“Then launching a rescue effort from this point is ideal. They can attack the base of the structure from a distance, by magic – maybe an alchemical fireball, or other anti-personnel spell that doesn’t damage the structural integrity – and then fight their way up from there.”
“You do realize that tower is also a garrison?” I pointed out.
“And the attack will be a mere feint,” he replied, confidently. “Designed to encourage the garrison to descend to meet the attackers. Thus clearing the upper levels where the prisoners are kept of guards.”
“According to the Dradrien prisoners the Estasi Knights rescued,” I added, “she’s up here, at this level. There’s a final garrison of gurvani hobgoblin guards below, and another level of cells in the story above, from what they reported, though that may have changed since then. The stairwell is in the center of the tower,” I explained, changing the magemap to display the structure’s interior. “How do you propose to get to that level, if the guards are massing for a defensive movement?”
“Either from the top or laterally, through the air,” Terleman answered. “We can find some magical way to bridge the gap between the entry Waypoint and the prison level.”
“You say that like it’s an easy thing!” snorted Terleman.
“It need not be difficult, if we apply ourselves with ingenuity,” Taren disagreed. “I can think of at least half a dozen methods that could be used, if there are no magical defenses to counter them.”
“You can bet that there are, and Enshadowed spells, at that,” Lord Aeratas told us. “They aren’t normal Alka Alon songspells. My people experiment with magic just as yours does, and for far longer. Our foes are particularly knowledgeable in the most obscure realms of the art. The Enshadowed use many lost or forgotten techniques that we no longer recognize. There will be magical defenses.”
“Then we will explore several alternative possibilities,” I decided. “For the sake of argument, let’s say we get someone up there. Someone who can transport Rardine and the Dradrien smith out of there.”
“Why are we rescuing a Dradrien smith?” asked Aeratas, suspiciously.
“Because he’s working on this for Korbal,” I said, sliding the sheaf of parchment sketches to the exiled lord.
He took them and began looking through the detailed illustrations.
“If you have any idea what it is, let me know. Neither the Dradrien or myself could figure it out. But it takes a master Dradrien smith to construct. One whose life has to be threatened in order to get him to create it.”
“The Dradrien are working with the Enshadowed?” he asked, troubled. “That is a renewal of an ancient alliance we can ill-afford. The Dradrien constructed some of the direst weapons of our wars. Weapons so fearsome that they were locked away from memory.”
“It’s not a voluntary alliance, in this case,” I explained. “He was kidnapped from his home by the Enshadowed and compelled to work. When his nephews came searching for him, they, too, were enslaved and used as hostages to force his craft. We shall kidnap him in turn, and discover what this device is. Hopefully before it is completed.”
“I have no clear conception of its use,” admitted Lord Aeratas. “And I have seen many wonders and horrors in this world. That, alone, is disturbing.”
“Which brings us to our next issue,” I said. “Entering the undercaverns of the city.”
“That is going to prove quite difficult,” Aeratas sighed. “Korbal has constructed his new palace over the entrance. No doubt it can only be entered there, now.”
“Was there not another entrance?”
“It is now under the surface of the lake,” he explained. “One of the caverns in the upper chambers lies proximate to the deep pit that leads to the Chamber of Ages, where the vein is exposed. When the city was built the lake level was lower, allowing the Karshak entrance. Now it is mostly filled. A difficult route, if one is not a fish.”
“We’ll table that,” I decided. “It might be useful, though. Getting into the shaft means getting into the fortress. So, we get into the fortress.”
“We have virtually no intelligence on it,” Pentandra warned. “Arborn saw much, but the place was avoided by all but Korbal’s most trusted servants. Even the minions of darkness fear it.”
“Then we’ll have to be sneaky about it,” I reasoned. “If the fortress is emptied to support a sudden attack, that might be the perfect time to go in.”
“Against magical detection and defensive spells we have no idea about?” Terleman asked, skeptically. “That’s not the kind of mission I’d sign up for, as a mercenary.”
“Thank Duin you’re a knight and gentleman of the court, which obligates you by duty,” I chuckled. “I didn’t say it would be easy. Once we get there, we’re going to have to improvise,” I said, making my Magolith spin in the air. “Which is why that will be the most heavily-armed party of the three.”
“Three?” asked Pentandra, confused.
“Three,” I agreed. “One to start a ferocious attack at this end of the island,” I said, pointing out the Waypoint at the farthest end. “They’ll come through the Waypoint, wands blazing and mageblades flashing, do as much damage as possible, and create an excellent reason to pull the surrounding forces to this point.
“Then,” I said, as I shifted perspective on the map to encompass the entire island, “the second half of Group One will launch a second attack through the second Waypoint. That should pull most of the reserves in this area in to respond,” I said, using my pipestem to trace the movements on the map.
“That will be more undead,” Terleman pointed out. “If this map is accurate, then that means a lot more undead facing the second team.”
“Then we’ll tailor the attack to account for that,” I reasoned. “There are specific spells that affect necromantic energy. I’ve been working on some. So has Taren. Let’s use the opportunity to experiment.”
“That researcher better have some pretty cast-iron balls, to take that on,” snorted Taren. “I’m not volunteering,” he added, quickly.
“No, I’ll need you supporting my team, keeping dragons and wyverns off of us while we’re heading to the fortress of the evil undead lord toward certain doom.”
“Thanks, I feel better.”
“It sounds like an Azar job, to me,” Pentandra offered. “He’s not a necromancer, but he’s not going to be happy until he’s had a chance to kill one of every foe. He’d welcome the challenge.”
“We might want to bring in a real necromancer in on this,” Taren suggested, hesitantly. “If we’re coming up with weapons against them, then we should get an expert opinion.”
“I actually have one on staff,” I remembered. “Sort of. It’s a hobby of his,” I conceded. “But one of my Spellwardens is conversant in the basics. Kedaran the Black. He’s been teaching me basic necromantic theory, such as it is. I’ll get him to consult with Master Ulin, and see if they can find some countermeasures.”
“Good idea,” Terleman agreed. “We’ll need that kind of support, if we’re going to last beyond the initial attack. So, we have one team attacking the gates, one team using that distraction to attack the tower, and then a third team attacking Korbal’s fortress. And then a fourth team.”
“Fourth?” asked Aeratas, confused.
“The reserves,” he explained. “We’re going to need a lot of support on this mission, particularly when so many things can potentially go awry. Reinforcements will be needed,” he predicted. “So will medical attention. That means a talented and skilled group who can provide assistance and – if needed – rescue. Four teams.”
“Four teams,” I agreed. “Shall we grant them names?”
“I’ll lead the first team, with Azar as my second. The Gatebreakers,” Terleman suggested.
“I’ll lead the second,” Anguin argued. “The Westwardens, assuring the safety and security of my realm against the shadow in the West. For now, at least. I expect Tyndal and Rondal will be included,
” he added. “I will, of course, defer to an operational leader, once we are in battle. But I need to lead the team that rescues my cousin,” he said, firmly.
“Understood, Your Grace,” I nodded. “The Westwardens it is. Who shall oversee the reserves?”
“I will,” Pentandra volunteered. “I’m as big as a barn, but I can oversee and direct reserves. Assuming I’m not in labor. I’ll train a subordinate to take over, in such a case,” she added. “But as this is ostensibly an Alshari operation, and a Magical Corps operation at that. I’d like the Alshari Court Wizard to be involved. Someone has to keep Minalan from screwing things up.”
“I keep telling you, it’s not me,” I complained. “It’s the rest of the universe!”
“We shall be the Marshals,” she decided. “That will occlude the meaning from casual conversation, and describe our essential duty: to see to the security of the state. A common enough title, if infrequently used.”
“And my team shall be the Scholars, for much the same reason,” I suggested.
“Ah! It is a code!” Lord Aeratas realized. “A metaphor.”
“See why I like them?” Lilastien asked, smugly. “They have such delightful constructs!”
“A useful ruse to keep our purposes from being exposed, either to the darkness or to our own rulers,” Pentandra explained, helpfully.
“Ah. Prince Tavard. And King Rard.”
“More Queen Grendine, but . . . let’s just say that I’d prefer to surprise them with our success, not disappoint them with our failures,” Anguin said, diplomatically. “This matter lies entirely within my own realm – no offense, Lord Aeratas, I claim no sovereignty over lost Anthatiel, nor have I ever,” he added, graciously. The Tera Alon lord nodded in gratitude. “But the Land of Scars lies betwixt the Wilderlands and the rest of Alshar. I would contest any power who sought to fortify it against me.”
“A well-reasoned justification, Your Grace,” Lord Aeratas conceded. “As for my part, my kin and I shall act as guides for all parties. We know the city best, even in its ruined state. And we have many who are eager to test these new bodies and these new weapons in battle.”
“You would lead your troops back to Olum Seheri, knowing that you will not be there to conquer it?”
“This war has barely begun,” Lord Aeratas offered, philosophically. “This is a raid, a chance for revenge and retribution, not an invasion. Trust me: my folk are eager for such a chance. As am I. Unfortunately, I shall be with the Scholars, as no one who is not my kin can enter the Chamber of Ages. It is sealed with blood coral, among other defenses. If they still stand,” he added.
“Yet they have penetrated it enough to secure a shard, by all accounts,” Pentandra argued.
“They have reached but an outcropping, a minor split off the main vein of stone,” Lord Aeratas assured her. “It is but a remnant of the central core, not nearly as potent. A chamber far more lightly warded than the Chamber of Ages. The Grotto of Memory.”
“I love the names you give things,” I said to him. Then I looked at Pentandra. “Do you see why I like them? They’re so creative!”
“Yet a mere shard saw the Umbra expanded by a quarter mile,” Terleman said, shaking his head and ignoring me. “If that’s what they hewed from the arse end of the vein, what could they do with the pure Ghost Rock?” He looked around for a moment at our silent faces. “That wasn’t rhetorical, I really want to know!”
“We all would like to know,” Pentandra agreed, quietly. “And I fear we may find out, to our peril. That is why this mission is so critical: our foes have assembled a powerful combination of resources, magical and mundane, and they have waged a war against us,” she lectured, thoughtfully.
“They have surprised us at every turn, largely because we have misjudged their intentions and their goals. We have been playing on a board where we do not understand the rules, assembling pieces without understanding the nature of our opponents.
“This is where that changes,” she said, forcefully, as she absently put her hand on her swollen abdomen. “This is where we discover who we are fighting, why, and how we stop them. I will not raise my daughters in a world where their very existence is in jeopardy!” she said, with especial fervor.
“Then our purposes are united, for I shall not leave this world until I have a fitting legacy to bequeath to my own daughter. I will see her rule over a restored Anthatiel, once it has been washed free of its filth,” Aeratas pledged, resolutely.
“And I shall see the corruption of the Necromancer cut from the center of my realm,” Anguin agreed.
“The way ahead is clear,” I agreed with a sigh, “even if the route is dark. How comes our bid to recruit warmagi for the task? We will need a strong force. A mighty force,” I amended. “One that can do significant damage.”
“Rondal and Tyndal have raised a force at Timberwatch,” Pentandra supplied. “Nearly two hundred magi and powerful sports have come to their trials, seeking to prove their worth to their order.
“To cover their activity, Count Salgo has detailed two thousand of his best men, the finest warriors the Wilderlands has to offer, for specialized training with the warmagi. We can pick among the cream of the sparks, and leave the rest leading the grunts who will affect the Raid of Emancipation,” she proposed.
“’Raid of Emancipation’?” Lilastien asked, frowning.
“Sheruel’s minions have enslaved well over a hundred and fifty thousand humans in the Wilderlands and Gilmora,” she explained. “Duke Anguin has decided that it would be both disruptive to the foe and helpful to his realm to re-capture them, and repatriate them to security.”
“That should deprive them of their workforce before they are ready to strike,” Anguin agreed. “As well as further sacrifices and . . . foodstuffs. More importantly, it rescues subjects that are suffering and in need. Subjects that I need, in the north.”
“That sounds ambitious,” Lord Aeratas said, appraisingly. “How soon will you be ready to strike?”
“We’re ready to execute that mission, within days of getting the word,” offered Salgo. “We’ve targeted eleven major manors, estates, or encampments to strike. Our Kasari confederates will provide distractions, and then we will attack with the purpose of freeing and escorting the slaves to safety,” the old warlord reported. “A company of Third Commando will screen our retreat while another will protect Vorone from reprisals.”
“It also provides us an excellent distraction. If Sheruel and Korbal are looking at the Wilderlands in distress, they won’t be expecting an attack on Olum Seheri immediately afterwards. Which means we will have to raid in force. That’s why I requested the Estasi Order recruit as many good candidates as possible. We’ll want about a score of warmagi each, and another ten each supporting the Westwardens and the Scholars. We can take the top sixty, and the rest can support the Rescue,” I figured.
“I find no fault with that plan,” agreed Lord Aeratas. “I shall send the most valiant and potent of my Tera Alon to observe, perhaps to participate. A look at humani fighting techniques might prove enlightening.”
“Yes, we should certainly train together, before the operation. How many of your folk do you think could be devoted to the Gatebreakers?” Terleman asked, intrigued.
“At least a score,” Aeratas supplied. “Perhaps more. But I have that many in my own household who seethe with rage at the affront of the Enshadowed. We shall not lack for volunteers.”
“That’s an attack of at least fifty warriors,” nodded Terleman. “That should be sufficient to attract their attention. It’s enough to convince them that it’s a serious attack, not a simple scouting expedition.”
“What about the dragons?” Pentandra asked. “And the wyverns?”
“The dragons will not be an issue, unless things go horribly awry,” Terleman decided, looking at the map. “We’re coming into the center of their fortifications, not on their frontiers, where the dragons nest. They would be loath to summon them, to deal with a t
hreat so small and concentrated. Not if they don’t want to get their ugly new city destroyed,” he predicted.
“There is that,” I agreed. “We want to give them just enough threat to convince them it’s a fight in earnest, but not so much that they feel desperate.”
“We can have half of our folk spread out over the island starting mischief, as soon as they transport in,” Terleman decided. “That would reduce the appearance of the attack, but widen its effect. And disperse us beyond the use of dragonfire.”
“That would give us maximum advantage to disrupt their operations,” agreed Aeratas, as he studied the map. “Especially if you know how the infrastructure of the city is constructed. We can teach you the secrets of Anthatiel which lie buried under the ruins of its spires. Things they rely upon, and don’t even realize it. A third more of the city will flood, if certain mechanisms in its bowels are disrupted.”
“That might make it difficult to send the dragons in,” Pentandra agreed, “but that still leaves the wyverns.”
“I have some ideas about that,” Taren said, his eyes narrowing in thought. “But I might need to borrow the bouleuterion to work them out. Or at least the use of the workshops at Sevendor,” he suggested.
“They are at your disposal,” I offered. “What did you have in mind?”
He shrugged. “I can think of a couple of approaches. I figure at least one will work. If I can clear the skies of wyverns, then the giant hawks can come into play. That might be useful, at some point.”
“Not being attacked by flying lizards with poisoned bites—”
“Their bites are poisoned?” asked Taren, surprised.
“Their bites, their curved tail spikes, and their claws,” Lord Aeratas said, grimly. “The exact nature of the venom depends upon the species, but they all have it.”
“A summary would be helpful,” Taren asked, politely, as Terleman nodded emphatically.
“The wyverns subdue their prey by enwrapping it with its tail while it gouges it with its claws. It bites with poisoned fangs as well, usually causing paralysis or merely bleeding – some species have a powerful anti-coagulant. The tail spike functions as a nerve agent that causing a burning pain, but is not itself fatal. It lasts . . . days,” he said, clutching his arm in memory.
Necromancer: Book Ten Of The Spellmonger Series Page 35
