AtleanWordsmith
July 10th, 2015, 03:52 AM
Fire filled the sky.
This was neither a euphemism nor an attempt at metaphor. The fireballs launched by the mages of House Cael'ean bore down on the advancing soldiers, whose own mages responded with shimmering magical shields. Captain Tesius hated the sound of magic hitting magic. It had an electric crackle, and always left a fuzzy feeling in his teeth if he was standing right under it, but the shields were necessary. Death by magic could be quite nasty.
The fighting had stripped the land of any useable cover. The forests, once the pride of Drae'mor, had been largely reduced to splintered wood and ash, stamped down by multiple advances and retreats by men in heavy armor. The golden haze of defensive spells had long evaporated, leaving the elven city isolated and vulnerable in the artificial clearing.
Ostheran soldiers had already reached the crumbling walls of Drae'mor. The elven resistance was falling back toward the city center, and its leaders were getting desperate. Another volley of magical fire arched over the gate. The Ostheran mages responded with another shield, and something strange happened.
The shield in front of Tesius wavered as the fireball hit it, and blue fire, almost too dim to see, spread down the mage's shoulders. There was a violent rush of wind, and the fire began to spread to others in the mage's immediate vicinity. There was a brief flash of light, and Tesius stopped dead.
It was like watching a body age and mummify over hundreds of years, even though it only took a few seconds. Clothing stiffened, armor lost its polish, hair lengthened, turned white, and fell out. The remaining corpses hit the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust.
"Captain! CAPTAIN!"
Tesius felt someone tugging on his sleeve, as if to pull him with them. He looked down at a young man he didn't recognize, wearing a uniform that he did, and quickly snapped back to reality. The two of them ran for the wall, and Tesius hurled himself against it, thankful for the cover. Looking back, he saw magic being cast and flashes of light which weren't normally associated with magical shields. It made him wonder what foul magic House Cael'ean had cooked up this time.
More soldiers joined the ranks at the wall, and Tesius recognized one of his own mages. The long coat he wore had been white once, and somewhere under the dirt and grime, the Mages' Guild insignia identified him as a healer. He pulled the man close.
"What is that?"
"What is what, Sire?"
"That magic! What are they doing?"
"It's... it's complicated, Sire!"
"Then bloody well uncomplicate it!"
An explosion shook the wall. The elves had abandoned the strategy of arching their magic over it, and sought to bring it down around the soldiers using it as cover. Tesius cupped his hands and shouted down the line.
"LET'S MOVE! GET OVER THIS DAMNED WALL! FIND COVER IN THE CITY!"
There was no response. Tesius saw some of his men push themselves further into the wall, loathe to let go of the security of something solid. He looked to the healer.
"Get them moving," he ordered, "Meet me on the other side."
He ran down the line until he found someone he could identify as a sergeant. He pulled the sergeant off the wall and emptied his lungs into the poor man's face. The sergeant, now running on automatic, sent the abuse rolling downhill onto his men, physically dragging them out of cover if he had to.
Tesius continued to shout himself hoarse as the soldiers scrambled through the large holes in the wall and into the buildings on the other side. There was no resistance. The elves of House Cael'ean had retreated too far back.
"Sergeant!"
"Sir!"
"Keep your men advancing! Drae'mor is ours! DO NOT LET THESE ELF BASTARDS PUSH YOU BACK."
"SIR!"'
Tesius directed a flow of stragglers. Across the battered battlefield, he saw siege engines being erected. He loved engineers--they operated with a magic of their own. Mages could cast fireballs, but they'd eventually get tired. An engineer unit with a trebuchet could cast fireballs of their own, only stopping when they'd run out of ammo or the enemy had retreated too far. It was a heartening sight.
Tesius lifted himself through the hole that the sergeant had used. His course took him across the main road, and elven arrows clattered ineffectively on the stones; the wall was just out of range for whatever snipers were trying to pick him off. He found his healer tending to an injured soldier on the far side.
"Edwyn," Tesius gasped, suddenly aware of his own fatigue. The healer looked up at him.
"Sire... you... you should sit down."
"Right... right," Tesius said, removing his helmet and taking a knee, "Edwyn, what the hell was that?"
"I... I've never seen anything like it," the mage replied, "I mean, theoretically, powerful spells... could, er... drain the life force of the caster? I'm not certain how it works. I've never actually tried, you see. They don't encourage that sort of thing."
"He was only using a shield spell. Seen it dozens of times."
"I suppose... it's possible that House Cael'ean could have devised a spell that would disrupt... something. I'm really not good at the theory, Sire."
"Right... right. Complicated."
Tesius stood, using the wall to pull himself up, and shoved the helmet back onto his head, "If you see any other mages pass through here, warn them not to use any magic that isn't essential."
"Yes, Sire."
"Tell any stragglers to push forward and move up."
"Yes, Sire."
Tesius left the healer to tend to the wounded. He had a city to capture.
________________
AUTHOR'S NOTES:
The "Wars" was a period of conflict that threw nearly the entire continent of Cartegea into turmoil, sparked largely by overspill during the civil war between the elven Houses of Cael'ean and Darkthorn. It was the first conflict to see such an extremely liberal use of magical warfare... that the people of Cartegea know of, anyhow. The final sack of Drae'mor was one of the first battles to see the effects of the Drain, an anomaly caused by a severe lack of magic remaining in the world (which is being explored in my current web serial, imaginatively titled The Drain).
The Ostheran units that particpated in the retalitory action after the Battle of the Mountain were quick to eschew full plate armor, and indeed many other forms of heavy armor. In the wilderness surrounding most elven cities and strongholds, mobility could mean the difference between success and failure. Armore was generally reduced to the essentials--breastplates and helmets to protect vital organs, supplemented by a generous use of healers, who were generally patriotic mages from the Guild in Rotan.
This was neither a euphemism nor an attempt at metaphor. The fireballs launched by the mages of House Cael'ean bore down on the advancing soldiers, whose own mages responded with shimmering magical shields. Captain Tesius hated the sound of magic hitting magic. It had an electric crackle, and always left a fuzzy feeling in his teeth if he was standing right under it, but the shields were necessary. Death by magic could be quite nasty.
The fighting had stripped the land of any useable cover. The forests, once the pride of Drae'mor, had been largely reduced to splintered wood and ash, stamped down by multiple advances and retreats by men in heavy armor. The golden haze of defensive spells had long evaporated, leaving the elven city isolated and vulnerable in the artificial clearing.
Ostheran soldiers had already reached the crumbling walls of Drae'mor. The elven resistance was falling back toward the city center, and its leaders were getting desperate. Another volley of magical fire arched over the gate. The Ostheran mages responded with another shield, and something strange happened.
The shield in front of Tesius wavered as the fireball hit it, and blue fire, almost too dim to see, spread down the mage's shoulders. There was a violent rush of wind, and the fire began to spread to others in the mage's immediate vicinity. There was a brief flash of light, and Tesius stopped dead.
It was like watching a body age and mummify over hundreds of years, even though it only took a few seconds. Clothing stiffened, armor lost its polish, hair lengthened, turned white, and fell out. The remaining corpses hit the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust.
"Captain! CAPTAIN!"
Tesius felt someone tugging on his sleeve, as if to pull him with them. He looked down at a young man he didn't recognize, wearing a uniform that he did, and quickly snapped back to reality. The two of them ran for the wall, and Tesius hurled himself against it, thankful for the cover. Looking back, he saw magic being cast and flashes of light which weren't normally associated with magical shields. It made him wonder what foul magic House Cael'ean had cooked up this time.
More soldiers joined the ranks at the wall, and Tesius recognized one of his own mages. The long coat he wore had been white once, and somewhere under the dirt and grime, the Mages' Guild insignia identified him as a healer. He pulled the man close.
"What is that?"
"What is what, Sire?"
"That magic! What are they doing?"
"It's... it's complicated, Sire!"
"Then bloody well uncomplicate it!"
An explosion shook the wall. The elves had abandoned the strategy of arching their magic over it, and sought to bring it down around the soldiers using it as cover. Tesius cupped his hands and shouted down the line.
"LET'S MOVE! GET OVER THIS DAMNED WALL! FIND COVER IN THE CITY!"
There was no response. Tesius saw some of his men push themselves further into the wall, loathe to let go of the security of something solid. He looked to the healer.
"Get them moving," he ordered, "Meet me on the other side."
He ran down the line until he found someone he could identify as a sergeant. He pulled the sergeant off the wall and emptied his lungs into the poor man's face. The sergeant, now running on automatic, sent the abuse rolling downhill onto his men, physically dragging them out of cover if he had to.
Tesius continued to shout himself hoarse as the soldiers scrambled through the large holes in the wall and into the buildings on the other side. There was no resistance. The elves of House Cael'ean had retreated too far back.
"Sergeant!"
"Sir!"
"Keep your men advancing! Drae'mor is ours! DO NOT LET THESE ELF BASTARDS PUSH YOU BACK."
"SIR!"'
Tesius directed a flow of stragglers. Across the battered battlefield, he saw siege engines being erected. He loved engineers--they operated with a magic of their own. Mages could cast fireballs, but they'd eventually get tired. An engineer unit with a trebuchet could cast fireballs of their own, only stopping when they'd run out of ammo or the enemy had retreated too far. It was a heartening sight.
Tesius lifted himself through the hole that the sergeant had used. His course took him across the main road, and elven arrows clattered ineffectively on the stones; the wall was just out of range for whatever snipers were trying to pick him off. He found his healer tending to an injured soldier on the far side.
"Edwyn," Tesius gasped, suddenly aware of his own fatigue. The healer looked up at him.
"Sire... you... you should sit down."
"Right... right," Tesius said, removing his helmet and taking a knee, "Edwyn, what the hell was that?"
"I... I've never seen anything like it," the mage replied, "I mean, theoretically, powerful spells... could, er... drain the life force of the caster? I'm not certain how it works. I've never actually tried, you see. They don't encourage that sort of thing."
"He was only using a shield spell. Seen it dozens of times."
"I suppose... it's possible that House Cael'ean could have devised a spell that would disrupt... something. I'm really not good at the theory, Sire."
"Right... right. Complicated."
Tesius stood, using the wall to pull himself up, and shoved the helmet back onto his head, "If you see any other mages pass through here, warn them not to use any magic that isn't essential."
"Yes, Sire."
"Tell any stragglers to push forward and move up."
"Yes, Sire."
Tesius left the healer to tend to the wounded. He had a city to capture.
________________
AUTHOR'S NOTES:
The "Wars" was a period of conflict that threw nearly the entire continent of Cartegea into turmoil, sparked largely by overspill during the civil war between the elven Houses of Cael'ean and Darkthorn. It was the first conflict to see such an extremely liberal use of magical warfare... that the people of Cartegea know of, anyhow. The final sack of Drae'mor was one of the first battles to see the effects of the Drain, an anomaly caused by a severe lack of magic remaining in the world (which is being explored in my current web serial, imaginatively titled The Drain).
The Ostheran units that particpated in the retalitory action after the Battle of the Mountain were quick to eschew full plate armor, and indeed many other forms of heavy armor. In the wilderness surrounding most elven cities and strongholds, mobility could mean the difference between success and failure. Armore was generally reduced to the essentials--breastplates and helmets to protect vital organs, supplemented by a generous use of healers, who were generally patriotic mages from the Guild in Rotan.