Chapter 32 – Trap
Winter wiped grit out of his eyes as he struggled up the sandy slope. The ground was treacherous, with loose rocks, sand, and sharp thorny vegetation. As he crested the slope he was hit by the wind and a blast of sand, full force. He turned, shielding his eyes, spat sand, and looked over those following.
The mage they had been assigned, Corporal Bala, sat cross legged on top of the baggage cart they had been assigned to escort. He directed the magics that kept it levitating and flowing over the terrain, tapping it with a small stick on different sides. Ultimately the carriage was not all that different from the balloon carriers used to position heavy objects in the Underwater.
Arrayed around him were the Tritons under his command. The magics they had been given spared them the effort of strained muscles unused to walking. They floated along just above the surface, their swimming motions converted by the magic into propulsion. The wind was problematic, and almost blew them away at times. But they were grimly determined in their task, and overcame their aversion to touching things to hang on when needed, as the magic protected their skin from abrasion.
“Is it always like this?” asked Winter, as Bala reached the top. “Or is this some magic on the part of the enemy?”
“It is not always like this”, said Bala. “But it often is. I think it is just bad luck instead of enemy action.” He moved the carriage forward and let the Tritons rest for a bit in its lee. “At least we are missing the heat of the day!”
Winter squinted and looked about. Between the darkness and the sand it was hard to see anything. There could be an ambush anywhere. “Does Othr have any wisdom to pass on about desert warfare?” he asked Conscience.
The magpie pulled his head out from under his wing briefly to glare at him. “Not especially. He mostly stuck to more... agreeable climates.”
Winter grinned as Conscience put his head back under his wing. He had no fondness for the bird and didn't feel guilty about the indignities and discomforts it had endured. It was the work of his father, and, perhaps, the epitome of his spirit. A cheat designed to evade a sacred oath he made to all of his fellow gods. If Winter was to be a god, and he wasn't sure he really liked that idea, that wasn't the model he wished to follow.
But the information the bird provided was useful. He couldn't deny that. Gungande was a fiercely powerful weapon. Even now he felt its power, tucked away in that other space that he stored it in. He felt it hunger for battle. At least he thought it did. It might just be him. Or Othr awakening within him. He feared that if he used too much of Othr's magic, or learned too much from his Conscience, that he would then become Othr. Perhaps that is what Conscience meant by bringing him back. But Winter also knew that he needed these things. Without them he was just some confused kid way beyond his depth. He was probably that anyway. But the only way to change that was acting the part.
“Corporal”, said Winter, addressing Bala. “Please educate me about your magic. Would it cost much energy to do a scan for enemies?”
“Not at all, sir”, said Bala, reflexively adding the honorific. No matter his strangeness and family connections, the youth was polite. Bala couldn't fault him in that. Respect given deserved respect returned. “It is one of the more simple spells. Running it continuously is probably not advised unless the situation warrants it, but I can do it fairly frequently without even tapping into the strategic mana reserve.”
“Thank you, Corporal”, said Winter. “The lack of visibility worries me. If you can do a scan it would put my heart at ease.”
“As you wish!” said Bala. He made a few gestures and small pinpricks of light appeared on his palm. His brow furrowed.
Winter leaned closer. “What is revealed?” he asked.
“This is us here”, said Bala, pointing to a pair of dots at the base of his palm. “I did the simple version of the spell that only detects souls, so your compatriots do not appear, since they have spirits.”
“But there is one over there”, said Winter, indicating a small mote near his ring finger.
“Yes”, said Bala. “Probably an enemy scout. Certainly not one of ours. That would show up.”
Winter grunted, and looked into the gloom. “That way?” he asked, pointing to one side of their path.
“Yes”, said Bala. “About three hundred paces.”
Winter nodded. He spread his hands and there was suddenly a large heavy spear in them. He hefted it a few times and found a level patch of ground. He paced forward and back a few times then sank into a crouch, concentrating. Tensing, he took three great strides and, with a fierce cry, threw the spear into the night.
The others watched astonished as the thick spear rocketed out of his hands with super-human speed and disappeared into the night. It was quiet for a moment and then there was a clap of thunder.
Bala glanced down at his hand again and raised his eyebrows. “It's gone.” He nodded at Winter. “Impressive.”
Winter smiled smugly and put his hands on his hips. “I've got a few tricks...” he started. Then he yelped as Gungande returned, imbedding itself in the ground at his feet and throwing sand in all directions. The magpie cawed.
When the sand settled the spear was gone, and Winter just stood there looking sheepish.
“I would suggest”, said Bala, “that we press on as best we can while they can't see us. The scout will be missed.”
Winter nodded, and signaled to his troops. They headed out, arrayed around the carriage.
“There's quite a few”, said Bala. “Spread out around us.”
A few hours had passed. They had made good time, but were still not close to the 33rd encampment yet. The wind had died down to occasional gusts and the terrain became more sandy than rocky.
The scout had been replaced by fleeting shadows. Distant, but paralleling their tracks. First on one side, then another. At first Winter tried to sortie out to confront them. But they quickly withdrew. Suspecting a trap, Winter did not pursue or get too far away from the main body. But the trap had come anyway.
From the light on Bala's hand there were at least two dozen adversaries spread evenly around them. They were closing quickly on their position.
“Get together”, cried Winter. “Let's make a stand here rather than pressing on.” He jumped up on top of baggage and looked out into the night. The Tritons readied themselves, spread out in a rough circle.
“One hundred paces”, called out Bala. “Let’s even the odds a bit.” He had been building a small mana reservoir, and now emptied it with a few words. Motes of light shot out from him and cascaded over the landscape bathing it all in a shadowless light.
Multiple figures could be seen running, hell bent, towards them. Winter cried out and flung his spear at one, blasting it to fragments. However, no sooner than the echo of the thunderclap, each advancing creature threw their own spear. Although the distance was long, their accuracy was uncanny. Several bounced against the shield Bala had projected around them, but the Tritons were not so protected and about half of them went down.
Winter screamed again, and leapt down from the carriage. The nearest monsters were closing. They had barbed bone clubs, held ready in shrunken emaciated hands. Gungande was in Winter's hands once more and he lunged at one. The creature evaded him, though, backpedaling. Winter jumped after it, and then realized it had drawn him into fighting three of them at once. He swore as they quickly circled him. He spun in place, trying to threaten each one of them with the spear, but they dodged in and out, alternately evading and harassing him.
With an angry shout, Winter slammed the butt of the spear into the ground and sent a shock wave rippling out around him. The Forsaken were knocked from their feet, and he used the chance to dash between them and back to the carriage.
Bala floated above the ground now, protected on all sides by his magical barrier. He was busy healing or resurrecting Tritons as fast as they fell. Makaira and a few others were holding their own, backs to the carriage almost directly under Bala. Everywhere else
there was carnage.
Near panic, Winter ran to the nearest, and blasted another Forsaken that was about to skewer one of Cindarina's handmaidens, Nacre he thought. She thrust past him, stabbing another attacker who had been working up to pound Winter's skull in from behind. He whirled and thrust at it, the impact sending the undying creature flying out of sight.
“There's no up!” shouted Nacre at Winter, as she looked desperately around. Winter furrowed his brow in confusion. “We can't swim up!” she clarified. “It's like fighting stuck in mud. We don't stand a chance.”
Then Winter understood. Fighting in water was three dimensional. You could swim above or under an opponent as well as around them. Even something as elementary as herding fish required maneuvering in all dimensions. Here, the magic they were given to survive just converted their locomotion into the surface equivalent. It was only two dimensional. All the tactics, moves and forms they knew just didn't translate.
“Bala!” Winter shouted. Then he was knocked aside. A Forsaken had leapt at him while he wasn't looking and Nacre had pushed him out of the way, taking the spear in her back. Winter screamed at the grinning undead and shot a bolt of lightning out of his spear, incinerating it.
That had gotten Bala's attention at least. “Corporal”, he shouted again, over the din. “They need to swim!” Bala looked confused. Winter shook his head. He was letting the gulf between the surface and the Underwater get to him. This is what he needed Cindarina for. He scrabbled up on top of the carriage, getting closer to Bala.
“My people”, he started again. “They need to be able to fly. Like they do underwater. They can't move like they are used to if they just stuck on the ground.”
Realization dawned on Bala's face. He withdrew for a moment, summoning up additional energy. Glowing phrases appeared around him and linked together. With another wave the assembly was complete and a bright blue tinged light arced out, grounding itself in each Triton. Each was jolted back on their feet, hauled three times their height into the air, and left floating there, as if in ambient water.
Bala smiled. “It's a little tricky, stringing sub clauses together like that. But it is more efficient.”
“To me! To me!” cried Winter.
The disorientated Tritons got their bearings, and began to swim towards Winter. A few spears shot into the air, impaling the regrouping warriors. But other Tritons came to their aid, diving, swooping and stabbing at any Forsaken that had something that could be thrown.
Winter shot volley after volley of lightning into any creature that was within the illuminated radius. In short order the Forsaken were either down, or had retreated into the darkness.
It was a subdued regrouping around the carriage. Makaira did a quick count to make sure he had brought them all back. He nodded to Winter. “All here.”
Winter took a deep breath. “How much further?” he asked Bala.
“Several more hours”, said Bala, without enthusiasm.
Winter grimaced. “Hopefully we'll acquit ourselves better next time.”
Black Warrior Page 32