Twixt Heaven And Hell (19 page)

Shortly after reaching equilibrium, he felt Balkan go to work.

He awoke to worried voices and slaps on the cheek. There was blood on his face, and his eyesight was blurry enough that he could not make out the faces of those who hovered over him, urgently speaking his name. He tried to fend them off and claim that he was well. None of his words made any sense to his own ears though, and he had the feeling he'd voiced nothing more than gibberish. He tried to sit up, but collapsed again when the pain hit him.

He passed out again.

When he opened his eyes again, he was disoriented. There was stone above him instead of sky.

He raised his head, and immediately heard Balkan's voice.

“Welcome back,” his friend said.

Darius turned his head to see Balkan sitting upon a stool next to the bed he was lying in. Beyond him was a window which looked out upon the city, and revealed another disorienting fact – it was night. Covered lamps provided soft, dim light for the room.

Darius recognized the carved columns that made up the window frame. “The Healing Hall?” he asked. “What happened?”

“The backlash,” Balkan replied. “It grew in severity as the spell grew in power. I was a fool for overlooking it.”

He sat up. “We all were,” Darius said. He glanced pointedly towards the window. “I see I slept through the day.”

“Two of them. It is
tomorrow
night, for you – the trial was yesterday morning.”

Shock covered Darius's face. “It was that bad?”

“
The Angel who came to us in the hills claimed that your mind was nearly destroyed along with the spell. Had we tried a test with more power, you would not have
survived it,” Balkan said. Though the danger was passed, a shadow of worry passed across his face.

Darius, on the other hand, smiled.

“What? How can you smile at that?” Balkan demanded.

“Think, Balkan. When we use this counter in battle, who shall be in my place?”

Balkan blinked. “The enemy.”

“The enemy,” Darius confirmed. “You say I was close to death – but I had Angels nearby. The sorcerers will have none. Nothing eases the pain of an injury like preparing to inflict the same upon our foes. Aside from my incident, how did the trial proceed?”

Balkan chuckled. “Well. The hill you targeted with the spell is... gone.”

“Gone?”

“The crown of it, yes. Every wizard in Bastion felt the blast.”

Darius winced. “So much for our secrecy.”

“It is not so bad. Arric gave the council a story about a new battle conjuration – which is true enough, after all – and blamed your injury on recklessness. Nobody thought there was anything odd about that.”

Darius looked offended, and this time Balkan laughed.

“We have already come far in passing on the spell, as well. While you were asleep, I was teaching it to nearly two-dozen wizards. All of those who were a part of the trial and a few more that Arric added.”

“But not my own students,” Darius said.

Balkan lifted an eyebrow. “You knew?”

“Yes. Arric
informed
me we would not be sent to Threeforts. I argued, of course,” Darius allowed. “Jotan and I are experienced with the spell, we would be valuable in the battle.”

“But you need to prepare them to lead their soldiers.”

“Yes.” Darius sighed. “I am loathe to miss such a major battle, though. I begin to wonder if there is some danger in letting Arric have his way so often.”

Balkan nodded solemnly. “There is danger, indeed. Danger of you being seen as reasonable.”

Darius scowled at his friend, and Balkan laughed again. “Darius, Arric gave in on the Gryphons and more. You have gotten exactly what you wanted. What more reason do you have to be contentious? I think you have gotten so used to being at odds with our dear Council Leader that you think something is amiss now that the two of you are getting along.”

He lifted a bundle from the floor beside his stool.

“Here are your clothes. I am off to take my rest – not all of us have been able to sleep for the last two days.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Balkan rapped his knuckles on the heavy door, taking care to avoid the iron work that decorated it. He briefly wondered whose idea it had been to distinguish the door of the Council Leader so. Had it been a wizard? The Council Leader himself? Perhaps a smith with time on his hands, wanting to mark himself out in some way... before he could decide which was most likely, the door opened and Arric poked his head out.

"Yes Balkan?"

"They are ready."

The door opened further and the rest of Arric appeared. "All of them? Are you sure? How so soon?"

Balkan ticked off the answers on his fingers as spoke. "Yes, all of them. I'm quite sure. It isn't all that complex of a spell, really. The most difficult aspect in bringing it to completion is countering the attempts to counter the counter," Balkan said with a slight smile at the wordplay. "That is to say, the sorcerers will know that we are tampering with the Firewalking spell and will try and stop us. We're sending the finest wizards we have. They are as ready as can be."

Arric was nodding along with him. "The finest we have. That is what scares me. If things go wrong, this could be very costly."

"We cannot fight a war without taking risks."

"But need they be potentially ruinous?" Arric shot back, even as he held up his hand to forestall the argument. "Do not answer; our course is set. It is good they are ready so quickly – you have done exceedingly well." Arric glanced back through his chamber and out the window opposite the door. The sun was just past its zenith. "If we hurry, they can leave today. I'll send the orders to begin."

"I already have, Arric. They will be assembling by the main gate in two hours."

Arric gave him a surprised look. Balkan was generally not so preemptive with his actions. The taller wizard smiled a bit sheepishly. "I admit, Darius has infected me with his urgency regarding the situation."

Arric harrumphed. "Yes, well, there are worse things you could pick up from him. As close as you two are, I'm surprised you haven't tried to gather some soldiers and run off to the border yourself."

"If I survived that stunt, I certainly wouldn't survive Maggie upon my return," Balkan said with a smile.

"Thank you for your hard work, Balkan. Why don't you let me handle the rest of the preparations and spend some time with your family?"

Balkan was surprised. Generally, when you finished one task Arric gave you another. He nodded his head vigorously. "That would be very agreeable, Arric. Thank you."

***

Balkan's long strides soon took him out of sight around a corner. Arric went to the Globe Room by a different route. There he contacted the barracks to ensure that all was properly set in motion.

The existence of a spy made subtlety a necessary element, but it was not possible to disguise the absence of two-dozen wizards. In the short term, those men would leave the city disguised as ordinary soldiers. Arric hoped the ruse would hold long enough for the reinforcements to arrive at Threeforts – but he did not like relying so much on chance.

War was full of risk, most certainly. As Council Leader, Arric saw it as his duty to control those risks as far as he was able. He could not play games with Bastion's future. A small setback now was small trade to lay against Bastion's complete safety.

He finished speaking with the wizard at the barracks, content that all the necessary precautions were being taken and the 'scouts' would be ready in an hour. There would be soldiers leaving with the wizards, all the better to conceal the truth of events from any curious eyes.

Arric's next went and personally contacted the commanders of several of the forts foremost on the border. He told them to increase activity. Scouting, infiltration, skirmishing; anything to draw Traigan's eye to the border and delay the attack on Threeforts. Arric also hoped the increased activity would give a sense of the manpower that the foe had on the border. If they seemed even slightly fragile... perhaps a counterattack on the Shambles would not be out of the picture for long.

A scant month before, Arric had been poised to extend Bastion's border further than ever before. Part of him longed to have that distinction again.

***

“You are very cheerful... for a man who nearly... died so recently.”

Darius looked at Jotan as the man squeezed his words out between deep breaths. Jotan was not the only one out of breath. All the other wizards – save the ex-soldier Brannon – were red-faced with exertion as they jogged along.

“It seems to me that a man who nearly died so recently has a lot to be cheerful about,” Darius replied. He spoke easily. The pace he set for these men was not yet strenuous to the captain of the Gryphons.

When Darius had gathered his students on the morn after his injury, they had come dressed as usual – in robes. He'd told them to go and find other clothing and footwear similar to what Darius preferred, and not to come back until they'd secured it.

While wizards were not unaccustomed to effort – the use of magic was physically demanding, and there was no such thing as a portly wizard – nearly all of them had forgotten what it was to run. Darius set out to remind these five, at least. Each day he took them by a different route, not wanting to let them settle into a routine. They jogged through plains and woodlands, along stream beds and up mountainsides.

That day, they ascended into the northern hills, so Darius could see the aftermath of the counterspell trial with his own eyes.

Finally they reached the shattered hill, he slowed. “Rest,” he ordered them, and the others groaned in relief. “Remember to stretch your legs if you sit, lest you stiffen. I won't be long.”

“Take all the time you please,” Jotan said, setting himself down heavily upon a rock.

Darius strode the rest of the way to the crest of the hill – or what remained of it. The stand of aspens which had been the focus of his spell were entirely gone, as was a large portion of land around them. Blackened dirt and ash lay within a crater as deep at its center as a man was tall. It measured nearly ten paces from rim to core.

“This is what will happen when we use the counter?” Tobra asked from behind.

Darius turned. “Yes, or something near. Balkan thinks our result was a bit more spectacular that what we will give them.”

“Unfortunate. Why?”

“We had more power than we required – if I had targeted the spell further away, it would have consumed more power and left less to cause... this. The Enemy has much more power, but sends their Firewalking much further.”

Darius looked the other wizard up and down.

“You're taking well to the training,” he said.

Tobra grinned. “I grew soft while I was an acolyte,” he replied. “The friends I knew in my youth in the mountains would have laughed. Our people did not tolerate layabouts.”

“Even I don't think the wizards can be called 'layabouts,'” Darius said with a chuckle. “Though using magic is a very different sort of work than most. As leaders of your men, you must be both wizard and soldier.”

“As you are,” Tobra said as they started back towards the others.

“As I am,” Darius confirmed. “But make no mistake, when I began I was worse off than you or Brannon. It was painful, at first, to realize that I was slowing my men down.”

"How long did it take you to catch up?" Jotan asked.

Darius thought for a moment. "I'll flatter myself and say six months, more or less."

Jotan groaned again, though this time he had the breath to do it properly.

“On your feet, men,” Darius chuckled. “Time to head back.”

He set a harder pace on the return, though the route was more downhill than up, now. Before long they were jogging along well-trod paths through the long acres of apple orchards and grape vines. Men and women tending their livestock stared as they went by, not likely knowing who they were – news spread quickly in the city itself, but beyond the walls of Bastion the people were far slower to hear the latest happenings.

As a final joke upon the exhausted wizards, Darius did not lead them through the northernmost gates, but followed the long, graceful curve of the walls around to the main gates. Shortly before they reached them, a horn sounded, signaling its imminent opening.

At first Darius thought they were only anticipating his return. It was an outdated tradition that the gates opened only long enough to let in and out those who had business passing through them. Darius was of the mind that they may as well remain open until danger presented itself – no foe had come within striking range of Bastion in hundreds of years.

From the gates poured hundreds of men. They were all dressed as soldiers, encased in leather armor and with swords swinging at their hips or using their spears for walking sticks. A few of them, though, marched more awkwardly than the rest.

Darius broke into a full run, leaving his students to catch up. One of the wizards departing Bastion noticed him running, and stepped out from the throng.

"Jacob!" Darius greeted. "They're sending you off so soon?"

The man nodded. Jacob was a man who seemed shaped from steel, with silver-gray hair capping a wiry frame. Seeing him in armor was slightly jarring to Darius – Jacob was one of the most experienced battlefield magicians in Bastion.

He nodded in his typical curt fashion. "Aye. There is little more to do here. We know the spell. Faster we get to the border with it, the more likely we'll make use of it."

"Arric is content to let you go so soon?"

Jacob broke his stern demeanor with a short, hearty laugh. "Hah! Do you really care? Yes, he confirmed Balkan's opinion. Surprised?"

A smile and a nod from Darius brought another laugh. "He knows we need speed as much as you, Darius. I wager Balkan had something to do with it as well – your friend has been pushing us fiercely. All the better – if the hammer falls before we get to the border, it'll be a lot of work for little gain."

"You'd best get going then. Choirs watch over you."

Jacob rejoined the men on the south road. It had been days since the last rainfall, and dust began to fill the air from the rise and fall of so many booted feet. Once all of them had cleared the walls a call went out from the front of the column, and the soldiers quickened their pace – with the disguised wizards following suit a heartbeat later.

"Have a meal and rest for a while," Darius said to his men as he led them back into the city. "Meet me in two hours' time at the barracks entrance. It is time to start meeting the men you will command."

Darius himself needed neither food nor rest just yet. In his quarters he paused for only a moment to dash some cool water across his brow and scrub the dust from his face and hands. Then he headed back out into the bright noon sunlight and made for the central barracks field, where Robert was overseeing the recruitment.

In order to expedite the undertaking, the lieutenant had pressed nearly every Gryphon into the role of sergeant, separating those who had the ability to operate at the requisite level and those who did not. The 'clack' of wooden swords filled the air, and was audible from a goodly distance.

Darius stood on the outskirts, watching the activity. Several of his men recognized him, though no others did. Darius was dressed in a tunic of simple, undyed wool. He had no articles of rank nor the badge of the Gryphons upon his clothing. Darius briefly wondered if he might be taken for a common soldier, one who had already been tried and found wanting. He found the thought heartening. There was a strange sort of freedom, a comfort, in anonymity.

Darius did not have the time to enjoy the feeling for long. He strode to where Robert had just finished his passes with a younger man. From the look on Robert's face, he was offering reassurances. Just before Darius moved close enough to overhear their words the young soldier turned away with disappointment on his face. About to turn and call for the next man to be tested, Robert stopped when he noticed Darius.

"Quite an operation you've set up," Darius commented with another glance around the yard.

Robert nodded. "Usually you ask me to find another hundred men or so. Now you're asking for well over a thousand."

"How many are you up to now?"

"Not enough to mention, sir. To be honest, I'm not sure we can form all five units from the soldiers that are here in Bastion. Not if we want to keep their capabilities on a level with the Gryphons."

Darius nodded. He had expected the news.

“I hate to put it this way, but lower your standards a mite,” he said. “The new commands will need to train together before they take the field, in any case. They will have time to improve.”

"Yes, sir. Are we going to have them all wearing scale armor?"

Darius nodded. That particular industry was going well. Now that reports of its effectiveness were trickling up from the ranks to the ears of influential officers, more and more men were being tasked to the production of the new armor. The limit on its speed of manufacture was now how fast the smiths could turn out the hundreds of small scales required for each full suit.

"I'm going to have the wizards start meeting their soldiers today. How quickly can you assemble them?"