Fire And Ice (Book 1)

by Wayne Krabbenhoft III

  After that brief discussion he engaged her more often in conversation when others were not present. To do otherwise would have been improper. He was there almost everyday and spent the whole day when he was. He spent so much time as one of her guards she began to wonder if he had any ulterior motives.

  “Your Majesty?” a man asked after approaching her from behind. The two Knights standing nearby ignored the man, which meant they had dismissed him as a possible threat. He wore the blue livery of the palace staff, and she thought that he looked familiar. It was difficult to keep track of everyone’s name, especially the newer ones.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “Master Herrith sent me to tell you that someone is here to see you.”

  “Did he happen to say who it is?”

  “No, Your Majesty, only that they were from the North.”

  At mention of the North she felt a brief apprehension. Was she finally going to receive some word from Herrinhall? From Coran? Or was Coran with them? No. He would not have waited to send a messenger to find her. “Where are they?”

  “The main hall.”

  “Thank you,” she said, and brushed past him in her hurry.

  She entered the main hall by the same side door, and, upon entering, Master Herrith once again had the doors to the hall opened. Three people walked up the middle of the hall and took up positions just short of the dais. One of them stood slightly ahead of the other two. He looked to be in his thirties and wore the plain brown clothes and off-white robe of a wizard. The man to his right wore a dark red coat over a pristine white shirt. The third person was a woman. She had shoulder length, blonde hair and blue eyes. Her face was unlined and her features bold. She had a look about her that said she had power, and was comfortable with that fact, not unlike a woman of noble birth, but without the haughtiness associated with some. She wore an unadorned dress of dark blue beneath her white robe.

  “Your Majesty,” the first man greeted her. “I am Thalamus, Second Wizard of Herrinhall. The First Wizard sent me to give you what help I may.”

  “Any help would be appreciated,” Katelyn responded. “Who are your companions?”

  “This is Dianas.” Thalamus indicated the woman with a gesture of his hand. The woman inclined her head slightly. “And this is Terence.” He indicated the man.

  There was something about him, and she realized that she was staring. “Forgive me, Terence, but you look somewhat familiar. Have we ever met?”

  “No, your Majesty. But some say I do resemble my uncle.”

  It took her a moment, but she suddenly knew who his uncle had to be. “Lord Onatel?”

  “Yes,” he replied. Terence seemed pleased that she knew him. That he was a Lord explained his well spoken words and carriage.

  Katelyn returned her gaze to Thalamus. “You said that the First Wizard sent you here to help? Could he not come himself?”

  “I am afraid not. He had to remain in Herrinhall.” Thalamus blinked nervously. It was so slight that anyone else might not have noticed, but she did. “To advise the Kings.”

  “I hope his advice to them will include bringing their armies south to help?” she asked carefully.

  “I believe that the subject will be thoroughly discussed,” Thalamus replied diplomatically. He gave no more information or even a hint at what might become of such a discussion. He did not even sound as if the result mattered to him. Thalamus was undeniably a wizard. “I would like to coordinate our efforts with my colleagues. Do you happen to know where the others are? I would have thought that Telisin would be here by now, or Jenarus and Ennius. I suppose they must still be in Taragon with King Aemon.”

  “Telisin was here, but he left with Robert Tenrell for Stockton. If you wish you may travel with me. I am most likely leaving in the morning.”

  “That would be acceptable,” Thalamus agreed.

  “Until then?” she said and watched the three wizards file out of the hall.

  It was strange that they made no mention of Gelarus. She would have thought that they would want to speak with him. Then there was their secretive nature concerning what might be happening in Herrinhall. She wanted to ask them about Coran, but they must have left long before he could have arrived. The other reason was that Coran’s whereabouts were still a secret. She couldn’t be sure if he had made it to Herrinhall as yet. He should have by now, but it was better not to take chances.

  The conversation with Thalamus caused her to go looking for Gelarus. Maybe he would tell her something for a change. She went back to where she had watched Robert depart earlier, near the wizard’s tower. As she was about to come out onto the wall she stopped.

  At the bottom of the tower she saw white haired Gelarus standing next to a cloak wrapped Shirri outside on the wall. She stopped to listen, and watch. Eavesdropping was not very nice but curiosity overcame her good manners. She waved a hand for her guards to stay back out of sight.

  The two of them, wizard and healer, stood sideways to her so she could see the small flame dancing on Shirri’s outstretched palm.

  “Good,” Gelarus was saying in approval.

  “But it is so small,” she complained.

  “I am afraid that handling fire will never be one of your strengths. Let us try something else.”

  He walked away from her a few paces then turned to face her again. “I am going to walk towards you. What you want to do is keep me from reaching you.”

  “How?”

  “I want you to imagine yourself pushing the air away from you. Think of a flat piece of cloth that you push together. It scrunches up in folds.”

  “You want me to scrunch together air?” she asked looking confused.

  “That is not exactly what happens, but it might help you to think of it that way. Just try it,” he told her and took a step towards her, then another as he moved slowly closer. He had his hand out in front of him.

  Shirri’s face was a picture of concentration. Sweat beaded up on her forehead despite the cold air. About a foot away from her Gelarus suddenly stopped.

  “Very good,” he complimented her.

  “It felt strange. I could actually feel the air solidify.”

  “With practice you will be able to do it without thinking, and all around you at once. It will come in very handy if there is a need to defend yourself.”

  “I will practice,” she promised.

  "And remember that maintaining such protection for very long is extremely difficult. It is better to learn how to time your defense so as not to tire yourself too quickly."

  Katelyn decided that was enough sneaking. She stepped out onto the wall and pulled her own cloak about her as the wind blew out her hair. She pushed some dark strands away from her face. “Gelarus,” she called.

  The wizard saw her coming. “Your Majesty.”

  Shirri just ducked her head quickly. She never used Katelyn’s title.

  “I thought you might have left with Robert as the other healers of Summerhall have done,” Katelyn said to the Karand.

  “They are gone already?” Shirri asked in alarm. “I must catch up.”

  “Practice on the way,” Gelarus said as she hurried away. “I want to see your progress when we next meet.”

  “I will,” she promised once again.

  “I did not know that you were teaching anything but healing,” Katelyn said off handedly.

  “Desperate times,” he replied.

  “Why is she going with them then?”

  “I have given her enough to do for a time. She is a far better healer than anything else, but we will see,” he answered while looking after her his departing student.

  “I should also ask why you did not go with her?”

  “My place, now more than ever, is here in Summerhall.”

  “Are you not coming with me?” she asked incredulously.

  “I do what I must, as do you,” he replied seriously. “My duty has always been to protect Summerhall from the threat of magic. That has not
changed.”

  She heard the conviction in his voice and knew he would not be persuaded into leaving. She knew they would have need of his help against Elthzidor, but it helped to know that Margery and Summerhall would not be left unprotected.

  “I just met a man named Thalamus. Do you know him?”

  “Thalamus? Of course I know him. He is the second Wizard at Herrinhall.”

  “Strange, since he did not mention you at all,” she said and waited to see if there would be any reaction.

  “I am not surprised,” Gelarus replied, and he didn’t sound surprised at all.

  “You rarely are,” she said a little disgusted. “But should he not meet with you? You are the wizard in charge here.”

  “It is not necessary,” he said mysteriously.

  How could it not be necessary? Unless they had nothing to discuss, but how could that be? She knew too little about wizards and what they could do. It had never been necessary before. She was going to have to rectify the situation if she could ever get one of them to tell her anything.

  “Besides,” continued Gelarus, “he answers to the First Wizard. Remember that he was trained in Herrinhall. I was not.”

  The hierarchy of wizards was another thing she was going to have to look into. “Where were you trained?” she thought that all wizards went to Herrinhall to learn.

  “That was long ago, and is unimportant,” he said and started to turn away, towards his tower.

  She was not about to let him just walk away again. “Is there anything you wish to tell me before I leave?”

  He turned back. “Actually, there is.” He cleared his throat, then hesitated. He stood there so long staring at nothing she started to wonder if he was going to say anything at all. Suddenly he looked directly at her. “A day is coming. It will be a day filled with blood. When that day comes you must remember this. Do not give up hope. Do not stop fighting. No matter the odds arrayed against you.” Gelarus glanced away. "That is all I can say and maybe more than I should have.” The wizard walked away so solemnly that she didn’t even think to stop him.

  She finally got some information out of him, information that was volunteered even, and she suddenly was not sure that she wanted it.

  Gelarus sighed as he took the first step up to the next level of the tower. I should not have told her that, but what choice did I have? Our enemy is playing events to his advantage and we must take that advantage away. He was fairly sure of what Katelyn would do faced with such a difficult situation. Would she sacrifice the one person she loved above all others for the people she leads? Probably. Her sense of duty was strong. Normally, he would agree with her choice, but if she chose that way this time then the war would be lost.

  Chapter 37

  The First Battle

  Elthzidor watched the men of Taragosa as they moved purposefully up the steep hillside covered with trees. On the other side of that hill was the river where the main part of his army was about to cross. His thoughts reached out to the tent nearly a mile away, the one he had just vacated, and he Shifted.

  The trees, the ground, the sky all blurred in his vision. Their colors mingled at the edges. He could feel himself sliding, shifting, from where he stood. His surroundings blurred even more until nothing was recognizable.

  The blurring suddenly receded and he could see new colors, new edges emerge before him. Everything slid into focus as the shifting came to an end. He was standing inside a bare white canvas tent. Outside he could hear the sounds of his army streaming by.

  “Kere!” he called to the wizard he knew waited outside. The bald Majin entered on command. “Aemon will try and contest our crossing of the river.”

  “I see.” Kere was not fool enough to question him or to ask how he knew when the scouts sent out had reported nothing so far. The Orgog sent to scout ahead had seen no sign of the enemy either, but that was because Aemon was keeping his men under the cover of the trees as much as possible.

  “Have Nehkut ready to lead a charge, but tell him not to act until Taragon has shown us what forces they have.”

  “Yes Ra Majin. Do you wish to assign a backup in case Aemon has a wizard with him?”

  “Send Barook and Haltherin.” Elthzidor smiled. Haltherin needed to keep himself busy and being able to vent his anger in combat might be the perfect thing. It had taken a direct order to keep the Maji from going off to find Coran on his own. Haltherin had a score to settle. Elthzidor was willing to let him try, but when he decided it was time.

  Kere left to carry out his orders.

  The trees hid him from the sight of the scouts below as their horses carried them across the ford in the river. The

  legs of the animals splashed through the running water. The scouts wore strangely scaled armor and rounded helmets that covered all of their faces except for the eyes. Behind them came a detachment of cavalry that would secure this side of the river so the infantry could begin their crossing. At least that was their plan.

  Aemon was going to try and change it. Spread out in a line to either side of him his men crouched behind trees or upthrust rocks that were just below the crest of the hill they occupied. The land descended steeply to the waters below. Hidden by the ridge itself were his archers and more dismounted warriors. Away to the right was a more level descent where his cavalry waited for the signal to attack.

  This was not the only crossing that would be occurring today. There were two other places along the river where his own scouts had spotted the enemy approaching. From the reports this one was where the main enemy force would come. He had left a few men covering the other places as well. It would not do to let the enemy think they could cross into Taragosa without suffering a large number of casualties.

  The enemy horsemen reached the near bank and fanned out as expected. They signaled that it was safe and the booming thrum of an army on the march could be heard from across the river. It was almost time now. Aemon waited anxiously as the footmen could be seen descending the far slope towards the river. He could tell from here that they appeared to be mostly Karands.

  Aemon had to laugh. The enemy expected an attack at a vulnerable place such as a river crossing, so they sent the expendable men across first. No matter. His objective was to stall them, not stop them since he had no idea how to do that. Not with the number of men he had with him. He could have brought more, but he was not about to risk more lives engaging an enemy he knew next to nothing about.

  Aemon rubbed his goatee that was streaked with gray. On his red sur coat was the rearing golden lion of Taragon. It had been too long since his last battle. He wondered if his land could survive the battles to come. He did not like the idea of leaving the southern half of his kingdom to the mercy of the enemy, but he realized the sense of such a decision with his first sight of the great host crossing Voltia.

  The Karands splashed their way through the knee deep water and up the near bank. They looked about until they were ordered to march down river towards where Aemon’s horsemen waited. A few hundred had crossed already and hundreds more were in the act of crossing.

  “Now!” he commanded at the top of his lungs. The sky turned black as a deadly rain of arrows fell upon the hapless Karands. Men screamed and ran in every direction trying to escape the falling death. The enemy horsemen were targeted as well and the survivors turned their mounts around and galloped back into the chill waters. Another twang of bow strings followed the first, and then a third. The archers lowered their bows as the thunder of hooves rumbled from down river. In a flood the horsemen of Taragon swept down on the remaining Karands who were struggling to reach the river. They never had a chance. The thinly robed Karands were slaughtered by the hundreds. In their exuberance some of his red cloaked horsemen followed the fleeing southerners into the flowing waters of the Douro.

  “Damn,” Aemon cried at the lack of discipline. He had specifically ordered them to stay on this side of the river. “Sound recall!”

  A horn blew and the cavalry began to turn aro
und. It was too late for the ones already in the river. The enemy had formed up on the far side and launched their own flight of arrows. Men fell from their mounts into the cold water which was already beginning to turn red from the blood of Karand and Taragosan alike. Most of his men made it back to cover in good order.

  Aemon and his men spread out on the ridge, and, behind it, were still out of sight. From the other side of the river it would appear that the retreat of Taragosa had been total. They had to know where the archers were though.

  For the next twenty minutes there was no sign of advance. He waited nervously for the attack that had to come. “Jenarus,” he called and a clean shaven man in plain clothes and a gray robe came to kneel beside him. “Anything?” he asked the middle aged wizard. The man shook his head. “Be ready.” Jenarus was the wizard who advised him in Taragon. He had brought another one with him. A young man who Aemon thought was too young for what he might face today.

  The shouting from an army whipped his head back towards the river. Thousands were charging across the ford in waves. At the center were those men in the foreign armor, the ones called Makkurans, they were flanked on either side by more Karands. To their right a column of horsemen galloped across as well.

  “Archers, loose!” he ordered. “Third group fire on the horses! Continuous fire!” If he could take out enough of their horsemen his own would still have the advantage. It left them with more foot soldiers to face, but without mounted men to harass the enemy any retreat would be almost impossible. He would not let his men become trapped and slaughtered.

  Dark shafts arced high overhead, slowed at the apex, then fell back towards the earth to slam into moving bodies. The enemy horsemen broke off towards where his own cavalry had gone. The footmen continued to charge into the face of the arrow storm. “Herald! Go to the cavalry and tell them to fight off the Makkuran cavalry and then form up in the valley behind us. They are to cover our retreat.” The man was surprised that they were breaking off already, but Aemon had a bad feeling that something was going to happen. Herrald rushed off to deliver his orders.