Elf-Boy's Friends 20
Portals
by George Gauthier
[The further adventures of characters from the novel 'Elf-Boy and Friends']
Chapter 1. Visitors to Elysion
Six months after their fight with the bandits the rangers switched patrol sectors once again. Aodh returned to Elysion while Brandon's cousins the fully human boys Garret and Lorn joined the half-elf at the cabin which left only three rangers at that post.
Madden Sexton and his full-elf colleague Dylan rotated along with Aodh to Elysion and took up quarters in the ranger post on the edge of the village and close to the manor. They looked forward to more of a social life than they had had in the isolated cabin at the foot of the mountains. The two of them got along well and were good friends but the elf fancied pretty boys while the wir wolverine consorted exclusively with the female half of the species. Social isolation was the reason the Forest Patrol intended to close the hunting lodge in favor of rented accommodations at a nearby wayfarers' inn, meals included.
In Elysion Madden's rugged good looks attracted the attention of the unattached females in the local population. Very much an alpha male, virile, outgoing, and a good conversationalist, the man was in his element, playing the field, bestowing his favors on one pretty young thing after another. Dylan's elvish good looks sparked the interest of more than a few local boys, but Dylan had bigger game in mind: the famous twins Jemsen and Karel. Dylan had a weakness for blonds, especially boys with brains. He had no time for dumb people.
Dylan knew that the twins would soon arrive for an extended visit. Aodh had offered to show Jemsen and Karel around the New Forest, as the exclave of the Great Southern Forest was called these days. It was one part of the Commonwealth the twins had never actually explored, and now it was magically alive, a hundred thousand square miles of green sentience though as yet only dimly self-aware.
The main section of the manor housed the Klarendes clan, Count Taitos Klarendes, his heir Artor and his younger son Ebron, his spouse Aodh plus the twins. The druids Dahlderon, Meirionnydd, and Owain occupied the formerly little used east wing of the manor which the count had turned over to them rent free. While Owain was of fully human stock, Dahl and Meirionnydd were elves though they had all met while Merry wore the form of a unicorn. The trio of lovers had the own chambers, offices, workshops, and dining room though they frequently ate with their hosts. The Order of Druids compensated the count for the services of his kitchens and stables and other facilities though the druids brought their own personal staff from their stronghold in the Great Southern Forest.
From time to time Count Klarendes invited Aodh's colleagues in the rangers to join the family and the druids for dinner. He very much enjoyed the stories Madden spun of his many adventures over the last three centuries. And if some of the tales sounded rather improbable, well that made them no less entertaining especially when related by as engaging a story teller as the wir wolverine.
"It's too bad Count Klarendes that your friend Drew Altair is on assignment with the Navy. I had rather hoped he would interview me for a book portraying my adventures."
"The book was my suggestion, Taitos," Aodh said. "a way for Madden to relate the mighty deeds which have contributed to his growing legend, as he puts it."
"Oh?" Karel said. "How is it that I have never heard of your legend? No offense Lord Sexton."
"None taken, youngling. The fact is that most of my exploits happened on the eastern continent of Karelia. Little wonder then that I am still so little known here in Valentia. Which is why I do not insist on the honorific titles that have been conferred upon me by grateful governments, so please just call me Madden."
"What honorific titles would those be?" Karel persisted.
"Very well young man. Know then that on formal occasions you should address me as Lord Madden Sexton, Earl of Drangiana, Baron of Osrhoene, Conquering Lion of Sogdiana, and Master of the Royal Hunt."
"That's a real mouthful!" Aodh grinned. "We ourselves all have titles though we seldom insist on their use. I myself am simply Sir Aodh of Llangollen and Elysion but my spouse is addressed in full as the Honorable Taitos Klarendes, Chief District Magistrate, Dispenser of the Middle Justice and the Low, Dwarf-Friend, Captain of Militia, Lord-Zamindar of Elysion, and Count of the Eastern March".
"And our good friends the druids have variations on 'Lord Dahlderon, Senior Adept of the Ancient Order of the Druids of Haven, Dwarf-Friend, Dispenser of the High, the Middle, and the Low Justice, and Stalwart of the Commonwealth'.
"Stalwart? Is that a military honor?" Madden asked.
"No," Klarendes replied. "It refers to the highest award for civilian service the Commonwealth can bestow. Lord Dahlderon devised a way for his fellow druids and magical Healers to enhance the vitality of valuable citizens like our war wizards and others with magical gifts or who otherwise had made important contributions to the Commonwealth. The twins and Drew Altair were among the first beneficiaries."
"And lest you overlook us," Karel hastened to add in a exaggeratedly orotund voice, "know gentles that you stand in the august presence of no less than Captains Sirs Jemsen and Karel, Twice Holders of the Military Cross for Valor, Elf-Friends, Dwarf-Friends, Giant Friends, Stalwarts of the Commonwealth, and Masters in the Honorable Guild of Cartographers."
Jemsen smiled at his brother's sonorous delivery. In these occasional duels of impressive titles Karel always laid it on thick.
"Gosh," Dylan complained, "All those capital letters while I don't have a single title to my name."
"Maybe not yet, my young friend," Taitos assured him, "but you have plenty of time to make your mark. As a long lived elf, you have centuries to collect all the capital letters anyone could wish. Believe me, our own titles are brief compared to those of nobles of truly ancient lineage. I once met a duke who was proud of his fourteen hereditary titles though I could not think why. It was not like he had earned them."
Dylan brightened, encouraged by Klarendes' assurances.
"Er, Madden, if you are a titled aristocrat, a man of means, why take a job as a forest ranger?" Jemsen asked.
"I do draw a comfortable income from my estates, but I seldom live there. As a predator, I am simply not cut out for the life of a gentleman farmer. No offense, Count Klarendes."
"None taken. Your feelings are much like those which send my spouse on walkabout from time to time."
"Indeed, which is why a job as a forest ranger appeals to both of us. And it pays well enough that I really don't have to draw on the income from my estates. In fact I am looking to invest large sums in some of the new industries and businesses that have sprung up here in the Commonwealth. I understand you yourself are an investor in iron roads, street cars, and this new refrigeration business. Perhaps you can give my some investment advice?"
"I'd be glad to, and I can also introduce you to leading men of affairs in the capital." Klarendes assured him.
"As for that book," Aodh added, "Drew Altair should be back soon. The naval campaign is going well according to his dispatches and official statements."
Drew Altair was on assignment as a war correspondent for the Capital Intelligencer reporting on the seizure of the Ashokan Archipelago in the southern reaches of the the Great Inland Freshwater Sea. Once secured the Ashokan Islands would become the staging area for a full-scale invasion of Amazonia or rather its liberation from the genocidal trolls. Together with the naval base in the Scilly Isles in the northern reaches of the sea, the Commonwealth would gain complete control of the sea lanes in the eastern half of the gigantic lake.
Dylan quickly bonded with his fellow hunters and woodsmen Jemsen and Karel. Dylan after all was an elf and the twins were elf-friends with all that implies: going around skin clad as often as possible, same gender sexual orientation, and a physical beauty beyond the norm. It wasn't just a case of sexual attraction though that was a big part of it. Dylan and the twins were just the same sort of people. And since they could looked forward to centuries of youth, they hoped theirs would become a lasting friendship.
The three youths certainly looked good together. Dylan was taller than the twins and darkly handsome with the glabrous skin, lissome build, and smooth musculature of his kind. Dark eyes twinkled over the killer cheekbones characteristic of his race. For their part the twins were a pair of palomino colts who exuded good health and sex appeal.
Between patrols Dylan and the twins liked to run over to the lakeside resort which had a splendid view of the scenic waterfall and the perpetual double rainbows its spray created overhead. Add in the reflections in the lake and you had a quadruple rainbow. You really could not stand under the cascade itself. The torrent was too powerful.
The lake water was pleasantly warm in the shallow coves and embayments but the main part of the lake was deep and cool. A rock ledge about twelve feet above the water was their favorite spot to dive from or rather to jump in, boulder style with a tremendous splash.
"That's not diving!" Dylan snorted then proceeded to demonstrate several graceful dives popular among the elves in his home vale. In one he stretched his arms out wide like the wings of a swan before closing his arms and knifing into the water. In another the did a forward somersault in the air, and in another he bent forward in mid air, hands reaching for his toes only to straighten out at the last second and slice cleanly into the water, feet slipping under the surface last.
"Now that is what I call diving!"
The twins insisted he train them to dive as he did. Anyone could see that fancy dives like those were splendid ways to show off the beauty and athleticism of the male form. Okay so maybe the sport of diving owed as much to sex appeal as to athletics, but it was a hell of a lot of fun and a great way to meet new friends and catch the eye of potential suitors.
At midday the resort offered a light meal which was called lunch in deference to the city folk for whom the main meal of the day was that served in the evening. To country folk, dinner came at noon or thereabouts and was the main meal with supper being a lighter repast of cheese, cold meats, salads, and fruits. Since the count owned the resort, everything was on the house.
The three youths sometimes made love outdoors though away from the resort buildings. The gardeners had planted lawns and mossy banks and built bowers and hidden nooks for the use of the honeymooners who were its chief customers. The twins were past masters of the amatory arts, having early on worked as rent boys to pay their way across the continent of Valentia in the company of the elf-boy, now druid, Dahlderon, the shapeshifter Aodh, and their mentor, the late Dread Hand of the Commonwealth Sir Balandur of Leinster.
Druidical healing magic had granted the twinss perpetual youth and a life span of half a millennium or more, to match that of their friends the elves. The normal human lifespan was traditionally described as five score and ten though these days many humans expected to reach a full score beyond that. The really longest lived races on the planet of Haven were the Frost Giants who lived for a thousand years and wirs and druids who had no definite lifespan but lived till misadventure or foul play brought their days to a close.
All three youths were hard-bodied outdoor types: hunters, scouts, and rangers. Athletic and energetic and acrobatic, they made love with abandon, limbs entangled in all manner of positions, their slick sweaty bodies pressed together. As with the elves the twins' sweat glands cooled the skin but never exuded the oils that turned rancid and produced body odor. Hence the twins and Dylan always smelled sweet though they did taste salty.
Usually Dylan paired with the twins one at a time though sometimes they had a three way. The young elf knew that he was born for male sex. He craved the press of a male body against his own, rigid members trapped between their bellies, both boys giggling at their brazen naughtiness as they engaged in foreplay.
After a month, Dylan moved in with the twins in the main part of the manor. Madden did not mind. He now had the cottage all to himself and could entertain his lasses in complete privacy. Which was just fine with Dylan. The walls of the cottage were thinner than those in their old log cabin, which let the sounds of lusty sexual congress with Madden's female guests penetrate Dylan's own bedchamber, much to the young elf's dismay. Sex with a female? Ugh!
In Madden's case his bond with the twins was platonic, but the twins found him to be an engaging informant, someone they would ply with endless questions about the many lands he had explored, traversed, hunted, or fought in. Jemsen and Karel resolved one day to visit the eastern continent of Karelia themselves. After all hadn't the younger twin been named for it, at least indirectly, after some ancestor who came from there?
The twins went along on patrols to the New Forest. Already it had a different feel from other forests they had explored. Just beyond the bowl in the mountain which cradled the valley of Elysion, a dense hawthorn hedge marked its boundary. Far from being an impenetrable wall it was really a sign to visitors that the rules were different here. This was a wilderness and must always remain so. The hand of man would always lie lightly on the landscape. No logging, mining, farming, or settlements of any kind were allowed.
Already those sensitive to magic could feel the magical aura of the sentient forest, a half-sensed presence, vast, non-judgmental, and benign. Under the protection of the druids and the rangers this New Forest would in time become a component of a system of protected forests around the globe, preserving part of Haven as the wilderness it was before humans and the other races settled the planet.
Chapter 2. The Tunnel
"Sir, a dispatch rider has arrived from Army HQ in Dalnot." Klarendes' steward told him, interrupting his midday meal. The count waved the courier in and read the dispatch.
"This dispatch is addressed as much to you druids as it is to me. The news is bad. It seems that long range air reconnaissance has detected an incursion by the eastern barbarians. Mostly moving at night a sizable force of fifteen thousand has marched west and is now close to the exit to the strategic tunnel through the mountains. The garrison will not be able to stop so many."
"What good could the tunnel do them, Father? This cannot be an attempt at conquest, not with only fifteen thousand men." Artor asked.
"This could be the vanguard of a larger force or possibly the column is a diversion to take our attention away from a threat to some other sector. Or they may just be after loot starting with the output of the silver mine at the western end of the tunnel, then the spoils of the towns and cities in that corner of the Commonwealth. Raiders could seize portable wealth like gold, silver, gems, silks, clocks and music boxes, weapons from the armories of the militias, you name it."
"And for trinkets like that they are willing to kill hundreds, maybe thousands, to lay waste the country, to burn crops and farms and towns?"
Dylan was outraged at the skewed values of the barbarians. Elves had little use for tangible wealth of that sort. Silly baubles in their estimation. To elves, the earth and its fruits were the truest sort of wealth.
"Sadly in this world of ours there are two kinds of people," Madden told him. "those who add value and others who only subtract."
Klarendes pointed out that the field army of some forty thousand which the Commonwealth maintained in the north country was stationed on the far side of the Long River, a good ways from the threatened area. And their own Army of the Plains numbering twenty-three thousand was based near the southern end of the Eastern Plains, with most of its strength in and around the garrison town of Dalnot.
Unlike the Commonwealth's great cities whose layout and architecture and powerful militias made them fortresses even without city walls, the small unwalled rural towns of that region were vulnerable to attack.
After some further discussion Owain spoke up, outlining a plan to deal with the crisis. The first task was to block the tunnel to keep the barbarians east of the mountains. Then the Army would bring the raiders to battle and destroy them or at least expel them from the lands of the Commonwealth.
"You intend to use portals, don't you Owain?" Klarendes asked.
"Yes. Portals give the Commonwealth unparalleled strategic mobility. We will use that mobility to block access to the tunnel. For that we will need a couple of war wizards plus yourself and your son Artor, who, as a Hand, can assume command of the tunnel garrison. You are both powerful firecasters who can also wield white fire. I hope you do not have to collapse the tunnel. Perhaps you can just incinerate the vanguard of the raiders as they poke their noses into the tunnel."
"Sounds good but what happens next?"
"Dahl will open a gate to the capital to fetch a pair of war wizards and bring them here. From Elysion the tunnel is just few steps away via a second portal."
"And what about the main body of the invaders?"
"That is a job for the Army. Merry and I will open a wide portal for the Army of the Plains which these days includes two regiments of Frost Giants. I doubt though that their commanding general will send more than half his force, lest this be revealed as a diversion."
"Which means our military will be outnumbered."
"True, but isn't that usually the case? The Commonwealth doesn't draft levies of untrained and unwilling conscripts to fight its wars. We have a professional army which is organized, trained, and equipped to defeat any conceivable foe, and that army is backed by a well-rained militia which makes the Commonwealth unconquerable. And these days we have a corps of mages not just a few war wizards and an air corps which can bomb our enemies with fire globes or incendiary kegs. Thanks to space portals our forces have the advantage of strategic and tactical mobility. Our infantry will be the anvil and the cavalry the hammer which will crush the raiders. So we have every reason to expect a victory."
Everyone agreed that it was a good plan. The rangers were not disappointed to stay behind. Madden had had his fill of warfare and Dylan knew he could contribute little as one bowman among many. Anyway, forest rangers were not in the military; they were civilian peace officers.
For similar reasons the twins too would stay behind and fill in for Aodh as forest rangers. Doughty fighters though they were, the twins fought as skirmishers or light infantry with missile weapons rather than in a line of battle. Their talents were best employed on missions like scouting, exploration, reconnaissance, and mapping, as in their forays to the Hot Lands with Balandur, and more recently to the Far West, and then the Barren Lands.
Eborn was intensely disappointed when told that he would have to stay in Elysion just in case.
"In case of what?" he grumbled, but the stern look on his father's face told him that further protest was useless. The family had a duty to protect Elysion. The militia was well-trained, but it counted on magical backup by the Klarendes family, and this time he was it.
Dahl opened a portal which looked much like an ordinary doorway except for the silvery frame and a shimmer in the air. He stepped through to the second floor of the Institute of Wizardry and Magic. There he located the war wizard Sir Willet Hanford and his young aide, Sir Axel Wilde in their laboratory. Sir Willet was surprised but quick on the uptake.
"So you druids have finally perfected the technique of space portals. Are you going to share it with us war wizards? We are all on the same side, you know."
"Er, not just yet Will, but soon. Count on it. We still have to work out some of the kinks. It is tricky porting north or south because you have to adjust for the difference in the rotational speed of the surface of the planet at different latitudes. If not for this emergency, we would hold off using it a while longer."
"By emergency you must mean the threat to the tunnel. We got word via Army heliograph just this morning."
Sir Willet recruited his colleague Sir Rikkard who had to come without his aide who was out of the building on an errand. Which meant that Axel would have to do double duty as their single aide.
Though only lightly armed himself with a kukri and a sling, a wizard's aide like Axel Wilde would nevertheless watch his mentor's back and cry out a warning. If necessary Axel could even take down a foe with his gift of Calling Light by englobing his head which scrambled the electric circuits of his brain, as he had once done with a tawny panther about to pounce on Sir Willet. He also carried the extra gear a wizard might need when deployed tactically. And Axel was a trained combat medic who could keep a wounded man alive till healers could get to him.
Axel's gift of unerring direction was another big help to Sir Willet, sparing him the embarrassment of getting lost in the field. Sir Willet had never got beyond the rudiments of what the Army grandly called the Art of Land Navigation. For all his powers, the wizard would get lost in the wilds more easily than most city folk.
After they suited up and collected their gear they all stepped back through the portal to Elysion.
It wasn't like stepping through a doorway. Nothing happened till you got your entire body through the portal which left you with a sense of falling weightlessly for a half a second until you exited the far side. Evidently this was when the druids adjusted for the difference in the rotational speed at different latitudes.
Only moments had passed but already Merry and Owain had ported out to Dalnot to brief the Army on the plan.
Since they were going off to war, all those in Dahl's group were in uniform along with their weapons and gear. Dahl wore the robes of a senior adept of the druidical order, with green tunic, camouflage cloak, and stout sandals. The war wizards and aides were in green silks with leather armor. The wooden yokes built into the armor of the wizards would let them fly like birds. Artor wore the buff uniform of a Hand of the Commonwealth including the white kepi recently adopted as standard headgear. Klarendes himself wore his uniform as captain of the local militia. The young shapeshifter wore his forest ranger uniform with a camouflage pattern based on Sir Willet's research: brown with splotches and slashes of green and black.
None of them had armed themselves heavily. Dahl had a quarterstaff and a set of throwing knives, the wizards and their aides and Aodh had kukris to which the wir added a sling while Klarendes contented himself with a sword on a baldric, but such weapons were almost beside the point. These magic wielders were living weapons. What need for a sword when you could fling fire or lightning bolts?
With no time to lose, Dahl opened a portal to the tunnel for the Klarendes father and son plus Aodh as their bodyguard and the two war wizards and Axel.
The young captain in charge of the tunnel garrison was puzzled at the sudden appearance of Dahl's party inside the fort just as they were getting ready to resist the approaching enemy column. A hopeless task, but they had to buy time for reinforcements or at worst a reaction force to avenge them. A runner from the main post at the other end of the tunnel had brought a message transmitted by army heliograph that the army was mobilizing against the threat but likely could not get there in time.
"Who the hell are you? And how did you get past the gate? I heard no challenge from the sentries."
"I am Lord Dalhderon, Senior Adept of the Order of the Druids of Haven. My party includes Lord Artor here, who is a Hand of the Commonwealth."
Artor triggered the small magic which made his hand glow, proof that he was indeed one of the Dread Hands of the Commonwealth a plenipotentiary agent of the state with full authority to assume command of the garrison.
"I am Captain Fallon. All right, Lord Artor, it seems you are in charge. Who are the rest of your party, and why do you think so few can make a difference?
Artor made the introductions.
"We may be few but among us we number two war wizards and and two powerful firecasters one of them my father Count Klarendes of Elysion, plus the druid Lord Dahlderon. Never doubt that we can deny the tunnel to the invaders."
The captain looked over the newcomers. One wore the formal robes of a druid. Two older men wore army greens with leather armor marked with the unobtrusive insignia of a war wizard plus a young aide with hair the color of copper. Then there the father and son, Count Klarendes and Lord Artor. All of them, except the impossibly cute twink with the slanted eyes, carried themselves with authority and looked dangerously competent.
"I am starting to think we might actually get out of this alive." the captain remarked. His company of less than two hundred soldiers would have had no chance against even the the seven hundred strong vanguard, much less an army of thousands.
"We need to retreat down the tunnel a way, say a tenth of the way in." Artor told the captain, then added:
"That way the invaders will be nicely bunched up when we unleash our powers on them. We'll stop them cold."
"Cold?" Aodh asked mischievously. "Don't you mean hot?"
"Very funny." Artor gave back. "Now why don't you make yourself useful and carry a couple of those water skins. We are likely to get thirsty in the next few hours."
Meanwhile the soldiers collected their weapons and valuables and rations for a day and entered the tunnel which was wide enough for five to march abreast. The floor of the tunnel was no rougher than many an unpaved path in the woods while the ceiling rose a good ten feet above the walkway. The walls were only roughly finished, exactly like those of the silver mine at the far end.
Sir Willet's aide Axel Called Light, producing a cool blue-white globe of illumination which hovered close to the ceiling. Axel was not the only one with that particular magical gift. Two of the soldiers and Sir Rikkard did the same. Some of the soldiers carried empty buckets for when nature called. The Army was a practical organization, and field hygiene was ever one of its concerns.
The soldiers had not set fire to the fort, figuring to reoccupy it soon enough. The invaders would likely leave the fort alone when they reached the tunnel.
"It is surprisingly cool here in the tunnel." Artor mentioned to Captain Fallon. "And I can detect a current of air too."
"Yes, sir. The miners built ventilation shafts which work with wind catchers and the configuration of the tunnel itself to induce a constant current of air from west to east. So we won't have to worry that two hundred men in one spot will make the air go foul."
Two hours later the barbarian vanguard entered the tunnel, moving forward confidently, their way illuminated by two among them who could call light. They had taken the abandoned fort as a sign that their enemies would not offer resistance to the passage of their troops. In that hope they were very much mistaken.
"Their lights are only a few hundred yards down the tunnel. It is nearly time to give them a warm welcome Count Klarendes," Sir Rikkard said.
"Shall it be with streams of fire or with white fire? With four of us able to wield both we could incinerate half their whole army."
"A pardonable exaggeration, though I appreciate your confidence. Actually I anticipate only a vanguard will enter the tunnel. The main body is likely still approaching on the plains. As to burning them, I am concerned that our fires would destroy the timbers supporting the tunnel in this final stretch and possibly bring down the ceiling. And it would be sure to leave a grisly mess. No I have something else in mind. You know how we firecasters create ice for our refrigeration business?"
"Of course. You release the latent heat from a pond into the air and turn the water into ice. Is that your plan, to freeze the enemy solid?"
"No, not solid. We don't have to turn them to ice. All we have to do is drop the temperature of their bodies about twenty degrees or so, below the level necessary to sustain life. They will slump to the ground like marionettes with their strings cut."
"It will be a merciful death: a sudden chill and shivering, then confusion and lethargy followed by loss of consciousness and finally extinction. Dead is dead, but their dying will be easier without the horror of flames charring their skin, hot gasses scorching their lungs, flames consuming their hair and clothing. And it will leave much less of a mess."
"It's a better death than they deserve." Rikkard contended. A native son of the Eastern Plains, he had scores to settle with the eastern barbarians.
"This tactic is as much for our own benefit as it is for the barbarians, to prevent psychic backlash." Klarendes countered, explaining:
"As a youth I fought in the Second War for the Plains. Things went from bad to worse and our militia faced annihilation, but it was after the death and desecration of my first lover that I went into a killing frenzy and loosed my full powers on an army of barbarians, setting fire to the tall grass they stood in, igniting their clothes, their greased hair, and the leather coverings of their wooden shields. Their own armor trapped the flames against the skin."
"I stalked back and forth like a fire demon, utterly deranged, hurling great balls of fire or burning streams of flame, laughing and cackling and hooting as the flames consumed the barbarians amid horrid screams and cries for mercy."
"The psychic backlash nearly killed me. When the madness passed I looked at what I had wrought. So many dead bodies but hardly recognizable as human. You see, cloth and hair act like wicks for the body fat which melts from flesh. I had turned living men into human candlesticks. All that was left were piles of disarticulated bones burned black."
"The worst part of all this was the cost to my soul. I had taken an almost orgasmic pleasure in burning the barbarians. In recollection, I felt unclean, unworthy of having survived. At first I despised myself for going all kill crazy like that, but later I came to realize that it was more their fault than my own. From then on I hated them not only for their own crimes but also for provoking me do what I had done."
"I hadn't realized." Rikkard said. "All right, we'll do it your way, Klarendes. And thank you for your candor. It cannot have been easy talking about something that touched you so keenly."
"You are right about that. I have opened up to only a few about that day, including my spouse Aodh early in our relationship. I was afraid he might recoil, rejecting me as a moral monster. Instead he saw me as a tormented soul. I knew then that I would love him all the days of our lives."
Aodh's eyes glistened as he listened to this affirmation of their love. Meeting Taitos Klarendes was the best thing that ever happened to him.
When it came, the confrontation in the tunnel was fast and furious.
The barbarians took the initiative when two firecasters cut loose, one with a stream of flame the other flinging balls of fire. Klarendes and Artor extinguished the flame weapons of the enemy and directed the heated air up a ventilation shaft but did not themselves throw fire back at the enemy. Wondering why their first volley had not produced the screams they expected, the enemy followed it up with a second ineffective volley of fire.
Switching tactics a fetcher moved up to their front ranks and hurled a swarm of nails down the tunnel at terrific speed hoping to impale anyone who might contest their passage. Sir Willet caught them all with his Missile Shield and sent them back the way they came, only faster and with greater force. Cries of woe were evidence of his success.
The Missile Shield was a specialized application of the fetching power normally used to block or deflect arrows and crossbow bolts. It was just as effective against a swarm of nails. Sir Willet realized that as a offensive weapon a swarm of nails could be devastating.
"From now on, Axel, you should pack a box of nails when we deploy tactically. Better make that a couple of boxes of dowel nails, the ones with points on both ends unlike the framing nails the enemy hurled at us."
Axel nodded resignedly. Here was yet more gear for him to lug around. A wizard's aide like Axel carried gear for his principal like his far-viewer tube, map case, magnetic compass, and signaling mirror, ration pack, and now a box of nails, plus his own weapons: kukri and sling, his personal gear like water gourd, cloak, ground sheet, and his own ration pack not to mention his bulky combat medic pack. Little guy that he was, Axel was glad that the same druidical healing magic that had extended his lifespan and indefinitely prolonged his youth had also doubled his strength and stamina.
"Oh, and Axel, tell Drew to write about this in his journal `Magic'. All of us with the fetching power should consider using nails as a weapon."
Sir Rikkard agreed. "Let this be a lesson to us war wizards with our pride in multiple gifts. We should have adopted this trick years ago, but it was a fetcher who thought it up because he gave a lot of thought on how best to use his single gift. I won't make that mistake again. From now on I'll be reading Magic' and not just our own journal Wizardry'."
"Well said Rik, er Sir Rikkard. I already do, since Drew Altair is a protege of mine."
In public Sir Willet tried to address a colleague formally though in private the two were always Rik and Will.
Meanwhile Klarendes and Artor gestured dramatically, invoking their powers to draw heat out of the volume of space occupied by the enemy vanguard. Three hundred barbarians felt a sudden chill in the air, shivered uncontrollably, lost consciousness, then slumped to the floor. Soon thereafter they gave up their lives.
"I'll bet those firecasters never thought of using cold as a weapon!" Artor crowed.
"Well we do have an advantage, don't we, son?" Klarendes asked. "We are in the ice business. They were not."
"The rest of the vanguard has withdrawn into the fort in a panic." Dahl announced.
"How do you know that, Lord Dahlderon?" Sir Rikkard asked.
"Clearly you have never worked with druid," his colleague Sir Willet remarked dryly. "No doubt a little bird told him."
"Actually it was a squirrel up a tree overlooking the area. We druids can see through the eyes of animals and hear what they hear."
"Ah!"
"Gentlemen, let us step outside to where we can witness the battle which is shaping up even as we speak."
"How do you know that Sir Willet?" Captain Fallon asked. "Did a bird or a squirrel tell you?"
"Hardly. I got that from an infrasound dispatch sent by a weather wizard assigned to the Army of the Plains. They are moving into position to attack the main body. From the heights we will have an excellent view of the proceedings. And maybe we can help in some way."
"And I got the same news just now from the druid Owain via Mind Speech." Dahl announced. "He is with the Frost Giant infantry while Merry is with the cavalry, as you might expect."
"Oh?" Sir Rikkard asked.
"Merry used to be a unicorn. Long story." Dahl told him, waving off further inquiry.
"Okay, let's get back to the fort." Artor said and had Fallon give the order to march back out of the tunnel. They blinked their eyes as they stepped out into the bright sunlight. It was shaping up to be another hot day.
Any hope the barbarians had of holding the fort vanished as Klarendes demonstrated the power of white fire. With a wave of his hand he scythed down a stand of trees next to the tunnel exit. It was obvious that white fire could cut right through the wooden palisade of the fort and any humans sheltering inside.
Dahl magically amplified his voice and warned the enemy that only their desire to retake the fort intact stayed their hand. If the barbarians abandoned the fort, they would be allowed to withdraw unmolested to rejoin their main body. The barbarians agreed to a temporary truce and in moments the fort was back in Commonwealth hands.
Chapter 3. Battle on the Plains
While the soldiers set the fort back in order, the mages stood on a ledge to watch the action on the plains below. Sir Willet peered through a far-viewer tube which Axel had handed him. He seemed to be looking for something in particular.
The barbarian infantry had deployed from column to line to face the approaching cavalry which was clearly inferior in number. That gave the barbarians confidence that their numbers would carry the day.
Unfortunately for them they were utterly unaware that Owain had opened a portal for the Commonwealth infantry and positioned the Frost Giants a little behind them and out of sight on the reverse slope of a low ridge. The Army of the Plains was using classic hammer and anvil tactics.
Meanwhile, back at the fort, a soldier on the parapet yelled "Ambush!" pointing at a dozen barbarians who had broken from concealment and charged the magic wielders, hoping to take them from behind.
Stepping between the attackers and the others Aodh directed his so-called killer screech at them. Though not fatal in itself it incapacitated any foe with an intolerable sound something like that of fingernails scraping on a slate only far worse. It was powerful enough to rupture eardrums and induce pain, dizziness, and temporary deafness. The screech was highly directional, strong in a conical zone in front but negligible to the sides or behind.
One of the attackers happened to be outside that conical zone, but Axel took him out by Calling Light and englobing his head, scrambling the electrical circuits of his brain. He was dead before he hit the ground. Thanks to frequent practice against the pestiferous pigeons which infested the Institute, Axel had no trouble hitting a moving target.
Before anyone else could reach the bushwhackers, Aodh changed into his panther form, his clothes sloughing off his body, then attacked the barbarians, slashing them with his poison claws. They dropped to the ground, writhing in agony, weapons fallen from their hands. Switching back to his human form, Aodh gestured for the soldiers to give the barbarians the coup de grace.
Captain Fallon looked over at Aodh with newfound respect. "And here I had thought the boy was merely decorative."
That brought a predatory grin to the pretty face of the wir as he climbed back into his clothes. Klarendes gave him a broad wink.
"I'll hold a Missile Shield over us in case archers are lurking in the woods." Sir Willet told the others. "The barbarians have always been treacherous."
The Army Air Corps drew first blood as two squadrons of aviators (36 aviators) flew in support of the ground attack. The flyers flew the new yokes modified with wings like those of bats. Unlike the rigid wings of naval flyers, these were little more than cloth stretched over a framework which caught part of the slip stream generated by the flyer's forward motion and converted it into lift. That made it easier to take off with a full load of bombs.
Approaching unseen from out of the sun, the six flights of flyers swooped down low and dropped fire globes on the barbarian shield wall. A shower of glowing embers from the trailing flight of six flyers touched off a firestorm which killed hundreds.
Unfortunately the aviators took losses themselves. As they angled upward to gain altitude after their bombing runs, they were targeted by magic wielders among the barbarians. One mage cast lightning bolts at the flyers killing three of them. Dodge as they might up in the sky the flyers had nowhere to hide. Another hurled spreads of fist-sized fireballs that brought down three flyers. A fetcher used flashing steel spheres to swat two more flyers from the sky. The score was eight flyers downed out of onlythirty-six.
"Why haven't our own mages countered those magical attacks?" Axel asked.
"The corps of mages is still moving into position, working their way toward that hillock on the right from where they will have a clear field of fire for their own attacks. Meanwhile the fetchers at least have been successful in their defense of the cavalry regiments by blunting the fire of the enemy's field artillery, making the heavy iron balls flung by their catapults fall short and forcing the six foot arrows fired by their ballistas to bury themselves harmlessly in the ground."
Actually iron balls were of more use against infantry. The cavalry had no shield wall to disrupt.
"Anyway help is on the way. Unless I miss my guess, Sir Rikkard is about to unleash his powers on them."
Unnoticed by the barbarians, the blue sky behind the barbarians had turned dark and angry. Sir Rikkard had called up a monster thunderstorm.
"Sir Rikkard is our most powerful weather wizard." Sir Willet explained to the others.
The only warning the barbarians got was the gust front which blew through their lines just before a clap of thunder announced the arrival of the storm. They turned and looked up, surprised and dismayed at the dark roiling clouds overhead. Rain fell in torrents wetting and loosening the strings of their crossbows, which decreased their range and their punch. Then lightning began to flash down from the clouds to the ground killing dozens. Upraised spears and brandished swords made good conductors of electricity.
"That knot of men in the center in the fancy uniforms with all the silver braid. Those are their magic wielders." Sir Willet told Sir Rikkard.
"Fools! All bunched up and in distinctive garb."
Thunderbolts struck where the mages stood again and again. A enemy weather wizard tried to wrest control of the storm from Sir Rikkard, but failed, gaining nothing for his efforts but a quick death as Sir Rikkard channeled a bolt back at him though his connection with the storm. Finally Sir Rikkard let the storm dissipate.
Sir Willet then took a hand, targeting the enemy cavalry, really just a company of scouts, far too few to face the Commonwealth cavalry, which was why they had taken a position behind their own infantry. The wizard lifted the trees Klarendes had felled and hurled them one by one at the riders. They were within range because he was throwing from a height of two thousand feet above the plains.
Even though they saw the trees hurtling down on them they could not get clear in time. The spreading limbs swept scouts from their saddles while the heavy trunks crushed both rider and mount. The handful of survivors galloped away to the east, abandoning the battlefield entirely.
"Why target those few riders, sir, instead of the shield wall?" Captain Fallon asked.
"Because only they might otherwise get away." Sir Willet said coldly.
Sir Rikkard explained. "Sir Willet has his own scores to settle with the barbarians. Ask him sometime about those three wound stripes on his sleeve."
Now it was largely up to soldiers and to cold steel. Three regiments of cavalry, six thousand men, attacked more than twice their number of barbarian infantry. From each regiment, a battalion of some five hundred horse archers armed with recurved bows kept up a steady fire at the enemy shield wall as their battalions of lancers formed a wedge and charged.
The barbarians had thrown caltrops on the ground between them to disrupt just such a charge but three cavalrymen in front invoked their control of magnetism, visible to the onlookers as a grey nimbus which engulfed them and their mounts, to sweep the obstacles from the field. Nothing could stop the charge now, and nothing did.
As they neared the enemy line, the riders leveled their lances at the barbarians, couching them under their arms and braced themselves in their stirrups. The wedge smashed its way through the disordered center of the enemy line where the mages had stood. The column behind it then wheeled left to engulf the enemy's right wing. With their lances broken off or stuck in dead barbarians, lancers drew sabers and slashed at their foes. The mounted archers kept up their fire. Pressed from front and back the enemy formation crumbled.
Then the corps of mages on the hillock unleashed their magics. A war wizard directed a stream of white fire at the enemy's horse drawn field artillery, ballistas and catapults mounted atop carts for mobility. The weapons and their crews disintegrated into clouds of superheated fragments which exploded outwards with great force killing dozens more. Two mages threw lightning bolts which jumped from sword to sword to sword to sword electrocuting those who brandished them. Three mages cast great clinging balls of fire which cooked those they fell upon like lobsters in a pot and sent those around them fleeing in horror. Two fetchers sent their deadly steel spheres whirling at anyone who was trying to rally enemy soldiers or just looked important.
A pretty blond youth who looked rather too young to be in the army invoked an uncommon gift: ball lightning -- electricity in the shape of a pair of spheres three feet across and too bright to look at for long and fatal to the touch both from heat and a strong electric charge. The spheres hummed and crackled menacingly as they zigzagged back and forth under the control of the tow headed youngster, an expert rider who held the reins in his teeth and guided his mount with his knees. Emphatic hand gestures directed the motions of the lightning balls. In some spots, just their approach broke the enemy line as soldiers fled from their fatal touch.
All magic wielders gestured, though strictly speaking that was not really necessary. The exercise of magical powers was an act of will. But gestures were a very real aid to concentration. Which was why Drew Altair's trademark shadow boxing, pile driving, and shield techniques had been adopted nearly universally by military fetchers.
The hitherto unengaged left wing of the barbarian army saw that their cause was lost and started to withdraw in good order but found its way barred by two regiments of Frost Giants who seemingly rose out of the ground though all they really did was march up the reverse slope of the low ridge which had kept them hidden before then.
No way six thousand humans could prevail against four thousand Frost Giants armed with twelve foot spears and what for humans amounted to two-handed swords. The attack of the giants routed the last cohesive force of the barbarians. Their formation lost all order and was quickly reduced to knots of fighters pressed on all sides by their foes.
But in this battle the Commonwealth preferred not to slaughter the barbarians to the last man. With victory assured it made was no sense losing their own men to no real purpose. Besides they wanted to take prisoners and question them. So when the enemy general had a bugle sound their surrender, his men cried out for quarter. The Commonwealth forces granted it and drew back as the barbarians cast their weapons to the ground. Just as well. Everyone was exhausted. Hand to hand combat is hard work.
Nearly eight thousand barbarians surrendered themselves and marched without protest to a holding area under the shade of the nearby trees. At least they were alive and out of the sun and supplied with water and food from their own supply train. Some were put to work burying the dead including a contingent sent to retrieve the three hundred bodies in the tunnel.
Actually all that the prisoners had to do was collect the bodies and strip them of weapons and valuables before throwing the corpses into mass graves, which were deep trenches the druids opened up in the soft earth of the plains. Afterwards druidical magic made the earth heave once again and cover the bodies too deep for scavengers to disturb.
Chapter 4. Explanations
The Army of the Plains regrouped and set up a fortified camp for the night, standard operating procedure when operating in hostile country. Artor, Dahl, and their party walked down one of the old logging roads that lead to the plains and headed toward the camp where they were admitted to the command tent and were greeted by Owain and Merry who introduced them to General Claiborne.
"Well met gentlemen and thank you all for your fine work this day. Between the portals of our allies the druids and our own war wizards and magic wielders we overwhelmed the enemy mages which allowed the army to triumph with fairly low casualties. Tomorrow we will interrogate the enemy's officers and find out what they had in mind with this ill-conceived invasion. Tonight we rest, eat, bind up our wounds, and take stock."
"Oh and special thanks to you Count Klarendes for persuading the High Command to assign a master of magnetism to each of our cavalry regiments. The three of them swept the field of caltrops just as you said they would in your well-received article in the Army Journal."
Klarendes nodded then said:
"The change in doctrine came none too soon. It should be perfectly obvious that an army can counter a cavalry charge in only a few ways: a countercharge by its own cavalry, pikemen, stakes, and caltrops. Armies prefer caltrops because they are lightweight and quick and easy to deploy and require almost no training. Formations of pikemen are formidable but ponderous. They are a specialized form of heavy infantry which takes a lot of training and constant drill. Which is why no one uses them much these days."
"One more thing Count Klarendes. We inadvertently brought along our very own war correspondent, a journalist of tender years working for the Dalnot Ledger. He told me that he was a kinsman of yours."
With that the general signaled a cute seventeen year old who had been waiting in the wings. It was the blond youth who controlled ball lightning. Short, slight of build, and clean limbed and standing maybe four inches over five feet, and with fine-boned features that suggested a considerable admixture of elfin blood, the boy stepped forward, a big grin on his face as he gave a cheery wave to the Klarendes clan.
"Hi there Uncle Taitos, Uncle Aodh, Cousin Artor."
"Corwin! What are you doing here? Did your father really send you out as a war correspondent?"
"Not exactly. He did send me over to the caserne in Dalnot for a story on a court martial. He doesn't know that I tagged along when the army moved out on this operation."
"How did you persuade General Claiborne to take you along?"
"I didn't. I just snuck in among the aides to the wizards and the mages; they're all friends of mine. It was only after the battle that I was introduced to the general."
Klarendes frowned at his headstrong nephew. "Young man, you and I are going to have a serious talk."
"Now there Count Klarendes, don't be too hard on the boy. You haven't heard the rest of it." General Claiborne soothed.
"True, what the boy did was a breach of security, but I really did not want to bring charges against an overeager youngster who was only trying to do his job as he saw it. Anyway in the end, everything did work out for the best."
"What happened exactly?" Taitos asked.
"Your nephew talked the mages into letting him fight, to add his powers to theirs. The mages accepted knowing that the enemy outnumbered us considerably in conventional forces. From that high ledge you must have seen what he did even if you did not recognize him."
"Corwin charged the enemy time and again. Then, when a platoon of the enemy rushed out from their shield wall to finish off that squad of lancers unhorsed by a volley of crossbow bolts, Corwin positioned himself between the lancers and the enemy. Using his lightning balls as both shield and sword as he got them all to safety ignoring a quarrel which grazed his ribs."
"I don't see now that I have any choice but to put the lad in for the Military Cross for Valor."
"Yay Corwin! Way to go!" Artor and Aodh enthused, giving the young journalist the double thumbs-up gesture.
Corwin beamed, green eyes flashing with pride.
"He doesn't need encouragement, you know." Klarendes complained. "And I could do with a little support here."
Artor shook his head:
"Father, is Corwin really so very different from how you were back in the day? In fact you were only sixteen when you went off on your first mission with Balandur."
"Ouch!" Aodh supplied.
Klarendes sighed and dropped his `stern uncle' demeanor. He was tactician enough to know when he was outnumbered and outmaneuvered.
That evening the four Klarendes, their friends the druids, plus the two war wizards from the capital and Axel took supper together. Klarendes wanted their opinions on how well the Army had used magic that day. This was its very first battle employing both the Army Air Corps and an organic corps of mages that is one permanently dedicated and assigned to a field army. Klarendes intended to write an after action report of his own to supplement the one General Claiborne would be sending to the High Command.
Klarendes offered his opinion that except for the use of portals, which was inspired, magic might have been better employed that day. True the Commonwealth was victorious but at a greater cost than was necessary.
"What we saw today was absolutely the wrong way to provide close air support to the ground forces," Axel offered.
"Our flyers let their animal spirits inspire their attack when they dove at the enemy like raptors swooping down on their prey with talons extended. That was foolish. They had no need to fly so low that it brought them within range of enemy mages. From now on there should be no more dive bombing forces supported by mages, only level bombing from altitude. Fetchers can direct their loads with pinpoint accuracy from any altitude."
Coming from one of the Pioneers of Flight, especially the one who thought up the yokes that let men fly in the first place, this was a devastating assessment.
"I agree with Axel." Sir Willet said. "The only thing the flyers did right was to approach out of the sun. Oh and their bombs were right on target."
"Our own mages should have supported the soldiers better than they did." Sir Rikkard offered. "They were so intent on offense operations that they neglected magical defenses for everyone but themselves. And the weather wizard with the army should have brewed up a storm early on, just in case, before we even emerged from the tunnel."
"We mages did fight pretty well once we got in position. You have to give us that." Corwin Klarendes said defending his friends.
"That is true. Once they reached the hillock they did not hold back. And they were effective, not doubt of that. Thanks to the fetchers their field artillery was largely ineffective even before it was all swept away with white fire."
"Incidentally Corwin," Sir Willet offered, "if you want to become even more effective with your ball lightning, check the after action reports in the library at the Institute. My aide Axel can show you around. One way that comes to mind immediately is against troops splashing their way across a ford in a river or creek. If you dropped one of those lighting balls into the water you could zap the lot of them."
"Wicked!"
"Anyway, Corwin," Artor began, "how do you feel about being put in for the Military Cross?"
"It sounds great, but as a civilian I don't think I am eligible."
"But you are enrolled in your local militia. For the sake of proper form, army records will show that you were called up for the campaign so that you were technically on duty with the Army during the battle. Congratulations. Naturally you will also qualify for a Wound Stripe, a Campaign Medal, a badge for what they will no doubt call the Fourth Plains War, and the Combat Mage Badge. That doesn't exactly amount to a chestful of medals, but it is a good start."
They all could see that young Corwin was immensely gratified by the news. What teenage boy has not dreamed of martial glory?
"I hope this means Father will be proud of me rather than be mad that I charged off to war the way I did."
Klarendes nodded:
"As a father myself, I can know his reactions exactly. At first there was mystification when you didn't return home. He'd have wondered where could that damn boy have gone off to? When he finds out that you charged into battle and were wounded he will be filled with concern, but when he is told that you are healthy he will feel relief that his son and heir, the apple of his eye is safe. Lastly, when he reflects on the prestige of the Military Cross, he will proud that his son is a genuine war hero."
"And it won't hurt when you provide his news-paper, the Dalnot Ledger with a scoop on this lightning war with the barbarians."
"Right. I'll cover it in a series of articles after interviews with all the principal figures gathered in this camp, adding what I personally saw and did."
"Your reporting will be the first public acknowledgement that we druids can create portals which will let our armies strike anywhere anytime suddenly and without warning." I see a Writers' Prize in your future."
"Poor Drew is going to be so jealous." Merry offered.
"No. Not jealous. Not him." Artor said emphatically. "I know Drew well enough to say that he won't be jealous, though he will be disappointed that he wasn't on hand to get the scoop himself. Also I would not be surprised if this eventually leads to a job offer from the Capital Intelligencer. The big city papers are always on the lookout for talent."
"Fantastic!" Corwin enthused. "I have dreamed of one day writing for a big city paper."
"Of course we still need to find out what this war all means. Why did the barbarians attack at all, why here, and why now?"
"We'll know more tomorrow after we question their officers."
Count Klarendes concluded the discussion with:
"Now let us all raise a glass in tribute to our friend and kinsman, the young journalist whose courage has won the admiration of all. Gentlemen, I give you that intrepid war correspondent and brave soldier Corwin Klarendes."
At breakfast the next day Corwn caught Axel looking at him intently.
"Like what you see?" he quipped, only half seriously.
"No. Yes. I mean I do like what I see, Corwin, as would anyone who appreciates cute boys, but what made me stare was that I realized just now how much you resemble your cousin Eborn. Your facial features I mean. Obviously Eborn is not a blond and has a more robust build."
"Well our mothers were sisters, and though they were born ten years apart everyone always said that they looked like twins."
"Indeed," Taitos agreed. "though my first born takes after me."
"And as the first son, I am the heir while sadly, poor Eborn is merely the spare." Artor said.
"So I have heard and more than once." Axel returned dryly. He was aware that the rhyme was a very old joke and a regular part of the Klarendes sons' schtick.
"Why did you ask the healers not to clear away the gouge where the crossbow quarrel grazed your ribs? Won't it leave a scar?"
"Yes, but not much of one, just enough to serve as indisputable evidence of my martial prowess."
"Your prowess? Don't you mean the prowess of the guy who shot you?"
"Very funny. You know perfectly well what I meant."
"He hopes the scar will work as a girl magnet." Artor explained dryly.
Corwin shook his head.
"No, not girls. Boys!"
"Not you too!" Artor complained. "Isn't anyone besides me interested in perpetuating the species?"
"Actually I am interested too, just not right now. With a lifespan measured in centuries, I'll have plenty of opportunity later for a bride and a family, but not now, when I am genuinely young. I like being around other boys and having sex with them. I'm a kid and I would like to live like one for a good while yet."
"Anyway some of us are just not cut out for family life till after we have put some life experience under our belts. Artor, you and I got lucky with fathers who married young, but I know for sure that I would make a terrible father and husband just now, young as I am. At my age a life of domesticity pales before the prospect of a life of adventure. I hope that doesn't make me sound frivolous. Later on though is something else."
"Then there is hope yet for our species."
At his debriefing the next day the commander of the barbarians General Ransome was remarkably candid about the invasion. It had been a once in a century opportunity with a potentially huge payoff for the westernmost of the successor states of the former empire of the life-leech Urloch. So they gambled and lost. And having given the game away, the barbarians knew they could never try this particular ploy again. The Commonwealth would never again leave the tunnel with only a token garrison for protection. Maybe it was time to seal it up, useful though it was as a route though almost impassable mountains.
"We wanted to seize an opportunity while the Commonwealth was distracted and committed on other fronts: New Varangia and the Barren Lands, the Flatlands in the Far West, the naval war on the Great Inland Freshwater Sea, and your mobilization for the impending campaign to reclaim Amazonia from the trolls. Incidentally we wish you every success in your war against the trolls. They would slay us too for being magic users."
"So why help them by striking at us here and now?" General Claiborne asked his counterpart.
Ransome shrugged.
"Nothing we did here would change the outcome of your war against the trolls. You are going to win. No doubt of that. It will be a long and hard campaign, but without magic the trolls have no chance especially with your numbers. No one understands that better than I do having seen for myself what your flyers and mages and war wizards can do. They outclassed our own magical support as much as your professional forces outclassed our largely conscript soldiers. Though I really would like to know how you got your army here so fast. Our spies told us you were all still at Dalnot."
General Claiborne smiled. "We were all at Dalnot. And we brought only half of our army in case this was a diversion."
"I don't mind telling you now since it will be impossible to keep a secret known to our entire army. We came via a space portal or rather two portals, one for the cavalry force and the other for our regiments of Frost Giants. Your scouts never saw us coming because we did not travel by any conventional means. We just appeared north and south of here with your army trapped between us.
The barbarian general shook his head. "Against that kind of strategic and tactical mobility, no army stands a chance."
"I have to ask. What did you hope to accomplish with your invasion."
"You have been so candid with me and spared the lives of my men so I will tell you. Our force of fifteen thousand was a vanguard for an army of occupation. We hoped to seize the tunnel then send a large army through it to occupy the northeast corner of your realm before your northern field army could react."
"But we hoped to avoid any serious fighting by proposing a bargain: You would cede to us military control of that region of Commonwealth. Your civil administration would remain in place and function normally, and the civilian population would remain unmolested. Every year your government would turn over to us the bulk of the tax revenue your treasury would have drawn from the region, you would keep just enough to defray the costs of administration. If not, we would ravage the towns and the countryside so no one could draw taxes from it."
"Did you really think the Commonwealth would pay protection money?"
"Myself no. I never thought so. Though we would have termed it tribute. That is a much more pleasant word, is it not? No I liked our chances with our fall back position much better. You would cede the Eastern Plains and in return we would withdraw our army of occupation to east of the mountains, though we would retain control of the tunnel, as a surety of good faith.
"Not negotiable. The Commonwealth does not start wars but always ends them on its own terms, not on those dictated by an enemy."
"Perhaps. We are both professional soldiers. Who can say what bargains our political leaders might make or feel they have to make? Anyway, what will happen now to me and my men."
"We granted you quarter, though really it was to spare the lives of our own men. Still, having done that we must now honor it. If you and your men will give your parole to never again fight against the Commonwealth we will allow you to return to your homeland. A cavalry regiment will escort you to the border. Your supply train is intact, so you should have no trouble making it back. You won't need so many wagons, so we will use some to carry the weapons and gear you surrendered."
"Each of you will be marked by a small brand on the shoulder, an outlaw mark. Anyone with that mark who returns to the Commonwealth will be fair game and not only for our military. Anyone they run into will have the legal right to kill them out of hand. Count yourself lucky that we are feeling generous these days. Tell your leaders not to try our patience further."
"Remember, neither distance nor high walls can stop us. With portals we can deliver an army inside your capital or any fortress. Keep that in mind."
Actually there were limitations on portals that General Claiborne was not aware of, but then neither were the barbarians.
The main body of the Army of the Plains returned via a portal to Dalnot where young Corwin Klarendes was given a hero's welcome by family and friends. Afterwards the druids and the Klarendes traveled by conventional means to Elysion where Aodh resumed his duties as a forest ranger. Sir Willet and Axel also stayed for a while though Sir Rikkard had traveled directly to the capital from Dalnot.
The High Command rebuilt the fort with stone walls and added a firecaster and a fetcher to the garrison. Their job was to to hold off a hostile force till reinforcements arrived through the tunnel supported by war wizards traveling on the Army's long range flying wings. To ease their isolation, the guard duty rotated among the six companies of the garrison at the western end of the tunnel.
Things went back to normal though who knew for how long.
Six months later Corwin did indeed win a Writer's Prize for his coverage of what he cleverly dubbed the Lightning War, borrowing from Dahl a term which caught the fancy of the public. On the strength of that accomplishment he went to work for the Capital Intelligencer. As with his new colleague Drew Altair, Corwin's career in journalism launched him on a series of exciting adventures.
But that is another story, or rather several of them.
Author's Note
This story is entirely fictional, with no resemblance intended to any person living or dead.
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This story is one of an occasional series about the further adventures of the characters introduced in the fantasy novel 'Elf-Boy and Friends' and published by Nifty Archive. The chief protagonist of the novel, Dahlderon, elf-boy and druid, will appear in these stories in a supporting rather than starring role. Each story in the sequence stands on its own, with the focus on one or a few of the original characters.
Readers who like these stories might want to try my two series 'Daphne Boy' and 'Naked Prey' in the Gay/Historical section of the Archive. My 'Jungle Boy' series of Hollywood tales is posted in the Gay/Authoritarian section. The recent series 'Andrew Jackson High' relates the trials and tribulations of five of its gay students. For links to these and other stories, look on the list of Prolific Authors on the Archive.
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