Path of the Magi (Tales of Tiberius)

by Stuart, Richard J

  Tiberius and Lord Brandon rode back along the coast road, past Gleason’s Vineyard and Tuck’s Ferry and on to their home. They made a couple of quick stops, giving orders that the militia be called up. A bit past midnight they were back in Vonair.

  ∴

  Next morning they were awakened early. Lord Brandon was giving instructions to his wife and a dozen other people as he tried to get a few bites to eat in between. Just then, he saw Lord Gillyian being ushered in. Lord Brandon looked up at him.

  “We’re busy.”

  “So I see,” Gillyian smiled. “Planning a hunt, great sport hunting goblins. I must say I’m devastated that I haven’t been invited.”

  “You’re offering to help?” Lord Brandon looked up hopefully. “Then you’re more than welcome.”

  “I can’t promise too much. Many of my people think we shouldn’t interfere in the matters of mortals. But no one really likes goblins and we can always count on a few volunteers for some sport.”

  “Secondtown in two days. We’re expecting the attack on the thirty-first at midnight,” Lord Brandon said.

  “We’ll be there. Try to look up a good taxidermist for us! Lord knows we won’t be eating what we kill on this hunt,” Gillyian said.

  The word had already gone out last night to assemble in the morning. Lord Brandon looked down from the gatehouse walls at the assembled militia milling about the base of the castle. Not as many as he would have liked, but Darras had told any farmers to get on over towards Henry’s, and not to meet here. At least the weather was good, and his horse showed no ill effects from last night’s extraordinary ride.

  At eight in the morning, Lord Brandon led the assembled Rangers and militia off on the march. A number of Rangers he sent on ahead as scouts and advance men. The rest of the company marched upon the road. They made good progress. Best of all, it seemed like every step along the road they were joined by more men.

  It reminded Tiberius of the last time he’d been in a militia call-up, back with his father. As then, there was a bit of a carnival atmosphere to the whole affair. None of these men were professional soldiers. These were the butchers, the bakers, the farmers, and other regular townsfolk. Their military training consisted of regular archery contests and a day or two each year spent drilling. Each man had a longbow with them and a few score arrows. It didn’t seem like much of an army, but this was the sort of band that had won great victories for old England in the past. At Agincourt, Crécy, and Poitiers they proved that an army of longbowmen could win a great victory. But too, the battle of Patay showed they could be defeated.

  For now though, the men were happily marching along, singing military songs, like the “Song of the Bow.” There was some grumbling too. It was a bad time for a call-up with the harvest to be collected. The call-up wasn’t all it could have been for that reason, as many folks were needed for the harvest. But, all things considered, it was a good turn out. By the time they arrived at Henry’s at about 4 P.M., they had gathered about 5,000 militia.

  Old Henry had his work cut out for him that day. The inn was placed off limits to all but officers, as a matter of sane crowd control, but even so, the inn was packed to the rafters. Tiberius would have gladly slept under the stars, but Lord Brandon insisted he stay with him at the tavern, to be ready at need.

  ∴

  Back in the Black Hills, the goblin queen stood over her scrying crystal again, gazing into the depths. In the crystal was an image, a bird’s eye view, quite literally. One of her ravens was flying near the soldiers' fort. It looked peaceful enough, but it paid to make certain. Too much was at stake. She’d just take it in a little closer and…

  She had a glimpse of a silver bird for a second. Then everything went black. Hell and damnation. What could … but of course. Silver birds meant Dallen. He watched over Sherwood City. It didn’t pay to get too close. Her predecessor had found that out all too clearly. Well, no matter, she wasn’t attacking them. As long as things looked quiet there, that was all that mattered. No sortie by the soldiers. They’d come after her of course, but by then it would be too late. She’d lead them in rings around the forests of the border lands and settle back nicely into her caves with enough food and drink for a cheerful winter. She shifted her view to another bird. The road between Fort Marion and Stapleshire was clear, nothing out of the ordinary. She looked down to the gap between the hills and the walls. No sign of the cavalry riding though the gap, but she never trusted her birds anywhere near the wall. Putting anything magical between Dallen and Messura was asking for trouble. She had conflicting reports to the west. Militias were stirring; that was for certain. That was expected, but they were too late. She had too many goblins assembled for a mere militia to handle. And she had Monotauk … Monotauk, she cackled. That was a coup. There’d be no stopping them now.

  ∴

  Back with Lord Brandon, there was some brief debate the next morning about the next day's march. With battle expected on the evening of the 31st, there was some thought to force marching past Secondtown and camping at the halfway point on the road to Lychester. Ultimately, Lord Brandon decided against it. If their intelligence was wrong and the queen’s army came straight at them a day early they’d be better off making a stand at Secondtown than being caught on the road. The weather was still good for marching at least; a bit crisp, but it was clearing a bit.

  Darras, Lord Brandon, and Tiberius looked over the crowd breaking camp.

  “This is going to be a long tough, march,” Lord Brandon said. Turning to Tiberius he asked: “Can you do anything to help these people?”

  Tiberius gave a thoughtful frown. “Like what? I can’t enchant thousands of people like I did your horse. If I had months to prepare I might do something with the road or a crowd, but…”

  “Music,” Lord Darras said suddenly. “That’s what we really need. We’re short on musicians. Men can march 50 miles in a day if they have to. We’re only doing twenty. That can easily be done if we can just keep everyone’s spirits alive. I’ve heard you produce music before.”

  Tiberius thought for a moment. “I can do a bit of music, but I’ve never tried anything before a large crowd. It should be possible though.”

  “Make it so,” Lord Brandon said. “Wait, that won’t sound like you singing, will it?”

  Tiberius laughed. “No, thank God. That would hardly be magical. Anything I’ve heard and know. Don’t worry, I’ve heard plenty of good marches. Get them underway and I’ll supply some marching music.”

  That was easier said than done. Bad enough getting your own family to run down to the market with you without scattering all over the road. With thousands of militia men, it was a logistical challenge. All the same, a half hour later the first troops were marching. Tiberius rode his horse towards the front of the column and then pulled to the side. He created a couple of illusions of rock elementals. They were seven-foot-tall-man-shaped-piles of rock, one holding a bagpipe, the other a drum. Next was the audible illusion. Spells cast, he marched back out of the woods into the line. All eyes turned to him and his creatures. He gave a nod to them, and they started to play. All of a sudden a stirring martial song filled the air. The drum beat and gave a steady rhythm.

  Lord Brandon nodded approval. The music the magus supplied carried well down the line; this was magic indeed. Good music always stirred the soul. Already every step seemed lighter.

  “We know this one, don’t we lads? Let's sing along!” he ordered.

  It was a long march but with the music going it didn’t seem so. There was almost a holiday atmosphere in the ranks by now. It was a welcome change from the usual day to day existence on the farms or in the shops. It was also a chance to meet old friends from different villages as they marched along. They were marching and singing along with their local celebrity, Darras Walker the Hammer, and the noted magus of Vonair was out doing tricks as well. The weather was holding and it wound up being a festive day. By the end of the day everyone was tired and sore, but they we
re in good spirits.

  The next morning was the 31st of October. Lord Brandon woke up early. It was a cool morning, and it would feel good to have some exercise. The sky was grey and misty, but at least it wasn’t raining. The scouts reported no sign of movement by the enemy. The march to Lychester was on. He just had to get everyone up and marching.

  Lord Brandon got on a barrel to address the minutemen.

  “I know you’re all tired. You’ve had two days of hard marching. You’ve got one more ahead of you. Just one more day. We’ve got to reach Lychester before midnight. Let’s get there by tea time. If we can make that, we’ll have a bit of a rest; then we’ll be up again at midnight. It'll be fighting, not marching, then. It’s a long walk, but to get the prize you’ve got to run the race. These villains mean to come out and fight. They mean to come steal your lands, rape your wives, and butcher your children. If we get there in time, we’ll have a little surprise for them: a few thousand goose yard shafts. So what do you say we deliver on time, lads?”

  That got an enthusiastic shout in response. Tiberius started up the music again, the golems leading the way. It sounded better today, too. Tiberius was a quick study. Various amateurs had found their own instruments and joined in. The long march got underway.

  As the day wore on, Lord Brandon had occasion to admire Darras’ ability to connect with the people. Darras seemed to be everywhere at once, singing along with the troops, or giving a word of encouragement to the tired. Lord Brandon was a good administrator with a few friends in the capital. He could handle the logistics and could command an army. But he had nothing like Darras’ personal charisma. Darras was everything a knight should be. He drifted towards the back of the column lifting spirits and keeping everyone moving as they marched along. The people would follow him over a cliff. Brandon hoped that wasn’t where he was actually taking them now.

  Towards the end of the day, the column reached the town. Everyone was exhausted and ready to drop, but the Rangers were deployed to make sure that didn't literally happen. As the column arrived they were moved into an orderly campsite north of the town.

  Tiberius and Lord Brandon walked up ahead to the north gate, where they could look out over the local terrain. At least they didn't have to worry much about which direction the enemy would come from. The goblins would be in a hurry and that meant the only option was to come down the old trail to the north. If they tried to come from the northwest, they'd run into some steep rocks and hills which would slow them down. A northeast approach was possible, but again, swinging around to make that approach would take time and the approach to the town was no better for an attacker.

  Lychester was a small town on a hill defended by a wooden wall. The town was perched at an outcropping on the edge of a ridgeline. Mostly there was open ground about the town, consisting of small farms. There were some woods to the east and west of the town. To the east was another small hill. To the north west was a small lake, and a larger, but steeper hill. The main road ran east and west just to the north of the town.

  By 4 P.M. most of the militia had arrived in Lychester. Lord Brandon ordered the men to rest, though he was careful to place Rangers to the north of town. This was not only to give warning of the approach of the enemy, but also to make sure no messengers went north. Lychester was the closest town to the queen’s fortress and it was well known that the inhabitants paid tribute for protection. The queen would have friends here.

  After looking out over the lands, Tiberius walked with Lord Brandon, taking stock of the village. Turning a corner he was surprised to see Singh Greentree and Kristine had just walked into view and approached.

  “Singh?! What are you doing here?” Tiberius asked.

  “I’m coming to help of course,” he said, as if his appearance here was the most natural thing in the world.

  “But I thought you wanted to keep a low profile?”

  “I desire to avoid publicity so I can concentrate on research. I am quite confident that you can handle the day to day operations where a magus is truly necessary. That doesn’t mean I plan to stand by and do nothing while goblins plot to overrun the entire county. They did activate the militia after all. I admit, I was more thinking of staying in the background and handling the medical side of things, rather than contributing to the pyrotechnics.”

  “That would be a great help. Thank you.”

  “I’m not quite in the same league as Messura, but my skills should be more than adequate for the medical occasion at hand.”

  Lord Brandon cleared his throat and Tiberius made the introductions:

  “This is Doctor Greentree and his assistant Kristine. He is of my order. They’re going to help with the hospital.”

  “There’s two of you now?” Lord Brandon asked in utter surprise.

  “There have never been only two of us, even when we were first three,” Singh answered.

  Lord Brandon turned to Tiberius, “He does sound like you; do you fellows take a course in being obscure?”

  “Doctor Greentree and his assistant are residents of the county, though obviously he ordinarily works on different projects. Under the present emergency, however he has offered to help out with the hospital.”

  “I see. Well if you're anything like Tiberius here, that means the rest of the hospital staff can practically pack it in. I’ll give the necessary orders. Any of the rest of your order feel like dropping in, by all means let me extend an invitation.”

  “Really one is more than sufficient,” Greentree said. “But I do have civic duties.”

  Lord Brandon walked and stood before the town surveying the field to the north from where they could expect the approach of the enemy. Darras and Tiberius stood beside him. El Gato had command back at Reuelshire with the Northern Militia. It was just possible the queen would go northwest after all, in spite of the danger from the elves.

  “We can deploy along the south of the road, making a V shape with the Rangers and some of the better armored militia in the center and archers to either side. The gnomes can take charge of that hill northeast of the town. Our line will be a bit thin, but I think we can fully cover the northern approach to the town. We might make our own little Agincourt, eh? Our men are all tired, but at least they all don’t have dysentery like they did at Agincourt. I think we’ve brought more arrows too.”

  Darras gave a slight scowl. “About the same time of the year too. Trouble is the ground here hasn’t been plowed. It’s too good a footing. We’re facing a faster and more sure footed opponent.”

  “But not as well armored as the French,” Lord Brandon observed.

  “I do have a bit of good news, sir,” Darras added. “I just checked the south of town. We might want to think more about Cowpens,” he said with a slight smile.

  ∴

  Back in the lair of the queen, the queen herself stood at the top of her great chamber. The steps leading up the platform were now covered with jack-o’-lanterns, each of them carved with a crude, hideous visage and dimly lit with a flickering candle. All around her goblins worked placing the hundreds of jack-o’-lanterns and piling bones all around them.

  The queen nodded satisfaction, then turned first to the great cauldron that bubbled on top of the platform, and then to the goat that was brought forth. This she examined very carefully. When she asked for an unblemished goat, she dammed well meant unblemished, and she always double checked. She smiled again. This one would do.

  She motioned to the goblins and the contents of the bubbling cauldron were poured down the steps. Next she took a razor-sharp blade from her belt and with one swift motion, slit the throat of the goat, letting its blood flow and mingle with the cauldron spilling down the steps and onto the waiting piles of jack-o’-lanterns and bones.

  Holding her staff in the air, she shouted, “Arise, Children of All Hallows. Children of Hecate, Children of the Night! The witching hour approaches. Esirra dna od Elttab rof ruoy Neeuq!”

  For a moment there was a eerie silence in the gre
at chamber. Then there was a slight scraping as one of the bones moved. Then another … then another. Slowly, but as surely as the approach of an executioner's sword, the bones started moving, forming into the shape of men, headless men. Once they had formed from piles of bones into headless soldiers, the headless skeletons then reached down and each of them took hold of a jack-o’-lantern. Then they picked up the carved pumpkins, lifted them up and placed them on top of their headless skeletal bodies, the jack-o’-lanterns becoming the heads of these terrifying warriors. Now they were fully formed soldiers of the goblin queen. The flickering candlelight became their eyes as they took up their swords and shields. Each shield bore the queen's purple and was decorated with the image of a jack-o’-lantern and the queen’s crown over its head. Even veteran goblins in the chamber took a step back as they watched the queen’s army assemble itself. Around four hundred jacks now filled the chamber and then all as one they turned, raised their arms and saluted the queen.

  The queen then strode through their ranks. She walked down through the great chamber and out towards the exit.

  As the sun was starting to set, the queen’s army had assembled just outside of the great cave entrance. Thousands of spiders, goblins, and bodies formed the great horde.

  Everyone assembled gasped though, as the queen made her grand exit from the chamber, leading a small army of jack-o’-lantern warriors.

  The queen was pleased with the turnout: nearly ten thousand all told, including the giant Monotauk. Even he could see it was past time for this action; many of the dark fairy folk had been feeling the heat from the Rangers and Tiberius. This time they would strike back! The golden rays of sunset shone over the banners of the queen. Each banner was purple with a jack-o’-lantern in the center covered with a gold crown. The queen herself stood watching them all parade past her. She turned to her general. Gerneral Squamata was a giant of a goblin who stood around six and a half feet tall. He wore a suit of gleaming bronze plate armor and he carried two large cutlasses. The queen walked around him sprinkling a few last charms.