Art by Melissa Conway and N.A. Soleil
Narrated by Shae Strong and Randell Moore
Hesa unconsciously blurting the name of the Golden Paladin’s most recent life — a name that no one but Spiraea and the denizens of Godholme should know had anything to do with the Golden Paladin himself — was a shock, but not exactly something he could deal with, now that the first tower literally loomed over the horizon.
The sense among the troops was one of tense anticipation. They’d been on the road for weeks and had trained for even longer. They’d been officially blooded in their first real battle. It was high time to strike a real victory against their enemy.
The Golden Paladin lowered his spyglass and scowled. “Confirmed, conflux at the apex of the tower. What looks like blue lines connecting the conflux to something below. Tower’s construction unknown, but not amberrock, for certain. Anything to add from a magus perspective, Lady Hesa?”
Tiann’a, next to the Golden Paladin, quickly scribbled his words onto a parchment, then glanced up at Hesa to await her input.
“Ah — I can elucidate the tower’s construction,” she said with a grimace. “It’s magestone, not native to here, so they must’ve brought it in somehow. It’s similar to amberrock in that it has mana-conductive properties, though not in the same fashion. Off-planet mages use it to build towers. It’s used to support mana in a place that isn’t inherently generating it like a planet would.”
“Will that pose us a problem?” the Golden Paladin asked.
“Not a problem, per se. But it complicates things, because of the mana-flow support. We may end up having to bring the whole place down to stop the conflux.”
The Golden Paladin was silent while he considered this. They hadn’t brought large-scale siege weaponry, so if physically destroying the tower became a necessity, things would get much more complicated.
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” he sighed finally.
The alarm for an approaching attack rang out over the camp, echoing in the eerie quiet of tens of thousands of people suddenly becoming very still. Though, that lasted only a split second before exploding into tumultuous noise of soldiers clomping into their well-drilled positions, people shouting, noncombatants sprinting for cover, the beasts of burden howling with the sudden activity, and the subtle sub-heard hum of magic as Hesa-trained mages put up bubbles of protection around the groups forming.
Hesa leapt with preternatural agility to take her position on the platform atop the command wagon; the Golden Paladin jumped to the ground, landing with a thud just as a breathless scout ran up to him. Tiann’a had disappeared instantly to direct her own troops.
“Mages,” the scout gasped. “Fifteen. Black robes.”
The Golden Paladin gave a curt nod of understanding and the scout disappeared into the crowd. Fifteen was no small number, given the devastating power that mages were capable of, and black robes meant that their specialty was devastation. A grim calm overtook him.
This would be their first real test.
Scouts continually fed him information while he moved like a shark through the reefs of clustered groups ready for combat, either relaying orders or offering a word of reassurance and encouragement. At the same time, he was always keeping an eye on the skies. They had a scant few minutes between the alarm and engagement, and those minutes passed in a blink.
Another alarm rang out, this one to signal that the targets were within visual range. Silence coiled like a spring among the groups waiting for the final signal to attack.
The Golden Paladin stopped — a cluster of black-robed bodies (he quickly counted fourteen) were within sight, floating just off the ground. His gaze swept up to find the final mage floating above the others and slightly behind, standing on nothing. Cold dread poured through his veins. Hesa was too far away now for him to get her opinion, but his instincts told him that was their leader, and they were likely a formidable mage, indeed.
His chance to analyze was cut short as the final alarm rang out and the world exploded into activity. The black-robed mages scattered instantly, lobbing high-powered destructive spells. The Golden Paladin’s rage darted through him like a lightning strike: the bastards were aiming for noncombatants and soft targets… because of course they were.
Baleraphon had been intentionally stationed near the most vulnerable areas in anticipation of this tactic, so many of the mages’ spells rocketed back at them as he darted back and forth with speed belying his bulky frame. His constant chastising shouts rang over the noise.
The troops outfitted in amberrock armor and weaponry were their first line, and they held admirably, despite the tide of mana washing over them. The pixies’ and brownies’ arrows rained in a constant flurry. Their own mages countered and cast disruptive magic of the black-robed mages. Tiann’a’s squads of half-giant gunners took shots of opportunity with shotguns firing slugs the size of cannonballs.
Yet through all of that, the Golden Paladin noticed two things almost immediately.
One: Hesa had not entered the fray, yet.
And two … all of their attacks were doing absolutely nothing.
Swearing mentally, he sprinted back towards the command wagon. He needed to convene with Hesa immediately and figure out what brand of damned magic was keeping them from doing any damage, before their troops gave out. It was probably only a matter of —
— THOOM.
The Golden Paladin blinked up at the sky from his new position on his back, though his confusion lasted only a moment. He scrambled to his feet, only to pause again to take in a surfeit of new information. The black-robed mages were no longer in the air, and their leader had vanished.
Before he could even process what had happened, a groan floated toward him from nearby. Whipping out the sword given to him by Andural, he stabbed at the black-robed body before his mind had even caught up. The mage twisted and shrieked — the Golden Paladin felt a rush of mana — and burst into the briefest of fireballs before crumbling to ashes.
Panting, the Golden Paladin straightened and surveyed his surroundings. Similar vignettes of death were playing out across the camp, followed crisply by shouts of ‘all clear.’ When the thirteenth ‘all clear’ rang out, the Golden Paladin bellowed: “Squad leaders, sit-rep. Command headquarters. Five minutes.”
Wiping his sword on his cloak to clear it of detritus, he sheathed it, then rushed to Hesa’s location, overcome with the need to figure out what had happened and how Hesa had been involved. He was positive that the wave of force had come from her, but what had she done?
Hesa saves the day with her uber magic!! But what the heck happened, and who was that dangerous leader mage? Find out next time! See you next month!
N.A. Soleil is a portmanteau pseudonym of the two authors' names.
