Loopbreaker

“So, what do you wish to know?” Stenson asked as they moved through the chaos of the camp.

“I’d be interested in finding out why we stopped our attack? I mean, I understand we lost a lot of troops, but if what I just learned from Nehemiah is true, both sides should be hurting. Why haven’t you pressed the attack before?”

“And if we had and they used the spell which killed all those men, then what? Where would our elite and cavalry be?”

Sighing, Francis nodded, doing his best to keep up with the brisk pace the older man had set.

“But surely we have spells in reserve. Priscilla–”

“She will only use what she has to preserve the life of the King. Asking what spells she has or if she will use them is pointless. She won’t unless the enemy breaks through and reaches him. Until that time, I can’t tell you what all she is capable of.”

“That seems like a waste,” Francis muttered.

“And yet that right there is the truth about wars and battles. While you might see a moment in time, you don’t know how to react to what happens after that moment, do you?”

Francis tried not to flinch but could only shake his head. “It’s why I don’t like talking about what I see in my visions. I can’t tell you what comes next. Everything is a mystery.”

“Then had we bet everything on that one moment and pushed forward, the army would have been wiped out, we would have died, and you would have been blamed for today’s loss. Not a thing anyone wishes to carry on their shoulder.”

Francis recognized the tent they were approaching; a pair of guards outside bowed, then opened the tent flap for the two to walk in.

“Vella,” the one-armed man said.

“General,” she replied.

The pair frowned at each other as Stenson moved to the table and gazed upon the pieces that had already been removed, tossed into a bucket on the side.

Francis found his throat dry as he stared at the vast amount of tokens swept off the map.

So many lives… on both sides…

That thought reminded him of his brother, and his throat tightened, wondering if Michael had suffered any due to the results of that day’s fighting.

“It appears you’ve been busy. How bad is it?” Stenson asked.

Vella grunted and pointed at the bin full of tokens. “We’re down to almost no advanced, just our elite and the cavalry group. While I can only imagine the loss those beasts have experienced as well, time is running out. Soon, there will be no other options left.”

Rubbing his chin, the general nodded. “Tell me, Sage, what would you say we should do?”

Francis watched as Vella stared at him, but Stenson kept his eyes on the battlefield, occasionally moving a piece to a different location.

“Uh… what do you mean?” Francis asked. “I don’t even know what spells we have left, if any, or how many troops we have to use. I’m not even trained in warfare or battle tactics.”

“Well, at least he didn’t say retreat,” Vella muttered. “Shows some sense.”

The general nodded. “Retreating wouldn’t solve anything, and more lives would be lost from such an endeavor. The king wants me to give him knowledge of what we know about our enemy and ourselves. Care to assist me?”

Vella grunted and moved to a small table where some cups and a few pitchers were. After pouring herself a drink, she drained it before filling a cup and bringing it to the general.

“We’re facing an enemy that we don’t know much about,” she said. “They always seem to have enough troops to hold us back. Even though we’ve pushed deeper into their ranks before—which is how we have those corpses in the tent for all warriors to see—it’s been months since we’ve managed to do that.

“Their spells are all destructive with a little bit of protection, but there has been no real healing that we’ve witnessed yet. And today’s spell… that one we’ve never seen before. It makes me wonder what else they might be holding onto. Does he know about the larger beasts, General?”

“Unless the gods have shown him, no,” Stenson replied.

Francis watched the pair as they talked, sometimes as if he were merely a fly on the tent and other times as if he were part of the conversation.

Vella turned and stared at Francis for a moment before sighing. She moved to the enemy side of the table and picked up a gray marker. “The enemy has beasts, like a rhino... It is capable of fighting like a beast, charging through our men. It can also stand and brawl like an overgrown warrior. Then there are the casters. Those birds… they rain down magic but are weak. A single spell obliterates them. It’s been months now since I’ve seen one.”

Francis’ mind did its best to comprehend all the things he was hearing.

Other beastkin?

He had seen a painting once and so knew roughly what a rhino was. They were rare and came from another kingdom—he believed it was the one to the east.

“Our own spells are limited to the same things we use over and over,” Vella stated. “Sure, we can cast them, but it requires time for our mages and our artifacts to recover power. Fighting without them all at full strength leaves us in a vulnerable position.”

“Wouldn’t the enemy be in the same shape, though?” Francis asked as Vella paused.

“He’s smart,” Stenson said.

“You and I both know what he’s thinking, and we’ve been told it’s a fool's plan before. Baxter already turned that idea down twice. You’ll not ask a third time, and I know it.”

The general grunted and nodded, Stenson’s brown eyes studying Francis. “But what if the Sage brought up the idea? I have a whole battle plan that we could do if we pitch this as his idea. What do you think?”

This text was taken from NovelFire. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Vella frowned, and she drummed her finger along the edge of the model. “Which one?”

“The fourth plan,” Stenson replied.

She shook her head side to side as she looked up at the ceiling for a few seconds. “I… guess… it could work. Probably much better than plans one through three.”

“You two do realize I’m here, right?” Francis asked.

“We do, but we’re also not going to trust you with the fate of our army and kingdom when you don’t have any battle experience,” Stenson replied. “I’m willing to bet you’re a gift from the gods in some way. Perhaps it's because they're allowing me to do what I want, instead of having to listen to those other advisors. Maybe it’s luck, but you’ll only get what you want if I get what I want.”

Francis studied the older man for a moment, trying to get a feel for him. Even though the man only had one arm, there was some sort of aura that told Francis he would die without the man having to put forth any effort. The sensation didn’t speak about weapon knowledge or strength. Something deeper and primal.

Well, I guess it’s good someone is at least being honest.

“Let’s say I do what you want?” Francis asked. “What’s in it for me?”

Both of them chuckled, and Stenson actually smiled.

“You want training. I can assist in ways you’ll never imagine. Also, your brother is in my care. He’ll be in much better care if we work as one. Now, I can see you have some idea how to act like you know what you’re doing. Others might miss it, but trust me, I don’t. Would you like to work together to make this happen?”

Francis paused, knowing that the only way he was going to make it out of this tent alive was by working with these two. Francis didn’t think they were trying to cause the kingdom to fall, and he guessed from the few things he had heard that some—like Priscilla—were causing Stenson problems with his idea of how the battle should go.

Well, if I die, at least I know more than I did before.

“I’m up for that,” Francis said. “Especially if you can keep my brother safe and train me.”

A hand appeared before him, and he shook it, trying not to cringe under the vise-like grip that squeezed his fingers.

“Good,” Stenson said. “Let’s let Vella go over a few things, and then I’ll call the meeting. Just remember, this is your idea, and it comes from the gods. I’ll do my part to ensure it happens.”

Nodding once, Francis quickly pulled back his hand after the man let go of it.

The things I endure to get stronger and save my brother…

***

He pitched the idea that had been drilled into him, watching the gathered men and women from the King’s advisors all frown. The only one who didn’t seem bothered was the general.

“For once, I hear someone not trying to tell me what I want to hear,” Baxter growled. “Sage Francis is saying things I mentioned that many of you said were not worthy of consideration, so unless you wish to join Lester in his fate, I would caution you to decide if your reasoning for not pursuing this path is self-focused.” The King turned and looked specifically at Priscilla. “Bond or not, I want to hear this.”

Her red hair bobbed as she nodded, giving a slight bow. Both blue eyes were fixed on Francis, a glare that would end his life had it been a magical attack.

“Forgive me,” Priscilla said.

Without waiting, the king turned back to Francis. “Continue, please.”

Sensing the shift in tone and how things were going, Francis jumped on the moment. “After everything I’ve seen and learned, I feel that the gods want us to attack.”

“And what if we find out our enemies' magic isn’t like ours?” Baxter asked, shifting his stance until he stood there, arms clasped behind him.

“Does it matter?” Francis shot back. “Unless you can magically summon twenty or thirty thousand men in a month, all that will happen is that when we line up again in a month or two. By the time you’ll finally be able to cast all the spells you did today, we will only have what, fifteen thousand? Sure, they’re your best troops, but against that spell, so what?”

Grunting once, the king frowned.

Neither spoke for a whole minute as those behind Baxter shifted quietly, eyes darting between the young boy and the mountain of muscle and power.

“And you say you have no vision about what will happen next?”

“I won’t lie to you, sir,” Francis said. “I don’t know what will happen if we fight tomorrow or the next day. What I do know is that it won’t matter in a month if they can cast that same spell again. So why not see if changing up your tactics will do anything? Perhaps we can share with the other kingdoms if this works and finally push back the enemy.”

“Stenson!” Baxter barked.

The General drew close. “Yes, my King.”

“This was your plan, wasn’t it?” Baxter asked, though he did not turn to gaze upon the warrior who nodded in response.

“It was, Your Highness… except there were those who cautioned against such a risky endeavor and–”

“Do not worry about speaking like that,” the king said. “You and I both know I liked the idea initially, so it falls upon me for not listening to you. Instead, I took the cautious route, which appears to have left me where we are today.”

Snapping his fingers, Baxter summoned the one-armed man a few steps closer.

“Take our sage to the tent where the map is. Have Captain Vella and your men figure out our best option for tomorrow. At first light, we will attack. No horns, no warning. We will see if Egbus and Thonia will lend us their blessing and help with both the battle and the wisdom we need.

“Francis, may you be the gift from the gods. I certainly hope you are,” the King said. “All of our lives will depend upon tomorrow. I will trust that you were sent here for a reason.”

Baxter moved quickly, coming to hold out his hand.

Eyes wide, Francis reached out, hand trembling slightly, and shook the ruler's hand— gasps had come from those who were in shock as Francis was.

“Go, young one. We need a miracle, and I pray it is you.”

***

“It’s about time someone grew a pair,” Vella muttered after Stenson and Francis returned to the tactical tent.

“I would caution you not to speak that way again,” growled the older man. “Even with only one arm, I will slap you senseless.”

A few chuckles came from the others gathered around the table, eyes fixed on the remaining pieces.

“You never change, Stenson. Always loyal even when you should have used that tone months ago and convinced the king to stick with your plan.”

“And you’re still a pain in my ass,” the older man replied.

“That will never change. It’s why my mother loved you.”

Realization hit Francis, and he felt his jaw drop. The pair, seeing his reaction, both smiled.

“Yes, this old man is my father,” Vella said. “Unlike many, I choose to follow in his footsteps. He has reminded me constantly that it was a bad decision because no one remembers the captain, only the general and the king.”

Snorting, Vella’s father turned and focused on the table, drumming his remaining fingers on the edge.

“Don’t make it harder on the boy than it already is. Catch him and the others up with what we have, and let’s see if we can’t get out of this place with at least some of us alive.”

Nodding, Vella moved to stand a little bit away from her father and snapped her finger, pointing at the space between.

“Get over here and shut your mouth. We don’t have time.”

Closing it, Francis moved quickly to stand between the pair.

They had already discussed this moment and how it would go down. His role was to play the gifted one and lay out a plan that made the most sense.

“Those are our elite troops, all seven thousand and five hundred or so,” Vella said. “You met Knight Kels, right?”

“I did,” he answered, staring at the blue pieces Vella had just pointed to.

“He commands a section of the cavalry here. There are four thousand of them, with some archers between the two. Before you ask why we don’t use them more, arrows aren’t cheap, and we spent all month replenishing the stock. We were going to pull back slightly, using the archers to blanket the enemy again before the cavalry charged. That spell today changed that plan.”

“Everyone here knows this war has been a stalemate,” Stenson said as he picked up a long, thin stick that was at the edge of the table and tapped the enemy lines, which had been slightly adjusted. “They have mages, siege weapons, and those rhino-kins that act as a cavalry. There used to be a horse-like creature with a man’s body that shot a bow, but it’s been half a year since I’ve seen one. The first few battles had different creatures, but at this point, they haven’t changed in some time. The truth is, we don’t know what lies behind all those lines. And our scouts have never made it far enough to get any intel that tells us what to expect. Our mages cannot see past whatever barrier they have, just like we have ours in place.”

Francis nodded, pretending to be studying everything that they had marked. He already knew what he was supposed to say, so he dove right in.

“Tell me, what spells do we have left?” he asked.