Every now and then one of the other legions would mistakenly brush up against that same stratagem and take some losses, but the goblins learned pretty quickly. What they didn’t understand was how to counter it. They could protect themselves from one side or the other, but not both – and that meant that they couldn’t force their way through the line of redoubts without exposing themselves to an awful lot of fire. They had to be defeated or destroyed, they couldn’t be avoided.
That had the effect of the leading edge of the horde beginning to pool up just out of bowshot of the redoubts, the area closest to the base of the escarpment in a kind of concave bend. The goblins who weren’t attacking the redoubts so bravely were concentrating themselves there as they sorted out and organized themselves again. There were a lot of them, and they were coming down than earthen ramp fast, and in good order. They had to go somewhere; for the first three hours that gentle bend in the contour of the land seemed to offer some limited protection from our archery, and that drew little black bodies like iron filings to a lodestone.
And that was completely by design.
* * *
“Master, you haven’t really told me what you’re planning to do,” Tyndal said, trying to hide the concern in his voice. “I want to help, but . . .”
“Believe me, there is plenty to do,” I assured him. “Even a half-trained mage is welcome today. The first thing we had to do was convince the goblins to come down the causeways fast, while it was still daylight. I had to convince them that if they moved fast they could get an easy victory. And it seems to have worked,” I said, glancing over my shoulder at the menacing legions in the distance.
“And so now what?”
“Now we give them a reason to come at us aggressively. We need for them to get their shamans down to the front and concentrated in one place. We need to push them to where we want them on the battlefield. That’s the next part of the plan.”
Tyndal looked skeptical. “And how do you propose to do that, Master?”
It was my turn to shrug. “It’s not as hard as you think. You just have to give them a reason to go where you want them. In this case, it’s going to be somewhere they aren’t in danger of getting hit by our archers. Even with the better armor and bronze shields they’re taking losses.”
“They seem to have plenty in reserve,” Master Cormaran pointed out.
“Exactly,” I nodded, as we crossed through the last checkpoint before we got to the blue barn. “They have a multitude, which I don’t want to fight. So I’m going to divide them, first, and then only fight half of them. Half of them we can manage. I think.”
There was a pause as a stableboy came running up for our reigns.
“And they’re just going to divide themselves because you ask them nicely?” Tyndal asked, incredulously.
“They won’t have much choice in the matter,” I agreed. “The important thing is to make certain their best troops and their shamans are at the front, and most of the less able of their troops, the mountain tribes and such, are still in the rear of the horde. To do that we have to give them a tasty lure. Tasty enough for Koucey and that gurvani general to send their best equipped and trained forces against it. Those redoubts are going to have to be defeated, if he plans on marching any further. And it’s going to take his elite to do it – or at least try to do it. And its going to take his magical corps. So that’s what we do for the next few hours, draw them down the escarpment and get them to throw themselves at those redoubts. Then we go to the next part of the plan.”
We went inside while I explained some of the details to him, and while he was still doubtful he became more enthusiastic about it, too.
The barn was humming with activity as magi began to come in from the field or stir themselves from the spells they were crafting on their own. Terleman was busy overseeing the entire process, going over each mage’s role in the coming spells and inspecting the elements we’d need to cast them. For fifteen or twenty minutes I helped him out, going from station to station until I was happy that everyone was on schedule and unfettered by problems. Then we started to drift into position.
We were all crowding the diorama, leaving sufficient room for Lanse and his staff to weave in and around the thing to constantly make corrections. I took a deep, deep breath and exhaled it slowly.
This was it. After weeks of preparation, our battle plan would live or die based on what happened in this smelly old barn, and if it didn’t work the way it was supposed to then this smelly old barn was either going to be the site of some very impressive re-thinking or the most rustic mortuary in Alshar.
So far, things were going as expected: the three causeways were filled with goblins descending from the escarpment, where thousands more were waiting their turn. As they descended they turned to attack the nearest redoubts, continuing a running battle that had begun moments after our truce was over. The men inside those redoubts were being strongly assailed, but we had known that it would be rough, and they were all volunteers. A great many were archers, who demonstrated volley fire into the massed foe over and over again while the sappers and infantry were keeping the gurvani at bay with spears and halberds.
The Magical Corps had our own representative amongst the defenders: Hestia was in Redoubt Four, lending magical assistance in mostly a support role while she scouted the front for the rest of us warmagi. She was sending reports to Lanse every fifteen minutes or so, through Pentandra, telling him how each of the redoubts was doing and what the enemy was doing. So far that was just a lot of running up close to the redoubts and flinging javelins over the top and then running away before one of the Nirodi shot back on the goblins’ part.
Oh, there had already been a half-dozen attempts to storm the walls and force a breech, but the soldiers had been able to repel the invaders easily, each time. Losses so far were light, even when the trolls had begun hurling boulders at them. Carmella and Hesia had built them strong, weaving binding spells among the log palisades to make them as strong as stone. There were hardened shelters within each of them to provide a refuge from such missiles. Those redoubts were strong. They could take an awful lot of punishment before they’d be overrun.
Meanwhile, nearly a quarter-mile behind the southernmost redoubt and behind an extensive network of ditches and earthwork mounds, our cavalry and the majority of our infantry was massed, waiting for their signals. That’s where Azar was, with the cavalry, and Astyral, among the infantry. They made contact frequently too, but it wasn’t scouting as much as bitching that they were bored just standing around when they could see goblins just a few hundred yards away.
Even further back were the reserves, who were guarding the camp and waiting around and cooking and mending and such. Then over to the southeast was the Tower of Timberwatch, where I had sent my other apprentice, Rondal.
He’d arrived with Pentandra as well, after answering her summons and leaving the rest of the Bovali refugees for a fast trip up-river by boat. He was kind of scrawny, but he wasn’t cowardly – quite the contrary. The bookish young man had joined Penny just before she’d collected Tyndal, and I found out later that he had helped her significantly as they dodged around the Censors and their men who were searching for them.
I didn’t know Garkesku’s former apprentice very well, despite our weeks working together at Boval Castle. But I did know the lad had a better eye for detail (and perhaps a less-excitable nature) than Tyndal, as well as two years more training, and a lot better understanding of some basic magics that Tyndal hadn’t been exposed to yet. So I’d posted him at the only place where he could watch the entire battle unfold and report on it, the observation deck of the nine-story tall Tower of Timberwatch. From the Timberwatch you could see all three causeways and all six redoubts, plus the castle and the camp. It provided the clearest, most unobstructed view of the land. Plus there was a crew of trained spotters up there who normally searched for fires who could help inform him, since they knew the land better than anyone else.
&n
bsp; But that left plenty of us to gather around the diorama. I’d had Ham and the other retainers (Penny had brought four, herself, and half of my colleagues had at least one) make certain that there was plenty of refreshment available, plus some soft blankets and a good fire outside. Magic can be very draining, physically, and having those things at hand would keep us strong. And we would need that strength.
I looked around the barn, brilliantly lit by magelight, and took a mental roll call as we began to assemble. These were the elements I’d have to control to execute the battle plan.
There was Terleman, my lieutenant and commander of the Warmagi of the Order, a serious-looking figure clutching his warstave like an Archmage and holding three conversations at once at any given time. He was armored and prepared for war, his mageblade and war wands strapped to his shiny steel hauberk, the coif thrown back to reveal his lantern jaw and determined expression.
There was Isily the Shadowmage, Master Cormaran, Master Thinradel the Court Wizard, three adepts of their crafts at hand, but I’d only worked with Isily before and not on anything more difficult than witchstone attunement (not counting the sex magic we inadvertently practiced). All three were still new at the use of irionite, but all three were very eager to use their new powers.
There was Horka, who’d finally come in from the front, covered with blood and black hair and grinning like a war god on holiday, his massive mage-blade already nicked and bloodied. He was eager to head back to the front where he could do more damage on a personal level. Like Azar, the big man seemed to delight in the song of battle. It just made me nauseated, usually. But then Horka could have that affect on you, too.
Carmella had finally been willing to leave her precious trebuchet long enough to join us. Today she was wearing non-descript waxed leather armor and a small steel cap, an artillery-officer’s garb. She looked intense, her long nose and dark eyes emphasizing the expression to the point of caricature. Carmella had poured every bit of craft she’d had into the construction of the trebuchet, and since quite a bit hinged on its successful deployment there was a lot of weight on her shoulders.
Two of the three Gilmoran magi, Mavone and Curmor, were on hand watching the battle unfold with interest. Only Mavone had donned their armor yet, but his countryman had the undergarments on, and both were bristling with weapons and warwands. Forondal of Scaford, Bendonal the Outlaw, and Sarakeem of Merwin, our three new recruits, were there as well, eager to get to business.
Taren had an entire corner of the barn for his use, and he’d used it well: he had dozens of offensive spells at the ready. He also wore a leather breastplate, along with steel vambraces and grieves, but hadn’t armored up more than that.
It was a large crew. Not quite as large as the one we’d used at Boval, but then again we had more jobs to do now.
“Is everyone about ready?” Terleman finally called, which meant he thought everyone should be about ready. There wasn’t any dissent, and everyone got quiet, so he looked at me, and suddenly everyone else was looking at me, too.
Oh, crap. It was time.
I cleared my throat. “I think we all know why we’re here—”
“A cock fight?” asked Mavone, with false eagerness. “That’s why I came,” he added. I ignored him.
“The first phase of the battle plan has worked more or less as we had hoped. The gurvani are pouring down the causeways as fast as they can. Lanse, how many have descended so far?”
The tall mage straightened from where he was adjusting the set. “About forty five thousand, as near as I can guess. Most of the better troops, too.”
“So that’s about half,” I said, nodding my thanks to him. He looked beat – we all did, of course, but he looked particularly weary, and he had perhaps the hardest job here. “Does anyone see any advantage to maybe letting more than half of their troops come down? No? Good. Then let’s proceed to the second phase.
“Taren, you’re the Operator, Carmella, you’re the Monitor. Mavone, Delman, and Master Cormaran, you are the Agents. The rest of us will provide power – except for me, unless I’m needed.” There were some nods around the room – compared to some of the other parts of the plan, this would be almost straightforward.
I’d chosen Mavone, Delman and Master Cormaran because they had a natural affinity with the element of Earth, and this was an earth-based elemental spell, so they were the best choice to be the Agents. Each of them took up a position crouching or sitting near to one of the three tiny causeways. There they began the preparatory meditations that would allow them to cast their spells.
Meanwhile, Lanse and his crew were chanting something while they maintained the link between the battlefield and the diorama. If that failed . . . well, then all of those nasty spells would manifest here, in the barn, and that wouldn’t be helpful and would probably be deadly. Like I said, Lanse’s job was important.
We all began to draw power from our stones and do the preparatory work needed to do a complex spell in concert. Viewed through magesight, the entire interior of the barn was lit up like a whirlwind of magical energy and spellsigns. I observed as each of the magi allowed the power to build, then form an apis to transfer it in a neat and orderly fashion over to Taren.
The shaggy-headed mage skillfully wrought the energy into a braid of power and began weaving it into a useful form. His hands passed gracefully through the air in front of him as he took one strand of power after another and added it to the thoughtform he was constructing, and his face was set in a determined expression.
Meanwhile Carmella was keeping a close eye on his body and Shroud to make certain he didn’t over-do it or take any dangerous risks. There’s always a peril in channeling that kind of energy, even without witchstones. There are dozens of magical maladies that could manifest if you weren’t careful. When you’re in the process of working with such titanic forces, it’s easy to forget that you are not just mortal, but physically frail. Even if you knew what you were doing there were dangers that your intent and focus keep you from seeing. Carmella was adept at monitoring, and she kept Taren’s body in good form while he worked.
Taren was good – among the best, for all of his youth. It only took seven or eight minutes before he brought the working to a climax and nodded to the Agents.
The three magi I’d detailed to handle the execution of the spell were in position, crouched over the diorama and ready to receive the awesome force that Taren had prepared. One by one he ‘threw’ the power through a specialized apis and the Agent caught it and activated their spell. Master Cormaran was first. He accepted the prepared energy and transformed it through his own spell, and then focused it through the medium of the diorama to focus on the eastern causeway. Then Taren turned to Delman and delivered his share of the power, and then Mavone. The rest of us wound down our power and watched the result on the diorama with eager anticipation.
The three tiny causeways on the model didn’t do much at first, as the spells weren’t instantaneous. But at the three distant locations, in three small earthenware pots we had buried deep within the dirt of the causeway, the components of the spell began to fuse together, opening a channel the magi could exploit. Each of my Agents pulled their consciousness through that channel and deep into the ground below the causeways, until they were able to discover and release the earth elementals that they had prepared.
I’ve mentioned this before, but an “elemental” is a kind of anthropomorphized projection of a mage’s will, using the natural energy and organization of the element to manifest a particular action. With water elementals, you could get the water to flow against its natural inclination if you could isolate it enough from a larger body of water – during the Farisian campaign, the Mad Mage had used them to attack the Castali, Alshari, and Remeran fleets when they tried to land troops. But one mage, however powerful and skilled, can’t run more than a few elementals at a time. Not if he’s doing anything else that requires thought.
But three magi, backed by a magical chorus a
ll armed with irionite? We not only had utter control over the three slumbering elementals . . . thanks to our generous use of power and well-controlled execution, these elementals would be among the largest I’d ever heard of. You see, control of the elemental has nothing to do with its size – large or small, earth requires about the same level of control. It’s a matter of power, and we had energized this spell with a truly amazing amount of magical power.
Slowly we were able to see the effects on the model as the tiny causeways began to shudder and shake. All three Agents were bent over them, intent on their tasks, their fingers making tiny movements over the scene. First Master Cormaran’s target erupted, sending tiny black shadows of gurvani troops in all directions. The force of the eruption alone was profound and likely killed hundreds, but the resulting crater in the causeway effectively ended the descent of the horde from that side.
The western side – Mavone’s – was next, because he’s good and he’s a show-off. Mavone has always had a strong affinity with Earth, and he’s extremely skillful with control, so instead of erupting as Master Cormaran’s causeway had, Mavone’s split neatly in five places and tumbled to either side, spilling hundreds more goblins to their death in the process. The Gilmoran looked up after most of the damage was done, a satisfied grin on his face, then bent back to work to try to cause as much destruction as possible before the energy for the spell waned.
Delman’s causeway was the largest of the three, so it took longest to destroy. But the effect was even greater there because a large contingent of trolls was working their way down it at the time, and in their flailing confusion they seemed to do almost as much damage to their fellows on the way down the escarpment than the elemental had, itself. But as the tiny projection of the dust cloud grew and the chaos of the unchecked elemental power began to fade, the once wide and gentle slope that connected the Timberwatch with points north was transformed into a fifty-foot cliff and a thousand writhing, injured goblins.
The Spellmonger Series: Book 02 - Warmage Page 68
