It took Samuel those few moments to recall where he was. They had been camped outside the town of Rampeny for three weeks, preparing the town’s defences. The men had been digging, building, fortifying and so forth, while Samuel had been dutifully reciting the patriotic speeches that had beendrafted forhim by the Council.
It struck him as quite ironic that neither he nor the Erics were true Turians, for all three had been born in the outer nations-territories that had themselves been conquered by the Empire long ago. Still, it no longer bothered him as much as it once did. Their true allegiance was to the Order of Magicians and, in turn, to all the people of Amandia, whether they be Garten or Turian or other. They would do their best to end the war andusher in along-sought time of peace. It was a worthy goal, but,quite ironically, it seemed that an awful lot of bloodshed was required to reach it.
The Order had been created as little more than a tool for the late Emperor, and all hopes had been thatitwould be free frompoliticalmanipulation after his demise. Unfortunately, little had changed since the man’s death and their splendid ambitions just did not seem to be materialising. So it was that they had been sent to Rampeny, and Samuel found himself wondering, once more, how the land had fallen into such a sorry state.
Two days ago,the enemy had neared sooner than anyone had predicted and the Turian defence had gone forth in response, setting the earth to tremble as they marched by. Samuel had not been allowed to leave the camp, but he had heard enough of the reports to know that the hills beyond the valley were a scene of total slaughter, and his magician’s senses only reinforced this. Casualties had been enormous for both sides, but the defence had so far prevailed.
The news after that had been grim. Unfortunately, the initial assault upon them had only been the beginning. The Turian defenders had steadily been whittled away,day by day, hour by hour,as more Gartens had arrived. Captain Adell’s company of men was not supposed to face such odds on its own, but the soldiers were doing their best in the situation, desperately awaiting their reinforcements from the capital. The magicians had been doing what they could to help, taking turns maintaining an illusion of a larger Turian force entrenched around the town. It was perhaps only this that had kept the Gartens from committing themselves entirely, but it seemed even the usefulness of this ruse had ended. Reports indicated a massive army was approaching from the north and its arrival would signal the inevitable demise of the little border town.
Eric had begun gathering up his clothes and stuffing them into his pack,while Samuel still struggled to wake himself and find his feet.
‘Forget packing,’ Eric Goodfellow declared, sweeping inside the tent. He looked decidedly worried, blinking behind his eyeglasses. ‘I think we’re going to fall back and abandon the town right now.’ He swallowed hard. ‘Everything has gone to hell during the night and we’re making an immediate retreat. Captain Adell is almost down to his last man.’
Samuel considered the situation and was about to capitulate, when some unknown compulsion in the back of his mind made itself known. He was sick of running; he was sick of hiding behind the skirts of the Order. He had vast power at his beckand call. This time, he would stand his ground. ‘No. We can’t turn tail and let the Gartens run havoc where they will. It’s time we stopped sitting on our hands and did something useful. I’m tired of retreating every time there’s a hint of danger. More innocent lives will be lost if the Gartens continue their push into Turia. Let’s show them what we can do.’
‘But we’re not supposed to get involved in the fighting at all,’ Goodfellow objected, always one to follow the rules. ‘The Council was quite clear. We should have been on our way back to Cintar days ago.’
‘We only have to delay them a little longer, Eric. We’re not children any more. We just happen to be three of the most talented magicians the Order has left, so ifwecan’t hold the Gartens back for a few more hours, who can?’
Eric Pot shook his head. ‘It would be madness for us to go out there alone, Samuel. I’ve been in several situations like this, but the magicians always went in well-prepared and gave support from afar, not running amok in the midst of the battle like fools. The three of us won’t do much good by ourselves.’
‘So do you suggest wejustgive up?’ Samuel asked him.
Eric adjusted his dark robes into place and stood straight, looking the very model of an Order magician. ‘We should withdraw as we have been told. A retaliatory attack can be mounted once our reinforcements arrive. That is the most sensible thing to do.’
Samuel had been long vexed by the fact that Eric had been proving so useful to the Order, while he had been mothered at home and kept from the battlefronts. The fact that Eric was also correct did not make him feel any better. ‘Well, I’m going to see what I can do,’ he declared and stormed outside, casting the tent-flap aside. He could almost hear Goodfellow gulp with apprehension behind him.
Stepping out into the overcast day, Samuel spied Captain Adell huddled with his men at the edge of the camp. More soldiers were scurrying in every direction like ants, busily preparing to abandon the camp. Samuel sniffed, for the air was rife with smoke and the rusty tincture of blood carried upon the morning breeze. Grey clouds hung over them forlornly and the camp was beset with a quiet gloom,making for the most melancholy of scenes. Summoning his best steely visage, Samuel startedtowards the troops, while the Erics followed closely behind him, each still muttering curses at his back.
‘Captain Adell!’ he hailed, arriving amongst the commander and his men.
The captain was a veteran of countless battles, yet his face was hung with dread as he briefed his men. ‘Get back into your tent, Magician,’ he lamented on sight of Samuel. ‘The last thing I need is your flapping gums.’
He turned back to his discussion, but Samuel would not be ignored. ‘There’s no talk to be done here, Captain. Just point the way to the enemy. We will see to them now.’
The captain was taken aback and turned his gaze to Samuel with a look of disbelief. ‘Take a look around if you want to find the enemy, you fool Magician! There’s only one way for them to approach-along the blasted valley. My men are virtually routed and you Order folk have done nothing but lie idle in your tent while we’ve gone to the slaughter. Are you saying you’ve decided to help now? Now that we’re as good as lost?’
The excitable Master Crisp came hurrying over from between the rows of tents. He had been assigned to them by the Magicians’ Council and had the unenviable task of keeping the three of them out of trouble. He was a highly-strung man, spending more time rushing about than achieving much of anything.
‘Lord Samuel!’ he panted, sweating within his hood, despite the cool morning air. ‘We need to leave. As I’m sure Captain Adell has told you, things here have taken a turn for the worse!’
But Samuel only gave the unfortunate magician a look of disdain and returned his attention to Adell. ‘Captain, when do we expect the reinforcements to arrive?’
The man scowled at the thought. ‘General Canard and General Warren are approaching with all haste but,even so, the first of their forces may not begin arriving for several hours. It will be too late to make any difference and,by then, the Gartens will hold the town and the open spaces while we will be relegated to the woods-and there is little we can do from there. Still, there is one small piece of good news: I hear the Lions are with them.’
Samuel’s eyes opened wide at the answer. Once the Lions arrived the battle would be as good as won.
‘But if they don’t arrive before the Gartens take the town, it won’t matter,’ Captain Adell continued. ‘Ten Lions and the Emperor Himself-rest his soul-won’t be able to slow the Gartens once they get through this valley. This is a perfect chance to halt their advance, but it’s slipping through our fingers with each passing moment.’