by Guy Antibes
Zaria and Ricky stood while the rest of the sorcerers sat to go over the results of each run. It was clear the sorcerers were stationed in the front of each army. The shields protected the officers but not the regular infantry. The Gruntalians observed, and translators relayed the discussions.
“We have sorcerers ready to help. Can we spend the rest of the time learning how to do what you have just done?” General Jackel asked.
Ricky nodded. “We have to do it now. The armies still look like they will converge on Gruntal by midnight. Sorcerers who can spell sorcerous lights should be prepared to send them out over the three armies, so we can see them. Also, from what I can tell, the eastern army has more than their share of sorcerers, so the eastern walls need to be manned with more sorcerers. I expect the original plan was for two armies to distract and the eastern army to penetrate into the city. At least that would make the most sense to me.”
General Jackel agreed. “Leave the defense of Gruntal to us. We have sorcerers and even some sorcerers’ circles to counteract whatever Duteria throws at us.”
Ricky looked at Kened, who nodded, confirming General Jackel’s claim.
The sorcerers began teaching their Gruntalian counterparts how to fly using deflection. The interpreters moved from group to group. Ricky taught the largest contingent of Gruntalians in their native tongue until horns blew. The enemy had been sighted.
The Gruntalian forces ran past the sorcerers. The city became alive with defenders, but Ricky and the Samira battle sorcerers had no orders.
Kened stood with them.
Zaria looked at the Tower sorcerer. “Are we not to fight?”
Kened looked disappointed. “Consider yourself reserve troops,” he said.
The Gruntalian battle sorcerers gathered on the far side of the field, getting commands from their officers and then took off into the sky. They hadn’t been able to practice, and Ricky winced as a few of them flew into walls. He could see their Gruntalian overconfidence beginning to fray.
Old Gruntalians brought them food and drink.
“We might as well rest,” Zaria said, as he led the men into tents pitched in the corner of the field.
Ricky followed his Samiran contingent and was shown to his own tent. He lay down and closed his eyes, letting his thoughts drift until the ground shook. He rushed out of his tent and looked to the east. Flame rolled up in waves, and another shock shook the field.
“Up, out!” Ricky cried out to his men. Zaria soon joined them. As the sorcerers assembled, Ricky looked around. No one appeared to give them orders. “We are on our own. Feel free to fight as you will,” he said, as the ground shook again.
“Three groups for the three armies,” Zaria said. They all donned arms. “Shields, keep them up. Good luck.”
Ricky watched Zaria rise with the others. It was time to teach the Botoyans a lesson. Ricky checked his own shields, including the one for sound, and rose into the air, heading for the breach.
Fire and smoke covered a section of the very thick Gruntalian wall. Most of it still stood, but the Duterian sorcerers’ circle had done its work. Ricky flew closer and heard the discordant sound. He located the source and threw a thick conduit of flames to the ground and let it coalesce.
The explosion threw him back into the air. For a moment, Ricky didn’t know which way was up or down; his hearing was gone, as were his shields. He flew higher into the air and reinforced his shields before he looked down and saw another sorcery-made shield. He dipped down, not quite so close as the previous attack, and threw another exploding fireball at the enemy.
Two sorcerers’ circles down and more to go. He heard an explosion from the central army. The Duterians had attacked the northern wall, but the explosion didn’t match the first one. Ricky took care of that group, but he dipped low again and found his power was depleting through usage, not by an enemy spell.
He couldn’t increase his altitude, so he flew back to the training field not far from the western wall. He expected another sorcerers’ circle. Ricky had to set down and sit for a bit. He went to where they had been given food and stuffed himself and drank more water.
The inevitable western explosion occurred. Ricky forced himself into the air and obliterated one more sorcerers’ circle. He had overextended and couldn’t maintain his altitude to make it back inside the city, so he landed outside the wall. Ricky stood looking at the Duterian army. He was the only defense between the Gruntalian wall and the attackers. He drew his wand and extended the blade and stood with weapons in both hands, waiting to be overwhelmed by the enemy.
No one noticed him in the darkness. When they did, he was done. Ricky had little power left in him as he continued to stand. He opened a link to Pira.
Ricky?
I am facing a Duterian army alone. I probably…
He heard shouting behind him, and someone pushed him forward.
“Aren’t you going to engage the enemy?” a Gruntalian said.
Maybe not alone, he said before disconnecting the link.
His sorcerous power was depleted, but his physical strength wasn’t. He looked to each side to see a line of Gruntalians forming beside him. They advanced forward towards the Duterians. Firebolts shot into the ranks of their enemy one hundred paces ahead of them.
Ricky advanced with the others and soon began to engage the Duterians. Ricky didn’t want to cut down the people who had given him sanctuary after King Leon declared him a traitor, but they fought him. With regret, he waded in and began to fight the enemy with increasing numbers of Gruntalians at his side. He moved forward, plunging into the Duterian lines. More Gruntalians followed him.
He reached the officers staring at him. Ricky recognized some of the men as they hastily sang shields. It wouldn’t work with his Vorrian blade. Shields didn’t protect the sorcerers from the press of their enemy. Onward they fought until the backs of his enemy began to fade into the darkness.
“Halt!” the orders came from an amplified spell.
Ricky sank to the ground after retracting the blade of his wand, along with the other soldiers, fighting to catch their breath.
He didn’t feel any pain, but he heard the cries from men on both sides of the fight. “Healers!” Ricky yelled in the darkness.
Men and women carried water out into the field. Ricky drank greedily from a large ladle of water. He finally stood and looked over the battlefield. Sorcerous lights floated in the air giving the ground a surreal appearance.
“Are you hurt?” a man wearing a white robe asked.
Ricky shook his head. “Not that I know of.”
The healer moved on.
He began to search the moaning bodies of sorcerers. They knew the magic-killing spell. If Ricky could interrogate a Duterian with that knowledge, they might be able to create a better sound shield. He recognized the face of a Tower sorcerer, crying on the ground. The man held a bleeding arm. Blood ran down his face from a cut on his head.
After draining some power out of the sorcerer, Ricky made quick work of the man’s cut head and worked on his arm. He stopped the bleeding, but he didn’t have the power left to deep-link on the field to fully heal his arm.
“Come with me,” Ricky said.
The sorcerer got to his feet, still in pain, and let Ricky lead him closer to the city walls where torches began to increase as the Gruntalians began to pour out to defend against a counter attack.
“A prisoner,” Ricky said.
“Prisoner?” the Tower sorcerer looked at Ricky.
Ricky grimaced and sang compulsion. He didn’t like doing it, but he didn’t have the power to fight this sorcerer.
“You will follow me, and you will sing no spells. No resonance, no will. Do you understand.”
The man nodded meekly. The way the sorcerer followed Ricky’s instructions made his stomach turn, but Ricky had lives to save in Samira and perhaps throughout Hessilia.
“I have a prisoner,” Ricky said time and again as he made his way through Grunt
al to the practice field. He fed the sorcerer and sat him on the ground.
A healer stopped by. “Are you hurt?” she said looking at both of them.
“He has a cut on his arm that needs attention. I could barely seal the wound.”
The woman went to work and stopped. “He will need to seek out a healer or let the wound heal on its own. I must see to others.”
“Thank you,” Ricky said.
The injured sorcerer looked at him. “Valian? Were you responsible for the exploding fireballs?”
Ricky nodded. “What was the Tower thinking attacking Gruntal? Did you think that breaching the walls would be enough? Really?”
“We did. We have Botoy on our side.”
Ricky shook his head. “No, you don’t. Botoy is not appeased by war. You should know better.”
“Botoy speaks through me.”
“And what does Botoy say?”
“What?” the sorcerer said.
“What did Botoy say to you?”
The man looked quizzically at Ricky. The poor sorcerers couldn’t see reason and had deluded themselves so thoroughly that they couldn’t tell right from wrong. Ricky could only pity them, but only so much. Lives would be lost because of their stubborn dogmatism following a false religion.
“Do you know the spell that robs sorcerers of their power?”
“I do.”
“Teach it to me.”
Ricky listened patiently and memorized the song and the sounds that made the spell effective. There was a lot more will involved than any other spell he had learned at the Rings. Hemo would have to experiment with the sound shield for it to be more effective, but Ricky thought that will, exercised in a focused way, would work. When he was finished, Ricky put him to sleep.
Kened Gostok walked up to him. “I heard you had returned with a prisoner.”
“You probably know him. I’m pretty sure he is a Tower sorcerer.”
Kened brought a sorcerous light closer. “Borial Wastoya, a Sun. He won’t say anything to you.”
“He already has,” Ricky said. “I couldn’t wait to fight him and put him under compulsion. Interrogation might not have worked. He knew the spell that I sought. We can get more information from him tomorrow. As for me, I am finished for the night, both physically and magically.”
“You deserve it. If you thought you were an anonymous fighter at the wall, think again. Gruntalians, above all, respect fighting with sharp things much more than using sorcery. You are a hero of Gruntal.”
“I’ll think of that in my dreams tonight.”
Kened looked at the sleeping sorcerer. “What about him?”
“I got what I wanted out of him. I honestly don’t care,” Ricky said, but he stopped Kened. “Let him sleep. I want to know who developed the spell that robs resonance. Once I know that, the Gruntalians can do what they wish with him.”
~~~
Chapter Thirty-Two
~
T he Botoyan Tower sorcerer lay on the ground with a blanket over him, snoring away. Ricky woke him up as soon as he exited his tent and found a washroom. He sat down next to the man. Before he could utter a word, a circle of men and women surrounded him.
“Borial Wastoya, tell me where the spell that kills a sorcerer’s power came from?”
The man looked blankly at Ricky. “A sorcerer from the University of Sealio brought the knowledge to us at the end of winter. He claimed it came from a cache of forbidden books. The spell was recently discovered, and because of it, Botoy would be glorified. Heretics can be robbed of their magic.”
Ricky found all he wanted to know. He stood up. “You can take this man away. He is a Botoyan, as you found.” With his energy recharged, he sang the compulsion counterspell at Wastoya.
The man shut his eyes tightly and opened them. He put his hand to his forehead, as nearly every compelled person did when the spell was removed. Borial opened them and recognized Ricky.
“You!” He tried to grab Ricky but was pulled away by two Gruntalian soldiers. “If it wasn’t for you, we could have captured Gruntal.”
Ricky shook his head. “A breach does not bring victory all by itself. You would have never won against the Gruntalians.” He looked up at the soldiers. “He is all yours. He is a Duterian Tower sorcerer, fully dedicated to Botoy.”
He ignored Wastoya’s shouting and cursing as he was dragged away. Ricky thought the crowd would dissipate, but it didn’t. Hands reached out to help him up.
A carriage pulled up. Kened opened the door. “Get inside. I assume you got what you needed from Wastoya?”
Ricky nodded. It hadn’t been that long since he had fought in the night. He leaned his head back and fell asleep again, but he knew he hadn’t slept long. The carriage stopped in the back of a building. Kened stood patiently as Ricky got out.
“I didn’t get a chance to change my clothes,” Ricky said. “Are we going to see the commander?”
“We are. You may be tired, but you figured that out well enough.”
Ricky nodded and rubbed his eyes. “Let’s go.” He stood up straighter as he walked through an open doorway.
The corridor was lined with uniformed Gruntalians. They saluted as Ricky walked past. He acknowledged their salutes with nods and smiles and a few touches of his forehead and a wave. Kened opened a door, and Ricky recognized that they were backstage. Perhaps they were in a performance hall? He didn’t know.
Kened parted a curtain and led Ricky through it. Lights and applause assaulted him. He looked out at the hall. It was a performance hall of some kind. Seats were filled, and the walls were lined with people standing and clapping.
“Is this for me?” Ricky said.
“It is.”
Gruntal’s commander faced Ricky clapping. He had never expected to see the woman crack a smile, yet it was happening before his eyes.
The commander gave a speech, outlining Ricky’s actions for the past twenty-four hours and proclaiming them something worthy of a Gruntalian. A young uniformed girl walked up, holding a golden tray, and held it up to the commander.
“One of own Tower sorcerers sent a call of help to a young man who had passed through Gruntal a few times and had a handful of Gruntalian friends. This young man not only responded to the request but brought ninety experienced battle sorcerers to our aid. Not all of them survived, but they aided significantly in defense of our city. Hendrico Valian, Tower sorcerer of the Duterian Rings, Lord of Samira and heir to the duchy of Naparra, a friend of kings and queens throughout Kerrothia, it is my pleasure as the leader of the city-state of Gruntal to award you with our highest honor, the Star of Gruntal.”
She held out a golden medallion. It had a deep blue stone set in the middle with rays of the sun coming from it, but Ricky looked closer, and what he had thought were sun rays were sword blades. How Gruntalian! He dipped his head and let her put the award attached to a wide ribbon over his head.
The woman took another medallion. This one appeared to be silver, chased with gold. “A special award for the person who showed the city-state of Gruntal what valor on the field of battle means. After nearly exhausting his sorcerous power, he, alone, faced the enemy outside the protection of our city walls. His act of heroism in the face of certain death inspired our Gruntalian soldiers to run out into harm’s way and vanquish our enemies. Inspired by one man’s bravery, citizen-soldiers of Gruntal ran out of the city to fight all three armies and ended the Duterian threat. Hendrico Valian, I proclaim you a citizen of Gruntal.”
The auditorium erupted in applause. Ricky had to step forward and show his new awards to the audience. He bowed and bowed until the place became silent. He knew it meant he had to say something.
“I am sorry the Duterians chose to be our enemies. I am sure good men and women died on both sides yesterday. I also know that some bad men and women also died.” Ricky waited for the applause to calm down. “Kened Gostok helped me get through the Duterian Rings and into the Tower. One of my close associates is from
Gruntal. This blade,” Ricky pulled out his sword, “was made by a Gruntalian sword-maker. How could I not come to your aid? My valor? I must be truthful, my powers were nearly exhausted, and I couldn’t fly to safety, so I landed in front of the enemy. I had no choice but to fight. Thank you for these honors,” Ricky said, sweating from embarrassment. He bowed to more applause.
The city commander held up her hands. “Valor isn’t how you get into a situation, but how you confront it. Lord Valian decided to fight, an example for every Gruntalian to follow.”
Ricky bowed again and felt a great urge to run off the stage, but Kened showed up at his side and put a hand on Ricky’s shoulder and spoke into his ear. “You deserve this and more. The commander said that if you wish for us to stand at the Parantian border or move towards Sealio, you have more than earned it.”
~
When Ricky was able to clean up properly and put on fresh clothes, he found more cuts that he hadn’t even noticed. He healed them himself and left his ruined outfit in a heap outside the washroom.
Zaria walked up. “We lost two more sorcerers this morning,” he said. “I hate to lose any man, but we came out of a battle with three armies and many sorcerers in as good a shape as we could have hoped for.”
The city commander asked for the sorcerers to line up before they left Gruntal. She presented each man with a purse and four larger purses as compensation to the families of the fallen sorcerers.
“Thank you all. I was reluctant to allow you to fight with us, but you proved me wrong. Your aid was grudgingly accepted, but wholeheartedly appreciated. Allowing others to help is a lesson I shall always heed.”
Ricky translated the woman’s words. The sorcerers cheered her.
“We will leave you now. Our duties to defend Samira haven’t ended,” Ricky said. He nodded to Zaria, and the sorcerers took off, one after another, leaving Samira in a line of flyers. Ricky was the last. He hovered not far above the ground and waved to the Gruntalians, his fellow citizens, and flew to catch up to his men and women.