The Ultimate Stonemage: A Modest Autobiography (18 page)

This prospect did not please me, so I decided upon a bolder plan. I told the Behemoths to attack the tents of the enemy commanders and kill any princes and archbishops and generals they might find there. I reasoned, you see, that when the myrmidons saw their leaders were dead, they would quickly become disorganized and wander off.

The Behemoths told me they would need all their numbers to accomplish this task. I said, “Very well, step to it then.” But they would not obey. Then I realized they did not wish to leave me—or more precisely, the pendant—unguarded in the middle of a battlefield.

Since I did not intend to accompany them on such a dangerous raid, I knew I would have to come up with some other solution, and one came to me very quickly. I called one of the Behemoths to me up in the tree, then I gave him the pendant, saying “I will give you this thing to guard. Take it with you on your mission. When you have finished, return it to me. Will you do this?”

The creature grunted that it would, and so I reached my hand out of the pot and gave the pendant to him.

At once, the Behemoth gave a great howl. Then the others started howling, and leaping, and snatching at the air. They continued this dance for some minutes, ignoring my orders to set about their mission immediately. Then, at last, they heard my words, and they ran off towards the enemy. However, instead of making for the tents, as I had ordered, they veered off to one side, towards an area where the enemy were more thinly spread and comprised the weaker types of myrmidons.

What carnage followed! In the space of just a few minutes, those magnificent black monsters had cut a bloody strip straight through the ranks of the enemy. I was much heartened to see this, for I thought it was their plan next to come around behind the enemy’s lines and to attack the commanders’ tents from the rear, which, it seems to me, they might have done very easily.

Instead, though, the Behemoths continued running straight, travelling further and further away, howling and leaping and shrieking all the while, until they were far away.

It was clear to me they had misunderstood my instructions, and had gone running off to attack some other set of commanders, perhaps in some distant city.

Most men would have despaired at this sight, but I understood such events are merely the fortunes of war, and one must either accept these fortunes and adapt to them, or face rapid defeat. In any event, when I realized the Behemoths were not returning, I called down to my myrmidons, urging them to form a more perfect circle, for by now the formation had become ragged in places, and many of the myrmidons had turned to face the forces approaching from the north and south, now almost upon us.

In a few moments, under my firm command, my troops were once again in a circle, facing in all directions, with spears at the ready. On the inside of the circle, a second circle of myrmidons stood ready, with spears pointed higher than the outside circle. In the centre were the slaves, who had also been issued with spears. I was also near the centre, perched in my tree.

The enemy troops arrived then. They were of the type known as
Ridgeheads, and they were very ferocious, being larger and stronger than my myrmidons (although not so large and strong as the Behemoths, as I have already mentioned).

There were at least three thousand enemy myrmidons there, against just two hundred of mine, yet I fancy we could have taken the day with ease if my troops had followed my instructions and stayed in a circle, for a circle is an indestructible shape. Unfortunately, even though I constantly shouted “Keep the circle perfectly round!”, they allowed the formation to become slightly dented in one part, and at once they were overcome by the attackers and quickly destroyed.

With my army defeated, I knew it was time to flee for my life, and it seemed to me that, with my smaller size and swifter feet, I stood an excellent chance of escaping these lumbering Ridgeheads. Therefore, I pushed against the lid of the pot so I might climb out, and jump down from the tree.

It was then I remembered the lid of the pot was still chained to the handles. Alas, the loops of metal which fastened the chains there, and which had been very easy for the Behemoths to bend, were impossible for me to break. For some time, I pushed against the lid with my shoulder, but it would not budge, and I realized I was trapped.

Thinking quickly, I decided upon a second strategy. I closed the lid and remained quietly inside the pot. It was my hope, you see, the enemy myrmidons might not have noticed I had been shouting orders from the pot and would just disregard it, thinking it was just an ordinary cooking pot which someone had placed in a tree to keep it out of harm’s way.

I waited there for a long time, listening to the sounds around me—myrmidons coming and going. An hour passed, and the sounds moved away. Then I heard approaching footsteps, and a voice called out, “Archbishop Yreth. Are you there?”

I said nothing, hoping this was merely a trick to discover my hiding place. But then the voice said, “Archbishop Yreth! I know you are in that cooking pot! Will you answer me?”

I lifted the lid and looked down. Below me I saw Prince Tiaphan. I laughed to see him, for in the portrait I had seen of this man, he looked young and fit, with long red hair, whereas the man before me had a pockmarked face, and a bald head which was only red from the colour of the skin. Still, I knew this was Prince Tiaphan, for he wore a white cloak, which in America (or in the eastern and central parts of the continent, at least) is the mark of royalty. Around him were other men, who I took to be his generals and followers.

He said, “I understand you were reluctant to surrender to me. Are you now ready to rethink that decision?”

I do not care for these foolish games kings and princes play, for they do so only to amuse those around them, so their admirers might say, “Oh, he is a witty fellow indeed.”

So, I did not answer his question but instead said, “I have lost a good army today, and I feel cross because of it. Kindly leave me in peace.” Then I lowered the lid of my pot in a dignified way.

He would not leave me alone though. He shouted, “Oh, come now! Why so glum? Let us do something to raise this archbishop’s spirits. You there, and you!”

I heard footsteps then, and I felt the pot being lifted down from the tree and carried for some distance. When I next looked out, I was on the ground in the heart of the enemy camp. I heard the prince’s voice saying, “It is said silver can cheer a man up. What do you say, fellows?”

They all laughed, and I could see the
prince was holding a silver sword, although I could not see his face, for the lid blocked my view.

I said, “Prince, it seems to me that to kill a man while he is trapped inside a cooking pot is a very cowardly thing to do.”

He was very angry at my words, and he put his face down to look inside my pot, saying, “It is also a very cowardly thing to kill a royal family by burning them to death.”

I said, wisely, “The present is here and the past has gone. It is folly to dwell upon the misfortunes of yesterday.”

Then I spoke more softly.

I said, “I myself have suffered many calamities, yet new opportunities always presented themselves.”

Then I spoke more softly still.

I said, “Perhaps you will take yourself a new wife, and have other children to continue your line.”

My voice was so soft he could not hear my words, so he said, “Heh? What is that you say?”

I repeated my words in a still softer tone.

Now, as I had expected, he drew his ear in close to the edge of the pot, so he might hear what I was saying. At this moment, when he was good and close, I quickly slashed out with my throwing-razor, hoping to slit the throat of this cruel tyrant. Unfortunately, I succeeded only in cutting his cheek, which made him still angrier.

He thrust his sword between the lid and the pot and waved it around inside, trying to run me through; however, I grabbed the blade with my cloak, and pulled it down sharply against the lid of the pot, snapping it off, and also causing the lid to fall in place.

I knew it was time to abandon my instincts as a warrior and trust to my skills as a stonemage. So, I hurriedly applied several
Peregrine Clasps to the place where the lid met the pot, so the two were firmly bonded.

I heard hands scrabbling against the lid of the pot next, followed by angry shouts. Then, I think he kicked the pot with great force, for there was a great sound like a bell and I felt myself rolling head over heels.

Moments later, I felt the pot being lifted and dashed to the ground with great force. This happened several times, and I suppose the prince must have commanded his myrmidons to play with me so, for the pot would have been too heavy for a single man to throw about.

If they had continued, I am certain I would have quickly died, for there was a great length of sword in there with me, and I received several nasty cuts from it.

Luckily, I heard the prince’s voice saying, “No, I have a better plan. Place him over there. It is a fitting punishment for his crimes, and in a way he has selected such a death himself.”

Once again, I felt the pot being lifted and placed down again. I quickly realized what this wicked prince had in mind, for the pot suddenly started to become hot, and I knew he had ordered it placed it upon a cooking fire. This, however, posed not the least threat to me, for, in a few moments, I had cast a
Sheet Wall upon the base of the pot, which protected it very well from the heat of the fire.

I removed my cloak and placed it beneath me, and I lay back in comfort while the prince had me “cooked.” I also removed my tunic and wrapped it around the blade of the sword to prevent it from cutting me if I were jostled again. After that, I merely waited, giving out occasional screams as if I were in agony. When I decided I had been on the fire long enough to be cooked through, I let my screams subside.

Some time later, I heard the prince say, “Enough. I am avenged. Throw him in there.” Once again, I felt the pot being lifted up, and then I was tossed through the air. I heard a great splash as I landed, and, after I had recovered from the jolt, I realized I had been tossed into a body of water.

I was worried then, because during my time sealed in the pot so far, the air had become very stale, and I feared I would suffocate. Worse, although I could easily remove the Peregrine Clasps which held the lid fastened shut, I could not think of any way of breaking the chains holding the lid on, meaning I had no way to climb out of the pot and swim to the surface. Therefore, by removing the enchantments and opening the lid, I would merely allow the water to come rushing in and drown me.

It looked bad for a time, but happily, after a certain point, the air became so stale my senses began to leave me.

In my sorry state, it suddenly seemed to me that, if I opened the lid, fresh air would come rushing in, carried by certain grateful fish. I realize this makes little sense now, but it made a good deal of sense to me at the time and well shows how muddled one’s mind becomes when one spends too much time thinking about getting fresh air to breathe.

In any case, I dismissed the Peregrine Clasps and lifted the lid a few inches, expecting water to come rushing in, along with the grateful fish. Instead, though, a refreshing breeze wafted onto my face. You see, as luck would have it, I had not been thrown into some deep lake at all, but only into a small pond. The bottom of the pot was submerged, but the top was open to the air.

Once I started to breathe fresh air, I quickly came to my senses again, and once more tried to think of how I might use the tools at hand—specifically, a silver sword blade and my stonemage skills, to release myself from this pot. First, I tried to break the links of the chains with the sword, but the blade was too soft.

Then I turned my mind to how I might use unstable
Struts of Atlas to break the chains somehow.

I considered applying an unstable strut to the lid and base of the pot, but I realized the collapse of the binding would bring the two sides together with great force and I would be crushed to death between them, which would be a poor sort of escape.

Then I considered applying one end of the binding to the lid and the other end to some external object, such as a tree, so the collapse of the binding might tear the lid off. On further thought, however, I realized the rest of the pot, with me inside it, would be catapulted with the lid, for the chains were very sturdy.

Next, I contemplated applying the binding across the width of one of the links of the chain, in the hope that the sudden contraction would break the link. I tried this, but, alas, I discovered I could not create a binding of such a short distance, for, whenever I tried, the parts of it would become confused and melt away to nothing. It was like trying to tie knots in silk thread while wearing falconer gloves.

“No matter though,” I thought, “I will instead place one end of the strut on the chain on one side of the pot, and the other end upon the chain on the other side. Then the diminution of the gossamer will stretch the chain against itself, wrenching free the metal bands around the handles.” Once again, though, this excellent plan proved difficult to put into practice, for, although I could place the strut upon the chain, the enchantment did not stick well to the metal. When the strands collapsed, they merely tore away from the chains and vanished in a flash of light.

After many hours, and much experimentation, I came to the conclusion that I had no means at my disposal by which I might escape from the pot. On the other hand, I also knew I could not stay where I was, for I would eventually starve. It was clear I needed outside help, and, therefore, I must rely on trickery and guile. After some thought, I formulated a clever plan.

I waited until dark, then, after tossing the sword blade out into the water, I sealed the lid of the pot shut once more. I had discovered, by shifting my weight and stepping along the inside of the pot, I could make the vessel move. Now I took advantage of this ability, and proceeding slowly, with frequent stops to lift the lid and check my position, I rolled the pot out of the water and back onto land. This stage of my journey was difficult, but once it was accomplished and I was on firmer ground, further movement was easy. So, travelling with great stealth, I rolled my pot across the camp for some hours until I found an area where the banners were those of some other noble, not Prince Tiaphan, for you will remember this great army was not his alone, but also included the troops of various allies. I rolled around for a while, looking for a cooking pot similar to my own. When I found one, I rolled my pot near to it. Then I set the pot upon its belly again and waited.