Madness and Magic- The Seers' War

by Greg Curtis

  “What are we waiting for?!” She asked Reginald a little harshly. It was unjust but she was irritated. She wanted to go in, find her uncle and blow his head off. Before he had a chance to prepare any defences. Though truthfully, she doubted he was up to doing any such thing. Her uncle was injured. Baen had shown her the image of him arriving at this place five days before, and it had shown her that the entire side of his head had been a mass of bleeding burns. He'd lost an eye too. Magic or no magic he was in no shape to fight.

  “For the Master to make his decision,” Reginald told her calmly. “And you know full well it's foolish to run into caves when you don't know what's waiting inside.”

  Dariya did indeed. Especially when she looked at the mouth of the cave, now that the climbing vines and lichens covering it had been pulled away and could see the columns and beams framing the entrance. They were great carved structures that were covered in strange looking runes. They also looked as if they'd been there for a thousand years! Maybe they had been? Maybe this was actually some sort of ancient mine. But then, why would a mine have such a huge entrance? Or was it truly a fortress built into a cliff after all?

  Still, she didn't like the way that the wizard and the Master were presently crouched around the damned boar, speaking softly as if they were old friends. Or old conspirators. When had that happened? They barely knew one another! And she really hated the suspicion she had that they were talking about her.

  Suddenly the pair of them abruptly stood up, and for some reason she liked that even less. They'd made a decision and she was certain she'd hate it.

  “Gather round!” the Master called, and everyone immediately snapped to attention. That was everyone save for Baen who remained crouched, slapped the wild boar on the back a few more times, and then finally sent it away. But then she guessed he didn't need to hear what the Master said. He already knew.

  “The King's forces will be here in a matter of hours,” Master Thyman announced. “We will wait for them.”

  Dariya's immediate thought was to protest. They were here already. The man was wounded. They should just go in and kill him. But she squashed that protest down into the depths of her soul. Master Thyman was right. There were only six of them. Plus one annoying wizard, and half a dozen Fae who'd arrived before them. Last time they'd had three thousand soldiers, cannons, and known more or less what they were dealing with. And still they'd been defeated.

  Besides, she hadn't realised that the King's forces were so close. Messages had been sent, she knew that. Master Thyman had sent pigeons every evening after he'd received word from the wizard. But how could the King have got another army out here so quickly? It had only been four days since Baen had started tracking her uncle. He'd been as good as his word finding the man before the end of the week. It was only Friday. And wherever the King's army was stationed at it had to be quite a bit further away than Helmsford.

  Still, the decision was made, and she found herself once more on sentry duty. Staring at the massive cliff face with the huge cavern entrance in the middle of it, looking for any sign of movement. Just as she had been doing for the past six or seven hours. A part of her envied the now departed pig – at least it was free to roam.

  The hours passed painfully slowly. Sometimes the hands on her pocket watch didn't seem to be moving at all. And the sun was clearly stuck in the sky somehow. But the time did eventually pass and when she heard the distant sound of steam engines, one of her questions at least was answered. The King had sent his soldiers on steam wagons. That was new!

  And yet it made sense. Steam wagons might not be as fast as the wheeler the wizard rode – or even a horse, but they were still faster than walking and could travel day and night. All they needed was a second driver and plenty of coal and water.

  But as the rumble of the steam engines grew louder and slowly became thunder rumbling through the ground, a new question replaced it. Just how many soldiers had he sent?! She started counting the wagons as the first of them rolled into sight – and then she kept counting.

  Forty-four wagons! When the last one of them rolled to a stop in the field and she stared at the herd of smoking metal creatures, she found herself wondering if she was really seeing them. They looked like a horde sent from the underworld. But it was more than just the machines. Assuming each wagon was full and there were thirty soldiers in each, the King had sent thirteen hundred men at arms. He'd sent a small army to catch one man.

  These weren't regular conscripts either. They might wear the red and gold, but they had solid black breastplates as well and wore heavy black leather boots. Their rifles weren't typical either. The soldiers had much larger ones plus heavy pistols on their belts instead of swords. And to make up for the lack of swords they were carrying long, wicked looking knives. They also had sashes over their shoulders, black leather belts with balls of glass and steel. She didn't know what those things were. But she did recognise the uniform. These were the King’s Dragoons. Elite soldiers.

  Then a forty fifth steam wagon rolled up and she suddenly realised that they might not have the same mission as her either. Not when it was carrying a huge iron cage with cold steel manacles and chains. The King was obviously planning to try and capture her uncle.

  Seeing that Dariya was outraged! He needed to be hung. Every minute he kept breathing the fresh air was another minute in which the stench of injustice continued. This would not see the souls of the wronged avenged as they should be.

  But again she held her tongue somehow, taking in a deep breath and holding it until she was in control once more. Years of training had taught her that it was not her place to speak and Master Thyman would be annoyed if she tried to. More than that he would be embarrassed by her. He spoke for the Order; not his riders.

  Still it would have been nice to have at least had a say in things. But that wasn't to be. She watched as Master Thyman and the wizard walked over to the leader of the dragoons – a man with a bright red feather standing tall atop his helmet – and spoke with him. It appeared from what she could see that even they weren't so much discussing things with him as being told what to do. And what they'd been told to do was to stay out of things. At least that was what Master Thyman said they had been told to do when he returned to them.

  Sighing Dariya did as she was ordered, watching the activities from her post. Mostly she stared at the distant cavern entrance, though she did occasionally look around to see what the new soldiers were doing. She did notice a few dragoons jump down from the steam wagons – presumably to stretch their legs – and then wander over to the wizard's wheeler to study it. Some of them even had smiles on their faces as they did so. Others developed frowns when they spotted his staff right beside it, standing straight up in the air, its base six inches above the ground. Why did he do that, she wondered? Was it his way of showing the world he was a wizard? It seemed an odd thing for him to want to do when he was forever telling people he wasn't one.

  A short while later the soldiers started forming up into lines and she realised with horror that they were planning on marching over to the cavern entrance in formation! Were they mad?! They couldn't be planning on doing that! They would just be making targets of themselves!

  “Reginald?” She asked her fellow rider.

  “I see it too,” he answered her. But he didn't try to explain it. He couldn't.

  “Oh sweet Lady!” She prayed silently. They couldn't have another massacre!

  Five minutes later they set off, marching across open ground toward the cliff face some three or four hundred yards away. Marching in formation just as she'd feared. Dariya found herself torn between the desire to look away so that she didn't have to see what was coming next, and the inability to do so.

  Yet despite her fears, no one struck at them. No bullets or ghosts came flying out of the dark cavern to knock them down. Maybe, she dared to hope as they got ever closer to the cliff, they would be safe?

  “Those breastplates of theirs,” Belinda joined them, “ar
e designed to stop not only bullets but magic too. They're made of cold iron.”

  “Cold iron? How do you know?” She hadn't even heard of cold iron armour. It would be heavy and brittle. It wasn't steel.

  “You can smell it,” Belinda told her quietly and more than a little cryptically, never taking her eyes off the soldiers marching towards the cliff.

  Was it cold iron? And if so would it protect them against a spell? Dariya didn't know. Certainly cold iron stopped the Fae. But did it render spells ineffective against the wearer?

  Fortunately she didn't have to find out as the soldiers all reached the base of the cliff without incident. Once there they changed formation. Half a dozen of them with big tanks on their backs abruptly took up point and spear headed an assault group up the narrow ramp to the entrance. But they didn't reach it. Instead they stopped early, just in front of a mass of vegetation blocking their path. Once they got to it one of the point men raised his hose and fired it into the vines.

  A heartbeat later a jet of fire twenty yards long burst from the nozzle and sprayed the cliff in front of them, setting the vegetation on fire.

  “What the shite!” Dariya was shocked. She hadn't expected that. She hadn't even seen weapons that could do that. Spraying fire? That was wizard magic, surely?! But if they were wearing cold iron and using weapons it couldn't be. And what was the point of burning the vines? Couldn't they just cut a path through? Looking around she could see that the others were just as shocked and confused as her.

  But as the vegetation burnt away, it revealed a previously hidden, small dark chasm in the rock and her question was answered. It was then that Dariya realised that what she could see wasn’t “the” entrance as she'd thought, but rather one of many. The cliff was probably full of them she realised. The mountain had a vast network of tunnels cut into it, places which a fugitive could use to escape. But this time her uncle wouldn’t escape. Because these dragoons had a plan to deal with that.

  The moment the flames burnt down far enough a soldier walked up to the entrance, pulled one of the steel and glass balls off his vest, and then threw it inside the tunnel and then turned around and flattened himself against the side of the cliff, and waited. Moments later a huge explosion ripped its way through the tunnel, sending a fountain of fire and smoke spraying out.

  “Damn!” Dariya was shocked all over again. Those little glass and steel balls were as powerful as a barrel of gunpowder! How was that possible?! Was this the nitro she had heard about? But even as she wondered, she dismissed it as unimportant. What was important was that each of the soldiers had three of the steel and glass balls. They really had come prepared!

  She looked at the others and saw the same understanding in their eyes. And then she looked at the Fae and saw something else in theirs; worry.

  And well they should be worried, she realised. Armour that protected against both magic and bullets. Technological weaponry that turned soldiers into weapons of war. Steam wagons that could transport thirteen hundred soldiers great distances in relatively short order. This was exactly the sort of army that might be fielded against them were the Golden Concord to ever break down.

  Perhaps that was why these soldiers had been sent? As a warning that the Fae in attendance could take back to their people. The Fae had issued their warning by setting up Trade Missions in every city and riding wolves and eagles through them. Now the King was responding in kind. Threat was being levelled against threat.

  She whispered another quick prayer to the Lady as she stood there, surprised by how often she'd been doing that of late. But it occurred to her that a situation that she had thought was improving – or at least now that the doors to the Trade Missions had opened and people were starting to buy from them it had seemed that tensions were easing – might just have grown so much worse. A knot of fire started burning in her belly.

  Dariya turned her attention back to the rest of the soldiers making their way up the cliff face. There was nothing she could do about the politics between realms. Nothing except hope that no one was stupid enough to turn threats into actions. But for the moment there was an injured Duke to catch and kill.

  The soldiers continued on, creeping over the debris that had fallen on to the path from the explosion in the tunnel. She assumed that the tunnel itself had collapsed and one passageway to safety for those inside had been blocked. That was presumably the point of what they were doing after all. Shortly after that they came to the next tunnel and repeated the procedure. A blast of flame to burn away the vegetation concealing the tunnel mouth and then another blast of high explosive to close it.

  In that way they climbed the long winding path meandering up the cliff face until they reached what she assumed was the main entrance. There things changed a little. Three of the soldiers with the fire throwing weapons stayed at the main entrance along with the bulk of the army. The rest carried on, and one by one began closing the tunnels further up the path.

  It took several more hours before their work was done, and by then the entire cliff was pock marked with patches of burnt vegetation. But there was no way out for anyone inside. No way that was, but through the main entrance which was now being guarded by over a thousand heavily armed soldiers.

  By then afternoon was giving way to evening, and Dariya’s thought was that it would be best to hold things where they were for the night and finish the battle tomorrow morning when there was more light. But again the soldiers surprised her. Their commander gave an order, and as a unit they reached for their helmets. A moment later she could see light shining from them. Their helmets had lamps in them!

  After that they entered the cavern. Not just a few of them. The entire army! Marching in boldly, weapons at the ready.

  From then on there was nothing to see. She could hear explosions, but whether that was gunfire or those explosive glass balls she didn't know. All she did know was that it kept happening. And that she needed to light a few more fires to keep them warm for when they came back. Assuming they did come back.

  So, along with the others she did just that; gathering up firewood and lighting half a dozen good camp fires, while turning back to stare up at the cliff face when every so often the sound of weapons fire became too loud.

  It was a quiet time around the camp. No one had much to say. And everyone was nervous. She though was especially so as she had seen first-hand what could happen at night when her uncle unleashed his magic.

  Fortunately this time, none of that happened. No ghosts appeared. The hours went by and nothing could be heard save for the quiet crackle of the fires and the distant thunder of weapons.

  Dariya told herself that that must be a good thing. As long as the weapons kept firing, the men were still alive. Though it presumably also meant they were still fighting. But should they be? Her uncle was after all only one man. And he was wounded at that.

  She kept wondering that as the moon rose higher and higher in the night sky, and then started falling.

  About an hour before sunrise, Dariya heard men cheering in the distance, their voices strangely distorted by the echoes of the cave. It was a quiet sound as it came out of the caverns. But it was still a good sound to hear.

  She looked askance at the others just as they did at her. Did this mean it was over? Had they caught the Duke? But she was too nervous to give voice to her questions. And she knew the others couldn't have answered her anyway. They knew no more than her.

  The people waiting outside the cave did not learn the answer until perhaps an hour later when the first of the dragoons came out of the cavern just as the sky was brightening. They came quietly and with their weapons sheathed. In pairs they filed slowly back down the winding path to the bottom of the cliff. But at the bottom, they stopped and waited for the rest of their company to join them.

  Dariya all the while kept her eyes pinned on the mouth of the large cavern, waiting for her uncle to appear. Assuming he had survived – and maybe they had killed him after all. Eventually though she saw h
im. He had been chained to a pole and was carried out by four men. Much like a wild pig carcass would be carried out of the woods after a day’s hunting.

  She thought it fitting.

  Excitement, anger, hatred and a rush of other emotions streamed through her as she watched her uncle being slowly carried out of the cave. Her mouth went dry and her heart started racing as instinctively her hands went to her rifle. But she held herself back. Whatever happened now, it wasn't for her to do. And though she desperately wanted to shoot her uncle, she knew if she tried it would only spoil the success they'd had. She had to restrain her emotions.

  Somehow, she did. She didn't even make a noise as the men carrying her uncle slowly made their way down the cliff and then across the grass to the cage on the forty fifth wagon.

  But once she saw them remove her uncle from the pole and lock him into the waiting cage she felt a desperate need to confirm that the man they had caught was indeed her uncle – and then kill him. Fortunately the Commander of the Dragoons was of the same mind and called her over to confirm the very same thing. Dariya walked over to the cage to get a proper look at the man they had captured, doing her best to look as though she was calm.