The Butcher of Gadobhra

The cold night wore on. The Red Banner's patrols were pulled in before either the horses or the riders froze to death. It was tight-packed within the enclosure of the wagons with the horses in the central area and wouldn't have been possible without the threat of freezing to death outside. The horses trusted their riders, and Rolly moved among the mounts, talking to them and calming them. Whatever the humans thought of him, the horses were reassured by his presence and the explanation of the dangers outside in the cold. And his offer of an extra feedbag of groats went over well. The humans were tired but managed a few hours of sleep in shifts after ensuring their horses were groomed, warm, and well-fed. The ground under the wagons was warm enough to sleep, with their mounts only a few feet away.

The Contract Workers grabbed a quick nap if needed, but most of them stayed awake all night, keeping watch, eating barbeque, and drinking beer. The long workday hadn't been any more strenuous than what they normally did in Sedgewick, and far more interesting. Any worries about a battle were minor. So far nothing had attacked, and as usual, the effects of Endure made any anxieties fade away. And for most of them, death was just a time-out and a quick trip back to Sedgewick.

To make more room inside the tight enclosure, Ozzy absorbed all the heat from his pit and filled it in. The Fire Mages that had huddled around it were all sleeping, some for the first time in days. They were all well-fed, and most were drunk from imbibing Blud Dark and Suzette's wine. They'd wake up in the morning with a headache, but partially restored and mostly healed of any minor wounds. Near them, Evinda Franklin sat cross-legged, singing and strumming on her lute. The words varied, but the melody was the same, beating out a Bardic Tune of Restoration.

Rolly and Ben didn't sleep at all. The two kept watch all night, Rolly feeding Ben information on the enemy troops spotted by his network of ducks. The magical cold was only at the lower levels and didn't affect the high-flying spies. Ben took down all the information Rolly shared with him, often with long discussions about what Rolly's spies had meant. Their descriptions of things were often vivid, but lacking certain details. But eventually, they pieced the information together and made it presentable for the General and her advisors. With a map of the area in hand, they went to visit Themis at the small fire where she, Captain Bernice, and Harmonia Franklin were discussing the plans for the next day. Ben noted that each had a large earthenware mug with their name painted on the side.

"Greetings, ladies, may my friend Roland and I join you? We bring you information on enemy troop movements gathered by his crafty spies." He put the parchment roll in Themis' hands and poured himself and Rolly beers from the nearby barrel. A brownie appeared with a fresh tray of ginger snaps, fresh from the oven.

Harmonia glanced at the two of them. "And just how does a Shepherd gather information in the dark of the night with this infernal cold threatening to kill everyone."

Rolly answered, "Ducks."

Ben added, "He gets along well with them. They are daring spies and no one expects them. Even the Inquisition is jealous of their abilities in that regard."

She looked at Rolly and laughed. "I should be careful what I say then. I have ducks swimming in my garden ponds at Franklin House, are you saying they are spying on me?"

The Courier sighed, "Please, it's best you not give him ideas."

Bernice and Themis were going over the map, "This is reliable? How old is the information?"

Rolly whistled and a large mallard dropped from the sky, using the narrow channel of heated air provided by Delbert, and landed on his outstretched arm, quacking a few times. "He says all of it is less than an hour old, but all the creatures they've been spying on are heading this way, staying out of sight when they can. Most of them have colors or clothing that naturally blends in with the snow."

Themis considered their options. They were nearly surrounded. Running would simply deprive them of their fortifications. "They'll hit us just as the sky lightens and their troops can see to charge. We've got an hour. Get people up, but tell them to keep the noise down. I want the horses saddled and the cavalry ready to charge out. They can outrun what they can't outright, and hit the flanks if they try a frontal assault on the barricades. Let the sleeping mages sleep, we wake them last. And tell Ozzy I want his surprises ready to go."

Rolly and Ben grinned at each other. "Yes ma'am. We'll get that set up. I believe the Butcher has already assembled them. You have some targets in mind?"

She pointed at two places on the map. "Tell him to light up these two, then move to any high-density areas of troops. I'm sure with your spy network you can help him find targets."

The two saluted and ran off to find the Butcher and help him get the catapults in position and ready to fire.

In his quarters made of blocks of glacier ice, Callendrish Maer sat, glaring at the book in front of him. The tome was huge, nearly two feet high, more than a foot wide, and six inches thick. The thick paper of its pages was precisely cut and trimmed in gold. The cover was a work of art, pale leather embossed with arcane runes. The edges and spine were bound in brass with silver and steel rivets in interesting patterns. Every part of it was heavily imbued with mana and the parts fit together perfectly, their auras blending into a pleasing whole. It promised secrets that he would kill for and he was becoming obsessed with unlocking it. The name itself was intriguing.

'The Secrets of Frustrating Idiots and Confounding Your Enemies. Compiled editions 1-17by Dr. Damien Franklin'

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Even in the far North, Dr. Franklin was a legend. He had defied the Emperor for over two centuries, outwitting the Inquisition, laughing at the warmland Mage's Guild, insulting them at every chance, and doing as he pleased, in thrall to no one. Callendish Maer wanted his secrets, and he would do what the idiots at the college had failed to do, and unlock the secret of the puzzling lock that kept the book secured. Dr. Franklin didn't want just any Mage to know his secrets and had hidden them behind an enchanted puzzle that only the most clever and worthy Mage could decipher.

So far, everything Callendish had tried, had ended in failure. Often with painful results. He'd been shocked, burned, frozen (a pleasant surprise that cooled his burns), and afflicted with headlice. But he was close, he could feel it. Pushing mana into the symbols most associated with the ancient Circle of Eight caused one of the rivets on the spine to glow. He pushed it inward and was completely caught off guard as a greenish gas erupted from 8 small holes in the symbols. The Ice Mage slumped backward in his chair and began to snore.

General Fabian found him that way as he came to report that the troops were in place and ready and hoping for last-minute advice on how to start his first war. He wasn't foolish enough to disturb his master and was surprised as he'd never known him to sleep before. With no other options, he reviewed the advice in the pamphlet again and ordered his underlings to begin the attack.

With the cavalry mounted and deploying to either side of the wagons, Ozzy and Jorges worked to set up the catapults. They decided to lift them from the wagons and deploy them in the center of the camp, giving them a better field of fire that wasn't dependent on turning a wagon. Ozzy had carefully unloaded the 'special ammunition' from his wagon and they'd loaded the first rounds and cranked the ropes tight. Rolly's wagon was in a spot nearby, its warning signs reminding everyone to stay away. As they finished setting everything up, they didn't need anyone to tell them the attack was starting. The ground shook and they could see three tall, blue-skinned humanoids taking ponderous steps toward them.

Themis was in the front wagon facing them. She turned to the catapults and made it clear where she wanted the first shots to go. She had several couriers behind her, already mounted and ready to charge out the small opening at the back of the camp to give orders to the cavalry commanded by Harmonia and Captain Bernice.

To the left of the Jotun marched fifty Rime Knights in heavy plate armor armor, shields, and large swords. Their white and steel armor glittered like sunlight on ice crystals.

To the right was a horde of two hundred decrepit humanoids wearing ragged clothing and rotted leather armor. These were the Ice Walkers, clans of once-men who betrayed the Northern Mages and were cursed to fight in their armies. They could be hacked apart only to rise again the next winter, their souls pulling together what was left of their bodies and fusing it with ice, snow, and frozen dirt. Only powerful magic or fire could release their souls.

Behind the Ice Walkers was a cabal of two dozen Ice and Storm mages. They were exhausted from a long night of holding the temperature around the warmlanders so low that even an Ice Drake would seek a place by the fire. General Fabian was not impressed with their efforts, despite their protests.

"You told me that most of the warmlanders would be frozen corpses and few would survive your Continuous Wave of Frost. Yet I see their annoying light cavalry deploying to either side of their camp. One would think that certain people slacked in their duty to Winter. I was looking forward to loading their frozen mounts on a sleigh and hauling them North to eat at the Festival of the Aurora."

"Look, Fabian..."

"Excuse me?!"

All of the cabal was having trouble adapting to the reality of Fabian being in charge and prayed to the Crone that Callendish Maer would emerge from his isolation soon.

"Apologies...General Fabian. But we did our job. Do you see a towering inferno of fire? No. That was us. Do you see any of the Mages from the college standing with their troops? No, that was us. Our cold did its job and they are shivering in their boots, easily killed. I'm surprised those horses can even walk. Only one in ten will charge and the others die as they try to move their frost-bitten limbs. They may even be preparing to flee from the battle, knowing it is lost."

General Fabian knew a rebellion when he saw one. None of these people respected him, jealous of his rapid promotion. But his pamphlet reminded him of how to use them. "Fine. I will admit that you are brave and useful and should take part in this battle. You can handle the annoyances if they try to move behind us, other than that, heal the Knights and Jotun if they become injured. My other troops will crush the warmlanders. Are the snarlfangs hungry and ready to eat?"

Five Beastmasters sat in a circle, chewing frozen meat and concentrating on the links to their beasts. An apprentice answered the General's question. "They are, sir. They can emerge from hiding and cross the intervening distance quickly." The Beastmasters said nothing, their eyes blind as they looked out through the eyes of their soul-bound creatures.

"Tell them to charge the back of the wagons!" He lifted a large horn to his mouth to blow it, getting only a squeak. Snarling, he handed it to the Rime Champion acting as his bodyguard, who blew three long blasts on the horn. The army of Winter surged forward, led by the three Jotun.

The horn was answered by the snapping of ropes and creaking of timbers stress to their limits as five of the Baron of Gadobhra's finest catapults threw fiery death into the sky.

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