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When the General met with them, the next morning, the man seemed a bit bemused, instead of angered at the sudden changes that had taken place the day before. The men weren’t in tents any longer, having grand, well decorated, barracks and the man himself had a small palace to stay in. So did his top five captains, and two majors.
Depak and Hoatha did the work on that, while Anders worked out a cistern and sanitation system, to prevent illness. The others, including Prince Erold put up a vast wall, with a lot of space left inside of it for marching, weapons practice and other tasks that soldiers seemed to be required to perform.
The General, seeming even more gray and thin than he had been seven months prior, simply looked around, and then sighed.
“This is a true wonder. An amazing thing, to be certain.” His face went blank then and there was a head shake. “We’re down to half the men we need to fight, after the heavy losses before winter. We nearly lost the entire border when things collapsed here. The Yansians have a hundred thousand men ready to march on us at any moment. It is good to see you Master Brolly, but I don’t know if even you can make up the difference here. We’re simply outnumbered and are going to be, until mid-summer. I fear that the battles won’t wait until then.”
Anders could see that as a problem, but cleared his throat.
“Let me introduce these people to you, General Coelder?”
The man nodded, and smiled.
“Forgive my lack of manners, of course. I would love to meet your friends, Master Brolly.”
He waved then, his hand open and face set.
“This is Prince Erold, of course. You’ve met. Next to him is Prince Daren Willet. He’s a Prince of Barquea, having earned that title through great works of magic. That isn’t an easy thing to do. This lady is Princess Salina, also of Barquea. Born to that title, but she’s being trained to be their next Great One. That is basically their head war mage, among other things. She’s only a trainee, of course, but not to be ignored, as to her powers.”
He waved at Depak then, and grinned.
“This is the Barquean Great One. Depak Eta, and his father, Hoatha Eta. That... Hoatha Eta is one of the greatest users of magic to have ever lived. Last, we have Jeld. Palace servant and of course, one of the best magicians and wizards here on the front. The current plan is to hold Depak Sona and Hoatha Sona back, so that the rest of us have something to do. They’ll see to roads for us and light healing work? The rest of us will move forward, with what troops you have and...” He sighed then.
The General looked tired, but rallied a bit.
“You brought me a troop of war mages? Three of them?”
His gaze ignored Prince Erold. He also glanced away from Salina, but ducked his head, politely.
“Five of them. Each as good or better than I was, last we met. Untested in battle, using magic, though. Prince Erold is a veteran. Prince Daren guarded me from armies, on the southern continent. So, clearly, we should sit back and have Jeld and Princess Salina do the hard work for us. It won’t be fair, otherwise.”
He was jesting, but the General went wide eyed, seeming suddenly well pleased.
“Very, very good then! Thank you all for coming to our aid. I had heard we had friends in Barquea, but I didn’t think to see them come all the way out here. I am humbled by your attendance. Thank you. All of you. When will you be ready to travel, do you think?”
It was early in the day still, being in the cool of the morning.
“We can leave inside an hour or two? Faster if you need us to. It would be polite of us to go to the Yansians to remove their armies, I have to think. It’s important for them to realize that Istlan isn’t a land to trifle with.”
The thin man, straight, if worn down, looked around, then yelled.
“Prepare to march! Full kit. Ready to move! All officers to the command...” He grinned then. “To the command palace!”
People started to run around, excitement filling the air. Dread as well, but so far that wasn’t too heavy in the steps of those he could see.
It took longer to get them around than it did for Daren and Jeld to ready the horses. The rest of them were invited inside, to see the plans being made and to aid in them, if possible.
There was a large map, with metal pieces placed on it, to show different types of troops. There was a large army along the main road, poised to march on them, it seemed. Then, past that, there were smaller groups, near holds and keeps of various sorts.
In the distance, some ten days hard march away, was a castle. Where the King of Yanse lived.
The General pointed at the closest group.
“A hundred thousand men, and women. They seem to have three or four magic users of note and about two dozen who do smaller things for them. They outnumber us in that way. Still, they haven’t shown the powers of a Master Brolly, so far. None of them have. Their best is an illusionist of great talent and a necromancer, who can bring the fallen to life again, to battle without ceasing. Thankfully not that many at one time. A few dozen.”
Anders dropped into a trance, and pointed at the map. The other side’s main forces weren’t that far away, so he was able to find them, in the distance.
“They’re in camp, at the moment. They have... Several wizards. Five who can use spells to start small fires. A woman who can raise storms, which is of real note. Not on the battlefield, of course, since anything they do there would also hit their own people.”
He searched for a long while, with Hoatha speaking to him. Eventually he realized that the man was speaking to him in a loud voice, which meant that he had to come to the surface of his mind to see what was going on.
“We’re done now, Anders!” He was smiling, even if the others looked concerned.
“Did I say anything useful?”
There was pointing then, from the General, at the map.
“You did. We have the name of their commander, knowledge of what types of forces they can bring to bear and the knowledge that they currently aren’t ready to march, expecting to wait another ten days, for the roads to improve in their area. This isn’t the bad time of year for that, but march a thousand men on a thawing road and you will end up with ankle deep muck. We can do better than that?”
Depak nodded, seeming serious.
“We can travel at about three or four miles per hour, without hardship, permanently improving the path in front of us. You said that we have twenty thousand healthy men, at present?”
Anders thought for a moment, and then recalled some of the most ancient stories he had in his head.
“If we...” He tightened his face then and ducked his head, in shame. “We can simply find them, and hit them with explosive arrows and other tricks, before they can mass to do real damage? It will be... Murder, comes to mind. We don’t have the ability to politely ask our enemies to give over, unfortunately. They also came rather well presented, with a large army.”
Anders half expected everyone in the room to sneer at him. Only half of them did, which was refreshing to see. Some of the Captains glared at him, but General Coelder simply nodded.
“I agree that not giving them a true chance to win is the better option. If we do that, we had best win, of course. The victors will choose how the tale is retold. Pretending that we aren’t about to lose here, without such tricks, is foolish vanity.”
One of the Army men spat on the floor, which had the General glaring.
“You will order us to be cowards, who attack in the night?”
Anders shook his head, so that the man would turn his ire on him, where it belonged.
“Not at all. I will be the coward, alone. You will face what remains of their forces in the light of day. There will be blood and battle enough to leave us all feeling that we did our parts, I’m certain.”
The man, who wasn’t ancient, lurched across the room, trying to strike Anders. It was unexpected, but instead of making him explode, which was the first impulse, a palm came up, with energy applied to it, pushing the man both back and down, after stumbling halfway across the room.
“Calm now, Captain. Save the fight for the enemy.”
The man turned and started yelling, losing his composure.
“You are a craven madman, who skulks in the night! There will be tales of you, if you do this thing! Dark things will be spoken of you, in whispers!”
Depak started muttering, and Daren was holding his fist, held out, with power behind the move, ready to kill. Jeld went wide eyed, but matched the same move, seeing it done.
Hoatha laughed. It was pleasant sounding and out of place.
“Don’t oversell what can be done on a march like this, Captain. Anders is suggesting a thing that will work, but odds are they will be standing in neat, clean lines, ready to meet us when we arrive. Can we use the terrain to our advantage, General?”
For some reason, that, the idea that they’d be meeting the larger force head on, got the hot head to calm down. Anders didn’t stare at him, but did look inside of him, in case he had a mass inside his brain. It fit what he was doing, as far as sudden violence went. That wasn’t the issue.
No, the man was simply on several powerful herbs, being compelled to do such things. It made him unstable and rather foolish, but was no worse than being too drunk to lead, which several of the others there were hiding from the room.
Even Jeld had, clearly, partaken recently. Given it wasn’t even mid-morning yet, that seemed a bit early. Some did that kind of thing so that they’d have safe water to drink, but Jeld could summon that from the air, if he desired. Still, if he needed to brace himself before battle, Anders wasn’t going to condemn the man for it. A clear head would aid him more, once the fighting started, but not running away in fear was required for those off to the war. If his courage had to come from a bottle, then so be it. The man was, rather, being forced to be there, after all.
So Anders let the fact that he was just attacked go, as if he hadn’t noticed it.
Instead, they formed plans, with others being pointed out, in case the first ones didn’t work. Then they moved out, their horses having been tied to the posts in front of the Command Hut. Anders was on Brownie, with Princess Salina riding Chestnut. That had been the way of things since the others had left, since the war horses had been chosen to go all the way to the front, and the others, mainly, sent back.
By riding straight through, they would get to the enemy forces just in time for a proper army to set up for the night. They would, no doubt, be expected to bed down, make fires and wait for first light to sneak up on the enemy. Which was natural enough, since men didn’t see well in the dark.
Except that all of them there could make that kind of thing. Enough for the whole battlefield, in fact. Technically, the other side could do that as well, since they had Illian Darca with them. It would be an illusion, but an illusion of the sun still cast a bright light. Which was a thing, once considered, that made sense to him to work with.
They rode in the middle of the marching forces, for protection, as well as because that was where the General was. Not in the back like a coward, but not in the front, open to attack before the fight even started.
“Hoatha? Do you think you can make a large light for us? An illusion of the sun, say?”
The man looked at him suddenly, and nodded.
“I can do that. More, I can make an illusion of the sun that your men will see, and the other side won’t. Leaving them blind.”
They spoke in Scara, so he nudged Brownie toward the General, and cleared his throat.
“Hoatha has agreed to make a light for us, when we arrive? A vison of the sun, that we will see and the other side won’t.” Again, he looked around, half expecting the hot-headed Captain to come for him. He was in the front, leading them in, well away from Anders.
The General looked at him, blankly, for a while.
“Very good. Set that in motion for us, please, Master Brolly? Then ready those attacks you mentioned? That was a bit of an unfortunate event, with Captain Neil, earlier. What... Do you have planned for him? A duel, after the battle?” The man seemed to be suggesting against that, instead of trying to give him ideas.
Then, the last time they’d met, nearly, Anders had killed four men, for raping an enemy soldier. In a trial by combat, suggested by the General himself. It had been meant as an assassination attempt, but was also a mistake. The man wasn’t planning to make the same one again.
“Over that? No. The man was merely discussing things, if passionately. We don’t have to take it as more than that. He took some substances that give energy, but that also make one rather harsh and violent. He won’t be like that, normally.”
That information was, it seemed, welcome enough.
“Ah? That did seem a bit out of place for the fellow. It isn’t spoken of much, but many do things like that before battle. So, you didn’t take offense? That’s enlightened of you, Master Brolly. Things can grow tense, in such situations. Tempers flare. It’s best not to make more of this than is needed.”
It was a good bit of advice. One that he’d had his own issues with, in the past.
He moved back, to speak to the others with him, as they rode. Assigning tasks and working out what they needed to do. He grew a bit anxious, as they came closer to the enemy. He started to use wizardry about then, as an excuse to drop into a trance. One that was deep, without leaving him insensible, since it was a poor idea to go into a fight without being aware of what was happening.
“They’re aware that we are riding toward them. Their leader, General Hogarth, seems to think that we will be making camp in the field we passed about an hour back. His wizards aren’t up on the fact that we’re still moving. We’re about three miles away from the location they’ll be setting up in.”
That bit, learning where they were going to be, was using prognostication. It wasn’t the only place they could do that, but being only about an hour away, in time, that likely wouldn’t be changing. Anders didn’t really look past that.
Foretelling the future was always less accurate than going over what was happening in the moment.
“The weather is going to stay dry, for the night. The clouds will stay. The goal will be for their weather witch to make a rain storm, except that she only controls the winds, which will harm them, since they’re planning to take the high ground. Normally that would be against us, but we won’t let them get set.”
When he looked around, a few moments later, using his eyes again, the General had moved in alongside of him.
Anders looked at the man, feeling totally calm.
“They know we are coming, now. They don’t know where to go, yet. There’s screaming and commotion.”
They weren’t riding in the dark, having about four hours of light left.
The General called out, his voice loud.
“Ready to move left, into the field.”
There was nothing like that visible, but Anders found the off-shoot road to the right place. It meant walking across a small stream, but it was no more than a foot deep, which he mentioned, a bit dreamily.
“Everyone get your armor on.”
His people all had gambeson, chainmail and weapons of some sort, with them. He had twin long knives, but hadn’t put his mail on, yet. Prince Erold had, wisely, ridden out with his in place on his body. So had Daren. The rest of them had to scramble, while on horseback, to get dressed. Some of the men around them, marching along, made their own adjustments, when he called out. Probably understanding that he wasn’t in charge of them. Just a voice, saying something that seemed sensible.
Anders pulled his bow around, but left it unstrung. It was an Istlan war bow. He wasn’t stringing it while on the back of a horse. What he could do as he traveled, was make up twenty explosive arrows. They were different than the last time he used something similar, since the spells he placed weren’t nearly as strong, but were far more complex.
The goal was to not go unconscious after the first six arrows, this time. To make up for the lack of raw power being used, Anders was planning to channel what happened. The explosions should, if he did it correctly, throw all of the power along a hundred thin lines, all at head height on the common man. If it would work, he wasn’t totally certain. If it didn’t, then he was going to have to scramble, to use something simple, but more powerful.
This time his was going to be the hand on the bow, so if he collapsed, nothing was going to be fired from him. Daren had a bow out as well, as did Jeld. Erold and Salina didn’t, having other plans in place. The field was flat enough, on the bottom half, but the General, daringly, set the main battle line about fifty paces from the bottom of the hill. The enemy would be able to shoot their bows further, given where they were standing. No further than the Istlan bows would reach, of course. They were just better that way.
From where they were standing, their bowmen could start firing before the enemy forces could even get set in line. The hardship was going to be waiting for the other forces to arrange themselves enough to get the most out of their attacks. Anders wanted them to come to him, if at all possible, instead of chasing them across the countryside.
“We have enough space here. Jeld, Daren, can you stand on the flanks? Ready to fight, but also to prevent anyone from going around the edges. Prince Erold, Princess Salina, if you’d stand with the forces halfway through the middle, on each side? Stay out of the front rows and keep a shield prepared.” He turned then, still in the saddle, as they rode into the battlefield. “Hoatha, if you and Depak would stand in the back? Ready what spells you think we need. I don’t want either of you in the battle, if at all possible.”
He grinned then, not feeling his face move, being too deep for that kind of thing, still reading what the enemy was doing.
“Unless we start to lose. Then, of course, save us!”
Depak was grim, but managed a dry sounding cough.
“We’ll do that, I’m certain. Use caution. We’ll be back by the General.”
Everyone moved to their assigned locations. Anders readied communications spells for each of them, reviewing the special names he had for them. It would be hard to do, in the heat of battle, but was worth trying to have ready.
Anders placed himself in the middle of the massed soldiers, just behind the lines of regular soldiers, all holding pikes. He walked up on foot, but stopped to string his bow, right next to the man with a red patch on his shoulder, marking him as a sergeant. The man blinked at him, then nodded.
“You’re in the wrong place, aren’t you? The bow line is to the right.” He pointed, but wasn’t smirking or even being mean about it. Just letting Anders know where he figured he needed to be.
So, he smiled.
“I’m on magic for this. I’m in the right place.”
The man made a considering face and called out, softly.
“Hey, we have a wizard here. That’s new, isn’t it?”
The men around him laughed, at his expense, but Anders was so deep into a trance state that he didn’t bother to feel the derision. It was clear that, for some insane reason, they thought he was playing. It was a poor place to do that, but he looked youthful. He was young, honestly. Part of him, anyway.
He just stood there, waiting, the men not bothering him in particular. They chattered a bit, but were professional soldiers, so mainly kept it to what they thought the enemy was going to do. Anders simply started to call things off, before the other side moved their troops around. By the third time people were listening to him.
On the eighth accurately called troop movement of the other side, the man with the red patch next to him started to ask questions.
“When are they going to press the attack?”
“They... don’t know yet. Their General is currently scrambling. They’re planning to use illusion against us, in a few moments. That will... Look like a five headed beast? It isn’t real, but will be followed by the first horn. I don’t know what that means.” He hadn’t gotten that information, for some reason.
The other fellow patted him on the shoulder, his heavy glove studs clanking against his shining mail shirt.
“Prepare for battle. There’s magic about to be used on us? How certain are you of that?”
“Very. It’s harmless illusion... Honestly, I have something for that, in answer. At least I can, since I picked up that it’s coming like this. Can you let people know it’s about to happen? A bit of a show?”
Illian Darca was much better at illusion than he was, but Anders knew what he had planned, in the moment. That meant, by rushing a bit, he came up with a monster of their own.
The man next to him bellowed, nearly in his ear.
“Stand ready for illusion! Stand ready for harmless illusion!”
In the space between the forces, the five headed serpent came from the ground, growling and hissing, seeming as if it were truly alive. It even breathed and huffed steam from its mouth, as if fire were coming next.
Instead of a chant, Anders brought up his own illusion, then. A giant wolf, with white and gray wings, covered with detailed feathers, wearing a tabard over his back which showed him to be working directly for King Mathias. The great beast pelted in from the side, standing just as large as the other creature there. The men on both sides stilled, to look at what was being presented to them, in some awe. Then the wolf, slowing to a walk, started to speak. In Yansian, looking directly at their lines. As if hungry.
“Good soldiers of Yanse. This is the only warning we can give you this day. Run. It is your only hope. Flee! Death is about to rain down upon you. You cannot win this battle!” The wolf moved toward their lines, his voice growling and deep. Like thunder that spoke.
“Run now, and live!”
Then, it vanished. Slowly, Anders got a single arrow out, counted out a full minute and sighed.
“They had a chance.”
He was a bit shocked when the arrow, a normal one simply taken from the stores of such things, before magic had been placed on it, flew over the heads of the front line, hitting four full sections back. Then he felt a cold thrill when the explosion he had planned made a strange whistling noise. A high-pitched thing that didn’t seem to do much at all. Until the front line on the other side simply fell down. There was a circle of bodies going down, leaving a hole in the battle line of the enemy which was impressive to behold. He couldn’t tell why, at all, but when he loaded the next arrow, and aimed to the side, it happened again.
The center of their line was laying on the ground, not moving, in no more than a half minute. The entire Yansian army reeled then. A single blast came from their side, on a horn. Readying them for battle.
When two sounds of the horn came, telling them to fire arrows, each side of the other army was hit with decently loud explosions. Jeld and Daren made very real dents in the other line, on both sides, if not perfectly at the same time. In the middle a group of knights, no doubt brave men, tried to fill the gap that Anders had made. It meant riding over the bodies of the dead, to struggle into place, in a single thin expanse, which stretched for a good way. It was at least a hundred horses wide.
Anders tried another arrow. Again, it made a whistling sound. This time it was more dramatic, since the horses screamed and fell, dropping armored men to the ground. The circle of death was vast, but he wasn’t even breathing hard yet. Still, he paced himself, waiting for the knights who could, to stand up and try to run at them on foot.
Most of them didn’t make it to the pike line, since Prince Erold cast a line of energy, like lightning, from the side. It ran through the metal clad men and women, in lines of pure light. From his right, there was a sudden line of black that flew outward, toward the enemy line there. Where it touched, armored men went down. Screaming. Why that was, Anders didn’t understand. Only that the powerful move had been Princess Salina’s work.
To their credit, the Yansians didn’t just give up and flee. They fought, or at least moved forward, with only one in ten men making it to the lines, in places. There was a real battle going on, but at the same time, the other side simply kept dying. Then, rather cleverly, a group of fallen men rose from the ground, after a young fellow ran out onto the field and touched each of them. They didn’t go down to his next arrow at all.
“The returned dead. Let me...”
He thought for a moment, then cast his mind out, and instead of killing the necromancer, he attempted to work out how to stop the man’s spell. This wasn’t blood magic, and didn’t have a charm. Instead, the boy was willing them to live, using his own personal energy, chanting constantly.
Anders, gasping this time, started a spell of his own.
“Hom fla ere ot ere, fen ot...” He pointed using his mind, to lift the man into the air, floating him over the heads of the Istlan forces, setting him down next to himself, breathing hard.
“Sergeant, can you render him insensible?”
That was done, suddenly, with a heavy leather gloved hand. The man, who had golden hair and a short, well-trimmed beard, fell to the Earth with a thud. When that took place, the shambling dead fell as well.
“Can he be taken to... the General? Without touching the dead, he can’t raise them.” Anders was gasping, since causing a man to fly at that distance was incredibly hard work.
There was a bellow from the man next to him.
“Two to take the necromancer to the General! Don’t let him touch the dead!”
They had real fighting going on, so, barely catching his breath, Anders started to cause people to explode. Just for entertainment, he killed in other ways, using actual spells. Then, since the line to the right was being pressed harder than his position, which had gone nearly silent, he started to take the enemy from that side.
After four hours of battle, as dark fell, the sun came out. For their side. The enemy, even those standing directly next to them, fumbled and seemed to be almost blind. They tried to run, half their force heading up the hill, lacking discipline. Feeling horrible, Anders started to send arrows out again, killing and then, giving chase, to take even more lives. So many he didn’t even want to count them.
He had to scramble over bodies to do that. He wasn’t alone, since the entire battle line moved with him, nearly enough that they were giving chase.
“No quarter! No prisoners! Let none escape!”
That came from the back of the line, but was repeated, many times.
Anders simply moved ahead, and kept killing, until he was out of arrows. He didn’t feel good about himself, but he understood the idea. They were in a war, and they’d just taken out most of the opposing army. They might field another of the same size, in the summer, but each one who couldn’t regroup later, made their odds of winning quickly go up fantastically.
So, he kept going. Wishing he could stop to be sick. Not because he felt that way. He didn’t. No, because he should feel that way, and couldn’t. No one else did that sort of thing, and the men in yellow were cut down, unable to hide, because even off the field of battle, he saw everything as if the sun were up and it was noon.
While the desperate enemy couldn’t even see the Istlan forces coming for them, as they tried to hide.