by Guy Antibes
Pol stood as the council members recovered and sat on their council chairs. He woke one of the archers and tweaked a truth spell.
“I’m sorry I had to put you to sleep, but I had to cast a wide net to take care of my attackers,” Pol said.
The man who had the most severe ward held his hand to his forehead. “You do what’s necessary. I know that you are more likely to speak the truth than any official in North Salvan.” The speaker glared at the Deputy Mayor.
“He was warded as well,” Pol said. “Let’s see what these men have to say.” He turned to the archer.
“What were you just trying to do?”
“Kill you and her,” the archer said. “The Deputy Mayor put me up to it.”
“I’ve already found that out,” Pol said. “Did a magician come into the town to turn you all into Winnow Society subjects?”
He nodded. “The magician is still here.”
Pol looked surprised. “Where is he?”
The innkeeper stood up and ran towards the door. Shira froze him.
“The innkeeper?”
They all nodded. “He’s the one who runs the town.”
“I thought he was a loyal subject.” Pol said somewhat facetiously.
“Whose loyal subject?” the formerly-warded man said.
“The Emperor, for one.”
They all shook their heads.
“What should I do with him?” Pol said, walking to the man and pulling out a Winnow Society medallion.
“He deserves to die,” they all said.
Pol checked the innkeeper for one of the protective wards, but it seemed no one had thought that he would need it so far from the Empire. Pol took out a magnetized splinter and put it in the man’s brain.
“He didn’t suffer,” Pol said.
“Should have,” the warded man said. “He was responsible for stripping our town of all its youth.”
“And keeping us all in line,” a woman said. “I thought I was a Winnower, but that’s an illusion.”
Pol had to agree. “Do you know who else in the town is warded?”
“How would we know?”
“Send them my way. I’ll sit outside and pretend to take a quick census of the town.”
Pol spent the rest of the day and into the night cleansing the people of Manderbay. He found more warded and mind-controlled people than he would have liked. There were no more magicians. Pol wondered if the Winnow Society had magicians running most towns. He would have a conversation about that with Malden. They decided to spend the night. The original innkeeper, a woman, emerged and offered them a free night.
Pol and Shira sat with the Deputy Mayor and a gaggle of ship captains and other prominent citizens of Manderbay.
“I am hoping I can get some cooperation. I would like to blockade the coast of North Salvan. Queen Isa and the Emperor have sent ships. Please cooperate with them.” Pol looked down at a map of the coastline that the Deputy Mayor provided. “It looks like there are two ports south of Borstall and two above.”
“Plus three or four smuggler spots suitable for transferring passengers from North Salvan,” said a captain who marked the suspected spots.
“Can you make a blockade? We will be at Borstall in another week,” Pol said.
“If you can come with us to the other ports and do what you’ve done here, gladly. We might be able to sign up more to our cause,” the captain said.
Pol pursed his lips and squinted his eyes. “How many soldiers will you need on each ship?”
“Can you spare three hundred men?”
“Will you take women as well?”
“Warriors?”
Pol nodded. “Battle tested.”
He bowed to Pol with a quick jerk.
“Then I’ll send messages and have forces meet in the next town up the coast,” Pol said.
Magicians could flee on land, but if they could not sail, they would have a tougher time escaping. The war ate up magicians, and that would continue. A valuable commodity of human resources weakened for the Winnow Society’s quest for a government run by magicians. Using mind-control as a way to gain power rankled Pol’s sensibilities.
~
Pol directed the Generals to send out squads of Sisters into the towns and villages that they passed to cleanse the people. There were few casualties. Pol and Shira boarded a North Salvan ship and headed around the capital to the last city of size, which was to Borstall’s North.
Closer to Borstall, all three armies found vacated evidence of large camps. The evidence pointed to the Winnower armies heading west, away from the direction of Borstall. General Biloben’s army marched to the north of Borstall and stopped a day south of the harbor where Pol had just docked.
Pol and Shira walked down the broad gangplank onto the pier of the last of the towns. Borstall lay two days south by land and a full day by ship. Each town, so far, had one magician who acted as the real leader but hadn’t claimed to be one.
Twenty Shinkyan soldiers walked horses down to the dock.
“We’re all done with the sailing, Demeron,” Pol said.
I am glad for that. Some of the horses have had a hard time, but I calmed them down. They will be very happy to walk on dry land. We ride from here?
We do.
Arrows arched from two sources in the town. Pol and Shira ran towards their soldiers to protect them, but one went down, and a horse now sprouted an arrow from its flank before they could fully protect their troops.
“Shira, you take half, and I’ll take the other. We won’t have the luxury of talking our way into the citizens’ good graces here.”
“Armor, helmets, and shields,” Pol said. “We can’t delay here.”
He wore his conical hat and put the warded coat he had bought in The Shards over his armor. His unit rode towards the spot where most of the arrows had come from. He turned into a square a hundred yards from the dock, filled with at least one hundred armed men, and backed away.
“Hug this wall,” Pol said.
He peeked around the edge of a building and broadcast a spell to eliminate tweaks and mind-control. He expected most of the men to wobble, but none did. Pol had a decision to make. He did not have the luxury of putting the men to sleep. He didn’t know the condition of the townspeople. He chose to eradicate the ward and chance some deaths, or he would risk the Shinkyan lives against very tough odds.
He whispered a plea for forgiveness to his departed mother and used all the power he could to remove both the protection wards and the mental wards. Pol poked his head around the corner, and no man stood in the square. His grim duty done, he led the Shinkyans in Shira’s direction.
He stopped at a smaller square filled with more soldiers. The Winnowers were ready for them this time. He sighed and tweaked an end to mind-control. A few of the men seemed affected, but not enough. He cast his tweak out, and two-thirds of the soldiers fell where they stood.
Shira tentatively entered the little square. She rode up to him. “Sometimes you surprise me. I didn’t think you could do that.”
Pol grunted and then dismounted. He sighed with relief when he found that most of the soldiers were not dead, but lay in a coma. No amount of shaking woke them up.
“We will have to leave them.”
Townspeople began to creep out of their houses. Pol went up to a merchant watching from the doorway of his store.
“Are there any other soldiers in your town?”
“No,” the rotund man said. “Are you here to save us?”
Pol could not detect any mind control of any kind. He put the man to sleep and found a Winnower medallion around his neck. He turned around as more townspeople gathered around him.
“I am Pol Cissert Pastelle, once known to many of you as Poldon Fairfield. I have come to eradicate the Winnowers from North Salvan.”
“You and twenty strangers?”
Pol heard the word ‘Shinkyan’ spoken a number of times. “That’s right. Shinkya is now an ally of Hazett II
I. We are an advanced force blockading your town from Winnowers, should they choose to escape by sea.”
“You the one who bottled up our waters?”
Pol nodded. “Queen Isa. We are together in that. Let me remove the mind-control and wards that make you into Winnower slaves.”
He broadcast mind-control. Many of the town’s citizens swayed on their feet.
“Shake my hand, and I will free you from their influence. Get others in your town.”
Pol repeated what he had done in the other port towns. He found two more magicians among the townspeople. They were the ones without influence. He let the people deal with the men in their own fashion. They were all dead by the time Pol bought supplies and the column headed towards General Biloben’s army.
North Salvan’s waters were as clear as they would ever get. They lost one Shinkyan soldier and left a horse behind to heal.
~~~
Chapter Twenty-Eight
~
T he faces were grim as Pol looked at his officers and then down at a map of Borstall. A scout reported that the Winnower army must have moved behind the city walls since the camps were empty around the North Salvan capital.
“We’ve been fortunate, so far,” Biloben said, “not to have fought a siege on this march. We’ll have to build war machines, now.”
Pol looked at the map and twisted his head to look west. “What are the chances that some of those forces heading toward Yastan could wheel around and collapse on us?”
“We’ve already caught four messengers. None carried anything in writing, and when they were captured, they died,” Biloben said.
“Warded,” General Nokima said. “The Winnowers have no respect for life.”
“Only power,” Pol said. “We need to look over our collective shoulders, but we do have one advantage, the rune books. We should discuss our strategy with Malden and see if he has any other ideas about how to set the battle for Borstall. What about siege engines? Have you built any before?”
Biloben shook his head. “I haven’t, but we’ll have to consult with General Axe and Captain Corior. I’m afraid only brute force will get us on the other side of those walls.”
Pol smiled. “Paki and I know Borstall and the castle. I’m going to bring a small unit into the city and destroy the gates.”
“With wards?” Nokima asked.
Pol nodded. “Powerful wards. The army will have to fight their way in, but we won’t be pounding on the walls to create a breach.”
“You shouldn’t be going. We’ve talked about this before.”
“No one else has the power to make the wards. I will save more lives if we do it my way,” Pol said. “Let’s talk to Malden.”
They had waited for half an hour before Malden responded.
The Winnower army has just engaged. We are equally matched, Malden wrote, The magnetic weapons have neutralized the protective wards, and our magicians continue to improve on eliminating the new mind-control wards. Many of the enemy troops are succumbing to the removal of the ward. What kind of defenses are you encountering around Borstall?
Pol had already disclosed the Winnowers planting magicians to control the towns. “All remaining troops seem to have entered the city. There are no external armies within at least a week’s distance. We have patrols and haven’t encountered any resistance,” Pol wrote. “I intend to infiltrate Borstall and plant wards on the gates. I am sure we outnumber the troops inside the city walls.”
Do you put yourself at extra risk? Malden’s question glowed on the page.
“I am fighting the enemy either way. You know I am more than familiar with my old home. I will pick a team of mostly Sisters, and we will invade tomorrow.”
Good luck, then. If we observe the Winnowers pulling back to Borstall, turn around and fight them. We will pressure them from our side. Keep us informed.
“We will do the same.” Pol looked up at the officers around him and said, “I assume we can get everyone fed and ready by morning?”
Biloben laughed. “If those are your orders.”
“They are. If I am successful, you will see my mother’s name on your rune books, Molissa.” Pol spelled it for them. “That is your indicator that the wards are installed. All you have to do is have someone remove the wards from outside the gate, and it will explode. Make sure the tweaker is protected. The tweaks to remove wards go through wood easily enough. You might want to keep tweaking as you get closer.”
General Axe looked at Elder Harona. “Do you know what he’s talking about?”
She patted the General on the arm. “I do, indeed.” She grinned at Pol. “I wish I were thirty years younger or I’d volunteer to go.”
“I’ll need magicians in good physical shape who can shield themselves, can do some camouflage tweaking, and have the power to eliminate wards. We need to soften up the troops inside. I’ll install the wards on the gates. We will not even try to get back outside. I’m going to set up ward tests. Go back to your troops and spread the word. Shira will be fighting with me.”
Nirano, Paki, Fadden, and Ako showed up with twenty other Shinkyans.
“Paki and Fadden, I know you don’t meet my magical requirements.”
“But we are fit and can fight. We can shield our minds, and Paki knows the city better than you do.”
“Okay. You are a team of four. Nirano and Ako can help you with their camouflage tweaks, but it will be nighttime. No armor.”
“Even Paki can eliminate wards if he touches the person,” Nirano said.
As Nirano said, when Pol tested Paki, he could actually remove a ward when he nearly touched it. Fadden could not see wards, but he could remove them, as well.
“Don’t take any needless chances. There will be plenty of needed ones. You are selected,” Pol said.
~
After sorting through the volunteers, Pol led a team of fifteen others. He broke them into three more groups of three. With the sun only minutes away from setting, Pol gave them rough maps with their assigned areas of the city. They spent the next hour assembling their supplies. Each team received fist-sized lumps of lodestone to eliminate wards, if needed. All of the Shinkyans tweaked Imperial appearances, even Shira.
“Keep the lodestones away from your faces. Good luck,” Elder Harona said. The other three Generals shook each person’s hand. Darkness had made its way into the camp. Wards always glowed in the dark, to Pol’s sensitivities. After saying goodbye to Jonness, Pol left Demeron with the herd, and then he led them north.
There were few sentries, but just like at the camps, Pol led them for a few hours through many rings of wards. He stopped and wrote down their rough locations on pages of his rune book. Since they would be entering enemy territory, he alone carried four warded pages and wore a wristband. The others’ jobs were to disrupt the enemy wherever they could by removing wards and mind-control.
Paki took over as they worked their way closer to a small door hidden by a few bushes growing next to the wall. Pol put his fists on his hips as he concentrated on the door. He sensed no wards, but he could see the door was secured by a large padlock on the other side. His location sense told him that the nearest person was more than fifty paces from the door.
“Where does this go?” he said.
“A baker’s warehouse. The baker had this door built under the Royal nose a couple hundred years ago for smuggling in untaxed provisions,” Paki said.
“This is the door Kelso used to leave Borstall?”
Paki paused. That was enough for Pol. He wished Kelso traveled with them, but he felt more comfortable with him defending Redearth.
The padlock did not present much of a challenge for Pol. Moving the mechanism was much easier than disengaging the lock and letting it fall slowly to the ground without making a sound.
“Shields,” Pol said. “Both physical and mental.”
He tried to open the door, but it was stuck. Pol examined the hinges. Someone had hammered them flat.
“These
hinges are ruined,” Nirano said. “How will we get in?”
Pol looked into the hinges. “Patience. This may take a bit out of me.” Pol tweaked a break in all four hinges. “Hold onto the door.”
Fadden and Paki stepped up and kept the door from falling after Pol removed the material that kept the door upright.
“All right,” Pol said. “Inside.” Fadden and Paki replaced the door with Pol securing it to the frame with the padlock. “If any of you have to escape, just kick the hinge side, and you can go through the gap.”
They slipped into the darkness of the warehouse. Pol’s mouth watered at the smells of sugar, fruit preserves, and flour. A baker still used the place. He walked through the place, his hand covering a magic light that gave just enough illumination so no one would stumble.
He found a door to the outside. Still, no human or ward showed nearby. He tweaked the lock open and stepped out into a deserted street. On the next street, Pol saw some activity. He colored his hair dark. No one would recognize his features now.
They looked out at the street. Not a soldier in sight. Pol spotted a tavern not far from where they stood.
“Paki and I will see what’s happened.”
They took off their weapons and slipped into the sporadic flow of people. Paki had taken Kell to this inn before, but only once, since the owners did not permit gaming.
Both of them walked in. They couldn’t see anyone who wore a uniform or looked like a magician. In fact, all the men looked older than average. Pol felt sad that a few generations would be lost in Borstall due to this war. Paki led them to a table.
“What is good these days?” Paki said.
The middle-aged barmaid shrugged. “We have a new shipment of light ale in from Tarida. Some say it is better than any other light ale in Borstall.”
“Two, please,” Paki said.
She turned and left. She looked back as she sauntered across the nearly full common room.
A thin man, wearing a white apron and a towel around his neck, returned with three mugs. “A treat for you two.”
He peered at Paki. “You are Pakkingail Horstel. I grew up with your father, Siggon. You look just like him, you know. My wife,” he nodded to the barmaid, “nearly became your mother, but I grabbed her first.” He chuckled and took a sip. “What brings you to Borstall?”