Lesson of the Fire

  “What’s this?”

  Weard Flosi Recht squinted at it, brushing his gray hair over his bald spot. “A wild rice field, I think. See, these two towns would share it.”

  “We will make the battle there. Weard Nacht, gather a hundred wizards and direct the Drakes to meet us there.”

  “What was that?” Bert Nacht said, wiping his nose with his sleeve. “You said take one hundred and lead forty thousand Drakes to a rice field?”

  “Yes, Weard Nacht. Did you not hear me?”

  Bert shook his head. “But that’s a whole lot of Drakes.”

  Flosi laughed. “You will only be able to see maybe a hundred at a time. Look at our army. I am not even sure where it ends.”

  Bert squinted at the reconnaissance stone. “Most of it is east of us.”

  Hallgerd took a deep breath. “They are just gobbels, Weard Nacht. What harm can they do you and a hundred wizards? All you need to do is distract them enough so they chase you.”

  “They move faster then we do.”

  “That is because we are twelve hundred city-dwelling, road-building Mar, and not forty thousand swamp-living, mud-eating gobbels,” Flosi said.

  “If you are not confident in this task,” Hallgerd said, “I will send Weard Recht in your place.”

  Bert’s face turned red. “I will do it.” He still sounded uncertain, though.

  “Then go! Go!” Hallgerd shoved the two men out of the tent. “We meet there in five days, yes? Go! If they do not attack us, we will assume the worst.”

  Bert slogged briskly through the mud on his way to the front line. He only fell twice before he was out of earshot.

  “You scared him, Weard Steln,” Flosi commented.

  “He had better be scared,” she hissed. “If those Drakes get by us, who knows what havoc they will wreak on the countryside?”

  “They haven’t touched anything so far.”

  “Shut up, old man. Get everyone moving to that rice field.”

  “Yes, Weard Steln.” But Flosi’s grin reached both his ears as he used his walking stick to push into the crowd.

  * * *

  The clearing was a portrait of Mar agriculture — a waterlogged field green with wild rice shoots. The plants stuck out several inches from the foot-deep water as though in contempt of Seruvus. The crops were not arranged in neat rows, but scattered helter-skelter over the whole area. In some parts of the field, where the water was too deep or too shallow, very little green grew. But in those areas where water depth and nutrients were particularly favorable to the plants’ growth, the wild rice grew so thick it looked like an island of green in the grayish-brown water of the swamps.

  Wild rice was as prolific as any of Cedar’s creations, and harvest took place on a first-come-first-serve basis. An early arrival ate tough seeds, and a tardy farmer would find his portion harvested already. Sometimes the seeds dropped early, and the farmers were forced to rely upon their skills as hunters and foragers for a few months.

  Twelve hundred wizards tramped across the field, their thick leather boots and magic working in concert to keep their legs dry and free from Dinah’s Curse.

  The first hundred wizards filled the clearing. As the rest began to flow around the first hundred, Hallgerd realized her misjudgment. The wizards had assumed a ragged circle with several dozen smug, well-protected first-degrees at its center, and that would not do.

  It took two days to stretch the army out into a ragged curve several Mar deep.

  During that time, the two towns that used the field sent parties to watch the bright ribbon of milling wizards and offer them gifts of food and thanks for their protection — beneath shaded eyes that spoke volumes about the death of the field and the insolence of the city wizards.

  Flosi reported to Hallgerd.

  “Weard Nacht has corresponded with me. He says the Drakes are headed this way. It appears the size of our force was enough to draw their attention.”

  “When?”

  “Two more nights.”

  “Good.”

  “Why did the mapmaker run away from the wild rice field?”

  “Why?”

  “Because it looked so safe, he was certain it must be infested by powerful Drakes.”

  Hallgerd smiled.

  “I’ve always heard it as ‘because it had already been discovered.’”

  The older wizard laughed. “There must be a hundred variations on that one. I’ve also heard it as ‘because it looked like there was work to be done.’”

  “Among the mundanes on our border with Flasten, it is ‘because Drakes only eat their victims.’” The emphasis was on the action.

  Flosi frowned. “They only eat them?”

  Hallgerd smirked. “As opposed to kidnapping them and pressing them into slavery, I think. They don’t have a very high opinion of magocrats out there.”

  Flosi grunted. “Let’s see them fight the gobbel army then.”

  Two days. The wizards held their line for two hours, and then quietly broke rank.

  It began as a soft murmur of small talk and rose to a series of introductions. This line of conversation quickly evolved into a discussion of favorite books and scholars. Soon, the wizards had broken off into small groups to heatedly debate topics of mutual interest with their peers.

  Greybeards and tender youths fresh out of the academies alike made the best of a bad situation by trying to learn something interesting from their companions. They exchanged spells and told stories about their conquests and misadventures like mundanes at a rustic wedding. In speaking with some of them, Hallgerd learned that for many, this was their first time out of the city. Many were excited to see a live Drake for the first time.

  Early on the second day, Bert returned, breathing hard.

  “Well?”

  He brushed leaves off his cloak and took a deep breath.

  “They are maybe an hour behind us.”

  At last, Hallgerd decided it was time to choose a battle plan. Giving orders to Bert’s hundred, she bade them spread the message.

  “Good weards. Here is the plan: The gobbels will have to cross the field to reach us. Our goal is to kill as many of them as possible. They are not armed with bows, so we can afford to delay our attack until they come within javelin range. The wizards in the front rows will strike the enemy column’s rear while those at our back will attack the Drakes’ first ranks.”

  Hallgerd paused to consider whether further planning was necessary.

  Drakes cannot use magic, so the wizards can easily annihilate them without meeting them hand to hand. Therefore, we do not need to designate healers.

  “That will be all.” She smiled knowingly. “You may go back to your conversations now.”

  * * *

  The sun was in the gobbels’ eyes, but it was an advantage lost to the army of wizards as dark shapes began to appear between the trees. They appeared one or two at a time, but soon there were thousands facing the wizards.

  Hallgerd tried to admire the gobbels’ discipline, but her breath caught.

  “So that’s what we look like,” she breathed. Bert jittered at her side.

  “If that’s what we look like, then where are the rest of them?” Flosi asked, taking a few steps back.

  Hallgerd calculated.

  “They will only line up as wide as the field. In fact, they are probably not much wider than we can see and must stretch back deeper. Order the wings to move in range.” The command went down the line, and greens edged forward into the unknown.

  Something seemed wrong about the picture.

  “Why are they holding twigs?” Bert said after a moment. “Where are their spears?”

  At that moment, a messenger reached the commanders. “From the south, magic from the Drakes,” the man said, a touch confused. “I’m sure this got messed up in the relay. I’ll ask for a resend.”

  Then the gobbels lifted their arms to a loud cry, and the world exploded in flames.

  As the wall of fire
was quenched by the pond in the middle of the field, Flosi raised his voice to speak over the murmurs from the wizards, who at this point grudgingly resumed their ranks.

  “That was magic!”

  “It came from the twigs,” Bert said.

  “How can you be sure?” Hallgerd asked.

  “They all lifted their arms and waved the twigs at us. Drakes cannot use magic, so ...”

  There were shouts from the south, and with a loud rustling noise, wizards appeared and started streaming past them. Hallgerd grabbed one by the arm.

  “They are advancing!” Bert shouted.

  “What is going on here?” Hallgerd asked the man she held.

  “Fire at one hundred forty yards!” Flosi ordered. Wizards held their ground, but many squirmed uneasily at those running recklessly behind them, often tripping over their bright-colored cloaks.

  The man’s eyes were wide. “A thousand came from behind as we moved the wing forward and north. They struck us with twigs ... Energy. They have magic, weard. We cannot defeat them.” He twisted free of her arm and ran.

  Hallgerd looked at Flosi with fear in her eyes.

  “Fire,” she whispered.

  “They are well out of range,” the older wizard said.

  “They have stopped!” Bert shouted.

  “They are too far away,” Flosi repeated.

  “Fire anyway! Boost the damn spells!”

  The gobbels raised the twigs again at a harsh order, and when the world became flame, people started screaming.

  “Engage!” Hallgerd shouted until she was hoarse, but the ranks were fraught with confusion.

  Mar fell and did not rise. Their companions were too distracted to bother healing them. Steam from burning bodies quenched in the water of the field filled the air.

  “I can’t see!” Hallgerd cried, rushing about until she slammed into a tree.

  “We need to retreat!” Flosi shouted as he helped her to her feet.

  “We can’t retreat!” A boom as a fresh wave of fire engulfed the front line, less than ten yards in front of them. If the Drakes take twenty paces forward ... “If we retreat, the Drakes will be able to make it to the road!”

  “We retreat and make another stand behind some walls!”

  “Order it, damn it!”

  The wizards obeyed all too gladly. Many enhanced movement with Mobility, leaving hundreds of their fellows to die at the hands of the gobbels. Hallgerd stepped forward as a knot of Mar slogged past her. She targeted the five gobbels chasing them, raising her arms and lifting the mud beneath them with Power until they drowned.

  She turned, then, chasing after her own army. She nearly tripped over a corpse, the singed green of the cloak her only sign it was a Mar. Behind her, she heard a howl from the gobbels. A knot of them appeared to her right, their wands raised. Bursts of fire streaked toward her, and she could only fall to dodge them. She gathered the blue motes and flung it at them, missing, but hitting a tree that collapsed on them.

  Hallgerd got to her feet, soaking wet, and automatically began to dry herself before another howl reminded her of the peril.

  I am not made for this, she thought. Mar do not fight against magic like this. Someone must survive to tell the Mardux.

  Sopping wet, afraid of the gobbels more than Dinah’s Curse, she lurched forward. A group of gobbels was ahead of her, chasing a scorched auburn. Fists of Power snapped two of their backs and knocked a third down before the last ones turned to see the mud-covered, cyan-garbed wizard behind them.

  Wands raised, and Hallgerd screamed, throwing up a wall of Power that flung the fire back at the gobbels.

  Then she felt heat, itching and gnawing at her back, and looked over her shoulder. Blinding orange flames connected her back to three twigs in the hands of gobbels, and two more were running up.

  Her hands were halfway up before the pain grew too much, and she lost consciousness, falling face-first into the mud.

  Chapter 14

  “The guer are any of several hundred species of lizard-like Drakes dwelling in or beyond the Fens of Reur. They are not unusually clever for Drakes, but the tendency of many of their kind to bury themselves in the mud and wait for prey to draw near has given them a reputation only slightly less terrible than that of the insero and damnens. Their camouflage is nearly perfect, and sighting them as bubbles in the myst is nearly impossible given the interference of several inches of mud.”

  — Nightfire Tradition,

  Catalogue of Drakes

  “This is a Blosin wand,” the Dux of Wasfal told the Council at the emergency session in Gunne Palus the next afternoon. The dux held a twig with a blackened knot on one side. Sven kept his silence, hoping no one would ask the obvious question. He was saved by Volund, whose face was a masterwork of control.

  “How could Drakes have been armed with these?”

  But Yver and Borya, whose reconnaissance had picked up the truth, looked thoughtful. Katla and Nightfire had not been available on such short notice, but that probably worked to Sven’s advantage, and Pidel continued her conspicuous absence.

  “It must be a renegade wizard who has chosen to give magic to the Drakes,” Gruber said. “A magocrat, probably, who has several others loyal to him.”

  “Obviously,” Volund said with a snort. “But who made them?”

  Gruber shrugged.

  Sven spoke. “I doubt many wizards know how to make wands of this sort. I have heard that they are common among farl enchanters.”

  The other duxes turned their attention to Volund, but Flasten’s dux did not react to the implied accusation. He changed subjects deftly, “We can conduct an investigation at a later date. Right now, we must crush this Drake invasion. What kind of army can you create, Dux Verlren?”

  “Ten thousand wizards from Piljerka, Skrem and Gunne have joined to fight this menace. There will be no difficulty in exterminating them,” Yver said.

  “It will not be enough,” Volund said, echoing Sven’s thoughts. “I have twenty thousand who can be at Piljerka Palus in one month. Is this adequate, or will the Drakes converge on the city sooner?”

  Entirely expected, Sven thought. He knew the army was significantly more ready than that. Reports of wizards filtering into towns all along the Skrem and Piljerka borders with Flasten had been coming in for months now. The towns were overloaded with nearly ten thousand weards ready to move.

  It shows how little they know about war that they do not question how close Flasten must be.

  “Not soon enough, Dux Feiglin,” Yver said. “A generous estimate of the Drakes’ arrival would be one month, but we feel they will arrive in half that.”

  “You could send a thousand ahead, Dux Feiglin?” Sven suggested. “Teleport them? The priests in Domus Palus can provide the magical resources.”

  Not to mention the reds at his disposal.

  “That will not be a problem, Mardux,” Volund said with an icy smile. “A thousand weards will be at your disposal in two days, Dux Verlren.”

  Yver nodded his gratitude, and Borya and Wolber looked thoughtful. Sven stifled the urge to talk to them. Piljerka, Skrem and Gunne must understand when Flasten betrays them.

  “The Mardux thanks Flasten, Skrem and Gunne for their help with the difficulties in Piljerka. May Fraemauna guide your footsteps and Marrish lead you to victory.” Sven cleared his throat and straightened in his chair. The Council broke up after the closing formalities. Sven knew what the next move was. He had set the plan in motion long ago.

  But I don’t have to fight a united Flasten army.

  One thousand more out of the way was a good start.

  * * *

  The long month was not lost to the Mardux. As soon as the Flasten army began to travel, the calendar was set for the projected arrival date. Sven ordered the Domus army to a position halfway to the Flasten border and on the edge of Gunne and Skrem duxies, ostensibly for backup as needed. Flasten’s army entered the Duxy of Skrem after thirty-six days, and far north
of where it should be.

  The gobbels threw themselves at Piljerka Palus’ stone walls on the thirty-seventh day. Piljerka, Skrem and Gunne coordinated the defense, waiting out the wands. But the gobbels were not as stupid as everyone thought, and teams, under cover of conserved wand fire, undermined one of the city’s walls. Then the flood began — Energy from wands clashed with Elements from weards unused to working such magic, and the casualties soon numbered in the hundreds.

  The last report sent to Sven was the most dire. Yver’s messenger, a lavender-clad sculptor, was round, sweating and scared as she recited her dux’s orders to retreat.

  “Normal gobbels would turn and flee when faced with so many casualties,” she said from memory. “But the flood of Drakes still comes. We must … we will abandon Piljerka Palus and gather again at Skrem Palus. Mardux, we are lost.” She implored him with frightened eyes.

  Sven looked at Erika, who was watching him by the fire, and Asa with her dolls at her mother’s feet. His wife understood. Rising, she took the lavender to one side, murmuring words of comfort. Sven went over and ruffled his daughter’s hair.

  If I can finish this for all Mar, I finish it for her, as well, he thought, taking another look at his wife before leaving.

  In the hall, he teleported to Skrem Palus.

  All of his vassal duxes were there, hovering over a reconnaissance stone and sending messengers out. Sven joined them.

  “Mardux,” Yver said, “I did … ”

  “The best you could, considering the situation,” Sven said. “Now it is my turn. We will not wait here and let these monsters destroy everyone out there. I will take a thousand of your bravest weards and bring the Drakes here while you prepare your defenses.”

  “It is too dangerous,” Wolber said, and Sven frowned.

  Too dangerous for the Mardux, or too dangerous to fight a battle at Gunne? He suppressed the thought. These men had sworn fealty to him. I can … I must trust them, now.

  Of the thousand wizards, five wore blue. The rest were auburn and green, in nearly equal numbers.

  “Traps,” Sven told the blues. “Explosions. Deadfalls. Space them far enough apart, because the first ones will make them wary. We can conserve our strength that way. And when they are nervous, we hit them from an unexpected place.”

  “Behind them?” someone ventured.

  “Whichever side is closer to Skrem,” Sven answered. “We are leading them here.”

  Satisfied they understood, his army marched. He felt the eyes of his greens and auburns, some hopeful, some hateful and many, many more frightened.