Book 7: Chapter 14 |
DESPITE MY OFFER to take care of his wounded squire, Lord Gray categorically refused to leave without the man, so they ended up having to stay for a while longer than I expected.
He may not have said anything outright, but the ACTUAL reason for his stubborn insistence was perfectly clear to me nonetheless. Lord Gray had already had a chance to look around and get a sense of our force’s battle-readiness for himself. And if his skeptical glances were any indication, he wasn’t feeling especially confident that we could beat the Atalian force that was making its way rapidly toward us, and whose arrival was expected more or less any day at that point.
Old opinions about the omnipotence of cavalry died hard, it seemed, and we had virtually no cavalry at all. Not counting de Châtillon and his 300 riders, of course, and the noblemen from de Gondy’s entourage.
I didn’t bother trying to convince Lord Gray otherwise. Time would tell. Much more important in my mind was the fighting spirit of our army. To Lord Gray’s surprise, this could hardly have been higher.
As per our agreed-upon plan, my soldiers were preparing to meet the enemy’s cavalry, and they were noticeably zealous in everything they did — especially since (unlike the previous time) we had plenty of time to prepare for the battle to come.
A big reason for the general excitement was the fact that virtually all of Captain Kroner’s legionaries and the Gaston Laforte’s “Last Chances” had already reaped rich rewards in trophies from the last confrontation with the Marquis di Spinola and his army; not only had they won, they had also done so without suffering particularly heavy losses.
None of them seemed in any doubt that we would manage to smash the enemy’s heavy cavalry again this time. Vaira, whose ear was constantly tuned in to what was being said in the camp, reported that all the soldiers believed I would come up with something again no matter what happened.
Basically, our camp was in a state of hardworking excitement; after all, given the rich plunder we had gathered from the Duke’s son and his army, the haul from the Duke himself and all his vassals was bound to be exponentially richer — not to mention the Atalian Prince and his entourage of noblemen.
Almost everyone at the council of war was in full agreement with my recommendations, except for the Marquis de Gondy and his entourage. For the first time since they joined our forces, I allowed him to propose an alternative.
In response to Gaston Laforte’s question about how we could possibly disengage from Prince Adrian’s army and move past it in order to make this rendezvous a reality, one of Marquis de Gondy’s hangers-on suggested that we should sacrifice a few units of mountain men — that they should engage the enemy in order to serve as a screen while the rest of the army moved past and continued on its way toward the two Dukes.
A chorus of nods from the Marquis’ entourage — as well as from the Marquis himself — made it clear that they were all in full agreement with this suggestion.
After a nod of approval from me, Captain Kroner proceeded (calmly, and without raising his voice) to explain exactly what he thought about this idiotic idea, and what sort of fate would be in store for our forces if we proceeded with such a harebrained adventure. Before long, the young nobleman who had originally made the suggestion was truly pitiful to behold. Although actually, no. I didn’t have any pity for him at all. People like that need to be kept as far away from positions of command as possible.
Eventually, when all the details of our plan were agreed, we started preparations. Big ditches soon appeared in front of our positions, then turned into moats as soon as some of the nearby rivulets were diverted into them. Parallel to these, we had long rows of pointed stakes pounded into the ground, along with big wooden shields for our archers to shelter behind.
Captain Kroner lamented the fact that Maitre Chamot and his ballista crews weren’t present, but I had chosen to leave our artillery on the walls of Chateau Gardien. It would be more useful there.
I had also left 300 Mertonians and a cohort of mercenaries there, the latter composed mainly of soldiers from the northern mountain clans — most of whom had also taken part in that unforgettable night time ceremony.
For the time being, the Citadel was serving as our base of operations. We had something like 200 laborers working on it every day, repairing the gates and walls that had been damaged during our assault on the place.
Long story short, everyone involved in our enterprise was working hard, and our camp was no exception. Lord Gray stood by, watching it all with a dour look on his face as he waited for his squire to recover.
Thanks to my treatments, and the stryker’s own physical toughness, his health had improved considerably in the two days since his arrival at our camp. All else aside, combat mages tended to have remarkable regeneration abilities — certainly in comparison to those of normal humans, although not quite as impressive as those of werewolves.
By the third day, my temporary patient was already back on his feet (albeit only shakily) and expressing his desire to continue on to the capital. As soon as he saw the look on Lord Gray’s (and my) face, however, he let the matter drop.
As we walked out of the tent, Lord Gray growled out a stream of curses to himself and shot a quick glance at Cecilia Black, who (with my permission) had already entered the tent to visit her cousin.
It wasn’t hard to decode that quick glance. Gray was losing time, and it was driving him crazy, but he knew he couldn’t leave the two strykers there either. Even as it was, he had already lost all the rest of his strykers. Besides that, he knew they would have better chances of making it to the capital in a group of three.
As I watched Carl III’s most powerful stryker, it gave me some food for thought. Basically, an idea started taking shape in my mind... Lord Gray was already indebted to me for a number of things. He had even called me a friend. And while those might be little more than empty words, I definitely couldn’t sense that he had any antipathy toward me. Quite the contrary, in fact.
And as for me... Well, having such a powerful, well-connected avant as an ally — one who also felt a debt of gratitude toward me — was worth more than I could easily reckon in monetary terms. Long story short, the idea of making him an even firmer ally began to take shape in my mind...
“Monsieur, you need not worry about your warrior here,” I said in a calming tone as I continued weighing up the pros and cons in my mind. “He’s in no danger anymore. He’s recovering quickly.”
“Thank you, Monsieur,” replied Lord Gray with a bow. “I’m in your debt.”
“Come, now,” I smiled. “Like I’ve already said — we’re engaged in a common enterprise here. Besides, what sort of debt can there possibly be between friends?”
Lord Gray bowed his head once again; then, with a flicker of hope in his voice, he asked:
“What do you think — when will Gregory be fit to continue the journey?”
“I promise you — within a week, I’ll have him back on his feet in the full sense of the word.”
To be honest, two or three days would probably have been plenty for such a stryker, but I decided not to mention that.
Hearing my answer, Lord Gray sucked in a quiet, exasperated breath through his nose; he was obviously trying his very hardest not to let his irritation show.
“There’s no way the process could be sped up?” He asked. “Maybe you have some potions with greater concentration? Like the ones you gave the Count de Leval?”
“That’s what I’m using to treat him now,” I shrugged. “Besides, I was planning to give you a few dozen bottles of the same elixir for the King. Judging by the symptoms you described to me, the Marshal de Clairmont’s wound sounds very similar to the one His Majesty has been suffering from. I mean, if the Duke has managed to survive for so long on these potions WITHOUT the support of a healer...”
“Yes, yes!” Lord Gray sounded excited; his eyes lit up. “That’s an excellent idea!” And immediately, in the heat of the moment, he added: “It’s a shame you’re stuck here, instead of at the King’s side. I’ve been watching you work... Those much-vaunted healers at the King’s side are no match for you at all! I remember the state Gregory was in when we arrived... It’s only been two days, and you’ve already got him back on his feet!”
He fell silent for a moment, staring firmly into my eyes; then, laying a hand on my shoulder, he continued:
“Maximillian... You realize, of course, that the King’s life is the most important thing in the world right now? Even the battle you’re about to fight isn’t as important as his life. If His Majesty dies, then even a glorious victory on these fields won’t really matter. Although I have to be honest: I really don’t think you’re going to be able to beat Prince Adrian’s army.”
“Édouard.” I looked around to make sure nobody was eavesdropping; then I shook my head and continued in a hushed whisper. “I’ve seen His Majesty’s wound myself. Do you think I wouldn’t do everything I could to save him, if such a thing were even a remote possibility? This is death magic, brought by the Frozen Spears. I’m powerless against it.”
I decided to ignore Lord Gray’s comment about the upcoming battle, as well as his opinion about how likely we were to win it.
After I spoke, his face was as dark as I’d ever seen it. Meanwhile, I turned to look back at the tent where his stryker was lying, then continued in a more pensive tone of voice:
“Making sure your man there will be able to depart with you tomorrow, however... THAT, I think, is more than just a remote possibility. True, you’ll have to bring him on a cart, but I can guarantee you that he won’t die en route.”
Lord Gray’s expression morphed into one of excited shock as he swallowed my bait.
“How?” His voice sounded deeply surprised. “You said — “
“Yes,” I gently interrupted him. “I know what I said, and I stand by it... But I was talking about the prognosis using standard methods. As it happens, I’ve got something else in mind here.”
Lord Gray straightened his back. Confusion, hope, surprise — all these emotions were writ large in his eyes.
“What are you referring to?”
In my mind, I couldn’t resist a little chuckle. I was talking about some of my new skills, of course... You see, during my meditation sessions with the lunari, my arsenal of magical webs had expanded to include another spell. But it didn’t have anything to do with Chaos Magic.
After analyzing the young werefox’s memories, I learned that in addition to Chaos Masters, there were also some experts in other types of magic at the young shapeshifters’ school. Life Magic, for example.
And even though the little werefox had been a Chaos Mage himself, the curriculum would have required him to be familiar with theories from other magical disciplines as well. True, my former self (like almost all the other adolescents) had felt that memorizing laws of Life Magic and Earth Magic was an utter waste of time for him, since he “would never use it.” Therefore, he didn’t really pay much attention to those subjects — so little, in fact, that he only managed to pass the exam on his second attempt, and then only because the teacher took pity on him.
Be that as it may, however, the lunari and I had still managed to fish certain pieces of knowledge about Life Magic out of the depths of his memory. The Lesser Healing Web was more complicated than the Chaos Shield, but thanks to the artistic streak I had inherited from Max, I managed to reproduce it without too much difficulty.
As expected, the web required pure Life Magic to function, and I was considerably relieved to discover that energy from scarlet bruts was essentially the perfect fuel.
From there, we moved on to experiments. My first test subject was a piebald mare with a wounded hind leg. Lorin usually took care of injuries like that himself, but this time he obligingly turned his patient over to me (without even asking any questions).
To our collective joy, the experiment was a success. The web merged itself into the horse’s energy system without a hiccup and activated the necessary healing processes. In some ways, the spell’s functionality reminded me of a certain automated program, which would function right up until the moment that the mana in the web finished dissolving itself inside the patient’s energy system.
Of course, my usual manipulations with mana were still much more effective, but that was just because I was also a Seer. On the other hand, the Lesser Healing Web could function on its own for anywhere from 10 to 48 hours. It just depended on the amount of mana the caster poured into the spell. As for potions, they were considerably less effective than the spell, even after modification.
After the first horse, I ran several dozen further tests on four-legged patients before I finally decided to start working on humans; when I did, it helped lighten the burden on our field hospital quite a bit. Admittedly, with the exception of a small handful who were in the know, everybody thought I was just using elixirs.
“Follow me,” I said as I stepped into the tent, where Gregory and Cecilia were talking quietly about something.
“Madame, I wonder if you wouldn’t mind leaving us for a few minutes,” I said to Cecilia. “I need to conduct one more exam on my patient.”
Looking tense, she glanced first at her cousin, then at Lord Gray. After a nod from her commander, she stepped out of the tent.
Meanwhile, I had already stepped up to the stryker’s bed and asked him to lie flat on his back. He did so. Then, while Lord Gray looked on with unblinking eyes, I laid my palm on the stryker’s forehead and, in a firm, imperious tone, I said:
“Sleep...”
Gregory passed out instantly. Usually, when working with a mage at such an advanced level, a spellsword like me could only expect such skills to work about 50% of the time. In this particular case, however, the stryker was already weakened by wounds, so he was much more vulnerable to my spells.
“You’re true gifted,” said Lord Gray. It was more of an assertion than a question.
His expression suggested that he had already realized I wasn’t a typical Shadow mage.
I replied with a silent shrug.
“So what did you want to show me?” There was tension in the stryker’s voice.
“This,” I said as I took a medium-sized scarlet brut out of my pocket.
A second later, a dark-red web appeared in the air above Gregory’s chest as he lay there, sleeping peacefully; in the blink of an eye, it dissolved itself into his body. The brut in my hand crumbled into a useless, fine-grained powder.
I closed my eyes, laid my hand on the stryker’s chest, and watched his energy system for a little while. To an observer, I would have looked like a normal healer, who was simply trying to sense the various mana flows inside my patient’s body. I had no intention of revealing my skills as a Seer.
Out of the corner of my eye, I was also watching as Lord Gray’s energy system grew more and more agitated.
Finally, I opened my eyes, wiped my face with both hands, and said:
“He’ll wake up in an hour, and you’ll be able to head out right away. Take him on a cart. The spell will be in operation for about two days. After that, I think he’ll be able to sit in a saddle. You can give him a potion on the third day. But I don’t think he’ll really need it.”
With that, I turned around. Lord Gray had been watching me work in spellbound silence; when I turned around, however, he suddenly snapped out of his trance and spoke in a hoarse voice:
“An Absolute Technique...”
What happened next came as a total surprise for me. The King of Vestonia’s most powerful stryker, one of the most powerful combat mages in all Mainland, folded his hands across his chest and bowed deeply at the waist until his back was almost parallel with the floor:
“I thank you, Master. I’m honored to have witnessed this ancient magical art with my own eyes. It was once thought that these skills had been lost forever.”
“I presume I don’t need to explain that everything you’ve seen today must remain a secret?” I asked in a calm, even voice, despite the fact that the stryker’s behavior was a little bit worrying to me.
“It will,” said Lord Gray firmly, before bowing once again. “I give you my word.”
* * *
“They’re here.” Leo’s voice was trembling.
My squire had found me down at the riverbank. I was sitting on a large, moss-covered boulder, cut off from the noise and hubbub of the camp as I contemplated the landscape around me.
There was a thick belt of forest on the opposite bank of the river that stretched all the way back to the mountains, whose snow-covered peaks I could still see looming in the distance.
Bergonia reminded me of a certain small, mountainous country from my homeworld, where Thais and I used to go celebrate the new year. Small, picturesque villages, clean, well-kept houses, tasty street food, snow, skiing, long evenings by the fireplace with a bottle of wine — some of the very happiest times in my former life. Such a shame that they didn’t last longer. Actually, the same applies to my brief moment of calm by the river that day...
Three days had passed since Lord Gray and his squires’ departure. We never discussed what had happened in the tent after we left it. It took them a few hours to get ready, and all we managed in that time were a few phrases, which were anyway related to their impending journey. The look on Lord Gray’s face as we said goodbye, however, was etched into my memory. At that point, I realized very clearly that revealing my secret to him had been the right move. I had one more extremely powerful ally in my corner.
As they were about to depart, he paid his respects to me with one more silent, deep bow, which caught both his squires and all the other assembled nobles completely by surprise. The aristocrats in the Marquis de Gondy’s entourage kept shooting me strange, bewildered glances for some time after Lord Gray’s departure...
I slid silently off my boulder, cast one last, longing look in the direction of the faraway mountains, then headed back toward our defensive fortifications.
All my commanders were there waiting for me already; when I arrived, they were animatedly discussing Prince Adrian’s army, which had just made its appearance on the opposite side of the wide field in front of us.
The profusion of colorful outfits, banners, and feathers dazzled the eyes. Even where we stood, we could feel the ground shaking slightly under the hooves of thousands of horses. Unlike the Marquis di Spinola, the Duke didn’t seem to be in any hurry to plunge into an attack. The riders were obviously waiting for their infantry to catch up with them.
“Look!” Someone cried (I don’t know who it was, but they must have been the sharpest-eyed person in the army).
Two riders had broken away from the main body of the enemy’s army and were making their way toward us at a slow trot. Judging by their armor, they seemed to be rank-and-file soldiers.
“They’ve got a white flag!” The same voice shouted.
All the unit commanders turned to look at me.
“Find out what they want,” I said. Within a minute, two men from Viscount de Châtillon’s unit were galloping out to meet the enemy’s messengers. A white flag quickly unfurled into the breeze above their heads as well.
The conversation ended up being pretty brief, and within a few minutes one of our emissaries reported that Prince Adrian and the Duke di Spinola were inviting us to negotiations, which would take place in one hour.
“Well, if they were kind enough to invite us, I guess we’d better go,” I announced as I turned to head back to my tent. Time to start preparing for the meeting.