Pools of Darkness - James M Brown [83]
"It is clear to me, Captain Brittle, that you know nothing about military matters. I don't know how you got your reputation as a brilliant commander."
Brittle's hollow eye sockets stared at Marcus in bony silence.
Marcus turned to his pit fiend. "Escort this insolent being to his troops. See that he doesn't bother me again."
The evil creature flapped toward the skeletal warrior. Both left the room. As the pit fiend led Brittle out of the upper chambers, he lay a taloned hand on the skeleton's shoulder. A burst of magical black sparks sprayed from the talon and swirled around the skeletal body.
"Brittle, I know your talents as a leader. With my magic, I have now released you and your skeletal army from all control Marcus holds over you. You and I both know that tragedies sometimes happen in battle-often, sadly, to the leaders of armies. Go forth, Lord Brittle, and make war as you did in centuries past. Latenat!"
With a thunderous boom, the fiend teleported himself back to the heart of the tower.
At the edge of the accursed, twisted forest, Marcus's troops were gathering. The landscape was covered with green flesh, matted fur, and bony skeletal shapes of monsters of every size and description. Fangs dripped, voices screeched, and weapons rattled as the evil horrors anticipated the slaughter ahead.
Once again, Marcus flew into battle on his black nightmare. He roamed above his troops, reviewing them one last time while he shouted orders from on high.
"You ogres and trolls-move in front of the clerics and wizards. Your orders are to protect them with your lives!" Marcus had no trouble being heard above the din of his army. He had magically enhanced his voice. Even at a whisper, his voice was a bellow.
A little more than a mile-wide swath of Moander's minions stood before Marcus. The treelike creatures were the result of powerful, corrupting magic that rendered them deadly fighters. They moved more slowly than a normal man, but numerous magical protections were built into their bodies.
Marcus smirked from on high. And what's best, he decided, is that they do anything I command with just a thought! He shifted gleefully in his saddle.
Marcus ordered five of the tree-minions to charge Phlan's walls.
"I will invent my own tactics. In a thousand years, the world will be writing about my battle style. I'll show Brittle how a battle is really fought. I won't even wait until his skeletons come out of the bay."
Sensing his inevitable victory, Marcus ordered the entire army to surge forward. "If I'm lucky, I can win this battle before lunch and enjoy the company of the erinyes this afternoon. I wonder if Tanetal can make the sun shine over the tower. I think I'd like a little sunlight streaming in for a change."
Marcus mentally ordered his tree-minion army to split into two units as they advanced. The living part of his army, the spellcasters, clerics, monsters, and human mercenaries, followed far behind the tree-creatures of Moander.
A mile distant, atop the walls of Phlan, a cleric was taking advantage of a special detection spell. He could easily hear Marcus's enhanced voice babbling at his troops. The cleric sent word to Tarl and the other leaders of Phlan's defenses, who ordered the troops at the bay to be reinforced with more clerics. Extra warriors were ordered to fill positions on the northern walls.
The defenders of Phlan weren't impressed by Marcus's maneuvers.
"Hey, Ston-lookit these weird tree-things they're sending at us this time!"
"Yeah, I heard about those the other day. The guys who went to bargain for peace told all about 'em. They smell like the inside of a moldy ale keg, and they might even spit poison gas. Be careful, Tulen old buddy, or you might get turned into some kinda tree fungus before this battle is over." Ston snorted in laughter.
Nearby, on the same wall, two wizards were preparing to launch their spells.
"Whaddya think-lightning or fireballs on those slimy beggars? Course, we could always