“That’s the idea,” Astyral nodded, indulgently. “Perhaps the blade of the Fox will defend Destiny, itself!”
“Oft has the Fox heard destiny’s call and always has he harkened to it!” Caswallon assured us, confidently as I led them over to the snowstone pillar that contained Megelin’s Waystone.
“Ishi’s tits, why do you encourage him?” Landrik complained to Astyral in a whisper. “He’ll be making metaphorical comparisons to destiny all day, now!”
Chapter Nineteen
The Unexpected Mission
“The spells of the elves are subtle, but do not mistake subtlety for weakness.”
Magelord Proverb
From the Collection of Jannik the Rysh
Fort Destiny was an old square Wilderlord keep surrounded by a curtain wall with towers at each corner of the rough rectangle. After it had fallen in the initial invasion, it was used as an advance base by the gurvani, until the nascent Iron Band drove them out and claimed the place as their own.
Since the renaming, the Iron Band had steadily improved its defenses: the walls were nine feet taller, now, and a new section enclosed a second bailey. The towers were reinforced and a second, deeper ditch surrounded the original moat. A new gatehouse loomed impressively over the approach, and a series of covered turrets had been built along the front stretch of wall.
Inside, the range of halls and barracks had greatly expanded from the original construction as the needs of the Band increased. During most times, Fort Destiny had eight or nine hundred permanent fighting men. Now more than two thousand crowded the interior. Sandoval had taken great pains to augment the armories with arrows, spears, helms, crossbows and whatever else Vanador could spare. The storehouses were packed with supplies, enough to endure a lengthy siege.
Once we arrived at Fort Destiny, it only took a few moments of observation to realize that all of those preparations were woefully inadequate. The force assembling just out of bowshot vastly outnumbered the defenders.
There were at least seven or eight thousand gurvani and a dozen trolls setting up a siege camp at the bottom of the road leading to the fortress. A half-dozen siege worms were dragging great wains containing partially-assembled siege engines into place. Unlike Gaja Katar’s horde, the deployment was orderly and business-like. Depressingly so.
What was worse was the hail of incoming magic already being directed at the defenses. The head of the order’s Magical Corps was consumed with defensive efforts, attempting to adapt the wards and shields around the castle to the arcane assault. A squadron of warmagi huddled in a tower performing the castings, the High Magi among them executing spells prepared by their less-powerful colleagues to defend against the probing of incoming magic. They weren’t unsuccessful, but whoever was directing the magical assault was no mere gurvani shaman. The keep shook periodically when their counterspells were inadequate.
“They are using Alka Alon spells of sorcery,” Tamonial announced, with a sigh, as he scanned the battlefield. “Spells as were once used against the great houses, long ago. Spells that haven’t been employed since.” The Tera Alon warrior sounded both grim and intrigued. “Even learning these spells has been discouraged in my short lifetime.”
“They don’t seem to be particularly effective,” Landrik said, hopefully. As if to mock him, a magically-propelled rock the size of his head penetrated the wards and disintegrated on the tower above and behind us – along with ten feet of crenelated wall. To his credit, Landrik did not flinch. “I’ve seen worse,” he added, with a shrug, as cries of alarm rose around us.
“Was the approach seeded with war spells?” Astyral asked the warmage the Iron Band had assigned us as liaison when we arrived.
“Thoroughly,” the dark-haired man nodded. “I was observing as they arrived on our frontier,” he reported. “We were warded up as tight as a burgher’s daughter. Their scouts included some user of magic with them who dismantled them before they could take effect. Same with the outer spellfields.”
“Well, if Shakathet learned anything about Gaja Katar’s failures against us, it’s that we like to make our foes step into a big steaming pile of magic before they fight,” I said.
My baculus, Insight, was in hand, evaluating the battlefield’s thaumaturgic structure. It quickly identified a staggered line of force that indicated the likely origins of the spells being lobbed at us. The baculus confirmed Tamonial’s report, as the blasts of energy erupted against Fort Destiny: those were Alka Alon sorcerers slinging those spells, sophisticated, powerful and deadly.
There were at least seven or eight of them, as well as areas where Insight helpfully suggested future threats might arise based on the arcane forces coalescing there. There was also a significant band of what had to be defensive magic enveloping the encampment. Particularly around the three great siege engines that were being assembled. And around a structure that looked like a hastily-constructed redoubt, near the rear of the camp. The sort of place where commanders and sorcerers would congregate.
“We’re still holding our own,” Buroso said, confidently.
“They’re just taking our range,” Tamonial corrected, as a lance of green light narrowly missed the topmost spire of the castle. “They’re setting up their field of attack and establishing the spells’ perimeters. When that is done, they will begin the real work.”
“Then how best do we disrupt that?” Astyral asked.
“Quickly,” Tamonial said, as his eyes darted back and forth across the line. “The Enshadowed haven’t fought a war in centuries, but when they did, they preferred highly destructive spells in battle. That’s how they destroyed Castabriel. Concussive waves, sonic blasts, desiccation, all manner of brutal magic. This quaint little hut won’t be able to withstand that sort of thing for long,” he predicted, looking around at Fort Destiny’s towers with disdain.
“They’re too spread out for us to attack collectively, and individually they are close enough to summon reinforcements,” Landrik assessed. “We could start at one end, but it’s doubtful we’d reach the other before being overwhelmed. And that’s a potent defensive field,” he added, with a nod toward the invisible force protecting the Enshadowed.
“That field prevents anything straightforward from getting through,” Astyral concluded after reviewing with his own baculus. “At least from this direction. Do we have any units positioned to conduct a flanking or rear attack?” he asked the Iron Band mage, hopefully.
“Nay, my lord,” the man said, shaking his head. “We have some cavalry, a gracious number, thanks to the new recruits from Enultramar. But they were deployed with Lord Tyndal’s cavalry, away to the east. We’ve naught but a few scouts hiding in the woods. Those damned Fell Hounds are keeping them holed up,” he added, with especial disgust.
“They might be spread out,” I realized, “but they’re also in a straight line, more or less. Bide, gentlemen,” I said, as a method of attack suggested itself. I closed my eyes and established contact with Dara, mind-to-mind.
How far are you from Fort Destiny? I asked her. I’m here, now, and I think there’s an opportunity for the Sky Riders.
We’re roosting on a hilltop about three miles to the southeast, she replied. We’ve been here since dawn. Waiting for orders, she added, pointedly.
Here are some orders, then. I’ve got a line of Enshadowed sorcerers assailing the keep from the south, I explained. They’re about half-way between the infantry and the skirmishers – I’ll mark the line with smoke, I decided, as it was too bright for magelights to be easily seen. I need both Wings to charge that line from the air and make things difficult for them. They’re preparing something nasty, and I want to disrupt their concentration.
We can do that, she agreed. How are the winds?
Insight tells me that they’re coming from the northwest, but nothing robust.
We’ll be there in twenty minutes, she promised.
“We have our mission,” I announced, when my eyes opened. “In fifteen minutes,
we need to produce a cloud of smoke at each end of that line. In twenty minutes, we need to be prepared to attack and mop up before the rest of their army realizes what’s happening and reinforces them.” A particularly loud report echoed across the battlefield, as some powerful spell was launched against the castle. A heartbeat later, one of the turrets on the wall below erupted in green explosive fire.
“Those foul sorcerers will regret the day they dared to contend with the wizards of the Magelaw!” Caswallon declared, drawing his mageblade dramatically. “Lead on, Count Minalan, and let the bodies pile in our wake!”
“A stealthy approach, I assume, and as quietly as possible? Two on each end and two in the middle?” Astyral asked me, curious.
“Why exclude anyone?” the Iron Band warmage asked. “I’ve some fellows who would be well suited to such a fight. We’ve been crossing wands with the gurvani for years, now. It would be an honor to follow you into the field,” he assured us.
In just a few minutes he was able to assemble five other Iron Band warmagi who were prepared for such a stealthy sortie. I directed Astyral and Caswallon to make for the western end of the line, and Landrik and Tamonial to the east. I led Buroso and the Iron Bandsmen toward the center.
Moving across an active battlefield during broad daylight is tricky business. Warmagic makes it easier, but there’s always the possibility that you’ll attract attention before you’re ready for it. We passed our own scouts and skirmishers, brave men hiding behind boulders or miniature redoubts with bows and crossbows, ready to engage any goblins bold enough to approach the walls.
There were still a fair number of powerful spells in the field around the castle, I noted as we picked our way slowly by steadily across the rocky expanse of scrub below the moat. Any sudden charge against the walls would get ugly, if they weren’t dismantled first. The archers overhead promised to make that process deadly.
I kept an eye on the positions from where Insight insisted the Enshadowed sorcerers were fighting. I spotted two of them in person once we got closer. The Enshadowed were clustered in knots of two or three behind trees or rocks as they cast their enchantments. Most had a few gurvani attendants or bodyguards nearby.
The Enshadowed were wearing their ancient battle forms, making them tall and spindly, compared to the Tera Alon. Their armor, too, was in the ancient style, and they wielded staffs, wands and other devices I wasn’t familiar with. Each had a long-bladed, short-hafted spear near at hand, and many had bows. We weren’t spotted – thankfully, they were so intent on assaulting the humani castle in front of them that they did not suspect a humani sortie against them.
We’re in position, Astyral notified me in a few moments. Let me know when to cast the spell.
I was just following Buroso’s lead toward a rocky outcropping that gave us some cover against the Enshadowed, who was about three hundred yards away. The Iron Bandsmen trailed behind me, wands and swords in hand, cautiously following in my very footsteps to avoid detection.
We’re nearly ready, I reported back. Go ahead and begin!
Just as we arrived behind the outcropping a plume of dark black smoke began to rise to our left. It seemed pretty innocuous, considering all of the other smoke and dust getting kicked up, but with a little magical help it was soon distinctive. A moment later, a second column arose on our right flank.
We’ve arrived at our end, Landrik told me, mind-to-mind, a moment later. How long do we have?
Moments, I promised. As soon as you see feathers, prepare to go in. And as soon as the dust settles from their attack, it’s your turn.
I paused to take a sip from my water skin and catch my breath – sneaking around is hard work. But then I caught a glimpse of a shadow appearing above the eastern ridge, and the battle was on.
There was no rumble of hooves or cry of horns as the charge came from the air; indeed, there was no warning as one Sky Rider after another swept in over the heads of our foes and began delivering mayhem from the skies. The great hawks didn’t announce themselves with their war cries until the attack was well underway.
Sky bolts, crossbow quarrels, alchemical bombs and offensive magic fell in an uneven rain along the line between the two columns of smoke. The protective spells of the Enshadowed were designed to ward off danger from the castle – not the clouds. As each successive wing of giant falcons loosed its attack on the foe, there was a confused tangle of shocked and surprised Enshadowed. Their carefully-prepared spells started to go awry.
Dara’s wing slashed up the enemy below from high above – Nattia’s wing got more personal. Just as the surviving sorcerers began to get to their feet, the Vanadori Sky Riders swooped in close and plucked the Enshadowed from their nests like they were a bunch of young rabbits. The razor-sharp steel spurs ripped limbs off, eviscerated or decapitated as they struck. Those who weren’t torn asunder by Yltedene steel were returned to the ground from a few hundred feet in the air.
When the last bird passed by, I commanded a charge against the two surviving Enshadowed spell casters that remained in the center of the line. Buroso boldly crossed the scrublands at a sprint, belying his large size with his speed as he plowed into the little redoubt that sheltered his target, chin first. I went toward the other one Insight told me was still breathing, a brace of Iron Band warmagi following me.
It was a quick fight. The Alka Alon had been wounded by a well-placed skybolt in his upper thigh, and his face was still smoldering from one of the incendiary blasts from above. Nonetheless, he scrambled for his spear with one hand when he saw us approach, and his gurvani bodyguard leapt to his defense . . . only to fall to a blast from one of my comrades. I drew Twilight and ended the sorcerer’s struggle with a deadly spell of my own.
My foe is dead, Buroso reported, mind to mind, a few moments later. He put up a mighty struggle, though. Whatever he was working on was ruined, and he was enraged. I’ve never seen an Alka Alon so angered, he added.
The Enshadowed tend to be more reactionary than most, I advised. But be cautious of their gear. We don’t know what a tithe of it does.
My own victim was surrounded by what I assumed were the tools of his trade. A collection of slender wands no bigger than reeds was stuffed in a kind of short quiver, and a basket containing little clay pots and clods of what looked like dirt was open, as if he’d been using them as ammunition. In addition to the spear he’d died with in his hands, there was a long, curved knife at his belt, nearly as long as an infantry sword.
“Are those magical blades, my lord?” asked one of the Bandsmen.
“I would be shocked if they were not,” I nodded. “The Enshadowed employ the Dradrien, just as we do. But it is certainly worthy of further study, as is his store of . . . whatever they are. This is the real prize, however,” I said, plucking a smooth green pebble from near the corpse with my glove. “Irionite. Pure and polished, Alka Alon style,” I added, as I held it up to the sun. “After I cleanse it, I’ll raise one of you fellows to High Mage,” I promised. That made them all pay a little closer attention.
“I suppose your spears and spells don’t matter much when you’re not more than a mouse to them glorious birds,” said another, reverently. “Any chance we can get a few of them for the Band, my lord?”
“The falcons require training, magic . . . and a rider who doesn’t weigh much more than a hundred pounds,” I advised. “That’s why more than half their riders are maidens. They’re also devilishly expensive to feed, in this form.”
“That’s a pity,” sighed the warmage, as his fellows joined us. “They’d make patrolling a damn sight easier. Never saw them fight before, either. And they’re so pretty,” he added, scanning the skies for any further sign of the birds.
“If you’re that interested, the Mews has need of wizards on the ground to support their efforts in the skies,” I informed him as I sheathed Twilight and placed the witchstone carefully into a pouch. “I think we’re done here. Let’s head back to the castle,” I ordered. That brought a lo
ok of confusion to the man’s face.
“My lord, we’re within striking distance of their advance force!” he said, urgently, pointing toward the gurvani infantry rushing up the hill, toward us.
“That was not why I led this sortie,” I dismissed, after I regarded the distant reinforcements. “The goal was to deprive them of as much of their magical corps as possible and disrupt their arcane operations. We accomplished that. Whatever spell they were planning is ruined, now. We need not fight the whole battle.”
The Iron Bandsmen looked at the goblins, skeptically, and looked back at me beseechingly.
“My lord Count!” their leader implored, “you cannot strike such a blow against them and just . . . leave!”
“I counted upon their swift response to the attack,” I said, calmly, as we walked back toward the outcropping. “They are pouring their infantry into the fray without thought, like ants stirred up with a stick. Your own presence attracts them. They will advance up this hill until they reach the moat, which is well within bowshot. But they will do so as an unruly mob, not a disciplined force. They will not be able to adequately defend against what comes next.”
“And what is that, my lord?” he asked, curious, but anxious. There were a lot of goblins suddenly rushing up the hill.
“The Sky Ryders are adept at these operations,” I explained, as we walked. “They do not make a journey in support of an action unless they are willing to commit themselves. I figure in just a few . . . more . . . moments,” I said, finally hearing the screech of a giant falcon, “Sky Captains Dara and Nattia will have completed their maneuver and led their birds back overhead from the south. Thus, catching the infantry on the move, unprepared, and unwarded by what’s left of the enemy’s magical corps.” As if in fulfillment of my prediction, the sound of aerial attack began behind and above me as the giant falcons returned to the field, in force.
Arcanist Page 37