Spirit of Magik (The Dothranan Chronicles Book 1)

by Richard Cluff

  The call for “Swords!” rippled through the officers in the company as they passed through the third rank of their own. These soldiers were fighting as they had, but they had been the reserve companies that had taken over the front when they had been relieved to rest.

  Lother brought his spear up high over his head, weighted down by the shield on his arm. He saw Draem bring his sword up and grip the blade with his mail gauntlet, leaving about eight inches of the blade exposed.

  Then on a shouted order, the company in front fell back as the fourth company surged forward, led by the masters with their long swords in the odd two handed grip. The enemy surged forward with the pressure from the retreating company released. Draem knocked a spear up that sought his blood, and with a mighty shout took the man in front of him. His head came off of his body cleanly as he shoved the blade through his neck with both hands. He began striking enemies with the pommel and exposed blade before his gauntlet, using the longsword like a short staff in close combat. He snapped spears on the enemy's shields and bodies, bringing the blade down sharply when they attacked him.

  Lother struck exposed enemies with his spear's broad blade as they presented themselves, paying close attention to Draem's position. He made certain that none could take advantage of his attention being on another target.

  And quickly, Lother found himself having to choose his footing carefully: he was stepping over the bodies of Quarrel soldiers as their line advanced. Soldiers behind him were stabbing those on the ground, just to make sure. He did hear a few satisfying cries as they did though. He didn't let that distract him from the job at hand though.

  Killing the enemy, and watching Draem's back. Those two things were his only concerns.

  He stabbed another soldier in the face as another Quarrel soldier made their way to the front: this woman had doffed her shield and had only a dagger and short blade in her hands. He could see the sergeant's rank on her pauldron. She caught Draem's long sword on her short and stabbed her dagger right beneath his breastplate. Draem swung the pommel of his sword towards the woman's head, which she ducked deftly.

  Lother stabbed his spear at her, which she also avoided. She brought her dagger up, under Draem's guard: she still held his long sword at bay with her short blade.

  Lother dropped his spear and pulled his wounded friend back, just narrowly pulling him away from this woman's snake-like strike. “MEDIC!” He shouted, then rammed his circular shield into this woman with all of his strength: she met it with her shoulder. She yielded little ground to him and came right at his face with her short sword. Lother bowed his head into his shield, and the blade glanced off of his helmet.

  He went for his short sword, and the woman's blade struck his hand, lightly penetrating the mail and forcing his hand away. Multiple spears struck at her; she ducked them or took them on the helmet glancing them the way he had with her blade. So Lother shoved his shoulder into the shield hard trying to force her back into her own line: she gave ground, but not easily.

  He felt the heavy hoof beats in the ground. Then the thunder of hooves became audible to him, as the real thunder in the air was. He reached for his dagger on his left; anything to fight this woman off. Beside him, she took another man's throat with her short blade, Lother could see the bones in his neck before the blood spray obscured his vision.

  By the spirits, not another cavalry charge. He thought as the heavy hoof beats closed on them. His wounded hand pulled his dagger free, and he struck right under his shield at her. He felt it strike home, penetrating her scaled armor. She stabbed her blade under his pauldron, breaking links in his mail that bit into his flesh painfully, along with the bare point of the blade.

  The woman fell back, with the enemy spears seeking his blood covering her retreat. He dropped his dagger and yanked his short sword free to meet them.

  Then he heard a crack of thunder; it was much closer than before. He saw several Quarrel soldiers behind the forward ranks stiffen and scream. He could smell the burnt flesh and hair being carried on the chill wind.

  He blocked a spear and stabbed at a man's face. He ducked in time to glance his stab off of his helmet. Then Lother saw the most beautiful sight in the world: a massive Dothranan cavalry collided with the ill-prepared flank of the Quarrel army. He could see a pair of Wizards further back, with their staves raised high firing electric death into the Quarrel lines.

  “For the Mistress!” He cried with renewed vigor and put his new found energy into pressing the attack. All the surrounding throats joined his shout.

  * * *

  Jacon Quarrel listened to the reports and couldn't believe what he heard.

  For the past forty minutes, he had received reports of soldiers in the cistern coming under attack. That in itself wasn't a surprise to him.

  What was a surprise was the fact that every soldier being pulled out of the cistern had reported that they couldn't see their assailants. When Major Wenton had told him this, he'd questioned the man thoroughly.

  The Major told him that he had personally questioned at least ten of the wounded. They all told the same story, with some small variations. And he was receiving reports from his officers that the other accounts had been the same. He trusted Wenton, he'd known the man since he'd been Ricard's age. But he'd wondered if he had lost his mind.

  “Someone broke Kora's knee, then grabbed my sword hand when I tried to draw. Then I was stabbed sir. I couldn't see who did it, but they were in arm's reach, I know it sir,” one of his soldiers had reported.

  The strangest part of all was that none of his soldiers had been killed. Wounded, yes. But none had died of their injuries yet. There were over one-hundred wounded already, and the number grew steadily.

  The Major had recommended that they pull the remaining guards out of the cisterns and fortify the access points to the Manor. He'd reluctantly granted him permission. “Even if they are invisible, we'll see them opening the doors,” the Major had reasoned.

  He didn't want to give any ground to that little bitch, no more than served him. He particularly didn't like yielding control of the field to her. But what else could he do in the face of unknown Magiks?

  So he would wait until one of the access points to the Manor came under attack. It was all he could do at the moment. Even if the bitch had found a way to make people invisible... actually, he believed it would most likely be that young man she was now betrothed to who was responsible.

  Making a person invisible had at least several working hypothesis to support it. While it had never been done to his knowledge, it would be an easier feat than making one's Magik invisible.

  And that young man, Thorel Tangarth, had already accomplished that.

  Then he received the worst news of his day when General Garna's stone touched his mind.

  “Master! A massive Dothranan cavalry has struck our lines from the south! There are at least three companies! According to Wizard Quenton, they have brought two more Wizards! We'll not be able to hold here without aid, Master!” The woman's thin voice in his mind was extremely agitated: something he'd never heard from her before.

  “What of Lok?” He asked her.

  “I do not know, Master. But I do know without at least one more Wizard, we cannot hold here for long,” her stone transmitted.

  “Contact the messenger in Lok!” He ordered his steward sharply. He fervently wished now that he had touched Gorath Lok's mind before. Since he hadn't, he wouldn't be able to contact him directly without a line of sight.

  “Yes, Master!” He replied to his unexpected order.

  He looked at the Dothranan plans with disgust and noted the name of the agent that had signed it. Thrakus Meril. It was obviously misinformation now. They had placed a large force in the south. There was no invasion from the cisterns. Only a small band sent to make it look as if there was one. He felt certain of it.

  “Contact the Spymaster, and tell him Thrakus Meril is a traitor. Tell him I want him found and captured,” he was going to make
that turncoat pay; for a long time. He crumpled the fake report angrily and threw it across the black marble audience chamber.

  “Yes Master,” his steward said quickly.

  “Father, what's happened?” Ricard asked, looking at him with concern.

  “The little bitch Dothranan has played me, that's what's happened,” he stood and belted his sword on quickly. “Arm yourself, son. You're coming with me to help save this war from going directly to the privy,” he growled.

  “Yes father,” Ricard said with the concern in his eyes growing. He put his academic work aside and belted his blade on dutifully though.

  “I have the messenger on his stone, Master,” the steward told him and handed it to him when he extended his hand.

  “Has there been any word from Lord Lok?” He growled into the stone and committed the attunement of it to memory. Then he could contact him again without needing the stone itself.

  “Not that I know of, Master. I will inquire though,” the messenger's thin voice told him.

  “Do so. Now,” he ordered, and tossed the stone back to his steward. A thin “Yes Master” came from the airborne stone.

  “Tell the stables to alert my escort to be ready. Have them saddle enough horses for me, Ricard, and my personal guard.” He couldn't afford the time it would take by carriage to reach the battlefield. He would be sore from such a ride when he arrived, but haste was the only way to save this debacle now.

  The large double doors swung open silently to allow for his exit as his enraged mind raced.

  * * *

  Ari walked through the ornate halls of Quarrel Manor on the forty-second level. They found the ladder down from the roof after she had apported herself and Thorel. They had dealt with three groups of guards and four servants so far; they were dispatched quickly and quietly. Then they had dragged the bodies out of site so they would have more time before Quarrel was alerted to their presence.

  It was frustrating. While the four Manors of Vallad were all the same on the outside, in their wisdom the architects had changed the interior layout of each so that knowing one would not mean you knew any of the others. They had done this so one House could not use the knowledge of their own Manor against a House occupying another.

  While Ari appreciated the safety this brought her, she was also irritated by the inconvenience it posed now. Silene scouted ahead quietly and they detoured around more crowded areas, such as the servant's station.

  She was tempted to expand her senses and look for Quarrel's Magikal signature: but that would completely defeat the purpose of their stealth. He would sense her touch immediately, and be able to locate her. While the people with her were capable, they were not capable of dealing with all the guards in the Manor.

  So they continued moving about, as stealthily as they could.

  Siri spoke to her quietly: “Mistress, we should try to capture one of the next ones so we can question them about Quarrel's whereabouts. Would you be able to keep the noise from escaping?”

  “Yes. Pass the order Siri, I want the next ones alive,” she told her quietly.

  “Yes Mistress,” Siri said and passed the order quietly to the others.

  She looked to Thorel before Silene halted the party with a signal at the next corner. Thorel was doing well, in her opinion. He was not squeamish and did what had to be done, as quickly and efficiently as any other with her. He was less enthusiastic, but that did not seem to detract from his effectiveness; which was all that really mattered.

  Silene silently signaled that there were eight guards around the next corner. That was four times as many as any of the other groups. This must be a place of major importance. Quarrel might even be in a room down that hall! She thought excitedly.

  Three of her guards went up beside Silene with their crossbows loaded and ready. Thorel's former guardian, Siri, and the other four guards made ready as well, behind Ari. Siri had the foresight to tell them she would have to be with the first group, to keep the noise quiet.

  Ari was grateful for Siri's presence. Her knowledge of how to work with a Wizard was proving invaluable. While Silene and the others were officers who had training in such things as well, Siri having been an actual instructor for Legion Officers really showed today. It was clear she understood the subject much more intimately than they did. Little things, like a line of sight, mattered a lot to a Wizard in most instances.

  On Silene's signal, she and the others rounded the corner. Ari was right behind them and silenced the eight guards with her Magik instantly. Silene and the three others fired their crossbows into the closest four. The other four guards barely even reacted when their comrades went down, with their armor penetrated by the thick bolts.

  It was amazing how important the perception of sound was to a person's reactions. By the time the other guards reacted, Ari's second group of guards had rounded the corner and were taking aim. Silene and the others were on one knee reloading their weapons. She could see the alarm on their faces, and that they tried to shout: Ari watched their mouths work uselessly in the field of Magikal silence she had evoked. It was an amusing sight.

  Three of the other four guards went down silently, the fourth bolt glanced off of one man's armor. Then another bolt streaked by her and found the last man's torso. From the corner of her eye, she saw Quedesham nod to her and quickly crank his crossbow back to accept another bolt.

  Ari released the silence she had evoked. She could hear the moans of the Quarrel guards that still lived. Siri walked past her with Thorel following closely. Silene and the others stood with their weapons reloaded and moved forward.

  Ari followed them down the ornate hall, near the large double doors. Those doors made Ari's mind itch. Could this be the Quarrel Audience chamber here on the top floor? It would make sense with this many guards outside. It would also be a reasonable place for Quarrel to be right now.

  One of the wounded Quarrel guards threw his dagger at Siri; she slapped the weapon out of the air, and it clattered to the tile floor. Ari looked at her in wonder. She certainly could have done such a thing herself, but not without the aid of Magik. Siri was well worth her weight in gold. Ari looked forward to the coming conversation about her shadows and wondered what surprises were in Siri's contract.

  Siri kicked the man who had thrown the dagger in the chest; his breastplate dented, and the breath left him. Quedesham had made his way near her and watched the others with his crossbow leveled. Silene and her people spread out checking the other guards on the ground.

  It was clear to Ari when she looked that several were dead. It was no real loss, due to the sheer number of them, but it did irritate her. How hard can it be to follow simple instructions for some of these people? Did “do not kill the next group so we can question them” have another meaning among them? While mistakes were certainly possible, she would have to identify those who had failed her in this. If they could not follow her instructions exactly, she could not have them in her personal guard.

  “If you tell me what I want to know, I will spare your life,” Siri hissed quietly to the man that she had kicked. She held one of her daggers to his throat. He had the rank of Lieutenant on his pauldron, with a bolt pinning his plate to his belly.

  “Heh. You're gonna kill me anyway, so you might as well just do it, woman,” the man said defiantly, obviously in agony.

  “Only if you're useless to me. Where is your Master now, Lieutenant?” She pried quietly and pressed the sharp blade to his flesh as hard as she dared to.

  Ari evoked the truth seer and touched the Lieutenant. He replied; “He is very close,” He said with a smile. “If fate is willing I'll live long enough to see you burn, bitch.” Both things rang true. Ari's excitement grew.

  Thorel walked with Silene and two other guards nearby. He nudged the Quarrel guardswoman near him with his boot, to see if she would stir. He wasn't surprised when she didn't, due to the bolt lodged near her heart.

  Then the large double doors swung open silently, to his rig
ht. Thorel turned toward the doors: and saw both Jacon and Ricard Quarrel standing there, stunned for just a bare moment. Then the Master of House Quarrel drew power from his staff and a wall of Magikal fire erupted from him, as he screamed a wordless curse at Thorel.

  The spirit of the ram from Korin's flock of sheep stepped in front of the attack and bowed its head. The fire struck its horns and bent it in that place, stopping its travel. The fire didn't continue, but physical force still struck him as if it were a wall.

  Ari's heart stopped for a moment when Thorel was struck. He flew into the wall in front of the doors. His staff clattered to the floor and rolled away. Two of the guards near him, as well as Silene, were also struck by the devastating surprise attack.

  Thorel was stunned but seemed to be alright. Ari was certain his Magik had saved him somehow, even though she could not see it. With one look, she knew that Silene and the others were dead though. She could smell their seared flesh from where she stood. A few of the fallen Quarrel guards had been cooked as well.

  That is unfortunate, Silene was loyal. She will be hard to replace. Ari thought as she brought her shield up. She could see Thorel's staff returning to him as an invisible force moved it. She saw a sword's point appear from behind the open door and heard Jacon Quarrel's gravelly voice: “You are a fool to have come here, boy. Keeping your power invisible will not save you from me.”

  Ari prepared her strongest lightning bolt, and then the heavy steel strapped door snapped its hinges without warning and flew right at her. She held her power and activated her bracelets of strength. She brought her hands up reflexively to catch it.

  That was a mistake, she realized too late to change her course. Her physics and anatomy classes came to mind: just because she had increased her strength Magikally did not change her mass or the density of her bones. And this door out-massed her by more than five times.

  It was fortunate her shield had been up though: otherwise she would have broken more than her hands and arms when she'd been struck. The pain was excruciating, but not unexpected. She had collided with one of her other guards before she slid to a stop, near the hall's intersection. The man was dazed but rose to his feet quickly. Two of her guards rushed to her and together they easily lifted the door from her. She re-purposed the power she had held for her attack into healing her broken hands and arms as they dropped the massive door. The marble floor tiles shattered under its weight.