The Battlemage

The Wayward General

  General Palladius had returned to his quarters at the barracks in the capital city of Durham. Alone in the private room, he pulled the orb from his pocket and imagined Ashwyn the way he remembered him.

  "General," said the Lord mage.

  Palladius opened his eyes and saw a copy of Ashwyn, made of blue smoke, standing in front of him. He sighed, knowing that he would never get used to this magic stuff.

   "Mage Ashwyn," said Palladius. "I have poor news for you."

 The elder mage's already wrinkled face wrinkled more. "The King has denied your involvement with this matter."

  "Not quite," said Palladius.

  True, the King had said that he wouldn't be granting Palladius any troops, but he had never explicitly forbid Palladius himself from heading north and engaging the enemy. It was a loophole that would allow him to offer his assistance, but it would also likely see the end of his career.

   "I need your assurance that this matter is as important as you say it is. Is there proof of your claims?" asked Palladius.

   "There is. My battlemages reported to me only a few hours ago, showing me images of the men who attacked Blackstone. It is the same men who destroyed Blith twenty five years ago," said Ashwyn.

   "And how large is their force?"

 "There are at least a hundred men on Miran soil. Perhaps more, but I cannot confirm that," said Ashwyn.

  A hundred men seemed like a small force, but Ashwyn had spoken of the battle he'd had with these men years earlier, and their tenacity. One hundred men might be a force to be reckoned with.

  "The King has denied me the ability to march troops north and reinforce your battlemages. However, I will personally make my way there. The danger posed to a Miran General will require the local garrison and my own personal guard to act to defend me."

   "I see," said Ashwyn solemnly. He was aware of the implications of such a move, and the consequences weren't lost on the old mage. "I will also provide several more battlemages to help stem the tide."

   "Then we will have a date with destiny, my old friend. May the High Father give us luck," said Palladius.

   Adalina had been sitting for so long that her body ached from the lack of movement. So far there had been no real movement at the camp, and no reason to charge in and kill everyone. Luckily enough for them at least.

   She and Ellis had been watching the camp well into the night. The mysterious men seemed to have an affinity for getting drunk and wrestling. Several matches had been fought since she and Ellis had arrived. It seemed to her that these men craved action and violence, and that sitting here in the forest with nothing to do was probably annoying them greatly.

  "Hey, look over there," whispered Ellis. He was pointing to the left.

  At first Adalina couldn't see anything. She wondered if Ellis had fallen asleep and imagined something, but then she heard voices and the snapping of twigs and the crunching of leaves under boots. Someone was coming.

  The perimeter guards stiffened, raising their spears and shields just a little bit until they saw who was coming.

  A new group of men had arrived at the camp. They were still cloaked in the shadows as they exchanged words with the outer perimeter guards, but when they passed them and came into the interior ring, Adalina could see that they were more of the mysterious men. These men however, were not dressed in the same way as the men of the camp. They had axes, but carried no shields and had no armor. Instead, they wore heavy furs and carried themselves more in the fashion of traders than men of war.