Ancient Magic

by Blink, Bob

  “You bet,” Roit said with a nod. He was certain that anyone who approached It’oni would either be killed or taken prisoner. On the other hand, the way things were going, staying on in Branid was not a plan that looked particularly desirable either. His plan to disappear to the southern beach cities if matters became dicey no longer looked so attractive. The safest place to be might be somewhere in Lopal, especially for a man who was born there in the first place. The barest hint of a plan was starting to form in the back of his mind.

  “Send Loum along with all the troops you have available,” Roit said thinking out loud. “There is little point in holding back a force to defend the city. If you can’t stop It’oni’s push, then it won’t matter. If you can provide a large enough force, those already on the way and those who are available here, he might be made to reconsider. I think he is driven by expediency. If too major a battle is called for, he might shift his strategy. I’ll ride along and if matters look promising, see if I can arrange to meet with the man.”

  Cordale looked long and hard at Roit. He had the gut feeling the man was planning more than he was saying, but he could see little other choice. He’d have to trust him. Unless Roit could dissuade It’oni or whomever was leading the force that was crossing into Branid, his would be the shortest rule that Branid had ever known. He’d have to make alternate plans in case the negotiations failed. His own castle would be forfeit if Branid fell, so he’d have to plan on relocating somewhere where he would not be recognized. He’d seen a small reserve of jewels in the treasury that would support him. It was a far cry from what he’d envisioned, but it might be the only option left open to him.

  “Get some rest,” Cordale ordered as he came to a decision. “I will give the order that the troops should be prepared to move in two days. I don’t know if they can be ready that quickly, but I doubt any commander will be willing to defy my order. You will go along and try and prevent this invasion. If you cannot, don’t try and return. There will be no point. All will be lost. Send word, and disappear.” Cordale gave Roit leave to go his own way because he was certain that’s what the man was planning anyway. This way at least he appeared to care, something that might motivate the man to try harder. The truth was, if Roit failed, he was of no further use, and Cordale didn’t give a damn what happened to him.

  Chapter 67

  It’oni sat on his warhorse atop the peak that overlooked where he planned for the battle to take place. One advantage to being the attacker was the ability to select where the encounters would be fought as the other side was trying to stop his advance and was forced to react. He was dressed in his finest leather armor. The warriors of Lopal did not wear the heavy metal armor favored by Branid. Such armor slowed animals and men alike. A warrior should embrace his fate and know that if he fell, that was what the gods had in store for him. The leathers would protect while leaving him nimble as he slipped among the enemy fighters. At his side he wore his fighting sword, the formal sword of the Lamane now back at his home camp having been carried there by one of his staff after the ceremony that made him Lamane. His wooden shield wrapped with tough rawhide hung off to one side where he could quickly grab it as needed.

  Now, weeks after assuming the leadership of Lopal, he was several day’s ride inside the borders of Branid, preparing to make the attack which would show all that his vision for Lopal was the correct one, and which could well decide the course of the war. His army, more than fifty-two thousand men strong, would engage the enemy here, in this place.

  His scouts had chosen well. He had ridden here after the place had been described to him. His men would hold the high ground, and spread out in front of him was the long slow incline the defenders from Branid would have to work their way up, fighting his men at every step. The land was deceiving, with any number of depressions in which he could hide large contingents of his forces, making it appear that he was far less strong than he was. By the time Branid learned of his deceit, they would have tripped the traps he planned to set for them and it would be too late to escape their fate.

  Today he was here with his advance force, more than a thousand archers and another two thousand fighting men on horseback. The bulk of his army was coming up behind and would flow into the area over the next week. He would position his supporting elements back over the rise of the hill, out of the way yet close enough to be available. The fighting men would be assigned to their battle positions as they arrived according to the plan he and his commanders had developed earlier this morning. Refinements could be made as he learned more details of the enemy’s forces. While his forces dug in and set up their defenses, his scouts would continue to press ahead and monitor the movements of the enemy.

  The Branid force had slowed its advance of late according to It’oni’s scouts. He assumed that was because they were waiting to join up with additional forces from Sulen. His spies had sent word that a force had left Sulen two weeks earlier. The spies could travel faster than the army that was being sent to intercept him, providing him advance word of what was coming. Given what he knew of the distribution of Branid’s men along the long river that bordered the two countries, he couldn’t imagine the force that would eventually oppose him more than doubling from the twenty thousand men his scouts estimated for force they had been watching as it moved to intercept his own. That number was consistent with the estimates his spies had brought to him. Even that many would mean they had stripped the capital of its defensive forces. He would still outnumber them and have the advantage of the chosen ground. Defeat that force and he would be able to ride into Sulen uncontested, the war for Branid essentially over in a single masterful stroke.

  It’oni had elected to attack Branid as soon as he had heard from Bab’hon of the offer of its new King. He could sense from the offer that the man was a schemer, and one not to be trusted. Besides, his spies had forwarded details of the unrest within Branid, and there was little doubt that this Cordale was not yet established and ready to defend the land he had just acquired. He would be weaker than the Kellmore King as well as disorganized as he tried to cement his rule, making It’oni’s victory that much easier.

  To mask his intentions, he had maintained the raids along the borders of both Branid and Kellmore. He had even increased those into Kellmore somewhat, making it look the more likely point of attack. As a result both countries had been focused on defending their own borders, and he knew that a large portion of Branid’s forces were deployed all along the north-south banks of the river that separated Branid and Lopal. Those forces would be unable to relocate easily, and therefore would be unavailable to support the coming battle. It’oni suspected that King Cordale was already aware of his problem by the fact he was sending his city defense troops eastward to augment the forces in the field. That suggested the man knew his offer had been rejected. It’oni smiled when he thought of the man sweating in his castle. Branid’s new King had thought himself safe inside the stone walls. Unlike Lopal’s leaders, the Kings of these lands hid while their men risked their lives. They would soon learn that didn’t work as well as they hoped.

  It’oni was anxious for the first encounter. He had led the men in raids and the destruction of much smaller forces that had been so badly mismatched when compared to his force that it hadn’t been much of a fight. He would charge into battle at the head of his forces as this battle began. There would be personal risk, but he was an experienced fighter, and his charge would not be as wanton as it might appear. He would be part of a carefully constructed wedge designed to penetrate the advancing line of Branid’s forces. He would be heavily supported by some of his best fighters on all sides and by the thousand skilled archers who were tasked with bringing down any force that approached him. There was always the random chance that the individual fighters he encountered sword to sword might get lucky and take him down, but the odds were long against that. The best enemy fighters would not be in the perilous front lines where most would be sacrificed to the initial encounter. If he fell,
then that’s what the gods intended for him. The chain of command was well defined and It’oni knew the battle would continue. They would sing of his bravery, and later a new Lamane would be chosen. All of the battles would not be like this one. Later, most battles would be fought with him and his commanders watching and directing from a more secure location. He would have boldly shown his willingness to embrace the enemy, and his men would respect his leadership.

  Once he won the coming battle, and there was no doubt in It’oni’s mind that he would carry the day, Branid would be his. They would ride directly for the capital and capture the undefended city. He would hang the cowardly king from the tower of his own castle, and declare Branid subject to his rule. He knew the spirit of any surviving forces would be broken by such a swift victory, and they would surrender or run across the border to Kellmore. Then he would spend the winter integrating Branid under his control and preparing for the spring. Kellmore would be isolated and vulnerable. Now forced to defend two long stretches of border, the forces would be stretched so thin as to be ineffective. Once again, It’oni’s spies would tell him where to attack, and he would bring another massive force to smash into the country. He could not see them surviving to see the summer. His vision for Lopal would be realized and he would return home in glory.

  He wished that I’Vorris was here to see what a man with vision could do. Unfortunately, the former Lamane had been true to his word. His sons had spoken their allegiance and had brought the men of I’Vorris’s tribe, but the man himself had left some weeks before headed east to pursue what he saw as the greater threat. It’oni was uncomfortable with the focus I’Vorris brought to his task, and still felt he had somehow been duped by the manner in which I’Vorris had manipulated the Caucus. It’oni had been surprised had how difficult it was to direct such a large force, especially given the strong wills of the various tribal leaders, each of whom had his own ideas and priorities. I’Vorris had always made it look easy. Now It’oni knew better. He had three of the tribal leaders with his forces today. The others he had sent to coordinate the feints elsewhere. All had wanted to be part of the defeat expected at the coming battle, but he had mollified them with promises of equal shares. That would be true for the most part, but before the fighting was finished, he had a couple of scores to settle with those who hadn’t properly supported him.

  It’oni’s musings were interrupted by the sound of approaching horses. He could see a pair of riders entering the open spaces below, and recognized the red streamers that his scouts wore as they approached their own forces, a bit of extra protection against some fool being too quick to release an arrow.

  “It appears we will know when our enemy will arrive,” It’oni’s second in command said as he watched the approaching scouts.

  It’oni smiled. He knew that Branid’s men couldn’t get here before his own troops were in place from earlier reports his scouts had brought him. But now he would know more precisely the makeup and strength of the Branid forces in order to best distribute his own men.

  “Soon, I hope,” he said. “I don’t want to have to wait too long to end this.”

  Chapter 68

  The Prancing Pony Inn was the most well-appointed establishment that Rigo had ever encountered during his travels. It matched anything that could be found in Sulen itself despite being more than a three hour ride from the capital, and it was only a matter of chance and availability that he had stayed here in leaner times. Back then he had taken the lowest cost room they offered, and even that had taxed his funds. Now, money was not a hurdle, and they could choose what best fit their needs. Of course, it hadn’t been that easy. The proprietor, a spotlessly clean portly man in his mid forties had looked upon them uncertainly when they had arrived.

  “Three of your best rooms,” Rigo had said. “I’d prefer they were located together and in a quieter part of the inn,” he’d said. “We will be staying at least a week.”

  The man had been put off by their bedraggled appearance and the fact what they wore reflected Lopal style more than anything that would be seen locally. The man finally quoted a price and waited to see the color of their gold.

  Rigo pulled out a number of the coins he had acquired from Daim’s hidden sanctuary. It had taken only a touch of his magic to alter the impression to match that of one of the few remaining coins he’d recovered from the staff before setting it carefully aside in the special holder where it had rested for many hundreds of years. Even so, the proprietor weighed a couple of the coins against one of his own before nodding his acceptance. He’d then signaled a young girl, who had come over and escorted them up the back stairs to their rooms on the second level. The three rooms were all in a row and they went in to have a look before deciding on the assignments. While they were inside Ash’urn pointed out something that none of them had seen before.

  “There’s a door between the rooms,” Ash’urn noted.

  Rigo asked the young girl who indicated that it was something her father, the proprietor Rigo correctly guessed, had wanted when the inn was built. Each door was exceptionally sturdy, and could be barred from both sides. If a group took two rooms, they could unbar the door, and have the two spaces connected. It often worked for larger families.

  After the girl had left, they removed the bars and examined the space with the three rooms interconnected.

  With the women on one end, Kaler and Rigo on the other, and Ash’urn in the center, they set off to acquire more appropriate clothing and baths. By early afternoon they had returned to the inn looking more like everyone around them, and feeling clean for the first time in many weeks. They settled into the large common area on the street level for something to eat, and while they were there they discussed some of what they had already learned.

  “Duke Cordale is now the King!” Daria hissed. “I still have unfinished business with that snake.”

  “We must move carefully,” Rigo cautioned. “Kaler and I have no reason to be fond of Cordale ourselves, but he was chosen according to the laws of Branid, although I agree it is very suspicious that King Rupermore should die under such unusual conditions. Also, for Prince Rhory to be dead, and that at the hands of his own brother, was totally unexpected. One of our tasks will be to investigate what has been happening. The war must be stopped, and to accomplish that we will need to gain the ear of royalty in all three lands.”

  Daria made a face, but asked, “What of Burke and his friends? I thought you planned to approach them as well.”

  “I do. We will talk of it later.”

  Rigo hesitated. “I have been thinking since seeing what this place offers. I would like to make this our base of operations. We need a place where we can talk and plan in private, well away from where anyone might expect to look for us. The way the rooms are laid out would serve us well.”

  They spent the afternoon making certain changes to their rooms. For a nominal fee, and their promise to take the rooms for at least four weeks, the proprietor had several sturdy lads remove one of the beds from the center room, and move the remaining bed into the room where Rigo and Kaler had planned to be. That put all three men in the same room. It was a bit crowded, but moving the bed into the other room freed up the center room for a large table and chairs for the five of them. They could use the table for planning, and have their meals brought to them here if they wished. After the innkeeper’s men had left, Rigo had Kaler help him move the two large chairs near one wall out of the way clearing a large space at that end of the room.

  “This will be our operations center,” Rigo said. “We have the rooms on either side, and the outside is one story up, and on the inside is the hallway. It would be difficult for anyone to listen in on us without attracting attention, although if everything goes as I hope, no one would have any reason to. We can come and go without being observed by using the open area in that part of the room to create the Bypass doorway. No one will be the wiser.”

  Then Rigo hesitated uncharacteristically.

  “Wha
t’s the matter?” Daria asked noting his sudden silence.

  “I don’t know what will happen tonight,” he said slowly. “When I woke up this morning, I had somehow regained control and Daim was pushed into the background. He’s still there. As a matter of fact, he and I have had several “conversations” for lack of a better word. I don’t know what tomorrow will bring, and it is entirely possible that he could regain control once again.”

  Jeen visibly paled at Rigo’s words. “You don’t really think so? I do not like that man at all.”

  “I understand, but he is not as bad as your first impressions of him. I have access to most everything he knows. He might be able to hide some of his thoughts, but most everything is open to us both. You have to recall, he expected to find a blank mind in my body and not be forced to share it as he is at the moment. He didn’t have a plan to hide his knowledge.”

  “You can’t know that,” Daria objected. “He could be tricking you into becoming comfortable with him.”

  Rigo nodded. “I suppose that is possible, but I don’t think so. There is too much detail I can sift through as if the memories were my own. Given that he didn’t expect to have to share with someone, I can’t see how he could have fabricated such extensive memories so quickly. I think I understand him.”

  “He would have left us to the Hoplani in the Ruins,” Kaler said. “I think that tells us all we need to know.”

  “Ultimately he didn’t do so. His initial actions were driven by the dismay of learning that his whole plan was at risk. He had arrived far later than anticipated and while he had planned on having decades to prepare, he was suddenly in a situation where the Hoplani were running free in herds in a world unprepared and unaware of the danger they presented. Instead of a force of wizards trained and prepared by him, he finds that magic is in its infancy and led by a group intent on an approach that had failed in the past when wizards were far more powerful.”