The Sorcerer's Vengeance (The Sorcerer's Path)

by Brock Deskins

  Azerick looked pointedly at Aggie. “Speaking of the Black Tower; how is it that you came to be part of that less than pleasant bunch?”

  Allister’s face darkened at Azerick’s question and he too looked hard at Aggie. “Indeed, in my excitement of seeing you again, I completely forgot about that bit and how you just up and disappeared from The Academy one day.”

  The old magess let out a long sigh before answering. “It came to the senior council that several wizards were building a new tower and reestablishing their black order. The council decided it would be best if they had someone on the inside to keep an eye on them. It was decided that I would be their mole. I reported directly to the headmaster, Arkam back in those days, and then to Dondrian when he ascended the position. For a long time there was little to report as they seemed to keep mostly to themselves and did not appear to be trying to regain power in the kingdom. That started to change about ten years ago. I told Dondrian that it looked like the tower was giving aid to a usurper but it was seemingly indirect. Then I got wind of them actively aiding in the recovery of Dundalor’s armor. I continued to inform Dondrian of this, but he never acted on it as far as I could tell.”

  “Dondrian was working with the tower and betraying the king,” Azerick informed the senior mage.

  Aggie let out a sigh and her face fell. “I suspected as much but I had little to go on. I figured the best thing I could do was stay put and act when the time came when I thought I could make a difference. I began studying the fate lines and got a hint of your coming, Azerick, though I could not divine what exactly that meant.”

  Azerick looked at the old woman in confusion. “What do you mean you saw my coming?”

  Allister interrupted and explained. “You remember what I told you about the few wizards that are foolish or crazy enough to delve into temporal space manipulation? Aggie is one of those as well as trans-dimensional scrying and traveling. Some wizards can catch a glimpse of the future that way.”

  “You can see the future?” Azerick exclaimed as the possibilities of such an ability raced through his head.

  “Don’t be silly, boy. Not even the gods can see what has not yet happened. What I saw was, for lack of a better term, your fate strand.”

  “Fate strand?”

  Aggie shrugged. “Some people might call it destiny but that’s a little too strong a word. You see, when certain events of significant importance collide, those people who will play a major part in it are said to get special attention from the fates or the gods. Their thread of life or spirit or whatever you want to call it is more pronounced—profound even. It allows someone with the right skill and a lot of luck to catch a glimpse of it. During one of my studies, I caught a glimpse of yours.”

  “Hey, Rusty, you hear that? I’m profound,” Azerick said with a grin.

  “I know you’re a profound pain in the arse of most everyone you meet,” Rusty returned.

  Azerick smiled and turned back to Aggie. “So you can see what will happen to me and what I will do. So you can tell my future.”

  “No. I was able to glimpse the direction it was going, but like anything with free will, you can turn and change direction at any time, so seeing your fate strand cannot be used to see yours or anyone else’s future.”

  She lies! The demon raged. She came here to kill you. She is a Black Tower wizard and you killed her friends and destroyed her home and she wants revenge. Strike her down before she does the same to you! She is too powerful to let live.

  You know nothing, demon, so shut up.

  I smell blood in the air, lots of it and it smells so sweet! You know Ulric is a threat. Let us go end it before it comes to you and yours.

  Azerick ignored the demon while the others talked about preparing for any surprises and the general running of the school.

  Rusty repeated his misgivings about ignoring magical theory and history in favor of applied magic and Azerick repeated his earlier arguments and supported them further with the strange goings on in Southport.

  If there was a threat coming, Azerick vowed to be ready for it. No one would threaten his home or his friends again. Deep in the recesses of the sorcerer’s mind, Klaraxis chuckled sinisterly.

  CHAPTER 18

  Kayne’s infantry marched steadily northward toward Lyonsgate, a moderately-sized city that lay partway between Southport and Argoth. Kayne’s officers had spent the last several months swelling his legion’s numbers until nearly two thousand men marched out of the desert toward Valaria. They moved only during the hours of darkness and in complete secrecy. The few travelers that were unfortunate enough to encounter the army never lived to reveal their presence or movements.

  Two days from Lyonsgate, he left the supply wagons and support personnel encamped in a low-lying area of the rolling plains under a guard of two hundred men. The rest of the main contingent marched northwards toward the city to rendezvous with Kayne and his cavalry.

  Under the cover of darkness, the army split its force in two. Part of the army stayed hidden in a depression a mile south of the city, while a larger portion crossed the primary road and took cover in the wooded hills to the north.

  Kayne’s cavalry waited for the infantry, or legs as the cavalry called them, in the hills northwest of the city and helped get them entrenched and hidden. Jarvin’s forces were only two days away and drawing nearer. Kayne would ensure that they hurried their pace on the morrow.

  The mercenary leader led his horsemen down the wooded slopes just as the rising sun threw a grey pall over the land. Once down onto the road, he directed his men toward Lyonsgate. When the city gates came within visual range, Kayne ordered his buglers to sound the charge. The mercenaries shouted out a deafening battle cry and spurred their mounts toward the city.

  Warned by the horns and the shouting of men, the guards of Lyonsgate raced to secure the city against invasion and repel any attempt at a siege. Iron portcullises dropped in front of heavy, wooden gates. Guardsmen and archers crowded the high stone walls while the city’s undersized cavalry saddled their horses and prepared to do battle within the streets if the gates failed or the invaders managed to scale the walls.

  Soldiers and citizens waited nervously as the mounted attackers charged along the wall in groups of fifty, launching arrows at the defenders from horseback. Each group let fly two flights of arrows before peeling off and another group of fifty took their place. The mounted archers continued to harry the defenders in this manner in an unstopping rotation for nearly an hour before they grouped en masse a few hundred yards to the southwest and waited for an hour then resumed their attacks once more.

  The city defenders became more confident as they saw that the marauders were not constructing any siege equipment or attempting to gain the walls. Even if they did breach the gates or walls, cavalry lost the majority of their effectiveness inside the close confines of a city. Lyonsgate was the closest thing to a border town in the region and its defenders were well trained, and coupled with its armed citizens, had the numbers to make the four-hundred or so raiders think twice about trying to sack the city.

  So what were they doing here, the guard and city leaders wondered? What did they hope to accomplish with just cavalry? They had no answers but they were not going to take any chances. They could not hope to drive them away with the forces they had, so riders were sent east toward Argoth and west toward Southport where a large company, closer to a battalion, of king’s soldiers were patrolling the roads in search of these raiders.

  Sending messengers east presented no problem. The raiders concentrated their attack entirely on the western walls. The city chose its best riders and fastest horses to make a break south and west in hopes of skirting the marauders wide enough to sprint past and alert friendly forces.

  Two more riders and their spare mounts exited the city’s eastern gate and rode around the northern wall along the base of the foothills. They waited for the last sortie to finish its latest harassing fire before making a break toward the w
est. A dozen riders broke from the group and attempted to intercept and even launched a few arrows at the fleeing men’s backs, but they were too far away to be of any use. Atop the hills, unseen eyes watched the messengers gallop away in search of help.

  One of the pursuing men approached Kayne and saluted smartly. “Sir, two messengers escaped to the west and several more fled unimpeded toward the east.”

  “Excellent. That should put a pep in the step of Jarvin’s soldiers. This archery practice is becoming exceedingly dull. I think we can expect some relief from our boredom by morning,” Kayne said with a smile.

  The two riders pushed their horses for all they were worth for about three miles before slowing once they saw that no pursuit was forthcoming. At mile five, they switched mounts and kept up a smooth canter until their trailing mounts were breathing too heavily and flecks of foam dotted their broad chests.

  The two riders flashed each other a smile as they slowed to a walk to give their lathered, overworked mounts a much-needed rest. Once the horses were rested, the riders kicked them into a canter until they came upon the lead riders of Captain Cooper’s over-sized company a few hours later.

  One of Captain Cooper’s scouts quickly led the two men back to the head of the approaching army. “Sir, these men say that they have just ridden from Lyonsgate and have news.”

  “What do you men have for me?” the captain asked.

  “Milord, horsemen are attacking Lyonsgate, hundreds of them! We broke through their lines to get help.”

  “What is your name?”

  “Conner, sir,” the man replied. “Can you aid us?”

  “How many raiders did you say there were?”

  “Hundreds, milord; five or six hundred at least. I never saw so many horses at one time. Not sure I ever saw that many in my life all put together,” Conner answered excitedly.

  Captain Cooper let out a deep breath. Lyonsgate was five or six hours by horse. He had maybe three hours of daylight left at best. Civilians almost always exaggerated numbers but it was close to the four to five hundred horsemen stated in his reports. He had only three hundred horses himself and he was not about to go charging into battle against superior forces. He would have to have his infantry and archers with him and to do that they would have to march through the night.

  He turned to the two officers next to him. “Tell your men we will not be making camp tonight so we can reach Lyonsgate by daybreak. We will rest for thirty minutes before moving out. Give the men double rations to include wine. I want high spirits but not drunks.”

  The two lieutenants saluted smartly and rode down the line, passing the captain’s orders onto the sergeants who relayed it to the men. Lines formed up at the supply wagons as men received their meals and wine in order to provide them with ample energy for the long night of marching. Despite dreading the continued march, the soldier’s discipline kept the grumblings of dissent at a minimum, and the extra wine helped to keep it that way.

  After sunset, Kayne split his cavalry into two shifts so that they could continue to harass the wall’s defenders and still get some rest before the contingent of king’s soldiers arrived. The riders launched flaming brands over the walls throughout the night, more for psychological affect than any real hope of starting a major conflagration.

  Just before sunrise, Kayne’s scouts reported that the soldiers were no more than two hours march from the city. He sent the scouts to the men in hiding to remind them of their orders and to prepare themselves.

  Finally, all these weeks and months of pointless raiding would be at an end and they could enjoy a real battle! Kayne smiled at the thought. He had lost perhaps a dozen men to the defenders’ arrows but there would be many more before the day was out, but such was the life of a mercenary.

  Captain Cooper rode at the head of the fatigued columns of marching soldiers. He thought that he may have gotten an hour of sleep while sitting in the saddle, but that was far more than the legs who lacked even that small luxury. They were good men though and disciplined. With his luck, the raiders would be gone before they got to Lyonsgate anyway; such has always been the case thus far.

  He jerked his attention back as one of his scouts returned at a gallop and reigned in just before him.

  “Sir, we have seen the marauders. Looks like about five hundred, sporadically launching arrows over the walls, but the defenders have kept them away and out of the city thus far.”

  “Excellent, perhaps we can trap them between our forces and the walls and crush this rabble once and for all!” Captain Cooper exclaimed loudly, immediately shaking off all traces of fatigue.

  Thirty minutes later, he had his unit arrayed in battle formation. He split his cavalry along each of his flanks. Archers to the fore, backed up by pikemen and halberdiers. The rest of his footmen formed into tight groups of fifty and prepared to surround and protect the archers once they were forced to fall back behind the pikemen and halberdiers. Then they could engage the horsemen once the pikemen broke up their charge if they were foolish enough to stand and fight.

  A little over an hour after full sunrise, he spotted the walls of Lyonsgate and the milling mass of horsemen just out of bow range of the defenders. Twin columns of black smoke spiraled high into the brisk morning air where a few fires had apparently taken hold, but it did not look as though the city was in any danger of burning.

  Captain Cooper was now close enough to make out the finer details of the enemy and watched as they hastily arrayed themselves for battle upon spotting the approaching army.

  “Archers, ready!” he commanded in a pitched command voice.

  The archers readied their longbows and prepared to release a deadly rain of clothyard shafts into the charging cavalry.

  They are going to stand and fight! Cooper thought to himself as the marauders kicked their mounts into a gallop

  “Find your range—loose!” the archer commander barked.

  One hundred longbows twanged in near perfect, discordant harmony. The flight was aimed not at the charging horsemen but where the enemy would be given the speed of their charge. It is that kind of range adjustment skill that took years to hone before an archer was even considered proficient, which is what made them so valuable to any army.

  Kayne’s men, despite what most thought about the average mercenary, were well-trained fighters and they were all fully aware of the standard tactics used in warfare. It is why Kayne drilled the use of nonstandard tactics into his men.

  The charging riders burst apart like a school of fish the moment the archers loosed their lethal volley. What should have been a devastating blow was largely negated by the now spread out formation of cavalry. Several arrows still found their mark amongst the charging riders, but Kayne’s losses were greatly minimized by their own quick reactions.

  The riders converged a moment later into two groups, one to the north, and one to the south, perhaps two hundred yards apart. The standard tactic for cavalry was to charge into the ranks of footmen and use their mounted advantage to hack their enemy to pieces. Instead, they came within range to use their short, horse bows. The two groups turned inward and galloped across the front of Captain Cooper’s lines not more than a hundred yards away, making the pike formation that protected the archers completely useless.

  Kayne’s cavalry raked the massed ranks of soldiers with arrows as they crossed. The archers knelt and presented their backs, which sported large, thick shields strapped around their shoulders. The footmen knelt and raised their own shields while the pikemen and halberdiers could only kneel and weather the deadly volley.

  Firing from galloping horseback and hitting anything other than the ground is as much luck as skill and it lacked the concentrated volley of the longbowmen, but the sheer number of arrows and the soldiers own tightly packed ranks enabled Kayne’s men to inflict far greater damage than they had received.

  Men cried out in pain as the steel-tipped shafts penetrated armor and flesh. Arrows protruded from dozens of the massed sold
iers’ bodies, killing many instantly and sending even more writhing on the ground in agony. Captain Cooper’s men endured two more such exchanges before he decided that he could not afford to continue sustaining such losses.

  On the fourth cavalry charge, the captain ordered his pikemen and halberdiers forward at a run the moment the archers loosed their volley. Cooper’s archers scored more hits now that they adjusted for the marauder’s tactics, but the footmen and cavalry needed to engage them if the battle was to be won by any decent margin.

  The archers turned and knelt as the infantrymen charged forward, shouting their loud battle cries. The approaching horsemen released their own final volley before shouldering their bows, drawing their swords, and slipping on their small shields.

  As the thundering riders drew near, the pikemen set their long spears to receive the charge, but at the last moment, Kayne’s men pulled up short before throwing themselves and their mounts onto the steel-headed shafts. They darted in and took wild swings at the front ranks of pikemen before turning and darting away again.

  Captain Cooper used his cavalry to circle around the flanks of the enemy in an attempt to pin them between him and his infantry. So intent on their mission, few of them spotted the hundreds of men quietly swarming over the low foothills and breaking from the cover of trees until Kayne’s longbowmen began raining down destruction into his northernmost flanking cavalry.

  By the time the king’s men realized that they themselves were being flanked by a huge host of infantry and archers they barely had enough time to turn and set for the charge. Having been spotted, the charging horde of footmen dropped their attempt at stealth, shouted their challenge, and bashed their shields with their weapons, creating an awful din as they raced forward into battle.

  The two groups clashed with the sound of an avalanche. Swords cleaved limbs from bodies while spears pierced vital organs and sent men’s lifeblood pouring out onto the battlefield. Ten minutes later, Kayne’s southern forces slammed into the rear of Captain Cooper’s ranks, taking them completely by surprise.