Gold & Glory

by M. H. Johnson

  Having been formed at a time when war was common and rampant in the south, several centuries ago, the city of Caverenoc had been made with thoughts of defense first, and convenience second, though apparently it had always been considered an ideal place for a port of trade. The walls surrounding the city were over forty feet high and some twenty feet thick, made in a time when slavery and captured soldiers were common, and the value of life was less than the value of a sturdy edifice.

  Not that Sorn, with his own heritage, was in any position to judge. In any event, whoever had planned the city had had an abundance of forethought, if not compassion, carving out walls to encompass what was in those times a huge tract of land for the city. It had extended for many hundreds of feet beyond the thriving trade town, with sufficient additional space that all the inhabitants of the territories that the city-state claimed could seek shelter behind those sturdy walls during times of war. Of course, as cities often do, it grew, though in an orderly fashion, with straight roads and a sewer system both.

  Yes, the city forefathers had indeed been forward thinking men, if slave owners, and as Halence had gone on to tell Sorn on one of those nights that they had conversed some minutes while gazing out to sea, slavery had been abolished there over a generation ago when at last the descendants of those peoples captured so many generations ago were given their freedom and full citizenship by a king both prudent and compassionate, a rare combination in a statesman, when most, according to Halence, were neither.

  In any case, Caverenoc was considered the most sophisticated, friendly, and safest southern port, and as such served as a gateway to the continent’s interior, and so they profited mightily in terms of trade with their northern neighbors across the Casroth Sea. And of course, considering the north's distaste for slavery, this might have had some small influence on the former king's decision, Halence had allowed with a knowing grin. As it stood, it was also the most well-defended of all the cities north or south that Halence knew of, and the only way into the port was through one of several gateways, each sealed off with massive iron chains.

  Normally lowered, Halence could only assume that presently the chains were raised to prevent enemy ships from entering the port. Each gate was of course manned by a massive fortress filled with catapults capable of throwing hundreds of pounds of flaming pitch or stone at enemy ships that got in range, as well as giant crossbows similar to, but far more massive than the ones Sorn had spotted on the cutters. Though not able to hurl nearly as large stones or mounds of pitch as a catapult could, these giant crossbows made up for that lack with pinpoint precision, even having sights. Indeed, from what Halence had learned, the balls of lead and pitch shot by the massive crossbows were of a similar weight to make sure that the well-trained crew knew exactly how far their relatively uniform ammunition would fly, and what arc, if any, it would have. This resulted in a fearsome degree of accuracy and deadliness, as the lead balls those crossbows fired were able to smash right through a ship's wooden hull. Thus with all those armaments and a well-trained crew that knew how to use them, as well as solid walls and trained crossbowmen to eliminate any men who would make a suicidal rush down the length of the breakwater, Caverenoc could boast a fortified port that was perhaps the most secure in the known world.

  All of this, of course, simply meant that the enemy’s ability to mount an effective attack from the sea was minimal, and, Halence hoped, this meant that the enemy wouldn't waste more than a few ships patrolling the area. Halence could only hope that the invaders had not chosen to fill the nearby sea with ships hoping to break through. For if such was the case, then there was no way Halence felt he could slip by.

  "But there is no way for us to know before we get there," Halence said with a smile. He then grew serious in turn. "Now, Sorn, I respect your right to privacy, as I said. I do not want to pry into that which you may wish to keep hidden, and I promise you that what we speak of now will not leave this room. But simply so that I know what resources I have at my disposal, I would appreciate knowing what exactly are your capacities as a mage. Are you at all capable of protecting our ship in the event of an attack, or counter-attacking in turn? I know the thought of combat is not a comforting one for most, but the best way we can survive a battle is to plan how best to get through it, and in order to do that, we need to know what our strengths and weaknesses are. This is why I need to know what you can do to help us survive any encounter." Halence flashed a fatherly smile. "I know you are young, Sorn, and I won't ask anything from you that you are incapable of performing. I only ask that if you are able to aid us, that, to the best of your abilities, you do so."

  Sorn was quiet for a moment before he spoke. He felt uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was taking, considering how little he knew about the capabilities of magic users in this realm, but nevertheless could appreciate the captain's sense of duty to his ship and crew. Indeed, Sorn couldn't help but feel that the captain had a right to know the capabilities of any member of his crew.

  "As far as protecting the ship or protecting the crew as a whole, I can do very little. As far as initiating a counter-attack? There I can manage a thing or two, Captain Halence. Most definitely a thing or two."

  Halence's eyebrow raised a tad as he considered Sorn, sipping his wine. "Am I permitted to guess what talents might constitute that 'thing or two?'"

  After a second, Sorn nodded. The talents most likely to be believed would be the ones suggested by the captain himself. "Sure, Captain, guess away. But please, let's keep it brief, as I really do need to get some rest. I spent a lot of energy today, after all."

  "Of course, Sorn," Halence assured. "Of course. Would those things perhaps include bolts of fire or ice?" Sorn just raised a polite eyebrow, not being quite sure what Halence was referring to, as the captain had only the most rudimentary sense of what those terms meant himself. "Hmm... I suppose not. They are several of the most basic spells, cantrips I believe they are called, that several acquaintances from my youth had striven to master when they were apprentice mages. They were, in fact, around your age and considered talented, from what I recall. Well, I don't suppose you know any first order magics like Silverion's Silver Missiles?" Halence flashed a smile. "Yes, that spell I've actually seen demonstrated by a war mage I had once had the privilege of transporting, and I understand that those can be very effective on the field of battle."

  The captain's sense of the spell such that Sorn immediately knew the magics he referred to, understanding just how effective that spell could be in battle or on the hunt, each missile shooting forth with deadly accuracy aimed by both finger and thought toward one's target, where it would tear into the point of impact, gouging out a hole in a fleeing stag about the size of a large man's fist. This, of course, brought to mind what the captain might be considering.

  Sorn flashed a cool smile. "Yes, Captain Halence, I do know a web variant strikingly similar to Silverion's."

  "Web? Oh, you mean spell. Excellent. Frankly, Sorn, I am surprised. My understanding is that it is rare for anyone to be taught magics of any magnitude before their eighteenth year. Knowledge of that magic might help us a great deal, Sorn. If I may ask, do you feel comfortable casting such a complex spell in a high-stress situation? It's important that I know."

  "I believe I could manage, if it was needed," Sorn said, still smiling.

  Halence nodded, giving Sorn a calculating look before he went on. "And to the point of the query, of course. Do you think you could successfully target a point on the hull of a ship?"

  "If needed, I believe I could, Captain. Please keep in mind, however, that it would take at least several missiles to crack the hull of a ship. Thick wooden beams are a lot more resilient than, say, the flesh of an animal you were hunting."

  Halence raised his brow, giving a slow nod of consideration. "I see. And Sorn, do you think you have the capacity to fire sufficient missiles to make this hole?"

  Sorn took a thoughtful sip of wine. "Yes. Though keep in mind it
would be to small effect; we might crack a board a ways, but the actual hole would be no more than the size of your fist, and that is assuming that I can see my original target, clearly, to direct multiple missiles at, and that I time it such that each missile hits when that part of the hull is above water. And even then, though it might cause some panic when they find it, I doubt that such a small hole in and of itself would sink such a ship, especially if they can make some sort of repairs, at least until they limp back to wherever they make port."

  "No doubt, Sorn. But remember, unlike our enemy, we don't have to sink them to emerge victorious. We just need to escape. If a hole, especially one generated by magical means, distracts or panics them, they may feel it more prudent to break off their attack and lick their wounds than to continue their engagement and risk further arcane attacks. Furthermore, it would be a lot easier to outrun them, should such prove necessary, if they are taking on water. I don't care if they sink, wallow, or sail away, so long as they leave us be, Sorn." Halence gave Sorn another appraising look accompanied by a wry grin. "Now I understand that most young mages are at their limits firing a single missile at a time with each casting of their spell. Rare indeed is the mage who can fire off a stream of such missiles. I don't suppose that in this way too, you are an exception to the rule, dear Sorn?"

  Sorn gave the captain a bemused smile in turn before replying. "Let's just say I can manage that hole for you, Halence. Now if you will excuse me, I really should be getting some rest. Captain, I bid you a good night, and thank you for the wine." Sorn made his leave before Halence could get off any further questions that were just a bit too informed for a casual sea captain, and perhaps a bit too close to getting a real sense of what Sorn's potential was.

  "Captain Halence seems to be a very informed man," Sorn told his cousins as they lied down in their quarters, preparing to drift off to sleep. "He seems to have a fair sense of what a low ranked mage is capable of in this land, and came a bit too close to figuring out that we don't exactly fit in with what's expected of young apprentices."

  Is it really that bad, Sorn?" Fitz asked. "I mean, so what if people think we can kick butt in the magic department. That's just more glory for us! Like being knights, but with magic."

  "It's not that it's bad, cousin, it just makes us stick out more. And even if there is some glory attached to it, and I suppose that could be fun, there is also greater risk. We will fit the parts of young knights or questing adventurers less and less, and that makes our disguise all the weaker. I hesitate to think about how sour our story could turn, if anyone found out who we really are before we establish ourselves firmly in this culture. Maybe if and when we accrue enough wealth or prestige sufficient to acquire considerable lands of our own, perhaps doing a ruling noble a favor or two somewhere and have him formally recognize us as friends, maybe then it wouldn't be so bad. But right now, cousin? I'm afraid that revealing too much about ourselves probably isn't such a good idea. We are too new here, and we know too little. Our position is too uncertain. Discretion, dear Fitz, discretion is our watchword."

  Sorn rolled over in his bunk at that point, gazing at the resting forms of his two cousins across from him. "By the way, guys, I want to give you credit. You have been doing really well at this, and I'm proud of you."

  "Thanks, cousin!" Hanz said happily.

  "Aw, you're a softy, Sorn," Lieberman replied warmly.

  Fitz nodded. "But we're getting kinda hungry, you know? And I'm sure my muscles, for one, are really cramping. I really need to stretch out."

  "You'll be fine, Fitz," Sorn soothed. "Let's just get through this voyage. Keep your cool, and we should be fine. And after we get back? Who knows how well off we'll be! Assuming we can sell the grain for, let's say, one hundred and five gold, we will have made an additional thirty gold just from this trade voyage alone! That will give us a total of forty-five gold, guys, enough wealth to buy three large farms, with silos, buildings, and livestock as well! Then we will be set, my cousins. We will be able to eat our fill at need, I am sure. Or at least, I hope so. In any event, the only drawback would be having some lord over us thinking he can tithe us, or some such. Best thing would be if we could get a title of some sort ourselves, but no matter. Once we get our large farm set up, I'm sure we'll be fine. And just think, we will be able to buy all the more land in the borderlands, which equals more property and more privacy. And I don't think banditry is something that we have to worry about!"

  Sorn smiled as his cousins chuckled. "Yes, cousins, we will have at the very least a very well appointed farmstead after this voyage, even if we never choose to trade again. But be honest, Fitz, aren't you finding this a lot more interesting than just sitting in a field eating all day?"

  "Well, of course!" Fitz concurred. "What we're doing is a lot more interesting than the same boring stuff we used to do at home, where the only thing interesting that ever happened to us was when we got into trouble! Our only problem is that we can't stretch out now, and we're feeling cramped." Hanz and Lieberman made sounds of agreement with Fitz at that point.

  "Tell you what, cousins. As soon as we get back to York, we'll go park our funds with Jesere, and then we'll go to the market and by a whole mess of whatever meat’s the cheapest, say a dozen pigs from a pig farmer. We can say we're bringing it to our lord's homestead, that he needs more pigs or some such. Then we just take them up the road over the hill, find a valley nearby, and dig in at nightfall. And of course, we'll all be able to stretch out to our heart's content. What do you guys say?"

  "Excellent idea, Sorn!" Fitz said happily.

  "Yes indeed," Hanz agreed, "but I have the feeling we'll want something a bit more substantial than a couple pigs. Especially you, Sorn, seeing as how you're so much bigger than us. Maybe a cow or two as well, or maybe we could borrow a wagon and get a couple barrels of fish to go with our piggies."

  Sorn pondered for a moment, reflecting on his cousin’s words. "You know, that's not a bad idea, Hanz. And I'll bet fish is cheaper by the weight than pigs or cows. Hmm. We'll have to look into it when we get back."

  "A feast!" Lieberman said happily.

  "Yes guys, a feast. For my three very deserving cousins." Sorn smiled. "Goodnight, guys."

  "Goodnight, Sorn," called three voices in unison, bringing to Sorn warm memories of three much younger boys who would follow him everywhere, and always answer him in unison. He, at the time, had been exasperated at having been placed in the role of de-facto guardian, but now he looked back at the memory fondly as he drifted off to sleep.

  14

  Sorn found himself immediately jolted out of sleep by a furious pounding on his door. "Sorn!" screamed Bates, voice scratched raw and filled with panic, nothing like his normally cheerful easygoing self. "Captain needs you now! We are under attack! Get up, Sorn!" Bates's pounding turned frantic. Sorn's cousins also sat bolt upright, breathing rapidly, faces contorting from the strain and panic Bate's abrupt waking was causing them. "Relax, guys!" Sorn soothed. "Relax! It's time to be knights extraordinaire once again! But first, you must be well-trained wizards. Focus, guys. Seek your calm. Open yourselves to your flows and cast webs of arcane armor and missile wards. Do the easy one first, find your center, then do the hard one. Okay?"

  Sorn's cousins, soothed by his counsel, were able to relax their features back to normal, at least, and began concentrating on finding their centers and opening themselves to their own flows of power.

  "Relax, Bates!" Sorn called. "I'm coming!" Sorn immediately went over and threw open the latch to find a panic-stricken Bates, curiously smelling of smoke and pitch, as well as sweat and the strangely intoxicating scent of his fear which Sorn pushed out of mind, hard. Bates, after all, was his friend. "Relax, Bates. Just give me a minute or two, and I will be right up to the captain." Sorn, abruptly woken, felt a bit naked as he was free of protective wards save those inherent to him in this form. He hoped to get a moment or two of calm before facing the captain, to cast a few protective wards of his ow
n.

  "No, Sorn. The captain needs you now!" Much to Sorn's surprise, a panicked Bates began trying to drag him out of his quarters and onto the deck. Obviously, there was no denying the terrible urgency now. Once on deck, Sorn immediately became aware of where the smell was coming from. There was a small fire middeck that the crewmen were trying to smother with sand at that very moment. He could smell the tang of smoke, pitch, charred wood, and panic in equal measures, the captain turning to face him as Bates called attention to their presence.

  Wide-eyed and soot-streaked, Halence's demeanor was a far cry from the poised, sophisticated man of cool control that he normally projected. Yet if anything, he looked more alive and vibrant in this panic-filled maelstrom than he ever had on shore, despite the stress he was so obviously under.

  "Thank the gods!" Halence cried. "The cutter came upon us almost completely unawares. And their range! They've shot two bolts of pitch. The first missed us completely, the second managed to hit us! And they'll have to be twice as close before we have a hope of hitting them!" Halence pointed to the murky silhouette of a ship, some distance away, the only clear point of reference being the light at the helm where presumably they were preparing another ball of pitch. Even Sorn with his night vision and arcane skills thought it would be incredibly hard to sight a spot clearly enough on the hull to accurately aim a stream of magic missiles with sufficient accuracy to crack the hull. Even he could barely see the hull well enough to spot a mark he might make, and with the windswept sea crashing against the hull constantly, he would have to aim high in any case, which would have considerably less effect in terms of working to flood the ship. In truth, Sorn doubted that the captain’s men would be able to spot anything save the flickering point of light at the helm clearly enough to aim for in this inky darkness. The light cloud cover muted all but a dim glimmer from the moon. Sorn was surprised the captain was able to recognize Sorn at all.