Chương 107: Chapter 95 - Moves and Counter-Moves

++The biggest threat to any strategist is an absence of time. An intelligent plan is not complex and accounting for all variables, but rather one plan among a hundred, each one set up to succeed independent of whether any others fail. But it is difficult to manage such things with limited time. ++ - From the writings of Isabel Vornholt, 'The Great Lich'. 1, 891 A. E. Agrian hadn't liked the idea of working with Bagran, but he had to admit, the guy was probably their best pick.

Ridiculously infatuated with Isabel, yes, but in this case that was kind of an advantage. What was another advantage was obviously his power, his training, and the fact that he was one of the survivors from Sakhent's ruin. News of that little escapade still hadn't gotten out, after Nu'chista forbade them all from sharing it. Weeks later, and after a great many probing questions, and it still hadn't gotten out.

Which meant he could keep a secret, even while drunk and even while being pushed to share by the army's most experienced gossips. Agrian could, too, for that matter. And so could Korig Dunar and Varnel Tross, the two final members of their little kill-squad. The four of them gathered up at Bagran's home—a commandeered noble's space, similar to Isabel's but larger and less secure—and discussed the details of their plan. As it happened, both the other boys were happy to help too.

Korig just heard 'damsel in distress' and lost all higher cognitive function, while Toss was doing a pretty bad job of pretending he didn't just want to kill people and get away with it. It had to be said, there had definitely been deadlier magician forces to walk the earth. Certainly ones for whom puberty was less of a recent affair. But their power… well, each of them was among the top novices of their year at the Winzorth Institute. Their power was already beyond the level most magicians would ever know.

Power wasn't everything though. In combat training, each of them had scored among the top ten. They'd fought together before, as well as having trained with each other for far longer, and all knew each other's powers and weaknesses. More pressingly, Korig's specialisation in anti-necromantic effects would come in very handy given the sort of enemy Agrian expected to face. He made sure they all knew this.

Made sure they all knew everything that might even possibly be useful, and once he started repeating himself, and was gently reminded by Korig and less gently by Bagran that he was doing so, he realised there was no more time to kill and no more options save to leave. And that left another sinking in Agrian's gut, because he really, really didn't want to do this. But as usual, he had no choice. They departed casually enough. Out of uniform, moving slow.

Technically speaking, heading to combat out of uniform was a war crime. Nobody seemed to actually care though. Agrian had it on good authority that heading down to the more defiant areas and taking a bayonet to the locals was a popular form of entertainment among the ranks, as well as other, more primal acts. At the very least, he'd be fighting actual combatants, right? Right. He was so very different, that he ought to not even feel bad at all.

The rationalizations and guilt came and receded like tides, and neither ever actually changed his course from what it was. They'd planned out a standard formation by the time they neared their destination. A classic square: highest mana output at the front, the weakest two at the sides as defenders, the second strongest at the back to protect from flanking manoeuvres.

Agrian felt weird and naked going into combat without a shield, but he knew that with Korig and Varnel both overlapping their own, he'd be better protected than if he mustered all his power into a barrier. After they'd finished testing and ensuring the formation would work, and everyone could slip into it fast, they separated and moved on in pairs. You didn't lure rebels out by moving in a big group, after all.

Huit's tactic didn't work as well until Agrian and Bagran split further to walk ahead by themselves, apparently having become a bit too recognisable. Once that change was made, though, barely half an hour passed before they caught something. The flares went up, they convened fast, and all of them thundered into a single, devastating fight. This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

Magic was flying in all directions like a whole shooting range of people had started taking potshots at the competition. Agrian felt missiles sizzle against the dual barrier provided by Korig and Varnel, though none reached him. He had to concentrate on ignoring that, just using his power for offense. He had to concentrate, but not entirely. He had thoughts to spare. Enough to notice that they didn't seem to be facing that many attackers.

I could feel Agrian and the others fighting, even from miles away. Subtly, it had to be said. Just a twinkle at the edge of my arcane senses. Still, if I could feel it from miles then the next-best magicians in this army would probably notice it from thousands of paces, and even the midline warmages would surely be aware if it were occurring within a few hundred yards of them. Having a timer put on me has never been comfortable.

Existence as a lich, for obvious reasons, tends to encourage one to take one's time in all things. Then again, I spent an eternity sealed in a universe-sized sensory deprivation tank the last time I tried that approach. I hurried a little as I followed the mental tug of Nesariyah's tracker. As much as I hated risks, I was somewhat confident in this one.

My enemy's attempt to bluff me with Nesariyah's life betrayed that they thought I was still ignorant about her true nature, that meant, if I was lucky, their guard would be down. If I was unlucky, this attack was still of my own initiation. I would open up the encounter with a vastly destructive act, scrutinise their response and then flee if it was stronger than I was comfortable with attacking. Briefly, I considered delaying to call on one of the fae, but… no.

Such things were not subtle, nor were they at all similar to the magic of a human. The last thing I wanted was one of those mouth-breathing Demigods descending on the scene. I came to my location and spent a few minutes circling it, stifling my mana down into the levels of a mediocre human. It was not warded as the last structure had been, though I could not sense any magical enemies within. This did not prove much, however.

If a magician was not deliberately calling on their mana, they did not feel very different to a normal human. They would look different to my unique eyes, but those could not penetrate the thick layers of stone this structure was made from. I was confident there were no undead inside, at least. Undead would have been easily detected, they required a constant burn of mana just to continue being animated. It was what made liches so terribly bad at hiding.

By the time of my second circle, I realised that I was stalling. Worse, I was stalling while Agrian continued to fight and provide my distraction. The longer I waited, the higher the odds of that distraction ending. And no matter how strong I was now, I did not want to bet on defeating the concentrated forces of my enemy on my own. Not even with a surprise attack. Not even now that my bloodstream was free of that shocking, mind-altering stimulant. Reluctantly, I made my move.

This time there was no chance to build a mechanism as devastating as the one I had used for my rescue of Agrian, which was a shame because it would actually be far more suited to a simple assassination. Instead I could only brace myself, flare up my power at the last minute and attack the outer wall with raw mana. A magic missile struck it and burst through, drilling halfway deep into the stone before it exploded and blasted a cavity wider than if I had mined it with a bundle of dynamite.

Floating dust filled the opening. I left it where it was, stepping into the cloud and keeping low. Magic shot through the air fast, scorching walls, tearing chunks from them. I saw the magicians responsible as several, humming clots of power floating amid the debris. They, evidently, could not see me. But they could feel me, enough that none of their shots were missing by more than a foot or two.

I wasted no time in retaliating, eager to cut down the number of enemies as much as I could before they regained visibility and I lost my major advantage. All the while, I kept up my search for Nesariyaj's magical signature. Seconds passed with nothing but progress and victory, then it all went wrong. I felt mana behind me, vast amounts of it split across a dozen, two dozen different sources, all powerful magicians, all surrounding the building, closing fast. I felt another signature, a familiar one.

Wind rushed through the structure and banished the dust, leaving me face to face with the young girl who had almost matched me just a few days earlier. Our eyes met as she stood on the other side of the room, power crackling, ready for use.

"I've been waiting for you," she told me. My mind raced. Nesariyah's ring. It was hanging from a string thread by the girl's neck, not equipped but close to her side. The conclusion practically made itself. She had uncovered its true purpose, its tracking ability, and turned it against me by feigning otherwise, luring me into this trap. But she could not see magic. If she could, she would be wearing the ring herself, if only to take advantage of a free enchanted artifact's protection.

That she was choosing to keep it unequipped told me she did not see everything about its abilities, she was probably worried it had some other hidden effect if anyone besides Nesariyah wore it. This knowledge may be useful later, but right now, in my current situation, it did not help me much. What did help me was the fact that this girl was talking, rather than attacking. The room darkened as bodies filled the breach behind me and cut off the light.

She replaced it with a gesture, conjuring a glowing sphere that illuminated the room and cast shadows deep into the lines of her face.

"You have something to say, then, I take it," I replied.

"Let me hear it."