Path of the Magi (Tales of Tiberius)

by Stuart, Richard J

  “No mortal weapon will pierce your armor! No mortal armor shall resist your blades! Go forth and crush the Sons of Adam and their traitorous allies. Bring me the scalps of every gnome in the county. They’ll learn whom to ally themselves with.”

  “All shall be as you say, my queen.”

  “Excellent. These jacks will be your ace in the hole. We aren’t loved but we shall be feared. It’s time to remind them that they should fear the darkness.”

  General Squamata led the way on a great war chariot led by two huge, evil, black horses. They led the way to the south and plunder, glory, and revenge.

  They kept a good pace, almost jogging along the way. The queen returned to the top of her podium and looked into her scrying crystal. A wave from her staff showed her the general proudly marching south. She shifted the image with another wave of her staff. The road from Stapleshire to Fort Marion was still clear. There would be no stopping her now. It was too late for the Steward’s army to intervene. She gave a grim smile. Lychester at least would fall.

  Like the dark shadow of a storm cloud the army of the queen flew swiftly over the country side, jogging along with a magical energy they felt from the day and the occasion. As the witching hour approached, Squamata’s horde was approached the village. As soon as they caught their first glimpse of the distant village on the hill, General Squamata called his captains together for a brief council of war.

  Squamata walked up to address the council, flanked by two of the queen’s jacks, emphasizing that the goblin witch queen stood behind him. “Our scouts have reached the town and their reports have come in from the front. There are a substantial number of militia archers between us and the town,” Squamata declared.

  Sandager was the leader of a thousand or so mercenaries that had joined the attacking horde. “How many is ‘substantial’? I don’t have your night vision.”

  “About six thousand, according to my scouts,” Squamata’s Lieutenant Carack stated.

  “I don’t like this,” Sandager said. “That’s a substantial force; too many for rounding up the locals. Why don’t you let my men give the battlefield a proper once over?”

  “Because we’re in a rush and the queen already has eyes on the battlefield. She warned us there would likely be a bunch of pathetic militia men standing between us and the loot. Now you all listen and listen good. We’ve got nearly 13,000 warriors here. About 3,500 bogies, and 6,000 goblin warriors, as well as 1,000 mercenaries, 1,500 spiders and another 500 each of jacks and ogres. Enough to smash whatever militia Brandon and company have assembled. If we’re smart that is. I’m general here because I’ve had enough sense to read up on Agincourt and the like. In my past lives I was probably there.”

  Squamata continued. “The important thing here is you keep moving forward till you hit their lines, and then you start smashing archers. The French lost at Agincourt because they got caught in the muck, tripping over each other, advancing on too small a front. We’re not going to make that mistake. The ogres and Monotauk will lead the way. They are the biggest and toughest so they take the front. Close behind them is the bogies, because they are the fastest. After that comes our warriors. The jacks will be in reserve with me.”

  The bogey chief looked concerned. “Goblins have armor; we don’t. Wouldn’t it be better to send your men ahead of ours?”

  “Armor doesn’t matter against a long bow. I’ll probably tell my men to take it off so they can move faster. Only important thing is speed. That’s why you’re going in first,” Squamata countered.

  The booming voice of the giant rang out. “No fear. Monotauk smash puny archers. You can suck the marrow from the bones of the men I smash.”

  “Just remember that we need prisoners,” Squamata said firmly, with a special glance at the spiders. “We won’t be able to carry out all the loot ourselves. We need carts and horses and especially mules. So don’t be greedy. Eat what or whom you like once we’re back safe in camp.”

  “We don’t have any loot yet,” the bogey chief cautioned.

  “You will soon. They’ve overplayed their hand this time. The ground is good and those archers will barely be able to see in the dark. They even have a lot of bonfires lit by their line. They won’t have any night vision. I’ll be surprised if they even see us coming.”

  There was a full moon out which shone through broken clouds over the battle field. The horde broke the woodsline and moved into battle formation.

  Ahead they could see Lychester on the hill, lit by fires. Ahead of it by the road was the line of archers. Squamata snorted at them. They’d have done better to keep a small force in the town and pull back their main force to the next town. A little delay and he might have been fighting archers in the daylight in the next town.

  Sandager looked over the line, then called one of his men aside. “Better take a couple of good men and try and get closer. Something’s wrong here.”

  “What do you mean?” the man asked.

  “Darras isn’t a fool. Why have they got all those fires lit when their survival means having good night vision?” Sandager said. Silently he resolved to stay to the rear when Squamata did his glorious charge forward.

  Squamata thought he saw something moving from the enemy lines. It looked like someone was approaching with a white flag of truce. Seeing this, Squamata turned to his lieutenant, Carack.

  “Go see if they will surrender quietly. Tell them no one will be harmed, assuming they hand over all their goods and provide workers for a week to make sure it gets back to the queen.”

  “We’re going to leave them unharmed?” Carack said.

  “Of course not, you fool, but they’ll know the difference later. Make it quick; we don’t have all night. It's fun to listen to them grovel, but we’ve got other towns to loot. The rest of you get into position. I want to be ready to attack the moment the talks break down. Make sure our archers keep creeping forwards while the talks go on. Maybe if they talk long enough our skirmishers can do some good with a proper ambush.”

  Carack nodded and went forward. The bogey chieftain went with him, curious as to what the townsfolk had to say.

  The approaching representative from the town was only one man. He carried a white flag in one hand and some sort of torch in the other.

  Carack walked forward to meet him. He didn’t expect much from this conversation. The nearby towns already paid a tribute to the queen. She wanted far more than that now, and the local mayor wouldn’t like it.

  The bogey next to him was nervous. He was annoying Carrack with the way he kept sniffing in the air.

  “Something is wrong,” it said as they saw the town’s emissary approaching. “I don’t like the smell of this place.”

  Carack ignored him. He focused on the town delegation. At first he thought he was carrying a torch, but as he got closer he could see it was the tip of a staff that was burning with torchlight. Carack stiffened slightly. This had to be the wizard Tiberius they’d heard so much about. That was only mildly surprising. Carack stepped up towards the wizard, but the wizard spoke first.

  “That’s far enough,” Tiberius said. “Lay down your arms and surrender. We will show you what mercy we can.”

  Carack let out a sharp laugh. “Balls! You’ve got some nerve. Lay out all the wealth of the county and we may spare some of your lives. You can’t stop us all, wizard.”

  “I don’t need to; the free people of the Stewardship stand with me. Take one step closer to the town and it will be your last.” Holding up his staff into the air as a signal, the goblins could see something happening in the distance. There was a spark near the center of the town, then like a wave a ripple of flame went down the line left and light. The tips of the archers arrows were being set on fire and the wave of fire spreading out from the center of the town made an impressive sight.

  Carack glanced towards the town. There were a hell of a lot of archers there. Only six thousand? Someone undercounted. It didn’t matter though; they didn’t have night visi
on and those flames weren’t going to help that. Carack took a step forward. “Stop us if you can, Wizard.”

  Tiberius gave an amused shrug then vanished in a wisp of smoke.

  Carack pulled out a horn and gave a long blast. Squamata nodded stepped up on his war chariot, and gave the signal for the advance.

  Monotauk raised the small tree he was using as a club in response and then the horde surged forward towards the enemy.

  Tiberius appeared before Lord Brandon. “How did it go?” Brandon asked.

  “They didn’t actually try to kill me, but they didn’t surrender either.”

  “Blast, I owe Darras five crowns. I thought for sure they’d try to kill our emissary. Whenever you are ready, Tiberius.”

  Tiberius stepped to the front of the lines and leveled his staff. The surging horde noted a few red streaks flying towards them. One of the goblins near Squamata laughed as the red streaks flew by.

  “He missed! Stupid wizard!”

  Squamata watched the red streaks continue into the sky, then explode with a brilliant light. They then floated above the battlefield lighting up the whole area.

  “Fool! Those aren’t fireballs, they’re flares! That accursed wizard just made perfect targets of our entire army! Charge for your lives, you dogs!” he shouted. “We’ve just lost our first big advantage.”

  A line of goblin skirmishers was the first casualty. Even as they’d been discussing a truce, Squamata had a few hundred goblins creeping forward with bows in the darkness. As soon as the flares lit up the sky, the goblins went from sneakers to targets. Their own bows were out of range, but they were well within range of the longbowmen. Those who survived the wave of arrows ran back through the goblin lines.

  ∴

  The queen watched the battle start from the comfort of her own cave through the scrying pool. Flares?! She should have thought of that. It shouldn’t matter though. They’d kill most of the bogies, but so what? The goblins would break though the lines. Still, a little insurance might be a good idea. She tapped her staff to the ground and called forth a small imp. It was short, red, and had wings.

  “Iago lives to serve my Queen,” it said, bowing.

  The queen turned back to the crystal. “Stay ready. I may need you as a messenger.”

  Iago edged over to glance into her scrying crystal. “What’s going on?”

  “We finally have that meddlesome wizard trapped. My army is going to crush these militiamen and finally bring me some decent loot for a change.”

  “Excellent!” Iago said, anticipating his cut. He glanced at the crystal. “Umm, that wouldn’t be Tiberius the meddlesome wizard, would it?”

  “Who else do you suppose, idiot. Leave me alone; I need to watch this.”

  As soon as Lord Brandon saw the bright flares from Tiberius lighting up the sky he gave the order.

  “That’s the signal, gentlemen. You may fire when ready.”

  There was some scattered fire at first as the longbow men picked off the goblin archers, but then there was a pause.

  The queen’s horde drew up at about 400 yards distance; then as one they made a mad charge forward. On the queen’s right, Garra led the ogres and spiders together. They weren’t as numerous as the bogies or goblins, but the ogres and web warriors were some of the fiercest troops Squamata had, and he aimed them right at Tiberius. In the center, the bogies charged, led by their chief. On the Steward’s right (the queen’s left), Monotauk, surrounded by more bogies at a respectful distance, led the charge. About fifty yards behind them was the second wave of goblin warriors.

  As the queen’s horde approached, the Steward’s sergeants called out the archers’ orders.

  “Notch!” was the first cry. Along the line in unison, the longbow men took up their bows and fitted their arrows. The faint clicks of arrows touching the yew bows were like the cry of some strange form of insect, though no insect was ever this deadly.

  “Aim!” As one, the thousands of archers raised their bows high into the air, sighting downrange with their weapons.

  “Loose!” A wall of flaming arrows flew across the night sky, impacting the army of the queen.

  Squamata looked in horror as the first wave of arrows smashed into his forces. Damn that wizard, he thought. Tiberius had made his army a perfect target. He’d have his revenge, though. If his army charged fearlessly forward, they’d reach the archers before too many of them had fallen. He hoped. It would be a near thing. The ground hadn’t been plowed as much as Agincourt.

  When the first arrows hit, the spiders took the worst of it. The longbows got their range and hit them hard and early. They all must have spent their lives practicing on spider sized targets from the way the arrows hit those spiders, Lord Brandon thought. Only the web warriors, shielded by the ogres, had any protection.

  The ogres were eight or nine feet tall and had thick leather and stout wooden shields to protect them. Even so, longbows were fierce weapons that could penetrate an oak door at close range. Garra saw one of his friends fall beside him, a cloth-yard shaft through his eye. But the distance was closing. Damn that wizard and his flares.

  “There he is!” Garra shouted, suddenly seeing the man himself ahead of him. Garra gave a great battle cry, urging his men forward. Swinging his great spiked mace over his head, he led the charge. “Kill the wizard! Everyone kill the wizard!”

  Lord Brandon had wandered off a bit, moving his horse down the line to encourage the archers. Now he stopped, seeing the ogres rushing Tiberius. He wished the man would step back; those flares were too important to the battle.

  Tiberius paused from firing flares into the sky to face the ogre leader charging towards him. Apparently he had no intention of retreating.

  “Looking for me?” Tiberius shouted. “Ekbrilu!”

  A series of sparks flew forward and burst in a series of blinding flashes around and in front of the charging forces. The next instant Tiberius said " Klingoj frapu," and sent a volley of his whistling steel blades into them, nearly slicing off the leg of Garra. He tripped and fell over, and the blinded ogre behind him tripped over him in turn. The chaos brought the charge to a grinding halt. The archers, encouraged, redoubled their efforts. Tiberius followed with a couple of large fireballs. Garra struggled to his feet, only to fall with a dozen arrows in his chest.

  Another large and agile ogre jumped over the fallen body of the leader and charged Tiberius. Tiberius pointed his staff and shouted, “Kineta frapu.”

  An invisible force struck the ogre with such power that it flew back over its companions, landing on top of one of the great web warriors, crushing them both. Tiberius blinked, slightly surprised at the strength of his own spell. He was feeling an energy being on a battlefield.

  Some of the great web warriors were getting close now, but they fared no better. They were caught in a hail of fire and arrows. Their hairy skin burned from the wizard’s fireballs and drove them mad with pain. The cloth-yard shafts were going through their thick skin and the arrows were coming down on them as thick as rain. Those few who reached the line were quickly cut down.

  At least the bogies were faster, which was as good a defense to the rain of arrows as any had found that day. The bogey chief led the bogies to about the center of the line of archers. His casualties were terrible and the chief himself bore a couple of wounds from the long shafts grazing him, but his troop was at least reaching the line. The archers ahead of the chief were starting to turn and run. Here was the chance at victory! At last, there was a hole in the line of archers. Fresh hope surged into the heart of the bogey chief. He’d had a bad feeling about this battle, but with Monotauk to his left and the archers fleeing before him, they would smash such a hole in the militia’s line that they would never recover from it.

  The chief felt the animal blood rushing through his veins. This was a moment to live for, a moment of pure adrenaline. There was the line of enemy soldiers ahead of him now, almost in range of his claws. With a wild scream he leapt into the air
at the enemy.

  To the left of the chief, on the Steward’s right, was Monotauk. He was attacking just where Darras stood with most of the Rangers and men at arms. Darras was sitting up on Smoke, standing by the troop of archers. For now he was watching and waiting, letting the sergeants do their job. All of a sudden he saw it coming out of the darkness, silhouetted by the fires that the magus had lit.

  A giant. A twenty foot tall man of great strength, with limbs like tree limbs. He was charging straight for his position. The arrows didn’t seem to be having much effect on him. They probably hurt, but they weren’t penetrating deeply enough for a serious wound. In another minute he’d be on top of them, scattering his men left and right with sweeps of that large club he was carrying. Tiberius was on the other side of the battlefield; he’d never get here in time.

  “Sergeant, have your men concentrate your fire on his left arm,” Darras ordered. “If you can slow down his shield arm, I might have a chance.”

  “Left arm? Aye, sir,” the sergeant replied.

  “You heard him lads, aim careful now, see if we can put that left arm of his out of commission.” The sergeant turned to look back at Darras, but was startled to see he wasn’t there. Darras had put the spurs to Smoke and was charging forward, towards the giant.

  Darras charged, holding his lance close to the ground. The giant saw his trick. The puny human was trying to drive a lance though his leg and slow him down. He’d block the thrust with his left fist and then smash the puny mortal with his club when he tried to drive away. He was glad to have the chance to smash something. Those arrows hurt. His left arm was a bit sore.