Pools of Darkness - James M Brown [82]
"Cousin, it's time to stop this nonsense for a while." Talenthia could barely be heard over the roaring wind.
"Great idea. I'll take your lead."
The two joined hands and raised their oak staves into the air. The pounding rain stopped, and a cool breeze blew up and swirled around the tower and the meadow. The druids' cloaks were whipped by the breeze; their staves swirled round and round above their heads, emitting a humming noise. The clouds above twisted and spun away. Then the sun broke through.
Clouds were visible in every direction, but in a wide oval above their heads, the warm noonday sun beat down from a bright blue patch of sky.
"Well, that's much better," Andoralson said with a satisfied smirk. "I expect our patch of blue will last only a few hours. Talenthia and I were able to slow the lightning today, but I expect the next attack will be stronger and will get through our best defenses. We'd best be off at first light. Evaine, you can rest. Tell us what you discovered as we move along the trail."
No one argued. They all knew they had to press onward as quickly as safety allowed.
14
War of Wizardry
"Tactics, Captain Brittle! Tactics win battles and carry the day!" The Red Wizard of Thay was especially arrogant and overconfident this morning. "And tactics, you bag of bones, is what you sadly lack."
If Brittle, the undead lord, had possessed lungs, he would have sighed in frustration. He had been summoned from the grave by a pit fiend because of his legendary fame for leading all types of armies into all types of battles. His victories and rare defeats a thousand years before were still discussed with admiration in all parts of Faerun. Written accounts of his battles were prized by both good and evil generals. Brittle knew more about tactics and combat operations than any creature alive on Toril. Or dead, for that matter. Somehow, a weak human, less than forty years old, who had spent most of his years reading crumbling tomes of magic in the libraries of Thay didn't impress him.
"Let's review my battle plan one more time, shall we?"
Brittle clenched his bony fists with a faint scraping and creaking. Along with half a dozen clerics of Bane, eight assorted mages, and the pit fiend, he was part of an assembly convening in what Marcus called his war chamber. Others would have called it a converted bedroom. Marcus circled and gestured around the pit fiend's magical creation-an exact, ten-foot-long diorama of the walled city of Phlan.
"I will lead the two main attacks against the walls of Phlan with the minions of Moander. We will attack from two angles in sort of a clawlike action."
"A pincer maneuver," Brittle interrupted.
"Ah, yes. Right. A pincer maneuver," Marcus stammered. "You, Brittle, will lead your three hundred skeletal warriors under the water, through the bay, and into the city, but naturally, your attack will not be the main thrust of the battle."
"Mine is the diversionary action."
"Correct. Yours is the, ah, diversion. One of my units will try to get around the main body of defenders and attack from the side."
"In a flanking maneuver?" Brittle noted flatly.
"Yes, yes, in a flanking action," Marcus said, creating a rod of flame to mark several spots on the model's walls. "If all goes well, the other half of my army should be able to create a weak spot in the walls and climb over to let everyone else in."
"You intend to probe the wall in force, is that correct?" Brittle asked.
"Why do you keep interrupting my war council, Brittle? Just do what you are told, and all of my plans should proceed in good order."
The skeletal commander could no longer contain his irritation. "Lord Marcus, any one of these operations would serve your purpose of getting into the city. But trying all of them at once is foolish-worse than foolish, suicide. I would advise you to give up all these groping tactics and simply make a frontal charge at the walls. With the power of the minions of Moander