War mage crystals of mem.., p.19
War Mage (Crystals of Memory Book 4), page 19
After three weeks, and a line of six different keeps and holds, the last one being a real, if small castle, they arrived at the home of the King. Anders had figured the man would have fled, but instead they were met with an army that was twice the size of their own.
They started to die, almost instantly, Anders laying waste to them using his new explosive arrows. The whistlers. Then the line opened, and a rather familiar looking creature walked forward, on four legs. Those were hugely muscled, the being a light mint green in color.
Prince Erold turned to him, dressed in full plate armor, with a lance in his hand. He hadn’t bothered doing that for the other battles, but this one was special, it seemed.
“Is that an illusion, do you think?”
He shook his head, since he understood the idea. The being wasn’t there, to his wizard’s skill either. Still, it was hiding that way, not a mere seeming at all.
Meaning they were in incredible danger, suddenly.
“No, Prince Erold. That’s no illusion. That, is a Lerna. Even one of those can lay waste to an army, and if I have it right, magic will do very little to it at all.”
Tensely, the blond Prince nodded.
“I see. So, we fight with spear and sword?”
Smiling, Anders shook his head.
“Not at all. No, this time, we fight with words.”
Chapter thirteen
Anders had to put his shield up, turning his left hand, last two fingers down, thumb alongside his palm, as arrows tried to hit him. That was his fault, walking out into the battlefield, to confront the giant beast who stood there. Except that, of course, the being wasn’t an animal at all. It was a person.
If one who was clearly getting ready to bite him in two. It was larger than a big ox, by nearly three times, with a massive head and a mouth filled with sharp seeming teeth.
“Hello!” He called out in the tongue of his own birth. It would sound a bit accented to the being in front of him, but should be understandable. “This is a bit far away from Lornistan, isn’t it?”
His tone was affable he thought. Not fearful, either.
The great beast, who wasn’t one of those at all, gave him a look that seemed to carry a grin with it. Like a dog might hold on its face, except done on purpose.
“Someone who can speak properly? Finally! These tiny creatures keep dragging me around on a cart, tying me to it. I could break the ropes, but then they poke me with their sharp sticks. I was supposed to come to the cold north, to fight in a war, but truthfully, I’ve been moving from place to place for nearly a year, not understanding what’s going on at all. You... seem to be on the other side?”
He nodded, since that was simply the truth.
“Yes. Things have changed. Both Rothina and Ganges are on our side now. I’m Anders Brolly. I used to be Farad Ibn Istel. I lived a few miles outside of what is now Lornistan, in fact, over a thousand years ago.”
The big creature gave him a curious look, arrows still falling on Anders, who held his shield in place, and otherwise ignored them. Nothing hit the Lerna, thankfully.
The voice, which was deep, but very clear, came out politely.
“I can’t really just give over, because you say I should. I don’t suppose you can prove you are who you say? I was told to come and do what these men wanted. I’d kind of gotten the impression that one of them was supposed to marry me, to be truthful. Instead, the only poking they give me is with a spear point, as they grunt at me in their strange language. They feed me, but... I think they don’t know I’m a person.”
“That’s less than perfect of them. We, of course, understand that you’re far more than they assume, naturally. Now, proof... Let me...”
He looked around, then waved, intending it for Ganges, who seemed to understand. He walked out onto the battlefield a few moments later. Instead of putting up a shield, he simply walked, the arrows passing through him, instead of landing at all.
When he got about three paces from the Lerna, he called out.
“Saffron? So nice to see you! I wasn’t aware that you were way up here. You’ve met Anders? He’s an old friend of mine.”
“I have. He seems very kind, great-grandfather. Now, am I supposed to turn to this other side? I’m not certain. This man mentioned that we’re on his side, now?”
Ganges looked past them, toward where the King of Yanse, Yarler, was sitting on a golden steed, his armor a rich golden color. He looked good, Anders had to admit. Not handsome, as much as regal.
“That’s right. Though, for the moment, you should probably move to the side, so that no one gets confused and attacks you. It’s too hard to explain that you’re on our side and would be unfair, to have you turn and attack those of Yanse. Your friends, no doubt?”
The Lerna shrugged her vast shoulders, which seemed very much like what Ganges often did.
“Not truly. The language barrier kept us from growing close at all. I’d hoped to meet someone, but... no. Of course, not trusting them, I stayed in my battle form, which I’m certain made that harder for them. I normally look prettier than this.”
Ganges walked with her, to the left of the battle, nothing touching either of them as Anders had to walk backwards, holding his shield, being targeted by arrows the whole time. Then he started fighting again, the arrows being returned from his side of the line, thousands of the enemy falling at once each time one of his arrows fell.
The other war mages were taking nearly as many, so a parley flag was being flown, about ten minutes later. Their side sent a Captain out, to speak to what seemed to be a well-appointed and outfitted knight. Anders only knew that they weren’t supposed to keep fighting, for the time being. When the Captain returned, he failed to speak to Anders at all, going back to the General, who was, after all, in control of their side of things.
Then, after two more exchanges, everyone standing there, not knowing what was going on, the Yansian side laid their weapons on the ground and simply stood there. Surrendering.
They didn’t seem happy with it, but they were standing in piles of bodies, so it seemed like the better plan. Fighting really hadn’t worked for them that well, so far. The men around him cheered, but Anders didn’t bother doing that. He was too tired. Too sick of fighting, to think that it was over yet.
There was a lot more standing then, and finally the army moving out to take the remaining five thousand Yansian knights and soldiers prisoner. They were stripped of their armor, the women set to the side. Even if rape hadn’t been allowed so far, the men started to strip the women of their clothing, beating them and demanding they spread their legs. It was done rudely, as well, and not even in their language.
Anders walked forward then, and simply killed the men doing such things, without warning. Ones from his own side. That got the others to stop what they were doing, after the first ten died.
“We do not harm those surrendered in battle. Show respect.”
He readied himself to fight, and wasn’t too shocked when he had to do it. People were made to explode, stumbled back and hit by blasts of lightning, taking about twenty more, over the next minutes. Then they pulled back, with General Coelder riding over. He looked wild eyed, but when he bellowed, it wasn’t with an order to attack Anders.
“Hold or die! We have brokered a peaceful surrender here. Now, you fools, hold! Fall in. Fall in!”
He turned his horse, to face Anders, seeming a bit annoyed.
“Thank you, Master Brolly, we should have this now. If you would see to the safety of these ladies? Perhaps healing? Our apologies, as well?” The tone was uneasy, and when Anders touched his mind, the reason for that was due to fear. He didn’t know if Anders would strike him down for failing to control his forces earlier.
“I will, General Coelder.”
There were over a hundred women, most of them fighters, but some mages and in a few cases, something else that he didn’t understand. They were all happy enough not to be raped and by the time he spoke a dozen lines to them, the others in his group came to stand beside him.
All except Prince Erold, who was busy, treating with the King there.
Depak moved to stand near him, with Princess Salina turned the other way, facing behind them. Her hand in a fist, ready to fight, it seemed. It was fierce looking, her eyes being dark with anger.
Anders waved at the women again.
“We have guards for you, now. Forgive our lateness to this. We... expected better of our men. Truly, they’ve been well behaved, so far. Now, we have healing for any who are harmed and I could get your names? General Coelder also asked that I convey our apologies for what took place here. I am sorry, as is the Kingdom of Istlan.” He bowed then, going low and holding it for nearly a minute.
Finally, the women there did it back. Then, after a while, he started writing and speaking to each lady in turn.
They were tallying names and numbers, as well as doing some light healing, when a rather scared seeming boy of Yanse, dressed in a plain tunic and black loose-fitting trousers walked up to them, his voice shaking.
“I seek Prince Anders Brolly, if it pleases you, my lords?” He spoke his own language, meaning Anders heard and understood him first.
“Here! What may I do for you, Sir?” The young man, who was probably ten or so, turned to him and visibly relaxed.
“I was sent, by your Prince, Erold? He asks for you to come and translate for him, I think? Several there can speak Istlan tongue, but no one does it well enough. Is that well with you?” He swallowed, as if Anders might yell at him for doing his job.
“Certainly. Daren? Jeld? Will you both stay here and guard these ladies? If anyone tries to harm them... Kill the attackers. You as well, Princess Salina?” He spoke in two languages, so that everyone understood the plan.
Then he moved, along with the boy, and interestingly, both Depak Sona and Ganges. The child didn’t seem to think it odd that the two dark skinned men walked along with them.
“I’m Walden. A page here. I just carry messages and all that? My mother works in the kitchen, so she got me in, working here, too. I was never sent to fetch a prince before. I figure they don’t care if I die too much, so put me up for it. This isn’t good, is it? The King surrendered. We’ll probably all die now.”
That was a good thought to have, if not one to set a young mind at ease. Anders didn’t mention that though.
“Probably not the pages. I don’t know about anyone else. Kitchen staff should be fine, too, so that’s you and your mother... I don’t really have a lot of influence that way, myself. Let’s go and see about what’s needed?”
As they walked, Anders covertly pointed at himself, muttering a simple cleansing spell.
“Andersana nisk ona karu, fen.” There was a buzzing sensation as all filth, oil, dead skin and any smudges or blood moved from his skin. The new word pushed that away from his clothing, as well, though it didn’t actually tidy that portion of things, otherwise.
He did that one separately, waving to the side, so that any waste would hit the remnants of some small plants that had been there, probably for decoration, until they had been trampled earlier that day. After that, he changed into a robe, made of silk, in a green color with a woven black design in it. It was fancy, while still leaving him free to move, having trousers that were very flowing.
This was made of his main outfit, leaving the gambeson and mail alone. The muttering went on longer that way, as they walked into the halls of the grand palace, which was, he had to admit, refined. There were bright wall hangings in the front entry to the place, done in bright yellows and blacks, with red highlights. Showing different scenes, indicating old victories in battle.
The boy guiding him, intent on his duty, didn’t seem to notice the alterations Anders made, which probably meant he hadn’t reeked too badly. This showed when they worked into the space more deeply, to show a line of Istlan soldiers, all carrying spears, guarding a single door.
One of the men waved in his direction.
“This is Master Brolly, the war mage. I don’t recognize the other boy.”
The man next to him rolled his eyes, but didn’t mention why that was. Anders just waved at the child next to him.
“This is Page Walden. Mark the face in your minds? He’ll need to come and go, but at the same time that fact will almost certainly be used by the people here, to attempt escape or assassination. Try not to harm the boy over it. Any of the other servants, either. Truly, we should find a way to buy their good will. Give them gifts and protection, in these troubled times.”
He was just making conversation, but several of the men seemed to think that sounded about right.
No one stopped him from going to the door, where he simply knocked, using the brass ring there. It wasn’t a thing he was used to, but it made a satisfying clank on the metal below it, and the door opened almost instantly, to show another ten guards inside, all in Istlan colors. They lined the stone walls. Inside the ring made of those bodies, sitting at a finely carved table that was on a raised dais, sat Prince Erold, dressed for battle still, King Yarler, stripped of armor, in what were probably the clothes he’d had on under that and General Coelder.
There was another man there, sitting to the King’s right hand. He had a great white beard, a thin frame that matched Coelder’s and a bitter expression, at the moment. The lines on his face spoke of smiles being at home there, more commonly. His light blue eyes scrapped over Anders when he walked in, taking in information on a fearsome level.
He leaned into the King, whispering, but not that softly. As if they were supposed to overhear what was said.
“This one is a magic user. His raiment is fresh, without loose thread or bit of fluff. It isn’t an illusion. That or it is of a finer kind than I have ever seen. It rubs as he moves, giving off sound. His hair is unkept, but his face and hands perfectly clean. He wears armor under the flowing outer garment, at the same time, and there is a line of a hidden dagger on his right hip. Something long, but not a true sword. There are weapons calluses on his right hand, and on his fingers there are marks of heavy bow use. This, then, is likely the one called War Bow. Anderson Brolly.”
Bowing, he tried to give the man a polite look.
“Anders Brolly. Not Anderson. Everything else was correct. Very well done, Sir. Brilliantly, in fact. May I know your name?” It seemed polite, if all of his secrets were to be laid bare like that at a glance.
He spoke in their language, the King sighing.
“This is my chief councilor, Berit Mourn. I am King Louis Yarler. I was King, at least. Our negotiations here are to see if I keep that title, after my grave mistake, or if I am to be locked in a tower, fed through a slot in the door?”
Anders bowed to the man, using second courtly, since the truth was, for the moment, he was still the King there. That wasn’t going to last, but his disposition wasn’t truly up to him. Then, on standing, he repeated the whole thing, in Istlan, word for word. That way the General would have all of it as well. Prince Erold already spoke some Yansian, so it wasn’t totally lost on him.
He didn’t sit, moving to stand behind Erold and Coelder, instead. Simply repeating things in different languages, when desired. Which was almost every word.
Yarler looked at the table and then brought his head up, defiantly.
“I was approached, some years ago, by a woman. She did wonderous magic, and suggested that she could provide my army with an incredible fighter who would lay waste to the armies of Istlan. She delivered instead a beast that no one understood how to handle. We were committed and so war began. I imagine you know the rest. Except who set us on this path in the first place?”
The General gave the man a look that spoke of possible torture being in the offing to find that secret out, and Prince Erold sighed.
“A woman, with dark skin. Lovely in her way? Calling herself Rothina, or possibly Rotha?”
The King wrinkled his nose, making his blonde facial hair move.
“So you do know of her? Regardless, she set us to war, with the promise of an easy win, and then her creature failed to do much of anything. Except eat. It did a lot of that.” The idea didn’t leave the man seeming pleased.
Anders interjected then.
“The Lerna known as Saffron? So you don’t think poorly of her, she was more than willing to fight on your behalf, though she didn’t seem to enjoy being poked with sticks and spears. No one even tried to teach her to speak your language, which would have made things far easier that way. She seems more than passingly intelligent. That worked out for us, since my understanding is that had she been set on us in battle, Istlan would have lost.” He grinned then. “Also, she was led to believe that she might find a husband, among your people? Clearly, you fell down on that portion of things. She seems most charming.”
He spoke the words twice, with Prince Erold simply going wide eyed, but seeming to believe him. The others, all of them, seemed to think he was jesting with them.
Except that Berit Mourn simply thought for a moment, then shook his head.
“You seem rather serious about this topic. Saffron, you claim the name to be? A true mistake on our part then, not seeing her for what she truly is. Not that it matters now. Please convey our apologies in her direction? If I am to lose my head in the coming days, there’s no reason for others to think me rude in passing.”
Anders smiled at the wordplay and spoke to the man directly, in return.
“It will be done, as you say.”
The conversation was darker in the main, going over how to best strip the kingdom, with Yarler suggesting that they simply place another on the throne. A relative of his, perhaps, or even Prince Erold, who would guard those of Yanse as his own. There was a clear plea in the words. Nearly begging, for the people of the land not to be broken for his mistakes. The man didn’t ask for his life. Not even coming at the idea from the side.
