He slashed down at the footman’s head and struck a glancing blow, but it was enough to force the man to let go of his stirrup. He shouted, ‘Back!’, turned his horse, and retreated.
His men began to disengage and as they turned to face him, he shouted, ‘To me! Rally to me!’
His original hundred riders were now whittled to about ninety, from what Hal could see. ‘Form up for charge!’ he shouted as his men drew in around him and turned to face the infantry that followed. ‘We have to hit them before they form a shield wall!’ he shouted. ‘Charge!’
Now battle was fully joined and whatever advantage he had had was gone. This would quickly be decided by determination and luck.
Pug and his companions emerged from the vortex to a scene of incredible struggle. Before them stood an energy dome of ruby hue, completely covering a city.
‘I’ve seen its like before,’ said Pug.
‘Where?’ asked Miranda.
‘At Sethanon, during the Great Uprising, when the Dragon Lords tore open a rift in the sky …’ He looked around. ‘Macros?’
‘Not here,’ said Nakor. ‘I guess he wasn’t fated to be here at the end.’
‘We could have used his might,’ said Magnus.
‘We don’t know how much had been given to him,’ said Miranda. ‘They may have used him up just to show us what he did.’
‘Who is “they”?’ wondered Nakor. ‘Will we ever know?’
‘I doubt it,’ said Pug. ‘While our gods may be mere personifications of powers, those are prodigious powers, and Macros made it clear there’s a higher mind in control. For lack of a better term, the ultimate power serves.’
‘Well,’ said Nakor. ‘The ultimate certainly has dropped us into a mess.’
Pug took a moment to make some coherent sense of the scene before him. Then he said, ‘Miranda, you and Nakor get as close to that red dome as you can and see if you can decipher what manner of magic is being employed. You’ve seen more magic on more planes than we have.’
They nodded. Miranda put her hand on Nakor’s shoulder and they vanished.
Pug looked around and pointed, and Magnus turned to see a familiar figure in the distance. He put his hand on his father’s shoulder and instantly they stood next to Ruffio.
Ruffio said, ‘Thank the gods! We’re at our wits’ end here.’
The younger magician was in the company of what appeared to be two elven Spellweavers, who nodded greeting to Pug. Ruffio summed up the situation and before he had finished, Miranda and Nakor reappeared.
‘It’s a spell, but nothing I’ve come across before,’ said Miranda. ‘It’s driven by a level of energy that comes from another plane, so it’s just growing.’
‘It’s familiar to me,’ said Nakor. ‘It echoes other things we’ve encountered from the Dread. But the way in which it’s been turned into a trap is … ingenious.’
Ruffio said, ‘It’s the taredhel magicians, their ’mancers. They seemed to know what to do the moment this unleashing of whatever is inside that dome began.’
Pug looked around and said, ‘Find me one.’
‘Over there,’ said Ruffio. He led Pug down the hill and the others followed.
The five magicians came to a circle of a dozen elven magic-users: eight of the taredhel galasmancers and four other magic specialists. They were all standing with their eyes closed, seemingly reaching out to the magicians down the hillside to provide them with aid.
‘Asleum,’ said Ruffio, but the old magician didn’t respond.
‘Leave him,’ said Pug. ‘I will find a way to speak with him.’
Pug put his hand on Asleum’s shoulder and closed his eyes.
Pug swam in a sea of energy, lattices forming faster than the eye could follow. He remembered Miranda’s lesson about perspective and forced himself to look for something recognizable, a quality within the swarming energies that he could use for orientation.
He recalled his time with the elf Spellweaver Temar, studying weather-magic, and recalled that there had been a distinctive sense of different energy to the magic he wove. Pug sought out anything that might be similar to that and found what he was looking for. One of the threads that was forming a weaving lattice had a quality similar to Temar’s magic, and Pug followed it away from the forming lattice and back to its source. An unmistakably elven consciousness recognized his presence and a voice said, ‘Yes?’
Pug opened his eyes and saw the elderly spellcaster staring at him. ‘I am Pug,’ he said, removing his hand from the elf’s shoulder.
The old elf seemed on the verge of exhaustion, yet his eyes were bright and he smiled. ‘Young Ruffio has been awaiting you,’ said the Spellweaver. ‘I am Asleum.’
‘We are here to help,’ offered Pug.
The old elf nodded. ‘We are grateful beyond words.’
‘Your gratitude is premature,’ Pug said. ‘We face something difficult to imagine in there.’ He waved his hand in the direction of the ruby dome.
‘We regard what is contained within as a part of what we know as the Forbidden, lore from the time before, when we served the Ancient Ones,’ said Asleum. ‘We recognize what it is: a most powerful Lord of the Dread.’
Pug said, ‘It’s far worse, I fear. What you have done, turning its own magic back upon itself, is as artful as any spell-craft I have ever seen, but what you seek to contain is far greater than you imagine. It is not a Lord of the Dread seeking entrance into this realm. It is the entirety of the Dread, and they seek to consume this realm.’
The old elf’s face was impassive as he turned to look at the distant ruby dome. Finally he said, ‘What must we do?’
‘More than merely contain it,’ answered Pug. ‘We must devise a way to send it back whence it came.’
‘How?’
‘I am not sure, though I believe that with your help we can find a way.’ He recognized a young magician who had been closely watching the elves and motioned for him to approach. ‘Cullen.’
‘Pug,’ Cullen replied, ‘I have been studying the latticework of that spell. It’s ingenious. Whoever first cast it …’ He shrugged. ‘I would have tried something else.’
‘And been obliterated,’ said Pug. ‘If we can find out who among the spell-crafters here first responded, we might discover something useful. I think I know how we can help, but I’ll need a little more time with this. But one thing I know is that we do not have enough magicians here to battle that thing inside the dome for more than a few days – a week at most.’
‘All the senior members of the Conclave are here,’ said Cullen.
Pug nodded. He motioned to Magnus and Ruffio to come and when they were standing before him, he said, ‘Ruffio, you must go to the Academy. Every magician with any measure of ability must be made ready.’
‘Ready for what?’ asked Ruffio.
‘What do you have in mind, Father?’
‘I think I understand this contrivance of a spell,’ said Pug to his son. ‘I’ll need some time, but if I’m correct, we need a conduit for magic, a way to bring the ability of everyone we can into harmony at the right moment, and I’ll channel that energy into the dome. I think we can not only hold the Dread at bay, but actually pressure it to the point at which we can drive them back into the void and seal the breach after them.’ He turned to Magnus. ‘I need you to go to the Temple of Ishap in Rillanon.’
Magnus nodded.
‘Tell the High Priest that it is that time we once spoke of.’
‘It is that time we once spoke of,’ repeated Magnus. ‘And he’ll know what that means?’
With a grim expression, Pug said, ‘He will know all too well what that means. Then send word to Grand Master Cregan at the Order of the Shield of the Weak. Tell him to alert all the friends of the Conclave within every temple and repeat the same message.’
Magnus nodded and vanished.
Pug returned his attention to Asleum and said, ‘Now, I must study what you’ve done here.’ He closed his eyes and ret
urned his concentration to the spell lattice.
Long shadows fell over the struggling men. Hal turned his horse rapidly, using the massive gelding as a battering ram against the men on foot. The animal was exhausted and sported two wounds that had almost caused it to pitch Hal off its back, but the training and firm handling of its rider had kept the mount under control.
Hal slashed down at whoever had been foolish enough to get in his way and kept his eyes constantly moving, keeping track of what he could while avoiding being taken unawares by enemy soldiers. He turned and struck down a Ran soldier who was pressing a Crydee man, and found himself with a second of calm, isolated in a ring of bodies while around him the battle raged. The tide of the battle was turning, and it seemed to Hal that things were slipping away from him, though he had hammered Chadwick’s forces so hard that now the two armies were of roughly equal size. If he quit the field and retreated toward Edward, keeping himself between Chadwick and Edward, he would effectively win the day, as Chadwick would not be able to attack Edward’s flank should he be engaged with Oliver.
Hal saw riders off to the east and for a moment wished the day were brighter, for the sun would set within minutes and twilight would not linger, and soon both sides would be fighting in the dark. He had sent Hokada and his bowmen off on a hit-and-run attack that had pulled a full third of Ran’s heavy horse in pursuit, a suicide mission if the heavier horsemen could close.
He spied another soldier of Crydee being hard pressed and struck down the warrior facing him, a mercenary not wearing Ran colours. To the south he saw Martin’s company had driven the heavier riders back into the infantry, splitting them, and was continuing to push them into the thorn bushes he had planted, which would discourage the infantry from trying to reach the other side, even if the horses went through them without complaint.
Hal stood up in his stirrups and saw that was exactly what was happening, as the riders from Ran were turning and crashing through the gorse and thorns. Which brought them under fire from the archers still on the ridge.
Their commander turned and saw the rocks ending less than thirty yards away and regrouped his men, intending to circle round and take out Hal’s archers. Hal signalled to Martin to press on behind them if he could. Martin waved that he understood and moved his own riders off in pursuit. Hal kept standing up in his stirrups, looking for Chadwick. He had seen officers near where Martin had been fighting, but he could not see any there now. He needed to find and kill or capture the Duke of Ran to end this before darkness forced both sides to withdraw.
A small group of riders was being forced up the hill backwards by Crydee soldiers. Hal spurred his horse towards them. Glancing to the east, he saw the approaching riders were Hokada’s men, and that they were turning to intercept the cavalry trying to circle the ridge and attack Hal’s archers.
As they came around, they found Phillip and his infantry, who had been patiently waiting behind the wall, formed up in a shield-wall with pikes in what was called a hedgehog, a formation that would force the enemy riders to rein in or be impaled.
Hokada’s archers began firing as soon as the enemy came into range, and Ty’s archers behind Phillip’s position had already turned their attention to the newest threat. The riders from Ran turned, broke and fled.
The sense that something had shifted in their favour rippled through the field as the men of Crydee on the ridge gave out a shout of victory, and the archers returned their punishing attention to those on the north side of the ridge.
Martin’s contingent of riders turned and came back, and suddenly the men of Ran began reversing their swords and kneeling, the sign of surrender. Martin stood up in his stirrups and in a dry voice, hoarse from dust and shouting orders, he cried out, ‘Crydee! Crydee!’
The shout was taken up and as men of Ran saw others taking a knee, they did as well until the last knot at the south was surrounded. Hal rode over and saw five tabards covered in blood, holding various rank badges, and among them was the one he wished to see, the crest of Ran topped with a coronet, marking the rank of duke.
Lifting his visor, Hal shouted, ‘Do you yield, my lord Chadwick?’
Chadwick of Ran raised his own visor. Dust caked with perspiration surrounded his eyes. Almost too softly to be heard, he said, ‘Yes, your grace, I yield.’
Hal held up his hand and shouted, ‘The day is ours!’
The men of Crydee and LaMut cheered as the men from Ran looked on. Hal said, ‘Your parole, sir, while we attend the wounded?’
‘You have parole, sir,’ said Chadwick and he looked at the carnage visited on his men by this much-younger duke. Softly he said, ‘If Edward wins the day and I don’t end up at the end of a rope, I’ll tell his highness he was well served today.’
‘I thank your grace,’ said Hal, knowing full well that Chadwick was trying to curry favour with the possible victors.
If Prince Edward was victorious, that was. Hal turned his attention to the care of the wounded. ‘Get some fires started!’ he shouted. They would need hot water to tend wounds as well as to cook meals for starving men.
He moved away from the captured officers and began taking inventory of the damage wrought on his forces as the sun set in the west.
Tomas took the blow and felt the shock run up his arm, through his shoulder even to the point of his jaw. Draken-Korin seemed to be getting stronger.
The sun had set but neither the warriors nor the dragon observers needed light. The faint glimmer from the stars above and the promise of a rising moon gave enough illumination for eyes far beyond mortal to observe the conflict.
The duel had taken on an almost ritualistic, dance-like quality as the two opponents used every art they possessed against each other, but neither could find an advantage. Sword and magic, both were equally matched, and the dragons watched in silence.
As the large moon rose in the east, they fought on.
Pug removed himself from the matrix erected by the elves and found Magnus speaking with a tall elf. ‘Father, this is Tanderae, the loremaster of E’bar. At this point it’s safe to say he’s the leader of what’s left of this society.’
‘Sadly, true,’ said Tanderae.
Magnus continued, ‘I’ve carried word and the Ishapians understand your message. Word is going out from them to every order, to those who are members of the Conclave, to those with whom we have dealt before, and to any who will listen: all are being alerted to this danger. Some of the magicians who are more adept at magical transport are ferrying other magicians from Stardock and we’re fetching clerics as well.’
Pug noticed a point near a distinctive rock formation where magicians and clerics were appearing in twos and threes. ‘We’ll need as much help from those who stay behind as those who come to us,’ he said.
‘As I understand it, this is something you’ve had in place for a while?’ asked Magnus, obviously not approving of being kept ignorant of something so important.
‘It was something I began when I travelled to Kelewan with an Ishapian cleric named Dominic,’ his father said. He motioned for Magnus to follow him where they could not be overheard. ‘In short, the temples have traditionally distrusted magic they didn’t control, or at the least, didn’t see come direct from the gods.’
Magnus forewent comment on their recent revelation as to the true nature of the gods, and that the magic seemed to come from the worshippers, not the other way around.
‘When the Darkness, the returning horde of the Dragon Lords, was bound up and sucked into the Lifestone at the end of the first battle of Sethanon, I realized there were things so far beyond my power, I was likely to need a great deal of help.’
‘If there was such a time, this is it,’ agreed Magnus.
‘The twelve temples in Rillanon, as well as their sister temples in Krondor, Kesh, and the other great cities, number many clerics who are adept at channelling magic. I’ve set up a way for them to lend us their magic, as it were, should the need arise. The Ishapians were instrume
ntal in orchestrating this.’
‘So what are you planning?’ asked Miranda, having walked up behind Pug.
Nakor was a half-step behind her. ‘We may need to wring every bit of magic out of every magic-user on this world before we’re done.’
Nakor nodded. ‘From what I’ve seen, the Dread are getting stronger by the hour.’
‘Agreed,’ said Miranda.
‘Here’s what I plan,’ said Pug, and he began to speak softly.
Hal wolfed down a cold plate of yesterday’s beans and dried bread, glad to have it. Martin stood before him as the Duke of Crydee sat on a rock beside a campfire. ‘I’ve got Chadwick and his officers under guard behind the command tent,’ he said, obviously ready to drop where he stood. ‘The rest of the Ran army has been disarmed and is camped on the other side of the hill; the wounded have been cared for and are being fed; those too wounded to survive were given quick mercy. What are your orders?’
‘You, eat,’ said Hal. ‘I’ll give orders myself.’ He put down his plate and stood up. ‘Where’s Hokada?’
‘Over by the command tent,’ said Martin, moving towards the slowly heating beans.
Hal hurried to where the Earl of LaMut sat, rubbing his bare left foot. ‘Are you injured, my lord?’
Hokada started to rise, but Hal waved at him to keep his seat. ‘No, Your Grace. It’s just too many hours in the saddle.’ He chuckled. ‘It’s never my bum that hurts, but my feet start killing me after four or five hours in stirrup irons.’
Hal laughed. ‘I understand. My feet are also tired, but rest will have to wait.’
‘Sir?’
‘I intend to have every horse we have with a man in the saddle, cavalry or not, and we ride at dawn.’
‘Back to support Prince Edward?’
Hal nodded.
‘What of the Duke of Ran and his officers?’
‘They’ll ride with us. Without them, the rest are infantry and cavalry on foot, a long way from home. I’ll give them parole to get back to Ran as best they can, and truth to tell, I don’t care how many actually get back.’
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