Under cover of darkness, the Venerable Coinneach, Master of the Academy for the Spiritually Gifted, along with six journeyman wizards who taught at the Academy, were hustled up the ramps and into a waiting black, four-seat closed carriage. The group had hardly settled itself, when the driver flicked the reins and the four matched black draught horses headed in the direction of the watchtower on the Iorras Shire side of the harbor entrance.
The contingent of defense forces personnel who had manned the currach, all of them seasoned soldiers with the rank of team leader commanded by a section leader, now continued their protective detail on horseback, riding security alongside the coach.
Arriving at the watchtower, Coinneach and his colleagues were met by the Revered Álmhath, the senior journeyman wizard in Iorras Shire, who hurried them inside.
Looking more midwife than wizard, the slightly-plump Álmhath wore a plain gray dress, a gray cloak, and black boots. Her only item of color was her blue mantle. With longish brown hair that always looked as if it were home to a half-dozen squirrels, she had brown eyes that twinkled perpetually.
As the head of the security detail posted his men inside and outside the tower, Álmhath said, “Fáilte, Master Coinneach!” using the word for ‘welcome,’ in the language of the ancients. “I’ve been told that Master Taliesin is on his way. We expect him to arrive sometime tomorrow.”
“It’s good to see you again,” the elderly master wizard said to her, doffing his black cloak. “I trust you know everyone else?” He gestured to the six journeymen in his party.
“To be sure,” Álmhath said with a smile. “I hope I’m not going to be tested while you’re here. If so, I’ll need to dust off the notes from my Academy days.”
While the rest of his party doffed their cloaks, Coinneach said, “I fear we will all be tested before this is over, Álmhath. When will an attempt be made to close the watergate?”
“At first light during the morning watch,” she replied, noticing that the six journeymen wore either gray or brown cloaks, favored by residents of the Western and Eastern Shires, respectively. None wore tan, as did most folks in the Northern Shires. “The guards have to be able to see the notch on the Callainn Shire side of the inlet to assure that the gate is closed securely.”
“I’m certain that, as soon as those on the other side become aware of what we’re doing, we can expect fierce resistance. What are our countermeasures?”
“We have bowmen from both the Cruachanian Defense Forces and the Security Forces of the Western Shires, with more to come. And elfin bowmen are on the way from the Tangled Woods. They should be here before dawn. Aside from that, there’s us to counter any magic conjured up by the few rebel journeyman wizards and to cast some spells of our own, if you deem it necessary.”
“Do we know who the other wizards are?” Coinneach asked.
“Murchú and Oisín, the senior journeyman wizards from Árainn Shire and Callainn Shire, respectively,” Álmhath answered. “Plus any other journeymen whom Odhran might have coerced into joining them. We have people over there still gathering intelligence on that. We’ll know more by morning.”
One of the journeymen from the Academy spoke up. “Oisín is extremely competent, but not much of a planner. Murchú, in addition to possessing an abundance of raw power, is also creative and devious. He’s the one to watch out for.”
“Then watch out for him we shall,” Coinneach agreed. “Right now, let’s get something to eat and rest up. We’ve a big day ahead of us, and we’ll each need to have fully charged our essences by first light.”
Between-Season Day (Beginning of Spring)
Iorras Shire
The bell atop the tower out on the point of Iorras Shire tolled twice, followed by a pause, then twice more, signaling the beginning of the second hour of the morning watch.
The first rays of sunlight were just appearing from the east of Saltwater Bay, on the horizon of the Sea of the Dawn, when a four-man team from the Security Forces of the Western Shires walked past a row of wooden barrels that had been lined up during the night along the bayside of the point. Their purple capes fluttered in the chilly early morning onshore breeze, as they crossed rather nonchalantly toward the watergate’s capstan, greeted by the mewing of seagulls on the hunt for breakfast.
Peering out of a window in the watchtower, the Venerable Coinneach said, “So far, so good. Easy, lads. Easy does it. Don’t be obvious about it.”
* * *
The capstan was a rather simple mechanism. Its axle ran vertically through a pit to the bottom of the Iorras Shire side of the inlet, where a hawser, attached to the watergate was wrapped around the axel and traversed the sea bed to a pulley on the Callainn Shire side. From the pulley, the hawser returned on the sea bed to the watergate. Wooden poles were placed into slots on the drumhead of the capstan and the mechanism rotated by four men. Depending on which way the capstan was turned, the watergate was either opened or closed.
* * *
When the guards reached the capstan, all four picked up wooden poles, placed them into slots on the drumhead, and began singing a sea shanty as they turned the mechanism.
Although simple, the process of cranking the watergate closed was slow and laborious. The team had no sooner made one full turn, when their efforts were spotted, and a hail of arrows descended upon them from the Callainn Shire side of the inlet. Fortunately, only one found its mark.
While guards rushed out onto the point, one to take the place of his fallen comrade, the others to raise shields to cover the capstan team, bowmen from the Security Forces of the Western Shires popped up from their cover behind the barrels and loosed their own arrows, causing the enemy to dive for cover. As the first group of bowmen ducked down to renotch another arrow, two sections of bowmen from the Cruachanian Defense Forces rose and fired a volley, quickly followed by a salvo from a contingent of elfin archers.
This threefold shooting tactic continued until what had been an onshore breeze suddenly changed to a strong wind, blowing across the inlet from Callainn Shire. This alteration in force and direction completely nullified the superior skill and firepower of the Iorras Shire bowmen, while aiding the rebel archers, so much so that, without adequate covering fire, the team manning the capstan had to abort their mission.
Coinneach, Álmhath, and the journeymen wizards from the Academy, rushed out of the watchtower and took up positions behind the elfin archers. All eight of them joined hands and concentrated on the weather. Soon, their magic counteracted that from the other side, and the winds returned to normal. The capstan team resumed their singing and turning, and their bowmen again were able to provide covering fire.
The respite didn’t last long. An energy ball flamed across the inlet and crashed into the shield holders at the capstan. A second one took out two of the team closing the watergate.
“Return fire!” Coinneach commanded as he hurried forward, holding up his staff to deflect another energy ball away from the capstan team.
Álmhath and the journeymen from the Academy hurled their own energy balls across the inlet, but the ones from Callainn Shire kept on coming.
Coinneach stood there, the last defense for the capstan team, as they again resumed their turning, the watergate now almost three-quarters of the way closed.
Another change in tactics saw the rebel wizards now splitting their offense. Some energy balls still came flying toward the capstan, to be deflected by Coinneach. Others were now directed at the wooden timbers of the watergate itself.
The master wizard felt a presence at his side. Taking a quick glance to his right, he saw the Venerable Taliesin pointing his staff at those energy balls aimed at the watergate.
“Took you long enough to get here, old man,” Coinneach said, as he now devoted his full concentration on protecting the capstan team.
“Had I known you were going to be this inept,” Taliesin replied, “I’d have run the horse to death.”
The Court Wizard of the Kingdom of the
Western Shires had brought journeyman wizards with him from Tulach and Orrery Shires. They lined up with Álmhath and the wizards from the Academy, and while the two master wizards deflected everything that the other side hurled at them, the combined firepower of wizards and bowmen from the Iorras Shire side finally took its toll on the enemy. Murchú and Oisín and their few journeymen had all but exhausted their essences and had ceased fire.
After another quarter hour, the capstan team had securely closed the watergate.
During the fight, the sea-currachs had come and gone. The boats from the Northern Shires had dropped their sails and had turned around, rowing back to their own waters. The others kept right on going, giving the inlet to the bay a wide berth and docking at Blessed Island.
Coinneach and Taliesin, both exhausted, sat on the ground, their backs against a retaining wall around the watchtower, recharging their essences.
“I’m getting way too old for this, my brother,” Coinneach said, a thin smile on his lips, as he watched the dead and wounded being carted away.
Taliesin couldn’t even manage a smile. He simply nodded.
“What now?” Álmhath asked, as she, the captains of both the Security Forces of the Western Shires and the Cruachanian Defense Forces, and the commander of the elfin forces joined the master wizards.
“I think that is a question we would all like an answer to,” the elf said.
Coinneach motioned for them to be seated on the retaining wall. “On the plus side, we prevented them from blocking the inlet. On the minus side, we temporarily blocked it for them ourselves by closing the watergate. With their currachs gone, my guess is that the rebels’ll be content to leave it this way. The High King is going to have to crush this insurrection over at the Gabhrán Shire border.”
The captain of the Security Forces of the Western Shires spoke up. “Do we just defend our position here, or do we try to drive them back?”
“Going on the offensive would mean sending an army down the docks here in Iorras Shire, or over in either Luíne Shire or the Central Federal Region, then going around the bay perimeter and fighting our way up the docks in Callainn Shire,” the captain of the Cruachanian Defense Forces said. “A narrow path with them holding the high ground. We would probably be successful, eventually. We have the numbers. But we’d lose far too many good men in the process.”
“We can’t just have a stalemate here,” Taliesin said. “We need to keep the pressure on the rebels, so that they don’t feel comfortable sending reinforcements to the Gabhrán Shire front. Although we may not want to fight our way up the Callainn Shire docks, we need to make it look as if that’s exactly what we intend to do, while we wait for the High King to crush Prince Ríoghán’s troops. I’ll contact Fergal by scry and ask him to have King Glendon send a diversionary force down the docks at Ráth Luíne. Once Murchú and Oisín see the troops from the Eastern Shires, they’ll be forced to prepare for an invasion that won’t happen.” The elderly wizard’s eyes narrowed and he continued. “As for us, the rebels want to play with energy balls? So be it. Once we recharge our essences, we’ll burn down the entire port administration buildings at the top of the docks and eliminate some of their cover.”
Between-Season Day (Beginning of Spring)
Gabhrán Shire
The last peal from the watch bell atop the keep had not yet died out, marking the end of the middle watch and the beginning of the morning watch, when Prince Ríoghán led his troops out of Fort Gabhrán toward the border with the Central Federal Region. He had arrived from Fort Callainn the night before; and, with security forces from Fortress Béarra, Fort Callainn, and now Fort Gabhrán, he was confident that he had sufficient troops to perform his mission.
Although not pleased with the decision to revolt, nevertheless, he was a loyal son and subject. As the soldiers cantered southward, the prince recalled his oath to his father, King Cabhan, made back some six weeks before:
“You have my heart, Your Majesty. You are my da and my king. I will die for you, and I will die with you, if this is the path you’re determined to take.”
He also remembered the king’s rejoinder:
“Neither of us will be dying. Once the economy of the rest of the island is in tatters, the Kingdoms of the Eastern and Western Shires will have no choice but to sue for peace. Peace on our terms. Independence for the Northern Shires.”
Today, we find out which one of us was right, the prince thought and signaled for an increase in the pace.
* * *
When Ríoghán and his forces from Fortress Béarra and Fort Callainn had entered Fort Gabhrán the night before, two men, dressed as simple tradesmen had been sitting around a campfire in the ward, tan cloaks pulled around them, swapping stories and lies with other tradesmen. One of them had been, anyway. The second man had been rather quiet, not participating much at all in the conversation. Not that he was asocial, he was preoccupied with watching and counting—and committing to memory—the number and types of forces that followed the prince through the main gate. The two men had already ascertained the strength of the troops at Fort Gabhrán; and, after making educated estimates of the soldiers who would be left behind to guard the fort, they had a fairly good idea of the total force Prince Ríoghán would ride out with in the morning.
They also knew that, within the hour, the security forces would overpower the contingent of defense forces stationed at the fort; and, the two spies wanted to be long gone before that happened.
After excusing themselves from the gaggle of tradesmen, the twosome had reclaimed their mounts from the stables and had ridden out of the fort at an easy walk, smiling and waving to the guards, seemingly in no hurry to get anywhere. Once out of sight of the main gate, however, they increased their pace to a full-out gallop. They had much to tell Prince Liam and Field Marshal Gearóid back at Dúnfort Cruachan.
* * *
The Coastal Road south from Fort Gabhrán led to an east-west road that ran just inside Gabhrán Shire and paralleled the border with the Central Federal Region from the Sea of the Dawn to the north-south Central Road that bisected the Northern Shires.
Before Prince Ríoghán and the main body of troops reached the east-west road, however, two advance scouts came galloping northward to meet them.
Sensing a problem, the prince called for a halt. “What?!” he demanded when the scouts reached him. “What’s the situation?!”
“Defense forces and Eastern Shires Security Forces massed all along the border, Your Highness,” one of the scouts said. “Backed by elfin archers. They know we’re coming, and they’re ready for us.”
The prince closed his eyes, shook his head, and let his breath out audibly through his mouth. “Did they see you?”
“No, Your Highness,” the other scout said. “We kept to the forest. Never ventured out onto the open road.”
“Good. Have they advanced into Northern Shires territory?”
“No, Your Highness. They’re within the Central Federal Region, about six rods back from the border.”
“Hmm,” the prince mused. “Go back and keep watch. Let us know if the situation changes.”
With twin replies of, “Yes, Your Highness,” the two scouts galloped back from where they had come.
Signaling for the officers, Ríoghán dismounted and crossed over to the side of the road, where a long-downed pine had been moved from the path. When the others arrived, the prince and the captains all sat, leaving the section and squad leaders to stand behind them, while the prince explained the situation. Looking at the captain of the security forces stationed at Fort Gabhrán, he said, “You’re most familiar with the area. What will we find ahead?”
The captain picked up a stick and began to draw a crude map in the snow.
“Just before the east-west road reaches the Dúnfort Road,” he explained, touching the map at that point, “it skirts a small body of water called Stag Pond.”
“Is the east-west road within Gabhrán Shire, all the way to the C
entral Road?”
“Completely, Your Highness.”
“Remember, we’re here to assert our right to self-determination, not to start a war. We will not cross the border with the Central Federal Region. We will simply make a stand on our side of the border and assure that their forces do not cross into our sovereign territory. Is everyone clear on that?” Ríoghán looked steadily at each of his officers, one at a time.
To a man, they all acknowledged their agreement.
Once he had received their nods, the prince echoed what his father had said to him and explained the logic of what they were doing. “As we speak, the three sea-currachs of the Northern Shires are bearing down on the inlet to Saltwater Bay. Once in the inlet, they will sink their boats, blocking all shipping into and out of the bay. This will have little effect on the Northern Shires, since we have constructed docks of our own up at North Head. But once the economy of the rest of the island is in disarray, the Kingdoms of the Eastern and Western Shires will have no choice but to sue for peace. Peace on our terms. Independence for the Northern Shires. We are here on the border for one reason, and one reason only—to make sure the Cruachanian Defense Forces and the Security Forces of the Western and Eastern Shires don’t interfere with our plans.”
“But what if we’re attacked?” one of the section leaders asked.
“I don’t think we will be. I believe the High King will be very careful not to initiate a conflict. Especially from what the scouts have just reported about his troop placement. If he does, however, then we will defend ourselves. But we will not strike the first blow. Now, I don’t like doing this, but we’re going to have to divide our forces.” He looked at the captain from Gabhrán Shire. “I’ll take half the troops down to the Central Road to make sure that the defense forces don’t try to circle around Saltwater Bay and attack Earl Eógan, the Venerable Odhran, and our Northman allies from behind. You, captain, will stop just west of Stag Pond and deploy the remaining troops as you see fit. The pond will protect you from being flanked on one side, anyway. Now, men, heads high. We will ride proudly down our own road in our own kingdom. And pass the word. No one is to make eye contact with the opposing forces or make any gestures toward them, lest they misinterpret those actions as a challenge.”
The Embers are Fanned in Cruachan (The Chronicles of Pádraig Book 2) Page 34
