Caladin’s Climb—Part 23 (Patreon)

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          They had siege equipment this time. Large mobile towers and other weapons of war. Tools as big as houses designed to enhance the magical prowess of the wizards operating them. Caladin wasn’t worried. He was connected to a mana well and had been gathering mana since before the army even reached the horizon. His power was limitless, while they had to content themselves with whatever mana they could bring with them. A vast army stretched out in the valley beneath his wizard tower, crowding between the mountain slopes. Thousands of trained combat wizards, to face just Caladin. Alone.

          Well… not completely alone. He had a small horde of zombies under his control, and one officer from King Haedril’s army acting as a witness. The others had only left at Caladin’s insistence. After what happened back at his family’s campsite, the idea of fighting alongside allies that could die terrified him.

          On the roof of the tower, Caladin took a deep breath. He pulled in not just air, but mana from the tower’s connected well. He was conscious of putting on a good show for the officer assigned to watch him. He was told the man was projecting a metal image of the battle back to King Haedril and a few close advisors. He raised his hands to the sky and inscribed a rune of calomancy on one of the scrolls in his pocket.

          Clouds began to swirl as a tornado formed. It reached for the ground amidst the enemy soldiers. That wasn’t enough for Caladin. He needed more. With a flourish of his off-hand, he weaved in pyromancy, turning the dusty gray tube into a funnel of fire. Spells were launched from the ground to try to prevent the fire tornado from touching down: aeromancy, calomancy and even pyromancy. The enemy wizards tried everything to smother his flames or blow them away. He even saw a few bolts of lightning shoot into the sky, though he wasn’t sure how magic like that was supposed to help the situation. The fire tornado reached a standstill. As much mana as Caladin was able to force into it, the wizards on the ground were able to match it with their combined strength.

          “Okay,” Caladin shouted. “I’ve got them pinned down! Move out!”

          Lenny gave Caladin a salute with his enchanted blade. He was decked out in the stolen royal guard’s armor. He ran up to the side of the tower and leaned over the edge. “You heard ‘im, boys! Let’s show ‘em what Haedril’s elite undead infantry are capable of!” He lowered the visor of his helmet and leaped off the side of the building. Though it was four stories to the ground, Lenny’s undead body didn’t have to concern itself with the damage such a fall would cause. As Lenny fell, he let out an undulating war cry. A hundred more zombie soldiers followed his lead, jumping from the tower’s windows where they’d been packed in tight. A stream of bodies came tumbling to the ground, rushing forward like the chaotic horde they were.

          The zombies had a wide assortment of training—from almost none to entire decades—and they hadn’t had time to actually practice fighting as a unit. None of that mattered. They were zombies; they didn’t need training! Being unkillable was already enough of an advantage. They could fight well past the point others would die, and Caladin had further enhanced the musculature of every one of them to be even stronger than the normal variety.

          There was just one glaring weakness with zombie hordes: they were incredibly vulnerable to fire. As it happened, all the pyromancers in Queen Fayse’s army were currently otherwise occupied. The zombie horde went unchallenged until their front lines met that of the enemy. The first thing they struck was the siege equipment. A mobile tower was knocked over. The operator to a catapult was ripped from his seat and buried beneath the horde. Caladin cackled as he continued to try to force his fire tornado to the ground. The wizards in the back lines hadn’t even noticed they were under attack yet.

          The siege engines fell one by one. The horde continued forward. It didn’t take long before they started either killing or distracting the wizards, helping to fend off Caladin’s attack. Once the balance tipped in his favor, Caladin pressed his advance. Less and less pyromancers were available to smother his flames. Less and less aeromancer could focus on blowing away the tornado while zombies charged into their midst, flinging wizards around like rag dolls. The fire tornado touched down. It was total chaos. Once the wizards saw they couldn’t hold back Caladin’s attack, they stopped working together and broke out into their own personal struggles. Some tried to fight off the zombie horde closing in on them, while others focused on defending against the tornado of fire burning through their ranks. Caladin swept the tornado back and forth through their ranks, spending extra time whenever he saw a pocket of resistance trying to hold out against it. As they had planned before the attack, once Caladin’s tornado touched down, Lenny pulled the horde back to wait until he was done, only going after the stragglers that tried to escape the carnage.

          It didn’t take long. Once they realized they were beaten, any wizard that could used their magic to flee. Those that couldn’t were sucked up by the fire tornado. When the battle was over, Caladin stepped down from his platform to make his report to the eldrin officer. “I see the enemy is in retreat,” the man said. Like Haedril, his uniform was pure white in color, though buttoned down in the front. His head was shaved bald, but his eyebrows showed a hint of green.

          “I can have Lenny go and check our perimeter after this,” Caladin said. “I’m concerned that enemy force was just a bluff. It was too easy to wipe them out.”

          “Too easy, sir?” the officer replied. “That was a full battalion. If Fayse had another army of similar size this close to our lines, we would’ve noticed. How did you dispatch them so easily? You conjured a flaming tornado from the heavens… by yourself.”

          “It was a combo spell. They don’t seem to have figured out the trick to fighting those off,” Caladin said. “I’m disappointed. I thought an entire army of wizards would be able to collapse that tornado. There was a new area-of-effect spell I wanted to try when that one failed, but now I won’t get to.”

          “I am sure there will be other opportunities,” the loyalist officer promised.

          Lenny approached in his suit of armor. There were scorch marks and some blood splatter on the outside that weren’t there before. “They scattered pretty quick when the tornado touched down,” he reported.

          “Any casualties?” Caladin asked.

          “A few,” Lenny replied. “Can’t have been more than five. I’ll round up the remains for you to Repair later. Hoss was one of ‘em. Got a little too bold and refused to retreat when the fire came down.”

          “He’s sure taken to undeath faster than I would have thought,” Caladin remarked. Hoss was one of their camp followers. He was one of the first to attack the loyalist soldiers and die defending the camp. Of the eight dead family members Caladin revived from the shallow grave in the camp, Hoss was the only one who insisted on joining the undead infantry. The rest of the undead came from war casualties supplied by Haedril. “What was it?” Caladin asked. “A week ago, now? When we pulled him out of that grave?”

          “Bout that long,” Lenny guessed. He looked down on the blackened and smouldering battlefield. “You gonna raise some more soldiers?” he asked. “There’s plenty of bodies to choose from.”

          “I don’t know,” Caladin said. “They’re going to be all burnt to a crisp. I’m not sure it’s worth all the effort. And I can’t make them intelligent or they won’t be loyal.”

          Lenny shrugged. “We get enough undead soldiers, we won’t need you to intervene every time one of the mana wells is attacked.”

          “I suppose,” Caladin agreed. “I just wish someone else could do the raising. It’s time consuming. I’ve been running myself ragged all week. I think mana burn may be starting to make my finger tips go numb.”

          “You deserve a break,” Lenny agreed.

          “Too much work to do,” Caladin said. “Maybe when I’m done. Where’s Hoss?”

          “This way,” Lenny said. He walked off towards the scorched battlefield and Caladin followed. They approached the remains of a siege tower. “Last I saw, he was around here somewhere,” Lenny said. He gestured out at the carnage. There were a number of charred dead bodies in the area from those that had been caught in Caladin’s spell and those that had been killed before it even struck.

          “I can find him, one second,” Caladin said. He used a lithomancy spell that would cause written runes to glow with a red light. It was a simple spell that he didn’t even need to waste paper on. He swept a curtain of magic back and forth until something lit up. “There,” he said. One of the skeletons lit up. Caladin had followed Brorn’s advice on raising undead for his most recent batch. He inscribed the binding runes on their bones instead of their skin. The charred remains of Hoss were black and unmoving, but the bindings on the bones were still intact. Caladin stepped carefully over to where Hoss lay and pressed one of his Repair spells against the blackened skin. It broke away at his touch. Even the bones were scorched and cracked in a few places. That was fine, as long as none of the runes were damaged, which seemed to be the case. Caladin had a modified Repair spell that fixed everything except the bones in order to keep the necromancy enchantments in place.

          Caladin’s Repair spell burned over Hoss’s body as he released it. Golden flames crackled and sparked as they washed over him, rebuilding flesh in their wake. Even Hoss’s clothes were repaired by the spell.

          “C-Cally?” Hoss asked once he was restored. He was a grizzled veteran slave with the whip scars and broken nose to prove it. The scars were old, so not something Caladin’s Repair spell could fix. Hoss looked around in confusion. “What’s going on? Why am I here? Where even am I?”

          “One second,” Caladin said. He reached into one of his pockets and dug down deep. King Philipus Haedril’s royal vocomancer had given Caladin the magical lessons necessary to sew vocomancy enchantments into his pockets. The extra space had really come in handy. So much, in fact, that Caladin had then had to add gravimancy enchantments to reduce the weight of the veritable library he now carried with him everywhere he went. After a moment of fishing around in one of his larger pockets, Caladin found what he was looking for: a crystal carved in the shape of a head. He grabbed a handful of them, then sorted through for the one labeled “Hoss”.

          “The last thing I remember,” Hoss started to say, “is those soldiers—”

          “Don’t worry about all that,” Caladin told him. He held up the little crystal skull and inscribed the requisite cerebromancy spell. A tether of pink light reached out between the skull and Hoss’s head. The glowing green eyes of the zombie glazed over and went vacant while the spell worked on his brain, inserting memories. Caladin tucked the crystal skull away when he was done.

          Hoss blinked. “Oh, I wasn’t expecting it to work so quickly.” He looked around at the surrounding carnage and blackened bodies. “Wait, why aren’t we at the castle anymore?”

          “You died again, idiot,” Lenny said.

          “I had to use the backup of your mind,” Caladin explained to him. “Remember? I told you it would feel like no time had passed.”

          “You weren’t kidding,” Hoss said, scratching the back of his head. “So… how’d the battle go? Is it over already?”

          “It’s been a few hours since I made that backup,” Caladin said. “But the battle was over pretty quickly. Like I said, with their pyromancers occupied, there was nothing to stop the undead infantry from rolling over them.”

          “So I did good?” Hoss asked. “I wish I could remember.”

          “You did fine,” Lenny said. “Just retreat when I tell you to next time. Remember what I said about the Fire Tornado?”

          “You said to retreat when it got too close,” Hoss said. “But you also said you could bring me back if I died. And, well, you did.”

          “You got lucky,” Caladin said. “Your flesh was burned down to ash. Any more and I wouldn’t have been able to bring you back.”

          Hoss frowned, looking sufficiently chastised. “I’ll, uh, listen better next time… maybe.” At least he was honest.

          “Okay, well. I’m overdue for a break,” Caladin said. “You guys can clean up. Why don’t you find Hoss some halfway decent armor from the wreckage? I’m sure something usable survived. Just clean off any blood or scorch marks. If you find extras, distribute them among your other men as you see fit. Set the bodies aside for later.”

          “Sure thing,” Lenny agreed. He gave Caladin a casual two-fingered salute before going off to organize the cleanup with the other undead soldiers.

          The loyalist officer was waiting for Caladin when he returned to the tower. Caladin hadn’t bothered to learn the man’s name, and he wasn’t interested in doing so, either. “Sir, a number of our soldiers need to be Repaired and the—”

          Caladin pulled a handful of scrolls out of the pocket of his sleeve and pressed them into the officer's hands. “Here,” he said. “I put that Repair spell on these. The activation word is ‘aevum’.”

          “What am I supposed to—”

          “Repair them yourself,” Caladin said. “I’m going home. Just use the mana well to keep your levels fully charged. However much mana you think the spell is going to draw from you, I promise it’s more. It will kill you if you activate it without your mana pool being full.”

          “Uh, u-understood, sir,” the officer said. He looked down at the scrolls with a frown. The man probably wasn’t used to doing anything himself. Not Caladin’s problem. King Philipus had told his men that Caladin’s orders were to be obeyed by anyone unless they specifically contradicted one of his own.

          The wizard tower they had been defending was small, barely more than a housing for the mana well and teleportation circle, and only tall enough to get a better line-of-sight on potential attackers. Philipus said they could not spare the resources for larger towers and still maintain strong wards. Caladin didn’t think the wards were all that strong to begin with. He had some ideas of suggestions he could make for improvements… but later. He triggered the teleportation circle and came out in Fort Sumnter’s courtyard.

          Fort Sumnter was the center of the rebellion’s operation, both figuratively and geographically. None of the established wizard towers were more than two-hundred leagues away. Philipus didn’t like when Caladin referred to his operation as a rebellion. “We’re loyalists,” he’d always say. He liked to remind anyone that would listen that Queen Fayse had tried to have him assassinated before he declared his rebellion. As much as Caladin tried not to care, he’d inevitably absorbed some details of the current civil war through osmosis. Apparently, when the old king died, Queen Fayse assumed the throne on behalf of the crown prince, Istven. He was too young to be crowned king, but despite Fayse’s assurances that he could claim it as soon as he felt ready, he hadn’t made a public appearance since his father’s death. Philipus’s position was that despite his brother legitimizing Istven as his heir, he wasn’t blood related, so couldn’t hold the crown, anyway. That would leave Philipus as the next legitimate heir. Caladin didn’t really care much who sat on the Eldesian throne, nor whose blood they had in their veins. It was all made up, anyway. They were all crooks and slavers.

          Except Philipus.

          King Philipus Haedril was different. He was actually trying to establish a new order, to reform his brother’s nation. He was even planning to outlaw the practice of human slavery once he was in power. So even though Caladin didn’t care about the blood relations of any would-be Eldesian royalty, he knew Philipus was the king he wanted on the throne.

          The soldiers manning the gates to the courtyard opened them when they saw Caladin approach. He didn’t head into the main fortress to see Haedril, but down the hill. To the village where his family had settled. When she saw him, little Jenny ran up to Caladin and wrapped her arms around his legs. “Uncle Cally!” she cheered. “You’re back! Can you show me some pretty magic again?”

          Caladin went down on one knee to get on eye-level with the girl. Her eyes glowed with the sickly green of necromancy. She was one of the two children who had died in the attack on the camp all those months ago. Her father had also died. Her mother, Jolene, had been beside herself with grief and barely hanging on. Caladin had brought her family back for her. He wasn’t sure if that had been a good thing or not yet. They were still dead. He’d just fixed up their corpses and animated them with magic. Jenny would never grow older. He didn’t even know how long he could keep refreshing her memories between Repairs before they started to fade. But… it was something. Even if it failed, it would give Jolene some of the closure she’d never otherwise had.

          What Caladin was still hoping to figure out was a permanent solution to death: something that wouldn’t require constant maintenance of slowly fading memories. True Resurrection. The only method he was aware of for doing this was to use the Conflux to make a wish. That meant it was at least theoretically possible. He just had to figure out how to do it without all that power. For all he knew, Brorn already knew a method of True Resurrection, but had some personal reason for refusing to teach it to anyone.

          “You okay, Uncle Cally?” Jenny asked. “You look sad.”

          “I’m… fine,” Caladin said. “Just thinking of adult stuff. Nothing you need to worry about.”

          The little girl pouted. “Everyone is doin’ that since I came back,” she said. “Everyone is sad all the time. I just want them to be happy. Like before.”

          Caladin rustled Jenny’s hair. He smiled. “What magic did you want to see? Something sparkly?”

          The little girl’s eyes went wide. “Oh yes! Sparkles, sparkles! And butterflies!”

          “Why not both?” Caladin asked. He held out one hand, palm up and created an illusion of a butterfly with sparkling, rainbow-colored wings. It fluttered around Jenny’s head. Once it was created, he bound the spell to her, so the butterfly would follow her around until the spell ran out of mana. “There you go,” he said. “Your very own rainbow butterfly! A one-of-a-kind creation for a one-of-a-kind girl.”

          Jenny shrieked in delight, something Caladin was happy to hear, even if it hurt his ears a bit. She ran in circles, grabbing at the magic butterfly again and again while it fluttered just out of her reach. He left her to play and continued on. Caladin’s tent was one of the closest to the main fortress. There was no question that he had the resources to create a more permanent dwelling for himself, but he liked the tent. He’d dug it out of the wreckage of their old campsite and repaired it. He felt more at home when he slept in it than he had at any point in the last six months. When Caladin thought back now to the times he used to complain to his father about having to live in tents, he could only shake his head.

          Caladin had barely laid down when a shadow darkened the entry flap to his little tent. “What now?” he complained. He didn’t try to hide his annoyance. If whoever it was didn’t care about disturbing his sleep, he wasn’t going to bother himself with preserving their feelings.

          “Oh, I didn’t mean to disturb you,” a kindly voice replied. It was King Philipus.

          Caladin sat upright. “Philip? What are you doing here?”

          “General Graent told me you left in a hurry. I was worried about you.”

          “You didn’t need to check on me personally,” Caladin insisted. He crawled forward and pulled back his tent flap. Philipus was standing over the opening with an apologetic smile on his face. He still wore white, but they were the simple robes he wore when visiting the village, not the formal outfits he favored in court. “I’m fine,” Caladin said. “I was just tired. I stayed up all night raising undead. The battle wasn’t that eventful. I figured your guy could tell you all about it.”

          “And he did,” Philipus said. “He distributed the scrolls you made him. That was very clever of you. I had no idea you could make scrolls so easily.” He had no idea just how easily.

          “Archmage, remember?” Caladin said. “I can do most things easily.”

          “And you did not use your circlet at the battle?”

          “Didn’t need it,” Caladin said. He’d told Philipus that Belorian’s crown was just a circlet he’d made to focus his magic. The truth was probably far harder to believe.

          “And no lunamancy?”

          “Didn’t need that either,” Caladin said. “A fire tornado was more than enough. Tied up their pyromancers pretty well. I’m sure you’ll be pleased to hear how well the new undead infantry did.”

          “I was most pleased indeed,” King Philipus said. “An army that cannot die. My brother’s killer will not gain ground anymore. My spies tell me it was difficult for her to gather that army you just defeated. Her funding requests at court are becoming increasingly contentious. If she pushes her nobles much harder, a few might begin approaching me.”

          “That sounds like good news,” Caladin said. “We’ll have time to fortify ourselves.”

          “About that,” King Philipus said. “I had an idea for how we can use this time you’ve purchased for us. It is something only you can do.”

          “That doesn’t really narrow down the list very much,” Caladin joked.

          King Philipus laughed along with him. “Yes, I suppose it doesn’t. It is not a spell I need, but you. I want you to be my champion.”

          “Your champion?” Caladin repeated. “What do you mean?”

          “This territory belongs to Setsya on paper only,” King Philipus explained. “They cannot hold it, they have not the numbers. I want you to approach Queen Rusalia on my behalf and convince her to give it to me in an official capacity.”

          “You want her to just… give you a territory?”

          “We are already her stewards. It is not such a stretch,” King Philipus said. “We would still be allies and we would respect all the same laws we already do in regard to the care of the land and forests. But we would be her equals.”

          “Why would she agree to that?” Caladin asked.

          “Because,” Philipus said. “We will not give her a choice in the matter. I want you to demonstrate our magical might. Force her to choose between being allies or enemies. We already occupy the land. With these new undead soldiers, our military might will soon be impossible to ignore. Make her see reason.”

          “And if she won’t?” Caladin asked.

          “Then we will declare our independence. This is happening with or without her support. Explain to her that I would prefer to do it with her support. Your people want a home as well, do they not?”

          Caladin nodded. “They do. You’re right. It would be better if we get her to agree peacefully.”

          “I knew you would understand,” Philipus said. He patted Caladin on the shoulder affectionately. “I will give you the details on the morrow. I already have a teleportation circle that can take you straight over.”

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