A Clash of Magics

by Guy Antibes

  Trevor looked at the enclave sitting at his far left, but his eyes turned to the palace spires and its golden dome. “We had talked about bottling up the enclave, but I have another task since you have more ships. I just learned that the potentate of Maskum is intimately involved in the disruption of the world’s capitals. If the royal ship departs from Khartoo,” Trevor pointed to the large red ship with furled golden sails sitting alone at the palace dock, “engage it. So, you will need ships which will let their crews fight the potentate’s vessel.”

  Samar nodded. “I’ll send out the signals. How tightly should I keep the enclave isolated?”

  “Keep them from breaking out into the harbor. You said you know the range of the magician’s weapons?”

  “We do. I was able to recruit more magicians and marines for the trusted vessels,” Samar said. “I will keep an eye on my noncombatant friends to make sure they don’t give us any unwanted surprises.”

  “I can’t give you any further advice,” Trevor said. “Good luck, and everyone appreciates your willingness to pull together a fleet.”

  “And good luck to you,” Samar said. “The land forces are the most at risk, but they must succeed.”

  “I agree. I’ll leave you now.” Trevor teleported.

  He ended up in the Brachian camp in front of his tent. Lissa was about to walk out and bumped into him and sniffed.

  “You’ve been to the sea. You smell like the ocean. Did Samar arrive?”

  “Nice man, Samar Doford,” Brother Yvan said. “We didn’t spend much time with him.”

  Lissa grinned. “I suppose not. You’ve been gone for less than half an hour.”

  “We can invade at any time. There are no more surprises on our side,” Brother Yvan said.

  “But there might be some on the Maskumite side,” Trevor said. “I have to notify the other forces. Do you want to come with me this time?” he said to Lissa.

  “I’m ready,” she said as she held out her hand. In a few minutes, they had visited the other commanders, including the tardy Sirlandians who had just arrived at the camp the Kyrians had prepared. Trevor had spent the time journeying to the different camps so he could teleport from army to army to ferry Custik around to install wards on the gates.

  The time to invade had arrived. The Brachian commander was waiting along with Trevor’s friends. Gorian would come along, but Brother Yvan, Glynna, and Lissa would stay behind with the army’s support troops who would guard the flank. The Brachians hadn’t been idle, making extendable ladders to bridge the chasm that acted like a moat protecting the enclave.

  Trevor would have rather attacked days before, but delays from Maskumite resistance plagued the eastern armies. By now, the wards that Custik had installed on the city’s gates had hopefully been triggered. Using Custik to lay the wards the previous night had been the best solution that Trevor could think of to help the other armies get through the gates. Gorian had also made offensive wards attached to arrows to trigger the enclave’s ground defenses that protected the enclave’s western aspect. Trevor and Custik spent a busy night teleporting to install more wards on the gates and on the enclave doors and windows that they could reach to discourage Maskumite magicians from attacking the Brachian army.

  The bridges were about in position when explosions began to punctuate the air. The triggered wards were the signs for General Brightwork’s army to attack the gate closest to the enclave.

  Crude wooden shields were placed on the bridges as the soldiers moved across, shielding them from the lightning bolts shot from the destroyed windows. Volst threw a lightning bolt against the posterior door, which triggered a large ward, blowing the door open. The Brachian magicians clustered around the entrance and relied on their charms to protect them as they cleaned out a small foyer.

  Trevor’s troops spread out into the enclave with copies of the reliable parts of the three maps memorized by all the soldiers. They avoided the enclave areas where they didn’t have good plans, but Trevor ensured the unknown sections were still guarded. The fighting was fierce, and every corridor was a hard-fought battle. General Brightwork’s soldiers began to arrive, having scaled the enclave wall facing the city proper.

  Trevor, fighting with Win, Volst, Custik, and a portion of the troops, headed to the enclave section holding Gareeze Plissaki’s cabal. As they fought, Trevor anxiously kept track of lightning spells. If he spotted orange bolts, he would have to be very careful.

  The magicians fought like cornered animals, and Trevor had no problem attacking them, remembering how arrogant and cruel his testers had been when he last set foot in the enclave. Bodies littered the ground on the way to the heavy doors protecting Plissaki’s cabal.

  Custik planted a powerful ward on the door. Everyone took cover except for Trevor, who threw a captured knife into the door, triggering the ward. The explosion threw fragments of the door in all directions, and Trevor didn’t have a defense against the projectiles caused by the ward. He held his arm in front of his face, and then when the blast was over, he waved his hand to clear the smoke.

  A lightning bolt shot out of the door, splashing against his chest, but it was silver and had no effect on him. The others ran past him into the rooms, and the fighting was even more intense. Neither side gave quarter to the other, but numbers finally overcame the cabal magicians, and Trevor ran to the open windows in a large dining room overlooking the harbor. Magicians had used ropes to clamber down the wall to boats waiting below.

  Trevor looked out into the bay to see Doford’s ships dodging the weak defense put up by the Khartooians, and then he headed toward the fleeing magicians. As he stomped through the ruins of the cabal section, there was no Gareeze Plissaki, but he did step over the body of one of the magicians who had interviewed him. Maskum’s magical prowess had suffered a devastating blow, but he wondered where Plissaki was?

  Trevor stepped onto a patio with a view of the capital to see smoke coming from the palace and shook his head.

  “Of course,” he said. “Magicians are defending their leader, the potentate.”

  “Let me go with you,” Win said, walking up to his side with Volst and Custik.

  “You aren’t strong enough,” Trevor said.

  Custik squinted. “I charged your stuff before we started. You can walk back if you need to.”

  “We can walk back,” Trevor said to Win. “Tell those who ask that Win and I have gone to the palace. Everyone else can make sure we have scoured the enclave.”

  “Go on. Most of the fighting is over here,” Volst said.

  Trevor looked at his friends. They all had scorch marks and cuts but had survived the attack. He took Win’s wrist and suddenly stood in front of the Maskum seer’s house.

  “The best magicians are probably ahead,” Trevor said.

  They looked back and saw banners of Viksar marching down the street. Win raised his sword and waved it at the oncoming force.

  A squad of soldiers broke from the front and pulled their swords as they ran toward Trevor and Win.

  “We’re friends!” Win said as he dropped his sword and raised his hands. Trevor sheathed his before reaching for the sky.

  The squad kept their swords pointed at them as an officer arrived. “Prince Trevor,” the commander said. “You beat us here.”

  “We did. How was the fighting?” Trevor said as he lowered his hands.

  “Brutal at the gate, but after a few blocks, the citizens retreated into their houses. Will we find a defense at the palace?”

  “We’ll have to be prepared for one. The most powerful wizard that I met at the enclave wasn’t there,” Trevor said. “I suspect the worst the enemy has to throw at us is yet to come. Move to the end of the block and stop.”

  The Viksaran commander let two hundred men rest on either side of the street. Trevor composed messages to the other forces assigned to attack the palace. They had to run to the far end of the road toward the Jarkanese forces. “Are you willing to jump into a fight?”

/>   “That’s what I’m here for,” Win said. “I will avenge the death of Azar Zutterak.”

  They walked toward the main Jarkanese force another block away and spotted General Henkari reading his message.

  “You secured the enclave?” Henkari asked.

  Trevor nodded. “It was costly on both sides. Gareeze Plissaki wasn’t in the enclave. The best enclave magicians will likely be protecting the potentate. There is also a private dock on the shore side of the palace where the potentate’s ship is probably ready to set sail.”

  “Then we should go there,” Henkari said.

  Trevor shook his head. “No need. Samar Doford has ships enough to block its departure. I suggest that you pause long enough to confirm what everyone’s role is, assuming a powerful magician presence, before you move forward.”

  “We don’t have that much time before there could be a counterattack,” Henkari said. “We’ve met the primary objective, so we should figure out what to do quickly.”

  “You have the plan for the palace?” Trevor asked.

  “It isn’t elegant, but this is what it looks like in general.” Henkari pulled a large paper with a crude sketch of the compound.

  “I wish we had Custik with us, but it would take him half an hour to get here. Let me use your most powerful magician to teleport inside. We can land just inside the side gate at the end of the street.”

  “Then do it. My men have extra shields and charms.” Henkari motioned to one of his officers. “Bring me a shield for Win Fenton.”

  “I made sure the Brachians were charmed when they were going to attack the enclave from the city side,” Trevor said.

  “Good. I hadn’t asked. Shall we give the potentate a visit?” Henkari asked.

  “It is long overdue,” Trevor said with a grin as he handed a shield to Win.

  Win and Trevor followed the vanguard as the army began to split, walking along with three of the streets leading to the square fronting the main palace gate. Before they reached the end, the Maskumites attacked.

  “From this point on, our focus is to get inside,” Henkari said. “Good luck!”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  ~

  T revor instantly had to deal with a splitting headache as he looked at the side gate from the inside. The Jarkanese magician wasn’t much stronger than Volst or Win. Maskumite troops massed in front of the large gate with more on the top of the wall. No one noticed the two fighters moving toward the side entrance. Trevor nodded to the Jarkanese soldier as they pressed themselves in with the men after drawing their swords.

  Pounding came from outside the stout side door. Trevor began to cut down the defenders as the Jarkanese magician shot lightning bolts at the Maskumites. Trevor wished that Win was at his side, but that would be remedied in a moment or two, Trevor thought as they reached the gate, still fending off the enemy. Trevor managed to lift the heavy timber holding the door in place and twisted the latch.

  The door flew backward into both of them as Jarkanese soldiers flooded through the door, pushing the defenders back as Trevor and the magician struggled to keep the defenders off them. Suddenly another fighter was next to Trevor.

  Win gave Trevor a grin, “Now the final work begins!”

  “Attack the rear gate from the inside!” an officer commanded, and soon there were a few hundred soldiers cutting down the Maskumites from the inside as the Maskumite soldiers kept their attention on the soldiers massing on the outside of the walls. Trevor and Win took a squad of soldiers east, fighting their way toward the palace’s rear gate, which was more heavily defended than the smaller side door, but after fierce fighting with more magicians involved on both sides, Trevor waded through the exchanges of lightning bolts and spears of fire leading troops to the big double doors. Trevor used all his strength, helped by Win and others, to crank the bars of the door open. Viksaran troops flooded through to join in the conflict.

  The officers recognized Win. “This is Trevor Arcwin,” Win said, his chest heaving from the heavy fighting.

  “It’s time to invade the palace itself,” Trevor said, deciding on the spot to fight with the Viksarans. “The lethality of magicians will increase when we enter the palace. Do you have an extra shield?”

  One of the officers took a shield from a fallen comrade and shoved it into Trevor’s arms. “Make his death mean something,” the man said.

  Trevor nodded solemnly and slipped his arm through the straps on the backside. There were now hundreds of allied soldiers inside the palace walls. Trevor looked up. The fighting had finally reached the outside walls, and soon all that remained was taking the potentate’s palace.

  Win spotted a set of stairs leading down half a flight. “Undoubtedly, the kitchen. I know all about kitchens.” He raised his sword and shouted. “For Azar Zutterak!”

  The battle cry was repeated among many of the Viksarans as they followed Win. One of the battle magicians went to place a ward on the door and was blown back against the wall. “I’ll go,” Trevor said. He used the pommel of his sword and the reinforced metal point at the bottom of his shield to break the latch and kicked the door open.

  Streams of lightning bolts, all silver, and white, converged on Trevor, but he ignored them all and plunged into the potentate’s kitchen. The Viksaran soldiers flooded into the room, fighting magicians who weren’t warriors. The ferocity of Viksaran warriors neutralized the Maskumite magicians’ incredible powers.

  The kitchen filled up, and soon more officers entered, leading squads of men out through the various doors leading upstairs to the palace. Trevor spotted a door that looked like a closet, but he hoped it was a servant’s passage. He threw open the door and looked into the dark space. Win lent a magician’s light to illuminate the stairs leading upward.

  “To me!” Trevor shouted, and soon fifty or more troops were behind him as he ran up the steps two at a time until he reached a small landing. “Some of you go through here but be careful of magicians.”

  One of the soldiers grinned and pulled out a fistful of charms and stuffed them back into his tunic. Half of the men were out of the stairway and back into the fight. Trevor led the others, with more men joining them, to the second landing. He pulled the latch, but the door was blocked. It should have opened from the inside, but it was stuck.

  “I need a ward!” Trevor said.

  A soldier dressed like the magician-soldiers Trevor had to run from in the Gnarled Wood so long ago ran up. “Get back!” the woman said.

  Trevor ran up the stairs to avoid the effects of the blast. The sound was loud, but when the smoke cleared, the soldiers pushed aside a shattered dresser or chest of some kind from in front of the door. As soldiers began to shove the massive piece of furniture from the opening, a silvery bolt illuminated the stairway from above. The bolt splashed against Trevor’s head. He turned to see three magicians on the landing above him. The men’s eyes grew when their victim looked up at them. Trevor ran up the stairs. One drew a knife, and in the close fighting, he nicked Trevor in the arm, but in a moment, all three of Trevor’s enemies were down.

  Trevor spotted a Viksaran officer coming up from below. “Take a company up to the next level,” he said, not knowing if the officer knew who he was or not, as he stepped into a central corridor, surrounded by fighting. The servant’s stairway had opened onto a large hall with high ceilings and ornate carvings. Across the way, soldiers were backing away from a newly warded door. Trevor helped defend some of his fellow soldiers as a Viksaran magician triggered the ward and blew the doors open.

  Trevor finished off a palace guard and looked into the potentate’s throne room. It overlooked the sea, and Trevor could see a crowd of people rushing toward the potentate’s ship. As much as he would have liked fighting to finish taking over the palace, Trevor located the most senior-looking officer in the room, who happened to be a Jarkanese officer.

  “Get men to attack that ship from the dock. We have ships in the harbor to stop them but capturing is better tha
n killing.”

  The Jarkanese leader nodded and began ordering men out of the chaos of fighting. The Maskumite defenders were outnumbered in the palace.

  Win ran to Trevor’s side and followed Trevor’s eyes out the window. “Is that our next destination?”

  Trevor raised his eyebrows. He hadn’t thought of teleporting, but Win grabbed Trevor’s wrist. “Teleport!” Win commanded.

  Trevor shrugged, and the two men suddenly appeared at the gate to the entrance of the potentate’s pier. To Trevor’s surprise, a thin spear of orange lightning licked out from the deck of the ship, splintering the timber of the open gate, missing them both.

  “Shields up,” Trevor said as they walked purposefully toward the gangplank but kept their shields covering them from more bolts that came their way. By the time they could step up into the ship, it began to pull away from the dock. Jarkanese and Viksaran magicians began to approach them, laying their own fire and lightning bolts toward the potentate’s ship. Wherever the orange lightning hit, if no shield stopped the bolt, a soldier died. No charms could stop the weapon.

  The exchange kept going. “We need to get on board!” Trevor said, putting his sword arm around Win’s shoulder. “We will try again!” and using Win’s magic, he barely made it onto the deck. Win staggered, his magical reserves shattered, and Trevor had to blink to clear his splitting headache. The teleportation barely worked, but they were oriented with their shields pointed toward those remaining on the ship.

  Win regained his footing and raised his sword, spying a man wearing a cloth-of-gold tunic over armor. He charged. Trevor’s eyes were only for Gareeze Plissaki, and he spotted him turning toward Win.

  Trevor closed with the man. As the ship started to burn, the sails rained burning embers down onto the deck. Gareeze turned to run from a falling boom, and Trevor followed, but the flaming timber fell, pinning them to the deck .

  Gareeze gasped and turned to Trevor, who was certain he had broken his shoulder. Trevor grabbed his fallen shield and held it in front to deflect an orange bolt that would surely kill him. Gareeze was dangerous, even in his injured condition. Trevor inched his way toward the man, not daring to peek above the edge of the shield. Splashes of the magician’s brutal lightning began to peck away at the surface of Trevor’s shield. It was a matter of time before the magician’s bolts would break the shield, leaving Trevor’s body exposed to the deadly lightning.