Disciple of War (Art of the Adept Book 4)

by Michael G. Manning

  All in all, she would be better geared than most of the soldiers, and he wouldn’t need to worry much about her being struck by a stray arrow. Unless it hit her in the face, she would survive. So long as she wasn’t caught by a spear in the gut, she’d be fine. And there’s no way in hell I’m letting her anywhere near the front lines.

  A warm feeling over his heart alerted him to activity from Selene’s heart-stone enchantment. He fed a small thread of turyn into it and saw her face appear in front of him. He wished he could cross over and be with her immediately. He also noted that her face was drawn and pale. “It’s only been one day. You’re wearing yourself out,” he chided.

  “I don’t care,” she told him, unrepentant. “I wanted to see your face. How do you like your bodyguard?”

  “You chose the best chaperone possible,” he replied, a glint of mirth in his eye.

  “Where are you?”

  “You know how far a carriage travels, and you studied the maps with me. You know exactly which wayside inn we made it to.” Selene’s face was turning grey, and he could see sweat beginning to bead at her temples. “Let’s end the connection,” he told her.

  She nodded. “I love you.”

  “I love you too.” Will broke the contact then. He was glad to see Selene’s face, but knowing how difficult it was for her worried him. The turyn drain had been miniscule, and yet she had seemed close to passing out. Even if she lives for centuries, will she be able to forgive me if she has to do it without magic?

  Chapter 24

  The military camp in Barrowden no longer fit the name ‘camp.’ The kingdom’s efforts over the past two years had made it into something like a fortified city, except there was no city. Barrowden’s population was tiny and had been completely dwarfed by the military outpost’s garrison. Then, Will supposed that might be the very definition of a fort, as opposed to a fortified city.

  Even with the timbered walls and expansive barracks, Fort Barrowden was utterly incapable of housing the more than thirty-two thousand men of Terabinia’s army. The First Division was able to stay in the barracks, but the other five divisions were arranged outside the walls in five massive but orderly camps.

  It was an army many times greater than the one he’d been a part of originally, but seeing the camps with their familiar layouts brought back memories, and the first thought that came to him was that he was glad he wouldn’t have to dig latrines. “Or earthworks,” he muttered. “That was even worse.”

  Lieutenant Renly perked up. “Pardon?”

  Will shook his head. “Sorry, I was thinking out loud.”

  The carriage stopped soon after that, and Will was escorted in to meet briefly with the officers. Things had gone according to plan thus far, and the meeting was kept short. Afterward he had to tour the fort and then make a quick round through the five division camps outside the fort. ‘Quick’ was a relative term, however, for it took several hours, and by the end Will was exhausted.

  It was a weird feeling. In the past he’d never associated the word exhausted with anything but hard labor. He’d done nothing but walk, observe, and listen, yet he felt tired.

  The next day began with a much longer and more comprehensive meeting of the senior officers—sub-marshals and commanders—along with their senior staff. Most of what was discussed had been planned in prior months, so there weren’t really many decisions to be made. The army was like a vast behemoth, already in motion, and there was little Will could do now but ride its momentum. It gave him a new appreciation for the limits of power.

  As a rank-and-file soldier, small things had seemed vastly more important, and likewise the power of those in positions of authority, but now, while he could certainly affect many small things for many people, his ability to change the overall course of the army was severely restricted. Sure, he could technically give any orders he wished, but if he tried to unilaterally stop the war or change their timeline in a significant way, he didn’t doubt he would be removed within a matter of weeks or months.

  I can do anything I want, so long as what I want fits within the general plan, he realized ruefully. It didn’t help that he’d been part of the planning. Aside from taking a sea route, an overland attack from Barrowden was the only practical way to invade Darrow. That meant their route was easily predicted by the enemy. It also meant the enemy’s response was fairly predictable.

  It almost felt as if the whole thing were preordained, and Will’s actions merely gave the illusion of free will. Whether he was capable or incompetent hardly seemed to matter. Laina noticed his gloomy mood the evening of their second day at the fort, and she asked him about it in her typically considerate manner. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  He explained his vague misgivings as clearly as he could.

  “Oh. I forget this is your first time. You’re right and you’re wrong. You’ll get over it in time,” she pronounced.

  “You’ve never been responsible for an army,” he replied.

  Laina scowled at him. “I’ve been responsible for the Mothers of Terabinia for a few years now. It’s not an army, but I think leading any large group of people has similar problems. There has to be a leader, but a leader can only do so much. The bigger the group, the bigger the momentum, and the smaller your choices seem, even though they affect thousands.”

  Will nodded. “That’s true enough.”

  “But you’ll get used to it, and in time you’ll start to realize that you’re making more of a difference than you thought.”

  “Unless I screw it up,” he observed.

  Laina shrugged. “I said ‘difference.’ Whether it’s a good or a bad one is up to you.”

  His lips quirked into a wry smile. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  “I’m just here because a certain someone insisted that you come back alive.”

  “Speaking of which, we leave the day after tomorrow,” he told her. “From that point on you’ll have to wear your armor every day while we travel.”

  She squinted at him. “We haven’t met the enemy yet, plus we’ll be in the carriage—at the rear. What’s the point of making me suffer so early in this war?”

  “I won’t be in the carriage,” he replied matter-of-factly. “I’ll be riding out in the open, and I plan to stay close to the lead elements. You can ride in the carriage if you want, but if you intend to be with me, you’ll have to wear the armor.”

  “Oh.” Laina didn’t argue. Though it was obvious she’d rather not ride, Will hoped she wouldn’t complain, and as it turned out, Laina proved to be remarkably resilient.

  The next day passed quickly, and they set out the day after, staying with the lead regiment of First Division. As the division included over five thousand men by itself, and since they were forced to travel a narrow road through the mountains, the other divisions were far out of sight. When they stopped for the evening it would be almost eight hours before Sixth Division arrived. Because of that, the army could only travel for eight hours each day before the lead division would stop and begin preparing the ground for the rest of the army to camp. That included minor earthworks followed by some hunting and scavenging.

  Of course, there wasn’t anywhere near enough game to make much of a dent in the army’s daily food requirement, but every bit helped. Once they were out of the mountains and into the lowlands, the hunting duty would change to persuading locals to sell their crops and livestock for fair prices. Lustral had been adamant that they should simply take whatever they found, but Will had remained firm on the point, although the definition of a ‘fair’ price would be lower than the usual market value.

  ‘Sell’ was a debatable term as well, since they wouldn’t be giving the farmers much of a choice, but it was better than simply stealing what they wanted. Will’s argument was again that they weren’t there to destroy the nation, or oppress it, but rather to take stewardship and replace a bad ruler with a better one. Lustral and some of the other officers might have thought Will was crazy, but
he didn’t care, and it was his opinion that counted in the end.

  At the end of the third day’s ride, they had reached a fork in the mountain road. Each fork took a different route around two large mountains, but their final destination was the same, the city of Klendon. The northern road was a longer route and would require an extra day’s travel while the southern road was better and shorter.

  The enemy knew they were coming. They’d known for months, if not longer, and they knew Terabinia’s army would have to take one of the two roads. That meant there was a high probability of an ambush or other obstacles no matter which path they chose. During the planning sessions, they had decided to follow the longer northern road, but Will had a surprise for the officers.

  When they met that evening, he explained that he intended to change plans and follow the southern road. Objectively, it was quicker and easier, but his main reason was simply that if there had been any information leaks the enemy would be less likely to expect them on that road. Predictably, it was Duke Lustral who complained the most.

  “What’s the point in changing our route now?” demanded the nobleman.

  Will refused to let his feathers be ruffled. “What’s the point in arguing against it?”

  Lustral’s scowl deepened. “They’re more likely to expect us on the better road.”

  “You can argue that all day long. They’ll also expect that we might choose the road less travelled. They can’t know which way we’ll go.”

  “Then why bother changing it now?” asked the duke.

  “Because they might have caught wind of our plans. They won’t have time to readjust if I change them now,” said Will calmly.

  Lustral waved his hand at the other marshals and commanders. “You think one of us might be a traitor?”

  Will shrugged. “I don’t need to justify myself to you. Nor does it necessarily follow that one of you might be a traitor. There are plenty of methods for obtaining such information that don’t require betrayal on your part,” he replied.

  “If you’re suggesting my loyalty is in question then you risk facing a challenge,” growled Lustral. Will didn’t flinch, merely waiting, his face empty of expression as he stared evenly into Lustral’s eyes. Eventually the duke looked away. “If not, then let me reiterate my advice. We should take the northern road. It’s longer and less travelled, and it’s my belief they’re less likely to have prepared it against us.”

  “Your opinion is duly noted. We take the southern road tomorrow,” Will pronounced. “Meeting adjourned.”

  Will woke well before dawn the next morning. Because of the massive army’s extended schedule, First Division’s day started two hours before dawn, whereas Sixth Division wouldn’t be rising until two hours after dawn. This was all to accommodate the fact that the road and its verges could only admit so many men and wagons through a given mile at any given time.

  Breaking camp was somewhat quicker than making it, and the army was moving within an hour of waking, trudging through the dim twilight of false dawn that preceded the true dawn an hour later. Laina rode to his left, while Renly and Darla followed a short distance behind them. Conversation was limited by the fact that none of them were in the mood, given the hour.

  After the sun came up Gregory Nicht, the sub-marshal with command over First and Second Division, came alongside them. The young man seemed to have gained vitality since they had left Barrowden, for there was a spark in his eye and energy in his voice. “Do you think we’ll make contact today?” asked the young baron.

  Spoken like someone who’s never seen the awful results of war, thought Will sourly. Then again, maybe I’m just pissed because I didn’t sleep well. “I certainly hope not,” he replied somberly. “If we start fighting in the highlands, it will be messy.”

  Baron Fulstrom rubbed his patchy beard, doubtless he hoped it would get thicker with age. It was probably meant to make him look older, but the downy fuzz failed its purpose. “True, but if they stopped us here, we couldn’t get around them without backtracking.”

  “Sixth is still rolling up their bedding,” said Will. “They could take the other road and be behind them in a few days, faster than we could even if they weren’t blocking us.”

  “Unless they blocked both roads,” mused the baron.

  “Except we began the campaign before they were ready. The scouts all returned last night, and both roads were clear from Klendon to our position. They would have to have had all their forces poised at Klendon, with better intelligence than we have, for that to happen.”

  “True. But what if—”

  Will growled. “You were at the meeting last night Sub-marshal. We went over this. If you had a substantive concern with our plan, you should have brought it up then.”

  “Sorry,” said the sub-marshal. “I’m just excited and my mind is racing. When that happens I can’t keep my tongue from flapping. I just start rambling.” Gregory glanced at Will, noting his sour face. “Are you under the weather?”

  “I’m grumpy as hell,” grumbled Will, causing Laina to snicker for a moment. “Getting up and riding in the freezing cold is bad enough, but doing it on the way to a war makes it even worse.”

  The sub-marshal grinned. He seemed to be one of those who would acknowledge someone else’s mood, but still didn’t know they should be quiet. “I heard a lot about your exploits during the invasion of Barrowden. Aren’t you looking forward to giving the Darrowans another dose of their own medicine?”

  Will didn’t say anything for several minutes, creating an uncomfortable silence that dragged on and on. Baron Fulstrom had resigned himself to the lack of conversation when Will suddenly spoke again. “Have you ever beaten a man to death with a club, Sub-Marshal?”

  The sub-marshal blinked. “Pardon?”

  “Have you ever snuck up on someone who was asleep on watch, then beaten them to death with a staff? Not just the first fellow either, but his friend who came to his defense a moment later—I did. I’m not sure if the second one died from the bludgeoning, or if he froze to death in the snow later since he couldn’t walk with all the broken bones.”

  Gregory Nicht stared at him, unsure how to respond.

  “No one ever realizes how long it takes either. Sometimes you get lucky and they die quickly, but most of the time they don’t. They struggle and cry, putting arms, legs, anything they can in the way to defend themselves. Of course, you’ll be too scared, to caught by the adrenaline to stop, but you still hear it all, and later on, when you try to sleep, it will all come back to you. And you’ll wonder who they were, what their lives were like. They were probably just ordinary people, drafted to war and put on sentry duty. They just happened to be in the way when I needed to get past them to survive.”

  “It isn’t all like that—” began the sub-marshal.

  “No, some of it is worse,” Will said, cutting him off. “Whether you’re trapped in a shield wall, or sitting on a horse a hundred yards back watching the men who trusted you die in front of you. No one gets out without scars, inside and out.” He locked eyes with Gregory for a few seconds, then added, “You’ve probably heard that war makes men out of boys, haven’t you? That’s what they say. It’s one reason you’re excited about all this. But it isn’t true. War takes children and turns them into casualties, survivors, and some of them it makes into monsters.”

  Will pointed behind them in the direction of the other five divisions that followed them unseen in the distance. “The best I can do in this job is try to make sure as many of them as possible are survivors, and the ones that become monsters I’ll have to cull, irrespective of whether we win or lose. Their lives are my responsibility, just as First Division is yours, Gregory.” Then he pointed forward, down the mountain. “Ahead of us are thousands of other lives that will soon rest on our shoulders, men, women, and children who may perish when the soldiers we command meet them.

  “If you want to become a man, grow something, raise something, take care of someone else. That’s t
rue for anyone becoming an adult, men and women. The only time war enters into it is if you’re trying to protect people, and you’d best make sure not to forget that. The moment your war becomes an attempt to gain glory, or it harms more than it protects, you’ve gone from hero to monster.”

  The sub-marshal didn’t attempt to reply, but he looked thoughtful. A short while later, one of the captains rode up with a problem and the sub-marshal took it as an excuse to find somewhere else to be. After a few minutes, Laina reached into her saddlebag and pulled out a long, metal canister and offered it to her brother. “Here.”

  “What is it?” Will asked.

  “Tea. I’m assuming you didn’t have any this morning.”

  He opened the lid and drank directly from the container, then wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “Was it that obvious?”

  “I just hope you use a different speech when it comes time to rally the troops before battle, otherwise they’ll be more likely to fall on their swords than fight the enemy,” Laina replied. “Actually, come to think of it, you may want to have someone keep an eye on the young baron for a few days, just in case.”

  Will snorted. “Maybe I overdid it. Morning isn’t my favorite time.” Then something else popped into his mind. “Don’t forget, everyone in magical support will be camping with First Division tonight. We should eat with them instead of the officers, since they’ll be splitting back up and returning to the other units day after tomorrow.”

  Laina frowned. “Remind me again why they’re all coming to First Division for one day.”

  “There’s a long, narrow section of road tomorrow and apparently the sides are steeply elevated. By all accounts it would be a good place for an ambush, if they can put one together quickly enough.”