Fire And Ice (Book 1) (72 page)

             
“They are gone already?” Shirri asked in alarm.  “I must catch up.”

             
“Practice on the way,” Gelarus said as she hurried away.  “I want to see your progress when we next meet.”

             
“I will,” she promised once again.              

             
“I did not know that you were teaching anything but healing,” Katelyn said off handedly.

             
“Desperate times,” he replied.

             
“Why is she going with them then?”

             
“I have given her enough to do for a time.  She is a far better healer than anything else, but we will see,” he answered while looking after her his departing student.

             
“I should also ask why you did not go with her?”

             
“My place, now more than ever, is here in Summerhall.”

             
“Are you not coming with me?” she asked incredulously.

             
“I do what I must, as do you,” he replied seriously.  “My duty has always been to protect Summerhall from the threat of magic.  That has not changed.”

             
She heard the conviction in his voice and knew he would not be persuaded into leaving.  She knew they would have need of his help against Elthzidor, but it helped to know that Margery and Summerhall would not be left unprotected.

             
“I just met a man named Thalamus.  Do you know him?”

             
“Thalamus?  Of course I know him.  He is the second Wizard at Herrinhall.”

             
“Strange, since he did not mention you at all,” she said and waited to see if there would be any reaction.

             
“I am not surprised,” Gelarus replied, and he didn’t sound surprised at all.

             
“You rarely are,” she said a little disgusted.  “But should he not meet with you?  You are the wizard in charge here.”

             
“It is not necessary,” he said mysteriously. 

             
How could it not be necessary?  Unless they had nothing to discuss, but how could that be?  She knew too little about wizards and what they could do.  It had never been necessary before.  She was going to have to rectify the situation if she could ever get one of them to tell her anything.

             
“Besides,” continued Gelarus, “he answers to the First Wizard.  Remember that he was trained in Herrinhall.  I was not.”

             
The hierarchy of wizards was another thing she was going to have to look into.  “Where were you trained?” she thought that all wizards went to Herrinhall to learn.

             
“That was long ago, and is unimportant,” he said and started to turn away, towards his tower.

             
She was not about to let him just walk away again.  “Is there anything you wish to tell me before I leave?”

             
He turned back.  “Actually, there is.”  He cleared his throat, then hesitated.  He stood there so long staring at nothing she started to wonder if he was going to say anything at all.  Suddenly he looked directly at her.  “A day is coming.  It will be a day filled with blood.  When that day comes you must remember this.  Do not give up hope.  Do not stop fighting.  No matter the odds arrayed against you.”  Gelarus glanced away.  "That is all I can say and maybe more than I should have.” The wizard walked away so solemnly that she didn’t even think to stop him.              

             
She finally got some information out of him, information that was volunteered even, and she suddenly was not sure that she wanted it.

              Gelarus sighed as he took the first step up to the next level of the tower. 
I should not have told her that, but what choice did I have?  Our enemy is playing events to his advantage and we must take that advantage away.
  He was fairly sure of what Katelyn would do faced with such a difficult situation.  Would she sacrifice the one person she loved above all others for the people she leads?  Probably.  Her sense of duty was strong.  Normally, he would agree with her choice, but if she chose that way this time then the war would be lost.

Chapter 37

The First Battle

              Elthzidor watched the men of Taragosa as they moved purposefully up the steep hillside covered with trees.  On the other side of that hill was the river where the main part of his army was about to cross.  His thoughts reached out to the tent nearly a mile away, the one he had just vacated, and he Shifted.

             
The trees, the ground, the sky all blurred in his vision.  Their colors mingled at the edges.  He could feel himself sliding, shifting, from where he stood.  His surroundings blurred even more until nothing was recognizable. 

             
The blurring suddenly receded and he could see new colors, new edges emerge before him.  Everything slid into focus as the shifting came to an end.  He was standing inside a bare white canvas tent.  Outside he could hear the sounds of his army streaming by.    

             
“Kere!” he called to the wizard he knew waited outside.  The bald Majin entered on command.  “Aemon will try and contest our crossing of the river.”

             
“I see.”  Kere was not fool enough to question him or to ask how he knew when the scouts sent out had reported nothing so far.  The Orgog sent to scout ahead had seen no sign of the enemy either, but that was because Aemon was keeping his men under the cover of the trees as much as possible. 

             
“Have Nehkut ready to lead a charge, but tell him not to act until Taragon has shown us what forces they have.”

             
“Yes Ra Majin.  Do you wish to assign a backup in case Aemon has a wizard with him?”

             
“Send Barook and Haltherin.”  Elthzidor smiled.  Haltherin needed to keep himself busy and being able to vent his anger in combat might be the perfect thing.  It had taken a direct order to keep the Maji from going off to find Coran on his own.  Haltherin had a score to settle.  Elthzidor was willing to let him try, but when he decided it was time.

             
Kere left to carry out his orders. 

              The trees hid him from the sight of the scouts below as their horses carried them across the ford in the river.  The

legs of the animals splashed through the running water.  The scouts wore strangely scaled armor and rounded helmets that covered all of their faces except for the eyes.  Behind them came a detachment of cavalry that would secure this side of the river so the infantry c
ould begin their crossing.  At least that was their plan.

             
Aemon was going to try and change it.  Spread out in a line to either side of him his men crouched behind trees or upthrust rocks that were just below the crest of the hill they occupied.  The land descended steeply to the waters below.  Hidden by the ridge itself were his archers and more dismounted warriors.  Away to the right was a more level descent where his cavalry waited for the signal to attack.

             
This was not the only crossing that would be occurring today.  There were two other places along the river where his own scouts had spotted the enemy approaching.  From the reports this one was where the main enemy force would come.  He had left a few men covering the other places as well.  It would not do to let the enemy think they could cross into Taragosa without suffering a large number of casualties. 

             
The enemy horsemen reached the near bank and fanned out as expected.  They signaled that it was safe and the booming thrum of an army on the march could be heard from across the river.  It was almost time now.   Aemon waited anxiously as the footmen could be seen descending the far slope towards the river.  He could tell from here that they appeared to be mostly Karands. 

             
Aemon had to laugh.  The enemy expected an attack at a vulnerable place such as a river crossing, so they sent the expendable men across first.  No matter.  His objective was to stall them, not stop them since he had no idea how to do that.  Not with the number of men he had with him.  He could have brought more, but he was not about to risk more lives engaging an enemy he knew next to nothing about.

             
Aemon rubbed his goatee that was streaked with gray.  On his red sur coat was the rearing golden lion of Taragon.  It had been too long since his last battle.  He wondered if his land could survive the battles to come.  He did not like the idea of leaving the southern half of his kingdom to the mercy of the enemy, but he realized the sense of such a decision with his first sight of the great host crossing Voltia.

             
The Karands splashed their way through the knee deep water and up the near bank.  They looked about until they were ordered to march down river towards where Aemon’s horsemen waited.  A few hundred had crossed already and hundreds more were in the act of crossing. 

             
“Now!” he commanded at the top of his lungs.  The sky turned black as a deadly rain of arrows fell upon the hapless Karands.  Men screamed and ran in every direction trying to escape the falling death.  The enemy horsemen were targeted as well and the survivors turned their mounts around and galloped back into the chill waters.  Another twang of bow strings followed the first, and then a third.  The archers lowered their bows as the thunder of hooves rumbled from down river.  In a flood the horsemen of Taragon swept down on the remaining Karands who were struggling to reach the river.  They never had a chance.  The thinly robed Karands were slaughtered by the hundreds.  In their exuberance some of his red cloaked horsemen followed the fleeing southerners into the flowing waters of the Douro.

             
“Damn,” Aemon cried at the lack of discipline.  He had specifically ordered them to stay on this side of the river.  “Sound recall!”                

             
A horn blew and the cavalry began to turn around.  It was too late for the ones already in the river.  The enemy had formed up on the far side and launched their own flight of arrows.  Men fell from their mounts into the cold water which was already beginning to turn red from the blood of Karand and Taragosan alike.  Most of his men made it back to cover in good order. 

             
Aemon and his men spread out on the ridge, and, behind it, were still out of sight.  From the other side of the river it would appear that the retreat of Taragosa had been total.  They had to know where the archers were though.

             
For the next twenty minutes there was no sign of advance.  He waited nervously for the attack that had to come.  “Jenarus,” he called and a clean shaven man in plain clothes and a gray robe came to kneel beside him.  “Anything?” he asked the middle aged wizard.  The man shook his head.  “Be ready.”  Jenarus was the wizard who advised him in Taragon. He had brought another one with him.  A young man who Aemon thought was too young for what he might face today.

             
The shouting from an army whipped his head back towards the river.  Thousands were charging across the ford in waves.  At the center were those men in the foreign armor, the ones called Makkurans, they were flanked on either side by more Karands.  To their right a column of horsemen galloped across as well. 

             
“Archers, loose!” he ordered.  “Third group fire on the horses!  Continuous fire!”  If he could take out enough of their horsemen his own would still have the advantage.  It left them with more foot soldiers to face, but without mounted men to harass the enemy any retreat would be almost impossible.  He would not let his men become trapped and slaughtered. 

             
Dark shafts arced high overhead, slowed at the apex, then fell back towards the earth to slam into moving bodies.  The enemy horsemen broke off towards where his own cavalry had gone.  The footmen continued to charge into the face of the arrow storm.  “Herald!  Go to the cavalry and tell them to fight off the Makkuran cavalry and then form up in the valley behind us.  They are to cover our retreat.”  The man was surprised that they were breaking off already, but Aemon had a bad feeling that something was going to happen.  Herrald rushed off to deliver his orders.

             
“Fall back!” he called and the line of men to either side stood and retreated to the back side of the hill as Karands and Makkurans swarmed up the incline, dodging between the trees.  On the other side a line of defenders two deep with spears and pikes protected the archers behind them.  “Archers fall back to the next ridge and cover us!”  The archers hefted their bows and quivers of arrows before running down the backside of the hill.  Aemon passed through the line then looked in both directions to be sure the line was formed up properly and there were no gaps.  Satisfied he faced the ridge top with his sword in hand.

             
The enemy crested the ridge howling war cries and ran right into the steel tipped weapons.  The first rank of attackers fell, too surprised to even cry out.  After that it was a swinging match.  Aemon wielded his sword with nearly as much skill as he had in his youth.  They fought and fell back, fought and fell back, all the way down to the valley floor. 

             
A ball of something bright streaked through the air and slammed into one of his men, engulfing him in fire.  He looked to the ridge that was above them now and saw another ball of fire leave a robed man’s hand.  “Wizards,” he cursed.   Stepping behind his men he looked for Jenarus and Ennius.  They were half way up the next ridge.  They stood with their arms raised to the sky.  The gray clouds that had covered the sky all day started to darken.  A rumbling like thunder echoed across the land.  He heard screeches from the sky and wondered what the two men were up to.  Dark shapes flew over the ridge and swooped upon his men, ripping with long claws.  That was the source of the screeches he heard.  Orgog they were supposedly called.  All of a sudden lightning struck from the sky, frying one of those creatures in mid-flight.  More lightning fell among the attacking army creating great holes in their ranks. 

             
That was the distraction they needed to break off from the enemy.  His small army ran up the next hillside right past the two wizards who continued their powerful display.  Another of the creatures swept towards the two.  Aemon was forced to watch as a bolt of lightning struck it, but not before its sharp claws dug into the younger Ennius.  The poor wizard fell dead.  Jenarus was forced from his concentration and stared at his pupil.  Aemon ran past and towards the cover of the archers above.

             
“Come on!” he yelled at Jenarus, but the wizard was already occupied.

             
Another bolt fell at one of the Maji, but stopped short by some invisible wall.  The opposing wizard threw one of his balls of fire at Jenarus who knocked it aside comptemptuously with a wave of his hand. 

             
Aemon noticed the change in wind.  What had been blowing easterly now was moving west.  Lightning struck the earth again, but this time it was on his side of the valley.  Luckily his men were already running down into the next valley over for the horses that had been left there in case they were needed for escape.  His archers continued to fire at the enemy below them to give the others as much time as possible to reach their mounts.  With the lightning no longer concentrated on them the enemy was regrouping for another attack.

             
The Karands and Makkurans came on again as the lightning ceased altogether.  They howled and charged up the hill but more slowly than the first time.  Some of the fire had gone out of them.  Aemon readied himself to face the attack.  If he could hold them off long enough then his men could get away.  Several others joined him at the ridge top ready to stand with him.  They were dirty, grim-faced men.  Not a one without several dents in their armor or blood splattered across their fronts.      

             
With impeccable timing his red cloaked horsemen galloped across the valley floor sweeping in from the south.  Some of the Karands saw the new threat and ran in the other direction, some even threw down their weapons in fear.  The more disciplined Makkurans tried to turn and stand their ground.  The Taragosan cavalry took the enemy in the rear.  They cut a wide swath through them, but instead of turning and finishing the job they pushed their horses onward until they could ride up the hill.

             
One of the mounted warriors veered off from the others and came towards Aemon.  The rider stopped before him.  “Do you want to finish this group or pull back?”

             
“Let’s get out here before more lightning falls,” the King of Taragosa ordered.  He took one last look at the spot where Jenarus had been standing.  The wizard was no longer there.  A quick scan showed the gray cloaked figure hurrying up and over the ridge line to his left.  Aemon smiled and followed after him.

              Elthzidor sat in the chair next to the temporary table inside the tent that was set up a league away from the river.  A man in a dark red robe entered.

             
“Is it over?”  Elthzidor asked in his deep, sonorous voice. 

             
“It is, Ra Majin.  Our forces are crossing in large numbers now,” Kere replied.