Path of the Magi (Tales of Tiberius) (35 page)

Back with Lord Brandon, there was some brief debate the next morning about the next day's march.  With battle expected on the evening of the 31st, there was some thought to force marching past Secondtown and camping at the halfway point on the road to Lychester.  Ultimately, Lord Brandon decided against it.  If their intelligence was wrong and the queen’s army came straight at them a day early they’d be better off making a stand at Secondtown than being caught on the road.  The weather was still good for marching at least; a bit crisp, but it was clearing a bit. 

Darras, Lord Brandon, and Tiberius looked over the crowd breaking camp.

“This is going to be a long tough, march,”  Lord Brandon said.  Turning to Tiberius he asked: “Can you do anything to help these people?”

Tiberius gave a thoughtful frown.  “Like what?  I can’t enchant thousands of people like I did your horse.  If I had months to prepare I might do something with the road or a crowd, but…”

“Music,” Lord Darras said suddenly.  “That’s what we really need.  We’re short on musicians.  Men can march 50 miles in a day if they have to.  We’re only doing twenty.  That can easily be done if we can just keep everyone’s spirits alive.  I’ve heard you produce music before.”

Tiberius thought for a moment.  “I can do a bit of music, but I’ve never tried anything before a large crowd.  It should be possible though.”

“Make it so,” Lord Brandon said.  “Wait, that won’t sound like you singing, will it?”

Tiberius laughed.  “No, thank God.  That would hardly be magical.  Anything I’ve heard and know.  Don’t worry, I’ve heard plenty of good marches.  Get them underway and I’ll supply some marching music.”

That was easier said than done.  Bad enough getting your own family to run down to the market with you without scattering all over the road.  With thousands of militia men, it was a logistical challenge.  All the same, a half hour later the first troops were marching.  Tiberius rode his horse towards the front of the column and then pulled to the side.  He created a couple of illusions of rock elementals.  They were seven-foot-tall-man-shaped-piles of rock, one holding a bagpipe, the other a drum.  Next was the audible illusion.  Spells cast, he marched back out of the woods into the line.  All eyes turned to him and his creatures.  He gave a nod to them, and they started to play.  All of a sudden a stirring martial song filled the air.  The drum beat and gave a steady rhythm. 

Lord Brandon nodded approval.  The music the magus supplied carried well down the line; this was magic indeed.  Good music always stirred the soul.  Already every step seemed lighter. 

“We know this one, don’t we lads?  Let's sing along!” he ordered.   

It was a long march but with the music going it didn’t seem so.  There was almost a holiday atmosphere in the ranks by now.  It was a welcome change from the usual day to day existence on the farms or in the shops.  It was also a chance to meet old friends from different villages as they marched along.  They were marching and singing along with their local celebrity, Darras Walker the Hammer, and the noted magus of Vonair was out doing tricks as well.  The weather was holding and it wound up being a festive day.  By the end of the day everyone was tired and sore, but they were in good spirits.

  The next morning was the 31st of October.  Lord Brandon woke up early.  It was a cool morning, and it would feel good to have some exercise.  The sky was grey and misty, but at least it wasn’t raining.  The scouts reported no sign of movement by the enemy.  The march to Lychester was on.  He just had to get everyone up and marching. 

Lord Brandon got on a barrel to address the minutemen.

“I know you’re all tired.  You’ve had two days of hard marching.  You’ve got one more ahead of you.  Just one more day.  We’ve got to reach Lychester before midnight.  Let’s get there by tea time.  If we can make that, we’ll have a bit of a rest; then we’ll be up again at midnight.  It'll be fighting, not marching, then.  It’s a long walk, but to get the prize you’ve got to run the race.  These villains mean to come out and fight.  They mean to come steal your lands, rape your wives, and butcher your children.  If we get there in time, we’ll have a little surprise for them: a few thousand goose yard shafts.   So what do you say we deliver on time, lads?”

That got an enthusiastic shout in response.  Tiberius started up the music again, the golems leading the way.  It sounded better today, too.  Tiberius was a quick study.  Various amateurs had found their own instruments and joined in.  The long march got underway. 

As the day wore on, Lord Brandon had occasion to admire Darras’ ability to connect with the people.  Darras seemed to be everywhere at once, singing along with the troops, or giving a word of encouragement to the tired.  Lord Brandon was a good administrator with a few friends in the capital.  He could handle the logistics and could command an army.  But he had nothing like Darras’ personal charisma.  Darras was everything a knight should be.  He drifted towards the back of the column lifting spirits and keeping everyone moving as they marched along.  The people would follow him over a cliff.  Brandon hoped that wasn’t where he was actually taking them now. 

Towards the end of the day, the column reached the town.  Everyone was exhausted and ready to drop, but the Rangers were deployed to make sure that didn't literally happen.  As the column arrived they were moved into an orderly campsite north of the town.

Tiberius and Lord Brandon walked up ahead to the north gate, where they could look out over the local terrain.  At least they didn't have to worry much about which direction the enemy would come from.  The goblins would be in a hurry and that meant the only option was to come down the old trail to the north.  If they tried to come from the northwest, they'd run into some steep rocks and hills which would slow them down.  A northeast approach was possible, but again, swinging around to make that approach would take time and the approach to the town was no better for an attacker. 

Lychester was a small town on a hill defended by a wooden wall.  The town was perched at an outcropping on the edge of a ridgeline.  Mostly there was open ground about the town, consisting of small farms.  There were some woods to the east and west of the town.  To the east was another small hill.  To the north west was a small lake, and a larger, but steeper hill.   The main road ran east and west just to the north of the town. 

By 4 P.M. most of the militia had arrived in Lychester.  Lord Brandon ordered the men to rest, though he was careful to place Rangers to the north of town.  This was not only to give warning of the approach of the enemy, but also to make sure no messengers went north.  Lychester was the closest town to the queen’s fortress and it was well known that the inhabitants paid tribute for protection.  The queen would have friends here.     

After looking out over the lands, Tiberius walked with Lord Brandon, taking stock of the village.  Turning a corner he was surprised to see Singh Greentree and Kristine had just walked into view and approached. 

“Singh?! What are you doing here?”  Tiberius asked.

“I’m coming to help of course,” he said, as if his appearance here was the most natural thing in the world.

“But I thought you wanted to keep a low profile?”

“I desire to avoid publicity so I can concentrate on research.  I am quite confident that you can handle the day to day operations where a magus is truly necessary.  That doesn’t mean I plan to stand by and do nothing while goblins plot to overrun the entire county.  They did activate the militia after all.  I admit, I was more thinking of staying in the background and handling the medical side of things, rather than contributing to the pyrotechnics.”

“That would be a great help.  Thank you.”

“I’m not quite in the same league as Messura, but my skills should be more than adequate for the medical occasion at hand.”

Lord Brandon cleared his throat and Tiberius made the introductions:

“This is Doctor Greentree and his assistant Kristine.  He is of my order.  They’re going to help with the hospital.”

“There’s two of you now?”  Lord Brandon asked in utter surprise.

“There have never been only two of us, even when we were first three,” Singh answered.

Lord Brandon turned to Tiberius, “He does sound like you; do you fellows take a course in being obscure?”

“Doctor Greentree and his assistant are residents of the county, though obviously he ordinarily works on different projects.  Under the present emergency, however he has offered to help out with the hospital.”

“I see.  Well if you're anything like Tiberius here, that means the rest of the hospital staff can practically pack it in.  I’ll give the necessary orders.  Any of the rest of your order feel like dropping in, by all means let me extend an invitation.”

“Really one is more than sufficient,” Greentree said.  “But I do have civic duties.”

Lord Brandon walked and stood before the town surveying the field to the north from where they could expect the approach of the enemy.   Darras and Tiberius stood beside him.  El Gato had command back at Reuelshire with the Northern Militia.  It was just possible the queen would go northwest after all, in spite of the danger from the elves.

“We can deploy along the south of the road, making a V shape with the Rangers and some of the better armored militia in the center and archers to either side.  The gnomes can take charge of that hill northeast of the town.  Our line will be a bit thin, but I think we can fully cover the northern approach to the town.  We might make our own little Agincourt, eh?  Our men are all tired, but at least they all don’t have dysentery like they did at Agincourt.  I think we’ve brought more arrows too.”

Darras gave a slight scowl.  “About the same time of the year too.  Trouble is the ground here hasn’t been plowed.  It’s too good a footing.  We’re facing a faster and more sure footed opponent.”

“But not as well armored as the French,” Lord Brandon observed.

“I do have a bit of good news, sir,” Darras added.  “I just checked the south of town.  We might want to think more about Cowpens,” he said with a slight smile.    

Back in the lair of the queen, the queen herself stood at the top of her great chamber.  The steps leading up the platform were now covered with jack-o’-lanterns, each of them carved with a crude, hideous visage and dimly lit with a flickering candle.  All around her goblins worked placing the hundreds of jack-o’-lanterns and piling bones all around them. 

The queen nodded satisfaction, then turned first to the great cauldron that bubbled on top of the platform, and then to the goat that was brought forth.  This she examined very carefully.  When she asked for an unblemished goat, she dammed well meant unblemished, and she always double checked.  She smiled again.  This one would do. 

She motioned to the goblins and the contents of the bubbling cauldron were poured down the steps.  Next she took a razor-sharp blade from her belt and with one swift motion, slit the throat of the goat, letting its blood flow and mingle with the cauldron spilling down the steps and onto the waiting piles of jack-o’-lanterns and bones.

Holding her staff in the air, she shouted,  “Arise, Children of All Hallows.  Children of Hecate, Children of the Night!  The witching hour approaches.  Esirra dna od Elttab rof ruoy Neeuq!” 

For a moment there was a eerie silence in the great chamber.  Then there was a slight scraping as one of the bones moved.  Then another … then another.  Slowly, but as surely as the approach of an executioner's sword, the bones started moving, forming into the shape of men, headless men.  Once they had formed from piles of bones into headless soldiers, the headless skeletons then reached down and each of them took hold of a jack-o’-lantern.  Then they picked up the carved pumpkins, lifted them up and placed them on top of their headless skeletal bodies, the jack-o’-lanterns becoming the heads of these terrifying warriors.    Now they were fully formed soldiers of the goblin queen.  The flickering candlelight became their eyes as they took up their swords and shields.  Each shield bore the queen's purple and was decorated with the image of a jack-o’-lantern and the queen’s crown over its head.  Even veteran goblins in the chamber took a step back as they watched the queen’s army assemble itself.  Around four hundred jacks now filled the chamber and then all as one they turned, raised their arms and saluted the queen. 

The queen then strode through their ranks.  She walked down through the great chamber and out towards the exit. 

As the sun was starting to set, the queen’s army had assembled just outside of the great cave entrance.  Thousands of spiders, goblins, and bodies formed the great horde. 

Everyone assembled gasped though, as the queen made her grand exit from the chamber, leading a small army of jack-o’-lantern warriors. 

The queen was pleased with the turnout: nearly ten thousand all told, including the giant Monotauk.  Even he could see it was past time for this action; many of the dark fairy folk had been feeling the heat from the Rangers and Tiberius.  This time they would strike back!   The golden rays of sunset shone over the banners of the queen.  Each banner was purple with a jack-o’-lantern in the center covered with a gold crown.  The queen herself stood watching them all parade past her.  She turned to her general.  Gerneral Squamata was a giant of a goblin who stood around six and a half feet tall.   He wore a suit of gleaming bronze plate armor and he carried two large cutlasses.  The queen walked around him sprinkling a few last charms.

“No mortal weapon will pierce your armor!  No mortal armor shall resist your blades!  Go forth and crush the Sons of Adam and their traitorous allies.  Bring me the scalps of every gnome in the county.  They’ll learn whom to ally themselves with.”

“All shall be as you say, my queen.”

“Excellent.  These jacks will be your ace in the hole.  We aren’t loved but we shall be feared.  It’s time to remind them that they should fear the darkness.”

General Squamata led the way on a great war chariot led by two huge, evil, black horses.  They led the way to the south and plunder, glory, and revenge. 

They kept a good pace, almost jogging along the way.  The queen returned to the top of her podium and looked into her scrying crystal.  A wave from her staff showed her the general proudly marching south.  She shifted the image with another wave of her staff.  The road from Stapleshire to Fort Marion was still clear.  There would be no stopping her now.  It was too late for the Steward’s army to intervene.  She gave a grim smile.  Lychester at least would fall. 

Like the dark shadow of a storm cloud the army of the queen flew swiftly over the country side, jogging along with a magical energy they felt from the day and the occasion.  As the witching hour approached, Squamata’s horde was approached the village.  As soon as they caught their first glimpse of the distant village on the hill, General Squamata called his captains together for a brief council of war. 

Squamata walked up to address the council, flanked by two of the queen’s jacks, emphasizing that the goblin witch queen stood behind him.  “Our scouts have reached the town and their reports have come in from the front.  There are a substantial number of militia archers between us and the town,” Squamata declared. 

Sandager was the leader of a thousand or so mercenaries that had joined the attacking horde.   “How many is ‘substantial’?  I don’t have your night vision.”

“About six thousand, according to my scouts,”  Squamata’s Lieutenant Carack stated. 

“I don’t like this,” Sandager said.  “That’s a substantial force; too many for rounding up the locals.  Why don’t you let my men give the battlefield a proper once over?”

“Because we’re in a rush and the queen already has eyes on the battlefield.  She warned us there would likely be a bunch of pathetic militia men standing between us and the loot.  Now you all listen and listen good.  We’ve got nearly 13,000 warriors here.  About 3,500 bogies, and 6,000 goblin warriors, as well as 1,000 mercenaries, 1,500 spiders and another 500 each of jacks and ogres.  Enough to smash whatever militia Brandon and company have assembled.  If we’re smart that is.  I’m general here because I’ve had enough sense to read up on Agincourt and the like.  In my past lives I was probably there.”

Squamata continued.  “The important thing here is you keep moving forward till you hit their lines, and then you start smashing archers.  The French lost at Agincourt because they got caught in the muck, tripping over each other, advancing on too small a front.   We’re not going to make that mistake.  The ogres and Monotauk will lead the way.  They are the biggest and toughest so they take the front.  Close behind them is the bogies, because they are the fastest.  After that comes our warriors.  The jacks will be in reserve with me.”

The bogey chief looked concerned.  “Goblins have armor; we don’t.  Wouldn’t it be better to send your men ahead of ours?”

“Armor doesn’t matter against a long bow.  I’ll probably tell my men to take it off so they can move faster.  Only important thing is speed.  That’s why you’re going in first,”  Squamata countered. 

The booming voice of the giant rang out.  “No fear.  Monotauk smash puny archers.  You can suck the marrow from the bones of the men I smash.” 

“Just remember that we need prisoners,” Squamata said firmly, with a special glance at the spiders.  “We won’t be able to carry out all the loot ourselves.  We need carts and horses and especially mules.  So don’t be greedy.  Eat what or whom you like once we’re back safe in camp.”

“We don’t have any loot yet,”  the bogey chief cautioned.

“You will soon.  They’ve overplayed their hand this time.  The ground is good and those archers will barely be able to see in the dark.  They even have a lot of bonfires lit by their line.  They won’t  have any night vision.  I’ll be surprised if they even see us coming.”

There was a full moon out which shone through broken clouds over the battle field.  The horde broke the woodsline and moved into battle formation. 

Ahead they could see Lychester on the hill, lit by fires.  Ahead of it by the road was the line of archers.  Squamata snorted at them.  They’d have done better to keep a small force in the town and pull back their main force to the next town.  A little delay and he might have been fighting archers in the daylight in the next town.   

Sandager looked over the line, then called one of his men aside.  “Better take a couple of good men and try and get closer.  Something’s wrong here.”

“What do you mean?”  the man asked. 

“Darras isn’t a fool.   Why have they got all those fires lit when their survival means having good night vision?”  Sandager said.  Silently he resolved to stay to the rear when Squamata did his glorious charge forward. 

Squamata thought he saw something moving from the enemy lines.  It looked like someone was approaching with a white flag of truce.  Seeing this, Squamata turned to his lieutenant, Carack. 

“Go see if they will surrender quietly.  Tell them no one will be harmed, assuming they hand over all their goods and provide workers for a week to make sure it gets back to the queen.”

“We’re going to leave them unharmed?”  Carack said.

“Of course not, you fool, but they’ll know the difference later.  Make it quick; we don’t have all night.  It's fun to listen to them grovel, but we’ve got other towns to loot.  The rest of you get into position.  I want to be ready to attack the moment the talks break down.  Make sure our archers keep creeping forwards while the talks go on.  Maybe if they talk long enough our skirmishers can do some good with a proper ambush.”

Carack nodded and went forward.  The bogey chieftain went with him, curious as to what the townsfolk had to say.

The approaching representative from the town was only one man.  He carried a white flag in one hand and some sort of torch in the other. 

Carack walked forward to meet him.  He didn’t expect much from this conversation.  The nearby towns already paid a tribute to the queen.  She wanted far more than that now, and the local mayor wouldn’t like it. 

The bogey next to him was nervous.  He was annoying Carrack with the way he kept sniffing in the air.

“Something is wrong,” it said as they saw the town’s emissary approaching.  “I don’t like the smell of this place.”

Carack ignored him.  He focused on the town delegation.  At first he thought he was carrying a torch, but as he got closer he could see it was the tip of a staff that was burning with torchlight.  Carack stiffened slightly.  This had to be the wizard Tiberius they’d heard so much about. That was only mildly surprising.  Carack stepped up towards the wizard, but the wizard spoke first. 

“That’s far enough,” Tiberius said.  “Lay down your arms and surrender.  We will show you what mercy we can.”

Carack let out a sharp laugh.  “Balls!  You’ve got some nerve.  Lay out all the wealth of the county and we may spare some of your lives. You can’t stop us all, wizard.”

“I don’t need to; the free people of the Stewardship stand with me.  Take one step closer to the town and it will be your last.”  Holding up his staff into the air as a signal, the goblins could see something happening in the distance.  There was a spark near the center of the town, then like a wave a ripple of flame went down the line left and light.  The tips of the archers arrows were being set on fire and the wave of fire spreading out from the center of the town made an impressive sight. 

Carack glanced towards the town.  There were a hell of a lot of archers there.  Only six thousand?  Someone undercounted.  It didn’t matter though; they didn’t have night vision and those flames weren’t going to help that.  Carack took a step forward.  “Stop us if you can, Wizard.”

Tiberius gave an amused shrug then vanished in a wisp of smoke. 

Carack pulled out a horn and gave a long blast.  Squamata nodded stepped up on his war chariot, and gave the signal for the advance.  

Monotauk raised the small tree he was using as a club in response and then the horde surged forward towards the enemy. 

Tiberius appeared before Lord Brandon.  “How did it go?”  Brandon asked.

“They didn’t actually try to kill me, but they didn’t surrender either.”

“Blast, I owe Darras five crowns.  I thought for sure they’d try to kill our emissary.  Whenever you are ready, Tiberius.”

Tiberius stepped to the front of the lines and leveled his staff.  The surging horde noted a few red streaks flying towards them.  One of the goblins near Squamata laughed as the red streaks flew by.