Arcanist: Book Twelve of the Spellmonger Series by Terry Mancour

Author:Terry Mancour [Mancour, Terry]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-09-30T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty

The Wrath of the Spellmonger

“Take heed of the wrath of the wizards, for it is furious when wise and terrible to behold when unwise.”

Magelaw Folk Saying

From the Collection of Jannik the Rysh

I was upset. I’d come to Fort Destiny to preserve it, and I was watching it be destroyed.

The Iron Bandsmen were defending their walls valiantly, standing their ground atop the pile of rubble the spell had produced. Shieldmen and pikemen were keeping the first attackers at bay, while archers from all over the castle fired against the goblins. Yet the gurvani infantry who swarmed against them were just as determined.

A mixture of breeds and varieties of gurvani pushed up the hill and into the breach with resolve, stopping to fire crossbows or hurl spears or grappling hooks against us. When they reached the hole in the wall, they redoubled their ferocity and attacked with club and sword, tooth and claw.

Behind the vanguard flowed a long, angry river of gurvani, punctuated by trolls, a few draugen and other foul folk. I could tell at once that they were uniting in the entrained consensus that the Alon could manage. They began to march as one, all of them part of the same great organism whose sole purpose was to tear down the castle. Only the siege worms and the scattered undead did not share in the consensus, I noted.

I walked down to the breach, watching my warmagi join the defense. Tamonial was using his wands and blade with elegant efficiency, employing the humani-style warmagi he’d learned. Buroso began heaving powerful spells the moment he arrived at the breach. His mageblade flung deadly bolts of force with precision as he sought out where he was needed the most.

Caswallon . . . Caswallon was all over the place. As annoying as he can be, the man can fight, and he proved himself again and again in the few moments I saw him in action on the wall. He used warmagic liberally to speed his attacks and leapt from one fight to another. He used an array of weapons instead of favoring one, and in this instance, and he howled pompous-sounding insults at the foe the entire time.

The breach would be held, I could see. For a time, at least. But not forever, not against the mass of soldiery that it faced. Two thousand men in a crippled castle would not prevail, without some intervention.

I was to be that intervention.

I’d come to Fort Destiny to preserve it. Failing that, I would avenge it.

I found a place atop the left-hand gatehouse, the one that hadn’t been damaged in the spell. While archers swirled madly about me, sniping at the attacking gurvani from the heights, I moved calmly and determinedly to a spot at the corner of the square tower where I might oversee the battle . . . and select my targets. It was near enough the breach for me to attend to that, and it loomed over the steep approach that our foes had to climb.

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