High Mage: Book Five Of The Spellmonger Series (34 page)

Then there were the Megelini Knights, the mundane cavalry who had been drawn to Azar’s charismatic style and opportunity to strike at the foe.  Most were native Wilderlords, but there were knights from all over the Five Duchies who had been attracted to the place.  They numbered over three hundred, with a like number of squires and men-at-arms.  The garrison infantry were commanded by the knights, another two hundred men.

In addition there were two hundred Iron Band soldiers stationed here, facilitating the growth of the order as it struggled to encircle the Penumbra with forts.  The Iron Banders had outgrown the tower they had been granted, and most of them were now quartered in the large village below the castle.  While technically not under Azar’s command, the Iron Band worked closely with the castle to coordinate efforts, particularly offensives or forays into the wilds.

What there weren’t a lot of in Megelin were civilians.

“We don’t keep refugees here longer than necessary,” Bendonal explained to me over ale.  “We feed ‘em, patch them up if need be, and then let the Band escort them to Tudry for disposition.  Keeping the larder filled for a thousand mouths a day is hard enough – we don’t need to make it any harder.  The warbrothers and landbrothers in the village help keep the administrative side.  We just pull them out of shadow.”

I had Bendonal give me a tour of the castle while my men were resting – not the sort of duty that Azar would have relished, but Bendonal beamed with pride as I surveyed the troops, defenses, fortifications, and spellworks.  He had done a remarkable job with very little.  The men were well-fed, in good health, and their morale was excellent. 

I took the time to question him quietly about the war, while we walked from post to post.  In particular I asked him about the Blood Tower and the other horrors I’d heard about.

“All too true, I’m afraid,” he confirmed, as we inspected the siege equipment in one of the towers.  “Blood Tower is particularly disturbing.  We’ve sent four small sorties to test their defenses, and I dare say that Shereul is getting his money’s worth.  I’ve deemed that place too strong for our small force here to hit . . . but with enough manpower . . .” he said, hinting at the need for more troops.  It wasn’t the first time I’d heard that that day.

“I know, I know,” I sighed.  “Until things are settled down in Gilmora, though, it’s going to be tough.”

“Taking the Blood Tower will be tougher,” he pointed out.  “Their strength grows daily.  Not in gurvani – we can slay gurvani all day.  But hobgoblins and trolls, and whatever dark evil they’re concocting, that is harder to make a man stand and fight.  Nor is that the only fortress to worry about.”

“I’ve heard of others,” I agreed.  “How many, total?”

“Let’s take a look,” he said, leading me up the stairs to a tower chamber.  When he opened the thick wooden door and conjured a magelight, he revealed a detailed diorama of the entire Penumbra that put Astyral’s to shame.  “This is my situational map,” he said, proudly.  “Azar may be content to charge blindly into battle, but this helps me keep track of where to go . . . and where
not
to go.  All of our scouting reports get updated here,” he said, waving toward stacks of parchment neatly detailing a year’s worth of field observations.

“How bad is it?” I asked.

“It’s bad,” he admitted.  “You’re right, they’re fortifying and planting crops where they’re making cantonments.  Using slave labor, of course, but why bother, if you don’t plan on feeding them?  That’s not what we’ve come to expect from our neighbor Shereul.”

“Genocidal slaughter was easier to plan for,” I agreed. 

“It turns out that Shereul isn’t the only one throwing his weight around the Umbra and the Penumbra.  There have been several regional powers that have evolved in the Penumbra, farther away from Shereul’s direct sphere of influence.  Some of these are acting almost independently.”

“How so?  I thought that the priesthood’s command was total?”

“Oh, not at all,” he grinned.  “We’ve gotten some interesting reports.  While everyone is nominally loyal to Shereul, that means different things to different factions.  The lands closest to Boval Vale, Ganz and the region adjacent, are under the direct control of a scrug general named Jarkral.  He’s in charge of defense, and he’s garrisoned every major castle and keep in the foothills he can.  That’s over two dozen castles.  Shitty ones, mostly, but they’re defensible.

“He’s the rival of another scrug general, Hralkan, who was originally in charge of logistics and supply of the invasion but who saw his mandate expand to prisoner-of-war duties.  So he controls the next layer out, from here south, about twenty castles.  Hralkan is hip-deep in with the priesthood – the inner priesthood.  They’re the ones running the sacrifice operation.  There are five major internment camps in his territory.  That’s where the slaves go in the Umbra.  Before they go into the center of shadow.”

“What about north and east?”

“North is held by a kind of confederation of tribal gurvani,” he chuckled.  “They were promised good lands in the new world, and they got them.  The cold, bitter hills of the north, with the fierce Kasari as neighbors, is apparently better than the mountain caves they lived in back in the Mindens.  There are about seven or eight tribal chieftains who moved into the old manors and castles and are looting the place to the floors.  More have started more traditional gurvani encampments.  There are about thirty thousand of them in that region, now.  They all swear to the Dead God, but beyond that they follow their tribal chiefs and shamans, not the inner priesthood.

“Over here on the outskirts of the Umbra is where the staging ground for the invasion is.  That’s the area we’re trying to watch closely – and it’s damn hard.  We can’t scry inside worth a damn, so we have to rely on reports in person.  Few are brave enough to go that far inside the Umbra . . . and few are skilled enough to get back out again alive.  It’s heavily patrolled, for one thing.  This region is under the control of a general named Pragar.  But he uses at least three or four humans on his staff – and they aren’t Soulless.”

“Buckler?”

“That’s one.  Buckler leads a thousand-troop mercenary outfit put together . . . well, I don’t know where they were put together.  But Buckler is a warmage, and most of these men are about the most evil sons-of-bitches and overripe gallows fruit you’ve ever seen. “

“Tell me about them, Buckler’s troops.”

“Medium cavalry, mostly.  Knights, or former knights.  Disgraced squires, dishonored men-at-arms, cutthroat raiders and former bandits.  They range between a few villages in this region.  Part of their job, it seems, is to evaluate the loot returning from Gilmora and chase down escaping slaves.”  He turned his attention to another part of the diorama.

“But then out here, on the edge of the Penumbra, things get weird.  There’s a lot less cohesiveness and unity.  Individual castles and manors are starting to be re-occupied.  Blood Tower is here, for instance.  Terrorhall is over here, to the south—”

“I’ve been there,” I said, hoarsely.

“I know.  Magelord Garkesku is still in command, I’m afraid.  Worse, he has vassals, now.”

“Magelord? 
Vassals?
” I asked in disbelief.

“Yes, he’s recovering the local manors and awarding them in fief to his cronies.  Took the same title we use, just to be an ass.  Under the auspices of the Dead God, of course, but Garky keeps his share of the tribute.  He’s got a few other dark magi in his service now, too.  And a small goblin army to protect and oppress the Soulless.  Quite a model little puppet domain he’s running.

“Over here you have more madness.  The southern hills are filled with gurvani, with individual legions or units stationed at a dozen forts along this river.  There are three different generals who claim command over the legions, but mostly they sit around dicing with each other, drinking, and sporting with prisoners.  Shock troops,” he explained. 

“To the southeast, closest to Tudry, you have a patchwork of knights trying to hold their lands and stay loyal to humanity or at least neutral, bandits who have occupied abandoned estates, rogue goblin units, escaped slaves, wild dogs, and these horrors who come out of the Penumbra slaughtering everything in their path.  Mostly you have fallow fields, abandoned cottages, and burned-out castles.  There’s a titular general who is supposed to be in charge of this region, but he’s a drunkard, Harga.  He got badly burned at Timberwatch, and does a half-assed job on the best of days.  If I’m going to get a unit inside the Umbra, it will go through here.”

He went on to detail other areas of interest on the map, showing a remarkable grasp of both the individual tactical situation of each one and then the strategic importance of the place in context. 

“If we’re going to drive the gurvani out of the region, it’s going to be expensive and take forever,” he counseled.  “The only thing keeping them from wiping Megelin and Tudry off the map is a lack of will to do so.  They’re focused on Gilmora, now, Gilmora and holding what they’ve already taken.”

“So why haven’t they launched another offensive in Gilmora so far this year?”

“Honestly?  Logistical issues,” he guessed.  “Raiders can forage off the land, but if you want to run a siege you’ve got to ensure steady supplies.  They’ve got plenty, I suppose, but it’s not terribly well organized.  Or preserved.  They’re probably preparing siege equipment – something else you can thank the human traitors for.  We’ve seen a few in action.  Real scorpions and ballistae, too.  Maybe other stuff.”

“They used siege engines at Boval Castle, remember,” I reminded him.

“They were crude and inefficient.  Now they aren’t.  And we can’t tell where they are building them, either.  There are at least seven sites that we cannot determine what they are being used for.   Azar is investigating one of them now – a remote manor known as Gillain.  We keep getting strange readings from around there when we scry – there’s
some
sort of activity going on there.  We just can’t tell more without eyes on the ground.  But from the intelligence we’ve gathered thus far, we suspect the priesthood, probably preparing for an offensive.”

“The goblin magical corps?”

“The nonadministrative
parts.  We know they had a big meeting in Ganz not too long ago.  Leadership difficulties.  There are rumors that they are going to elect a ‘king’ from among their numbers to consolidate their administration.  He would be under Shereul and the priesthood, of course, but that’s the last thing we need, a goblin with a crown.  We’re hoping for dissention in the priesthood, but that’s probably wishful thinking.”

“A goblin king?” I asked, smirking.  I wonder what Rard would think about sharing his title with some puffed-up gurvani.  “I guess that’s really the last thing we need.”

“I’m not that worried about it,” Bendonal said, shaking his head.  “It’s just another scrug puppet, after all.  I can’t imagine that getting them organized.  Unless Shereul is making his presence felt, they’re just as prey to being disorganized and fighting over position as we are.  Perhaps more.  There are a lot of powerful personalities in the priesthood, and they’re all pursuing their own agendas.  Sometimes there are language difficulties, we know.  We think there are a couple of different factions vying for authority.  That could be important for us.”

“You’re right,” I agreed.  “If we can keep them fighting each other . . .”

“Unfortunately, as long as Shereul is around to unify them, that’s only going to be a minor consolation.  If the offensive doesn’t come this summer, it surely will come next spring, if the big green goober wants it.  By then he’ll have plenty of supply and his troops may even be in order.”

“But we’ll have another forty or fifty thousand troops in place to receive them,” I said, shaking my head.  ”It doesn’t make sense . . .”

We stood there and came up with different scenarios that tried to guess where Shereul’s offensive would be: in western Gilmora, east through the Riverlands, or straight south down into the heart of the Gilmoran country.  It all came down to what they did when they crossed a river.  From the map, it didn’t look like they would be able to do anything meaningful until they crossed the Poros, at the earliest.

“I just wish there was something we could do other than sit here and wait for them to make a move.  Beyond rescuing prisoners and keeping them in the Penumbra.”

“We do quite a lot, actually,” Bendonal said, a little defensively.  “Our doctrine is to keep the goblins as far from the rest of the kingdom as possible.  We’ve done a good job of that, the Timber Road notwithstanding.  There have been a few hundred small bands that have crept through, but since Timberwatch there hasn’t been an organized troop of gurvani east of Megelin Castle in a year.  And any troop within a half-day’s ride from here gets destroyed the moment we see it.  We’re sending out regular patrols and then full sorties of two, three hundred lances at a time.”

“I’m not discounting what you’ve done here, Ben,” I soothed.  “On the contrary, this surpasses my expectations.  I just wish there was something more proactive we could be doing.  I hate waiting,” I sighed in disgust.

“Waiting has its advantages,” he countered.  “Right now this castle could stand a hundred-day siege with no problem.  I want to be able to withstand a
five
-hundred day siege,” he proposed, boldly.  “More, when the day comes when King Rard decides to lead our victorious troops against the Umbra, Megelin will be where that offensive launches.”