Will smiled. “Come to the house for dinner. If I start now, I can prepare something special for you.”
“Don’t you have a cook? Surely you don’t live in that big house and still cook your own meals?”
He growled. “Don’t get me started. There is a cook, but I haven’t made peace with the fact yet, although Jeremy seems like a nice fellow.”
Chapter 11
Selene still hadn’t returned, and Jeremy was already deep in preparation for the evening meal. Even so, Will would have joined him in the kitchen, but Blake interrupted him with a reminder. “You told me to mention your reading the next time you had some time to kill.”
He stared at the manservant for several seconds before his brain caught up. “Oh.” He had indeed told Blake something along those lines. Outside of his normal classwork, he had begun reading several instructional histories on war and strategy. The book he was currently working his way through was dry and rather boring, but it did hold occasional gems. Deflated, Will made his way up the stairs to his study.
The first half hour was rough, until he got into the flow of book, though it helped that the author had finally gotten around to describing one of the larger battles that had taken place on the central plains of Darrow. That particular fight between the Terabinian Revolutionary Forces and the Darrowan Army seemed to revolve largely around control of the main road that traversed the region, connecting the capital of Myrsta with the mountains where the pass leading to Barrowden was located. Ultimately, the road was a major portion of the artery that connected the two largest cities, Myrsta and Cerria.
The outcome was a bit depressing, for it was one of the first major defeats for the Terabinian revolutionaries. If they had taken control of the road it would have crippled the Prophet’s ability to move men and supplies through the heart of Darrow and might have led to his eventual downfall. As it was, their loss allowed the Prophet’s troops to drive their Terabinian countrymen back to the mountains and led to the split of Greater Darrow into the two modern nations that existed today, Terabinia and Darrow.
Many of the earlier battles had been marked by grand, magical battles between the wizards who supported each side. Those were the portions that Will was most interested in, but they were also the most poorly described. While the author went into great detail regarding troop movements, logistics, and tactical stratagems, the magical conflicts were largely glossed over, except to note their results.
In the earliest battles of the war, Terabinia had dominated the magical conflicts, which generally led to rout and disaster for the Darrowans in the clash of soldiers that followed. In fact, in almost every instance Will could find, the magical conflict directly predicted the outcome of the battle that followed, except when there was no magical battle at all. That puzzled him.
Calling up the limnthal, he addressed his grandfather, a resource that any historian worthy of the name would have drooled over, for Arrogan had actually fought in the Terabinian War for Independence. “I have a question about war,” said Will without preamble.
“Let me guess, your blushing bride has had enough of the training and now she’s out to kill you. Is that it?”
Will laughed. “She hasn’t come after me with an axe yet, but I’m sure she thought about it once or twice. She’s past the second compression, and she’ll be after me to do the third before long.”
“How long did it take?”
“Just a bit over three months.”
“Hmm. She will probably be all right then, but it isn’t certain.”
“What would you do?” asked Will.
“Refuse her,” said Arrogan immediately. “I never lost an apprentice to compression sickness, but I was overly cautious. She’s your wife. Telling her no isn’t quite as simple.”
Will thought it over for a moment and found he agreed. Selene wouldn’t settle for second-order, and he’d have hell to pay if he tried to stop her. “She wants to risk it. I’ve fought her most of the way so far. I’m not going to stand in her way now. Besides, if I did, she knows enough to do it herself when I’m not around.”
“What was your question about?”
Will remembered what he was studying as his mind snapped back to its previous course. “The Battle of the Plains, during the Terabinian War for Independence. I was reading about it and it seems that there wasn’t much magic used.”
“That was just a statement,” said Arrogan testily. “Don’t make me guess what you want to know.”
“Why didn’t they use magic? It seems to have tipped the tide for our side during the first half of the war.”
“Wizards, or as the case is these days, sorcerers, are a premium item during a war. The army with the most magic tends to have a large advantage, but as a consequence of that, a lot of warfare revolves around negating or overcoming that advantage. Magic users tend to have a high casualty rate.”
“So…”
“I wasn’t there,” said Arrogan finally.
“But surely there were other wizards.”
The ring gave a reluctant sigh. “Something came up, and I had to leave the main body of the Terabinian army. There were other wizards, but I was the only third-order wizard, and Valemon’s force had been reinforced with a large number of sorcerers. Teragin bluffed, and they called him on it. The result was a rout.”
“Teragin?” asked Will. “What do you mean by bluff?”
“The commander of the Terabinian force.” Arrogan paused for a moment, then continued, “By bluff, I mean he hoped they would assume I was still with the army. Up until then, we soundly punished them whenever magic came into play, but our own magical forces were severely strained, so we had been reluctant to use them in the later battles. The Prophet’s army was only too glad to avoid magical conflict if we didn’t start it at that point, since it hadn’t gone well for them before. Teragin assumed they’d fight conservatively and avoid using magic as they had previously, but what he didn’t know was that they were aware of the situation that took me away. They knew they had the advantage and they used it in full.”
Will frowned. “But you’re just one man.”
“You know very well the importance one person can have on a field of battle, William. You’ve been there. Tell me, what did you learn was the most important thing to winning a battle?”
He’d been doing a lot of thinking on that point during his reading, especially when he reflected on his own experience of war just two years prior. Will had some ideas, but he couldn’t speak with confidence. “There are a lot of important factors, but what I saw in person was how crucial morale could be.”
“Hmm, maybe there’s hope for your brain after all,” said Arrogan with a rare backhanded compliment. “Morale is hugely important, and the impact that the presence or absence of someone that the troops have come to rely on can make or break a line of men at a critical moment. But consider this as well: with a commander it can be hard for the troops to know when or where he is during the chaos of battle, but with a wizard, it can be painfully obvious.”
“What do you mean?”
“If I was there, no one dared try to burn our men alive. When I was absent, and the enemy knew it, they only had to incinerate a few hundred to completely demoralize them.”
“But the other wizards—”
“Weren’t third-order,” finished Arrogan. “I’ve told you that second-order isn’t much different from third in most regards, other than lifespan, but that statement leaves out several important facts. You’re still growing into your abilities so you haven’t seen it yet, but at the pace you’re improving, you soon will.”
Will tried to laugh. “That’s not cryptic at all, and here I was beginning to think you weren’t really a proper wizard. Can you speak plainly?”
“I could put my foot up your ass!” retorted Arrogan with a growl. “Remember when you took Ethelgren’s ritual spell away from him?”
That had been while he was riding along in his half-sister Laina’s body. “Well, Lain
a helped…”
“That was you!” snapped Arrogan. “Whatever else she did, I’m sure it was important, but that particular action, that was you. Only third-order wizards typically develop enough control over turyn around them to steal a spell from someone else, much less an ongoing ritual-spell in the hands of another third-order wizard.”
“I barely managed that,” admitted Will.
“You’re young, and Ethelgren was an enchanter,” said Arrogan, putting a prejudicial emphasis on the last word. “But he was still a third-order wizard, and much more experienced. If you had done that to him back when he was alive, he’d have become a laughingstock among his peers. Now consider this. These days third-order wizards aren’t simply rare—you’re the only one. If you don’t get killed by your own stupidity or a random bit of bad luck, you’re going to be a nightmare for the enemy sorcerers.”
“I don’t know that many spells yet, and I can only reflex cast two of them!” complained Will.
“How many of the king’s sorcerers can reflex cast anything? How many of them can keep three spells prepared? You can learn new spells. But I’m getting off topic. I wasn’t really referring to your knowledge. I’m talking about turyn control, not spells.”
It was Will’s turn to sigh. “Is this the ‘take the other man’s stick away from him’ speech? I know I have a stronger will, but that’s not going to help if they’re throwing fireballs at our army from fifty yards away. In a pitched battle, I’m not going to be standing right next to the enemy sorcerer.”
“There’s more to turyn control than just that,” said the ring.
“I can’t absorb a fireball from any real distance away either.”
“Absorption does require close proximity, but that’s not what I’m referring to either.”
“Then what? You’re making me crazy.”
“You told me about how you felt during that ritual. Do you remember? When the turyn was swirling around you and you felt like it would sweep you away…”
It had been a moment Will would never forget. Though he’d been standing perfectly still, the raging torrents of power twisting around him had made it feel as if he were riding atop a massive storm. In a word, it had exhilarated him. “It was amazing,” he answered quietly.
“Well, this isn’t nearly as addicting as that feeling of power, but what you experienced can serve as a good example. Imagine how you balanced the flow around you. It was too much to hold directly, but you nudged it along and built it slowly so that it grew in the way you desired. If your control was good enough for that, then you can probably affect more ordinary flows of turyn at a far greater distance.”
“Are you talking about a different kind of ritual?”
“No, and it isn’t a spell either. This is more like wild magic; it’s intuitive, and it grows naturally from your improving ability with turyn, both absorption and deliberate control. It’s something seen to a small degree with second-order wizards, but it was something that was always seen with third-order wizards, and to a much greater degree.”
Frustrated, Will replied, “You aren’t telling me what it is. You’re just talking around it.”
“Be patient! Damn! I’m doing the best I can. Here, this is a better analogy. Imagine you’re using a bow and you want to hit a target at a great distance. You have to compensate for the wind conditions if you expect to hit your target, right?”
“I’m not an archer, so—maybe? Why don’t you just go back to insulting me?” suggested Will. “We’ll both be happier.”
“Listen, you dunderheaded rabbit blossom! I’m trying to say—”
Will interrupted, “What’s a rabbit blossom? That’s a new one.”
“It’s where rabbit turds come out. Now shut up. I’m trying to say that you can affect the wind.”
“Well, yeah. I’ve been using the wind-wall spell for quite some time.”
“Not the actual wind, fool! I’m talking about the analogy. You can have a significant effect on the flow of turyn around you, out to a considerable range.”
He scratched his head. “And that will stop arrows?”
Arrogan’s response was an incoherent screech as he lost his patience and began to swear a blue streak. Will couldn’t help but smirk. He’d gotten so used to the old man’s tirades over the years that they actually relaxed him in an oddly perverse way. Plus, there was always the chance he might learn a new gem such as the recently acquired ‘rabbit blossom.’ After a minute he interrupted the litany of execration, “Oh, you meant spells.” There was a smirk in his voice.
His old master stopped cold, then, after a brief pause, he made an accusation: “You’re winding me up on purpose!”
“Only when I need some levity,” admitted Will. “You seem to enjoy it anyway.”
“That’s it. I’m never swearing at you again. You’ve ruined it, you warped degenerate.”
Will leaned back in his chair and laughed. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep. Anyway, you were saying that by somehow twisting environmental turyn around I can do what exactly? Deflect spells?”
“First, don’t try it against force effects. As I’ve told you before, those are immutable—they can’t be stolen or even twisted by another caster—but all other spells are vulnerable to varying degrees. If the enemy is close by, you won’t be able to affect their spells as much, but in a battle, where people are casting spells at maximum range, you’ll find you can do quite a lot.”
“By creating some sort of turyn turbulence?”
“I’ve described it as best I can. You’ll have to feel your way through it.”
“Maybe I can experiment with help from someone. I’d rather not wait until the war starts to figure out what you’re talking about. Oh, there’s something else I’ve been meaning to tell you about. Yesterday someone tried to kill Selene.”
“You probably should have started with that,” said Arrogan dryly.
It was relatively quiet in the house, and Will heard the front door open even though he was upstairs. “We’ll have to talk more later. I think Selene’s home.” He dismissed the limnthal before Arrogan could reply and jumped to his feet.
He took the stairs two at a time, and when he got to the bottom, he was only faintly disappointed to see that Blake was letting Seth into the entry hall. To be honest, he was glad to see his friend, but Selene had already been on his mind, and it was hard for anyone else to compete. “Seth! I’m glad you came.”
His young friend looked at him with a vague air of unease. “Are you sure it’s all right?”
“Of course!” Will gestured toward the parlor door. “Why don’t we go sit down? Supper isn’t ready yet and Selene isn’t back, so you may have to wait a short while before you can fill your stomach.”
“I don’t need to eat,” said Seth quickly. “I could just give you the news and head back to the dorm.”
“Ridiculous. You were one of my first friends at Wurthaven. You’ll be fine once you get to know my wife better.” Will sat and gestured to a cushioned chair. “So, what did you find out?”
Seth sat but his posture remained stiff. “Father recognized the boots immediately. They belong to a gentleman named Lewis Arberry—”
“Belonged,” Will corrected with a rueful look.
His friend swallowed, then continued, “According to Father, he’d been a regular customer for many years. He’s—he was—the third son of Viscount Arberry, and apparently he fell on hard times a while back. He’s been getting those boots resoled for quite a number of years.”
“You’re a wonder,” said Will. “I couldn’t have figured out who he was if it wasn’t for you. What do you know about the family? Where are the viscount’s lands? Was it the son who was in financial difficulty, or his father?”
Seth threw up his hands. “I’m the son of a cobbler, Will. I know next to nothing about nobles other than those I’ve met personally here at Wurthaven.”
The sound of the front door opening again announced Selene’s arrival,
and Will smiled. “That’s fine. I know an expert on the topic, and I’m fairly sure that’s her coming in the door.” He winked and added, “I hope you’re hungry.”
Chapter 12
Tender pork loin served over a bed of bitter dandelion greens kept Will’s attention while Selene and Seth became acquainted. For all of his previous resistance to hiring a cook, Will couldn’t deny Jeremy’s skill. The pork had been roasted in a sweet sauce with some sort of fruit that had been rendered almost impossible to identify. Plum? It might be grapes. Will couldn’t be certain, but he knew that he approved of the pairing of sweet pork with the tart, astringent dandelion greens. In another dish, there were long beans waiting to be sampled, decorated with yellow dandelion flowers, which were much sweeter than the greens.
Jeremy and I are going to have to have a talk after this, thought Will, smiling around another mouthful. Then he glanced up at the heretics seated at the table with him. Seth was too nervous in Selene’s presence to eat much, and she was doing her best to help the cobbler’s son relax with an endless stream of small talk and polite questions about his family.
Eventually, he could take no more. “Let him eat,” Will grumbled.
Selene’s glance in his direction was one of annoyance, but ever mindful, she returned to their guest. “I am keeping you from eating, aren’t I?”
“I’m enthralled, Your Highness,” Seth answered hurriedly. “Your curiosity about my humble family is flattering.”
Selene frowned, then looked at Will again. Will translated for his friend. “She asked you to forgo the formalities. You’re a guest in our home.”
Abashed, Seth dropped his fork and bowed his head. “Please forgive me, Your H—Selene.”
“None of that either,” mumbled Will around a mouthful of food. “Just eat. Trust me, she’s nicer than she looks.”
Scandalized, Selene rocked back in her chair, her eyes wide. “And what does that mean?”
Will shrugged, continuing to chew. The food was too good to spoil by swallowing hurriedly. The air grew colder as he masticated, and by the time he finally cleared his throat to answer, Seth was becoming visibly anxious. “I meant—that as lovely and beautiful as you are—your true nature is even sweeter.”
Disciple of War (Art of the Adept Book 4) Page 10
