Chapter 40 – Engagement
After three days of drilling, Arnhvatr was satisfied that his troops could navigate a gate in a combat situation. Devonshire was extremely busy realigning swords and armor, demonstrating spells, and answering endless questions about the tactical uses of certain magic. Winter mostly brooded.
He attended the daily challenges, but didn't pay much attention. Afterwards he walked among the troops. Now that word had spread amongst them that he had brought them great magics, they looked up as he passed. Their mood before had been one of doom. They clearly thought Arnhvatr was a brilliant leader, and what they were planning was a master stroke. But although they thought it would be a grand achievement, they didn't really think it would change anything. They would ride the wave past the new moon and see where it leads. But, as always with the Forsaken, when one leader got ahead of the rest, all of the rest ganged up on them and took them down.
Now, though, there was a feeling of quiet anticipation radiating from them. Almost excitement. They had seen somewhat of what Romitu could do with magic. And now they felt it awakening in their hands. The game had changed. And they had Winter to thank for it. He was living up to his role as their god.
And Winter now had a name for what he had been feeling all along. Mana. When they looked at him in that way. When he felt the yearning in their souls. When the tide of their desire washed over him, he now knew what it was. The elementary magic his mother had taught him was that there was a complex interaction between the Will and the Soul that brought about mana. Mages could learn to store their own mana and use it in spells. Worshipers directed their mana to their god through their devotion. And gods use it to do their own miracles. Winter was a god now, and he was receiving their mana. Only he didn't know how to use it.
“Any questions?” asked Conscience, who appeared to be able to read his mind.
“Shut up bird”, snapped Winter. “I have enough problems.”
“But I'm here to help you solve them”, said Conscience, soothingly.
“Knowledge doesn't solve problems. Wisdom does”, said Winter.
“Having the wisdom to ask for knowledge is what solves problems”, said Conscience.
“Bringing Othr back will not solve my problems”, said Winter.
“But he is very wise”, said Conscience. “With considerable experience. A battle royale like this? That's everything he knows.”
“I'm not saying he couldn't fight this battle better than me”, said Winter. “But he would fight it his way, not my way.”
“Does it matter as long as you win?” asked Conscience.
“Yes”, said Winter. “I didn't win my challenge, but they made me a god.”
The magpie was silent to that.
That night they moved out.
The troops assembled quietly in staggered lines. Devonshire had picked a patch of relatively flat land as the basis for the gate, and done a simple framework for the tri-form arch.
“Even having something simple like this helps focus the magic”, she explained to Winter. “The spell itself will warp it into the ideal form as long as it's close.” She paced around and moved Winter into position. “This is the best place to stand. Once I get the anchor set, I'll have to teleport to the other end and set it up. You just need to maintain this end.” She held his chin and looked into his eyes. “You can do this. It's not hard. You just need to be calm and let the mana flow.”
Winter grinned lopsidedly, “easy for you. You've been doing this since before I was born.”
“Yes, but you're a natural”, said Devonshire, her eyes glinting. “Just be sure to be the last one through. Stand tall, be inspiring!”
“I'm not entirely sure how to inspire a ravening horde of undead”, said Winter, looking out over the ranks for Forsaken.
“You're doing fine so far”, said Devonshire. Then she lowered her voice. “I've seen Romitu battle magic at work. They are going to fall on this army and rip it to shreds like a puppy with a shoe. And they'll credit you with their win. Then we'll do it again, and a third time. After that, they'll be yours for life.”
“Or unlife”, said Winter.
Devonshire rolled her eyes. She turned and snapped a salute at Arnhvatr. He acknowledged her salute and gave her the go-ahead. “It's show time!”
She placed her hands on the makeshift arch and transferred power to it. It lit up in a blue-white glow. Around the triple gate additional gates formed, three to each shaft, and then three more to each additional one. The pattern continued until the eyes blurred.
Winter held up his hands and closed his eyes. He could still see the gate as an afterimage. He fixed on that and kept it in his mind. It drew him towards itself, almost as if he was falling. But he wasn't moving at all. He figured that was the mana drain.
When he opened his eyes again his Mother had gone. Shortly thereafter the character of the gate changed. The center had become a place of dark vertigo. He blinked his eyes and he could now see through the gate onto another arid plane. Similar, but not identical, to the one that should have been there.
Arnhvatr shouted an order. Three scouts raced through the gate. After a few moments, they raced back and gave a triumphant salute. Arnhvatr shouted another order and the troops began to march.
Line upon line marched through. When one file was done, the next started up. An officer was at the head of each. The sequencing had been discussed at length. No one quite trusted the gates, or Devonshire, or Winter, or they were just normally paranoid. So they tried to balance things so that it if cut off unexpectedly, at no point would the force remaining on either end be in jeopardy.
But it didn't matter. The gate held. Slowly the field emptied out. The troops were disciplined. They had chosen to go single file, instead of three abreast, just in case there were problems. But it wasn't necessary. Their execution was flawless. Winter stood alone on the field.
He had a moment's hesitation. It was just him now. He could bail on it all. Run off and abandon this whole crazy adventure. But the last through the gate had been in Tritons. Makira at the fore carrying Cindarina's banner. There was no way he could abandon that. With a shout he leapt through and let it close behind him.
When Winter got there, the battle was in full swing. Arnhvatr had instructed Devonshire to open the gate in the midst of the enemy. He felt surprise was enough to form a secure beachhead and not clog the gate. He was right. Each unit had instructions as to which quadrant of the compass to go to, and around him all were engaged.
The only battle Winter had been in was the God War in Romitu. But there really hadn't been much action for normal troops. The Ævatar had done much of the fighting. But the battle knowledge he had inherited from Othr kicked in and sorted the tangled lines of bodies hacking bodies into interpretable sense.
Nowhere along the perimeter were they seriously threatened. Their troops had cut through the random scattering of Forsaken that were there, yet had the discipline not to overextend themselves. Looking further afield, the opposing army was already reacting. They had called a strategic withdrawal and were regrouping off to one side. But, there, a phalanx of their troops, magically enhanced based on the speed they were going, was off worrying and harrying the units as they struggled for cohesion.
It was no contest. Winter knew, with certainty that they were going to win the day. They would outnumber the regrouped army by about four to one. The two bodies would clash, and the enemy would either rout, or die where they stood. Probably the latter, given the determination of the Forsaken.
He looked to his guard. They didn't have his insight and were looking nervously at what looked like complete unstructured chaos. “Our job is to make a spectacle of ourselves”, said Winter, for their benefit. “Let’s take that hill over there and put on a show.”
The moved out towards the high ground Winter had spotted. Resistance was light, and the Tritons handled it easily. That boosted their self-confidence. When they took the hill, Makaira proudly unfurled the banner of the Northern
Seas and planted it next to Winter. Nacre held the Forsaken banner and erected it at his other side.
Suddenly light shone down from above illuminating Winter and the banners. Winter started, and looked up. Down flew Devonshire, grinning.
“I thought you could use some highlighting”, she said. “Don't spoil it by looking surprised. There you go, stand straight.”
Winter assumed a heroic position, hands on hips. The banners fluttered dramatically in a breeze that suddenly started up. “Is this majestic enough?”
“Perfect”, said Devonshire. “Everyone can see you. That's exactly what we want.”
“Glad I can help”, said Winter. A few of the Tritons laughed.
“More than you realize”, said Devonshire. She waved her hands in front of his eyes. “There you go. Some enhanced vision so you can see what's going on. Hold firm. I've got some corpses to limber up.” And off she flew.
Winter felt a bit foolish. But looking around he could see that he was, indeed, noticed. The hill became a rallying point both for Arnhvatr's troops who had been separated from their units, and also straggling enemies, abandoned and having no hope but to make a lucky attack on what seemed an important unit.
The Tritons had their work cut out for them, as even a single Forsaken was a match for several of them. But they managed it without Winter having to intervene. He was pretty proud of them for that.
But eventually, as Winter had foreseen, the battle wound down. There were no grand single combats on this field. Arnhvatr and his vanguard unceremoniously hacked down those that survived to make a last stand.
“It's over”, said Devonshire, reappearing at his side.
“What do we do now?” asked Winter.
“We do it again. And then again.”