Thraxas at War

by Martin Scott

  I slump into my chair, defeat staring me in the face. Things haven't looked so bleak since Gurd and I, employed as mercenaries in the Juvalian jungle, accidentally stumbled into the wrong camp after a night's drinking. I can still remember the look on the enemy commander's face as I clapped him heartily on the back and offered him a swig from my flagon. Fortunately, at that moment, the camp came under attack from the third army involved in the rather complicated war and Gurd and I made our escape in the confusion.

  This time, however, there seems to be no escape. I'm trapped for ever with Elsior's inferior cooking. When the Orcs arrive I'll be lucky if I have the strength to pick up a sword. Suddenly inspiration strikes. Trying to inject some sincerity into my voice, I inform Tanrose that if she doesn't come back now she might never get the chance.

  "What do you mean?"

  "The Orcs are going to attack as soon as winter is over,"

  "Is this true?"

  "It is. It's a state secret and I'm not supposed to tell anyone, but it'll be common knowledge soon enough. So if you want to sort things out with Gurd - and maybe cook a few pies and stews in the mean time - this might be 3'our last chance."

  Tanrose looks serious.

  "Will we defeat the Orcs?"

  "It's possible."

  And it's possible we won't?"

  I nod. Tanrose needs only a few moments to make her decision.

  "In that case, Thraxas, you're right. I'd better come back."

  I leap to my feet in triumph. With the prospect of our treasured cook returning to the tavern, I'm now as happy as an Elf in a tree.

  "You wouldn't believe how bad the tavern has become. Dandelion being insane, Makri being insane. Horm sending flowers."

  "What?"'

  I inform Tanrose about the flower incident.

  "Which was worrying, of course. You know what a sucker Makri is for flowers."

  "So how did she take it?" asks Tanrose.

  "Swept them to the floor with disgust. Quite right. The nerve of that Horm. What did he think he was going to achieve? Just because I can produce spectacular effects with flowers on the axe-wielding mistress of the bad temper doesn't mean he can. You know, the more I think about it the more convinced I am he stole the idea from me. Probably he was spying when I arrived home from the flower seller's. It's not the sort of thing Horm could ever have thought of himself."

  "I remember you took a lot of persuading," says Tanrose. "I wouldn't worry. Makri is never going to fall for an Orc lord."

  "Who's worried? Makri can do what she likes. I just don't like Horm stealing my ideas."

  I leave the tenement, still as happy as an Elf in a tree. Okay, I had to tell Tanrose an important state secret to convince her to come back, but what the hell, it worked. Tanrose is very trustworthy. She won't tell anyone.

  I pick up a landus in Pashish and instruct the driver to take me to Truth is Beauty Lane, home of Turai's Sorcerers. As the carriage runs along Royal Way I rest my hands on my stomach, appetite fully satisfied for the first time in weeks. Let the Orcs come. When they find a well-fed Thraxas leading a phalanx against them, they'll regret they ever made the journey.

  Chapter Five

  Successful Sorcerers in Turai usually become wealthy and their villas in Truth is Beauty Lane are luxurious dwellings with enough space for substantial gardens outside and a large contingent of household staff inside. There's nothing to show that the villas are occupied by Sorcerers, rather than Senators. Sorcerers are as worried about their status as the rest of Turai's upper classes, and it would be frowned upon to make any overt public display of their powers. While they might occasionally put on some fancy entertainment in their gardens, they wouldn't dream of lighting up the front of their houses with spells, or making any other sort of vulgar show. The highest class of family in Turai rarely goes in for sorcery, deeming it to be beneath them. Keen not to lend weight to this notion, Sorcerers are generally careful not to do anything that might be construed as common.

  As I roll up to Lisutaris's villa I find signs of some serious activity, namely every top Sorcerer in the city state emerging from her house and climbing into their private carriages. Harmon Half Elf, Old Hasius the Brilliant, Melus the Fair, Lanius Suncatcher, Tirini Snake Smiter. Even Coranus the Grinder - famed for both his power and his bad temper - is there, and he very rarely visits the city, preferring to stay all year in his villa by the coast at Ferrias. As he strides to his four-horse carriage, younger Sorcerers like Capali Comet Rider and Anumaris Thunderbolt defer to him while lesser lights of the Sorcerers Guild such as Gorsius Starfinder and Patalix Rainmaker look on enviously.

  Last to leave is Ovinian the True, who's helped into his guided carriage by a brace of liveried servants. Ovinian isn't all that powerful but he's Chief Sorcerous Adviser to the King, which gives him a lot of rank. In common with all Sorcerers in Turai, he's wearing a rainbow cloak. His is particularly bright. Lisutaris's cloak is rather more tasteful; well cut and more muted in colour. I'd say that the more powerful the Sorcerer, the more discreet is their cloak. Coranus's is mostly grey, with the rainbow motif only just visible around the collar. Tirini Snake Smiter is something of an exception. She's powerful, but not given to discretion in matters of fashion. She wears a very elegant cloak, silky and nearly transparent, to go with the elegant gown she wears under it, itself silky and close to transparent. Tirini is a great beauty, the most glamorous Sorcerer in the city state, and keen to never let anyone forget it. Her hair is daz-zlingly blonde, and for a naturally dark-haired woman that takes a lot of herbal treatments and probably a spell or two. She caused a scandal last year by arriving at Princess Du-Akai's birthday celebrations in a dress so clinging and diaphanous as to endanger the health of several elderly Senators who were present. Bishop Gzekius was so outraged he denounced her from the pulpit the very next day, much to the amusement of Tirini.

  I studied sorcery when I was a youth, but I failed my studies and never accumulated more than a fraction of the power of these people. I draw back from the gate, letting them make their exit before approaching the house. Not that I think any Sorcerer is better than me. I just don't like to have my past failures pointed out.

  After they've all departed I walk up the long garden path through the bushes and shrubs and knock on the door. It's answered by a servant who recognises me from my previous visits. She looks at me dubiously and informs me that the meeting has finished.

  "I didn't come for the meeting. It's a private visit. Lisutaris will see me."

  The servant, looking about as welcoming as the hounds that guard the gates of hell, is not at all convinced that Lisutaris will see me. She leaves me at the door. I wait for a long time. Eventually she returns with the message that her mistress is engaged and would I like to arrange to call another time.

  "No," I say, and barge past her, using my considerable body weight to bat her out of the way, a tactic I've found very useful over the years. I know where Lisutaris will be. The Mistress of the Sky is a slave to thazis, ingesting it at a rate quite beyond the capacity of any other citizen. As she'll have been unable to indulge herself fully while conferring with her Sorcerer buddies, she'll now be ensconced in her comfortable room overlooking the gardens, sucking on her water pipe. I head for the back of the house, pursued by angry servants. We're wading through a carpet of quite astonishing luxuriousness. There's a lot of money in this house. The walls are hung with Elvish tapestries and the furniture, tastefully arranged and not too intrusive, is antique, mostly Elvish, and fantastically expensive. Lisutaris is one of the few Sorcerers who does originate from the very highest class of Turanian society, and she has a hefty fortune to play around with.

  Suddenly the air around me cools. I'm gripped by a powerful force which renders me temporarily immobile. I'm wearing a good spell protection charm which will deflect most magic but Lisutaris, as head of the Sorcerers Guild, has spells in her possession which are not easily deflected.

  "Lisutaris," I roar. "Get this spell off
me and let me in. I know you're not busy in there, you're only smoking thazis."

  I struggle against the spell, forcing myself forward a few inches at a time.

  "I'm not going away. Let me in or I'll beat the door down!"

  The spell abruptly ceases and I'm catapulted forward. The door opens and I end up in a heap on the floor. Lisutaris, sitting on a gold cushion in her favourite chair, looks down at me with idle disdain.

  "Thraxas. If you ever try beating down one of my very expensive doors I'll explode your head," she says. And what brings you here anyway? I have little time to spare these days."

  Having only had a few minutes at her water pipe Lisutaris is not yet too intoxicated, but from the powerful aroma in the room and the lazy expression on her face she's not so far off. Lisutaris packs enough thazis into her water pipe to knock out a dragon. This is the woman who invented a new spell for making thazis plants grow faster.

  "What brings me here, Lisutaris, is a desire for knowledge."

  "Ah. Has Makri finally shamed you into bettering yourself?"

  "Very amusing. I'm here to learn what's going on and how long I've got before I'm due on the battlefield, and anything else you know about the impending invasion. None of which anyone in government is going to tell me. Could you stop sucking on that thing for a second?"

  An observer of this conversation might be surprised at my rather casual attitude towards Lisutaris. She is, after all, the head of the Sorcerers Guild, not to mention an aristocrat of the purest blood. However, in the past year or so I've rendered some sterling service to her. It was me who got her elected as head of the Guild, more or less single-handed, and only this summer I saved her reputation by locating a very important mystical jewel she'd carelessly lost at the race track. Besides, I've seen her keel over in my office from overindulgence in thazis. After that I figure there's no need to be too formal.

  "You'd need something to calm you down if you'd had to spend time with these people. Harmon is a dreadful bore and both Lanius Suncatcher and Old Hasius doubt the accuracy of my observations."

  "They do?"

  Lanius is Chief Sorcerer at Palace Security. Hasius is Chief Sorcerer at the Abode of Justice. Lisutaris suddenly looks annoyed.

  "They do indeed. It's a difficult business looking into the heart of the Orcish Lands, Thraxas. Even with the green jewel at my disposal and all the powers I command, it's almost impossible to get a clear picture. The

  Orcish Sorcerers Guild have been working hard at their own protection. I can't make a connection to Prince Amrag himself and I can't eavesdrop on his private meetings. But I can get close enough to learn what he's planning. And it involves a swift invasion, you can be sure of that. I've seen the troops gathering and the dragons massing."

  "So why do they doubt you?"

  Lisutaris shrugs, and draws on her pipe.

  "Old Hasius the so-called Brilliant has always resented that I was elected head of the Guild. It clouds his judgement. That and his senility. It's high time they pensioned him off. As for Lanius, who knows? Palace Security are always looking out for their own interests. His boss Rittius has never been a friend of mine. Between them all they're proving to be a problem. It's a time for the city to be making preparations and forging alliances, not bickering about the precise meaning of what I've seen in the east. Naturally that oaf Ovinian the True reports their doubts back to the Palace. That man is a fool. How he ever became Chief Sorcerous Adviser to the King is beyond me."

  I sympathise with her annoyance.

  "It's often the way in this city. Worthy men are passed over in favour of some dolt who's good at flattery. Look at me. Thrown out of my job at the Palace. I was the only decent Investigator they had."

  "You got drunk at Rittius's wedding and insulted his bride," says Lisutaris. "Right after you insulted Rittius. Which, as I remember, was almost immediately after you insulted Praetor Capatius."

  "So what were you doing? Taking notes? These people deserved to be insulted. It's no wonder I was driven to drink. Is there any chance of a glass of wine?"

  Lisutaris ignores my request, being too busy muttering about Ovinian.

  "He had the nerve to suggest that my judgement may be clouded due to my annoyance over Herminis. As if I would let a domestic matter interfere with my war duties!"

  I wonder if Lisutaris is going to lecture me about Herminis. I've already listened to several long diatribes from Makri on the subject. Herminis is the wife of a Senator, or was until a few months ago, when she stabbed him in the back with his own dagger. In court she claimed that her husband had violently abused her for all the ten years they were married. The court, feeling that this was not an adequate defence for a charge of murder - which legally it wasn't - sentenced her to death. She's currently languishing in prison awaiting execution. What's particularly annoying Makri, and probably Lisutaris, is that if the situation had been reversed and the Senator had killed his wife, he would have been given the option of exile from Turai. In all but the most exceptional of cases, members of the Turanian ruling classes are allowed to leave the city before execution. This option has not been extended to Herminis. Tough on the lady, but that's the way things work in Turai. Why Makri feels the need to berate me about it I've no idea. Fearing that Lisutaris may be working up to some berating of her own, I ask her how things stand in the matter of forging alliances.

  "Quite well, fortunately. We've sent messengers all over the west and contacted the Elvish nations."

  It's a strange thought that as we sit here, smoking thazis in this peaceful room, all over the west the first preparations are being made for the raising of a gigantic army.

  "What sort of force can Prince Amrag muster?"

  "Hard to say. He's been in a position of dominance for a relatively short time. Yet from my observations it seems as if the other Ore nations are answering his call. We're guessing that their army will be roughly the same size as last time."

  "Who exactly is we?"

  "The War Council. As organised by the Consul. I never had that much regard for Kalius, but at least he's got things moving quickly'

  We sit in silence for a moment, both reflecting on the last war. After a lot of desperate fighting there came a point where we threw them back from the city walls, and at that moment I was, at it happened, standing next to Lisutaris. I saw her bring dragons down from the sky, and when her sorcerous power ran out I saw her pick up a sword and behead an Ore who made it to the top of the walls. Immediately after this the wall collapsed. I've no idea how any of us survived. We wouldn't have if the Elvish army hadn't arrived at that moment and taken the Orcish forces in the flank.

  "Still, we beat them last time. We can beat them again."

  "Perhaps," muses Lisutaris. "Though the armies of the Humans and the Elves are probably weaker these days. Not too much weaker, I hope. If they are, we're going to have to flee a long way west before we find a place to hide."

  Lisutaris doesn't show any sign of summoning refreshments.

  Any chance of some refreshments?"

  "I have no beer."

  "But you do have a notably fine wine cellar. Nothing too fancy, a nice Elvish table wine will hit the spot."

  Lisutaris pulls the bell rope, summoning a servant. She's not such a bad woman, really. Smokes far too much thazis and spends a lot of money on clothes, hair styling and the like, but she's served the city well. We're about the same age, though you'd hardly know it. She's preserved her looks a lot better than me. Of course, she had more looks to preserve. And my life has been a good deal harder.

  I take a glass of wine.

  "Good wine. Maybe you ought to spend the next four months enjoying the contents of your wine cellar."

  "If we have four months," says Lisutaris.

  "What do you mean?"

  "I suspect the Orcs may march earlier."

  I'm puzzled.

  "Earlier? Winter is only a week or two away. They can't cross the wastelands in winter."

  Lisutari
s looks thoughtful.

  "So everyone says. And they never have before. But I picked up a message from Amrag to another Ore lord that seemed to imply they might be planning it this time."

  I'm sceptical about this. Campaigns are rarely launched in winter; the weather is far too fierce for marching.

  "I can't believe Amrag would do that. What would it benefit him?"

  "He'd get here before the Elves could. They can't sail in winter. If he can bring his army over here before they arrive, he'll have already avoided half the opposition."

  "But think of the logistics. Marching in winter? Orcs aren't that much hardier than Humans. They'd never get here. Neither would their dragons, they get sluggish in the cold. They couldn't fly all the way here in winter. And their navy couldn't support them on the coast."

  "That's what the War Council thinks," says Lisutaris. "Old Hasius went so far as to suggest I'd intercepted a message that Prince Amrag had planted deliberately to confuse us."

  She shrugs.

  "Possibly I did. The Orcish Sorcerers Guild is a lot more powerful than they used to be, and possibly a lot more subtle. Some of the mystical defences they've set up in the past few years have surprised me with their complexity. It's not impossible I've been misled. Nonetheless, I'm worried."

  "Has any other Sorcerer reached the same conclusions as you?"

  Lisutaris admits they haven't. No other Sorcerer thinks there is any chance of the Orcs attacking before winter is through. According to Lisutaris, several foreign Sorcerers are doubtful that the Orcs are planning to invade at all. Personally, I don't doubt Lisutaris for a second. Few Sorcerers can equal her in terms of power and knowledge. Few in the west, and none in the east. The Mistress of the Sky has a matchless talent. Apart from when she's too wrecked on thazis to work her spells. That's not too often.

  "Could you pull that bell rope for me?" she asks. "I can't seem to lift my arms."

  I frown at her.

  "No thought of giving up thazis for the duration of the war?"