It looked as if the Lion Lord passed on then, but his chest still rose, fell and wheezed as his body struggled on.
Mikahl stayed there the rest of the night, lost in teary-eyed sorrow, hoping that the mighty Lion of the West would speak to him again, but he didn’t. Mikahl couldn’t help but wonder what the third was that Gregory had started to talk about. Nor could he keep from being swallowed up by the confusion of the things the man had told him. Had Lord Gregory not turned and looked into his eyes, he might’ve dismissed the words as rambling, but now he couldn’t, because he knew it was the truth.
Chapter 26
“We’ve taken the bridge!” someone yelled from outside King Glendar’s command pavilion.
An excited cheer came from the sea of Westland soldiers gathered and waiting in formation around it.
“Don’t crowd the bridge!” a stern voice commanded over the ruckus. “Third, Fourth, and Fifth Cavalry, you’ll cross next! Stay in order! You’re captains will lead you! Once you’ve cleared some room on the other side, the rest of us will follow. Now go! Take the city! Go take Castlemont!”
More cheers erupted as the orders began to be carried out.
Inside the hastily erected command tent, King Glendar stood with his arms across his chest, tapping a foot impatiently. He was waiting for his two new page boys to get the carpets unrolled so that his desk could be situated in the center of the pavilion the way he had pictured it in his head. The pages were testing his patience to the limits.
Lord Brach had led the First and Second Cavalry personally, and had taken control of the massive bridge that lead from Westland into Wildermont. He had done well. The taking of the bridge was paramount to this initial operation. Without it, there could be no mass troop crossing. No mass troop crossing meant there would be no element of surprise.
It was just after dawn, and King Glendar was tired and cranky. It was one thing to plan a secret early morning attack, but it was another thing entirely, to have to get out of bed to carry it out. He would’ve much rather been back at Lakeside Castle, sleeping until midmorning, only to be awakened by the hot mouth of one of his many servant girls. But no, Pael insisted that Glendar lead the army of the west on this attack. It seemed to Glendar that Pael insisted on a lot of things lately; far too many things. There was no doubt that he owed Pael a boon or two for all the help he had given him over the years, but he was King now.
King! It seemed at times, that Pael ordered him around, as if he were still a child. He’d heard the sniggers in the castle halls, whispering things like, “wizard’s puppet,” or “puppet king.” They had called him worse when he was growing up. Not anymore though. Nearly a hundred disloyal sniggering heads decorated the castle yards back at Lakeside. No one dared to say an ill word about him now. He gave one of the pages a glare that promised severe punishment if he didn’t hurry up.
“The rest of you go now! Steady, keep it ordered!” the voice outside the tent sounded loudly. “Infantry, you go next! You already know what to do after we cross! Ready to march now! On my command! And march!”
The carpets King Glendar insisted on using each weighed as much as a full grown man and were nearly impossible for the two adolescent boys to manage. On top of that, the youngsters were scared to death of the ill tempered new King. The younger of the two boys stumbled over the corner of a carpet that had already been unrolled, and went down in a face-first sprawl. The other page went to help him.
Glendar yelled. “I should mount one of your heads on my desk, to remind your replacements of your clumsiness.”
Neither of the boys considered the threat an idle one. Tears welled in the eyes of the fallen boy. The other wet his pants while trying to help his companion to his feet. At that point, all the work had stopped completely. Glendar had scared them stiff.
“What?” Glendar screamed. “What is wrong with you two? It’s not complicated! You unroll the blasted rug and move the desk! How hard can it be?” Spittle flew from his clenched teeth. “I guess I’ll have to mount both of your heads!” He drew a sword that looked quite similar to Ironspike, but had no magical properties whatsoever. He would’ve used it to cut off their heads, had Pael not entered the pavilion just then.
“Put the blade a way,” the wizard commanded sharply.
Glendar spun, and looked at Pael, as if he had just told him that the sky was yellow, instead of blue.
“Not now, Pael,” he shot back dismissively, and then turned his attention back to the trembling boys.
Pael mumbled some unintelligible phrase, and made a grasping gesture with his hand, like he was choking the air. The look on King Glendar’s face went from anger to shock, to fear. An invisible hand had gripped his throat and was threatening to crush it. It was all he could do to draw in a breath.
“Leave us!” Pael ordered the two pages. They wasted no time starting toward the tent flap.