The trader wrapped his right hand around Gavin’s and pulled Gavin into a tight embrace. The smell came closer to knocking Gavin down than any of his recent invocations.
“Why, thankee! Yer powerful generous and kind, ye are,” the trader said. He leaned into Gavin’s ear, still shaking Gavin’s hand like a man who’d never seen a gold piece before and whispered, “Roensil has seven mages with him, Milord. He hired them a month ago and has had them preparing for an assault on this estate.”
The trader released Gavin and stepped back, palming the gold piece and tucking it away in a pocket. “Thankee, good sir; thankee. Blessings of the gods be upon you and yours.”
He turned and started to lead his mule away from the gate.
Gavin turned and saw the majordomo stepping back from Gavin, his expression a grimace.
“Run up to the house and bring me a couple cakes of soap, please,” Gavin said, before turning back toward the trader. “Master trader, hold a few moments more, please.”
“Oh, kind sir, yer already too generous,” the trader said. “No need to trouble yerself for anything else.” He stopped, though.
The majordomo soon returned with two cakes of soap and handed them to Gavin. Gavin walked over to the trader and placed the soap in the man’s hand, braving the stench to lean close and whisper, “Your smell would empty a graveyard, no necromancy required. Take a bath. You should give serious thought to burning those clothes, too, and if I have to send the entire Thartan chapter to see to the job, I’ll make sure they scrub you down with a wire brush.”
The trader winced.
Gavin patted him twice on the back and left him.
“Did that trader have anything worthwhile to say?” Natan asked as Gavin re-entered the discussion.
“Roensil left his estate a few days ago with upwards of seven hundred men. He also hired seven mages, and he’s had them preparing for a month.”
“Seven hundred men?” Natan asked. “That can’t be true. Why, we don’t even have a quarter that number under arms! He’ll roll over us like we’re not even here.”
“Declan,” Gavin said, “how long would it take seven hundred men to travel here from Roensil’s place?”
“No more than a week. Did the trader say how old his information was?”
“No. He didn’t have many specifics. He just knew they were coming.”
“We’re putting a lot of faith in some panhandler,” Paul said. “What are the chances Roensil sent him to feed us misinformation?”
Gavin’s mind drifted back to the Wraith tattoo on the man’s left wrist and shook his head. “That’s not possible. I’d sooner believe the sun would rise in the west.”
“You’re awfully certain of that trader’s veracity,” Natan said. “What do you know that we don’t?”
“Many things,” Gavin said, “just like you know many things I do not.”
Lillian leaned close to Gavin and whispered, “What about the dracons? You made quite an impression on them. Think they would help with the defenses here?”
“That’s a good idea. It doesn’t hurt to ask,” Gavin said and directed his attention back to Natan. “I may have a line on some troops who would be friendly to your cause. I will speak with them and ask for their help.”
“If it takes more than a couple hours to reach them, I wouldn’t bother,” Natan said. “From the sounds of it, they will overrun us before you’d make it back.”
Gavin chuckled. “I wouldn’t worry about being overrun, Natan. After all, the fight hasn’t even started yet. While I’m seeing to those additional troops, Lillian speaks for me in all things.”
“Are you sure about that?” Lillian asked, her voice a whisper.
“I wouldn’t have said it if I wasn’t sure,” Gavin said, not bothering to whisper. “Take care of Jasmine for me.”
“You’re not taking a horse?” Paul asked. “How can you hope to make it back in time?”
Gavin pushed his chair back from the table and stood, saying, “If I know where I’m going, I don’t need a horse. Paedryx.”
Gavin’s invocation slammed into those wizards present as an arch of sapphire energy rose out of the floor. When it reached its full height, the center of the arch flashed, becoming a doorway to another place. Gavin stepped through, and the arch vanished as if it had never been.
Gavin stood in the cupola pavilion at the center of the Dracon city, facing the assembled clan leaders. He smiled and nodded once at Xask, who now bore the mantle of her clan’s leadership.
“We did not expect to see you again so soon,” the ancient clan leader said.
Gavin shrugged. “I did not expect to encounter a situation that required me asking for your help.”
“What is the situation you speak of?” Xask asked.
“Do you remember my friend Kiri?” When the clan leaders nodded, Gavin continued. “Her grandfather, Natan Claymark, is a large wheat and grain supplier in northern Thartan Province, just across the border in Vushaar. A longtime rival is using the civil war to move against the Claymark family with the intent of eliminating the family and seizing their lands. The rival has mobilized a force of seven hundred mercenaries and seven mages to attack the Claymark estate, and while my apprentices and I can see to the mages, Claymark has no way to secure sufficient reliable men-at-arms to fend off this assault, especially since he’d need to ensure anyone he hired would protect Kiri’s secret.”
“And so, you came to us,” Xask said. “We left the world six hundred years ago when it became clear that the naturals had lost their way. Bellos’s choice not to name a new Archmagister after the death of Bellock Vanlon was a sign to all who cared to notice that the naturals had lost the favor of the gods.”
“I’m not asking you to return to the world. I’m asking you to help me help someone…just as I helped you.”
Chapter 11
“I think he has a few more than seven hundred mercenaries,” Braden said, looking out over the mass of troops forming up a few hundred yards away from the manor wall.
“Looks closer to twelve hundred,” Declan said. “He must’ve been repeating what he was told; I can’t imagine the trader would get the count wrong.”
“Roensil could’ve met another group before coming here,” Mariana said. “The trader Gavin spoke with may have only seen seven hundred.”
“Look-there’s-a-group-riding-this-way,” Wynn said, pointing.
Lillian sighed, saying, “I should go stand with Natan during the conversation. Make sure he knows he’s not alone.”
“I don’t think you need to worry about that,” Declan said. “He has about twelve hundred guests to keep him company.”
Lillian, Paul, and Natan stood at the gate when the three riders bearing a flag of truce arrived. The man in the lead looked to be about Natan’s age and the woman at his side about Paul’s. The man wore chain-mail over padding and carried a sword at his right side. The woman wore chain-mail, with a spiked mace at her left side. The third individual wore a red robe, and the silver runes on the cuffs of the sleeves indicated he held the rank of Magus within the Society of the Arcane.
“Well, Natan, are you going to be smart about this and save us all a lot of trouble?”
“There’s nothing smart about giving away my family’s heritage, Janson,” Natan said, “especially when we both know you’ll kill us, anyway.”
Janson Roensil shifted his gaze to Lillian and smirked. “What the matter, Natan? Couldn’t you afford a real arcanist? Do you think four students can compete with my seven fully trained arcanists?”
The mage at Janson’s shoulder looked at Lillian and jerked as recognition set in. He shifted his gaze over Natan’s shoulder to where Wynn, Braden, and Mariana stood. Lillian saw him pale and say just loud enough to hear, “If they’re here, where is he?”
“What are you blathering about?” Roensil said, looking over his shoulder to the mage.
“We may not have as much of an upper hand here as you think,” the mag
e said, his eyes flitting from point to point. “Their mentor is missing.”
“Their mentor? If you’re trying to back out of the contract…”
“You hired me for my sage wisdom and council, and I’m telling you they’re not students. They’re apprentices, and I don’t believe their mentor is all that far away.”
“He’s about four- or five-days’ ride to the north,” Lillian said, smiling up at the arcanist. “He went to see some associates about reinforcements.”
“Four- or five-days’ ride?” the arcanist said, frowning. “Why, there’s nothing up there but…oh, you can’t be serious! No one has survived the Dracon lands in six hundred years.”
Lillian shrugged, her smile shifting to a smirk. “Well then, you have nothing to worry about…do you?”
Roensil turned back to Natan, saying, “This is your last chance. Surrender now, and I’ll let your servants live.”
Natan shook his head. “Janson, if I honestly believed you’d spare them and if I felt our chances were hopeless, then I might consider your offer. We’re not going anywhere.”
“Suit yourself,” Janson said and turned his horse, nudging the mount to a trot as he led his daughter and hireling back to their lines.
“Gavin had better show up,” Natan said, once they were out of earshot.
“I’m not worried,” Lillian said. “He’ll return. You’ll see.”
Gavin’s concerns when he left the Claymark estate proved to be unfounded…very unfounded. Gavin expected he’d have to use all manner of persuasion and oratory to bring the dracons around to his way of thinking. Instead, he was having to turn people away. When the clan leaders put out the call that Kirloth had returned asking for their help, everyone responded, even the children and elderly.
Gavin wasn’t about to take children into a battle, no matter what their parents thought of the idea, and the elderly would make perfect babysitters while the parents were away. That still left him with several thousand volunteers.
Gavin rubbed his chin with his right hand as he looked out over the mass of people. He had no idea in the world what he would do with all these volunteers.
“What troubles you?” Xask asked, drawing Gavin’s attention.
“I don’t need this many people,” Gavin said, “and I don’t like leaving your city undefended.”
Xask smiled. “You’re applying your experience to us. Those younglings and elderly you turned away? They are more than sufficient defense for the city, and besides, we’re not calling in the scouts. They may be disappointed they did not get to attend, but we have more than sufficient numbers for the task at hand. How do you want us organized?”
Gavin was afraid someone would ask him that. When ‘his’ army had moved against the mercenaries at Lake Yortun, Gavin had been more than content to allow the officers to handle all the organization and day-to-day management. The only times he’d had to intervene was when they brought a matter to him for adjudication, which didn’t happen all that often…maybe three or four times.
“Honestly, I must confess to being overwhelmed. I fully expected that I’d have to beg and plead for your help; I wasn’t prepared for this kind of response at all. Am I correct that the experience and leadership exists to handle the organization of the troops?”
Xask nodded. “You are.”
“Then, I’m not about to horn in and disrupt what works for your people. Pass the word to get everything settled, and send two arcanists from each unit—however those units turn out—to me. I’m not sure how much time we have, but I know it’s far less than we think.”
A short time later, Gavin faced twenty-six Dracon arcanists, and they ran the gamut of age and experience. They stood in the large workroom where Gavin had worked on repairing their sky.
“Okay. Forgive me for this being rough; we’re working against the clock, and we need to get a move on. How many of you are wizards?” Twenty-six hands raised. “Excellent. Gather around. I have a few things to show you.”
Gavin led the group over to one chalkboard and sketched out the runes representing two Words, one of Divination and the other of Transmutation.
“Now then, this is a Word of Divination. We’ll use it to create scrying spheres to fine tune our point of arrival. The other is a Word of Transmutation we’ll use to create the actual portals. Commit them to memory if you haven’t already.” Gavin waited until everyone was finished and pointed to one at random. “Time to check for understanding. I want you to step out of the group and create a scrying sphere over the table that looks down on the entrance to the tunnel leading to the city.”
The dracon looked a little nervous but stepped over to the table. She took a breath and invoked the Word, “Klaepos.”
The scrying sphere that formed wasn’t much larger than a window in a house, but it was a scrying sphere that looked down on the entrance to the tunnel. Everyone present could see the dracon standing behind the gate, looking rather bored, and there was more than one gasp of surprise.
“Very good,” Gavin said. “Does anyone have questions?” No one did. “Very well. Let’s rejoin the others and make ready to leave.”
Gavin led the arcanists to the city’s sporting field. The sporting field was the only space in the city large enough for the volunteers to muster with any ease. Gavin shook his head as he looked out over the mass of people, still not quite believing he was returning to Natan’s place with almost sixty-five hundred dracons…all armed, armored, and ready to fight. Even after explaining the attacking force was only fielding seven hundred, the dracons would not be swayed; they wanted to show their support and gratitude to Kirloth.
Gavin watched the arcanists separate and return to their assigned units, and he was surprised that those units were not organized along clan lines. It seemed each clan had a specific affinity or affinities, and by drawing from all clans, each unit was stronger than what it would’ve been if it was made up from only one clan.
“There’s so much I have yet to learn about this world,” Gavin said, almost sighing. “Ah, well. Time to stop woolgathering and pick our arrival point. Klaepos.”
Gavin’s scrying sphere was much larger than the one created by the dracon, and it overlooked the entire Claymark estate. Gavin gasped at what he saw; the Roensils had many more than seven hundred mercenaries, and they were moving to assault the gate.
“Arcanists to me!” Gavin shouted, and those twenty-six soon stood before him. “I will place a magical marker where you are to create your portals. One at a time, step forward.”
The first stepped forward, and Gavin took the dracon’s hand in his left as he used his right to interact with the scrying sphere. The physical contact as Gavin placed the marker tuned the arcanist to the mark for easier recognition. Within two minutes, twenty-six arrival markers were placed; thirteen along the inside the manor wall and thirteen behind the assaulting force.
“Return to your units, and make ready. I want us all to arrive at the same time. Create your portals on my command.”
The dracons nodded and returned to their units. They took up positions in the van of their respective formations and nodded to Gavin, signaling their readiness. Once everyone was ready, Gavin nodded once and said, “Now!”
Twenty-six dracons invoked the Word of Transmutation Gavin taught them, creating portals in front of their formations. Gavin hurried to one specific formation, moving to stand beside the dracon he’d instructed to create the scrying sphere.
“Let’s go!”
Natan sighed when he saw the Roensil force move toward the manor wall. They weren’t ready, and they would not be ready. It looked like Gavin would not be in time, either.
“You should get your friends and get Kiri over the back wall,” Natan said as he surveyed the approaching force. “They’ll be too busy with us to notice your departure.”
Lillian shook her head. “Gavin said he’d return, and he said he’d help you. We’re not doing anything except shutting down those mages.”
&nbs
p; “Have some sense about you,” Natan growled. “That’s my granddaughter and the Crown Princess in the house, there! There’s no call-”
Whatever Natan was going to say was cut off, as the compound sound of crackling energy all around his position drowned out his voice. Lillian cried out and wrapped her arms across her midriff as she struggled to stay standing, and her fellow apprentices did the same. Natan feared a magical attack, but as he turned to look at Lillian, what was going on behind him drew his attention.
Thirteen portals rose out of the earth, and no two of them looked alike. Natan gaped as dracons streamed through the portals onto his land, and he laughed as his tension and fear evaporated upon seeing Gavin step through the portal right behind him, leading one of the dracon contingents.
The moment Gavin stepped through the portal, he invoked a Word, “Thyphos.” A radiance above him drew Natan’s attention, and looking up, he felt his jaw slacken at the sight: the battle standard of House Kirloth—at least fifteen feet wide—hovered above their heads some thirty feet in the air.
The dracons vaulted Natan’s manor wall, almost like it wasn’t even there and dressed their lines to repel the coming assault…which wasn’t coming all that quickly now. Gavin climbed the ladder to one of the elevated guard-posts by the gate and used another Conjuration effect to ensure his words were heard across the valley.
“My name is Gavin Cross, and as you may have guessed, I am Head of House Kirloth. Any mercenary who lays down his or her weapons and kneels—arcanists included—will be granted mercy; I have no desire to bathe this field in blood today. My offer of mercy does not extend to the Roensils and any who steadfastly stand with them. You have fifteen minutes to decide. After that, anyone still armed or standing dies.”
“Well, we’re done,” the arcanist said, looking from the dracons in front of them to the dracons behind them.
Into Vushaar Page 7