Disciple of War (Art of the Adept Book 4)

by Michael G. Manning

  Tailtiu flinched. “I’ve approached him twice, but he fled both times. I would have chased, but—I didn’t.”

  “You were afraid.” After what she had endured at the hands of the Drak’shar in Cerria, any normal person would have been a mental wreck for the rest of their life, but the fae normally didn’t suffer such mental frailties.

  She looked at him uncertainly. “I do not know. I don’t like their smell. It brings up the memories of when they held me captive. I would rather not be reminded of it.” After a second, she added, “You might be wise not to order me to battle them. I might not obey—perhaps.”

  Will nodded. “You really have become free. I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Chapter 36

  The next day was an exercise in frustration. Not only was Will short on sleep, but there was very little he could do. Laina was away, riding for Klendon, and he was constantly worried about his cousin Eric. The first messengers wouldn’t arrive until afternoon, and even then their news would be a day old—anything might have happened to Eric and the First Division in that time.

  He wanted to be done with Maldon already, but the army needed to rest. Even his sorcerers needed sleep, as he had kept them up late the night before, checking the state of Maldon’s defenses. Most of them were still abed, but Bug had apparently drawn the short straw and it was his job to report what they had found.

  “As you suspected, Maldon is nothing like Klendon,” said the lieutenant-sorcerer. “The walls have some wards on them, but they aren’t permanent and there are no enchantments in evidence at all. If you wish to use a tactical ritual, I have no doubt their defenses will—”

  “I have no intention of wiping out half the city just to gain a quick victory,” Will said, cutting the young man off. “There are other ways to crack this nut.”

  Bug let his breath out in a sigh that made Will realize the man had been far tenser than he realized. “I’m somewhat relieved to hear that, sir. If you don’t mind my asking, how did you know they wouldn’t have the same level of magical defenses?”

  “I didn’t,” Will replied immediately. But Arrogan thought it might be the case. “Although Maldon is an old city, in all of its history, it has never come under direct attack. Klendon was built with defense in mind, Myrsta is the capital—and it has been besieged before—but Maldon has known nothing but peace, other than sending its men to war when called on. Moreover, no one expected we would attack here rather than proceed directly to Myrsta. I’m fairly certain the Patriarch has been spending most of his resources shoring up his defenses there.”

  Bug blanched at that. “We’re going there next. If it’s as you say, the walls will probably glow in the dark with all the wards.”

  “That’s for the future,” said Will, rising and pacing around the room. Tired and anxious simultaneously, it was hard for him to sit still. “Were you able to test the foundations?”

  The young sorcerer grinned. “It’s stone and bedrock directly beneath the city, but it isn’t protected, and just a short way out from the walls it turns to hard-packed soil.”

  “So, we can do it?”

  Bug nodded. “We might not have quite enough earth elementals, but—”

  “—they can use spells for the easy part and conserve the elementals for the stone,” said Will, finishing his student’s sentence.

  “How will you keep them from seeing what we’re doing?” asked Bug. “There’s nothing but flatland out here. They’ll see us when we start digging, unless you plan to begin half a mile away.”

  Will shook his head. “We’ll start as close to the walls as possible. There’s no time to waste.”

  “But if they see or hear us, they could bring the tunnel down on our heads, or at the very least bottleneck us.”

  “They won’t see or hear us.”

  “But how?”

  “That’s for me to worry about. Trust me. They’ll be far too stressed and distracted to pay attention to the real threat,” said Will.

  Bug stared at him for a moment, his eyes pensive. “Don’t you trust me, sir?”

  Will stopped pacing. He’d gotten to be fairly good friends with Bug and many of the other student sorcerers while training them before the war. He liked to think he’d built a rapport with them. “I do trust you, Bug, but this is different. Lives depend on this, and I’ve already seen my plans leaked to the enemy before…”

  “But that wasn’t me.”

  “I didn’t think it was. I’m just extra cautious now. I still don’t know exactly how they’re getting their information, but if I don’t tell anyone more than they need to know, I don’t have to doubt people if it somehow gets out. For all I know it could be a spell, but if I tell someone and then they discover it I’ll have to start giving my friends hard looks. Does that make sense?”

  The sorcerer sighed, barely hiding his disappointment. “I suppose. I could understand if it was Emory after all, but me?”

  He grinned. Will and Bug shared certain sentiments, since they both came from common households. Emory was nobility, and most of the other students from Wurthaven were at the very least from rich families. Bug’s family was dirt poor. His father was a tenant farmer, and if it hadn’t been for a sponsorship from the lord that held their land, Bug would never have been able to attend the college. “You still don’t like Emory? I thought he was growing on you.”

  “I don’t hate him,” Bug clarified. “We’ve been working together a while and I can respect what he’s accomplished, but I don’t think we’ll ever be real friends.”

  “He seems to feel differently,” offered Will.

  Bug shrugged. “’Cause he’s rich. It’s easy for him to overlook the differences.”

  Will understood. It was something only a poor man could really understand, being surrounded by the rich and the privileged. They weren’t even aware of their fortune, but for someone like Bug, it would be constantly in his face. Rich clothes, money, and a thousand other little privileges that he would never be party to. Will felt guilty thinking about it, because now that he’d married into royalty all those things were his—and every day he got more used to them.

  He gave Bug leave to get some rest, then moved on to the next major task of the day, trying to parley with the leader of Maldon. As in Klendon, he sent out men with flags, hoping to get a response. Someone emerged from the city, and within half an hour, Will had his answer.

  Lord Fraelis wouldn’t meet with him. There would be no discussion at all.

  “Pompous prick,” muttered Will. “People’s lives are at stake and he won’t even discuss it.”

  “He’s probably worried that it’s a trap,” suggested Lieutenant Renly.

  “After Klendon they should know me better,” said Will. Rising to his feet, he strode outside.

  “Where are you going now, sir?” asked Renly.

  “To talk to him.”

  Will walked until he stood in front of the city in plain view, though he took care to remain well out of bowshot or spell range. At two hundred yards he figured someone with good aim could still hit him if they had perfect aim and a spell similar to the light-darts spell, but there was no chance he wouldn’t be able to defend against such an attack.

  Technically, a powerful warbow could hit him at that range also, but only through pure luck, and again, he was too well defended. He had already used an iron-body transformation just to be safe.

  Lifting his arms in a theatrical gesture, Will began to speak without shouting, but he cast his voice such that it was heard by everyone within the city. His arm movements were purely to help the onlookers connect the voice they heard with him, since he was so distant. “Fraelis of Maldon, this is Will Cartwright, Royal Marshal and leader of the armies of Terabinia. Since you were too craven to meet me and discuss the best options for the people of Maldon, I am forced to make myself heard in this way. My words will not go unheard, just as the needs of your people will not be silenced.

  “I intended to offer you amnesty, as
I did with Commander Durant of Klendon; however during our march here we discovered what your soldiers did to the farmers and villagers of the region. Burning fields and killing innocents to deprive your enemy of food might be acceptable to some, but it does not sit well with me. Whether you allowed your citizens to know of these crimes I am not sure, but they will know it now and if any doubt me they will see the truth of my words in the days to come after this siege is done.

  “Your wanton behavior cannot go unpunished, so I appeal now to your officers and subordinates. Arrest Fraelis and open the city and we will show you no violence. Terabinia and Darrow will be reunited, though the Patriarch and the Church of the Prophet will not be welcome.

  “You have until tomorrow morning to open the city, but this is only an ultimatum for the leaders. Regardless of what those in power choose to do, we are not the enemies of those who live peacefully in Maldon or any other part of Darrow. The church must go, but otherwise your lives will remain unchanged. Lognion has no interest in ruling a damaged country.

  “To the people I will say this: Do not be afraid. We will enter the city and the fighting will be short. Remain in your homes and offer no violence and you will be unharmed. No blood needs be shed.” He finished with a simple line, “I look forward to meeting you on the morrow.”

  Mark Nerrow was waiting for him when he returned to his tent. “You should have been an actor rather than a soldier.”

  Will lifted one brow. “Do you think it worked?”

  “It made me want to empty my bowels, and I’m on the same side. I’m sure they’re scared shitless,” replied the older man.

  Will frowned. “I was trying to be reassuring, at least to the citizens.”

  His father shook his head. “Your tone was rather soothing, which made it even more unsettling. People expect anger in war. That”—he paused, running a hand through his hair, then continued—“that was disturbing. It reminded me of the last time I had a private conversation with His Majesty.”

  Will blanched at the thought.

  Mark continued, “You know what I mean, don’t you? That quiet creepiness he has, when he’s reassuring someone while simultaneously threatening them. It was similar to that, except you managed it for an entire city.”

  Rubbing his face, Will asked, “Do you think it helped or hurt?”

  “I’d give even odds they truss up Lord Fraelis and turn the city over without a fight. I’d be tempted, if I was on the other side of those walls. On this side, I’m not sure. If I didn’t know you were a bleeding heart who was hell bent on feeding enemy citizens, I’d think you were a psychopathic monster. In fact, I’m starting to think you’re just a different sort of crazy.”

  That was food for thought. The more he accomplished, the farther he travelled, the more Will worried he might be turning into the same kind of unfeeling monster that Lognion was. “Do you think he was like me once?”

  His father looked puzzled. “The king?”

  Will nodded an affirmative.

  “Hell no. I remember the first time I met him as a child. He was just the same back then,” answered the sub-marshal.

  “No, I meant back…,” Will stopped there, deciding to let it go. He still hadn’t explained his suspicions regarding Lognion’s possible immortality. “Nevermind.”

  Before they could continue their conversation further, Renly stepped into the tent. “A new messenger has arrived from First Division, sir.”

  “Send him in.”

  There were two messages, one written by Spry and the other from Lustral. Will elected to read the least pleasant missive first.

  Marshal,

  Your deceit in issuing my orders has become apparent, though I am still attempting to succeed despite your blatant attempts at undermining our efforts in Darrow. Sub-Marshal Spry’s arrival has forestalled the disaster that nearly took us, but we cannot hope to advance without more men.

  The Patriarch’s forces have arrived in significant numbers, numbers far in excess of what we originally anticipated. At the moment we are surrounded on three sides and may soon be forced to withdraw in the only direction left available to us.

  A Loyal Servant of His Majesty, King Lognion,

  Field Marshal Lustral

  Will snorted. Even with his ending, Lustral had found a way to snub his superior by pointing out that his true loyalty lay only with the king. He doubted things were as bad as the duke indicated though. Turning to the next letter he opened it and began to read.

  Royal Marshal Cartwright,

  I trust this finds you well. Third Division is continuing to support and assist the field marshal and First Division, but things are worse than expected. First took considerable casualties in excess of five hundred men before we arrived and were in full retreat. Since then we have held our ground and begun to dig in.

  Personally, I feel we should withdraw, either to meet you and the rest of our forces at the crossroad, or potentially even make a full retreat to Klendon. Lustral insists that we remain here, but the enemy numbers are far greater than our previous intelligence indicated. Things are barely tenable as they are. Any further pressure may result in disaster.

  Please advise.

  Sub-Marshal Spry

  Will handed them to his father while he thought things over. A few minutes later, the other man asked, “Well?”

  “We only need two days here,” said Will firmly. “Then we can leave a garrison and move to reinforce them.”

  “Assuming you can take the city in a single day,” said the sub-marshal.

  “We will.”

  “That’s a big assumption, and things could get worse there quickly. Lustral might be exaggerating, but Spry seems honest enough.”

  Will nodded. “I think he is, but he’s also inexperienced. This is his first time seeing an actual war. It can be overwhelming. I don’t think things are as bad as he believes. The Darrowans don’t have enough men to overwhelm two divisions.”

  Mark Nerrow frowned. “Five hundred casualties are nothing to sneeze at. It sounds as though First was decimated.”

  He meant the term in its technical definition, meaning they had lost a tenth, not that that made it any better. Losing nearly one in ten was a substantial blow to the division. Will could only hope that Eric wasn’t among those injured, or worse, killed. “Lustral is playing the game from both ends. If he’s really working with the Darrowans, he may have engineered the situation to create a disaster, but he won’t be willing to endanger himself further.”

  “Or maybe he isn’t a traitor,” said the sub-marshal. “Maybe he’s just incompetent and the losses come down to superior tactics on the part of the Darrowan commander. If so, those losses could compound if the First and Third aren’t reinforced and given strong leadership.”

  “You could send Hargast and the Second to support them,” suggested Mark.

  He growled. “Maldon is a large city. I need them to ensure a quick surrender. I can send them the day after. Once we have Maldon, we’ll be free to concentrate all our resources on Myrsta. The war will be all but over, whether we take the capital or whether we spend a year starving them out from their walls.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  Chapter 37

  The next morning the sun rose as usual, but it wasn’t readily apparent. A thick mist hung over the city and the fields around it out to a distance of at least a mile. The only clue that the sun had risen was that the mist took on an ambient glow, dimly lighting everything within it.

  Will wished he had news regarding the First and Third Divisions, but that probably wouldn’t come until noon as the riders usually didn’t travel at night. When they did arrive, it would be the ones sent the afternoon before. If he was lucky, he might receive the messengers from this morning by dark. For now, he could only stick to the plan and hope for the best.

  No one could see more than a couple of feet in the insanely dense fog, but that played to their advantage. The Terabinians didn’t need to see to play their par
t that day. Will was sure the Darrowans felt somewhat differently about it, though.

  He lifted his voice, letting the sound of it roll through the mist and over the city. “Bring up the gate-breaker.” He wasn’t particularly worried about giving away their intentions. He wanted them to anticipate what would happen.

  Twenty men strode forward, ten on either side of a massive tree suspended from a rude frame of rough timbers. The end had been hacked into a rough point, and the frame didn’t have wheels as some battering rams did. It was made crudely and quickly, meant only for the moment. Others ran alongside, using their shields to shelter those carrying the heavy frame, and moments later, arrows and rocks began to fall.

  The defenders couldn’t see them, but fear had made them begin before being certain of the Terabinians’ position. Even so, it wasn’t hard to guess. A minute later, the ram was in place. The men dropped the frame and took hold of rough handles lashed across the trunk as they began to swing the massive oak back and forth.

  It struck the gate with a resounding ‘boom.’

  Heavier rocks began to rain down, killing a few of the Terabinians despite the shield bearers. More rushed to take their place, and two sorcerers began using angled force-walls to protect the attackers from the stones. Will stood close by, but he merely watched, using his magically adapted vision to see through the mist.

  The ram continued to beat against the gates, booming like the world’s largest drum. The vibrations were low and powerful, thrumming through the air into his chest and through the ground into his feet. It felt as though his heart had begun to keep time with the slow beat, and as his adrenaline started to flow, he felt certain that it was the sound of victory.

  Blasts of fire erupted from the walls at multiple locations, all focused on the area in front of the gates. The two force-walls the sorcerers there were using wouldn’t stop the gouts of flame from wrapping the edges and burning some of the soldiers alive, not to mention those farther out, but that was the moment Will had been waiting for.