Heretic Spellblade

by K D Robertson

  The Federation army held its defensive line around Vera’s tower, not because it was convinced that it could win, but because it knew that it had a duogem Champion backing it.

  Nathan imagined a scenario where he sent his Champions against the Federation, recklessly trying to secure the victory as fast as possible, while losing as few soldiers as he could.

  Fei burned out companies of soldiers, leaving behind molten piles of flesh and steel. Sen left craters where the enemy had stood in formation. Sunstorm cut down their officers and elites.

  Then Seraph showed up and blew one of his girls away. By the time the other two reacted, Seraph could engage another. Nathan and Leopold moved too slowly.

  The battle ended before it started. The Federation army lay in ruin. Nathan and his Champions died so early in their careers that they didn’t even make the history books.

  Not that such a scenario could ever happen. Leopold would have refused to participate in such a foolhardy plan. Despite his age and power, he was far from his binding stones. He had no way to teleport to safety.

  Although Nathan suspected that Leopold had some additional defense, an escape plan, or at least a Champion hiding nearby. He hadn’t spotted any other Champions, however. And Sunstorm hadn’t either.

  Everybody watched the soldiers form up into ranks. Many of the beastkin companies grew rowdy, but their officers kept them in check. Most of the officers were older men and women, and their equipment showed wear from previous battles.

  “A lot more beastkin responded to the levy than I expected,” Anna said. “Some of them even brought their own equipment.”

  “The Empire dislikes paying to equip a soldier twice,” Leopold said. “Many of them will have been asked to fight before and have kept their equipment from the first time. I understand we used to ask every recruit to bring their own weapons, centuries ago, but most people dislike spending their own money in order to fight for others.”

  “I can require it of them, if they prefer,” Anna said.

  “Yes, and then you become the countess who forced poor, unarmed peasants to go into battle.” Leopold gave Anna a condescending look. “There’s your rights as a noble, and then there’s what you can actually get away with.”

  “Noblesse oblige, yes,” Anna muttered. “Why did so many beastkin come, then?”

  “Because you’re paying them a fortune,” Nathan said.

  Anna blinked and stared at him. Then she looked at Kuda, who nodded in agreement with Nathan.

  “I am?” Anna said.

  “Actually, I am,” Leopold said. “On behalf of His Majesty.”

  “But I recruited them. They’re even wearing my emblem,” Anna protested. “I pay my guards well and have offered more for this campaign. But I don’t think it’s enough to attract hundreds of beastkin from other counties.”

  Nathan raised an eyebrow. “The lowest paid beastkin here is being paid as much per day as your guards normally earn in a week. The veterans—the officers that keep them in line and who brought their own equipment—are getting paid roughly double that.”

  Anna’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “They are at the highest risk of death,” Leopold said. “More to the point, that’s what the Imperial Army pays levied soldiers. You recruited them under my authority, which means they must be paid according to the standard set by His Majesty.”

  “By the time they go home, each beastkin will have more money than his entire village makes in a year,” Anna said.

  “Now you know why so many came out to fight,” Nathan said.

  “It seems a little unfair to my guards,” Anna mumbled.

  “Your guards have secure employment. The other soldiers you levied are being paid extra and are protecting their home. They already have livelihoods here, and many will make connections. Some will even remain as soldiers or guards once we take Fort Taubrum, giving them a well-paying job.” Nathan pointed to various companies as he spoke, and Anna’s gaze followed his hand. “But the beastkin will go back to their villages, in different counties, and it may be years before they have another chance to do more than live off the land. Their homes aren’t under threat—at least not yet. They’ll still have farmland to harvest and forests to hunt in. They need a damn good reason to risk their lives.”

  “Goddess, you’re good at this,” Anna said, staring at Nathan in wonder. “Why did your father disavow you again?”

  “I imagine because he actually likes beastkin,” Leopold said drily. “Understanding war beyond the idea of stabbing the enemy probably hurt his chances as well.”

  Nathan hid his surprise. His father in this timeline had issues with beastkin? Nathan spent as little time dwelling on his implanted memories as possible, so he was unaware of this fact.

  He really should spend some time meditating on his past in this timeline, in order to avoid any nasty surprises in the future.

  Furthermore, Leopold really disliked Nathan’s father. Hints had been given earlier, but Leopold no longer bothered to hide his disdain for the other Bastion.

  “That explains a bit, yes,” Anna said. “Fine, I get it. The beastkin, that is. And also why you’ve had no difficulties wrangling them into a proper army, Nathan. My captain, Lord Fleitz, fell into despair after his first attempt to bring the beastkin into line.”

  Nathan had met Fleitz earlier. A straight-laced man roughly the same age as Nathan. He ruled a barony to the north, which included another town in Gharrick County, and owed fealty to the von Clair household. Given Fleitz’s defining trait was his love of ale, and the fact he was in the process of expanding the family brewery, Nathan felt no surprise that the man struggled with beastkin.

  “I’d take credit for being an amazing general, but the truth is that it’s mostly because I’m a Bastion,” Nathan admitted. He scratched the back of his head.

  Behind him, he heard Fei let out a small whine. He ignored her.

  “I imagine the dozens of beastkin currently working for you helped as well,” Kuda added. “The veterans fell into line when they saw that you already worked with beastkin.”

  Fei muttered something that Nathan didn’t hear. Glancing behind him, he saw Sen whispering into Fei’s ear. The beastkin’s ears sat flat against her head, and her tail hung low.

  “Is something wrong, Fei?” Nathan asked.

  She glowered at him.

  Nathan looked at the others, who shrugged. Presumably they hadn’t paid any attention to Fei’s mood. Given she was his lover, he was more sensitive to her feelings.

  Finally, Fei said, “It’s not because you’re a Bastion.”

  “Fei?” Nathan asked, surprised.

  “They trust you because you proved that you deserve to be trusted,” Fei blurted out. Her ears shot up, and her eyes bore into Nathan’s. “I spoke to the old warriors, and they all said the same thing: ‘Bastion Nathan knows how to lead.’ You gave them orders they thought were right. You’ve done that in all of our battles. It’s your experience that makes you trusted, not what you are.”

  All eyes turned from Fei to Nathan.

  Well, wasn’t this awkward? Fei talked up his experience, but Nathan shouldn’t have it.

  Nathan knew he had been coming close to the line in regard to using his wealth of knowledge from his timeline. This outburst proved that he had probably pushed things too far.

  But he didn’t know if he could stop. What was the point of coming back in time if he failed? Was hiding his knowledge and ability to avoid being found out worth the risk of letting Doumahr fall into ruin again?

  No. Not in Nathan’s eyes. But he needed to lessen the suspicion building up regarding him. People like Fei adored him and were safe. But what about his enemies?

  A declaration of heresy could end everything in an instant.

  Leopold spoke up first, “Well, I suppose I was right to take the risk and appoint you as Bastion here. My suspicion that your dismissal by your father made you a good fit has
proven correct.”

  That poker face smile of Leopold’s sat firmly on his face. How much did he suspect?

  Nathan chose not to think too much about it. He let the topic slide.

  Everybody moved onto the subject of battle tactics. The armies were in position. Due to their inferior numbers and the open terrain, laying siege was out of the question. A direct offensive was the only option.

  “So we’re relying on the soldiers?” Vera asked. “If the Champions are going to hang back as a contingency to deal with Seraph.”

  “We’ll provide limited ranged support for the soldiers,” Nathan said.

  “Except I’m pretty sure some of us have our own mission.” Vera pointed at her tower, which sat inert in the center of the Federation encampment. “We’re taking the tower, aren’t we?”

  “That’s the objective of the battle,” Nathan asked. “Are you suggesting something else?”

  “I have a cairn in my tower. It’s tied to my magic. Rather than limited ranged support from back here, I can provide a lot more if I connect to my cairn directly. The Federation will retreat, surrender, or be destroyed once I’m back in control of the tower,” Vera explained.

  “You brought the idea up earlier,” Nathan said.

  “And?”

  To say that it had been a topic of debate was an understatement.

  Anna shot a glare at Leopold, who pointedly ignored her.

  The old Bastion favored caution. Use the superior power of the beastkin to win the conventional battle, pepper the Federation with sorcery from afar, and engage Seraph en masse with Champions and Bastions should she appear.

  A sound plan. If a little too safe, and likely to cause significant casualties among the beastkin.

  By contrast, Anna liked Vera’s plan. As Vera lacked any way to boost her sorcery, her spells would be useless against Seraph. The power of Ifrit allowed Sen to harm Seraph, despite her innate protections of two gems. Anna’s argument was that Vera contributed more if she took control of her tower.

  The fact that Anna argued so strongly in favor of the plan made Nathan question who came up with the idea to begin with. Vera hadn’t pushed to be involved with any of the planning. She hadn’t floated the idea that she wouldn’t join the attack, given her tower was being taken back. But Nathan got the sense she wanted to avoid this battle at all costs.

  Something was awry.

  “I’m assuming you still can’t connect to your cairn from here?” Nathan asked.

  “The tower is undamaged, so its wards prevent anybody from tapping into the cairn from outside,” Vera said.

  “You prevented yourself from accessing your own cairn from outside the tower?” Nathan asked.

  “Only if my link was broken. Which it was when you pulled me through the gateway.” Vera raised an eyebrow at him, as if to dare Nathan to challenge her on that.

  Her words made sense. While Nathan was intrinsically connected to his binding stone, a cairn was merely a local font of magic. There were many ways to disrupt a sorcerer’s connection to his cairn. Capturing a sorcerer’s tower often employed strategies reliant on breaking that connection, then killing or capturing the sorcerer before he reconnected to the cairn.

  After all, once disconnected, it took anywhere from minutes to hours for a sorcerer to reconnect to his cairn. Vera needed time once they got into the tower for this plan to work. Somebody needed to protect her.

  Yet another gap between Bastions and sorcerers, and another reason why sorcerers wanted to become Bastions. A binding stone was an effectively infinite source of energy, and one that the sorcerer couldn’t lose their connection to.

  Or at least, not normally. As Kadria proved, normal went out the window when Messengers became involved. She had severed Nathan’s connections to most of his binding stones as easily as Nathan might cut off a sorcerer from their cairns.

  “If we’re to get you into the tower, we’ll need to make a path and protect you while you reconnect to the cairn,” Nathan explained. This is where any proposal became unstuck during earlier debate. “I won’t put Fei and the others out of position.”

  “You won’t need to,” Vera declared. “I have enough power to push through a few companies of soldiers with the help of one of your summoned horses. Once there, I can get inside the tower and activate my remaining summons.”

  “That’s too risky,” Anna said. “If we’re sending in Vera like that, then why not push harder? Once she gets on top of the tower, she’ll more than make up for the extra losses we’ll take by being more aggressive. You can’t tell me that dragging the battle out for longer is better for us?”

  It could be, Nathan wanted to say. But so much of this depended on Seraph.

  “You’re right, if we pull this off properly,” Nathan said. “Which is why I’ll go with Vera.”

  Everybody stared at him.

  “But you’re in command,” Anna said. She looked at Leopold, who shrugged in return.

  “They’re your soldiers. You even have your own nobles and officers commanding them. Fei and Sunstorm are trained commanders as well. Everybody knows the order of battle,” Nathan said. “But if we’re modifying the plan at this stage, it makes sense that I go with Vera. My binding stone is closer than Leopold’s, so I can react more swiftly to any sudden events. Plus, he has more combat experience and is better suited to fighting Seraph.”

  “It is risky, but an approach I feel I might take if I were feeling reckless,” Leopold said.

  Nathan couldn’t tell if Leopold was chiding him or agreeing with him. He chose to take the words at face value and assume that the old man was letting him do what he wanted.

  “Vera?” Nathan asked.

  “I won’t say no to a chance to get back into my tower sooner,” Vera answered. Her eyes met Nathan’s. “I didn’t expect you or Leopold to stick your neck out like this, but I’ll take it. I’ll return the favor with an impressive light show once inside.”

  Chapter 37

  The strategy session came to a close, and everybody dispersed.

  Anna held her own meeting with her officers. Presumably she told them about the change of plans. Nathan suspected at least Lord Fleitz would approach him afterward, if only to confirm specifics.

  Normally, a baron might be less willing to annoy his liege by openly looking to somebody else for authority. But Nathan was the Bastion, and Fleitz seemed comfortable with his title. Anna wasn’t going to punish one of her few barons, after all.

  In fact, Anna seemed to have a surprisingly small retinue for a countess. Most of those present were knights, baronets, and unlanded nobles. Fleitz was the only baron.

  Nathan wondered if the other barons had refused to fight, or if Anna hadn’t asked. Most barons owed their true loyalty to the archduke, not the local countess. Anna controlled the military and could require their assistance to quell threats—a baron’s land comes with the requirement that he bear arms upon request of the Empire—but the barons didn’t owe her fealty.

  Nobility annoyed Nathan. He found it overly complex. Who appointed whose great-great-great-great-grandfather as baron a couple of centuries ago mattered more than who governed the land he lived in. To say nothing of the bitter power struggle between those at the very top.

  Nathan didn’t need to imagine the sort of nonsense that must take place between the three archdukes of the Empire, and with the Emperor himself. His true birthplace, the Kingdom of Falmir, had suffered through a truly devastating transition of power. He often forgot that it was still a kingdom in this timeline, calling it Falmir, instead of the Kingdom, as many others did.

  “Nathan, the beastkin companies are ready,” Fei said, shaking him out of his thoughts.

  He rubbed the bridge of his nose and tried to focus himself. As a Bastion of the Anfang Empire, picking fights about the concept of nobility was unwise at best. Better to not waste time thinking about it.

  “They know that they’re leading the charge?” Nathan asked.

  “Y
ep,” Fei chirped. “They didn’t seem that surprised. And I think half of their food supplies are actually alcohol.” She furrowed her brow in concern.

  Nathan stared at her. “Try not to talk too loudly about that. I’m guessing at least one of the old wolves knew how to handle the quartermaster. So long as they share the booze and don’t crack open the barrels until after we win, I’ll turn a blind eye.”

  “Isn’t Anna paying for all the food and drink?” Fei’s eyes widened as she realized what was happening.

  “She can consider it a lesson in managing her supplies and logistics better,” Nathan said drily. “If she lets the beastkin get one over her like this, imagine what mercenaries will do to her? Better she learns now, and what better way to learn than by picking up the check.”

  The sun sat firmly above their heads. Not a cloud marred the sky. Banners waved in the air above each army. The enemy encampment had emptied onto the field in front of the pass.

  “Still no sign of Seraph,” Nathan muttered.

  “Isn’t that a good thing?” Vera asked.

  “I’d prefer to know where she is,” he said. “But we can’t afford to waste any more time.”

  Nathan signaled for his army to advance. Slowly, his soldiers marched toward the enemy.

  Inexperienced soldiers often said that the waiting was the hardest part. Veterans thought—but rarely said—that watching their friends die while they lived on was the hardest part. Dead soldiers didn’t think, but they would probably say that the hardest part was the actual battle, or maybe the part where they lay dying.

  For Nathan, the hardest part were these very moments. Watching the armies converge on each other at an agonizingly slow speed. Every second reminded him of past battles. Of battlefields covered in corpses.

  No order could stop the battle now, Nathan knew. That was what made this part of the battle unbearable for him.

  He felt forced to watch as the battle inched closer and closer to reality. Eventually, arrows would be fired, or a spell cast, or a melee would break out. Then the battle would be on, and Nathan’s mind busy with tactics, contingencies, and ensuring that he played his role correctly.