Arcanist

by Terry Mancour

  The battle broke down into two main actions, once their neat little circle was busted open: one group attacking the sorcerers, the other defending our backs from the sea of goblins that wanted to kill us. After that first assault, things settled down into a tense arcane duel between the two sides.

  It was my first real duel with the Enshadowed, unless you counted the warriors I had faced one particularly interesting Yule at the Tower of Refuge. I found myself sheathing Twilight and summoning Insight to better keep track of the range of magical effects that were being thrown around.

  Professionally speaking, it was fascinating. Personally speaking, it was terrifying. Spells using necromancy and deep-level arcane energies, constructed with intricate precision, were launched at us. Some of them even used dimensional magic, elemental currents that were exquisitely fused and balanced to produce startling effects. Shielding spells that belied our ability to penetrate, or obscured our vision, or were tuned to filter our offensive spells to harmlessness made our work difficult. Enshadowed sorcery was powerful. And though our own warmagi were now armed with the same captured stones, we did not understand the complex subtleties available for our command. The Enshadowed had been practicing for centuries.

  At one point, a sorcerer wielding a field of force like a whip was systematically destroying the cart I was hiding behind, so I rolled to my right, seeking the cover of a fallen troll. I don’t know who killed it, or that there were even trolls active in this melee, but the impaled corpse gave me a bit of concealment. I was surprised to be joined by Astyral, a moment later. He was bleeding from his temple, under his helmet, and something had opened up a gash on his cheek. Neither wound seemed serious.

  “Are you enjoying the entertainments, my Count?” he asked, panting, a bedeviled smile on his face. “They’re getting properly worked up, now.”

  “I noticed,” I said, as I drew the Magolith down with me. I didn’t need it to be a target. If anyone hit it with something it wasn’t prepared to defend against, it would be the end of me. “Do you know what this picnic needs? Some more distractions,” I said, digging into the pouch hanging from my weapons harness. I pulled three metal discs out and carefully lobbed them toward the similar barricade the Enshadowed sorcerers were behind. “The last of my magical constructs. You?”

  “I’ve got one I’m saving and one I can spend now,” Astyral agreed, and threw a stone the size of a pigeon’s egg. We both activated the devices, which opened hoxter pockets and energized the constructs as they tumbled through. Mine were variations of successful combat tools I’d used before, mostly looking like hat racks and aggressive footstools. Astyral’s was larger, more man-sized, with two big iron flails that swung from the arm holes of an old jousting breastplate. The devices came to life and began attacking the sorcerers at our direction.

  “Landrik’s down,” he said, as he drew one of his combat daggers. “Not seriously, I think, but he’s out of the fight. We’ve lost more,” he added, his smile fading a bit. “We’ve taken a few of them, though.”

  “More importantly, we’ve kept them from covering the rest of the army,” I pointed out, sending Insight back to its hoxter. “I’ve noticed that those fellows like fighting from a distance. Perhaps we should get closer and more personal?”

  “I think that’s the only way this is going to be decided,” he agreed. “On three?”

  We waded back into the battle and each attended to one of the sorcerers, hand-to-hand. There were still plenty to go.

  I’ll spare you the details of most of that fight, as they would only bore you. While great feats of magic and warfare were plentiful, as were heroism and cunning, much of it was the same: analyze, cast, fight, recover and then repeat the process. Twice we were interrupted by great goblins commanded to protect their officers, which complicated things.

  But long after our constructs had been blown to bits or rendered inactive, when we were starting to gain some advantage through attrition, the tide of the battle turned. We heard an obnoxiously loud noise over the din of battle. A great brass warhorn, augmented by magic, rang out a loud and defiant note over the battlefield. Azar had arrived near our position, leading another cavalry charge.

  Now that does bear description, because Azar knows how to make an entrance. Especially when he is joined by a cohort of warmagi, and the Megelini Knights, who had learned how to use their lances and swords to complement the attacks of mounted wizards, not complicate them. Azar had ridden his forces hard to cross the fields from the river, where the magical bridge was used to great effect. He’d paused only long enough to regroup before savagely attacking the left flank of the army.

  If our charge on the right had been successful, Azar’s men were routing those goblins who stood to fight on the collapsing left flank of their army. Wenek was standing in his saddle, his great bulk slowing his horse long enough for him to throw fistfuls of damaging magic against the gurvani. His henchmen quickly filled in the gap behind him to take advantage of their master’s severe assault. Wenek was the first to catch sight of us, and he quickly rallied his men to blast their way through the goblins to get to us.

  With reinforcements arriving, the tide turned in our favor against the Enshadowed. Wenek and his fellows were eager to challenge them. They threw themselves against the sorcerers in waves. Azar continued to fight from horseback, ignoring the storm of arcane violence around him.

  “Drentha var ensalil!” he bellowed in Alka Alon as he reared his horse, his mageblade in hand. I don’t know the language well, but I was pretty certain that it had something to do with death. He’d augmented his voice tremendously, so it sounded as if the gods, themselves, were shouting. That had to be disturbing to the Enshadowed. Perhaps it helped that a wing of Sky Riders passed overhead at that moment, strafing the center with sky bolts and magic.

  I gave a rallying cry of my own and plunged back into the fray. There were only a few of Shakathet’s magical corps remaining, and a handful of great goblins trying to protect them. With Azar’s arrival even that remnant of defense wavered. Astyral and Tamonial and Caswallon threw themselves back into the battle with renewed energy, now that we’d been reinforced, and one by one our enemy fell as the lines caught up with our position.

  It was about that time that the tide had turned in the overall battle, for Azar’s strike and the rearward attack by Sandoval’s troops was challenging the Enshadowed commanders. Eastward appeared to be the only route of withdrawal, and many gurvani began the movement without formal orders.

  There was a danger to that. As Tamonial slew the last of the Enshadowed sorcerers, I took a moment to catch up with Terleman, mind-to-mind, and report our success.

  They’re starting to run! he told me, excitedly. That was a good sign. The left flank has collapsed, the center is taking punishment from the north, and the right flank is starting to run!

  How many? I asked, as I tried to survey the battlefield. It was a mess, and just trying to orient myself took a few moments.

  The Sky Riders tell me it’s a couple of thousand, so far. But I think that they’re going to order a withdrawal – if there’s anyone left to do so. Dara’s wing hammered their field headquarters badly.

  Then the individual unit commanders will have to make that decision, I agreed. This could get very messy, Terl. If they go up through the low passes in northern Green Hill, they can sack Mostel Abbey, Lendine, and then come against Anguin’s Tower.

  I know, Terleman said. The abbey has been evacuated, but Lendine is lightly fortified. We could not stop them until they reached Anguin’s Tower. But that would depend upon how much of their leadership they retain. If they are no more than a mob, they have limited effectiveness.

  It doesn’t matter how effective they are, I countered, we’ve worked hard to get Lendine restored! And that abbey has a lot of cultural and political significance, I reminded him. A mob of thousands of goblins is still a problem!

  What would you have me do? he pleaded. We have almost no forces in that regi
on, since we called in the reserves. The Sky Riders can harass them, but until we get troops on the ground to face them . . .

  I knew he was right. Warmagi are good commandos, and can do a lot of damage, but they had their limitations against such a large number of troops. The men we had here, on the eastern bank, had marched and fought for days, and would need rest and re-supply. Perhaps Azar’s cavalry could chase them down, I considered, especially if they included the Gilmorans.

  But as I looked around and surveyed the battlefield, I knew that would be problematic, as well. Though I saw the infantry from both the southern and northern armies finally coming closer in the center, there were still thousands of goblins resisting, effectively fighting to allow their comrades to escape to the east. Most of that territory was fields and meadows, punctuated by woods. If they managed to regroup and decide to steal away through the hills toward Vanador’s lightly protected southern frontier, we could have goblin problems for months, I realized.

  I sighed, heavily. I was physically and mentally exhausted after the day’s exertions. But I knew I had to rally the warmagi and find some way to contain the remnant of Shakathet’s army. The gurvani were fleeing the battlefield by the thousands, and while the rout was gratifying, the remnant of the horde promised to cause as many problems as it had when it first crossed the Penumbra.

  I called as many warmagi to me as possible. Caswallon appeared almost at once, followed by Astyral and Tamonial. Landrik was being tended by a medic, and Buroso was out, so I quickly drafted as many sparks who weren’t engaged, and we returned to the field headquarters.

  I was looking for troops. Mounted troops. It might take the gurvani a day or so to sort themselves out, and I could not allow that. The steady stream of fleeing goblins had turned into a flood, and they were on the wrong side of the Wildwater to retreat back to the Penumbra. I needed to cobble together enough cavalry to pursue them and screen them from making any hasty moves.

  Alas, the Gilmorans were largely reluctant to join, as Count Anvaram felt he had plenty of goblins to fight right here and didn’t want to wear out his horses. Azar was busy commanding the mopping up of the final defenses, using the Megelini Knights as a hammer to push the defenders around the field.

  I was about to consider putting militia or mercenary crossbowmen on horses when the answer came in the form of Tyndal. He rode up with a hundred of his Callierd Knights, many of them warmagi, relatively fresh compared to everyone else I saw.

  “We came in on the left flank to support Sandoval’s infantry,” he explained, “but by then the left flank had collapsed to Azar, so we just rode picket until it was safe to move back to here. It looks as if we’ve won another one,” he said, cavalierly.

  “Not quite yet,” I said, and explained the problem. He manifested a magemap and examined the area where the goblins were congregating.

  “That’s going to be tough, Master,” he said, as he studied the map. “I’ve a hundred left in my company, and we’ve ridden miles. That shard of the horde still has at least five, maybe seven thousand, already. They’ll get more.”

  “It’s a lot easier to face than forty thousand,” Astyral pointed out.

  “Not unless we have the troops,” I said, chewing my lip. “If they start moving any farther east, they’ll get away before we can face them.”

  “And if they get to Green Hill or the plains around Lendine, we’re screwed,” he realized. “All right. What can we do?” Tyndal asked, matter-of-factly.

  “That’s what I’m trying to determine,” I said, a bit irritated. “Goblins can move fast, on the ground, especially when they’re fleeing for their lives. And what I am most concerned about is one of the Enshadowed surviving and calling for support from Korbal.”

  “What could he possibly do?” Tyndal asked with a snort.

  I really wish he hadn’t said that.

  I contacted Dara, mind-to-mind, and had her detail a few birds to keep an eye on the retreating goblins from the air. Tyndal’s company and my own unit, together, could do little to contain the goblins, but perhaps we could slow them down until Terleman could rally the Gilmorans and Azar’s men to face them.

  I was glad I did, an hour later. I was still arguing with Anvaram about at least allowing some volunteers from his cavalry to join us, but he was angry at the losses he had suffered and in no mood to be cooperative. He was fighting my war, as he was obligated to, but he felt he did not have to throw his men away when there was plenty of fighting left to do right here.

  I had just watched him stomp away, angrily, when Dara reached me.

  Master, I just took a report from one of Nattia’s Riders over the scrug army, she said. They think they saw a portal open. Well, it was some magical disturbance on the ground near where the gurvani are gathered. It was small, and only lasted for a moment, but it was definitely there.

  I confirmed the matter with the Magical Corps, who were starting to scry in that direction. Even as the battle on the east bank was waning, with the last few pockets of resistance being confronted, so many goblins had been driven off that it had caused concern. While they were scrying, however, they reported a brief interference in their efforts, and then some strange developments afterward.

  I knew I had to get out there. Even if it was with a few hundred men to watch the gurvani, whatever Korbal had sent through his portal was destined to be trouble. By the time I had returned to my unit, Tyndal had them ready to ride out.

  “It’s been a busy spring,” he told me, as he and Astyral flanked me as we rode east. “I’ve lost some good men. But we’ve been victorious in every combat,” he bragged.

  “I am just pleased that it will be over, soon,” Astyral said. “I want this unpleasantness behind us. I’m going to be getting married, remember.”

  Tyndal made a face. “Hardly something I’d be eagerly anticipating,” he declared. “Still, as much fun as this war has been, I’d like to see to my estates. Maybe travel, a bit. Perhaps look into what Rondal has been doing in Enultramar,” he proposed.

  “Bored of war already?” I asked. “I thought it was your vocation.”

  “I’m good at it,” my former apprentice admitted. “But I’d hate to restrict my interests. There are a lot of interesting things going on, right now, and a lot of the world I haven’t seen.”

  “Don’t make any plans, just yet,” I suggested. “I think we’ll have some adventure for you, immediately after the war. A mission for the Beryen Council.”

  “A mission!” Astyral said, intrigued. “Isn’t that the joint council with the Alka Alon?”

  “Yes, Pentandra and I are members. As is Lilastien. But we will be calling on many others, for this. Not you,” I assured my friend. “You will be enjoying your honeymoon. Somewhere far from here, I’d think,” I suggested.

  “We’re thinking Remere or Enultramar,” he confessed. “Though there are so many possibilities, with travel through the Ways. Or, there’s always Wenshar. I hear that it’s gorgeous in the summer.”

  “I’ve never been,” I admitted, guiltily. Wenshar was an essential part of magical culture and industry, and I’d never visited it before. Perhaps, once this war was over, I could schedule a journey. “A pity Farise isn’t available.”

  “Oh, I’m sure it could be managed. But I’d prefer a place not ruled by Censors. We’ll figure it out. In fact, it was a point of contention in the dowry negotiations,” he chuckled. “We put all sorts of inane things in there, to give legitimacy to the idea that there was a dispute large enough to warrant a sequestration.”

  “Yes, that will have to be settled, now that the war is won,” I agreed. “If Lady Maithieran is no longer sequestered, then there is little reason for Count Anvaram to continue his war.”

  “Wait, the war is won?” Tyndal asked, confused.

  “I captured Shakathet,” I pointed out. “I just had to offer him the most alluring of prizes and then get close to him. He could have done the same to me if he’d understood magic. Without him, t
he remaining Enshadowed will be hard pressed to keep what remains of the army together. Especially without a magic corps. And not much of an officer corps left. I wish we could try to persuade the gurvani to surrender and join King Ashakarl, as the last lot did.”

  “Oh, that would not be possible,” Tyndal said, shaking his head. “They are mostly great goblins. From what Gurkarl says, the maragorku are not welcome by the gurvani of the tribal lands. They’d rather take human refugees. Slaves,” he admitted. “The maragorku would not be satisfied until they ruled.”

  “I understand,” I said with a sigh. “Even the regular gurvani who marched with Shakathet were compromised. Most were from the regions in the Umbra that Korbal controls unconditionally, from what Jannik told me. They were loyalist to him, for the most part, not King Ashakarl. In any case, I don’t think they’re likely to surrender, not with Korbal sending something through that portal.”

  “Unless it was the Enshadowed escaping,” suggested Tyndal.

  “They could have departed through the Ways, if they wished to desert,” I answered. There are several natural Waypoints, here. No, I think Korbal sent some other commander to take over and use what strength they have left against us.”

  “How much time do you think we’ll have?” Astyral asked.

  “Before the army is organized enough to pursue them? Two days,” I predicted. “Probably three. There’s still plenty of mopping up to do. But it will take them at least two days to march against the survivors. They could do a lot of damage, in that two days,” I warned. “And cover a lot of distance on a march.”

  “From what Gurkarl says, Korbal all but emptied his garrisons to field the two armies, this year,” Tyndal told us. “It will take a while before he will have the soldiery to attempt such a thing again.”

  “Isn’t that the perfect time to go on the offensive?” asked Astyral. “I wonder how soon it will be before someone gets that genius idea.”

  “Interesting point,” I agreed. “I hope it doesn’t happen soon. We need to be stronger and more numerous. And we need to be ready for the schemes of Karakush,” I reminded them. “While he may have assisted us against Shakathet, in some small way, with him defeated I have no doubt that he will turn his attention to us.”