42. Darkening skies

“Do you swear your soul internal to my slavery?”

“Yes, my king,” bowed the messy-haired dwarf in scruffy robes.

“Then so be it, raise your head serpent whisper, for you are my new Warmaster.”

The dwarf’s uncomfortably long tongue slapped at his lips whilst he rose to his feet. “It is an honour, Slave King.”

“My last Warmaster was a failure, but at least he did me the dignity to die in battle. See to it that you uphold the honour he held.”

The robed dwarf holding a staff with a serpent's head bowed. “I would do nothing less. The foul toxins of the serpent's venom shall run freely, blackening your enemy's bodies in death.”

“See to it your words become reality,” King Gorhash said, slamming his fist against his throne. “We are dismissed.”

Dozens of dwarves in attendance rose, bowed their respects and funnelled out of the tent. They did their best to disguise their anger, but it was clear to all. The serpent conjurers had risen in rank with this appointment, and with it, all other houses had fallen.

***

“What are you drawing there, Earon?”

“Huh, this?” Earon replied, looking up from the scroll he rested against the back of his book of cantrips. “Just a theory, really.”

“Looks all magicy if you ask me,” the soldier said, squinting between his bushy beard and uncut hair.

“Isn’t that like the one you have on your palm,” another soldier added, peering forward and pointing at the runes Earon was scribbling.

“Yeah, kind of,” Earon said, pointing to arrow symbols that expanded outward, with the end of his quill. “These are a little different, but they are runes. I’m not really sure what I'm doing, to be honest. Just messing around with an idea I have.”

“Well, if it’s anything like the last one you got, I bet it's impressive.” One of the soldiers said, enthusiastically nodding as he spoke.

“Thanks for your vote of confidence.”

“Tell him the thing,” another soldier said from further back, shaking his comrades' shoulders.

“What thing?” Earon said, gazing up.

“Um, well,” the man said, fidgeting with his belt. “You said you were a Ryelander, didn’t you?”

Earon nodded.

“Well, here’s the thing... Rumour has it that the Rye and other farmlands throughout the kingdom have been left to their own. There are barely enough men-at-arms to guard cities and things like that. And the lords aren’t able to protect the lands.”

Another soldier was nodding. "Roads are filled with refugees. They all headed to Ome, from what I've heard."

Earon opened his mouth to speak but his voice got caught.

“Hey, Earon,” called the commander from across the wall. “You’re getting a summons. Someone important wants to speak to you, or so it seems.” He shrugged. “Just make sure you’re not gone too long, okay?”

Earon rose to his feet and stared blankly.

“Something wrong, Earon?”

Slowly, he shook his head. “Who’s asking for me?”

“Not a clue. Guess I’m not important enough for that information.”

“I should find out then,” Earon spoke in a distant monotone as he made for the stairs.

“You’re creeping me out, kid,” Tyan said to his back with a shake of his head.

Two teen squires stood at the end of the stairway waiting for Earon. “This way, Master Earon,” one of them said, waving him on.

The three of them marched down the street, through a courtyard and into a rather ordinary-looking townhouse.

Inside Prelate Caesil stood beside two others. One, an Arks priest gowned in white robes and a sober expression, the other a mage in blue robes.

“High Priest Mortan, Mage Jiax, meet Earon.”

The two older men stared at Earon, thin-lipped and wary-eyed.

“Besides myself, these are the two most senior casters in Caedstad now,” Caesil said. “Jiax is only a journeyman, but he’s from the Spiral Tower, and since they’re the most prominent mages within Ome, he has taken up a leadership role here. As for the High Priest, he has led the Arks chapter here in Caedstad for several years now.”

“Nice to meet you two,” Earon said.

“Pleasure’s all mine,” rasped Jiax. “I had heard rumours of an upstart caster who had frustrated Master Rudis.”

“I uh.”

Jiax raised a hand. “I serve Master Daraz, the explosive fire mage. Master Rudis's circle is at odds with my own. Embarrassing him is truly a pleasure, I should thank you, really."

“I see,” Earon said, nodding along as if he understood the hierarchy of mages.

“Fine, whatever,” Mortan interjected. “I sense nothing too distasteful. If what has been said of young Earon is true, then I have no objections.”

“Perfect,” Prelate Caesil said, nodding.

“Is something going on?” Earon asked.

“I accepted you into our ranks as we desperately needed a caster where you are currently stationed. But if I’m being perfectly honest, I didn’t expect much from you. Needless to say, you far exceeded expectations. Now, we have decided to officially recognise you as a caster fighting amongst our ranks. And Mortan and Jiax are here to bear witness to that.”

“Okay,” Earon nodded along, not sure why the formality was necessary.

Prelate Caesil cleared his throat. “I did mention how we as casters often take on a commanding role during the war, did I not?”

Earon nodded.

“Today we fight a battle to relieve Caedstad of its siege, but what after? Do not think Ome’s troubles will end with the battle. There are reasons we do not receive reinforcements. The army is weak, spread too thin and short of strong commanders. They march across the kingdom doing their best to put out fires where they can. We need to think ahead if we hope to win this war. That doesn’t mean losing sight of what is in front of us, we understand that. But we must be ready for what lies beyond. If we win this battle, we will need to take the fight to the enemy. Our proposal is to take however many soldiers from the city as we can and lead them against the enemy. For this, we are developing battalions, although their true strength will barely be that of any real battalion. This is where you come in. We intend to create four battalions, with one of them to be placed under your command.”

“What? You cannot be serious,” Earon blurted out, almost toppling over. “I’m at the apprentice stage and don’t know the first thing about fighting a war.”

“I know,” Caesil nodded. “And yet you have already earned the undeniable faith of the soldiers you fight alongside. I am told they needed no convincing to put down their weapons and dedicate themselves to finding ammunition for you when threatened by a direct attack. This is more remarkable than you realise. A warrior’s first instinct in battle is survival. It requires years of training to put aside the obvious means of survival in favour of one less clear. Their instincts would have been screaming at them to keep hold of their weapons and remain ready for the enemy. But they didn’t. Instead, they put their faith in you. You may not realise it yet, but they already see you as their leader. This will only be formalising it.”

“No, you’re wrong,” Earon said, shaking his head. “They see Commander Tyan as their leader.”

“Having committed lieutenants is vital for a successful leader. I am sure this Tyan fellow will serve you well. But it is not his name I hear spoken of throughout the city. It is not he who is credited with the defence of your wall. It is not he who is looked up to by the men. If you believe he is the better strategist, then so be it. Let Tyan advise and create battle plans. But a strong figure is needed to lead warriors into battle. It is needed to convince the living to take what is most valuable, their life, and throw it at impossible odds. That is why you will lead, and Tyan will serve.”

Earon’s lip trembled. He knew there was logic to Caesil’s words. He knew that his name was spoken across the city as the impressive young caster. The responsibility felt like too much. How could he go from barely being competent in battle to being a commander of an army, even if it was very small? Not to mention his wondering thoughts on the Rye - a part of him just wanted to run away, forget Caedstad and go find Ralli Tad and the others.

“Okay,” Earon said, his words barely audible.

“Speak up, boy. You’ll need a voice for this.”

Earon looked up. “Okay, I’ll do it. I’ll help you lead these soldiers and win back our kingdom.”

“That’s more like it,” Prelate Caesil clapped, followed by the sinister nodding from Jiax.

Walking back to the wall was surreal. Earon watched as soldiers went about their business, the effort they invested and the physical exhaustion they inhibited. Soon he would be responsible for the lives of people like this.

Tyan was waiting for him on the wall and wordlessly waved for him to follow. “Close the door,” he said as they entered the corner tower. “Great,” he added, looking through a window and down across the dwarven camp. “You deserve it.”

“So, you already know?”

“Of course, I knew before you left. They’ve put you in a difficult spot. But if we survive this, know that I’ll be glad to serve under you.”

“Really?”

Tyan turned from the window and toward Earon. “Of course, why wouldn’t I be? You’ve still got some way to go before you can take on someone like our old caster, the prelate. But you’ve proven that you can be immensely useful, even if you are a less powerful combatant. As long as you don’t lose sight of that, you could be amazing.”

“Well, there’s still the whole surviving the siege.”

“You’re right about that, Earon. Come, I’ll share what I know.” Tyan waved Earon over. “Not that I really have a choice, since you’re now my commander. You see, we have spies, as does any army.” He said, pointing to spots on the map. “Their forces are building up along these points. They are planning something big. That comes with greater risk as if they fail this attack, they will likely be forced to retreat altogether. But it will be far more difficult than anything we have faced up until now. And I believe some are already expecting the outer wall to fall. Which might also be the reason they promoted you.”

“You think?”

Tyan nodded. “As an unofficial caster with no rank, they wouldn’t have been able to lay the blame on you. But your unique situation, being an apprentice stage caster, meant that they couldn’t just hand such a rank to you. However, now that you’ve proven yourself, well, they’ve all the justification they need.”

Earon nodded along.

“Now, if the outer wall falls, but the battle is won; well, they look like heroes. The loss of the outer wall will be blamed on you, whilst breaking the siege and victory, with all its glory will go to them.”

He wasn’t sure what to make of this revelation. Earon hadn’t ever got the impression that Prelate Caesil was looking out for him, but did he really conspire with the other casters?

“Does any of this really matter?” Earon asked.

Tyan studied Earon’s empty expression for a moment. “I don’t suppose it does. We are likely being left here to die, but desertion won’t be any better.”

“I guess we have no choice but to hold the wall, in that case. How many soldiers are there across the outer walls?”

Tyan hummed. “I can’t be certain, not one provides me with that kind of information. But it would need to be at least a couple hundred soldiers.”

“And if they survive, they’ll be under my command?”

Tyan nodded. “Those that aren’t needed to remain and defend the city from further attacks. But I would guess, between the paladins, knights, adventurers and other soldiers that came to Caedstad's defence, that at least half the force is not from the garrison; and are likely to either run for their lives the moment the gates open or follow you.”

Earon hadn’t asked for this. But if he could gain some kind of army, then maybe he could do something to save the Rye. 

"And I could do what I please with them?"

"No," Tyan said slowly, eyeing Earon. "But I imagine you could decide how and where to send them into battle. To some degree, anyway. Usually, commanders take orders from a field martial, which oversees the campaign. But I'm not sure such a command structure is currently in place."

"I see," Earon nodded, his thoughts drifting off to the Rye.