Disciple of War (Art of the Adept Book 4)

by Michael G. Manning

  Will stopped him there. “I don’t want to close the siege. Let them have the uplands. This isn’t an ordinary siege.”

  Everyone looked askance at him, so Will stood and leaned over the map they had spread on the table. As maps went, it wasn’t terribly sophisticated, being merely a charcoal sketch done on a large piece of parchment. In the center was the city of Myrsta, a circle divided by a line that represented the River Myrs. The Myrs was formed by two substantial rivers that came from the central hills of Darrow and joined together half a mile before passing through a massive canal that bisected the capital. It entered on the north side through an ancient stone river gate that consisted of both iron grates and massive wooden gates that could be closed in time of war.

  More importantly, the river guarded a fertile plain between the city and the hills where crops were grown, and herds of livestock were kept. Two bridges close to Myrsta gave access to the region, so any invader that wanted to lay siege to the capital needed to gain control of the area to prevent food and supplies from being brought into the city via the river.

  Will explained. “We can’t starve the demons out. Their supply line extends to hell itself. To stop them, we have to either destroy the spell-engine within the city, or kill Madrok and then destroy the spell-engine. Without it, they will have to withdraw or attempt to build another. It sustains their presence in our world.”

  Commander Hargast blanched at his statement. “Then what chance do we have? The enchantments on the walls and foundation of the city are so potent we have little hope of breaking them, and even if we could, there’s a black miasma over the city that will kill any man foolish enough to attempt to enter. Starvation was the only tool we had.”

  Mark Nerrow spoke next. “If we don’t encircle the city, they will be free to come and go. We won’t be able to keep them from raiding the surrounding towns and villages.”

  Will nodded in agreement. “Or flanking us.”

  His father frowned. “So, you agree?”

  He shook his head. “Even with our Darrowan reinforcements I don’t think we can safely contain them. We would be spread too thin, and since we can’t enter the city to fight them, it would be counterproductive. Giving them an easy way out might help entice them out to play.”

  Commander Lambel broke in. “If they don’t need food, and we can’t enter, they might not bother. The demons can just wait inside until their spell-engine poisons the entire region and we’re forced to retreat.”

  Several officers started trying to talk at once, but Selene forestalled them by leaning forward and lifting one hand quietly. The room fell silent before she addressed them. “Trolls aren’t really affected by void turyn, and neither is our marshal.” Her eyes shifted to stare at Will.

  The former Darrowan Marshal, Subcommander Gravholt, was startled by the statement. “That’s why he caught the trolls?”

  “Requested,” said Will. “I requested their assistance. They are our allies, not beasts or pets.” As long as we keep them fed, he thought silently.

  “Exactly what do you plan?” asked Mark Nerrow. “Are you thinking you can get inside with your trolls and destroy the spell-engine on your own? That makes no sense. What of the rest of us?”

  Will shook his head. “Even as powerful as the trolls are, they can’t sneak. There’s no way they could make it to the spell-engine.” He stared directly at Sub-Marshal Nerrow. “You still have the tactical rituals that Scholar Sundy brought, correct?”

  His father nodded. “None of them will get past those walls, though, except the creeping death perhaps.”

  “It won’t hurt the demons anyway,” said Will. “We aren’t going to use a ritual on the city, though.”

  Confused and frustrated, his father started to complain, but Selene put a hand on Will’s arm. “Stop being cryptic and explain the plan so they’ll understand.”

  He sighed. What was the fun of being a wizard if he couldn’t be cryptic? It’s fine when demons and fae-lords and demigods do it, but as soon as I try to have some fun everyone complains, he thought sourly. “Fine. Here’s what I plan to do…”

  They were quiet and respectful until he finished, even though it took him a full ten minutes to lay out his plan. After he had finished, Sub-Marshal Nicht responded first. “I don’t think that’s possible—”

  Commander Lambel interrupted him, “Remember what happened at Klendon and Maldon?”

  Fulstrom closed his mouth. “Oh, yeah, that’s true.”

  Sub-Marshal Nerrow waved them to silence, then focused his attention on the heir presumptive to Terabinia. “Whether it’s possible or not, are you willing to allow this plan, Your Highness?”

  Selene frowned. “I am not in charge of this war, Sub-marshal.”

  Mark Nerrow scowled, clearly upset. “I mean, are you fine with becoming a widow?” He pointed at Will. “If this idiot goes in there, I don’t see any way he comes out alive.”

  There were several gasps around the room, both because of the way Nerrow spoke to the princess, and also because he’d called the Royal Marshal an idiot, but Will ignored all of that as he jumped to Selene’s defense. “Listen, the spell she devised will—”

  “—will just as likely kill you as it will the enemy,” snapped Nerrow, finishing his sentence for him. Visibly angry, he went on, his eyes boring into the princess. “I watched you grow up, Your Highness, like you were one of my own daughters, and I never thought you’d be so cold as to agree to something like this. Does my s—does your husband mean so little that you’re willing to use him like this?”

  That line resulted in an uproar. Will was on his feet, red-faced and furious, while Mark Nerrow stared back at Selene defiantly. Commander Hargast’s shout cut through the clamor, “You’ve gone too far, Lord Nerrow!”

  Selene’s voice stopped them all. “Gentlemen. Sit down.” Silence fell, and after a moment they returned to their seats, though Will still glared at his father, who was still glaring defiantly at Selene. Once order had returned, she met Mark Nerrow’s gaze. “You referred to my husband as an idiot. I’ll forgive the rest, but I’ll have an apology from you for that—now.”

  The sub-marshal glowered at her while she waited, but after a moment, he looked at Will and ground out the words. “I apologize for my disrespect.” Then his rebellious eyes returned to Selene.

  She nodded. “That will suffice. Now for the rest—after thinking on this for the past two days, I can see no better chance for our success. I know our situation is dire, but I have faith in my husband’s ability. More to the point, you suggested I am cruel. Perhaps I am, but should he fail, I have no intention of spending the rest of my days a widow. If the worst comes, I will take up the task in his stead, and be glad to follow him to the grave.” The expression on her features dared them to argue, but no one did.

  Nerrow’s face softened, his anger replaced with embarrassment, while Will watched his wife with admiration. Such an eloquent rebuttal, he thought.

  But Selene had one further thing to add, her voice solemn. “My husband is not your usual idiot.” A second later, her expression cracked, and her lip curled slightly.

  That broke the tension, and several of the officers began to chuckle. Will looked to her with an aggrieved expression. You just couldn’t leave off the last line, could you?

  She seemed to read his mind, for her eyes twinkled with mischief as she returned his gaze.

  Chapter 58

  That morning, Will got his first view of the ancient city of Myrsta. It didn’t disappoint. The city was as large as Cerria, and its stonework was just as large and impressive. Long ago, when the two nations had been one, Cerria and Myrsta had been the two prize jewels of Greater Darrow.

  Now Will wondered if it would be his fate to destroy that repository of history forever.

  It all depends on what Madrok does, he told himself, though it was cold comfort. Relying on a demon-lord to do the right thing was a fool’s game.

  He stood on a travel-disk that float
ed twenty feet above the ground, affording him a better view of the area. The River Myrs emerged from the center of the city, just to the right of the main southern gate. Will and his army were arranged on the same side of the river. They had adopted a tight formation, if such could be rightly said of any formation that included five divisions and close to thirty thousand soldiers.

  They weren’t going to enclose the city, but rather they’d formed in a way such that they could move to attack, if necessary, or hold their ground and defend against one or more attacks from different directions. Given the size of their force, it seemed ridiculous to be wary of flanking tactics, but Will didn’t care.

  Today, the combined might of Terabinia and Darrow would be serving as his decoy, but that didn’t mean they would be sitting idly by. Depending on how the day played out, they would probably be involved in some degree of fighting, and he wanted them able to minimize their losses as much as possible.

  The forward line of the army stretched out more than a hundred and fifty yards both to his right and his left. The formation stretched away to the rear over three hundred yards, forming a vast, nearly square arrangement. The tight lines allowed the sorcerers to closely cover all the exterior edges. In the center, not far back from the forward line, Will’s trolls stood at the ready. Selene stood with them, both to make sure they acted when required, and to help avoid misunderstandings between the monsters and the human soldiers.

  The city wall stood roughly seven hundred yards from their forward line, and Will could see a fog of black void turyn that extended from the city two hundred yards in their direction. The fog marked a no man’s zone, the boundary beyond which none of them could cross. The void turyn would poison and kill any human that entered it.

  It hardly seemed fair. The demons could come to them, but the humans couldn’t do likewise. Demons could survive for considerable periods beyond the void turyn that they found comfortable, but humans were far more fragile. Will glanced at the massive troll who stood beside Selene’s charger. Though her mount was a full eighteen hands tall, Gan towered over the princess and her horse. The yearling troll held the trimmed-down remains of a young sapling he had uprooted to use as a makeshift club.

  Thank the Mother for trolls, Will thought with a smile.

  Farther back, closer to the center of everything, Janice and twelve of the soldier-sorcerers were gathered into a circle, prepared to do their part. Streamers of turyn were already swirling around them as they prepared their ritual. They might be called upon to use their magic with little notice.

  That was the crux of it. The plan was heavy on contingencies and fairly light on actual plan. Will had devised three possible routes to victory, but the choice would depend on how the demons reacted to provocation.

  The worst would be no reaction at all, but Will was fairly certain he could aggravate Madrok into doing something. In his elevated position, Will could see and be seen by nearly everyone. He held out his left hand to one side with the palm down, signaling everyone to hold but remain ready. Then he lifted his right hand to the sky and stretched out with his will, gathering the nearest threads of turyn into his control and directing them toward the black miasma over the city.

  He was careful not to touch the turyn behind him, though, for fear of stripping the ritualists of the energy they needed to perform when their part came.

  Will could feel the city that lay beneath the power he now influenced. It was a sensation similar to feeling one’s way through a dark but familiar room at night. It was almost like seeing, yet was still starkly different. He could make out the rough shapes of the buildings, but even if he had known the place, he probably wouldn’t have been able to label any but the largest of landmarks.

  “Your time has come, Madrok. Vacate this city and this world or face the consequences.” Will’s voice thrummed across the plain and through the city in a quiet tone that was both calm and ominous.

  As he exercised his will, he felt a hard knot within the city, a place unlike the rest where his control faded out, and his voice was rendered silent. It stirred as he uttered the warning, and then it began to move. That’s almost certainly Madrok himself, thought Will.

  Or so he hoped. If there was a second demon there with the strength of will to overrule his control of the local magic, then his plan had already failed.

  He waited, and minutes rolled by without any action from the city. After he felt enough time had passed, he spoke again. “So be it.” Then he took hold of the darkness spilling out of the city, tightening his grip all in an instant. Another will fought his, wrenching back control of most of the area within the walls, but he had enough for his purpose. A gut-wrenching crack echoed across the plain as the void turyn vanished, becoming a sound wave that slammed into the city of Myrsta.

  The walls were far too strong, even without their magical protection, but the sheer magnitude of the sound shook dust from the walls and likely deafened any demon inside that was within a few hundred yards. Nothing happened, though. The army of Terabinia waited for a quarter of an hour, then thirty minutes, but nothing emerged to challenge them.

  Eventually, the void turyn from the spell-engine built up once more and began to spill over the walls and onto the field again. Will waited for it to reach the volume he needed, then repeated his previous feat. A sound like the crash of a thousand thunderbolts slammed into the walls before echoing back toward the human army.

  And still nothing emerged.

  They waited, and when the turyn was sufficient, Will repeated his insult against the walls. An hour passed, and then another, and every half hour Will bombarded the city with a crash of thunder so great that it would have driven any mortal insane—if they were well protected enough to live through it.

  The walls continued to hold, but even with all their wards, the attacks were beginning to take a toll. Some of the corbels supporting the machicolations atop the walls crumbled and fell, leaving gaps in the merlons that protected the parapets. Not that there was anyone atop the walls to be protected.

  The spring air of Darrow took on a distinct chill as his magic repeatedly stole the warmth from the area immediately around the city. Frost formed on the ground, and icy patches appeared on the walls before falling to crash onto the earth below.

  Just before noon, the main gate opened. The demons had had enough.

  They poured out in a chaotic swarm, completely disordered and nothing like a human army. Varied forms and sizes, some as small as children, others the size of men, and some larger still. A rare few were even larger than the trolls. Their skins ranged in color and texture as well—reds, blacks, greens, and every other shade imaginable—some smooth or scaley, and others rough-skinned like coarse stone.

  Given the distance, their arrival at the front line of Terabinians would take at least a minute or two, but there was no end to the demons spilling out of the gates of Myrsta. What began as a hundred became two hundred, then five hundred—and their numbers continued to grow. The gates vomited forth thousands, and once they reached some critical mass, they finally began moving toward the army waiting for them.

  Though the men in the shield wall were all battle-hardened veterans, the sight of what was now charging toward them was enough to make even the bravest quake in fear. Their foes weren’t human and seemed to have no fear of the spears they charged toward. The largest of the demons swung massive iron swords that looked large enough to brush aside a wall of shields as easily as one might swat a fly.

  A fearful muttering began along the line, and Will could see the soldiers shifting back and forth on their feet, struggling internally to keep themselves in position. If something didn’t change soon, they might crumble and run before the demons even reached the line. He wished he could repeat his thunderous assault against the demons, but Will had just recently exhausted the ambient turyn in front of the walls. All he could do was utter a reassurance for the soldiers. “Be at ease. They won’t reach us in that condition.”

  But they had t
o wait. Glancing back, Will looked toward Selene and saw her nod in his direction. Then he looked past her, to Janice and the ritualists. The magic swirling around them had grown in intensity, and he had to suppress the urge to steal it away and gather it to himself. The sky above them had grown dark with heavy clouds that had turned noonday into something more akin to dusk.

  Janice was already watching him, so Will lifted his right hand once more and formed a fist. She nodded and copied his gesture, her eyes never leaving him. Will turned back to the oncoming horde, judging their distance. Not yet. They were still a hundred yards away. Not yet.

  Fifty yards.

  Twenty.

  “Now,” he commanded, bringing his fist down like a hammer toward the ground.

  Apparently, some of the demons had some skill at spellcraft—for a smattering of force shields, protective earthen domes, and even swirling walls of air rose up to protect them—but it didn’t matter. Will felt he might have been able to save them, which meant Madrok could have as well, if the demon-lord had bothered to take the field.

  But the demon-lord was still hiding in the city, and Will was there to witness their destruction.

  The clouds above exploded with light, and a torrent of lightning bolts rained down on the field in front of the Terabinian army as though Temarah herself had decided to administer divine punishment. The soldiers had been warned, but those who forgot were temporarily blinded by the blaze of actinic light that accompanied the lightning. At the same instant, thunder shook the world, though this time it had nothing to do with Will’s abilities.

  The hasty defenses the demons threw up vanished, and the vast majority of those standing between the Terabinians and the walls of Myrsta fell dead, their bodies smoking and stinking, missing arms, legs, and other miscellaneous pieces of flesh.

  Some did survive, though, missed by any of the lightning strikes simply by pure chance alone. They were still stunned by the shock of it all, and some of the survivors had been so close to lightning that their bodies were twitching merely from the overload of energy in their proximity.