“We appreciate your cooperation,” Pentandra said, coolly. “And your continued restraint.”
“I aim to be agreeable,” she said, enthusiastically but unconvincingly. “And Vanador is fertile territory,” she added with a giggle. “Besides, Minalan is building a new temple for me, here,” she reminded me. “A really, really pretty one. And I should expect the dedication ceremony . . . when?”
“Let’s get the people fed and housed and protected,” Pentandra said, sourly. “Then we can plan a festival. But we’ll break ground, and start looking for an architect. You’ve already got some priestesses here. Will that mollify you?”
“I don’t mind the commute from Vorone,” Ishi sighed, “but it really would be nice to have a place here in the country, too. But I can be patient,” she pouted.
“No, you can’t,” Pentandra and I said, at the same time. In the same tone.
“Fine! I can’t. But I can be distracted.”
“What did you have in mind?” Pentandra asked, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.
“This place needs culture,” Ishi said, looking around at our unfinished hall. “It needs culture like an old maid needs a lecherous stare. It’s . . . primitive. I’d like to see some of my excess priestesses from Enultramar and the Great Vale relocate here,” she proposed.
“Excess priestesses?” Pentandra asked, suspiciously.
“Darling, aren’t you aware?” Ishi asked, batting her eyelids. “After so many families were involved in that ugly rebellion unpleasantness and our dashing Orphan Duke made such prodigious use of both the headsman and his powers of confiscation, a number of sudden widows and bereaved sisters – now without estates or incomes – have taken holy orders. We have a bumper crop of novates,” she sighed, glumly. “Indeed, I can’t even sleep without being hit with a few hundred prayers about the matter from my senior clergy. Annoying!” she sang.
“So you want to import more whores into the Magelaw,” Pentandra fumed.
“Of course not!” Ishi said, defensively. “And I didn’t import them last time, I created them. No, these are largely noblewomen without much authentic piety. Lusty but desperate. Good women,” she stressed, “just without much in the way of skills needed in my temples in the south. But here,” she said, waving around at the rough-hewn wooden walls of the chamber, “here, they might just make a difference.”
“How?” Taren asked, confused. “They’re just a bunch more useless mouths to feed!”
“Useless?” Ishi said, scandalized and offended. “On the contrary, little wizard, such women are the soothing force in civilization. Like the clay rendering that will – eventually, I hope – get plastered over these ugly walls. You need that more than devout sluts in vanador, right now,” the goddess proposed. “This place has real potential, if you look past the slag heaps and piles of lumber,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “It could be pretty, some day. But only if you support its culture.”
“Fine, bring the old bauds,” Pentandra groaned. “I’ll have Anguin draw up the documentation. How many? A few hundred?”
“Perhaps as many as five hundred,” Ishi purred. “And likely not until next spring. No one that will cause trouble – not in that way – just simple women in need of a fresh start, where the shame of their husbands and fathers won’t be well-known. And where their modest talents and skills will have some value.”
“We can support that many,” I agreed. “Maybe a few of those widows will pick up husbands and help resettle.”
“That’s my hope,” Ishi agreed. “In fact, I’ll ensure it. Besides, you need the balance. Do you know that there are five men for every three women left in this province?” she asked, appalled. “Women were preferred for sacrifice in the Penumbra, while men were valued for labor. Many also fled the Wilderlands altogether. With the additional soldiers in the region, not even my girls in Vorone can make up the lack. This will help restore that balance.
“Now, is there anything else?” she asked, one gorgeous blonde eyebrow arched. “Or can I go on my merry way before poor Taren faints from the erotic pressure?” she asked, making the thaumaturge blush.
“I . . . I just never thought I’d ever meet an actual goddess, before,” he confessed. “That’s all. I mean, I knew it was theoretically possible, but to not only encounter one but to converse with her . . .” he swallowed, nervously. “I just never expected that invoking a goddess would be so . . .”
“Easy?” Ishi asked, giggling mischievously. “As you come to know me, you’ll realize just how easy I am. In fact . . . I think it’s time that your life got a lot more interesting, lad,” she said, winking at Taren before she faded elegantly from existence.
“Oh, shit!” Pentandra whispered. “She winked at you!”
“Why? What does that mean?” Taren asked, his eyes wide with surprise and sudden anxiety.
“According to the literature and general legend, it means that she’s decided to line up a love affair for you,” Pentandra said. “Ishi’s winks have divine power.”
“Dear gods!” Taren said, uncomfortably. “I don’t have time for a love affair! I’ve got work to do!”
“You’ll find the time, I smiled. Though I exploited it shamelessly, I always thought Taren worked a little too hard, a little too much. It was a product of his genius to be that driven and industrious about his intellectual obsessions. Still, the boy could stand to get laid. A lot. “It’s not all bad,” I promised.
“Just be glad she didn’t blow you a kiss,” Pentandra soothed, as she shook her head. “You really don’t want to know what that would mean.”
“Once the first hostilities between the undead general and the fearsome magi began, the limitations of the former and the talents of the latter both became apparent. If Korbal the Necromancer anticipated a quick, clean advance to wipe away human resistance, he was disappointed.”
From the Scrolls of Lawbrother Bryte the Wiser
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Misdirection In The Wilderness
When I made the decision to finally call my banners and muster the militias of the Magelaw after Luin’s Day, it was a fateful one. Not that anyone argued the necessity. Quite the contrary, there were those who thought my order just a week after Luin’s Day was overdue. In retrospect, as autumn blew fiercely into the Wilderlands, they might have been right.
But it was no small thing to ask of a people so recently traumatized by enslavement, loss and relocation to give up work on what little they had built to defend themselves. Nor was it easy to ask the men of the southern Magelaw to leave their farms and shops and travel north with a sword in their hand to face an uncertain future.
But the Wilderfolk also understood what the consequence of ignoring the call would be. None of them had any illusions about life under gurvani rule . . . if they left anything alive at all, this time. Carts and herds started arriving in town from all over the plateau the very week I sent out the banner call. As each militia was mustered by their local lord or officer, their wives and children, including a staggering number of infants, made the long trip to Vanador for what little security the Overhang could provide them.
Most of the mustered militiamen were encamped to the northeast of town, out near the foundries. The smiths were still forging infantry swords, spearheads and arrow points as fast as they could, working by magelight far into the night, in order to arm as many as possible before the storm of war made that impossible. But it was a somber gathering. The reality of war was starting to occur to the Vanadori, not just mere anticipation. That reality made the relatively pleasant and productive spring and summer months seem almost like some enchanted dream.
Not everyone was seeking refuge in Vanador, of course, and we did what we could to strengthen the castles and towers that would be endangered by the approaching horde. That had been the entire purpose of my inspection tour. Thanks to my observations, I felt nearly everyone had the materials, spells, and manpower they required.
Otter’s Point was secure e
nough, Arborn assured me before he returned to Enultramar with Penny; the garrison there was augmented with an Iron Band outpost and the mage tower, and he’d settled hundreds of tough Kasari in the abandoned lands around the little castle. It was unlikely that Gaja Katar would march his forces north to challenge them, without presenting his back to the rest of our forces, but if he did, Arborn was confident that his men could hold them off long enough for us to respond.
The other pele towers were less stout than remote Otter’s Point, but they were far better protected in other ways. The folk who had settled around Traveler’s, Salik, Baelor’s and Rognar Towers flocked to them and added to their already significant defense. All four Tower Keepers had continued to improve the mundane and magical defenses of their demesnes, and were likewise secure in their defense. Each had as many as a few thousand armed men to support the elaborate spellwork the magelords had laid around the towers.
Much of the rest of the country north of Yellin sought out Vanador as a safe place to winter in the face of Gaja Katar’s threat. We encouraged them to come, with all that they held dear, rather than face the challenge of a renewed goblin offensive alone.
While the militia were the main troops we were counting upon in this war, I did have vassal barons who sent armed forces, not refugees, to fill out my armies. Megelin sent a sizable contingent of both horsemen and infantry, three hundred of the former and five hundred of the latter. Yellin Town sent fifty bowmen and fifty spearmen of its own accord, though they sought the protection of Megelin and were not obligated to. Arborn sent two hundred Kasari to us – not all of them rangers, perhaps, but all better-trained fighters than the average peasant under my command.
And then the delegations from the southern baronies started marching in. Most of their strength was congregating closer to Megelin, but we did receive three hundred from Green Hill, led by Landrik. Another three hundred levies from Fesdarlan were sent by their liege. Timberwatch contributed a mixed lot of second-rate warmagi and itinerant mercenary Wilderlords who had taken to the old battlefield encampment as a kind of haunt between assignments. Two hundred rode north to join us.
What really surprised me, however, was the contingent from the Pearwoods.
No one expected any help from the Pearwoods, despite their baron’s personal loyalty to me. The Pearwoods tribes were vicious raiders but crap as mercenaries when they were out of sight of their precious hills.
But Wenek used what command over them he had and convinced five hundred thick-looking barbarian tribesman to follow his court of warmagi to assist the Spellmonger . . . whom he had purposefully cultivated in their ignorant minds as some supernatural figure of a divine hero. He led them himself, as much to convince them of his own grandeur than out of a sense of personal leadership.
Leave it to Tyndal to make an unexpected and dramatic entrance, though. As much as the Pearwoods tribes caught the attention of the growing population of Vanador with their brightly colored cloaks and furs, when Baron Tyndal led his men down from Callierd in response to the banner call, he stunned the entire town.
Tyndal had enjoyed a busy summer. Not only had he restored Castle Callierd to working order and begun to re-established the nearby town of Randine, he’d also been breeding and breaking horses. And training riders. He had gone north with a long train of Wilderlords and itinerant knights looking to follow a young, charismatic leader. A steady stream of additions had followed all summer long, as men returned from adventures in Enultramar and sought out the famous knight magi for service.
Tyndal had taken them up on that offer, and invited their men-at-arms and friends-at-large to likewise join them. Tyndal was funding the entire venture himself, out of the proceeds he’d gotten from the Brotherhood of the Rat. I had figured he was drinking and carousing in his personal tavern, basking in the attention and adulation of his gentlemen as he puttered around his holdings.
I should have had more faith, or paid better attention. Instead, my former apprentice and current vassal had been relentlessly training and arming his men, and providing them with high-quality mounts from his growing herds.
I learned later that he had demanded hours of training every day from every man under his command. Not just on the listfield, but in cavalry drills designed to teach his men to work together in formation. By the time he rode into Vanador at the head of a column of over a hundred knights and sergeants, armed, armored and horsed at his expense, he had the beginnings of a corps that would grow to rival the Megelini Knights for effectiveness on the battlefield.
The Knights of Callierd were a bit different than the Megelini. They were younger, in general, and more enthusiastic than the grizzled veterans who rode under Azar’s banner with passionate devotion. There was also a higher proportion of knights magi, including some sports with truly intriguing Talents.
When the last of my far-flung lands had sent their best warriors to me, I had nearly three thousand cavalry, almost ten thousand heavy infantry, and more than ten thousand militia and bowmen. It was a fine army, a grand army, even, in feudal terms. The banner call went off without a hitch. None of my vassals rose up in rebellion or sent excuses instead of warriors.
But even as I toured the camps and met with the commanders of the men who were all looking to me for leadership, I knew it still wouldn’t be enough. Despite their dedication and the grim knowledge of the price of failure, the fact was that Korbal had at least two soldiers for every one of ours, perhaps more. Even if we won, a great many of those poor men would die, I knew with certainty, and there was nothing I could do about that.
***
The focus of our defense was to be on Spellgate, at the main entrance of the plateau. The fortified pass between the hills that spilled out into the Wildwater vale along with a small stream was nearly complete, now, though Carmella swore it would be improved and expanded for years to come. If an army wanted to come against Vanador it would have to come up that rise, cross the causeway, and besiege Spellgate.
Carmella had studied the matter long and hard, and had devoted thousands of men to fortifying the pass. What they had accomplished with that dedication was impressive. The great gate was complete, set within the massive stone wall like a gaping mouth. The grand causeway leading to it was finished. Around its base, huge banks of earth had been constructed behind a mighty ditchwork that the enemy would have to pass before it could mount the causeway and assail the pass. Wooden watchtowers were built along the length of the great wall, as well as many emplacements behind which archers could fire from an advantageous angle.
Carmella had also built a good number of siege engines to cover the approach to the pass. The hills above it were peppered by platforms constructed to bear the weight of trebuchets and catapults. A massive trebuchet was being erected, even larger than the ones we’d used at Timberwatch. The one stone tower she’d authorized was built seven stories high, a tall, thin watchtower in which she could oversee the artillery battle, personally, and direct its course.
It was a valiant effort. A tremendous accomplishment. Spellgate was Carmella’s masterpiece, the type of fortification that usually took generations to build. She’d completed the basic structure in six months. It had cost me a fortune, but I could only hope Spellgate would be a hard enough anvil to break Gaja Katar’s hammer.
For we knew that his armies were advancing. The same morning I inspected Spellgate’s final preparations with Carmella, Mavone sent us word to meet him in his headquarters. Squadrons of enemy cavalry had begun working their way eastward, he informed us, and it was time to discuss our strategy.
The war had begun.
***
“The first units were dog cavalry,” Mavone explained to our War Council – me, Terleman, Carmella, Gareth, Sandoval and a half-dozen commanders. “The Ravens reported seeing a company of at least five hundred depart the fortress at twilight, last night. They’re moving north, northwest for now, making good time.
“The vanguard is formed up to follow them,” he conti
nued, placing a token on the map on the wall. “That’s looking like a robust ten-thousand troops, mostly light infantry. The main force is preparing, and the artillery train . . . well, it might take as long as another week to depart.”
“They can take all the time they want,” Carmella said, crossly. “I’ve still got workers in the field!”
“You can likely keep them there for a while,” Mavone soothed. “From what the Ravens have told me, it doesn’t look as if Gaja Katar’s forces are cursed by over-organization,” he told her, dryly. “In fact, there have been fights, brawls, and even formal duels among the gurvani as they’ve tried to form up. That’s a hopeful sign.”
“I’ll start moving our existing units to Spellgate,” Sandy sighed. “We’ve still got more than two-thirds of the militia in the process of mobilizing. Perhaps this will give them some motivation.” He was having the usual military commander’s problems in a feudal society; men were still drifting in from the harvest, and were slow to report for duty, even after my tour.
“I’ll take charge of the active defense . . . once Carmella is done with her preparations,” Terleman added. “I take it you need to use the Magic Corps to help discourage the vanguard?”
“If you can spare them, that would be helpful,” Mavone agreed. “Our strategy is to deny and delay the gurvani as long as possible. Hopefully winter will catch them on the roads, and not at our gates, if all goes well. The more wizards we can add to that effort, the better.”
“This wizard would appreciate knowing what’s in that artillery train,” Carmella said, pointedly. “It’s a lot easier to contrive a defense when you know what the enemy is going to be throwing at you.”
“I’ll send the scrying reports as soon as I have them,” Terleman agreed. “Size, numbers, and rate of travel is what concerns me the most. We can counter a small vanguard with what forces we have on hand. Any more than that, and we’ll need the levies from Vanador.”
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