Thaumaturge

by Terry Mancour

  In instituting the Field Wizards accomplished one of my greatest professional goals: Using magic to serve the people. For a reasonable fee.

  “Few in Vanador, or in all the Magelaw, doubted that war would come again to their doors. Minalan realized that fact more than any, and from the first days he devoted as much attention to bringing forth out of nothing the basis for both a credible defense and a thriving community. Both were necessary for a functioning state, as the scholars know. The Spellmonger therefore pursued both the development of his farmlands and the construction of his armies and fortifications with equal vigor. He had recruited the best minds of the Kingdom to lend their skills and insights into both endeavors, and then provided an abundance of resources to them. As a count, Minalan took his military responsibilities most seriously, and Vanador prospered as a result.”

  From the Scrolls of Lawbrother Bryte the Wiser

  Chapter Ten

  Preparations For War

  I was as surprised as anyone when the long caravan arrived in Vanador that midspring day. Not that caravans were any stranger to the Merchant’s Quarter, near the western gates. There was one arriving from Vorone or parts beyond at least one day in three. The surprise came at the caravan’s composition, when I heard a familiar voice. It proved to include more than a hundred Riverlands peasants. Sevendori, actually. Bovali, to be precise.

  When I first came to the Bontal River Vales I’d resettled thousands of refugees from Boval Vale in my little mountain domain of Sevendor, and with magic and gold I’d built for them a life with the promise of a bountiful future. The estate of Boval Manor was comprised almost entirely of Bovali peasants, ruled by Sire Cei, a Wilderlord from Boval (or near enough). It was a lively colony of the very first refugees of the invasion, and the harsh Wilderlands brogue I’d become accustomed to was as thick there as it was anyplace in the Wilderlands.

  But not all of my adopted folk were content with living out their days in relative comfort and security in the Riverlands. Though life was settled and prosperous in Sevendor, it was inevitable there were those who wanted to return to Alshar. Some were homesick for the rugged landscapes and unique aromas of the Wilderlands. Others sought better opportunity in more familiar surroundings. Still others desired to return to the battlefield and avenge their fallen loved ones. While the hope of ever recovering their homeland was dim, the chance of rebuilding it as vassals of the Spellmonger was too appealing to forego.

  Tyndal had invited them, I discovered, and just hadn’t bothered mentioning it to me. He’d sent word back home and paid for their expedition out of his own pocket, promising free land in Callierd if they chose to return as his vassals and tenants. More than a hundred families took his offer and embarked just weeks after he’d taken the road. They moved more slowly than he and his men had, of course, but they arrived far better equipped and prepared than most of the freemen in Vanador.

  Twenty large wagons and half as many two-wheeled carts climbed the hill to the plateau. Every man came equipped with bow and sword, spear and helm, well-trained in war by Sire Cei’s constant drilling of the militia. They brought teams of oxen and draught horses with every wain, and behind them was a herd of over a hundred prime Riverlands cattle, sheep, goats, llamas and even pigs.

  I had to stop and take a moment to greet them personally . . . and so I was completely mobbed by a bunch of excited peasants who wanted to speak to their Baron, the Spellmonger. I saw several familiar faces and even kissed some new babies who’d made the trip. Everyone seemed healthy, strong, and excited about following Lord Tyndal to the great, empty green lands of which he had spoken.

  The Bovali Hundred tended to be made up of younger men and their wives, with a few babes or small children. A sprinkling of homesick dotards who wanted to die in their native Wilderlands was also a contingent. Even a few native Sevendori had come seeking their fortunes. Young or old, the Bovali Hundred were strong and robust, well-skilled and genuinely prepared for the rough life ahead of them. Having lived in a mageland for five years, now, they were even more appreciative of those benefits of that than the Vanadori freedmen.

  It was a tearful reunion, and one I felt compelled to give my full attention. I greeted all of the old familiar faces and welcomed them by name. Tyndal arrived – late, of course – on a powerful warhorse, with six of his new vassal knights in tow, to escort them farther . . . after they had a chance to rest and shop in Vanador’s growing markets for a few days.

  I discovered that Tyndal was recruiting a second Hundred of Vanadori freedmen while he was in town, and planned on using them all to populate four new manors he was establishing between Callierd Castle and the reborn village of Nandine. He invited me up to see the result in a few months, after he led his new peasants to their new home. I give Tyndal a lot of the credit for Callierd’s success. In a way, it mirrored my own in Vanador, though to a lesser degree.

  He’d been given a sprawling domain with many vulnerabilities and not a hell of a lot of resources. He’d spent a small fortune of his own coin and managed to re-establish a military outpost and a seminal farming community in a few short months, after he’d cleared the land of goblins. He’d invited freemen, knights magi, Kasari and youthful war companions to join him at Callierd. Recruiting the Bovali Hundred was merely the next step on his journey.

  I’d taught him well, I reflected, as he rode away with the leaders of the caravan to take inventory of their supplies. Well, Sire Cei taught him well, I amended. I paid for him to be taught well. Regardless, along the way to manhood the lad had picked up quite a bit of useful knowledge to match his sprawling ambition. He attracted good and loyal fellows to his command. And he was willing to put up his own coin to recruit some of the best of his old neighbors back to the Wilderlands.

  The Bovali Hundred brought more than men to Callierd. As they departed Sevendor overland, their advanced party scouted markets and farms along the way to procure the absolute best livestock available, and they paid good prices for them. By the time they arrived at Vorone there was herd of nearly three hundred cattle of various breeds slowing them down. Late spring saw them led to the higher pastures by the carefully watchful peasants while everyone else turned to building new homes on the estates below.

  Whereas the Bovali had departed their original home with nothing but their clothes, they returned to the Wilderness lavishly prepared for a new life. To my surprise, Tyndal had hired a millwright from Castal to build mills for his folk, and the man brought one pre-fabricated millwork in three great wagons with the Bovali. A second would be sent when it was complete. It must have cost a small fortune, but Tyndal was spending money like he was dying in his eagerness to make Callierd a strong and prosperous fief.

  I didn’t worry that the lad would pauper himself. From what I understood, he was fabulously wealthy, after he took his fee for raiding the Brotherhood of the Rat’s treasury. It was nice to see that someone else was paying for something, for a change.

  The Bovali themselves were just as enthusiastic as their young liege. From their initial encampment inside the growing walls of Callierd Castle they went forth to the lands Tyndal had selected for them in the weeks after their arrival . . . and they got to work with a passion.

  They took to their assigned plots quickly. Most had experience in building from Sevendor’s rise, and they had considered long and hard about the best way to proceed before they attacked their new fields. Unlike some other Hundreds heading out to their estates, the Bovali Hundred and its Vanadori mate were already well-organized before they ever set foot on their property. While most of them went to work in the fields, several artisans recruited from Sevendor set up shop in Callierd Castle, or began to restore old Nandine.

  They hired plenty of laborers from Vanador those first few months and had no difficulty clearing out old fields or building new ones. Indeed, they were prepared for that; the Hundred had, collectively, purchased a full slate of agricultural wands to be held in common. Having been exposed to the Riverlands-s
tyle of common agriculture, they were able to pool their labor for important projects and tasks as well as use magic in the clearing and plowing. By the time they planted winter wheat that autumn, their fields were as far along as any around Vanador.

  Tyndal’s ambitious four new manors sprawled around the base of Callierd Castle like chicks under the wings of a protective hen. Each was within an easy ride from the fortress, and Tyndal had mandated that a night’s watch of one tithing of each Hundred would man the stout wooden watchtowers next to the manor halls. In addition, each manor had one of his gentlemen knights magi staying in the hall to oversee the defenses.

  Staying, not ruling. I found it interesting that Tyndal did not assign permanent lords to hold the new manors, as custom usually dictated. Manors needed strong guidance and direction, if the people weren’t going to starve.

  But Tyndal depended on each manor’s elected reeve to oversee their functioning, with a lance commanded by a knight merely providing their protection. It was Tyndal’s opinion that knights – and knights magi, in particular – had a greater duty protecting the folk than to ruling over them. To discourage corruption he kept all of his forces rotating between manors and castle, and he established a small, regular garrison at Nandine.

  One lance would patrol the north and eastern frontiers, while another ranged the distant west. A third would drill with the militia at Callierd Castle while a fourth would patrol the lands around Nandine and the manors. By Midsummer he had nearly fifty knights and men-at-arms at his command at Callierd Castle, ten full lances, and more arriving constantly. But no lords of the manors.

  His knights were treated like honored guests by his folk, and granted all respect and rights due their rank. They, in turn, acted like guests, not owners. They took no share of the profit of the manor . . . though not a few of them took lands of their own, nearby, to keep a garden, a field, or a pasture for their upkeep when not on duty.

  Not that they needed it. Tyndal paid them lavishly for the service out of his own coffers. He needed a good cavalry force in Callierd, he reasoned. As eager as he had been to settle the Bovali in his lands, he was even more anxious to rekindle Nandine as a market town . . . because that was where the real money was, he knew. He’d learned commerce from Banamor, it seemed, as much as he had learned of chivalry from Sire Cei.

  My own efforts to secure a trained force to defend my lands was progressing as well as I could expect, at that point. As my constable, Sandoval was in charge of recruiting for the army I needed to defend Vanador. The militia we were training was adequate for most military duties, but if I wanted us to have a credible chance at defense, I would need a professional corps to lead them.

  I ordered Sandy to recruit as many professional soldiers as would come to my banner and serve for good wages, paid in specie. In due time notices were posted in Vorone and the few towns of the Magelaw, as well as select cities in Gilmora.

  The men who answered the call to come to Vanador’s defense were an odd bunch. Plenty of warmagi responded, of course – they knew the potential reward for a man who distinguished himself under the Spellmonger’s eye. But the soldiers who made their way up from Vorone were just as odd and flamboyant, in some cases, as their magical colleagues. Anguin was paying good money for veterans for his resurgent garrison in Vorone, after all, and the demand for loyal Wilderlords in the South to support the Restoration had put the price of good soldiers at a premium.

  Still, there were those who were more willing to sell their swords to the Spellmonger, in my bid to hold the North. Apparently, a certain romantic element had become attached to my name – I blame my overly-talkative friends telling war stories in the taverns and brothels of Vorone, after the battle of Olum Seheri – and my steadfast support of Duke Anguin attracted a certain kind of soldier to the garrison.

  It was a varied lot who enlisted, Sandy reported.

  Some had served in the garrison at Tudry and seen me destroy the town they’d protected for so long in a devious plan to discomfort our enemies. Some had watched Pentandra’s efforts to bring order to lawless Vorone and keep Anguin’s rule from being subverted by the Brotherhood of the Rat, and wanted to see what new wonders the magi had planned for the Wilderlands. Some were Wilderfolk bent on revenge, eager for the chance at revenge against the gurvani. Some were merely lonesome souls in search of escape from whatever personal demons tortured them. And some were hapless adventurers who thought themselves bold to enter service with so famous a master.

  King Rard’s experience with the three professional commando units during the Gilmoran campaign had been instructive. Sandy wisely divided the acceptable recruits into three separate units, depending on training, experience and temperament.

  Those who had been blooded in combat but had yet to distinguish themselves were assigned to the Vanador Guard, a general-purpose infantry force designed to lead peasant militia in the defense of the Magelaw. Sandy gave the corps leave to wear Pentandra’s badge, a black anvil on a blue field, surmounted by a yellow mage’s star, on their dark blue mantles and their shields and other equipment.

  To the Guard was entrusted the basic defense of the Magelaw. Sandoval placed Sir Avden the Resolute in command of the small army, and he had his headquarters at the gap, when his command outgrew the modest quarters provided in Vanador. In time, it grew into three robust companies of men in four separate garrisons to defend the plateau. The Guard were proud of their dedication to that service, a full thousand trained soldiers prepared to command militia squads in the field.

  The second unit was established from warriors who had proven themselves in multiple battles and who thrived on rough duty. At home in saddle or on foot, by stealth or in open combat, these fellows had demonstrated considerable skill at all manner of the military art.

  Sandy’s standards were rigorous for entrance. Applicants had to demonstrate facility with all manner of weapon, from bare hands to firing a trebuchet. They had to prove themselves adept at combat but appreciative of the value of stealth or diplomacy in its stead. Recruited for their professionalism and challenged by their commander to excel in every element of warfare, they were forged to be an aggressive force.

  Sandy headed the corps, himself, and drilled with them as often as they could. He named them the Vanador Rangers and made their uniform scarlet cloaks. Their device was a black hammer on a red field, charged with a lightning bolt. Among them were many Kasari of the Raptor rank, Wilderlords of great renown, cagey veterans of the Alshari 3rd Commando, and seasoned adventurers eager to win glory in the Spellmonger’s realm. Many of the Glorious Victors enlisted, seeing it as a means to win further glory. The Rangers grew to number four hundred elite warriors, each ready to lead my men in any capacity I asked.

  The Rangers eventually became a kind of bodyguard for the Spellmonger’s household. Two squadrons of their best were assigned to the duty as the darkness in the west advanced upon us.

  Lastly was the unit commanded by Mavone, the smallest of the three. Selected for raw talent and freakish ability alone, this modest corps carried a wide range of ingenious capabilities to bring to bear on the Magelaw’s defense. To this corps Sandy assigned the device of a black raven bearing black pincers above a red mountain on a green field.

  Don’t ask me to explain the symbolism. I did what any good boss when his people are working. I shut up and nodded wisely.

  Mavone’s private unit numbered but a hundred stalwarts in its fullness, but at the founding it comprised but thirty or forty exceptional warriors. A third were elite warmagi recruited from the Estasi Order or from the Megelini Knights, seasoned combatants who had fought in every corner of the Penumbra. Mavone, himself, approved every entrant, after Sandoval and Terleman’s special scrutiny. He selected his men based on their ability to gather intelligence and conduct covert operations.

  The Ravens were an elite corps, but they did not affect the arrogance of the Rangers. Indeed, they were among the most subtle of men, but no less dangerous than the fiercest
knight toward those who their master directed them. They enjoyed a sense of camaraderie and dedication that transcended mere military service – they had, in their own ways, undertaken the defense of the Magelaw as a personal responsibility. They wore it like they wore their voluminous sable cloaks. No monk in taking his vows was more fervent in his devotion than a Raven who took Mavone’s oath. The man had a talent for finding useful men and then convincing them to commit to our cause.

  All together the official military forces of the Magelaw were anemic in numbers, compared to other Counties. My friend Dranos, Count of Moros, had thrice that number to protect his well-peopled county. But then a count’s household is supposed to hold the skeleton of an army far enlarged by the addition of militant vassals, peasant levies, and mercenaries in a time of emergency.

  The Guard was the key unit in our defense, and I wanted them as well-trained as possible. I attribute their success largely to Sir Aveden the Resolute. Sir Aveden was the kind of broad-shouldered, mustached Wilderlord I’d worked for back in my mercenary days: as concerned about his chivalric status as he was his lands and estates.

  As Aveden’s lands and estates were on the far side of the Penumbra, under gurvani control, his concern for his knightly virtues was now paramount. But that didn’t make him a useless noble – he was a ruthless warrior, initiate of the Rites of Duin, and a talented jouster.

  He came with high recommendations from Pentandra. He’d been one of the older Glorious Victors, the eight-hundred Wilderlords recruited for a covert mission that was key to restoring Enultramar to Anguin’s rule. He further comported himself bravely on the battlefield against the remaining rebels during Anguin’s surprise civil war. Though a horseman, he’d proven adept at leading infantry or cavalry, and during the civil war he’d even commanded artillery. That’s where he’d earned the moniker “the Resolute,” for his intractable attitude toward the rebels as his catapults smashed their towers to bits.