Ammu’s people had escaped, warned by Bastion’s soldiers. They resettled much further up the river, in lands beyond the reach of the Enemy. The people continued to send their sons to serve in the armies of Bastion. Ammu had seen the city of stone, and like all folk from the hinterland tribes he had been properly awed – but he had little desire to stay there for long. He preferred the woodlands of his youth, and even more so, the woodlands of his tribe’s past.
Now he was here, closer than ever before to the home he had never known, helping to prepare a great assault on the Enemy. He allowed himself a tiny smile, figuring that any foe close enough to mark it was close enough to make him out anyways, camouflage or no.
From somewhere in front of him, closer to the rim of the valley, Ammu heard the ululating trill of the piji bird. Anybody else who heard it was unlikely to notice, it blended so well into the background of other bird calls and forest noises.
Ammu, though, paid close attention. The piji sang only at dusk and dawn, and the sun was yet high in the sky. Another sentry had spied someone approaching.
Whoever it was had entered the web. No less than four rings of lookouts encased the valley in a thick shell, each layer growing better-armed and more numerous. The first ring merely watched. The second ring, which Ammu was a part of, would make contact with anyone not deemed hostile; the third would offer initial resistance to anyone who was. And the fourth would be where any real battle was fought, with the outer three rings picking off stragglers and preventing any escape. No knowledge of this valley must ever reach the Enemy.
There were many, Ammu realized, and coming directly for him. The first he saw wore uniforms of Bastion, though those uniforms bore the dark stains of dried blood. Still he did not reveal himself. The Enemy may have taken the uniforms off the bodies of the fallen, and Ammu intended to let these men fall through to the third ring, where there were enough soldiers and lookouts to delay them if their intentions were evil.
In the rear of the train – Ammu counted sixty-eight men – was a Wizard. The man trudged along after the weary, battered soldiers. Behind him the trampled foliage sprang back up, concealing their passage. Ammu decided that they were almost certainly friendly, though some misfortune had befallen them – and that did not bode well for the many troops within the valley. The Wizard called to his men to halt as he passed Ammu, and then stopped and looked the sentry directly in the eye.
“Come out of hiding, fellow. I don’t know exactly where in this damned valley the commanders are, and I need to see them at once.”
Such was Ammu’s shock at the nonchalant way in which he’d been discovered – he would later console himself that sixty-eight soldiers had strolled by within an arm’s length and not known he was there – that he remained perfectly still even after the wizard addressed him. The wizard finally grabbed him by the arm and pulled him away from the tree, much to the amazement of the soldiers.
“Come, I say! We’re survivors of the enemy attack on Nebeth, and I need to see the commander of this valley right away!”
That shook Ammu into action. Fortress Nebeth had been attacked?
“Follow me, Wizard. I will lead you to General Theodoric.”
The soldiers – obviously fatigued and some of them wounded – followed as the wizard took the lead, no longer bothering to conceal their path. On the way to the center of the valley and the General, Ammu twice saw other lookouts, but he did not show it. He was sure that no other but he would have seen them and he did not want to shame them.
It took ten minutes by the path Ammu chose, a deer track that the men trailing him would not damage greatly. They had been constantly traveling downhill, the canopy rising ever higher above them, the trees around growing greater and greater until the largest were as wide as a spear was long. Ammu knew that the trees in this deep part of the forested valley were as old as the War, perhaps older, and as beautiful as the Angels themselves. He looked behind him. Neither the wizard nor the soldiers seemed to appreciate the majesty that surrounded them – but then, they were very tired and no doubt full of dire thoughts.
All at once the trees began to thin, and a new forest spread before them. Below the green canopy of leaves was one of canvas, thousands of tents housing men and pavilions housing equipment and stores taking every available bit of space between the mighty trunks of the trees. The canvas was dyed to match the color of the bark, and near the outside of the camp – Ammu thought of it more as a city, for there were far more soldiers in this place than there were people in his home village – the tents were arrayed much as Ammu himself was, with branches, bark, and bits of vine to disguise them.
There was no disguising the vastness of the camp, though, and these efforts were in vain. Any may who saw it would know exactly what purpose this place served. It was Ammu’s task to make sure that no Enemy ever made it this far – or, if they did, that they never escaped the forest to speak of it.
Into the city of tents they walked, and the soldiers there looked upon them warily, if not yet in open alarm.
As was natural with the camps of Bastion, the commander’s pavilion lay at the very center of the ordeal. General Theodoric was there with most of his commanders and every wizard not currently involved in the concealment spells. They knew the order to attack was close, and the General wanted to be ready to move at a moment’s notice.
***
This campaign had been Theodoric's idea from the beginning, ever since scouts had discovered the valley. Nebeth had been lost and recovered innumerable times since the Forging and he was tired of constantly battling for the same stronghold. Bastion need another focal point for the border. That meant another fortress, and Cairn-by-the-river was the perfect place to build it. That the Enemy had always held that particular spot did not deter the General – if anything, it encouraged him. With sufficient numeric superiority and the element of surprise, they would overwhelm the defenders of the rudimentary defenses. By the time serious effort could go towards forcing them back out, they would have built far more determined fortifications.
It would be a wooden structure at first of course, the General mused as he was supposed to be looking over the attack plans – which he had formulated and memorized, in any case. With the number of men he could put to work and the experienced carpenters he had with him, Theodoric planned to erect a formidable bailey over the course of a single week. This would constitute the inner wall of the finished fortress, once they secured the position well enough to start thinking about erecting a more permanent stone structure. Stone could be quarried from the cliffs nearby as well as from the mountains near Bastion, and then sailed down the river…
The General was immediately and irrevocably pulled from his reverie by a voice that he should not be able to hear, not here in his valley so far from Fortress Nebeth. When he looked up and confirmed what his ears had told him, he muttered a curse. What was the commander of Fortress Nebeth doing here? Theodoric didn’t bother voicing the question.
“Theodoric! I have dire news.” Wizard Ethion said as he approached. “I think we had best speak in private.”
“Look around you, Ethion. There is precious little privacy here – whatever you tell me will soon be known to every man in camp. Just go ahead and say it.”
Ethion looked displeased, but went ahead. “Fortress Nebeth has fallen. We are all that escaped.”
It was really no surprise to the General. He’d known as soon as he’d seen the Wizard – but it certainly shocked his men, who nonetheless were disciplined enough to keep their muttering to a dull roar.
Hearing it aloud was different than simply knowing, though. Theodoric closed his eyes for a moment, trying to reconcile what he knew now with what had been true only moments before.
“How?” was all he asked.
“Judging by the news out of Bastion just before the attack, it was some new magic. A spell that can take men from one part of the world and deliver them to another, far away, in an instant.”
The
General’s eyes grew wide as his mind churned through the implications of that. Such an ability would convey an enormous advantage. As any General must, he knew that the primary difficulty in the War was having the men and supplies where you needed them, and if you didn’t have them there then you must get them there. The army that could solve the problems of time and distance with magic…
“This is not good,” Theodoric announced unnecessarily. “Not good at all.”
“You have a talent for understatement, General. This is disastrous, nothing short of that. The Fortress was surrounded inside of two hours. It was taken within five. I cannot begin to estimate the full enemy numbers that now hold Nebeth, as they attacked during the night. I know that we lost at least five wizards, and almost certainly the entire garrison perished – almost a thousand men, General. The men here, and myself, managed to escape through the tunnels we’d been building, secret tunnels with disguised exits to be used in case Nebeth should ever fall.” The wizard smiled bitterly. “We did not expect to need them so quickly, of course.”
Theodoric looked up in alarm. “Tunnels? And one leads here? How could you risk -”
“No no,” said Ethion quickly. “None lead anywhere near here. I destroyed them behind us, in any case. The Fortress was taken three days ago, Theo. I came here because to go anywhere else would take us through land the Enemy may now patrol, and because you needed to be informed.”
“That is most certain,” Theodoric said.
The Enemy holding Nebeth was nothing new, but holding it without holding the land around it was a decidedly unforeseen circumstance. He looked to his maps. Whoever controlled Nebeth could threaten land for many leagues around; always having that secure fortress to fall back to should trouble arise. He looked at Ethion once more. “You were able to warn Bastion of this?”
“Yes, I spoke with Arric himself. He told me that ‘help was on the way’ before the Enemy severed the globe links.”
“Good, good. They’ll send Second Army to contain the Enemy within the Fortress,” Theodoric said, even as he reflected on the fact that with this new spell the enemy could defy such containment at any time. With a finger, the General traced lines on the map, detailing the routes that Second would take to the Fortress. Might the Enemy move men into their path, with this magic? There were places where a few hundred could hold up an entire army of thousands, bleed them within tight spaces, and then magic themselves away again before they were overwhelmed. The more he thought about it, the more dire the situation seemed.
“What else can you tell me about this spell?” Theodoric asked.
“I know almost nothing. I felt the spells in the distance. There was a vast amount of power in them, beyond what a single sorcerer could conjure. With so much power, I would guess that the spell itself is difficult, which would limit its use to the most powerful sorcerers. This, at least, is good news. If they continue to use it, it will tie up their best magical assets.”
And be well worth it, for all that, Theodoric thought darkly. As the matter stood, if Bastion did not find a way to counter or make up for this advantage, they would soon find themselves in a very difficult position.
All at once, the General came to a decision. “We will attack Cairn at once,” he announced, and several of his commanders’ faces brightened at the pronouncement. “The Enemy is no doubt preparing another attack for some other valuable place within our border. We’ll make him split his attention. Perhaps they’ll be able to stop us, but I don’t think so. I can hold Cairn inside of two days, and there are other defensible positions I can retreat to if I must. Yes, we’ll make certain the Enemy doesn’t have everything his way.”
To his dismay, Wizard Ethion immediately spoke against him. “No, Theo! We cannot risk it. What if the Enemy simply surrounds you in the field? We cannot throw away the forces we’ve built up here so rashly. We must learn more about this spell before we do anything else.”
“Ethion, the Enemy has a limited supply of both soldiers and magicians, just as we do. They will certainly not abandon Nebeth now that they’ve taken it, and I guarantee you that they are preparing another attack for another place. We can prevent that attack, probably even take and hold Cairn! I have enough men and provisions to withstand months of siege!”
“It is a fine plan, Theodoric,” The Wizard began, and even with the kind words the General’s heart sunk. “But I forbid it. It is too dangerous now, and we have much to lose. Bastion will get word to us soon, I have no doubt. We will know what to do then.”
I know what to do now, Theodoric thought, but it was no use. Even the most junior wizard technically outranked the most senior General, and Ethion was one of the most powerful and experienced wizards Bastion had ever produced. Arguing with him would be of no use whatsoever.
Even when he is wrong, The general thought as he nodded his acquiescence, unable to keep the frustration off his face.
Especially when he is wrong.
Chapter Twelve
Balkan was surprised to see that the latch to his laboratory was undone. There was someone working magic inside, as well. While the room did not technically belong to him, it had been so long since any other wizard had used it that it came as a shock. He pushed open the door and saw a man sitting in the chair by the far wall, near the only window in the chamber.
Darius looked over his shoulder and smiled. “Hello, Balkan. I decided to borrow your room for a bit.”
Balkan returned the smile. “You are welcome to it, my friend. I’m surprised to see you here – have you decided that research is for you, after all?”
Darius snorted. “Hardly. Still, come and look.”
Balkan walked past the bookshelves – many of them filled with volumes penned by Balkan’s own hand – to stand by his friend. There was a sheet of parchment laid on the table, and an ink pot and quill, but nothing had been written down. Darius was worrying at something in his right hand, and as Balkan approached he opened his fist to show that it was merely a pebble, such as could be picked up on any street in Bastion.
“The magic of pebbles,” Balkan said. “An obscure and perilous study.”
“Shush. Watch.”
Leaning back in the aged wooden chair, Darius lay each arm down on the rests. He allowed his hands to rest open naturally, the pebble still cupped within his right palm. Balkan felt magic begin to well up within his friend, centered within the palms of both his hands. The pebble began to wobble ever so slightly, moving seemingly of its own accord as the nature of reality was bent and reshaped around it in ways Balkan had never seen before.
Darius was now commanding a great deal of power, and the effort could be seen in the sweat that covered his furrowed brow. Balkan looked closely, seeing and feeling what his friend was doing, but not comprehending.
With a sudden vortex of energy, the pebble disappeared from Darius’s right palm, and was now in his left. Muscles which had begun to tense under the peculiar strain of working magic relaxed, and Darius suddenly seemed out of breath. Balkan stared in amazement at the pebble, now in the wrong hand. So many new things had just occurred before him, and he hadn’t been able to follow them all.
“By the Choirs!” he exclaimed. “You’ve been back in Bastion for a mere week and you’ve already figured out how they do it?”
Darius was already shaking his head. “I’ve confirmed that it is possible, certainly. Truthfully, once I knew it was possible it was rather simple to figure out the basics. Doing it, however, is by far another story. It’s maddeningly difficult, Balkan. You felt it, how hard I had to work – and that’s to move a pebble a distance of two feet!”
Balkan clapped his hands in delight. Nothing excited him like new magic. “I barely saw what you did, Darius. Show me again.”
“Hmph. ‘Show me again,’ he says,” Darius grumped. “Watch more closely this time – as I said, it’s very hard.”
Balkan knelt by the chair as Darius replaced the pebble in his right palm. When Balkan questioned him about t
his, he replied, “I’m right handed. It seemed more natural.” Balkan smiled a bit; wondering if that might affect the spell itself. Staring intently, this time he was prepared and caught the beginning of the spell. Tiny, questing strands of magic reached from one hand to the other. They formed the initial link, Balkan saw. That made sense. In order to transport something you had to know where it was going, and where it was coming from.
It grew more complicated from there. When the pebble once again lay in the left palm, Balkan stood again, his eyes closed as he envisioned what he’d just seen. This time, he understood. He retraced every step in his mind. Then he took the pebble from his friend’s hand and, while Darius watched, duplicated it. As always, the actual deed was more difficult than the knowledge of it indicated, but he felt elated that he had done it just the same.
Darius merely looked grumpy. “It took me four days to do that.”
“Take it from me, Darius. The original discoverer never gets his due,” Balkan said. His tone was buoyant despite the depressing advice.
Balkan tossed the pebble from hand to hand, contemplating it. “What else do you know about it?” he asked. “I see you haven’t written anything down.”
“What I know would barely fill half a page, even with my clumsy script,” Darius proclaimed. He held up his hand and began raising fingers as he ticked off facts. “Difficulty increases with distance, and with the size of the object. It’s easy enough to transport something to a place you can see – within a small distance, of course – but to anywhere I couldn’t see, it was far more complex. That’s as far as my experimentation has taken me, and that all in the last three hours. I’ve needed some time to rest between every few tries. You felt it – I’ve never tried anything that took so much effort in such a small space of time. Transporting that pebble from palm to palm four times in a row was as bad as an hour of combat.” Darius shook his head ruefully. “I have no idea how the Enemy can manage to move hundreds, thousands of men over miles. It shouldn’t be possible, even with dozens of sorcerers.”
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