Undying Blood - Beta - Chapter 15

“I can but it isn’t as good as you might hope,” Stenson stated. “The problem is we have been using artifacts to accomplish anything of value.  Our mages aren’t as strong as we wish and the fact we only have two who are barely a master makes this all harder.”

“Barely a master he says,” mocked Vella. “The truth is we only have a collection of nobles children and those who answered the call.  None of them have had enough time to grow into the mages we need.  Anyone with fifty years of magical training and practice has long since avoided the call to help.”
“And where are all the nobles children?”

Francis saw disgust appear on all the faces gathered around the table.  Some looked ready to spit again as the scowled.  Others had their nostrils flaring when the slightest hint of a growl or groan came.

“You wouldn’t know… being a ninth son,’ Vell said. “Most of them aren’t worth their weight and the few we have are barely beyond the proficient breakthrough point.  For all the training they receive, there is little incentive for them to push themselves.

“Even the attempts at tournaments, rewards and other perks from our King has done little to invoke a sense of concern about what we are facing. Do me a favor and answer this question honestly, Sage Francis. Did you gladly sign up for this fight or were you forced to join?”

His stomach clenched at that question because he knew the answer to it and how it suddenly made him felt.

Forced… signed up for… given a chance… none of this was what I wanted.  Even Michael knew we had no choice, no matter how it was spun.

***

“You two! Stop!”

Both of them froze, having tried to escape out the back the moment the guards had entered the rundown inn.
The sounds of thuds and a few cries from the exit they had been moving toward told them all they needed to know.

“Appears there are already guards back there and the first ones who left didn’t make it,” Michael muttered.

Nodding, Francis stood upright, no longer slinking and moved to a chair that was close by.

The trio that strode in wearing chain armor and a red wolf emblazoned on their chest, moved as one, splitting the room into three as they blocked the entrance.

“I was trying to take a piss I told you!”

Glancing over their shoulder, both boys saw another pair of boys being forced back into the main room through the dark hallway.  Their faces had a red spot forming on along the jawline and they stumbled as the pair of guards shoved them into the room.

“Perhaps we should have listened to that woman’s advice and left yesterday,” Michael said as he shifted closer. “Rumors appear to be true. The king is collecting everyone.”

Inside the dimly lit rundown tavern, the dozen or so men who were old had all moved along the walls, ignored by the guards.  The twenty or so younger men and teens like themselves were herded together, all here because food and drink was cheap.

“Harvest season… bah we got screwed,” the black-headed boy who nursed his jaw complained. “We are the ones getting harvested.”

“Shut it or I’ll smack you again,” ordered the grizzled vetern, his helm hiding all but the scruff on his face and the pair of blue eyes that glared at the two they had caught.

“Seat taken?”

Michael shook his head and both boys ended up joining them around the rickety wood table.

“Gregory and the ugly one’s my brother, Henry.”

“You have the same problem?” Francis asked, flashing a grin.

“I’m Francis and this ugly one here is my brother Michael.”

Ignoring the gesture from his brother, he studied the pair of dark haired teens and realized why they looked so familiar.

“You’re the assholes who took our job!”

Both boys frowned and held up their hands, mouths moving when a fist slammed down on the table, cracking it.

“Shut your pie holes or so help me I will shove my fist so far down your throats the four of you won’t need to worry about what comes next because when I pull it out, your heart will be in my hand.”

None of the said a word, jaws clicking shut and the blue eye guard huffed, moving back to stand by his friend, now smirking at them.

A minute passed and silence had reigned inside after that outburst until a blond haired woman walked in, wearing a set of purple leather armor that stood out against the men in armor.  Her hair was braided and on her hip wasn’t a sword but a wand, tucked in a special holder he had only seen once.

A mage… here? Why?

Her blue eyes examined the room and after a few seconds she smiled, red plump lips looking moist and softer than any fabric he had probably ever touched.

“Men of Reevotort. Our nation is in need of you.  King Baxter has personally sent me to come and ask you to join the war!”

She smiled, her voice sounding like what was being presented was the greatest gift, even better than food, money or land.

A few chairs creaked and everyone leaned forward.

It was like he couldn’t look away.  Her voice drew him to her.  There was something intoxicating about her beauty.

The rank odor of the inn, sweat, cheap ale and unwashed clothes vanished, replaced by something he had only smelled twice in his life.

Vanilla?

“I have before me a letter, a guarantee from the king himself,” she said, holding out a rolled up piece of parchment. “Join the king, be trained and given gear and you shall be fed and paid.  Fight and help us overcome the threat that has appeared and when you walk away, gold shall be given to you and to your family. For once, you can be men, no longer looked down upon, no matter what number son you are.”

The sound of boots striking the wooden floor and chair sliding backward and falling over echoed throughout the room.

Why the hell am I standing?

His eyes scanned the area and Francis saw that every young boy and even some of the older men were on their feet, ready to charge forward.

“Excellent!” she exclaimed, her eyes almost appearing to twinkle blue for a moment like a star at night. “Form a line, one at a time and no fighting and I shall write your name down and you shall be on your way, ready to be a man worthy of my time someday!”

As if a damn had broke, everyone moved, fighting to be the first.

Standing there, anxiously waiting his turn, Francis could see Michael before him, bouncing up and down in anticipation as if he was.

The entire time his brain itched in a way that felt weird.

Why? Why would I want to do this?

***

The memory faded as a cough came and he frowned.

“If you call someone using magic to force myself and every other man in that room to race to sign up for our deaths, being given a choice, then I guess I did volunteer.”

Stenson spat on the ground and shook his head.

“I heard they were using such things.  A horrible method and not one I approved of but still I understand the need,” he stated, the tone of his voice matching the words he spoke. “Still much has been done that I do not agree with and yet we are still alive, barely fighting… or were until today.”

The general motioned to the table with his only hand.

“Tell me Francis. You saw the lines and how we were formed up.  Where were the mages?”

“Besides the one next to the king?”

“Besides those, yes.”

“I have no clue. I saw a few spells come from the lines but most of what I witnessed were the siege weapons.”

“That is because we only have a few as you already just learned and none of the nobles can be forced like you were by simple magic.  Sure the king could come and force their hand but doing so puts us in an awkward position.”

“Because the blood of the first three carries all the power?”

Massaging his temple, Stenson nodded.

“And yet before me… somehow the ninth son has more power than any noble I have met in all my life. Perhaps…”

He paused and didn’t say a word, the other men and his daughter all waiting to hear what he was going to say.

“No… now is not the time to dwell on such things.  Instead, we need to consider the plans you think might work and give the king one last option to swing all this in our favor. Vella, bring me a piece of torch paper and a pen. I need to write down a few things before we destroy it.”

She motioned to a man, who nodded and jogged across the small room. He opened a metal tin, pulled out a single piece of paper, and brought it with a writing tool.

“Torch paper?”

“Forgive me,” the general said as he took the orange sheet that was offered. “It burns completely, leaving no chance of magical reconstruction.  Even getting it within a foot of a flame will result in its destruction.  A powerful tool in carrying a message, especially when warded with a fire enchantment.”

In moments, he had learned about things no one had ever told him. Things he would never be taught about were secrets to others like himself, yet everyone in this tent acted like they were common knowledge.

Ignoring the expression on his face, the older man bent over and began to write quickly. Even with only one arm, Stenson could write without any problems. He paused a few times, tapping the pen against his lips before continuing his list, and when he was done, he turned and handed it to him.

Francis felt his eyes widen, one because of the way Stenson had written. Like someone had spent days crafting each stroke, the man had just jotted down a long list in a minute or so and made it look like a work of art.

“You can read?”

The tone made him groan inside.

“I can. Forgive me, I’ve never seen such elegant writing before.”

Laughter came from Vella, and her father shot a glare at his daughter.

“She mocked me over the years as I told her that using a pen was as important as a sword.  If you think I write well, you should ask her to make you a list.”

“There is no time for that,” snapped Vella. “What does the list say?”

She moved behind him, looking over his shoulder as he stared at it.

*****

Brimstone Rain - 1 mile in length, twenty-five yards wide.  Summons flaming stones from the sky like a hail storm. Half a mile range. - 1 cast

Frozen Boulders - hundreds of man-size ice stones that can be sent at different angles. Like a siege weapon. 1 Mile range, variety of areas can be covered depending on how dense it is used. - 2 casts.

Quicksand shift - five hundred yard area long, forty yard wide.  Causes all things in the area to sink quickly, up to six feet.  Hardens after a minute like stone.  Three hundred yard range. - 1 cast.

Thorn Barrier - two miles max in length. Thirty yards wide. Creates a wall of razor-sharp thorns. Takes twenty seconds to grow up to eight feet tall.  It can be burnt and chopped down. Half a mile range. - 1 cast.

*****

“Thank you for saying what these did,” Francis said as he read over the list twice.  “This is all you have available right now?”

“Until they recharge the cooldown on the spells they used and the artifacts are able to do the same, yes.  After that we have other spells that can be cast, but you’re looking at three weeks before its worthy of discussing at all.”

“Shit, we don’t have anything of worth,” Vella muttered as she turned back to the table. “Two rows of warriors left, some crappy spells that won’t do much and no reinforcements for at least a month.”

“Call it what they are,” Francis said. “Simply a line to slow down the enemy before being crushed beneath it.”

One of the advisors said something, but he ignored them, focusing on the list and plan forming in his head.