Path of the Magi (Tales of Tiberius) (34 page)

Dallen nodded and set the bird off.  It flew out of the room.  Then he turned back to Tiberius.  “Are you spending the night here?”

“No, I’m taking Lord Brandon to Walsingham. Within the hour.”

Dallen nodded his understanding.  “One more thing.  This will be your first major battle as a magi,” Dallen said thoughtfully.  “You’ll find the conditions challenging.  Too much emotion and blood on a battlefield.  Let me give you one more word of advice.   Don’t try and do too much.”

“You don’t think I should help?”  Tiberius asked.

“Oh, I didn’t say that.  I’m just suggesting that how you help could be important.  When it comes to these major world events, what we want to do as magi is not make victory, but make victory possible.  You are a much stronger magician when you act as part of the team.  You want to assist the army, not replace it.  We magi understand the secrets of the universe, the power of the atom.  You could probably think of a way to obliterate her entire army from a distance if you were willing to unleash enough energy.”

“I don’t think I could control that kind of energy release.  At least not at a safe distance.”

“And if you thought you could save thousands of lives by doing it from an unsafe distance, you wouldn’t be tempted?”  Dallen asked.

Tiberius acknowledged the temptation with slight tip of his head. 

“You may not even have thought of these things yet.  But the day will come when you have to ask yourself are you really helping others or just trying to play God.  It’s a fine line sometimes,”  Dallen reflected.  “You’ll be most effective by helping others.  Remember that.

“Well that’s enough rambling from an old man for now,”  Dallen continued.  “Off you go then; don’t worry about her spies, at least at this end of the countryside.”

Tiberius took his leave of Dallen, but he had one last task to perform.  He next rode up to the old family home.  It was dark on the street but at least Tiberius knew where to knock.  He got off his horse and went up to the old door, knocking loudly.  At least he knew his father was a light sleeper. 

After a moment his father peeked out from behind the door. 

“What is it?

“It’s me, Father,”  Tiberius said.

“Ti!”  He heard his mother shout in surprise.  A moment later she threw open the door and put her arms around him.  “Tiberius!  This is a surprise!  My word, you’re looking thin; don’t they feed you?” she asked. 

“What are you doing here at this time of night?” Julian asked, businesslike. 

“Are you staying long?”  Greta asked. 

“I can’t, Mother.  Father, I’m here on official business.  This is a dispatch from Colonel Brandon.”

Julian took the note, slightly surprised.  His brow narrowed as he scanned the contents. 

“The queen’s attacking?  How good is your intelligence?” he asked.

“Fairly reliable.  We’ve had numerous sources, including my own efforts.”

“I hope you aren’t risking the entire western army on some cockamamie vision you’ve had through Dallen’s meddling,” he said.

Tiberius shot him a look.  “It wasn’t a vision.  I did read the mind of a goblin captain but that intelligence is confirmed through other sources.”

Julian looked hard at his son for a long moment.  Then at last he grunted.  “Lychester’s the logical target then.  We’ll do what we can here.  I’ll try and talk to Colonel Brice.”

“Thank you, sir.  I’ll be off then.”

“So soon,” Gretel protested.

Tiberius gave his mother another hug and a peck on the cheek.  “I’ll come visit when I can, Mother.  There are lives at stake now.  I’ve got to be in Walsingham with Lord Brandon in a couple of hours.”

“Walsingham?” his mother said in sleepy surprise. “But that’s days away … oh.”

“Godspeed, then,” his father said.  “Don’t be hanging about.”

“No, sir.”  Saluting his father, he got back on his horse and rode on to Fort Marion. 

Lord Brandon was waiting when he got back. 

“How did it go?”  Tiberius asked.  It looked quiet about the fort. 

Lord Brandon looked grim.  “He said he’d think about it.  We can count on him for a show of force at least.   As to the rest of the plan…. How did it go at your end?”

“General Fuller will have the Sherwood Militia ready, if needed.  He said he’d talk to Colonel Brice too.  Dallen will make sure the queen’s spies can’t see what moves the army makes here.  At least not her magical ones.”

“Well we’ll have to trust to Providence and the local constabulary for the rest.  For now we’d better get on to Walsingham.”

Once more they were off, this time running behind the great wooden wall that stretched over fifty miles from there to Walsingham.  The “Wall” was a series of watch towers and small keeps connected by a wooden wall.  On the border's side there was a ditch and behind the wall was a good paved road.  Messengers weren’t uncommon, though they weren’t usually as fast as Tiberius and Lord Brandon were running.  They passed post horse stations along the way, where ordinarily messengers or the stagecoach would change horses.  Before long they could see the lights of Walsingham, a beautiful low city surrounded by high stone walls, surrounded by the Svanvag River. 

Walsingham was the home of the Third Calvary.  In the cool evening air, Lord Stephan, the chief captain of the Third, rode along the torchlit training track.  With expert precision, he drew his saber and charged along the course where melons had been placed on top of sticks.  Without missing a beat, his saber slashed each melon neatly in two. 

Finishing his run, he was greeted by his friend Sir Gregory, a large Moore whose huge white grin peered out from his dark skin. 

“Bravo, Mon Capitan.  Expecting a night action?”

Stephan dismounted and glared at Gregory.  “When else can I get hold of the training course?  Damn all this paperwork to hell; when are we going to see some action?  I'm tired of rotting melons being the only thing I use my sword on,”  he grumbled. 

“At least if we're ever attacked by stick men with rotting melons stuck on their heads, we're ready,” Sir Gregory said with a smile.  “Careful what you wish for, though.”

Stephan stopped, turned, and looked carefully at Gregory.   “What is it?” 

“Lord Brandon's here.  Something's up.”

“Brandon?”  Stephan frowned.  He followed Gregory to the office where he found Lord Brandon seated and waiting for him.

“Where is your Commander?”  Brandon asked.  “I need to talk to the Commander of the 26th Infantry as well.”

“Then you are out of luck,” Stephen laughed.  He was a young good looking man, but there was a certain arrogance in his eyes.  “They’re in Port Elizabeth.  I think they will be back in a week or so.  I’m the acting commander of the Third.  Something I can help you with, Lord Brandon?  As you know the Third Cavalry is ever a force ready for battle.”

“Yes I’ve heard you’re ambitious, Captain Stephan.  Well, luck is with you this day; I’ve got a fight for you.  The goblins are on the move.  If we can get the army to Lychester by October 30th, we can trap them and deal a major blow to the forces of shadow in the border country.  It’s not far for cavalry, but you’ll need to approach quietly though the hills.  We have gnomes who are friendly and will show you the best paths, if you think you can handle it.  I understand if you don’t want to act with your commander away.  We can just bring the infantry up the road and scare off the goblins.”

Stephan just stared back at him.  “So you’re suggesting that I leave the City of Walsingham practically defenseless in order to make some unlikely effort to trap the queen’s army outside of her lair?  And you want me to do this guided by some aboriginal creatures you’ve discovered?”

Lord Brandon hesitated.  “Something like that.  I realize it’s a gamble.”

Stephan laughed again.  “That’s putting it mildly.  I’d be ordering two legions into battle on my authority with a rather dubious prospect of success.  You realize that’s the type of move that could make or break a career.”

“I thought you were a gambler, Stephan,” Lord Brandon replied.

Stephan smiled back at him.  “If the stakes are high enough, M’Lord.  Let me knock up the acting commander of the 26th.  I’m sure we’ll want to try and do something.”

A short time later, Brandon met Tiberius again by the horses.  Tiberius asked how it went. 

Lord Brandon gave a shrug of his shoulders.  “Bureaucrats.  It would all be so simple if I was actually in charge of things.  I’m the highest ranking officer, technically, but I don’t actually have the authority to order other unit commanders off their posts without express orders from the Senate.  I’d ride with you to the Capital, but I know the Senate won’t give any sort of orders without at least a week’s debate.  I don’t know that it helps anything that I’ve got three days seniority on Colonel Brice.  What’s in it for him, after all?  What’s in it for any of them?  If we win, it’s my victory.  If we lose, either they are dead or they left their posts to participate in a glorious defeat.  Not good for them either way.”

“So we’ve made this trip for nothing?” Tiberius said, discouraged.

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that, exactly.  We had to ask.  In any event, we still have to get our own forces in place.  We might just be able to do it on our own.”

“At the Battle of Agincourt, the English won a great victory with only a few thousand archers and a handfull of men at arms.  That’s about the situation facing us.  If we can find the right ground and deploy properly, we might not even need any help in defeating the queen’s army.  For now, we’d better get back.  We’ve at least got to get our men at arms and the militia ready if we’re going to have any chance.”    

Tiberius and Lord Brandon rode back along the coast road, past Gleason’s Vineyard and Tuck’s Ferry and on to their home.  They made a couple of quick stops, giving orders that the militia be called up.  A bit past midnight they were back in Vonair. 

Next morning they were awakened early.  Lord Brandon was giving instructions to his wife and a dozen other people as he tried to get a few bites to eat in between.  Just then, he saw Lord Gillyian being ushered in.  Lord Brandon looked up at him.

“We’re busy.”

“So I see,” Gillyian smiled.  “Planning a hunt, great sport hunting goblins.  I must say I’m devastated that I haven’t been invited.”

“You’re offering to help?”  Lord Brandon looked up hopefully.  “Then you’re more than welcome.”

“I can’t promise too much.  Many of my people think we shouldn’t interfere in the matters of mortals.  But no one really likes goblins and we can always count on a few volunteers for some sport.”

“Secondtown in two days.  We’re expecting the attack on the thirty-first at midnight,”  Lord Brandon said.

“We’ll be there.  Try to look up a good taxidermist for us!  Lord knows we won’t be eating what we kill on this hunt,”  Gillyian said. 

The word had already gone out last night to assemble in the morning.  Lord Brandon looked down from the gatehouse walls at the assembled militia milling about the base of the castle.  Not as many as he would have liked, but Darras had told any farmers to get on over towards Henry’s, and not to meet here.  At least the weather was good, and his horse showed no ill effects from last night’s extraordinary ride. 

At eight in the morning, Lord Brandon led the assembled Rangers and militia off on the march.  A number of Rangers he sent on ahead as scouts and advance men.  The rest of the company marched upon the road.  They made good progress.  Best of all, it seemed like every step along the road they were joined by more men.

It reminded Tiberius of the last time he’d been in a militia call-up, back with his father.  As then, there was a bit of a carnival atmosphere to the whole affair.  None of these men were professional soldiers.  These were the butchers, the bakers, the farmers, and other regular townsfolk.  Their military training consisted of regular archery contests and a day or two each year spent drilling.  Each man had a longbow with them and a few score arrows.  It didn’t seem like much of an army, but this was the sort of band that had won great victories for old England in the past.  At Agincourt, Crécy, and Poitiers they proved that an army of longbowmen could win a great victory.  But too, the battle of Patay showed they could be defeated. 

For now though, the men were happily marching along, singing military songs, like the “Song of the Bow.”  There was some grumbling too.  It was a bad time for a call-up with the harvest to be collected.  The call-up wasn’t all it could have been for that reason, as many folks were needed for the harvest.  But, all things considered, it was a good turn out.  By the time they arrived at Henry’s at about 4 P.M., they had gathered about 5,000 militia. 

Old Henry had his work cut out for him that day.  The inn was placed off limits to all but officers, as a matter of sane crowd control, but even so, the inn was packed to the rafters.   Tiberius would have gladly slept under the stars, but Lord Brandon insisted he stay with him at the tavern, to be ready at need. 

Back in the Black Hills, the goblin queen stood over her scrying crystal again, gazing into the depths.  In the crystal was an image, a bird’s eye view, quite literally.  One of her ravens was flying near the soldiers' fort.  It looked peaceful enough, but it paid to make certain.  Too much was at stake.  She’d just take it in a little closer and…

She had a glimpse of a silver bird for a second.  Then everything went black.  Hell and damnation.  What could … but of course.  Silver birds meant Dallen.  He watched over Sherwood City.  It didn’t pay to get too close.  Her predecessor had found that out all too clearly.  Well, no matter, she wasn’t attacking them.  As long as things looked quiet there, that was all that mattered.  No sortie by the soldiers.  They’d come after her of course, but by then it would be too late.  She’d lead them in rings around the forests of the border lands and settle back nicely into her caves with enough food and drink for a cheerful winter.  She shifted her view to another bird.  The road between Fort Marion and Stapleshire was clear, nothing out of the ordinary.  She looked down to the gap between the hills and the walls.  No sign of the cavalry riding though the gap, but she never trusted her birds anywhere near the wall.  Putting anything magical between Dallen and Messura was asking for trouble.  She had conflicting reports to the west.  Militias were stirring; that was for certain.  That was expected, but they were too late.  She had too many goblins assembled for a mere militia to handle.  And she had Monotauk … Monotauk, she cackled.  That was a coup.  There’d be no stopping them now.