The Mongrel Mage

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  He didn’t see Toeraan, but scanned the rankers in front until he saw the one with the squad leader’s insignia and reined up in front of him. “Squad Leader, I’m Mage Undercaptain Beltur. I’ve been assigned to your unit until further notice.”

  “Yes, ser. Captain Toeraan said we’d be getting a mage officer.” There was a pause, before the weathered-looking squad leader said, “Ser … might I ask what your duties have been so far?”

  “I’ve been with Second Recon. Over the past eightday, we fought most days there was fighting. At present, the company is at half strength from deaths and casualties. Someone here might recall Captain Laugreth. He was once a naval marine. I believe he fought the Suthyans at Diev.”

  “He was your captain, ser?”

  “He was.”

  “Thank you, ser.”

  Beltur had the definite feeling that naval marines were skeptical of both regular troopers and mages, but that the mention of Laugreth had at least tempered that slightly.

  At that moment, Toeraan rode up and studied Beltur, as if he hadn’t seen him before. Then he said, “Laugreth said I was fortunate to have you.”

  Beltur couldn’t have said he was surprised that Toeraan had found Laugreth, or the other way around. “I was fortunate to have him and Undercaptain Gaermyn to learn from, ser.”

  “He didn’t mention Gaermyn. He’s with Second Recon?”

  “Yes, ser.”

  Since Toeraan said nothing more, Beltur asked, “What, exactly, will we be doing, and what do you require of me?”

  “All I’ll say at this point, Undercaptain,” offered Toeraan, “is that Marshal Helthaer and Commander Vaernaak both noticed that the strongest white mages and a well-reinforced halberd company are always directly behind the middle of the main Gallosian attack, wherever that attack may be.”

  “That’s likely the Gallosian command group, then.”

  “If it’s not, it’s quite a waste of mages and men,” replied Toeraan. “We’ll just have to see if that turns out to be accurate when the time comes.”

  That didn’t even come close to answering the question.

  “About my duties…”

  “Once we’re in position.”

  Beltur understood that Toeraan wasn’t about to say more. Why not? It’s not as though anyone could do anything with that information. Or does Vaernaak suspect that someone is relaying information to the Gallosians?

  “We’ll talk more on the way. The two foot companies are already in position.” Toeraan gestured for Beltur to ride beside him, and then urged his mount forward, behind two outriders who had moved ahead without a word from the captain.

  Beltur immediately raised his second shield, the one that concealed his order and chaos. The last thing he wanted was for the Gallosian whites to know he was there, and especially where he was.

  Toeraan didn’t say another word until the marines were riding along the south side of the pier channel, skirting the area where the companies comprising Commander Vaernaak’s reserves and command group were formed up. “They ought to be farther forward.” After a moment, the marine captain added, “I’d have them farther south.”

  “You think they’re forming too close to the pier channel?”

  “Closer than I’d have chosen, but I’m not the commander.” Toeraan paused, then said, “Laugreth told me you can sense the movements of troopers from a distance.”

  “Depending on the weather and how much magery I’ve had to do, sometimes as far away as two kays on open ground, less than a kay in a town or city. Much less in heavy rain. I can only tell the general movement of forces, not of individual armsmen.”

  “He also said you can shield yourself and a few men close to you.”

  “Only a very few. I can also divert chaos-bolts for a time, but I can’t do that for long while I’m holding much in the way of shields.”

  Toeraan nodded. “So you might be able to lead a wedge toward a specific unit and keep away chaos-fire?”

  “That depends on how many mages are throwing chaos-bolts. If your men can loose iron quarrels at the white wizards, that would help.”

  “Senior Mage Cohndar said that might help when we attack the command group.”

  “How will we be able to get to them?”

  “That’s what the commander’s battle plan is all about. You’ll see.”

  Beltur certainly hoped he would. For all his doubts, Toeraan’s calm certainty was partly reassuring. Beltur couldn’t see the hard-bitten captain agreeing to something that didn’t have any chance of succeeding, but he also worried about the details of the overall plan he didn’t know, especially after Toeraan’s observations about the positioning of the reserve forces. Then again, you’re not exactly a military strategist.

  Just as Commander Vaernaak had outlined, when Beltur and the naval marines rode up to join the two foot companies, they were already in position close to a half kay south of the first pier, with the right flank of the foot on the bank of the river, since the mudflats were once again covered by water, no doubt as a result of the rain and snow that had fallen earlier both on Spidlar and on the Easthorns.

  Beltur could sense that fighting had already broken out across the entire Spidlarian line, with more and more Gallosians surging forward as if to push back the defenders by sheer numbers. “Ser, the Gallosians have attacked everywhere.” He couldn’t help but wonder if there weren’t so many attackers that they might be getting in each other’s way, at least in some places.

  “We’ll be ready long before we’re needed.” The tone of Toeraan’s reply suggested that he wasn’t all that concerned that the naval marines hadn’t completed moving into position. “There’s no sense in rushing before there’s any need. Just let me know if any Gallosian units look like they might break through.”

  “Yes, ser.”

  Then, to Beltur’s surprise, Toeraan ordered the naval marines to dismount and stand down, after which he turned to Beltur and said, “It’s going to be quite a while before we’re needed, and the horses need to be as fresh as possible.”

  With a battle already under way only a few hundred yards away, it would be some time before the marines would be needed? Beltur just hoped that what Toeraan and the commander had planned would work out … or at least not lead to catastrophe.

  Beltur dismounted as well, but he kept sensing what was happening, yet all that he could determine was that, while the number of deaths kept rising, neither the Gallosians nor the Spidlarians seemed to be gaining ground, possibly in part because the footing wasn’t as sure as it had been before the two days of rain.

  A half glass passed, then perhaps a glass, and both forces still seemed mired as midmorning approached and then passed. Beltur was surprised that the foot companies under the command of Majer Jenklaar, the ones whose rear ranks were less than a hundred yards in front of Toeraan’s force, hadn’t advanced, because it seemed to him that they outnumbered the Gallosians and that on that part of the battlefield, the Gallosians were taking far heavier casualties. He could sense Waensyn, to the northeast of the naval marines, but not at the rear, which suggested that Jenklaar wasn’t there, either.

  Beltur took a long swallow of ale, then another, before recorking the water bottle.

  Several moments after that, Beltur could sense that the Spidlarian companies on the east were being pressed back. “The eastern companies are being pushed back, ser.”

  “Slowly or quickly?”

  “Slowly, so far.”

  Beltur could sense more and more Gallosians pressing into the eastern attack on the weakening Spidlarian defenders. “They’re still giving ground, slowly.”

  “Let me know when they stiffen or withdraw more quickly.”

  Beltur kept sensing, trying not to wince at the growing number of deaths, so many that the area where the heaviest fighting was taking place seemed covered with black mist. As the white sun neared its zenith, that changed, and Beltur announced, “Our troopers are counterattacking from the west. They�
��re digging into the side of the Gallosians.”

  Beltur could tell that by the increase in the number of men dying, with the flares of the black death mists increasing even more in the area just west of the redstone bluffs. There were comparatively fewer deaths along the irregular line of battle to the south of Toeraan’s command. Again, that puzzled Beltur, because it seemed that the foot in front of the naval marines could have advanced.

  “Let me know how the Gallosians are responding as soon as you can tell.”

  The counterattack kept up, for another half glass or so, then seemed to grind to a halt, and Beltur passed that on to Toeraan.

  “It won’t be long now,” declared Toeraan.

  Long for what? Our attack? Something else? More out of nervousness than anything else, Beltur got out his water bottle and took several more swallows of ale.

  Except what happened next wasn’t quite what Beltur expected, because, almost at the same time, troopers all across the forefront of the counterattack began to withdraw, as if they had been overwhelmed by the mass of Gallosians. “Ser, the counterattack looks like it’s collapsing.”

  “Is that just on the east side … or everywhere?”

  “Just on the east side.”

  “Marines! Mount up!”

  Beltur was in the saddle almost as fast as the marines.

  “Undercaptain, tell me when the withdrawing troopers stop, and where they are.”

  “Yes, ser.”

  “Are the troopers in front of us, and immediately to our south, holding fast?”

  Beltur had to concentrate for several moments. “They seem to be, ser. There aren’t all that many Gallosians in front of the right side of Majer Jenklaar’s force.”

  “Excellent.”

  Beltur continued to follow the withdrawing Spidlarian units, and began to breathe easier when he saw they seemed to be re-forming. Then he frowned. Those troopers were creating a line of defense to hold off the pursuing Gallosians, and the two white mages that supported them, but that line was less than a hundred yards from the leading edge of the foot companies shielding the command group … and there wasn’t that much distance between the command group and the pier channel immediately to the north. If the Gallosians broke the Spidlarian line on the east, they could trap the command group between the channel and the river. “Majer Waeltur’s forces are almost as far back as the command group, and there are two white wizards in the Gallosian forces pressing him. If the majer’s forces don’t hold on the east side, the Gallosians might overwhelm the commander and his companies.”

  “We can’t worry about that now. Has the Gallosian command group moved forward?”

  “No, ser.”

  “How strongly are they supported? Can you tell?”

  “Three companies, maybe four.”

  “How are they set up?”

  “A rough semicircle,” said Beltur, adding, “There are three white wizards there. The white wizards are behind the troopers. I think the ground there is a little higher.”

  “If it isn’t, they’re idiots, and I haven’t seen any evidence of that so far. Is there largely open ground between the Gallosians in front of us and those troopers around the Gallosian command?”

  “Yes, ser. Only a little over a hundred yards, though.”

  “Then it’s time for us to attack the command group.” Toeraan raised an arm. “You and the lancers are in the lead. I’ll be right behind you. I do mean right behind. Aim yourself straight for the center of the command group. Start at a fast walk.”

  Beltur straightened himself in the saddle. He wasn’t about to extend his shields until the last possible moment.

  “Banners up!” After a moment came the command, “Forward.”

  Beltur wondered about the banners. Weren’t they just calling unnecessary attention to Beltur and the marines? Or is that the point?

  Pushing aside those questions, Beltur urged Slowpoke forward, then had to rein him back slightly. He had the feeling that the gelding wanted to go into a full charge. “Not yet, big fellow. Not yet.” He had no idea how much Slowpoke understood, but he felt that somehow the gelding did. That just might be your imagination.

  “Faster now!” ordered Toeraan as the Spidlarian troopers scrambled out of the way of the oncoming mounted marines. Beltur urged Slowpoke into what he thought might be a fast trot as he neared the Gallosian troopers, then extended his shields just to the trooper on each side.

  The Gallosian armsmen looked up in surprise as they saw the wedge of naval marines bearing down on them, led by Beltur and the line of lancers whose weapons glinted in the cold light of midday autumn, sweeping out of the north with the wind at their backs.

  Some Gallosians ran. A few tried to stand up to the marine lancers, totally in vain.

  Although the Gallosians were several ranks deep, if not deeper, the surprise of the mounted attack—and Slowpoke’s power propelling Beltur’s shields—cleared a path through the Gallosians, a path followed by the two foot companies. Even without trying, Beltur could sense that.

  “More to your left!” ordered Toeraan. “Toward the black and silver banner! Slow to a walk on the open ground so the foot can keep up.”

  Beltur obediently reined Slowpoke back. As he kept moving, he studied the massed force now less than a hundred yards away, a force that was slowly turning toward the oncoming marines and Spidlarians. The front line of that Gallosian force consisted of shieldmen alternating with troopers bearing halberds. Somewhere behind them on a slightly higher rise, Beltur could sense three white mages. So far he didn’t sense any building chaos, but he had no doubts that chaos-bolts would be aimed at the naval marines once they drew closer to the Gallosian command group.

  Almost absently, Beltur realized the idea behind Vaernaak’s plan. By attacking the command group, Toeraan was effectively immobilizing the Gallosian reserves, and keeping half of the white mages occupied—and only using one black mage in the process. And if Majer Jenklaar’s forces could pivot fast enough to strike the rear of the Gallosians who had pursued the “retreating” Spidlarians, then the bulk of the Gallosian force would be trapped.

  If Jenklaar can make it work … if the troopers at the edge of the pier channel hold … if you can keep these whites occupied … So many “ifs.” Beltur forced himself to concentrate on anticipating the firebolts to come, hoping he could again use a separate shield to catch each one and catapult it back into the Gallosian ranks.

  He was close to fifty yards from the halberdmen and shieldmen when the first chaos-bolt arched over the ranks of waiting Gallosians. Beltur was ready, quickly forming a containment around the chaos-bolt and order-catapulting it straight at the point in the shields where he and the naval marines would likely strike.

  Then, two other chaos-bolts flared toward him—or rather toward where his temporary shield had captured the first chaos-bolt. Beltur could only manage to fling one back, this time directly behind where the first one had struck, but he could only block the second one, and late enough that a wave of heat flared over him momentarily.

  Thirty yards to go.

  “Charge!” ordered Toeraan.

  Beltur urged Slowpoke into a run, but not a headlong gallop, managing to deflect another chaos-bolt into the Gallosians, but not really aiming it. If you can get into their armsmen, the whites can’t use firebolts without destroying more of their own men.

  No sooner had Beltur thought that than he saw a chaos-bolt arching far higher, showing that the whites had realized that as well and were targeting the foot troopers following the mounted marines. Beltur diverted that one, roughly to the southeast part of the Gallosian reserves, and tried to concentrate on catching the next one as soon as it rose.

  He just managed to drop it around the white who had flung it when Slowpoke—and Beltur’s shields—crashed over charred bodies and through the line of Gallosians behind those bodies.

  Then there were blades and halberds swinging and flying everywhere. Beltur contracted his shields and let Sl
owpoke move forward at his own pace, aware dimly of the blades slamming against his shields as he struggled to watch for chaos-bolts and redirect them, all the while trying to move to where he was closer to the nearest white mage.

  Yet another chaos-bolt flared toward the advancing Spidlarian foot. Once more, all Beltur could do was shield it away from the troopers somewhere into the Gallosian foot to the east of where he struggled through the mass of armsmen, all of whom seemed to be beating at him with one sort of weapon or another. The continued impacts on his shields were getting more and more painful.

  Somewhere behind him, he heard Toeraan shout out, “Fire at the silver banner! The silver banner!”

  Beltur turned his head to the right, belatedly sensing a white wizard not ten yards away, one whose shields flared with each impact of an iron quarrel as chaos and order flared into ravening fire. For just a moment, Beltur froze, trying to remember what he should do. Then he grabbed the ordered iron arrow from where it had rested in the water bottle holder for days. He forced more order into it and threw it in the direction of the mage, using more order to catapult it at the white. With the combination of iron quarrels and Beltur’s over-ordered iron arrow, the mage’s shields collapsed. In that instant, a look of total dismay crossed the face of the angular and graying white mage that Beltur had met once. Then a flash of fire flared where Naeron had been, consuming both mage and mount.

  With that flash of flame came a hammer blow that struck Beltur’s shields, shaking him so violently that he barely remained in the saddle. A sharp and somehow brilliant needle of pure pain knifed through his eyes.

  For a moment, all he could do was to hold on to his shields as pain and tears blurred his vision. He managed to straighten up, vaguely aware that there seemed to be fewer Gallosians striking at him or Slowpoke. After a time, he could finally sense that one of the remaining mages and a group of riders were rapidly withdrawing. He could also sense another white mage still throwing chaos-bolts, albeit much smaller ones, and that mage was more to the east, surrounded by a diminished shield wall.