wardrobe. He walked over
to them and picked up his tunic, thankful for the care of his servants.
He wondered at times how the common people functioned without people
like old Argent. He knew he’d be lost without him. Numbers and figures he
could manage, but daily chores? Sometimes Imelia teased him that he’d
forget his head if it wasn’t tied on.
He allowed a smile to cross his face as he pulled on his breeches and
laced them up. Finishing the task quickly, he called out for his page.
“What’s the news, boy?”
The page looked at him, and for a moment said nothing. Aahron looked
back at him, and couldn’t, for some reason, remember the boy’s name.
That was unusual for him; he must be getting tired. “News, sir? Nothin’s
happenin’. Nothin’ ‘tall. Greenbacks still sittin’ below the castle walls like
they’s plannin’ somethin’, but they still ain’t doin’ nothin’.”
“Well, that’s good, I suppose.” He still couldn’t think of the boy’s name.
“Say, young sir, I can’t recall your name this morning?”
“Matrick, sir.” The boy blushed. “Me name’s Matrick.”
Aahron nodded. “Matrick, I have a job for you. I want you to go find my
lady wife and ask her to join me for breakfast.”
He nodded. “Now, sir?”
Aahron shook his head as he finished tying on his sword belt. “No, give
me a half hour first. I need to go up top and inspect the walls. Can you do
that?”
The boy nodded earnestly. He couldn’t have been much more than
eleven or twelve years old, and he looked like it. Only a few seasons older
than Allyson. “I can do that, sir. Is there anythin’ else?”
“No, son, that will be all.” The boy turned around and started to race
away. He suppressed a smile and left the room himself.
He walked from his chambers to the nearest set of steps up to the outer
wall, crossing the courtyard at a brisk clip. He barely took time to acknowl-
edge the salutes of the various soldiers, but made sure he did so all the
same. In fact, he was so busy returning salutes as he walked that he almost
knocked Sir Alec over as he passed him heading down the steps.
The two men stepped back. Alec paused, extending a formal salute,
hand clasped to his chest. Aahron returned the salute, and then asked the
other man, “Report, Sir Alec. How stand our defenses?”
“As well as can be expected, milord. We have three score of archers on
the wall, and two hundred men-at-arms standing ready should the green-
backs mount an assault. We can keep those dispositions for some time, but
many of those troops are, as you know, green militiamen.”
The baron grunted softly. “Yes, I imagine so. But what about the green-
backs? Have they tried anything?”
Shaking his head, Alec murmured, “No, strangely enough. Normally, I
would have expected them to have thrown a massed assault at us by now,

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knowing them and their tactics. They must also be aware of our own weak-
nesses after what… well, you know.” He trailed off, knowing full well that
the other man understood him.
The Baron nodded his response. “Well then, what exactly are they
doing? Surely they’re not just sitting there?”
“No, milord, they aren’t.” Alec motioned him over to a gap in the wall.
He noticed that a powerful spyglass had been set up there, and the knight
pointed toward it. “Here, take a look for yourself.”
He bent back down and looked through the long narrow tube. What he
saw surprised him as he panned the lens from left to right. “By Urnomax!
I’d heard the greenbacks were building siege engines, but I thought those
tales must have been exaggerated. Never, ever before have I heard of orcs
building any war engines of this size. These siege towers are high enough
to reach the tops of the walls, and those trebuchet look as if they’ll actually
work!”
“Oh, I assure you, they’ll work,” Alec murmured, sarcasm dripping from
his voice.
“How long do you think before they’ve finished?”
“Towers that size, with wood as scarce as it is out here? I figure they’ll
take at least a week, probably longer.”
Aahron looked down and kicked at a small stone below where he stood.
“You make a good point, Alec. Where did they get that much wood from?”
“I’ve been thinking about that. I’ve come up with one conclusion, milord.
Greywall.”
“Greywall? What do you mean?”
“You heard the refugees’ report. There was really only one reason for
the horde to sack that village. The wood of its walls.”
Aahron looked askance at first, and then understood what the knight
was getting at. “Oh. I see.” He trailed off, not saying anything, and a
pregnant silence filled the air.
Alec spoke first after clearing his throat. “The question remains, milord.
What do you intend to do about it?”
The nobleman looked away, trying to find an answer to a question
which, as far as he could see, had none. “I don’t know, Alec. You’ll have to
give me some time to think. It appears as if we have some of that, at least.
We mustn’t act rashly…” Aahron turned to walk away, his head hung deep
in thought.
So deep that he didn’t see the scowl on Alec’s face or the venom in his
eyes. And he didn’t hear his muttered comments, either.

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