High Mage: Book Five Of The Spellmonger Series (68 page)

I surveyed the brave men of the Bontal who had enlisted to my service.  I had them called to order and walked through the rows, inspecting them, seeing some familiar faces and a few new.  And one that was quite familiar.

“Sir Ryff?” I asked, surprised to see the knight in full battle dress. 

“Aye, Magelord?” he asked, curious.

“What brings you on this journey?  I thought your duties were keeping you here.”

“It was Sir Ranlei’s turn to stand for duty,” he explained.  “I thought you could use an extra hand.”

“Me and the Lady Fallawen,” I supplied.  The young knight blushed but said nothing.  “Glad to have you,” I added, clapping him on the shoulder and moving on.

When all were ready, I had Lady Varen begin the songspell.  It was a fraction of the army the Alka Alon had moved through the waypoints last year – two years ago? at Cambrian.  And no horses.  She still strained, but after the feeling of being hurled through reality ceased, we came to rest in Gilmora, outside of Gavard Castle.  Once we’d recovered, we began the short walk to the fort.

There were plenty more troops awaiting us when we arrived.  Wenek brought a wild looking troop of hillmen from the Pearwoods, including a few semibarbaric warmagi he’d been cultivating.  Astryal brought nearly every spark in Tudry down , with Lady Varen’s help, through the waypoints.  And Azar appeared with what must have been every warmage left in the Penumbra.  Taren arrived from Wenshar with another few. 

All were camped out in the bailey in tournament pavilions.  I was greeted a hundred times before I made it to the door of the Great Hall where Pentandra, Arborn, and Terleman were waiting.  Penny had escorted the noncombatants of the magical corps here from their complex.  After they had dealt with the marauders in their region, there was precious little else for them to do. 

But I had a job for them.  According to my divinely-inspired plan, I had jobs for them all.

“More troops?” Terleman asked, as my men marched by.

“I figured a few more wouldn’t hurt,” I shrugged.  “They aren’t being paid by the crown’s coin.  They’re my men, they’re loyal.  And tough.  All volunteers,” I said, proudly.

“I, too, brought more men,” Arborn said, quietly.  “The elders at Kasar agreed the need was great enough.  A thousand rangers will arrive by morning.”

Pentandra looked thrilled.  It did, of course, make my three hundred seem inadequate.  But Arborn could have showed up with a couple of drunken Tal and she would have approved.  Penny loses all sense of perspective when she likes a man.

“Everyone else is here, save Fallawen and Ithalia,” she explained.  “And I mean everyone.  Over a hundred and thirty High Magi.”

That was about how many I had started with.  “I brought a few more.  Have them gather tonight after dinner in the Great Hall.  I’ll address them and explain our battle plan.”

“Good,” Terleman nodded curtly.  “Rard has been asking for updates.  And asking suspicious-sounding questions.  He’s under the impression that we might be . . . up to something.  I’ve been stalling him.  Telling him about the clean-up work, and the pursuit of the remaining large forces in Gilmora and generally bullshitting him to keep him quiet.“

“He’s had help with that,” Pentandra agreed.  “Count Salgo.  He doesn’t want to see any royal troops go with you either, but he’s happy to support us in this . . . whatever this is.”

“An independent military adventure,” I decided.  “Emphasis on the adventure.  We are not acting as agents of the King or representing the kingdom.  We are acting as agents—”

“Save it for the crowd,” Pentandra said, holding up a hand.  “I think I want to be surprised.”

“I’ll be surprised if it bloody works at all,” I muttered.  “I’m wondering if we aren’t preparing for a disaster.”

“Disaster or not, at least you’re doing something,” Terleman agreed, expressively.  “It kills me to sit here and know there are gurvani a few miles north of the river, and we’re forbidden to go after them.  And the army up the Poros is wrecking everything in sight on their way to that lake town.”

“Anthatiel,” I nodded.  “It’s utterly gorgeous.  Literally.  Makes Carneduin look like a hamlet.  But it will be very, very difficult to get to.”

“That’s what we’re counting on, I suppose,” Terleman mused. 

And we were.  After dinner that night, after everyone had gotten settled in, I had the High Magi congregate in the Great Hall along with the captains and military commanders who had volunteered to make the journey.

I looked around at a sea of faces, most of which I knew.  A few I knew intimately.  I found a sturdy trestle near the fire and stood upon it, amplifying my voice with magic so that all could hear.

“My . . . friends.  My colleagues.  My fellow professionals.  I have summoned you here tonight because our kingdom has great need of magic, and we are the ones responsible for providing it.  We prepared a stout defense here, and it was bypassed.  We prepared for a great slaughter in Gilmora, but ended up chasing wild dogs instead.  While some see this as a gift from the gods, the fact remains that the army we thought was destined for here has another target.

“Now Shereul sets his ambitions on no less than one of the greatest citadels of the Alka Alon.  A great and powerful fortress, high in the mountains, surrounded by a lake . . . which is now frozen over.  Their gates are frozen open.  Their defense is nullified.  They plan to mount as brisk a defense as they can – and it will be stout – but there is a limit to what even the Alka Alon can do against such sorcery as Shereul directs at them.

“I have taken council with the Alka Alon elders, and they will fight for Anthatiel.  As much as they are able.  But even if the gods favor them, there is little hope that they will be able to repel such a force as is arrayed against them.  Things are that dire.

“So what hope do we, mere humani, have against the gurvani when the mighty Alka Alon may fail?  We have our ingenuity.  Our dedication.  Our ferocity.  And with that we have a chance against a foe much larger than we are.

“There will be three groups,” I announced, pacing across the long table to be heard by all.  “The largest will journey up the river to pursue the gurvani main army.

“The second will be the non-combatants.  They will have the task of breaking Shereul’s spell on the Poros . . . at the proper time. 

“The third will be a special combat unit dedicated to doing what is needed by the noncombatant magi to secure the spell.  If we work in coordination, then our efforts should be fruitful.  How and why, I do not wish to share at this time.  There is a lot that could go wrong with this plan, so much that I feel that revealing it in its entirety might do more harm than good.  It’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s that we don’t have a lot of time and I don’t need to spend it explaining my reasoning.

“Now,” I continued, pointing to Terleman, “Commander Terleman has your assignments.  The first group will leave at first light in the morn.  If you are on that list, prepare yourself accordingly.  The second and third groups will begin working on the problem of the freezing spell, once we are underway.  That part of the plan is instrumental.  Now, any questions?”

Dozens of hands went up.  I picked one at random.

“How are we supposed to counter the freezing spell?” one young mage asked, worriedly.

“I have no idea,” I admitted.  “But it can be done.  Lady Varen will coordinate the effort, and Pentandra will command those magi.  How they do it is up to them.  When they do it is up to me.  You,” I said, moving on to the next convenient hand.

“How are we getting up the Poros?  I don’t feel inclined to walk that way,” another mage said with feeling.

“I’ve arranged transportation,” I soothed.  “It will be here in the morning.  Next?”

“Why isn’t the Royal army coming?”

“How are we going to get through that rough country?  I’ve been to western Alshar, it’s hard!”

“How many gurvani are really in that column?  And worms?  And trolls?”

“Why can’t we just hire more mercenaries?”

“Why do the Alka Alon need our help?  I thought they were the powerful ones!”

“Assuming we actually make it to this fanciful city alive, what the hells are we supposed to do then?”

The questions kept coming, and I answered dozens before they finally died out.  People were nodding.  They seemed to understand our priorities, our targets, and our responsibilities.  I didn’t see a lot of eagerness on anyone’s part, but then I didn’t see a lot of reluctance, either.  In fact, there was a noticeable shift in the mood of the magical corps.  Most of these warmagi had come here expecting to be fighting for their lives against overwhelming odds . . . defensively, over a bridge.  At Timberwatch, at Cabrian we had been fighting a defensive battle, and this one promised the offense. 

It made a difference.  The shift in the mood encouraged the enthusiasm, even among the non-combatant magi who would stay behind and try to figure out how to counter the spell. 

The group who had been selected to attack and execute the plan against the spell was particularly eager.  I realized myself that my perspective on the battle had changed.  I wasn’t a valiant defender, this time around, my role was belligerent aggressor . . . and I found it suited my mood.

“Let’s get some sleep,” I encouraged, as the night bell tolled.  “We have mighty things to do in the morning.”

*                            *                            *

Things started to come together at dawn the next morning when a thousand Kasari rangers rode in.  They had been on the road for days, summoned by their elders to assist us.  Each one was a raptor, whatever that meant, and each was used to spending months at a time in the wilderness.  They were doughty and capable, and their discipline was a lesson to the soldiers of the garrison.  Rank after rank of stern, green-cloaked rangers stood at attention for Captain Arborn’s inspection.  Together with the original group of rangers the Kasari made up the largest single unit.  Grim-faced, dour-handed, these men were the backbone of the force.

With them were a thousand rough-and-tumble volunteers.  Most had come from mercenary infantry units or had reputations for experience, or were personal guards, like my Sevendori.  Among them were a few score remnants of the 2
nd
Royal Commando, stragglers who had not been caught in the slaughter.  They had rallied at Gavard around their warmage, and Count Salgo had made a point of paying the maintenance of the shard of a unit.  When the call went out for volunteers, and the Count reluctantly told them that they were ineligible due to their affiliation, the remnant resigned their commission on the spot, as a group.  They wanted vengeance, and this expedition was their most expedient route to that goal.

And then there was the magical corps.  The High Warmagi going represented the most powerful human magi in centuries, and most had been fighting for years.  Their sophistication with their stones had grown.  Their weaponry and armor had improved.  And their skills were at their peak.  Among them were many of my friends and colleagues: Sire Cei, my apprentices, Sir Festaran and Lorcus; Azar, Astryal, Carmella (who had left her pointless defensive work in Gilmora to act as our chief engineer), Thinradel, Lanse, Landrick Taren, Bendonal the Outlaw, Forandal of Robinwing, Wenek of the Pearwoods, Alscot the Fair, and of course Terleman commanding them, resplendent in dark blue armor and cloak, his expensive helmet making him look the captain he was.  Even Master Cormoran, aged as he was, had elected to come along with his apprentices.  He was an enchanter and a swordmaker as much as a warmage, but he had seen a lot of battlefields in his time.  He did not want to be left out of this adventure.  And I think he wanted to see legendary Anthatiel.

Lastly were the Alka Alon.  There were hundreds who were gathering at their encampment, transgenically enchanting themselves into humanish forms, and arming themselves for war.  For most this was a novel enterprise, and Onranion had to take charge and give some basic instruction.  The mood around the camp had turned tense.  Many had been in smaller refuges, as the larger Alkan settlements were guarded, now, with the serious threat of war.

Man for man, they were the most dangerous human beings I’d been able to assemble in the time allotted.  All things considered, I decided I’d done fairly well.  I’d only needed the assistance of one god.

Of course, gathering this powerful but small army together was only the first part of the plan.  Getting them up the icy Poros and into battle was the hard second part.  The goblins had been force-marching, day and night, according to our scouts and scrying.  Their siege worms pulled massive wains and great loads tirelessly up the river, and as the individual gurvani were exhausted they rested in them while the march went on.  Then they would resume walking while their fellows rested. 

The pace was slow but relentless.  They had moved hundreds of miles upriver while we had been figuring out what to do.  They were only a few days from the first ascent of the escarpment that led to the Land of Scars in western Alshar.  We had a lot of catching up to do.

Our advantage was our size.  They had to move a hundred thousand.  I had to move three thousand.  The temptation to use the Alkan waypoints was strong, but practically speaking it was nearly impossible to move that many folk through them without starting from Sevendor and using a lot of power.  Besides, there were other reasons for taking the long road.