Path of the Magi (Tales of Tiberius) (36 page)

“He missed!  Stupid wizard!”

Squamata watched the red streaks continue into the sky, then explode with a brilliant light.  They then floated above the battlefield lighting up the whole area.

“Fool!  Those aren’t fireballs, they’re flares!  That accursed wizard just made perfect targets of our entire army! Charge for your lives, you dogs!”  he shouted.  “We’ve just lost our first big advantage.”

A line of goblin skirmishers was the first casualty.  Even as they’d been discussing a truce, Squamata had a few hundred goblins creeping forward with bows in the darkness.  As soon as the flares lit up the sky, the goblins went from sneakers to targets.  Their own bows were out of range, but they were well within range of the longbowmen.  Those who survived the wave of arrows ran back through the goblin lines. 

The queen watched the battle start from the comfort of her own cave through the scrying pool.  Flares?!  She should have thought of that.  It shouldn’t matter though.  They’d kill most of the bogies, but so what?  The goblins would break though the lines.  Still, a little insurance might be a good idea.  She tapped her staff to the ground and called forth a small imp.  It was short, red, and had wings. 

“Iago lives to serve my Queen,” it said, bowing. 

The queen turned back to the crystal.  “Stay ready.  I may need you as a messenger.”

Iago edged over to glance into her scrying crystal.  “What’s going on?”

“We finally have that meddlesome wizard trapped.  My army is going to crush these militiamen and finally bring me some decent loot for a change.”

“Excellent!”  Iago said, anticipating his cut.  He glanced at the crystal.  “Umm, that wouldn’t be Tiberius the meddlesome wizard, would it?”

“Who else do you suppose, idiot.  Leave me alone; I need to watch this.”

As soon as Lord Brandon saw the bright flares from Tiberius lighting up the sky he gave the order.

“That’s the signal, gentlemen.  You may fire when ready.”

There was some scattered fire at first as the longbow men picked off the goblin archers, but then there was a pause. 

The queen’s horde drew up at about 400 yards distance; then as one they made a mad charge forward.  On the queen’s right, Garra led the ogres and spiders together.  They weren’t as numerous as the bogies or goblins, but the ogres and web warriors were some of the fiercest troops Squamata had, and he aimed them right at Tiberius.  In the center, the bogies charged, led by their chief.  On the Steward’s right (the queen’s left), Monotauk, surrounded by more bogies at a respectful distance, led the charge.  About fifty yards behind them was the second wave of goblin warriors.  

As the queen’s horde approached, the Steward’s sergeants called out the archers’ orders. 

“Notch!” was the first cry.  Along the line in unison, the longbow men took up their bows and fitted their arrows.  The faint clicks of arrows touching the yew bows were like the cry of some strange form of insect, though no insect was ever this deadly.

“Aim!”  As one, the thousands of archers raised their bows high into the air, sighting downrange with their weapons. 

“Loose!”  A wall of flaming arrows flew across the night sky, impacting the army of the queen. 

Squamata looked in horror as the first wave of arrows smashed into his forces.  Damn that wizard, he thought.  Tiberius had made his army a perfect target.  He’d have his revenge, though.  If his army charged fearlessly forward, they’d reach the archers before too many of them had fallen.  He hoped.  It would be a near thing.  The ground hadn’t been plowed as much as Agincourt.   

When the first arrows hit, the spiders took the worst of it.  The longbows got their range and hit them hard and early.  They all must have spent their lives practicing on spider sized targets from the way the arrows hit those spiders, Lord Brandon thought. Only the web warriors, shielded by the ogres, had any protection. 

The ogres were eight or nine feet tall and had thick leather and stout wooden shields to protect them.  Even so, longbows were fierce weapons that could penetrate an oak door at close range.  Garra saw one of his friends fall beside him, a cloth-yard shaft through his eye.  But the distance was closing.  Damn that wizard and his flares.   

“There he is!”  Garra shouted, suddenly seeing the man himself ahead of him.  Garra gave a great battle cry, urging his men forward.  Swinging his great spiked mace over his head, he led the charge.  “Kill the wizard!  Everyone kill the wizard!”

Lord Brandon had wandered off a bit, moving his horse down the line to encourage the archers.  Now he stopped, seeing the ogres rushing Tiberius.  He wished the man would step back; those flares were too important to the battle. 

Tiberius paused from firing flares into the sky to face the ogre leader charging towards him.  Apparently he had no intention of retreating.

“Looking for me?”  Tiberius shouted.  “Ekbrilu!”

A series of sparks flew forward and burst in a series of blinding flashes around and in front of the charging forces.  The next instant Tiberius said " Klingoj frapu," and sent a volley of his whistling steel blades into them, nearly slicing off the leg of Garra.  He tripped and fell over, and the blinded ogre behind him tripped over him in turn.  The chaos brought the charge to a grinding halt. The archers, encouraged, redoubled their efforts.  Tiberius followed with a couple of large fireballs.  Garra struggled to his feet, only to fall with a dozen arrows in his chest.

Another large and agile ogre jumped over the fallen body of the leader and charged Tiberius.  Tiberius pointed his staff and shouted, “Kineta frapu.”

An invisible force struck the ogre with such power that it flew back over its companions, landing on top of one of the great web warriors, crushing them both.  Tiberius blinked, slightly surprised at the strength of his own spell.  He was feeling an energy being on a battlefield. 

Some of the great web warriors were getting close now, but they fared no better.  They were caught in a hail of fire and arrows.   Their hairy skin burned from the wizard’s fireballs and drove them mad with pain.  The cloth-yard shafts were going through their thick skin and the arrows were coming down on them as thick as rain.  Those few who reached the line were quickly cut down.   

At least the bogies were faster, which was as good a defense to the rain of arrows as any had found that day.  The bogey chief led the bogies to about the center of the line of archers.  His casualties were terrible and the chief himself bore a couple of wounds from the long shafts grazing him, but his troop was at least reaching the line.  The archers ahead of the chief were starting to turn and run.   Here was the chance at victory!  At last, there was a hole in the line of archers.  Fresh hope surged into the heart of the bogey chief.  He’d had a bad feeling about this battle, but with Monotauk to his left and the archers fleeing before him, they would smash such a hole in the militia’s line that they would never recover from it. 

The chief felt the animal blood rushing through his veins.  This was a moment to live for, a moment of pure adrenaline.  There was the line of enemy soldiers ahead of him now, almost in range of his claws.  With a wild scream he leapt into the air at the enemy.

To the left of the chief, on the Steward’s right, was Monotauk.  He was attacking just where Darras stood with most of the Rangers and men at arms.   Darras was sitting up on Smoke, standing by the troop of archers.  For now he was watching and waiting, letting the sergeants do their job.  All of a sudden he saw it coming out of the darkness, silhouetted by the fires that the magus had lit. 

A giant.  A twenty foot tall man of great strength, with limbs like tree limbs.  He was charging straight for his position.  The arrows didn’t seem to be having much effect on him.  They probably hurt, but they weren’t penetrating deeply enough for a serious wound.  In another minute he’d be on top of them, scattering his men left and right with sweeps of that large club he was carrying.  Tiberius was on the other side of the battlefield; he’d never get here in time. 

“Sergeant, have your men concentrate your fire on his left arm,” Darras ordered.  “If you can slow down his shield arm, I might have a chance.” 

“Left arm?  Aye, sir,”  the sergeant replied.

“You heard him lads, aim careful now, see if we can put that left arm of his out of commission.”  The sergeant turned to look back at Darras, but was startled to see he wasn’t there.  Darras had put the spurs to Smoke and was charging forward, towards the giant. 

Darras charged, holding his lance close to the ground.  The giant saw his trick.  The puny human was trying to drive a lance though his leg and slow him down.  He’d block the thrust with his left fist and then smash the puny mortal with his club when he tried to drive away.  He was glad to have the chance to smash something.  Those arrows hurt.  His left arm was a bit sore.  

The giant moved his arm to shield his leg, but the leg wasn't Darras' target.  At the last instant, Darras made a sudden turn into the giant.  He hadn’t been champion jouster of the country for nothing; that move had fooled smarter knights than Monotauk.  The club stroke missed. Darras’ lance dipped for a minute, but then swung up suddenly, as Darras swerved in under the giant’s blow.    The lance went straight though the heart of the giant.  The lance shattered on impact, but the point went clear though.  Monotauk staggered for a moment, then fell over with a mighty crash.  A great cheer went up from all the archers, seeing the giant fall dead. 

Darras drew his sword and waved it in the air at the approaching bogies. 

“Come on!  Who’s next!  Who’s for jousting?  Who is for fighting?” he shouted.

Apparently no one, was the answer.  To be sure, no one had been too keen on being close to Monotauk when he was alive.  That something more dangerous than Monotauk was there didn’t exactly make it the preferred spot on the battlefield.  The remaining bogies split, with a group charging a small hill where the gnome slingers were working.  The rest swung around to follow the chief into the hole opening up in the Steward’s center. 

Darras signaled the Rangers and they rode to the relief of the gnomes on their hill.  Between the arrows and slings the bogies had little luck at that end. 

Back in her lair, the queen studied the lines though her scrying pool.  “Bugger it, we’ve lost Monotauk!  Still, not too bad,” she said out loud to Iago.  “The bogey chief has reached the archers and it looks like those militiamen are turning tail and running.  A lot better that Agincourt.”

“Er, about those militia men, don’t you mean Cowpens?”  Iago said.

The queen ignored him, continuing to study the situation.  “I didn’t expect the spiders to be so useless, but at least they absorbed some arrows.  My goblins are intact.  With the hole the bogies have made in the center they’ll be able to roll up the flanks of the enemy’s lines.  They’ll make short work of the archers now.  Although their wizard is going to be trouble, he can’t stop us by himself.”

  Iago cleared his throat.  “You know his real name is Tiberius Fuller, right.  Son of Julian Fuller.” 

The queen ignored him.  “His mother’s a whore; who can say who his father is.  Spare me the trivia lessons, I’m busy.”   

“Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.  I can help more if I’m in on the planning stages.  Darras did pretty well on those tactics exams, too.  You remember he’s military academy before the whole jousting tour thing, right?  Top of his class.”

“I didn’t expect he’d kill Monotauk, that’s for sure,” the queen said, still ignoring Iago.  “I hope Squamata has sense to fill that hole.”

“You did summon me for advice, right?  I really could have told you more about his dad if I’d got into the discussion a bit earlier,”  Iago said. 

“Bugger his father; quit bothering me!  Can’t you see that I’m busy?”

“Fire-Axe Fuller THE WITCH SLAYER!!!” the imp shouted at last.

Something about the way those words were shouted out finally penetrated into the skull of the goblin queen.  Her impish assistant might be trying to tell her something important after all.  Actually, she suddenly had a sense that what he was trying to tell her was in fact of the greatest importance to a witch like herself.

She stopped and without saying a word, quietly turned and gave the imp her full attention, only raising a single grey eyebrow as a signal that she was now listening.

The imp breathed a sigh of relief and started letting the words out.  “Daddy wasn’t a wizard or even a particularly notable warrior, but he still killed a witch at least as good as you.  Aren’t you even a little bit interested in how he did that, or if the little bastard might be just a bit of a chip off the old block that way?”

The queen snarled at him.  “Julian Fuller was a cowardly general.  He got other people to kill them.” 

“Right.  A treacherous sneaky general who outmaneuvered his opponents, making them think they had the upper hand when they didn’t.”

The queen had his full attention now.  She suddenly stiffened and looked him square in the eye.  Her voice was quiet and dangerous.  “Spit it out.  What are you trying to say!”

“Quit focusing on their front lines!  Those archers in the center aren’t running!  It’s a trick.  Forget Agincourt, think the battle of Cowpens.  Darras has.  He studied it at the academy.  Fire Axe Fuller’s son didn’t show up to a battle with some ragtag group of militia men.  You are facing three full legions of professional soldiers.”

“WHAT!!!!!!!  Where?!  How?!”  she sputtered.  “That can’t be.  I was watching the road!”  The image from the crystal went wild as she tried to frantically swing it all over the battlefield.