High Mage: Book Five Of The Spellmonger Series (74 page)

I scrounged around the goblins’ camp until I found a bucket of sorts.  It was empty, thankfully – using a goblin’s chamberpot to communicate with our sovereign was beneath his dignity, I was sure.   I dropped the appropriate Mirrorstone into the bucket, once I’d filled it with water (ice, actually, then melted by magic).  It took awhile but soon the royal Mirror watcher, or whatever it was called, was staring up out of the bucket at me.  I informed him who I was and he ran to fetch King Rard.

It didn’t take long.  Soon the King’s bushy beard and sharp nose filled the surface of the water.

“Spellmonger!” his voiced boomed quietly from the bucket.  “Where in the name of the gods have you been?”

“Seeing to magical affairs, Your Majesty.  What can I do for you?”

“I’ve heard rumors that you have withdrawn all of our warmagi from Gilmora to run off on some fool errand to save some Tree Folk!  Did I not specifically forbid any royal troops go on that kind of idiotic quest?” he demanded.

“Your Majesty, I said, smoothly, “I heeded your order.  None of your soldiers was removed from his post.”

“Then what are you doing with all the godsdamned warmagi way over in Alshar?” he demanded, angrily.

“The Arcane Orders are responding to a request for assistance from one of our colleagues and allies,” I lied.  “I took a small party to see if we could render assistance, as our alliance suggests.”

“But I did not authorize this!” he insisted.

“Your Majesty did not forbid it, either,” I reminded him.  “This was purely a magical crisis, therefore it required a magical response.”

“And so that justifies leaving Gilmora open and unprotected?”

“Unprotected from whom?  Your Majesty has nearly a hundred thousand troops stationed there.  Count Salgo informs me that interdiction efforts are proceeding admirably.  The goblins north of the Poros show no signs of crossing the river.  Your Majesty has the Gilmora situation well in-hand.  That allows me the ability to respond to our allies appropriately.”

“You are trying my patience, Spellmonger!”

“I’m fighting a godsdamned war right now!” I snapped.  “Let me win it, for a change, will you?  If all goes well, this battle could foretell the fate of the war.  But only if everything goes just so.  It’s a gamble, but the stakes make it a worthwhile gamble.”

He looked doubtful and troubled.  “It seems a foolish endeavor.  What do we have to gain from it?”

“Have I not counseled you wisely?” I pointed out.  “Your Majesty, trust me in this.  I would not be hundreds of leagues away from my home right now if I did not feel it was a worthy gambit.”

He mused some more, and I could detect a new weariness to the head that wore the crown.  “I suppose you know what you are doing,” he said, finally.  “I don’t suppose you’d turn around if I ordered you, would you?”

“Let us not consider such an unfortunate circumstance,” I replied, diplomatically, and earned a grudging grin.  “I would consider it a boon from His Majesty to allow me to continue with this.”

“I suppose I owe you for the magical chamberpot you sent me,” he admitted.  “Let me know if you’re alive after the battle.  I’m still not happy about this.  It sets a poor precedent.”

“So do dragons, Majesty.  We defeated one already today.  It’s been a busy morning.  We have a brace of them yet to contend with.  While I am ever at His Majesty’s service . . .”

“Go on, fight your battle,” he dismissed.  “Good luck, Spellmonger.  Don’t die.  I might miss you.”

I stood a moment later and stretched.  The sun was an hour from noon.  I glanced at the icy lake where nineteen of the barges were now settled.  The Kasari were leading the dog teams into place, and the warmagi and Alka Alon were recasting spells to aid their progress.  Overhead a falcon flew watch, while the other birds sunned themselves on the battlements of the tower, waiting for battle.  The dragon, thankfully, had yet to regain consciousness, though enough of its blood stained the pile to make me wonder if it would.

“You about ready?” my friend Sandoval asked me, handing me a flask.  I took it – brandy, and quite welcome – and swallowed.

“Yes,” I sighed.  “As soon as everyone is in the boats.  And before someone notices that we disposed of their guard dog.”

“Everyone’s ready – almost.  We had four light casualties coming up the falls, so they’ll stay in the tower and watch out. “

We boarded in near silence, each of us mentally preparing for the battle ahead.  We could not see the army directly, as it was hidden by a spur of land jutting into the lake, but we could hear it miles away.  It made a low angry groan that carried across the bare ice.  It was a chilling noise, in ways apart from the obvious.  A hundred thousand goblins can make a lot of racket.

I climbed aboard the lead barge after checking on several of the others.  I glanced at the sun nearing the zenith.  I aimed Blizzard toward a spot over the city, six miles away, and activated a spell I’d prepared. 

It was an illusion, a photomantic display spell.  A giant green snowflake hung over the entire city, suddenly.  Just dancing light, but I hope it made the bastards nervous.

“Oh! Someone has an ego, doesn’t he?” Lorcus quipped from behind me.

Pentandra,
I sent, mind-to-mind,
it’s time.  Do it now.

I’ll give the order.  Good luck, Min!

“Let’s go,” I told the Kasari driver, proud of my handiwork.  “Let the madness begin.”

*                            *                            *

We never had a hope of defeating their entire army.  That was never the plan.

The gurvani encircled the island that Anthatiel sat upon, their lines formed up just out of bowshot.  We could only see them as a thin black stain around the flanks of the city, when we rounded the curve and headed out over the lake, proper.  But that stain grew wider and larger with every passing second.

The dogs were used to pulling in harness, now – they even seemed to enjoy it.  With no banks on either side of them, the lake was one long smooth expanse of ice.  Even from the gates they could scent the gurvani, and they started baying in their huge voices as they hit their stride.

Without the river banks, the barges need not go in single file, either.  We spread out into two rows, a flotilla on ice filled with fell men ready to slay.  With their gaudy prows and their festive colors the barges seemed at odds with our mission, but I wasn’t preoccupied with aesthetics.  The boats shivered as they approached a speed they had never dared on the Poros.  Lorcus, the fool, stood on the prow, mageblade in hand, head thrown back in maniacal laughter.  Crazy Remeran.

Where are the lines the thinnest?
I sent to Dara.

Northeast side,
she sent back, a few moments later. 
I’m about ready to land on one of these cliffs,
she added.

Be careful,
I warned.  I needn’t have worried.  Frightful could land on a pebble.

“Circle around to the north side,” I ordered the driver.  The Kasari man grinned and began guiding the team.  The other barges took our lead, more or less, though one ran clean over some poor gurvani patrol dutifully marching across the ice.  That slowed them down, but the rest of us continued so fast that the wind bit my face.

Seeing the army from behind was disturbing.  There were thousands upon thousands of angry goblins.  Trolls.  Fell hounds. Hobgoblins. Siege worms.  Things I did not have names for.  They seethed and raged against the beautiful city.  Siege engines flung boulders over the frozen shoreline to crush the gorgeous architecture.

But the city was fighting back, in a limited fashion.  Buildings that had stood a thousand years or more were festooned with archers.  Songspells made the air over the city hazy.  The goblins weren’t swarming it, yet.  The Alka Alon’s defensive spells, and their deadly skill with the bow kept them back.  Lord Aerotas’ city was in dire condition, but it was not dead yet.  That gave me some hope.

That big green snowflake had to be pissing him off, though.  That made me smile.

Yet the dragon was still there, crouched behind the gurvani lines, waiting as patiently as a cat for a mouse.  Far more docile, I noted, than the beast at Cambrian.  That must be the effect of the snowstone, I reasoned.  With it, the dragons had become far more pliable.  That didn’t bode well.

Our barges skated a careful distance away from the horde as they rounded the eastern side of the island.  I spotted the bare spot Dara had pointed out.  The island had a large cliff on that side, with the buildings atop it looming so high overhead so that attack or defense from that side was a practical impossibility.  There were Alka Alon there, and there were goblins below, but neither were close enough to each other to give much of a fight.  So the gurvani lines there were thinnest.

“There,” I indicated.  “Put us through there.  We can continue around the island to the western side, in front of their lines, until we can beach.”

The driver nodded.  Lorcus looked curious.

“Why try to make land?” he asked.

“We need to be close to land,” I said.  “Close to a point where we can get into the city.  We’ve already attracted attention,” I pointed out.

“Which seems odd, considering how careful we were to maintain the element of surprise.”

“Surprise is only useful if you spoil it, eventually.  We want them looking toward us.  Away from the island, at least for a few moments.”

“We’re in the right godsdamn boats to attract attention,” Lorcus remarked.  “I feel like we’re in a bloody pageant!”

“They aren’t going to just get out of the way,” warned Sandoval.

“The smart ones will.  The stupid ones will get mowed down if they stand and fight,” Terleman said, dourly.  “If they resist, we encourage them to move.”

“I’ve never charged in a barge before,” Sandoval grinned, the wind whipping his hair across his face.

“Fell hounds coming up!” warned Rondal, who was peering over the port side.  “Does this make us a navy?” he asked, suddenly.

“I have them!” Sarakeem said, stepping on the gunwale and nocking an arrow.  A dozen Kasari and infantry did likewise, but they had neither Sarakeem’s skill nor his magic.  As soon as we were in range, his bowstring twanged like a harp and his quivers emptied at twice the rate of the rangers.  He was a one-man volley.

As deadly as he was – and there were dozens of bodies staining the ice red to prove it – there were still hundreds of live goblins who proved too stupid to get out of the way.  Our sledge slammed into them, the dogs snarling and biting in their harness as the warmagi joined the battle from the deck of the barge.  That gave us a lovely height advantage, and kept the smaller goblins from attempting to swarm over the side.  The Kasari and the infantry used their spears and bows to great effect as the barge slowed.

We had the opportunity for thirty seconds of mayhem against the gurvani who surrounded us before we experienced any kind of organized defense.  Those were thirty bloody seconds.

Flashes of the battle stuck with me, later, as the barge slowed with its impact.  Terleman sweeping the heads off of three gurvani in quick succession.  Lorcus spearing a hobgoblin through the face, then using his impaled victim as leverage to sweep a bunch of his fellows off their feet and under the grinding blades of the barge.  Rondal meticulously casting one blanket of magical death after another with his staff.  Sire Cei clubbing a goblin so hard from the top of his head that it disintegrated under the force.  Sandovar blasting away with a warwand in one hand in a mageblade in the other.  Wenek casting spells that slew dozens at a time in horrifically nasty ways.  Tyndal laughing hysterically as he decapitated four gurvani with his mageblade while they were trying to avoid the barge.  Sarakeem smiling gleefully as he coolly stood next to our Kasari driver and relentlessly sent arrow shafts amongst the viciously-fighting team to slay whichever goblins might do the giant dogs some damage.

They didn’t need a lot of help.  Mostly the giant hounds picked up goblins with their jaws and shook them like weasels, or held them immobile with their gigantic paws and tore out their throats. For thirty seconds the ice in front of our barge was a tempest of fur, fangs, growls, screams, and blood.   

Then they got organized.  A rough shieldwall tried to form on the port side as larger hobgoblins brought rough bronze shields up to afford some protection.   A few arrows flew over our heads – there were spells to discourage that sort of thing – and they began to fight back with spears and spells.

Oh yes – there were priests among the besiegers.  I wasn’t in charge of the defensive spells but I could feel the impact of incoming magic.  Sporadic, at first, but the spells they threw were powerful.  Flashes of light and cascades of blood red lightning that lit up the dark ice lanced out against us from a cluster of hobs until another barge plowed into them, spewing arrows and righteous arcane thunder.  A third split the space between us, and the entire goblin line fell.

It was glorious to behold.  One moment the scrug priests were in rapt concentration, focusing on spewing arcane death in our direction, and the next they were fighting for their lives against a bunch of really large, really angry sled dogs.  The unexpected attacks and the onslaught of magic was profound.  Bodies fell all around us, with very few on our side being wounded, yet.  And when the last goblin within bowshot fell, it was time to figure out what to do with that advantage.