When he reached the first bowl, he was surprised to see that the military had managed to set up camp for several thousand soldiers in the last few hours he had been away. Tents were lined up in mostly neat rows, flanking every road and avenue, and crossing some of the smaller footpaths. As he proceeded forward, he saw hundreds of grim-faced men and women in states of preparation for what they perceived as the most intense battle of their lives.
Endrance shook his head, trying not to think about the number of lives that would be lost if he couldn’t stop the enemy. He had no doubt that the regulars could fight the wolfmen in the state they were in with no trouble, but spellcasters tended to shift the battle dramatically. A novice spellcaster could maybe be as effective as a platoon of men before someone took them down.
An experienced war-mage had the potential to ruin whole campaigns, which was consequently why the different satraps paid mages so well to serve them. A good mage could easily prove his worth many times over what he was being paid. A great one was invaluable.
Endrance sighed, knowing that he was more on the novice end of spellcaster ability than the experienced. Sure, he had won a few battles and fought another mage, but none of them were mass combat, nor against a wizard of equivalent training. Kalenden had been enormously powerful, but not very real world experienced since he had been hiding his arcane training from his subjects.
That brought up a good question as to where he got all that power, but Endrance had never been able to answer it. Perhaps he had made a pact with some demon or another that increased his ability to store power, or connected him directly to a source. Having nearly limitless energy for spells would be enough for him to win the battle, but he had been loath to plunge into Kalenden’s memories. Even as simple impressions, they were vile and he felt uncomfortable every time he thought about it.
Endrance’s horse finally led him to the command tent. Two guards outside stood at attention as he approached, and halted him before he could enter. Endrance raised an eyebrow and waved the men off.
“You both know that if I wanted to do the general harm,” the mage began. “I could drop fire on the tent from on high and incinerate him, or even you two, to ash from a much safer distance.”
The men exchanged glances. They let him pass. Endrance smirked as he brushed past the tent flaps, stepping inside. Balen and Joven were consulting with several other commanders, relaying the formation of the wolfmen troops. Endrance could swear he saw an underlying nervousness amidst the assembled men.
They looked up from the map table as he entered. Endrance, still smirking, spoke before anyone could respond to his presence.
“You have a massive army of bloodthirsty foes outside your gates and you all look worried?” he began. “I thought this is the kind of fight we looked forward to?”
Joven threw up his hands, exasperated. “That’s what I’ve been saying this whole time!”
Balen scowled at his brother, but nodded his head to the mage. “We will win this,” he reported. “But with General Rohl and his men missing, we will take far more losses.”
Endrance nodded. “Unfortunately, from what Joven had told me, the wolfmen had come from General Rohl’s direction, so he may have already been wiped out.”
“That was ten thousand men!” One of the commanders exclaimed. “They would have fought to the death, so there would be less of the enemy for us to fight!”
“There may be a possibility” Balen said, shaking his head. “that they had fought to the death, and this is what remains of the wolfmen’s original forces.”
A painful silence passed through the tent. Endrance cleared his throat.
“There’s another problem.” He stated. “The wolfmen have magic users.”
“What!” Balen exclaimed, an exclamation echoed by several of his subordinates. “How many?”
“I know of at least three.” Endrance replied. “But there may be more.”
Balen’s shoulders slumped. “Can you…” he started to ask.
“No. They are each more powerful than me.” Endrance replied. “Fighting them head on would be akin to suicide.”
“So what do we do?” Balen demanded. “We will not roll over and die.”
“I don’t expect you to, Balen.” Endrance replied. He took a deep breath, steadying himself to evoke the confidence he would need to convince them of what was going to come next. “I expect you to compete.”
“Compete?” Balen replied, confused. “What do you mean?”
“We are going to do the Ascension now.” Endrance stated. “And place a new king back on the throne. I have already contacted the other two community leaders as well as their subordinates. When everyone arrives, tonight we will perform the ritual.”
The only barbarian in the tent who didn’t look both confused and angry was Joven. His bodyguard shrugged in response, wholly not surprised anymore when his ward made radical declarations. The rest of the group did not take this declaration very well.
“What?” Balen demanded. “The Ascension? Now? How is the Ascension going to grant us victory?”
Endrance glanced at his bodyguard before continuing. “It may not grant you the victory you desire, but it will put things right. The king has served a purpose beyond your understanding, and without one, our kingdom is vulnerable. We need to place a king on the throne according to our rituals or we can expect the risen dead to continue to stand against us. I hope that is a clear enough reason for you, because I do not have the time to get into the metaphysical reasoning behind my decision with you.”
“Wait.” Joven said. “So you’re saying there’s a magic reason we need to do this right now?”
“Yes. Preferably yesterday, actually.” Endrance replied.
Balen and Joven exchanged a look that Endrance couldn’t read. They both looked back at him at the same time and nodded.
“We’ll get our men on it.” Balen replied.
Endrance scratched his head, confused. “Well, that was easy.” The mage muttered.
The moment was broken by his familiar getting his attention around the same time a commotion was heard outside the tent.
Some wolfmen have made it into the city. Gullin reported. They were noticed, and a group of soldiers are in pursuit.
So they can handle it right? Endrance asked. How many are there?
Thirteen. Gullin replied. And they do not appear to be like the other ones on the wall.
How do they not look like the hordes waiting outside the walls? Endrance queried, snapping his fingers at Joven to get his attention. The big man approached as Endrance leaned up to whisper to him.
“We’re about to be told that some wolfmen made it inside the walls.” Endrance said quietly.
They appear to be armed and armored, and moving with strategic effectiveness. Gullin replied. That was the last thing he needed to hear.
Joven nodded. “I’ll get the men on it.” He said, turning away. Endrance grabbed his arm and pulled him back. The bodyguard looked at him, puzzled.
“I want you to make sure that they are not killed.” Endrance said.
It took several seconds for the words to sink into Joven’s head. He turned to look at the mage straight on. “Wait a minute!” He exclaimed.
“They aren’t the same ones on the other side of the walls.” Endrance muttered, trying to keep Joven’s voice down. “And I want to find out why they risked so much to get here.”
Joven looked confused, but nodded. He straightened and strode over to exchange a few words with his brother, the both of them glancing back at the mage once during the conversation. Joven abruptly grunted angrily and stormed out of the tent, nearly bowling over a younger man in armor on his way out. The young man slipped past him and clamped his fist to his chest as he caught his breath.
“General Balen!” the man exclaimed. “Wolfmen! A small force has slipped past our sentries over the western bulwark and are on the run through the farmland!”
Balen turned to look at Endrance, a
look of incredulity crossing his face. The general turned back to the messenger and grimaced. “Thirteen of them?”
“Yes sir.”
“Not fighting back?”
“No sir, they’re just evading capture. Better than the other wolfmen out there, sir.”
Balen growled. “Let them be.”
The young man blinked, unsure how to respond. “Sir?”
“Joven’s on his way.” Balen stated. “My orders are to corral them and let Joven handle the wolfmen.”
“Sir, you’re sending one man against thirteen skilled wolfmen?”
Balen shook his head. “No, I am sending my brother, the Spengur’s right hand, to handle thirteen measly wolfmen. He will handle it.” Balen spoke the words while staring Endrance in the eyes.
Gullin?
Yes, master?
I want you to follow Joven, and give him some support if he needs it. Endrance ordered. I don’t like the look that Balen’s giving me.
It will be done, master. May I suggest explaining what you do so that he could trust you more?
I’m afraid that explaining how I do things would make them trust me less, my friend. Endrance said with a mental sigh.
The messenger left, and Balen stood next to Endrance.
“I take it this is part of your ‘plan’ to save the kingdom?” Balen asked, his voice dripping with ire.
Endrance shrugged. “It’s a wizard thing.” He replied. “Not going to bore you with the how, just what you need to do. It’s my job to handle those things.”
“With the kinds of orders you’ve been handing out, you might as well take the mantle you had earned, kingslayer.” Balen said, turning and walking out of the tent before Endrance could react to his words. The other few generals wouldn’t make eye contact with him as they swept out of the tent, leaving him alone.
“Kingslayer?” Endrance muttered, confused.
He shook his head. He had indeed killed Kalenden in single combat, but it had been a battle of mages, not arms. He also had no interest in running a kingdom, nor could he ignore the multiple conflicts of interest being King and Spengur would be. He wiped his face, realizing that despite the cold his face was beaded with sweat.
The repercussions of his actions stared him in the face. He had stood up to his principles, and in doing so it had spilled out into a huge mess. Lives were lost because of his choices, and possibly the life of the kingdom itself was now in his hands. The mage sighed, walking out of the tent. He had made his decision, and decided he was going to take responsibility for his choice. He didn’t decide to have thousands of lives depend on him, but he was going to have to learn to live with that. As a mage, and one who could potentially live many times longer than a normal mortal man, he would have to get used to seeing lives come and go.
It would mean that no matter how hard he tried, the people he saw before him would grow old and eventually die. While he was currently the youngest, he would outlive even the babe who was born to save the world. Unless… A shiver ran through his spine, a thought as cold as the icy mountain air caressing his face crossed his mind. In the vision he had seen portraying the final battle of the chosen hero, where had he been?
* * *
Joven rode his horse into the section of farmland that Gullin had been circling. The scouting team had lost track of the wolfmen in the immediate area, but since civilians had not been allowed to move back in, it had been relatively easy to estimate where they had been heading. Gullin seemed to be helping, occasionally calling down to him and tracing paths he could take to edge in on their trail.
The big man saw a perfect spot to wait. A cluster of farmhouses where three farms came together around a large well had a road running through it, bending at the well and heading towards the ramps. Joven hopped off his horse, unslung his axe, and put the top point of the axe into the dirt road. He rested his hands on the pommel as he waited.
He glanced up and the bird swooped down to land on a nearby fencepost. It fluffed its feathers and cocked its head at him, pleased. Joven scowled as the thing chirped at him with its creepy three voices. It sounded like there were three professionally trained songbirds chirping not quite in unison, sounding melodic until one saw it was coming from a single bird.
The Fjallar had not steered him wrong; the sounds of movement ahead told Joven the wolfmen were coming towards him. He took a calming breath and prepared to react if they came out swinging. He had more than his axe at his disposal and he was ready to use any of them. Endrance had told him to make sure they were caught alive. Joven hoped that he could make that happen, but Endrance’s request seemed impossible. They were insurgents in an enemy country, getting captured was likely completely against their goals.
The first wolfman came around the bend at a trot, moving swiftly but steadily, followed by four others. It was obvious when the other eight didn’t follow that they had been just as aware of his presence as he had been of theirs. The lead wolfman, appearing to be the eldest, was in prime shape. As tall as Joven, his gray fur barely softened the lines of powerful muscle the creature had. His gear was well crafted, bands of steel over leather padding that covered his torso, forearms, and thighs. He carried a well-crafted longsword of steel at his side and he carried three long knives at his waist.
One of the other wolfmen in the team looked familiar to Joven. He had seen that one before. Joven realized as they slowed down to spread out in front of him that he had spoken to him before. Wrach was in step slightly behind and to the left of the front wolf, carrying his two short swords and a large bundle on his back.
Joven leaned his head one way, then the other, popping his neck. He looked the first wolfman in the eye and nodded. “I take it you are the pack leader?”
The wolfman glanced towards Wrach, who nodded. He looked back to the bodyguard and spoke, his voice indistinguishable from a human’s.
“My second tells me that you are a strong warrior.” The leader said. “And that you saved his life days before.”
Joven nodded, silently noting the shifting movement in his peripheral vision. “I did. You must be Gnaeus.”
“I am he.” Gnaeus replied, tipping his muzzle in a human-like nod.
“I am your only chance to get out of the kingdom alive.” Joven stated. “The Spengur can keep the generals from having you killed, but we have been at war for far too long for anyone else to have the… restraint that he has.”
“Your Spengur,” Gnaeus asked. “Is it the small man I believe is called Endrance?”
Joven nodded. Gnaeus growled something in their native language, and the other eight wolfmen revealed themselves from their places in hiding all about Joven. One had managed to sneak within three yards of the barbarian without alerting him or spooking the horse. As they assembled, Joven was thankful that they were at least somewhat peacefully minded. A fight would have been very bad for him, unless Endrance’s bird was far more dangerous than he thought it was.
“Take us to him.” Gnaeus demanded. “We bring him a chance to make peace with our packs, and possibly ensure the survival of us both.”
Joven shrugged. “Don’t need to tell me twice. Follow me.”
* * *
“It’s the same one I met a year ago?” Endrance asked.
“Yep.” Joven stated. “Said he remembers your scent.”
“Why would a pack leader risk his life to send a message?” Endrance pondered.
They had commandeered a house so that Endrance had time to practice and prepare for the ceremony. He was sitting in the main hall, carving at a block of wood with one of his knives. He was supposed to make a little token that was supposed to be carried up the mountain by the Ascension team of his choice. The other teams were supposed to try to make it up the mountain, and take the token from the holder.
From what Bridget and Selene had told him, the Spengur had to make the token a special one in the past. Stories about it giving the holder superhuman speed, strength, and even once it supposedly gave the perso
n the ability to spit fire from their mouths. It was a tall order, but Endrance had a plan.
“Are they waiting outside?” Endrance asked, slicing away another strip of wood. The token was starting to look like a six inch diameter disk with a small hole punched through it near the edge.
Joven nodded. “Yes, they’re outside. The Draugnoa and a contingent of thirty men are keeping an eye on them.”
“Well, they should be more than enough to handle them if they cause trouble.” Endrance replied, putting the knife back in its scabbard and picking up an iron nail. He started carefully etching the surface of the wood.
“I don’t know about that, Endrance.” Joven said, concerned. “These wolfmen don’t move like any of the ones we’ve fought before.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. Actually they remind me of me.” Joven stated. “Specially trained, experienced and well equipped. I’m not sure I could have beaten many of them if it came down to it.”
Endrance looked up from his work and stared at his bodyguard. “They’re that good?” the astounded mage asked.
Joven nodded. “I’m just glad they were not here to cause trouble. It would have taken three times as many men to stop their advance.”
Endrance looked down at the wooden token. “Bring the leader in, and any of the others that insist on going with him.” He said, marking another line on the surface of the wood. Joven nodded, walking out of the room. Endrance continued working on the token, having an idea in mind. Shortly after his disappearance, Joven returned, followed by the leader Gnaeus. He was followed only by one other wolfman, a somewhat younger one with a pair of short swords on his back and a bundled pack in one arm.
Spellscribed: Ascension Page 25
