by J. P. Wagner
So, with little Aderyn carefully wrapped against the cold winter air, they left the relatively warm workroom and went to the site where the house was under construction.
For all the fact that he represented the foreign occupying power, he hadn’t had great trouble getting workmen to build his house. Winter was not usually a time for building projects in Kilgarhai, so many in the building trades were either unemployed, or taking any odd jobs they could get. An undertaking such as a house, in particular a house of this size, was something of an unexpected gift for any such, some of whom had misjudged the amount they had saved from their summer wages.
Some people might have taken advantage of the situation and pushed down the wages they paid for a job done at this time of year, but Carrtog had another purpose in mind, besides building a house of appropriate size for the station he was to fulfill.
Some might have taken the aforementioned station as requiring an imposing structure; what Carrtog had designed, with the help of people knowledgeable in the field, was a building that proclaimed the status of the resident without using its size or design to hammer home just how important that resident was.
At this point the building was little more than a fenced-off plot with several piles of lumber stacked here and there. The digging for the foundation had just been finished, requiring several fires to thaw out the winter-hard ground — this was among the reasons that a building project of this size was more often undertaken in summer — and the setting of the foundation itself had just begun.
This meant that there was not much to be seen and thus not really enough to distract Addy’s attention from the previous conversation.
Even worse, he could see that she realized what he had been trying to do.
Yakor spoke up at his elbow, laughter in his voice. “I think you’ve just got yourself into trouble.”
“What am I going to do, Yakor? I can’t order one of my soldiers, or worse, one of my servants, to try that machine.”
“Ask for volunteers?”
“That still amounts to me saying ‘Somebody please try this thing for me because I’m afraid it’ll kill me.’”
“Tell the truth. ‘My wife is afraid it’ll kill me, and I’m afraid of my wife.’” There was still laughter in his voice.
Addy came marching over. “It’s a very nice hole in the ground, Carrtog. I’m very sure it’ll be even nicer when the walls go up and they put the roof on it.”
The worst part of it for Carrtog was that she had previously told him that she could just see the house when it was built and after Carrtog was happy with it. Having her now use it like a truncheon to beat him with was hard to bear.
“I’m afraid, though,” she continued, “that the sight of this very nice hole in the ground does not serve to take my mind off the thought of you taking that glider up and killing yourself.”
“We’ll do everything we can to make it safe.”
“You will, will you? What can you do when that thing falls out of the sky? Magically produce a haystack for it to land in? Don’t try to jolly me along, Carrtog! We both know that thing may be dangerous, and I don’t like the thought of you being the one to show just how dangerous it may be!”
“And I should tell some other man to undertake a danger that I myself shirk? What would that say about me?”
“Then forget the whole thing and don’t ask anyone to do it!”
“And thus forgo what might well be a great advantage in this war?”
“If necessary, yes!”
Carrtog took a deep breath. This discussion was rushing headlong toward disaster. “I—” He stopped as Yakor elbowed him sharply in the ribs, and he clenched his teeth to prevent himself from speaking words carrying more anger than argument.
“I think,” he said carefully, “We had best put this discussion aside for a while. We’re beginning to shed more heat than light on the topic.”
Addy was still looking at him fiercely. “I scarcely think you’ll find my mind changed another time.”
He was trying to find something to say that would not inflame matters further when he heard the beat of horse hooves. He turned to see Captain Fordibrach coming in at a gallop. Whatever he’s coming to tell me, he thought, I think I’m going to have to give the fellow a commendation. He may have just saved me from a nasty family argument.
The captain pulled his horse to a stop, jumped down from the saddle, and saluted. Carrtog returned the salute. “What news, Captain?”
He could tell from Fordibrach’s expression that the news was good. “Lord, one of the farmsteads we circled was visited! I thought it might be best to follow the track with more than a patrol’s strength.”
“Very good, Captain. What strength were you thinking?”
“Nothing too large, Lord. I’d say only two troops; we’d want to be moving fast.”
“I suppose you’d like to take your own troop, for one?”
“Yes, Lord. We’re not that worn.”
“Good. Go talk to your squadron commander, have him pick another troop. Tell him that I’ll accompany them.”
He turned to Addy. “Addy, I’ll have to go with them; this might just be the changing of ill fortunes for this command.”
She said nothing. Perhaps he had been a bit early in thinking that the argument had been stopped. In fact, she might as well have read his thought, and this was only going to defer the altercation to a later time.
This was on his mind as he walked back toward the house. Yakor walked just behind his elbow. “You’re going to have to put that out of your mind, boy. You can’t let family arguments distract you when you’re going into a fight.”
“I know that. I’m just not certain how to manage it.”
“You’d better find out how, and quickly.”
“Very helpful advice, Yakor. Much like telling me to be careful not to be killed when I go into battle.”
He grabbed a young servant boy and told him, “Go to the stables, and tell the grooms to saddle horses for myself and Yakor. We’re riding with the troops, so we’ll need war-horses.”
“Yes, Lord.”
It was something of a scramble to get into proper uniform and do it in time to meet the squadron commander before he began to get annoyed.
He took along three wheel-lock pistols, one tucked into each boot-top, and the third in the sash at his belt. This brought to mind his situation when he and Yakor had set out to find a place for himself. At that time, he was hoping that sometime soon he would be able to afford a pistol, even one of indifferent quality. Here he was now, not only the possessor of three good-quality wheel-locks, but his man, Yakor, had at least three himself, and very likely more.
Yes, he had found quite a place for himself, but it seemed like a place where he was like a swimmer, paddling desperately to keep from sinking out of sight.
#
Squadron Commander Cargiodd was a stout man, but agile. He swung himself up onto his gray horse as Carrtog and Yakor approached, and the two troops with him followed suit. “Captain Fordibrach informs me that you wish to accompany us, Lord Carrtog.”
“I do, Commander. In part, I wish to see how well my magic succeeded in tracking them down, and in part, I just wish to accompany my troops from time to time.”
“As you wish, Lord.” Carrtog could not tell from the man’s expression whether he approved of his commander accompanying his troops or not. Not that his disapproval counted for much; Carrtog would come along and the squadron commander would have to make up his mind to accepting the fact.
As they rode out, Commander Cargiodd took a place beside Carrtog. “I understand you have undertaken a great study of combat magic, Lord?”
“Yes, combat magic and other magics as well. This particular magic might not be quite considered combat magic.”
“I see. But you have some confidence in it?”
Carrtog smiled. “If I admit that I do, am I then a braggart? Or if I say that I have never tried this particular spell except in a workroom, am I then risking all these troops on a mere speculation?”
The commander scowled. “Neither one, Lord. I would prefer, though, that you yourself had some confidence in your ability.”
“I see. My apologies, Commander. As I suggested, I have never used this spell except in the workroom, and there, it was successful. How successful it will be in the field depends on many things, such as whether or not there is a particularly skilled magician among the enemy, and whether or not the mere searching for traces causes the farmstead to send out someone to warn the rebels.”
Captain Fordibrach spoke up from Carrtog’s other side, “I thought of that, Lord. Instead of leading the whole troop up to look at the ground around the farmstead, I sent two men to look it over on the sly.”
Carrtog nodded. “Good. If your two men were sufficiently crafty, and there was nobody in the rebels’ camp who could notice anything magical about the tracks that led from the farmstead, we might well have a successful venture.”
They rode along the packed-snow trail in silence for some time with the dark trees watching on all sides until, at last, Fordibrach announced, “We take the branch to the left here.”
Shortly thereafter they angled off to the left and continued in that direction.
The trail led round a large grove of trees, leafless branches reaching toward the dull winter sky. “The farmstead’s just beyond these trees,” Fordibrach said.
As they reached the curve of the trail, they could see the edge of the fenced yard. The yard was of considerable size and housed the sizable garden that during the fall provided vegetables not only for the farmer, his family, and the hired hands, but also a considerable quantity for sale to the town (and likely to the rebels in the woods as well).
Beyond that was another fenced-off area, which had most likely been a tilled field, but now, with the crops harvested and the grain stored, held a number of long-haired, long-horned cattle, who pawed at the snow to reveal the stubble of grain beneath. A hayrack mounted on skids, still half-full of hay, sat on the outside of the fence for when the farmer would toss over forkfuls to supplement the cattle’s winter grazing. As they came up on the farm, they saw other enclosures holding sheep and goats, as well as sheds for the storage of the harvested grain.
Now the dogs came out, barking ferociously, letting the inhabitants of the farmstead know that strangers were approaching.
The door of the low-slung farmhouse opened to let out a tall, heavy-built man, who held a pitchfork upright in his right hand.
He called his dogs back in and stood waiting while the troopers came closer.
They were now surrounded by all the scents of the farm; the scents of the cattle, their manure, and their feed, as well as the almost hidden scents of the other animals.
The farmer spoke. “A good day to you, Commander Cargiodd. To what do we owe the honor of this visit?”
“Good day to you also, Farmer Parllon. I’d like to introduce you to our new general, Lord Carrtog. And we have come for the usual purpose, to track down some of the rebels who are supplying themselves off your farmstead’s produce.”
The farmer’s face took on a broad smile. “A good day to you, also, Lord Carrtog. So you’ve come about the same old business once more? Well, look around; I doubt you’ll find any rebels under arms. More likely you’ll find only some farmers ill-pleased by interruptions to their work by soldiers of the Southern king.”
“Oh, we won’t bother you or your family or farm-workers just now; we’re looking for tracks.”
The farmsteader shrugged, his expression changing not a whit. “Ah, tracks you’ll probably find. We have deer coming by from time to time trying to see what they can get from our hay-supplies, and thus hunters coming to see if they can get a deer or two. Indeed, some of our men have been known to take a deer or two to make a little change to our usual winter fare.”
Commander Cargiodd lifted his chin. “Good luck to them. So long as these hunters do not slip over to try to cut the railway line. We’ll just be on our way, now.” Commander Cargiodd urged his horse on the way, curving leftward around the farmstead’s perimeter.
“We’re near certain this fellow feeds the Northies, Lord Carrtog,” he said, “but General Hartovan said that ‘near certain’ was not sufficient evidence to burn him out.”
“The general was right,” Carrtog replied. “In fact, I’d think careful about burning out any farmstead, no matter how good the evidence against him; we start burning them out, the ones that are left will start taking against us, besides which, the rebels will start pushing the rest harder to make up the loss. And the biggest problem with burning them out is that we ourselves need to get our own supplies from somewhere.”
The commander frowned, almost as though he would prefer he and his men to starve. Carrtog decided not to push home the fact that hungry soldiers made for poor soldiers; the commander would probably not care to hear that.
Captain Fordibrach pointed. “The circle was broken over there.”
“Good.” Carrtog could see the crossed tracks for himself. “We don’t really need the magic just now, but somewhere up the way, they’ll start hiding their trail, so it’s better to have the benefit of the spell from the start.”
As they reached the appointed spot, he repeated the incantation, and a faint green line showed up along the track that crossed the circle. “There we are,” he said, “now we just keep on following the green line.”
Fordibrach called out two men from his troop. “You take the point,” he said. “You know what to do; look out for ambushes, snares, all that sort of thing. If you find the camp, one of you come back to let us know, the other keep watch until the rest of us come up.”
“Yes, sir.” The pair turned their mounts and were off at a trot along the trail. Commander Cargiodd eyed the faintly glowing green line in the snow. “Isn’t that line rather visible? I mean, if we can see it, can they not see it just as well? If they’re lounging around their camp and this ghastly color shows up won’t they know that something magic is on the way and be wary?”
Carrtog nodded. “Yes, if they saw it. But the magic doesn’t work like that. They can’t see it, since they’re the objects of the spell. We, being on the other side of the spell as it were, can see it.”
The commander still looked doubtful, but said, “If you say so, Lord.”
They rode on, following the trail as it wound through the trees, until they met one of the two point-men coming back. His face shone with scarcely-controlled excitement.
“They’re up ahead, Lord! They have guards posted all around, so we can’t get close enough for more than a guess at their numbers, but I’d say we’re about equal.”
“All right,” Carrtog responded. “I might be able to give us some advantage. Commander Cargiodd are any of your men familiar with the Grove of Battle?”
The commander gave the matter a moment’s thought, then said, “Yes, some of them are. You can handle the magic itself?”
“Yes, I can.” Carrtog thought of the last time he had used that incantation and about how much his ability had improved since. “I’d suggest you fall out anyone who knows the Battle Grove at all well, and then break up the rest into groups, so that one of those can give the rest a quick explanation of what to expect. During that time, I’ll make my preparations. When we’re both done, I’ll give the signal, then set off the spell.”
“Yes, Lord.”
The commander quietly gathered the men in a group where they could all hear him, and said, “Lord Carrtog is going to cast the Grove of Battle spell for us. Hands up those who have any experience with it!
“Good! Those of you who put up your hands, fall out over here. Now each of you with experience with the spell, pick two to
four of the others and take a bit to explain it to them. Lord Carrtog has spent some time studying magic just recently, so I think we can expect his version of the spell to be fairly powerful, but as with every bit of battle magic, much depends on how well the common soldiers take advantage of it. Now, you lot, pick your men!”
By this time Carrtog had already taken out one of his pistols, one that had not yet been loaded, and put in approximately three-quarters of a usual charge of powder. On top of that he put a couple of pinches of pine needles, then some wadding, then the ball. He then opened the pan and primed the pistol, then closed the pan, and slipped the pistol into his sash beside the one that had already been there.
Yakor was beside his elbow.
“You recall the last time I used this spell, Yakor? Some things have happened since then, haven’t they?”
“Yes, indeed. Among them, you’ve increased your ability in this sort of thing.”
“Just what I had been thinking. I should then be able to do something better this time than last, right? Unless, of course, there’s someone in that camp capable of pushing their way through my spell. Of course, if there were, he’d have noticed my spell on the track and we wouldn’t have gotten this far so easily.”
Cargiodd gave the command, and the troops moved out toward the rebel encampment. They moved as quietly as that many men and horses could manage, but of course the enemy eventually heard them. The forward point man came riding back toward them.
Carrtog shouted “Now!” and swung his pistol skyward, squeezing the trigger. He hadn’t used the ball the last time, he recalled, but he’d read various things in his studies, some claiming that the use of the ball increased certain effects of the Grove, others stating that those increased effects were mostly imagination. One of the studies on the increased effect side had actually listed several such effects, such as metal men appearing in the Grove, and Carrtog thought that even the possibility of extra effects warranted the expenditure of a piece of lead.
A mass of flame and sparks shot heavenward, and suddenly the grove was there. He remembered, too late, that the forward point man had not been warned about the Grove of Battle, and muttered, “God of battles, protect him!”