Chapter 12
Commander Ammon rolled up the maps of the kingdom that lay scattered on his campaign table. They were actually unnecessary, used more as a point of focus than actual reference. He knew every square inch of them by heart.
And it didn’t matter how many times he looked at them, the outcome was the same. He was winning the battles but, ultimately, he was losing the war. The elves had tried four more mass assaults in the valley and he had repulsed them. For the loss of a mere two hundred warriors he had slain eight thousand of the enemy. Eventually the fallen lay so high and deep as to form a wall of death, preventing any more frontal attacks by the hive. And now, even more than two leagues from the valley, the stench was a palpable thing. An oily taste that coated the back of the throat.
Now, however, the hive had started sending smaller parties, six or seven hundred at a time, over the mountains, seeking out any passable route. Some got through, many did not. But when a group did make its way over the passes the information was immediately known by the rest of the hive and thousands would advance on the same route.
The Commander had formed small mobile groups of fast-reaction Orcs, squads of one hundred including twenty goblin archers. Trolls were too slow to be incorporated. As soon as news arrived of a breach then a century would be dispatched at forced march speed to engage. It was working and, thus far, all encroachments by the hive had been met with total annihilation. But the constant need for preparedness was taking its toll. Not only on the troops but also on the commander himself.
He was not sure how much longer they could continue and, every day, commander Ammon expected another full frontal attack through the valley but this time combined with a few mountain encroachments as well.
If he had been in charge of the hive that is what he would have done,
But then, maybe they were hurting as much as he was.
Maybe.
Seth Hil-Nu, paramount mage, stepped into the commander’s tent, pulled up a stool and sat down. He looked exhausted; the skin around his mouth an unwholesome pink instead of the dull gray of health.
‘How goes, commander?’ The mage asked.
‘It goes as the gods will, mage. We win. We lose at the same time. Ultimately…I fear that we are a dying race, the very last of the Fair-Folk. And you, my friend?’
‘Tired. However, I have some good news. Perhaps. Well, not really sure, I may be grasping at straws.’
‘Straws will do if that is all that we have left to grasp at,’ said Ammon. ‘Tell your story.’
‘I think that I have found a source of Life-Light.’
‘You think, or you have?’
‘I have. However, I am struggling to track it down. I can feel its pull. It’s presence. But it is immeasurably far away, in both space and time.’
‘Explain, my friend. Pretend for a moment that I am but a commander of troops and have little knowledge of the arcane workings of the Life-Light and its mysteries.’
‘I see,’ said Seth wryly. ‘You mean, distill four hundred years of bitter study down to a teaspoon of syrup.’
Ammon laughed, the sound a dry cough. Short staccato bursts. ‘If possible, my friend. If possible.’
‘Well, Ammon, you have used the Life-Light before.’
‘Yes, in my own limited way.’
‘And how does it feel?’
Ammon thought for a while. ‘Powerful. Uneasy. Slightly out of control…’
‘Carry on.’
‘Discombobulated.’
‘A good description, disconcerted. Confused. The reason for that is, the Life-Light itself, although visible to us, is not part of our direct time and place.’
‘I don’t get it.’
‘Let me explain, and please bear in mind that I am attempting to describe an ocean using only a single drop of water. Where does the Life-Light come from?’
‘Easy,’ said the commander. ‘Our sun.’
Seth shook his head. ‘We say that, to avoid confusion. However, it comes from a time and place far removed from our sun. By the time it reaches our sun it has already been traveling for some hundred million years plus. When it reaches our sun, which, as we know is simply a massive ball of fire, it affects it in such a way as to distill the Life-Light into an energy that we can use. This is given off in the form of sun flares that manifest themselves visibly as Life-Light. As you know, our mages can convert this Life-Light into the raw energy needed for our magiks. Now, as far as we can deduce, we are dealing with a raw energy that has traveled around ten million trillion leagues and started its trip countless millions of years before we even existed as a culture, we then take this energy, convert through arcane means and release it. To cut to the quick; there is bound to be some fallout. That it what a top mage spends his time controlling – the fallout. Creating magik is easy. Surviving the casting…not so much.’
‘Thank you, master mage,’ said Ammon. ‘Now I am slightly more confused than before. However, if I gloss over my obvious lack of knowledge, you are saying that you think that you have found another source of Life-Light, but you can’t pin it down?’
‘Yes and no. I will be able to pin it down but, and this is a big but, there is no way that we can use it to effect things here, in this time and place.’
‘So, pray my good friend, what is the point?’
‘The point, commander, is that I could use it to create a gateway for us to cross over. To go to another time and place where we would be able to use the Life-Light as we did before.’
‘You mean – run away. Retreat?’
Seth shook his large gray head. ‘No, commander, I mean retire gracefully from a war that we cannot win. It is simply time to move again, as we have done before in our history.’
Ammon said nothing. There was nothing to say. One didn’t have to be a genius to work out that, in the long term, the fair folk’s position was untenable.
‘So, tell me, my friend,’ continued Seth. ‘How long do we have?’
Ammon took a deep breath. ‘It depends on a few factors. If the hive continue in the exact same way, sending forays into the mountains and such, well then…a couple of months. Tops. However, if their queen decides on an all out push, hits us from the mountains and the valley…two, three days. Maybe a week.’
‘Worse than I thought,’ said Seth.
The two sat in silence for a while. Ammon, thinking. Seth waiting.
Finally, Ammon spoke. ‘Find it, Seth. Find our gateway out of here. I will fight as long as I can, but you shall save us. How soon can you do it?’
Seth stood up. ‘It will be a tight run race, commander. I will go to my tent now to begin preparations.’ The mage bowed formally. ‘By your leave, commander.’
Ammon stood and bowed back. ‘May success be yours, mage.’
Seth left the campaign tent and Ammon sat back down and prepared to fight a losing war.