by Jaxon Reed
“I have another idea, Loadstone. Have ye ever seen a tree move?”
“A tree? I’ve seen them cut down and moved. I’ve seen their branches move in the wind. Is that what you mean?”
Redstone smiled and shook his head. He waved his hand and the scrying window disappeared.
“Follow me.”
He shot up into the air on a large chunk of ground.
Loadstone created a thick gray cloud around his feet. The cloud rose up into the air after Redstone, carrying Loadstone with it.
Soon the two were floating above the road where it cut into the Hidden Forest. Redstone began waving his arms, performing a complicated spell. He threw his hands wide at the spell’s completion, and thousands of sparkling lights popped into existence all around him, then fell slowly on the trees below, each spark seeking out a different tree.
As the light disappeared into the leaves, nothing happened for a moment. Then, the wizards heard creaks and groans from thousands of trunks and tens of thousands of branches.
Loadstone watched, fascinated, as the trees uprooted themselves and moved a few feet from their former locations. The trees on the left side of the road moved right, the ones on the right side moved left. Soon, the road disappeared as hundreds of trees shifted over it, replanting themselves in new positions.
Redstone glanced over at Loadstone and flashed a toothy grin.
“No more road!”
“Excellent! Maybe that will slow them down.”
“Wood that it could, sirrah!”
Loadstone chuckled at the pun, then thought of his own.
“You have a mean bark, my friend.”
“Aye, I’d say I’m well rooted in tree magic.”
“You’ve branched out since I first met you.”
Redstone nodded.
“I can’t think of any more.”
“Out on a limb, ay?”
“Ye got me. I say ye win this one.”
“Want me to leaf you alone?”
“Enough!”
Tomlin stood in the library of the grand manor, feeling rather awkward. The butler had let him in at his knock, and bade him wait in the richly furnished room while announcing his arrival to the princess.
Tomlin had actually enjoyed the rest from their journey after the fight with Darkstone that had cost so many men. But now that the same wizard threatened an even greater battle, he found it necessary to consult with Margwen.
He had mixed emotions. On the one hand, he relished an opportunity to fight the wizard again, and perhaps have the chance to help take him out. It would be sweet justice to help defeat the rogue.
On the other hand, his duty first and foremost involved the safety of his princess. But he could not order her to leave, nor could he engage in the battle without her permission.
So, a consultation was in order. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, uneasily.
“Captain Tomlin! It’s so good to see you.”
The butler held the door open, and Margwen swept into the room. Tomlin bowed low in greeting.
When he straightened, he noted the princess did not look like a woman traveling. She wore an elegant dress he had never seen before, as well as makeup. Her hair had recently been styled by somebody, presumably a servant. She looked as splendid as if they were still back in Coral Palace instead of stuck, quite literally, in the middle of nowhere.
“Your Highness, I must confer with you regarding this upcoming battle and discuss your wishes on the matter.”
“Isn’t it exciting, Tomlin? This is the same wizard behind the murder of Prince Trant’s family, and the assault on our party. We have an opportunity to help make things right!”
Tomlin blinked, as he processed what she said.
“Prince Trant?”
“Oh, did I not tell you? By the Hightower, Tomlin, I fear I’ve let you and your men stay at the inn all this time and nobody has told you the news! Yes, Trant is the Lost Prince, the sole survivor of Endrick’s bloody coup on Emerald. If we can help remove that false king, Trant is Emerald’s rightful heir to the throne, and he can take back the position robbed from him as a child. Isn’t it exciting?”
“Begging Your Highness’s pardon, but that’s not exciting at all. The best course of action is to see you and Lady Isabeth home. According to the innkeeper, the village has a magical gateway that comes out near Coral City.”
“You think I should go home?”
She tilted her head at him, her brows furrowed in confusion as if he were speaking gibberish. He nodded, earnestly.
“My duty, Highness, is to ensure your safety. If Darkstone brings an army to this village, I cannot guarantee that.”
“So you would have us run? You would let this perfidy continue unabated, unchecked by whatever power we might bring to help defeat it?”
“Not at all, Highness. With your permission, I would send Beet and Altor along with you and Lady Isabeth. I will stay behind and help Trant — Prince Trant — and Wizard Greystone and fight the rogue.”
The princess smiled suddenly as she began to understand the conflicting emotions stirring in his heart.
“Dear Tomlin. You are so brave. You want to see me safe, but you want to fight at the same time. Well, don’t worry. We are all staying and fighting the rogue. Prince Trant and Wizard Greystone need all the help they can get. So, we’re staying. You, me, Isabeth, Beet and Altor. We’re all going to stay, and we’re all going to fight!
“And then,” she said, almost as an afterthought, “when this is all over, we’ll take Trant home through that gateway and introduce him to Papa and Mama.”
The lead metal man slowed as he passed Emerald’s boundary stone. The road ahead disappeared in the trees. Finally, the giant stopped as the road seemed to end abruptly at a wall of trees. The ones behind it stopped as well.
Darkstone flew over to investigate. He soared higher, and found no sign of the road below. He smiled at the cleverness of the spell.
“We’ll make an even wider road,” he said to himself.
Floating back down on fire and smoke, he began motioning to the metal men. They broke out of single file, and ten of them formed a line facing the forest. Darkstone made another motion with his hand, and each metal man moved forward and began pushing down trees.
The human army had stopped briefly for a quick lunch, then continued marching into the afternoon until they caught up with the tail end of the metal men. Darkstone flew back to meet the commander, and suggested they go ahead and set up camp for the night.
“We should have a road cleared out for you by morning, Commander.”
In the distance, the soldiers could hear the cracking of wood and tree trunks falling over.
“Now, remember everything I’ve taught you, dearie.”
“Yes, Cookie.”
Mita ate supper in the kitchen. Cookie had prepared a ham, seasoned with mushrooms and salt, with a healthy serving of peas on the side and some kind of fruit Mita had never tasted before.
“You should at least get to prepare horse meat on your own for the first time. Horses always die in battles. Don’t let the meat go to waste!”
“Yes, Cookie.”
“And don’t forget fish. If there’s a stream nearby, you can always catch some fish to eat.”
“Yes, Cookie.”
Mita ate the last bite of ham, and her brows furrowed as she followed Cookie around the kitchen with her eyes.
“Cookie? It looks like you haven’t eaten much yourself, lately.”
Cookie turned and smiled sweetly at her. When Mita first came to the castle, Cookie had been quite plump. Now she seemed to be of normal weight.
“Oh, I don’t eat at all, dearie.”
Indeed, Mita thought. You’re a facsimile.
Still, she knew for certain that Cookie used to be fatter.
Her plate disappeared when she set her fork down on it. She stood from the table just as Cutie walked in. Mita’s eyes grew wide. Cutie’s blouse was now s
leeveless, and her skirt rode up to her thighs.
“You changed outfits.”
Cutie glanced down at herself.
“Yes. Milord has me back to normal dress.”
“Normal?”
“Speaking of milord, he requests your presence in the library.”
Mita walked into the library to find Oldstone facing a large scrying window. From across the room, she could see a line of creatures carving out a path through some woods. The window showed the scene from an angle high above.
She walked over to where the wizard stood for a better look.
“Darkstone has created a small army of iron colossi. His animation spell gave them incredible strength.”
Mita watched as several metal men pushed against the trunks of trees, breaking them and knocking them over. Other giants behind them pulled the broken trees out of the way, throwing them into piles.
“You see the economy of magic at work. He animates a tool, then gives the tool a task, much like you did with the floor brush. It’s a mark of high intelligence. I’m certain Redstone didn’t think of this possibility when he moved the trees over the road.”
They watched as the metal men continued working, knocking over trees, moving them into piles. The sun dipped below the horizon, and the scene below dimmed.
“Such evil, to kill people or trees for no good reason. In the process, he creates a wider road for his human army. And he saves his energy for the battle ahead.”
“Why don’t we attack now before he gets any farther, master?”
“In the morning we will be at our full strength while he is occupied with this task. Speaking of which, I think you and I should spend the night in Greystone Village.”
Oldstone waved his hand and the scrying window winked out. He waved his hand again, and a large hazy globe filled the air in its place.
He turned and smiled at Mita.
“After you.”
Chapter 14
Mita and Oldstone walked out of the hazy globe and into a street near the inn and Greystone’s manor. All around them people scurried, carrying weapons and supplies toward the gate to the Hidden Forest.
In the middle of it all, a tall, handsome young man seemed to be in charge.
“Yes, anything wooden can be useful for the barricades, take it out there. Bring those pikes over with the other weapons, we’ve got a depot going and Captain Tomlin is sorting them out. Yes, everything food related should go out the forest gate. If it’s medical related, take it to the church. That’s where our hospital will be set up, Lady Isabeth is in charge of it.”
He noticed the newcomers, and walked across the street to greet them.
“Wizard Oldstone? I’m Trant. You’ll find Wizard Greystone out in the woods. The gate is that way, just follow everybody else.”
Oldstone nodded, murmured his thanks, and they began walking with the flow of traffic. People around them bustled forward, carrying pikes, halberds, swords, maces, and other weapons. Someone pushed a cart filled with odds and ends of various kinds of armor. Two men ran by carrying planks of wood from a sawmill on their shoulders. Someone drove a horse and wagon filled with foodstuff ahead of them.
Everybody disappeared at the end of the road.
When Oldstone and Mita walked through the gate, they came into an expanded clearing. In the distance, Mita could make out Redstone hovering in the air near the tree line. Several of the trees were uprooting themselves at his command, and shuffling off to give the humans more room. The trees had evacuated a good hundred acres for the battle, leaving the area outside the gate an open field.
Mita looked behind her at the hazy gateway, and could make out where the road disappeared. She stepped out of the way as a horse and cart burst through, laden down with shields. The driver turned and headed toward a group of people sorting through piles of weapons. A man with military bearings wearing the colors of Coral seemed to be in charge, ordering various items be sorted into different piles.
“Ah, there he is.”
Oldstone pointed out Greystone in the distance. She saw him hovering over the clearing, guiding a beam of energy along the ground.
“What’s he doing, master?”
“He’s making trenches and dirt fortifications. See? The dirt comes out of the trench and forms a protective wall. That’s a good defensive measure.”
Mita grasped the concept at once. She also noticed it was being done a lot faster than men with ordinary magical abilities could do it with shovels.
Oldstone nodded in approval.
“Let’s go see how we can help.”
He shot up into the air and flew toward Greystone. Mita flew after him.
“Pikes follow me. Halberds follow Master Beet. Master Altor will stay and continue sorting the weapons.”
Tomlin waved at the townsfolk holding pikes and led them toward the entrenchments that were almost complete now. Greystone hovered above the trenches, waving his arms, moving the final bits of dirt into place.
It felt good to be in action again, Tomlin thought. The days sitting at the inn and sharing food and stories in the public house had been a welcome respite at first. But as time dragged on, a sense of uselessness gripped him.
Tomlin was a man of action, a soldier, a man given responsibility to protect his princess. At the inn, while his princess was the guest of a noble who provided his own protection, Tomlin had nothing productive to do. And that went against his nature.
So the opportunity to help organize the townspeople into something resembling a defense force for the village was a welcome change. Although, looking about at the cobblers and wainwrights and dung shovelers and shopkeepers, he doubted they could provide any sort of reasonable threat against the professional soldiers headed this way.
Still, training them at least in a rudimentary fashion provided him with something more productive to do than drinking ale at the inn.
Tomlin’s group consisted of mostly younger men, able and willing to hoist the long pikes. He noted a handful of stout women, too, and nodded in approval.
“The pike is a fine weapon for a good-sized woman. The secret is not to wield it in your arms so much as to brace it against a charge. Now, let me show you how to place it into the ground when a group of horsemen ride at you.”
Beet took his group several steps in the other direction. Unlike Tomlin, Beet seemed happy regardless of circumstances. If they were to while away their days in a public house while the princess cavorted with some nobleman or other, who was he to complain? Especially when their tabs were taken care of by said nobleman.
On the other hand, if duty called and an army were to attack the village in which they were staying, Beet was more than happy to help prepare the people’s defense, no matter how unlikely their chances seemed.
Townspeople, Beet knew, would likely be ineffective against trained soldiers. The difference in age and condition played a role, as well as training. Soldiers are fit and young. Most townspeople are older, and not so fit. Soldiers are trained in their weapons. Shopkeepers, housewives, and dung shovelers often are not. But all this mattered little to Beet.
He stopped, turned around and addressed his group, holding his halberd to the side.
“In many ways, the halberd is like a pike, but with added benefits. The axe is one benefit. Aye, ye can use it like a battle axe, albeit one with an extra-long handle. The hook, though, that’s far more important. With the hook, ye can use it to grab an armored knight offen his horse. Like this . . .
“Once he’s down on the ground, use the tip like a spear and jab it between his helmet and chest piece. Like this . . .
“Aye, the halberd is powerful and effective. They don’t call ’em ‘knightsbane’ for nothin’!”
Stin could think of a dozen different ways to escape. The old standby, a visit to the latrine, would doubtless prove effective. He could slip away and never be seen again. But Bellasondra, holding onto his right arm, prevented him from even considering it. Or at least, from consi
dering it for very long.
He looked down into her face and she smiled up at him. All thoughts of escaping to Sapphire or anywhere else simply evaporated.
Equally as strong, Kirt’s presence on his other side likewise dissuaded him from running. Kirt smiled up at him too, albeit with a different kind of smile carrying a different meaning. It was nonetheless potent and powerful. Stin found himself unwilling to disappoint the boy just as much as he did not want to displease the woman.
And so, Stin resolved to stay through the battle. Secretly, he held out hope that if things went south he could still sneak away. But part of him, in a corner of his mind he had not yet fully explored, suggested that instead he might stay and defend both the woman and the boy to the death should they be threatened.
Stin found such concern for others a foreign concept. In due course he might be able to examine the idea in full. Right now, with a battle looming, he did not have time to reconcile it with his familiar self-interests. No one had ever suspected him worthy of anything before, and he discovered meeting their expectations had become an overwhelming desire. So he set aside all selfish thoughts and remained in place, refusing to submit to compulsions of flight.
They approached the weapons cache. A man named Altor was in charge of distribution. Bartimo had gone ahead, grabbing a halberd. They watched as his group practiced moves some distance away.
“What weapon do you feel comfortable with, Bellasondra?”
“I’m good with knives, up close. But I think I’ll join the arbalest corps.”
She nodded toward a large group of women and children from the village who hefted crossbows, aiming at some targets set out at a distance. Three facsimiles coordinated the group: Greystone’s butler, his gardener, and his stable master. Between them, they worked the mechanisms, displaying magical upper body strength and loading the devices faster than even skilled archers could.
As soon as the women and children shot their arbalests, Greystone’s cleaning wenches took the spent weapons and handed back loaded ones. It seemed cool and efficient, at least for the moment. Nobody was firing back yet.