It had been a grueling week between marshalling forces and the practice Gavin insisted on conducting, but the practice was paying off. Lillian, Braden, Wynn, and Mariana were proud of their work and were looking forward to showing off when the time came. Gavin was proud of them, too.
Captain Corliss approached on his horse and looked down at the group, saying, “We’re ready to march. Why are we waiting?”
Gavin looked up at the captain and smiled. He said, “We-well, I-have one last thing that must be done, but don’t worry. It won’t take long.”
Gavin withdrew Nathrac’s token from inside his robe and fed it a trickle of power as he said, “Nathrac!”
A column of flame that neither burned nor radiated heat erupted from the ground in front of Gavin, depositing a purple-robed figure with gold runes on the cowl of the hood and the cuffs of the sleeves.
The assembled Dukes and Duchesses gasped at seeing a Guardian for the first time in their lives. Whatever magic hid Nathrac’s form from sight apparently did nothing to hide Nathrac’s scent, at least as far as animal senses go; Corliss’s horse shied when it found itself so close to one of the world’s apex predators, and Corliss spent the next few moments regaining command of the beast.
“Yes, Kirloth?” Nathrac said, his deep voice resonating against Gavin’s bones.
Gavin sighed as he nodded and said, “The time has come, Nathrac. I desire to spend my boon to activate the city’s garrison.”
“Your mentor intended the boon to save your life, Young Kirloth,” Nathrac said. “I respect your intentions, but your mentor was my dearest friend. I ask one last time: are you certain you wish to use it thus?”
“I have no reservations in using the boon this way, Nathrac,” Gavin said. “Besides, it’s the right thing to do.”
Nathrac stood in silence for several moments before he said, “My friend told me once you had the potential to be his finest apprentice, and I have decided he was not wrong.”
Nathrac lifted his head as if speaking to the heavens and said, “I summon the garrison of Tel Mivar!”
Those wizards present felt a surge of power as Nathrac spoke those words, and all over Tel Mivar, spectral forms rose out of the stones of the street. They were translucent at best, but enough detail existed to see they wore the arms and equipment of soldiers in the Army of Valthon: simple breastplates and helmets, short swords, shields, and a half-spear. Within minutes, the spectral soldiers lined the walls, looking out over the surrounding countryside, and there were still sufficient numbers to line the major streets and avenues of the city.
“The city is defended, Young Kirloth,” Nathrac said, “and should the mercenary army already be marching on Tel Mivar and your forces somehow miss it, I myself will lead the garrison when the mercenaries arrive.”
Chapter 56
The army made camp about half a day’s travel from the mercenary encampment. Once the tents were set, Gavin called a command conference. Ovir, his apprentices, Declan, and the officers of each unit gathered at Gavin’s tent. Octagonal with a high peak, a square pavilion extended from the front some twenty feet by twenty feet, creating a shaded space much like the porch or portico of a house. The tent itself was immense and the largest on the field, which allowed for the space nearest the entrance to be a meeting area, with Gavin’s and Kiri’s cots in the back half.
“Good evening,” Gavin said, starting the meeting. “I called this conference so that you could hear a report from one of my agents who has been involved in scouting the mercenary encampment. Unless there’s a better idea, I’m thinking we’ll start with the report and follow it with a question-answer session. Then, we can work out our plan. Comments?”
No one spoke up with an alternative, and Gavin nodded to a man standing to one side. He was average height with brown hair and green eyes, dressed as a common laborer. The man stepped forward and began to speak.
“The mercenary army is encamped in a bowl-shaped depression some four leagues north of us. The sides of the depression range from ten to fifteen feet in height, and they are a gentle slope that is easy to climb. The bottom-”
Mariana gasped as her eyes went wide, saying, “Lake Yortun…you’re talking about Lake Yortun!”
Everyone turned to look at her, with more than one questioning expression.
“It’s a dried-up lake. Up until a hundred and fifty years ago, it was fed by the Cothos River, but a rockslide from a hill about two miles upstream forced the river to change course. The outlet on the western side was filled in over time, but the lakebed itself still remains, even though it’s all grassland now.”
“Hold on,” Captain Corliss from the Army of Tel said, making a stopping gesture with his hand. “You’re saying the mercenaries made camp in this lakebed?”
The laborer nodded. “That is indeed what I’m saying.”
“I don’t believe it,” Corliss said. “No soldier worth his salt would make a camp somewhere like that. Why, the army could be surrounded!”
“You are correct,” the laborer said, “and that is not the only tactical mistake we shall discuss. You should be aware that the individuals who picked the location were not professional soldiers…or mercenaries. They were the arcanists spearheading the plot.
“The arcanists ostensibly leading this force were unable to keep word of Iosen Sivas’s death from spreading throughout the troops, and when they noticed a tendency for those they sent on sentry duty to disappear into the night, they stopped sending out sentries at all and built four watchtowers that are manned day and night. I have confirmed reports of the discussion where that decision was made, and they felt the watchtowers would provide sufficient warning of anyone in danger of discovering the encamped army.”
Corliss grimaced and put his head in hands, shaking it.
“So…that’s the state of our opponent,” Gavin said once his agent had finished the report. “I freely confess that I am no soldier to the best of my knowledge, but after hearing this same report earlier today, this is what I propose for our assault. I want to divide our forces into five formations, and my apprentices and I will coordinate them. The officers will lead their soldiers, but we will provide communication between units. Those five formations will surround the encampment during the night and march on them just as dawn is arriving. Three nights from now, there will be a new moon, which should allow us to get closer to their camp before we are seen. If this plan is accepted, from here on out, we’ll do night marches only with no campfires.”
“That’s an excellent plan,” Corliss said, “except for a couple things. First, how do you propose to coordinate between you and your apprentices? Second, how are we supposed to see on a night as dark as a new moon? We’re not elves.”
“The first question is easy to answer,” Gavin said. “How familiar are you with the Godswar?”
Corliss frowned for a moment, lowering his eyes to the table before lifting them to meet Gavin’s eyes once more. “You’re talking about the Speaking Stones, but as far as I know, those artifacts have not been seen since the Godswar.”
Gavin stood and walked to a chest where he retrieved a handful of black velvet pouches. Upon his return, he tossed them to the center of the table. The officer chose a pouch and emptied the crystal inside into his hand.
“I found eighteen of those not too long before we left Tel Mivar,” Gavin said. “I brought six. As for seeing at night, I have an alchemical formula developed by Mivar during the Godswar for just such a purpose. Starting tomorrow night, we’ll mix it with the evening meal and the water barrels for all our soldiers. It only lasts about four to six hours, according to Mivar’s notes, so the soldiers will have to refresh it throughout the night.”