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The BloodVaine EpicChapter 18: Hunkering Down
Bjarn called an emergency meeting in the council chamber. With Bella and Kellenwyn dead and Gladwheel barely hanging on to the threads of life, only Sir Dractor, Gereld Vos, Gonderin and Bjarn himself were there.
Bjarn looked grimly around the table.
“The situation is dire, as you have witnessed. Drullen Bell has been invaded by demons not once, but twice. Forestmen can fight against mortal foes such as the Crusaders or Royals, but we are helpless against such supernatural powers.”
Sir Dractor slammed his fist into the woodwork. “No, megabloksit, we can battle them! We need druids, wizards, anyone with magical ability to battle this force!”
“Druids are no good, that demon was able to slaughter our entire Druid Council…” Bjarn countered, “Frankly, we are in the deepest tyco buildit ever experienced by the Forestmen. The Dark Forest and Wolfpack have been weakened by the Fell War, the Falcons are attempting to obliterate the rise of the Bulls, the Dragon Masters and the Crusaders continue to squabble, and the Classic Emperor has done nothing. Dametreos's unity has been shattered at the very time a force could destroy every faction at anytime. Without more allies, we will fall.”
“What are you saying, Bjarn?”
“Unless we can make peace with the Crusaders and the other factions, the only way we will survive will be if BloodVaine never attacks us again.”
Drullen Bell Keep was soon transformed from a fortress to a bunker. Refugees from all of the Forestmen camps and villages fled to the mighty swamp-surrounded castle, filling all the rooms and corridors with a mass of bodies. Healers worked feverishly to control the spread of sickness and several dozen more privies were thrown up to contain the mass of human waste.
With the crush of people were skilled artisans; bow makers, carpenters, stonemasons, bakers and butchers were added to the ranks of Drullen Bell's craftsmen and immediately put to work. However, a lack of blacksmiths was painfully apparent.
Bjarn, in all this confusing commotion, had next to no sleep. His exhaustion was apparent with the wrinkles under his eyes and his gray hair, which had turned to a silver sheen.
Gonderin, Sir Dractor and Gerald Vos were suffering just as much as Bjarn, but they knew the fate of the Forestdwellers were in their hands.
Bjarn was checking the living arrangements in the Drullen Council Dome, the same location where Radjar was on trial. As he walked along comforting children, a spatter of rain hit his head. He looked up. Through the hold in the dome he could see storm clouds gathering.
instant organic coffee Megabloks! Bjarn groaned. Aloud he ordered a Forestmen guard, “Fetch some carpenters and cover that tyco hole, we need to keep these people dry!”
As the guard ran off Bjarn returned his gaze to the hole.
Run hard, Graygon, Radjar, Rosa. We need your help more than ever...
Graygon set out in a hurry, he had not traveled this fast since his travel with Bjarn and Willem. That trip took a lot out of him, but it also enhanced his endurance for this trip. He could feel the difference, he was quicker, and did not seem to feel the exhaustion like before. If he could keep up this pace he would be at the gates of home by nightfall, and within a day be on his way back with much needed help.
Graygon’s only hope was that there was something to fight for when he returned.
Sir Dractor was down to sleeping five hours a day, from noon to the evening meal. During the night, he continued to command the watch, from dawn to lunch he helped with the administrative details of Drullen Bell: organizing the disorderly masses, attending councils, helping settle disputes, seeing to records, and attending the funerals of the departed.
From supper to the start of his watch, Sir Dractor was training soldiers. His command had been abandoned to practice on its own, as more pressing matters needed to be seen to. The large numbers of Forestmen who had fled to Drullen Bell would not be any better defended if the soldiers defending them were not reinforced.
So it was that Gonderin was training the new recruits into the army proper, and Sir Dractor was training the regular citizens in the use of weapons. While Gonderin's recruits would soon be incorporated into the regular forces with titles, uniforms, and weapons; Sir Dractor's trainees would only see warfare if Drullen Bell was breeched. Then it would be every man, woman, and child to arms. It was Sir Dractor's job to see that they had a chance should that time come.
Hopefully, with Reno and Aros gone, and with Bjarn and Gerald Vos planning ways to propose alliances to the more amenable nations, there would never be a need for these commoners to see battle. But if they did, Sir Dractor intended that they be ready.
Unlike Bjarn, Sir Dractor was not appearing visibly strained by the heavy burden on his shoulders. And while his burden WAS lighter than the Elk King's, there was more to it than that. Sir Dractor was a man made for strain. It would take much more than this to break him.
And yet when he went to bed every day at the noon hour, he fell asleep instantly. The strain might not be harming him, but it was having an effect. It was having an effect on everyone.
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