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91. Confrontation
🕑 Added 2024-10-23 20:56:08 +0000 UTCWarriors pushed to the front, led by a dozen spearmen who formed a loose shield wall around Mark.
With their leader dead, the warg's appetite for battle was fading, but against such a powerful enemy, one couldn’t be at ease.
Through the thick of the carnage, a squad of six spearmen led a figure toward the shield wall as the enemy army evaporated around them.
Reaching the defensive wall around Mark, they split, and Mira stepped forth, a healing glow emanating from her hands as they rested them above Mark.
“Is it working?” Yelinda demanded.
“I think so,” Mira softly replied, eyes glued to Mark.
The Clan Federation and Mark’s army were now reaching one another at certain points along the battlefield, and word had it that both the mammoth riders and giants had fallen into retreat.
**Trolls**
Tath Gorak scanned the battlefield with his elites. He had seen no sign of the self-proclaimed troll warlord that had led his people into subjection. There had been word of a couple of troll warriors fighting among the enemy’s forces, but they had either fallen or fled.
However, the numbers were way off. A few trolls were not the united force of the tribes from the Daggers. For whatever reason, they did not participate in this battle.
Leading his elites, Tath Gorak went in chase of his enemy, hunting down the fleeing wargs as he searched for more signs of his people.
While a troll was one of the greatest warriors in the land, they didn’t come close to the speed of a warg. However, many wargs fled with great injuries, and the troll warriors easily cut them down.
As they chased, Tath Gorak called for his war wagon and mutant underlings, forming a formidable band of warriors that continued the chase.
It wasn’t disobedience, at least not in the troll chieftain’s eyes. He wasn’t abandoning his king or his cause, but he believed the powerful lord could handle what came next alone. So he continued the chase, desperate for answers relating to his kin.
Vindication came from the knowledge that if he could sway his kin to their cause, then the fledgling kingdom would be greatly empowered with an army of trolls at its side.
He also hoped that his king’s generosity would extend to him. King Atlas had made lord, provisioning their land, and once this was all over, there would be a question of what to do with the Daggers.
The Daggers were an expansive mountain range to the north and no easy land to govern. Regardless of the slaughter here today, many wargs would return to their ancestral homes, and it would be beyond deadly for a human to attempt to rule the place.
But a troll?
If the population had survived this war relatively unscathed, it might be their opportunity to rise in the north, and if the new human king who defeated the wargs offered his legitimacy, then Tath Gorak was confident that they could build something powerful.
***
Gasping for air, Mark’s eyes fluttered open. He was in bad shape, but his wounds had closed, and mortal peril had been averted.
“I’m alive?”
“You’re more than alive,” Yelinda smirked. “You’re a king. Now get up and show the people.”
“Yeah, I had a feeling you’d say something like that,” Mark groaned and extended a hand.
Both Yelinda and Mira helped him up, and his soldiers cheered him on as he stepped on unsteady feet.
Looking around, he watched as the last of the wargs fled the battlefield. The only ones remaining were either prisoners or wargs too wounded to flee and too stubborn to surrender, but they wouldn’t survive long.
“What about,” Mark muttered, turning toward the hilltop.
The warriors of the eastern clans had regrouped and remained steadfast atop their hilltop, but it was clear they had taken a beating.
The warg had concentrated their forces on breaking through the clan fortifications in the hope of crushing them first and turning around on Mark’s army, and it showed. They had been attacked from all angles and would have likely broken if not for being entirely surrounded and having nowhere to run to.
“I doubt they’ll want to fight again so soon,” Yelinda said, eyeing the weary army.
“Should we?”
She nodded in reply, and he took her hand as the army gathered around them and marched up the hill. It felt a little strange. Yelinda still felt like a stranger to him, but they were making a show of unity.
If there was one barbarian Mark doubted would want to kneel to him, it was the fiery king Dothran who stepped ahead of his army. Wounds littered his huge, muscular body, but his face looked as unbothered and defiant as ever.
“Little Kingling, we meet again.”
“And you, Dothran,” Mark nodded.
“King Dothran,” Yelinda curtsied.
Mark’s men began to whisper words of the Vanquisher. They wanted it to be as natural as possible, so the plan hadn’t been shared with anyone who wasn’t in the tent when it was conspired. Instead, they simply let humor travel on their own through the ranks.
A barbarian stepped up to Dothran’s side and whispered something in his ear, causing him to flinch and his brow to twitch.
“What games do you two play?” He demanded.
“Games?” Yelidna innocently tilted her head. “Whatever do you mean?”
“No games here, Dothran. We agreed to fight here, and we have. Perhaps a little humility is in order?” Mark said, raising a brow.
“Humility? Ha,” Dothran chuckled. “Says the man with the little fort who declares himself a king.”
“We don’t have to be friends, but let’s talk this out,” Mark said, raising his voice so that all nearby could hear him as he continued. “Let’s extend our truce another week. Let our armies make camp and share stories and liquor. This battle has been hard won, and there is no need to shed additional blood.”
Mark knew that the hard-beaten army of clan warriors had no interest in continuing this battle, and by making sure they heard him offer a truce, he would put Dothran in a difficult position to refuse it.
“We have brought fresh meat and strong liquor with us in our wagons. It would do us honor to share it with warriors as brave as those beneath your banners.”
Dothran growled, realizing he had been outplayed. “Fine, let it be—a truce for seven days. May every man and woman who fought here today get the rest they deserve,” he said, raising his fist into the air, eliciting cheers from his warriors.
Perfect. This might just work, after all.
Mark and Yelinda had ensured that the humor spread to yarn weavers following the camp, including Weedy-Eye. When the alcohol began to flow, and guards were lowered, the people would gather to share stories, and what would follow was Mark’s heroic defeat of the warg lord and the plunging of his sword through its chest.
If all went according to plan, within a day or two, the humor of Mark being the reincarnation of the Vanquisher would permeate every corner of the war camps.
***
A tense stare-off took place as the priests marched up to Mark’s tent, escorted by his warriors.
There had been a short skirmish between the two forces until the priests managed to get the warriors to halt their attacks, claiming not to be their enemy. The skirmish likely would have continued if not for a few of the soldiers having seen the priests ambush against the warg leadership.
Sitting on a timber throne with all kinds of treasures—mostly weapons and looted jewelry—at his feet, Mark beckoned them forward.
The youngest of the priests, a tall, blonde-haired man, fell to his knees the moment he reached Mark, and the three others who followed did the same after a short moment of hesitation.
“What is this?” Mark said. “Were you not the priests who attacked my fort?”
“Our former High Priest was, yes, My King,” the young one said.
“My King?” Mark's brow rose.
“Yes,” the young man nodded. “I, Mohan, leader of the Priesthood of the Seven-Headed Wolf God, swear allegiance to you as our rightful king.”
“Oh?”
Okay, I was not expecting that… where even were these guys?
“We have heard word that your great kingdom welcomes all faiths. Just because we serve the Seven-Headed Wolf God does not mean we are solely loyal to the wargs. Yes, we follow the same god. But we are loyal to our faith above all else. If we were allowed to continue our faith within your borders, we would share our tithes with you.”
Interesting proposition.
“And what about the kidnapping of virgins? You must know that is against my laws?” Mark said.
“It is not one of our tenants,” Mohan shook. “It was an order passed down by the wargs; I swear it on my faith. “We have no interest in continuing this practice.”
“Hmm,” Mark growled. “I wish to turn away no man that comes in peace, but you must understand the crimes you have committed against my people. For now, you will be allowed to stay under the watch and guard of my warriors. Any within your order who are found to have committed crimes will be punished, understood?”
“Yes. But I plead with you, Great King. Allow us fair trial.”
“You didn’t allow my people such courtesy, but I am a fair king. Your people will granted the right of trial. When I am satisfied with your purpose in my kingdom, and wrongdoers have been brought to justice, then you shall be allowed to move freely. However, if you do not keep your actions within our laws, you shall be punished, and your order outlawed. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Great King,” Mohan said, pressing his face against the ground as he bowed. “Thank you for your leniency.”
Mark wasn’t entirely sure what to make of the priest. He doubted they were good men but didn’t want to slaughter a bunch of people coming to him in surrender.
At least this way, he kept them under a watchful eye. And if he turned out wrong, and they truly had turned away from their old ways, he would have brought another order of faith under his control and, with it, their powers.
“The wagons have begun portioning out liquor,” Yelinda said to him a second after a runner had come and whispered the news to her.
“So, the party begins then?”
“Looks like it,” she smiled.
“Then get me a flagon.”
Mark would remain for some hours on his makeshift throne, hearing from those who wished to speak to him. The alcohol would help to loosen lips, and he planned to make the most of it.
Politics started now, and he needed to get a jump on his rival king. If handled well, another battle wouldn’t be needed.
