The first assault on the Diketower complex had been bloody, and we’d lost nine men defending it – but it hadn’t fall to the Warbird, then or since. Olmeg had been correct: the Bovali’s use of the heavier Wilderlands bows (combined with my Greenwarden’s nascent Enchanted Forest) kept the West Flerians at bay.
Sir Forondo had foolishly but gallantly led an expedition of heavy cavalry to break through the invaders at the Diketower, but was surprised to learn that Gimbal hadn’t contented himself with just hiring former bandits this time. He’d marshaled the entire strength of his domain to attack Sevendor. When he rode out at the head of thirty lances, he was confronted with twice that many lancers on Gimbal’s side, and of men of solid repute. Forondo withdrew with light casualties, but since then no one had gotten in or out of Sevendor.
That wasn’t really bothering anyone – the harvest was beginning, and there was plenty of food in the domain. Sir Cei had slammed the sluice shut on the stream at the start of hostilities, so Gimbal’s folk downstream were in much more dire straights. But having five hundred armed men outside of your gate is distracting when you’re threshing..
Five hundred men – or more. Banamor, Olmeg, and Zagor were the only three “high magi” left in the domain, but they knew how to scry. When they tried to see the extent of the force arrayed against them, they encountered some magical blocks that had alerted them that Gimbal had hired some warmagi. Further, their scrying showed that in addition to the hundred-odd lances he had from his domains, he’d conscripted nearly every able-bodied man in West Fleria to fight against Sevendor. And he’d hired mercenaries. Far more mercenaries than I suspected he had the funds for.
Gimbal was getting help . . . and Sir Cei told me where it was coming from. On the third day of fighting around the gate, a couple of spotters appeared at the back of the Flerian troops, Spotters wearing checkered mantles.
The Censorate had decided to make things personal, and they were funding and assisting Gimbal’s war effort. The gold that paid the mercenaries came from their hands, captured prisoners had revealed. Indeed, not trusting the Warbird with such an important mission, they were overseeing the entire effort. Their goal was no less than making a bloody example out of the first Magelord.
The idea that the domain I had sweated and bled and worried over for a year was now in danger while I was three hundred leagues away was maddening. Knowing that the Censorate was behind the effort was infuriating.
I readied the Sevendori who came with me to leave at once. Tyndal and Rondal were as anxious as I was to rescue our folk, and a few friends gave me offers of assistance. Pentandra pointed out I could appeal to the King for redress, since I was now a Royal Official, and therefore theoretically protected by the Crown’s Law.
But I was sick of this. If I could not defend one little domain on my own, then how could I be expected to run an entire Order? All I had wanted to do was build up Sevendor in peace, and Gimbal had done nothing but try to obstruct me.
When a High Mage gets angry, things start to happen. Having the counsel of some of the best military minds in the Kingdom was helpful. So was having a lot of newly-made magelords who were already protective of their new prerogatives. Many were angry and indignant on my behalf. Enough so that I had a small group of enthusiastic volunteers to help relieve the siege of my homeland.
That’s when it also became clear that Pentandra’s friendship was a far more powerful ally than the Censorate’s.
“Why are you doing this, Minalan?” she asked the day after I’d finally learned about the war. I was already planning my assault – single-handed, if necessary – on Gimbal’s army. The question took me off guard.
“Because it’s an insult to my House, my profession, and my class!” I said angrily as I began to pack. “I must lift the siege. I cannot let this sort of blatant insult pass, Pen.”
“Oh, I wasn’t suggesting you do – I was merely questioning the method you’re using to do it. It’s brave, it’s glorious, but it’s not terribly efficient.”
I stared at her. “How so?” I asked, carefully.
“You, Tyndal and Rondal, and a few of your friends, are about to go rushing back to Sevendor and charging into battle, a handful of witchstones against an army.”
“You don’t think we’ll win?”
“I think it would be a bloodbath,” she admitted. “I also think it’s unnecessary.”
“How so?” I repeated, just as carefully.
She looked at me like she does when she’s about to lecture me. “Min, remind me again how many men this . . . ‘warbird’ has mustered against you?”
“Over a hundred lances. Maybe two hundred. He’s emptied every hamlet and village he has to try to take Sevendor!” I said, exasperated at the thought.
“Exactly,” she said, nodding. I still didn’t understand. She looked amused. “Min, if he’s got every man who can hold a sword besieging Sevendor . . . who is guarding his domain?” she asked, deliberately.
The question took me by surprise, but it was brilliant.
I was still fairly new to the laws of inter-domain warfare, but there were a few basics that I was solid on. One was the fact that when two domains are at war, there’s no rule that says the weaker one can’t attack the stronger one. My first impulse had been to ride to Sevendor’s defense, but as Alya and Sir Cei assured me, the folk of Sevendor barely noticed the siege outside their gate, save for the extra guard duty the militia indulged in, and were not in eminent danger. The Diketower was effectively keeping the Flerians out, and while they were attempting to construct some siege engines, it would be awhile before they were finished, armed, and wheeled into place. Getting through Caolan’s pass would be equally hard, but that worked both ways. They may have held it, but there’s no way you could get a catapult up that grade without killing horses. If we had to attack then, even from the rear, it would be an expensive proposition.
In the meantime, all of West Fleria was guarded by dotards and striplings.
“Five or six warmagi can’t take down a whole domain, Pen, “I sighed as I tried to poke holes in her idea. “That takes manpower. If I scaled the ridge and was able to lead the Sevendori from inside—”
“Min, what are you talking about? Even in wartime there are plenty of soldiers for hire.”
“Mercenaries?” I asked, surprised. I’d worked with plenty, of course, been one myself and respected the profession greatly. But Sevendor couldn’t afford to go into debt hiring mercenaries, I knew . . . and they had a nasty reputation of hanging around and molesting your folk if you didn’t pay them in a timely fashion. “I can’t afford it, Pen.”
She kept shaking her head. “Min, you’re a ministerial-level Royal officer, head of the Arcane Orders, and leader of two units of warmagi . . . how did you manage that by being so dim?”
“I have you around to do the hard thinking,” I observed. She ignored me.
“As head of the Order, you take a portion of every fee paid for every witchstone. I wrote that into the charter specifically. We’ve been too busy getting organized for me to check in with the coinbrothers, but by my estimation you – personally – have at least fifty or sixty thousand ounces of gold already in hand, with watertight pledges of more than three hundred thousand. You’re not quite filthy rich yet, but the day is young.”
That stunned me. I couldn’t even picture fifty thousand ounces of gold. Perhaps Sevendor could not afford to hire quality mercenaries . . . but its Magelord could apparently do it out of pocket change.
“So,” Pentandra smiled, as I finally realized the full impact of what she was suggesting, “I’m thinking we need to start sending out a couple of messages while your apprentices pack. It’s going to take you a week to get back to the eastern Riverlands, even with magic propelling you. If we spend a day now in preparation, then you’ll save weeks later,” she promised.
I couldn’t argue with that. What she was suggesting was sheer genius.
* * *
I actuall
y got some very helpful tips on waging a magical war from Master Dunselen,. After I had lectured him officially on the responsibility a magelord had to use his powers in a positive way, I picked his brain about how he’d made so much progress in such a short period of time, and I learned what spells he’d employed to help things along.
While Dunselen agreed to temper his enthusiasm in rebuilding his patrimony, he wasn’t contrite about the methods at all. He felt entitled to re-capture his family’s lost lands through conquest, if they wouldn’t come voluntarily. But he also told me that his short-lived wars had caused several independent landholding knights to swear fealty to him, out of fear of being next. He didn’t expect to prosecute another war, he reasoned, because the last one had been so quick and devastating no mundane lord wanted to defend against a magelord.
It was hard to argue with results like that. I made preparations accordingly.
We quit the capital the next day, spent one day at Penny’s manor, Fairoaks, making some final preparations. The following day we boarded a barge chartered for the purpose at dawn, and sped up-river on the back of a water elemental.
I wasn’t alone – Pentandra had Order business in Wenshar, and wanted to ride with me to see Sevendor, and I didn’t mind the company. Her cousin Planus was also willing to come along, as were Sarakeem of Merwin, the flamboyant archer warmage, Mavone (who was headed back to Wenshar to oversee the retrofit of the former Censorate’s commandaries there), and Taren, who was going with Mavone to continue cataloging the Censorate’s collection of confiscated artifacts.
With seven powerful High Magi on board, one would think mercenaries would be redundant, but what I had told Penny had been correct. You could use magic to destroy, you could use magic to create, but you needed men with swords to hold a country. Thankfully I was wealthy enough to afford some of the best.
At Wittinsport, two days journey south of Sendaria, we picked up two barges full of mercenary infantry, about three hundred men of the Black Boot Brigade. They were an elite infantry unit led by Barathol the Black, and came highly recommended. When Barathol saw how much I was willing to pay for his men, he abrogated his existing contract and was eager to follow me. We had troops now, and good ones.
And they weren’t all. There were few High Magi left outside of Castabriel during the coronation, but one of them was Rustallo, who had been wounded during the spring skirmishes in the Penumbra and was recuperating at Wilderhall. He didn’t really understand everything we asked him to do through the mind-to-mind link, but he was happy to be of assistance to the Spellmonger.
So when our barge finally arrived in Sendaria Port, we had two hundred crack Nirodi mounted archers dressed in red patiently waiting for us at the docks. These were the few reserves from the mercenary unit from Nirod, and they were initially hesitant to sign up so close to the harvest, but again gold speaks loudly. They gave me three weeks to use them and then they had to return to their village for harvest. I missed their commander, Rogo Redshaft, but he was still on leave and even the prospect of that much gold couldn’t tempt him away from his wife after last year’s war.
I couldn’t blame him for that. I made do with one of his lieutenants, who seemed a younger version of the man.
But the archers weren’t the only ones waiting for me at Sendaria. After procuring horses, we led our mercenaries quietly down the road to Baron Arathanial’s seat at Chepstan Castle, where the good Baron was waiting with fifty lances of his own.
Pentandra had pointed out the foolishness of hiring men to do the job of punishing the Warbird when Gimbal had enemies aplenty. When I’d sent word to Baron Arathanial of my plans and invited him to participate, he had jumped on the unanticipated opportunity. It had been awhile since he had donned armor in earnest, but when he met me with his men outside his castle, he seemed a real warrior prince.
“I don’t know how you arranged this, Magelord,” he told me as we rode toward his frontier with West Fleria, “but I cannot say I am displeased by it. I had two of those Censors at my court a moon ago demanding I march on you myself. I had them escorted from my domains, but I could not legally touch them.”
“You can now,” I encouraged. “King Rard has declared the end of the Censorate, and their agents are not beyond the law now. Just what reasoning did they give, I’m curious?”
“That you were an abomination under the King’s Law, that you were dangerous, and that you had designs on your neighbor’s domains.”
“Well, they were right on the first two counts,” I admitted to the distinguished old knight, “but until a week ago I had no desire to attack West Fleria. Now I can think of little else.”
We crossed the border between the domains un-assailed, and just on the other side Sire Sigalan and thirty light cavalry were waiting, grins on their faces. Another fifty men, free commoners and villeins, sported brand-new war bows and plenty of arrows.
“Trestendor rides to Sevendor’s aid!” the tall knight declared, after we greeted him.
“Then Trestendor deserves its own back,” I replied. “Indeed, I believe this was Trestendori land, until recently. I see no reason why it shouldn’t be again. Indeed, that’s the way the King sees it,” I promised. With tears in his eyes, the lord raised his banner over the ruins of the once-prosperous village himself, and designated one of his liegeman to garrison it on the spot.
“Ferrendor is restored,” he said, tears in his eyes. “If you gentlemen will assist me in pressing that claim.” The nearest manor was run by one of Gimbal’s toadies – and was almost completely deserted. We took it without a fight, and Sigalan’s men took over.
We marched through the rest of the day completely unchallenged. The next manor we came to in late afternoon was almost deserted. Sire Sigalan and Baron Arathanial sent a dozen of their men in to capture it, and soon the Sendari banner was flying over it. The wife and daughter of the knight who held the territory were brought to me, and after promising good treatment I had them follow our party the next morning as we continued our march.
At the crossroads I split up my forces. I had months of reports on Gimbal’s domain from my warmagic students, and I knew just where and how to hit them with the forces I had. Mostly the lands were easy to take: we’d ride in, I’d have my herald make an announcement, and then one of our officers would take over, imprisoning any loyalists for later disposition. At the crossroads I had my infantry spread out with very specific orders about which domains to strike, how to take them, and what to do afterwards. I led the warmagi and the Nirodi on a campaign of pure conquest.
The third day of my campaign, we arrived at the first serious challenge to our advance, Bulmont Castle.
It was a ratty motte-and-bailey affair, lightly garrisoned but well-defended, thanks to the nature of the fortification. Bulmont was built on a high spur of rock overlooking the village below, and could only be reached by a narrow causeway. I rode to within range of the castle to call it to surrender. I was given insults and arrows in return.
So I had Rondal, who has an affinity with the earthier elements, to convince a couple of tons of rock at the base of the cliff to get out of the way . . . and gravity did the rest. Bulmont Castle literally fell in a matter of moments, sliding from its perch and collapsing into a heap of dust at the bottom of the cliff. Everyone inside was killed. Trestendor claimed the land.
Just before evening the next real castle to challenge us was Jastondor, a proper square stone keep and bailey with enough towers to make things interesting. There were less than a dozen men-at-arms inside, and after I gave Sarakeem ten minutes to practice the sniper’s art, there were half that number. Jastondor surrendered, and I gave its keys to Baron Arathanial.
The fourth day we came to the heart of West Fleria, Gimbal’s own Castle Fleria.
Castle Fleria was a sound keep with two baileys and a dozen towers. He had built it early in his career as conqueror. It replaced the nearby-but-decrepit original hold of Gimbal’s family, Flerinhall, a shambling pile of stones thre
e miles away, originally enfiefed to his grandsires by Arathanial’s grandsires; now he kept his bastards and mistresses in it to keep them close at hand.
When summoned to surrender, his wife, nominally in charge, bravely refused from the gatehouse . . . and then was captured an hour later by the men we had sent to scale the walls on the other side. Sarakeem and Mavone led the assault team, and I was able to tell them the best route in, thanks to all of my warmagic students’ scouting reports. Within we also found a landbrother who had been trying to get peace talks started again. He was more than happy to be rescued.
After some discussion among the commanders the banner of Sendaria was raised over it. As it had been originally Arathanial’s land, Sigalan and I felt that it should return to him . . . and then we decided the Flerians needed a lesson in manners.
I didn’t want to ruin a perfectly good castle that Arathanial would have to repair. So I had the old family seat of Flerinhall evacuated, then I allowed my High Magi to use their stones to reduce it, however they saw fit, as practice.
The Spellmonger Series: Book 03 - Magelord Page 71
