Tyrellan tried to think like his old self, without everything constantly coming back to the mander. It invaded his thoughts, constricting him just as he constricted it, influencing his decisions. The recent conversation with Losara had disturbed him – now it seemed the creature was not even necessarily an advantage in the present circumstances. Focus , he told himself. He was still second-in-command, and there was more to this war than worrying about a glorified lizard. Perhaps the catapults could be positioned to reach the Kainordans, especially if given a magical boost – but those were still catching up, and besides, the army was running low on rocks, not the easiest things to haul about. On the dusty plains around the Mines there had been plenty available, but here they were not so bountiful. He glanced at the river – a useful thing, for the bulk of the Vorthargs had set up next to it, but perhaps it would also be a good source of ammunition?
‘My lord,’ he said, approaching Losara, ‘we do not have to rely on the mander to harass them.’
‘What do you have in mind?’
‘Assign some teams to dredge rocks from the river,’ said Tyrellan. ‘We should be able to stockpile a good supply before the catapults arrive.’
‘A worthwhile idea,’ said Losara. ‘Roma, can you organise some mages for that?’
‘As you wish.’
‘In the meantime,’ said Tyrellan, ‘although the enemy cannot advance its archers, there is no reason we cannot advance our own behind the protection of the mander.’
‘The distance between mander and enemy is still too far for arrows,’ said Roma. ‘But with mages as well …there are spells that could lend arrows extra distance.’
‘Are there indeed?’ said Tyrellan mildly, as if he hadn’t thought of such a thing. He glanced at Losara, who was staring off into space. It was a familiar look – the dreamer was lost in thought, perhaps mulling over the suggested course.
‘Anything that depletes their numbers is worth considering,’ urged Tyrellan.
Losara blinked. ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘Make the preparations. We shall take aim at the left and right flanks, away from the blue-haired man.’ He glanced at Roma, who nodded in understanding. It was well, Tyrellan supposed, that the Magus Supreme had been made privy to Losara’s reasons for that, not long after the secret had been shared with Tyrellan himself.
‘I shall prepare the mages,’ said Roma.
Tyrellan glanced around for Turen. The commander had become something like Tyrellan’s right hand, for he could move about freely while Tyrellan could not …but he was of no use if he could not be seen.
‘Shall I also pass word to Turen to organise the archers?’ said Roma, raising an eyebrow at Tyrellan.
‘Yes,’ growled Tyrellan from between clenched fangs.
•
Fazel walked with the shadow mages, just another black robe in the mass. It was strange being part of an organised group, so used was he to being out on his own. The mages, led by Roma, followed some two hundred archers, and carriers bringing more arrows – rather optimistic, in Fazel’s opinion. In fact, this whole plan seemed ridiculous.
As they tramped out onto the field, leaving the bulk of the army behind, ripples of activity in the camp opposite showed that the Kainordans had noted the approach. The afternoon sun bore down on Fazel’s charred skull, heating up his bones. He felt a scowl form in his mind, yet had not the flesh to give it life. Perhaps, he hoped, this would all go horribly wrong somehow.
Stay together, came Roma’s instruction.
As they neared the mander, still worrying at its barrier, the archers began to spread out.
Move to individuals , sent Roma. The mages obeyed, one for each archer, until they stood in two parallel lines. Fazel found himself behind a tall, nervous-looking Arabodedas. Whether the sweat on his brow was from heat or fear was hard to tell – until Fazel took a glimpse inside the man’s mind and found him to be deeply scared. The man checked on who was with him, and started with fright when he found Fazel grinning back.
‘You …you’re …’ he stammered.
‘Yesss,’ hissed Fazel. ‘ I’m. Don’t be afraid, comrade, we’re safe behind the mander. Unless of course the enemy stumbles across the exact same idea we’ve had and starts shooting back …but I don’t know how they would ever manage that!’
The man nodded shakily, but Fazel didn’t think he had really heard the words.
Ready , said Roma.
Along the line, archers notched arrows to bows. A number of the Vorthargs had larger bows, for they were able to draw the string back further with their strong, ropey limbs. Across the way Bel was standing out in front of his troops, hands on hips, looking almost comically indignant. Around him were packs and the remnants of a fire, and a canvas on poles beneath which bedrolls lay. He looked like a man rudely awoken by the two armies daring to face off across his campsite. As full of himself as ever, Fazel thought. There was also a slight, bald-headed mage with him, who looked decidedly less comfortable, and a well-marked plains horse.
How he had loved riding in his day, Fazel remembered – when he had torn about Kainordas on whatever enterprise he chose, ignoring repeated requests from the Open Halls that he return and become High Mage. Those days shone like a light at the end of the tunnel – except the tunnel was behind him, and ahead was only the dark.
Mages , said Roma.
Fazel lifted a finger and directed a little spell into his archer’s arrow, to speed it on its journey.
Remember , warned Roma, do not aim for the blue-haired man.
Fazel felt a wave of confusion move amongst the others. The poor fools did not know why they were being ordered to avoid Bel, for Losara had not told them. He would have to soon enough, however, or else think up some very convincing lie.
Focus! sent Roma, evidently having sensed the faltering as well. Take aim.
Archers tensed.
Fire.
Arrows whizzed into the air, shooting higher than they naturally would. Among the Kainordans, wards began to spring up, lightfists spacing themselves out evenly to protect the regular troops. As arrows hurtled down upon the left and right flanks, scores of them bounced off glowing barriers. Some fell on the front lines, others further back, yet Fazel did not hear a single scream. That was the thing about arrows – any mage worth his salt could turn them away, when that was all he had to concentrate on.
A shame we can’t cast spells from this distance , he sent Losara, who was watching from the army.
He received no answer.
Again , said Roma. At will.
Another wave of arrows rose, heading left and right. This time Fazel did hear a couple of cries.
Four hundred arrows , he sent Losara, and two deaths. Hardly seems worth the cost. If indeed anyone actually died.
Arrows continued to travel impossibly distant arcs as archers and mages fell into synergy. For Fazel the effort was nothing, and he could freely watch the other side without really paying attention to his Arabodedas. He saw Bel turn, shout something, and bows began to appear with accompanying lightfists – hundreds and hundreds of pairs.
Expect return fire , said Roma.
‘Now where would they have got that idea?’ muttered Fazel, loud enough for his archer’s benefit.
Every little rebellion , he thought. Any little way to undermine. Can’t help yourself.