High Mage: Book Five Of The Spellmonger Series (72 page)

The left-hand tower, to the southwest, wasn’t destroyed, it was occupied.  Whatever defenders the Alka Alon had left there had been driven out or killed.  Some dark banner of red and black flew over the place, now.  The battlements swarmed with little black shapes, and more worms were chained to its base.

But that wasn’t the problem.

The
dragon
was the problem.

Beyond the ruins of the left-hand gatehouse I could see the back and sides of a large dark bronze colored dragon, its wings folded over its back.  It had apparently been the one responsible for the damaged architecture.  And we’d have to get past the beast to attack the gurvani.

“Duin’s hairy sack,” swore the Outlaw, as he took stock of the situation.  “They don’t want to intimidate us, do they?”

“Look at the size of that thing,” breathed Terleman, who insisted on coming.  As our tactical leader, he had an interest in assessing the situation.  “That’s at least another twenty feet longer than the one at Cambrian!”

“It’s older,” reasoned the Outlaw.  “It’s had more time to grow.  It’s a year more mature.  And if they keep growing at that rate . . .”

“That’s why we need to stunt their growth now,” I agreed.  “Permanently.  Look, he’s not alone, either: goblins own that tower, now.  They’ve got complete coverage of anything trying to cross the ice.  Even if we could transport the barges up here, we’ll be right under their noses.” 

“Then we’ll just have to take the tower,” Terleman nodded.

“And then have the dragon to contend with,” Bendonal the Outlaw pointed out.  “You see what he did to yon tower.”

“I didn’t say it would be easy,” Terleman said, tersely.

“That’s not the only issue,” I added.  “Look at the base of the ruins.  There’s at least a couple of thousand scrugs there, mostly infantry.  And they have a couple of pet worms.”

“Trying to get through them is going to be a job of work,” Bendonal the Outlaw observed, conversationally, as he calculated the strength of our foes.  “How do we do it, then, Commander?”  He meant the question teasingly, but he didn’t know Terleman very well.  The warmage considered the situation with professional expertise surpassing most military commanders.  The job, to Terleman, was never impossible.  Just challenging.

“Three teams,” Terleman decided.  “One to take the tower by stealth.  Kasari and the Alka Alon, I think.  They’ll know the terrain the best.  They can go up the frozen cataracts,” he pointed out.  The fifty-foot field of boulders the size of castles that was the root of the Poros had been “sculpted” by the advancing gurvani army.  Instead of taking the circuitous foot-path from the Alkan marina at the base of the falls, the goblins used magic and trolls bearing mighty mattocks to hew massive steps in the ice.  Blood was smeared on the steps, indicating a healthy resistance, but after the dragon destroyed the gate there was little the Alka Alon could do but fall back.

“Second team to take the goblins on the northeast side, amidst the rubble of the second tower,” he decided, after another moment’s thought. 

“Won’t that alert the dragon?” I asked, alarmed.

“I’m counting on it,” Terleman pronounced.  “That’s where the third team comes into play.  That’s the dragon-killing team.”

“And you want them to attract the dragon?” the Outlaw asked.

“Yes,” the commander affirmed.  “If the dragon stays where he is, he can flame the entire pass without exposing more than his snout.  He’s protected by the cliffs and the rubble.  We get him on top of that rubble, every mage in the pass will be able to target him.”

“And what about all the goblins and siege worms in the way?” I asked.

“What’s going to happen when the goblins are pressed, really hard, by warmagi?” he asked in return.

“They’re going to fall back,” conceded Bendonal. 

“Toward the dragon?  Up a mountain of rubble?  No,” Terleman continued, in a reasonable tone of voice.  “They’re going to retreat back toward their one secure fortification in the region.”

“The other tower,” the Outlaw supplied.  “Which will be packed with Kasari and Alka Alon by then.”

“Exactly,” Terleman agreed.  “We get the goblins out of the way, have them get taken by surprise vollies from their erstwhile friendly fortification, whilst we engage the dragon.”

“Putting us at the bottom of a huge mountain of rock and stone with a ferocious killing machine staring down at us,” finished the Outlaw.

“We’ll have him right where we want him,” assured Terleman.

“I just love it when a suicide pact comes together,” agreed the Outlaw.

We made our way carefully down the rocky trail we’d used to find the vantage point.  The landscape abounded with them.  I could see why it was called the Scar Lands – thousands of years of rain and wind had not softened the geological chaos that had happened in the distant past.  The hills were twisted and toppled, rocks jutted forth at odd angles and in weird formations, and the only reasonably flat ground was near the diminished Poros.

That’s where we made our camp.  The Alka Alon had built a small marina on a sandy spit near the pool at the base of the cataract for the infrequent times they went forth by boat.  The installation was savaged by the gurvani as they passed by, but the ruins made a perfect staging area for our surprise attack. 

We brought the barges further up the river than we’d anticipated.  Taren’s trick of using a massive magical pocked had virtually eliminated the need to portage the massive, gaudy boats, either magically or through more traditional means.  He had refined the technique two days before, after talking to Onranion, and had linked the arcane interdimensional space he was using to a second rod of weirwood, allowing both to access the space. 

After that, instead of removing the barge at one point, climbing around obstacles and then re-manifesting itself at another, two men could do the job much quicker.  The first would load the pocket with the barge using one rod, while the other would unload it a moment later with the other.  It was a brilliant innovation.

Nineteen of the boats made it – one had been left behind at the base of the escarpment, in case of retreat.  I didn’t like thinking that way, but then again retreat was one of many, many possible outcomes of the battle ahead.  I wanted to plan for that.

The rest were beached at the marina, and the three-thousand men, Alkans, and dogs ate, slept, and prepared for battle under cover of powerful obscuring spells.  The gurvani of the rearguard had a few shamans, but they were unlikely to be scrying vigilantly.  Still, we wanted as much of the element of surprise as we could muster.

We discussed the plan in far more detail on the hour-long hike back to the barges.  We considered many scenarios and strategies, and by the time we walked into camp we had the entire plan figured out sufficiently to start giving orders and explaining the battle plan.

I was surprised at the enthusiasm I saw in return, but I should have known better.  Even though we’d spent the better part of a week riding along the ice and climbing through the tortuous landscape, the warmagi did not seem weary in the slightest.  The Alka Alon positively shivered with the excitement of battle.  And the Kasari treated their mission as just another exercise.  Get a thousand men and a thousand Alka Alon into a guarded fortification without alerting a nearby army?  When do you want them there?

“Then there’s the dragon,” I said to the large group of unit commanders and interested spectators I’d gathered around the largest bonfire on the beach.  “The dragon is the key to this battle.  Don’t forget, we have two more to face when we’re done with this one, so don’t waste anything.  But we won’t be facing them until this one is out of the way.  I want the falcons to play a part in this,” I said, looking at Dara’s sprawled form.  Her three skyriders were standing around her, a boy and two Tal Alon.  At this point they were veterans.

“Us?” Dara asked, her eyes shooting open.  “Fight a
dragon?
”

“
Harass
a dragon,” I corrected.  “We’re going to be preparing mighty spells below.  Just keep him busy while we’re doing it.  Distract him,” I ordered.

“
Distract
a dragon,” she said in disbelief.  “With my girlish allure?  Master Min, my birds are tough . . . but they aren’t dragon tough!”

“Use your imagination,” I counseled.  “Like I said, you just have to keep his concentration split.  Surely you can manage something annoying.”  The challenge hung in the air and my apprentice looked back at me, thoughtfully.  Then she sighed. 

“Do you care what we use to do that?” she asked.

“Sing him a jaunty tune, for all I care,” I shrugged.  “Just keep him from flaming the rest of us while we’re preparing to destroy him.  And try to have fun,” I added, sarcastically.  “The rest of the third team will be comprised of Sire Cei, Magelord Wenek, Taren, and ten more volunteers,” I continued.  “Anyone who has a good idea about how to kill a dragon, now is the time to experiment.”

“How far away is the main force, from the gate?” asked someone from the back.  “Do we have to worry about reinforcements?”

“No,” Dara said, before I could speak.  “I flew over there this morning.  The main army is concentrated around the city on the big island.  That’s a couple of miles away over the ice.  They have it entirely besieged.  One of the dragons is there.  The other is on the north wall, destroying some buildings and gardens along the cliff base there.”

“So we’ll have a short time before someone notices a one-third reduction in the dragon population and sends an army after us.  Gods willing,” I said, glancing at the fire, “we’ll be already underway long before they can get here.”

“When are we attacking?” someone else asked.  Lanse of Bune, I think.

“Dawn,” Terleman said, curtly.  “The Kasari will go in a few hours before, to set up their assault.  The rest of us will take the footpath on the north side up the escarpment.  They haven’t bothered guarding it.  We can gather below the rise to their first outpost and go over at first light.  We attack with the rising sun.  Not that it will do much, but it will keep the sun at our backs and in their eyes during the first wave of the attack.  I can’t see how that would hurt us.”

“It also gives us plenty of time to rest up, sharpen our swords, hang our spells, fill our quivers, and make our peace with our lives.  I still haven’t any positive word on the counterspell.  A lot still depends on that.  We could have a total victory in the morn and see defeat by nightfall, if they don’t come up with something.  That,” I said, speaking loudly enough for all to hear, “is out of our control.  All we have to deal with is one dragon.”

“Three dragons,” someone corrected from the shadows.  There was a wave of nervous giggles.

“One dragon . . . at a time,” I corrected.  “That’s our part.  We can do it.  Now everyone, get some sleep and some food.  Busy day tomorrow.”
As everyone broke up to prepare for their part in the battle, I noticed Dara borrowing one of the transport rods from Taren.  I was about to ask him what she wanted with it when I was grabbed by Magelord Thinradel, of all people.

“Spellmonger,” he began, politely.  “I thought I’d mention something that might be important.  I think the gurvani are, in fact, searching for Korbal’s lost tomb.  And I think they are not the only ones.”

“What?” I asked, confused.

“About three years ago – more like four, now, when I was first appointed as the Ducal Court Mage, there were several . . . gentlemen,” he said, using the term with obvious distaste, “who had presumed on their connections at court to propose just such an expedition into the wild reaches of the Alshari Wilderlands.  This very region, in fact.”

“Surely you got that sort of thing all the time,” I dismissed.

“Yes, yes, of course,” the former bureaucrat reported.  “But these men were different, somehow.  Less prone to flights of fancy and more interested in gold.  They wanted the support of the court, but I knew the late Duke Lenguin would never sanction such wild chases at the coronet’s expense.  But they were quite well-prepared with maps, citations from legend, and historical documents that they said proved that Korbal’s final resting place was within these hills.”

“That’s fascinating, but I don’t see how it matters at the moment,” I admitted.

“All of the small parties we’ve run across along the way up the river tend to indicate, to me, that Shereul is just as interested in that tomb as those men.  Further, it is possible that the two are linked, somehow.”

“Why would the gurvani be interested in an old human legend of a demon god?” I asked.  “Particularly when it appears to be a half-remembered legend of a renegade Alka Alon?”

“Good question,” agreed Thinradel.  “What the men who approached me assured was that Korbal could raise legions of the dead to fight Alshar’s wars, should we discover the tomb.  That he had a hidden fortress stocked with magical wonders and, of course, mounds of gold.  There always seem to be mounds of gold involved in that sort of thing.”

“That . . . could be important,” I agreed.  “Thanks.  Keep me posted if you recall anything else like that.”

Korbal the Demon Lord?  There was more to that than met the eye, I could tell.  There were many plots and plans emanating from the Umbra.  And it was clear that the goblins were getting at least some aid from disaffected Alka Alon traitors.  Perhaps Korbal fitted into that, somehow.