by P. S. Power
Anders nodded when they were handed to him, the Captain, who was named Ricards, having only the one name, understood they weren’t the best quality.
He sorted them, looking for the best ones, then, carefully, used magic to repair cracks in the shafts, as well as attaching heads more firmly. The feathers were harder, but he managed to merge the wood with the quill along the back edge, since he didn’t have any glue available at the moment. Then, carefully, he placed the spells on them, marking each of them with a single red band, near the front end. That was about as large of two of his fingers put together, but of one piece.
“Just so they won’t be confused for anything else.”
It took a while to get the work finished, since he had to make up a new spell for it, several times. He could repair arrows, and even make them, but he hadn’t done it with magic alone before.
The Captain rode out after that, to see to the rest of the plan. Anders didn’t care that much about it, and probably wouldn’t, until he was gasping and the world was going dim on him. Most probably while all the arrows were triggered at once, draining the life from him, or at least using all of his energy at one time.
When the fresh enemy came into view, it was an impressive sight to behold. It looked like there were forty thousand monsters approaching, instead of men and horses. They were all green, had giant teeth and full plate armor. They also stood at least ten feet tall, to an individual.
Anders checked again, but the regular soldiers were still there, hidden under the illusion. He clapped a few times, as the others on the hill looked on, dumbstruck.
Then he called out.
“Ba-ru-da! Ba-ru-da!” No one else responded for a time, not knowing they should, until first Prince Erold and then Robarts did it. Then the commanders followed along, including the General. Tiredly, the men below finally picked it up, which, after a while, caused the whole thing to be dropped, since clearly they weren’t tricked by the clever seeming. When it vanished, the men cheered and prompted by their commanders on the hill, clapped their hands in appreciation of the fine work. At least that had been Anders reason for doing it. Everyone else had simply followed along.
Much as Anders had done over a week before, the General thought a magical reply was in order, so waved for a horn to be blown. That, in turn, had a single arrow flying into the mass of bodies that hadn’t even formed up yet, on the battlefield. The explosion was larger this time, since Anders had pushed things, wanting to actually do his part toward saving their lives.
A section of the armored men vanished and more than that fell to the ground. On the outer edges some few hundred of them were off their feet, and were only slowly returned to standing when Anders managed to get to his own feet. He was breathing hard and his heart raced from the momentary exertion, but he recovered before the enemy did. Slowly, seeming reluctant to do it, they filled in the gaps and started to try and take the field a second time.
Packed in closely together again.
“I’m ready, General Nest.”
There was a nod then, and another blast of the horn, to signal things. This time the arrow came from a totally different area of the battle field. It hit deeper into the mass of bodies, as well. Since he was going to meet with his old friend the ground anyway, Anders simply sat, so he wouldn’t fall each time. It was a bit harder to recover this time. When he did, the fighting on the field had stopped and the other side had pulled back, away from the battle line.
It took longer for the enemy to recover as well, thankfully.
“Again, I think?”
The chubby General laughed. It was the least pleasant thing like it that Anders had ever heard before.
“Two on the horn, please.”
That had the arrow flying into the largest mass of men on the field, rather than the new ones coming in. Then, almost as one, the entire field of battle cleared on the other side, with men riding and running away, in a panic. They didn’t wait for the next explosion to do it. Even the fresh forces, who hadn’t seen proper combat at all so far, simply turned and marched off.
The General ordered them to be hunted and killed, if at all possible. That meant Anders wasn’t done for the day. Every quarter hour, even if he wasn’t ready for it, another spell went off. Finally, though, all the arrows were used, and he got to rest again. The field was empty, except for their men and the dead. A cheer had gone up when the other side had run away. Now it happened again.
After a while, he rolled his eyes, then closed them and tried to gather information about what was going on. It took a while, since the other side was in chaos, at the moment.
He nodded and spoke, his voice gentle, since he was in a trance again.
“Their illusionist still lives. He moved away from the main body of soldiers. About ten thousand of that group of forty thousand is alive still. Well, at least that’s about how many of them are with the main body, more may be scattered. They’re in full retreat, heading back to a safe location about twenty miles from here. A fortified keep that one of the knights with them owns.”
He could have followed up and gotten more information, but other than the general direction they were headed, it wouldn’t really matter. No one asked for him to do anything more, at the moment, either, so he sat there, while the men started to sort through the effects of the dead on the field. He didn’t suggest that he deserved any of that, since he was too exhausted for much talking. He needed food and sleep, but it was the second one that was going to be coming first.
At the bottom of the hill a nice collection of prisoners started to form. The men with them didn’t beat them nearly as much as had happened to the people taken at the last battle. Mainly due to being too tired for that kind of adventure. Anders waved at them and sighed.
“I should go and speak to them. What terms are we offering for their good behavior, General Nest?” Really, anyone that spoke their language would do for that, but the man grinned, a forced thing that seemed like he was about ready to fall down, himself. Even if neither of them had been in the fighting. Not like the others there had.
After a pause of some moments, a long enough time that Anders wondered if the other man had gone back to ignoring him, he answered.
“Food, a roof and a chance to be ransomed, in exchange for their good behavior. They’ll lose their armor and weapons, of course.”
That was probably the standard offer. If you had a knight’s armor, he wasn’t going to be making war against you, any time soon. Prince Robarts looked at the collection of people and tightened his face.
“There are women in the grouping. We won’t have them being molested. There was a small issue, after the last battle, that way. Five men of our army raped an enemy fighter that had been assured that wouldn’t happen. We don’t want a repeat of that.”
The General winced.
“The men were cashiered?”
Prince Erold shook his head at the word, which Anders didn’t know and Farad had only a guess at. The meaning was probably akin to being bought out of the military, in shame.
“No. General Coelder called for a trial by combat, with no time to prepare for it. Our champion was Master Brolly. The gods didn’t side with them, so the four remaining men died in mere moments.”
There was a disbelieving look from the man at the words, but he, perhaps wisely, didn’t call the Prince a liar. Not directly.
“Four men fell to one in combat? One at a time, but still, that’s impressive. One grows tired and makes mistakes.”
Robarts looked at the fellow and shook his head.
“Four against one, at one time. You saw what his arrows did today. He doesn’t need them all the time. Only ash remained when he was finished. Not even the scent of cooked meat was left behind. It might be best not to press him on that score, if we can avoid it.”
The General was tired, but clearly not an idiot. He turned to Anders and nodded.
“I’ll have the word spread. If anyone tries to go against your word on that, you have
my leave to kill them, out of hand.”
That was a strange thing to say, but he stood up, and decided to walk to the bottom of the hill, since it wasn’t that far and really, getting up on Brownie was going to be harder than stumbling down the incline. When he got there, several of the soldiers half heartedly called for him to halt.
“These are prisoners of the King.” The man was probably trying to sound stern, and as if he’d fight Anders for getting too close, but he just seemed tired.
“Understood. I’m Anders Brolly. I was sent to talk to them about conditions, by General Nest. I speak Yansian.”
That, his command of the tongue, plus the fact that he was in red, which was the color of their side, got him waved past. One of the men, hefted his spear and followed along. Clearly meaning to protect Anders, if the need arose, even if no one else had ordered it done. It was painful, watching him move. There were no complaints from the man, however.
When he got to the collection of people, all of them sitting on the ground, in their underclothing, since their armor had been taken first thing, he tried to smile. It didn’t work and he yawned at them.
Speaking in their language, he covered his mouth.
“Sorry there. Anyway, I’m Anders Brolly. You’re all being offered terms and a chance at being ransomed back. You won’t get your armor or weapons back. Let me know if any of those are heirlooms and I’ll try to make sure they don’t vanish. The General agreed to make certain no one with you is raped. That may not work perfectly, but we’ll actually do what we can that way for you ladies. I’ll need a list of names and who we might contact, to see about you being bought back...” He looked around, a bit like he was trying to be crafty and took a deep breath. “If you don’t have any chance of that, being ransomed, let me know now. I’ll try to have you set up to take the messages back, so you might live. That may not be allowed.”
He could only do so much for them, of course. One of the older men, who wasn’t really elderly, having a nice blond beard that was full and a bit unkept, as well as blue eyes, smiled then.
“Well, that’s polite of the savages, isn’t it? Allowing us a chance to go home, if we have relatives that are both wealthy enough and care to have us returned. We need to escape, if we can, boy. They’re giving you your freedom here? If you could sneak over tonight, with some weapons, we might be able to do something. Not much. That thing at the end... I’ve never seen such a magical attack before. We normally out number and overmatch the Istlans in that way. About three to one. They fear magic, and it weakens them. I don’t know that we can survive if their mage comes for us. Can you find him. Or her, I suppose. If you can, don’t let them know you’re watching them. Even if you can’t get away to help us, there’s no need for you to try and face off with a monster like that. The deaths...” The man shook then, in fear.
Anders nodded, picking up that, for some reason, the man thought he was one of his own people. Even if he was wearing the red of the enemy and had on a rather fine mail shirt that a prisoner or, he supposed, slave, wouldn’t be able to afford. They wouldn’t be allowed such, either. Plus, he had an obvious accent, or thought he did.
“I don’t want to scare you, but I’m the monster you speak of. Also, not from Yanse. I don’t suppose we could have your parole on this? In exchange for food, shelter, or at least a roof over your heads and only a minimum amount of beatings?”
The man made a face then and shook his head.
“That would explain the strange accent then. I’d thought you were merely from the north. Well, crud. I don’t suppose we could bribe you to help us escape then? I notice that you haven’t screamed about my plans, as of yet? I’m a wealthy man, you know. I have powerful relatives as well. I could make it so that a person like you might have a very good life, in a civilized place, even.”
He didn’t seem that hopeful, but the man tried at least. What none of them did was act like he wasn’t the magic user that had killed all their friends. One of the ladies, who had a large purple bruise on half her face, and long hair, which was loose at the moment, called to him. Gently, of course, being that she was at least as tired as the guards.
“High Master... Do you need a woman? I’ll trade myself for the safety of these people.” The words seemed sincere at least. She wasn’t lovely at all, having a snubbed nose and round cheeks, but he bowed to her, using the flirtatious mode¸ since that was the only way to address a woman that you met who was polite to you. If he failed to do that, Master Belford would probably beat him with his stick. Anders had to fight the urge to look around for him, knowing that wouldn’t be the case, for once.
“Well met, Miss. May I know your name?”
She nodded, seeming engaged enough, even if some of the men and a few of the women seemed scandalized. As if she hadn’t just offered herself to him freely, to be used as he would choose, for their protection.
“Elanna Smith, High Master Brolly. Daughter of Baron Smith, of Dogensis.”
Anders nodded then, as if he recognized the name, which he didn’t. What the title meant was that, most likely, her family could afford to rescue her. That wouldn’t be the same for everyone there. He worked through the group, memorizing names and contact information for their people. Three more times people attempted to bribe him to their side. Not all of them tried calling him a High Master, which wasn’t a real term at all, if he understood how such things worked in the language of Yanse.
They were, instead, attempting to fluster him. That or legitimately getting him onto their side. It was worth trying, but he didn’t take any of the offers seriously. Then, after a while, it was obvious that they didn’t think he was anyone in particular. Magically speaking, or not.
After a while, with a nice trip back to the camp for the evening, Anders made a point of building two separate jails again. It was actually easier this time, since he did it in smaller portions, having learned not to be as foolish as he had been when it came to energy, and he didn’t have to dry the soil first. That made the whole thing easier to manage. Several of the women who had been mocking him seemed suddenly fearful, for some reason. Then, they hadn’t been mean to him, just flirtatious when they didn’t mean it. After the construction was done, he locked them inside, using a heavy wooden bar across each door, on the outside. They were uneven, but worked well enough to make it feel like people weren’t expected to simply walk away from the camp that night.
He wasn’t responsible for feeding the prisoners this time, so worked his way back to his camp, where he had a tiny tent, next to the one that the knights were sharing with Prince Erold and Prince Robarts and set up to make some food for them all. No one was that hungry, except for him. Still, he pushed food on them, and got most of the edibles consumed before they all fell down for the night.
The next day, his back aching from sleeping on his side, he got up before true light and started to pack up. Not that he knew they were leaving already, but, unless there was another battle to attend, his task was to get back to the castle as soon as possible. They really weren’t making poor time, so far. He was exhausted still, but that was just from working too hard, using magic for everything. It was handy, but not easy.
When the others rose for the day, they started following along with him, readying to leave. Even the Princes did that, meaning it seemed they were going to be on the road that day. It meant leaving at mid-day, since getting the wagons ready took a lot longer than it felt like it should. His wagon would have been empty, except that people had decided that part of the war boons belonged to him. Really a lot of them, which meant they had three full wagons with them, just filled with things that were his now. There were another two needed for the knights, as well as the one that carried their personal gear. They wouldn’t have been able to take the things with them, except that the military needed to transfer some men back to the capital, anyway. They were mainly those wounded in the fighting, though they had guards with them, as well as a food wagon, this time.
In short, they
had a caravan going back to the castle, which while much smaller than the first one, was large enough to look real. They even had knights to guard them, which would make it seem like they had something special in the wagons.
Anders slept better that night, being away from the battlefield. Not that he didn’t dream of the horrors that he’d seen there. Mainly about things that he’d done, as well as dead people coming for him, following no matter how far or fast he ran. That was annoying, since he really just wanted to rest. He didn’t need the lesson that his mind was trying to give him.
That, clearly, was that he needed to avoid war, whenever possible. A thing that even the Anders portion of himself agreed with now. Not out of fear, simply so he didn’t have to kill as many people. It was a thought that left him feeling oddly empty inside.
Mainly because part of him didn’t care about the people that had died because of him. The other part was keenly aware that he was, at least within a certain set of lines, kind of evil, now. Yes, his hand hadn’t fired the arrows that had killed tens of thousands of people. True, they had been fighters and soldiers, there to kill him and his friends. In a war that had been started, for no real reason, by Yanse.
That didn’t mean he wasn’t the monster that he’d been called. Worse, the man who had done it hadn’t been calling him, Anders, names. That sort of thing might be spoken for many reasons, by a man defeated in battle only hours before. He could have, perhaps, cursed the boy sent to talk to him, and not be called on it too harshly, later.
Instead the man, clearly a warrior, had spoken the words darkly, with a tinge of awe and fear behind them. Then, when he admitted that he was that beast, it had been shrugged off, since that wasn’t believable. Not until he showed that he actually had some magical ability, later. Then the prisoners had mainly avoided him, when they could. Before that, they hadn’t truly been friendly, but there had been gentle teasing, to take their minds from their current situation.
Even having some food this time, unlike his first trip back, where only hard rations had been given to even the wounded, Anders collected greens and herbs, when he could, as well as meat. He also kept the men clean each day and tended to their bandages, if they had them. Three of them were with fever, and had to ride in one of the wagons, since they were probably dying of it. He couldn’t do much for them, since it wasn’t the red fever, but he lowered the heat coming from them and in one case eased the breathing. The three men were more comfortable, if nothing else.
