a thought, he wouldn’t be so smug. “Do you? The rebellion you have failed to quash has found new life in the countryside. How many units have you lost over the past month? A dozen? More? This Ingrid has proven more than capable of stymieing your grand intellect. Towns and villages are steadily abandoning your rule, choosing to become independent rather than live under your brand of tyranny.”
“The rebellion is my problem to deal with, though I suspect you had a hand to play in their resurgence,” he accused sharply. “I can take care of Ingrid’s rebellion.”
“Perhaps but there’s the matter of King Badron’s return you forget.” He’d used the royal title purposefully, hoping to inspire Harnin to new levels of hatred and depravity.
“Badron’s a non-factor. He’s bogged down in Rogscroft and won’t be able to return until after the spring rains melt the snow in the passes. I have time to deal with him,” Harnin said, waving the concern off.
“Less time than you imagine, One Eye,” Pelthit taunted. The air between them grew chill.
Harnin’s face tightened, the mass of scar tissue twisting like a handful of earthworms pulled from the dirt. “What do you mean?”
“The Wolfsreik has abandoned him. Even now he is heading back to Delranan to reclaim his throne.”
Harnin slammed his palm on the hard, wooden table. “The throne is mine ! With no army he has no hope of stealing it back.”
Shadows swirled, solidifying long enough for Harnin to make out the Dae’shan’s harrowing face. Ice-cold eyes glared through the darkness. “That is where you’re wrong, One Eye. I said the Wolfsreik betrayed him. He still has an army of Goblins at his side and another impossibly large army en route. You cannot win.”
Goblins! In Delranan. They hadn’t been seen this far west in countless generations. Harnin felt cold dread dance across his flesh. Fighting men was one matter, a nation of Goblins entirely another. His mind began calculating how best to approach this new dilemma while cursing Pelthit Re and his brethren for bringing his kingdom down to this point. Despair threatened to consume him, robbing him of any sense of security he had been feeling.
He still clung to hope, if barely. Badron was weeks away, if not longer, giving him plenty of opportunity to finish constructing the defenses in the east while hunting down the rebellion in one final gesture. Harnin believed killing Ingrid would effectively end any resistance to his rule. Jarrik and Inaella were already in the field, wasting manpower as far as he was concerned. Their combined incompetence jeopardized all he’d struggled to build over the winter. The old Delranan was dead, burning away as the new order slowly crept into every corner of society. Harnin One Eye, the architect of this new madness, laughed gleefully as his world transformed.
Only now he felt it all spiraling away. His enemies were compounding while his own forces, meager by comparison, bogged down in a nasty, guerilla-style war. He needed to make a move now before the clock expired.
“I can win. All I need to do is eliminate Ingrid and her command staff and focus the bulk of my army along the line of redoubts I’ve ordered built in the east. Trapped between those forts and the mountains, Badron will grind his army down to the point I can attack.” His twinkle had returned to his eyes as Harnin envisioned taking Badron’s head in front of what remained of his army. The event would go down as one of the most renowned in Delranan’s history.
Pelthit folded his arms across his transparent chest. The outcome was never truly in doubt. He played Harnin like an instrument while allowing the delusional man to think he was accomplishing some grandly designed purpose. It was an old game the Dae’shan played with mortals. Each generation had its share of degenerates more than willing to give in to depravity for their own selfish needs. Harnin had languished in Badron’s
Back in the Saddle (v5.0)