[This story begins just after the healing of Dumotrino, about two years after Ben acquires Grarnihorn's library, and about five years after the rogues arrived in Uslar.]
Mittanolo had been planning to invade Taril for two years now. He had been brutal in his conquest of Ghanal, killing all the nobles who had not submitted to him or fled the realm. The trolls had helped terrorize the people, making it easier for him to subdue the population. But they had returned to their caves in the mountains because they disliked the bright daylight of open lands. This suited Mittanolo; he had finished his conquest and didn’t want his former partners asking for more favors.
Three years of consolidating his control over Ghanal, enriching his followers with new lands and titles, crushing all lingering opposition, establishing himself as King of Phada. Some foolish adviser had suggested keeping the name of the larger Ghanal for the kingdom, only to be exiled. Mittanolo was proud of his descent from a long line of dukes of Phada. He would promote the ducal name into a royal one, a royal title for him and for his duchy.
Once he had full control over Ghanal, he could start building up his army. The core would continue to be his loyal troops from Phada, but he added large numbers of warriors from Ghanal. It was at least three times as large as Phada, and could supply him with a much bigger army. His nobles, eager to earn their recent promotions in rank, were ready to lead their new forces into whatever battles he wished to fight.
Being King of Phada was a great glory, but Mittanolo wanted to be greater, more glorious. There had long been only one kingdom in Orilon, Taril. Now there were two, Taril and Phada. He wanted there to be only one once again, by conquering Taril. If Ghanal had been three times the size of Phada, Taril was at least as big as both together. He would have a kingdom worthy of his self-image. And after that, what else?
Six years ago, in Ongar, three other dukes and I had discussed the possibility of creating a kingdom out of our realms, aided by a young peasant boy who called himself a wizard. The boy had just been a thief, and the other dukes were unwilling to go to war. Only I still have the dream of ruling far and wide over more and more of the continent. There’s really no reason I can’t keep expanding my kingdom. Kingdom? Maybe empire? Emperor would be a nice title.
And the thief is now living in Taril, according to reports from my spies. He still claims to be a wizard, and is fooling people into paying him money to learn magic. Now I can conquer Taril and revenge myself on the young thief.
My army will invade Taril down the Boar River valley, wide enough to accommodate and feed all my men, and with easy passes on both sides of the border. I’ll send a flying detachment to grab the thief in his current hideout, a place called Uslar.
***
King Topinarien looked at Prince Canamongo in dismay. The prince had been his guest for more than five years, ever since he had been chased out of Ghanal by Mittanolo. Topinarien had been happy to offer refuge to Canamongo and was still happy to have him live at court, despite his behavior.
Canamongo was not a easy man to be around, with a hot temper, a man who was quick to anger, and to insult all about him. The prince had never insulted Topinarien, but only because of his rank. In Ghanal the people dreaded his sharp tongued remarks. He had kept his temper while in exile, perhaps even beginning to reform his behavior. Topinarien had seen him, at least once, apologize to one of his followers in exile.
However, Canamongo was an unhappy guest. He never complained about his exile, though he often spoke of leading a rebellion against the usurper. He never complained about not being the most important person in Taril. He never complained about anything, in fact. But he couldn’t hide his unhappiness about being in exile.
That was not the cause of Topinarien’s dismay, however. Canamongo could offer little to his benefactor except his friendship, and the transferred friendship of his former subjects. His son was still in Ghanal, hiding out and trying to keep his family’s claims alive. Canamongo also had informants in Ghanal who told him what was happening in his old realm. Five years ago, right after he had fled, they said Mittanolo was bragging at drinking feasts about invading Taril too. He had told Topinarien immediately but it proved to be a premature warning.
Two years ago they had warned him that Mittanolo was really planning on invading Taril. Once again he had warned his host. The previous warning had been too early for real concern, but Topinarien had responded to it with a massive restructuring of his army. The second warning found Taril ready, and Topinarien had started to pay for information from Ghanal.
Today the payments paid off. A messenger had arrived from Ghanal in worn, rough clothing, dirty from hard travel on wet roads. He handed Canamongo a letter and stood back while the prince read it.
“Topinarien, this is Count Tassilmor, one of my most loyal supporters. He hardly looks noble these days, and if it weren’t for your great generosity, I would look like him. Here is the news we were afraid of. Mittanolo has ordered his invasion of Taril to begin at the start of next week. He will be coming through the Boar River valley. He only waits for the last of his army to arrive from the south of Phada.”
“You’re right, Canamongo, I did not want to hear this news. But I am glad to hear it at last. My nobles have been kept in suspense for too long. Warriors can’t be kept sharp and ready for battle for months or years without losing their edge. Now we’ll have the war and the battle we want, and don’t want.”
Topinarien called for his marshals and gave the orders to call up all his nobles and their men, and told them where to bring their armies. A week by fast rider to the outer edges of the kingdom. Their horses will die, but I must have all my troops. The Boar River valley is the easiest invasion route, but Mittanolo still has to go through mountains. That will slow him down somewhat.
A week before he starts his invasion, probably two weeks to clear the mountains on both sides of the border. Almost three weeks before I have to fight him. A week to alert my nobles, less for some. A week, if I force them and I will, for them to gather their forces. Forced marches can bring me half my army in three weeks, easily. Can I find a way to delay him another several days? More time would give me a larger army, one big enough to destroy him in one battle. I don’t want this war dragging on and damaging my realm, my towns, my people.
***
“It’s war, Vince,” announced Natamurk when he came into the mansion. “I just received a message from His Majesty to gather my troops and head for the Boar River valley. I’m going to help support Count Vorpeno, whose lands border on Ghanal. He’s our first line of defense, I’m part of the second. I only hope His Majesty can bring up the rest of the army in time. Two or three counts are going to have a hard time fighting an army as large as Ghanal can send against us.”
“We will, of course, serve with you, without asking,” declared Vince. “You’ve treated us well and we’re ready to repay your friendship.”
“I knew you would offer to serve. I knew you would offer without asking the others, and that they will all come without hesitation. But I really want Ben. He’s not the amateur student wizard I first met years ago. I want to have whatever magical help he can offer me.”
“Ben’s not here, Your Excellency. He, Polly, and a couple of his students went to Ithenu yesterday.”
“Oh, no! Can we ride after them and bring them back?”
“No, they traveled by magic. I don’t know how long they’ll be gone, but I don’t think it’ll be much more than a week, maybe less.”
“I can’t wait that long. I have to be on the road as soon as I can muster my men. Let me think a minute. Look, Vince, this isn’t an insult, but I don’t need you, Jenny, and the others. As good as you all are, a few swords more or less will matter little. You’ve already provided military service to me by training my army. Now I need Ben and his magic. Will you be content to wait for him to return and bring him to me? He should have an armed escort, going into a war zone. I can’t think of anyone better suited to that role.”
“Of course, we always protect Ben on the road. Leave us some signs along your route so we can follow you.”
“I’ll also give you some guards here. The whole castle garrison is marching out. The town militia will cover the town and the castle. I’ll have some keep watch over this mansion, just in case. You’re probably safe here, but I don’t want to take chances.”
***
No one had paid any attention to the strangers who had passed through Uslar a few months earlier. Ben’s school of magic attracted students as well as people who were just curious to see so unusual a school. The men did not look studious or scholarly, but appearances could be deceiving.
They were discreet in observing the mansion where Ben and his friends lived, and completely ignored the Temple. They never spent too much time in one spot watching the house. They never gathered in a group to watch it. But they soon learned the routines of its inhabitants. They were especially discreet in asking about the layout of the rooms inside.
When they returned with the soldiers, it was late at night and they saw two men on guard outside the gate. These men were talking, apparently, with men on the inside. The attackers left five men to watch the gate, and the rest went around to the side of the compound. The six foot wall was no obstacle, and they were soon looking at the rear and side doors to the mansion.
“These doors at the back go into extra rooms,” one of the spies told the warriors. “The windows go into their sleeping rooms. We couldn’t learn where their beds are, so I think the best way to go is in through one of the doors. There’s a corridor leading to their rooms. Half in this way, half in through the front. Some can take out the guards at the gate and let in the rest our men. If we’re quick enough, they won’t have time to grab weapons. But be careful, they’re all supposed to know how to fight.”
They found the doors of the mansion unlocked. Who would dare to rob a wizard, after all? The guards were caught by surprise. They hadn’t expected an attack from within the compound. They fought well, but were outnumbered and fell quickly.
The spies had learned where everyone slept and ignored all other rooms. The residents were all asleep, unaware of what was happening. Suddenly men in armor were pushing doors open, grabbing them, pulling them from their beds, seizing the children, who began to cry. Vince, Jenny, Betsy, and Horace were tied quickly as they were brought to their feet. They had no chance to reach the weapons that lay close to hand.
“Where are the other two?” demanded the leader of the troops. Vince recognized him as one of Mittanolo’s men from Ongar. What’s one of Mittanolo’s men doing here? Who is this? I know him. Dexter? Yes, Dexter. Didn’t like him much in Ongar. Like him even less here.
“They’re not here,” Vince growled. “They left for Ithenu a week ago.”
“Ithenu? Where in blazes is that?” asked Dexter.
“In the Chimix almost-island, other side of the Fanipol Sea,” Vince informed him. “Don’t they teach geography in Phada?”
“Watch your tongue, smart guy, if you want to live out the night. Did they go by boat down the river?”
“No,” mumbled Vince sullenly, but a sudden mischievous thought hit him. They think Ben went by horse. They’ll waste time chasin’ after him in vain. I just hope Ben can get back soon and spoil their plans.
“All right, Alden, take six men and go after them. Going overland, they’ll go to the Free City of Horb, or Dassel, or maybe Hennef on the coast. See, wise guy, I do know my geography. Ride hard, don’t spare your horses. Steal more when they wear out. They have a week’s start which means they might already be in any of these places except maybe Hennef. We have to hope they don’t get a ship right away. You’ve seen them, and you’ve seen the sketches our spies made. Don’t fail.
“The rest of you, get these people on the horses, kids too. I want to be a long way from here by daybreak. Stop that, you little brat! Where did he get a candle?”
***
Five days later Ben and his companions returned as evening was coming on, popping silently into the courtyard of the mansion. Ben and Polly walked into the dining room and crossed the corridor to their living quarters looking for their children. Malcolm, hearing sounds, came from the front parlor and stopped in his tracks. He didn’t know what to say or do. He flung himself on his knees in front of Ben and began crying.
“I’m sorry, so very sorry,” he sobbed, “I’ve failed you, and you, too, Polly. They’ve taken your children, and I wasn’t able to protect them. They’ve taken everyone, Vince, Jenny, Horace, Betsy, and all the children. It was so sudden. They gave us no warning. Armed men came in from all directions, cut down the guards, and grabbed everyone. They especially wanted you, Ben.”
“Who were these men? Why did they want me? Why kidnap my children and my friends?”
“They were wearing red and silver livery, but it wasn’t like any of our nobles’.”
“I know who wears red and silver,” grumbled Ben. “Duke Mittanolo.”
“Oh, I forgot to tell you,” added Malcolm. “He’s invaded Taril. The count led his men out to meet him last week. Vince and the rest were going to be your escort to join him when you got back. We’ve all failed.”
“How does that vile scum think he can kidnap my children?” threatened Polly with passion. “Or my friends? Ben, we’re going to get them all back, and then we’re going to do some really nasty magical things to that foul piece of….”
“We are going to rescue everybody, Polly. But I refused to let the death feats be copied into the new texts of our grimoires. Magic shouldn’t be used for vengeance. Vince has warned us about revenge warping our minds. We need our minds clear and, well, pure if we want to do magic. We will take our revenge, but not through magic.
“Who’s here now, Malcolm? How many students?”
“All of us,” answered Duncan, joining them from the corridor. “Myself, Joan, Pondalon, Arthur, Walter, and Mandy. With your return, we have ten wizards. Plus the less experienced students at the Temple.”
“What are you going to be able to do?” asked Malcolm, worried. “Vince and the others were supposed to protect you on the way to the count’s army. Now how can you go? What’ll happen to the children?”
“Don’t fret yourself, Malcolm,” comforted Ben. “Wizards have to train their minds to do magic. That training helps calm our minds and sharpen our wits to handle unusual situations. I’ve already thrown out two plans that aren’t good enough. This is a challenge, a serious challenge, but one we can face. Do you know where the count’s army is now, Malcolm?”
“No, he said he was marching off to the Boar River valley. Vince asked him to leave signs along his route so he could find him.”
“We can’t waste time going on horseback,” remarked Polly. “We’ll have to travel magically again. All of you know how, right? Ben trained everyone before we left with Otolengu, so you should all be good at it. All we need is a place to go.”
On cue, a voice sounded in her mind, and in Ben’s. Mommy, Daddy, help us! We got kitty napped and bad men are being mean to us. Save us! Please!
“Thank the Gods our children have the talent!” exclaimed Polly. “We can find them now. Ben, are you getting a feel for where they are?”
“Yes, I’m surprised they have such a range for mind talking. Do you see the place, too, Polly?”
“Yes.”
“We don’t have time to describe the place to the rest of you, so everyone join hands, and I’ll try to send an image of the place to your minds.”
“Wait, Ben,” cautioned Polly. “We need to get our armor and weapons, and theirs. And disks for mind traveling.”
Ben, armored, waited a moment for everyone to focus on the trip, then led them in an instant jump to a field growing dark in the dusk. He looked around and saw tents nearby on all sides. They had apparently traveled right into the center of Mittanolo’s camp. No one was looking at them at the moment, fortunately. He sent out a mental message to his children, and received an immediate answer. He could tell it came from the large tent to his right.
“This is the tent they’re in. Looks like there are guards at the front, so let’s go behind it, and be less conspicuous. I’ll slit a small hole in the side, and, yes, there they are. All of them. Polly, I may let you do what you want with that beast. They’re all in cages, including the children.
“Four adults, six children, and ten of us. Polly and I will speak to our children, Joan, Tania, Duncan, and Mandy, speak to the other children. The others talk to the adults. Tell them we’re here to rescue them, but to be quiet while we get them out. Especially tell the children to be quiet.”
Ben looked at the size of the three cages, six feet square, and decided on how to get the prisoners out.
“Polly, you, Tania, and Mandy go into the cage with the children. One at a time, it’s small. Take a child in each hand and return here. Duncan and Walter, you’re big, so you can get Horace out. Pondalon and Otolengu take Vince. Arthur take Betsy, Joan, get Jenny. I’ll make everything look good for the guards.”
They went about their rescues with speed and care. In a few minutes, all the captives had been freed. Ben was still busy finishing up his illusions of them sitting in the cages. When he was through, the effect was perfect. Six sleeping children, four dejected adults.
“There’s your gear,” indicated Polly, pointing to a pile nearby. “I thought you’d feel better dressed for the occasion.”
“Thank you,” replied Vince, echoed by the others. “How did you manage to find us?”
“Our kids can do the mind talking feat,” explained Polly. “What do children do when they’re upset? They call for mommy and daddy. We could track them from that.”
“Arthur, Walter, Mandy. I want you to take the children back to Uslar,” directed Ben. “Put them in the castle. That should be safe enough, then come back. No, wait, that won’t work. I need you back here, but ‘here’ is not going to be right here in this spot. We have to get to Count Natamurk’s army, and I don’t know where that is. Aim for the disk, disk number two. Vince, I know you don’t know this either, but do you have any hint of where Natamurk might be?”
“We were brought here from that direction,” revealed Vince, pointing. “We only got here this evenin’, and no one seems eager to move on yet. At one point in our trip, the kidnappers made a big detour that didn’t seem necessary. They may have been going around the count’s army. I’d guess about a couple of days travel west of here.”
“Duncan, how high can you fly?” asked Ben. “You have the best distance vision. I want you to go up as high as you can and look for campfires to the west.”
“I haven’t got that kind of range on my distance vision, Ben. Two days travel is a long way.”
“True. On the other hand, Natamurk may have moved closer to here. Go up four hundred feet and try to see something. If you don’t, look for a place to jump to. Try again from there. Be careful. We can’t afford to lose a good wizard.”
Duncan concentrated for a minute, then started to float up from the ground. He rose about ten feet, thought some more, and began to move swiftly straight up, flying instead of floating. He was soon lost to sight in the gloaming. Ten minutes passed. Twenty minutes passed. Thirty minutes passed. Then he was standing right in front of them. He hadn’t descended from above, but just popped up.
“Sorry to be so long, the count wanted to talk,” Duncan apologized. “They’re due west of here, a day’s march I think. I distance traveled a couple of times until I was in sight of their camp. Count Natamurk was surprised to see me, but I told him you were here. He wanted the whole story, but there wasn’t time. I put disk two on the ground in front of his tent, and told everyone to stay away from it. Now you have a target for traveling.”
“Wonderful!” Ben congratulated him. “All right, one easy jump. Are you too tired to go, Duncan?”
“I’m tired, but I can do one more trip. Let me take Jenny, though. She’s smaller and lighter than Horace.”
***
“I’m not sure exactly where His Majesty’s army is,” confessed Natamurk. “A messenger arrived two hours ago, asking where I was. If we had had time to gather all the different contingents of the royal army in one place, we wouldn’t have this problem. But there was no time, the invasion was starting any day. Is there some way you can find where he’s at? You said you found your children by mind speaking. Can you send a message to the king that way? Can you then follow the message somehow and find him?”
“No, Your Excellency, it doesn’t work like that,” corrected Ben. “I can send a message to the king, but he doesn’t have the skill to reply. I need a mental contact from him to find him. We found you from Mittanolo’s camp by sending Duncan flying up into the sky. He has a long range on his distant vision, and was able to see your campfires. But even he had to jump a few times to get close enough to see you.
“Now he’s exhausted from doing too much magic today. And it’s getting late. The king won’t move his army this late at night. He might want to make plans, but we can find him in the morning. We can start to make communications between the parts of his army easier. We have ten wizards here, including me and three newer wizards, when they return from your castle. They don’t have as much experience, but they know everything they need to.”
“Tomorrow? All right, tomorrow,” sighed Natamurk. “I’m anxious to come to grips with the enemy. I’ve never fought a serious battle in my life. Brigands don’t count, neither do our practice fights. I’m not concerned about my doing well. Family tradition demands that I fight well. But I don’t like the waiting.”
***
“Natamurk! Gadzooks! How did you do that?” exclaimed Topinarien the next day, as the count and several other people popped up in front of his tent.
“Ben has been giving me a wondrous ride, Your Majesty,” revealed the count. “He and his fellow wizards are here to help you win this war.”
“Ben, that young fellow who claimed to be a wizard?” asked Topinarien. “What do you mean when you say ‘his fellow wizards?’ There aren’t any wizards anymore. I’ve told you this many times. Why do you refuse to accept this very simple fact?”
“Your Majesty just saw why,” declared Natamurk. “Ben and his wizards carried us here from my camp by magic. I know; it’s hard to believe. I had trouble believing in magic when Ben first came to Uslar. But I’ve seen him work magic, serious magic. Would you allow Ben to prove his ability, Your Majesty?”
“How? Some sleight of hand trickery? I remember him from my visit to Uslar a few years ago. A goofy-looking country bumpkin, with the most uncouth speech I’ve ever heard. My bodyguard, Austin, over-reacted to what he thought was an attack, and slashed his arm rather badly. Ben couldn’t even defend himself from that attack. Some wizard he was. Ha! Show him the scar, Ben, proof of your failure as a wizard.”
Ben rolled up his sleeve and showed his bare, unscarred arm. Then he rolled up the other sleeve, to show an equally uninjured arm.
“One of my magical skills, Your Majesty,” stated Ben, “is the ability to heal wounds. I was not a very skilled wizard when we met before, but I have learned a lot about magic since then. I believe I, and my fellow wizards, can do some things to help you in this war.
“His Excellency asked if I might prove my talents to you. May I, please? A quick, safe, demonstration of a simple but useful ability. I will take you to Natamurk’s camp and back again. My wife, Polly, who is also a wizard, will take Austin, so you will be protected. May we?”
Topinarien looked over and over at Ben’s arms. I distinctly remember that boy’s arm was badly cut by Austin. I saw the slash. I saw the blood. Either he’s telling the truth, or there is a marvelous healer in Uslar. I’ve never seen such a prefect healing of a wound.
“Natamurk, you had better be right about this. Austin will come with me, but my other guards will kill you and all the rest of your rogue friends if I don’t come back in half an hour. Ben, I accept your offer.”
Ben wrapped his arm around the king’s arm while Polly did the same with Austin. In an instant the king was standing in front of a strange tent. He recognized Cooper, Natamurk’s marshal, standing nearby. He looked around at all the men in Natamurk’s livery, bowing in deference to him as they suddenly saw him.
“Ben, I owe you an apology. I don’t understand what you did, or how, but it is obviously magic. I am sorry I did not give you any attention for all these years. My Gods, how much better defended we might be now if I had talked to you then! We must talk now about what help you can offer.”
“Your Majesty, I am never offended when people doubt my abilities. It is hard to believe in magic after centuries without any. As for defending your kingdom, well, for all the help that wizards are supposed to have given to the armies in the Big War, I can’t find many useful feats for combat. I have a huge library of grimoires, but there’s no war magic in them. That may be because most were written by a wizard who died before the Big War. But I have seen some things in my grimoires that look as if they might help and I have some ideas of new feats of magic. We should return now, before your guards get worried.”
Back in the king’s camp, Austin freed himself, wide-eyed, from Polly’s grip and fell to his knees in front of Ben.
“I am so very sorry to have cut your arm, good wizard,” he apologized. “My duty is to protect His Majesty, and I reacted without thinking. Please forgive me, please.”
“Austin, of course I forgive you. Your Majesty, I will gladly talk with you about what we can do, but right now you should be talking with Count Natamurk, he has news for you.”
“That’s true, Your Majesty. My force is a day’s march east of here, maybe a day from Mittanolo’s army. His army is not moving today. He fought a battle yesterday against Count Vorpeno’s troops. I arrived too late to help him, so Vorpeno lost, of course. He was closest to the invasion route and did what he could to block it. He went in with eight hundred men. Two hundred managed to escape and have joined my men. They said his dying words to them were ‘Save yourselves, join the king. Long live Topinarien!’”
“That’s a tragic loss,” grieved Topinarien. “Six hundred brave men dead at the start of the war, and a dependable friend like Vorpeno as well. I will miss him. You said some of his men joined your force. How are they? Can they fight again?”
“His men are recovering from the stress of the battle,” related Natamurk. “They’re saddened at his death, and that they couldn’t have saved him, even though he ordered them to leave. But they’re happy when they think of all the enemy warriors they had killed, and are eager to add to the number. No one counted, but they think they killed two for every one of their dead. Anyway, today Mittanolo is gathering the dead, and tomorrow will hold funeral services for all the dead. Custom, and all warriors’ respect for Death require that.”
“Two days to gather and bury the dead, two days march to get here,” considered Topinarien. “Good, that gives more time for my armies to arrive. The central parts of the realm are coming in already, but the northern and southern armies are still on their way. I have much less than half my army with me now, even with your force. I had hoped for more time to gather my nobles.
“Natamurk, get one of these wizards to bring you back to your army. I want you to pull back to this place. I can’t afford to sacrifice any more of my soldiers, or nobles. Vorpeno bought us some very much needed time, but it was too expensive. There’s a swamp near here that narrows the valley enough to make it easy to defend. With all my forces here, we can make a better fight. When you’ve given the orders, come back here. I want your advice on our strategy.
“Ben, let us talk now. Your speech is so very different from what I remember when we first met. You sounded like the rawest peasant boy then.”
“You saw a weird, goofy-looking country boy, speaking as improperly as a hick can. I was ashamed that you rejected me. I couldn’t help my looks, but I could improve my speech. I needed to in order to deal with important people easily. Learning magic helped me strengthen my mind and focus on things. Speaking better was one of those things.”
“You repeat that you’ve studied magic well. Can you do anything to help? I know you can’t raise an army from nothing, but is there any way to postpone the battle until my other troops arrive? The longer we can delay Mittanolo’s attack the better prepared we’ll be.”
“I can do an invisible wall,” declared Ben. “It’s written up in the grimoires as a feat for self-defense while traveling. It’s like solidified air. Erect this invisible wall around your camp, and no one can attack you at night. A normal wall for travelers is about twenty-five feet on a side, a hundred feet in total. Big enough for a small camp. With a little more effort, I can do a longer wall. The longest I’ve done is five hundred feet long, but I can do a longer one.
“The ten of us can make walls four or five hundred feet long, maybe longer. All properly done magic is permanent, unless the wizard wants to dismiss it. You’ve seen my flaming fingers. That flame will burn as long as I want it to, but I put it out because it interferes with using that finger for anything else. So once we set up ten invisible walls, we don’t have to do anything to maintain them. They’ll stay until we cancel them. Then we can add another ten, and another.
“This will block a narrow valley, or constrict a wide one. We can leave gaps, just as invisible as the wall, so the enemy won’t know where to march. And we can shift the walls. This will slow down the enemy advance, as he has to find his way through shifting walls he can’t see. Oh, find his way! Yes! I just had a clever idea, Your Majesty. We can build an invisible maze for them to wander into.
“When Mittanolo finds his way blocked, he’ll try to find a route around the walls. We can try to prevent that, or just make it difficult. If he wastes enough time every day, he won’t make much progress toward your army.
“I can also do illusions, things that look real but aren’t. Here’s one I was thinking of last night, in case you needed it. I took a long look at Count Natamurk’s men as they lined up for battle this morning. You said I couldn’t raise an army from nothing, well, look at this.”
Behind him suddenly stood five hundred men at arms, fully armed, with swords, spears, and halberds gleaming in the sun. It was a marvelous effect until a servant walked through them from behind.
“Ben, that’s amazing!” cried Topinarien. “But why didn’t that man see them?”
“The illusion is only from this side. He didn’t see anything in front of him. If he had turned around after passing through it, he would’ve fainted dead away, probably. I only looked at a small part of Natamurk’s army. I could’ve done a larger illusion almost as easily, or one in three dimensions. At least half of us can do this well enough to fool someone who doesn’t get too close to it.
“If Mittanolo sees a very large force blocking his path, he may hold his position. Any time he spends looking for a way around is more time for you. Of course, if he attacks the illusion, his men will pass right through it, as that man did. In that case, we’ll put some more invisible walls in front of them. Or we can use the illusion to make your real army look larger. These are just suggestions.”
“Thank you, Ben,” directed Topinarien. “I can’t tell you what to do, except delay Mittanolo. Do what you and your wizards can do. Don’t ask for my approval, just do it. I’m having trouble enough learning how to lead an army into war. I know the theory, but no king of Taril has gone to war in over a hundred years. I almost envy those rulers who are always at war, getting practice every day.”
***
“We’re going to build invisible walls to block Mittanolo’s route,” ordered Ben in Natamurk’s camp. “Arthur, I want you to join us after you bring Natamurk back to Topinarien. We’ll place a disk where we’re going to work, so you can find us. Listen to the plan until you have to leave.
“I want to jump to about a half day’s march east of here. That should be midway from here to Mittanolo’s camp. His army will be busy collecting the dead from their recent battle, so they won’t be near us or notice us. I want to build a long stretch of invisible wall across his path. I don’t know how wide the valley is there, but if it’s like this, we’ll have to each build four or five walls.
“Tomorrow they’re supposed to be doing the funeral rites for the dead. That gives us even more time to play games here and think of other ways to impede Mittanolo’s advance. On the day after tomorrow we can watch how they react to the wall. If they want to go around the ends of the wall, we can keep adding walls to pen them in. We don’t want them to go away, though. Topinarien wants to fight them near his camp and if Mittanolo goes some other way, that won’t be good.
“Keep Mittanolo bottled up here for a day. The next day, dismiss the first walls and build another set a few miles west of here. Keep doing this, letting Mittanolo bring his army a little closer to Topinarien’s every day, but not too close too fast. We could build a maze for them. They would find a path through the invisible wall, but it would keep turning, maybe coming to a dead end. They’d waste a lot of time having to march back out again.
“Think of illusions we can create to distract or bother them. Look, here are Natamurk’s men preparing to march off. An illusion of a large army in his path will also slow Mittanolo down. An illusion of a stone wall, maybe with guard towers, might be good, too. Everybody understand what I want to do? All right, let’s go.”
***
“Let’s start with just a simple wall across from those woods to the north to that big hill to the south. It looks about five miles to me. Space yourselves out about every half mile. That’s your stretch to do. Build your walls, as many as you need to do. Make sure they overlap a bit.
“In front of the wall, we’ll have an illusion. A chasm, a hundred feet wide, apparently thousands of feet deep. This will also have to stretch the whole way from the woods to the hill, but it doesn’t have to be perfect at the two ends. We’ll all do parts of it. I know that’s a lot of magic for one day, more than some of you are used to doing. But we’ll be able to rest for a few days when we have enough obstacles erected here.
“When Mittanolo’s army comes up to the illusion, it’ll stop. They should get here in the middle of the day. They may not decide to make camp because it’s not that late, but they’re going to have to check out the chasm. They’ll think they can’t get across it, and will want to find a way around the end of it. That will hold them up for a while, the longer the better.
“Now someone may see something to make them disbelieve the chasm. Maybe a bird flying down and standing on thin air, or a rabbit bounding across it. If they do realize it’s not real, they still have the invisible wall to stop them. That should be enough to make them stop for the night. So half a day’s travel for a whole day wasted. Good enough.
“When we get done here today, I want to go five miles west and start on a maze to truly irritate them. We can build the maze with colors so we can see what it looks like. Then we can dismiss the color effect to make it invisible again. From here they won’t see anything five miles away. The next day, we can dismiss the wall here, and let them find the maze.
“After that another plain wall across the valley, but with an illusion of being a stone wall. We can put guard towers on it here and there, with imaginary troops on watch. The illusion won’t keep them from passing through, but the invisible wall behind it will make it seem real. That may hold them up even longer.
“We’ll have to keep an eye on how they react to our games. If it looks like they want to go some other way, we’ll have to let them through. We might have to throw up smaller walls to inconvenience them instead of blocking them entirely.”
When they were done, a massive canyon seemed to stretch from the hills north to the woods. It was wide and very deep, with birds apparently flying in its depths. The center, created by Ben, Polly, Duncan, and Joan was amazingly real. Even the end pieces, created by the wizards with less experience in illusions, were scary.
Ben then led them to the next blocking point, five miles away. They had time to spend designing the maze, a day and a half to think about how it should bend and twist. One opening in the invisible wall led them on a curving path that led them back to their own lines, a mile south. Troops entering both openings would run into each other.
Another opening was wide and deep, going half a mile before narrowing a little. From then on it got narrower and narrower, until finally it just ended in a solid, and invisible, wall. Several openings led into long, winding passages that eventually petered out into nothing. With the colors in place, the maze was confusing enough. Without any color to show the walls, it would be horrible for the men trying to find their way through.
***
On their third morning, Ben and his wizards went back to the fake chasm to see how Mittanolo would react to it. As usual, Vince and the other rogues were along to guard them. Guard ’em, what a joke, thought Vince. I pity anyone who tries to do anything to these wizards. Even the newer students are full of magical tricks.
In the distance they saw an army approaching. Mittanolo’s advance men were still a mile away. Ben did not worry about being seen. He had put an illusion of some shrubbery in front of them. To anyone coming from the east, there was only some minor vegetation in the middle of the plain.
A dozen horsemen rode up casually and suddenly reined in their mounts. They dismounted and walked carefully forward. One, apparently in charge, seemed to be looking into the chasm, trying to estimate its depth. He looked up and down the illusion, as if wondering why no one had told him about such an obstacle.
They rode back a mile to the main force. The infantry kept marching forward since no one had ordered them to stop. Back among the senior officers, the horsemen told what they had seen.
“Have you been drinking, Preston?” asked Mittanolo, giving the captain a hard look. “There’s no ‘huge canyon’ anywhere across this valley. That is why I chose this route for my invasion. Do you think I would overlook such a thing?”
“No, Your Majesty, but there is a canyon there! A hundred feet across, I don’t know how deep, but it seems to go down forever. And it stretches all the way north from the hills. Maybe as far as the woods. I don’t know how it’s here now and wasn’t here before. Maybe an earthquake.”
“Earthquake! Earthquake? Yes, I suppose that might be possible. Damned bad luck if it happened. Let us go look at this canyon of yours.”
Surrounded by his closest noble advisers and a company of knights, Mittanolo rode out to the ‘edge’ of the chasm. Ben and his friends chuckled as they saw them easing their way close to the precipice, and looking carefully over the brink. The infantry was getting closer, and a noble left Mittanolo to order them to stop in place.
“Preston, I have to admit you’re right,” agreed Mittanolo. “How could such a tremendous earthquake happen and not send any shocks into Ghanal? I would have expected such a great earthquake to have been felt all over Orilon. Straight across our path. Dexter! Where is Dexter? Get him here now!”
While a rider went back to find Dexter among the king’s guards, Mittanolo fumed and cursed his incredibly bad luck. How could this happen to me? Especially now that I’m about to meet Topinarien’s army and crush it. I can’t afford to waste time. I must destroy his army before he gets any reinforcements. Where is that damned Dexter?
Dexter was also worried. Mittanolo’s finally found out about the disappearance of his hostages. How could I tell him? He’d only get angry, and blame me for letting ’em escape. And the illusions left in their place obviously indicated magic at work. Was I supposed to tell him the one prisoner I was especially ordered to bring back had come on his own and rescued his friends? He was mad enough I hadn’t brought Ben back with the others. He’s going to kill me now. I know it. I should’ve run off when they disappeared.
Dexter followed the messenger dutifully, resigned to his fate. As he approached his king he saw a marvelous sight, a giant gash across the whole plain. He dismounted and knelt before Mittanolo, who was standing on the edge of the canyon.
“Dexter, you brought your prisoners to me through this valley, didn’t you?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. But where did this canyon come from? It wasn’t here a few days ago. I swear.”
“You swear! How dare you swear to a lie to me! This gaping hole didn’t just pop into existence this morning! Come here and look at it. Come over here! Look at it! You’re a useless, lying son of a troll whore!”
With that insult Mittanolo struck Dexter a hard blow to the face with the back of his hand. Dexter staggered back a step and fell over. He expected to keep on falling forever, down into the depths of this mysterious canyon. Instead, he hit the ground immediately. He was surprised. Looking up, he saw that Mittanolo was also surprised. So was everyone else.
“What is this?” exclaimed Mittanolo. “How can he be lying on thin air? I can see there’s nothing under him for hundreds of feet. What is the meaning of this?”
“Sire, this must be some mirage,” guessed Duke Frosmelino, “an illusion of some sort. You wanted to capture that man Ben, who claimed to be a wizard. Maybe he does have some ability and made this image.”
“We must test it then,” decided Mittanolo. “Dexter, get up off your ass and do something useful for me. Walk out across this canyon. Come on, you’re already off the edge of it. What more can happen to you than what has already not happened? Frosmelino says this is just a figment of our imaginations. Walk!”
Dexter got up from the ground and began walking, slowly, not looking down. After a hundred feet he smashed his nose into some unseen barrier. He felt around with his hands, and could find no end to the wall he couldn’t see.
“There’s a wall here, Your Majesty,” he called to Mittanolo. “I can’t see anything, but I can feel a firm wall in front of me.”
“Useless, incompetent, addle-pated fool! What have I been paying you for? To walk into invisible walls? Do you think lying to me is going to do you any good? I should hang you now, in front of the entire army, as an example. Let us show him how his invisible wall is just another illusion.”
He mounted his horse and tried to ride across the illusory chasm, but the horse still believed its eyes. He got off and walked to Dexter. He pushed Dexter hard, and was surprised again when Dexter bounced off some obstacle behind him. He ran his own hands over the empty air, finding it unexpectedly solid.
“What devilry is this? Frosmelino, can a wizard turn air into a solid? What are we going to do about this? Dexter, can you climb over this wall? Give him a boost up, Preston. Ah, it’s only six feet tall! That’s not too much. And he’s over. Good. The other side can be reached. Stay there, Dexter. I will try to remember to send someone with a ladder for you.
“We need to consult about this, and how best to get past this invisible wall. Have the men make camp here, we’ve wasted too much time today, and can’t move on until we figure out how anyway. We will meet in my tent when it is erected.”
They rode back to the army, leaving Dexter alone on the wrong side of a six foot wall, trying to jump up and pull himself over. Soon the army dissolved into groups of men taking off their armor, making campfires, and setting up tents farther back for the nobles.
“Ah, the show’s over,” sighed Ben. “Still it was entertaining. They didn’t try to find an end to the wall. That’s worth knowing for the future. Let’s catch some rest now. We can come back tonight and dismiss the illusion and wall.”
***
Ben and his wizards went back to the ‘chasm’ just after dark. It was the work of only a few minutes to dispel the magics they had made earlier. The illusion was gone, showing only grass. The invisible wall of solid air was once again thin air. They went back to their camp and got a good night’s sleep.
Dexter, trying to sleep on the ground, had seen some people suddenly appear nearby. They had walked around, looking here and there, and then left,. When they had gone, he could see the canyon was no longer there. He stood up and reached out his hand, leaning into a wall he couldn’t see. Now he couldn’t feel it either. Slowly he walked forward. There was no obstacle, no canyon, nothing.
I should tell Mittanolo about this. Why? He’s going to be angry with me when he finds out about the hostages. He was angry with me about the canyon. How could that have been my fault? He was angry with me about the invisible wall. Did I create it just to irritate him? He’ll kill me if I stay here. I can get my horse and ride off into the night. It’s a long ride back to Phada, but the sooner I start, the safer I’ll be.
***
Ben brought Topinarien along to see the maze the next day. They had brought some food and drink because the maze was likely to frustrate the invaders all day, and no one wanted to miss any of the fun. Ben explained what they had done and answered Topinarien’s questions. He erected a small section of an air wall, and added color to it, to show the king what the walls were like.
“Could you use these walls to funnel them into a narrow front where their numbers wouldn’t help them?” the king asked.
“Yes, but seeing that, and knowing that the walls are magical, they might look for a way around the ends of the wall. They didn’t do that yesterday, but I don’t know how long it’ll be before someone thinks of that. If they realize they can go around the end of the wall, they will be able to use their numbers. Ah, here they come. This should be good.”
Some parts of Mittanolo’s army marched into the wall, and some found the openings in the wall. Those which found no obstacle kept going forward, letting the invisible walls lead them this way and that. Ben created an illusion of a cloud around himself and flew up into the air overhead. He looked down at the milling army, winding through the maze, running into dead ends, or other troops coming from the other direction.
He sent an illusory image of what he saw to the ground so that Topinarien could see what was happening. Topinarien was glad of that, because from ground level he just saw men marching randomly around the plain apparently without any goal. As they reached the dead ends, the various units had to turn around and march out again. This was difficult because there were more men following them in.
By noon the effort to work through the maze was over. Ben had returned to the ground after half an hour and Topinarien congratulated him on his idea. The king wanted to return to his camp, and Duncan took him back. Ben and the others watched to see what Mittanolo would do now.
“What are we going to do now?” asked Mittanolo. “This invisible wall is worse than the one yesterday. How can we get through it? Yesterday’s wall disappeared by itself. Maybe we just have to wait, and this one will go away too.”
“These must be magical walls, Your Majesty,” replied Duke Frosmelino. “Maybe the wizard dispelled the other wall, to let us fall into this new trap. Can we wait for him to dispel this one? Who knows how long we might be stuck here?”
“Yes, yes, I can see that,” agreed Mittanolo. “What do we do, though? We can’t go forward, we can’t wait. Give me a suggestion, if you can, Frosmelino. I don’t want to be kept from my victory by a bunch of cheap tricks.”
“We should send some riders north and south along this wall, searching for an end,” suggested Frosmelino. “Small groups of horsemen can go out beyond where we’ve already been caught in this maze. They can see where the troops have marched into it. Going farther north or south they should find an end to the wall. Then we can march the army around that end.”
“This is a good idea, Frosmelino. You will be well rewarded for it when I become king of Taril as well as Phada. Give the orders, send some men riding out. I want to eat something now. Let me know what you find immediately.”
Ben watched handfuls of knights riding north and south from where Mittanolo was and thought about the right response to make.
“Otolengu and Walter, go to the southern end of the wall. Build more sections in front of these riders. The wall doesn’t have to be continuous. Put a section anywhere it will keep them from going around the end to our side. Duncan and Mandy, do the same at the northern end. If you start to get tired, come back and we’ll change jobs.”
The wizards did such good work throwing walls in front of the knights that after two hours the knights had been curved back to positions east of where they had started from. They went back to Mittanolo to confess that they had failed to find a way around the wall. Mittanolo raged at them for their incompetence, threatened them with vague punishments, and ordered the army to make camp here for the night. He ordered his commanders to meet him in his tent in one hour.
***
The next morning the maze was gone. There was nothing to stop a brisk march westward. For an hour, the army was happy. Then the scouts reported another wall in front of them. This one was real, made of stone, stretching for miles across the valley, and lined with watchmen along its entire length.
“A stone wall? A stone wall! How can there be a stone wall across the entire valley? It’s miles wide here. Even that fool Dexter would have noticed a real stone wall. Where is he? Find him and bring him to me, now! Is this another illusion? Can anyone tell if it’s real or not?”
“I was leading the patrol again, Your Majesty,” admitted Preston. “It looked real to me. The men on the wall were moving around a bit. I didn’t want to get too close, in case they had archers. I can go again and look more closely.”
“Yes, do that!” ordered Mittanolo, angrily. “All of you, come with me again. I want to see this ‘real’ wall that can’t possibly be here. How could Topinarien build something so large without my finding out about it? Where did he find the money to build it? I hope he hasn’t drained his treasury on this!”
In half an hour, Mittanolo was looking at a thirty foot high stone wall. There were small guard towers every three hundred feet, and larger towers every half mile. The wall seemed to go for miles across the valley. The figures on top of the wall were moving around, as Preston had said.
Preston, afraid to get too close to the mysterious wall lest he get shot, and afraid to stay away from it lest Mittanolo hang him for cowardice, rode alone toward the wall. Behind the top of the wall, hidden by an illusion of a guard with a bow, Ben and Pondalon floated, holding Betsy. She drew her bow and sent an arrow into Preston’s leg. He shouted in pain and turned his horse around and back to his king.
“Yes, Your Majesty, that is a real wall, with real defenders,” he groaned in pain.
“Get yourself to a healer,” directed Mittanolo glumly. “The rest of you give orders to deploy for a siege. I don’t know how Topinarien could build such a defense, but I do know how to break through a real wall. Bring up the catapults and rams. Have the men bring up tools to build a siege tower. Make it two, I don’t want to waste any more time here. Send more men to cut down trees for the towers. Well, come on, you all know what you have to do! Do it!”
Since the wall was made of air, and the illusion was only on Mittanolo’s side, Ben and his friends could watch the enemy army setting up for a siege. Ben laughed and laughed.
“Oh, my, they really believe that’s a stone wall!” he chuckled. “A stone wall miles long that wasn’t there when you were kidnapped, Vince. Topped with warriors ready to defend the whole length of it. Amazing!”
“They should believe it’s real,” commented Betsy. “Having me shoot that man was a bit of genius, Ben. If they had had any doubt about the wall being real, that would prove it was real. But really, how could anyone believe a wall like this just popped up from nowhere?”
“It doesn’t matter. We gained another day today,” replied Ben. “If they are serious about laying siege to this wall, we can pick up another day or more. They’re still almost two full days from Topinarien’s camp. I hope we can keep them here for a week. That should be long enough for the rest of the king’s army to arrive.”
***
The Hart was a major river, but it was narrow here, two hundred feet wide between the banks, one hundred eighty feet wide at the waterline. Very little water in late summer. Not much of an obstacle, but the banks were steep and tall. Twenty feet straight down on either side meant that a bridge was an absolute necessity.
“This map shows a bridge here,” indicated Prince Borpmaniun to Count Torratondo. “The whole point of crossing the Hart River here was to save two days marching. Use this bridge to cross well north of Lubbenau, and take the direct route to where father is massing his armies.”
“There is a bridge here, Your Royal Highness,” offered Torratondo. “Well, there was. The problem is that it’s not standing anymore. This entire force is from the northwest of Taril. None of us are familiar with this part of the kingdom. Who knew whether the bridge would be damaged? The infantry might be able to climb down the bank on this side, and up on the other. I don’t know what we can do about the knights and the wagons.”
“If we send the knights to cross this stream at Lubbenau, it’ll take an extra two days to get to the rendezvous, and their horses will be worn out. And the wagons with our food will show up next week I suppose.”
“Perhaps not that long, Your Royal Highness, but later than we’ll need them.”
“It’s too late today to send the knights toward Lubbenau. They’ve been on the road as long as the rest of us, and need a rest tonight if I’m going to drive them hard tomorrow. I’ll send them off at dawn, and the wagons after them. The infantry can start crossing in the morning. It’s not going to be easy.
“I need to tell my father what is happening here. I want you to go to him now, tonight. Yes, I know you’re tired, too. But the king needs to know why I’m not going to be coming into his camp tomorrow.”
“I’m not so tired I can’t ride all night, if I can find a farm horse when I need a new mount. Let me get some food to take with me and I’ll leave.”
“Wait, here comes a peasant. Yo, my good man, what happened to the bridge?”
“Oh, good day, My Lord,” greeted the peasant with vague courtesy. “Last spring, when the river was full ’n’ the current was fierce, it carried a big tree down from somewheres up north. The tree hit the s’port for the bridge, there in the middle. Broke it clean off, ’n’ the bridge collapsed in a flash. We been waitin’ until the water level dropped so’s we could fix it. But now there’s this here war, ’n’ most of our men’re gone to fight. We’ll fix it when the war’s over.”
“Is there anyone nearby on the other side who has a horse to sell?” asked Borpmaniun.
“Aye, Tate the innkeeper has a horse. I s’pose he’d sell it if you gave him enough. He’s always lookin’ for cash, and don’t really need the horse. Tell him I sent you. I’m Royce, his brother. He’ll help you if you tell him I asked him to.”
Ten minutes later Torratondo began climbing down the steep bank of the river. He made use of such parts of the supports for the bridge as still survived and made it safely down. The river was wide enough, but not very deep in late summer. The current was still strong, and he had trouble wading across. On the far bank he had more difficulty climbing up, but eventually made it to the top.
Torratondo looked back across the river at Borpmaniun in dismay.
“It’ll take forever to move the army across like that,” he observed.
“Do what you were going to do. Tell my father what’s happened. Everything. I’ll start moving the army to Lubbenau early in the morning. I’ll push them hard and maybe we can be there in a day and a half. Go, and ride hard.”
***
Dawn was just breaking, warriors were waking up and heading for latrines. Topinarien had been up for an hour, walking through his army, thinking about how many men he had. It had been three days since he had seen Mittanolo’s army stymied by the invisible maze. His enemy was still held up, but for how long? He thought, too, about how many he might need to win the upcoming battle, and whether he could get them all. A kingdom large enough to scare off any invaders, until one man wasn’t scared. Then the kingdom is too large to gather its army fast enough to defend itself. Troops are still coming in; maybe I’ll survive. Maybe we’ll survive.
A horse stumbled into the camp, white with foam, gasping for air. Its rider was dusty, reeling in his saddle, eyes half closed from exhaustion. He fell off as the horse came to a stop. Vince helped the man up and Horace brought a camp stool to him. A servant brought a mug of beer, which the rider drank in one long swallow. Topinarien came up to hear what the man had to say.
“Borpmaniun is nearby, but stuck at the Hart River,” gasped Torratondo. “We thought there was a usable bridge halfway between Uslar and Lubbenau. There was, at a village named Axbridge, but it’s gone, collapsed. He has all the men from the northwest, but he’s going to have to march down to Lubbenau now. Two days more before he can get here.”
“I need those men,” complained Topinarien. “They’ll give me half again what I have here now. I need some way to get those troops here sooner. I need some magic spell. Magic? Magic! Ben, where’s Ben? Ben, can you send someone to, um, what is the word for how you travel?”
“We call it magical travel usually, or jumping. Your Majesty can just say ‘bring someone’ and we’ll figure out you mean ‘by magic.’ That’s the only way, isn’t it?”
“Well, I’d like one of your wizards to bring Borpmaniun here. I’ll give you a letter for him, explaining who the wizard is, and why I need him here now. Clerk! Bring me some parchment for a letter. Ben, who’s going to go to Borpmaniun?”
“Count Otolengu, Your Majesty,” decided Ben, gesturing for the nobleman to join them. “His father’s a duke, and he’s very courteous. He also has enough mental strength to carry a large man with him.”
“Good, then here is the letter, Otolengu. Duncan said he saw this camp from the sky. He placed a disk on the ground to guide you here. Without a guide, how will you find Borpmaniun’s camp?”
“We’re coming with,” Polly told Topinarien and Otolengu, indicating the other wizards beside her. “Living in Uslar, I’ve traveled down the Hart a few times, and know where that village is. I had an idea when you mentioned a broken bridge, Your Majesty. We can build a magical bridge across the river, if it’s not too wide. Several bridges, as many as needed. That’ll make it easy to bring your son’s army across to this side of the river.”
They set out, Polly leading them to her memory of the village and bridge. In an instant they were standing next to a camp full of men packing for a march. Several of the prince’s guards were astounded to see them suddenly appear, but soon recovered. Looking around, Polly saw they were on the banks of the river.
“Where is Prince Borpmaniun?” she asked.
“I am Borpmaniun. Who are you? How did you get here?”
“I’m Polly, Your Royal Highness. Your father sent us to help you get your men across the river. Count Torratondo arrived at dawn this morning, half dead from exhaustion. His Majesty sent us with Count Otolengu, here.
“Your Royal Highness, this letter will explain who we are,” offered Otolengu. “His Majesty wants me to bring you to him at once. These wizards will see to transporting your army across the river.”
“Wizards? Really? Father told me there was someone in Uslar pretending to be a wizard. I think he said Ben was his name.”
“Ben is still at the king’s camp, Your Royal Highness,” mentioned Polly. “There’s no pretend. He’s a real wizard. I’m his wife and I have a plan for bridging the river. Count Torratondo said you were planning to leave for Lubbenau at dawn. If any of your troops have started out, call them back and rest your men here.
“It’ll take a little while to make the bridges. Arthur, could you please jump to the other bank and find out how firm and solid it is. Walter, check this bank the same way. Mandy, go over to that small drainage ditch and make a small piece of wall. About ten feet should be enough, and make it four inches thick, and give it a little color so we can see it.. Green, very nice.
“Now, turn it so it’s horizontal instead of vertical. Set in on the banks of the ditch. Your Royal Highness, will you please send some of your men across that little bridge?”
Two dozen men marched across the small bridge, and it bounced and sagged in the middle.
“Scrap that bridge, Mandy,” directed Polly. “Try one six inches thick.”
A new green bridge crossed the ditch. The same men marched across, with no vibration, bounce, or sag. Polly smiled and asked for some horsemen. They too did not strain the bridge. Polly beamed.
“All right everybody, we need nine bridges here. It’s about two hundred feet across this river here, add another twenty feet on each end for support. Make the bridges two hundred forty feet long, eight inches thick for good measure. Add a color of your own choice.”
They set to work, having seen what Mandy had done. In fifteen minutes they had a row of nine bridges across the river, decorated in a variety of colors. Polly had them add a small ramp on the two ends so that wagons could mount up the eight inch thick ends. The first few men, having seen bridges made from nothing, crossed with some hesitation. Was solid air a real thing? Can we walk safely across it. We can!
“Otolengu, Ben wants you to stay with Prince Borpmaniun. Take him to the king’s camp now, and bring him back. The rest of you, stay here until the army is across, then take down the bridges. No, wait. Leave one bridge for the benefit of the people who live around here. Then come back to the king’s camp. I’m going there now. Goodbye.”
***
“Borpmaniun thinks he can be in place by tomorrow with a lot of hard marching,” disclosed Topinarien. “His men had a good night’s sleep last night. The bridges were a great help in crossing the river swiftly. Polly, you said this was your idea,. I’m amazed at how many clever people Ben has attracted to his side. I’m starting to think of other ways in which your magic can benefit my kingdom. I am so very sorry I ignored you for so long.
“But I’m greedy, Ben. I wish I had some way to keep in touch with my commanders without killing so many horses. I don’t worry so much about the horses, but Torratondo was almost dead himself, and he’s a worthy noble.”
“Your Majesty, maybe we can help,” offered Ben. “All of us wizards know how to speak directly to someone’s mind, at even long distances. When Otolengu takes Borpmaniun back to his army, he can stay with him. He’s one of my newer wizards, proficient in mind talking, not so much in some of the other feats that might be of use in war. You could then speak to a wizard here, who will speak to Borpmaniun, who can answer through Otolengu.”
***
The next morning another exhausted man was brought before Topinarien on a stretcher. The bearers said that the man’s horse had died as he approached their lines. He too had a letter for the king.
“Leptarisk has been held up by rains,” moaned Topinarien. “Gods, I expect that in spring, but in the autumn? He wrote this days ago, and by his estimate he won’t be here for, let me see, four more days. That’s too long to wait for him. Borpmaniun should arrive tonight which is fine. But four more days for Leptarisk! That’s awful. This is going to be a very rough battle, with Mittanolo only two days away.”
“Your Majesty, I think I can help get Leptarisk’s army here today,” suggested Ben. “I told you that my grimoires didn’t have a lot of combat related feats, but there are a lot of feats which can be used in very different ways. Polly used the invisible wall I told you about for her bridges. The protection of the invisible wall is an obvious military use, but turning them flat makes them useful in another military way.
“We know how to make portals, magic doorways that let anyone do what a wizard can do: travel between two places magically. I have to use my mental powers to make a jump. With a portal, the magic is built into the doorway. There are two door frames, and anyone walking in one comes out the other. The person walking through doesn’t do any magic, it’s already there.
“I can set up some portals for you to bring Leptarisk’s whole army here in no time. I could have done this for Borpmaniun’s men, but Polly’s idea of the air bridges was faster. It made me think about moving more of your army, if you needed it, with portals. It will take a little time to build enough for Leptarisk’s army, it’s getting late in the morning now, and we’ll have a lot to do. Will you please excuse us, Your Majesty, while we go away and do some wizardry?”
“Of course, do whatever you can to help us.”
***
Ben spoke to Mandy and Walter. “You are the portal experts at the Temple. You’ve made lots of them for testing and are more familiar with them than I am. I want you to go back to Uslar and bring us a dozen sets of portals, wide enough for wagons. Bring us one and we’ll use it to bring the rest to where the reinforcements need to camp. Hurry.”
Mandy and Walter jumped back to Uslar. Not to the Temple, but to Carpenter’s Lane in the town. Walter found his favorite carpenter, Charlie, and asked him to get as many other skilled men as he could in a hurry. When they were gathered together, Walter addressed them.
“Some of you helped build the doorways we use for portals, like the one between the docks and the market. I need more of those to help move the king’s army. Part of it is still far south of the battle area. They can’t march fast enough to get here in time to fight. With the portals we can move them hundreds of miles without any delay. Just like the portals here.
“I want a dozen pairs of doorways, like the ones in town, but wide enough for a wagon to go through easily. Make sure the supports for the doorways are strong, these will be ungainly, badly balanced things. The supports need to hold them upright all day.”
“These here door frames’re kept stable by a wide board at their base,” explained Charlie. “We kin use wider planks, and put holes in them. We’ll give you long pegs to put into the holes. Set the doorway up, drive a peg through the hole, and it won’t fall over, no matter what.”
While they were working, Mandy sent a mental message to Emmet at the Temple. Emmet, bring all the students to Carpenter’s Lane in town. I need them to do some work. We’re going to war!
The first portal took an hour to make. It was large enough for Walter, but its size made it unbalanced, even with the pegs. The carpenters had to adjust their design to add extra supports to the jambs. The rest took less time since they had a working model now.
Walter and Mandy set up the first two frames together and worked the feat binding them into one portal. They pulled the two apart and Walter took one frame in his hands and jumped back to Topinarien’s camp.
“What is that thing, Ben?” asked Topinarien.
“That is your end of a portal, Your Majesty,” Ben instructed him. “Where would you like Walter to set it up? It’ll only connect your camp here with Uslar. We’ll use it to bring through the portals for bringing Leptarisk’s army here.”
“If this is just a link to Uslar, it doesn’t matter where it stands, does it? I suppose it would be easier for you if you didn’t have to carry the other door frames too far. I’d like Leptarisk’s men to camp over there, on my right flank. Bruno, show him the spot.”
Bruno helped Ben and Walter carry the frame to the spot and set it up. He was surprised to see Walter walk through the doorway and disappear. A minute later Mandy appeared, leading two young men carrying another frame. In an hour, ten sets of door frames had come through. The group of young wizard students who had brought them returned to Uslar. Mandy was the last one to come through from Uslar.
“Are we ready to set these up now?” she asked.
“Yes, we can pair them up now,” declared Ben. “Once you and Walter pair them, we should set one side here, spread out a bit, so the soldiers won’t crowd each other coming through. I still don’t know where Leptarisk is, so we can’t deliver the other halves. The king told me Duncan made a long jump south earlier to where Topinarien thinks Leptarisk may be now. He’ll return when he’s found them. Until then we just wait.”
An hour later, Duncan returned, having left a jump disk in Leptarisk’s camp. He said he had had some trouble getting Leptarisk to make camp and rest his men. Leptarisk didn’t think it possible to cross more than a hundred miles in minutes. Ben got some of his wizards to help him transport the frames to Leptarisk’s camp, and in no time the portals were set up and working. Ben and the others walked through the portal to Topinarien’s camp, bringing Leptarisk with them.
“Duke Leptarisk! How good to see you here now!” welcomed Topinarien. “How do you like Ben’s new method of travel. I haven’t tried it yet myself, but he assures me it is quite safe.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” replied Leptarisk. “I swore it couldn’t be done. No one can travel this far in an instant. I’m happily wrong. Thank you, Ben, for the help you’re giving us. Sire, I’d like to let my men rest tonight. They’ve been marching hard for many days, through horribly muddy roads. This is the first time they haven’t marched until after dark. I know it’s not that late, but they want rest and a good meal. If you can spare us until the morning, I’d prefer to give them the night off.”
“Certainly, you can bring them here in the morning. I’d like to have your men camp in this area, where these portals are set up. With luck, the battle won’t be until the day after. Ben, how long will it take to bring thousands of men through the portals?”
“I don’t know, Your Majesty,” confessed Ben. “I never thought of these portals for this purpose until just today. We set up ten portals, so even a very large force shouldn’t take too many hours. The portals are wide enough for their wagons, too.”
***
Two days after the bridges were built, Prince Borpmaniun led his men into camp. The same day Duke Leptarisk’s men began to file through the portals and set up their camp. They were excited to travel so far, effortlessly, magically. They were eager to be going into battle soon. They were also happy to have a chance to rest some more before the battle began.
The next day Topinarien called all the nobles together for a council of war. The council ran from early morning until well into the afternoon.
“There are some other nobles, coming in from the farther corners of the kingdom, who are still two or more days away. Their forces are small, if useful. We can either wait for the whole army to assemble here, or we can fight here with the troops we have. Those are our only two choices. I don’t want to fall back to this or that better position. There’s a wonderful defensive position way to the south, but going there means giving the rest of the realm to Mittanolo. And if he doesn’t follow us there, which he doesn’t have to do, it will be a total waste of effort.
“We must fight here, or very close to here. We can’t move too far north or south without opening the road to Offenburg. I won’t surrender my capital without a fight. The Boar River valley is narrow coming out of the mountains in the east where Vorpeno fought, which made his defense easier. It’s wider here, although Boar Mountain narrows it a little, and it widens more as we go west.
“The mountain is small, hardly more than a big hill, really, and only a slight intrusion on the valley. There’s a large swamp just north of here which protects the flanks of both armies. This is good open ground for a battle, yet narrow because of the nearness of the mountain and the swamp.
“A large part of the kingdom’s fighters are here already. I would like to fight here, now, with the army we have today. But, like all of you, I have never fought a battle. I have studied war as part of learning to become king. But study and practice are often two different things. I want your advice.
“Ben, whom most of you haven’t met yet, is a wizard and offers us some magical help. I know, the idea is fantastic. Who can believe in wizards in these days? I didn’t believe in his abilities, even insulted him and drove him off. However, I have swallowed my royal pride and begged his forgiveness for my ill manners because he is a wizard. Ask Leptarisk how his army got here so fast.
“Ben has made invisible walls to block Mittanolo’s advance. An illusion of a real stone wall held by real warriors has held him up for five days while they foolishly tried to attack it with siege engines. One of Ben’s wizards has kept watch on that illusion. He reported yesterday that they finally had their siege towers ready and launched their attack. He said he laughed himself silly watching them see how thin the illusion was. Once they saw that, they looked for a way around it. They should be near here by tomorrow afternoon.”
“A wizard, like in the old days of the Big War?” remarked Count Horsselpar. “Really? What sort of magic weapons can he give us? Can he just destroy the whole enemy army with some spell?”
“Ben and his fellow wizards have some amazing abilities, but he admits to limits. There are things he says he cannot do at all, and others he says he doesn’t know how to do yet. That last word is important. It means he may be able to do something later he can’t do now. We can only hope that ‘later’ is soon enough to help us now. Ben, come forward please. You heard Horsselpar ask if you can do a spell to destroy the whole enemy army.”
“Oh, my, no!” exclaimed Ben with a laugh. “To begin with, we don’t have ‘spells’ as such. I know that’s what’s in the old stories. My grandfather told me all of them. But there are no spells, no incantations, no wand waving or gesturing. We call the things we do ‘feats,’ as in actions. We use our minds to manipulate the world in some way, simple or complex. It’s very uninteresting to watch, even when the result is very dramatic.
“I don’t know anything about military matters. Even Jenny says she doesn’t, she just trains men. But in our fights she and Vince have always tried to change the odds in the fight in our favor. Fight only part of our foes at a time. Scare some of them away, if we can. That’s all the military knowledge I have. But I’ve got another thing that might help in the same way.
“There’s an old tale about Sir Tanalor, a legendary knight who had a flaming sword. The sword was supposed to cut through anything, flesh, leather, metal armor. It didn’t matter, anything. It’s not true. I can make a sword sharp enough to cut through hardened leather like butter, but it won’t do any more than scratch metal. But the story can be useful to us. If you can find bards or storytellers to wander through Mittanolo’s camp the night before the battle and tell this tale, they will prepare those men to believe something the next day.”
“No need for that,” countered Prince Canamongo. He had been sitting silently behind Topinarien, not wanting to intrude his opinion into his benefactor’s plans. “Sir Tanalor is a favorite hero in Ghanal. He is claimed by four or five realms as their local champion, and Ghanal is one of those. I think even our youngest children know his story. The warriors from Ghanal in Mittanolo’s army will know what the flaming swords are.”
“Good,” declared Ben. “One of the first bits of magic I ever did was to make a flame on my finger, like this. Yes, it’s a real flame. See, I can light this candle. I can also place this flame along a sword blade, making it look like a real flaming sword, just like this. The day of the battle, all ten of us wizards can put flames on the swords of your mounted knights. Ten of us can do maybe a thousand knights in an hour.
“They can’t sheathe their swords afterward, because that will put the flame out. And hitting someone with the sword won’t do any extra damage. It might even put the flame out, too. But the sight of a thousand knights swinging flaming swords will be sure to frighten men who know the myth.”
“Father, I have a wonderful idea!” urged Borpmaniun. “We’ve been thinking about fighting a defensive battle here in the daytime. Why not attack Mittanolo’s camp at night, tomorrow night. You think he will be in position near us by late afternoon. His men will be somewhat tired from their march, and won’t expect an attack at night. Surely Ben’s flaming swords will look better at night.
“My force is larger than any of the other leaders. And we’re rested now. I saw Leptarisk’s men arriving through Ben’s portals yesterday. If the portals can be set up elsewhere, I could move my men behind Mittanolo’s army. If we can panic them at night, when they run, they will run into us. Even if they don’t panic, we can still attack them from behind. Between your men and mine we’ll grind them into nothing.”
“This is a very good suggestion, my dear Borpmaniun,” agreed Topinarien. “There’s danger of confusion in a night battle, but it affects both sides. If Ben can give us flaming swords, they will look better at night as you say, and maybe make the enemy flee into your trap immediately. Ben, can you do anything more?”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” admitted Ben. “But I’m not sure just what I can do. I’ve been working with magical feats that are more useful in everyday life. Many ordinary feats can be adapted to warfare, like my flaming finger. The illusion of an army standing in place is useful, but not if anyone tries to attack the illusion, as the castle wall showed. He’ll just walk through it and know it’s a fake. The illusion is good only if everyone believes it.
“I have an illusion I’ve been thinking about since this war broke out, but I haven’t had a chance to practice it. I don’t want to get your hopes up by promising something I can’t really do. Just tell all your men about the flaming swords, so our men won’t be scared by them. And tell them that any other weird, unusual thing they see is also part of my magical help.
“Mittanolo is an old enemy of mine. He wanted to control me, to use me to help him conquer his neighbors. I refused. He did not invade Taril to get me, that’s just a bonus for him. However, he took the opportunity to kidnap my friends and our children. I want this man destroyed. Absolutely, totally destroyed. No mercy. That’s why I am here and offering my help.”
“This will be almost as good as a spell to destroy an army,” chuckled Horsselpar. “We’ll have to do the work of destroying them, but if they turn and run away, that’ll be easy work.”
“Then, Ben, help Borpmaniun with the portals,” directed Topinarien. “Instruct the rest of your wizards in what they have to do tomorrow night. The rest of you, tell your warriors our plans. A night attack, flaming swords, and whatever else Ben can conjure up for us. I don’t want our men scared by what they see.”
***
“Pondalon, you have the best distant speech. Contact Emmet at the Temple and ask him to send the same students here through the portal. When they arrive, five of you, any five, take them through the portals to where Leptarisk’s army was the other day. Take down five of the portals, carefully, don’t break them, and bring them here through the other portals.
“Do this again for four more. The last one, just grab and jump back here. We’re going to move them to a spot behind Mittanolo’s army when he camps tomorrow night. The other half of the portal will be at Prince Borpmaniun’s camp. At the speed Leptarisk’s men came through the portal, Borpmaniun should be able to move his whole force in no more than two hours. We plan to surround Mittanolo and destroy his entire army.”
***
The next morning Ben spoke to the wizards.
“I went out earlier and talked with Count Natamurk. He knows this area somewhat, and I asked him where he thinks Mittanolo will camp. He told me there’s a swamp to the north, not far off. Between the swamp and that sharp slope over there on Boar Mountain is about two miles. Mittanolo’s camp’s flanks will be well protected by the swamp and the mountain, so Natamurk thinks that’s where Mittanolo will camp.
“It’s a good safe position. Camp and wait for the morning. Have a war council at night. Sleep. Wait to be killed. Once they make camp, we can move the portals for Borpmaniun to a good spot behind Mittanolo’s camp. We will do that in the late afternoon.
“When night comes on we have to cast fire on the knights’ swords. Be sure to remind them not to sheathe their swords. Then we’ll go up on the side of Boar Mountain. We’ll leave a disk up there now. From there you can use your distant vision to look for tents in his camp, and put flames on the tents. Their tents are like ours, with dagged edges around the roof. A flame at the bottom of a dag will burn up and start the roof on fire.
“Once we have their camp burning well, you can go back to our camp. We’ll have Vince, Jenny, Horace, and Betsy to guard us. Does anyone have any questions about what we’re going to do, or how? Good. Get some rest now. I have to work on something special I’m thinking of, so leave me alone if you can. We’ll all have a lot to do later.”
***
The night attack was planned for two hours after full dark. The moons would both be up and provide a little light. The foe would likely be asleep, tired from their day’s march. Otolengu reported that Prince Borpmaniun’s men were ready for their move through the portals. In the late afternoon, Duncan had floated high above Mittanolo’s camp until he found a good location behind it for the prince to move into. He left a jump disk and returned to Ben.
With the help of the younger students, the wizards moved the doorways to their new locations. They made sure they were stable, and tested their function. The spot Duncan had chosen was two miles from the enemy camp, so they weren’t observed.
Otolengu had rejoined Ben to help light the knights’ swords. He told the king that Prince Borpmaniun was in position behind Mittanolo and ready for the battle to start. He’d go back to help coordinate the two forces later.
The king’s army had moved up after twilight, and was now within a mile of Mittanolo’s army. Ben set his wizards in a line, spread out to allow the mounted knights room to come up to them, one on each side. A quick touch was all it took now for the wizards to set a flame running up the blades. A quick reminder to the knights not to sheathe their swords. In an hour, each wizard had taken care of a hundred knights who sat around waving their flaming swords like some new toy.
When they were done, Ben sent Otolengu back to Prince Borpmaniun. He took the others with him to the spot he had picked on the side of the mountain. They brought Vince, Jenny, Horace, and Betsy with them to guard them from an unlikely attack. They could see the campfires of Mittanolo’s army spread out over the valley floor. A large number of tents clustered in the middle of the camp. The king and his nobles would be there, frustrated by days of delay in getting here.
“King Topinarien told me his plan is to blow all his trumpets and war horns to signal the attack,” Ben told them. “The foot soldiers will start out first so they can get close to the enemy faster. Then knights with the flaming swords will ride out. The infantry will leave a path for them to pass through. When the knights attack, the foot will run forward and join in.
“Prince Borpmaniun will be on his own. He will be told when the king attacks, but he will wait until he sees Mittanolo’s army in disarray and retreating east before he attacks. That should send that army reeling back to the west again. All of that is the king’s plan, and he and his nobles are responsible for making it work. They think they’ve got a good plan and that it will work.
“My part is harder. I have a new illusion that I’ve been thinking about. I don’t know if I can pull it off properly. I’ve only tested one part properly. That worked, but I haven’t tried the whole thing at scale. A small model worked, but I’m not sure I can do a large version. You’ll know if it works, and if it does you’ll start fires among the tents in their camp. I told you what I want earlier. If it doesn’t work, I’ll tell you, and you set the fires anyway. There go the horns. The battle is starting.”
Ben sat down near them and began to clear his mind. An illusion was easy if it didn’t have to move. The chasm had been based on canyons and cliffs they had seen at other times in their lives. Even the soldiers moving on the fake parapet didn’t move much. But Ben wanted to move this illusion and move it in a number of ways. Movement was more difficult because he had to keep the image firmly in his mind while he shifted it to mimic movement.
He saw the knights moving forward now, their flaming swords glowing in the night. They were hitting the front edge of Mittanolo’s camp, and he could hear distant cries of dismay. Vince and the other rogues watched in gleeful amazement as the flaming swords cut a huge hole in Mittanolo’s force.
Ben ignored them and brought up a distant memory. Years ago, trying to become a wizard, he found a key to the knowledge in the home of all wizards’ greatest enemy, a dragon.
A large dragon’s head suddenly appeared in front of him. He made the mouth open and close, the tongue lash, the eyes flash. Then he made fire pour out of its mouth, a long, blazing flame. Dragons didn’t breathe fire, but the stories said they did. People who know the stories will fear a dragon that breathes fire much more than one that doesn’t.
His friends stared in wonder and amazement as the dragon grew. He added the neck, a large body, four sturdy legs with large clawed toes, a long tail. Then he added two immense wings, spreading out into the dark night sky. They’re larger than the real one had, but I want this to be spectacular and intensely scary. Now, for the final touch to its appearance, a little red glow.
The illusion was huge, filling a large part of their hillside ledge. Then it floated up into the air, turned to the west and took flight. Ben was excited to see the whole dragon in flight. He had only flown a small model without so much detail or motion. Now he was controlling the most complex illusion he had ever made.
The dragon flew west until it was over Topinarien’s camp, then it turned and came soaring down at Mittanolo’s camp. Flame gushed from its open mouth as it flew over the camp. Polly and the other wizards took their cue and began to cast small flames onto the tents. It took a little time for the flames to begin burning the fabric, but the effect was wonderful.
To the men of Mittanolo’s army it seemed that they were doomed. Knights wielding the famous flaming swords of Sir Tanalor were cutting them down right and left. Warriors armed with spears and halberds in tight, unbreakable formations were pushing them back relentlessly. And a red dragon was attacking them from above, breathing fire over their entire camp. Mittanolo’s army held out against the knights and the tough infantry, but the dragon was too much. Men started to run to the rear.
As they fled they ran into Borpmaniun’s men coming forward with the same close formations, the same deadly slashing halberds and thrusting spears. There was no way out here. Turn again, but there was the dragon again. Stay here and die. Go there and die. Those who surrendered were spared. Those who were foolish enough to fight on died.
The dragon flew at any large body of Mittanolo’s men Ben could see, swooping down as if to roast them on the spot. They saw its flashing red eyes, believed they felt the heat of its fiery breath, feared being grabbed by the large teeth in its jaws. The dragon kept flying overhead, back and forth, for an hour. By then it was no longer needed to demoralize Mittanolo’s army.
“That was the most amazing magical feat I’ve ever seen you do, Ben,” declared Betsy in awe, as Ben dismissed the dragon. “Well, next to healing Jenny. I know that healing people’s wounds is more useful, but that was, wow! I have no words to describe how I feel!”
“Thank you, Betsy,” blushed Ben, “and the rest of you. I can see you all want to say the same things. I do appreciate your praise for this feat, especially when I wasn’t sure I could do it properly. But we have more work to do, that more useful work Betsy referred to. We have to go down there now and start healing wounded men. Come on.”
***
“The battle is lost, Your Majesty,” shouted Frosmelino. “You should flee while you still can. We are being surrounded and being ground to dust on all sides!”
“While we live, we can fight,” yelled Mittanolo. “While we fight, we can still win. Someone said Topinarien was just ahead here. If I can kill him, I can still claim victory. Do not give up yet. Follow me and my son with what men you have and let us break through their line up ahead.”
***
The fighting was still going on, but the outcome was no longer in any doubt. Some of Mittanolo’s men, Phadans devoted to his cause, continued defending their camp. They were being squeezed into small isolated groups and given the ugly choice, surrender or die. Ben and his wizards walked right into the heart of the battlefield, healing wounds on every man they came upon, regardless of his side. Over their heads floated several of the illusory lights Ben had made for the elves, making it easy to see the wounds they had to heal.
A serious fight had occurred at one spot, judging by the dead and wounded lying all over. Ben settled down to heal gashed limbs, with his other wizards nearby doing the same. Vince and the other rogues stood watch, just in case some stray fighters came their way. It didn’t seem likely, and there was a line of the king’s men between them and the last bits of the battle.
Suddenly there was a commotion in front of them, and a large band of Phadian warriors surged forward through the line of Tarilians. At their head was Mittanolo himself, covered in blood, his eyes glaring with hatred as he saw Ben kneeling on the ground. If I can take him now and bring him back to Ghanal with me, I can still have the pleasure of torturing and hanging him. Topinarien can’t be too far off. Maybe I can kill him and take this so-called wizard. Who’s this? His frumpy wench! I’ll kill her first, just to irritate him.
Ben looked up and saw Mittanolo coming toward the healing party. He noticed Mittanolo raising his sword above Polly’s head. Polly saw him, too, and reached for her spear, but Mittanolo had stepped on the haft, keeping her from lifting it. Ben’s mind raced as he tried to think of a magical protection for his wife. A flame on the sword to burn his hand – no, he was gloved; an air wall between them – no, Mittanolo was too close to fit a wall in the space; Grarnihorn’s preservation feat – no, not enough time for that.
And the idea came to him at the last possible second. Mittanolo swung his sword down on Polly’s head and the sword bounced off a shield jerked up from the ground and now floating in mid-air. Mittanolo looked with astonishment. He swung again, with greater force, and the same result – the shield kept floating in front of Polly. Her blonde hair, tied up in a ponytail, and unrestrained by any helmet, wasn’t even disturbed. Not a single hair fell off her head.
In making his second swing, Mittanolo shifted his stance, moving his foot from Polly’s spear. She now picked it up and stood up, facing him. As she rose with the spear in her hand, the shield fell to the ground. She looked for an opening for her point, seeing nothing but good quality mail, even a mail coif under his helmet. The only unarmored spot on his body was his face, and she quickly thrust her spear point between his eyes. He fell dead at her feet, on top of the shield.
Mittanolo’s attack took Ben’s guards by surprise. They hadn’t really expected the line of the king’s men to crumble so suddenly. One moment it was standing quietly, the next it was splintered. But Vince and his friends were used to surprises in combat. Horace rushed to stand in front of Ben, hacking at a warrior who was trying to grab him. Vince and Jenny went, one to each side of Ben and Polly, and started cutting down the men behind Mittanolo. Betsy fired arrows into every unfriendly face she could see. By the time some of Topinarien’s men arrived to help, the fight was over.
“Are you okay, Polly?” Ben asked.
“Yes, I’m fine, but I don’t know how. I was sure he was going to split my skull. Where did that shield come from?”
“I couldn’t think of anything to save you, and there was no time to waste. I kept thinking ‘protect Polly’ over and over, and then I saw that shield lying on the ground and just floated it in front of you.”
***
The battle had ended by midnight. Hours more were spent collecting wounded men for healing, both normal and magical. Other men rounded up prisoners and kept a watch on them. In the morning, tired men went over the battlefield and collected bodies for burial.
Mittanolo and his son died with many of his nobles in that last attempt to win. He had tried to hold his men together and had died fighting in one last roll of the dice. His army was now leaderless and accepted whatever fate the victors would give them.
Ben, tired in the morning light, looked at Mittanolo’s body and acknowledged, “I’m glad he died fighting, like a true warrior. He hated and hounded me so fiercely, so relentlessly. It would have been so awful to have him be a coward. It feels better to have had a brave enemy, hateful though he was.”
Normally even a defeated army would want to bury its own dead, but there were no leaders to take charge of this needful task. Topinarien gave the orders to bury all the dead, Tarilian, Ghanalian, and Phadian in one mass grave. Gathering the bodies and digging the grave took all day. On the second day after the battle, all the survivors gathered for the funeral services. Priests of Death sang their songs of acceptance on behalf of the dead, of comfort for the living.
***
On the third day, King Topinarien asked Ben to visit him. Topinarien was seated on a camp chair in front of his tent, before his assembled army. The chair was fancy enough to suit a king, but built to fold up for easy carrying on the march. His son, Prince Borpmaniun, sat on a similar chair on the king’s right. An empty chair stood to the king’s left. A row of benches stretched to each side. Ben recognized the nobles standing behind the king from the war council four days earlier. Every important noble of Taril, as well as Canamongo and his few nobles, stood around watching him and his party approach.
“Come up, Ben, don’t be shy,” welcomed Topinarien with a great smile. “Vince, Jenny, and the rest of you, I must apologize to you. We do not have sufficient chairs for all of you, and you must suffer with these benches.”
The rogues and wizards looked at the king, who nodded and waved his hand, and they sat.
“Yes, be seated, please. You have earned an honor all these great nobles have been willing to die for. You are henceforth and forever entitled to sit in my presence. You rogues... Dear Gods, I owe my throne to rogues! How marvelously absurd, how absurdly marvelous! You rogues trained my army. I asked you, and you said yes, and trained these men. Not from duty to me as your king, or because I ordered you, but, as Horace said one day, because you were getting bored. Thank the Gods you were bored. The army you trained won its very first, and, I hope, last, battle with ease.
“You wizards have done no fighting, but you’ve made the battle easier for my warriors to win with your magic. You helped bring Borpmaniun’s army across the Hart River, and Leptarisk’s across half my realm, you created walls and illusions to hold Mittanolo’s army where we wanted it to stop. You created chaos in his camp with your fires and flaming swords. Ben says no one knows what the wizards of old did to help their kings in war, but I’m quite satisfied with what you have done. All of these great men here fought hard, as did their knights and men at arms, and every one of them has thanked me for letting you help them.
“All of you, rogue and wizard, saved my army, and possibly my kingdom. Letting you sit in court is a terribly small gift to honor your service. It will not be all, but it will be more obvious to all the people of Taril than other gifts. Every time they see us in public, anywhere in the kingdom, they will know that you sit because of what you did here this week.
“Ben, I did not bring those benches in for you, but only for your companions. Your place is here, at my side in this empty chair. My son, Prince Borpmaniun, sits on my right hand because he is my son and heir. You will always be allowed to sit on my left, because without you, none of these rogues or wizards would have been here, or done the marvels they did. Come, sit beside me, my friend.”
Topinarien stood, held out his hand, and, taking Ben’s hand, led him to the chair. As Ben stood there, about to sit down, the air was filled with the cheers of the assembled nobles and thousands of warriors. Ben blushed and looked like he wanted to run away. Polly came up and kissed him.
“Accept this, Ben,” she whispered to him. “I know how little you like fame and attention, but no one in three hundred years has done what you have done here. Make a polite speech of thanks, and sit down in honor.”
Polly went back to her bench and joined in the celebrating. Ben continued to blush, but he stood his ground. As the noise started to subside, he raised his arms to bring full silence.
“Your Majesty,” he began, before the king interrupted him.
“You have also earned the right to call me by my name, Topinarien. Even some of these great men still dream of that gift. I called you my friend, and my friends call me Topinarien. So should you.”
“I don’t know how to handle that. I’m not like these great men, not even like your knights. I was born a peasant boy, to a family of farmers. I was a terrible farmer, too, good only for watching the sheep. I know how to live in a peasant’s world, where all men are treated alike by all others. I understand the courtesies required by rank and such, and have no difficulty offering people of high rank their due respect.
“But you’re raising me up to their level. Me, a peasant. It’s hard for me to understand. I learned from scholars how your ancestor was promoted by his fellow nobles to become their king because of his qualities. I guess this is like that. I can’t say I did nothing to deserve this, but I still find it overwhelming. I’m so much honored when you call me ‘friend.’ I value this more than any wealth I have ever acquired.”
“But I haven’t finished rewarding you, Ben,” continued Topinarien. “I do intend to give you more honors and wealth. Count Vorpeno’s sons died with him, defending our border. I must have a replacement for him, and who better than you? His lands are rich, and I will add a large annual stipend on top of that.”
“No, please, Your, um, Topinarien. I can’t possibly accept this. It’s too much. No, I understand your point of view. It’s not too much for one who has helped save your throne. But it is too much for a peasant boy. I know what barons, and higher nobles do, and a little of how they do it. But I’ve had no training in these things.
“I met your son the other day, but I haven’t spoken much with him yet. But I know that you raised him to be your replacement when age took you. He learned from his earliest days how to be a king. I learned how to watch sheep. How could I rule a county?
“There must be some other man in your army who did some great deeds in this battle. There was a great deal of hard fighting; I saw it. Honor some baron, maybe one of Vorpeno’s who survived. He will be well received by the people of that county. I saw those men, and their few surviving leaders, in Count Natamurk’s camp. They deserve honor for their devotion to Count Vorpeno’s memory.
“I’ve wanted to be a wizard since I was a small boy. It was a stupid thing to want to be, because there weren’t any wizards anymore. But I became a wizard; my dream came true. I want to continue to be a wizard, and to teach others how to be wizards. I think this can be more beneficial to Taril than my mismanaging some bit of land.
“I will accept some small stipend from you, because to refuse would be rude. But I meant what I said about valuing your friendship above any money. A modest amount, to help defray the cost of running my school of wizardry, would be a satisfactory gesture from you. I’m embarrassed to be the center of so much attention and praise. I know I’ve brought it on myself, but… Frankly, it scares me.
“And besides, you’re not honoring the men who really made this possible. The men who built those portals that brought Leptarisk and his men here in time. Excuse me for a little while, Your, uh, Topinarien.”
And he vanished. The king stared open-mouthed at the vacant space. His nobles gawked just as blankly at, nothing. The massed warriors craned their necks to see what there wasn’t to see.
“Forgive Ben,” apologized Polly. “I know what he’s doing. I think I always know what he’s doing. He’s gone to get the carpenters who built the portals. Duncan, could you and Pondalon get the portal labeled ‘Uslar’ from Leptarisk’s camp and bring it here?”
In a few minutes they had jumped to Leptarisk’s camp, pulled the portal from its stakes, and jumped back to the king’s tent. Someone found a heavy hammer for driving in tent pegs, and the portal was set up. Five minutes later Ben came through into the space in front of the royal tent with ten carpenters, who bowed awkwardly to their king.
“Topinarien, Your Majesty, as these good men think of you, these are the men you should honor today. Not instead of me, because I’m not that modest. But certainly along with me. They built the portals that brought Leptarisk and his army here. Without their work, he would still be on the road somewhere to the south.
“They didn’t want to come here with me just now. They said they were all dusty and covered in sawdust from working, hardly a fit sight for their king to see. I told them that you, and all these great lords and simple warriors, were also dirty, covered in sweat and blood from doing your work. I’ve thanked them, but my thanks are nothing compared to yours. Please thank them for their work.”
“Thank them?” gushed Topinarien. “Of course, I will thank them. I will do more than that.” And he walked up to the carpenters, shook each of them by the hand, and personally thanked him for his work. The carpenters were amazed at the genuine friendliness of the king’s gesture. Even Natamurk never shook their hands.
“Ben has turned down my efforts to give him a huge reward for his magical help,” remarked Topinarien as he took his seat once again. “I hope that you will allow me to be generous to you. Will you?”
“If I may be so bold as to answer,” replied Charlie, “if our wives heard we was here to be praised by Your Majesty and didn’t git any cash, we’d never hear the end of it. Even a few moons, as a token ‘thank you’ would be fine, Your Majesty. We kin always use money, but we’re not greedy.”
“A few moons,” laughed Topinarien. “Well, I think I can do better than that. Marcel, take these men into the tent and give each one of them one thousand moons. Will that please your wives, good men?”
“Your Majesty! Oh, yes, most certainly!” exclaimed Charlie. “We thank you deeply for your great generosity. Give us any order, and we will obey, always! Long live King Topinarien!”
***
When the celebration was over Ben retreated to his tent with his friends. They congratulated him on his good fortune and he accepted their praise with more ease and grace, because he knew they never flattered him. As they were taking their seats, a man appeared in the door to the tent.
“May I come in, Ben?” asked Prince Borpmaniun. “Father has told me from time to time over the years about the simpleton he met in Uslar who claimed to be a wizard. He’s apologized to you, and I want to also apologize for listening to him. Father and I were in Uslar shortly before you came. He’s been back since, but I was always elsewhere in the realm whenever he re-visited Uslar. In your speech, you talked about how Topinarien raised me. How could you know how well he did training me to succeed him?”
“Natamurk and I talked about you sometimes. He talked about you, what you were doing, going around visiting peasants because that’s who you rule. He mentioned your early training, the lessons from Topinarien, but also from scholars, the king’s marshals, merchants, sailors because Taril has a seacoast.
“I’ve had to learn how to train people to be wizards. I can now recognize how well someone has been trained in their occupation, even from just hearing about that person. Taril is fortunate to have a king like Topinarien, to have had kings like your ancestors, to have a prince like you who will further burnish their glory.”
“I’m sorry I can’t stay longer to talk with you and your companions,” regretted Borpmaniun. “Although I just arrived, I must begin to lead the northern troops home again. We will not march out until the morning, but there are always details that need attending to.
“I’d like to thank you personally for helping defend Taril. I have to love this realm, you don’t. But you served it as well as its most devoted native subjects. Thank you again. And, like my father, I would have you call me by my name, Borpmaniun. I would be as much your friend as he is. Strange to feel such friendship with a man I never met until this week. And for all of you, not just Ben.”
“Your men have marched hard to get here,” said Ben. “Give them another day’s rest, and we’ll set up portals to let them get home fast. Now that I’ve thought of this use for portals, I want to use it over and over.”
***
It was a busy day for visitors. Prince Canamongo was the next to come to Ben’s tent. Ben rose when he saw his visitor enter, and saluted him politely.
“Please, be at ease with me, Ben,” urged Canamongo. “You should call me by my name, as you do the king. You do not need to honor me, I need to honor you. As Topinarien said, you’ve done as much as anyone here to win this battle. By this victory, I will be able to return to Ghanal and resume my rule. Phada’s fate is still undetermined, but I do not want to control it. Mittanolo had a daughter. She will probably take her father’s place there.
“The men of Ghanal who came to fight here, those who survived, have made their peace with me. They’ve promised me their loyalty, and I have pardoned them for joining Mittanolo. They will accompany me tomorrow back to my home, to our homes.
“I came here to thank you. Not just as a prince being restored to his power, but as a man who saw you doing great things these last few days, without being required to do anything. You and your wizards helped bring Leptarisk’s men to the fight. You created illusions to help in the battle. At the end, I saw you working through the night, healing badly wounded men. Men from both armies.
“You helped me by helping Topinarien, out of love for him. I know that the help you gave me was just a side effect of helping him. I am not a lovable man, I’m sorry to say. I can be rough in my manners, and abusive in my language to those around me. It has strained me considerably to be polite in Topinarien’s court. The one virtue I have is gratitude. Gratitude to Topinarien for giving me shelter. Gratitude to you for making it possible to go home.
“I admire you, Ben. I’d gladly offer you vast rewards, beyond anyone’s dreams, but I’ve already seen you turn down Topinarien’s similar offers. I can give you something, though, even if it’s the same as he offered. That is my friendship. The friendship of great men is sometimes a doubtful thing. But a truly great man will keep his vows of friendship. I have my faults, but ingratitude is not one of them. I hope you never need my friendship, but it will be there for you always. Goodbye, dear friend.”
“I’m touched, Canamongo. I’d like to give you something in return. This is one of our disks which we use for our magical travel. I’d like you to have it, to place it somewhere in your castle. Some of us may come to visit you and this will make it easier.
“I’ll also send you a copy of the books on magic we’ve made. I know there are no copies in Ghanal now, because Mittanolo feared them. Let anyone who wishes to study them have access. Even peasants like me. One never knows where the next wizard is going to come from.”
***
The army broke up into its constituent pieces, each nobleman leading his troops home at his own time and pace. The individual detachments no longer needed to travel together to be safe from foreign enemies. Some made use of the portals to save days of marching. Natamurk and Hortamun led the Uslaran force back overland, as they had arrived. Ben and his companions went home by magic travel, preferring a speedy return to their normal lives.
Normal was fast becoming a dubious term to them. Word had already reached Uslar about the great victory on the Boar River, and the town wanted to celebrate even before the count arrived. The partying continued on his return, muted somewhat by noticing the absence of those who had not returned.
Then a messenger arrived from Topinarien, asking Natamurk and his family, and Ben and all of his companions and their families, to a grand celebration of the victory in Offenburg. Ben became glum at the prospect of more public attention.
“I really don’t want to have to be put on show again,” he complained. I know Topinarien is very happy to still be king. I know I helped him still be king. But fame isn’t as much fun as I once thought it would be. I guess I don’t have any choice in this, but I wish I could avoid it.”
“Ben, you’ve always wanted me to keep you simple, honest, centered,” admonished Polly. “You’re losing track of who you are. You are the great wizard, yes, but you’re also a friend and companion to a bunch of rogues. You used to be proud of being a rogue, just like the rest of us. Don’t let the wizard crowd out the rogue; you can be both, you know.
“You don’t want Topinarien’s big parade and celebration. I understand. But think about someone else for a change. I know you do all the time, but you’ve forgotten now. Vince said after Burslem he was no longer interested in the glory of fighting. Horace once told you he’d be proud to be known as the guy who protected you.
“But what about Jenny? She was cheated out of her father’s job training men at arms. She won tournaments, and fights against brigands. But she’s never had the recognition she wants. She never complains about this, or even talks about it. But I see her sitting when you get praised, looking on wistfully... She’s the best swordsman in all of Orilon, probably. And no one knows. Topinarien praised her for training his army, but that was secondary to praising you.
“Let Jenny be the great hero this time. You can talk to Topinarien and he will do it. For you, but also for her. He understands these things well. Jenny’s training made more of a difference to the victory than your magic. You know that, and you know she should be honored more for doing that.”
“You’re right. Thank you for reminding me of what’s right. My tricks, even the dragon, would’ve made no difference if the army hadn’t been trained to fight well. An army that hadn’t fought in years would’ve collapsed without Jenny.”
The victory celebration went on for a week, ten days of eating, drinking, dancing, telling stories of battle heroics. Jenny was surprised to be the center of attention, embarrassed, and immensely pleased. All the barons, counts, and dukes talked about how it was Jenny who trained their men, aided by the others. It was heady praise, and she loved it, but she shared the spotlight with Vince, Horace, Betsy, and Polly.