by Frank Morin
Why would Dougal offer such a treasure? Why not gift it to one of his experienced commanders?
"I need a volunteer," Dougal said, watching them carefully. "These are from my personal stores, and I am committing one of them to the effort of breaking through the Grandurian defenses."
"One of us will lead the charge," Ivor guessed.
"Indeed," General Carbrey said. "You two possess the strength to wield such mighty power, but only one of you will be chosen."
With the power of a sculpted stone, Ivor was confident he could unleash a firestorm upon the Grandurian lines that their Flameweavers could never counter. Such a victory would win his new house much honor and secure his place in Obrion history.
He was surprised Dougal would offer such a potential honor to Redmund, whose house was so openly critical. Unless he was just making the offer to both of them so he could then choose Ivor. The snub would infuriate Redmund and his father.
Ivor desperately wanted that sculpted stone, although he felt he concealed his eagerness better than Aonghus. His desire for it nearly drowned out the quiet voice of caution that reminded him to tread carefully around Dougal, to understand his full purpose before locking himself into Dougal's service.
"The storms of opposition break down the weak of heart, but the tempest most fierce only fills the sails of the skilled hand."
Ivor glanced at Redmund in surprise. He had spoken in an almost reverent tone, and he gave Dougal a sincere bow. It seemed the tantalizing sculpted stone might be enough to challenge his prejudices. Nothing like unprecedented bribery to win over the most ardent critic.
"You're right," Ivor said, making his choice. "And I believe you were never given the opportunity to show your full potential in the Tir-raon. I think you should have this chance to be the hero of the invasion."
Redmund grinned. "The flowers of spring, though oft cast into the oven, yet may win the honor of adorning the brow of royalty."
"You'll be great," Ivor said, even though he had no idea what Redmund was trying to communicate with that one.
"Are you turning down the opportunity for this honor?" Carbrey asked, clearly disapproving.
"Not at all, General," Ivor said. "I would gladly accept the honor of bearing a sculpted stone during the assault. With that power, I could devastate the enemy and save the lives of many of my men. But since you said only one of us can be chosen to spearhead the invasion, I believe Redmund is that man."
"Take the fire, man," Aonghus urged, a single, flaming tear leaking out of his left eye.
Dougal raised a hand to silence further comment. He regarded Ivor thoughtfully. "It is rare for a young commander to possess the will to lead, tempered by the wisdom to know when to cede to another." He glanced at Aonghus, who settled back in his chair, the fires fading from his eyes.
"The choice seems simple enough today," Ivor said, trying to keep his expression calm under Dougal's penetrating gaze. "With that mountain of earth sitting just outside of camp, a Sentry is the better choice for the first strike."
Dougal nodded. "I concur."
He slid the sculpted Sentry tower across the table to Redmund, who accepted it with another bow. As one, everyone else began to clap. The sound echoed through the tent, and Ivor joined in, hoping he had made the right choice.
When Redmund touched the stone, his eyes widened with wonder. "Though the moon be not set, the dawning of a new day sheds light upon the face of the world."
Ivor glanced at Shona, and she gave him the barest nod of approval. Her gaze slid to Redmund, and her worried frown returned. Even with the power of a sculpted stone, Redmund faced a terrible risk. Even if he managed to break through the Grandurian lines, chances were extremely high that he wouldn't survive the day.
He didn't seem to care.
Redmund rose and saluted, his expression exultant. "I will break open this mountain for you, my lord."
"I believe you will," Dougal said with a smile.
In that moment, his exhaustion bled away. The lines of his face faded, his shoulders straightened, and he took a long, slow breath, as if to savor his restored health. Ivor had never seen such a healing, and he wondered how it was done, and why it had taken so long.
"General Carbrey," Dougal said, his tone crisp and full of authority. "The day we've worked toward for so long has arrived."
Carbrey saluted, grinning, and addressed the assembled commanders, who were equally brimming with eagerness to join in battle. "Commander Redmund will spearhead the assault. Commander Glynsk will lead the vanguard to secure the breach."
Commander Glynsk was a grizzled veteran Ivor had not yet met. He wore the crimson and steel of House Feichin, with insignia indicating he was a Bladed-Boulder Agor. Ivor wondered if he would choose granite or obsidian for the initial assault.
He looked surprised by the additional honor afforded his house and saluted smartly. "Thank you, my lord. We will not fail."
"I expect nothing less than your best effort," Dougal said, sweeping his eyes around the table. "We are embarking upon the great purpose of our generation, and we will see Obrion restored to its former glory. You are the finest commanders this nation has to offer, and I am proud to stand with you.
"Commander Ivor," Dougal added. "You will lead the second wave of the assault, under the direct command of General Carbrey."
"Thank you, sir," Ivor said, trying to hide his surprise. He was a junior commander, and he had expected a senior officer to be given that important command. "I had assumed General Carbrey would participate in the first wave."
"Not today," Dougal said.
General Carbrey added, "This attack will be a multi-wave assault, commander. When the first wave breaks through, they'll be tasked with clearing the initial defenses between the pass and the Grandurian plateau. We will be leading the bulk of the Petralist forces, and it will be our duty to drive into the main Grandurian army and break them. Our secondary objective will be to secure the Grandurian command center. Upon our success will hinge the outcome of the day."
Ivor saluted. "I will prepare my forces. Thank you, sir."
Dougal again glanced around the table. "Assemble your captains. Carbrey will issue final battle orders."
As one, they saluted, then exited the tent, eager to get their forces organized. Redmund slowly followed, engrossed in the treasure he had just won, and no doubt preparing for the battle that would define his legacy.
Ivor hesitated. He felt relieved he hadn't suffered any immediate consequence for allowing Redmund the honor to spearhead the assault, and he glanced at the marble statue still in Dougal's hand. If Dougal was willing to commit one sculpted stone to the invasion, would he donate another? With that much power, their victory would be assured.
Dougal noted his glance. "The day may well come that you must take up this stone, Commander, but it is not this day."
"As you will," Ivor said, saluting again and heading toward his army.
The camp was already transformed from the half-slumbering mass of waiting men into a whirlwind of activity as eager soldiers prepared for the long-awaited battle.
Ivor felt the same thrill of excitement, tempered by caution. The mock battles of the Carraig had lacked the element of deadly peril, but the battle with the elfonnel had taught him the ugly realities of war.
People were going to die today.
He did not plan to be one of them.
Chapter Twenty
"When will the potential become the choice? That is the question that toppled kingdoms of old and holds in thrall the balance of lives even now."
~Evander
An hour later, Ivor stood at the head of his forces. They were formed in disciplined ranks on the eastern side of the high mountain plateau that faced Drumwhindle Pass.
The impassable peaks of the Maclachlan Mountains marched in an unbroken line to the east and west, with the mighty summit of Mount Macduib rising directly to the north, split by Drumwhindle, the only significant pass anywhere for hundreds of
miles.
The plateau where Ivor stood was the only large flat expanse anywhere nearby, positioned just under the pass. A single, narrow causeway crossed a deep canyon that cut the mountain between the plateau and the entrance to the pass. That narrow causeway was secured at either end by thick, defensive walls.
That was the only route into Granadure, the dangerous road Ivor must traverse at the head of his forces.
Ivor felt confident the men and women of his command would win the day. His captains from all three houses had argued to keep their individual forces separate, but Ivor had insisted they work together as a single, cohesive unit. He only wished for a little more time to train them together to better leverage their combined might.
The three houses together fielded nearly a hundred Boulders and three dozen Striders. A corps of five Blades made up Ivor's personal guard.
House Islay was responsible for quartzite. Although most Pathfinders sent to the front were assigned to the general communications corps, three had been assigned to his personal command. He kept them active, gathering the information he so desperately needed to understand his new position.
House Pilib, which was really two houses merged together, oversaw both limestone and soapstone. They were so desperate to consummate Padraigin's marriage into their house that they had refused to send her to the front. No one had complained, although Ivor wished they had.
Padraigin was one of the finest Dawnus he had ever known, and the lingering bias against her was unfortunate. As the first Althin to participate as a commander in the Tir-raon, she had demonstrated true leadership and grace under almost universal hostility.
He didn't know anyone from Obrion who would willingly renounce their heritage and swear allegiance to a foreign power. He didn't pretend to understand why she chose the road she had, but he respected her for it.
Six Solas reported to Ivor, and he kept them close. Even though this would be a daylight assault, he did not forget the lesson he'd learned from Connor when his Solas had blinded three armies and tipped the tide of the first group battle in his favor.
The greatest strength to Ivor's force, and what made his little army a force to be respected, were his tertiary affinity Petralists. In addition to the soapstone of House Pilib, House Lenox oversaw marble. As a result, Ivor enjoyed an extremely competent corps of five Spitters and a wild bunch of three Firetongues, who made Captain Aonghus appear downright tame.
Only one Sentry served Ivor directly, but that would be enough. General Carbrey had three Sentries, so they would complement each other well.
"Commander, Redmund is moving toward the Sentry mountain," Papil reported.
The gangly girl, who had served as one of Connor's captains during the Tir-raon, was from House Islay, and her service with Connor had given her an air of quiet confidence that Ivor liked. She met his gaze, her huge blue eyes glowing with her active quartzite, and gestured toward the southwestern edge of the plateau. That was where the Sentries had gathered a mountain of earth to use in the assault of the pass.
"I want to see this," Ivor decided. "Keep an eye on me, and relay my commands to the captains."
She saluted, and Ivor tapped marble. Flames exploded under his feet, catapulting him into the air. Borrowing a trick he had learned from Connor, he formed wide wings of fire, secured at his back. Unlike Connor's simple construct, Ivor formed a double set of wings, with tiny fire devils rising between them. The tiny, fast-spinning vortexes of flame super-heated the air and generated many times more lift.
As he glided over the huge camp, he made sure to hold much of the heat along the underside of the wings. That way, it didn't escape and heat the air above him, which would have reduced his lift.
Firetongues often launched into the air, but he'd only ever seen Connor use wings. Fire didn't grip the air like feathers would, but the magical properties of marble allowed it some tangible properties. Ivor had advanced far enough in his mastery of fire that he could manipulate heat better than most Firetongues.
For being so new to his powers, Connor had a reckless flair that resulted in some impressive victories and some spectacular failures. It was a little annoying to think Connor probably hadn't really understood the complex construct he had created.
Ivor waved as he flew over the center of camp, but it was mostly empty. He glanced at the vanguard, assembled near the northern edge of the plateau, close to the causeway, but split into companies to either side. That left a wide conduit for Redmund to push through with all that dirt to deliver the initial overwhelming blow to crack the Grandurian defenses.
The Petralists of the vanguard would plunge into the gap that Redmund created, and Ivor and Carbrey would hopefully deliver the fatal stroke against the Grandurian defenses. Ivor appreciated the bold attack strategy and hoped it worked. If anything went wrong, a lot of good men and women would die in Drumwhindle Pass.
From a hundred feet in the air, he could easily make out the ranks of the vanguard, and they did look impressive. For the first time, he noticed that the bulk of the force was made up of soldiers from House Feichin, House Berach, and the King's own guard.
Interesting. If the initial strike went well, Dougal was positioning his most powerful rivals to win dangerous amounts of prestige. Then again, if something went wrong, those same critics risked suffering the majority of the casualties.
Ivor could not afford to remain ignorant of what game Dougal was playing. He could easily be sacrificed as a pawn in the game of high politics if he didn't figure it out quickly.
As Ivor neared the mountain of massed earth, he spotted Redmund ascending it, flowing over the earth without walking. About a hundred yards from the base of the mound, Shona and Gregor, along with a small group of other officers, had gathered. Ivor angled his glide to land near them, flaring his wings at the last moment to land. His wings erupted into varicolored lights that spiraled away before exploding outward in a glittering shower.
"Oh, Ivor," Shona said sarcastically. "I didn't notice you there." She again wore her battle leathers, and she managed to look deadly, elegant, and alluring all at the same time.
"Do you know what he's planning?" Ivor asked. "Is he just going to plow all this dirt through the pass and smother them?"
"As if I could understand anything he said. In the last hour, his Sentry speak has gone from confusing to incomprehensible."
The huge Sentry, Gregor, whose intimidating presence always made Ivor a bit nervous, said, "The dam that holds the mighty river in check can be overwhelmed by the rains of spring."
"Well, I think his brains have sprung a leak," Shona muttered.
Up on the mound, Redmund raised the sculpted stone high and shouted, "The tempest may rage, the flood burst all bounds, and the tornado howl with fury, but the earth is moved only by the mighty shaking of its roots!"
Shona shook her head in disgust. "Told you."
Redmund rose upon a tall Sentry tower, and Ivor felt a bit disappointed. Was that all the show they'd get from him touching a sculpted stone?
The entire mound shuddered, masses of earth sliding in a rumbling hiss that Ivor felt through his boots. The earth flowed upward, forming walls and turrets. Redmund's Sentry tower grew and thickened, and the entire mound transformed into a massive, looming fortress. Redmund's laughter echoed across the plateau.
"You have to admit, that's pretty impressive," Ivor said to Shona.
"Let's hope he can cram that thing through the gap."
"Want to get a better look at it?" he offered, extending his hand.
She hesitated for only a second before nodding. "I suppose it's the only way."
"Best ride you'll find anywhere on this plateau," Ivor assured her.
Shona rolled her eyes, but still stepped close and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. She smelled faintly of roses, and her close proximity affected him more than he expected. Shona might be a lot of things, many of them deadly dangerous, but standing so close, he'd have to be dead and buried not to feel some at
traction.
He liked the thrill of danger he felt in her presence and gave her a confident smile as he slipped an arm around her trim waist and pulled her to him. Then he tapped marble again, flames blasted out his feet, and he lifted them straight into the air.
They rose beside the mighty fortress of earth, and Ivor whistled softly in appreciation. The outer wall formed an octagonal shell, with the inside of the fortress rising into a series of huge palaces, ringed with nine lofty towers.
Ivor whistled again, accidentally spitting a little fire into Shona's face.
"Watch the hair!" she yelped, slapping his mouth away.
"Sorry," he muttered through a grin. She had a pretty good arm.
Then the entire earthen structure collapsed.
In an instant, it imploded from a majestic fortress back into a formless mound. Redmund's central tower crumbled and he plummeted down with the loose earth, his body limp and unmoving.
"Just like Connor," Ivor breathed, and his eager anticipation became tinged with worry.
In that momentary weakness at the Carraig, Connor had nearly died. He'd said that Dougal had invaded his mind and tried to control him.
Ivor glanced toward the center of camp, where Dougal's enormous palace tent stood near the central command tent. Dougal had not emerged, but Ivor didn't know enough to know if that should worry or encourage him.
Billowing dust rose in an obscuring cloud around the fortress. He and Shona both started coughing, so he wrapped them in a shell of delicate, blue flames to burn away the worst of it.
The ground rumbled with the falling earth, but instead of fading away to echoes, the rumbling grew stronger.
"I don't like the sound of that," Shona said, her expression turning worried and mirroring his growing concern.
"I don't think we want to be so close. Hold on."
With a stomach-wrenching heave, his fiery column threw them higher, and he sucked the flames along with them, forming another set of wings, larger than before. They snapped open, and the little fire devils caught the unsettled air with a roar, generating an enormous amount of lift and heat, which he used to bank them away from the potential danger.
