Twixt Heaven And Hell

by Tristan Gregory

  As the wizards began to exit, Darius spoke. "If the new commanders would meet me in the hall..."

  Darius assembled the men and, without a word, he led them out of the tower. He led them away from the Crown, down dusty streets still crowded with city folk going about their own business. Turning onto the main thoroughfare, he led them straight out the main gates of the city, drawing odd looks from the soldiers who opened the gates for him.

  When he had led them about a bow shot’s distance from the walls, he finally stopped and turned cool stare on the other wizards.

  "We are now outside the city," he announced unnecessarily. "Does that make any of you nervous?"

  As one, the wizards before him burst into laughter.

  Jotan replied first. "No, Darius. We're quite comfortable outside the city, and we're perfectly aware that our new commands will keep us out here more often than usual. Are you satisfied?"

  "On that one small point, yes," Darius said with a smile. "I chose you five for many reasons. I am confident that you will do well in this new role I have thrust you into. When I formed the Gryphons, I knew that I could not foresee all the situations we would face. I also knew that I would have to learn most of my lessons would all-too-likely to be bought with blood. How right I was."

  The smiles were gone from their faces now. Good. Darius wanted them to be proud, but he also wanted them to approach this new task with eyes open and unclouded.

  "I have learned much. I will try and prepare you to confront the same things I have, to give you the skills you'll need to survive in the field, and to help your soldiers survive as well. At first your own men may fear you. They may be wary of you. You must make them respect and trust you. This is not the smallest task that awaits you, I promise."

  “Surely the men trust us, Darius,” said Alain. Youngest amongst them, he was fiery and passionate about his role in the war. He probably held many of the same views as Darius had at that age – most of them wrong.

  “No, Alain. They do not trust us. They do not distrust us either. Our traditional role in battle has given them little reason to believe that we think about them at all. Your men must know that you keep their safety and well-being in mind.” Darius turned his gaze to Brannon. Though the man had been a soldier, he was the most recently raised wizard there, and would be most steeped in the doctrine. Darius wasn't even sure if the man had seen battle in his new capacity.

  “If a sorcerer strikes out at the troops near you, what is your first reaction?”

  “To locate and destroy him,” Brannon responded immediately. The rest of them nodded.

  “Not to defend the soldiers against his attack?”

  None responded to that right away. Darius resisted the urge to shake his head. Even as an acolyte, he thought that the teachings had too often ignored the reasons behind their lessons. If a man was not taught the reasons behind a doctrine, how would he know when it was proper and good to break from it?

  Jotan spoke up first. “No. If we choose to defend the soldiers, we give the sorcerer the advantage. He may strike at us, or them, again. He may succeed. If we kill him first, we have protected the soldiers that way.”

  “Except for those who die before you succeed.”

  “But less than would perish otherwise,” Selman kicked in. He was tall, with a shock of blonde hair that often draped itself partially across his eyes, causing the man to constantly toss his head like a fly-bitten cow to remove it.

  “So your training has taught you. I do not say it is wrong. The point is, you do not defend the soldiers directly. They are grateful when the attacks stop, and surely some of them see that you were the cause, but many see only the dead and dying. They feel that perhaps you could have done something more, if you cared to." Darius took a deep breath. "I know this because I asked. My men were nervous around me at first. My lieutenant eventually told me why. You must remember that most people have little to do with wizards. The unknown has the tendency to be unsettling.”

  They were silent again. “This is just one of the troubles that surprised me. I overcame it in time. I dare say that my men now have complete trust in me. They know that while I may ask them to give their lives, I will give my every effort to ensuring that they do so only when necessary.

  “Due to other circumstances, our training may not begin in earnest for a few days – but I will see you for at least a time each day from now until the day you are sent out with your men to make trouble on the border. Tomorrow, meet me in front of the Crown an hour after dawn.”

  ***

  “You look nervous.”

  Balkan nodded distractedly. “I am nervous. You should be as well.”

  “The counter will work,” Darius said.

  Balkan shrugged. “We will be dealing with a great deal of power here. There is much room for something to go wrong.”

  “That is why we designed it as we did, though. The dispelling wizard need take no burden of power on himself.”

  With another shrug, Balkan returned to his reverie.

  They north of Bastion, deeper into the foothills of the mountain range and beyond the settled areas. Towards the city, in the extreme distance, a few orchard-spotted hills could still be seen.

  “Can you not tell us why we're out here?” Jotan asked. He stood in a group with Darius's other students. More wizards stood beyond them, a dozen in all.

  Darius shook his head. “You'll learn soon enough.”

  For fear of the spy, Arric had personally drawn up the list of wizards who were to participate with the day's trial. Most of them had had knowledge of the aborted attack on Cairn. Arric was sure that, had the spy been a party to those plans, those men would not have remained unmolested for so long.

  A few moments later Arric arrived with two more wizards at his heels, bringing their total number to seventeen. He nodded curtly to Balkan and Darius, seeming a bit out of breath from the hike from the city – a fact which put the ghost of a smile on Darius's face. Despite this, Arric wasted no time to rest.

  “My fellows,” he began, and the mutterings of the group quieted. “You are no doubt curious as to why you've been called out here. Know that, of necessity, I misled the council about our defenses against Firewalking. We do have a working counter, and you shall all be a party in its final test. Balkan, if you would.”

  Balkan joined Arric in front of the group. The apprehension disappeared from his face as he slipped into his familiar role of instructor.

  “As Arric said, this is to be the final test, and it shall be one of scale. We need you here not for the counterspell, but to help enact the Firewalking spell itself. The counter is deconstructive in nature. Firewalking consumes vast amounts of energy and requires a complex structure to keep them all in check – it is this structure that we disrupt. I shall explain more when you have seen it in action.”

  Balkan turned to Darius. “Ready?”

  “If you are, my friend.”

  Balkan moved away from the main group, striding to the crown of a nearby hill, and shouted that he was prepared.

  “Gentlemen, your cooperation please.”

  Darius had scouted the area earlier on. He did not know how far he would be able to reach, but resolved to try for a large hill a full four miles away. It had a copse of hoary old aspens on the far slope, a very memorable spot.

  The seeker darted away, a scintilla of magic barely noticeable even to the man who directed it. He felt when it found its target, linking the distant hillside with the ground in front of him.

  “Now,” he said.

  Darius felt magic fill him as, one by one, the wizards around him summoned up their own powers and placed them at his direction. The power coursed through him, invigorating his body. A moment later, he set it to work.

  He had expected it to be difficult. Darius even thought he might have to try again with a closer target – but he had underestimated the kind of force that so many wizards could summon. It required little effort on his part – as soon as he willed it
, flame erupted from the ground before him and the spell completed.

  In the distance a brief flash marked the initial appearance of the far door. The excess energy was burned off and funneled upward, creating the distinctive pillar of fire that announced the spell's creation. Immediately he had to fight to maintain the spell, as these two disparate points of reality did not like their sudden and unnatural proximity to each other and sought to undo the aberration. Darius forbade it, maintaining the supremacy of his will over nature.

  Shortly after reaching equilibrium, he felt Balkan go to work.

  He awoke to worried voices and slaps on the cheek. There was blood on his face, and his eyesight was blurry enough that he could not make out the faces of those who hovered over him, urgently speaking his name. He tried to fend them off and claim that he was well. None of his words made any sense to his own ears though, and he had the feeling he'd voiced nothing more than gibberish. He tried to sit up, but collapsed again when the pain hit him.

  He passed out again.

  When he opened his eyes again, he was disoriented. There was stone above him instead of sky.

  He raised his head, and immediately heard Balkan's voice.

  “Welcome back,” his friend said.

  Darius turned his head to see Balkan sitting upon a stool next to the bed he was lying in. Beyond him was a window which looked out upon the city, and revealed another disorienting fact – it was night. Covered lamps provided soft, dim light for the room.

  Darius recognized the carved columns that made up the window frame. “The Healing Hall?” he asked. “What happened?”

  “The backlash,” Balkan replied. “It grew in severity as the spell grew in power. I was a fool for overlooking it.”

  He sat up. “We all were,” Darius said. He glanced pointedly towards the window. “I see I slept through the day.”

  “Two of them. It is tomorrow night, for you – the trial was yesterday morning.”

  Shock covered Darius's face. “It was that bad?”

  “The Angel who came to us in the hills claimed that your mind was nearly destroyed along with the spell. Had we tried a test with more power, you would not have survived it,” Balkan said. Though the danger was passed, a shadow of worry passed across his face.

  Darius, on the other hand, smiled.

  “What? How can you smile at that?” Balkan demanded.

  “Think, Balkan. When we use this counter in battle, who shall be in my place?”

  Balkan blinked. “The enemy.”

  “The enemy,” Darius confirmed. “You say I was close to death – but I had Angels nearby. The sorcerers will have none. Nothing eases the pain of an injury like preparing to inflict the same upon our foes. Aside from my incident, how did the trial proceed?”

  Balkan chuckled. “Well. The hill you targeted with the spell is... gone.”

  “Gone?”

  “The crown of it, yes. Every wizard in Bastion felt the blast.”

  Darius winced. “So much for our secrecy.”

  “It is not so bad. Arric gave the council a story about a new battle conjuration – which is true enough, after all – and blamed your injury on recklessness. Nobody thought there was anything odd about that.”

  Darius looked offended, and this time Balkan laughed.

  “We have already come far in passing on the spell, as well. While you were asleep, I was teaching it to nearly two-dozen wizards. All of those who were a part of the trial and a few more that Arric added.”

  “But not my own students,” Darius said.

  Balkan lifted an eyebrow. “You knew?”

  “Yes. Arric informed me we would not be sent to Threeforts. I argued, of course,” Darius allowed. “Jotan and I are experienced with the spell, we would be valuable in the battle.”

  “But you need to prepare them to lead their soldiers.”

  “Yes.” Darius sighed. “I am loathe to miss such a major battle, though. I begin to wonder if there is some danger in letting Arric have his way so often.”

  Balkan nodded solemnly. “There is danger, indeed. Danger of you being seen as reasonable.”

  Darius scowled at his friend, and Balkan laughed again. “Darius, Arric gave in on the Gryphons and more. You have gotten exactly what you wanted. What more reason do you have to be contentious? I think you have gotten so used to being at odds with our dear Council Leader that you think something is amiss now that the two of you are getting along.”

  He lifted a bundle from the floor beside his stool.

  “Here are your clothes. I am off to take my rest – not all of us have been able to sleep for the last two days.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Balkan rapped his knuckles on the heavy door, taking care to avoid the iron work that decorated it. He briefly wondered whose idea it had been to distinguish the door of the Council Leader so. Had it been a wizard? The Council Leader himself? Perhaps a smith with time on his hands, wanting to mark himself out in some way... before he could decide which was most likely, the door opened and Arric poked his head out.

  "Yes Balkan?"

  "They are ready."

  The door opened further and the rest of Arric appeared. "All of them? Are you sure? How so soon?"

  Balkan ticked off the answers on his fingers as spoke. "Yes, all of them. I'm quite sure. It isn't all that complex of a spell, really. The most difficult aspect in bringing it to completion is countering the attempts to counter the counter," Balkan said with a slight smile at the wordplay. "That is to say, the sorcerers will know that we are tampering with the Firewalking spell and will try and stop us. We're sending the finest wizards we have. They are as ready as can be."

  Arric was nodding along with him. "The finest we have. That is what scares me. If things go wrong, this could be very costly."

  "We cannot fight a war without taking risks."

  "But need they be potentially ruinous?" Arric shot back, even as he held up his hand to forestall the argument. "Do not answer; our course is set. It is good they are ready so quickly – you have done exceedingly well." Arric glanced back through his chamber and out the window opposite the door. The sun was just past its zenith. "If we hurry, they can leave today. I'll send the orders to begin."

  "I already have, Arric. They will be assembling by the main gate in two hours."

  Arric gave him a surprised look. Balkan was generally not so preemptive with his actions. The taller wizard smiled a bit sheepishly. "I admit, Darius has infected me with his urgency regarding the situation."

  Arric harrumphed. "Yes, well, there are worse things you could pick up from him. As close as you two are, I'm surprised you haven't tried to gather some soldiers and run off to the border yourself."

  "If I survived that stunt, I certainly wouldn't survive Maggie upon my return," Balkan said with a smile.

  "Thank you for your hard work, Balkan. Why don't you let me handle the rest of the preparations and spend some time with your family?"

  Balkan was surprised. Generally, when you finished one task Arric gave you another. He nodded his head vigorously. "That would be very agreeable, Arric. Thank you."

  ***

  Balkan's long strides soon took him out of sight around a corner. Arric went to the Globe Room by a different route. There he contacted the barracks to ensure that all was properly set in motion.

  The existence of a spy made subtlety a necessary element, but it was not possible to disguise the absence of two-dozen wizards. In the short term, those men would leave the city disguised as ordinary soldiers. Arric hoped the ruse would hold long enough for the reinforcements to arrive at Threeforts – but he did not like relying so much on chance.

  War was full of risk, most certainly. As Council Leader, Arric saw it as his duty to control those risks as far as he was able. He could not play games with Bastion's future. A small setback now was small trade to lay against Bastion's complete safety.

  He finished speaking with the wizard at the barracks, content that all the nece
ssary precautions were being taken and the 'scouts' would be ready in an hour. There would be soldiers leaving with the wizards, all the better to conceal the truth of events from any curious eyes.

  Arric's next went and personally contacted the commanders of several of the forts foremost on the border. He told them to increase activity. Scouting, infiltration, skirmishing; anything to draw Traigan's eye to the border and delay the attack on Threeforts. Arric also hoped the increased activity would give a sense of the manpower that the foe had on the border. If they seemed even slightly fragile... perhaps a counterattack on the Shambles would not be out of the picture for long.

  A scant month before, Arric had been poised to extend Bastion's border further than ever before. Part of him longed to have that distinction again.

  ***

  “You are very cheerful... for a man who nearly... died so recently.”

  Darius looked at Jotan as the man squeezed his words out between deep breaths. Jotan was not the only one out of breath. All the other wizards – save the ex-soldier Brannon – were red-faced with exertion as they jogged along.

  “It seems to me that a man who nearly died so recently has a lot to be cheerful about,” Darius replied. He spoke easily. The pace he set for these men was not yet strenuous to the captain of the Gryphons.

  When Darius had gathered his students on the morn after his injury, they had come dressed as usual – in robes. He'd told them to go and find other clothing and footwear similar to what Darius preferred, and not to come back until they'd secured it.

  While wizards were not unaccustomed to effort – the use of magic was physically demanding, and there was no such thing as a portly wizard – nearly all of them had forgotten what it was to run. Darius set out to remind these five, at least. Each day he took them by a different route, not wanting to let them settle into a routine. They jogged through plains and woodlands, along stream beds and up mountainsides.