War Wizard

by King, DB

  Marseille sighed. “We had no idea who built this town, who lived here. But all the same, we still took pride in being caretakers of this town. All it took was a handful of orcs to ruin that.”

  “The buildings still stand,” Gareth said. “And some of your people still live. If you wish to restore this town, I’m sure it could be done.”

  “Is there a meeting room?” Logan asked.

  “Yes,” Marseille replied. “On the third floor. It’s where we would hold our rituals.”

  “Take me there.”

  They went up the stairs to the third floor, making their way through a grand hallway. At the far end was a room with high ceilings and tall windows that looked out over the town and surrounding landscape, a massive, rectangular table surrounded with high-backed chairs in the center of the room. With its grandeur and view of the region, it was easy to imagine this room as the strategizing center of the town.

  Logan stepped over to the eastward-facing window and placed his hands on the sill. Below, he could see the orc fire and the party that surrounded it. The fortress loomed in the distance.

  “What’s the plan, Logan?” Marseille asked.

  He turned and spoke, crossing his arms over his chest. “This town is of strategic importance. But I’m afraid it can’t only be a town for Maar and his followers.”

  “Is that right?” Marseille asked. Gareth pulled out one of the chairs and took a seat.

  “We have dozens of freed slaves back at the caravan,” Logan said. “They’re going to need a place to live and work. This town would be perfect for that.”

  Marseille nodded slowly, processing what he was saying. “This place has been the home of Maar’s followers for centuries. Deep down, I’d hoped it would always be that way. But the orc attack took so many of us… we need more people here if the town is to survive.”

  “You need more than that,” Logan said. “You need people to populate it and work the land.”

  Gareth nodded. “The hills north of the town past the woods are prime farmland.”

  “Right,” Logan said. “And the woods are rich with lumber. With the resources of the region and the fortress nearby, this land could be prosperous—perhaps the most prosperous in the region.”

  “Not to mention,” Gareth said, “a safe haven from the orcish attacks. There are no great powers in the west, nowhere free from orc and bandit raiders. If you could have even a single fortress like this in the region…”

  Logan glanced over his shoulder back at the landscape. “Then this area will be far more than a town.” He shook his head, focusing on the moment. “For now, we’re going to need to make sure this place is up and running, that it has enough resources to support a growing population.”

  “We’ve lived off the land,” Marseille said. “There have never been enough of us to need anything other than hunting and gathering in the forest to survive.”

  “That will have to change. For now, that will be how the town survives. But soon we’ll need to grow crops and establish a timber-cutting operation.”

  Gareth sat up straight, a worried expression on his face. “That… that all sounds good, commander.”

  “But?”

  “But… Runa and Raymond won’t be happy to hear this. This mission wasn’t about taming the realms of men or freeing slaves or even killing orcs—it was about saving our kingdom.”

  Logan leaned back against the window, crossing his arms once more and giving the matter thought. “You’re right. This is my home—the Elderwood Rangers have dwelled in the realms of man since our founding. And as a War Wizard, my duty is to protect the west and the people who dwell here. But it’s only because of your people that I’m alive to do any of that. I owe you and Runa and Raymond and the rest of the Tyan Kingdom a debt for what you did. Tomorrow morning, we’ll travel back to the caravan and speak with them, decide our next move.”

  “We’ll need someone to stay in charge of the region,” Marseille said.

  “Right,” Logan said. “Maybe Maar would be up to the task.”

  Marseille’s eyes lit up at the name. “I have no doubt. Maar knows this land well, and draws his power from the fortress. I’m sure he would leap at the chance to administer it.”

  “And if settlers here wish,” Gareth added, “they could take his mark and join your army.”

  Logan nodded. “I’ll need to be here to administer the mark. No one can bear a true mark without it being drawn by a War Wizard’s hand. Although it’s possible some may become so devoted to Maar that they can use inferior marks, such as the one Marseille had.”

  “You could always return to provide the marks,” Gareth suggested.

  Logan nodded. “But everyone will work to pay their way. No refugee here will be allowed to tarry while their fellows work. If they wish to be part of this town, they’ll carry their weight one way or another. They can collect resources, or they can fight.”

  Gareth glanced over Logan’s shoulder at the stretch of landscape.

  “What did you call this place, Marseille?” he asked. “Did this town have a name?”

  “Edgewood,” she said. “It was what we called it. But its true name was lost.”

  Logan turned around once more, taking in the sight. His eye went to the border of the woods, the clear line between it and the rolling hills beyond.

  “Edgewood,” Logan said. “It’s a fitting name. I say we keep it.”

  Marseille and stepped over to him, placing her hands on his shoulders. “And if you ask me, we’ve worked hard enough for one day. “How about a little relaxation?”

  Logan grinned. “I’ll drink to that.”

  * * *

  “Edgewood?” Maar said the name with confusion, perhaps a tinge of disgust.

  “You don’t like it?” Logan asked. “It is what your faithful have been calling it, and I have a mind to keep it.”

  He shrugged. “I suppose it makes sense. We are at the edge of the forest.”

  They were in the top chamber of the fortress that next morning, the two of them alone.

  “I don’t know,” Maar said, leaning against one of the columns. “Perhaps something with a bit more of a ring, like, I don’t know, Maaristan.”

  Logan laughed. “Very humble suggestion.”

  The snake spirit grinned. “Well, if I’m going to be running things around here, I believe I’m entitled to such things.”

  “You’re fine with that?” Logan asked. “Administrating the fortress and the town?”

  Another shrug. “If it gains me more followers, then so be it. But typically, this is not how things are done.”

  “Then enlighten me on proper protocol.”

  “War Wizards function as something like peacekeepers in their regions. Their assigned fortress would be run by them, and they would work with mayors of neighboring towns, as well as the king of the kingdom. Archspirits could help, yes, but they tend to be in more… advisory positions.”

  “I see. Then you’re not up to the task?”

  “No, no, no,” he said. “I can do it. But if you’re going to go down this path, you’re going to need to think long-term. The kingdoms of man were wiped out by the orcish invasion. There are no kings, and there are only a few scattered towns here and there. Recreating all that will be a mighty feat indeed. You’ll need to keep an eye out for those who are fit to rule. And don’t be surprised if, when you have pacified regions, you find yourself dealing with more than a few would-be kings who claim to be the rightful inheritors of their lands.”

  “I’ll keep all of that in mind. But for now, I want you to oversee Edgewood as it gets back on its feet.”

  “Yes, yes. It will be done. I’ll see to it that resource collection begins. And we’ll need a militia to help repel any further orcish attacks.”

  “Excellent. Then I leave the place in your charge.”

  Maar grinned. “Perfect. And don’t be surprised if I’m more powerful when you return.”

  Logan left the fortress,
Marseille and Arachne awaiting him in front of the massive building. Silverfang was with Arachne, the huge horse turning one of its eyes onto Logan.

  “You’re sure about this?” Arachne asked. “Leaving the region to him?”

  “You think it’s a bad idea?”

  “Hard to say. Maar is many things, but stupid is not one of them. I’m sure he’ll do a fine job administrating. But mortals sometimes bristle under the rule of Archspirits. There are tales to tell about such occasions. Perhaps I’ll tell you about them some day.”

  “Personally,” Marseille said with a smile. “I’m more than fine with you leaving him in charge. Maar is the wisest, most powerful of the Archspirits. When you return, you may have a mighty kingdom awaiting you.”

  Arachne scoffed. “Spoken like a true sycophant.”

  Marseille huffed and rolled her eyes.

  “Enough,” Logan said. “Right now, our goal is to get to the caravan. I need to meet with Runa and Raymond and decide on our next step. We’ll gather the elf soldiers and make our way back. If we leave now, we can reach the caravan by nightfall.”

  They moved out. First stop was back to Edgewood to check on the town before they left. Maar was there, overseeing his followers as they cleaned up the rest of the mess that months of orcish rule had left. It was clear that they took delight in following him, but Logan had a feeling that others might not feel such joy following the orders of a snake Archspirit.

  After gathering the elves and resupplying for their trek back, Logan made a mental note to do as Maar had suggested, to find men and women who might make for better rulers than Archspirits.

  They began their trek through the woods. Logan was relieved when he spotted the caravan in the distance, still tucked away behind the rock outcropping near the lake where they’d had left it. A few dozen men and women were at the lakeshore gathering water and fishing. Logan was eager to tell Runa and Raymond of what they’d accomplished.

  But as they made their way through the caravan, Logan could sense that the mood was growing grim. Despite the fishing, resources were running low. There were simply too many people there, and there was desperation in the air when he checked on the former slaves.

  “What’s the plan, War Wizard?” Callwin the blacksmith asked, who forced himself into Logan’s attention as he made for the command caravan. “The elves refuse to tell us what the situation is with supplies. And considering we’ve been living off a steady diet of slivers of cooked fish for the last several days, I suspect it’s not good.”

  Logan paused, glancing over his shoulder at Arachne, Marseille, and the rest of the troops. It was clear that they were shocked by the candor with which Callwin had spoken to Logan. No doubt they were expecting the War Wizard to dress the blacksmith down for his insolence.

  But Logan had no plans to do that. In fact, the man raised some good points.

  “Your son, Kevin,” Logan said. “How is he?”

  Callwin furrowed his brow. “My… my son? Well, he’s fine. We’re all in good health—for now. Thank you for asking. But the spirits of the former slaves are dwindling. Bondage was dire, but at least we didn’t have to worry about where our next meals were coming from.”

  “You don’t need to worry about such things,” Logan said.

  “Is that right?”

  “It’s right. I’m here to speak with Runa and Raymond to discuss what I’ve found up north. I won’t say anything until we’ve decided on a plan, but rest assured that you won’t be living like this for much longer.”

  Callwin looked Logan up and down with skeptical eyes, as if trying to decide if he should trust him.

  “Is that a promise, Logan?” he asked.

  “It’s a promise. Give me one hour to speak with Runa and Raymond.”

  The blacksmith sighed, placing his huge hands on his hips and shaking his head. “An hour. I suppose if I’ve waited this long, I can wait just a bit longer.”

  “Thank you, Callwin. Your trust won’t be misplaced.”

  He nodded and stepped to the side. Logan nodded at him before continuing on to the command caravan.

  “That was a bold way of speaking for a mere peasant,” Marseille said.

  “Questioning you like that in front of the caravan,” Arachne added. “Quite insolent.”

  “But he has a point,” Gareth said. “It’s one thing to grant slaves their freedom. It’s something else to give them a life after bondage.”

  Logan said nothing, keeping his thoughts to himself.

  Insolent. The word stuck with him. Truth be told, he was quite impressed at how Callwin had fearlessly approached him like that. The blacksmith cared for his son and the rest of his people, and had demanded answers on the question of their safety.

  They were good qualities in a leader.

  Logan reached the command caravan, turning to the group as he did.

  “Wait here,” he said. “All of you, see if you can find ways to be useful for the next hour or so. Or rest, if you need to. Things will be in motion once I’m done speaking to Runa and Raymond.”

  Without another word, Logan stepped through the doors that led to the first floor of the command caravan. Servants rushed here and there, most preparing the fish that was being brought in from the lake, the air thick with the smell of it all. Eyes flicked onto Logan, and he could see that the servants were doing their best to not gawk—no doubt they knew that his return would bring change.

  He went up the stairs to the second floor, Runa and Raymond’s voices carrying down the hall.

  “…think he’s actually going to return?” Raymond asked. “He has the power of two Archspirits, perhaps three. Not like we have any leverage over the ranger.”

  “He’ll return,” Runa said. “I have no doubt Logan is the type to live up to his promises.”

  That seemed like as good a cue as any. Logan stepped through the saloon doors that led into the main room of the command caravan. Runa and Raymond were there, both seated and in the middle of drinking a bottle of wine.

  “And there he is,” Raymond said. “Just in time, too—we were about to finish the last bottle of the private stock.”

  Logan stepped over to the bottle and picked it up. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Runa smile.

  “Welcome back, Logan,” she said.

  “Good to be back. I hope I didn’t interrupt the evening’s lounging.” He flashed Raymond a grin, letting the guard captain know he was only joking.

  “No lounging here,” Raymond said. “We were simply trying to figure out how to make enough fish to feed fifty people stretch into enough to feed four times that. More, I suppose, now that you’ve returned.”

  “Not to mention discussing whether or not I was to be trusted.” Logan poured himself a glass of wine and took a sip. It was pure bliss after a day of trekking.

  “That only came up moments ago,” Raymond said. “And surely you can’t blame us for wondering.”

  “Not at all,” Logan said, stepping over to the command map, setting his glass down, and placing his hands on the edge as he leaned forward. “But I’m here now. And I have much to report.”

  “Go on,” Runa said. “We’re more than interested to hear what you’ve been up to.”

  He told them the story, filling them in on the town and Maar and the fortress, how they’d captured the town from the orcs. When he was done, he took another long sip of wine.

  “You’ve been busy,” Raymond said. “And while this is all very impressive, I have to wonder how this gets us any closer to our goal of saving our kingdom. You know—the reason why we dragged you here from the spirit realm.”

  Logan swept his hand toward the walls. “Because this caravan won’t make it back to your kingdom.”

  Raymond and Runa shared a glance before turning their attention back to Logan.

  “Then what?” Raymond asked. “Don’t you dare tell me you’re going to suggest we give up.”

  “Not at all,” Logan said. “As you told me, leading t
his caravan to the former Elderwood Forest was an arduous journey. You lost many lives on the way, and it took all you had to avoid being destroyed by the orcs and bandits you were forced to fight.”

  “That’s right,” Runa said. “Many good men and women didn’t make the trip.”

  “And the rest won’t make it back. The caravan, even in its depleted state, is simply too large. It attracts too much attention, and it is too inviting of a target. No doubt word has spread to every bandit camp and orc tribe that the prey of a lifetime is slowly, very slowly, making its way across Varsyth. The odds of us reaching the Dragoneye Mountains are slim to none.”

  “Finish your thoughts, ranger,” Raymond said. “Because I have no patience for doomsaying.”

  “My plan is…” Logan continued, “we disband the caravan.”

  “We what?” Raymond rose from his seat.

  Logan raised his palm. “Hear me out. There’s a town beyond the Graysmoke Woods that needs men and women to populate it and work the land. There’s ample food, and plenty of space between it and the fortress. In a few months’ time, we could have a bustling town under our control.”

  “But we don’t have that much time, Logan,” Runa said. “Our kingdom needs us now.”

  “I’m not done. We take the majority of the caravan and send them to the town. Then, we three and a hand-picked squadron of soldiers form a unit, one small enough to slip through the rest of the continent without drawing attention to ourselves. I’m thinking no more than twenty at the most.”

  Runa nodded. “That way, the members of the caravan can remain here where they’ll be safe.”

  Raymond narrowed his eyes. “It’s not… It’s not a terrible idea. If we have a smaller force, it would be more manageable.”

  “Not to mention, move more quickly,” Logan said. “It’ll take two weeks to travel the rest of the way back. With a small team, we could make the trek in less time, could we not?”

  Raymond grumbled his assent.