Twixt Heaven And Hell

by Tristan Gregory

  There were six of them, crammed into Balkan’s laboratory within the Crown. Darius and Balkan were the only ones actively participating. The rest look on attentively. The wizards stood in one corner of the room, and all were watching a point on the floor near the opposite wall. Darius began the spell. Now that he was well versed with it, the actual effects started quickly. The spell he used now was as near as could be to the spell the enemy cast – excepting only a pair of very grim details.

  Kray had been instrumental in getting them to this point, and Darius regretted the fact that he could not be there with them. Of the men in the room, only three knew of Kray’s existence – Jotan was there as well. The others merely thought they were a party to typical, if privileged, research.

  Fire sprang from the air in front of Darius, and the room heated quickly. Though the enemy favored it, there was really no need for the spell to use that particular medium. Darius could have accomplished the transportation using other magics that had no earthly twin – however, they all agreed that the original spell needed to be duplicated in order to be sure of the efficacy of the counter.

  Because the spell covered very little distance, and because Darius had not used a great deal of energy in creating it, the exit point – the ‘far door,’ as they were calling it – was small. The ball of flame had already appeared and was charring the stone floor of the lab. Soon after, Balkan began his work.

  If the spell itself could be likened to a tunnel, boring through the fabric of the world between two distant points, then the counterspell was a sapper maniacally hacking at the support timbers. Balkan began to pick and scratch at the crucial threads that lent the spell its stability and allowed it to exist from one moment to the next. Once he had pried these loose, the spell began to break down. Darius could have tried to keep it active – and might have succeeded – but did not, for he knew that Balkan was not finished yet.

  The spell may be a tunnel, and the counter a sapper, but there was no simple metaphor to describe the end effect. As Balkan completed his destructive interference, he began to alter the spell instead of simply deconstructing it, redirecting threads of power in and out and around to twist their initial intent. All the power that had been coursing along the spell’s track erupted in a single, catastrophic discharge. Instead of their initial, harmonic interchange, they became violent. The spell lost stability and annihilated itself, leaving Darius partially stunned as the backlash hit him.

  The far door exploded, striking chips from the stone floor. One of the wizards threw up a shield to protect the gathered watchers, and the stone fragments rebounded harmlessly off the air before them.

  For a moment they were silent. Then Darius turned and faced his fellows, folding his arms as he went. “Is everyone agreed that it works?”

  Jotan gave a sigh and spoke even as he nodded. “We need a larger test, Darius. The scale here is far too small.”

  “The spell is nearly an exact duplicate,” Darius protested. “What difference will the scale make?”

  “I don’t know!” Jotan said. “Nor do you; that is exactly the point. Here we are using vastly smaller amounts of magic, transporting nothing, and covering only a distance of a few feet. Who knows what might change when we apply the counter to the actual spell? With the kind of power this spell contains, we must use caution.”

  Darius nearly cringed at the use of that word, so much a rallying cry of the wizards of Bastion. “What do the rest of you think?”

  There was a general feeling of assent to Jotan’s view. Eventually Darius grudgingly allowed that the difference between their tests and the actual event was too great.

  “Then we must arrange a larger test very quickly. Time is short – we must begin teaching the counter to others and moving to the most likely area of the next attack, or we’ll miss our chance.”

  “We’ll need several more wizards to provide the necessary power,” Jotan said. “We do not have the Enemy’s ability in that area.”

  Kray had told them of the box used in Padraig’s casting. It was obvious enough where the power came from; Only human sacrifice could provide that kind of energy. How, though, had the enemy managed to tuck it away within a box? Sacrifice was a powerful – and vile – tool, but the murder and the spell had to come within moments of each other before the resultant power dissipated. Until now. If such vast quantities of power could now be cached and stored for later use, it would change the nature of battle immensely.

  “I’ve some theories on that,” Balkan mused. “I have not had the time to attempt it, but I imagine I can duplicate the feat.”

  “Another new project, Balkan?” Darius asked with a smirk. “Maggie will not be pleased.”

  “Maggie will understand the urgency of the situation,” Balkan said with a sigh.

  Jotan returned them to the problem at hand. “Who to bring in?” He wondered aloud. None of them had spoken of the spy out loud, but it was on their minds. Darius had assured them that measures were being taken.

  Before anyone had offered a suggestion there came a loud and insistent knock upon the door. Balkan opened it.

  One of Arric’s messengers stood in the hall, an acolyte who would one day become a wizard. He looked slightly apprehensive, which told all within that he had come with a message for Darius. Normally sure of the authority which backed their missives, Arric’s messengers were especially wary of Darius’s biting tongue, which had been visited upon them all-too-often due to whom they spoke for.

  Knowing that the news of his and Arric’s truce had not spread yet, Darius stepped forward with a kind expression which he hoped would set the boy at ease. He felt a moment’s embarrassment at the unearned scorn with which he’d often greeted these fellows – he had never meant for them to take it personally.

  “Wizard Darius?” the messenger began. “Wizard Arric would be pleased if you would meet him in the Council Chamber at your earliest convenience, to discuss several points of the upcoming council meeting.”

  Darius nodded. “Tell him I will be along shortly.”

  The young man at the door looked surprised that there would be harsh words from Darius, but quickly recovered his composure. Nodding smartly, he left. Balkan shut the door and, with a smirk, turned to face Darius.

  “Are you going to tell us what is going on between you and Arric, my friend?” he asked of Darius. The others nodded their heads, showing their wish for him to elaborate on the sudden congeniality between the two old rivals.

  It was Darius’s turn to smile. “Not just yet. I urge you all, however, to come to the Council today. Especially you, Jotan.”

  Jotan had been near the top of the list that Darius had presented to Arric that morning. His father had been a long-serving captain in the army.

  His fellows were puzzled, and Darius made no move to enlighten them. On his way to the door, he suggested that they all consider candidates for joining the counterspell trial.

  In the Council Chamber, Arric sitting alone in his high-backed chair. Before him were the parchment upon which Darius had inscribed his list of ten names as well as a quill and ink pot. When Darius entered, Arric spoke without looking up at him.

  “Why Brannon, Darius? He was only raised to Wizard four years ago.”

  “Because he has already lived a soldier’s life, Arric,” was the quick reply. “He served two years before he was found Talented. His men will respect him for that.” Instead of walking into the circular expanse of the table, Darius went around and stood at Arric’s side.

  “They’ll respect him because he is a wizard.” Arric replied with a frown.

  Darius shook his head. “Respecting his power as a wizard is not the same as respecting his worth as a man, Arric. When I founded the Gryphons, my men were wary of me, but knew that they had to obey me. I had yet to prove my abilities as a soldier, and as a leader.”

  Arric nodded thoughtfully, then dipped the feather quill into the ink and made a quick notation on the parchment. He slid it towards Darius.r />
  Marks had been made next to five of the names, with the freshest one aside of Brannon’s. Jotan was marked as well. Darius was pleased to see that, of the five men picked, four had reputations of being in Darius’s camp. Arric had not remarked that these wizards made up seven of the names on the list, and only three were wizards who were loyal to Arric or who had shown little preference. It was only natural, in Darius’s mind – men who would be suited to leading units similar to the Gryphons would need temperaments similar to his own, and most of those had also found themselves at odds with Arric.

  “Were there any you think I should have included from the first?” Darius asked for the sake of politeness.

  Arric shook his head. “It was a good list. The choices are made, then. We will announce them at Council. Now -” a spell from Arric shut the mighty doors of the chamber, “- I’ve been giving a good deal of thought to the subject of the spy. Steps must be taken to both identify him and limit the damage he can do in the meantime.”

  “You are convinced that a spy exists, then?” Darius inquired. He still had his doubts – Traigan was a very intelligent man as they had seen repeatedly. There may be other ways for him to siphon news out of Bastion.

  “I am. Kray's information was convincing. Unfortunately,” Arric huffed, “I have no idea as to whom it may be. The information was all of a very general nature. I find it unlikely that anyone privy to the attack upon Cairn is the spy, as the enemy remained oblivious to those preparations. There are ways to start narrowing the list, but they will take time. I will likely need to speak again with your pet sorcerer, as well.”

  Darius frowned. “You do him a disservice.”

  “That remains to be seen. I hope you are still keeping an eye on him. Convincing story or no, we cannot trust him just yet – perhaps not ever.”

  “I do trust him, Arric, but I am still watching him.”

  Arric left it at that. He glanced out the nearest window to check the sun. “Now, before the others arrive, tell me of your progress on the counterspell. I’ve had no time to participate in the research. I know practically nothing.”

  A faint smirk grew on Darius’s face, and Arric heatedly clarified. “About the spell.”

  “We are close, Arric. Very close. We have a workable solution, and soon will carry out a trial on a larger scale. In my opinion, the spell is ready.”

  Arric turned back to Darius quickly with a look of surprise. “That is quick work. Who knows this, Darius? That you are so near completion?”

  “Only those of us who did the research.” Darius named his companions.

  “Have you told anyone else? Will they?”

  “I have not. Nor will they.”

  Arric cursed softly. “I hope you are right. If we do indeed have a spy in the city, the information may find its way to the Enemy. I want to cut their next attack to pieces. They must be stretched thin with all of their aggression in the past month, and if we can break their stride they shall need a long time to recover it.”

  As do we, Darius did not say. Bastion’s ‘stride’ had been broken thoroughly with the taking of Nebeth. Arric saw the weakness in the Enemy, but could not see it in himself.

  “They will not likely speak of our work,” Darius said. “The spy has us on edge as well.”

  “Good. Before the Council begins, please speak to each of them. I intend to announce that your work progresses slowly. If the Enemy hears that, perhaps they will take their time preparing their next move – giving us more time to check it.”

  Darius grinned. “That is devious, Arric. I’m impressed.”

  Arric looked up without humor. “My position carries with it a wealth of experience in making people believe as I wish them to.”

  Darius’s smile dropped. He had thought that Arric’s manipulations were more the result of an innate tendency than deliberate actions. Hearing otherwise threw their previous years of jockeying into a somewhat different – and more unpleasant – light. He took a deep breath and forced that aggravating realization from his mind.

  “Are we reinforcing Threeforts?” Darius asked.

  “Yes, covertly. Traigan will know if we start moving armies about. I do not want to spook him into action.”

  “The generals are absolutely sure it will be Threeforts?”

  “Yes. There is no other place the Enemy has held in living memory that can do nearly as much damage to our position, not now that the Enemy holds Nebeth and contests the Shambles.” Arric forced a breath out between clenched teeth. “We have no idea when they will strike, though.”

  “We can delay them,” Darius suggested. “Even if your rumor does not work, they will take seriously a move on the Shambles.”

  “We cannot mount an effective assault on the Shambles, Darius.”

  “Incorrect, Arric. We cannot mount an assault that has no risk of defeat, but we can certainly pose a threat. Come at them from two directions – Fourth Army has remained unmolested. Our soldiers from the Valley are still nearby, and can attack from the west. If they both move into place to attack, the Enemy will have to pay attention – shift their focus back to the Shambles.”

  Arric was silent for a moment. It was truly a miraculous new world, Darius decided, when the Council Leader listened to him and considered his suggestions.

  “I will discuss this with the Generals,” Arric said at last. When he finished, they could both hear the sounds of many footsteps, like a rain shower approaching the chamber.

  Darius noticed that Arric seemed to perk up as the wizard arrived for the council session. This truly was his arena, as combat was to Darius. It was good to be where you belonged.

  When the High Council members had taken their seats in the center and the rest had lined upon along the walls, Arric stood from his stone chair. The room immediately fell silent. Darius noticed some of the wizards glancing at him – all knew that something was afoot between the two old rivals.

  “My friends,” he began, as was his tradition. “today we have much to discuss. The first matter is long overdue, by my own admission.”

  Darius could not hide the smile that grew on his face.

  Arric continued. “Amongst us is a wizard who has pioneered a new way of thinking, and a new way of fighting, that has been most effective and is worthy of emulation. Darius, please step forward.”

  Darius did so.

  “You have fought, and fought well, for four years now. We have been shown that your tactics, when properly applied – and controlled,” Arric added with a wry smirk, “are most effective. It is for this reason that, effective immediately, the Council is authorizing the creation of additional units to be modeled upon your Gryphons.”

  Widespread murmurs and even a few cheers followed the pronouncement. Darius bowed to Arric, who returned the gesture. Both raised their hands for silence, and got it quickly.

  Arric then addressed the chamber as a whole. “Darius has already worked with me to select five wizards whom will assume these new commands. I name these five now.”

  Arric picked up the list from off the table before him. As he read each name in turn, the elected stepped forward to the acknowledgment of their fellows. Jotan turned a surprised look on Darius, who just smiled and applauded with the rest. Young Alain, the youngest of those on the list, broke into an absurd grin. Brannon, the former soldier, nodded somberly. Selman – the one supporter of Arric who had been picked – looked thoroughly astounded, glancing to Arric and Darius both in surprise. Finally, a large, quiet wizard called Tobra was named. Tobra was another wizard whose Talent had been discovered later in his life than was normal. His tribe lived in the far northern reaches of the territory Bastion policed, far from the war.

  “These men will be under Darius’s tutelage. Like the Gryphons, the soldiers they lead will be our finest men. We wish you luck in your new commands.”

  There was a last bout of applause, and the selected wizards stepped back into the general crowd.

  “We wish you luck indeed,” Ar
ric repeated. “We will all need luck in the coming days. As many of us know, we expect an attack somewhere into the Threeforts valley. This attack could come at any time. With their Firewalking spell, the Enemy can strike deep into the region, anywhere they’ve held in living memory.”

  Hanging his head in what Darius considered a very nice bit of dissembling, Arric sighed. “Our counterspell is not ready. We will try to make preparations to defend against the next assault, but after the taking of Nebeth and with our current situation in the Shambles, our forces are spread thin. All areas of Threeforts valley are alerted to the situation. They are as ready as they can be, for the moment.”

  A fine set of lies, Darius thought. Seeing Arric in action – and knowing the act for what it was – was a much better state of affairs than being on the receiving end of the deception.

  “To all of you currently searching for a counter to the Firewalking ability, I urge you to redouble your efforts. The longer the Enemy retains this advantage, the more dire our situation becomes.”

  A somber silence had the room in its grip. Arric let them all absorb it for a moment.

  "There may be dark times ahead. We will greet them as we always have – with determination. Due to the dire situation at Threeforts, I have ordered the construction of a brace of new forts in the north. We will not surrender the valley, but we must prepare for the worst."

  Somebody recommended that as many wizards as possible be sent to the Threeforts valley strongholds. There were a couple of ayes to this very extreme measure. Darius was not amongst them, though some of the supporters looked to him to agree. He said nothing, waiting as Arric struck down the idea.

  "We will reinforce with what soldiers we can," Arric repeated. "But I will not task more wizards to the area. I am even considering moving those of our fellows that already garrison those forts."

  The reaction to that was mostly negative. Cutting losses was one thing – ceding the valley without a fight was another. When the protests had died down, Arric reassured the crowd. "No action will be taken without the due deliberation of the High Council. That is all for now, my friends.”