High Mage: Book Five Of The Spellmonger Series (70 page)

The sensation of speed was novel.  Apart from cavalry charges or riding a horse at a gallop, I’d never gone as fast as I did on the back of that big gaudy barge.  I could feel the cold wind in my hair as we moved, we went so fast.  It was exciting.  And the scenery was gorgeous.  Gilmora was just beginning to burst with greenery with the spring thaw, and trees were filling their branches with verdant foliage.  A wet, earthy smell permeated the air, part rain and part river.  When we called a four-hour halt that night, we had traveled well over a hundred  miles.  

“Camp” was a couple of fires sufficient to cook with and some naps in the barge.  Food was basic, some stew and some biscuit, for those who weren’t too busy sleeping.  To be honest, most of us had grabbed naps while we rode, and some had slept the whole way, but sleeping when there’s no sensation of movement is more restful. 

The dogs got fed, too, huge slabs of beef and mutton we’d procured for the trip and I’d stored in magical pockets.  The giant curs wolfed down the raw meat greedily.  A few warmagi went among them and cast spells on their aching paws.  By midnight they had caught their breath and were ready to push on.

We didn’t stop again until dawn, which found us two hundred miles upriver and out of Gilmora, by the map.  The Poros had narrowed by a third, at that point, and the stain of the goblin army’s passing now covered the icy river from bank to bank.

“I can’t believe they froze it solid,” Taren said, shaking his head.  “I suppose they had to, to bear the weight of all of those worms.  Have you seen the size of their droppings?  They have to weigh tons!  Freezing the surface, even for a few feet, wouldn’t have supported that.  The power they’re expending on this spell is just unimaginable!”

“Some of it is coming from sacrificed human slaves,” I reminded him.  “The sooner we can counter it, the slower they’ll be slitting throats in the Umbra.”

He made a face.  “You sure know how to take the intellectual intrigue out of something, don’t you?”

“I’m impressed, too,” I admitted.  “It was clever, it was subtle, and it was simple.  I’ll be more impressed when I’m looking back on this day as an old man, talking about how we defeated it.  How is our progress on that?”

“It’s coming along,” he agreed, cautiously.  “We’ve identified the location of the device they used.  It is, unfortunately, at the bottom of the river.  And they have a guard on it.”

“We can work around that,” I nodded.  “What about countering it?”

“It’s still theoretical,” he sighed.  “Gurvani magic is strange.  We don’t have the same symbolic system.  They’re both derived from Alka Alon magic, technically, but culture plays a large role in how we design our spells.”

I could appreciate that, from an intellectual angle.  If they didn’t find a practical solution, however, this really would become a suicide mission.  “Just find a way,” I pleaded.  “A lot is riding on that horse.”

“I know,” he sighed.  “The good news is I’ve mastered your pocketstone,” he grinned, handing the thing back to me.  I put it into the special pouch I’d made for holding such things.  “It’s fascinating, really unique.  I’ve already thought of a hundred thaumaturgical uses for it!”

“If you think that one was impressive, just wait until you try the big one,” I assured him.  “Making elementals permanent has a real appeal.”  I felt something in my intestines lurch a bit.  “I guess I should take the opportunity for a constitutional and a pipe,” I sighed.  “No telling when we’ll stop next.”

I wandered off into the woods near the river, the bright morning sunshine cutting through the trees that had just decided to start sending out leaves for the spring.  It didn’t take long to find a secluded bush to do my business in, and while I was settling in and lighting my pipe I tried to relax just the smallest bit.

“It’s about time you were alone,” a sharp female voice said, surprising me.  Before I could react, Briga formed herself in the air in front of me.  “I figured you would have enough sense to consult with me more than you have before you started this campaign!”

“I didn’t happen to pass a temple along the way.”  I was suddenly very conscious of my position.  One doesn’t usually address the divine when one is taking a grunt.  “I’ve been preoccupied.  That dream you sent had a lot of details to be worked out.”

She nodded, her perfect red hair glistening.  “I know.  It’s still a long-shot, but you’ve managed to pull it together better than I’d anticipated.”

I grunted and exhaled a stream of smoke.  “I have a habit of making people underestimate me.”

“You are not the only player in the game,” she reminded me, sternly.  “Dragons are attacking the two greatest Alka Alon strongholds in the realm.  Anas Yndrain is holding out, thanks to the valiance of their warriors, but the dragons at Anthatiel have already attacked the gate fortress and are reducing it to rubble.  And that army is only a dozen leagues away.  They could be there in a few days.  I know they got hung up on the Alka Alon’s tricks and traps, but that won’t delay them long.”

“I’m aware of the pressing nature of the engagement,” I answered, a little more sarcastically.  “And I’d hate for us to miss the chance to fight another dragon . . . or three.  But,” I continued, a little more sternly, “if you hadn’t noticed I’ve put thousands of people to work on this and we’ve made significant progress . . . to the point where I’m now taking a crap in the woods instead of a chamberpot because I actually
do
know how pressed for time we are!”

“Good,” she answered, simply.  “See that you make it up the escarpment in the next two days.  Else you will not be able to catch them in time.”

“We’re doing the best we can,” I said through clenched teeth.  I needed to get the focus of the conversation away from her criticisms of my execution of her plan.  It was a little hard to take.  “How do you like being permanent?” I asked, catching her off-guard.

She blinked.  “It’s . . . it’s amazing,” she admitted. “It’s difficult to explain.  When I first incarnate, I go through a short period of disorientation, as if I’m learning what it is to be a goddess for the very first time.  Only now,” she grinned, “when I manifest I recall exactly what and who I am from the first.  Independent existence without the benefit of human agency.  It’s dreamy!”  she smiled.

“But is it useful?” I countered.

“Well, of course!” she agreed.  “I’ve been able to . . . well, there are still limits to what I can do, but I’ve gone ahead and done what I can to facilitate your attack.”

“Actually, we can probably handle the offense,” I reasoned.  “What we really need is help lifting this spell.  We just don’t know enough about gurvani magic, and there’s a lot of interference from the shamans in the area.  Not to mention an army of thirty thousand encamped next to the site.  I’ve got good people working on it, but a little divine intervention might be useful.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” the goddess pledged, thoughtfully.  “I can hang around the magi you have working on it and see how far they’ve gotten.”

“You can do that? Without them noticing?” I asked, surprised.

“Wherever there is flame, I am there,” she quoted from her liturgy.  “It takes some focus and concentration, but it allows me to see . . . well, whatever is lit by fire.”

“That must come in handy,” I nodded, still self-conscious about my position.  And not too certain how I could change it without offending even more profoundly.

“It can be.  It depends on the flame.  That’s why I couldn’t just visit you before now.  When you were alone, it was in darkness or by moonlight.  I needed
that
,” she said, nodding toward my smoldering pipe, “to allow me to manifest.”

“Interesting.  Well, go see if you can spare Pentandra and her crew some divine help.  We’ll be into the Scar Lands soon, and ready to attack the goblin army after that.  It would be nice if that spell was broken by then.  If the dragons have left anything of the city.”

“Don’t underestimate the power of the Alka Alon,” she counseled.  “It is not infinite, nor even the most potent, but it is subtle and clever and powerful.  Dragons are powerful, true, and three of them now battle against the Alka Alon at Anthatiel.  But do not despair.  They may be challenged, but they are not overmatched.”

“If the gods favor them,” I said, automatically. It was just an expression.  But I hadn’t counted on my company.

“We mostly do,” Briga agreed.  “Only a few of us hold grudges from the old days.  In fact, when this is over, you may wish to consider applying your stone’s magic to them,” she said, cautiously.  A goddess was concerned with irritating me.  While I took a crap.  My personal universe was getting stranger and stranger.

“It is certainly something worth investigating,” I said, diplomatically.  “If I survive this battle, and depending on its outcome, bringing order to the universe should be a bowl of porridge,” I quipped.

“Understood, Minalan.  My blessings upon you.”  She faded from existence as I tried to respond.  I sighed and realized I had just, for all practical purposes, taken a holy crap.  It seemed fitting.

*                            *                            *

The second day of travel saw the river narrow significantly.  It was still wide enough for the barges, but they could no longer pass each other easily on the ice.  We were also coming to the first major frozen cataract along the edge of the escarpment that led into the foothills that led into the much wilder country of the Alshari Wilderlands – the Scar Lands.  Human habitations had already begun to thin, both in density and in number, as we went further upriver.

But the villages and cots had not been spared the torch.  The gurvani army had pillaged along both sides of the river as they had traveled.  The wooden palisades that stood for protection in this corner of the kingdom were easy prey for the siege worms, and once the wooden walls were breeched there was no defending against the sheer number of gurvani.  Those who tried paid the price, and had their corpses featured in one of the goblins’ gruesome works of art.

That first cataract, at Houndsfell, marked the end of easily-navigable waters on the river, in normal times.  As a result, the trade that continued to the provincial domains even further up river were serviced by a smaller class of boat, and the town’s economy there was largely structured around shifting the freight from the lower part of the river to the upper, or back again.

The goblins had not waited for the service.  They razed the town, butchered the inhabitants (including devouring two entire burrows of Tal Alon) and continued on their icy road with barely a pause to digest.  The siege worms had no difficulty climbing over the rocks and boulders in their way, although some of their great carts had to be pulled overland.

Nor had they left it unguarded, else it had become a haven for deserters.  Several score gurvani infantry of the poorest sort attempted to attack our barge as it came into the frozen wharf.  The warmagi responded, and within minutes there was not a living goblin in sight.  My arcane warriors had become more and more proficient in dealing out death at the point of a wand in the few years they’d had their witchstones. 

We did face a dilemma, however: how to get our barges over the road, around the boulders, and onto the upper portion of the river.  It turned out that Taren had anticipated the problem, and with the help of the pocketstone, he had hit upon an elegant solution.

After evacuating our barge to the last man,  he took the weirwood rod he’d been working on and cast a spell . . . and the barge disappeared.

Then he walked up the steps, through the ruined town and to the wharf on the upper end of the river.  With a few more words he caused the barge to reappear, intact, upon the ice.  The river was actually quite wide, before the falls narrowed it again.  We pushed the barge upriver and made camp in the ruins of an unfortunate inn while we waited for the rest of the barges to be likewise transferred.  It would take some time, and the dogs needed a few hours of rest anyway.

It was an impressive bit of enchantment, and everyone was effusive with praise with the young thaumaturge, which took him by surprise.  Even Onranion was impressed by it, and immediately launched into a discussion with the man about the theory, after Taren taught the spell to Sarakeem and let the archer do the transportation.  It took several hours to transfer them all, but we needed to rest, anyway.  Nightfall was coming.

As much as a bedroll in nonmoving, unvibrating solid ground appealed to me, I had to spend the time staying appraised of the situation, ahead and behind us.

Ahead of us Captain Arborn had detailed swift-moving scouts to reconnoiter the territory ahead, abetted by scrying.  In addition, the falcons were able to cover a tremendous amount of territory, and were instrumental at picking out goblin stragglers or patrols.  There were still raiding parties spreading out and looting the isolated manors and farmsteads in this remote region. This was the beginning of the Alshari Wilderlands, and they had a ways to go between each settlement.  Roads were poor and so were the hamlets they encountered.  They seemed to be ignoring the river from which they’d arrived, however, so we left them to their pillage.  Our fight was with the main army.

And the dragons.

That was the disturbing part of that evening’s report.  The three dragons attacking Anthatiel had been focused on destroying the gates and wrecking the beautiful residences along the cliffs and shorelines.
When they ventured too near the city, proper, however, they were pelted with magic that they could not ignore.