“Yes. Apparently they are becoming very, very confident in their raiding for slaves and the like, preying upon all communities in the area, but always retreating into the trackless lands of the Fen, where no army can follow.” King Antius’ ire was clear to see, and quite believable. Darkmoor had been founded on military strength and the wills and strong arms of its natives, and not being able to reach a foe engaging in something as vile as slavery had to be infuriating.
I sent out a mental note via Marks that we were going to be repaying the generosity of the king for his training with a rescue mission for him. It didn’t stop anyone from their current activities, but the sense of expectation and excitement of getting to test their new skills against true enemies was immediate!
I flicked up a Holo between us, making the King blink. It was an overhead view of the North and the surrounding areas, nigh-photographic in quality. I supplied the rough borders as I knew them from hand-drawn maps, overlaying the image, and then zoomed in on the border area of the Vile Fens and the Lochs barony.
“Do you know where the base of operations for the slavers is?” I asked King Antius calmly, my professional demeanor bringing his own back into play.
“…No,” he admitted unwillingly. “The Fens are huge in area and trackless, with many hostile creatures and natives who care nothing for civilized men, or have fled there to escape justice or their enemies. Moving a large force through the place is both difficult, and would be ambushed from all sides, most likely. We’ve never been able to track a force into there, and our attempts to Scry on the Baroness have all ended in failure.”
“If it’s a cult, it will have a church or temple, and thus be able to call on divine magicks to defeat normal Scrying effects, or they might simply have the wealth to line their walls with lead paint,” I explained for him, watching the light dawn in his eyes. “I will be able to locate it in minutes,” I promised, adding blinking in disbelief to his gaze. “I will insert from above in the middle of the swamp, and Commune with the Land. A temple to an alien god with so many humans about it will stand out like a screaming Beastial waving a torch in the night on an open plain.
“Once I have located the temple, I will be able to both insert with my Company and effect the rescue of the Baroness… and I will be able to set up a Teleportation Circle from, say, right here to the edge of the stronghold. Something you could move an army through.”
His dark eyes narrowed grimly. “Your magic is so powerful as to bring an army across the breadth of the land into the heart of the enemy?” he murmured.
“It is a Valence IX. I believe Daffid the Red might be able to Cast it, were he to know the spell. How long will it take you to gather the men for an assault on the place?” I asked him directly.
“I can have a thousand men ready within an hour. Three thousand within a day.” He hesitated. “More knowledge of what I am about to face would be extremely useful, of course.”
“Of course. My report shall be satisfactorily in-depth. Gather your officers, I will be relaying what I am seeing through Master Hanvol, who will display it for all of you with the appropriate illusions.”
“We will be up in the Gaming Parlor, Lady Edge! Thank you for your aid in this!” he stated formally, giving me a deep bow.
“It is nothing, repaying your own kindness and efforts,” I waved dismissively, which earned me a tight smile of appreciation. “Master Hanvol will join you shortly up there.”
He nodded, turned on his heel, and issued orders to the aides who were following him readily. The messages went on, the men off and running to deliver them, while I bade Duum return from his free-wheeling flights over the cliffs and walls of the city, by now a familiar sight with his unique black and crimson patterns.
He’d also ripped apart a hydra, a giant centipede, several ogres, and some tentacled floating thing called a grell that had come out of Castle Darkmoor over the past few weeks, saving the local guards time and effort they appreciated, especially since they got to help with the kills.
All my important possessions were with me all of the time, in Deeppockets linked to a certain lich’s Portable Hole. I was ready to go with no delays.
There were a dozen important men, military officers and members of the Council of Regents alike, waiting around the large table in the upper room of the Thisbean Inn. The Gaming Parlor itself had recently been expanded with a movable wall, revealing a second chamber that doubled the size of the room overall, making it more suitable for councils of war. Given the natural security of the Inn, this had become a de facto base of operations for the powerful of Darkmoor when they had to meet over the past month, not the least because two extremely powerful elven mages, stronger in magic than any elf they’d ever heard of (or any of their elven allies had ever heard of, either) were present with magical aptitude and knowledge that overshadowed and awed even the best of the Wizards in the North.
The fact the two elven Wizardesses seemed utterly uninterested in the politics of the North was immensely reassuring to these nobles, too, and their friendship and respect for the king likewise intimidated some of the less than enthusiastic nobles of Darkmoor as well.
Hanvol of Absoglor had grown up in that great trade city of Federyn, the nation’s conduit to magical Zanzyr, the nomads of the Tukhman Khanate, and even the lands of Rukheim. He had been allocated to liaise with the king because his skills were largely superfluous for the upcoming mission, and he was among the more diplomatic members of the Free Company overall, capable of dealing with other cultures and races without batting an eye.
That was not to say he was not skilled. Elves grew in Levels at half the speed of most humans, which meant his own magical skills had quickly outpaced those of the elves of the Company. He was the second-most powerful spellcaster there now, having caught up to and surpassed even Revered Cruxin.
Lady Edge wanted him to join one of the Secret Societies of Zanzyr, preferably that of the Air or Fire Elementalists. The supplemental skills would be useful, and certainly wouldn’t hurt his other powers. Life under her direction promised to be exciting and fulfilling, in more ways than one, as the additional twenty pounds of muscle on his once-scrawny frame attested to.
He was already far too skilled to become a student at the university… at least, not without some magical help restricting his seeming Level, a fine trick he was considering using, as many Zanzyran mages looked down their noses at any spellcasters from outside their nation, not without some justification.
Wizards in Darokin were known for their mercantile expertise, not their magical aptitude, after all. His battlecasting, however, was first rate, as a result of all the fighting during their trip through time. It showed in his posture and alert eyes, and the way spells were ready to trip off his tongue and fingers.
Marius the Bronze, the extremely tall Darkmoor wizard from the south, was still his superior in Casting, but Rimblefyr, the native-born plant-lover and alchemist, was perhaps on a par, and Hanvol was sure he could take the man in a true fight. He’d spoken with both of the men at length, and magically they all had much in common, with fine points known to each that the others didn’t have, while sharing many fundamental understandings of the same principles of magic.
“Gentlemen and ladies, I am Hanvol of Absoglor, a wizard of the Free Company,” he greeted them all calmly, his Darokin-style knickers and jacket having started a minor fashion craze here in the North, one fought forcibly by other wizards who loved their robes. “Please turn your attention to the far wall and be seated. I will be broadcasting an illusion there for the duration of this meeting. Lady Edge is supplying me with a literal eye’s-view of her progress.”
He turned and focused on the Eternal Lights there, his will reaching out as he’d been taught and rapidly dimming them to no brighter than candles. It was a subtle but powerful display of skill, earning him some glances from the multiple spellcasters present at his deftness.
“Lady Edge is currently at the edge of the Vile Fens and Loch Occlur, inserting via Linejump from altitude.”
On the far wall, the Spectral Force, which would last as long as he concentrated upon it, swirled into view, supplying all the light in the room.
It was a view of the world from twenty miles in the sky, a mass of green, brown, and blues lying underneath swathes of white, drawing murmurs of wonder from those watching, who’d naturally never seen such a perspective.
A familiar hand in a gauntlet of black lace waved across the bottom of the view, and everyone there abruptly realized they were indeed watching out of Lady Edge’s own eyes!
The clouds obstructing the view went glassy transparent, and the full view of the Vile Fens, visible for hundreds of miles, sprawled out beneath them.
There was a click, like the image paused, and then a blur of acceleration, screaming down for the ground at impossible speed. Two of the warriors threw themselves out of their seats reflexively as the ground slammed up to them… and abruptly the illusion showed the shore of a lake, trees, and the sounds of the swamp rang out softly around them.
The overhead image of the Fens appeared off to one side and turned slightly, a glowing dot pulsing at the center of it.
Magic swirled in the image, overlaying reality with hues and colors that had Casters and normal men alike wincing and looking away to spare their eyes. It was the sight of the Sublime Chord, and few could look upon it and understand what it actually was without some effort.
Hanvol could see the Primal magic, Summoning, and Divination effects swirling through it as Lady Edge called upon the Land, and the Land answered her.
Around her, the lake went strangely calm, the birdcalls and the buzzing of insects going quiet. Even the wind died down, the effect so noticeable everyone was looking around, wondering what was happening.
The image off to the side began to glow and change.
In an instant, every single waterway and channel within a hundred miles was a part of that image. Likewise, every speck of solid land was instantly mapped out and apparent. Sites of magic flickered and swam into existence in various colors, three of them quite foul.
The abodes of beasts of magic and power rippled into place, and after them came the many scattered homes of men.
The largest of those overlaid one of those sites of foul magic.
The image on the side zoomed forward on that locus, and suddenly a rough topographical map was in place there.
A fairly large island in the middle of a swampy area. The whole area was covered with towering trees, cypress and willows grown to immense sizes. Life signs pulsed into existence, some benign and natural, others malevolent and alien in their hues… and there were a great many of the latter, spreading out from the blank spot of the area at the middle of the mapping for miles in every direction, like the center of a sore oozing pus into the swamp.