“My apologies, I’ve never been good at telling the races apart. Still, I’ve seen the way people look at you. They think twice about messing with you, probably has something to do with you being a Ranger and all.”
“The idea is still out of the question, I am not someone to be paraded around at the festival by a man I’ve barely met,” Caitlyn’s cheeks turned red as she spoke.
“Something tells me that he’d be the one who was paraded around in that pair, little one.” Solin chuckled after finishing his sentence.
The conversation was interrupted by a knock at the door. Solin shook his head as he grabbed his war hammer. Another knock came while he was still on his way to the door. “Hold your horses,” he said as he slung the war hammer over his shoulder. He opened the door to find the mayor and several of his personal bodyguards. Sev looked up at Caitlyn and then back at the door. This can’t be good, he thought as he stood up from his chair. His hand slid down to his sword. Caitlyn grabbed his hand before he could unsheathe his sword. He shot her an annoyed glance and then started walking for the door. The mayor and Solin were already discussing something when Sev arrived at the door. Caitlyn peeked around his arm moments later.
“Ah, there he is. We’ll take it from here, Captain.” One of the mayor’s bodyguards stepped forward.
“I think not. Your hired goons have no say here.” Solin took the war hammer off his shoulder and pressed the end of it into the chest of the bodyguard.
“You won’t let me take them willingly?” The mayor asked.
“They? What is the meaning of this? What crime has been committed here?” Solin’s usually jovial looked was replaced with a stern one.
“This man is an outsider, they are not welcome in our town. Caitlyn was seen consorting with him, she’ll have to go, as well. As for you, Captain, I am highly disappointed in your actions. If you do not give them up, I’ll be forced to have you jailed.” A smirk formed on the mayor’s face.
“You’ll be doing no such thing, Anthony. The courts will decide his fate. Caitlyn is under my protection, you won’t be sending her anywhere.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way. Good thing I hired more men. Guards!”
Solin shoved the nearest bodyguard back and then closed the door on the rest of them. He braced himself against the door and was about to tell the other two to leave out the back door when more of Anthony’s men come bursting in. Sev pulled out his sword and stepped in between Caitlyn and the bodyguards. They hesitated when they saw him pull the sword. Everyone in Riverton had heard of the prowess of the Rangers. These three bodyguards were the first citizens of the town to test that prowess. Sev lunged at the closest guard, slapping him in the hand with the flat side of his blade. The blow caused the man to drop his sword and yelp in pain. Each of the other men attacked at once, hoping to catch the half-elf off guard. Sev dodged backward and then kicked a stool at one of his attackers. He stepped toward the other attacker and parried his overhead blow. With a laugh, he stepped forward again and then kicked the man in the gut.
The two men started scrambling backward, tripping over various pieces of furniture that were located around the room. After the two men had fallen to the floor, Sev grabbed Caitlyn’s hand and the two ran for the backdoor. Solin grabbed a nearby table and slid it up against the door he was bracing. He positioned it in such a way that it would effectively hold the door for several minutes before following the half-elves out the backdoor. The townsfolk were surprised to see the three exit the backdoor of the barracks. Unsure of which side to choose, the villagers decided against getting involved. Sev placed his thumb and middle finger of his left hand into his mouth and whistled. His men started appearing from various locations, some at the bazaar, some on rooftops, and others just milling about town. He pointed for the edge of town, and they all began to run for the trees.
“Don’t let them get away!” Anthony yelled as his troops made chase.
*
Arcantos stepped out of the war tent and walked among his troops. The siege of Carmalia had started early the day before. Galimdorian siege engines had managed to tear apart a large section of the ramparts of the Carmalian castle. However, the Wizards appeared from seemingly nowhere and charged forward, destroying the siege engines. Arcantos had anticipated losing the siege engines at one point or another. He was upset that they hadn’t lasted as long as he had hoped, but they were still only a fraction of the plan. The wall itself was still intact, even in the part where they had focused their siege weapons. That section had been cut down to half the size of the rest of the walls. None of that mattered, Arcantos had a plan for taking down the walls and keeping the Carmalians holed up in the keep. He needed the rest of the southern kingdoms to commit to the war, but a siege against each individual kingdom would take away too much of the Galimdorians’ power.
His plan was much more devious. He would breach the outer walls and allow the Carmalians to retreat into the keep, at which point in time he would find a way to goad the Wizards into tearing apart the landscape and making it nearly impossible to take the keep without heavy casualties. This action would leave the Galimdorians only one choice, they would be forced to starve the Carmalians. Such a maneuver would allow for the Wizards to contact their counterparts in Cardinia and Sardinia. At which point, they would have no choice but to marshal their armies and fight the Galimdorians in the open fields. The Holy Order would be preoccupied by Witches and Necromancers, the dwarves would be preoccupied by the orcs, the elves would be preoccupied by the trolls, and the southern kingdoms would be preoccupied by the Galimdorians. Arcantos’ plan was falling into place, soon the entire land would be engulfed in a series of wars.
“Prepare to take the walls, men. I will provide you with a means,” Arcantos said as he strode toward the large Carmalian castle.
The troops, frightened at the thought of being reprimanded by Arcantos, lined up in formation. None of them understood what he was talking about as they had all seen the siege weapons get destroyed by the Wizards. Only the Knights of Doom were eager to take up their positions at the head of the army. They had worked with Arcantos for years and knew what he was capable of. Many of them were looking forward to seeing what it was that he would do to the enemy walls. Arcantos stopped just far enough so that the enemy arrows couldn’t reach him. He raised his staff up into the air, and the earth began to quiver. The earth around the moat began to crack, and the water started to seep through. Within moments, the entire moat had disappeared, and the remains were being filled in with dirt. The mage closed his eyes and continued to wave his staff in the air. He knew that the motion didn’t matter, but the majority of the enemies weren’t magic users, and the display was to intimidate them.
A small dirt ramp began to form near the partially destroyed wall. It grew in size until it was large enough to support ten men wide and it reached all the way to the top of the damaged part of the wall. The Carmalians rushed from their spots on the wall to gather at the point at the top of the ramp. Arcantos watched as nearly a fourth of the Carmalian army gathered on the broken part of the wall. He thrust his staff forward and the ramp acted like a giant battering ram, slamming against the wall. The force of the collision shook the very foundations of the wall. He did it again, shaking the wall even more this time. After a third time, the wall fell backward, leaving a gaping hole into the courtyard of the castle. Arcantos lowered his staff and the ramp crumbled away, leaving his troops an open shot at the enemy keep. The Carmalians clambered into the keep as fast as they could, barely escaping the oncoming army.
Arcantos ordered his men to fall back to the outer wall and watched as the Wizards began casting their spells. As he had predicted, the Wizards were aiming for the ground and not his troops. Though it looked strange to the Galimdorians and Carmalians, Arcantos knew it was a sound strategy. He couldn’t take the keep if his men couldn’t get to it. It didn’t matter though, the leader of the Knights of Doom had a plan that would force the Carmalians to exit their
castle and engage the Galimdorians in the open field. He sat down at the top of the gatehouse on the outer wall. We didn’t even have to fight anyone, he thought as he glanced around and saw no new casualties. He sat and waited for his commanders to report on the situation.
“Sir, we’ve taken complete control of the outer wall. There were no Carmalians soldiers to be found. We are currently conducting a sweep of the area to make sure they don’t have any trapdoors or secret passages with which they can surprise us.” One of the Commanders gave his report.
“Excellent, you said we control the entirety of the wall? Have you found any evidence of where the Wizards came from when they attacked our siege engines?” Arcantos asked.
“I’m afraid we don’t know where the attack came from. The only exit is the gatehouse, and it was closed the entire time. It is entirely possible that the attack came from the village and not the castle. We haven’t thoroughly checked the town yet. Our preliminary sweep indicated that the villagers had departed for the castle.”
“Take one of my mages and have him check the town for enchanted buildings. Something tells me that we are up against somebody who knows a thing or two about war. Try to find the Wizard’s Conclave as well, I’ve heard they have a vast amount of knowledge that could come in handy for us.”
*
“The Wizards will surely attempt to recruit us a second time,” Leon stood before his King.
“Under what circumstances would you recommend joining in this fight?” King Henry asked.
“I do not see it necessary that Sardinia get involved unless Cardinia also agrees. We also can’t be expected to intervene without getting something for ourselves. Perhaps we can strike a deal with the Wizards once they have been weakened.”
“Don’t you belong to their Council?” One of the King’s other advisors asked.
“Of course, but all agreed that the individual Archwizards would have the final say as to whether their Conclave gets involved or not. Some of the Conclaves are quite close, but others are a part of the Council due to formalities. Though I do not agree with him on many things, Rolin’s traditional views have come in hand on more than one occasion.”
“Enough about that old bat. We need to form a plan. Is there any event in which we join the Galimdorians?” The King asked.
“I wouldn’t recommend it, not unless the pot was highly sweetened in our favor. They are nearly as strong as all the southern kingdoms combined. Joining forces with them would only be beneficial until they figured out that we are significantly weaker than them once Carmalia and Cardinia are out of the way. I’ve done a lot of thinking on the matter though. If we can strike an alliance with the Barbarians or the Holy Order, then we are free to deal with the Galimdorians as we please. These options may not seem so realistic, but we must examine all of our paths and choose accordingly.”
“What makes you the resident expert on all of this?” The King’s advisor asked.
“I’ve been researching the different kingdoms for more than ten years now. I’m always on the lookout for new allies or enemies, it is prudent to be prepared. Speaking of which, I need to get to my quarters, I have people to contact.” Leon bowed low before leaving the room.
The Sardinian Conclave was a part of the main castle. It was difficult for outsiders to tell where the castle portion ended and where the Conclave began. Leon liked it that way, it made him feel that if he played his cards right he could take over the kingdom for himself. At the moment, he had smaller plans to deal with. Septimus of the Warlocks had contacted him regarding a group of mages who called themselves the Wielders. The Warlocks needed information on their new enemy and Leon was the one to see about information. His network of spies and informants rivaled that of the Knights of Doom. Leon opened the door to his chamber and sighed.
“Septimus, I trust that this is a good time?” Leon asked as an image of the Warlock appeared in his room.
“As good a time as any, what are the terms of your services?” Septimus appeared to be in the middle of something.
“You’ve got three choices. We can trade information for information, we can trade information for money, or we can trade information for magical knowledge.” Leon poured himself a cup of tea and took a seat at his table.
“I have a fourth offer for you.” The image of Septimus flickered and disappeared, only to be replaced by Septimus himself only moments later.
“This is an outrage, get out of my quarters!” Leon yelled as he stood up from the chair.
“Give me the information and I will let you live.” Septimus raised his hand, and Leon was thrown back against the wall.
“Wait! Wait!” Leon yelled as he threw his hands over his head.
“Yes?” Septimus temporarily stopped the attacks.
“I’ll tell you what you want to know about the Wielders, nothing more. I have a business to run you know.”
“That is entirely acceptable to me.”
The Witches of Telmac Valley
The Grand Crusader held up his hand to order his men to stop. He dismounted his horse and walked to the edge of the cliff. Before him lay the Valley of Telmac, home to the Witches of Telmac. There were many stories of how the valley came to be inhabited, the most common of them being a tale of desperation. According to legend, men and women from nearly every race had gotten fed up with their rulers constant and petty squabbles. They devised a plan to scour the continent in search of unspoiled land in which to settle. As the story goes, they found the valley of Telmac, a land rich in natural resources. It was unclear as to how, but they managed to live life unaffected by the outside world for hundreds of years. Many assumed that it was there that they met the Witches and, in a trade for their very souls, agreed to work with them for protection from the outside.
Traveling through the valley was the most direct route to the Spire of the Dead and the only real option for an army of any size. The Grand Crusader removed his helmet and gazed out over the valley. It was a land that had few blemishes. Even the large city in the middle of the valley seemed to blend in with its surroundings. Telmac, the jewel of the Witches holdings, was more of a giant castle than a city. The Witches were constantly adding more to the city as they saw fit. As no other cities were allowed in the valley, Telmac was expanded nearly every year to account for population growth. Even those who worked in the outposts spread throughout the valley still had homes in the main city. Gareth turned to face his men. It had been several years since he had led the army into battle, but that had not lowered the level of respect his men held in him.
“My brothers, many of you have heard about the Valley of Telmac and the evils within. We have put off purging the land because their filth does not spread out from the valley. Today we are presented with an opportunity to deal with them on our way to the Necromancers. Grand Cleric Bartholomew will be giving out blessings, I highly recommend that you accept them. We know not the nature of these Witches, and we need any holy protection we can get.”
“Excellent speech, Gareth. This is a chance that we cannot afford to give up. The Witches of Telmac have gone unchecked for far long enough,” Grand Cleric Bartholomew said as he dipped his fingers into the water bowl that he was holding and sprinkled a few drops on Gareth.
Gareth watched as the men lined up before the Clerics. He turned his gaze to the Valley of Telmac. This is your chance for redemption, he thought. It had been more than two decades since the Holy Order had tried to rid the valley of its Witches. Gareth was one of several Captains who had accompanied the-then Grand Crusader. Each of them commanded one-thousand men into the fray. The Grand Crusader led the charge against the significantly larger army. At first, it seemed as though the better equipped Holy Order would be the victor. Gareth soon after had realized that his men wouldn’t be able to stand the sheer number of defenders and tried to convince the Grand Crusader that retreat was the best option. The move nearly got him branded as a coward and traitor, but in the end he turned out to be correct.
&nb
sp; That day had haunted Gareth for years, and now that he had a chance to set things right, he was willing to do whatever it would take. He started down into the valley. So much death, he thought as he remembered the aftermath of the battle. The Grand Crusader had been slain along with the majority of his forces. Gareth was one of less than a hundred men that survived. He found it hard to believe that such a majestic place could have a history of such bloodshed. The valley was nestled in between the Kargill Mountains in the west and the Spire of the Dead in the east. Neither the dwarves nor the Necromancers wanted to secure the valley. The north end of the valley bordered the Desert of Solitude and the vast ocean beyond it. To the south, between the afore mentioned mountain ranges, were two passes that led into the Old Forest. There were only a handful of recorded battles that had been fought in the valley, most of which were between the Holy Order and the Witches, but all of them were ruthless massacres.
Gareth ran his fingers through his horse’s mane. He mounted the horse as the last of his men had received their blessings. There was only one entrance to the valley from the west and the Witches had set up a small outpost there. Grand Cleric Bartholomew joined Gareth at the front of the army. Often times, the Grand Cleric and the Grand Crusader were more like religious and political figureheads of the Holy Order. Gareth and Bartholomew were some of the few throughout the order’s long history that actually played a role in furthering the cause of the Holy Order. Never before had both the Grand Cleric and the Grand Crusader taken such an active role in the Holy Order’s business.
“Here we are again, making up for our predecessors shortcomings. The Holy Order is only a shadow of its former glory. We may be one of the strongest forces in the land, but that is due to our hard work for the past decade. Our predecessors allowed the order to become weak. We must continue to undo that course of action,” Bartholomew spoke with a mixture of disgust and passion as he addressed Gareth.
The Wizard's Council Page 9
