Twixt Heaven And Hell

by Tristan Gregory

  That day, they ascended into the northern hills, so Darius could see the aftermath of the counterspell trial with his own eyes.

  Finally they reached the shattered hill, he slowed. “Rest,” he ordered them, and the others groaned in relief. “Remember to stretch your legs if you sit, lest you stiffen. I won't be long.”

  “Take all the time you please,” Jotan said, setting himself down heavily upon a rock.

  Darius strode the rest of the way to the crest of the hill – or what remained of it. The stand of aspens which had been the focus of his spell were entirely gone, as was a large portion of land around them. Blackened dirt and ash lay within a crater as deep at its center as a man was tall. It measured nearly ten paces from rim to core.

  “This is what will happen when we use the counter?” Tobra asked from behind.

  Darius turned. “Yes, or something near. Balkan thinks our result was a bit more spectacular that what we will give them.”

  “Unfortunate. Why?”

  “We had more power than we required – if I had targeted the spell further away, it would have consumed more power and left less to cause... this. The Enemy has much more power, but sends their Firewalking much further.”

  Darius looked the other wizard up and down.

  “You're taking well to the training,” he said.

  Tobra grinned. “I grew soft while I was an acolyte,” he replied. “The friends I knew in my youth in the mountains would have laughed. Our people did not tolerate layabouts.”

  “Even I don't think the wizards can be called 'layabouts,'” Darius said with a chuckle. “Though using magic is a very different sort of work than most. As leaders of your men, you must be both wizard and soldier.”

  “As you are,” Tobra said as they started back towards the others.

  “As I am,” Darius confirmed. “But make no mistake, when I began I was worse off than you or Brannon. It was painful, at first, to realize that I was slowing my men down.”

  "How long did it take you to catch up?" Jotan asked.

  Darius thought for a moment. "I'll flatter myself and say six months, more or less."

  Jotan groaned again, though this time he had the breath to do it properly.

  “On your feet, men,” Darius chuckled. “Time to head back.”

  He set a harder pace on the return, though the route was more downhill than up, now. Before long they were jogging along well-trod paths through the long acres of apple orchards and grape vines. Men and women tending their livestock stared as they went by, not likely knowing who they were – news spread quickly in the city itself, but beyond the walls of Bastion the people were far slower to hear the latest happenings.

  As a final joke upon the exhausted wizards, Darius did not lead them through the northernmost gates, but followed the long, graceful curve of the walls around to the main gates. Shortly before they reached them, a horn sounded, signaling its imminent opening.

  At first Darius thought they were only anticipating his return. It was an outdated tradition that the gates opened only long enough to let in and out those who had business passing through them. Darius was of the mind that they may as well remain open until danger presented itself – no foe had come within striking range of Bastion in hundreds of years.

  From the gates poured hundreds of men. They were all dressed as soldiers, encased in leather armor and with swords swinging at their hips or using their spears for walking sticks. A few of them, though, marched more awkwardly than the rest.

  Darius broke into a full run, leaving his students to catch up. One of the wizards departing Bastion noticed him running, and stepped out from the throng.

  "Jacob!" Darius greeted. "They're sending you off so soon?"

  The man nodded. Jacob was a man who seemed shaped from steel, with silver-gray hair capping a wiry frame. Seeing him in armor was slightly jarring to Darius – Jacob was one of the most experienced battlefield magicians in Bastion.

  He nodded in his typical curt fashion. "Aye. There is little more to do here. We know the spell. Faster we get to the border with it, the more likely we'll make use of it."

  "Arric is content to let you go so soon?"

  Jacob broke his stern demeanor with a short, hearty laugh. "Hah! Do you really care? Yes, he confirmed Balkan's opinion. Surprised?"

  A smile and a nod from Darius brought another laugh. "He knows we need speed as much as you, Darius. I wager Balkan had something to do with it as well – your friend has been pushing us fiercely. All the better – if the hammer falls before we get to the border, it'll be a lot of work for little gain."

  "You'd best get going then. Choirs watch over you."

  Jacob rejoined the men on the south road. It had been days since the last rainfall, and dust began to fill the air from the rise and fall of so many booted feet. Once all of them had cleared the walls a call went out from the front of the column, and the soldiers quickened their pace – with the disguised wizards following suit a heartbeat later.

  "Have a meal and rest for a while," Darius said to his men as he led them back into the city. "Meet me in two hours' time at the barracks entrance. It is time to start meeting the men you will command."

  Darius himself needed neither food nor rest just yet. In his quarters he paused for only a moment to dash some cool water across his brow and scrub the dust from his face and hands. Then he headed back out into the bright noon sunlight and made for the central barracks field, where Robert was overseeing the recruitment.

  In order to expedite the undertaking, the lieutenant had pressed nearly every Gryphon into the role of sergeant, separating those who had the ability to operate at the requisite level and those who did not. The 'clack' of wooden swords filled the air, and was audible from a goodly distance.

  Darius stood on the outskirts, watching the activity. Several of his men recognized him, though no others did. Darius was dressed in a tunic of simple, undyed wool. He had no articles of rank nor the badge of the Gryphons upon his clothing. Darius briefly wondered if he might be taken for a common soldier, one who had already been tried and found wanting. He found the thought heartening. There was a strange sort of freedom, a comfort, in anonymity.

  Darius did not have the time to enjoy the feeling for long. He strode to where Robert had just finished his passes with a younger man. From the look on Robert's face, he was offering reassurances. Just before Darius moved close enough to overhear their words the young soldier turned away with disappointment on his face. About to turn and call for the next man to be tested, Robert stopped when he noticed Darius.

  "Quite an operation you've set up," Darius commented with another glance around the yard.

  Robert nodded. "Usually you ask me to find another hundred men or so. Now you're asking for well over a thousand."

  "How many are you up to now?"

  "Not enough to mention, sir. To be honest, I'm not sure we can form all five units from the soldiers that are here in Bastion. Not if we want to keep their capabilities on a level with the Gryphons."

  Darius nodded. He had expected the news.

  “I hate to put it this way, but lower your standards a mite,” he said. “The new commands will need to train together before they take the field, in any case. They will have time to improve.”

  "Yes, sir. Are we going to have them all wearing scale armor?"

  Darius nodded. That particular industry was going well. Now that reports of its effectiveness were trickling up from the ranks to the ears of influential officers, more and more men were being tasked to the production of the new armor. The limit on its speed of manufacture was now how fast the smiths could turn out the hundreds of small scales required for each full suit.

  "I'm going to have the wizards start meeting their soldiers today. How quickly can you assemble them?"

  "The soldiers? A matter of minutes, sir. I've had them all moved to a set of barracks nearby. Beg your pardon, I had the buildings reserved for our use – gave the orders in your name."

/>   "No pardon needed, Robert, that was excellently done," Darius nodded approvingly. "Send somebody to gather them up."

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The horns brought Draman awake in an instant. The barest of moments passed while he listened to the sounds around him. No clash of steel, nor cries of battle. No sneak attack then.

  A moment later the twilight was lit with bright orange firelight, visible even through the canvas walls of his tent. It had begun.

  Draman rose and took his blade from where it had lay by his side as he slept, buckling it around him even as he stood. By order he had slept in his armor, as had every soldier in every garrison in the valley. His body forgot the dullness of waking in a moment as he rushed to the door of his tent. He emerged into near-darkness. The glow of the sun was off to the west, telling Draman it was dusk, not dawn.

  Around him was a veritable storm of preparation, as five thousand men rushed to gather along with their comrades. Officers shouted orders while the wizards stood calmly aside, awaiting the soldiers who would fight beside them.

  Draman joined his voice to the others. As a captain of Bastion, he commanded over a thousand men, ten groups each of one hundred with an experienced sergeant at their head. For this battle however, changes had been made. He would command half of his men, while his lieutenant took the other half. This would allow them to respond to more threats at any time in a fashion much like Darius did with his Gryphons – favoring mobility over mass. As many of the groups as possible would be escorting a wizard. The others would have to simply fall upon the enemy as they arrived, trusting in surprise to give them the advantage.

  Draman knew there were likely to be fearsome casualties in some of those groups, and was thankful that he did not have to face any sorcerers without a wizard to occupy the bastards' minds.

  Soon, Draman had his soldiers assembled in the growing shadows. As stars began to twinkle overhead, Draman turned his gruff, scarred face onto them and raised his voice over the din.

  "Here it is! It's time to take some revenge for the lads of Nebeth! And Fist! And Andreth!"

  The last was spoken with great fervor. Draman's own son was at Andreth, trapped by the Enemy, but not without hope. The captain held onto that.

  "Get ready to move fast! Soon as we spot a spell close enough, we run towards it fast as we can manage. Then Wizard Harr gives them a treat."

  He looked to the wizard, a man not seemingly much older than some of his men; dressed in gray robes that made the old soldier wonder how fast they could go without leaving the wizard behind.

  Harr spoke. "We'll approach to a goodly distance, and you will wait while I use the spell. We cannot be too close – anything near the far door when I complete the counterspell will be destroyed."

  Good. Dead men don't hit very hard, Draman thought.

  While they spoke, more of the columns were blazing into angry existence. None seemed close enough to catch the wizard's attention. Soldiers from the other camps and forts would handle them.

  Another spear of fire hit, much closer than the others. Draman looked at the wizard, who nodded even as he began to move. The soldiers quickly followed.

  It took them only a few minutes to reach sight of the incursion, cresting a small rise in the rolling terrain. The sun's radiance was usurped by a pretender upon the earth – as full of horror as the sun was cheer. The enemy warriors spewing from the burning sphere cast strange and terrible shadows across the grass, growing ever more frightful in the dying light of day.

  Wizard Harr halted the tightly packed group at the top of the rise, and then motioned for them to move back and out of sight. Nodding to Draman, the wizard strode to the top of the fold. The captain turned to his men. "He's at his work now. We attack once he's finished – and we'll know exactly when that is," the captain said with a wide grin. He himself had no idea what that meant. He was merely repeating the words of the general who had given him his orders, who no doubt was repeating the words of a wizard.

  Somewhere back up the line, somebody actually knew what they were saying – that was what a commander had to trust in.

  He marked thirty heartbeats, kneeling there in the damp grass. His calm count was interrupted by a blast like thunder that shook the earth beneath him. The glow of fire intensified, then disappeared all at once. A scant moment of absolute silence was broken quickly by shouts of alarm and the cries of dying men from beyond the hill – the music of war.

  Draman stood and let his voice ring out, cutting through it all. "That'll be it!" Breaking into a run, he drew his blade from the leather that cradled it.

  The unnatural light of the sorcerous passageway had been destroyed, and it was only by the last vestiges of sunlight that the enemy could be seen. Had Draman's attention been less occupied by his foe he may have marked the signs of the spell's premature ending; rent earth and still-smoldering grass.

  He did mark the smell of burnt flesh.

  It was a short fight, and Draman's blade tasted blood only once. The few enemy soldiers that remained put up fierce resistance despite the shock of their situation, but ferocity does little for a man surrounded by unfriendly steel. They were put down by sword, axe and spear.

  Only six of his own men had fallen, though others had wounds of varying seriousness. Harr tended the wounded quickly as the corpses of comrades were lain apart from the dead enemy for burying once the battle had ended.

  "That went well," Draman remarked to the wizard as he cleaned and sheathed his sword. His words were punctuated by another explosive roar from the distance, though the light and heat were hidden by the terrain. The ground shook faintly a moment after.

  "This will teach the bastards to wait for an invitation!" shouted of the soldiers behind him. A cheer went up, and both the captain and wizard Harr joined in.

  Soon the wizard shushed them with an upraised hand. “We'll rest a moment here, but it is not over,” he said somberly.

  The sky was rent once more by pillars of fire. As one they looked north, where the land rose up to become truly mountainous. In the space of five breaths three more bright spears pierced the night.

  Draman shared a look with the wizard.

  “Cancel that rest,” he said. “We move now.”

  ***

  Scattered reports were coming in from Threeforts, mostly observations from the forts about the ongoing battle.

  The Enemy had arrived across nearly the entire breadth of the valley, and the defenders had subsequently scattered to deal with each incursion. It was now apparent they had done exactly what Traigan had wanted – the initial spells had been a feint to draw off defenders. The Warlord had anticipated part of their strategy. The bulk of the enemy forces seemed to now be intruding from the extreme north of the valley, amongst the craggy foothills where visibility was severely limited even in broad daylight.

  Things may have gone poorly for the men of Bastion, had they not been well prepared. The sole eyewitness report from a wizard brought news of the stunning success of the counterspell.

  Cheers broke out in the globe room when Arric repeated the words aloud. The Council leader looked up and met Darius's gaze. They shared a look of satisfaction.

  "I've taken the liberty of dispatching more men and soldiers to the north. The brunt of the fighting will be there, it seems," stated the wizard through the globe. Arric nodded his approval. "Excellent news, Willem. Keep us notified of any changes."

  The connection was severed. Darius moved around the table to speak with Arric. "If they manage a foothold, we'll have to hit it hard unless we want to be caught in another drawn-out battle."

  "A few enemy soldiers, stuck in the hills? We'll camp out and wait for them to starve."

  "They can bring in more than just troops with that spell, Arric. They can bring in supplies – and we can't stop them if we can't get at the place where they're casting it. If we prevent them from tying us up in Threeforts, we can mount a real assault on the Shambles," Darius urged.

  Arric did
not immediately protest, which Darius took as encouragement. "News from the Shambles indicate that Traigan may have drained away men from the forces laying siege in order to strike us in the north. We can rescue the men at Andreth and punish Traigan for trying to swallow our entire border in one go. Set the clock back, maybe even resume the planned attack on Cairn. We owe it to ourselves to at least try."

  "And perhaps have Traigan punish us for attempting too much at once," Arric said, almost halfheartedly. Darius was unaware that the most recent reports from the Shambles not only confirmed what he said, but emphasized it. The Enemy was brittle there.

  Arric let the man continue his arguments, though. Arric may be able to extract a favor from Darius later if he appeared to 'give in' where he'd already made up his mind to do as Darius desired.

  "I'll have the Generals begin planning it," Arric finally said, suppressing a smirk. "But I make no promises."

  Darius nodded simply. "I ask nothing more," he said. "Please send for me if there is important news from Threeforts. I must go and continue my own tasks."

  "How are they coming along?" Arric inquired.

  There was an almost fatherly aspect to Darius's proud smile.

  "Splendidly," was his reply.

  ***

  Draman was surrounded by the enemy in the dark. His blade lashed out time and time again, driven by the last vestiges of strength from a body on the verge of total exhaustion.

  His soldiers had arrived at the edge of the fight, having dealt with only one more spell-borne incursion on their trek. In the north they had found the real fight. Even as Draman had jogged with his men and the wizard Harr, multiple spells had lit the night sky in the distance. More arrived every few moments, pouring enemy troops into the valley. The enemy were numerous enough already to put up a stiff defense, and the wizards could not get close enough to destroy the spells at the heart of the incursion.

  Draman and Harr decided to attack through a stretch of uneven terrain which – along with the darkness – would hide their approach. The land was not unlike the Shambles, though more of rock than of dirt and sand.