Enchanter (Book 7) (87 page)

“That is disturbing,” I agreed.  While many new parents sought seclusion, it wasn’t usually with that level of paranoia.  And the tales of arcane lights were troublesome, too.  Such a light had attended the birth of Minalyan, and the Snow That Never Melted.  “But if the snowstone spell was a failure, just what did happen there?”

“No one knows,” Lorcus said, solemnly.  “And no one dares speculate.”

With the information he gathered we were able to consider the castle’s defenses and its many weaknesses.  Lanse threw together a quick model of the place in the warehouse, and some of the best magical and military minds in the kingdom began figuring out the best way to take it apart.

Other things happened while we were working.  News came of a decisive battle in north Sashtalia in which Sendaria’s army routed a force under one of Trefalan’s trusted lieutenants at Birchroot Bridge, a day after two thousand peasants and five hundred mercenary crossbowmen defected when it was revealed that they would receive their pay only
after
the war was over. 

Mercenaries don’t fight on commission, and peasants don’t want to fight at all.  Sashtalia’s remaining army was retreating south toward their heartland, the part that Lorcus wasn’t controlling, while Sendaria advanced relentlessly. 

While that was good news, I was far less concerned with Sendaria’s war than my own.  This would be, as Dranus pointed out, the first official Magewar since the Magocracy.  I wanted to get it right.

Once Alya had assembled the company and given them their tasks, she had stepped back and allowed them to work.  I was very impressed at how quickly and how well she had learned how to lead such an operation . . . but then she had largely led the siege of the Warbird, back when Gimbal and the Censorate tried to attack Sevendor.  By all accounts she had done a professional job, for the lady of the castle.  And she sat through two years of Sevendor Town Council meetings as baronial representative.  She had a growing understanding of how to deal with people.  I was proud of my wife.

But there was still something between us, despite her assurances.  For every supportive smile she gave me, when she didn’t think I was looking I saw a troubled expression on her face.  I tried to ignore it.  I wasn’t terribly successful.

I focused on the job, instead.  Taking this castle would be a little trickier than the ones in Rolone.  For one thing, they were protected by magic and warmagi.  That made it an entirely different kind of operation than working against mundane defenders.

Lorcus prepared a staging ground in a stable in a neighboring manor three miles away, where he installed a Waystone.  Then we started moving men and equipment over, with Gareth handling the logistics.  We had hashed over the defenses of Salaisus, and after considering many plans of great subtlety and cunning we abandoned them all for the straightforward approach.  We didn’t need to be subtle. 

I
didn’t need to be subtle.  I needed to make an
example.

Alya was right: I had let Isily’s hold over me keep me from acting.  She was, indeed, consorting with enemies of the realm.  To let that knowingly stand was a violation of my own position.  If I was to be entrusted to oversee magic in the kingdom, then I could not allow it to be used against the kingdom’s best interest.  Dunselen, for all of his irritating boorishness, had not managed to cross that frontier, but Isily plunged boldly across, assuming I would not act because of her spells of control and because of her children.  Our children.

But Alya saw through that, and so did Pentandra.  Putting the two of them together on the problem helped crystalize the rationale for our attack.  I was starting to really appreciate that.  No longer was this a stroke in a personal feud between former lovers, or even a retributive raid for the threat to my family and Sevendor.  It was a punitive expedition against the self-declared traitor to the kingdom and the Order.  And by framing it that way, not only were we justified using the lavish amount of volunteer warmagi, we were justified in using whatever means I determined were necessary in dealing with the matter.  Pentandra had worked that angle – as a former steward of the Arcane Orders, and current position as Ducal Court Wizard, her legal perspective was impeccable, should we have to answer for this in front of the Royal Court.

As we gathered in the barn for the assault, I felt a sense of confidence and purpose overtake my doubt and guilt.  These brave men and women were gathered because they had responded to a call in my name, and they had answered without question.  I had to honor that, and in doing so I recovered enough of my own spirit to start leading again.

“The sentries and the guards won’t be a problem,” Lorcus declared, as he spread out a magemap of the castle in the air for us.  “There are six warmagi in residence, at the moment.  Two in the outer tower we should be able to ignore, as long as they are watched – it will take them too long to get to the action, and we can put someone on keeping them there.  The other four live in the Great Hall.  We’ll have to contend with them.”

“We’ll deal with them,” Lanse of Bune said, leaning on his spear.  I was confident in his ability to do so.  Lanse had a reputation for one of the best dioramists in the world, but he had proven a masterful combat mage this summer in Rolone.  With a good team behind him, he’d have the warmagi out of the equation quickly.  As his team would include Tyndal, Rondal, Bendonal and Lorcus, he wouldn’t have any trouble.  That was just the sort of violent action those lads were good at.  They’d left a trail of destruction through southern Alshar that was still being mended.

“I’ll handle the wards and passive protections,” Pentandra said, clutching her baculus like a baby.  “Then I’ll establish my own, to keep them from escaping.” She had gotten very good at such spells, apparently, from her tenure as Alshari Court Wizard.  That had been one of the beneficial effects of her change of position: Penny was doing real magic again, rather than shuffling parchment and sitting in committee meetings. 

“Once the wards are down, the minor pieces removed, and the warmagi neutralized, then we’ll be ready for His Spellmongership to process down the aisle of the outer hall with his lady wife, to trumpets and fanfare of triumph, and confront the villains in their lair,” Lorcus said, his eyes gleaming with the drama of the situation.  “At that point, Dara’s squadron will remove the non-combatants from play.”

Dara was responsible for getting the servants and the children out of the castle hall before I went into the refuge tower, where Isily and Dunselen had set up their household. 

There were a lot of children, according to Lorcus’ espionage.  Dara’s team was responsible for first securing the unguarded hall in the bailey where the older children were kept, and then removing the younger ones, who were in a nursery chamber off the Great Hall, to the outer hall for safety.  I didn’t want them being used as hostages, nor did I want the innocents to suffer for the crimes of their parents.

I suppose that included me.

Once the Hall was clear of non-combatants, we would proceed to the inner tower.  That’s where the action would be.  That’s where I would have to confront the woman who had caused me, my family, and the realm so much distress.

“From there,” I said, slowly, “the rest of you will be in a support position.  I will enter the tower and seek out Isily.  You will fall in behind and secure the tower, but you are not to engage Isily or Dunselen if you encounter them.  Any other adult you are to consider a foe, and treat them accordingly.  I’d prefer prisoners to corpses, for the record, but I’m not feeling too particular at the moment.”

“Well said,” nodded Lanse.  “This is not the time for weak hearts.  If there is a threat, you eliminate it.”  He looked particularly at Tyndal and Rondal, for some reason.  I guessed there was a story behind that.

“And what about you, Minalan?” asked Pentandra, pointedly.  “Will you be up to the challenge of defeating her without your Witchsphere?”

I hefted Blizzard.  “If our plan goes well, then that shouldn’t be an impediment.”

“The problem is we have no real idea what defenses she’s concocted,” Pentandra fumed.  “That tower is highly resistant to accurate scrying, for some reason.  She’s a clever one, Isily.  And sneaky.  Even back at Alar, before she studied Shadowmagic, she always seemed like she was up to something.  You had to watch her.”

“She’s been working with the Alka Alon renegades, so a great many things are possible.  Lady Mask was unable to provide me with details about her defenses, save that she was skeptical of them.  Our best advantage is the fact that she gave birth a few days ago, and is likely still recovering.  It’s my hope that we encounter a near-invalid, in there.”

“What about Dunselen?” asked Alya, concerned. “Wasn’t he one of the first High Magi?”

“Technically,” I snorted.  “He never trained in warmagic.  He’s a bureaucrat and an academic, not a real threat.  But if he feels cornered, he could have some nasty surprises.  I’m sure he’s learned a few things since he started hiring warmagi.  And married a Shadowmage.  So be wary.”

As if on cue, the temple bell in the village tolled thrice, as the monk began his morning prayers.

“That’s our signal,” I sighed.  “Everyone get to your places.  I hereby declare Baroness Isily and Baron Dunselen in violation of their oaths to me upon accepting their witchstones.  I will be taking them back.  Do you all pledge to aid me in this task with your lives, as you agreed by oath to me, until judgement is rendered and justice done?”

“Aye!”  “Yes!”
they all assented. 

Including Alya.  I had tried to dissuade her from being there, but she had insisted . . . and I did not have the moral ground to resist.  By the time she was present, all of the fighting should be over.  I could not deprive her of the opportunity to speak directly to the source of her disquiet.

“Then let’s begin.  And thank you all for your assistance.  It shall not be forgotten.”

*

*

“Their defenses are down,” Pentandra said, after everyone was in position.  “Mask was right.  They were laughable.  I have my own in place, now.  No one will leave the bailey without my notice.  They’re ready to deal with the sentries and guards, now.”  That was Lorcus’ job.  He had some kind of wide-area soporific spell that would knock out the men who walked the walls at dawn, and who guarded the gatehouse.  Bendonal and Tyndal would take care of any that escaped its effects.

“This is kind of exciting,” Alya confided to me, shivering a bit, as she watched the magemaps and studied the representation Lance had left behind for us.

“It’s more exciting out there,” I agreed.  “I’m glad you’re not in danger.  I won’t let anything happen to you,” I promised.

“I’m here of my own volition, as Baroness of Sevendor,” she reminded me.  “Not to mention the wife of a wronged husband.  I’m willing to let the experts deal with her defenses.  But I have a right to confront her.  I am exercising it,” she said, her tone deadly serious.  “I intend to show her how a Minden’s wife takes a predatory hussy out to the Luck Tree,” she said, her voice dripping with venom. 

Luckily the battle interrupted before I was forced to comment.  “The sentries are down,” Pentandra reported.  “Rondal reports the gatehouse is secure.  The first and second squads are heading for their targets.”

For Lorcus’ team, that meant securing the great doors to the hall, which would be opened to facilitate the change of shift at dawn. The second team reported to me, to keep there from being any communication entanglements.  Pentandra explained that she used her apprentice for such secondary duties in Vorone. She was coordinating the effort from here in the stable, and was doing an expert job.  She’d been practicing on the Vorone underworld.

Master, we’ve secured the outer hall,
Dara reported, less than ten minutes later. 
There are over a dozen kids here, and three very scared nurses.  No guards.

Keep your position until the Great Hall is secured,
I ordered. 

“Dara has captured the outer hall,” I told Pentandra.  She nodded absently.

“Lorcus’ squadron is engaging the warmagi,” she reported, while her eyes were still closed in communication.  “Sir Festaran’s squadron is on watch of the outer tower.”  The mage-knight’s duty was to keep them there.  He had a few of our hired warmagi to help.  If they got into trouble then they could be supported, but their job was simply to keep Dunselen’s reinforcements from engaging.

This was a risky part.  Four High warmagi against four un-augmented warmagi.

Only they weren’t un-augmented.  “Rondal reports the warmagi have witchstones!” Pentandra said, her voice tense.  “Things are getting rough in there.”

“Do they need assistance?” I asked, clasping Blizzard to me.

“They have things in hand . . . bide . . .” she said, her eyes still closed.  Time dragged interminably.  I imagined all sorts of spectacular scenarios.  I was tempted to scry the site myself, to witness what was happening, but I resisted.  One of the difficult things to learn about command is trusting your people to do what they are supposed to.  My job wasn’t to watch, it was to wait.

Finally Pentandra’s eyes opened.  “They have secured the hall.  Rondal is hurt, but not seriously.  Tell Dara to move to the Great Hall and start escorting the non-combatants out.”

I did just that.  And then I waited again.  It seemed to take forever.  Alya held my hand tightly, and gave me some reassuring words.  That helped.