Into the Abyss

“Sure, but let me rest first. I really can’t do much more.” Tom was quite serious; he felt almost as if he might pass out from exhaustion. The weariness and pain from formation, which had been temporarily forgotten, was now back in full force; coupled with the pain from the fall and the exhaustion of his wing muscles, it was almost more than he could bear. “You’re starting to sound like my mother.”

Boggy smiled knowingly, “You’re doing good, lad. Most new arrivals would be running around berserk at this point, insisting they were in some sort of dream or hallucinogenic state.”

“Some just go catatonic.” Tizzy interjected.

“Tell you what, Tom my... by the way, Tom, just how old were you, before you got captured, I mean, how old are you now?” Boggy asked as the thought just hit him.

“Sixteen. Why?”

“Sixteen! By the Notorious Dame’s skirts you could almost be British what with your stiff upper lip and all. Right ho! Taking it like a man!”

“Or de-man!” Tizzy exclaimed. Boggy shook his head.

“No reason...” Boggy continued. “As I was about to say, if it will make you feel any better, Tizzy and I will stay here while you sleep, to insure nobody bothers you.”

Tom took Boggy’s reason for asking at face value, he was too tired to do else. He nodded his head thankfully at Boggy’s offer. He then slowly slid his arms and legs out till he was flat on his stomach, and promptly went out like the flames in the air above.

Chapter 8

The school was bustling with servants and staff running about madly, trying to prepare for the expected siege. The morning sun beat down upon the courtyard of the tower, giving a vibrant feeling to the air. Lenamare surveyed his people confidently. His gaze swept the large courtyard, examining the people piling firewood in the corners; carpenters constructing large wooden tanks to hold water in case fires should be ignited in the timber roofs of the stable and forge buildings. Lesser skilled servants and local peasants bringing food and game in from the countryside for supplies; the guardsmen drilling for the defense of the walls. Captain Markoff grilled orders in his typically surly manner, making guard recruits cringe. Here and there a stray dog would yelp as someone carrying supplies or tools would step on its tail or paws when it wasn’t paying attention and got in the way.

His school may not be the biggest, thought Lenamare with pride, but it is certainly one of the strongest. Not only militarily, since Lenamare also ruled a good portion of the land around the school, but more importantly, magically. There were two full masters, Jehenna and himself, three assistant masters, and twenty-five students. Counting the best of the older students, Lenamare had about seven to ten wizards to draw on and of course his own incredible talent, which made the effective number about nine. He had fifty fulltime men-at-arms, forty-five new recruits, and about a hundred peasant men able to fight. Of course, Exador would probably bring about three to four hundred men, but Lenamare’s fortification and his more potent permanent pentacles for summoning demons and conducting other spell craft, evened things out.

Which reminded him; he really should go up and check with Jehenna to see how construction of a talisman for controlling the greater demon was going. He turned around, and entered the narrow door to the tower. He crossed the large great hall in which women were setting up pallets for the wounded and any fleeing peasant folk to sleep. As he neared the center stairwell, he saw Assistant Master Hortwell leading the older students down to the dungeon level to inspect the magical wards that guarded the outer walls of the keep. Lenamare smiled to remember his brilliance in thinking to install permanent wardings for the walls. Now, anytime they were needed, simple spells could bring up powerful defenses to guard the keep.

He nodded to Hortwell, who gave a slight bow back, and continued down the stairs. Lenamare took the stairs up. The stairway was a large gray stone spiral staircase, which climbed from the dungeon levels up to almost the topmost floor. He went up three full revolutions and stopped at the main workroom, where he knew Jehenna to be. He opened the door to his left, the stairwell wound down counterclockwise, like all good defensive spirals, so that men retreating up the stairs, would in the open area in the great hall, have their sword arms free, and the attackers’ would have to put up with the center pole of the spiral. Lenamare again congratulated himself on his inspiring military genius in recognizing the necessary defensive elements, when he designed his tower.