Lesson of the Fire

by Eric Zawadzki

  Volund shot him an irritated look. “We have already been over this, and it is out of the question.”

  “Why?” Katla asked, feigning confusion. “Let the battles be fought on their lands, at the expense of their towns, farms and mundanes.”

  Ragnar smirked at her apparent ignorance. “The Duxy of Domus has a long-standing treaty with the duxies of Gunne, Skrem and Piljerka, two of which share borders with Flasten. If we commit most of our forces to the invasion, the Duxy of Flasten will be vulnerable. And those duxies will invade, I can assure you. They have no love for us.”

  As many times as you’ve invaded them on your little slaving expeditions, you’ve given them good reason for that, Katla thought, but she waited, maintaining the push.

  “Then there are the Drakes of the Dead Swamps to the south,” Ragnar continued. “The gobbels have overwhelmed our perimeter defenses before, and ochre raiders dig under them quite regularly.”

  “And those are the obvious dangers,” Arnora added. “What if the damnens invade? What if Wasfal, Nightfire or Pidel side with the Mardux against us?”

  “That is unlikely,” Ragnar said. “The damnens have not left the Dead Swamps in centuries, and the other three have been neutral in political conflicts for nearly as long.”

  “Perhaps,” Arnora conceded, “but if you rule out as impossible anything that is merely unlikely, you increase your risk of catastrophe.”

  Katla’s respect for the woman increased fractionally, but she shared Ragnar’s skepticism over the damnens involving themselves. While she had a healthy fear for a member of the Drake race who did not join in the Mass and still survived, they preferred to keep to themselves. The giant, clawed monstrosities combined the worst of most Drake traits, from immunity to Dinah’s Curse to near-perfect camouflage, and on top of those, they were immune to magic. Any wizard would run before them, and all mundanes would die.

  “Brack and I had hoped it would not come to this. Watch the myst carefully with Knowledge. I have something to demonstrate.” Katla allowed them only a moment before reaching into the folds of her cloak and withdrawing a short, straight twig. “This is a Blosin wand.”

  Robert’s eyes widened, and he opened his mouth, but Katla gave him no opportunity. She touched a small knot near one end. A jet of flame shot from the other end, leaving a black scorch mark on one wooden wall.

  The other wizards did not react well to this sudden display, gathering the myst to counter whatever spells Katla might produce. If killing you was all I hoped to achieve today, I would have done it by now.

  Even after they calmed down, Katla could tell they didn’t yet grasp the implications.

  “A slow device,” Vigfus commented. “A green could work such magic more quickly.”

  “The magic is inside the wand, so a ready supply might prevent fatigue,” Ketil offered.

  “I do not understand how this solves any of our problems, Weard Duxpite,” Volund said, but he at least looked interested.

  Robert looked neither perplexed nor thoughtful. He stared at Katla with undisguised fury.

  Would you like to explain to Dux Feiglin that you are the reason Sven took the Chair so easily, Weard Wost? Katla thought, avoiding his gaze.

  “I do not believe she had magocrats in mind when she created this wand,” Robert said, and if his face showed emotion, his voice certainly did not. It was a lecturer’s tone. “The magic is in the wand itself. Mere contact between that mark on the wand and a living tor activates it. Anyone can use it.”

  Valgird reached the conclusion first. “Mundanes.” He smiled, no doubt imagining ways he could exploit this spell, once he knew how it worked.

  “But it is against the Law to teach mundanes to use magic,” Ari said.

  Robert pressed his lips together, and Katla knew Nightfire had already forbidden him from giving wands to mundanes. Otherwise you would have had an army instead of a few slaves.

  But Valgird answered with a sleek smile. “Yes, but this is not teaching the mundanes anything about magic. Eventually, the magic will run out, and the wand will not function until it is enchanted again. How many uses would you say it has, Weard Duxpite?”

  “A few dozen.”

  “Still, we would be giving the mundanes weapons by equipping them with such devices,” Arnora objected. “What is to keep the mundanes from turning the wands against us?”

  Valgird and Robert looked at each other, and mutual recognition crossed their faces.

  Valgird spoke, “Unless wand-wielders had a strong numbers advantage, I doubt they would be a match for actual wizards.”

  “This would give us an advantage in an invasion of the Duxy of Domus, Weard Duxpite, but it still is not enough to negate all our disadvantages,” Ragnar said.

  “Ah, but you must not march on the Duxy of Domus with these wands,” Katla said. “The Drakes do not know the difference between a wizard and a wand-wielder. If you march toward the Fens of Reur with an army large enough to capture Domus Palus, the Mass will certainly interpret it as an invasion.”

  “Then what purpose do you have in giving us these wands?” Ragnar demanded.

  “We will use the gobbels of the Dead Swamps. They can use the wands as easily as a mundane could. I will negotiate the deal personally.”

  All around the table, eyes fell. Wizards shifted nervously in their chairs.

  After a long pause, Ketil spoke. “The Drakes and Mar have been at war for as long as Fraemauna has ruled the sky. To make such an alliance ...”

  Katla sniffed. “Perhaps you have forgotten that it was an army of Drakes who drove the Giens out of Marrishland.”

  “And also razed all of our cities,” Ari muttered.

  Volund waved him to silence. “Go on, Weard Duxpite.”

  “If the gobbels in the Dead Swamps were armed with wands and — for that price — were convinced to invade the Duxy of Piljerka, the Mardux would have to deal with it using his army of wizards. Before he could even get there, Piljerka and Skrem would have fallen.”

  “Then we invade Gunne and Domus,” Ragnar said, leaning over the table.

  “The Mardux would see us gathering wizards long before, if we hoped to invade at the same time,” Arnora said.

  “Weard Stoltz is right,” Katla said. “But, Weard Feiglin, you offer to help the Mardux. Then your people are amassed in the open, until they rival the Mardux’s own. And you have permission to cross the border. You will be stronger than his army and, if you plan it right, between him and Domus.”

  Murmurs of approval swept around the table.

  “What do you need from us?” Volund asked.

  “I will need two of your reds to accompany me to the Dead Swamps. I will teach them to enchant wands so they can equip the gobbels. I will then report our plans to my master.”

  “Ketil and Weard Stoltz will go with you. Ragnar and Weard Vielfrae, you will lead the invasion. I will go to Domus Palus when the Mardux calls the Council to address the gobbel attack.” Volund turned to Robert, Ari and Valgird. “The three of you will stay here in Flasten Palus to deal with any problems.”

  Valgird rose slightly from his chair. “Dux Feiglin, while I agree this plan is better than the one I originally recommended, one does not exclude the other.”

  Volund waved for him to continue.

  Valgird licked his lips. “All I ask is permission to lead an invasion of the Takraf Protectorates once Weard Groth begins the real attack. As Weard Stoltz said, even if there is only a small chance that it will force Weard Takraf to take steps to defend it, I think it is worth doing.”

  “It is not a bad idea, Weard Geir, but I cannot spare any of my magocrats.”

  “I am willing to hire mercenaries from the Duxy of Wasfal,” Valgird persisted.

  Volund compressed his lips into a narrow line but nodded. “Very well.” He took in the room. “Unless there are further comments, let us adjourn. Tomorrow, we move.”

  * * *

  Katla, Arnora and Ketil teleported
to the edge of the Dead Swamps, and after a day of searching and waiting, they stood negotiating with a gobbel chief who claimed to speak for the other gobbel chiefs.

  The Dead Swamps had once been a duxy in their own right, until the damnens had claimed them. They looked no different from any other stink-filled, oozing part of Marrishland. The trees were perhaps a little thicker, the canopy maybe a little denser, but the standing water and konig worms were the same. Katla resisted the urge to run her hand along the soft green moss covering a giant root of the tree next to her. Who knew what the moss might do to her?

  Katla Duxpite wore a marsord as a disguise. Few people had ever seen Katla for who she really was. The people she loved feared and distrusted her, while the ones she hated never doubted she was their ally. Even now, as she actively pursued his downfall, Volund had allowed her to plan his war strategy for him. She had no doubt that when Brack finally introduced her to the Delegates, the Drakes would misjudge her, too.

  Katla recognized that and embraced it, even though it was sometimes painful. Her patroness had fashioned her into the perfect instrument of revenge, as suited Katla’s purpose beautifully.

  I did not devote myself to the most loathed and feared of all Mar goddesses because I hoped to be a miner or mapmaker. The Bald Goddess is generous when moved by injustice.

  In addition to her reign over earth, Drakes and disease, Dinah was the goddess of vengeance. Hers was not the polite, civil justice Seruvus oversaw, but the ruthless, overwhelming revenge of one who has been wronged so badly that no reparations would ever set things right. The Bald Goddess dealt most harshly with those who abused their power — the prouder and stronger the tyrant, the more humiliating and absolute his demolition.

  Katla could appreciate a patroness like that in a way she could never devote herself to Marrish or Fraemauna. Nightfire had been uncomfortable with her choice, and she knew many Mar would consider her a traitor if they knew, which was why she so seldom swore oaths to her patroness.

  If I succeed, wizards like the ones who took my mother away will pay in blood for their crimes. I will break their power. I will diminish their numbers. And I will place them at the mercy of the mundanes. Sven seeks that goal, and I will ensure he achieves it, even if I must make enemies of every Mar to do it.

  She smiled grimly at the thought but shuddered slightly as well. She pushed the thought away and concentrated on the matter at hand.

  The needle-toothed gobbels of the Dead Swamps were driving a hard bargain. Their leader, a tall, broad-shouldered beast clad in the decomposing hides of alligators, wore a sheathed marsord at his side. That message was clear: This gobbel had won a battle against a powerful weard. As she spoke forcefully to him in his native language, though, Katla knew she would convince him.

  She held out the wand to him in offering, glancing sideways at her two companions, whose looks were dubious even if they knew whom she represented.

  Perhaps even more so because of whom and what I represent.

  She glanced at the swamp around her. Gobbels stood in every direction. They had wide, flat noses and lips that curled up in a permanent snarl that revealed their sharp teeth. It was no wonder the Mar considered them both aggressive and stupid. Katla knew better. They had learned how to fight Mar over the last several centuries. She noted the characteristic tactics.

  They stood in groups of no more than ten or twenty, none more than a hundred feet from each other nor nearer than fifty. It was a formation that allowed them to forage on the march, but more importantly, it made it difficult for a wizard to attack more than one group at a time. In battle against weards, the members of each group would scatter. Now, they were all watching. All muttering.

  Listening. Waiting for one of us to make a mistake.

  If the wizards attacked, gobbel spears would be in the air too quickly to gather myst for teleportation. The edge Katla walked with Arnora and Ketil was sharp.

  After a long pause, the big gobbel nodded and motioned to his bodyguards — eight thick-armed warriors dressed in rust-colored fox pelts. One of them stepped forward to take the wand from her hand. He pointed it at a small kalysut and touched the mark on the twig.

  A jet of flame engulfed one branch of the tree, reducing its leaves to ash.

  The leader of the gobbels nodded and laughed, shouting to the gobbels all around. The cry was taken up, echoing through the trees. Several thousand gobbels surged forward. Katla saw Arnora’s face whiten and her knees buckle as several passed close to her.

  “Well?” Arnora hissed, coming closer to Katla.

  Katla spoke in Middling Gien, “Stay here with the gobbels. I will bolster the perimeter defenses in case the gobbels try to betray us.”

  “What did you say?” Ketil asked.

  Arnora sniffed in disgust. “Do not tell me you cannot speak Middling Gien!”

  He shrugged. “Read? Yes. Speak? That is not so easy.”

  Katla frowned at him, trying to think of another way to get her point across without undoing her negotiations with the gobbels. “You’ll find that many of our allies speak Mar quite well. Be polite to them.”

  “What are your instructions, Weard Duxpite?” Arnora asked in Middling Gien.

  Katla smiled slightly and matched languages. “Do not underestimate the gobbels, and do not do anything that will provoke them. They will eventually lose. Do not be here when the wizards defeat them.”

  “Will the gobbels blame us for their defeat and kill us?”

  “The gobbels will flee when the day is lost. The Mardux’s magocrats will accuse you of treason against Marrishland, however, and you must admit they have a pretty convincing case.”

  “Thank you for the warning, Weard Duxpite,” Arnora said, and she sounded like she meant it. “I will keep Volund’s son under control.”

  Katla nodded and disappeared into the Tempest. Instead of returning directly to the Flasten border, however, she went to the ochres. Katla found them easier to persuade than the gobbels had been. Of course their wands would be more effective against wizards — counterspell wands to tear down the perimeter defenses. Ochres were intelligent enough to grasp the implications.

  Chapter 11

  “It is not the goal of this Academy to teach Mar to use magic. The truest measure of a weard is not what he knows, but what he is capable of teaching himself. At my Academy, you young men and women will learn how to learn. Those of you who master learning might decide to take the next step, which is to learn how to teach others to learn.”

  — Nightfire Tradition,

  Apprentice Addresses

  Sven sat on the Chair overlooking the seasonal meeting of the Council. “What is the next order of business? Yes, Dux Verlren?”

  “We estimate forty thousand gobbels have breached our eastern perimeter,” Yver Verlren, the Dux of Piljerka, explained as though the spring rains had come a little early.

  “How did they get past your border defenses?” the Dux of Skrem asked as though this was of purely academic interest to him.

  “That is unknown at this time, Dux Zaghaf,” Yver said. “We are investigating, but many of my frontier magocrats have not responded to our inquiries.”

  “Is there any chance they abandoned their posts, Dux Verlren?” Volund asked with a concerned expression.

  Yver shook his head. “More likely, their towns have already fallen, although I’m surprised more did not teleport away.”

  The dux of Flasten managed a sympathetic smile. “You know frontier wizards. They always insist on being the last to retreat.”

  Sven studied Volund. The timing of this attack was too perfect, and based on his response, Volund seemed clearly involved with it. But how had Volund convinced thousands of gobbels to attack Piljerka?

  Brack, he realized, glancing sideways at Katla. No one else has any sway over the Drakes.

  She gave no sign of recognition.

  Perhaps the old bogeyman was trying to make the Mass seem real.

  “Do you need our
assistance?” Sven asked Yver.

  “Only your forbearance, Mardux. I am sending a thousand of my magocrats to break the invasion, so Piljerka may be slower in paying next season’s tribute than I would like.”

  “I believe that is acceptable,” Sven told him. “Does anyone on this Council have any objections? Yes, Dux Ratsell?”

  Sven had a raging headache long before the negotiations ended. Wasfal was not as wealthy as Domus or Pidel, but it had ready access to more trade goods than any of the other landlocked duxies — a fact it used to its advantage. Every duxy owed money to Gruber Ratsell, every dux’s debt secured by the sworn pledge of hundreds or even thousands of its magocrats. If the duxy defaulted on the debt, those magocrats became Wasfal’s slaves for eight years.

  Several other items of business came to the Council, but Sven found nothing interesting about any of it. When Nightfire, Katla and the duxes ran out of topics, Sven stood up from the Chair.

  “I have one more order of business before this meeting of the Council ends. I propose an amendment to Bera’s Unwritten Laws to allow Mar to use magic even if they lack the prerequisite education.”

  “I cannot advise against this action strongly enough,” Katla said. “Your amendment would be a declaration of war against the Drakes, and the Mass will move against us.” She sounded confident, but Sven caught a flicker of doubt in her eyes.

  Or was that a wink of acknowledgment?

  Sven went on. “I use the Takraf Protectorates as an example of the changes education can have. Disease, famine and danger have been severely diminished by my work there. There is no reason we cannot adopt such policy throughout the country. The quickest way to deal with this will be to teach all Mar to use the myst.”

  “Do you have any idea how many Mar would die if the Mass came down from the Fens of Reur again?” Volund snapped. “If we are lucky, only a few hundred thousand Mar would die in that war. If we are not, there will be another dark age like the one after the Empire fell.”

  “Peace, Dux Feiglin,” Yver said. “We have heard your rants before.”

  “You must have a unanimous vote of the duxes to change Bera’s Unwritten Laws, and you will never have mine.” Volund jerked to his feet. “Mardux, you have proposed this amendment at every meeting of the Council since you took the Chair. No argument will get me to change my vote.” He stormed out.