“Sorry, Ral, but I need to talk to you.” He licked his lips to stall for time. “Nerti and I are going to wait for Vedric and his forces outside the walls.”
“What in the Eight Gates of Neblor are you talking about?” Miceral spoke so loudly the words echoed in the empty corridor. “Vedric’s entire army is heading this way. We just spent hours extolling the need to stay inside and let the magic do our job for us. Is that suddenly wrong?”
“Nerti and I agree, Seritia meant for us to use the spot we found. I’m not sure why, but I’m certain there is a reason.”
“That’s ridiculous. Has She told you that directly?”
“No, but—”
Miceral threw up his hand in disgust. “So you really have no idea what it’s for. You’re guessing at its purpose.”
“Not exactly guessing.” He shook his head and remained calm. “Nothing They do is without a purpose. It wasn’t there before we arrived, and now it is. It only seems to affect Jolella, Nerti, and me. It’s outside the defensive spells but doesn’t affect the magic. None of that is by chance.”
“None of that says ‘Farrell, stand here in front of the enemy as it attacks Agloth,’ either.”
“We’ll be safe. And shielded. I’m not relying on Seritia to keep us safe. Do you think Nerti would let me do this if she thought it a mistake?”
Miceral started to reply and stopped. His indecision was plain in his expression, but Farrell resisted the urge to push his partner to see his point. Finally, Miceral shook his head.
“I’m starting to wonder if your recklessness is clouding her judgment, but I’m certain Klissmor wouldn’t let her do this if he thought it would be fatal to her or you.”
Moving closer, Farrell kissed Miceral gently on the cheek. “I promise you, this isn’t as crazy as it seems. If they focus on me, it will decimate their forces. With the thousand spells around Agloth to contend with and Penelope and her wizards attacking him, Vedric will be too busy to care much about me.”
“Then why do it? What’s the point in being there to face him if he’s going to have too much going on to face you?”
“Once the fight begins in earnest, and everyone is engaged, I’ll force him to come to me.”
“How?” Miceral’s anger was gone, replaced by a more questioning attitude. “You just said he’s going to be too busy to notice you.”
“I’ll make sure he can’t ignore me. The trick will be to do enough that he has to deal with me but not too much so that all his wizards attack me. But either way it won’t matter. Neither he nor his army will be able to touch me inside the circle.”
“Don’t get too overconfident.” Miceral sounded resigned. “You just said you weren’t going to rely on Seritia to protect you.”
Farrell nearly argued that he knew what he was doing, but Miceral needed something more. “I’ll be careful. I promise.”
“I’ll make sure he keeps his word,” Nerti said, intruding on their conversation.
Miceral chuckled. “I’m sure you will. You’re going to be there as well.”
“Yes, I am.”
Farrell put his hand in his pocket and removed the cylinder with the Arm of Khron. “Here, don’t forget to use this.”
“What?”
Farrell kept back his sigh. “The Arm of Khron. Get everyone to swear Khron’s oath.”
“Right.” Miceral shook his head. “How could I have forgotten that?”
“You don’t think in terms of magic like I do.” Farrell motioned for them to start walking. “I know it’s not really ‘magic,’ but it should blunt the advantage Chamdon have.”
“I’ll make sure to do it before the battle begins.”
To avoid a protracted goodbye, Farrell and Nerti didn’t return to their rooms. They parted with the others at the temple steps and arrived at the front gate. It was closed and fortified against attack.
“Did you expect to find it any other way?” Nerti asked.
“I expected to find it sealed. I just wanted to see what they’d done.”
Nerti waited another few seconds and moved to the right of the gate. Once they’d cleared the street, Farrell levitated them up and over the wall. Their sudden presence shocked the guards manning the top of the wall. He gave the men and dwarves a brief salute and moved himself and Nerti quickly toward the bit of altered ground.
After rechecking his spells, Farrell saw dust swirl in the distance. “They’re almost here.”
They watched as the cloud grew. With each breath, Farrell expected to see the vanguard come into view, but several minutes had passed and no one appeared.
“Miceral is about to have everyone swear the oath to Khron,” Nerti said. “You must take the vow as well.”
“Me?” He tore his gaze off the approaching army and looked down.
“That seems pointless. I doubt I’ll need to fight hand-to-hand.”
“Even still, it will help enhance your skills.”
He considered her statement but didn’t agree. “Kel said he tried to use the Arm when he fought Krendrew and said it did not help.”
“He said it did not prove very useful against the Hand. That doesn’t mean it was not helpful in ways he did not realize.”
“If nothing else, it won’t hurt me.” He turned toward the wall when he felt someone use magic. Miceral suddenly appeared above the walls and looked down into the city. From his position Farrell knew he wouldn’t hear Miceral when he spoke, but he’d be able to see when he raised the Arm. “I hope I remember the words correctly.”
“Fear not, Little One, I’ll make sure you don’t forget.” She sounded extremely motherly.
He saw Miceral raise his arm over his head. Focusing on the small, gleaming object in his hand, Farrell recalled the words Khron have given them.
“Holy Father, true I have been to the Code, great is my need as I seek a righteous goal. Bless me with Your Gift if You find me worthy.”
After he spoke the last word, a jolt of energy caught him unprepared.
“Great holy Honorus!” he said.
“Did that shock you, too?” Miceral asked.
“Yes.” It took a moment before he realized Miceral had heard him. “How did you know I took the oath?”
“Klissmor told me,” Miceral said. “Hopefully you’ll stick to fighting with magic, but if you do need to fight someone up close, this ought to help you.”
“Be careful, Miceral. I can’t replace you.”
“Replace me?” Miceral let out a nervous laugh. “You already thought about if you could replace me?”
“Of course. As you proved outside Northhelm, you can be quite reckless.” Though no one could see it, Farrell allowed himself to smile for a moment. “I love you, Ral.”
“I love you, too.” Miceral paused. “I need to go organize the troops.
Please be careful.”
“I will. Please be careful, too.” Farrell felt Miceral’s presence leave.
Farrell concentrated on Vedric’s army. In the time he’d looked away, the chaos that was a Chamdon army moved close enough to be visible. Standing on the field, facing them, the enemy force appeared bigger than when he and Takala had flown over it the previous night.
He let the army get close enough that he could make out the individual soldiers and hopped off Nerti’s back. “Can you tell Penelope she should engage the defenses now?”
Without waiting for a reply, he removed his staff from his back. He pushed as much power as he could into the two small pieces of wood he’d left in the dirt the day before. Satisfied they’d do what he intended, he pressed the end of his staff into the dusty ground.
“Penelope said she is about to engage the spells and to be ready.” “Oh, I’m ready,” he muttered absently.
Several spells flared to life for the barest instant and disappeared from his senses. Peering across the fields with his wizard’s sight, he could only speculate at what most of the spells were designed to do. He had to suppress his curiosity to poke at th
em, lest he give them away.
When Vedric’s army was close enough that he could hear the Chamdon grunts, he lifted his staff. “Let’s give them something else to focus on.”
“Are you speaking to yourself again?” Nerti asked. “Did you forget I’m here?”
“I could never do that, my queen.” Pointing the metal end of his staff toward the wooden dowel to his right, Farrell created a spark that leapt between them.
Instantly, the small bit of wood flared to life in a blaze of orange wizard fire. The flames ran along the silvery line Farrell had traced in the sand the day before. Unlike when he tested it, this time the fiery wall was eight feet high.
The fire raced around the city, and a minute later he could see the edge barreling toward them. When it touched the edge of Seritia’s circle, the flame moved east until it completed the arch.
“Impressive display,” Nerti said.
“It won’t hold up for long, but it will prove enough of a distraction that Penelope and the other wizards can use it to their advantage.”
Farrell planted his staff onto the western edge of the circle he’d laid out. A shield surrounded them, and once it was set, he increased its strength. Certain it would handle any attack Vedric could hurl at him. He checked on the enemy.
For an army of Chamdon, this group was remarkably under control. Vedric knew enough not to let them charge headlong into a trap. Lifting his left leg first, then the right, Farrell levitated to await Meglar’s son and his army. Sitting cross-legged, hands clasped in his lap, Farrell tried to appear calm and unconcerned by the approaching storm. He wondered what Vedric would make of him.
It took almost a quarter of an hour for the enemy to reach his barrier. “Here they come. The battle is about to be joined.”
As if on cue, a small group of Chamdon rushed through the flame. Several defenses sprang to life, striking down soldiers on both sides of Farrell’s barrier. Obstructed by the flames, Vedric’s wizards struggled to locate the source, and their defenses were imperfect. Penelope and her wizards targeted those wizards trying to ward off the attack. After two were cut down, others fired at the city walls.
“So it begins.” Farrell stayed motionless as he spoke. The time for action would come soon enough.
Chapter Thirty-One
Just beyond the flaming wall, the chaotic horde of Chamdon grunted and howled. Here and there a few would leap through the fire, bursting into flames before they landed dead on the ground. Each dead body, however, set off a maelstrom of offensive weapons aimed at the army on the other side of the barrier. Farrell was impressed by the savage nature of the defenses.
A long, piercing shout ripped across the battlefield. Although Farrell couldn’t understand the command, the effect was immediate. The mindless cacophony grew eerily quiet, and the Chamdon moved a couple of paces back. Once the area was cleared, scores of wizards attacked the flames. Had the wall been static, many of the attempts would have created safe passages across, but Farrell had designed it to be dynamic. Twice he sent new spells through the line, disrupting the efforts.
Penelope and the other mages used the time to pick off enemy wizards. Each attack drew an immediate response from Vedric and his inner circle, but Penelope had trained her people well, and they didn’t suffer any casualties that Farrell could see.
The same couldn’t be said for the fiery wall. Each attack from the enemy weakened it some, and the counterattacks Farrell sent through it affected it even more. Farrell allowed the fire to burn out to maximize its utility. Just before the spell failed, Farrell took it down. He summoned the two staffs and stashed them back in his pocket.
With nothing visible barring the way, Vedric sent his army charging toward the city walls. The first three rows were cut down before they made it ten paces.
Hundreds of spells, each as different as the wizard who cast it, vied with each other like suitors over a pretty maiden. The different spells, engaged all at once, decimated the lower-level wizards who tried to counter them. As others had suggested, spells that had been popular millennia ago, but had been nearly forgotten, did the most damage.
Caustic liquids, noxious gas, sharpened projectiles, and vaporizing energy blasts erupted from the ground around Farrell. The sound of crackling energy mixed with the screams of humans and howls of pain from the Chamdon assailed his hearing. Farrell ignored them all as he kept watch on the turmoil around him.
Vedric’s wizards formed into groups of three or four and began the tedious job of neutralizing the deadly ground. Agloth’s wizards left them alone for a few minutes. When it seemed to Farrell they had forgotten about the threat from the walls, Penelope and the others reminded them why it was unwise to attack such a fortified city.
Three teams were killed before the others took a more tentative approach that brought the army’s progress to a halt. Wizards in the black and red of Zargon’s elite moved to the front line and assumed control. Farrell hadn’t seen Vedric, Petres, Brezlaw, or any of the other senior wizards take a direct hand.
Under the guidance of the more seasoned mages, the enemy slowly cleared the ground. The group nearest to him showed good success as the experienced wizard made efficient use of his underlings. Several magi in his group worked to disable the spells while he and another senior wizard provided protection. Twice a counterattack from the wall failed to breach their shield.
In one swift motion, Farrell leveled his staff at the group and fired. A burst of brilliant blue energy surged across the space and detonated against the pesky shield. When the flash subsided, little more than charred bits of flesh and clothing remained.
Instantly spells struck his shields from all directions. Farrell ignored them all and returned his staff to his back. These ended quickly as Penelope and her wizards used the distraction to strike back at his attackers.
“Can you tell . . . suggest to Penelope that she scale back her attacks for the time being?” he asked Nerti. “A few strategic attacks should be enough to force them to expend maximum effort. She and the others should conserve their strength and let the spells do their work.”
“She agreed with your suggestion but wants to know what you did to take out that shield.”
“Tell her I will teach her the spell when things quiet down a bit.”
He removed five clear spheres, none bigger than an olive, from his pocket and passed his left hand over the group. Energy jumped between his hands, and the small orbs shook. Farrell stared at the objects until they shot out in different directions. Unable to watch them all, he knew they each sought a cluster of wizards.
The energized balls attached themselves to a shield and quivered briefly. When nothing happened, the wizards in four of the five groups ignored the small ball. The leader of the fifth group immediately dropped all other tasks and began a frantic effort to dislodge Farrell’s attack.
After a few seconds, the balls jiggled. Farrell ignored all but the group whose wizard realized the danger. The other four were already too late.
Slowly the clear orbs siphoned energy from the shield. They steadily expanded until they’d grown to the size of large melons. A small nub extended from the ball and pressed against the magical barrier, forcing it to bow slightly. Farrell saw the strain on the faces of the wizards affected as they strove to prevent an incursion.
Without warning, a stream of clear spray erupted from the ball, showering everyone inside the shield. The mist dissipated with no visible results. Vedric’s wizards looked around, as if searching for something. A second later, everyone reacted at once, furiously scratching and rubbing themselves.
Distracted, the wizards lost control of their spells, and the shields disappeared. Those affected by the spray appeared oblivious to their situation and continued to scrub at their bodies. Left unprotected, they were quickly cut down by the still-active defensive spells.
The wizard who recognized the danger managed to contain Farrell’s attack, but his success was fleeting. Penelope and her wizards took advantage
of the distraction to blast apart the weakened shield and its occupants.
Brezlaw and the other senior members of Vedric’s wizard corps finally moved to the front and assumed command. The enemy began to grind its way slowly toward Agloth. Working behind a new, more powerful shield, the mages were able to disable the city’s defenses. Rather than waste energy attacking the enemy’s new protection, Penelope and Farrell allowed them to work unmolested.
Farrell watched intently how Brezlaw and the other dark wizards attacked Agloth’s defenses. He was so focused he didn’t see a clutch of Chamdon approach his position until they ran full on into his shield. The attack, the first of the battle, surprised him. He’d expected a focused, powerful attack, especially after he’d taken direct action against Vedric’s wizards. Although every wizard with any talent could see how strong his defenses were, he still thought some would try to rid the field of his presence.
Another cluster of Chamdon joined the attack. Farrell could have cleared the snarling creatures with a wave of his hand, but he didn’t. Although he expected some counterattack if he tried to dispatch them, fear of reprisal wasn’t why he stayed his hand. Instead he felt pity for the deranged creatures and wondered at how twisted Meglar’s heart must have become that he could so callously treat people like this. When he remembered death would be preferable to being a Chamdon, he struggled to keep from killing them all and exposing himself to a dangerous response.
Farrell felt the spells surrounding the walls go dead. “What in the—?” He twisted in search of the cause.
“Penelope said she turned off the defenses because they weren’t reaching the enemy. She wants to preserve them for the future.”
“Tell her—” The creatures jerked to attention and stopped their attack. They and the other Chamdon massed behind them, split in two, and moved around Farrell’s position. Behind the last of the Chamdon, someone was standing.
“Tell her what?” Nerti asked.
As the entire army swarmed around his protective bubble, Farrell saw the person clearly. Vedric stood alone with his arms crossed, glaring at him.
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