Lyndon Hardy - The Master of Five Magics

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PART ONE

The Thaumaiurge

CHAPTER ONE The Queen Besieged

ALODAR closed his mind to the pounding of the huge stones against the lower walls of the keep. He

ignored the growl of his stomach and tried to concentrate on the spinning disk. Forty-one days of

siege, he thought, and the last five on half rations. Half rations for himself and the other

craftsmen, while the men at arms still received full shares.

"Faster, Morwin, faster until it buzzes like an angry hive," Alodar listened as the apprentice

pushed against the two-hand crank and the giant flywheel slowly increased its speed. After several

minutes, a faint tone from the serrated edge mixed with the crash of rock and cry of pain below.

Morwin stepped back from the rough wooden frame which supported the rotating wheel and sat panting

on the smooth floor of the bartizan.

"Make the rest of your preparations, journeyman," the big man in mail next to Alodar barked. "You

two may rest if this air gondola proves its worth, but not before."

Alodar disregarded the harsh tone. He squinted up at the sun midway between the east and overhead.

"They will have to look directly into the glare to see us," he said evenly. "Your men can begin."

"They begin when I tell them," the sergeant said, pushing his thumb at his chest. "You may have

once been the son of Alodun, lord of the buttes, and had the right to command, but now you are no

more than the wheelwright. I owe you only what I would give any tradesman."

Alodar spilled the air out of his nostrils in a long sigh. "My father struggled six years for the

justice due him and went to his grave alone and brokenhearted. The anguish to carry on was too

great a price to pay and I buried my feelings with him. I am a journeyman at an honest craft and

accept my lot. I desire no empty formality that stirs up the dying embers of the past."

He stopped and stared into the big man's eyes. "And I ask no more than what you should show any

man who labors in our common defense, regardless of his station." For a long moment their eyes

remained locked, but finally the sergeant shrugged and turned to the group of men crouching within

the archway into the keep. "To your positions, then," he ordered.

The men rose, and two edged out to the crenellations which framed a deep cut in the hills to the

west. The third, the smallest of the three, climbed into a waist-high wicker basket which stood by

the spinning disk.

Alodar stepped to the woven box, withdrew a chisel from one of the pockets in his cape, and hacked

a fresh splinter from it. His cowl was thrown back over his shoulders, revealing a narrow face

topped with fine yellow-brown hair. His nose and mouth were drawn with an economy of line, plain

and straight, with nothing to mark him as either handsome or uncomely. Only his eyes removed him

from the nondescript; they were bright and alive, darting like dragonflies, missing no detail of

what happened around him. His face held the smoothness of youth, now marked only by two short

furrows above his nose as he concentrated on the task before him.

Standing scarcely taller than the basket's occupant, he stepped back from the box, holding the

scrap of wood at waist level, glanced again at the position of the sun, and began the incantation.

He spoke with skill; the words came quickly but with the sharpness necessary for success. His tone

was even and the rhythm smooth. The two words of power sounded with a lack of distinction. They

fitted unnoticed into the stream of improvised nonsense which surrounded them. In a moment he was

done.

Alodar nodded a warning to the man-at-arms facing him and slowly began to raise the splinter

upward. Simultaneously the basket lurched and cleared the stonework of the platform. The splinter

rose with almost imperceptible slowness but the gondola with its passenger climbed at a rapid

rate.

The big man returned to Alodar's side. "Can you not

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go faster? They will spy him before he lines with the sun."

"No, sergeant," Alodar said, not turning to nod in reply but keeping his attention on the sliver

he held in his hand. "This splinter is about one part in a thousand of the basket as a whole. For

each palm I raise it, your man climbs another forty rods. Were I to move faster, we might use too

much of the wheel's spin just in fighting the wind we would make with our haste. I do not yet wear

the cape of a master, but I understand enough of thaumaturgy to do what is proper for this task."

The sergeant grunted and Alodar continued to raise the splinter upward. Several minutes passed and

the basket rose to become but a speck in the sky.

"High enough," one of the men shouted while sighting through his sextant. Alodar glanced at the

wheel. The crank now turned lazy circles about the axle with no hint of the blurring speed it had

possessed moments ago. The sergeant followed his gaze and looked back at Alodar.

"If there is but little wind," Alodar explained, "there is enough spin left to keep the gondola

properly positioned for some time. It takes far less energy to resist a sideward thrust than to

fight the earth for height."

While he spoke, Alodar began to step in the direction of the hills. The platform far above moved

in proportion. The two observers darted their instruments about, sighting first the sun, then the

basket, and finally the crags themselves. Alodar made but two slow steps and part of another

before one of the observers called him to stop.

"A little more forward now. Hold it an instant. Now to the left a palm. Freeze it in place," he

directed as Alodar shifted the splinter back and forth.

Morwin jumped from his inactivity beside the slowly turning disk and ran through the archway to

the chamber beyond. He fetched a tripod with a small clamp attached and returned to where Alodar

stood with the splinter still at arm's length. After a few moments of adjustment, the clamp was in

position to secure the scrap of wood firmly, and Alodar relinquished his grip. Massaging his now

numb arm, he moved quickly to the edge of the bartizan to see the results of his effort.

He whisked a telescope out from his cape and sighted the basket. It now stood fixed firmly in the

sky, suspended

directly in front of one of the sheer cliffs that was their target.

"Luck be with him soon," the sergeant muttered as he watched with his own glass. "If he does not

find a ledge wide enough for the catapult within the hour, we will strike no blow for ourselves

this day. And tomorrow may be too late for any scheme, sound or foolish, to prevent a breach."

Alodar turned from watching the rider scramble onto the face of the cliff and looked at the plain

below.

"They will be in the bailey within two days for certain," the sergeant continued. "And even if

help did appear, how could it get through all that?"

Alodar followed the sweep of the mailed arm, and the sick feeling returned to his empty stomach.

The gray hills in the west stretched from horizon to horizon, stark and unbroken except for the

one deep and wide notch, like a missing tooth, directly facing him about hah! a mile distant. The

walls on the right rose tall and sheer, unbroken monoliths, smooth and inaccessible. The slopes on

the left were as steep but cracked with fissures, chimneys, and ledges, and upon these clambered

the man Alodar had transported there. Between the two faces, a train of wagons and carts, piled

with baggage and arrayed with no pattern, hid the floor of the pass from view. Alodar could make

out a motley collection of tents rising in its midst, and from the pinnacles of each flew a blue

and silver banner.

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Much closer stood an orderly array of artillery, drawn out in a precise circle that Alodar knew

completely surrounded the stronghold. With drilled exactness, their crews would load and fire in

unison. The great bows of the ballista’s hurled their rock hard and flat against the battered

outer walls, while the mangonels sent theirs high and lofted to rain down on the foundation of the

keep and the surrounding courtyard. Lighter but more accurate trebuchets blasted at the spots

already weakened by the heavier siegecraft.

Nearer still, in more irregular array, many clusters of armed men crouched behind full-length

shields shining angrily in the morning sun. The groups farther back used their protection,

casually bobbing heads and torsos to see the battle's progress. Those closer, within range of the

de-

fenders' longbows, huddled in tight balls, exposing no arm or a leg as a target.

With each volley of the rockthrowers, the answering fire from the manchicolations and loopholes in

the castle's walls would cease, and the men in the field would creep a little closer, their

scaling ladders and belfries dragging behind them. From high on the keep, Alodar could see that,

long before the clusters reached the outer wall, they would converge into a single continuous ring

of attackers.

"Yes, it would take a large force to break through to us," he finally agreed, "but Iron Fist has

never fallen to assault."

"It takes more than stone and iron to defend this mound," the sergeant said. "Muscle pulls tight

the bowstrings and swings the broadswords, and at last muster we numbered fewer than two hundred

fighting men. Two hundred for over half a mile of wall."

He shook his head with lips pulled into a tight line of disapproval. "A mere two hundred, because

Vendora wanted to flaunt her might along the southern border. Almost every garrison in Procolon

stripped to nothing, so that those petty border kingdoms think to stop their raids and return to

bickering among themselves. Hah, I wonder if those raids seem so important to her now? Fully

provisioned, we could withstand anything that Bandor could throw at us. As it is, only the great

height and thickness of these walls have saved her crown and pretty neck this long."

"But her miscomputation was no worse than mine," Alodar said, spreading his palms outward. "How

would anyone but a sorcerer surmise that one of her most faithful vassals would suddenly lose his

reason and plunge through that gap hi the west, just when she was here? The gates clanged shut on

noble and craftsman alike who happened to be here, and none claim to have foreseen it."

"Yes, it is strange," the sergeant said. "The ferocity of the attack, the way he drives his men on

with no regard for their exhaustion. I have heard it whispered about more than once at night that

Bandor has lost not his reason but his will. Like a mere craftsman, he has been possessed."

Alodar blinked with surprise, but before he could reply be was interrupted by one of the

observers.

"He has found a spot and is signaling for us to proceed."

"Sweetbalm, luck is with us today," the sergeant exclaimed, jumping his thoughts back to the task

at hand. "Start bringing up the beams and lashings."

Alodar stepped to the stand and released the splinter from the clamp. Holding it at arm's length,

be dropped his hand a fraction of an inch. The basket sank correspondingly, and the wheel again

started to spin. He retraced his steps, and it shot across the sky to hover directly overhead.

Finally, as he lowered the splinter, it settled gently onto the floor of the bartizan. Again the

giant crank was a blur as the wheel spun, but it turned not nearly as fast as when Morwin had

first propelled it.

Alodar rapidly recited another incantation, virtually indistinguishable from the first. When he

was done, he flung the splinter high into the air with a dramatic gesture while the basket

remained unperturbed on the ground.

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The men-at-arms wasted no time in loading two large notched beams into the basket. Morwin against

cranked up the wheel, and Alodar removed a fresh splinter and spoke the incantation. Moving with

more haste than before, he brought the splinter directly to the clamp; the basket with its burden

hurled from the castle to the cliffs. The sergeant directed some small corrections until the

basket hovered directly below the ledge that the rider had found. Morwin moved the clamp and

secured the splinter in the new position.

After the gondola was unloaded, the entire process was repeated many times, with each worker

intent upon his tasks. Alodar broke the spell upon the return. Morwin rewound the crank and the

men-at-arms packed a new load of beams, brands, or lashings. Another incantation and fixing of a

splinter in the clamp and another bundle would be delivered to the ledge in the distance. Several

hours later the men-at-arms were the passengers for the final two trips, and then the job was

done.

Weary from the concentration, Alodar looked to the west. "How long will it take them to assemble

it?" he asked.

"At least six hours. They must take care to tune it to

exactly the same tension it had here. Every shot will count, and they can waste none on range

calibration," the sergeant responded, his voice now showing some excitement. "With just a bit more

luck, Bandor's entire siege train will be smoldering ashes by nightfall."

They fell silent and waited, listening to time being marked off by the rhythmic crash of rock and

swish of arrows below. Near dusk, Alodar sprang up from his vigil excitedly.

"Look, they are signaling that they are ready."

As he spoke, a flaming brand arched upwards from the ledge and down into the valley, disappearing

into the silhouettes of the tents formed by the setting sunlight.

A minute passed with no discernable change in the campsite; but then as the second shot was being

launched, the central tent became alive with flame.

"A hit, a direct hit on Bandor's tent," the sergeant shouted, "Look at it take hold of that dry

canvas! It will spread to the others in no time at all. And look, here comes the next missile

right on the mark as well."

A second tent burst into flame, and then a third. Even from the distance, Alodar could hear an

alarm gong sound and the rising hubbub of voices.

"They are shifting targets now; good men." The sergeant banged his fist down on the wall. "Let us

see how those wagons can stand up to a little heat."

The incendiaries began falling more rapidly as the crew on the ledge gained confidence in their

engine, raking their fusillade back and forth across the pass, starting fires at random in the

densely packed train. Alodar could see . some of the blazes start up and then quickly be snuffed

out; but for every one extinguished, two more sprouted elsewhere in the camp. In some places, the

isolated pinpoints of light had converged into large walls of leaping flame, brilliant even

against the setting sun.

Finally trumpets sounded from somewhere within the widening conflagration, and the siegecraft

directly between the camp and the castle ceased their firing. Throwing arms and cranks were

battened down, rocks tossed back upon supply wagons, and the engines began to withdraw. A frantic

mob of men burst from the flame and confusion, like seeds from a flattened melon, and ran to meet

them, alternately waving greater haste and pointing up into the

cliffs from which came the. rain of fire. Alodar heard the zing of arrows from the castle walls

increase intensity as the defenders, unchallenged for the first time in days, vented their

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frustrations. Trie assault from the west ground

to a halt.

"The range is too great for them to be accurate enough," the sergeant crowed. "They will never

dislodge us from there. A few more hits will put the fire completely out of control. Let us see

what kind of siege Bandor can conduct, demon driven or not, with no supplies and only this

brushland to forage on."

Alodar watched intently as the mangonels were turned into a straight line, halfway between their

previous positions and the enemy camp. A hint of hope soothed the rumble in his stomach as the

first volley fell short of the ledge, crashing into the face of the cliff far below. His eyes

swept back and forth across the panorama, up to the ledge, into the burning camp, and back to the

engines and the growing mass of men surrounding them.

"But wait a moment," he said suddenly. "I see the logo of similarity on that cape down there. See,

the tall one, next to the second mangonel. He is a master, just as Periac is. I fear that my craft

will play a still larger role in the affairs of the day."

As they watched, the master thaumaturge directed the three running up behind him to dump the sacks

they carried onto the ground. A pile of small stones discharged from each. Two more men lugged

into position a huge cauldron and began filling it from a wagonload of jars that halted alongside.

"Lodestones," Alodar cried with sudden recognition. "Tracers. By the laws, let there be no

marksman good enough for this task among them."

A small group of archers formed a single file; as they passed the cowled figure, he deftly chipped

a fragment from each rock and gave it to one of the bowmen. After each had received his charge, he

bound it to the shaft of an arrow and let fly at the catapult in the cliff above.

Alodar watched the ledge as the missiles hurled upwards. Most were wide of the mark, splintering

against hard rock and falling back to the floor of the pass. Several minutes passed as volley

after volley did no harm. But

finally one shot struck the frame of the catapult and held fast.

"Quickly!" Alodar shouted. "Signal them to remove the shaft before he can complete the

incantation."

"But a single arrow does them no harm, journeyman. Let them use their time to continue firing

while it is still light," the sergeant said. "You remain with your craft and I will manage mine."

"Get it removed or they will hurl nothing more today. See, they have the other stone in the acid

already,"

As he spoke, the master cracked one of the remaining untouched rocks in two and dropped one half

into the cauldron steaming atop a hastily constructed fire. The brew frothed like storm-driven

surf as three heavyset men slowly tipped the contents of the huge crucible onto a pile of

artillery stones stacked at their feet. The crews from the siegecraft each retrieved one hot wet

stone and loaded and cocked their engines. The thaumaturge held his hands high overhead. In one

was the stone from which the chip now affixed to the catapult had been cleft; in the other was the

remains of the one consumed in the acid bath. Alodar held his breath, knowing what was to come

next. A mailed figure astride the horse surveyed the ready engines and the waiting craftsman. He

signaled the crews to fire and the projectiles sprang from their beds in unison. An instant later,

with the missiles already rising high into the air, the thaumaturge brought the two small stones

swiftly together.

The flying rocks wrenched out of their natural trajectories; Hke sunlight focused with a glass,

they converged simultaneously on the ledge. The catapult exploded in a mass of ragged timber,

splinters, and dust. The bombarding rock shattered into an avalanche of gravel against the cliff

face and cascaded to the plain. The hills rocked with the violence of the impact and the shock

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file:///F|/rah/Lyndon%20Hardy/Hardy,%20Lyndon%20-%20Master%20of%20Five%2Magics,%20The.txtPARTONETheThaumaiurgeCHAPTERONETheQueenBesiegedALODARclosedhismindtothepoundingofthehugestonesagainstthelowerwallsofthekeep.Heignoredthegrowlofhisstomachandtriedtoconcentrateonthespinningdisk.Forty-onedaysof...

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Lyndon Hardy - The Master of Five Magics

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