He steps inside and leaves with a large sack, the contents bulging the sides. Reaching in, he pulls out a small pouch and begins handing one to each. “Don’t open it now,” he tells them. Each pouch is bound closed with a red twine, all the various pouches and sacks containing his magically imbued crystals are color coated in this manner for easy identification.
When each is holding their pouch, he says, “This will be your initial ammunition. Inside each pouch are three balls of hardened clay. Inside the clay is something, that once it leaves the confines of the sack it is currently within, becomes activated. Once it does, you haven’t much time before it goes off.”
Caleb holds up his pouch and gives it an apprehensive look. The others’ expressions range from worry to excitement.
“So remove one at a time, get it launched toward the enemy, then remove the next and so forth.” He returns within the tent. When he exits again, he hands a long bundle to Devin. “Hold onto this until we get out there. I’ll need you and Moyil to give me a hand setting it up. It’s imperative we get this in position before the enemy launches their attack.”
“I thought we were to attack them?” Terrance asks.
James glances at him and replies, “When they see us march out of the gates, I doubt if they’ll simply allow us all the time in the world to get ready.”
“Yeah, Terry,” Jace says as he elbows him in the ribs.
“Alright, sorry,” Terrance says.
Holding up her pouch to James Delia asks, “Will these be enough to destroy the enemy?”
“Let’s hope so,” he says. “I have a few other surprises as well, but I’ll be in charge of those.” He glances around the assembled group. “When you’ve exhausted the contents of your pouch, start using the slugs. I trust you’ve given each an extra supply?”
Delia nods her head and says, “After this they’ll each be given three score slugs.”
“Good.” He glances over to where Illan and the men-at-arms are gathering and sees that they have already mounted and are waiting for them. “Time to go. Get your slugs and let’s be on our way.”
“Yes, sir,” Delia says and then takes her slingers over to another area where the slugs are stored and gives each their supply.
As they leave, James turns back to the tent and goes inside. Many sacks are still contained within, both magical and non. He removes a crystal from one of the sacks and places it on the floor just inside the entrance. Stepping back out of the tent, he says, “Shield.” A shimmering barrier springs up around the tent, effectively preventing anyone from gaining access to the items contained within. It will last half a day and unless the battle rages longer than that, they should be back in time to post a guard before it fails.
Satisfied, he turns toward where Devin is waiting with his horse. On Devin’s belt, he sees the pouch he gave him already secured there. Slung across his back is a pack, bulging at the bottom from the weight of the slugs Delia gave him.
Taking the reins, James mounts and turns to gaze over the assembled force. Illan’s Black Hawk Raiders all but fill the courtyard. Jiron and his fighters are close, as are Delia and her slingers. Errin and Aleya have been assigned to Hedry and his archers for the duration of the battle.
Miko rides forward and comes to a stop next to him.
“Stay close,” James tells him. Miko nods in reply.
Glancing at his companion since the beginning of this whole adventure, he can’t believe the changes he’s gone through. First, losing his youth to the Fire, and now his demeanor is changing yet again. The Star he carries appears to be mellowing him, he’s become more serious and confident. His playfulness resurfaces every now and then, but those occurrences are growing less frequent.
“Ready?” he asks Miko.
He gives James a grin and says, “Like you always say, ‘No, but I never will be for something like this.’”
James returns his grin and then nods to Illan.
“Move out!” Illan hollers and with James next to him, they leave the plaza. Just behind them comes the rider bearing the flag with the Black Hawk insignia. The sight of the flag gives the men a sense of pride and esprit de corps.
Word must have spread through the night despite their best attempts at secrecy that something was planned for this morning. The streets are lined with people, both soldiers and civilians. Cheers follow them as they progress toward the western gate.
They find the courtyard before the gate crammed with men, the walls are packed tightly with archers. Lord Pytherian stands in the only clear area among the sea of men. Next to him are five men, all five are dressed in matching brown jerkins and pants, each holding a wooden staff. Upon the breast of each is a symbol of a plant encircled by a ring of interwoven leaves superimposed over a gnarled staff.
“Priests of Asran,” Illan says.
James nods his head and remembers the slain priests they came across in Asran’s temple during their foray into Saragon. “Wonder what they are doing here?”
“We’ll soon see,” he says.
They bring their force to a stop before Lord Pytherian who gestures to the priest next to him. “Black Hawk, James, I’d like you to meet Brother Willim.”
The priest steps forward, nods and says, “Glad to make your acquaintance.”
“He and his brothers have come to join the fight against the Empire,” Lord Pytherian explains.
“Many of our brethren have died at the hands of the Empire,” Brother Willim states. “Asran has sent us to aid in whatever way we may.” He indicates his brothers and adds, “We are the Hand of Asran.”
Illan clears his throat and then says, “I thought the priests of Asran were nonviolent.”
“For the most part that is true,” replies Brother Willim. “I and the others you see here are part of an order that fights when necessary to preserve Asran’s name. Sometimes a weed must be pulled or a diseased branch removed.”
James grins at the symbology he uses in describing the Empire. Druids, that’s what they are. “We are more than happy to have those of Asran beside us this day,” he says. “A great battle lies before us, the first of many before we see the lands of Madoc free again.”
The first rays of the morning sun crest the horizon and strike the upper battlements. He dismounts and motions for the other leaders to gather round. Taking out his mirror, he says, “Let’s see the layout of their camp before we begin.”
They gather round, including Brother Willim, as the image shifts and a bird’s eye view of the enemy’s camp appears. Crossbowmen line the palisade and the area behind is filled with men. Currently it doesn’t look as if they’re preparing for battle, they must think none is forthcoming after the night’s events.
“That’s a lot of men,” Jiron says from over his shoulder.
“Yes,” agrees Brother Willim.
Once they have a good idea of the composition of their troops, he scrolls the view further away from the camp. As he moves it along the road leading south, they see another force of foot soldiers marching to reinforce the men outside their walls.
“How far away do you think they are?” James asks.
Lord Pytherian says, “Couple hours at the most. If they ran maybe an hour.”
After another brief scan in the other directions, they find that the men coming from the south are the only other force on the way. Putting away the mirror, James glances around at the others and says, “We better get this over with before they arrive.”
Mounting back upon his horse, he glances around at the sea of faces surrounding him. Hard to believe a year ago all I was worried about was whether or not I studied hard enough to pass the next test. Now I’m leading an army to battle. Dave would have loved this.
To Brother Willim he says, “You and your brothers stay near me.”