Lesson of the Fire (16 page)

Chapter 13

“
Yellow is for Mobility. Mobility is
employed to increase or decrease speed and perceptions. It is
essential to travel in Marrishland, and it is also a prime
component of all forms of teleportation.”

— Nightfire Tradition,

Nightfire’s Magical Primer

Marrishland is a huge country, almost a
continent in itself. At its widest, it is more than fifteen hundred
miles across. It is attached to the main continent by a
three-hundred-mile long, steeply sloping mile-high cliff. It is
climbable, but like any travel in Marrishland, it takes a day to
traverse, and a traveler has to carry plenty of fresh water with
him.

Water itself is not the issue in
Marrishland. There is water everywhere. Water rises from
Seruvus-knows-where all along the northeast cliffs and generally
flows southwest to the Huinsian Bay and the ocean to the west.
Occasionally, it twists back on itself and empties off the
northwest coast. But, as a rule, the rivers flow southwest.

Calling them “rivers” is a misnomer, too,
and the word has bred a whole subculture among the Mar: mapmakers.
The average lifespan of a mapmaker is a little more than two days
after his first attempt to chart the rivers of Marrishland. There
is a lot of danger associated with traveling the known swamps to
begin with, let alone heading by oneself out into the unknown
swamps.

The muddy water of Marrishland is filled
with every imaginable aspect of Dinah’s Curse, which in simple
terms is a hundred horrible strains of sickness, easily preventable
by boiling the water. As well, the water is rife with leeches,
mosquitoes, stinging spiders, poisonous snakes, suckmud willow
creepers and, of course, konig worms, which are tiny worms that
burrow into flesh and reproduce. If they lay their eggs in a Mar’s
bloodstream, death is not far behind. Not even a wizard can save
someone whose blood is infested with konig worm eggs. It is no
safer on drier land, because Drakes roam everywhere. They come in
all shapes and sizes, and are all intelligent enough to band
together, to follow a leader or to attack at the best possible
moment.

It has been said of Mar rivers that they
merely travel overland, sometimes settling in a long puddle, other
times seeping through the clay of a grassy hill. The Mar themselves
note this only insofar as the stream’s cross-country trek might
evict them from their town because the community has been built
upon a rise of land that the water is slowly sucking into the soft
mud of the swamp.

Enter mapmakers — every year, the rivers
change course, and every mapmaker goes out to remake the maps that
exist. Every year, mapmakers die by the score because of some
foolishness. A Mar joke goes: After the mapmaker got married, he
couldn’t stay inside any longer, so he ran into the swamp without
his boots.

Outside of Marrishland, people laugh at the
concept of a Mar joke.

With the lack of accurate maps, the sheer
size of Marrishland and the dangers associated with travel, moving
an army the almost one hundred miles from Piljerka Palus to the
chosen site of battle took more than six spans.

* * *

Cyan-garbed Hallgerd Steln had been put in
charge of the Piljerka army when it had left the city. Her orders
had been direct: “Destroy the invading Drake force.” Now she and
her two ranking commanders — the other cyans in the army — stood in
a tent and watched the reconnaissance stone with fixed smiles on
their faces as rain poured outside on twelve hundred greens and
auburns.

She pointed to a patch south and west on the
stone, a magical map of the area devised by Mardux Takraf.

“What’s this?”

Weard Flosi Recht squinted at it, brushing
his gray hair over his bald spot. “A wild rice field, I think. See,
these two towns would share it.”

“We will make the battle there. Weard Nacht,
gather a hundred wizards and direct the Drakes to meet us
there.”

“What was that?” Bert Nacht said, wiping his
nose with his sleeve. “You said take one hundred and lead forty
thousand Drakes to a rice field?”

“Yes, Weard Nacht. Did you not hear me?”

Bert shook his head. “But that’s a whole lot
of Drakes.”

Flosi laughed. “You will only be able to see
maybe a hundred at a time. Look at our army. I am not even sure
where it ends.”

Bert squinted at the reconnaissance stone.
“Most of it is east of us.”

Hallgerd took a deep breath. “They are just
gobbels, Weard Nacht. What harm can they do you and a hundred
wizards? All you need to do is distract them enough so they chase
you.”

“They move faster then we do.”

“That is because we are twelve hundred
city-dwelling, road-building Mar, and not forty thousand
swamp-living, mud-eating gobbels,” Flosi said.

“If you are not confident in this task,”
Hallgerd said, “I will send Weard Recht in your place.”

Bert’s face turned red. “I will do it.” He
still sounded uncertain, though.

“Then go! Go!” Hallgerd shoved the two men
out of the tent. “We meet there in five days, yes? Go! If they do
not attack us, we will assume the worst.”

Bert slogged briskly through the mud on his
way to the front line. He only fell twice before he was out of
earshot.

“You scared him, Weard Steln,” Flosi
commented.

“He had better be scared,” she hissed. “If
those Drakes get by us, who knows what havoc they will wreak on the
countryside?”

“They haven’t touched anything so far.”

“Shut up, old man. Get everyone moving to
that rice field.”

“Yes, Weard Steln.” But Flosi’s grin reached
both his ears as he used his walking stick to push into the
crowd.

* * *

The clearing was a portrait of Mar
agriculture — a waterlogged field green with wild rice shoots. The
plants stuck out several inches from the foot-deep water as though
in contempt of Seruvus. The crops were not arranged in neat rows,
but scattered helter-skelter over the whole area. In some parts of
the field, where the water was too deep or too shallow, very little
green grew. But in those areas where water depth and nutrients were
particularly favorable to the plants’ growth, the wild rice grew so
thick it looked like an island of green in the grayish-brown water
of the swamps.

Wild rice was as prolific as any of Cedar’s
creations, and harvest took place on a first-come-first-serve
basis. An early arrival ate tough seeds, and a tardy farmer would
find his portion harvested already. Sometimes the seeds dropped
early, and the farmers were forced to rely upon their skills as
hunters and foragers for a few months.

Twelve hundred wizards tramped across the
field, their thick leather boots and magic working in concert to
keep their legs dry and free from Dinah’s Curse.

The first hundred wizards filled the
clearing. As the rest began to flow around the first hundred,
Hallgerd realized her misjudgment. The wizards had assumed a ragged
circle with several dozen smug, well-protected first-degrees at its
center, and that would not do.

It took two days to stretch the army out
into a ragged curve several Mar deep.

During that time, the two towns that used
the field sent parties to watch the bright ribbon of milling
wizards and offer them gifts of food and thanks for their
protection — beneath shaded eyes that spoke volumes about the death
of the field and the insolence of the city wizards.

Flosi reported to Hallgerd.

“Weard Nacht has corresponded with me. He
says the Drakes are headed this way. It appears the size of our
force was enough to draw their attention.”

“When?”

“Two more nights.”

“Good.”

“Why did the mapmaker run away from the wild
rice field?”

“Why?”

“Because it looked so safe, he was certain
it must be infested by powerful Drakes.”

Hallgerd smiled.

“I’ve always heard it as ‘because it had
already been discovered.’”

The older wizard laughed. “There must be a
hundred variations on that one. I’ve also heard it as ‘because it
looked like there was work to be done.’”

“Among the mundanes on our border with
Flasten, it is ‘because Drakes only eat their victims.’” The
emphasis was on the action.

Flosi frowned. “They only eat them?”

Hallgerd smirked. “As opposed to kidnapping
them and pressing them into slavery, I think. They don’t have a
very high opinion of magocrats out there.”

Flosi grunted. “Let’s see them fight the
gobbel army then.”

Two days.
The wizards held their line for two hours, and
then quietly broke rank.

It began as a soft murmur of small talk and
rose to a series of introductions. This line of conversation
quickly evolved into a discussion of favorite books and scholars.
Soon, the wizards had broken off into small groups to heatedly
debate topics of mutual interest with their peers.

Greybeards and tender youths fresh out of
the academies alike made the best of a bad situation by trying to
learn something interesting from their companions. They exchanged
spells and told stories about their conquests and misadventures
like mundanes at a rustic wedding. In speaking with some of them,
Hallgerd learned that for many, this was their first time out of
the city. Many were excited to see a live Drake for the first
time.

Early on the second day, Bert returned,
breathing hard.

“Well?”

He brushed leaves off his cloak and took a
deep breath.

“They are maybe an hour behind us.”

At last, Hallgerd decided it was time to
choose a battle plan. Giving orders to Bert’s hundred, she bade
them spread the message.

“Good weards. Here is the plan: The gobbels
will have to cross the field to reach us. Our goal is to kill as
many of them as possible. They are not armed with bows, so we can
afford to delay our attack until they come within javelin range.
The wizards in the front rows will strike the enemy column’s rear
while those at our back will attack the Drakes’ first ranks.”

Hallgerd paused to consider whether further
planning was necessary.

Drakes cannot use magic, so the wizards can
easily annihilate them without meeting them hand to hand.
Therefore, we do not need to designate healers.

“That will be all.” She smiled knowingly.
“You may go back to your conversations now.”

* * *

The sun was in the gobbels’ eyes, but it was
an advantage lost to the army of wizards as dark shapes began to
appear between the trees. They appeared one or two at a time, but
soon there were thousands facing the wizards.

Hallgerd tried to admire the gobbels’
discipline, but her breath caught.

“So that’s what we look like,” she breathed.
Bert jittered at her side.

“If that’s what we look like, then where are
the rest of them?” Flosi asked, taking a few steps back.

Hallgerd calculated.

“They will only line up as wide as the
field. In fact, they are probably not much wider than we can see
and must stretch back deeper. Order the wings to move in range.”
The command went down the line, and greens edged forward into the
unknown.

Something seemed wrong about the
picture.

“Why are they holding twigs?” Bert said
after a moment. “Where are their spears?”

At that moment, a messenger reached the
commanders. “From the south, magic from the Drakes,” the man said,
a touch confused. “I’m sure this got messed up in the relay. I’ll
ask for a resend.”

Then the gobbels lifted their arms to a loud
cry, and the world exploded in flames.

As the wall of fire was quenched by the pond
in the middle of the field, Flosi raised his voice to speak over
the murmurs from the wizards, who at this point grudgingly resumed
their ranks.

“That was magic!”

“It came from the twigs,” Bert said.

“How can you be sure?” Hallgerd asked.

“They all lifted their arms and waved the
twigs at us. Drakes cannot use magic, so ...”

There were shouts from the south, and with a
loud rustling noise, wizards appeared and started streaming past
them. Hallgerd grabbed one by the arm.

“They are advancing!” Bert shouted.

“What is going on here?” Hallgerd asked the
man she held.

“Fire at one hundred forty yards!” Flosi
ordered. Wizards held their ground, but many squirmed uneasily at
those running recklessly behind them, often tripping over their
bright-colored cloaks.

The man’s eyes were wide. “A thousand came
from behind as we moved the wing forward and north. They struck us
with twigs ... Energy. They have magic, weard. We cannot defeat
them.” He twisted free of her arm and ran.

Hallgerd looked at Flosi with fear in her
eyes.

“Fire,” she whispered.

“They are well out of range,” the older
wizard said.

“They have stopped!” Bert shouted.

“They are too far away,” Flosi repeated.

“Fire anyway! Boost the damn spells!”

The gobbels raised the twigs again at a
harsh order, and when the world became flame, people started
screaming.

“Engage!” Hallgerd shouted until she was
hoarse, but the ranks were fraught with confusion.

Mar fell and did not rise. Their companions
were too distracted to bother healing them. Steam from burning
bodies quenched in the water of the field filled the air.

“I can’t see!” Hallgerd cried, rushing about
until she slammed into a tree.

“We need to retreat!” Flosi shouted as he
helped her to her feet.

“We can’t retreat!” A boom
as a fresh wave of fire engulfed the front line, less than ten
yards in front of them.
If the Drakes take
twenty paces forward ...
“If we retreat,
the Drakes will be able to make it to the road!”