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- Herausgeber: Alfredbooks
- Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
- Sprache: Englisch
by Alfred Bekker This book contains the following stories: Volume 1 Attack of the Orcs Volume 2 The Curse of the Dwarf Gold Volume 3 The Dragon Attack Volume 4 Storming the Elven Kingdom Lirandil, the wanderer among the elves, sets out with the king's son Candric and the orc Rhomroor on a dangerous mission on which the fate of Athranor may depend... Stories about the ancient home of the Elves on the continent of Athranor, long before they reached the Intermediate Land.
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Battle for Athranor: Fantasy Package
Table of contents
Battle for Athranor: Fantasy Package
Copyright
Volume 1: Attack of the Orcs
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Volume 2: The curse of the dwarf gold
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Volume 3: The Dragon Attack
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Volume 4: Storming the Elven Kingdom
Battle for Athranor: Fantasy Package
by Alfred Bekker
This book contains the following stories:
Volume 1 Attack of the Orcs
Volume 2 The Curse of the Dwarf Gold
Volume 3 The Dragon Attack
Volume 4 Storming the Elven Kingdom
Lirandil, the wanderer among the elves, sets out with the king's son Candric and the orc Rhomroor on a dangerous mission on which the fate of Athranor may depend...
Stories about the ancient home of the Elves on the continent of Athranor, long before they reached the Intermediate Land.
Copyright
A CassiopeiaPress book: CASSIOPEIAPRESS, UKSAK E-Books, Alfred Bekker, Alfred Bekker presents, Casssiopeia-XXX-press, Alfredbooks, Bathranor Books, Uksak Special Edition, Cassiopeiapress Extra Edition, Cassiopeiapress/AlfredBooks and BEKKERpublishing are imprints of
Alfred Bekker
© Roman by Author
© this issue 2024 by AlfredBekker/CassiopeiaPress, Lengerich/Westphalia
The fictional characters have nothing to do with actual living persons. Similarities in names are coincidental and not intentional.
All rights reserved.
www.AlfredBekker.de
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Everything to do with fiction!
Volume 1: Attack of the Orcs
by Alfred Bekker
In Athranor, the ancient home of the elves, orcs and humans live in constant war. The greatest hopes rest on Prince Candric, even though he is only ten years old. But the Lord of Orcland can use a powerful spell to swap Candric's body for that of a young orc. Candric now has to assert himself among brawling orcs, while at the same time the orc Rhomroor disrupts every banquet at the royal court in his body. Together with the elven warrior Lirandil, the prince and the orc travel to the City of Mirrors to break the curse.
1
Rhomroor gripped his axe with both hands. The young orc let out a growl and bared his long tusks, which always stuck out of his mouth a little anyway. Rhomroor was still a young orc and far from fully grown, but he was already stronger than even the strongest humans. He gripped the handle of the giant axe with both paws and twirled it above his head. Then, screaming wildly, he lunged at his opponent - an orc called Brox, who was a few years older. Rhomroor had known Brox since his earliest childhood and they had not understood each other when they had played together in their tribe's mud pit.
However, Brox had always defeated Rhomroor in battle. Once he had even put Rhomroor's head into the foul-smelling pile of a dragon lizard.
Rhomroor had not forgotten that - and today was the day of revenge. Today Brox was going to experience his blue miracle!
Rhomroor struck Brox with all his strength. He parried with his own weapon, which he had forged himself. He called it the scythe sword, but it was actually more like a giant scythe than a real sword.
The blade of Rhomroor's axe clanged against the metal of the scythe sword. Rhomroor let out a piercing war cry.
Brox had to take two or three steps back.
Then Rhomroor's next blow came to nothing.
This blow had so much momentum that he almost lost his balance.
Brox took another step back. "Heh, you've learned to fight by now, kid!"
Smaller!
The fact that Brox called him that made Rhomroor almost furious.
Perhaps Brox even wanted Rhomroor to make a mistake. It was not the first time that Brox had defeated an opponent in this way.
But today everything was different. Rhomroor wrenched the axe around, let it circle above his head and then charged at his opponent again. Several blows followed in close succession and Brox was barely able to fend them off. He only just managed to deflect the blows to the side so that he wasn't simply cleaved in two from top to bottom.
Rhomroor drove his opponent to the edge of the rock pulpit where they both fought. One last blow followed. Brox tried to dodge and lost his balance. Rhomroor struck with the front of his axe, hitting his opponent on the breastplate made from the horn plates of a dragon lizard - and Brox fell to the ground with a scream.
Rhomroor stepped to the edge of the rocky pulpit, from where there was a sweeping view of the surrounding mountains and the nearby sea. Then he looked down. Below, at the foot of the rock, was a mud pit. All the orcs who lived in the vicinity of the orc lair regularly wallowed here. And, of course, the losers of the battles that took place on the rock pulpit fell into it.
At first there was no sign of Brox down there, but then he emerged from the soft mud dripping from his clothes and armor.
"I have won!" Rhomroor shouted, raising his axe triumphantly and letting out a loud howl of triumph.
Brox, on the other hand, replied with a terrible curse before he finally began to fetch his weapons from the swamp. They had to be quick, otherwise they would sink so much that they would be impossible to find. Brox spat mud out of his mouth and nostrils and growled something incomprehensible. Rhomroor didn't want to know exactly what he had to say. It was easy to understand that Brox was simply very angry and couldn't get over his defeat.
"The battle is decided!" a deep voice said. Rhomroor turned around.
That was Moraxx, the Lord of the Three Orc Lands.
He was a head taller than most of the other orcs. And while most of the others only had four tusks protruding from their mouths - two at the top and two at the bottom - Moraxx had five. This fifth and longest tusk protruded from his mouth just below his nose, and that alone made a big impression.
"You are the victor, Rhomroor!" Moraxx stated. The orc lord stepped up to Rhomroor and placed one of his paws heavily on his shoulders! "Congratulations on that. I wanted the best for the extraordinary task I want to set you..."
Rhomroor would have loved to know what this task might be. But the orc lord had said nothing about that. He had only let twenty younger orcs fight each other on the rock pulpit. At first there had been a wild scuffle. Some had briefly formed an alliance and driven others to the edge of the cliff together, only to tear each other down afterwards.
One by one, they landed in the mud pit until finally only Brox and Rhomroor were left.
Rhomroor hadn't actually expected to last this long. But when Brox had been the only thing in his way, his ambition had completely taken hold.
After all, it was a great honor to be chosen for a task by the Orc Lord.
Rhomroor put the handle of the axe back into the leather sheath he wore on his back. He drummed his fists on the breastplate, which was made from a piece of giant scorpion armor. It made a dull sound. Rhomroor joined in with a hoarse chant, as was customary among orcs in such a case.
What could be better than throwing an opponent into the mud?
Actually, just jumping after it yourself and covering your whole orc body and clothes in mud so that you looked like a clay figure afterwards. In any case, the cold mud was perfect for calming you down a bit and bringing back your clear thoughts.
"All right, all right, Rhomroor!" said the orc lord in the meantime. "You have every reason to be proud, but don't overdo it, because the real task still lies ahead of you. And believe me, it will be something beyond your imagination..."
"Uhh!" Rhomroor said, gurgling out some phlegm from deep in his throat, which he then spat out noisily. He had hardly thought about what the task the orc lord had planned for him might actually consist of.
"I'm ready for anything, my lord!" Rhomroor then said and gurgled again, but Moraxx raised his paw defensively.
"Enough of this respectful slime!" he said and Rhomroor swallowed down all the saliva that had collected in his mouth. "Now come and follow me so we don't waste any more time."
"As you wish, Lord!" said Rhomroor obediently.
Moraxx looked out to the horizon over the sea, where the sun had already sunk quite a bit lower. "There will be a full moon that night, as I have calculated. And we have to use that for the spell I have planned for you!"
2
Rhomroor followed Moraxx into the orc lords' den. At the entrance stood two orc guards with long halberds and freshly bathed in mud. The orc lord didn't like it when his guards were too clean. Trust no one who smells of nothing and has no dried mud crumbling off their body, as the old orc saying went. Not a proverb, because it was common among orcs to shout proverbs, which is why they were called accordingly.
Torches lit up inside the cave.
They walked together through a gloomy, poorly lit corridor, then passed through a large hall-like cave with many stalactites, in which several hundred orcs were camped.
From there, another, somewhat narrower passage led to a cave to which only the orc lord himself had access. All other orcs were forbidden to enter it under the strictest penalty. And since Moraxx did not even trust his guards in this respect, he had cast a spell at the entrance.
Moraxx himself was able to enter this private cave unmolested, but Rhomroor felt himself run into an invisible wall and bounce back. Lightning hissed as he touched the magic wall.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot that I have to make sure you can enter first," said Moraxx. "However, at least this way I know that the spell really works..."
Rhomroor's head was spinning because he had bumped into this magical barrier with full force, which was invisible but not necessarily soft. Quite the opposite!
Moraxx mumbled a few words in a language Rhomroor didn't understand. Then the previously invisible wall shimmered bluish.
"You can enter now, Rhomroor!"
"Really?"
"Are you a brave orc or an effeminate elven warrior who doesn't even have mud in his hair?" shouted Moraxx. "Or even a pathetic human who breaks all his bones if he falls off a rock! So don't be like that and be brave!"
Rhomroor carefully walked through the bluish shimmer.
He now entered the orc lord's private cave without any problems. It was well known that Moraxx had studied the magic of the elves extensively. Some even said that this was the real reason why he had finally managed to be recognized as lord of all three orc lands. Normally, the orcs were enemies among themselves. There had been a constant war between the East Orc Empire and the West Orc Empire and the Orcs from Orkheim had sometimes taken one side and sometimes the other. This enmity was not forgotten and there were always fights from time to time, but by and large all orc leaders accepted Moraxx as their overlord. And since this was so unusual in orcish history, almost everyone believed that this could only be explained by magic anyway.
A fire with a greenish flame was burning in the middle of the cave. That alone indicated that magical powers were at work here. Several dozen books lay in a pile in one corner. Books that Moraxx had once stolen from the Far Elven Realm and from which his knowledge of magic had probably come.
"Sit down!" said Moraxx, pointing to the ground in front of the fire. "I have gained dominion over all three Orc lands, but that is not enough for me. I also want to become the ruler of the most important human kingdom, our worst enemies at the moment... And I want you to help me with that, Rhomroor!"
"Me?" asked Rhomroor in astonishment.
"You shall become the next king at the court of Aladar! And with the help of the power of magic, you will succeed." Moraxx handed Rhomroor a jug of a strong-smelling bluish liquid. "Drink this, Rhomroor!"
"What's that?"
"A potion that prepares you for the spell. Then we just have to wait until the full moon rises... Or do you not trust yourself to be a human prince who will eventually be crowned king?"
"I don't know..." Rhomroor said cautiously.
"Through the spell, I will swap your souls. Your soul will pass into the body of the human prince - and he will enter your body. No one will suspect at first that the heir to the throne is actually an orc..." Moraxx laughed hoarsely and gurgled.
Rhomroor, on the other hand, wasn't so sure that this was really a plan he should approve of. But then again, now that he had passed all the battles to be chosen as the best for this task, he could hardly back out.
Apart from that, it would never have occurred to him to disobey his orc lord anyway.
"Remember the name," said Moraxx. "This prince is called Candric!"
3
"You see that mountain range there, Candric? That's the border to the lands of the hideous orcs!"
Candric looked over to the mountains, whose craggy rocks towered about a mile and a half away. One heard all kinds of stories about the orcs. Supposedly, most of them lived in caves and fed on giant horrors. But every now and then they also liked to eat the odd human traveler who had strayed into their lands. At least that's what they were told - just like the story of the moor witch who was frozen to a rock in horror when she encountered a horde of these terrible creatures who had just crossed the border again. The ugliness of these creatures had been so enormous, so the legends said, that even the moor witch, who was also considered very ugly, had not been able to bear it.
Candric felt a hand on his shoulder. It belonged to King Hadran, his father. "You're ten years old now, Candric - and that means you're old enough to learn the most important things about the kingdom you're supposed to rule one day!"
Candric sighed. Yes, he knew these speeches only too well. Great hopes weighed on him like a millstone. His father was the King of Westania and his mother the Queen of Sydia. The two kingdoms had been united since their marriage and were now also known as the Two Lands. Long before the marriage of King Hadran and his wife Taleena, they had wanted to unite Westania and Sydia so that together they could better defend themselves against the orcs who had repeatedly crossed the mountains and then raided and murdered the lands of the humans.
Great hopes now rested on the young prince Candric - for he would be the first king of both kingdoms to make the union perfect.
The fact that he now had to accompany his father to the remotest corner of the kingdom did not suit him any more than the fact that King Hadran insisted that he practiced his sword fighting and riding every day. After all, he was expected to one day command the royal knights who had to protect the kingdom from the orcs.
Candric, however, had little desire to do any of these things. In fact, he would have much rather stayed at home in the palace of the capital Aladar and hid away in the large palace library with an interesting book. He loved reading and couldn't get enough of browsing through the sometimes ancient writings. There were so many interesting things to discover. And whether it was stories, legends or works about science or magic, Candric was always quickly hooked and could bury himself in these books for hours or days.
But he was the son of the royal couple and so it was clear what he had to do without being asked much about it beforehand.
It was simply expected of him. And so it was that he was now sitting on the far edge of the marshland, where the Orc Mountains could be seen, in the saddle of a white apple horse, wearing a leather jerkin with the royal coat of arms and carrying a short sword that he could hardly have fought with in an emergency.
"We're going to drain the whole marshland," said his father, making a sweeping gesture. Deep ditches were dug in several places across the marshland to collect the water and drain the land. King Hadran had hired workers from all over to do this. Mainly green-skinned ogres, who were very strong and towered over even tall humans by at least an arm's length. The ogres' arms were stronger than even the most muscular human legs and they could easily dig ten times as much as a human could in the same amount of time.
The forest giants with their moss-covered heads, who also worked here in large numbers, were much bigger, but they always moved very slowly. On the other hand, their paws, reminiscent of gnarled forks of branches, were so big that they didn't need any shovels for their work.
Of course, there were also human helpers - as well as a band of scouts and guards who kept an eye out for a troop of orcs venturing over the mountains.
Sometimes, however, they crossed the sea in large rafts and landed on the nearby coast. There, the walls of the fortress, which had been built to provide refuge for the people on the border to the Orc Mountains, rose up.
At that moment a horn signal sounded.
That was the alarm signal. Everyone working on the trenches immediately listened.
Several horn signals could now be heard from the mountains - and they meant nothing other than that the scouts had spotted approaching orcs. These signals were now joined by a distant buzzing sound.
Candric blinked and saw one of the scouts return. He was riding one of the horse-sized giant dragonflies that had been specially purchased for a lot of silver so that he could be warned more quickly. They were bred and trained in the distant dragonfly-riding city. Each one cost a fortune and apart from that, you also had to hire trained dragonfly riders. There were a dozen of them in the king's service. And they were all busy on the border to the Orc Mountains looking out for attackers.
Now the others returned and blew their horns to sound the alarm.
All those who were busy draining the land immediately abandoned everything. Ogres, forest giants and humans climbed out of the ditches. They ran to the large elephant-drawn wagons that were supposed to carry the earth to the dykes on the coast. But now humans and ogres climbed onto the large loading platforms and the forest giants pushed them. The elephant drivers drove the draught animals, which set off trumpeting loudly.
The destination was the fortress where they would all find shelter.
"I don't see a single orc yet!" Candric stated. "Isn't this panic a bit exaggerated?"
"Not at all," replied King Hadran. "And we should get moving now too, because the orcs will be here sooner than we'd all like! Believe me!"
4
A large procession of elephant chariots moved towards the walls of the fortress. The elephant drivers had to be careful not to stray from the solid paths. Because once a wagon got into swampy terrain, it could no longer be saved. Even a dozen draught elephants would not have been able to get a stuck wagon moving again. King Hadran set his horse to sprint ahead and Candric followed his father. The knights, whose task it was to protect the area, were the last to join the procession towards the fortress.
Candric kept turning around in the saddle in the direction of the orc mountains. But there was still no sign of the orcs.
"Heh, how many are there?" the king called to one of the dragonfly riders.
"Your Majesty, there are so many of them that the ground trembles under the feet of their horned lizards!" the dragonfly rider shouted back.
"You ride on horned lizards?" the king called back. "That doesn't bode well..."
"Why doesn't that mean something good?" Candric intervened.
"Because the horned lizard riders are considered particularly destructive among the orcs," the king replied.
Sometimes the orcs came over the mountains on foot in small groups. Then they were not so dangerous and the knights were usually able to drive them off. But when whole groups crossed the border into the orcish realm on their large steeds, either equipped with up to three horns, there was hardly anything that could stop them. Then there was only the quick retreat behind the walls of the fortress and that was exactly the case now.
5
The gates of the fortress were wide open. The castle guards welcomed the new arrivals and gave instructions on where to direct the large elephant chariots so that there would be no traffic jams. Candric and his father rode to the keep, the last retreat in the middle of the castle. This high tower was actually a small castle in itself. One of the guards led Candric and his father up the stairs. Once at the top, they had a wide panoramic view, especially from the battlements. The royal castle steward was called Saragan. He gazed intently into the distance. "Look, here they come!" he murmured, pointing to a group of dark dots near the mountains.
Candric had already heard a lot about the orcs' destruction - and especially about the fact that they were the ones who repeatedly brought the work in the marshlands to a standstill. Wouldn't it have been so much easier to come to an agreement with them, he wondered, not for the first time.
"Why don't we just leave the swampland to the orcs?" he wanted to know from his father. "It's worthless! No one can really live there."
"Not yet," agreed the king. "But that will change as soon as we have drained it!"
"And why does it have to be drained at all costs? Isn't the Beiderland actually big enough?"
"You ask too much," said the king. "The safest protection against the orcs will be a chain of walls and fortresses, which I intend to build bit by bit." He put a hand on his son's shoulder. "But it will probably take so long that even you will have to have part of it built."
6
Loud shouts could now be heard. The last elephant chariots and knights had now retreated behind the walls of the fortress. The gates were closed and the castle guards were busy positioning catapults everywhere.
Then it was just a matter of waiting.
Waiting for the orcs to come closer.
Many of them rode large, stocky horned lizards that were as big as some of the huts and smaller houses that now existed within the outer wall of the fortress. The unicorn lizards were about the size of an elephant. The other horned lizards, however, were much larger.
Many of these mounts were mounted by several orcs at once. Often enough, at least one of them carried a bow and arrow or a sling.
It wasn't long before there was almost dead silence in the fortress.
The dragonfly riders swarmed out once more to investigate the situation more closely. Some of the orcs shot at the scouts with their slings and bows, but they were not hit and quickly returned.
The captain of the dragonfly riders landed with his mount at Candric and King Hadran's keep.
"There are more orcs than ever before, Your Majesty!" said the captain of the dragonfly riders.
King Hadran turned to Candric. "They are horned lizard riders - and they are the worst of the orcs."
"But we're safe here, aren't we?" asked Candric.
His father shrugged his shoulders. "I should hope so!"
Candric had already heard that there were different tribes among the orcs. Some rode horned lizards, others preferred giant scorpions or large sea turtles as mounts. And then there were the mountain orcs, who were always on foot, sometimes simply rolling down slopes and then suddenly appearing in the marshland.
"Our walls are ten paces thick!" the royal castle steward Saragan now spoke up. "Even the worst onslaught of horned lizard rider orcs can't bring them down. And certainly not if the orcs don't bring catapults with them!"
"Don't the orcs have catapults?" asked Candric.
Saragan looked at the prince in astonishment and raised his eyebrows. "Yes, they did. At least, that's what the few who made it to the Three Orc Lands and managed to return from there alive report. But catapults are very difficult to transport through the marshlands. And building them here in the first place is also difficult because there are too few forests from which to cut the wood." The royal steward raised his eyes and turned to King Hadran again. "It's good to see your son taking an interest in the affairs of state at such a young age!"
King Hadran nodded. "You can't start learning them soon enough if you want to be a good ruler!" he explained.
7
The orcs charged. The ground trembled under the horned lizards' feet. These feet were very wide and so, despite their enormous weight, the lizards did not sink into the swamp so quickly if they took a misstep. Their orc riders then simply drove them forward. Or they jumped off the lizards' backs, waited through the swamp and pulled the animals forward by the reins with their own hands.
They must have enormous strength, thought Candric. Because a person who had sunk further than the knee had no way of freeing himself from the soggy, boggy ground under his own steam.
Again and again, bog bodies had come to light during the digging work that was currently being carried out in the marshland on behalf of his parents. And most of them came from creatures - not just humans - who believed they could cross the marshland without really knowing their way around.
This recklessness had already cost many a life in the past.
As an orc, you seemed to be less at risk in this respect. But after all, it was said that orcs actually loved mud and made mud pits to wallow in.
No one could say for sure whether this was true or not. Too little was known about the inhabitants of the three countries beyond the Orc Mountains.
Candric noticed that the orcs had stopped - roughly where there were trenches that had recently been dug.
Some of the orcs even dismounted from the horned lizards, which could only be tamed with difficulty. They stood there with their horns down, dragging their feet.
"What are they doing?" asked Candric.
The castle steward Saragan had a telescope tucked behind his belt. This invention had long been used by the seafarers of Westania, and since Westania and Sydia had united to form the Kingdom of Beiderland, telescopes had also become more common in other parts of the country. Saragan took out the tube and took a look through it. Then he nodded somberly. "I thought so!" he growled and then handed the tube to Candric. "Look at it, my prince! The orcs are filling in our trenches! They'll probably even let their horned lizards trample over it a few times afterwards so that everything is nice and solid!" Saragan shook his head in despair. "The work of weeks - simply destroyed! But that's typical of the orcs!"
"Why are they doing that?" Candric wanted to know.
Candric could still understand that they robbed farms and took whatever they could get their hands on, but why did they bother to fill in a few trenches that did not hinder their advance at all, as their lizards could easily walk over them.
The royal castle steward sighed. "That's probably one of the eternal mysteries about the orcs that will probably never be solved!" he said.
8
There must have been thousands of horned lizard rider orcs gathering in the marshland. Some of them were attacking the walls of the fortress, although it must have been clear to them from the outset that they could not succeed. At least not if they didn't have siege engines with them or at least a ramp that they could use to get over the walls.
But the orcs didn't even try that. Instead, they concentrated on the five castle gates of the stronghold. After all, these were the weakest points in the castle's thick walls. Time and again, the orcs sent their horned lizards riding at full speed against the gates. Sometimes the lizards crashed into them so hard that the horns pierced through the hardwood of the gates and the orcs then had difficulty freeing their mounts.
Sometimes there was nothing left to do but for the orc rider in question to take his axe and simply cut through the stuck horn.
The horns of these lizards grew back, so this loss was bearable.
But the defenders were naturally prepared for such attacks.
There were several gates, one behind the other. Between them were iron portcullis. Even if the orcs managed to completely destroy one of the gates, they could not simply storm into the castle.
"Aren't you going to do anything?" the king asked Saragan, somewhat surprised. He shook his head. "I have ordered the guards to save ammunition for the catapults, unless the orcs try to climb over the wall, which has already happened. But as long as we don't let them throw ropes and pull themselves up, we've got the situation under control!"
"Well, let's hope you're right," said the king with a hint of doubt in his tone.
"You can rely on me, my king. After all, I've been fighting the orcs here for a long time! And so far, none of them have managed to overcome the walls of the fortress!"
"What if they besiege us?" asked Candric.
"Then we'll see," replied the administrator. "However, I don't think they will."
"Why not?"
"They seem to lack the patience for it. But in general, it's very difficult to predict what they'll do next." Saragan sighed. "Reading an orc's mind - that would probably help me a lot!"
9
Over the next few hours, large groups of orcs repeatedly attacked the castle walls in various places. Sometimes they hurled burning torches up to the battlements behind the battlements. But if these torches reached their target at all, they were easily thrown back again without causing any major damage.
Then Candric suddenly noticed a dark cloud approaching from the west. This cloud soon darkened the entire horizon and at first glance you could have thought that a big storm was approaching. But that was not the case. A chirping, increasingly penetrating sound could now be heard as the cloud approached.
"A huge swarm of horrors!" Saragan exclaimed.
On the way through the marshland, Candric had already seen giant horrors here and there. They were the size of medium-sized dogs and resembled the locusts that could become a plague on the plains of Sydia in summer. The giant locusts hatched in the inaccessible areas of the marshlands. As if they had communicated with each other by secret messages, thousands or hundreds of thousands of them emerged from the mud at once and then formed huge swarms. For some reason unknown to anyone, they always headed east towards the orc mountains.
No one could have predicted when the giant terrors would emerge from the swamp. Sometimes it happened that for years only individual giant terrors would hatch and then suddenly several huge swarms would rise up at once.
Giant horrors were a favorite dish for the orcs.
"A swarm like that is like a flying feast for our opponents!" said Saragan. "Maybe that's why they've come - and not primarily to conquer the fortress after all."
"The fact that they have their fishing nets with them speaks for this," Candric agreed.
"No human can predict the emergence of a giant horror swarm - but the orcs seem to sense when something like this is coming," Saragan believed. "As if they have a special sense for it - or some kind of magic helps them!"
"Isn't it said that the mountain orcs are waiting on the cliffs for the swarms?" asked Candric.
Saragan nodded. "Yes, because the giant horrors can't stand the height, they can only just get over the orc mountains and are then easy prey for the mountain orcs."
"Then these horned lizard riders must have thought they were stealing the feast from under the noses of their relatives from the mountains!" King Hadran stated.
"Not very nice," was Saragan's comment. He looked at Candric and said. "Be glad you don't have to live your life among these uncouth fellows, my prince!"
"You wouldn't believe how happy I am," Candric replied.
10
The orcs retreated from the fortress. Many of them had nets with them, weighted down with stone weights. These were thrown high, catching dozens of the giant horrors as they scurried about.
One by one, the orcs followed the giant horrors towards the orc mountains. Towards evening there was no sign of them.
And even the huge swarm of giant terrors eventually disappeared behind the peaks of the mountains.
The king sent out some of the dragonfly riders to scout out where the orcs had gone. However, the dragonfly riders could not venture too close, as the dragonflies were afraid of the giant swarms of horrors, even though they did not harm them.
When the scouts returned, they reported that the Horned Lizard Rider Orcs had retreated north towards the Orc Gate. This gate closed the only free pass through the orcish mountains.
In the meantime, the giant terrors had been torturing their way across the mountains.
"I hope we don't see you again," said King Hadran in response.
Prince Candric sighed in response. "Oh, how I would love to be in my familiar chambers in Aladar's palace right now!"
"We'll be back soon!" his father comforted him. "But traveling is one of the duties of a future king - just as he has to master sword fighting and the art of good negotiation!"
Candric and his father spent the night in the rooms that the castle administrator had had built for them. Of course, there was not the same luxury here as in the palace at home. And what Candric missed most of all - there didn't seem to be a single book in the entire castle, apart from a volume containing the names of all the helpers who had been hired to work on the trenches. Behind it was written how much each worker had been paid, depending on whether they were a strong ogre, an even stronger forest giant or just a relatively weak human.
But such a book was certainly not suitable as an interesting read.
11
Candric was woken early the next morning by the trumpeting of the train elephants. He got up and opened the shutters of the room that had been prepared for him. It had been rather chilly during the night and so Candric had slept in his clothes, even leaving his boots on. There was no fireplace in these rooms, as the prince was used to in his native Aladar!
Outside it was long since light and relatively clear. In the distance, the elephants could be seen dragging carts full of excavated earth behind them, and work on the trenches was obviously underway again now that the orcs had disappeared, as had their favorite hunting prey - the giant horror swarm.
A ship appeared on the horizon, hovering freely in the air and slowly approaching the castle. The superstructure was clearly visible. A mast rose high, but although a strong wind was blowing from the nearby bay where the castle lay, causing flags to fly everywhere, the sail of the airship did not move at all. It hung limply, as if the wind was not reaching it at all.
"Asanil!" Candric exclaimed happily. "Yay, he's finally on time!"
12
Asanil was an elven mage who lived for himself in a tower south of the sinking city.
Asanil had fallen out with the king of the Far Elven Kingdom and therefore preferred to pursue his magical research in solitude. He had been granted permission to build a tower south of the Sinking City on the southernmost tip of the marshy coast, where he pursued his studies. To do this, he had to do two things: Light a beacon for incoming ships at night and also be available to the ruling family for travel in a flying ship.
However, Asanil often arrived late enough at an agreed meeting point that Queen Taleena and King Hadran often preferred to travel in the traditional way - either on horseback or in ordinary sea vessels.
Asanil's unreliability was no ill will at all, as Candric had once been told by his mother. "Elves grow very old, much older than humans," he remembered her saying. "No one knows exactly how old. It could be thousands of years. A day is just a moment for them and when Asanil is engrossed in one of his magical writings, he may well forget time completely!"
So Asanil was not reliable.
And Candric had already prepared herself inwardly for the possibility that the elven mage might abandon her on this journey. That would have meant a long ride back to Aladar's palace.
Candric was glad that he was now spared this.
13
Asanil's sky ship landed in the bay where the castle lay and then docked at the quay wall of the small harbor that belonged to the castle. Ships rarely docked here, however, and when they did, they didn't stay long, as the orcs had come across the sea often enough - either on rafts or on the backs of giant sea turtles that they had trained. When ships lay in the harbor, they simply smashed them up and took the wood away, which they then used as firewood.
At the moment, Asanil's sky ship was the only ship at the quay wall of the port of refuge.
Candric and his father arrived there and the royal castle steward Saragan also took the opportunity to see the king and his heir to the throne off.
Asanil was a tall Elf in a gray-white robe made of the finest Elven silk, which had the property of not letting dirt stick to it so that it never needed to be washed. His hair was snow-white. Pointed ears stood out. His eyes were slightly slanted and golden in color. In contrast to the hair on his head, his eyebrows were black. They curved slightly upwards at the sides.
Behind a wide belt was a metal staff, which Candric knew Asanil needed for all kinds of magical rituals. He also carried a dagger and several small leather pouches on this belt, the surface of which was reminiscent of snakeskin.
The fact that Asanil was no ordinary Elf could be seen from the fact that he had grown a long beard, which was otherwise unusual among Elves.
This alone seemed to show Asanil that he no longer had anything in common with the Far Elven Kingdom and its king Péandir.
Asanil stood at the railing of his ship while an apparently well-trained monkey was busy tying up the ropes with which the sky ship was moored. Candric and his father went on board.
"Greetings," said Asanil. "If you don't mind, I won't stay long in this inhospitable place and will take to the air again immediately."
"That's fine by me," replied King Hadran. "There is urgent state business waiting for me in Aladar. And it would be nice if we could get there as quickly as possible."
Of course, that was Candric's favorite.
After all, he had only reluctantly gone on the whole trip anyway.
The monkey jumped over the deck and greeted Candric happily by shaking his hand and doing a headstand. Then it jumped up at Candric, almost pulling him to the ground as it clung to him with its long arms.
"It's all right, Hugonil, I'm glad to see you too!" Candric tried to reassure him. Asanil had made a real effort to teach Hugonil how to speak. But even Asanil's advanced elvish magic had obviously not been successful. Hugonil the monkey could understand everything he was told, but could not speak a word.
"Untie the leash again! We're leaving!" shouted Asanil.
He and his monkey were the entire crew of the sky ship. Apparently, no one else was needed to steer it either.
While the monkey, snorting excitedly, began to untie the ropes he had just fastened, Asanil turned to Candric. "You are about to experience a flight on the only sky ship that exists in the whole world! For I, Asanil the Mage, have discovered the magic of weightlessness and the metamagic winds that propel this ship! And only I can control them!"
Candric rolled his eyes.
He had heard this saying before - when they had set off from Aladar into the marshlands.
The elven mage seemed to notice the astonishment on Candric's face. He frowned and then said, "Have I perhaps repeated myself?"
"That's not so bad, Asanil," Candric replied politely.
Asanil scratched his chin. "Strange, I thought it was another boy I'd told that to before..."
"That might have been my grandfather," said Candric.
Asanil sighed. "Quite possibly. You humans change generations so quickly, you can get mixed up."
14
Hugonil quickly untied the ropes again.
The monkey made this clear with a piercing cry.
"Not so loud, it would give an Elf an earache!" Asanil shouted back. Elves had particularly sensitive senses, very good eyesight and extremely sensitive ears. Loud shouting was therefore difficult for them to bear, especially when elves were surprised by it and he could not adjust to it beforehand and shield his hearing somewhat.
Conscious of his guilt, Hugonil let out a very restrained, almost whimpering sound. Then he climbed up the superstructure at lightning speed and swung himself to the mast with a rope.
Asanil, on the other hand, took his staff from his belt, raised its end towards the sail still hanging limply from the mast and muttered a few words in elvish - apparently a magical formula, Candric assumed.
The ship began to sail out of the harbor as if of its own accord and without the sail billowing even a little. Then it lifted off the surface of the water and took to the skies. Candric had to hold on to the railing as the skyship tilted a little more for a few moments before it finally flew calmly away. They had excellent visibility despite the hazy weather, which was nothing special in the marshlands, as Asanil soon had the ship soaring so high that it was above the low-hanging clouds of haze.
You could see as far as the Orc Mountains.
"Do you have a telescope?" Candric asked the elven mage, as he would have liked to take the opportunity to have a look around. But Asanil shook his head.
"You don't need something like that if you have good elven eyes in your head!" he said and then made a contemptuous gesture with his hand. "That's an aid for half-blind people... I'm sorry, but I can't help you with something like that."
"Too bad," muttered Candric.
Asanil now turned to King Hadran. "I saw on my flight to the stronghold that the work on the trenches does not seem to have made much progress. Even for my slow elven time sense, not much seems to have happened - even though I have seen numerous train elephants and forest giants at work!"
"I'm afraid you were right to notice that," King Hadran had to admit. "We had a heavy orc attack in which thousands of Horne Lizard riders wiped out much of the work."
"I very much hope that you will not be discouraged by this," the elven mage expressed his concern. Asanil himself had a very direct interest in the drainage of the marshland being driven forward. "If nothing is done and things are allowed to take their course, then sooner or later the whole marshland will become part of the sea again. My tower sinks a little deeper into the ground every year - and the same goes for the walls of the Sinking City, which have to be raised by a layer of stones every year to compensate for the sinking!"
"I know, I know..." King Hadran assured him.
"I have also heard these words from your wife's father - and from his father! But I can't really see any resounding success in draining the marshland! On the contrary!"
King Hadran sighed. "My wife and I are aware of the seriousness of the situation," he assured them. Candric remembered that envoys from the mayor of the Sinking City had repeatedly appeared at the court of Aladar to be admitted to the king or queen and to be heard.
"You have, in a way, married into this problem by marrying the Queen of Sydien," said Asanil. "And by all the elven spirits, I don't envy you! But if you don't manage to drain the excess water that flows from the orcish mountains into the marshlands every year, it will have repercussions as far away as the Sinking City and my tower, even though they are both a long way away!"
"It's the constant orc attacks that have been hindering progress for a long time," explained Hadran.
15
Asanil let the sky ship fly an arc over the bay and then steered it over the marshland. It accelerated and the marshland flew beneath them - it was that fast after all.
Asanil went to the aft deck where the helm was located. Candric and Hadran followed him, while the monkey Hugonil climbed around in the ropes. The helm was made of dark wood and the handles were richly decorated. In the center was a carved face whose expression kept changing slightly, as if it were alive.
The wheel turned completely independently, as if there was an invisible hand at work.
"We have good metamagic winds," Asanil claimed, "Look how fast we're moving!" And while Asanil said this with joy, the monkey Hugonil sat on the cross-pole and applauded by clapping his hands vigorously.
"What are metamagic winds?" Candric asked the elven mage.
He had not been brave enough to ask Asanil about it on the previous trips he had taken on the sky ship. But the question had been on his mind ever since he had first heard the expression.
Unfortunately, there was no book in the large royal library in Aladar that could have given him information on this subject.
At least Candric hadn't found anything despite all his efforts.
"Metamagic winds? With all due respect to a future king - but that is Elven knowledge and there would be no point in explaining it to you."
"But why not? I have read many books from our palace library and if you really want to learn and understand something, there are no barriers to the mind!"
"Oh, a wise saying!"
"He comes from my maternal grandfather..."
"Yes, I remember, he always had slogans like that on his lips - but unfortunately he was wrong."
"Why?"
"Because there are certainly obstacles for the human mind. It may be different for elves... And no matter how clever you may be for a human boy, Candric, you would not live long enough to understand what metamagic winds really are. Even if you lived to be ninety or a hundred! So there's no point in even starting to explain it to you, I think!"
"Don't you think that sounds a bit arrogant?" King Hadran intervened, and the monkey Hugonil seemed to explicitly agree with this remark, as he applauded again from high above the cross-mast.
"Sometimes it's a good thing that I haven't managed to teach you to speak yet!" the elven mage called up to the monkey, who let out a growl.
Then Asanil turned back to the king. "It is simply the truth that I speak," he explained. "And I think that a future king should be able to bear this truth, don't you think, Your Majesty?"
16
They flew over the marshland and finally reached the long fjord, an arm of the sea that reached deep inland. The Sinking City was also located on this fjord, and its walls and buildings could be seen from afar. However, you could also see parts of the city that had been abandoned many years ago because the houses had sunk too far into the ground. The remains of walls and parts of the roofs of some buildings could just be seen sticking out of the ground. These areas were like a reminder to the inhabitants of the sinking city that their homes would one day face the same fate.
On the opposite side of the long fjord was the town of Reela - and the two towns were connected by a bridge that spanned the entire width of the long fjord.
"Look, my masterpiece!" Asanil groaned when he saw the bridge.
Candric was already familiar with this, as Asanil had already admired the bridge he had created on the way back.
It was a magical bridge, because the long fjord would have been far too wide for an ordinary one. No human builder could have constructed a connection between Reela and the Sinking City. But Asanil's magical construction skills had achieved this feat. However, every few years the elven mage had to renew the spell that kept the bridge standing against all the laws of nature.
Asanil raised his shoulders and sighed audibly.
"Isn't it unfortunate that my skills are not appreciated? Look at this sky ship! Do you know what the Elven King said when I showed him my plans for a sky ship powered by metamagic winds many ages ago? He called it a pointless invention!" Asanil shook his head.
"Was that the reason you fell out with the elves?" asked Candric.
The elven mage's face became very grim now. "I've already said too much about it and I don't want to talk about it any more," he muttered darkly to himself. "But you can rejoice! Because this gives you the privilege of flying on the first and only skyship on the entire continent of Athranor, while the arrogant king of the Far Elven Kingdom can only dream of flying!"
17
As evening fell and dusk began to fall, they reached Sydos, the old capital of Sydia. Some people here were not so fond of Queen Taleena and King Hadran, because Sydos had lost its status as the capital when Sydia and Westania were united to form the Kingdom of Beiderland. It had since been moved to Aladar, which had previously been an insignificant coastal town at the mouth of the Red River.
In the meantime, however, it had become the largest city in the united country.
They flew over the Red Mountains, so called because of their shimmering reddish rock faces. This was also the source of the Red River, which had long been the border between Westania and Sydia.
Asanil was not in the least bothered by the fact that it was now completely dark and he could barely see his hand in front of his eyes because the moon was mostly hidden behind a thick blanket of cloud. With his sharp elven eyes, it was easy to follow the river safely under these circumstances and not stray from the path.
However, Hugonil the monkey felt far less comfortable. Since nightfall, he usually crouched on the aft deck near the self-rotating steering wheel, whose changing face he watched closely. At least as far as he could still see it. However, this was only the case when the moon and stars shone in the sky for a while.
18
Around midday the following day, the sky ship finally reached Aladar. The city was located on a river island where the Red River flowed into the sea. In the past, this island - and the then still very small town of Aladar itself - had not belonged to either empire. The area had been no man's land - exactly the right place to build the new, joint capital, or so it was thought at the time.
Now there was a magnificent capital with a large palace, imposing walls and a harbor that must have been home to more than a hundred ships. The streets of Aladar looked like an anthill, with dozens of markets. And goods from all over the world were handled at the quay walls at the harbor.
Mighty city walls protected this place against every conceivable threat - and even a horde of orcs riding on horned lizards or giant scorpions would not have been able to overcome the fortifications.
Although the skyship of the elven mage Asanil was always visible in the sky above Aladar, the appearance of this majestic-looking vessel was still enough to make people crane their necks and run together in the streets and marketplaces of the city.
"I'll save you the trouble of walking through the city from the harbor," Asanil announced.
"Don't you need water to land?" Candric asked, a little confused, because whenever he had seen the sky ship come down, it had always been on a body of water. Either in the sea or on the river, which was not so easy because this part of the Red River was teeming with merchant ships.
Asanil had therefore usually landed in the sea, where there was enough space, and then had the ship sail into the port of Aladar, where a large crowd of onlookers had always gathered by then.
"You're right," Asanil admitted. "But what if I leave the sky ship in the air and you get out via a rope ladder? Then I could take you straight to the palace and set you down on the main tower, for example!" Hugonil clapped loudly and climbed down from his usual perch on the cross-mast to sit comfortably on the quarterdeck. Asanil turned to King Hadran. "Well, what is your opinion, Your Majesty!"
"As long as you can perform this maneuver safely, I have no objection," the king explained after some hesitation.
"You can be sure that I have mastered it. And it's also well tested - on my own tower! For years, the ground around the tower has been so damp that you can hardly ever walk on it without getting your feet wet when you come from the landing stage. And I was thoroughly sick of it..."
19
Asanil steered the sky ship straight over the main tower of the palace. For once, the elven mage did not rely on the magical steering, which he otherwise seemed to use to steer the ship - a ship that, incidentally, did not seem to have a name. At least Candric had never heard Asanil mention one, as the boy now realized.
Hugonil threw down a rope ladder and King Hadran was already climbing down.
"You know how to call me when you need my help!" the elven mage called after the king. "But do me a favor and don't send carrier pigeons again that are too stupid to find my tower and then fly aimlessly around the whole swampland!"
"What is the name of your ship?" Candric turned to Asanil before the heir to the throne prepared to descend as well.
"Young prince, this skyship is completely unique - and those who are unique don't need a name to be distinguished from others."
"Well, if you say so..."
"This is simply the sky ship and that's it!"
"It was just a question, dear Asanil!"
The elven mage narrowed his eyes slightly and scrutinized Candric in a very special way, looking very thoughtful. "You're a bright fellow, Candric. Somehow you remind me of one of your ancestors. I just can't remember exactly which one. They all looked so much alike..."
20
A little later, as Candric watched the sky ship fly away, the monkey Hugonil stood at the stern and waved.
Candric waved back.
He was glad to be back in Aladar. Within the palace he felt comfortable and protected - and even in the streets or at the harbor everything was much more pleasant for him than in the fortress of the marshlands or in other remote places, which he only had to visit because his parents thought that this was part of the duties of a future king.
In any case, no orc will ever come this far, thought Candric. It was not only the mighty walls of the city and the palace that protected against this, but also the great distance.
"Well, Candric, how was your journey?" he heard a familiar voice.
It belonged to Taleena, the Queen of Sydia - his mother.
He turned around and greeted her happily.
"I think it was half as bad for him," King Hadran was convinced. "Or was it?"
"Well, it went like this," Candric replied.
Queen Taleena smiled. She was wearing a velvet dress and had pinned her hair up in an elaborate hairstyle. Around her neck she wore a precious necklace from the queen's state jewelry. "Now you can hide away with your beloved books for a few days," she comforted him. "And besides, the cook will prepare a favorite dish for you... I don't suppose the food at the castle was exactly fit for a king!"
"You could say that," Candric agreed. "If my stay in the marshlands had lasted any longer, I would certainly have become very thin."
"Don't exaggerate," said King Hadran with a furrowed brow. "It can't hurt to eat something other than the dishes of your personal chef, who has completely adapted to your tastes and only prepares what you like! It might teach you that the wealth of a king is nothing to be taken for granted and that most of your subjects live in much simpler circumstances..."
Candric sighed. "Anyway, I'm really hungry now!" he confessed. "And I'm curious to see what the personal chef has come up with for my return and whether he might remember this time that I always like to eat an extra portion of salt!"
"Be glad you're not an orc and only have to feed on unroasted giant horrors!" the king replied, somewhat displeased. "And don't forget that you still have to practise afterwards."
"Practicing?" asked Candric, irritated.
King Hadran nodded. "Sword fighting, javelin throwing, lance throwing from horseback and archery... The knights' games for the next generation are just around the corner and you, as heir to the throne and prince, can't make a fool of yourself!"
The jousting games! Candric had almost forgotten them - or rather, he had made every effort to forget them, because the mere thought of them filled him with horror.
He found it as pointless as anything to beat each other senseless with wooden training swords or to push each other out of the saddle with a blunt lance and get bruises in the process.
"And they always say that a king has a say in the kingdom! Yet you seem to be preparing me for a life of slavery in which I won't be allowed to decide the slightest thing for myself!", he snapped.
21
In the afternoon, he had to practise sword fighting with a specially employed fencing instructor. The fencing instructor's name was Arratich and he was a bit older by now. But in the past, when he was younger, he had won a whole series of exhibition tournaments. He had traveled all over Westania, from tournament to tournament, and had lived off the prize money he had earned.
Now he was training the royal couple's son, but it had rarely happened that he was so desperate about a task.
Candric really had no talent.
He was dreamy, obviously thinking about other things during the practice match and therefore reacted too slowly.
Time and again, Arratich knocked the training sword out of his pupil's hand. "You're lucky it's only made of wood and you can't hurt yourself with it," Arratich said rather indignantly.
"I'm going to be king one day - not a warrior in the city guard," Candric replied just as indignantly. "So why should I learn this crap at all?"
"For example, you might come across a wild orc one day and then you'll be glad you can defend yourself!" Arratich replied. "Otherwise, they'll make short work of anyone who gets in their way!"
"A king's most important weapon should be oratory," Candric replied.
"Oh, who whispered that beautiful but false saying to you?" asked Arratich.
"My father, the king - but unfortunately he doesn't stick to it himself and lets me take part in this junior knights' tournament."
"Well, I suggest we make the best of it and you make sure you learn at least a few of the tricks I've been trying to teach you for some time now..."
But Candric seemed pretty hopeless. "I'm definitely going to make a terrible fool of myself," he was convinced. "I won't make it to the tournament... And I probably never will!"
"Come on, who's going to give up so quickly?" asked Arratich. You could clearly see his helplessness by now, because of course the fencing instructor also knew that he couldn't turn a clumsy, almost clumsy fighter into an accomplished knight in such a short space of time, who could let his sword whirl through the air and perhaps even chase off several opponents at once.
22
In the evening, a royal banquet was held in the audience hall, to which many guests of high rank were invited. There were nobles and merchants from all over the Two Lands, and meticulous care was taken to ensure that roughly the same number of guests came from Westania and Sydia. After all, the aim was not to give the impression that one of the two parts of the new empire was disadvantaged in any way.
And so Hadran, the King of Westania, gave a short speech, followed by Taleena, the Queen of Sydia. A servant measured the time precisely with an hourglass.
Candric barely listened. He was sitting between his parents at the table and his task at the end would be to open the meal. Candric was familiar with this from countless banquets before, which had all been organized in a similar way.
The seating arrangements were also complicated - depending on how close or far away a guest was placed from the royal couple, it could give the impression that they were favored or disadvantaged.
At one of the tables, he spotted Kara, a girl the same age as him. She looked at him and smiled. Kara was the daughter of the steward, who was responsible for running the festivities in Aladar's castle.
The steward was thus one of the most important officials at court - for it was often his skill that determined whether there were any disagreements between the nobles of Westania and Sydia.
Disagreements that could possibly lead to civil war and the division of the united kingdom of Beiderland. In the past, there had often been wars between West Anians and Sydians. Only the danger from the orcs and the marriage of Candric's parents had changed this permanently.
Candric was tired.
He suppressed a yawn.
He had hardly slept on Asanil's sky ship, which was now becoming noticeable. And apart from that, a banquet like this was not a particularly interesting affair. He would have preferred to talk to Kara, as he got on well with her. But even that was impossible at the moment. After all, all eyes were on him. Candric cut up his piece of meat with the cutlery. After all, he was more skilled at it than at sword fighting.
"It's a full moon," said the Count of the Dragon Coast, who was sitting opposite Candric. He had recently been made commander of the war fleet of the united empire and that was probably why he was sitting in this prominent position. Although he was a Westanian, he had a Sydian great-grandmother, which was of course emphasized so that the Sydian captains would also recognize him.
