by Guy Antibes
Asem got up and urged Trak to do the same. “General Danson will be glad to hear that.” Asem bowed, and Trak followed. When they exited the tent, Asem took Trak’s hand and leaned to pose again.
They appeared back in the meadow. A soldier sprawled on the ground a few feet away.
“An unfortunate effect of teleportation,” Asem said, mostly to himself. “Come, let’s talk to Danson. He’ll be happy to hear we just picked up another 500 soldiers in the army, and that there will be no waiting for permission from Balbaam.”
~~~
Chapter Thirty-Four
~
Trak appeared in the courtyard of the Balbaam palace, well shielded, and carrying dispatches from General Danson and Colonel Hazemel. Guards surrounded him. Trak let them take him to the king.
When he entered Marom’s sparse throne room, the doors were slammed, and twenty soldiers pointed crossbows at him.
“You have returned to Warish. I am not happy about that. I thought you had fled to Torya. Where is my wife?” Trak noticed the angry inflection in the accented Pestlan spoken by Marom. Had he meant to punish Trak by reminding him that Valanna was married to him?
“You have five of them,” Trak said. “You mean Queen Valanna?”
“Yes, her.” Marom slouched on his throne, but he looked nervous, even with twenty men pointing crossbows at Trak. “Why didn’t she come with you?”
“She leads an army to help you fight the Colcanans.”
Marom gnashed his teeth. “Tell her I want her back in the Royal Tower. Asem’s wife and children are still under my control. If she doesn’t return, they will die.”
“When did you last check on them?” Trak said.
Marom’s eyes widened. He merely signaled with a lift of the chin to one of the Ferezan officers lining the room. Trak could hear the door open and close behind him.
“I have dispatches.” Trak slowly raised his hands. He strengthened his shields to protect himself from any nervous soldier sending a bolt at him. “Can I give them to you?”
“Toss them at my feet.”
Trak did so. A Ferezan picked up the dispatches and gave them to Marom. He sat up straighter and opened the leather tube. He ignored Trak while he read.
The door opened. “They are gone, along with Captain Mizor, Your Majesty.”
Marom merely nodded and looked up from the papers. “Asem wouldn’t have written this if they were still here.” He continued to read until he lifted angry eyes at Trak. “You Pestlans are going to help me if I want assistance or not?”
“The Colcanan army is a threat to the continent. The Pestlans will not wait for them to conquer Warish and then attack their country,” Trak said.
“You don’t speak as a Pestlan?”
“I don’t consider myself beholden to any country at this point. I have been asked to leave every country I have lived in, except for Bennin. Duty took me out of there.”
Marom smiled grimly. “A princess, I recall?”
“A dead princess,” Trak said. “Killed by her own people.”
Marom peered at Trak. “You know of Amorim? It has been destroyed and the Colcanan Army is on its way to Balbaam. What do you think you can do now? When your army reaches Balbaam, we will be under siege, perhaps in flames like Amorim.”
“The Pestlan army isn’t headed for Balbaam.”
“What?”
“The closest good place to engage the Colcanans is Garmez Falls.”
Marom tossed the dispatches at Trak’s feet. “Are you Pestlans idiots? There is no bridge there.”
“We don’t need bridges,” Trak said staring at Marom. “We will teleport the troops across and use flyers.”
“What use are those toys?”
“Those toys would be used to burn Balbaam to the ground. If you wish, bring your army north. I am interested to see what kind of fighting Ferezan warriors can really do. Or are their deeds tall tales meant to scare children?”
Marom stood upright. “How dare you denigrate my people? You come in here, arrogant with power, and think you can give me orders!” He looked at the archers and nodded.
Arrows flew at Trak, but his shields held. More bolts bounced off his shields, broken. “Do you want me to kill everyone in this room?” Trak said, drawing his sword. He looked at the still-blackened wooden throne and pointed his sword, clipping off a tip of a branch with a needle of power. “My aim is true.”
The soldiers pulled back at Marom’s signal. Trak turned around and could see them shrink against the warriors who now stood against the walls.
“I didn’t come to kill you. I just want to show you that we are serious. If you had listened closely, I didn’t question your honor.” Trak pointed his sword at Marom and spoke to the men listening. “Your honor lies with your king. Will he lead you or burrow in his palace, waiting for the Colcanans to drop fire and rocks on Balbaam? Asem knows the truth and will fight with us. Colonel Hazemel and Captain Mizor know the truth and command Warish units who will not shrink from a fight for their homeland. There is time to muster your forces and meet us at Garmez Falls. You will make excellent time on the road to Amorim.
“I suggest that you make overhead shields of metal and felt to protect from the spells the Colcanans will throw from their flyers. We will have a few of our own to fight them. I will leave you now.” Trak nudged the dispatches with his foot. “Descriptions of the shields are in the papers you didn’t read. Believe those. They come from your subjects who love Warish at least as much as you do.”
Trak made a move to teleport, but stopped. “By the way, Santasia will be landing troops in what is left of the Amorim ports, but they won’t arrive until after we have clashed with the Colcanans.” He pulled one of his letters from General Niamo and tossed it at Marom’s feet before he disappeared.
~
“How did it go?” Asem said, when Trak found him walking with Colonel Hazemel among the Warish soldiers.
Trak loosened his cloak to cool himself off. His back was sticky with sweat after his pleading with Marom. “He knows we are serious. He scoffed at helping, but I shamed him just as you suggested. Will he meet us at the falls?” Trak shook his head. “If he doesn’t I don’t think he deserves to be king.”
“He will be there,” the colonel said. “When will you start teleporting the troops?
“Now? Are the platforms ready?”
“They are at the head of the column.”
Trak teleported ahead and instructed the Warishians to board the large flyers. Each of them held about twenty-five troops. Only Neel, Ferikan, Valanna, and he could teleport a flyer that large to the falls. They had all agreed to take Warishian troops first.
It took two days to get them teleported. Trak began to move Pestlan troops when the others had weakened. While they worked, the army continued to march in the direction of the falls.
In another two days, three thousand troops camped on the western side of the falls. Another two thousand troops in reserve camped on the east. Mori and a team of Warishian quartermasters assembled food and what arms they could get. Healers had come down from the north, escaping the Colcanan army, and more healers had arrived from the south. The rest of the refugees continued towards Balbaam.
On the fourth day, King Marom arrived with twenty-five hundred men, one thousand of which wore the costumes of the Ferezan.
“The command tent is on the eastern side, King Marom,” Colonel Hazemel said. “It is time to plan the defense of the Pestlan continent.”
Marom glared at the Colonel. “If the situation wasn’t so grave, I’d have you hung. As it is, Trak Bluntwithe promised that you would be here on time, so I will hold him responsible for your success or failure.” Marom narrowed his eyes at Trak, who stood by Asem’s side. Valanna waited in the command tent with Neel, General Danson, and Asem.
“Trak will fly us after sufficient warriors have been ferried across the Pusuun to provide an adequate guard.”
Marom grunted and observed the flyers
taking men across the river and returning.
“That is enough,” Marom said. “Take me, Trak Bluntwithe.”
The men boarded the flyer, and the Ferezan had already formed up to escort their king to the command tent.
Marom looked around. “Do you think this is suitable for a king?” he said derisively, as he entered the large, plainly furnished tent.
“It is suitable for a queen, Your Majesty,” Valanna said.
Marom grunted, and then looked towards Trak to accompany him to a large table. Danson’s staff had already drawn a map of the battle area, using a flyer to help produce an accurate representation.
Marom looked it over and grunted. Trak could see he was impressed. Perhaps he knew the area well.
“You know the forces, Your Majesty. What would you recommend?” Trak said.
The king stared at the plan. “Do you have some tokens we can use to represent our forces?”
Danson smiled and brought a box from underneath the table. “The best we could do is colored stones. We have six colors here.” He pulled out six sacks. A colored ‘X’ on each sack noted the hue of the stones within.
Marom grimaced. He was surely uncomfortable, but the map drew him in. Trak stepped away while Danson, Asem, Neel, and King Marom began pushing rocks around on the map. When they had finished, Neel asked Trak to step up to the table.
“What would be the best defense against the Colcanan magicians and against their flyers?” Neel said.
Trak looked at the table. He moved a few of the pieces around. “I think this is what the Colcanans will do. Remember, Riotro led the Santasian rebels. He will likely use a similar strategy, except he now has flyers.” Trak looked at King Marom. “Remember I told you about the shields? It’s not enough to make them of metal. Lightning will kill through metal. The thick felt is used to insulate both sides, giving you some protection against fire and lightning.”
“And how do you know that?” Marom said.
Valanna stepped up to the table. “I used that defense against the Colcanan soldier-magician. Asem forced me to wear a breastplate like the shields Trak described. It saved my life. Magic shields degrade the longer a magician is forced to pose. At some point they will leak and spells can get through. If a magician is strong enough,” Valanna looked at Trak, “he can pierce through spells.”
Marom nodded. “I saw Bluntwithe do that quite effectively in Balbaam.”
The acknowledgement startled Trak. Marom stepped outside of the tent and came back in. “We will have as many made as possible. I have a man riding back to Balbaam.”
“Stop him,” Trak said. “He can get there much quicker with a Vashtan who can teleport. Every moment counts.”
Marom merely nodded. “Go.”
Trak caught the man Marom had assigned the task as he was mounting his horse. “I have something faster.” He looked over at Derit talking to Ferikan. “This man needs to teleport to Balbaam. They are going to make shields for the soldiers. Would you help since you’ve been to the palace before?”
Derit grinned. “Anything for Queen Valanna.”
Trak walked back inside. “I have another thought. We can lift up wagons or haybales or any number of objects into the sky. They will stay there for a day or two before they will drift down, and will act as obstacles for the flyers. I doubt if the Colcanans can maneuver their flyers any better than we could over Santasia.”
“Won’t that disrupt your flyers?” Danson said.
“The side with the most flyers will find their actions more limited. If we have a stronger infantry, then it is to our advantage. Colcan hasn’t fought a ground battle in a generation,” Trak said.
Marom narrowed his eyes and looked at Trak. “You know more than magic, don’t you?”
“I have studied strategy and history and learned how to apply them. I can’t speak as to how effective my advice is. Ask Asem.”
Asem nodded. “He came up with better battle plans than the Santasian Army’s staff. I’ll attest to that.”
The conversations turned to the topography and the use of the Pusuun River. The men moved stones into the night. Valanna had fallen asleep in a chair, and Trak put a blanket over her.
Morning came with news of the enemy.
“Flyers were spotted just as dawn broke. We harried them and used the Toryan spell to make them descend. They haven’t learned to shield their flyers. All of our people are still up there,” an officer said, “while their flyers descend.”
Trak nodded. He rubbed his eyes as he looked up at the sky. “They’ll learn soon enough. As soon as I get some food in me, I’ll head up and see what I can see.”
Marom emerged from his tent and stood beside Danson and Trak. “Our flyers have all gone to meet them,” Marom said.
“I don’t need a flyer, Your Majesty.” Trak gobbled down some bread and a bowl of porridge. He washed everything down with tea and tied his cloak tighter, and then he shot up into the air about ten paces. He waved to Danson. King Marom involuntarily waved back.
“Is there anything he can’t do?” Trak heard the king sarcastically say as he rose farther up in the air and teleported north.
~
The Colcanans had decided on establishing a battle line, extending its front westward from the falls. Trak could see the fortifications taking shape once he teleported even higher in the sky. He passed all the returning flyers, estimating that the Colcanans had a smaller force than what he had thought, but as Trak looked at the organization of the camps, he could tell that perhaps a quarter of the Colcanans below were magicians.
Trak remembered General Niamo not too concerned about magicians, and he had been successful in fighting the Colcanans early in his career. The thought bolstered Trak’s confidence.
The Pestlan forces could boast of thirty or forty magicians, only ten of which Trak knew he could rely on. Their battle plans would need modification, along with the displacement of the magicians and their units. Fortunately, all of the Colcanan flyers were now parked in rows. There were twenty-three of them.
Trak willed himself invisible, dampened his power aura, and then teleported just above the flyers, drawing his sword. Using sheer power, he blasted all of the flyers to splinters in a moment.
He flew up into the air and took some more time memorizing the placement of the fortifications, so he could compare it to the map at the headquarters camp. He looked at the falls and wondered how they could use them to their advantage. Trak realized that the Colcanans might have chosen this spot because the Warishians couldn’t land soldiers from boats floating downriver from the falls.
After Trak had seen enough, he headed back to their camp.
“I cleaned up the skies,” Trak said. “They will have to build new flyers.”
“That should be easily done by them,” Marom said. “They are only wooden platforms, aren’t they?”
Trak looked at the Warishian. “What would you think if someone suddenly killed all of your horses corralled in the middle of your camp?”
“I would be uneasy.” Marom looked at Trak for a moment. “I understand. What else did you find?” King Marom said, with little enthusiasm in his voice.
Trak looked down at the map, searching for the small ridge that extended on both sides of the falls. “There is high ground from here to here.” Trak pointed along a line that included the line of the falls. “They are using the falls as the southern edge of their lines, but we might be able to use that to our advantage. Whatever ground shift caused the falls, dropped the land to the north of the falls slightly. The early morning light showed it from the height I flew, but whoever surveyed the land for the map missed it.”
“Anything else?”
Trak pointed at the falls. “There are about four thousand men, all presently on the west side. We have more bodies. They are using theirs to dig fortifications, just as they did in the final battle in Santasia. I’m pretty sure they chose the falls, so we can’t send soldiers downstream to flank them.”
“A natural barrier. That is good thinking on their part,” Danson said.
“Not really. We can transport troops wherever we’d like, rendering that advantage useless. Tactically, floating soldiers downriver where flyers can drop rocks on them wouldn’t be smart for us to do.”
Marom blushed a bit.
“I am sure they hope that this will be the decisive battle. One and done,” Neel said looking down at the map. “How many magicians do you think they have?”
“One quarter of the camp didn’t look like it was organized by the military. You saw the same thing in Santasia with the camp of the rabble.”
Neel nodded. “One thousand magicians. I don’t know how long there has been a war with that many power-users involved.”
“How many of those do you think are truly competent magicians, those who would have the power to properly use flyers and teleport?” Trak asked.
“At most fifty.” Neel looked up at Trak.
The others seemed lost in the conversation that Trak held with his father.
“Why would they need the others?” Asem said, looking confused.
“Power-linking,” Neel said. “On flyers, they would probably put two magicians for each function, for flying, for shielding, if they’ve thought of that, and for moving. That is how Vashtans fight.”
“So the flyers would have held their most powerful magicians?” Asem furrowed his brow. “By destroying the flyers, we give the Colcanan ground forces an advantage over having more magicians.”
“That is natural,” Danson said. “It happens in battle as it plays out. Disadvantages and advantages shift from moment to moment.
Trak gazed at the map again. “Put the troops on alert. Riotro can’t let the destruction of the flyers just go.” His mind whirled with possibilities. “We should teleport one thousand soldiers a few leagues north of the Colcanans to cut off their supplies. If we act now, we won’t need the shields to protect us from the skies, just from the land forces.”
His eyes moved from spot to spot as the probable actions of the battle came to him. “We should strike this afternoon while men work on the fortifications and before the Colcanans build new flyers.”