The Trinity Sitch - Book 3: Blade of the Fury
The Time of the Choosing
Lord Tanith Moondagan, Prefect of Daganshire and now master of the great island/continent of Dagan, couldn't help but chuckle as his friend and new chief general struggled to climb onto his reddish war horse, Valkryor. Master of battle and brilliant warrior Arcus Neil may be, but a horseman he was not.
When word reached Lord Moondagan (a younger man than most expected) of Neil's prowess in battle he immediately sent for him. His officers returned, apologizing profusely that the man had collapsed in exhaustion following the battle and had been taken to the physicians for care. Moondagan thanked his messengers and cautioned them not to apologize for this the could not themselves control. After all, he was a patient man and a benevolent ruler. He had to be if his real ambitions were to be fulfilled.
The next morning he strode into the tent unchallenged and witnessed a sight that drew a knowing smile. The woman scurried about, grabbing her clothes and all while bowing repeatedly to her liege lord. The new hero of his army sat in the ed looking at the intruder as if he had no idea how he was. Tanith came to discover that was the actual truth. The man had no memories except for the last few months.
At first Neil was put in charge of a battalion of conscripts. In no time he had whipped them into an effective fighting unit under the premise the only way they would live was to fight with enough skill to ensure they would. They used whatever arms and armor they could scrounge from the battlefield and proved their worth in battle, losing far fewer men than any other conscripted division. He was then given command of a full company, using his old battalion to train the new ones. Before long the company was on par with any of the veteran professional soldiers. Tanith's generals soon learned the value of a well trained vanguard over expendable conscripts.
It took a direct order to make his generals accept him as one of them. Immediately his unorthodox tactics began to turn the tide of the war. Instead of sending whole armies to bash it out on the field he would send constant harassing raids, never allowing the enemy to relax. When it came time for the main armies to meet he would send a vanguard right into the lines without waiting for parlay. He would sometimes order the center lines to fall back in a simulated retreat then close ranks behind the opposition, encircling them, then decimating them.
The enemy grew to fear the sight of the tall warrior dressed in black armor astride his great red horse. Rumor spread that he took his armor from those he personally killed in battle. It was true at first that he would scavenge some of his protective gear from the dead, but now his armor was fashioned by Tanith's personal smiths, though great care was taken to maintain the illusion the suit was a hodge-podge of different pieces, creating an intimidating whole.
Neil had long ago stopped trying to correct their pronunciation of his surname. To Daganite and mainlander alike he was Arcus Neil. Warriors on both sides were secretly afraid that he might in fact be a wizard as his name implied. An 'Arcus' was a high ranking sorcerer, an individual held in high regard by both lord and commoner. In the time since the last 'Master' the council of Arcuses held the primary political power over the lands of Arkonia. More and more, though, the people were calling for a new, true Master.
In the past the wizards would choose one from among themselves, one who wielded enough power that he could extend his own life, as well as those around them. The were know as the ageless ones. However, over the last centuries that power was mostly forgotten and had been, for the most part, lost. The council still held great power, but they were a shadow of their former glory.
Ambitious young leaders like Tanith Moondagan saw their opportunity. If the old sorcerers could not lead with the power of their mysterious magicks then another kind of power would reunite the lands. After claiming his birthright as the prefect of the ancient capitol city of Daganshire he raised an army to consolidate his control of Dagan.
His ambitions worried the leaders of the mainland tribes. A young, energetic leader such as Moondagan would not be content with only the large island. It would not be long before his ships crossed the Ever-summer ocean to invade the northern lands. As a pre-emptive strike the sent the Arkonian Host to teach the upstart his place.
At first they rampaged all over northern Dagan, driving Tanith's army out of the capitol and forcing him to operated from the interior city of Cyn. They were poised to crush Moondagan once and for all when disaster struck.
That disaster came in the form of Arcus Neil.
The battle should have been decisive. The Daganites were demoralized, forced to rely on their conscripts rather than professional soldiers. The Arkonian Host should have rolled right over them and forced Moondagan to surrender. Instead they were faced with a mysterious warrior dressed in rags fighting dozens of their best soldiers, at first with his bare hands. He became a rallying point for his army, creating a chance for the regulars to move up and hold the line. An easy victory turned into a stalemate, with the edge going to the Daganites since they were still in the heart of their own territory. The Arkonian Host was unable to sustain a pitched battle with their shortened supplies so they were forced to withdraw.
To Tanith, Neil was nothing short of a miracle.
If it only wasn't so funny watching him try to get on his horse. How could a man know so much of war-craft and not know how to ride a horse?
"So, Tanner. Tell me about this Gareth Ban Mannoc." Neil said as he finally settled into his saddle. He was one of the few people allowed to use Tanith's childhood name.
"He is the chief general of the Arkonian Host. It seems after two years of being bashed about by you we're finally getting his attention."
"This I already know." Neil said flatly.
Tanith looked at the slightly younger man. Any other person would have long ago been punished for his lack of visible respect for his superior. He never showed any special difference to Tanith. He never said 'my lord' or 'my liege' or showed any indication he regarded him as his 'Master.' It was another peculiarity of the man he could not fathom. A skilled warrior who was not raised to show fealty to his superior who also can't ride a horse! Who also had this strange notion that all men were created equal!
He was just so…alien! Fortunately he was the most valuable person in the army!
"Ban Mannoc is actually a Daganite by birth, though he has not lived here since he came of age. He was born in the city of Cyn, raised by some of the townsfolk after his parents were killed when a warlord raided the city. If I understand correctly something about the circumstances of their deaths caused many of the city dwellers to distrust him, leading him to be treated as an outsider. He eventually left, taking the maiden daughter of the city's apothecary with him and eventually making her his wife. Somehow over the years he became the senior commander of the mainland army. How they came to trust a man birthed in the land of their enemy I may never understand."
"Is that him?" Neil pointed out on the plain. An army was just emerging from the dense forest. A lone rider, a tall man with golden hair and brightly polished armor of gold and silver rode out ahead of his troops, coming to a stop at the stone that marked the end of the road to Daganshire.
"That is him."
Neil seemed to consider something for a moment. "What of his daughter? I have heard some of the men speak of her."
"What about her?"
"They say she resides in the Master's Palace in Daganshire. If she is within our grasp why is she not our hostage?"
Tanith was utterly shocked by the query. "That is out of the question. Aleeta Ban Mannoc is a handmaid of the Council of Arcuses. Her person is inviolate."
Neil had the oddest expression on his face. He silently mouthed the same three words over and over again. Tanith realized he was repeating the young woman's name.
"What is it?" He asked.
"I...don't know. Something about her name is so very familiar." Neil answered with a distant voice.
"Hah! Maybe when all this over you can demand a boon from the council and they will grant her to you as a wife! She's of age and quite lovely to behold!"
For some reason that did not illicit the expected response. Instead Neil seemed…disgusted at the thought. That was odd, considering the young general very distinctly like the company of quality women. That first one stayed around for some time before disappearing and afterwards he always seemed to have the pick of the women following the army.
Something lit up in Neil's eyes. "You know, I think this time we might do them the courtesy of actually having parlay. I somehow think it important I meet this man."
"I agree. I would truly like to speak to my old friend once more before we meet in the field of battle!"
"Old friend?"
"Have I not told you? Of course not, since you don't know the man. I spent much of my youth with him, before my father passed on and I assumed the mantle of lordship. We spent many a day exploring ancient dungeons and fighting dragons and other fell beasts." Tanith looked wistful, almost sad as if he regretted the turn of events that changed this man into his enemy. "He had all the makings of a great hero and would have been a great general in my army, at least until he fell in with that old fakir, Arcus Oray."
Neil knew of the venerable wizard. He was perhaps the most powerful Arcus who did not sit on the council, reputedly because he had been cast out as a malcontent. Instead he suspected the real truth was that Oray could not abide in the supposedly august body any longer. Few had seen him in many years as he often kept to his keep in the far western mountains of the northern continent, not far from the legendary Spiron.
"Arkon's bones!" Tanith rasped.
As Tanith and Neil led their horses from their lines, an entourage had fallen into step behind them, including two other generals, a standard bearer and the Prefect's bodyguards. In keeping with the proper form, Ban Mannoc's own retinue were slowly making their way to the blonde haired warrior.
With them was a man dressed, not in combat armor but totally in black. The hood of his cloak was up, casting most of his face in shadow. What could be seen was a long black beard with streaks of iron gray in it. His horse, as well, was jet black, with a brilliant white stripe up its snout. There was something burningly familiar about him, though Neil could not put his finger on it.
Without quite understanding why, he lowered his visor, covering the upper half of his face.
As they approached, Ban Mannoc held up his fist in salute, a gesture returned by Tanith. Up close he could see the man in better detail. He looked slightly older than the lord he served, though that may have been the sun weathered features of the man. His hair was quite long, falling down his back like a golden waterfall. His armor and chain mail were worn over a dark brown over mantle of fine leather. He wore a simple cape of light tan material rather than a cloak as befit his station. His breastplate bore the face of a great cat roaring.
The new stranger in black obviously held some high station with him, as he rode right up to his side.
"May the Kiresmek Ban Effurien be with you, Lord Moondagan." The man spoke with a clear authority, his voice carrying so it could be heard by both sides.
"Well met, General Ban Mannoc." Tanith cast a suspicious glance at the other man, who remained shrouded within his cloak despite the heat of the day. "It causes me great dismay that you have brought an army into my lands, here where the road to my capitol city begins."
"My army serves all of Arkonia. We go where we may."
"My general, Arcus Neil, would beg to disagree with that. Speak your peace, Gareth!"
"I have come to escort the great wizard, Arcus Oray to the capitol…of all Arkonia!" There were murmurs from both sides at this pronouncement.
Neil could hear none of them. So this is Oray! He thought, looking closer at the cloaked stranger.
"Oray has no business with the council, Gareth. You know this." Tanith said with a touch of ice in his voice.
"The Arcuses will still hear my voice, whether I choose to be party to their weak minded foolishness or not." Oray said, his soft voice carrying strangely.
Valkryor could sense the tension in her master, stamping furiously under him. Neil's attention went to keeping his seat on the animal, hoping none of the enemy noticed his discomfort.
"I crave a boon, Lord Moondagan." Oray continued. "Safe passage to the capitol so I may speak my peace with my fellow adepts."
"Say what you will to me here so that I may judge whether to grant you this, so that I may judge what befalls my own lands."
"So full of yourself, aren't you Tanner?" The wizard said dangerously. "How quickly you forget that the council speaks for all the lands. You are just a steward of this great island. Victory in the field is for naught without wisdom."
"Don't bandy words with me, mage. You have brought with you the army of a nation I have repeatedly shown back to its shores. Speak or be gone with you!"
"Very well. I have read the portents. A great evil, greater than any seen since Arkon himself sent the beasts into the abyss has returned. The time has come for us to become one people again so it may be defeated! I will go before the council and claim what is my right!"
"You cast all of your rights with the council aside, wizard!" Tanith hissed, his dislike of the man clearly visible.
"I am still a keeper of the powers of the Effurien. Whether or not I choose to sit with them so that I may perform parlor tricks for the masses has no bearing on this. They will listen to me because of my station as an Arcus!
"I come to call for a new CHOOSING!"
There was a collective gasp at his pronouncement, though Neil found he had no idea what any of this meant.
Tanith was now clearly angry. "You think I will allow you to go before the council and demand this? You think I will allow you to set yourself up to be Master of us all? I will not consent to have you made Podondrin!"
"SILENCE YOU BLOOD STAINED FOOL!" Oray's voice carried like thunder over the two armies. "I come to the council to warn them of evil, to call for a Choosing, not to set myself up for a position I know I am not fated to hold!"
"I know of your kind, Oray. I am no fool in rags to think that…"
"Tanner!" Ban Mannoc shouted.
He stopped, regarding his old friend with a glare that would melt the snow caps of the nearby mountains.
"You have my word, upon the soul of my late wife, upon my life itself, Oray does not intend to seek the Master's throne for himself."
"Who then?" Tanith demanded.
"That is for the council to decide. They must follow the old forms in order to find our one, perfect Master." Oray said, the softness returning to his voice.
Tanith's own horse was becoming restless as he considered the request. "Very well. The old forms will be followed…precisely! I grant you safe passage, on the following conditions: first, the Arkonian Host must leave my lands. Second, you may only bring your personal bodyguard. Lastly, General Ban Mannoc must accompany you."
Oray gave him a nod. "It is settled then. I have your word, before the Effurien that safe passage is granted and my person is inviolate?"
"As long as the old forms are observed, you have my word. Deviate and our world will have one less wizard to trouble it."
"The hospitality of Dagan is known far and wide." Oray said, a smile creeping over his darkened features.
The two parties retreated once again to their lines. Before long the Host began to melt once again into the forest. As quickly as they were out of earshot, Neil raised his visor and spoke to one of his aides.
"Send a company to make certain the Arkonian Host return to their ships. Be absolutely sure of this."
"Yes, General." The man rushed off to obey.
Neil looked over his shoulder at the retreating wizard. The man was watching over his shoulder as well. For a brief moment the two men's eyes met. Oray pulled his hood back, revealing a look of utter surprise on his face.
What was that about?
None of them noticed the voluptuous woman at the edge of the field, holding a small child on her hip. Not seeing her, they couldn't see the smile on her round face.
Author's Notes: I hope everyone has a wonderful Christmas! I can't begin to express how wonderful it has been to be a part of this and I really appreciate the encouragement I'm getting for sharing these adventures with all of you.