Fallen Magician (The Magician Rebellion) Page 11

  Levak was nearly back on his feet when Kellen delivered a sound kick to his gut forcing the air out of Levak and flipping him on his back.

  Kellen’s bare fists burst with blue fire and he lunged for Ryonus, grabbing at his neck. The magician choked and the blue flames rolled up Kellen’s arms as he drained Ryonus of his magic and tossed the master magician to the floor.

  “”Enough of this!” exclaimed Xander. He pointed a finger at Kellen and a dark tendril of energy shot out and lodged into the knight’s chest. Kellen groaned as he felt the very essence of his life being drained from him. Four more tendrils extended from Xander’s finger and each grabbed a limb wrapping around them like so many black snakes.

  The dark tentacles lifted Kellen into the air and drew him out of the cell. Once he cleared the cage’s opening, Xander swung his arm to one side and sent Kellen sailing into a wall. “I have not tasted another’s life force in a very long time,” the grandmaster scowled at the prone warrior, “Pray that I can control myself and do not drain you dry.” He extended his other hand to Alia and touched her gently on the shoulder as he transferred Kellen’s strength into her. “Care to try again, my daughter?”

  Reinvigorated, Alia stood over Kellen who was still pinned down by Xander’s tendrils. “Gladly,” she told him.

  As the enchantress began her questioning again, it became too much for Byrn to handle. “Xander, stop this! You are going to kill him!” He moved to stand between Kellen and Xander, but it was the former priest, Skynryd, of all people, who stopped him.

  “Please come outside with me,” Skynryd asked placing a hand on Byrn’s shoulder. He led Byrn out of the dungeon and up a flight of stairs until they stood at a small landing. Kellen’s screams of denial as he tried to resist Alia’s mental attacks while Xander assaulted him physically continued as Skynryd tried to calm Byrn.

  “I know this is hard for you to witness,” Skynryd began, “You are not accustomed to making this kind of difficult decision. To stand and watch as another is tortured, even when it is done for the right reasons, is a very difficult thing for any man to take, but this is necessary.”

  “Let me talk to him,” Byrn begged, “Maybe I can convince him to help us. Kellen is not a fanatic like the others of his order. If he understood what we were trying to do; that we only want to make a place for magicians to live free from oppression, then he would surely help us.”

  “Remember what happened at Lion’s Landing. Think of your friends lost there. Picture their faces, and then tell me that we are going too far.” Byrn had no response for that. Skynryd added, “I do not like it either, but sometimes you have to do things that you may disagree with for the greater good.”

  Tomlin approached them from the dungeon below that had gotten decidedly quiet. When he reached them, Tomlin said, “He feinted under the stress.” To Skynryd, he said, “He will probably be fine, but you may want to have a look at him. Kellen is as stubborn as a drunken mule. I think his body might break long before his spirit does.” Skynryd huffed as he made his way back down to the dungeon.

  “For what it is worth, I heard what you said to Old Skynryd and I think you are right in a way. Perhaps a friendlier approach can succeed where an aggressive one has failed.”

  Chapter 15

  The first volley of boulders soared through the night sky before they came crashing down inside Everec’s walls. Clouds of dirt and stone spattered into the air from the impacts as the stones smashed into the earth, the stonework of the walls, and a few of the buildings that were too near the wall. Sane was troubled by the frailty of the walls. They were built to withstand, or more accurately deter, bandit attacks, but this kind of punishment was probably never considered when the city’s was built some hundred years earlier. A few more volleys like that and the southern wall where most of the orc host, which far outnumbered the defenders, was assembled would be in tatters in a matter of minutes.

  “Sane- the catapults!” yelled Sari from the top of the wall as she loosed arrows amidst the rest of the archers. She could have been safer firing from one of the kill windows, but Sari thought she could be of more help coordinating the men on the wall. Sane always admired her for that. No matter the danger, Sari could always be found where she thought she could do the most good.

  The sorcerer made his way to the top of the staircase so he could see the catapults. Below him was a mass of orcs ranging down the gently sloping mountainside. Many of them were staying back out of bow range for now, but there were other formations rushing forward with ladders and shield bearers intent on scaling the wall. The catapults were five or six hundred feet away and would be difficult for a focused magical attack to hit. Instead Sane took aim at one of the ladders and threw balls of flame at it until it caught fire. The orcs in the middle of the ladder let go, but those in the front and rear kept running forward as if nothing was wrong. To their credit, the orc fighters were well disciplined and would not be deterred. Sane targeted several other ladder carriers and the results were the same.

  A second volley of large stones came flying from the catapults, but the sorcerer was ready for the barrage this time and sent a continuous stream of gale force wind into the sky as each rock was repelled and fell amidst the orcs, killing some and harming others in a small act of attrition that would have to be repeated a thousand times for the humans to win the day.

  “They will think twice about using those trebuchets!” Sari shouted.

  Ladders began swinging toward the walls on the south, east, and west sides. Another strong gust of wind from Sane was enough to deflect the south side’s ladders and soldiers with pole arms pushed back the ladders on the east and west walls. Only the north side needed no defense, being built at the sheer side of a mountain.

  Orcs began banging on their shields and shouting what Sane knew to be curses in the orcish tongue directed at him. From the back of the enemy camp a horn blew and the orcs that were shouting angrily moments before started cheering. More of the grey-skinned warriors began rushing forward with even more ladders and the catapults flung another load of stones at the southern wall. Sane once again pushed back the rocky attack using his wind magic with ease, but as the stones were about to crash into the orcs below them again they suddenly stopped in mid-air and shot toward Everec’s walls as if they were being flung by massive invisible slingshots. The new attack caught Sane by surprise and a dozen heavy stones punched into the city wall shaking it under his feet.

  “Focus on the ladder carriers!” shouted a woman. It was Marian directing the archers and pole-men on the south and west walls. She was running across the wall’s top toward Sane as she directed her soldiers. “Sane, what was that? Do orcs have magicians?”

  “It is rare, but all of the higher races do,” Sane told her, “Orcs are even more fearful of magicians than are humans. For their magikans, as the orcs call them, to be assimilated in their military-” Sane’s thought was cut short as the wall beneath his feet rumbled and began to shift. He reached out to the elements and could sense the earth shifting below the wall. The orc magikan was attempting to collapse the wall by removing the earth from underneath it! Sane gripped his staff tightly in his right hand and spread his arms wide as he felt the essence of the earth below and pulled it back in place even as the magikan tried to take it away. Sane gritted his teeth as he spoke, “I can counteract their magikan and protect the wall from him, but my focus will be divided. Your men will need to keep the rest of them at bay and find a way to deal with the catapults.”

  Marian nodded and began issuing orders as she headed in the elf’s direction. “And if you can find the magikan in that sea of orcs, shoot him!” the sorcerer shouted after her.

  Then literal hell broke loose. A half dozen summoned spooks, blood-red spirits from the underworld that fed on the living and were invulnerable to conventional weapons, were quickly approaching the gate. Archers fired down on the spooks and Sari shouted for them to save their arrows for the living. Sane released his spell that kept
the earth at rest and erected a magical wall ahead of the spooks to hold them back. As invulnerable as the spooks were, they could only exist in the realm of the living for a very short time without feeding. The wall would be enough to slow the spooks down and keep them from getting to the kingdom soldiers within the city.

  The wall shook again as the orc magikan pulled the earth away once more and another volley of stones were loosed from the catapults. Sane continued to channel the element of earth and used his magic to grab the rocks as they came towards the wall and he redirected them back at the catapults; hitting one of the siege machines and scattering the rest of the stones among the orc horde, killing or injuring dozens more orcs.

  Sane fell to his knees as the stonework he had been standing on shifted forward as that section of the wall collapsed in upon itself. He tried in vain to scramble back up the crumbling city wall, but it was coming down too quickly. The sorcerer wrapped himself in a protection spell as he fell the thirty feet to the earth below. As he hit the ground the shield absorbed the impact of the fall as well as that of the crumbling wall that fell on top of him and slid off the protective orb. A detached part of Sane’s mind looked up at the mostly still standing wall and understood that the magikan had been specifically targeting him. All of the attacks up to this point were just to distract him, keep his attention split in too many directions so that they could separate him from the rest of the city’s defenders. It was tantamount to taking an opponent’s queen within the first few moves in a game of chess; it was a strategy that, if successful, would nearly guarantee a victory.

  Sane’s attention shifted back to his more immediate surroundings as hundreds of orcs moved in on him. There was murder in the eyes of the advancing grey-skinned warriors. Sane felt his pack pressed against his back begging to be opened. He could grab one of his runes and transport away from the mess he now found himself in and return with another rune to Byrn’s tower at his leisure, but he could not risk turning his attention away from the advancing soldiers long enough to rifle through his pack.

  “Stay your hand, magikan!” bellowed one of the orcs in their guttural version of the human language from amid the crowd, “If you attempt to flee like a coward, then we will destroy you where you stand.” The soldiers parted as three orcs came forward. They wore only ceremonial loin garb with bleach white animal skull belts. Each one also carried a staff crafted from the bones of the dead and bound together by magic. There was not one, but three orc magikans.

  A flurry of arrows showered on the orcs from archers still perched on the wall and behind the kill holes, but one of the magikan whipped his staff in an arc above his head and created a canopy of wind like a Moran’s Circle that scattered the bolts harmlessly away. “Pathetic humans fight without honor,” sneered the tallest of the magikans. “Come with us, magikan… magician,” the orc corrected himself without prompting. Then he turned and began to walk back into the mass of orcen warriors without waiting to see if Sane would follow.

  “Go! Do not keep Korok waiting!” Another of the magikans shoved Sane roughly with the head of his bone staff so that the sorcerer, left with no other choice, followed behind the one called Korok.

  The last of the magikan reached out his hand toward the wall and he twisted his fist as if he was holding something in it. Without warning he pushed his clenched fist at the wall and loosed a deep, tribal shout. Suddenly a big portion of the wall exploded inward sending many archers and pole men falling to their deaths in a shower of rock. “Firing on leaders as they parley is low, humans! You shame your ancestors!” The orc ignored the gaping hole he left in the city’s defenses and left to join his fellow magikans.

  Incredibly, the orc army gathered at the gate ignored the sudden entrance and withdrew behind the magikans until they were just outside of bow range. Whatever the orcs had planned for Everec, Sane guessed that they were content to wait until Korok’s business with the sorcerer was concluded.

  ***

  The grand commander of the orc army in the magikan’s war tent joined Korok and Sane. This place was set aside for Korok to meditate on the battle to come and advise the grand commander who truly led the army.

  The grand commander was shorter than the average orc, but had a broad build suggesting his true strength. He wore a large bastard sword on his back with his warrior’s plate armor, an honor reserved for great leaders among the orcs.

  “Is this the one?” the grand commander grunted in orcish to Korok as he looked over Sane’s weak build. For the moment, Sane decided to hide the knowledge that he could speak some of their language although it had been many years since he last heard the tongue. Korok, who had been standing firmly at attention, nodded resolutely. To Sane, the commander gave a short bow. The sign of respect was not lost on Sane. “I am known as Zakux of the Doombreaker tribe, slayer of evil and grand commander of this army.” Zakux’s chest puffed out as he recited his title in human expecting to impress his “guest.”

  Intrigued, Sane chose to play along and bowed deeply to the grand commander. “It is an honor to meet one of such great standing,” he said solemnly, “Among my people I am known as Sane the Sorcerer.” If showing some gallantry could save lives, then Sane would gladly give this orc the honor and respect that was so highly regarded in their culture.

  Pleased with the sorcerer’s apparent respect, Zakux smiled a toothy grin revealing his large canine teeth. He offered Sane a drink and the sorcerer politely declined. Even Sari, who was considered one of the strongest drinkers by innkeepers across the kingdom, found the orc idea of liquor to be akin to drinking a bottle of poison laced with rancid milk. Zakux poured a drink for Korok and himself before taking a seat in the sparsely furnished war tent. He motioned for the two magic users to be seated.

  “You wonder why we have spared you?” Zakux asked. Most orcs were accustomed to speaking directly, believing that any form of subtlety or indirectness was akin to deception and was therefore a dishonorable act to be avoided. It was likely for this reason that they preferred to practice diplomacy at the end of a sword rather than through entreating and the often admittedly shady form of politics practiced by humans.

  “I wonder many things about this conflict,” Sane admitted. He was careful to keep his voice at an even level, neither indicating outrage or fear. “Not the least of which is why I am sitting here.”

  Korok looked to Zakux and the grand commander nodded. Then Korok told Sane, “Two nights ago, I was meditating on this battle when I was visited upon by images of death and destruction. It was not here where such acts would be welcome, but back in our tribal homelands. We were visited by a great darkness that covered all the land and slew our people with nothing more than a touch. Then, I saw a small group of humans and they stood against that darkness. You were one of those humans. Using your glowing staff you made a beacon of light, a safe haven in the darkness that rallied the few others to your cause.

  “For that reason alone, you have been spared. I believe that being granted this fore vision was a warning that must be heeded. If we were to destroy you, then we may destroy our people’s only chance of survival.”

  “You will join with us in our pursuit of justice against the other humans and when the time comes help protect our homeland,” Zakux stated. The conclusion was already determined in his mind.

  Sane considered Korok’s tale. There was little reason to doubt the truthfulness of his words. If they wanted him dead, then there was nothing stopping them from killing him. However, there was still the matter of this invasion to consider. “This war you have started with the humans cannot continue if you truly seek my aid and wish me to return with you.”

  “We did not start this war! It was you humans-!” Zakux roared at the accusation and seemed as if he might pounce upon Sane, but Korok cut him off.

  “With greatest respect, Grand Commander, if we are to believe that this human will help to protect our people, then we may also consider that he knows nothing of the crimes being committed on us by
his race and the dwarves.” Korok spit on the ground after uttering the word “dwarves,” the name of orcen kind’s most hated enemies. The two races had been enemies longer than any living creature could recall.

  “Please tell me,” Sane requested in a measured tone betraying no emotion on the surface though his heart was racing.

  Somewhat reluctantly Zakux took his seat. “You may be unfamiliar with the Doombreaker tribe. We were a small tribe living in the northern area of our lands on the border with the Dread Marsh. My tribe did not have the wealth or large numbers of other tribes, but we lived good lives surviving off the land as our ancestors did before us and our children should have done after our time was over.” Zakux’s eyes began to mist as he spoke of his clan, but he glowered as he continued, “About a year ago disappearances started happening. The first losses were children. We thought that it was the Marsh that got them. The boys and girls taken were too young to defend themselves against many of the bigger creatures that made their homes there.

  “As the leader of my tribe, I formed a hunting party of the bravest and strongest of our men. We spent days scouring the Marsh; killing any predators that would have been large enough to take our children. We returned to our village as proud warriors with the hides of many serpents and dragon-like beasts in tow. I thought that we would be greeted as heroes upon our return. Instead we returned to find our home had been destroyed!” Zakux slammed his fists on the table before him in rage nearly splintering the wood. Again he hit the table and roared his anger and frustration. The human and magikan before him were completely forgotten for the moment as Zakux wrestled with his memories.