Troy Denning - Beyond the High Road

The princess reached the rim of the cliff to find a stream of orcs pouring between two toppled wagons, stampeding over the fallen bodies of four burly caravan guards. A quavering battle yell rose from the women and merchants huddled together in the center of the circle, and they edged forward to meet their foes.

Tanalasta fingered her signet ring, then pictured the royal magician’s face inside her mind. “Vangerdahast?”

He came into view, a faint gray silhouette two hundred paces beyond the caravan, rising from behind a sandy ridge, swinging a wooden staff over his head and flinging a ball of fire into the air. The sphere arced over the wagons and crashed down in the heart of the orcs’ charge, licking out around their crooked legs and curling skyward in a flash of scarlet. The swiners disintegrated into columns of sooty black smoke and writhing heaps of ash, and on the wind came the anguished squeals of the dying.

A trio of blackened swiners stumbled from the conflagration haloed in fumes and flame. A swarm of women and merchants were on them instantly, thrusting and jabbing with their spears until the orcs collapsed in burning heaps.

Yes? Vangerdahast’s voice came to Tanalasta inside her head. I’m rather busy now, if it isn’t important.

The wizard leveled his staff, and half a dozen forks of lightning struck down a mob of orcs trying to overturn a heavy wagon. On the opposite side of the circle, Tanalasta noticed another throng about to overpower a trio of weary caravan guards.

Trouble on the righter, your left. Tanalasta spoke the words within her head. About half way down. I can see everything from up here.

Of course. Did you think I only meant to rob you of the fun?

Vangerdahast thrust his staff into its saddle holster, then pulled something from the sleeve pocket of his robe and flicked his fingers in the indicated direction. A yellowish mist appeared over the orc throng and settled groundward. Any warrior touched by the haze let the weapon slip from his grasp and collapsed in an unmoving heap. For the sake of the caravan guards, Tanalasta hoped the cloud had been sleep magic and not a death spell.

The support riders finally appeared behind Vangerdahast, their bodies pressed tight to the necks of their galloping mounts as the beasts struggled in vain to keep pace with the royal magician’s peerless stallion. The men carried swords in their hands and wore bucklers fastened to their arms, but it seemed to Tanalasta that by the time they caught the wizard, their poor horses would be too exhausted to carry the fight.

As Vangerdahast closed to within a hundred paces of the battle, he drew his staff from its holster again. He tucked the back end under his arm and began to swing the tip back and forth, casting crackling bolts of lightning down one side of the wagon circle and sizzling meteors along the other. Orcs dropped by the dozens, and soon the ones at his end of the circle began to fall back in confusion. The weary caravan guards paused long enough to glance in his direction and raise their swords in thanks, then rushed to help their hard-pressed companions closer to Tanalasta’s end of the fight.

It did not take the angry orcs long to determine the source of their trouble. As Vangerdahast closed to within seventy paces of the wagons, a large swiner on the right began squealing commands and shoving his fellows toward the charging wizard. Ignoring the constant stream of death flying at them from the end of Vangerdahast’s staff, more than fifty orc warriors streamed forward to place themselves between the royal magician and the caravan.

Vangerdahast veered off to attack from another angle.

Wrong way! Tanalasta warned. The leader’s on the other side. If you can-

I know… what to do! Vangerdahast’s retort was labored.

I was winning… battles for Cormyr… before your father was king!

The royal magician reined his horse around, angling across the plain toward the opposite side of the caravan. A boisterous cheer rose from the orcs who had gathered to stop him, but Vangerdahast quickly demonstrated their error by lobbing a fireball into their midst. The wizard’s support riders cut the corner and finally caught up to their ward, taking positions to the rear and on both flanks.

The orc leader glared in Vangerdahast’s direction, then pushed more of its fellows forward and scurried off at an angle. When the wizard did not adjust his course, Tanalasta realized that either his view was blocked or he was having trouble separating the leader from the orcs around it.

A pie slice to the right, Tanalasta ordered.

A pie slice? Despite his mocking tone, the wizard reined his horse hard to the right.

I said a slice, not a whole quarter! Tanalasta corrected. The size of Vangerdahast’s belly should have given her a clearer idea as to what he considered a slice. The orc you want is larger than the rest, with a blocky head and pointed muzzle.

Got him!

A bolt of lightning crackled from the tip of Vangerdahast’s staff, blasting apart a simple warrior whom the leader happened to shove forward at that moment. The commander hurled himself to the ground and disappeared into the swirl around him. The wizard loosed another spell from his staff, engulfing the entire area in a huge fireball.

Vangerdahast and his companions reached the wall of swords and tusks the leader had been shoving forward to stop them. The wizard paid the swiners no attention at all, simply urging his mount onward as orcish steel shattered against his horse’s breast. His companions, lacking his magic shielding, had to rely upon more conventional defenses, pushing through the wall in a flurry of slashing blades and flashing hooves.

Once they were past, Vangerdahast wheeled around long enough to spray the orc wall with a stream of flame, then worked his way toward the wagons at a walk, scattering orcs before him with bolt and flame-and sometimes with a mere wave of the staff. The wizard’s escorts had nothing to do but sit on their horses and look mean. Their foes did not dare approach close enough to engage.

The caravan guards were just starting to drag a wagon aside to let Vangerdahast into the circle when Tanalasta noticed the orc commander crouching behind a small boulder, wetting the tips of several long spears in an earthenware vessel. A handful of orc warriors were peering over the top of the boulder, nervously watching Vangerdahast and holding the spears their leader had already dipped.

Vangey, the leader’s still alive, Tanalasta warned. Behind you about twenty paces, a little to the left.

The wizard stopped his horse and gestured for the merchants to close their perimeter. Small slice or a large one?

About an eighth of the pie, Tanalasta replied. Behind that boulder where they’re bunching up. Be careful. They’ve got spears, and they’re dipping the tips in something.

Vangerdahast’s only reply was a chuckle. He returned his war staff to its saddle holster, then took the shield from one of his support riders and passed his hand over it. Tanalasta could not see what he was sprinkling on it, but she did see his lips moving as he uttered the incantation.

The orcs began to regain their wits, forming a broad semi-circle around Vangerdahast and his three companions. Vangerdahast paid them no attention, continuing to pass his hand over the buckler and mouth arcane syllables. This seemed to distress his foes far more than his death-flinging staff, a fact Tanalasta suspected the wizard of intentionally playing up. While he undoubtedly knew many spells that took this long to cast, he was far too cunning to use one in the middle of a combat. A nervous squalling began to arise from the ranks of the orcs. Twice, a handful of brave warriors attempted to initiate a general charge, only to stop dead in their tracks the moment the royal magician looked in their direction.