Rolf and Elena find out the truth about Dark, Ponticar comes under attack
Chapter 21
The Great Grasslands
Rolf and Elena sat back to back, waiting for Dark. The magician had instructed them to stay where they were while he backtracked a bit to see if Lothar's party was still following them. He had already outlined his plan to Rolf if that were the case. Dark planned to set up a series of spells designed to disorient their pursuers for several hours, giving them time to get away without any further confrontations.
Rolf hoped that Dark took his time. He hadn't had much time to think in the hurry to escape, but as they had gradually calmed down, he felt that somehow he had misused his power in the encounter. Up to now, Lothar had merely been a nuisance, and Rolf had dealt with him as such. He had not planned on actually killing anyone. He was feeling the same sort of emotions many soldiers felt after their first battle. Stories were nothing like reality.
“I can't get his screams out of my mind,” he told Elena for the third time. “All I can see is him flaring up and screaming.”
The incident had shaken Elena as well, though not for the same reasons as Rolf. She was more concerned that Lothar and his party had actually been able to get that close to them. If it hadn't been for chance, they would have all been captured, or worse. Based on what she had heard back in Unstad, she had no doubt that Lothar would not be wasting any sympathy on Rolf if the situation was reversed.
“I've heard soldiers back in Arenal talking about battles,” she said, turning to him and putting her hand on his shoulder, “They talked about the chanciness of the whole thing. Odds of war, they called it, the idea that no one really knew what would happen in a battle. Who would live, who would die, who would just disappear. It was all a mystery. But, Rolf, they accepted that as part of what they were. When they became soldiers, they accepted the fact that it could be them lying out there one day and their comrades talking about them in some tavern afterwards. I don't know much about magicians yet, but it seems to me that they have to assume the same kind of idea.”
“I know, I know,” Rolf told her. “But I can't just forget it.”
“I don't think you have to forget it, just put it away where it belongs. Do you think for one second Lothar would give you any sympathy if he had his hands on you? Believe me, he wouldn't. You have to think about us now. Me and Dark and yourself. We are in this together, and we have to be strong for each other. You saved us, Rolf. You and your nose.” She leaned over to kiss the tip of his nose, and he smiled.
“Guess you're right,” he said. “There's liable to be more killing before this is through.”
“Good, that's done then. Now, you were going to tell me something back there before all this happened. What was it?”
Rolf explained as best he could what Dark had told him. He expected some reaction from Elena, but she merely nodded her head and listened in silence until he was through.
“Don't you have anything to say?” he asked.
“What's to say? According to Dark, we'll live a long, long time. Do you have something against living a long time?”
“No, but didn't you understand? I could live much longer than you.”
“Oh, Rolf,” Elena laughed. “You are such a romantic. You really think we will still be together one hundred fifty years from now?”
In a small voice, Rolf said, “Well, I thought we might. Don't you love me?”
“Maybe I do and maybe I don't,” Elena teased. “Even so, a century and a half is a long time. I don't know if we will still be together twenty years from now, much less a hundred and fifty. Take my advice and just look at one day at a time. We will be together as long as we both want to be together. Don't try to put some limit on how long that will be.”
Before Rolf could reply, Dark came striding out of the darkness. “Time to get moving. They're still back there, and they'll be coming this way soon enough.”
“You still want to set up a trap for them?” Rolf asked.
“It may not be necessary. I don't think they're going to be too anxious to follow very closely, so if we pick up the pace we can probably lose them without having to announce to the entire neighborhood that wizards have passed this way.”
“What difference would that make?” Elena asked. “Is there anyone here who could even tell?”
“Just habit I suppose. It may well depend on what happens back at Unstad. You both saw the smoke. There's fighting going on. Elena, when we get the chance and have the time, you could try another vision. See if you can find out what's going on. For now, let's get moving.”
They traveled throughout the rest of that day, pausing only for short rests at noon and near dusk. Dark took advantage of the clear night to continue, after the sun had gone down. Rolf noticed that he kept on a straight path south during the daylight hours, then abruptly turned more westerly after dark. If they kept going in this direction for a few days they would come to the sea. There was a scattering of coastal towns that they could take cover in, maybe even find passage aboard one of the many ships plying the ocean trade routes.
But to go where? Where exactly was Dark taking them? And why? There seemed to be some purpose to his wanderings, though it was beyond Rolf's ability to guess what it was. Yes, they had to get away from Lothar, but that was going to be nothing more than an inconvenience. The Charians certainly gave them good reason to leave Unstad, and Elena had precipitated their quick exit from Ponticar. But Rolf had always thought that Dark was biding his time for a greater purpose and was merely using circumstances as a vehicle for advancing his own plans. Whatever they were.
He estimated that they covered a good fifteen miles or more before Dark finally called for a stop. Though they were all tired, the flatness of the terrain and the fact that they were now used to traveling again kept them from being utterly exhausted. A few hours sleep and they would be ready to move again. Apparently, Dark was counting on their superior mobility to keep them well ahead of Lothar.
Rolf rummaged in his bag for some of the dried meats they had brought for food, tossing one to Elena. He had been thinking about what she had said and realized that she was right. He was such a dreamer! Here he was thinking how terrible it might be that he could live much longer than she, when he should have been happy that they could possibly have so much time together. After all, how was this so very different from what every person went through? No one knew how long the strand of their life was, nor when it would be suddenly cut.
What was it Elena said, a day at a time? That made sense. From now on, that was what he would do. Plan ahead? Of course, that was a necessity. But he would simply try to live each second as if it were the only moment he had and let the future take care of itself. There was nothing he could do to change it anyway. He slept soundly that night.
They pushed on each day in similar fashion, up before daybreak and traveling long after sunset. They were far enough south now that the winter was nothing more than a slight chill in the air, making for good traveling weather. The farther they got from Unstad, the more people they met on the roads. Though the weather was relatively mild, the growing season and harvest were long over, and people were using the time to take visits to friends, trips to towns for needed supplies, and simple recreation. They often saw parties of young people riding through the fields, laughing and calling out friendly greetings.
There was nothing to show that there were battles taking place hundreds of miles to the east and north. Rolf remarked on this and Dark said, “That is people's nature, Rolf. If it does not directly effect them, it does not exist. Besides, there is very little of value to the Charians here. It is mostly farming communities, and they are under Ponticar's influence only because one of her generals once led his men here on some forgotten campaign. He was looking for glory, but the people then were no more warlike than they are now, and he was given the land without a fight. Good for expanding Ponticar's borders, though it did very little for his reputation.”
They had been traveling now for fifteen days since the ambush, and each day the air smelled a bit more salty. The ground, once flat, began to turn hilly, with the grasslands beginning to thin out, to be replaced by scraggly forests of stunted pines. They walked in almost complete silence, their footsteps cushioned by a thick layer of pine needles and the air scented with the sharp tang of the evergreens.
“Tomorrow or the next day we should reach the coast,” Dark told them as they made camp that night. They had still refrained from making a fire, and Elena's attempts to call up a vision without the aid of a flame had so far proved unsuccessful.
“What then, Dark?” Rolf wanted to know. “What are we going to do when we reach the coast?”
Dark noted the tone of his question and crooked an eyebrow. “You sound vexed, Rolf. What is the problem?”
“No problem. I just was wondering what in the world we are going to do when we get to the coast. That's all. You've been acting for some time like you have some sort of reason for coming this way. Do you?”
Dark nodded. “I see. I was wondering when you would stop following blindly and ask.”
Rolf noticed his question had gone unanswered and said so. Elena edged closer, her arm hooked through Rolf's.
“I was not in Ponticar by accident.”
“I figured that out a long time ago,” Rolf said. “But I could never figure out why you were there. Were you always a magician, or did you learn it there in Ponticar?”
“Oh, no, I went to the city because of my power, not to get it. I wanted to watch the developments there over a period of years to see what the city was actually like. To see if it was as powerful as legend had it. In short, to find out how the empire worked and where its strengths and weaknesses were.”
“I had no love for Ponticar before I came there and would have been happy to see it fall. It is a decadent society, rigid and rotten. Too much power in the hands of people not qualified to hold it, with authority passed down from generation to generation based on nothing more than an accident of birth, the worst system of government ever invented. I watched for a time, then when I thought I understood the situation well enough, I acted.”
“Acted? You mean you did something? What?” Rolf was amazed that he had never suspected any of this. He knew Dark was a master of concealing his purposes, but he had never even had a glimmering of any of this.
“Let's just say I nudged the right people here and there to guide events in a way that was advantageous to me. Nothing magical, simply using greed and people’s dissatisfaction with the way things are to make some cracks in Ponticar’s armor. A word and some gold in the right hands can accomplish wonders. Some of the Guilds began demanding more power, and I knew that would make the Mayor do something to reveal his real intentions. It was bound to start trouble and it has, although the war has accelerated things quite a bit. Now events are moving nicely in the right direction as far as I'm concerned. Whatever happens, the old Ponticar will be destroyed.”
“You are an agent for the Charians?” Elena gasped.
Dark laughed. “No, no, not as bad as that. Compared to the Charians, the Ponticarians are the very picture of an enlightened government. Those northerners are even worse than the idiots in Ponticar. I confess I did not really think they would become a factor as quickly as they did, but that will work out to the best. If things go well, they will end up destroying each other.”
Rolf shook his head. “I don't understand. Who are you exactly? You aren't from Ponticar, and you are not working for the Charians. So who do you work for?”
“Myself,” Dark said simply. “Or rather, my country.”
“Your country? Where is your country? Ponticar controls everything south of the mountains, and I thought the Charians controlled the rest. You mean there is another kingdom up there?”
“I do not come from this land at all. My lands lie across the western sea.”
Elena said, “I thought there was nothing out there but ocean.”
“Ask any sailor. They all know of other lands, though only a few ships venture that far. My lands lie more than three weeks sail to the west, and not many sailors wish to be out of sight of land for that long.”
Rolf asked, “But what are you going to do now? Go back?”
“Yes. I found out what I need to know, and it is time to go back to my own lands to bring that knowledge with me.”
“Why worry about Ponticar?” Elena asked. “If your lands are so far away, what possible threat is Ponticar to you?”
“None, now that matters have moved in a favorable way,” Dark replied. “But unchecked, Ponticar would have eventually sent her fleets in our direction, to be followed by her armies. We wished to be ready.”
“How long before that would have happened?” Rolf asked.
“We estimated one hundred and thirty years,” Dark answered seriously. Seeing Rolf's expression, he added, “We believe in thinking ahead.”
“So what happens to us?” Elena wanted to know.
“That is up to you. I think we can arrange things so that you have nothing to fear from Lothar, even if he is still behind us somewhere. Or you can come with me, if you wish. I do not want to force you, but I believe it would be in the best interests of both of you to accompany me. There are still things each of you have to learn and in my country, you can learn from masters. You do not have to decide now. We will reach Pertosh soon, and it will be a few days before I can make the necessary arrangements.”
Rolf did not know what to say. Could he leave? He still had family in Pigton, but he had braced himself to cut his ties with them when he left for Ponticar, so that was not an issue. Was there anything to stay for? One thing and only one thing. He turned to look at Elena, and she said, “If you go, I go, Rolf.”
Pertosh proved to be a mid-sized city with neatly laid out streets fronted by brightly colored houses of brick and stone. Unlike the meandering streets and lanes of Ponticar, the streets in Pertosh were straight and wide, leading out from the harbor in a well-planned grid pattern. The harbor itself, while busy, had none of the disorder that Rolf had become used to in the Lower End. Instead, it was almost as if everyone had been drilled and disciplined to do a certain job and carried it out without fuss or fanfare.
The familiar sounds of a harbor town filled the air; gulls crying out as they dove and twisted in search of food, vendors calling out their wares, shouts as ships discharged their cargoes. The smell of salt was stronger here than in Ponticar, which Rolf finally decided was because there was no smell of rotting garbage and refuse to compete with the bracing scent of the sea.
It proved to be a cosmopolitan city as well. Within an hour of reaching the gates protecting the land approaches, they had seen at least a half dozen different ethnic groups and heard at least that many different languages. In keeping with the colorful appearances of their houses, the citizens dressed in a gaudy array of clothing, dominated by bright blues and yellows. If Ponticar seemed like a dour old matron, cranky and domineering, Pertosh was a young, friendly, energetic teen, eager to please and openly welcome.
“I like this place,” Elena said emphatically as they strolled the streets.
“It certainly is different from Ponticar,” Rolf agreed. “I never knew a city could be so open and easy to move around in. And just smell that air.”
“Most of the people out this way are like this,” Dark commented. “Comes from being more concerned with getting along with each other than trying to control every thing in sight. Ponticar prides itself on being a great center of commerce, but it owes most of its reputation to the fact that it has such a huge population that merchants are drawn there. In fact, Pertosh is much more efficient. It takes in about the same amount of trade and is less than half the size of Ponticar. Merchants know they will be treated fairly here, and it is a center for this part of the continent.”
“Certainly seems to be a lot of different people here,” Rolf said. “I don't understand half of what I've heard so far.”
Dark laughed. “That's another reason traders come here. The society is much less rigid than Ponticar's. No such thing as First Families here. A man can rise as high as his abilities take him. Or a woman, for that matter. Some of the richest merchants are women. A much more open and pleasant society.”
“If we have to stay here for awhile, I won't complain,” Elena remarked. “What is our plan now?”
“I have a man I need to contact,” Dark told them. “Actually, a small group of men. My countrymen have had a trading license here for more than three decades. Useful for cover as well as profit.”
“You haven't told us much about your country,” Rolf commented.
“Time enough for that later,” Dark answered.
“Oh, stop being so secretive, Dark,” Rolf argued. “You always keep things back. We're on your side, remember?”
Dark actually came as close to looking contrite as Rolf had ever seen. He smiled and shook his head. “Comes from years and years of having to maintain a pose,” he confessed. “You get in the habit of keeping things to yourself. I promise to answer any questions you may have. For now, I'll say that it is a fairly large country ruled by leaders elected by the people.”
“What?” Elena and Rolf exclaimed together in surprise.
“The people choose their own leaders?” Rolf asked. “I've never heard of such a thing.”
“It works out well,” Dark told him. “Elections are held every ten years, and a leader can hold office as long as he or she is elected.”
“She? Don't tell me your land has women leaders?” Rolf said before he could stop himself.
“And what is wrong with that?” Elena exclaimed indignantly. “Sounds like a good idea to me, letting women run things instead of stuffy old men. I bet your country hardly ever fights wars, does it?”
“We've had a few,” Dark admitted, “but we prefer more diplomatic solutions. When possible, we manipulate situations behind the scenes.”
“There! See what I mean? That comes from being enlightened enough to have women in power,” Elena sniffed.
Rolf changed the subject. “So, you were sent by your government to keep an eye on Ponticar?”
Dark said, “In a manner of speaking, I suppose. I have been there for about eight years or so, and it is high time I returned. There is an election next year, and the information I have may be important in deciding who runs things. Despite Elena's opinion that wars are bad, they are also sometimes necessary, and it is difficult to convince a country that has not known war for some time to prepare for one. I admit the present situation here probably means that neither Ponticar nor Charia will be able to mount any sort of an offensive for some time, but it still pays to be prepared.”
They passed a long, low building from which emanated a delicious aroma of roasting meat, baked bread, and a dozen other odors that blended together into a mouth-watering advertisement for its offerings. They stopped by common accord, their stomachs demanding to be fed something other than the bland food they had been eating on the trail.
“What is that?” Elena said, inhaling in deep breaths. “It smells wonderful!”
“Crab soup,” Dark answered. “A specialty of Pertosh and every bit as good as it smells. I think we can afford a good meal before we continue.”
They followed him eagerly inside. Rolf was surprised to find that the establishment was not an inn as he had expected. There was no bar, no stairs leading to rooms, no drunken singing like he was accustomed to. Instead, there were tables covered with cloth where people talked quietly or laughed as they ate the varied meals that seemed to flow constantly from the kitchen. Neatly dressed girls moved efficiently from group to group, writing down orders and clearing away plates from those already finished.
“What is this place?” Elena asked, as confused as he was by the activity. “Where's the bar?”
“This isn't a tavern,” Dark informed them as he led the way to seats in the corner. Despite the friendliness of the town, it was wise to be careful. “They call them cafes here. Places where people go just to get something to eat.”
“No rooms upstairs? No drinking?” Elena was astonished. Her father's place could not have survived if they had depended on the food alone to draw in customers.
“You can get something to drink,” Dark told her. “But there are no rooms. The women just take your orders, they don’t provide anything else. Just good food. And, if you notice, a quieter atmosphere in which to enjoy it.”
Rolf had to admit the idea had some merit. He remembered meals in Ponticar's various inns, the ribald yelling of the sailors, the constant clatter from the streets outside, the din and clatter from the cooking area. This was indeed better. “Ponticar could learn something from this place,” he said.
Dark shook his head. “Ponticar is too arrogant to believe she has anything to learn from the provinces. And too many years as the dominant city on the continent to even think about changing. You will see that there is a better way of doing things. Let's eat, then we will find my contacts.”
“How long are you planning on staying here?” Elena asked. “Can we at least enjoy this for a few days?”
“It's not as bad as all that,” Dark told her. “I doubt that we can find a ship going in the right direction for a week or more.”
“Let's hope that Lothar doesn't stumble on Pertosh before then,” Rolf said. “I'd hate to leave before we have to.”
“I wouldn't worry, if I were you,” Dark said. “I took the precaution of casting a small cloaking spell. No tracks to follow, so they'd have to guess which direction we would take. They are probably hundreds of miles from here right now.”
The Great Grasslands
“Where in the hell are we?” Lothar demanded angrily. His patience, never his strong suit, was wearing thin after almost two weeks of wandering through this endless wilderness. The constant whining of the others did nothing to improve his temper.
No one answered. They all knew perfectly well where they were. Stuck in the grasslands, unsure which way to go, totally alone, lost, hungry, cold, and more than a little angry. The soldiers had listened to about as much complaining as they were willing to, and Lothar's companions could think of nothing other than that they had undoubtedly thrown away their future careers as magicians. For what? To chase Rolf. By this time, only Lothar cared about that. The rest just wanted to get out of this place and back to civilization.
“We passed a road back there about a mile,” one of the guards said, and the others nodded. They turned and began walking away.
“Where are you going?” Lothar demanded.
Without stopping, one said, “We're going to pick up that road and follow it until it comes to a bigger one. We'll follow that until we get to a town or city.”
“We have to follow Rolf,” Lothar said. “He has to pay for what he's done.”
Lothar's companions hesitated for just a moment, then as one they trotted after the soldiers. None of them relished the idea of being alone in the country with only Lothar for guidance. Staying with the soldiers seemed a better option.
Lothar was helpless. He could not stop them, and he could not go on by himself. Seething, he followed the rest, adding this to the list of things he held Rolf responsible for. It was unbecoming for a First Family member to have to follow others. Rolf would pay. If he could just get his hands on him one more time, he would pay.
Charian Compound, Ponticar
General Erickson waited patiently, stealing a glance once or twice at the wizard standing beside him. Thorin Servinsson was standing so still and silent he might have been carved of stone. Only his eyes were alive, glittering with an inner fire as he looked to the skies. Erickson was aware that he had badly underestimated the magician and was thankful that circumstances had not forced him into a situation where he would have made an enemy of the magician and his Guild. After the exhibition he had witnessed in the harbor today, he would never dream of locking horns with the magician.
He had watched Servinsson “clear the harbor” from a vantage point on one of the high balconies of the Mayor's Palace. Johansson had been down on the docks themselves, with Servinsson and two others from the Guild. Erickson wanted to speak with the Admiral later and find out exactly what had gone on dockside. From where he had stood, he could see activity on the warships as they cast off and began to ponderously turn so they could head out to sea.
Servinsson and the other magicians had waited until the ships were ready and actually moving toward the mass of shipping blocking their way. Erickson did not know yet what they had done, but there was a blinding flash, and ships had simply disappeared, clearing a wide path through the remainder. There were no explosions, no wreckage, nothing to indicate what had happened. One second the ships were there, the next moment they weren't. Whatever Servinsson had done had been effective and demonstrative, if that was his purpose.
Now, they waited. Erickson was perfectly willing to accept Servinsson's hypothesis concurring the use of dragons. He had sent new orders to his forces outside the city, re-arranging them like pieces on a chessboard. He thought that he recognized the patterns of Charian strategy now and was meeting it with new moves of his own.
A strong force was already on its way to relieve the siege at Unstad. Erickson no longer felt it necessary to guard every approach to Ponticar. No other reports of fighting had come in from anywhere in the empire, and it appeared that the main thrusts would come at Arenal and Unstad. Troops had been pulled from other areas, and two full legions of legionnaires plus another of auxiliaries were expected to arrive in Unstad within ten days. Another legion was dispatched to dig in across the road coming from Arenal, though much closer to Ponticar than he would have stationed them before being warned of a possible use of ships to transport them.
All that he could do had been done. Now, it remained to be seen whether Servinsson was right.
“There,” Servinsson said, pointing to the northeast.
Erickson could see nothing other than clouds. “I do not see anything,” he confessed.
“No matter. I do. Prepare your men. They know their orders?”
“They are ready,” Erickson promised.
Servinsson had asked him to pull his best archers from their companies and put them together into one force. They were concealed as best they could be concealed now, their orders to go after the dragons as soon as they were within arrow range. Servinsson had been honest enough to tell Erickson that it would be difficult to kill one of the beasts with arrows alone. Any killings would be a bonus.
The main purpose of the archers was to try to enrage the beasts to the point where their riders would have to use all of their attention to control them. At that point, Servinsson and a half dozen of his Guild members would then go after the magicians directly. The element of surprise might be enough to allow them to destroy the incoming forces before they really had a chance to fight back. If they were successful, they could then turn their attention to taking care of the force field around the Charian's quarters.
Erickson could now make out small black dots in the sky, perhaps as many as a dozen, though it was hard to tell at this distance. Now that he knew where to look he kept his eyes on the sky and was surprised at the swiftness with which the dots grew, becoming recognizable as the flying reptiles they were expecting. Within a few minutes he could distinguish riders on the backs of the beasts, and he whistled a signal to his archers.
A hundred bows were pointed at the incoming animals, waiting only until they had come a bit lower. Erickson and Servinsson had discussed whether it would be better to attack at the farthest range of the archers or wait until the targets had come closer. It was decided to attack at the first opportunity to increase the odds that the Charian wizards would have to divert their attention from their own plans as soon as possible.
Erickson called out, “Loose arrows!” and the air hummed as a hundred heavy shafts flew skyward.
The distance was great, and the targets were moving. But dozens of arrows found their mark, pricking the great flying lizards and making them roar with anger and pain. Immediately, the archers sent another volley following in the path of the first. Erickson's orders had been explicit; fire as quickly as they could, not worrying about whether they had a good target or not. The idea was to create a barrier of arrows for the dragons to navigate and to occupy the airborne magicians.
The air shook with the sound of the dragons’ bellows, louder than any thunderstorm Erickson had ever heard. The cries echoed back and forth from the buildings until he felt like he was being pummeled by the sound itself. But the strategy was paying off. The dragons were twisting and turning in mid-air to avoid the arrows, and he could see their riders desperately trying to control their mounts, though they had their hands full just keeping themselves in their seats.
One archer, either more skilled or luckier than the rest, had put his shaft straight into the eye of one of the dragons, the arrow sinking all the way up to the feathers. The point had penetrated the thin membrane back of the eye and directly into the brain, causing the dragon to suddenly go limp and plummet toward the ground, tons of dead flesh hurtling down like a scaled comet. Its rider was trying to untangle himself from the stirrups and straps that held him, but had no chance to free himself before the creature smashed into the ground.
The ground itself shook from the impact, rattling even the stone walls of the compound. Dust billowed into the air, momentarily obscuring the sight of the archers. They continued to fire without being able to see what they were shooting at, coughing from the dust but sticking to their task. Erickson waved a company forward to check the carcass and make certain both the dragon and wizard were dead. He did not see how it could be otherwise, but he meant to take no chances.
The dragon had rolled over just before it hit the ground, trapping the wizard underneath. One scrawny arm stuck out from under the dragon, but the rest of the body had been smashed like a fly against a wall. Nothing human could have survived that impact, and the dragon was obviously dead as well.
Erickson saw the signal from the officer in charge and told Servinsson, “One down.”
Servinsson raised his hands, and immediately two brilliant bolts of blue light sped into the air, engulfing one of the wizards and turning him into a flaming torch. The dragon he was riding was partially caught in the beam as well, and Erickson watched in amazement as its tail and back erupted in flames. The ensuing roar dwarfed what he had heard before, and he clapped his hands over his ears to shut out the sound. The arrows ceased as his men did likewise, some actually cowering on the ground in an attempt to somehow stop the auditory onslaught.
It did not matter now. All around him, Erickson saw other beams, each picking out a target, and each having the same effect. As soon as one wizard was caught, the attention was turned to the next. It was a sight that no man there would ever forget, not if he lived to be a hundred years old. Dragons and men burned like pyres, falling to the earth in a charred mass of blood and bone. It was nothing short of a slaughter, and not one of the Charians was able to even get off any sort of counterattack. One after another, the dragons fell to earth, crashing to the ground and creating havoc where they fell.
Some fell in the compound, some in the city itself. Men were caught beneath the beasts as they spiraled in, unable to move in time to get away. Erickson watched in horror as one dragon, as big as a house, pinned an entire company of men beneath it, killing every one. Through the gate he saw at least four buildings that were nothing but rubble, fires already starting to spread. The ground shook so badly that men were knocked off their feet and rolled in the dust like ninepins. The dust was so thick and choking that some men were rendered unconscious, while others crawled close to the ground in an attempt to get clear air into their lungs.
When Servinsson was certain there were no more dragons, he lifted his arms once more and conjured up a wind to blow away the dust. Erickson ordered his aide to find out the casualties and to send relief into the city. It would be a hollow triumph if the city burned down around them.
“Did any get through?” he asked Servinsson, coughing the last of the dust from his throat.
“No, we got them all. Your men did well,” Servinsson told him.
“It was costly enough,” Erickson replied grimly, his eyes on the bodies in the compound.
“Not as costly as it would have been had they made it inside as they planned,” Servinsson reminded him. “No doubt the Charians were watching this whole thing, and we should hit them while they are off balance. Are the rest of your men ready?”
“If you can get rid of the field around the building, they will do the rest,” Erickson promised.
“We will do our part. If possible, we want to capture one of the magicians alive. They will not be a threat as long as one of my own Guild is around to watch them. As soon as we get the wards down, dispatch your rescue squads. I doubt very much whether they will find any hostages still alive, but one never knows.”
“We will be ready when you are,” Erickson said. He gave an arm signal, and squads of soldiers began forming. As men saw others falling into place, they dragged themselves to their feet and took their own positions. Erickson was glad to see that discipline was still good even after the destruction caused by the dying dragons.
Servinsson's Guild formed around him. He believed the only way the Charians were able to maintain what appeared to be an unbreakable shield was by using a warning spell. No magician alive could possibly keep such a large protective shell up twenty-four hours a day, day after day. Servinsson theorized that what the Charians had done was to place wards in the courtyard, and when one of them was tripped, they would immediately engage the protective shield. That would give the illusion that it was always up, since it was impossible to prove otherwise. After the first few tries, the Army had called off the assaults, allowing the Charians to simply keep the wards active.
Now, his people were going to combine their energies into one focused beam, hopefully slicing through the field like a hot knife through butter. The shield might stay up for a bit, but Servinsson had arranged his magicians in such a way that as soon as one group began to tire, another could instantly take its place.
The final phase of the battle began.
After finding a map on a grueling hunt, Vanx and his new companions decide to travel deep into the Bitterpeaks, where a fabled hoar witch's crystal palace supposedly sits hidden in a valley called Saint Elm's Deep.
Lord Belmundus – The Omnibus One is a compilation of Books 11 through 15 of The Adventures of Lord Belmundus, a remarkable tale of other worlds, strange customs, beauty and warfare; and, in its grips, lands a young celebrity, who has the chaps to pla
Chapter 21
