Twixt Heaven And Hell (20 page)

"The soldiers? A matter of minutes, sir. I've had them all moved to a set of barracks nearby. Beg your pardon, I had the buildings reserved for our use – gave the orders in your name."

"No pardon needed, Robert, that was excellently done," Darius nodded approvingly. "Send somebody to gather them up."

Chapter Twenty-Three

The horns brought Draman awake in an instant. The barest of moments passed while he listened to the sounds around him. No clash of steel, nor cries of battle. No sneak attack then.

A moment later the twilight was lit with bright orange firelight, visible even through the canvas walls of his tent. It had begun.

Draman rose and took his blade from where it had lay by his side as he slept, buckling it around him even as he stood. By order he had slept in his armor, as had every soldier in every garrison in the valley. His body forgot the dullness of waking in a moment as he rushed to the door of his tent. He emerged into near-darkness. The glow of the sun was off to the west, telling Draman it was dusk, not dawn.

Around him was a veritable storm of preparation, as five thousand men rushed to gather along with their comrades. Officers shouted orders while the wizards stood calmly aside, awaiting the soldiers who would fight beside them.

Draman joined his voice to the others. As a captain of Bastion, he commanded over a thousand men, ten groups each of one hundred with an experienced sergeant at their head. For this battle however, changes had been made. He would command half of his men, while his lieutenant took the other half. This would allow them to respond to more threats at any time in a fashion much like Darius did with his Gryphons – favoring mobility over mass. As many of the groups as possible would be escorting a wizard. The others would have to simply fall upon the enemy as they arrived, trusting in surprise to give them the advantage.

Draman knew there were likely to be fearsome casualties in some of those groups, and was thankful that he did not have to face any sorcerers without a wizard to occupy the bastards' minds.

Soon, Draman had his soldiers assembled in the growing shadows. As stars began to twinkle overhead, Draman turned his gruff, scarred face onto them and raised his voice over the din.

"Here it is! It's time to take some revenge for the lads of Nebeth! And Fist! And Andreth!"

The last was spoken with great fervor. Draman's own son was at Andreth, trapped by the Enemy, but not without hope. The captain held onto that.

"Get ready to move fast! Soon as we spot a spell close enough, we run towards it fast as we can manage. Then Wizard Harr gives them a treat."

He looked to the wizard, a man not seemingly much older than some of his men; dressed in gray robes that made the old soldier wonder how fast they could go without leaving the wizard behind.

Harr spoke. "We'll approach to a goodly distance, and you will wait while I use the spell. We cannot be too close – anything near the far door when I complete the counterspell will be destroyed."

Good. Dead men don't hit very hard, Draman thought.

While they spoke, more of the columns were blazing into angry existence. None seemed close enough to catch the wizard's attention. Soldiers from the other camps and forts would handle them.

Another spear of fire hit, much closer than the others. Draman looked at the wizard, who nodded even as he began to move. The soldiers quickly followed.

It took them only a few minutes to reach sight of the incursion, cresting a small rise in the rolling terrain. The sun's radiance was usurped by a pretender upon the earth – as full of horror as the sun was cheer. The enemy warriors spewing from the burning sphere cast strange and terrible shadows across the grass, growing ever more frightful in the dying light of day.

Wizard Harr halted the tightly packed group at the top of the rise, and then motioned for them to move back and out of sight. Nodding to Draman, the wizard strode to the top of the fold. The captain turned to his men. "He's at his work now. We attack once he's finished – and we'll know exactly when that is," the captain said with a wide grin. He himself had no idea what that meant. He was merely repeating the words of the general who had given him his orders, who no doubt was repeating the words of a wizard.

Somewhere back up the line, somebody actually knew what they were saying – that was what a commander had to trust in.

He marked thirty heartbeats, kneeling there in the damp grass. His calm count was interrupted by a blast like thunder that shook the earth beneath him. The glow of fire intensified, then disappeared all at once. A scant moment of absolute silence was broken quickly by shouts of alarm and the cries of dying men from beyond the hill – the music of war.

Draman stood and let his voice ring out, cutting through it all. "That'll be it!" Breaking into a run, he drew his blade from the leather that cradled it.

The unnatural light of the sorcerous passageway had been destroyed, and it was only by the last vestiges of sunlight that the enemy could be seen. Had Draman's attention been less occupied by his foe he may have marked the signs of the spell's premature ending; rent earth and still-smoldering grass.

He did mark the smell of burnt flesh.

It was a short fight, and Draman's blade tasted blood only once. The few enemy soldiers that remained put up fierce resistance despite the shock of their situation, but ferocity does little for a man surrounded by unfriendly steel. They were put down by sword, axe and spear.

Only six of his own men had fallen, though others had wounds of varying seriousness. Harr tended the wounded quickly as the corpses of comrades were lain apart from the dead enemy for burying once the battle had ended.

"That went well," Draman remarked to the wizard as he cleaned and sheathed his sword. His words were punctuated by another explosive roar from the distance, though the light and heat were hidden by the terrain. The ground shook faintly a moment after.

"This will teach the bastards to wait for an invitation!" shouted of the soldiers behind him. A cheer went up, and both the captain and wizard Harr joined in.

Soon the wizard shushed them with an upraised hand. “We'll rest a moment here, but it is not over,” he said somberly.

The sky was rent once more by pillars of fire. As one they looked north, where the land rose up to become truly mountainous. In the space of five breaths three more bright spears pierced the night.

Draman shared a look with the wizard.

“Cancel that rest,” he said. “We move now.”

***

Scattered reports were coming in from Threeforts, mostly observations from the forts about the ongoing battle.

The Enemy had arrived across nearly the entire breadth of the valley, and the defenders had subsequently scattered to deal with each incursion. It was now apparent they had done exactly what Traigan had wanted – the initial spells had been a feint to draw off defenders. The Warlord had anticipated part of their strategy. The bulk of the enemy forces seemed to now be intruding from the extreme north of the valley, amongst the craggy foothills where visibility was severely limited even in broad daylight.

Things may have gone poorly for the men of Bastion, had they not been well prepared. The sole eyewitness report from a wizard brought news of the stunning success of the counterspell.

Cheers broke out in the globe room when Arric repeated the words aloud. The Council leader looked up and met Darius's gaze. They shared a look of satisfaction.

"I've taken the liberty of dispatching more men and soldiers to the north. The brunt of the fighting will be there, it seems," stated the wizard through the globe. Arric nodded his approval. "Excellent news, Willem. Keep us notified of any changes."

The connection was severed. Darius moved around the table to speak with Arric. "If they manage a foothold, we'll have to hit it hard unless we want to be caught in another drawn-out battle."

"A few enemy soldiers, stuck in the hills? We'll camp out and wait for them to starve."

"They can bring in more than just troops with that spell, Arric. They can bring in supplies – and we can't stop them if we can't get at the place where they're casting it. If we prevent them from tying us up in Threeforts, we can mount a real assault on the Shambles," Darius urged.

Arric did not immediately protest, which Darius took as encouragement. "News from the Shambles indicate that Traigan may have drained away men from the forces laying siege in order to strike us in the north. We can rescue the men at Andreth and punish Traigan for trying to swallow our entire border in one go. Set the clock back, maybe even resume the planned attack on Cairn. We owe it to ourselves to at least try."

"And perhaps have Traigan punish
us
for attempting too much at once," Arric said, almost halfheartedly. Darius was unaware that the most recent reports from the Shambles not only confirmed what he said, but emphasized it. The Enemy was brittle there.

Arric let the man continue his arguments, though. Arric may be able to extract a favor from Darius later if he appeared to 'give in' where he'd already made up his mind to do as Darius desired.

"I'll have the Generals begin planning it," Arric finally said, suppressing a smirk. "But I make no promises."

Darius nodded simply. "I ask nothing more," he said. "Please send for me if there is important news from Threeforts. I must go and continue my own tasks."

"How are they coming along?" Arric inquired.

There was an almost fatherly aspect to Darius's proud smile.

"Splendidly," was his reply.

***

Draman was surrounded by the enemy in the dark. His blade lashed out time and time again, driven by the last vestiges of strength from a body on the verge of total exhaustion.

His soldiers had arrived at the edge of the fight, having dealt with only one more spell-borne incursion on their trek. In the north they had found the real fight. Even as Draman had jogged with his men and the wizard Harr, multiple spells had lit the night sky in the distance. More arrived every few moments, pouring enemy troops into the valley. The enemy were numerous enough already to put up a stiff defense, and the wizards could not get close enough to destroy the spells at the heart of the incursion.

Draman and Harr decided to attack through a stretch of uneven terrain which – along with the darkness – would hide their approach. The land was not unlike the Shambles, though more of rock than of dirt and sand.

They had covered a great deal of ground, gathering up more soldiers and wizards as they went, before the enemy had fallen on them from all directions. Blood drenched the ground under the light of the newly-risen moon. The good news was that there was no sign of sorcerers, and with the help of the four wizards at the heart of the formation they managed to fight off the warriors of Pyre.

When there were finally no more enemy within reach of his sword, Draman use his already-filthy tunic sleeve to wipe blood and sweat from his eyes. He looked to the nearest wizard in a wordless plea.

"We have to get closer!" the man shouted at him, looking likewise drained. "Only a little, but we're not there yet. It would help if we could see the spells, as well."

Nodding, Draman mustered enough breath for the command. They had perhaps fifteen hundred men left after that fight. It was a goodly chunk of Bastion's soldiers in the area, and Draman had taken a risk removing them from the efforts of containing the enemy. If they succeeded, then hunting the holdouts through the hills would be aggravating, but the true threat would be ended. If they failed...

Well, then Draman would not be alive for his superiors to chastise. The thought gave him some small comfort as he concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, moving up a rocky slope.

"Enemies to the east," Harr announced. Draman immediately veered the force west. Up and down hills they went, avoiding the enemy where they could, slaughtering them where they must. They came across no more groups large enough to give them trouble.

"Almost there!" called out another of the wizards. Harr nodded confirmation. "Straight north now, Captain," he indicated. "We're very close."

"Wonderful," Draman breathed, but went in the direction indicated.

At the top of the next hill, the spells could be seen burning ahead. The ground was flatter here, a wide plateau. Hundreds of enemy warriors were lit by the dancing orange flames of the open portals – but it was the moon that gave away the men of Bastion.

The wizards were already lapsing into a casting trance, and Draman shouted to his soldiers. "We hold here until they do their work, boys! Let's put right to these whoresons. For Bastion!"

***

Harr was oblivious to the battle around him. He could not assist this time – his business was with the magic alone.

For only the third time during the battle he sent out the questing tendrils to one of the closer spells. It was more secure than the others he had dealt with – the enemy was keeping just a few of the spells open. Perhaps they had a limited supply of sorcerers who could cast the spell to this area. It would be good if that was so. Fewer spells to destroy would be a great boon to the already weary wizards.

Harr had nearly completed his casting when the Far Door shuddered, and reversed. He was stunned for a brief moment as all magic – including the tendrils of his own spell – were drawn into the vortex.