Theurgy: Forsaken Oaths (Book Two)

Chapter 38 A Knight of the Empire

Gabbes sighed. "It is rather unorthodox for one so young to be put into the program. There are written tests and other things we must consider before we . . ."

"I'm sure he will do fine," Wilbur ruffled his son's hair. But Lyse seemed rather curious of Gabbes. His eyes seemed to peer through him, a look of hope and attentiveness that he rarely sees in his students.

Gabbes sighed. "Very well, he may start in a month, Sir Wilbur and Mrs. Celia."

"Thank you," Wilbur said, shaking his hand. And before they left, Lyse gave Gabbes a salute. That was the first time anyone had ever saluted him unprompted. And he would soon come to realize what Wilbur meant, truly. Seeing Lyse grow under his wing, alongside his brother. Seeing the atmosphere that he developed, where everyone admired and aspired. To think such a person could thrive under him was a wonder in and of itself. And now those boys are princes to the entire kingdom. They were both now renowned knights in such a short amount of time, and he was one of a few who truly understand how hard they fought to be where they are as men. There was pride there. Honor in seeing them succeed as they do. And he will continue helping them as long as he has the ability to do so. And this battle, he is sure, will be the first in many.

He looks over, seeing Gray fiddling with the reigns of his horse. They had been traveling for a few hours to meet this party meant to encircle them. This small portion of the legion, the cavalry, and a few canNons was all that they could afford to send beyond the walls. "Nervous?"

"You aren't?" he asked back.

"Well, you aren't wrong to be sp, considering what we will be facing," Gabbes told him. "But we can't well just let them as they please. If they do completely surround us, this siege will be that much more difficult to get through. We must protect the south."

"Yeah yeah," Gabbes let out a slow breath. "So what's the plan?"

"The plan?" Gabbes chuckled. "We hope to outmaneuver them of course, take a position upon a hill and hit them as hard as possible. But these are Boreans, they are a persistent bunch. And who knows how many of their sorcerers will be among them."

"And that's where we come in, I suppose?" Gray sighed.

"Well, you are the most powerful one here using that saber," he pointed to the blade Gray carried.

Gray chuckled. "Well, we'll see what the Zethans have to say about that."

"Sir Gabbes," a scout suddenly rode upon them. "Enemies back on the move south. They appear to be many ground forces, some on horseback but no siege equipment in sight."

"Did you manage to see any of their sorcerers by chance?" Gabbes asked, but the scout shook his head. He took a map out that Edlund and a few of the Boreans drew up of the surrounding areas. "Then we'll play this safe. Have the canNons moved over to this hill here, we'll cut them off there. Have two hundred men hold back and prepare to flank them. We'll squeeze them from either side if need be."

"Yes, sir," the scout said and immediately ran off to relay this information to the other officers.

Gabbes turned to Gray. "You'll be leading the flank. Wait for the signal, and open up for them to follow."

"You make all sound so easy," Gray said, though he pulled forth his saber, and pulled his horse off to join the men preparing to make a wide arc to the other side of the path. But Gabbes knew that something was missing. No dragons, no siege equipment? How did they plan on holding this portion of the siege, or were they just hoping they would not retaliate? He knew very well that these questions and many more were going to be answered with this battle, whether they succeed, or succumbed to this northern force. He knew he couldn't be too careful, however. Though the Boreans aren't as organized and structured as the Thirian's legions, they are not fools, and their tactics, though simple, can be extremely effective if given the chance. And the fact that no sorcerers had been spotted was all the more perplexing. He made sure that no force was making their own flanking maneuvers, but the scouts came back with no such word The enemy marched on, seemingly oblivious to their movements. A force of two thousand strong? In every scenario that he and Edlund could concoct of this battle, their enemy would be an overwhelming force impossible to behold, able to crush all. But something was wrong, deeply wrong. He could feel it.