The witches injured by Zuhl’s frost had recovered with warmth and bed rest. All but Lita were mounting up to fly with Abigail.
“Be careful, Abby. I love you,” Alexander said, hugging his sister.
“You be careful, too,” she said. “I love you, Alex.”
After goodbyes were said all around, they broke into units, all heading to their respective destinations.
Abigail and the witches launched due north with both dragons, heading for the Isle of Zuhl and Whitehall to kill Zuhl.
Bianca and her large flight of Sky Knights launched toward her fortress island to pick up supplies on their way to Fool’s Gap.
Alexander launched with Ratagan and Horst bound for the Reishi Keep, accompanied by Jataan, Jack, Anja, Lita, and Chloe inside his Wizard’s Den.
Targa and Raisa were already well on their way to Shoalhaven.
The enemy soldiers holding the surface of the fortress island were left to their own devices … without food, fresh water, or a boat.
Chapter 31
Alexander pushed his clairvoyance while he flew with Ratagan, searching out the Reishi Isle, learning the terrain and landscape through close inspection alternating with high-level viewing. He returned fully to his physical location frequently, usually feeling a slight headache, but those faded quickly.
His pain had just subsided, so he reasoned that it was time to try again. He searched the forest for anything of interest and saw a scouting team moving toward the Reishi Keep.
He pulled up, getting his bearings before moving in closer, watching the enemy soldiers move with deliberate stealth toward the outer wall. He returned to himself and judged the distance. The wyvern could probably make it in time … depending on the intentions of the scout soldiers.
He tapped Ratagan on the shoulder, motioning for him to land quickly inside the wall of the Keep. The Sky Knight nodded and tipped into a rapid dive, heading straight for the first space large enough to accommodate his wyvern. The beast flared its wings, crushing the air from Alexander as it nearly crashed into the ground.
He slipped off quickly, opening the door to his Wizard’s Den and going to his magic circle. Jataan took up position in the doorway even before Alexander sat down.
He cleared his mind and slipped free, floating over the Reishi Keep, feeling the ancient fortress like an extension of his will, another body with another entire set of senses and capabilities.
He ranged out, finding the two soldiers perched on a low bluff that afforded them a good view of the Keep and the outer wall. They were just watching, most likely scouts but they could be part of a larger attack. Alexander searched the surrounding forest, but found no other soldiers.
Shifting his focus to the Keep, he took a mental inventory of its defensive capabilities, finding a number of magical powers that would suit his needs. With a focused thought, he sent a dozen blasts of white-hot magical energy from the battlements at the two soldiers, ripping into them with terrifying accuracy and potency at such a long range.
Alexander opened his eyes and went in search of Commander Perry, a slight twinge of guilt nagging at him for killing the two soldiers. The guilt slowly morphed into anger at the things evil people make good people do. He deliberately set those feelings aside. There would be more death before there would be peace.
He steeled himself to that fact and reaffirmed his commitment to victory for the Old Law, even if the cost was hard to bear. All of the other alternatives were catastrophic for the Seven Isles. He had to win, and yet, the battle that would decide the future would likely be fought without him.
He told himself again that it was the only way.
“Lord Reishi,” Commander Perry said, saluting crisply. “I take it the magical fire from the Keep was your doing.”
Alexander nodded. “I’ll need a tent for a few days, Commander, until the wizards arrive.”
“I’ll see to it at once.”
“Also, we’re going to need space for several legions.”
“We haven’t yet cleared the Keep sufficiently to hold such numbers.”
“Have the men moving into the Keep clear as they go.”
“As you wish, Lord Reishi.”
Alexander opened his Wizard’s Den and went to his magic circle. Moments after sitting down, he was floating over a cluster of large armored men, all surrounding Peti and Abel. The King of Ithilian was well, but still entirely under the witch’s spell. As Alexander watched, Peti killed a man, draining his blood into a large tub.
Alexander floated up into the air and was sickened by what he saw. A giant sigil had been dug into the ground, soaked in the blood of Zuhl’s soldiers. Peti had already killed thousands. He could only imagine her intent.
He shifted his point of awareness and appeared before Sofia, focusing on his objectives rather than the circumstances.
“I’ve just looked in on Abel. He’s alive and well but still charmed.”
Sofia pursed her lips, taking a moment to process Alexander’s sudden arrival on her balcony and his report about her husband.
She nodded slowly but resolutely, then asked, “How can I help you, Alexander?”
“I need your Gate legion.”
“Where?”
“The Reishi Isle.”
“This is important, isn’t it?” she asked.
“Very much so,” he said.
“You can have this legion, but only if Evelyn and I command it.”
“Done,” Alexander said. “I’ll open the Gate tomorrow morning. Bring everyone you can.”
“Unfortunately, most of the wizards are in the city and Torin has already taken a legion north,” Sofia said, “but I still have Mage Jalal acting as my court wizard. He’s remarkably resourceful for a man who looks so frail. Aside from that, I have only soldiers.”
“That’s what I need,” Alexander said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
A few moments later, he was floating above a huge fleet of warships crowded into the strait between Andalia and Tyr.
He moved in, focusing his vision on the flagship, an enormous vessel almost half the size of one of Zuhl’s battleships. He slipped below decks and found Isabel sitting at a table, staring ahead like she was in a contest of wills, darkness swirling in her beautiful colors. Alexander appeared in the chair across from her.
She blinked, smiling in spite of the weariness in her eyes.
“I see you,” she whispered.
“I see you too,” he said. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m losing, Alexander,” she said, matter-of-factly. “She’s winning.” She tapped the side of her head.
“You have to hold on, Isabel.”
“I have … I have held on. I’m holding on right now.”
Her condition and her plight tore at his heart. He wanted to reach out and save her from her torment, but he was helpless to act, so he changed the subject.
“How many men does Phane have?”
“Three legions, a hundred wraithkin, and a dozen Acuna,” she said, speaking too quickly. “Plus Tyr and his hundred ships.”
“I love you, Isabel,” Alexander said. “Hold on to the light. When the time is right, bring it forth.”
“I love you, Alexander,” she said, very deliberately and very sincerely as he faded out of sight, pushing a flood of feelings aside and focusing on the task at hand.
He found Lacy, locked alone in a cabin not far from Isabel’s. She was wearing a slave collar. Otherwise she looked well enough given her circumstances.
He faded into the firmament and thought of Abigail. He found her riding a wyvern over the ocean, coasting through the chill air, wrapped in warm riding furs. She was still some distance from the Isle of Zuhl, flying in formation with almost three dozen wyverns.
Next he found Conner. He was south of the Iron Oak Forest with two and a half legions of cavalry, including almost two legions of Rangers. They were moving with all possible speed toward Fool’s Gap, but they were still days away. The rest of the ar
my, infantry and archers, were consolidating at the south edge of the Iron Oak, picking up stragglers and preparing to move south.
Finally, he thought of Anatoly and found him inside a fortified tower built atop a giant boulder at the west end of Fool’s Gap, right were he’d constructed his first defensive line—a trench backed up with a wooden-spiked berm and topped with four lines of soldiers armed with shields and pikes. More soldiers waited in reserve at the base of the berm, ready to fill in gaps or to counterattack should the line fail.
Behind them stood row after row of archers, all with several quivers of arrows each. Two hundred heavy cavalry waited in reserve behind them.
Given his terrain, a hundred feet of dirt bordered on two sides by two-hundred-foot stone walls, his forces were deployed well. If anything, his reserve force, more than three-quarters of a legion camped on the far side of the gap, was becoming restless.
Marching up the switchback approach road were a thousand soldiers, beating war drums. An hour’s walk to the west, the rest of the enemy force was encamped, almost ten legions. They looked as though they weren’t planning on staying where they were for long.
Alexander appeared beside Anatoly, startling Oliver.
“Good timing,” Anatoly said. “Is it as bad as it looks?”
“This is a probing attack,” Alexander said, motioning to the thousand men approaching. “The main force is an hour away and they look like they might move against you all at once.”
“About what I thought,” he said, rubbing the stubble on his chin. “Any help coming?”
“A flight of Sky Knights should arrive sometime today, probably later this afternoon. Conner and his cavalry will get here in a few days. Torin will land his troops in a few days as well.”
“So we hold,” Anatoly said, nodding to himself like he was stating the obvious, turning to Commander Blake. “Ready the archers. Five-arrow volley.”
“Yes sir,” Blake said, stepping out onto the tower’s balcony and instructing a flagman to send the signal. Blake turned and nodded to Anatoly once the archer commander had received it.
The probing regiment raised shields, approaching under a turtle shell of steel plates. While they were all armed differently, all of these men carried some form of large shield. The entire thousand men moved as one, inching closer to Anatoly’s line. They passed into the kill zone. Anatoly waited. The leading edge passed out of the kill zone, too close to Anatoly’s line to be safe targets for the archers.
He nodded to Blake. The commander ordered the flagman to send the signal for the archers to fire five volleys in rapid succession.
Moments later, a hail of arrows rained down on the shields, some penetrating and drawing blood, most breaking against steel. The four lines of men atop the berm shifted formation the moment the arrows began to strike, pulling out slingshots and throwing lead bullets into the leading edge of the attackers, tossing three volleys before returning to their defensive formation.
The combination of attacks was effective, wounding nearly half of the probing force. Anatoly signaled Blake for volley number two. Two separate forces of archers lining the cliffs above on each side of the gap loosed three arrows each … their range better for their altitude, they killed many soldiers in the back ranks.
The probing force fell back further, two-thirds of its number dead or wounded.
“So now they took our measure,” Anatoly said.
A drumbeat went up from the probing force, a call to arms. Alexander looked at the main force, sighing to himself.
“Here they come,” he said.
“All of them?” Captain Iker asked.
“No, looks like about one legion,” Alexander said.
“Put out the word,” Anatoly said. “Signal Corina.”
“I’ll take care of that,” Alexander said, vanishing and finding Corina with her flight well back of the main battle line, all armored and waiting. Dozens of wagons and even a few giant saddlebags filled with rocks were staged around the mountaintop wyvern camp.
He appeared in front of her and smiled without a word, creating a perfect image of the battlefield as it was in this moment. He moved his focus to the main enemy force, picking out the group in the center that seemed to be the command element, moving in closer to show the nature of the guard force around them.
“Anatoly tells me you can do some pretty good damage with these rock carts,” he said. “Target these people here.”
Corina nodded agreement. “We can launch on your command, but what about the advancing legion? Shouldn’t we hit them instead?”
“No, hit their leadership hard,” Alexander said. “Strategy and position are all that Anatoly has going for him. They can’t get position, and strategy only comes from good leadership. Take that away from them, and Anatoly might be able to hold the gap.”
She nodded, calling out to her Sky Knights to make ready. They started mounting up and taking to wing, spiraling higher and higher in preparation for their attack runs.
Alexander returned to Anatoly.
“Corina will hit their commanders,” he said.
Anatoly nodded, looking up as the first squad coasted overhead. Alexander sent his sight to them, floating along beside them, watching their approach from right over their shoulders. The wing leader pointed out the formation at the center of the enemy army, checking to see the signal from each of his Knights before tipping into a dive, each wyvern pulling in behind two leading wyverns, forming two columns on an attack run.
The lead Sky Knight pulled a heavy lanyard. One by one, the boxes inside the cart dangling below his wyvern popped open, spilling dozens of rocks into the sky. The next Sky Knight loosed his payload a moment later. A steady stream of stones rained down, showering the tightly clustered horde of soldiers with devastating results, killing men by the hundreds. After all the rocks had been deployed, the Knights turned back toward the wyvern camp to refill their carts.
Thousands of men lay dead or dying below as more Sky Knights floated in, dropping death from the sky to kill and maim indiscriminately. The enemy suffered terrible losses. Without magic, they were all but defenseless against such an aerial attack. It lasted nearly an hour. Wyverns launching, Sky Knights dropping rocks into the midst of the enemy and returning to reload. They started their attack in the central camp, pounding the leadership hard before spreading out to kill many of the rank and file.
By the time it was done, Alexander estimated twenty thousand dead or wounded. The field was red with blood and the air filled with cries for help, water and mercy. He’d hoped that such a devastating attack would motivate the enemy to retreat, but it seemed to provoke the exact opposite response.
The seven remaining legions had nowhere to go except to follow their assault legion. Most of the men just milled about aimlessly, looking for someplace to direct their aggression. But two legions began to mobilize and follow after the troops already moving toward Anatoly.
The assault legion formed into a loose column about fifty abreast and two hundred deep, shields up and interlocked in haphazard fashion. A volley of arrows went up at Anatoly’s signal. It produced more of a clatter than bloodshed. The advancing enemy closed in tighter, filling the spaces between shields, the entire legion moving along at a crawling pace, but closing the distance nonetheless.
Anatoly held up five fingers to Commander Blake. A few moments later, five volleys of arrows went up over the berm, raining down into the enemy shields, most falling harmlessly against their defenses but some getting through.
“Signal the slingers on the bluffs,” Anatoly said.
Blake took up a horn and blew it three times—the great, low, booming tones reverberated throughout Fool’s Gap, filling the air with tension and expectancy.
A few moments later, stones began to fall from the bluffs, raining down on the attackers from both sides, pelting their shields, disrupting their defenses, even killing a few. Anatoly’s people atop the cliffs were armed with slingshots and an endless supply of s
tones the size of a man’s fist.
He looked over to Blake, signaling for another volley of five. Arrows went up, finding more targets with the enemy under siege from the cliffs, killing or wounding nearly a quarter of their number.
Someone near the front of the enemy ranks blew a horn. The entire legion, or what remained of it, broke ranks and raced forward, shields held high but no longer interlocked and close. Arrows rained into their midst, killing many more, but they gained precious ground. A shouted command brought the leading edge of the charge to an abrupt halt, men forming up and interlocking shields again as more men filled in the ranks behind them, forming another steel turtle shell over the closely packed cluster of men. Arrows clattered against their shields, dwindling as the last of the volley fell to earth.
“Ready one on my command,” Anatoly said, raising his hand, holding up his finger, watching the enemy. He trusted Blake to get the signal right.
A muffled shout went up and the enemy shields all came down as one, followed by a volley of javelins.
Anatoly shouted, “Now!” dropping his hand the moment he heard the enemy command.
Arrows and javelins arced through the air, crossing paths only briefly before crashing into their targets.
Arrows reached the enemy before most could raise their shields. The damage was severe, hitting close to half of all that remained, leaving gaps in their defenses.
The javelins hit the shield line atop the berm wall hard, penetrating shields in some cases, stabbing into the guts of the men holding them, some passing into the second and third ranks, killing in most cases, in others wounding so severely that death seemed a foregone conclusion.
Before Anatoly could signal for another volley, the enemy charged again, this time in a headlong rush to reach the berm wall. Arrows were no longer an option for these men, but another two legions were rushing in behind them, clogging the switchback road that led up to the gap and filling the space between the two cliffs with men, pushing in behind the more organized assault unit.
Anatoly’s line braced for the charge as the rear ranks began hurling stones into the onrushing enemy with their slingshots. Most stones bounced off their shields, but some made it through.
Sovereign of the Seven Isles 7: Reishi Adept Page 36