The Choice of Magic

by Michael G. Manning

  Lightly touching the heart-stone enchantments, he thought he could feel the emotions of the primal spirits, but there were no distinct thoughts. I am not a sorcerer, Will thought, trying to project his intention through the enchantments. I will free you instead. Will you do a favor for me before you go?

  As one, the four elementals bowed. Will decided that was as close to a ‘yes’ as he could hope for. Carefully, he began plucking at the knotted enchantments. Once you are released, destroy the camp. These soldiers are trying to conquer my homeland. Help me keep my people free. Please.

  He continued teasing the knots apart until first one, then another fell apart. It took another couple of minutes before he had destroyed all four.

  The two earth elementals sank into the ground, while the two fire elementals swelled, growing larger by the second. The tent caught fire as Will ran out, and he almost fell as the earth began to shake. Tailtiu waited outside with one hand on her hip.

  “I knew you were a fool. That sorcerer nearly killed you, didn’t he?” she accused. The tent exploded in a fireball as she spoke, but the fae woman ignored the conflagration.

  “You knew I was fighting?”

  “I heard everything,” she answered.

  Will glared at her. “Why didn’t you help?”

  “You told me to wait outside. Be careful what you say when I am bound by a bargain. I could not have set foot inside even if I had wanted.” Then she glanced to one side. “Although honestly, it might have been more interesting if you had died.”

  The ground jumped beneath Will’s feet, causing him to fall, and more fires erupted from nearby tents. Everywhere he could hear men yelling, cursing, and sometimes screaming as they ran back and forth, uncertain where the source of the attack was.

  Will looked up at Tailtiu, who was still on her feet, balancing on the heaving ground as easily as a captain on a ship at sea. “Unbelievable,” he muttered.

  “You set his elementals free?” asked Tailtiu. “Why not take their power for yourself?”

  He sensed something behind her questions, a hidden meaning, but in the chaos, he didn’t have time to think about it. “Because I’m not a fucking sorcerer,” he spat. He might have doubted his grandfather’s prejudice before, but he had felt the emotions within the elementals. Keeping them enslaved was wrong, he could feel it all the way down to his bones. Will got to his feet and promptly fell again when the earth bucked once more. “Can you help me? We need to escape.”

  His aunt smiled wickedly, then knelt in front of him. “Climb on my back. I can’t carry you in my arms. I’ll need them free.”

  Will gave her a suspicious look. He outweighed the fae woman by at least a hundred pounds, and though he knew she was strong, he couldn’t imagine her carrying him piggyback.

  “Hurry up,” she urged.

  He fell twice just trying to do that, but finally he got on, wrapping his legs around her waist and putting his arms over her shoulders. Tailtiu stood easily, then leaned back and purred, “That’s a nice place for your hands. Please continue.”

  Will nearly fell off as he tried to rearrange his arms to avoid touching any of her more interesting regions. He nearly fell again as her body began to shift and change beneath him. Her skin sprouted fur, and her limbs elongated as her hands and feet changed into cloven hooves. Half a minute later he found himself sitting atop a doe nearly as large as a pony.

  Tailtiu’s long neck curved back as she fixed him with one eye. “Ever ridden a horse?” she asked.

  “No,” said Will, clutching at her neck so he wouldn’t slide off her back.

  “Good,” she answered. “This is nothing like that.” And then she leapt forward, causing him to cry out in alarm. The next few minutes were a nightmare. Not because of the carnage and chaos occurring behind him, but mostly because he was in constant fear of being thrown and falling to what he was sure would be a quick and painful death. The fae doe flew across the heaving ground as though she had wings rather than feet, and at points she soared through the air as she leapt over pickets and other obstacles.

  In the beginning he tried wrapping his arms around her neck and keeping his body flat against her back, but that caused him to slam into her every time she jumped, so eventually, he shifted to sitting while just leaning as far forward as he could manage. When he looked over his shoulder, he saw more elementals in the camp, battling the ones he had freed. Apparently, the Darrowan army had more than one sorcerer with them.

  Tailtiu ran on, her swift legs, carrying her effortlessly forward across the terrain like a mercurial breeze. They had passed the outer perimeter of the camp and were nearly to the place where the forward sentries should be when she came to a gentle stop. Her body shifted back to her normal form and Will found himself trying to disentangle himself from her without touching anything else that might cause her to tease him.

  The fae woman’s face flushed with excitement. “The dismount was almost as fun as the mounting,” she said slyly.

  It took Will a moment to get his thoughts under control. Then he asked, “Why did you stop?”

  She winked at him. “If you ever let me start, you’ll never have to ask that question.” When Will refused to respond she began to pout. “You’re no fun. My time is up. Unless you wish to invoke another of your favors I’m done. I have paid this one in full. Would you like to state your terms?”

  Will shook his head. “No thanks. Do you know what time it is?”

  Tailtiu glanced at the sky. “There’s roughly an hour left until dawn.”

  “How long will the mist last after you leave?”

  “A few minutes,” she answered, “no more. Are you sure you don’t wish to negotiate the terms of your next favor?”

  Will bent his knees, then straightened them again, finding new appreciation for ground that didn’t move underneath him. “No. I’ll finish on my own.” He regretted the wording immediately, but Tailtiu only snickered lightly before vanishing in the mist.

  With an hour left he knew Fulstrom’s army would be readying to march, but rather than slip past the sentries and return immediately he decided on another path. Slipping forward through the mist, he caught one of the sentries with his source-link spell and disabled him before doing the same to the man’s companion. Once more he considered killing them, but he pushed the thought aside. They won’t be able to fight until this battle is long over.

  Expelling the turyn he had stolen, he moved on, targeting the next group of sentries fifty yards down the line. With luck he could get them all, giving the enemy army even less time to react when the Terabinian troops arrived.

  Chapter 50

  Will found the task of disabling the sentries so easy that by the time he got to the last pair he decided to experiment. He remembered seeing his grandfather catch three men at once, so he thought he would attempt to get both men at once. It turned out to be harder than he had anticipated, and he failed spectacularly.

  One of the two spells fizzled immediately, and the second missed its target. The mist had already faded away, and one of the sentries caught a glimpse of his figure in the dark. The guard called out to his companion, and the two men lowered their spears in Will’s direction.

  Shit! He repeated his effort, aiming for just one man this time. When the line of his spell connected, he injected a healthy dose of his turyn into the man. It was far quicker than draining the sentry, and with the other soldier leaping to skewer him, time was at a premium. His target fell forward, vomiting, while Will tried to dodge right to keep from being impaled.

  The tip of the spear tore through his left trouser leg, grazing the skin. Will tried to move closer, drawing his sword, but his opponent was too quick. The sentry backpedaled, bringing the point of the spear back in line for another thrust, and Will was forced to retreat. It was quickly becoming obvious that the instructors hadn’t been lying—a sword was a lousy weapon against a spear in an open field. Making matters worse, he wasn’t wearing any armor.

  I’m abou
t to die. Will took advantage of the distance between them to turn and run.

  The sentry ran after him, but in the dark the sentry quickly lost sight of him. Will circled around, watching the guard stumble through the night, then he closed on the man from the rear. He had just gotten close enough when the man spotted him again, but it was too late. Will’s spell connected with the sentry’s source, and he sent a powerful pulse of turyn into the man. Before the soldier could recover, he ran forward and thrust his sword into the sentry’s belly.

  It was anything but a clean death. The soldier groaned and fell forward, vomiting onto Will as he stumbled and tried to stay on his feet. Will thrust again, this time higher, but his sword caught in the soldier’s gambeson, merely grazing the man’s ribs.

  In the end it took him three more thrusts to finish the sentry off, and the man screamed repeatedly, begging him for mercy. Will felt cold tears running down hot cheeks as he tried to suppress his guilt. Then he looked around for the last remaining sentry.

  The nauseated soldier had gotten to his feet and was running back toward the enemy encampment. Will went after him, catching up easily as the man fell and started retching again. What followed was simple murder. He felt a wave of nausea pass over him that had nothing to do with magic as he finished the man off, but he didn’t vomit.

  Closing his eyes tightly, Will spent several minutes getting himself under control. Then he bent and cleaned his sword on the dead man’s gambeson before sheathing it. He set his feet on a westerly course, back toward his friends. He had a report to deliver.

  ***

  The companies had already assembled into marching order when he arrived. The camp perimeter guard took him directly to Lord Fulstrom, who was still in his pavilion. The baron had just finished getting his breastplate on with the assistance of another man when Will came in. “You took long enough,” said Lord Fulstrom. “Did you learn anything?”

  Will wasted no time. “They have nearly twice as many men, but their camp is in chaos, milord.”

  “What does that mean?”

  He pulled the bundle of papers out of his tunic. “I took these from the table in the commander’s tent. They looked important.”

  Fulstrom thumbed through the papers quickly. “It’s a mixture of logistics reports and other minutiae. Some of it may be important. Unfortunately, you took too long. We’re about to march. These will have to wait until later.” His gaze returned to Will and fixed him with an intense stare. “Did you say you got into their commander’s tent?”

  Will nodded. “I was caught after entering, Your Lordship. I killed the commander and ran. After that, everything went crazy. The earth started shaking and there was fire everywhere. If it hadn’t been for all the confusion, I might not have gotten out.”

  “I can’t even imagine how you got into the center of their camp. Didn’t they have guards? How did you kill their commander? Wasn’t he protected?” asked Fulstrom.

  He knew he was treading on dangerous ground. He couldn’t simply admit to using magic on the sentries. “There was some sort of commotion in the camp. I think two of the officers were arguing. When the fires started, the guards left their posts, so I ducked into the commander’s tent. After I killed him, everything got worse. I think whatever magic he was using went out of control.” Will was careful not to say the word ‘elemental’ since he hadn’t learned it until after studying with Arrogan, and he didn’t want to give away just how much he knew about sorcerers and their workings.

  The baron rubbed his chin, muttering, “That makes no sense. Why would his elementals go out of control, and who would be fighting in their camp? Are you sure you’ve told me the truth?”

  “To the best of my understanding, Your Lordship, which is limited. A lot of things happened that were incomprehensible to me,” Will lied.

  “Well, your account of their numbers squares with the rough estimates the other scouts gave. If their camp is in disarray, we had best not waste the opportunity,” said Lord Fulstrom. “Find your armor and report back to your company. We march soon.”

  Grateful to be out from under the baron’s suspicious gaze, Will returned to his tent. He had worried that it, along with his gear, might have been packed already, but it appeared that the army intended to return to the camp. His bedroll and kit bag were still where he had left them. Working quickly, he shrugged into his gambeson and mail and hurried to find Company B.

  Dave gave him a strange look when he fell in with the others in his squad. “I thought you had deserted.”

  “I asked to help them scout,” said Will.

  Sven and Corporal Taylor glanced at each other while Tiny merely nodded. Then the big man spoke. “At least they’re smart enough to listen to you now.”

  Sven grumbled. “Rule number one as a soldier, never volunteer. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  “I’d volunteer to go the hell home if I thought they’d let me,” said Dave. “I’ve got a bad feeling about today.”

  “They should let you rest,” said Tiny. “You haven’t slept since yesterday, have you?”

  Corporal Taylor interrupted, “Fat chance of that. They know we’re outnumbered. I heard the sergeants talking. They want every man that can walk on the field today.”

  “If anyone should be given a rest, it ought to be me,” groused Dave. “I’m still covered in bruises.”

  “You look fine to me,” offered Sven. “If anything, the swelling improved your ugly looks.”

  “It feels worse than you think,” whined Dave. “I just want to make sure it doesn’t turn into something more serious, like a spear in the gut.”

  “A spear would probably improve your conversation skills,” observed Tiny.

  Dave’s eyes narrowed. “I couldn’t talk. I’d be dead, idiot.”

  Tiny nodded in agreement. “Exactly.”

  Sergeant Nash yelled, “Silence in the ranks!” and moments later the orders to march went out. They did the first two miles in a column five men wide before switching to a combat formation that stretched out across most of the width of the pass. The main line was three ranks deep, though one unit, Company E, remained behind the lines with Lord Fulstrom.

  The fact that they only had one company in reserve was a sad testimony to how undermanned they were. The shield wall passed over the now-conscious but still helpless sentries, and the men of Company E were tasked with rounding them up and putting them under a small guard. The main line was in sight of the small earthworks before a horn blast in the enemy camp announced their presence.

  They marched on without pause, while in the distance Will could see the enemy scrambling to get their men into formation and prepare to receive them. We caught them off-guard, but will it be enough?

  A chaotic mass of men ran toward their line. As they drew closer, Will could see that they were all young. The spears they carried were strange as well, with short, heavy shafts connected to a long, slender head that was more of a spike than a proper spearhead. Sergeant Nash yelled a warning from behind the line, “Skirmishers! Ready shields!”

  “Skirmishers?” Will asked aloud, knowing no one besides Sven or Tiny could hear him.

  “They won’t engage,” said Sven. “They’ll just throw their spears and run back. Keep your shield up.”

  Just as the old soldier had predicted, the Darrowan skirmishers ran up until they were almost close enough for Will to skewer one, then they threw their spears and darted away. Each of the skirmishers carried two of the strange spears, and they threw the second one before they were out of range. Men up and down the line yelled out as a few of them were unlucky enough to be hit. Will saw one of the spears hit Tiny’s shield, and the slender point went completely through the thin wood. The point had gone half a foot through the shield before it stopped, making it nearly impossible to remove.

  Tiny struggled to keep his shield up properly with the long, wooden shaft throwing him off-balance. “Pull the shaft off!” yelled Sven. “It isn’t attached.”

&nb
sp; That made little sense to Will, though he later learned the metal points were made that way to keep an enemy from picking them up and throwing them back. Even after Tiny had removed the wooden portion, he was still left with a sharp piece of steel pointing inward and threatening him every time his shield took another blow.

  Glancing to one side, Will saw that one man had been much less fortunate. He’d had his shield braced against his shoulder, and one of the strange spears had gone completely through, pinning his shield to his chest. Will wanted to stop and help, but there was no time; the line kept moving.

  Crossbow bolts began slamming into them then, and a few more men fell as they advanced. As the skirmishers fled the field, Will could see a shield wall topping the small, earthen ramp in front of them, and he realized they were about to march down into the ditch and then up again, all while the enemy was standing several feet above them. Shit. He was convinced he was about to die, and the urge to break and run was almost overwhelming.

  But he couldn’t abandon Tiny and Sven, and even if he were willing to do that, the second and third ranks were pushing them forward. Retreat simply wasn’t an option. It was do or die. Or more likely, do and die, thought Will.

  Working as quickly as he could, Will used the source-link spell and began pushing his turyn into the men directly ahead once they were in range. He managed to get one, two, three—and then the lines met, and everything went to hell. With his shield up, he couldn’t see anything; he just kept pressing forward while blindly thrusting with his spear.

  The men in the rank behind him could see, though, and they used their weapons to better effect. Most of the Terabinian line stalled in the trench, but the portion in the center, where Will was, managed to get up the earthen slope. Everywhere men were dying, screaming and bleeding, yet somehow Sergeant Nash’s voice continued to cut through the cacophony. “Company B, wheel left!” The perpetually angry sergeant continued screaming, keeping order and somehow making what they had practiced in drill actually work.