Arcanist

by Terry Mancour

  “My lord?” he asked, confused. “Nay, though there may well be some I am not aware of. The keep is lost?” he asked, in disbelief. “We are overrun? What foul calamity is this? And . . . why are my feet getting wet?”

  “All good questions, my friend,” Buroso said, before I could. “But the answers will have to wait until later. Those good people,” he said, indicating the staircase, where a line of increasingly desperate people were waiting for their chance to escape, “need to be escorted through the maze and out to the sunshine, again. The Spellmonger has selected you for this vital duty, if you are not too wounded or exhausted to continue,” he added. “For you are the only one who has been all the way through, and these folks are scared and will need your protection.”

  Caswallon stood straighter and seemed to puff up. “There is no one more sure-footed than the Fox!” he bragged. “Come along, good people,” he called to the sudden refugees. “Come along and be careful of your steps, for the ground is uneven and sometimes treacherous. But hope and safety lie but a few hundred yards away, I promise you!”

  Buroso and I got out of the way as the first in a steady stream of wounded men-at-arms and noncombatants pressed forward.

  “Nicely done, that,” I nodded to him. “The way you handled Caswallon.”

  “I saw how you did it, and I wanted to try it out. It seemed like an opportune moment,” he shrugged. “I suppose I can work with Caswallon. He just takes a little getting used to, and once you know how to exploit his vanity, the rest is easy. So, once we’re through the tunnel, where do we send these people? There are sure to be pickets and patrols, out there.”

  “For now, get the Iron Band to escort the noncombatants to . . . well, I’ll have to return with an answer,” I confessed. “Get the troops formed up to protect the noncombatants. I need to go consult with Terleman and Sandoval, for a moment, and get a better picture of what’s going on. As soon as I know where they can go to, I’ll reach out to you, mind-to-mind, and tell you where to lead them.

  Buroso frowned. “Yes, my lord. But . . . how is your disappearance going to inspire any confidence in these people?” he asked, curious, but not critical.

  “Appearing and disappearing mysteriously is one of the most essential talents of a wizard,” I explained. “Tell everyone I go to make provision for them. Don’t tell everyone I have no idea what or where that might be. It’s more mysterious, that way.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The Stolen Bridge

  “Despair is the conclusion of fools.”

  Kasari Proverb

  From the Collection of Jannik the Rysh

  I had some trepidation about returning to Megelin Castle through the Ways. Two of the three castles I’d visited since I began my mission had fallen, though I could not fault myself for their failure. And I’d like to think I had a hand in preserving Forgemont, thus far. Still, a man can’t lose two castles he was responsible for defending and not feel anxious about visiting the next.

  I shouldn’t have worried. Things were already pretty bad at Megelin by the time I got back.

  The great hall where I came out was becoming filled with wounded from the walls. The hospital Bendonal had bragged about was full, and makeshift beds stretched the length of one side of the large hall. More than a hundred men had taken injuries in the siege, already. Bloody bandages and cast-off armor littered the floor. The surgeons were doing a brisk business in amputations, and a pile of covered bodies in the corner told me how successful they were.

  It was a gruesome sight to arrive into, and it made my news feel even more dire as I made my way to the command chamber. The sounds of battle occasionally made themselves heard over the groans and screams of the wounded, which was, in a grim way, heartening. If there was still battle here, then there was still hope.

  Terleman was not in the command chamber, Bendonal was. His face looked pale and gray, as he examined the diorama of Megelin. I paused to look at the position of the troops on either side of the tiny stone walls and then frowned. Mighty Megelin Castle was in the midst of the largest siege it had seen. There were easily double the number of foes outside than any of the other castles had drawn. It had been challenging, too. Already, one of the outer baileys had a breach in it.

  “Siege worms,” he explained, to answer my unasked question of how it got there. “We received most of the siege worms in Shakathet’s reserves. There are more than a dozen, out there, and they’re taking apart that wall faster than we can repair it.”

  “They’re tough,” I admitted. “But not invincible. I bear news. Iron Hill has fallen, thanks to Iron Peg’s betrayal. She tried to capture our magical corps, and while we were busy with that Korbal used the molopor to pour water on the castle. A tremendous amount. From a height. It destroyed the keep and continues to sow destruction,” I said, with a grim finality in my voice. “We’re evacuating the survivors through the tunnels, but I need to know where to send them before they get drowned, attacked, or worse.”

  Bendonal winced when he heard the news. “We lost Iron Hill? After Destiny? That’s bad, Minalan,” he said, simply.

  “I know!” I said, nearly shouting. “I was there! Both times! We’re getting hammered, out there! Where is Terleman?” I demanded.

  “He’s at that breach, killing siege worms,” Bendonal said, indicating the spot on the diorama. “He and Azar and about fifty of our magic corps. That’s the only reason that Shakathet isn’t at our inner gate, right now,” he pointed out, defensively. “It’s been like this for two days, Min. We’re holding on, for now, but it’s a near thing.”

  “That’s unfortunate,” I said, not knowing how else to present it. “We’ve lost two castles, now, and two more are hard pressed. What of Shakathet’s other troops?” I asked, hopefully.

  “Which ones? The ones laying waste to Yellin, or the ones headed steadfastly toward the Towers?” he asked, irritated. “Or the ones marauding around like bandits after Yule? We’re holding, Min, but for how long?”

  “As long as we need to,” I said, sounding confident.

  “That’s trite, Min,” he shot back. “I don’t know if we can last as long as we need to. I know you’re trying to make me feel better, but you’re not. We have over three hundred dead, and I’m sure you saw the wounded in the great hall. It’s hard to miss. We’ve only been at this for two days,” he said, frustrated. “We’re taking losses we can’t sustain. And damage we can’t repair.”

  “I understand,” I said, patiently. “I’m not taking issue with your response. I’m trying to find the answer to a great many questions. Most pressing, where am I going to put more than two thousand people where they won’t be spear fodder? That includes about a thousand infantry,” I offered.

  “I wish you could put them here,” Bendonal admitted. “We could use them on the walls. But after the Tera Alon helped evacuate Fort Destiny, they’re exhausted. We can’t expect them to repeat that feat.”

  “I know, I know,” I sighed. “But we have to send them somewhere. Somewhere where they won’t get slaughtered out-of-hand.”

  “We’ll have to wait for Terleman, then,” Bendonal sighed, heavily. “He’ll have the best idea about that.”

  While we waited, I filled Megelin Castle’s castellan in on what had transpired at Iron Hill. He was appalled at Iron Peg’s betrayal – as castellan and her titular liege, he was particularly angry. He was even more angered about her willingness to sell the magical corps to the foe and gave me several explicit suggestions about how to punish her for her crime.

  “She’s been the worst of our vassals,” he admitted. “She’s more concerned about the iron trade than her feudal obligations. Her tribute is always late and paid in kind – and not the good iron, either. She’s dumped most of her poorer quality ingots on us and acted as if she’s parting with her firstborn. If Vanador hadn’t begun producing such a superior product then half of our men wouldn’t have armor, because of her. She’s also one of the most disagreeable Wilderlords I
’ve ever met,” he added.

  “What I’m wondering is just how she made the connection to our foes,” I said, shaking my head and frowning. “We’ve had inspectors and magi all over Iron Hill since we discovered the escape tunnel. I think one of them would have noticed a gurvani skulking around.”

  “It’s probably one of the renegades who have been working for the other side,” Bendonal proposed. “We’ve had trouble with them before. The Free Lords’ territory is filled with them. Alas, men will do evil for gold, even betray their own kind.”

  We were joined a moment later by Terleman, fresh from the battle at the wall. He looked it, too, his armor scuffed and hacked, and his new steel helmet dented badly. But he seemed unhurt, as he arrived and sat down.

  “I hate the godsdamned trolls,” he said, shaking his head in disgust. “They’re climbing up the backs of the siege worms, now, and assaulting the top of the wall directly. To give cover to the sappers,” he explained. “Nine of them, this time. I was hoping they were running out. Why are you here?” he asked, me, suddenly realizing who he was speaking to.

  “I’m late from Iron Hill,” I said, quietly. “It has fallen. I’m seeking the best place to relocate the survivors. We should be able to get most of them out through the tunnel before the keep is invested.”

  That did little to improve Terleman’s mood. “First Fort Destiny and now Iron Hill?”

  “I did preserve Forgemont,” I said, a little defensively. “Shakathet is a far higher class of commander than Gaja Katar. And he’s using the Enshadowed to far better effect, particularly their sorcery.” I explained to him in detail how they had done so, and my attempts to counter.

  To his credit, Terleman did not rail or thunder at the news, nor did he attempt to blame me. He didn’t need to – I felt guilty enough about the losses as it was.

  “Well, that does answer one question,” he sighed, heavily. “On my way up here, I spoke to Count Marcadine’s court wizard, mind-to-mind,” Terleman reported. “One of his strongest castles, Preshar Castle, is in the middle of a lake, protected on all sides by water, save for one long causeway. It’s a good defense,” he admitted. “But only as long as the water is there. The court wizard said that the lake started to dry up a few hours ago and is nearly empty, now. There are seven thousand gurvani ready to cross that lakebed and assail the gatehouse,” he said, glumly.

  “That explains where the water came from,” I nodded, grimly. “Shakathet must have arranged for the molopor to take the defense of one castle on one front and use it to attack another castle on another. It’s rather clever, actually.”

  “It’s bloody brilliant,” Terleman said, shaking his head. “If I had that kind of power . . .”

  “Conquer the Black Vale and you could,” I shrugged. “Right now, I’m more interested in finding a place to put the folk of Iron Hill, those I’m not planning on executing for treason. I need to send them somewhere safe.”

  I half-expected Terleman to dismiss the request as unimportant, considering the dire situation at Megelin and the continuing siege of Forgemont, not to mention the armies rampaging across the west bank of the Wildwater. Instead, he sighed, heavily, and crossed the room to look at the larger diorama, the one that detailed the entire campaign.

  “This is problematic,” he said, scratching his chin as he studied the map. “Let me think . . .”

  “There are only fifteen hundred, maybe two thousand noncombatants,” I reported. “And—”

  “I know the numbers, Minalan,” he snapped. He continued pondering, for a moment, and then sighed. “There’s an old castle southwest of there, up on this ridge,” he said, indicating the area with his baculus. “It’s called Bramman Tor, one of the old hilltop Warder castles during the settlement. It was abandoned for something more modern about sixty years ago. The keep is ruined, but it has a defensible bailey and ditch. The Iron Band had an outpost there, for a while. They graze sheep, there. There are two turrets that are intact, and the gatehouse could be fortified. They can reach it in two days, if they hurry. And they aren’t attacked on the way,” he added.

  “There are close to a thousand fighting men at Iron Hill,” I reported. “They will have some protection.”

  “They’ll have to do with a tithe of that,” Terleman said, shaking his head. “I need the rest to move east and south to join the Vanador companies here,” he said, indicating a bare spot on the map.

  I knew a hundred men would be far too little to protect the civilians from harm, even with a bailey. “Terl, we can’t just send those people into the wilderness, defenseless, in the middle of—”

  “Damn it, Min!” Terleman exploded, “do you want me to win this war, or not? Perhaps you haven’t noticed, but we’ve lost two castles in as many days, and nearly lost a third! I need those troops, here,” he insisted poking at a spot on the diorama with his warwand. “Because when the dregs of the armies attacking Destiny and Iron Hill redeploy, they’ll be thrice as large as any force I have in the field, right now. Which means I need to turn garrison troops into field troops in an instant, and then get them where I need to in the next instant,” he complained. “Our only hope to draw off enough of the foe from Megelin to give us some respite.”

  “At the expense of two thousand civilians dying?” I asked. I kept the emotion out of my voice.

  “If they make it to Bramman Tor, they will be out of the path of any of the major armies in the area,” he said, evenly. “There’s a ditch, a wall and a well. Bring in supplies by hoxter, keep them quiet, and they maybe ride out the rest of the war. That’s the best I can do, Min,” he said, without regret in his own voice. “Now, if—”

  “Duin’s shaggy scrotum!” swore Sandoval, as he appeared by means of the Ways, sliding into existence like a dream in reverse. “Terl, what in seven hells is the meaning of this order?” he demanded, holding up a slip of parchment.

  “Was it unclear?” Terleman replied, coolly.

  “You want to bring the reserves across the Wildwater?” Sandoval asked, in disbelief. “And not even to relieve a siege? What’s the point of having reserves if you keep them marching aimlessly through the woods?”

  “Because the reserves form the core of the army we’ll need to lure Shakathet into a real battle,” Terleman explained, a little more intensely. “Those, in addition to the thousand from Iron Hill, the Iron Bandsmen that were evacuated from Fort Destiny, and the Vorone Free Company—”

  “Who is that?” I asked, sharply. “I’ve never heard of them.”

  “They are an improvised mercenary company of volunteers and old 3rd Commando veterans who wanted to fight,” he patiently explained. “Their captain is an old comrade of mine from Gilmora. He’s leading almost eight hundred men up the road from the south – the Mageway, the folk of Vorone call it, now,” he added. “With the reserves and the others, that will give us a credible force in the field. If Tyndal can move his cavalry south and avoid the marauders in the vales, that gives us almost nine thousand men, with eleven hundred cavalry members, if we can form up in time. A credible enough army to make Shakathet face it,” he reasoned.

  “And if he doesn’t?” Bendonal asked, quietly.

  “Then we goad him into it,” Terleman explained, patiently. “Look, most of our forces are pinned down, but essentially intact. Causalities have been moderate, so far. We’ve endured some damage, but we are unbeaten.”

  “Except for losing Fort Destiny,” Bendonal pointed out. “And Iron Hill.”

  “The castles, not the men,” Terleman said, tersely. “They will be in the field.”

  “And Iron Hill is fallen, I hear,” Sandoval said, glancing at me. I tried not to take it personally.

  “It has,” I agreed. “I just brought the news. But we are evacuating the people through the tunnels as Korbal pisses away the keep. Terl has given me guidance for where to lead the civilians. The infantry will be marching to meet the reserves, it seems.” I tried to sound confident, in my report. I really did.

/>   “So, we gather the dregs in with the reserves and encamp them out there, in the middle of nowhere, and hope Shakathet notices? Would it help if I flipped my skirts a bit, too?” Sandoval asked.

  “No,” Terleman said, his jaw set. “But you could deploy the Tower reserves to the same location,” he said. “Particularly the southern Towers. I’ll need the most adept Magical Corps I can gather, if this is to be successful. All men on the wall.”

  “That’s a lot to ask, Terl,” Bendonal said, uneasily. “If we deplete the Tower reserves, we’ll really have nothing to retreat to if things get bad.”

  “Things will get a lot worse if we don’t!” Terl said, sharply. “Shakathet isn’t going to quit the siege of Megelin for just any bait. There must be a credible enough threat to his army for him to consider it. Our force in the field has to be at least as big if not larger than the two large divisions he has roaming the vales. He thinks he has all of our forces bottled up, battered and near defeat. We must convince him that he has miscalculated.”

  “And you think this is the best way to do so?” I asked, trying not to be skeptical. It earned me a stark but meaningful stare.

  “I wouldn’t have given the order, if I didn’t,” he assured me. I looked in the man’s eyes. I believed it.

  “All right,” I sighed. “If Terl thinks this is the way to go, then we go this way. The Iron Hill folk, the reserves, the Vorone Free Company, all of it.”

  Sandy huffed and rolled his eyes. Bendonal closed his. Terleman gave me a grateful nod for my support.

  “What can I do?” I asked, simply.

  “Return to Iron Hill, issue my orders, and ensure that the civilians have a decent guard,” he decided. “Then accompany the military to the meeting place. You will receive further orders, there.”

  “I think I can get you a few additional squadrons of horse,” Bendonal offered, resigned. “A few of our vassal knights insisted on patrolling our eastern flanks. They’re useless to us, now, but you might use them.”