Otto shifted his strategy this time, conjuring three smaller fireballs and sending them exploding into three different targets. The damage was still impressive if not as total. Now that there was an opening for the eventual assault, destroying catapults and killing archers was more important.
He would have liked to hear what the enemy’s new commander—he’d made good on his threat to kill the one that spoke to them last night—was saying to rally his men. It must have been good since Otto couldn’t see anyone running for it. Not that he could see much.
A dozen fireballs later Otto was starting to feel drained. He figured one more round and he’d be finished for a while. Best to stop before that. Being powerless in enemy territory was a good way to get killed.
He glanced left and right. The others had already fallen back which wasn’t a surprise. Even with their training, none of the war wizards had broken through their personal barriers. Otto had no intention of teaching them how either. He wanted followers not competitors.
With the magical bombardment complete, Otto waved to Hans and his squad. They were strapped into the magical armor and each of them carried heavy, wooden gangplanks about eight feet wide and twelve feet long. Their job was to drop the planks across the spike trench then deal with any archers still near the opening Otto blasted in the wall. It was the armor’s first chance to shine in real combat and Otto was anxious. If it went badly, he’d lose what little confidence he’d gained from General Varchi.
It was too late to worry about it now. The five suits went clanking out, each hoisting a plank that was actually more like a section of wall and carrying it with no difficulty. As they approached the enemy position, a few archers shook off the shock and fired a barrage of arrows. A handful stuck in the wood without doing any damage.
Their lack of success didn’t discourage the enemy archers. They kept up their useless barrage until the planks went down across the trench. A few arrows pinged off the heavy steel plate, doing even less damage than they did to the wood.
Hans reached over his shoulder and drew the massive sword attached to his back. A single swing sliced three archers who leaned too far out of the fort in half. Two other squad members slammed their massive gauntlets into the wall and ripped the opening wider so it would be easier for the infantry. Walls that had looked so sturdy a moment ago crumbled like dry cake under the armor’s powerful gauntlets.
A horn sounded and the Second and Third Legions advanced around him. They marched at a steady pace, turtled up to avoid any incoming arrows. A few came arcing in, but it appeared most of the archers had had enough. When the soldiers reached the edge of the trench, Hans and the others moved their armor aside to allow the regulars through.
Otto had seen all he needed to. If the Second and Third couldn’t wrap this up with a minimum of losses, he didn’t know what more he could do to help. He fell back to the rear command position. Three-quarters of the way there he spotted Axel and General Varchi watching the army’s progress from a safe distance. He angled their way.
“An impressive display,” Axel said. “War will never be the same after this.”
“Hardly seems fair though,” the general said. “There’s little honor to be found in such a slaughter. Hopefully the Straken commander will do the wise thing and surrender.”
“There was little honor in Straken slaughtering helpless villagers before they retreated,” Axel said, drawing a glare from the general.
Otto kept his thoughts to himself. The more he heard from General Varchi, the more he thought Wolfric needed to replace him. Honor had no place in war. Otto would have happily killed every Straken soldier with magic had he the power. The only lives that interested him were those of Garenland citizens. The honorable dead were of no use to anyone.
“Ideally,” Otto said. “Word of what happened here will spread and the next time we show up somewhere the enemy will simply surrender and no one will have to die.”
“That is beyond naive,” General Varchi said. “No matter the odds, when you invade a country, the citizens will fight. It’s unavoidable.”
Finally, something they agreed on. How nice.
Chapter 39
The Lady in Red stood as calmly as she could in the courtyard in front of Castle Marduke. A light dusting of snow had fallen the night before, little more than an annoyance for the moment, but anyone that had lived in Straken for as long as she had knew the real storms weren’t far off. She offered a silent prayer to any power that might be listening that the snows would come early this year. Let the miserable Garenlanders get bogged down to their knees in it. Let them starve in the cold.
Her curses were all well and good, but they accomplished nothing. She grimaced and pulled the fur-lined hood of her cloak up. She was expecting one of her message riders any time now. The last report she’d received indicated that the enemy army was within days of the Saber Plains.
It would all come down to that. If the combined armies could either defeat outright or at least badly damage Garenland’s forces, they had a chance that they wouldn’t reach the capital this year. A draw or heaven forbid a rout and she’d have to find some way to convince Uther to allow her to seek aid from the other nations of the alliance.
She shivered and not from the chill northern breeze. Uther hated anything that smacked of weakness, but her hope was that he hated the idea of his capital city getting sacked even more.
A faint sound drew her attention and sure enough the messenger was thundering across the drawbridge. Sweat lathered his horse’s chest and flanks. It looked like the beast was near death. She tried not to take that as an omen.
The rider, dressed in dark leather and furs, leapt off his mount and offered her a scroll. She didn’t bother asking him any questions. The scroll was at least three riders removed from whoever first received it. Instead she broke the seal and started reading.
She felt the blood drain from her face. The fort had fallen and the combined army was devastated. Thousands dead and thousands more taken prisoner. Half a legion had managed to break out and escape. They were making their way north and would continue toward the capital unless they received orders to the contrary. The enemy’s losses were estimated at less than a thousand.
The Lady in Red almost screamed. A thousand! The Garenlanders had lost nearly that many in the first skirmish with a force a tenth the size of the one they faced here. It wasn’t possible!
Forcing herself to calm down she resumed reading the letter. The reason for their loss was magic. Garenland’s wizards had finally made an appearance on the battlefield and what an appearance they made. Fire rained down from the sky, destroying siege equipment and killing men by the hundreds. Giant suits of armor bridged the trenches and broke the fort’s walls. The magic broke their soldiers’ will and many surrendered at once. Others weren’t killed outright but wounded and unable to fight.
The message wasn’t signed by either the army’s general or his sub-commander but rather by a lieutenant whose name she’d never seen before. If he was the highest-ranking officer still alive, there was no hope for a counterattack. Not that she had much hope for one anyway after reading the note.
She realized the rider was still waiting before her, panting for breath. “Go. Rest and eat. You did well getting this to me.”
“Ma’am.” He led his horse toward the stables leaving her alone in the snow.
After reading this there was no chance Uther could deny they needed help, magical help, as well as soldiers. She hated wizards as much as any right-thinking person and this did nothing to change her mind about how dangerous they were, but sometimes you had to fight fire with fire.
A brief walk through the cold dark halls of Castle Marduke brought her to the nearly empty throne room. Uther sat with one leg slung over the arm of his throne, a flagon in his hand, and not a guard in sight. At least his sword was near to hand.
The king smiled when he saw her and eyed the scroll in her hand. “News from the front? How badly did we crush the Garenland fools?”
“We lost. Our forces were nearly wiped out. Half a legion survived and is making their way here. It seems Garenland brought their wizards with them.”
Uther’s smile turned to a scowl. “Wizards! I can’t believe they trusted those unnatural monsters on the battlefield. I always knew Garenland was full of weaklings and this proves it. If good steel can’t do the job they resort to magic. Pathetic!”
“Yes, Majesty. However distasteful such means are, it is difficult to deny the effectiveness of their wizards. If Straken is to survive, we’ll need help, including wizards of our own.”
Uther surged out of his throne and hurled his flagon across the room. “You dare speak to me of bringing wizards here, to Straken, to fight our battles for us. You think I need the help of those horse-lovers in Rolan? Or the arrogant fools in Tharanault? Why not suggest we take out a loan from the bankers in Lasil while you’re at it?”
The Lady in Red weathered the storm of Uther’s anger just as she had many times previously. In truth he had little temper for ruling, though she couldn’t deny he had cunning and a cruel streak a mile wide. There were no doubt better men to serve as king in Straken, but she only had Uther to deal with.
“Majesty, I know my suggestion displeases you. I knew it would before I spoke. However, the facts are this. All our remaining men under arms number less than what we lost on the Saber Plains. Even if we could recall them in time to reach Marduke before the Garenlanders, they would be torn apart by the enemy’s magic just as our other army was. If we want to win, I see no other way forward.”
Uther snarled and glared around the room. Unfortunately, there was nothing there for him to vent his rage on. At last he slumped back onto his throne. “They got me good. I had the invasion all planned out. We’d take the northern province before winter and march on Garen City in the spring. As long as their weakling king was in charge, I could have had my way with the miserable country. Then he had to go and get himself killed and his brat took over.”
“It was certainly inconvenient, Majesty.” Uther had accepted the necessity of her reasoning; she knew him well enough to recognize that. Now it was just a matter of letting him vent until he gave her permission to carry out the mission.
“That’s putting it mildly. By all rights a boy king with no experience should be an easier opponent. So much for that.” At last he blew out a long sigh. “Go and do what you must. Straken must survive if we’re to avenge this insult.”
The Lady in Red bowed. “The portal opens in Rolan in two hours. If I hurry, I can be packed and on my way by then. I won’t fail you, Majesty.”
His smile returned, melancholy this time. “You never have. Good luck.”
She bowed and hurried out of the throne room. She had packing and planning to do. Convincing their so-called partners to help wasn’t going to be easy.
But she’d do it. There was no question in her mind. She would save Straken no matter what it took.
Chapter 40
Captain Kelten completed his rounds, checking every guard post in the castle and finding all exactly as it should be. He made the journey twice a day and had done so every day since assuming his position as captain of the royal guard. He took his job and the oath to obey the king seriously.
Yet deep down he couldn’t deny a part of him still wasn’t satisfied with how he’d left his investigation into the late king’s assassination. He had missed something, he knew it, but what that something was he had no idea. He’d kept his word to King Wolfric not to pursue the matter further, both because of his oath and because he simply didn’t have anywhere else to search.
Kelten sighed and rounded the corner to his office. The hole-in-the-wall was little bigger than a closet in the king’s chambers, but that was fine. It was really just a quiet place out of everyone’s way where he could read reports and think. Unlike merchants with their ostentatious carved desks and leather chairs, he had no one to impress.
As he approached the smooth, plain door he froze. A piece of rolled-up parchment had been tucked through the iron hoop of his knocker. No one had ever left him a message before. If one of his men needed something, they’d say so when he checked their post and an off-duty guard would simply wait and speak to him when he arrived. They all knew his schedule well enough to predict within half an hour when he’d be in his office.
He shrugged and reached for the note. Maybe it would be something to take his mind off the investigation he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about.
Kelten unrolled the scroll and groaned. It was from Commander Trask. As promised, the watch had continued to keep an ear open for any news relating to the assassination, Lothair, or anything else out of the ordinary. Apparently they had a witness that saw a battle between a small army of thugs and a group of mercenaries. The battle ended when a wizard fitting Lord Shenk’s description turned up and wiped the thugs out. There were no details or any mention of Lothair. Trask ended the letter by inviting him to call on watch headquarters if he wanted to know more.
He certainly did want to know more, but he couldn’t leave his post until tonight. While he usually took his meals with the men in the barrack’s mess hall, he could certainly skip one night without drawing any comment. But if he did visit Trask, he would be going against his king for the first time since joining the castle guard.
Was finding out what happened worth breaking his promise? Kelten liked to think it was and that just because he broke his oath this one time for something extremely important, he wouldn’t do it again. But then again why not? If the king gave him an order and he decided he knew better, what was to keep him from following his own path the next time?
Kelten didn’t know, but he did know that if Trask had found out something new about the assassination, he had to know what. His mind would never be at ease until he knew the whole truth.
The sun had long since set when Kelten finally got away from the castle. Making his way through the city at night was an odd feeling. The forges were quiet and the streets largely empty. Warm light and the sounds of happy people laughing emerged from a tavern he passed. While he didn’t spend enough time in the city to know what it was generally like, tonight at least, everything felt right. You could be forgiven for forgetting that there was a war going on far to the north. And going well from what Kelten had heard.
The last message the king received indicated that the Northern Army was preparing to make the final approach to Marduke and that little stood in their way beyond the city’s walls. That note had come from Lord Shenk who had joined the army, along with a group of his newly trained wizards, for the final assault on the Straken capital. The king had been well pleased with the report as had the nobles when he read it to them.
Kelten had no desire to bring His Majesty bad news, but depending on what Trask had to tell him, he might have no choice.
Watch headquarters was well lit at night and a full shift of watchmen were on duty at all times. Hopefully, Trask worked late but if he didn’t, whoever was on the night shift should be able to direct him to the commander’s home. He pushed through the front doors and strode into the large open floor where the watch processed criminals, wrote reports, and generally did their jobs. It was quiet tonight with only a pair of drunks snoring in one of the holding cells.
On the left side of the room, a desk with a tremendously fat man behind it served as a greeting area for anyone that needed to report something. Mercifully, there was no line. Kelten hadn’t bothered changing out of his uniform and one look at it got the man’s attention.
“How can I be of service, sir?” the duty sergeant asked.
“Commander Trask requested that I join him when I was able. I know it’s late, but I hoped he might still be in.”
“That he is, sir. Do you know the way to his office or should I get one of the pages to show you?”
“I know where it is, thank you.” Kelten nodded to the sergeant and made his way to the back of the building.
Trask’s office was i
n the northeasternmost corner, away from the hustle and noise of the processing floor. Kelten caught a few passing glances as he made his way back, but no one bothered him. That was one of the reasons he most liked wearing his uniform. No one ever wanted to bother someone associated with the palace.
He knocked and a moment later Trask’s gruff voice said, “Come.”
Kelten stepped inside and shut the door behind him. “I got your message.”
“I figured you’d be along sometime tonight.” Trask stood, held out his remaining hand, and they shook. “It was just dumb luck we found the guy. Have a seat.”
Kelten eased himself into one of the guest chairs. “What happened?”
“A watch patrol was doing a regular sweep through some of the rougher parts of the city, you know, just to let them know we hadn’t forgotten about them. Anyway, the guys found this drunk staggering around talking to the air about a secret war and a wizard that hurled lightning. He clearly had no business being on the streets, so they brought him in. I was talking with one of my lieutenants when he came in and overheard his rambling. When he described the wizard, it was a perfect likeness of Otto Shenk.”
“If there was a fight like you described in your note, how could no one else have noticed?”
“In the part of the city where it happened, people have learned to see nothing, hear nothing, and most importantly say nothing. Besides, the thugs went in ahead of time and cleared the locals out. Our witness just slipped through the cracks. Anyway, I questioned him closely and it turns out Lord Shenk and the mercenaries took a few of the attackers prisoner. You’ll never guess who one of them was.”
“Lothair.”
“Correct. And the other two match the description of Allen and his bartender. What do you think about that?”
“If Lord Shenk had Lothair in custody before the assassination, how did he escape? And were the thugs Straken assets or just regular criminals? Finally, what were all these people doing in a rough part of the city?”
The Great Northern War (The Portal Wars Saga Book 2) Page 19
