2. Counter Raid

  Morganius was 20 years old. He set off with two retainers, people who really did not want to join him on this fool’s errand, nonetheless he took them along and he marched from his southern village of Zena in the province of Phesus into the Turanian province of Izin. His father’s retainers were extremely nervous at being in enemy territory.

  “By Crixus this is insane,” one of them said.

  40 Turanian riders immediately began hooting, but Morganius produced icicle shards that hurtled and unhorses the first few riders, making the retainers aghast and look at him like he was a monster. The Turanian horsemen tried to circle around, but Morganius successfully took out the first riders, and the others tripped and were unhorsed. Shards of ice arced through the sky, piercing the armour of the Turanian soldiers. A dark green flag with a golden sword dropped to the ground, ice shards sticking through at least 30 of the soldiers, with the other 10 scampering off in total terror.

  “What in the actual fuck…” a retainer said, “you can do that?”

  The other one was shorter, and just had his jaw open, staring as Morganius approached the horses.

  “We can go quicker this way,” Morganius explained.

  The two retainers looked at him like he was crazy, and to some extent perhaps he was. He rode near the Turanian village, and the local soldiers immediately mobilised against the distant threat. One retainer was armed with a spear, and the other a sword, they got off the horse and Morganius likewise got off the horse.

  “Even those horses were worth something,” Morganius sighed.

  20 archers and 20 spearmen faced off. Morganius asked the man with the spear to hoist the Mikelian flag, a purple flag with a golden hawk. The Turanians were immediately incensed and charged at the three figures they saw in the distance.

  “I will haunt you if this doesn’t work,” the tall retainer said.

  It did. The spearmen had flying pieces of ice lodged in their throats and heads, and the archers’ arrows were blocked by a screen of ice, which again caused the retainers to gawk a little. When the arrows thudded into the ice, he retracted it and proceeded to slaughter the archers in the distance. It took a shocking lack of time, gunning down one side, but Morganius wiped out the garrison; one man seemingly came out to take him down from a low angle, keeping a low profile and hoping to ambush Morganius but he successfully shot an ice bolt straight through his brain.

  “Hoist the Mikel flag on the village, you can go back, I think I can handle the rest,” Morganius said.

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  The village was small, but it was now technically Morganius’s. The locals looked at him with fear, some mercenaries appeared from a bar.

  “I can pay you in horses and captured coin!” Morganius said.

  The retainers scampered off, heading for Zena and for Morganius’s father to tell him the news; and now three local mercenaries armed with crossbows looked at their new employer. Morganius rode back bringing one of the mercenaries on his horse to take a horse back. Local villagers were invited to take the horses too, it took an hour or so, but 25 horses were recovered, giving Morganius 50 Turanian silver. Each mercenary got 10 silver coin each, and they nodded quite satisfied. The other coins were returned to the village, a compact formed with a bribe. The villagers were nonetheless nervous at being taken by Mikel.

  “Isn’t Mikel soon going to have another civil war, you can’t possibly beat Turan,” one of the men said nervously.

  “Perhaps,” Morganius said, “I am not afraid of Turan. Tell me where are the nearest villages?”

  The villagers all looked at him with expressions of amazement, aghast that he could suggest such a thing.

  “Here,” one said, “and there is a larger town here.”

  Morganius didn’t waste much time, buying some supplies, which the villagers gave without much trouble, and riding to the nearest village. His mercenary crossbowmen had thick hide and a steel shield on their backs to protect from missile fire, as well as a short blade; they rode for two hours arriving at another confused Turanian village. They dismounted and Morganius stared into the distance, seeing the thatched roofs and the small Turanian army.

  “You are really crazy huh,” the mercenary said aloud.

  “Why’s that then?”

  “Well for one you wish to be a Mikel lord,” the mercenary said, “secondly, you are attacking Turanian lands, this makes you mad.”

  100 horsemen thundered along, catching Morganius on the plain, his mercenaries were about to run, when he unleashed a cannonade of fire, taking out the first rider, and then the next, shooting his ice bolts at the perfect height, as they pierced shoulders and knocked heads off. The Turanian horsemen were horse archers, adept at hit and run, but due to the sheer odds they had hoped to simple ride down Morganius, he in a minute had whittled them down to 30, his crossbowmen shooting at least three dead. Ice continued to fly in their general direction before there were only horses, and five fleeing riders. His mercenaries raised their weapons in the air, and the local village soldiers still determined to fight him. 20 men armed in heavier weapons came thundering along, and Morganius reduced them to 10, his crossbowmen were too busy celebrating to notice, and watched as their commander and employer shot into their legs, crippling them before they finished them off, six of them surrendering leaving yet another village in his hands. The flag of Mikel was raised by one of the mercenaries, while the other two collected coin, and things that could get coin.

  “Horses can get coin, and I guess armour and weapons too,”

  “Their markets won’t accept it, not for very much anyway,” one of them said, “that’s just how it is I’m afraid.”

  Two local villagers were hired as swordsmen, something akin to Morganius’s bodyguard, they promptly enjoyed the loot of silver coin. Morganius hired a cart, overpaying with 10 silver before bribing the local villagers.

  “Yes humble sorcerer lord,” one man said, “most gracious of you.”

  Morganius had five men, collecting some fine rings, necklaces and some swords in the cart before trundling along to their next target. Morganius gave his two new recruits 10 silver each, and promptly had an army fund made with a large pouch. He had looted 200 silver and had already given away 100 to the village, 30 on the cart and the two soldiers; leaving the rest for future purchases. He thought awhile and purchased another cart and two drivers. Left with 40 silver coins he read the book he was given.

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