Peck heard the sound of rushing water not far ahead and spurred Newmoon on. Ravagers burst onto the trail only a few yards behind. Peck leaned low over Newmoon’s neck and cast quick glances at his pursuers. The roar of water became the dominant sound, and Peck spotted the source just ahead. The river cut a deep channel perhaps eighty feet across. A once majestic tree spanned the chasm, its upper surface shorn and worn flat by locals for use as a bridge. It was a treacherous crossing for a horse running at full gallop, but Peck had few other options.
With a slight prod and a shifting of his body, Peck urged his mount to leap onto the log. Newmoon dutifully obeyed and landed on the makeshift bridge with a feather-light touch. The log bounced unnervingly, but Newmoon raced across with the sure-footedness of the goats that typically used the crossing. The ravagers leapt onto the span as well, undeterred by the insignificant obstacle. Near the end of the bridge, Peck spun completely around in his saddle and snapped off a shot at the lead ravager with his crossbow. The bolt struck the creature in the chest, causing it to stumble. The mass of killers behind it plowed heedlessly onward, tripping over their wounded brethren and falling into water rushing beneath the bridge.
Newmoon was in mid-leap when Peck spun back forward in the saddle; neither of them put the least bit off-balance by his acrobatic riding. A dozen ravagers still gave pursuit and hounded the human through the forest of cottonwood trees and the occasional oak. Peck could feel Newmoon’s endurance flagging as he began to slow and his broad chest was worked up a lather. A ravager bounded up next to the horse and rider and prepared to take them both down. Peck grabbed the rope coiled and looped over the saddle horn and flung the lasso at the creature’s legs. He wrapped his end of the rope around the saddle horn and turned sharply to the right as the loop cinched around the ravager’s leg. Peck and Newmoon raced past a towering oak tree to the right while the roped ravager swung by on its left. Unable to overcome the inertia, the ravager began a furious tumble and whipped into the stout tree with a sickening thud. Peck tossed away his end of the rope before it snapped taut and pulled him down as well.
A ravager charged from the brush and slashed at Peck’s leg. Peck threw himself over the far side of the saddle, locked his foot in the stirrup, and clung to the cinch strap tightened around Newmoon’s belly. Freeing his saber from its sheath, he lunged and thrust several inches of his blade into the ravager’s flesh just behind the shoulder from beneath his galloping mount. On the ground, Peck was an average swordsman at best, but few could match his skill from horseback.
Peck pulled himself back into the saddle only to immediately lay himself back over Newmoon’s rump as a ravager came hurtling toward him. He thrust upward and opened the creature’s belly as it went sailing just over his prone body. Peck lurched upright and cast a furtive glance all around. He had gained some distance, but he could hear the ravagers crashing through the forest behind him, occasionally catching glimpses of movement through the trees and thick brush.
He could feel Newmoon’s labored breaths with his legs and heard the struggled wheezing. They were still several miles from Gifford’s Hollow, and he knew they would not make it. Newmoon was spent even though he refused to give up. It was only a matter of time before he collapsed, and Peck refused to let him die like that. They reached a clearing and Peck reined his mount in sharply. The sound of the ravagers crashing through the forest was all around him. Newmoon’s nostrils flared as his powerful lungs heaved like a pair of massive bellows and pawed at the ground.
Peck leaned over and patted Newmoon’s thick neck, the jet black hair soaked in a sweaty froth. “This is it, boy. We did our best.”
Half a score of ravagers crept from the woods and entered the clearing. They knew their quarry could run no farther and were in no hurry. It had been a grand chase, but now the game was almost over and they basked in their victory.
“You ready, boy?” Peck hefted his saber in in his left hand and the crossbow in the right. “Let’s do it! HA!”
Newmoon lowered his head, dug his hooves into the ground, and rocketed toward their foes. The ravagers lurched forward to meet him as the sound of others crashed in from behind him.
CHAPTER 16
Miranda looked at the generous amount of food spread across the long table within the castle’s elegant dining room. “I feel guilty eating in the palace dining hall when tens of thousands of our people are eating such simple fare in the streets or atop the walls.”
“Rank has its privileges, my dear,” General Brague stated flatly, “particularly when in garrison where resources are more readily available. Be thankful for it. We will all be sharing camp rations soon enough. Soldiers need to see their leaders standing strong and above the hardships of the common man. It gives them courage and something to focus on when we do step into the fray, risk our lives, and bloody our blades on our enemy. Wars are won within the hearts of men, not on the backs of mounts or the bodies dead upon the ground. Would you revere the gods if they toiled in the fields, filthy from simple labor and suffering the hardships of mortals?”
“Are we likening ourselves to gods now, General?”
“To inspire people to throw themselves at almost certain death, we must be a close second in reverence and more substantial than the gods.”
“Well said, dear,” Duchess Mellina commended with a smile. “Miranda, you saw how the people rallied when we threw ourselves at those detestable mercenaries. Were our presence and actions common, a simple matter of course, the effect would have been lost, and more would have died. Be thankful we are able to feed and shelter them at all. If we are all forced into the valley as Azerick speculates, I expect to see much deprivation should the war last beyond a week.”
Allister asked, “What of the food stores we have been collecting these last few years?”
“Most have gone to feeding the populace. We have concentrated our populations mostly within the cities to supply the war effort. We had to feed thousands of people who normally would have been largely self-sufficient. The summer’s crops are also not ready to be harvested. Had we just a few more weeks to bring in the harvest, our ability to survive a siege would have been extended by weeks. As it is, immediate rationing will have to take place once we reach the valley just to stay fed for than a week.”
General Brague added, “Don’t forget about our allies as well. The Sumarans are bringing tens of thousands of soldiers. They are traveling fast and will have a limited amount of food within their baggage train. As their hosts, we will have to feed them as well. The Elves are coming, hopefully, from the far north. They will not be able to carry a great deal of food either and will likely forage for most of their provisions enroute. Who knows what the dwarves will bring if they even come to our aid and have not chosen to stay hidden beneath their mountains?”
“Father has assured me the dwarves are coming, but he has heard nothing from the elves. Given what I have seen of the invaders and our own preparations, it is unlikely the war will last long enough to cause more than moderate hardship where hunger is concerned,” Raijaun said. “Victory or defeat is likely to be decided long before we begin suffering from famine.”
“You’re as joyful to be around as your father,” the General rumbled.
“Optimism without realistic expectations is rarely productive.” A bell began tolling across the city and was quickly joined by others. “I believe my case has just been made.”
Everyone cleared the room and ran for the battlements, grabbing weapons and donning armor that were never more than an arm’s length away. The entire city was abuzz as soldiers and citizens scurried like ants in a disturbed nest. Miranda grabbed a spyglass from one of soldiers manning the castle battlements and scanned the horizon. The ships stood out clearly against the fractured sky as they drew inexorably closer.
“Could they be our ships or refugees perhaps?” Miranda asked as she peered through the spyglass.
Raijaun shook his head. “No, look at the hulls. There is a sliver of sky
line beneath them and it grows larger. Those ships are not sailing on the sea but above it. They will be ferrying the invasion force.”
“There aren’t that many,” Miranda observed. “They cannot conquer us with so few can they?”
“The ships are larger than anything we can build, and the creatures likely need little room. The Scions would not attack unless they were supremely confident that their numbers were sufficient to the task. Do not think of them like ordinary pirates or invaders. Whatever their stratagem, it will be unlike anything we have seen or are likely prepared to face.”
“Can we begin the evacuation now?” the Duchess asked.
“Yes. It should be too late for them to alter their plans now. Order the gate activated and move the civilians through with all haste. I will contact The Academy and inform them of the attack. I must assume this is only half the invading force. The Scions will not leave Southport alone to strike at them in the rear. They will want to destroy the largest concentration of wizards above all other considerations except exacting mine and Father’s death.”
Allister hustled for the gates to give the order to begin evacuations. General Brague took a contingent of castle guards to spread the word and to let the soldiers see that their leaders were there and ready to fight alongside them. Raijaun plucked the speaking stone from a pocket in his cloak and focused his will upon it.
“Headmaster.”
It took only a moment for the reply. “Raijaun?”
“Yes, Headmaster. The invasion has begun. Have you seen sign of the enemy yet?”
“No, nothing yet. We have had a few reports of small attacks outside the city, but nothing more substantial than we have seen over the past year.”
“I expect you will see their flying ships within the next day or two. It appears they are unconcerned with waiting to coordinate a simultaneous assault.”
“Should I order the evacuation of the city now?”
Raijaun thought a moment before admitting to himself he did not have the answer. “I do not know, Headmaster. I waited to evacuate North Haven until we saw the enemy approach to limit their ability to react. I am certain the Scions know precisely where we are going the moment the gates activate and align. Whether it is in your best interest to act now or wait, I cannot say and will leave it to your wisdom. I will tell you this: the Scion ships will be here before we have time to evacuate everyone. That is going to cost us lives. Part of me wishes I had acted sooner, but logically I know that doing so could have had even worse results.”
“I understand.” The Headmaster’s voice lowered. “Has there been any word of your father?”
“I am afraid not, and I would be lying if I said I was not deeply troubled by his absence.”
“We are all praying for his quick return. Thank you for the information. I will put my people on heightened alert.”
“Fare you well, Headmaster.”
“And you.”
Maureen broke the connection and breathed a sigh of relief and worry. She knew their chances were very poor without Azerick’s help, but part of her hoped he had met his end so she and the King would not have to bloody their hands. She looked down at her wrinkled and aged hands and rubbed them together vigorously. There was already too much blood staining them to ever be clean again. With another heavy sigh that did nothing to relieve the burden she carried, the Headmaster grabbed up her staff and went to alert her people.
“Is Southport also under attack?” Aggie asked as Raijaun slipped the stone back into his pocket.
“Not yet, but likely within the next day or two.”
Aggie watched the ships approach, now close enough to be seen with the naked eye. “Raijaun, are all the invaders on those ships?”
“Those ships carry the initial invasion force. They will create a beachhead where I must assume they have another method of bringing in reinforcements. It would be highly impractical to transport their entire army by such mundane means.”
“The ships appear vulnerable. If our mages attack them directly, we could prevent them from landing their forces and do a great deal of damage.”
“I would be very surprised if the ships are as vulnerable as they appear, but the strategy is certainly sound.”
“I’ll take more of our mages to the seawall and see if we can’t swat at least a few of those things out of the sky.”
“I know I do not need to say it to someone as learned as yourself, Aggie, but please be careful. We cannot afford to lose our wizards in the opening gambit.”
Miranda said, “I should go down there and lead the repelling forces.”
“Lady, I think it is better if you stay near me. You are but one more sword amongst many right now. The people will need you later, and father would never forgive me if anything happened to you.”
“I just feel like I should be doing something.”
“You are, Mother. You are a symbol of hope, and in these times the people need that far more than another fighter or martyr.”
“I suppose you are right.”
Tension mounted as the ships drew nearer with every passing breath. Miranda continually trained her spyglass between the approaching armada and the magical gate ushering her people to safety. The elderly, young, and those unable to fight clogged the streets as they tried to press forward against the phalanx of soldiers trying to create an orderly retreat through the portals as the peoples’ fear of magic was eclipsed by the approaching promise of certain death. On the other side, in the great city of Brelland, the capitol’s soldiers hastily ushered the arrivals out of the way and to the tents and other shelters lining the streets providing meager homes for the tens of thousands of refugees.
It was a dismal job as the people staggered out of the portal, most retching from the powerful vertigo the magical travel created and filling the streets with an awful stench. The difficulty in moving the arrivals as they tried to regain their balance and composure created a logjam of people trying to flee North Haven, and they were getting increasingly unruly as their fear mounted.
“Raijaun, the people are getting scared and trying to force their way through the gate. If they stampede, the soldiers are not going to be able to stop them, and a lot of people will get trampled.”
“Perhaps Brother Thomas and his chosen can help,” Raijaun suggested.
Miranda hastened from the battlements and climbed onto the saddle of her waiting mount. Three soldiers fell in around her as she rode out of the castle gates and into the city proper. Brother Thomas and those with any ability to treat the wounded had tents set up and buildings commandeered not far from the gates. While it facilitated evacuating the wounded, it also made it difficult for Miranda to navigate the congested streets.
“Please make way!” Miranda shouted above the din of the shoving and jostling crowds.
“When are they going to let us through?” someone shouted. “Those creatures are coming to kill us!”
“We are evacuating the city now.” Miranda tried to reassure the people as she and her escort tried to push through the masses without trampling anyone.
“Why do we have to wait? You and your kind are going first and leaving us to die!”
“I am not leaving. I am going to try and help get you all through the gates.”
The panicked crowd would not listen. Cries of “liar” and accusations of the wealthy and privileged being evacuated first rang out. Miranda pleaded to be let through, but the crowd pressed in and hands began grabbing at her horse’s bridle. Her escorts pushed in and beat the crowd back with the flat of their blades. Before Miranda could protest, one of her guards grabbed her mount’s bridle and spurred his horse forward. New cries rang out, cries of pain as feet and bodies were trampled under hoof and beneath the shoes of those trying to get out of the horses’ path. Several stones flew over the crowd from their rear, a few clanging off Miranda and her guards’ armor but most striking others in the crowd.
Miranda steeled her emotions as she and her escorts pushed through the
frightened, angry mob. She understood their fear, but their accusations and anger carried the heavy sting of betrayal. People who adored her not so long ago now cursed her name and hurled stones. Bitterness and anger began extinguishing her pity. How could they think she was abandoning them after all she had done? She had risked her life to protect them from invaders, sold her possessions to help feed them, and even now she risked death not just from her enemies but from her own people. Perhaps for the first time, Miranda understood her husband’s bitterness and why he suppressed his emotions so deeply. She wanted to strike these ungrateful people down and clear them from her path with a wave of her hand and was instantly glad she did not have that kind of power. She even began to understand Ellyssa and how the sweet but precocious girl had become so cold and cynical.
Self-preservation won out over anger as the crowd hastened out of the mounted party’s path. Fortunately, the crowds were better controlled as they neared the hospice center. Guards formed a defensive perimeter and controlled access to the streets and buildings. Miranda left her horse with her guards and asked for Brother Thomas. She was directed to a large inn near the center of the cordoned off block and found the priest and his acolytes tending to people laid out on cots and the inn’s tables. Most injuries appeared to be minor and consisted of cuts, a few breaks, and other wounds caused by accidents. That would change very soon.
“Thomas!” Miranda called out and waved.
Brother Thomas looked up, finished giving instructions to an underling, and went to Miranda. “Lady, how can I help you?”
“I need help with the crowds. People are beginning to panic, and I fear they will riot soon if we cannot calm them. Is there anything your people can do to ease their fear so we can evacuate them?”
The Sorcerer's Destiny (The Sorcerer's Path) Page 25
