Stuck In Magic

by Christopher Nuttall

  A cannoneers rushed up to me. “Sir, the cannons are in position, ready to bombard the citadel.”

  I nodded. The citadel was the final defence line, as far as the defenders were concerned. They hadn’t realised how vulnerable it was … hell, they’d cleared most of the refugees away from the citadel, unaware I’d hesitate to fire at human shields. Harbin wouldn’t have any qualms about slaughtering innocents, I knew, but me … I liked to think there was some honour in way. My lips twisted in disgust. Cold logic told me that wasn’t true. And besides, if we let the bad guys think human shields would deter us, they’d all start rounding up serfs and turning them into shields.

  “Good.” I looked at Harbin, who was studying the defences with a disdainful eye. “Have one of your men take a demand for surrender.”

  Harbin turned to his juniors and barked orders. I listened, even as I turned my eyes back to the defences too. The local rules of war, such as they were, called for the attackers to offer the defenders a chance to surrender and march out with full honours, perhaps even give their parole before they were allowed to go home. Apparently, aristocrats could even be released after they promised to pay a giant ransom when they got back to their own lines. I’d assumed they always broke the agreement, once they were safe, but the history texts insisted the ransoms were generally paid. I supposed it made a certain kind of sense. If you broke the rules too openly, no one would accept surrenders and promised ransoms in the future.

  My eyes narrowed as I studied the defence lines, while a horse and rider galloped towards the citadel, lance raised in a parley pose. They seemed designed to soak up bullets, although it was clear they hadn’t seen just what massed cannons could do. I’d made sure my people knew how to fire canister shots and grapeshot, even scattershot … although that was very much a last resort. It was unfortunate, for them, they hadn’t started taking their defences seriously until very recently. I rolled my eyes. Damansara hadn’t needed me to point out the advantages of taking the offensive.

  The rider tumbled backwards, an arrow protruding from his chest. Harbin let out a cry of shock. For once, I agreed with him. Shooting a man on parley was a declaration of unrestricted war, all the more so as the cavalryman wasn’t a commoner but a born aristocrat. They’d just told us the battle was going to be fought to the bitter end.

  Unless the townsfolk rise up behind the lines, I thought. We’d tried to slip some weapons into the town, but it was difficult to say what would happen. The locals might sit on their hands until it was clear we were the winners, just to make sure their former masters were in no position to take revenge. We have to send them a very clear message.

  I glanced at the messengers. “Cannonballs to the citadel, canister to the trenches. Fire!”

  The air seemed to boom as the cannons fired a ragged volley. I heard screams in the distance as the first cannonballs slammed into their target, severely damaging the citadel. The trenches, oddly enough, were tougher – the soil absorbing much of the canister shot – but started to weaken rapidly. I snapped more orders, watching coolly as more and more cannonballs found their target.

  The citadel’s walls started to collapse, cannonballs punching deeper and deeper into the interior. Archers appeared on the battlements, trying to get into position to shoot the cannoneers. My musketmen greeted them with a barrage of musket balls. Their accuracy was shitty, but they were firing so many balls that it hardly mattered. I felt Harbin’s discomfort as a handful of archers fell from the walls, dead before they’d even had a chance to return fire.

  Cannonballs could take down the walls of Damansara as easily as they were breaking through the citadel.

  A low rumble split the air as the citadel started to collapse, chunks of heavy stone slipping from the walls and crashing to the ground. I had a glimpse of halls and barracks within the building, before they were obscured by smoke and dust. A man ran through the open, waving his hands frantically; a cannonball passed right through him, practically vaporising his body before slamming into the far wall. The poor bastard hadn’t had the slightest idea what had hit him, I reflected, as I turned my attention to the defences. He’d been grossly unlucky and paid the price.

  The trenches were wavering, men either massing behind rapidly-weakening defences or running for the inner walls. I didn’t blame them for breaking. Their leaders were bully-boys too used to doing what they pleased to realise they’d run into someone who could fight back, while the majority of the troops were either raw recruits or mercenaries. The latter would be thoroughly pissed at their nominal commanders. By shooting down all hope of a parley, they’d ensured their troops wouldn’t be offered any terms. The best they could hope for was unconditional surrender.

  “Order the advance,” Harbin said. He turned to a messenger. “The heavy cavalry are to advance and break their lines.”

  “Belay that order,” I said, without looking at him. “The cavalry are to stay where they are!”

  Harbin snorted. “You don’t want to break their lines?”

  “There’s nothing to be gained by throwing the cavalry into a meatgrinder,” I said. I might have thought better of it if Harbin himself had been leading the charge. He was something of a coward, true, but if the order came to advance and he didn’t … he’d be finished. His own men would disown him. “Let the cannons wear them down a little more.”

  My eyes drifted over the gathering troops as I beckoned to the messenger.

  “Order the 3rd Cannons to load canister, then wait for the enemy charge,” I said. “They are to fire when the enemy troops reach the halfway point.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I smiled grimly, although I knew the carnage was about to get worse. The enemy didn’t have many options left. I’d surrounded the town. They could fall back and force me to assault the town directly, which would probably lead to the townspeople putting a knife in their backs, or charge my lines. They’d made damn sure surrender wasn’t an option. We’d be quite within our legal rights to mutilate, enslave or simply execute anyone unlucky enough to be taken prisoner.

  I sighed under my breath. It would have been so much easier if they’d let the messenger deliver his message, then send him back with a rejection. Harbin would probably make a terrible fuss if we accepted their surrender …

  The enemy troops charged. I sucked in my breath as they advanced in a ragged line, screaming and chanting as they came. A handful of shots rang out as the musketmen, their positions now half-shrouded in smoke, opened fire, but the enemy troops kept coming. They didn’t really have a choice, I reflected as I counted down the seconds. Their own commanders had seen to it. I hoped the bastards were leading the charge in person. They deserved everything that was about to happen to them.

  I winced as the cannons boomed, unleashing a hail of canister right into their lines. It disintegrated, men dissolving into bloody mist as the cannons tore right through them. The attack stopped dead, the muskets petering out as it became clear the attack had been completely shattered. I’d hoped to see at least one or two wounded men trying to crawl back to their lines, or raise their hands in surrender, but it looked as if the entire force had been slaughtered.

  I felt a surge of hatred for their commanders, to the point I hoped they’d

  stayed behind just so I could hang them personally. I’d met a few officers who’d made me want to roll a grenade into their bunks, but none of them – not even the one who intended to be the youngest general in the army – had sent their men to their deaths so blatantly. I wanted to wrap my hands around their necks and squeeze.

  Instead, I looked at Harbin. “You can send the cavalry in now.”

  Harbin turned and barked orders, summoning his horse as his subordinates charged forward. There was no resistance as they crashed across the former lines, scattering what remained of the defenders. I only saw a handful of men as the cavalry maintained their advance, pushing all the way right to the walls. They seemed to be consumed with fighting … I hoped that meant the townsp
eople had risen, determined to free themselves before we did it for them. I told myself that was a good thing. They’d find it easier to press their claim to their own town if they liberated it themselves.

  I sighed, inwardly. There were factions in the city who thought taking over the warlord’s lands was an absolutely brilliant idea, parcelling the farms and plantations out amongst the noble families and landowners. It wasn’t going to be easy to dissuade them, not after the warlords had repeatedly cut supply lines to ensure the city remained under their thumb. And yet, they’d be storing up trouble for the future. I made a mental note to see what I could do about it, then summoned my bodyguard as the rest of the fighting died away. It was time to advance into the town and take possession of the citadel. The former citadel. Right now, it was barely anything more than a pile of rubble.

  “Impressive.” Rupert sounded disturbed as he surveyed the ruins. “That could happen to our walls, couldn’t it?”

  I nodded. I’d told him as much, time and time again, but he hadn’t really believed me. The sheer destructive power of modern weapons was hard to grasp emotionally, even if one understood – intellectually – what they could do.

  Rupert would have to tell his family, and the rest of the aristocracy, that times were changing. They’d have to come to terms with the lower classes, and make room for them, or be swept away as the new world took shape and form.

  Horst came up to me. “Your orders, sir?”

  “Detach a company to take possession of the citadel, but keep the main body of the troops outside the town,” I said. I didn’t want any incidents. “If anyone survived the bombardment, they are to be taken prisoner – if possible – and held until I can take a look at them. If not …”

  I smiled, grimly, as I summoned our bodyguards and led the way down to the town.

  The trenches had been utterly shattered, torn and broken bodies littering the ground … it was hard not to feel sick as I realised the bodies had been so badly damaged I couldn’t tell how many men had been killed. Young and old, aristocratic and commoner … they were equal in death. I snapped orders to a messenger, commanding him to organise work parties to bury the bodies before they had a chance to decompose. The last thing I wanted was a disease outbreak in my rear. It would be an utter disaster.

  Rupert looked sick as we made our way to the walls. The shantytown had been devastated, dozens of makeshift hovels torn to shreds by the cannons and the retreating soldiers. The walls were damaged too, great chunks of stone lying everywhere in mute testament to the sheer force of the offensive. The streets beyond were occupied by Harbin’s troops, a handful of men in commoner clothes and a single woman. Fallon, I guessed. The junior sorceress – I’d been told she was barely a journeywoman, if that – was wearing a commoner dress and carrying a wand in one hand. There were no other women within view. I feared that wasn’t a good sign. The townspeople feared us as much as their former masters.

  Fallon stepped forward. “My Lord,” she said, curtseying to Rupert. “This is Allen, leader of the rebels.”

  I saw Harbin’s lips twist in distaste as Rupert nodded to Allen. He was a stranger – I guessed he was a merchant, someone who’d made a fairly good living

  – but the man beside him was one of my agents. I hadn’t really expected that much from them, beyond intelligence reports, yet … I smiled to myself as Rupert and Allen spoke briefly, sorting out how the town would be occupied for the next few weeks. The army would have to move on as quickly as possible, I told myself. The longer we stayed in one place, the easier it would be for the warlord to cut our supply lines and starve us. It was a cowardly tactic, but pragmatic. The warlord had to know – now – his troops couldn’t meet ours in open battle.

  It didn’t take long to come to an agreement. We’d already sorted out what we wanted from the townspeople and none of our demands were particularly unreasonable. Allen hurried away to take the good news to his fellows, who would be relieved we didn’t intend to conquer the town or simply burn it to the ground, while Rupert and I headed towards the citadel. A handful of prisoners, all wounded, sat on the ground in shackles; the remainder of the garrison, I was sure, was either dead or running for their life. They wouldn’t get far.

  “There’s no one I recognise amongst the prisoners.” Rupert sounded disturbed.

  “Did the commanders all die?”

  “Probably,” I said. They might have holed up in the citadel, unaware that it had become a death trap. “Or they might have led the charge in person.”

  I occupied myself surveying the damage, occasionally giving orders to messengers as they found me and made their reports. We’d smashed the fortress to rubble, but at a very high cost in cannonballs and gunpowder. We might be able to recover some of the cannonballs … not all of them. Some would have shattered or been warped out of shape on impact … it would be easier, at least in the short term, to have more brought from the city. I sent orders to have the logistics expedited as fast as possible. Once the warlord realised our greater weakness, he’d move to take advantage of it.

  “We’ll continue the offensive as quickly as possible,” I said. It would take several days to march to the warlord’s core castle, his seat of power, but it could be done. The real trick would be smashing the castle into rubble before the warlord’s subordinates came to their master’s rescue. “We have to keep him off balance and …”

  A messenger ran up to us. “My Lords!”

  I felt my heart sink as the messenger started to genuflect wildly. This wasn’t going to be good. The poor bastard clearly thought he was going to take the blame. I didn’t really blame him. Shooting the messenger was a fun pastime around here, as petty and short-sighted as it was.

  Rupert, bless him, reacted calmly. “What’s happened?”

  “A soldier tried to rape a girl,” the messenger said. “And all is chaos!”

  I swore. It really was going to be bad.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “The slattern is lying, of course,” Harbin said. “All she wants is a bastardy bond.”

  I groaned. It had been an hour since the messenger had arrived with the bad

  news and it had only managed to get worse. And worse. The accused rapist was a cavalryman – that was bad enough – but he was a very junior aristocrat whose family had been Lord Galley’s clients for centuries. Harbin was obliged to defend him, even if he didn’t want to and I was pretty damn sure he did. He didn’t give a shit about the townspeople, or the war effort, or anything that threatened to get in the way of the aristocracy’s right to do whatever the hell they wanted and to hell with anyone who objected. I rubbed my forehead as Harbin went on and on, mustering arguments that would have been thrown out of court back home.

  Rupert shifted uncomfortably beside me. He knew precisely what sort of person Harbin was, and he knew what Harbin had tried to do to his sister, but he was caught in the middle between the aristocracy and the imperatives of war. I’d done my level best to convince him that it was important we didn’t mistreat the local population – we didn’t need them rising in our rear or disrupting supply lines – yet if he came down on the accused rapist like a ton of bricks he’d be condemned by just about every aristocrat in the city. They were above the law.

  They couldn’t be held accountable by their inferiors or the entire system would collapse into a pile of rubble. I felt sick. The system deserved to collapse.

  And far too many people will believe she wanted money from a noble family, I thought. Back home, people had talked about women getting pregnant to force the father to marry them. Here, they insisted the women wanted child support payments from the father of their child … I shook my head. It was disgusting.

  They’ll believe she seduced him because they’ll want ti believe it because the alternative is too disturbing to contemplate.

  “Perhaps we should get the facts,” I said, after Harbin claimed – for the third time – that the victim had seduced the attempted rapist and could therefore
be reasonably be blamed for everything that had happened to her. “Fallon, what actually happened?”

  Harbin tensed as the sorceress-journeywoman stepped forward, her hands clasped behind her back and her wand hanging from her belt. A magician was, at the very least, a social equal to a high-ranking noblewoman – and, thanks to magic, probably equal to a nobleman as well. It would be hard to discount Fallon’s testimony on the grounds she was – shock, horror – a commoner as well as a woman. And yet, if Harbin failed to defend his family’s client, he’d wind up in deep shit. I saw his eyes flickering back and forth as he thought desperately.

  It might be too late to give the victim a great deal of money in exchange for keeping her mouth firmly closed.

  “We were making our way back to the town hall, when we heard a scream,” Fallon said, calmly. “We hurried to the source and saw a man pushing a young woman against a wall, her dress pulled down and his hand up her skirt. I reached for my wand, intending to stun him, but Allen and Gus got to him first and knocked him to the ground. At this point, it was discovered that he was a soldier and he was frog-marched to the command tent.”

  Harbin glowered. “And who’s to say she didn’t seduce him?”

  Fallon’s eyes flashed. “She screamed,” she said, flatly. “If she’d wanted it, why would she have tried to resist?”

  Harbin snorted. “We all know woman make a show of resistance …”

  I cursed under my breath as I felt the tension in the room. The rapist might just have ruined everything. The townspeople would regard us as enemies if the bastard got away with it – and who could blame them? And yet, if the rapist was punished in any way, his family would demand satisfaction … I wondered, suddenly, if I should go outside and simply kill him before the argument could get any worse. I could make it look like an accident if I did it with my bare hands. I hated rapists. The bastard deserved to be castrated, then hung.