Crusader

Chapter 46

Vara

“So they circle,” Alaric said from the head of the Council table, Vara, Vaste, Erith and Ryin there with him. “The Sovereign needs food for his legions, and he turns his eye toward the Plains of Perdamun.” The Ghost rested a hand on his helm, the peculiar, almost bucket-shaped helm. “They will not let us rest long, if their objective is to hold the plains for themselves. We would be like a knife perched at the small of their back, ever ready to strike at our leisure, destroying their caravans and tearing asunder their lines of supply.”

“Not that we would do such a thing, attacking caravans and whatnot,” Vaste said with a sense of irony.

“You’re damned right we would,” Ryin said, frowning at the troll. “This is a war, the dark elves are our enemies, and we would be fools not to toss as much chaos as possible into their camp.”

“I was making a joke,” Vaste said, straitlaced. “Bear with me, as I know it was the first I’ve ever made, so it may be hard to discern given my usual tendency toward the serious-”

“The Sovereign is right to fear us in this way,” Alaric said. “As Ryin points out, our loyalties in this war were long ago revealed by our actions, and if they were to begin running shipments of grain to the dark elven armies in the north and west, we would be ill-brained not to cost them as much as we could, especially now that he has tipped his hand to reveal that he wants us destroyed.” The Ghost shook his head. “And so we enter a period of consolidation and licking wounds on the Termina and Reikonos fronts; all that remains to supply his army for the next hundred years is to put his boot on our guildhall and apply the pressure until we are finished.”

“Or so he thinks,” Vaste said then shot a look around the table. “Right?” He looked to Erith. “Right?”

“Why are you looking at me?” Erith snapped. “Because I’m the only dark elf at the table?”

“Yes,” Vaste said, nonplussed, “the same as if we were discussing something to do with trolls, I’d probably be the reference point.”

“Well, I don’t know what the Sovereign intends,” Erith said with little restraint. “He doesn’t run his plans by me, nor I by him. I left Saekaj when they opened the gates and allowed the exodus, and I haven’t been back since. From what I know, he’s vicious enough that yes, he would stomp us down if he thought we were even a slight threat. Just look what he did in Termina, and the elves were doing nothing more than passively supplying food and weapons to the humans.”

“Not the happiest thought,” Ryin said, “but what do we do? Can we take on whatever he sends our way?”

“Yes,” Alaric said.

“No,” Vara said after the moment’s pause that followed her Guildmaster’s statement. “Alaric, the dark elven army at full force must number in the hundreds of thousands, of which there are quite a few magic users. Not as many as we possess, to be certain, but a considerable number. We have something on the order of four thousand at our disposal, and even with the somewhat gross mismatch of our spellcasters to theirs, we are desperately outnumbered.”

“Were we fighting on open ground in a great melee, that would be of greater concern,” Alaric answered. “But we fight behind the walls of Sanctuary, which cannot be breached by magical means, and which we can hold nearly indefinitely against traditional methods of siege, as we have already proven.” The Guildmaster drummed his fingers against the table. “We need only keep careful watch in the foyer and on the wall, so that any catapults, trebuchets, or siege towers are destroyed before they come close enough, and we will be fine.”

“And if they breach the wall?” Vara asked.

“They will not.”

“Your confidence is unfounded,” Vara said, and she felt her blood go up. “They have magics, the same as ours, and they can be detrimental to rock and stone-”

“Which will be nullified by the enchantments that surround the wall,” Alaric said with calm, his hand now at rest. “Should they heave a great exploding fireball at us, it will disappear before it hits anything.”

There was a silence for a beat. “Well, that seems like the sort of thing each of us should be wearing on our persons,” Vaste said. “All the time, you know, in case you’re standing at a privy somewhere and a mean-spirited wizard hurls a lightning bolt at you.”

Heads turned to him slowly. “Happened to you often, has it?” Ryin asked.

“Really, when you’re handling your delicate parts, being struck by a lightning spell even once is quite enough to be getting along with.”

“It is not the sort of enchantment that is easily carried with you,” Alaric said. “It is rather more permanent, in much the same way as the alarm spell protects the grounds. It also has the ability to stop curative magics as well, which would be detrimental if you were, for example, stabbed by a blade and then someone tried to heal you.” The Ghost shrugged, a motion that was, like the man himself, subtle.

“So what do we do?” Erith asked.

“We wait,” Alaric said.

“But if you’re that firmly convinced that Sanctuary is unbreachable,” Ryin said, leaning forward with a passion that was not uncommon in the druid, “shouldn’t we send another army into Luukessia to aid Cyrus? Isn’t our duty to them?”

“Perhaps I have overstated my position,” Alaric said. “I do not believe that they will be able to breach the wall or overwhelm us through an assault on our foyer at present with the numbers we have to guard the wall and our sanctum. To send another army to Luukessia, along with the number of spellcasters and leadership it would take to make any significant difference over there would leave us in a weakened condition here. Our defense would be tenable but also inflexible. The less force we have available, the greater my concern. As it is, we may be able to begin offensive moves against the dark elves should we find ourselves able to confront their smaller armies and do so piecemeal. Sending away another two thousand, which would be the minimum in order to be of any sort of assistance to Cyrus, would leave our cupboard rather bare.” He shook his head. “In the event that they were to break our internal defenses or open the gates, that is not enough to mount a firm defense without resorting to …” He drew quiet for a moment. “… measures that do not bear thinking about.”

“Ooh,” Vaste said with a childlike delight. “Tantalizing! Another mystery with no hope for resolution at any time soon.”

Alaric favored the troll with a carefully measured gaze. “There is more to this place than stone and brick, my friend, and there is more to our guild than a simple roster of warriors, rangers, enchanters, healers, wizards, druids, paladins and that lone dark knight.”

“We do have that rock giant,” Vaste said. “Did we ever get him back?”

Alaric sighed. “I sent a druid after him; he should be back by tomorrow. But over-reliance on Fortin is a folly of its own sort. He can be killed; he is not invincible after all.”

“Neither are we,” Vara said. “Our defense should bear that in mind.”

“Which is why I am not sending away another two thousand of our number,” Alaric said with a deep sigh, “much as I might wish to aid our comrades. No, I am afraid they will have to make do with what they have, and we will re-evaluate should things turn worse.” Alaric raised his hand to his cheek and leaned against it, his dark, weathered gauntlets pressing his tanned flesh white where the fingers lay. “And I have a feeling, given what our friends are up against, that even with our illustrious General at the fore, things will indeed get worse.”