Date: Sat, 15 Aug 2015 14:19:34 +0000
From: George Gauthier <georgegauthierdc@gmail.com>
Subject: Elf-Boy's Friends 20

			Elf-Boy's Friends 20
			Portals
 			by George Gauthier

[The further adventures of characters from the novel 'Elf-Boy and Friends']

			Chapter 1. Visitors to Elysion

Six months after their fight with the bandits the rangers switched patrol
sectors once again. Aodh returned to Elysion while Brandon's cousins the
fully human boys Garret and Lorn joined the half-elf at the cabin which
left only three rangers at that post.

Madden Sexton and his full-elf colleague Dylan rotated along with Aodh to
Elysion and took up quarters in the ranger post on the edge of the village
and close to the manor. They looked forward to more of a social life than
they had had in the isolated cabin at the foot of the mountains. The two of
them got along well and were good friends but the elf fancied pretty boys
while the wir wolverine consorted exclusively with the female half of the
species. Social isolation was the reason the Forest Patrol intended to
close the hunting lodge in favor of rented accommodations at a nearby
wayfarers' inn, meals included.

In Elysion Madden's rugged good looks attracted the attention of the
unattached females in the local population. Very much an alpha male,
virile, outgoing, and a good conversationalist, the man was in his element,
playing the field, bestowing his favors on one pretty young thing after
another. Dylan's elvish good looks sparked the interest of more than a few
local boys, but Dylan had bigger game in mind: the famous twins Jemsen and
Karel. Dylan had a weakness for blonds, especially boys with brains. He had
no time for dumb people.

Dylan knew that the twins would soon arrive for an extended visit. Aodh had
offered to show Jemsen and Karel around the New Forest, as the exclave of
the Great Southern Forest was called these days. It was one part of the
Commonwealth the twins had never actually explored, and now it was
magically alive, a hundred thousand square miles of green sentience though
as yet only dimly self-aware.

The main section of the manor housed the Klarendes clan, Count Taitos
Klarendes, his heir Artor and his younger son Ebron, his spouse Aodh plus
the twins. The druids Dahlderon, Meirionnydd, and Owain occupied the
formerly little used east wing of the manor which the count had turned over
to them rent free. While Owain was of fully human stock, Dahl and
Meirionnydd were elves though they had all met while Merry wore the form of
a unicorn. The trio of lovers had the own chambers, offices, workshops, and
dining room though they frequently ate with their hosts. The Order of
Druids compensated the count for the services of his kitchens and stables
and other facilities though the druids brought their own personal staff
from their stronghold in the Great Southern Forest.

From time to time Count Klarendes invited Aodh's colleagues in the rangers
to join the family and the druids for dinner. He very much enjoyed the
stories Madden spun of his many adventures over the last three
centuries. And if some of the tales sounded rather improbable, well that
made them no less entertaining especially when related by as engaging a
story teller as the wir wolverine.

"It's too bad Count Klarendes that your friend Drew Altair is on assignment
with the Navy. I had rather hoped he would interview me for a book
portraying my adventures."

"The book was my suggestion, Taitos," Aodh said. "a way for Madden to
relate the mighty deeds which have contributed to his growing legend, as he
puts it."

"Oh?" Karel said. "How is it that I have never heard of your legend? No
offense Lord Sexton."

"None taken, youngling. The fact is that most of my exploits happened on
the eastern continent of Karelia. Little wonder then that I am still so
little known here in Valentia. Which is why I do not insist on the
honorific titles that have been conferred upon me by grateful governments,
so please just call me Madden."

"What honorific titles would those be?" Karel persisted.

"Very well young man. Know then that on formal occasions you should address
me as Lord Madden Sexton, Earl of Drangiana, Baron of Osrhoene, Conquering
Lion of Sogdiana, and Master of the Royal Hunt."

"That's a real mouthful!" Aodh grinned. "We ourselves all have titles
though we seldom insist on their use. I myself am simply Sir Aodh of
Llangollen and Elysion but my spouse is addressed in full as the Honorable
Taitos Klarendes, Chief District Magistrate, Dispenser of the Middle
Justice and the Low, Dwarf-Friend, Captain of Militia, Lord-Zamindar of
Elysion, and Count of the Eastern March".

"And our good friends the druids have variations on 'Lord Dahlderon, Senior
Adept of the Ancient Order of the Druids of Haven, Dwarf-Friend, Dispenser
of the High, the Middle, and the Low Justice, and Stalwart of the
Commonwealth'.

"Stalwart? Is that a military honor?" Madden asked.

"No," Klarendes replied. "It refers to the highest award for civilian
service the Commonwealth can bestow. Lord Dahlderon devised a way for his
fellow druids and magical Healers to enhance the vitality of valuable
citizens like our war wizards and others with magical gifts or who
otherwise had made important contributions to the Commonwealth. The twins
and Drew Altair were among the first beneficiaries."

"And lest you overlook us," Karel hastened to add in a exaggeratedly
orotund voice, "know gentles that you stand in the august presence of no
less than Captains Sirs Jemsen and Karel, Twice Holders of the Military
Cross for Valor, Elf-Friends, Dwarf-Friends, Giant Friends, Stalwarts of
the Commonwealth, and Masters in the Honorable Guild of Cartographers."

Jemsen smiled at his brother's sonorous delivery. In these occasional duels
of impressive titles Karel always laid it on thick.

"Gosh," Dylan complained, "All those capital letters while I don't have a
single title to my name."

"Maybe not yet, my young friend," Taitos assured him, "but you have plenty
of time to make your mark. As a long lived elf, you have centuries to
collect all the capital letters anyone could wish. Believe me, our own
titles are brief compared to those of nobles of truly ancient lineage. I
once met a duke who was proud of his fourteen hereditary titles though I
could not think why. It was not like he had earned them."

Dylan brightened, encouraged by Klarendes' assurances.

"Er, Madden, if you are a titled aristocrat, a man of means, why take a job
as a forest ranger?" Jemsen asked.

"I do draw a comfortable income from my estates, but I seldom live
there. As a predator, I am simply not cut out for the life of a gentleman
farmer. No offense, Count Klarendes."

"None taken. Your feelings are much like those which send my spouse on
walkabout from time to time."

"Indeed, which is why a job as a forest ranger appeals to both of us. And
it pays well enough that I really don't have to draw on the income from my
estates. In fact I am looking to invest large sums in some of the new
industries and businesses that have sprung up here in the Commonwealth. I
understand you yourself are an investor in iron roads, street cars, and
this new refrigeration business.  Perhaps you can give my some investment
advice?"

"I'd be glad to, and I can also introduce you to leading men of affairs in
the capital." Klarendes assured him.

"As for that book," Aodh added, "Drew Altair should be back soon. The naval
campaign is going well according to his dispatches and official
statements."

Drew Altair was on assignment as a war correspondent for the Capital
Intelligencer reporting on the seizure of the Ashokan Archipelago in the
southern reaches of the the Great Inland Freshwater Sea. Once secured the
Ashokan Islands would become the staging area for a full-scale invasion of
Amazonia or rather its liberation from the genocidal trolls. Together with
the naval base in the Scilly Isles in the northern reaches of the sea, the
Commonwealth would gain complete control of the sea lanes in the eastern
half of the gigantic lake.

Dylan quickly bonded with his fellow hunters and woodsmen Jemsen and
Karel. Dylan after all was an elf and the twins were elf-friends with all
that implies: going around skin clad as often as possible, same gender
sexual orientation, and a physical beauty beyond the norm. It wasn't just a
case of sexual attraction though that was a big part of it. Dylan and the
twins were just the same sort of people. And since they could looked
forward to centuries of youth, they hoped theirs would become a lasting
friendship.

The three youths certainly looked good together. Dylan was taller than the
twins and darkly handsome with the glabrous skin, lissome build, and smooth
musculature of his kind. Dark eyes twinkled over the killer cheekbones
characteristic of his race. For their part the twins were a pair of
palomino colts who exuded good health and sex appeal.

Between patrols Dylan and the twins liked to run over to the lakeside
resort which had a splendid view of the scenic waterfall and the perpetual
double rainbows its spray created overhead. Add in the reflections in the
lake and you had a quadruple rainbow. You really could not stand under the
cascade itself. The torrent was too powerful.

The lake water was pleasantly warm in the shallow coves and embayments but
the main part of the lake was deep and cool. A rock ledge about twelve feet
above the water was their favorite spot to dive from or rather to jump in,
boulder style with a tremendous splash.

"That's not diving!" Dylan snorted then proceeded to demonstrate several
graceful dives popular among the elves in his home vale. In one he
stretched his arms out wide like the wings of a swan before closing his
arms and knifing into the water. In another the did a forward somersault in
the air, and in another he bent forward in mid air, hands reaching for his
toes only to straighten out at the last second and slice cleanly into the
water, feet slipping under the surface last.

"Now that is what I call diving!"

The twins insisted he train them to dive as he did. Anyone could see that
fancy dives like those were splendid ways to show off the beauty and
athleticism of the male form. Okay so maybe the sport of diving owed as
much to sex appeal as to athletics, but it was a hell of a lot of fun and a
great way to meet new friends and catch the eye of potential suitors.

At midday the resort offered a light meal which was called lunch in
deference to the city folk for whom the main meal of the day was that
served in the evening. To country folk, dinner came at noon or thereabouts
and was the main meal with supper being a lighter repast of cheese, cold
meats, salads, and fruits. Since the count owned the resort, everything was
on the house.

The three youths sometimes made love outdoors though away from the resort
buildings. The gardeners had planted lawns and mossy banks and built bowers
and hidden nooks for the use of the honeymooners who were its chief
customers. The twins were past masters of the amatory arts, having early on
worked as rent boys to pay their way across the continent of Valentia in
the company of the elf-boy, now druid, Dahlderon, the shapeshifter Aodh,
and their mentor, the late Dread Hand of the Commonwealth Sir Balandur of
Leinster.

Druidical healing magic had granted the twinss perpetual youth and a life
span of half a millennium or more, to match that of their friends the
elves. The normal human lifespan was traditionally described as five score
and ten though these days many humans expected to reach a full score beyond
that. The really longest lived races on the planet of Haven were the Frost
Giants who lived for a thousand years and wirs and druids who had no
definite lifespan but lived till misadventure or foul play brought their
days to a close.

All three youths were hard-bodied outdoor types: hunters, scouts, and
rangers. Athletic and energetic and acrobatic, they made love with abandon,
limbs entangled in all manner of positions, their slick sweaty bodies
pressed together. As with the elves the twins' sweat glands cooled the skin
but never exuded the oils that turned rancid and produced body odor. Hence
the twins and Dylan always smelled sweet though they did taste salty.

Usually Dylan paired with the twins one at a time though sometimes they had
a three way. The young elf knew that he was born for male sex. He craved
the press of a male body against his own, rigid members trapped between
their bellies, both boys giggling at their brazen naughtiness as they
engaged in foreplay.

After a month, Dylan moved in with the twins in the main part of the
manor. Madden did not mind. He now had the cottage all to himself and could
entertain his lasses in complete privacy. Which was just fine with
Dylan. The walls of the cottage were thinner than those in their old log
cabin, which let the sounds of lusty sexual congress with Madden's female
guests penetrate Dylan's own bedchamber, much to the young elf's
dismay. Sex with a female? Ugh!

In Madden's case his bond with the twins was platonic, but the twins found
him to be an engaging informant, someone they would ply with endless
questions about the many lands he had explored, traversed, hunted, or
fought in. Jemsen and Karel resolved one day to visit the eastern continent
of Karelia themselves. After all hadn't the younger twin been named for it,
at least indirectly, after some ancestor who came from there?

The twins went along on patrols to the New Forest. Already it had a
different feel from other forests they had explored. Just beyond the bowl
in the mountain which cradled the valley of Elysion, a dense hawthorn hedge
marked its boundary. Far from being an impenetrable wall it was really a
sign to visitors that the rules were different here. This was a wilderness
and must always remain so. The hand of man would always lie lightly on the
landscape. No logging, mining, farming, or settlements of any kind were
allowed.

Already those sensitive to magic could feel the magical aura of the
sentient forest, a half-sensed presence, vast, non-judgmental, and
benign. Under the protection of the druids and the rangers this New Forest
would in time become a component of a system of protected forests around
the globe, preserving part of Haven as the wilderness it was before humans
and the other races settled the planet.

			Chapter 2. The Tunnel

"Sir, a dispatch rider has arrived from Army HQ in Dalnot." Klarendes'
steward told him, interrupting his midday meal. The count waved the courier
in and read the dispatch.

"This dispatch is addressed as much to you druids as it is to me. The news
is bad. It seems that long range air reconnaissance has detected an
incursion by the eastern barbarians. Mostly moving at night a sizable force
of fifteen thousand has marched west and is now close to the exit to the
strategic tunnel through the mountains. The garrison will not be able to
stop so many."

"What good could the tunnel do them, Father? This cannot be an attempt at
conquest, not with only fifteen thousand men." Artor asked.

"This could be the vanguard of a larger force or possibly the column is a
diversion to take our attention away from a threat to some other sector. Or
they may just be after loot starting with the output of the silver mine at
the western end of the tunnel, then the spoils of the towns and cities in
that corner of the Commonwealth. Raiders could seize portable wealth like
gold, silver, gems, silks, clocks and music boxes, weapons from the
armories of the militias, you name it."

"And for trinkets like that they are willing to kill hundreds, maybe
thousands, to lay waste the country, to burn crops and farms and towns?"

Dylan was outraged at the skewed values of the barbarians. Elves had little
use for tangible wealth of that sort. Silly baubles in their estimation. To
elves, the earth and its fruits were the truest sort of wealth.

"Sadly in this world of ours there are two kinds of people," Madden told
him. "those who add value and others who only subtract."

Klarendes pointed out that the field army of some forty thousand which the
Commonwealth maintained in the north country was stationed on the far side
of the Long River, a good ways from the threatened area. And their own Army
of the Plains numbering twenty-three thousand was based near the southern
end of the Eastern Plains, with most of its strength in and around the
garrison town of Dalnot.

Unlike the Commonwealth's great cities whose layout and architecture and
powerful militias made them fortresses even without city walls, the small
unwalled rural towns of that region were vulnerable to attack.

After some further discussion Owain spoke up, outlining a plan to deal with
the crisis. The first task was to block the tunnel to keep the barbarians
east of the mountains. Then the Army would bring the raiders to battle and
destroy them or at least expel them from the lands of the Commonwealth.

"You intend to use portals, don't you Owain?" Klarendes asked.

"Yes. Portals give the Commonwealth unparalleled strategic mobility. We
will use that mobility to block access to the tunnel. For that we will need
a couple of war wizards plus yourself and your son Artor, who, as a Hand,
can assume command of the tunnel garrison. You are both powerful
firecasters who can also wield white fire. I hope you do not have to
collapse the tunnel. Perhaps you can just incinerate the vanguard of the
raiders as they poke their noses into the tunnel."

"Sounds good but what happens next?"

"Dahl will open a gate to the capital to fetch a pair of war wizards and
bring them here. From Elysion the tunnel is just few steps away via a
second portal."

"And what about the main body of the invaders?"

"That is a job for the Army. Merry and I will open a wide portal for the
Army of the Plains which these days includes two regiments of Frost
Giants. I doubt though that their commanding general will send more than
half his force, lest this be revealed as a diversion."

"Which means our military will be outnumbered."

"True, but isn't that usually the case? The Commonwealth doesn't draft
levies of untrained and unwilling conscripts to fight its wars. We have a
professional army which is organized, trained, and equipped to defeat any
conceivable foe, and that army is backed by a well-rained militia which
makes the Commonwealth unconquerable. And these days we have a corps of
mages not just a few war wizards and an air corps which can bomb our
enemies with fire globes or incendiary kegs. Thanks to space portals our
forces have the advantage of strategic and tactical mobility. Our infantry
will be the anvil and the cavalry the hammer which will crush the
raiders. So we have every reason to expect a victory."

Everyone agreed that it was a good plan. The rangers were not disappointed
to stay behind. Madden had had his fill of warfare and Dylan knew he could
contribute little as one bowman among many. Anyway, forest rangers were not
in the military; they were civilian peace officers.

For similar reasons the twins too would stay behind and fill in for Aodh as
forest rangers. Doughty fighters though they were, the twins fought as
skirmishers or light infantry with missile weapons rather than in a line of
battle. Their talents were best employed on missions like scouting,
exploration, reconnaissance, and mapping, as in their forays to the Hot
Lands with Balandur, and more recently to the Far West, and then the Barren
Lands.

Eborn was intensely disappointed when told that he would have to stay in
Elysion just in case.

"In case of what?" he grumbled, but the stern look on his father's face
told him that further protest was useless. The family had a duty to protect
Elysion. The militia was well-trained, but it counted on magical backup by
the Klarendes family, and this time he was it.

Dahl opened a portal which looked much like an ordinary doorway except for
the silvery frame and a shimmer in the air. He stepped through to the
second floor of the Institute of Wizardry and Magic. There he located the
war wizard Sir Willet Hanford and his young aide, Sir Axel Wilde in their
laboratory. Sir Willet was surprised but quick on the uptake.

"So you druids have finally perfected the technique of space portals. Are
you going to share it with us war wizards? We are all on the same side, you
know."

"Er, not just yet Will, but soon. Count on it. We still have to work out
some of the kinks. It is tricky porting north or south because you have to
adjust for the difference in the rotational speed of the surface of the
planet at different latitudes. If not for this emergency, we would hold off
using it a while longer."

"By emergency you must mean the threat to the tunnel. We got word via Army
heliograph just this morning."

Sir Willet recruited his colleague Sir Rikkard who had to come without his
aide who was out of the building on an errand. Which meant that Axel would
have to do double duty as their single aide.

Though only lightly armed himself with a kukri and a sling, a wizard's aide
like Axel Wilde would nevertheless watch his mentor's back and cry out a
warning. If necessary Axel could even take down a foe with his gift of
Calling Light by englobing his head which scrambled the electric circuits
of his brain, as he had once done with a tawny panther about to pounce on
Sir Willet. He also carried the extra gear a wizard might need when
deployed tactically. And Axel was a trained combat medic who could keep a
wounded man alive till healers could get to him.

Axel's gift of unerring direction was another big help to Sir Willet,
sparing him the embarrassment of getting lost in the field. Sir Willet had
never got beyond the rudiments of what the Army grandly called the Art of
Land Navigation. For all his powers, the wizard would get lost in the wilds
more easily than most city folk.

After they suited up and collected their gear they all stepped back through
the portal to Elysion.

It wasn't like stepping through a doorway. Nothing happened till you got
your entire body through the portal which left you with a sense of falling
weightlessly for a half a second until you exited the far side. Evidently
this was when the druids adjusted for the difference in the rotational
speed at different latitudes.

Only moments had passed but already Merry and Owain had ported out to
Dalnot to brief the Army on the plan.

Since they were going off to war, all those in Dahl's group were in uniform
along with their weapons and gear. Dahl wore the robes of a senior adept of
the druidical order, with green tunic, camouflage cloak, and stout
sandals. The war wizards and aides were in green silks with leather
armor. The wooden yokes built into the armor of the wizards would let them
fly like birds. Artor wore the buff uniform of a Hand of the Commonwealth
including the white kepi recently adopted as standard headgear. Klarendes
himself wore his uniform as captain of the local militia. The young
shapeshifter wore his forest ranger uniform with a camouflage pattern based
on Sir Willet's research: brown with splotches and slashes of green and
black.

None of them had armed themselves heavily. Dahl had a quarterstaff and a
set of throwing knives, the wizards and their aides and Aodh had kukris to
which the wir added a sling while Klarendes contented himself with a sword
on a baldric, but such weapons were almost beside the point. These magic
wielders were living weapons. What need for a sword when you could fling
fire or lightning bolts?

With no time to lose, Dahl opened a portal to the tunnel for the Klarendes
father and son plus Aodh as their bodyguard and the two war wizards and
Axel.

The young captain in charge of the tunnel garrison was puzzled at the
sudden appearance of Dahl's party inside the fort just as they were getting
ready to resist the approaching enemy column. A hopeless task, but they had
to buy time for reinforcements or at worst a reaction force to avenge
them. A runner from the main post at the other end of the tunnel had
brought a message transmitted by army heliograph that the army was
mobilizing against the threat but likely could not get there in time.

"Who the hell are you? And how did you get past the gate? I heard no
challenge from the sentries."

"I am Lord Dalhderon, Senior Adept of the Order of the Druids of Haven. My
party includes Lord Artor here, who is a Hand of the Commonwealth."

Artor triggered the small magic which made his hand glow, proof that he was
indeed one of the Dread Hands of the Commonwealth a plenipotentiary agent
of the state with full authority to assume command of the garrison.

"I am Captain Fallon. All right, Lord Artor, it seems you are in
charge. Who are the rest of your party, and why do you think so few can
make a difference?

Artor made the introductions.

"We may be few but among us we number two war wizards and and two powerful
firecasters one of them my father Count Klarendes of Elysion, plus the
druid Lord Dahlderon. Never doubt that we can deny the tunnel to the
invaders."

The captain looked over the newcomers. One wore the formal robes of a
druid. Two older men wore army greens with leather armor marked with the
unobtrusive insignia of a war wizard plus a young aide with hair the color
of copper. Then there the father and son, Count Klarendes and Lord
Artor. All of them, except the impossibly cute twink with the slanted eyes,
carried themselves with authority and looked dangerously competent.

"I am starting to think we might actually get out of this alive." the
captain remarked. His company of less than two hundred soldiers would have
had no chance against even the the seven hundred strong vanguard, much less
an army of thousands.

"We need to retreat down the tunnel a way, say a tenth of the way in."
Artor told the captain, then added:

"That way the invaders will be nicely bunched up when we unleash our powers
on them. We'll stop them cold."

"Cold?" Aodh asked mischievously. "Don't you mean hot?"

"Very funny." Artor gave back. "Now why don't you make yourself useful and
carry a couple of those water skins. We are likely to get thirsty in the
next few hours."

Meanwhile the soldiers collected their weapons and valuables and rations
for a day and entered the tunnel which was wide enough for five to march
abreast. The floor of the tunnel was no rougher than many an unpaved path
in the woods while the ceiling rose a good ten feet above the walkway. The
walls were only roughly finished, exactly like those of the silver mine at
the far end.

Sir Willet's aide Axel Called Light, producing a cool blue-white globe of
illumination which hovered close to the ceiling. Axel was not the only one
with that particular magical gift. Two of the soldiers and Sir Rikkard did
the same. Some of the soldiers carried empty buckets for when nature
called. The Army was a practical organization, and field hygiene was ever
one of its concerns.

The soldiers had not set fire to the fort, figuring to reoccupy it soon
enough. The invaders would likely leave the fort alone when they reached
the tunnel.

"It is surprisingly cool here in the tunnel." Artor mentioned to Captain
Fallon. "And I can detect a current of air too."

"Yes, sir. The miners built ventilation shafts which work with wind
catchers and the configuration of the tunnel itself to induce a constant
current of air from west to east. So we won't have to worry that two
hundred men in one spot will make the air go foul."

Two hours later the barbarian vanguard entered the tunnel, moving forward
confidently, their way illuminated by two among them who could call
light. They had taken the abandoned fort as a sign that their enemies would
not offer resistance to the passage of their troops. In that hope they were
very much mistaken.

"Their lights are only a few hundred yards down the tunnel. It is nearly
time to give them a warm welcome Count Klarendes," Sir Rikkard said.

"Shall it be with streams of fire or with white fire? With four of us able
to wield both we could incinerate half their whole army."

"A pardonable exaggeration, though I appreciate your confidence. Actually I
anticipate only a vanguard will enter the tunnel. The main body is likely
still approaching on the plains. As to burning them, I am concerned that
our fires would destroy the timbers supporting the tunnel in this final
stretch and possibly bring down the ceiling. And it would be sure to leave
a grisly mess. No I have something else in mind. You know how we
firecasters create ice for our refrigeration business?"

"Of course. You release the latent heat from a pond into the air and turn
the water into ice. Is that your plan, to freeze the enemy solid?"

"No, not solid. We don't have to turn them to ice. All we have to do is
drop the temperature of their bodies about twenty degrees or so, below the
level necessary to sustain life. They will slump to the ground like
marionettes with their strings cut."

"It will be a merciful death: a sudden chill and shivering, then confusion
and lethargy followed by loss of consciousness and finally extinction. Dead
is dead, but their dying will be easier without the horror of flames
charring their skin, hot gasses scorching their lungs, flames consuming
their hair and clothing. And it will leave much less of a mess."

"It's a better death than they deserve." Rikkard contended. A native son of
the Eastern Plains, he had scores to settle with the eastern barbarians.

"This tactic is as much for our own benefit as it is for the barbarians, to
prevent psychic backlash." Klarendes countered, explaining:

"As a youth I fought in the Second War for the Plains. Things went from bad
to worse and our militia faced annihilation, but it was after the death and
desecration of my first lover that I went into a killing frenzy and loosed
my full powers on an army of barbarians, setting fire to the tall grass
they stood in, igniting their clothes, their greased hair, and the leather
coverings of their wooden shields. Their own armor trapped the flames
against the skin."

"I stalked back and forth like a fire demon, utterly deranged, hurling
great balls of fire or burning streams of flame, laughing and cackling and
hooting as the flames consumed the barbarians amid horrid screams and cries
for mercy."

"The psychic backlash nearly killed me. When the madness passed I looked at
what I had wrought. So many dead bodies but hardly recognizable as
human. You see, cloth and hair act like wicks for the body fat which melts
from flesh. I had turned living men into human candlesticks. All that was
left were piles of disarticulated bones burned black."

"The worst part of all this was the cost to my soul. I had taken an almost
orgasmic pleasure in burning the barbarians. In recollection, I felt
unclean, unworthy of having survived. At first I despised myself for going
all kill crazy like that, but later I came to realize that it was more
their fault than my own. From then on I hated them not only for their own
crimes but also for provoking me do what I had done."

"I hadn't realized." Rikkard said. "All right, we'll do it your way,
Klarendes. And thank you for your candor. It cannot have been easy talking
about something that touched you so keenly."

"You are right about that. I have opened up to only a few about that day,
including my spouse Aodh early in our relationship. I was afraid he might
recoil, rejecting me as a moral monster. Instead he saw me as a tormented
soul. I knew then that I would love him all the days of our lives."

Aodh's eyes glistened as he listened to this affirmation of their
love. Meeting Taitos Klarendes was the best thing that ever happened to
him.

When it came, the confrontation in the tunnel was fast and furious.

The barbarians took the initiative when two firecasters cut loose, one with
a stream of flame the other flinging balls of fire. Klarendes and Artor
extinguished the flame weapons of the enemy and directed the heated air up
a ventilation shaft but did not themselves throw fire back at the
enemy. Wondering why their first volley had not produced the screams they
expected, the enemy followed it up with a second ineffective volley of
fire.

Switching tactics a fetcher moved up to their front ranks and hurled a
swarm of nails down the tunnel at terrific speed hoping to impale anyone
who might contest their passage. Sir Willet caught them all with his
Missile Shield and sent them back the way they came, only faster and with
greater force. Cries of woe were evidence of his success.

The Missile Shield was a specialized application of the fetching power
normally used to block or deflect arrows and crossbow bolts. It was just as
effective against a swarm of nails. Sir Willet realized that as a offensive
weapon a swarm of nails could be devastating.

"From now on, Axel, you should pack a box of nails when we deploy
tactically. Better make that a couple of boxes of dowel nails, the ones
with points on both ends unlike the framing nails the enemy hurled at us."

Axel nodded resignedly. Here was yet more gear for him to lug around. A
wizard's aide like Axel carried gear for his principal like his far-viewer
tube, map case, magnetic compass, and signaling mirror, ration pack, and
now a box of nails, plus his own weapons: kukri and sling, his personal
gear like water gourd, cloak, ground sheet, and his own ration pack not to
mention his bulky combat medic pack. Little guy that he was, Axel was glad
that the same druidical healing magic that had extended his lifespan and
indefinitely prolonged his youth had also doubled his strength and stamina.

"Oh, and Axel, tell Drew to write about this in his journal `Magic'. All of
us with the fetching power should consider using nails as a weapon."

Sir Rikkard agreed. "Let this be a lesson to us war wizards with our pride
in multiple gifts. We should have adopted this trick years ago, but it was
a fetcher who thought it up because he gave a lot of thought on how best to
use his single gift. I won't make that mistake again. From now on I'll be
reading `Magic' and not just our own journal `Wizardry'."

"Well said Rik, er Sir Rikkard. I already do, since Drew Altair is a
protege of mine."

In public Sir Willet tried to address a colleague formally though in
private the two were always Rik and Will.

Meanwhile Klarendes and Artor gestured dramatically, invoking their powers
to draw heat out of the volume of space occupied by the enemy
vanguard. Three hundred barbarians felt a sudden chill in the air, shivered
uncontrollably, lost consciousness, then slumped to the floor. Soon
thereafter they gave up their lives.

"I'll bet those firecasters never thought of using cold as a weapon!" Artor
crowed.

"Well we do have an advantage, don't we, son?" Klarendes asked. "We are in
the ice business. They were not."

"The rest of the vanguard has withdrawn into the fort in a panic." Dahl
announced.

"How do you know that, Lord Dahlderon?" Sir Rikkard asked.

"Clearly you have never worked with druid," his colleague Sir Willet
remarked dryly. "No doubt a little bird told him."

"Actually it was a squirrel up a tree overlooking the area. We druids can
see through the eyes of animals and hear what they hear."

"Ah!"

"Gentlemen, let us step outside to where we can witness the battle which is
shaping up even as we speak."

"How do you know that Sir Willet?" Captain Fallon asked. "Did a bird or a
squirrel tell you?"

"Hardly. I got that from an infrasound dispatch sent by a weather wizard
assigned to the Army of the Plains. They are moving into position to attack
the main body. From the heights we will have an excellent view of the
proceedings. And maybe we can help in some way."

"And I got the same news just now from the druid Owain via Mind Speech."
Dahl announced. "He is with the Frost Giant infantry while Merry is with
the cavalry, as you might expect."

"Oh?" Sir Rikkard asked.

"Merry used to be a unicorn. Long story." Dahl told him, waving off further
inquiry.

"Okay, let's get back to the fort." Artor said and had Fallon give the
order to march back out of the tunnel. They blinked their eyes as they
stepped out into the bright sunlight. It was shaping up to be another hot
day.

Any hope the barbarians had of holding the fort vanished as Klarendes
demonstrated the power of white fire. With a wave of his hand he scythed
down a stand of trees next to the tunnel exit. It was obvious that white
fire could cut right through the wooden palisade of the fort and any humans
sheltering inside.

Dahl magically amplified his voice and warned the enemy that only their
desire to retake the fort intact stayed their hand. If the barbarians
abandoned the fort, they would be allowed to withdraw unmolested to rejoin
their main body. The barbarians agreed to a temporary truce and in moments
the fort was back in Commonwealth hands.

			Chapter 3. Battle on the Plains

While the soldiers set the fort back in order, the mages stood on a ledge
to watch the action on the plains below. Sir Willet peered through a
far-viewer tube which Axel had handed him. He seemed to be looking for
something in particular.

The barbarian infantry had deployed from column to line to face the
approaching cavalry which was clearly inferior in number. That gave the
barbarians confidence that their numbers would carry the day.

Unfortunately for them they were utterly unaware that Owain had opened a
portal for the Commonwealth infantry and positioned the Frost Giants a
little behind them and out of sight on the reverse slope of a low
ridge. The Army of the Plains was using classic hammer and anvil tactics.

Meanwhile, back at the fort, a soldier on the parapet yelled "Ambush!"
pointing at a dozen barbarians who had broken from concealment and charged
the magic wielders, hoping to take them from behind.

Stepping between the attackers and the others Aodh directed his so-called
killer screech at them. Though not fatal in itself it incapacitated any foe
with an intolerable sound something like that of fingernails scraping on a
slate only far worse. It was powerful enough to rupture eardrums and induce
pain, dizziness, and temporary deafness. The screech was highly
directional, strong in a conical zone in front but negligible to the sides
or behind.

One of the attackers happened to be outside that conical zone, but Axel
took him out by Calling Light and englobing his head, scrambling the
electrical circuits of his brain. He was dead before he hit the
ground. Thanks to frequent practice against the pestiferous pigeons which
infested the Institute, Axel had no trouble hitting a moving target.

Before anyone else could reach the bushwhackers, Aodh changed into his
panther form, his clothes sloughing off his body, then attacked the
barbarians, slashing them with his poison claws. They dropped to the
ground, writhing in agony, weapons fallen from their hands. Switching back
to his human form, Aodh gestured for the soldiers to give the barbarians
the coup de grace.

Captain Fallon looked over at Aodh with newfound respect. "And here I had
thought the boy was merely decorative."

That brought a predatory grin to the pretty face of the wir as he climbed
back into his clothes. Klarendes gave him a broad wink.

"I'll hold a Missile Shield over us in case archers are lurking in the
woods." Sir Willet told the others. "The barbarians have always been
treacherous."

The Army Air Corps drew first blood as two squadrons of aviators (36
aviators) flew in support of the ground attack. The flyers flew the new
yokes modified with wings like those of bats. Unlike the rigid wings of
naval flyers, these were little more than cloth stretched over a framework
which caught part of the slip stream generated by the flyer's forward
motion and converted it into lift. That made it easier to take off with a
full load of bombs.

Approaching unseen from out of the sun, the six flights of flyers swooped
down low and dropped fire globes on the barbarian shield wall. A shower of
glowing embers from the trailing flight of six flyers touched off a
firestorm which killed hundreds.

Unfortunately the aviators took losses themselves. As they angled upward to
gain altitude after their bombing runs, they were targeted by magic
wielders among the barbarians. One mage cast lightning bolts at the flyers
killing three of them. Dodge as they might up in the sky the flyers had
nowhere to hide. Another hurled spreads of fist-sized fireballs that
brought down three flyers. A fetcher used flashing steel spheres to swat
two more flyers from the sky. The score was eight flyers downed out of
onlythirty-six.

"Why haven't our own mages countered those magical attacks?" Axel asked.

"The corps of mages is still moving into position, working their way toward
that hillock on the right from where they will have a clear field of fire
for their own attacks. Meanwhile the fetchers at least have been successful
in their defense of the cavalry regiments by blunting the fire of the
enemy's field artillery, making the heavy iron balls flung by their
catapults fall short and forcing the six foot arrows fired by their
ballistas to bury themselves harmlessly in the ground."

Actually iron balls were of more use against infantry. The cavalry had no
shield wall to disrupt.

"Anyway help is on the way. Unless I miss my guess, Sir Rikkard is about to
unleash his powers on them."

Unnoticed by the barbarians, the blue sky behind the barbarians had turned
dark and angry. Sir Rikkard had called up a monster thunderstorm.

"Sir Rikkard is our most powerful weather wizard." Sir Willet explained to
the others.

The only warning the barbarians got was the gust front which blew through
their lines just before a clap of thunder announced the arrival of the
storm. They turned and looked up, surprised and dismayed at the dark
roiling clouds overhead. Rain fell in torrents wetting and loosening the
strings of their crossbows, which decreased their range and their
punch. Then lightning began to flash down from the clouds to the ground
killing dozens. Upraised spears and brandished swords made good conductors
of electricity.

"That knot of men in the center in the fancy uniforms with all the silver
braid. Those are their magic wielders." Sir Willet told Sir Rikkard.

"Fools! All bunched up and in distinctive garb."

Thunderbolts struck where the mages stood again and again. A enemy weather
wizard tried to wrest control of the storm from Sir Rikkard, but failed,
gaining nothing for his efforts but a quick death as Sir Rikkard channeled
a bolt back at him though his connection with the storm. Finally Sir
Rikkard let the storm dissipate.

Sir Willet then took a hand, targeting the enemy cavalry, really just a
company of scouts, far too few to face the Commonwealth cavalry, which was
why they had taken a position behind their own infantry. The wizard lifted
the trees Klarendes had felled and hurled them one by one at the
riders. They were within range because he was throwing from a height of two
thousand feet above the plains.

Even though they saw the trees hurtling down on them they could not get
clear in time. The spreading limbs swept scouts from their saddles while
the heavy trunks crushed both rider and mount. The handful of survivors
galloped away to the east, abandoning the battlefield entirely.

"Why target those few riders, sir, instead of the shield wall?" Captain
Fallon asked.

"Because only they might otherwise get away." Sir Willet said coldly.

Sir Rikkard explained. "Sir Willet has his own scores to settle with the
barbarians. Ask him sometime about those three wound stripes on his
sleeve."

Now it was largely up to soldiers and to cold steel. Three regiments of
cavalry, six thousand men, attacked more than twice their number of
barbarian infantry. From each regiment, a battalion of some five hundred
horse archers armed with recurved bows kept up a steady fire at the enemy
shield wall as their battalions of lancers formed a wedge and charged.

The barbarians had thrown caltrops on the ground between them to disrupt
just such a charge but three cavalrymen in front invoked their control of
magnetism, visible to the onlookers as a grey nimbus which engulfed them
and their mounts, to sweep the obstacles from the field. Nothing could stop
the charge now, and nothing did.

As they neared the enemy line, the riders leveled their lances at the
barbarians, couching them under their arms and braced themselves in their
stirrups. The wedge smashed its way through the disordered center of the
enemy line where the mages had stood. The column behind it then wheeled
left to engulf the enemy's right wing. With their lances broken off or
stuck in dead barbarians, lancers drew sabers and slashed at their
foes. The mounted archers kept up their fire. Pressed from front and back
the enemy formation crumbled.

Then the corps of mages on the hillock unleashed their magics. A war wizard
directed a stream of white fire at the enemy's horse drawn field artillery,
ballistas and catapults mounted atop carts for mobility. The weapons and
their crews disintegrated into clouds of superheated fragments which
exploded outwards with great force killing dozens more. Two mages threw
lightning bolts which jumped from sword to sword to sword to sword
electrocuting those who brandished them. Three mages cast great clinging
balls of fire which cooked those they fell upon like lobsters in a pot and
sent those around them fleeing in horror. Two fetchers sent their deadly
steel spheres whirling at anyone who was trying to rally enemy soldiers or
just looked important.

A pretty blond youth who looked rather too young to be in the army invoked
an uncommon gift: ball lightning -- electricity in the shape of a pair of
spheres three feet across and too bright to look at for long and fatal to
the touch both from heat and a strong electric charge. The spheres hummed
and crackled menacingly as they zigzagged back and forth under the control
of the tow headed youngster, an expert rider who held the reins in his
teeth and guided his mount with his knees. Emphatic hand gestures directed
the motions of the lightning balls. In some spots, just their approach
broke the enemy line as soldiers fled from their fatal touch.

All magic wielders gestured, though strictly speaking that was not really
necessary. The exercise of magical powers was an act of will. But gestures
were a very real aid to concentration. Which was why Drew Altair's
trademark shadow boxing, pile driving, and shield techniques had been
adopted nearly universally by military fetchers.

The hitherto unengaged left wing of the barbarian army saw that their cause
was lost and started to withdraw in good order but found its way barred by
two regiments of Frost Giants who seemingly rose out of the ground though
all they really did was march up the reverse slope of the low ridge which
had kept them hidden before then.

No way six thousand humans could prevail against four thousand Frost Giants
armed with twelve foot spears and what for humans amounted to two-handed
swords. The attack of the giants routed the last cohesive force of the
barbarians. Their formation lost all order and was quickly reduced to knots
of fighters pressed on all sides by their foes.

But in this battle the Commonwealth preferred not to slaughter the
barbarians to the last man. With victory assured it made was no sense
losing their own men to no real purpose. Besides they wanted to take
prisoners and question them. So when the enemy general had a bugle sound
their surrender, his men cried out for quarter. The Commonwealth forces
granted it and drew back as the barbarians cast their weapons to the
ground. Just as well. Everyone was exhausted. Hand to hand combat is hard
work.

Nearly eight thousand barbarians surrendered themselves and marched without
protest to a holding area under the shade of the nearby trees. At least
they were alive and out of the sun and supplied with water and food from
their own supply train. Some were put to work burying the dead including a
contingent sent to retrieve the three hundred bodies in the tunnel.

Actually all that the prisoners had to do was collect the bodies and strip
them of weapons and valuables before throwing the corpses into mass graves,
which were deep trenches the druids opened up in the soft earth of the
plains. Afterwards druidical magic made the earth heave once again and
cover the bodies too deep for scavengers to disturb.

			Chapter 4. Explanations

The Army of the Plains regrouped and set up a fortified camp for the night,
standard operating procedure when operating in hostile country. Artor,
Dahl, and their party walked down one of the old logging roads that lead to
the plains and headed toward the camp where they were admitted to the
command tent and were greeted by Owain and Merry who introduced them to
General Claiborne.

"Well met gentlemen and thank you all for your fine work this day. Between
the portals of our allies the druids and our own war wizards and magic
wielders we overwhelmed the enemy mages which allowed the army to triumph
with fairly low casualties. Tomorrow we will interrogate the enemy's
officers and find out what they had in mind with this ill-conceived
invasion. Tonight we rest, eat, bind up our wounds, and take stock."

"Oh and special thanks to you Count Klarendes for persuading the High
Command to assign a master of magnetism to each of our cavalry
regiments. The three of them swept the field of caltrops just as you said
they would in your well-received article in the Army Journal."

Klarendes nodded then said:

"The change in doctrine came none too soon. It should be perfectly obvious
that an army can counter a cavalry charge in only a few ways: a
countercharge by its own cavalry, pikemen, stakes, and caltrops. Armies
prefer caltrops because they are lightweight and quick and easy to deploy
and require almost no training.  Formations of pikemen are formidable but
ponderous. They are a specialized form of heavy infantry which takes a lot
of training and constant drill. Which is why no one uses them much these
days."

"One more thing Count Klarendes. We inadvertently brought along our very
own war correspondent, a journalist of tender years working for the Dalnot
Ledger. He told me that he was a kinsman of yours."

With that the general signaled a cute seventeen year old who had been
waiting in the wings. It was the blond youth who controlled ball
lightning. Short, slight of build, and clean limbed and standing maybe four
inches over five feet, and with fine-boned features that suggested a
considerable admixture of elfin blood, the boy stepped forward, a big grin
on his face as he gave a cheery wave to the Klarendes clan.

"Hi there Uncle Taitos, Uncle Aodh, Cousin Artor."

"Corwin! What are you doing here? Did your father really send you out as a
war correspondent?"

"Not exactly. He did send me over to the caserne in Dalnot for a story on a
court martial. He doesn't know that I tagged along when the army moved out
on this operation."

"How did you persuade General Claiborne to take you along?"

"I didn't. I just snuck in among the aides to the wizards and the mages;
they're all friends of mine. It was only after the battle that I was
introduced to the general."

Klarendes frowned at his headstrong nephew. "Young man, you and I are going
to have a serious talk."

"Now there Count Klarendes, don't be too hard on the boy. You haven't heard
the rest of it." General Claiborne soothed.

"True, what the boy did was a breach of security, but I really did not want
to bring charges against an overeager youngster who was only trying to do
his job as he saw it. Anyway in the end, everything did work out for the
best."

"What happened exactly?" Taitos asked.

"Your nephew talked the mages into letting him fight, to add his powers to
theirs. The mages accepted knowing that the enemy outnumbered us
considerably in conventional forces. From that high ledge you must have
seen what he did even if you did not recognize him."

"Corwin charged the enemy time and again. Then, when a platoon of the enemy
rushed out from their shield wall to finish off that squad of lancers
unhorsed by a volley of crossbow bolts, Corwin positioned himself between
the lancers and the enemy. Using his lightning balls as both shield and
sword as he got them all to safety ignoring a quarrel which grazed his
ribs."

"I don't see now that I have any choice but to put the lad in for the
Military Cross for Valor."

"Yay Corwin! Way to go!" Artor and Aodh enthused, giving the young
journalist the double thumbs-up gesture.

Corwin beamed, green eyes flashing with pride.

"He doesn't need encouragement, you know." Klarendes complained. "And I
could do with a little support here."

Artor shook his head:

"Father, is Corwin really so very different from how you were back in the
day? In fact you were only sixteen when you went off on your first mission
with Balandur."

"Ouch!" Aodh supplied.

Klarendes sighed and dropped his `stern uncle' demeanor. He was tactician
enough to know when he was outnumbered and outmaneuvered.

That evening the four Klarendes, their friends the druids, plus the two war
wizards from the capital and Axel took supper together. Klarendes wanted
their opinions on how well the Army had used magic that day. This was its
very first battle employing both the Army Air Corps and an organic corps of
mages that is one permanently dedicated and assigned to a field
army. Klarendes intended to write an after action report of his own to
supplement the one General Claiborne would be sending to the High Command.

Klarendes offered his opinion that except for the use of portals, which was
inspired, magic might have been better employed that day. True the
Commonwealth was victorious but at a greater cost than was necessary.

"What we saw today was absolutely the wrong way to provide close air
support to the ground forces," Axel offered.

"Our flyers let their animal spirits inspire their attack when they dove at
the enemy like raptors swooping down on their prey with talons
extended. That was foolish. They had no need to fly so low that it brought
them within range of enemy mages. From now on there should be no more dive
bombing forces supported by mages, only level bombing from
altitude. Fetchers can direct their loads with pinpoint accuracy from any
altitude."

Coming from one of the Pioneers of Flight, especially the one who thought
up the yokes that let men fly in the first place, this was a devastating
assessment.

"I agree with Axel." Sir Willet said. "The only thing the flyers did right
was to approach out of the sun. Oh and their bombs were right on target."

"Our own mages should have supported the soldiers better than they did."
Sir Rikkard offered. "They were so intent on offense operations that they
neglected magical defenses for everyone but themselves. And the weather
wizard with the army should have brewed up a storm early on, just in case,
before we even emerged from the tunnel."

"We mages did fight pretty well once we got in position. You have to give
us that." Corwin Klarendes said defending his friends.

"That is true. Once they reached the hillock they did not hold back. And
they were effective, not doubt of that. Thanks to the fetchers their field
artillery was largely ineffective even before it was all swept away with
white fire."

"Incidentally Corwin," Sir Willet offered, "if you want to become even more
effective with your ball lightning, check the after action reports in the
library at the Institute. My aide Axel can show you around. One way that
comes to mind immediately is against troops splashing their way across a
ford in a river or creek. If you dropped one of those lighting balls into
the water you could zap the lot of them."

"Wicked!"

"Anyway, Corwin," Artor began, "how do you feel about being put in for the
Military Cross?"

"It sounds great, but as a civilian I don't think I am eligible."

"But you are enrolled in your local militia. For the sake of proper form,
army records will show that you were called up for the campaign so that you
were technically on duty with the Army during the
battle. Congratulations. Naturally you will also qualify for a Wound
Stripe, a Campaign Medal, a badge for what they will no doubt call the
Fourth Plains War, and the Combat Mage Badge. That doesn't exactly amount
to a chestful of medals, but it is a good start."

They all could see that young Corwin was immensely gratified by the
news. What teenage boy has not dreamed of martial glory?

"I hope this means Father will be proud of me rather than be mad that I
charged off to war the way I did."

Klarendes nodded:

"As a father myself, I can know his reactions exactly. At first there was
mystification when you didn't return home. He'd have wondered where could
that damn boy have gone off to? When he finds out that you charged into
battle and were wounded he will be filled with concern, but when he is told
that you are healthy he will feel relief that his son and heir, the apple
of his eye is safe. Lastly, when he reflects on the prestige of the
Military Cross, he will proud that his son is a genuine war hero."

"And it won't hurt when you provide his news-paper, the Dalnot Ledger with
a scoop on this lightning war with the barbarians."

"Right. I'll cover it in a series of articles after interviews with all the
principal figures gathered in this camp, adding what I personally saw and
did."

"Your reporting will be the first public acknowledgement that we druids can
create portals which will let our armies strike anywhere anytime suddenly
and without warning."  I see a Writers' Prize in your future."

"Poor Drew is going to be so jealous." Merry offered.

"No. Not jealous. Not him." Artor said emphatically. "I know Drew well
enough to say that he won't be jealous, though he will be disappointed that
he wasn't on hand to get the scoop himself. Also I would not be surprised
if this eventually leads to a job offer from the Capital Intelligencer. The
big city papers are always on the lookout for talent."

"Fantastic!" Corwin enthused. "I have dreamed of one day writing for a big
city paper."

"Of course we still need to find out what this war all means. Why did the
barbarians attack at all, why here, and why now?"

"We'll know more tomorrow after we question their officers."

Count Klarendes concluded the discussion with:

"Now let us all raise a glass in tribute to our friend and kinsman, the
young journalist whose courage has won the admiration of all. Gentlemen, I
give you that intrepid war correspondent and brave soldier Corwin
Klarendes."

At breakfast the next day Corwn caught Axel looking at him intently.

"Like what you see?" he quipped, only half seriously.

"No. Yes. I mean I do like what I see, Corwin, as would anyone who
appreciates cute boys, but what made me stare was that I realized just now
how much you resemble your cousin Eborn. Your facial features I
mean. Obviously Eborn is not a blond and has a more robust build."

"Well our mothers were sisters, and though they were born ten years apart
everyone always said that they looked like twins."

"Indeed," Taitos agreed. "though my first born takes after me."

"And as the first son, I am the heir while sadly, poor Eborn is merely the
spare." Artor said.

"So I have heard and more than once." Axel returned dryly. He was aware
that the rhyme was a very old joke and a regular part of the Klarendes
sons' schtick.

"Why did you ask the healers not to clear away the gouge where the crossbow
quarrel grazed your ribs? Won't it leave a scar?"

"Yes, but not much of one, just enough to serve as indisputable evidence of
my martial prowess."

"Your prowess? Don't you mean the prowess of the guy who shot you?"

"Very funny. You know perfectly well what I meant."

"He hopes the scar will work as a girl magnet." Artor explained dryly.

Corwin shook his head.

"No, not girls. Boys!"

"Not you too!" Artor complained. "Isn't anyone besides me interested in
perpetuating the species?"

"Actually I am interested too, just not right now. With a lifespan measured
in centuries, I'll have plenty of opportunity later for a bride and a
family, but not now, when I am genuinely young. I like being around other
boys and having sex with them. I'm a kid and I would like to live like one
for a good while yet."

"Anyway some of us are just not cut out for family life till after we have
put some life experience under our belts. Artor, you and I got lucky with
fathers who married young, but I know for sure that I would make a terrible
father and husband just now, young as I am. At my age a life of domesticity
pales before the prospect of a life of adventure. I hope that doesn't make
me sound frivolous. Later on though is something else."

"Then there is hope yet for our species."

At his debriefing the next day the commander of the barbarians General
Ransome was remarkably candid about the invasion. It had been a once in a
century opportunity with a potentially huge payoff for the westernmost of
the successor states of the former empire of the life-leech Urloch. So they
gambled and lost. And having given the game away, the barbarians knew they
could never try this particular ploy again. The Commonwealth would never
again leave the tunnel with only a token garrison for protection. Maybe it
was time to seal it up, useful though it was as a route though almost
impassable mountains.

"We wanted to seize an opportunity while the Commonwealth was distracted
and committed on other fronts: New Varangia and the Barren Lands, the
Flatlands in the Far West, the naval war on the Great Inland Freshwater
Sea, and your mobilization for the impending campaign to reclaim Amazonia
from the trolls. Incidentally we wish you every success in your war against
the trolls. They would slay us too for being magic users."

"So why help them by striking at us here and now?" General Claiborne asked
his counterpart.

Ransome shrugged.

"Nothing we did here would change the outcome of your war against the
trolls. You are going to win. No doubt of that. It will be a long and hard
campaign, but without magic the trolls have no chance especially with your
numbers. No one understands that better than I do having seen for myself
what your flyers and mages and war wizards can do. They outclassed our own
magical support as much as your professional forces outclassed our largely
conscript soldiers. Though I really would like to know how you got your
army here so fast. Our spies told us you were all still at Dalnot."

General Claiborne smiled. "We were all at Dalnot. And we brought only half
of our army in case this was a diversion."

"I don't mind telling you now since it will be impossible to keep a secret
known to our entire army. We came via a space portal or rather two portals,
one for the cavalry force and the other for our regiments of Frost
Giants. Your scouts never saw us coming because we did not travel by any
conventional means. We just appeared north and south of here with your army
trapped between us.

The barbarian general shook his head. "Against that kind of strategic and
tactical mobility, no army stands a chance."

"I have to ask. What did you hope to accomplish with your invasion."

"You have been so candid with me and spared the lives of my men so I will
tell you. Our force of fifteen thousand was a vanguard for an army of
occupation. We hoped to seize the tunnel then send a large army through it
to occupy the northeast corner of your realm before your northern field
army could react."

"But we hoped to avoid any serious fighting by proposing a bargain: You
would cede to us military control of that region of Commonwealth. Your
civil administration would remain in place and function normally, and the
civilian population would remain unmolested. Every year your government
would turn over to us the bulk of the tax revenue your treasury would have
drawn from the region, you would keep just enough to defray the costs of
administration. If not, we would ravage the towns and the countryside so no
one could draw taxes from it."

"Did you really think the Commonwealth would pay protection money?"

"Myself no. I never thought so. Though we would have termed it
tribute. That is a much more pleasant word, is it not? No I liked our
chances with our fall back position much better. You would cede the Eastern
Plains and in return we would withdraw our army of occupation to east of
the mountains, though we would retain control of the tunnel, as a surety of
good faith.

"Not negotiable. The Commonwealth does not start wars but always ends them
on its own terms, not on those dictated by an enemy."

"Perhaps. We are both professional soldiers. Who can say what bargains our
political leaders might make or feel they have to make? Anyway, what will
happen now to me and my men."

"We granted you quarter, though really it was to spare the lives of our own
men. Still, having done that we must now honor it. If you and your men will
give your parole to never again fight against the Commonwealth we will
allow you to return to your homeland. A cavalry regiment will escort you to
the border. Your supply train is intact, so you should have no trouble
making it back. You won't need so many wagons, so we will use some to carry
the weapons and gear you surrendered."

"Each of you will be marked by a small brand on the shoulder, an outlaw
mark. Anyone with that mark who returns to the Commonwealth will be fair
game and not only for our military. Anyone they run into will have the
legal right to kill them out of hand. Count yourself lucky that we are
feeling generous these days. Tell your leaders not to try our patience
further."

"Remember, neither distance nor high walls can stop us. With portals we can
deliver an army inside your capital or any fortress. Keep that in mind."

Actually there were limitations on portals that General Claiborne was not
aware of, but then neither were the barbarians.

The main body of the Army of the Plains returned via a portal to Dalnot
where young Corwin Klarendes was given a hero's welcome by family and
friends. Afterwards the druids and the Klarendes traveled by conventional
means to Elysion where Aodh resumed his duties as a forest ranger. Sir
Willet and Axel also stayed for a while though Sir Rikkard had traveled
directly to the capital from Dalnot.

The High Command rebuilt the fort with stone walls and added a firecaster
and a fetcher to the garrison. Their job was to to hold off a hostile force
till reinforcements arrived through the tunnel supported by war wizards
traveling on the Army's long range flying wings. To ease their isolation,
the guard duty rotated among the six companies of the garrison at the
western end of the tunnel.

Things went back to normal though who knew for how long.

Six months later Corwin did indeed win a Writer's Prize for his coverage of
what he cleverly dubbed the Lightning War, borrowing from Dahl a term which
caught the fancy of the public. On the strength of that accomplishment he
went to work for the Capital Intelligencer. As with his new colleague Drew
Altair, Corwin's career in journalism launched him on a series of exciting
adventures.

But that is another story, or rather several of them.

			Author's Note

This story is entirely fictional, with no resemblance intended to any
person living or dead.

If you have enjoyed this story and others like it, consider making a
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This story is one of an occasional series about the further adventures of
the characters introduced in the fantasy novel 'Elf-Boy and Friends' and
published by Nifty Archive. The chief protagonist of the novel, Dahlderon,
elf-boy and druid, will appear in these stories in a supporting rather than
starring role. Each story in the sequence stands on its own, with the focus
on one or a few of the original characters.

Readers who like these stories might want to try my two series 'Daphne Boy'
and 'Naked Prey' in the Gay/Historical section of the Archive. My 'Jungle
Boy' series of Hollywood tales is posted in the Gay/Authoritarian
section. The recent series 'Andrew Jackson High' relates the trials and
tribulations of five of its gay students. For links to these and other
stories, look on the list of Prolific Authors on the Archive.

Comments and feedback welcome.