Guardians of Magessa (The Birthright Chronicles Book 1) (24 page)

******

Petra ran the whet stone over the blade of
his sword again and gazed out to where he had last seen the grand admiral and
his group of officers. He sat with his back against a water barrel that was
positioned on the wall and, for the hundredth time, ran his hand up and down
the smooth blade of his sword, searching for scratches and chips. He found none,
of course, since he had already worked them all out more than half an hour ago.
Turning his attention back to the sword blade, he ran the whet stone across it
twice more before testing it on his finger. It was razor sharp, so he laid it
across his knees. He leaned his head back against the barrel and looked up at
the dark sky, wondering what the outcome of the next day’s battle would be.
Inadvertently, his thoughts turned into prayers as he asked Elohim for
protection on him and the entire army. As he prayed, his nerves slowly calmed,
and he opened his eyes and looked about himself. The same soldiers still stood
on the wall at regular intervals, and they still possessed the same weapons.
The same dwarf army was still encamped in the city, yet everything seemed just
a little brighter.

With another glance toward the south,
Petra rose to his feet. Swiftly he slid his sword back into its sheath and
belted it around his waist. After checking the straps on his equipment, he
walked down the wall toward the nearest tower. As he stepped through the
doorway, everything suddenly changed. Outside, clouds had covered the sky,
making the darkness almost oppressive. It was broken only at intervals by
torches. The interior of the tower, however, was brightly lit in order to accommodate
the soldiers inside who were getting ready for the battle the next day. The
light also caused the activity in the tower to be more spirited than that
outside. Swordsmen passed around handheld whet stones to sharpen their weapons,
while others operated large ones that spun in a circle so as to more quickly
sharpen weapons. Archers tested the strings of their bows and checked their
arrows to make sure that they were razor sharp.

As Petra scanned the people inside the
tower, his gaze lit on one person—a girl who couldn’t be more than sixteen. He
thought he recognized her from someplace, but he couldn’t figure out where.
After trying in vain to recall where he had seen her, he decided to go and
introduce himself.
“Perhaps her name will jog my memory,”
he decided. He
crossed the tower to where she was inspecting her bow for any imperfections. He
cleared his throat, and she looked up at him.

“Hello,” he began, “my name is Petra
Bentinck, and I was wondering…”

“Did you say Petra?” the girl cut him off
to ask. Petra nodded with excitement, but his hope that she recognized him was
dashed when she turned back to her bow and said, “So you must be the messenger
from Gatlon.”

“Well, yes I am, but that’s not why I came
over to talk to you,” he said. “I came to ask you a question.”

“A question?” the girl repeated. She
looked back at Petra with a look of interest on her face. “Well, have at it. If
I can answer, I will.”

“Do I know you from somewhere?” Petra
asked. The girl’s face quickly took on a look of confusion, so he explained
himself. “You look really familiar to me, as if I know you from somewhere, but
I can’t place you.”

“I don’t know you from anywhere,” the girl
said. “Not that I can remember anyway.”

She turned back to her bow and left Petra
standing awkwardly in front of her. Just as he was about to turn away, another
cadet came up. He was tall and well built, with short cropped brown hair. In
his hand he held a sword that had runes etched along its entire length.

“Senndra, do you have a whet stone?” he asked.

Senndra. The name rattled around in
Petra’s head, yet no matter how many times he said it to himself, it still had
no effect except to irritate him. How could he recognize someone and yet not
recognize them? He was pulled from his thoughts by the cadet who had asked for
the whet stone.

“Do you have one?” the cadet asked, making
a motion as though trying to remember a name.

“Petra,” Petra answered, sticking his hand
out automatically. “And your name is?”

“Cirro,” the cadet answered, taking
Petra’s outstretched hand. “You’re the messenger from Gatlon, aren’t you?” he
asked. “You don’t happen to have a whet stone on you, do you?”

“Actually, I do,” Petra answered and
withdrew the rock from his pocket. “By the way, how did you know my name?”

“I heard it from Josiah,” Cirro said as he
ran the stone over his sword blade.

“Then you know Josiah?” Petra asked.

“Yep, sure do,” Cirro answered as he
sighted down his sword blade. “I’m under his command, so I hear lots from him.
News of you spread pretty quickly through the ranks. I have to say that I
admire you for staying to fight. We’re going to need all the help we can get
tomorrow.”

“Hear, oh Magessa, you are going to battle
against your enemies, but do not be apprehensive or afraid,” Petra said. “Do
not be terrified or give way before the enemy. For Elohim goes into battle
before you, and it is He who will fight for you to give you the victory.” Cirro
gave him a quizzical look, so he explained, “Those are the words given by
Elohim Himself that are to be spoken to embolden the armies of Magessa. They
are in the holy book in the fifth section of the law.”

“Yes, I know,” Cirro answered. He slid his
sword into its sheath. “I am only surprised because there are very few nowadays
who can quote the word of Elohim. To me it seems that it is all but forgotten.”

“Sadly, that is true,” Petra said, “and
without the help of Elohim, this country is lost, not only physically, but also
spiritually. If the people do not turn back to Elohim soon, I wonder if it
wouldn’t be better for the country to be overrun; for indeed, the spiritual
deadness of the country is appalling.”

“True, and yet all we can do now is stand
against the enemies of Magessa and hope that they are not a judgment sent upon
us for our sins,” Cirro responded. “Indeed, if this is another punishment of
the country, I know we shall fail to defend this city.”

“But I do not think this is judgment,”
Petra said. “I can’t help but believe that Elohim would warn us of the coming
of His wrath as He has in the past. No, I believe that this is simply an effort
by the enemies of Elohim to destroy His chosen people.”

“If that is so,” Cirro said “I am not
afraid to stand between the dwarves and my country. If this is not from Him,
that means He is on our side. And if He be for us, who can be against us?”

“Agreed,” Petra stated and lapsed into
silence. He turned to examine Senndra again. He could tell that the silence was
making her uneasy, and she soon broke it.

“Petra,” she began, “you quoted the holy
book not that long ago, so I was wondering if there are any other verses that
you know, maybe a verse of comfort?”

“Indeed there is,” Petra answered. “As one
of the prophets said, ‘The Lord is gracious, a steady rock in the troubled day;
and He keeps watch over those who put their trust in Him.’”

Senndra was silent for several moments
before she responded.

“Thanks, Petra,” she finally said. “I
really needed that.”

An elf entered the tower, followed by
countless more, all of whom moved through it and down the wall.

“Well, finally,” Cirro said. “Maybe we can
finally get this show on the road.”

Lemin, Timothy, Vladimir, Senndra, and the
rest of the cadets from the academy in Belvárd watched as rank after rank of
soldiers flowed over the wall and into the city. There was already a small army
inside, and not even all of the humans were inside. The last of them scaled the
wall using ropes and makeshift ladders and used the gatehouse stairs to descend
to the ground. For a moment all was silent on the wall then, from inside one of
the towers, the elves marched in ranks down the wall. At the head of the column
walked a solitary elf. He was clean-shaven and wore no helmet, so it could be
seen that he had short, blond hair. His breastplate was not decorated with the
same insignia as those of the men from Gatlon; instead, a picture of a sword
crossed with a palm leaf graced his armor. The metal bracers on his arms could
not hide the huge muscles underneath, and his greaves had a hard time
containing the elf’s highly muscled legs. A short sword hung at his side, and
an elegant battle ax was slung on his back. He approached the grand admiral of
Saddun.

“I am Grand Admiral Wellter of the city of
Lêf, at your service,” he said, making a fist with his right hand and hitting
the left side of his chest with it. He left the fist on his chest for a second
before allowing it to drop.

“It is I who am at your service,” the
grand admiral of Saddun replied, imitating the elf’s gesture. “Indeed, if not
for you, we would be lost. Your coming has saved us.”

“Wellter?” Lemin blurted suddenly, a
question on his face.

“Lemin?” the elfin grand admiral said,
staring at the magician. Suddenly he was running across the wall, and then the
two elves were embracing and slapping each other on the back.

“What have you been up to, you old
hooligan?” Lemin asked, releasing Wellter. “A grand admiral? You must have done
something with your life after I left.”

“Just normal military promotion,” Wellter
tried to explain. But Lemin wouldn’t accept that answer.

“Yeah right; I've been in the military a
lot longer than you, and I never made it that high.”

“I pulled off some important victories in
a war in…” Wellter glanced at the nearby humans, “the land over the sea. I
actually brought about the final victory which is, after all, a big deal.”

“Sure, that’s ‘just normal military
promotion,’” Lemin snorted. “I should have known that you would have been at
the front of the war.”

“So you have heard of it, then?” Wellter
asked.

“Only bits and pieces, but I did gather
that the…” Lemin coughed as he caught himself. “I did gather that
those in
the north
were advancing on the city between the rivers.”

“Indeed,” Wellter responded. “They were
trying to wipe out all of those that worship Elohim. Actually, their plan was
to pass us by and attack another tribe to the south; however, that tribe was
our brother in the religious sense. This, combined with the fact that they
would be a threat until we confronted them, led us to attack them as they
passed. This brought on a full-scale war which, thanks to Elohim, we won.”

“You always have to be in the thick of
things, don’t you?” Lemin said with a laugh. “We can catch up later, I guess,”
he added. “Right now we have a battle to fight.”

“You are right,” Wellter said and returned
to the grand admiral of Saddun. Lemin took his place among his cadets.

“So who is he?” Timothy asked in a
whisper, as the formalities took place between the two grand admirals.

“In another life, I commanded a task force
that was composed entirely of magicians,” Lemin explained. “He was one of the
magicians on my team, as was Senndra’s father.”

“I didn’t know that you knew her father,”
Timothy said.

“Neither does she, and I would like to
keep it that way,” Lemin said. “I have my reasons for not wanting her to know,
and I ask that you not tell her what you know.”

“Whatever you say, sir,” Timothy replied
and turned his attention back to the army of elves. The formalities had been
hastily completed, and the elves were now marching down the gatehouse stairs to
take their place in the battle lines in the city. When the last of the army had
descended from the wall, the cadets left their formation and put the finishing
touches on their weapons and battle gear. Seconds later Josiah, followed by
Petra and four other men, approached Lemin. Timothy recognized the other men as
the commanders of the cadets from Saddun, but he would not have guessed it from
their looks or the way they carried themselves. They had the rough look of men
who had seen their fair share of battles, and their bearing also seemed to
imply that they were much more experienced than they actually were. A map was
in Josiah’s hand, and when he reached the magician, he knelt down and unrolled
it. Lemin and the other commanders knelt down beside him and began to point to
different spots on the map and make gestures with their hands. Timothy got
close enough so that he could see what they were pointing at and overhear their
conversation.

“Since you have been given additional
men," Lemin was saying, "our forces combined will number around
forty-five hundred. When the battle starts, we will begin to quietly work our
way around to the dwarves’ left flank. They shouldn't notice that our troops
are not present, because as far as we know, they still think that our lines are
thin. At a prearranged signal, we’ll attack them on their left flank, and Grand
Admiral Wellter will attack their right flank with several thousand elves. The
first attack should damage them heavily, but that isn’t our primary objective.
If any dwarves escape from this battle and warn the main dwarf army about what
has happened, it could bring their full might on our heads. Therefore, our
first task when we attack is to form a line with Wellter's elves to prevent any
dwarves from escaping.”

“In that case, we should use a three-line
containment method,” Josiah said. “We have six groups of soldiers, so if we put
two in each line it will give us three lines of defense as a safeguard.”

“That would have the same men doing the
majority of the fighting,” Lemin objected. “If the battle was going to be
short, that might work, but it could go on for some time.”

“Josiah is right,” Smether said. “The way
the three-line containment is taught here is that when the first line has to
rest, the second line steps up directly behind them. The first line then falls
back through the second line, drops to the back of the formation, and forms the
third line. Every time the first line needs a replacement we do this, so that
we can hold out for as long as possible.”

The five cadet commanders looked at Lemin
as he thought the idea over. Finally he looked at them.

“I’ll send a message to Wellter telling
him of this strategy. We need to have the whole line on the same page, or the
enemy will find a way through our ranks.

“Now, this is the second part of the plan.
Some of the best magicians in the elf army are in Wellter’s legions, and they
will be weaving an invisible spell over themselves so the enemy will not be
able to see them. When the signal is given to attack, we will attack first so
that the enemies look toward us. This will give the elves the backs of the
dwarves to attack. The effort of sustaining their invisibility spell will
consume a large amount of energy, so they will have to drop it before they
charge. This means that we need to have the dwarves looking solely at us by the
time the elves move forward.”

Timothy had heard enough, so he drifted
away from the collaborating officers. Vladimir, Senndra, Rita, and several
other cadets were standing in a group talking, but their conversation ceased
when Timothy neared. He took a place in their group and looked at Vladimir as
he began talking.

“So what did you hear over there?” he
asked. The cadets waited expectantly, so Timothy answered as best he could.

“Just the battle plan for tomorrow.
Actually, the one for today,” he corrected himself and gestured toward the
horizon. A glimmer of light was beginning to show to the east, and soldiers
from the army of Magessa were scurrying to take their positions in the battle
lines.

“So what’s the plan? A head-on attack? ”Senndra
asked. Apparently she had gotten over her anger enough to talk to him again.

“No, the grand admirals are worried about
some dwarves escaping and telling the main army about the defeat. So some elves
and we cadets are going to be flanking them and forming a wall to keep them
from escaping. As near as I can figure, this will put roughly half our men
behind them and half in front. And given the number of dwarves that remain in
the city, we should have a relatively simple time of eradicating them.”

“So what is the estimate of enemies left
in the city?” Vladimir asked.

“Somewhere between five and ten thousand,”
Timothy answered.

The order to form battle lines was quietly
passed down the wall, and the cadets began to file off the wall to where Lemin
awaited them on the ground. As Timothy got in line, a smile broke across his
face—a stark contrast to the grim looks of the other soldiers.

“What are you so happy about?” Vladimir
asked.

“It seems like this battle has taken a
lifetime,” Timothy answered. “And for that lifetime, I have always feared for
my life, wondering when the dwarves would attack next and if they would kill us
on their next onslaught. But things have changed now. For the first time, we
actually have a good chance of beating these blivits, and that has my spirits
very high.”

******

The sun was just peaking over the hills to
the east, its rays glinting on the armor of the army arrayed at the south end
of the city. The dwarves were just stirring. All of their sentries were asleep
or had simply not spotted the army as of yet. To the east and west of the dwarf
army, legions of soldiers were moving into position on either flank. Soon all
would be ready for attack.

The remainder of the cadet army moved
through the abandoned city and congregated at the ambush position. Josiah’s men
were already in position, waiting only for the signal to spring from their
hiding place and attack. Josiah stood at the head of his legion, now a little
less than eight hundred strong. Cirro stood at his side, a large battle ax
clasped in his hands. He was muttering to himself, clearly anxious to get past
the waiting and start the fighting. Josiah glanced backwards and saw his men
standing rank upon rank in perfect order. A fierce glint shown in their eyes,
reflecting the past fighting; they were ready to finish the battle.

A shout sounded from the dwarf camp; they
had finally spotted the enemy army. Josiah glanced at the camp and saw dwarves
scurrying from their tents, half-dressed and trying to form some military
semblance. He shifted his gaze to Lemin just in time to see the grand admiral
give the signal to attack. In one fluid motion, he jerked his sword from its
scabbard and thrust it toward the enemy, all while shouting a battle cry.
Battle frenzy was suddenly upon him and he charged toward the enemy, not even
looking to make sure that his men were following him. To him, it appeared as
though everything was in exaggerated detail. As he burst from the buildings and
into the open, the dwarves looked his way. He could see their startled and
terrified expressions, but he didn’t think about them or anything else. He
could see Wellter’s elves charging from across the city, but the dwarves were
as yet oblivious to them. The army to the south was waiting for the other two
armies to form a wall behind the dwarves before attacking.

Josiah hit the army with the fury of a
madman. His sword flashed through the air, killing and maiming enemies in
droves. Beside him, Cirro whirled his ax furiously, swinging the weapon every
which way to ward off the dwarves. Josiah’s men were hot on his heels, their
numbers crushing many dwarves on impact. As they engaged the enemy, elves and
cadets met to form a wall, blocking the dwarves’ only escape route. The trap
was finally complete, and the army to the south began to charge, pressing the
dwarves on a new front. The dwarves quickly found themselves overextended. They
tried to fall away from the onslaught of the army to the south, but the line of
defenders to the north held them in the city. In less than fifteen minutes,
their numbers were cut in half. Finally they were able to pull themselves into
a military formation, but by this time, the army of Magessa had completely
surrounded them, forcing them to form a circle with all sides facing outward.
Then the second stage of the battle began. Archers had scaled the northern
walls of the city and began to pelt the dwarves with a hail of missiles,
decreasing their numbers greatly. The infantry had only to contain them to an
area, as the archers steadily cut them down to only a few hundred dwarves.
Finally, the rain of arrows ceased, and Wellter approached the dwarf lines. “Surrender
and we will spare you,” he said. “Throw down your weapons and you shall live;
fight on and you will surely die.”

The dwarves were silent, though fear
showed clearly on their faces. Slowly, a murmur spread through their ranks,
followed by a nervous shuffling. Then, hesitantly at first, they began to lay
down their weapons until almost half their number had disarmed themselves; the
other dwarves, however, clung stubbornly to their weapons. The unarmed dwarves
began to quickly separate themselves from their armed comrades, knowing that
the humans and elves would attack them. Almost before anyone knew what was
happening, the dwarves were clearly split, and the soldiers of Magessa looked
to their leaders.