“This isn’t just for amusement, Min,” he pointed out, dryly.
“No, it isn’t,” I conceded. “It’s part of a complicated, sophisticated plan.”
“So why don’t you tell me about it?” he encouraged.
“Because keeping you uninformed is part of the complicated and sophisticated part,” I teased. “Don’t worry, at the proper time, you’ll know everything,” I promised.
“It just seems like a silly indulgence when we have real problems on the horizon,” he said, shaking his head, as Terleman arrived. When Mavone appeared, shortly thereafter, our discussion moved from matrimony to mayhem. My chief of military intelligence had news, thanks to his spies, his Ravens, and the assistance of the Vanadori Sky Riders.
“First, the good news,” he began, once the four of us were comfortable. “Gurkarl arrived at the Goblin King’s palace with little difficulty, after sacking a few supply depots in Gaja Katar’s old territory. King Ashakarl is quietly grateful for our cooperation.”
“But he still officially hates us,” Sandoval observed.
“Yes, but not as much,” Mavone countered. “We just eliminated the greatest direct threat to his lands,” he pointed out. “Gaja Katar had been raiding and skirmishing, and likely would have invaded the flinty hills if he hadn’t been so fired up to take your head, Minalan. That relieves the pressure King Scrug was feeling.”
“Don’t I recall a tale of another nasty Nemovort ready to take Gaja Katar’s place?” Sandy prompted.
“Indeed,” Terleman murmured. “Karakush, First Warden of Korbal.” He seemed to anticipate the contest, I noted.
“Just so,” agreed Mavone. “Which is why I have detailed some of our agents to watch his stronghold. That’s far more difficult than surveilling Gaja Katar, in case you were wondering.”
“We weren’t,” dismissed Sandy. “How many forces does he have? And when will he move? That’s what I was wondering.”
“As to the former, he has more than forty thousand, so far,” Mavone informed us. “More will be dispatched from the Umbralands and the southern fiefs, as soon as the roads are sufficiently clear, I would guess. That could add as much as twenty thousand more troops to his army. As for when, that will be spring, at the soonest. It would be too much to hope that he would delay much past Duin’s Day,” he offered.
“Their disposition?” Terleman prompted.
“Alas, mostly great goblins, hobgoblins, and far more undead than Gaja Katar brought against us,” Mavone said, pursing his lips at the report. “Karakush favors trolls. There could be siege beasts and giant wyverns, too. Karakush is a great warrior, but he was also a passable mage, from what I’ve learned from the Alka Alon. He will be far more likely to rely upon his magical corps than Gaja Katar.
“Worse, I believe some of the deserters from Gaja Katar’s army were actually spies sent by Karakush to evaluate his rival . . . and our capabilities. He will likely study the campaign and learn from Gaja Katar’s many – many – mistakes. And take countermeasures. Among them, avoiding Spellgate,” Mavone predicted. “That means a lot more mobile defense will be required, next time.”
“Agreed,” Terleman nodded. We will need more cavalry, if we meet them in the field this time. Among a great number of other things.”
“I don’t see how preparing a response is useful until he’s selected his route,” Sandoval objected.
“A fair point,” Mavone conceded. “We could shift all of our forces to meet him on the road and have him pivot and strike at Spellgate, instead. Or at the Towers. Or even Vorone or Megelin,” he proposed. “I still have plenty of men in the field, watching. As soon as he decides and starts to make preparations, we’ll know more.”
“Let him come to Spellgate!” Terleman taunted. “A hundred thousand gurvani would break on that place like a wave on a rock. The Millstone is far from the only defense I devised.”
“Which is why he’ll avoid it,” I observed. “Oh, we’ll continue to fortify it, but with an army this much larger Karakush has more options for an assault. Especially if he has a real siege train and a functioning magical corps. Same with the Towers and Vorone. That much force, all together, would overwhelm any of them. How many men can we field?” I asked Sandoval.
He got a faraway look in his eye for a moment. “Fifteen thousand trained militia, maybe ten thousand experienced professionals. Three thousand cavalry, at a stretch. But Min, that’s not just Vanador, that’s adding in the garrison at Vorone, the Iron Band, and every Tower, as well as Megelin. All together,” he emphasized. “Even if we train women as defensive archers, we’re still dramatically out-manned.”
“As we were this time,” Terleman reminded him.
“Some things you can’t make up for with classy magic and a bit of whimsy,” Sandoval said, flatly. “If Karakush continues to get troops from the Umbra, what happens when he has fifty thousand?” he demanded. “What happens when he has seventy thousand? Spellgate, warmagi, none of it will matter if he can bury us in goblins.”
“Spellgate will hold,” Terleman said, annunciating every word.
“Sure, sure it will,” Sandy said in mockingly soothing tones. “And while we’re grinding away at the first twenty-five thousand who fill the vales and keep us occupied, what’s to stop the other forty or fifty thousand from invading Calliard and taking us from behind? Or going south, smashing the Towers, and coming through the southern passes? Or both?”
“Then we fortify them, as well,” Terleman said, folding his arms over his chest.
“We won’t have time,” I sighed. “It took us nearly a year to get Spellgate built, and it’s only half completed, according to Carmella. It’s a relatively short distance to fortify. The eastern gaps in the northern ridges? They’re miles wide,” I pointed out. “Even with magic it would take years to build an adequate defense along them. The same with the southern passes. If Karakush is a better strategician than Gaja Katar, then he’ll recognize that, too. And I can’t imagine him being worse. So we’ll likely have to meet him in the field.”
“Why can’t Mavone confound them in the field, the way he did this time?” Sandy asked us.
“We will, to the extent we can,” Mavone agreed. “But there are limits to what I can do, and Karakush is a different foe. He’s also descending from a much better and more remote position than his fellow. There are actual roads near there. Better roads than we have in the north.”
“Mayhap he will attempt to lay siege to Megelin,” Terleman offered, as he studied his magemap of the region. “Azar has been a perpetual burr under the saddle of Sheruel since he took command there. Bendonal has organized and ordered the castle and the fortress in an admirable fashion.”
“I would consider that a stroke of luck,” I agreed. “That, at least, is a hardened position. Should Karakush decide to attack Vorone, that would be disastrous.”
“They have that lovely new castle,” Sandy pointed out.
“It’s mostly a showpiece,” Mavone reported, his voice laden with professional criticism. “It’s better than the old palace, but it won’t keep out a horde that size.”
“That’s my nightmare,” I agreed. “That Karakush should decide to attack defenseless Vorone and sack it for slaves. We cannot allow that to happen,” I declared, solemnly. “Penny spent a year putting Vorone right. She’ll kill us if we let a Nemovort mess it up.”
I expected some joking about that point from my men . . . but everyone wore a solemn expression. I realized that they feared that prospect more than mere jest. Each of them had worked with Pentandra independently, on one project or another, and each had cultivated a healthy respect for our colleague.
“Well, there you go,” Sandoval said, with a deep sigh. “We have to win this war,” he decided. “Or else Penny will be mad.”
“Try not to occupy the Spellmonger with petty problems. For he understands the cosmic, and the weight of all the world is borne on his shoulders.”
From the Scrolls of Lawbrother
Bryte the Wiser
Chapter Forty-Five
Forseti’s Cave
When the excitement over Maithieran’s sequestration died down a bit, and the generally jovial mood from Yule began to abate after the holiday ended, I took an afternoon to pop back to Spellgarden for a bit and see to some business there.
Unsurprisingly, the unfinished little castle (or big tower, depending upon your perspective and opinion) was still mired in snow and relatively quiet, now that the war was over. Gaja Katar’s head now adorned the central square in front of Gareth’s office as a gory token of victory.
Yet Spellgarden was not deserted. There were still a few companies of militia garrisoning the place, and the field hospital there still had several patients who were too injured to return home but not bad enough to warrant the hospital in Vanador. I made the rounds to check with everyone, ensuring that any needs were fulfilled and some managerial decisions were made.
But mostly it was an excuse for me to visit Forseti’s Cave, and report to the machine what had transpired in my absence. It also gave me a chance to install additional defenses for the cave while no one was watching. I like to have surprises hidden away that no one knows about. It comes in handy.
Forseti had endured the weeks since he’d last been visited in quiet contemplation. But as I activated the magelights and brought the heatstone to life, the machine “awoke” and greeted me.
I conclude from your presence here that the battle has come to a successful conclusion, it began. I hope losses were light. I suppose that’s the closest thing I’d get to a profession of sympathy, from an artificial construction, but it was well-taken.
“Actually, yes, surprisingly light,” I agreed, as I took a seat in front of the pile of odds and ends that was now Forseti. “Our defenses held admirably. And our enemy was an idiot.”
History is replete with such conflicts, Forseti agreed, without further judgment. Now that you are victorious, what are your plans?
“To prepare to meet the even larger army that will come against my lands in spring,” I chuckled, digging out my pipe. “After that . . . well, there’s always another army. But I’m glad you asked. Because I’m thinking of undertaking a little expedition, and I wanted to know your thoughts on the matter.”
When Pentandra had come at Yule, she’d brought with her some information that Rondal had ferreted out of the Ducal Archives about the lost domain of Anghysbel. There wasn’t a lot, but more than I suspected: a copy of the original deed, a short but concise description of the place, and three accounts about all manner of strangeness associated with the lost domain. I would have dismissed two of them as legendary, as the authors had not visited there, but the third author had, and most of the details in his more extensive account matched those of the other historians.
It wasn’t a lot to go on, but there was a map, of sorts, and the accounts detailed the long, dangerous journey to get to the near-mythical place. Assuming Forseti had its own copies of ancient maps, I was hoping that he could give me more guidance.
If there is anything I can do to lend my assistance, I shall, it pledged, helpfully.
“Can you recall the maps our ancestors made of these lands?” I asked, curious.
I have access to all pertinent Colonial data, the machine assured me. Unfortunately, my current limitations prevent me from displaying them in a helpful manner.
“But you know them,” I nodded, coaxing my pipe to life. “I thought as much. Could you tell me if our ancestors ever took notice of a volcanically active area north of the Bransei mountains?”
Yes, there is a geothermic induction zone approximately three hundred and ninety miles from this location. It was a region of special interest to the Colony, particularly the Terraforming Authority and the Science Foundation. Although the site was dormant at that time, it presented a substantial windfall of useful geological information about Callidore.
“So what can you tell me about it? And keep it simple, please. I only understand about half of the Old High Perwynese terms,” I reminded it.
The site you refer to is not merely volcanically active, it was designated one of several active volcanic sites in the original orbital surveys. It straddles the edge of two upper tectonic plates, providing a substantial amount of subterranean thermal activity. Most recent data suggests that it erupts periodically every forty-five thousand years to sixty-five thousand years. Even more interestingly, it was also theorized to be the site of a potentially catastrophic meteor impact, in antiquity, estimated to have occurred roughly a hundred and fifty-five thousand years ago, or three volcanic cycles. Not very long, geologically speaking. In fact, the site elicited much scientific interest in the early days of the colonization, which resulted in a series of scientific surveys and intensive studies.
“So our ancestors settled there?”
Less a full settlement, and more a series of observation and data collection stations. The site was considered too geologically unstable for permanent human habitation. There was a geological research station being built there when I was disconnected. Funding records indicate it was to be called the Dr. Hugo Unger Station for Geophysical Studies. The level of funding indicates a Stage 3 field facility with significant resources was planned.”
“A . . . what?”
“Stage 1 sites are temporary installations with limited data collection abilities. Stage 2 sites are semi-permanent research installations. Stage 3 sites are permanent outposts with residential quarters designed for long term study. Stage 4 sites are permanent, residential, and frequently require extreme measures to protect research personnel. The Unger Station was a long-term residential outpost where scientists could study the volcanic system for long periods of time. It was a kind of mission to study the geology and vulcanology of the site,” the computer explained, patiently. “Trained researchers were deployed to determine the region’s stability and suitability for terraformation and development. And to determine whether it posed any catastrophic risk to the colony.”
“Did it?”
Unknown. The outpost was still under construction at that time. But there was concern due to the nature of the site. It is what vulcanologists call a ‘super-volcano.’ It is a large field where the rocky mantle of the planet is thin, allowing magma to seep up through the cracks. It lies well beyond the sub-arctic zone, yet the geothermic activity allows the survival of several unique examples of flora and fauna in a complex and as-of-yet mysterious ecology. While large portions of the caldera are uninhabitable, there are pockets of biologically diverse environments around the periphery. Ultimately, such regions are temporary, due to the catastrophic nature of the volcano. But they provided a fascinating look at Callidoran evolutionary forces.
“I don’t doubt our ancestors were interested in a place like that. Dangerous, exotic, just the sort of place you want to be messing around with,” I observed.
It was more than caution and intellectual curiosity that directed the Colonial government’s attention to the region. It was also the site of large, multiple impact events in prehistory that was judged important enough to warrant investigation. It was during that exploration that an even more scientifically exciting discovery was made. Due to the unique nature of Callidore’s geophysics, portions of the Caldera Zone appear to be an area proximate to a portion of the so-called Subterranean Deep Ocean.
“Well, that is interesting! My people refer to that as ‘the Deeps,’ when they know about it at all,” I observed. “I didn’t know that they extended under the land, too.”
The Subterranean Deep Ocean was perplexing to the initial surveyors of this world, the computer reported. Earth’s oceans were no more than seven miles deep at their deepest. The Intra-Continental Basin here on Callidore alone has depths of up to eleven miles, and the Epi-oceanic zone extends to depths in excess of thirty miles. When scans first discovered the existence of the Subterranean Deep Ocean below that, there was much speculation on its nature and composition.
“Well, what
did they find?” I asked, intrigued.
The study was in its beginning phases when I was deactivated. The theory was sound, and supported by orbital scans. Due to the incredible pressures involved, fissures from that body extend inland under the continental shelf for hundreds of miles under the normal water table. It appeared to have some access through extinct lava tubes . That was one of the things the Unger Station was built to study: the feasibility of obtaining a sample of SDO material for study. The Vundel had prohibited us from exploring the undersea avenues to that unique geological layer, so we were attempting to secure it from the land, instead.
“Yes, they’re ridiculously picky about that sort of thing. Did they know what you were trying to do?” I asked, intrigued. I realized I really had no idea what our distant ancestors thought about their landlords.
The Colonial government elected to classify that portion of the outpost’s mission, the machine answered. It was generally understood that the SDO was a forbidden area of study. Or perhaps discouraged is a better term. Our understanding of their communication methods is limited. May I ask if the acquisition of this sample motivates your desire to travel there?
“No, I’m afraid my reasons for going there don’t involve such matters, as interesting as they are. I’m looking for a specific material for an important thaumaturgical experiment. Not the sort of thing you’d likely have much information on.”
Interestingly, the station was not designed to be purely a geological station, according to the auxiliary funding codes associated with the program. There were unique electromagnetic and quantum anomalies in the Northwestern Reserve Active Caldera Zone associated with the meteor impact sites that also attracted scientific interest. It was listed as one of the top thirty most intriguing sites for extended research in the Prime Colonial Region, it informed me. While it is unknown whether or not the station was ever completed, or what research was carried out, it is possible that there are useful remains left in such a remote location.
Thaumaturge Page 85