Thraxas of Turai

by Martin Scott

  ‘Arichdamis’s calculations. I understand some of it. But then it just becomes too complex.’

  Lisutaris regains the power of movement and takes a step towards Makri. There’s a definite purple tint to her eyes. ‘Are you telling me, Ensign Makri, that my plan of attack, the plan I’ve persuaded my army to follow, the plan that depended on Arichdamis’s calculations, and which in consequence I carefully safeguarded by appointing not one but two back-up mathematicians, cannot now proceed because both back-up mathematicians were lying about their skills?’

  Makri starts to hang her head, but changes her mind, stands up straight and looks Lisutaris in the eye. ‘Yes, Commander. That’s what’s happened. I apologise for my part in it.’

  ‘You apologise?’ Purple sparks begin to dance around Lisutaris’s fingers. ‘You apologise? What good is that?’ She takes a step towards Makri. I hurriedly get between them, not wanting to see Makri struck down on the spot.

  ‘Lets talk about this more. It may not be a total disaster.’

  ‘And how not?’ growls Lisutaris, directing her purple-tinged eyes towards me, which is an uncomfortable experience.

  ‘Arichdamis’s calculations have worked so far. The trench is heading towards the walls and the Orcs haven’t been able to touch it. All the generals who thought you were crazy are now saying it’s a brilliant plan.’

  ‘What do you mean, my generals thought I was crazy? Never mind that. What good is this if we can’t carry on?’

  ‘Makri’s learned all the mathematics up to this point. It just takes her a while to fully comprehend it. No disgrace in that. It involves previously unknown dimensions, whatever that means.’ I turn to Makri. ‘I think you can do it. Just take things more slowly. I’m sure you can work out the calculations necessary to get us to the walls.’

  The intimidating purple glaze fades from Lisutaris’s eyes, without vanishing completely. ‘Makri, is that true?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘I think it is,’ I say. ‘You couldn’t follow it at all at first but now you’ve mastered a good part of it. The problem is you’re worrying too much. No surprise, really, when you’re surrounded by people who don’t have faith in you. It’s not as if everyone is as supportive as I’ve always been.’ I turn to Lisutaris. ‘What are the alternatives? What would happen if you called off this plan?’

  Lisutaris shakes her head. ‘Nothing good. We’d be right back where we started. Worse, in fact. Hanama’s intelligence unit reports that an Orcish relief force is already making their way across the wastelands. If we don’t get into Turai in the next few days we’ll have to pull back or suffer heavy casualties. Not that it would be my decision. The Niojans and Simnians won’t support me after this fiasco. They’ll elect a new War Leader.’ Lisutaris lights a thazis stick. ‘Makri, is what Thraxas says true? Could you do it?’

  Makri shakes her head. ‘I don’t think I could.’

  ‘What about Lezunda Blow Glow? Is he completely useless? If you took over, could he help?’

  ‘No. He really is useless.’

  ‘What about someone else?’ I suggest. ‘There must be one person among all these soldiers and Elves and sorcerers who has mathematical skills. If you had decent support, you could carry on while they helped check the figures. We’d only have a delay of a day or so.’

  ‘I suppose so.’ Makri doesn’t sound convinced.

  The pungent aroma of Lisutaris’s thazis fills the tent. ‘There would be the problem of convincing my senior officers to trust themselves to calculations carried out by Makri, her being a female with Orcish blood.’

  ‘You’re right,’ cries Makri. ‘They’ll never agree to it. Best think of another plan.’

  ‘Perhaps we could work around it,’ says Lisutaris, crushing Makri’s hopes. ‘When Coranius brings Lezunda back into camp, we’ll pretend he’s now in charge of all mathematics. He can keep up public appearances. Meanwhile Makri will perform the calculations, aided by the excellent mathematician that Thraxas is now going to locate.’

  ‘Will Lezunda agree to that?’

  ‘He will if he doesn’t want me to explode his head. Captain Thraxas, find a mathematician. Ensign Makri, start studying the relevant equations.’

  Chapter Nineteen

  Some hours later I arrive back from the Elvish section of the encampment feeling moderately satisfied. Accompanying me is an Elvish architect who, I am assured, is the most talented mathematician to be found on the island of Avula. So Lord Kalith-ar-Yil insisted anyway. I’ve encountered Lord Kalith before and while he doesn’t owe me any favours, he did respond to Lisutaris’s appeal for help favourably, not finding it strange that assistance might be required after the demise of Arichdamis. I make it clear that we’re not in any serious trouble as the redoubtable Lezunda Blue Glow is well in control of the required calculations. Nonetheless, it would be helpful to have some assistance in checking his figures. Lord Kalith sent for the architect in question, an Elf by the name of Sorelin. He looks young to be an architect, but I’m not really certain what Elvish architects do. I’ve been on Avula and the dwellings were mainly wooden constructions in trees. Perhaps that takes a lot of planning, who knows? Anyway, not long afterwards I’m taking him to Lisutaris’s command tent.

  ‘I’m not familiar with Arichdamis’s most recent work.’

  ‘Just a matter of inventing new dimensions, so I’m told.’

  Sorelin, who’s tall, blond and good-looking in a way I’ve come to find annoying, isn’t confident. ‘New dimensions? I’m not certain what that means.’

  ‘You’ll get the hang of it. First we have to call in and see our War Leader.’ I stride past the guards like the important figure in the war effort I’ve become, ushering the Elf inside the command tent. ‘Commander, this is Sorelin, architect and mathematician. Best available on short notice.’

  Lisutaris crosses over to face Sorelin. He salutes, and begins to speak but she ignores his words, instead gesturing with her hand so that a faint purple light envelops him. The young Elf looks startled. ‘What’s this?’

  ‘A spell of secrecy. What I’m about to tell you is highly confidential and must not be repeated, even to your Elvish Lord. If you do repeat it, the spell will kill you, quite painfully. Are you clear about that?’

  ‘Yes,’ says Sorelin, alarmed.

  ‘Good. The fact is, we’re in trouble. Our chief mathematician has died and his subordinate is not up to the task. We do have a replacement, Ensign Makri, my bodyguard.’

  ‘Ensign Makri? You mean the Orc woman?’

  ‘Yes. But don’t call her that.’

  ‘Is she a mathematician?’

  ‘Yes,’ says Lisutaris. ‘And stop asking questions. You’re to assist Makri in every way possible. Read Arichdamis’s writings, familiarise yourself with his works, and help Makri in her further calculations. Don’t tell anyone what you’re doing. Is that clear?’

  ‘Yes, Commander.’

  I escort Sorelin from the tent towards the trench. He’s silent till he sees Makri at the head of the trench, studying a scroll. ‘I don’t want to help the Orc woman calculate!’

  ‘Don’t call her an Orc to her face. If you do she’ll probably kill you faster that Lisutaris’s spell.’ We draw close. ‘Ensign Makri. I’ve brought help. Finest young mathematician in the Elvish lands.’

  ‘No, I’m not,’ protests Sorelin.

  Makri looks at me with some annoyance. ‘Well is he of isn’t he?’

  ‘Lord Kalith-ar-Yil said he was. Builds the best tree houses on the island. And now, having once more rendered you invaluable assistance, I’m off to hunt for beer. ‘

  ‘Don’t you want to see what I’ve been doing?’

  ‘I’m really in need of beer–’

  ‘Come with me!’ There’s an odd expression on Makri’s face, as if she’s over-excited. She grabs me and proceeds to drag me down the wooden steps that lead into the trench. It’s eight or nine feet
deep, the walls reaching over our heads. I follow Makri along the first stretch which points left till we reach the first turning as it zigzags to the right. As intended, inside the trench we’re hidden from the city walls. Turai is no longer in sight. With no direct line of fire, the miners are safe from projectiles from the distant walls. Not so distant now, as we proceed along. Makri points upwards.

  ‘You see that faint purple glow, inside the blue glow? That’s our extra shielding. That’s what we’ve been doing. Extra protection inside the general sorcerous shield.’

  We’re obliged to press ourselves against the wall of the trench as a load of earth is removed from the dig, two miners pushing a small wooden cart past us. As the pass, they greet Makri quite familiarly, having now become used to her presence. Makri leads me further along.

  ‘Why are we here?’ I enquire. ‘I’ve seen a trench before.’

  ‘Not as good as this one. Look how the extra sorcery turns this corner. It’s brilliant. Arichdamis was such a genius. I knew his extra dimensions were a good idea.’ Once again, Makri seems over-excited about a trench. Still, I reflect, she always has appreciated fine engineering. She’s the only person I’ve ever heard enthuse about Turai’s sewerage system. By now we’re close to the front of the trench and can hear the sound of digging as the miners inch their way towards the city walls. Near the front the movable wooden roof has been dragged over their heads, giving additional protection to the workers as they advance. When we turn the final corner we come across four diggers, stripped to the waist, excavating the earth with picks and shovels. Two more stand behind them, loading the earth into a cart, while behind them stands the Simnian engineer, Major Erisimus.

  ‘Ensign Makri!’ Erisimus greets her cordially.

  The trench is regular, well-constructed, with wooden slats on the walls providing extra support. All around us is the blue glow of the sorcery as calculated by Arichdamis and produced by Coranius the Grinder and Sareepa Lighting Strikes the Mountain.

  ‘How long till you reach the walls?’

  ‘Two days, barring interruption.’

  I’m interested to see all this, but still in need of beer. Makri isn’t letting me go yet. ‘You see that purple light right at the end? That’s the new bit of sorcerous protection. I calculated that.’

  I’m puzzled. We’re surrounded by miners who were not meant to know that Makri’s now in charge of our mathematics. ‘Wasn’t that meant to be a secret?’

  Major Erisimus shakes his head. ‘A secret that Lezunda is a fraud? We’ve always known that. If he was really in charge I’d have taken us out of the trench. Ensign Makri can get the job done.’

  ‘You trust her?’

  ‘We do.’

  Makri looks smug. I congratulate her on her achievement, though I’m puzzled by this abrupt turnaround. Only a few hours ago she was wreathed in gloom about her inability to cope, and now she seems full of self-confidence.

  ‘I think I’ve been underestimating my mathematical prowess.’ She turns to Major Erisimus. ‘Understandable, with people constantly telling me I was useless. I’m not specifically blaming Captain Thraxas though he did once say I was a stupid Orc who couldn’t count to three.’

  I’m outraged at this slur. ‘What? I’m the one who encouraged you. You wouldn’t be here if–’ My words are cut off by a blaring of trumpets, sounding the alarm.

  ‘Dragon attack!’ yell the miners, casting down their tools. They immediately flee along the trench, led back to the safety of our front lines by Major Erisimus.

  I curse, quite vehemently. ‘More dragons. We’d better get going.’

  ‘Why?’ demands Makri. ‘We’re safe here. We’re protected by sorcery. I made the calculations.’

  I take a few steps backwards to peer over the moveable roof. High above, descending rapidly, a dragon is heading straight towards us. I grab hold of Makri’s arm. ‘We have to go.’

  Makri angrily frees herself. ‘I’m not running away. I helped make the protection for this trench and I’m staying right here.’

  ‘Are you insane? Do you see the size of that dragon? We don’t know if the sorcery is going to keep it out.’

  ‘Why not? Because I did the calculating? You don’t trust me, do you? You’re always like this. Expect Makri to get everything wrong.’

  I glare at my companion. There’s an odd expression in her eyes that I can’t interpret and don’t have time to think about. ‘It’s got nothing to do with trusting you! I wouldn’t have trusted Arichdamis either! We’ve got to get back behind the main magic shield before it’s too late!’

  ‘Fine. Run away. I’m staying here, with people who trust me.’

  ‘No one trusts you! The miners all ran away!’

  ‘I have been continually persecuted by humans.’ Makri folds her arms. ‘I’m staying.’

  I glance upwards. The dragon is around fifty feet away and it’s opening its jaws. Flames are emerging and it shows no sign of slowing down. I’ve no idea how much a huge dragon weights but whatever it might be, it’s about to slam into this trench and I don’t want to be here when it happens. I don’t trust the thin layer of sorcery to protect me, no matter how well it was calculated.

  ‘Go on, run away,’ says Makri. ‘I know you’ve always despised me.’

  ‘Dammit Makri, if this dragon kills us I’m going to punch you right in the face!’

  There’s no time for anything else. Flames are already spreading over the top of the trench. The sorcerous shield repels them but the next instant the enormous dragon slams straight into it, causing a miniature earthquake which throws Makri and me to the ground. The walls shake and earth pours over our heads. A wooden slat hits me in the face. I curse, then try to draw my sword, meanwhile looking upwards in horror at the sight of a gigantic dragon leaping up and down mere inches away, kept out by a layer of sorcery which is now seeming less and less suitable for the task. The beast is bellowing with fury and still breathing fire. Makri attempts to stand up then thinks better of it as a plank of wood whacks her on the shoulder. She slumps back to the ground. More earth begins to fall, shaken loose from the walls. I start crawling away but by now there’s so much dust in the air I can’t see where I’m going. I abandon the effort and sink to the ground.

  ‘This is your fault!’ I shout. Above ground there are more flashes of light, followed by renewed roars from the dragon. One of its monstrous feet is now right above my head. I’m appalled at the size of its talons. The beast loses its grip in the face of the purple light which, I realise, is sorcery coming from our own forces. Lisutaris and her companions must be attempting to drive it off. I lie there, choking on dust, outraged at my suffering which I blame entirely on Makri, and watch as the purple light slowly forces the dragon away. It’s pushed into the air where it hovers, a few feet from the ground, before disappearing from view in a blast of black and purple, victim to one of the extremely powerful spells Lisutaris keeps in her repertoire for emergencies.

  For a few moments we lie there in an eerie silence.

  ‘I hate you,’ I tell Makri. I haul myself to my feet, I’m covered with dust and badly shaken.

  Makri gets to her feet, more agilely than I did. She glares at me. ‘I can’t believe you threatened to punch me in the face! How dare you say that to me, you fat oaf!’

  ‘I’ll punch you in the face right now! What’s the idea of staying here like fools when we could have run to safety?’

  ‘There was no need to run. I told you we were safe.’

  ‘You didn’t know we were safe! The sensible thing to do was run away. You just wanted to stay here so you could brag about your calculations working. What if they hadn’t?’

  ‘Well they did, didn’t they?’

  ‘You got lucky. Just guessed the answer, I wouldn’t be surprised.’

  ‘How dare you insult me like that!’ Makri steps forward. Again, there’s an odd expression in her eyes. It strikes me, as it should have before, that Mak
ri is not entirely sober. She’s not drunk, but she’s been taking something. I don’t get time to consider it because with no warning she suddenly strikes me in the face. I yell in annoyance and swing a fist at her. Too fast for me, she dodges out the way but there’s not a lot of room in this trench and when I take another swing she finds herself backed up against the wall. Intending to knock her head off, I step forward again, Makri’s sword flashes into her hand.

  ‘So it’s like that, is it? Fine!’ I take out my own sword and prepare to fight. At that moment I’m unexpectedly paralysed by an unknown force, as is Makri, who stands like a statue, her sword in her hand and an ugly expression on her face. Footsteps sound behind me though I can’t turn my head to see who’s coming.

  ‘What is going on here?’ I recognise Lisutaris’s voice. I hear her snap her fingers, cancelling her spell. Able to move again, I sheath my sword and turn round to find our commander looking both puzzled and angry.

  ‘I come to check on your welfare and find you engaged in swordplay? Explain yourselves.’

  Makri sheathes her sword, not pleased to have been caught brawling in an undisciplined manner. ‘Sorry, Commander.’

  Lisutaris walks to the end of the trench. She gazes at the thin sorcerous shielding, dimly visible in the daylight. She reaches out her hand, as if feeling it, then transfers her gaze to the shielding above us. She nods, apparently satisfied. ‘Strong enough. That was a large dragon. The fact that we held it off bodes well for our enterprise. Congratulations, Ensign Makri.’

  ‘Thank you, Commander.’

  ‘I’d still like to know why you and Thraxas were brawling.’

  Lisutaris has a bad habit of harping on about things which would be better left alone. ‘It was nothing, Commander,’ I say. ‘Just a minor disagreement in the heat of battle.’

  ‘Thraxas threatened to punch me in the face,’ chimes in Makri, who does on occasion have something of the angry schoolgirl about her.

  ‘What? Is this true?’

  I glare at Makri. ‘You just had to repeat that, didn’t you?’