PREPARATIONS:

The Cormyrian ship Hippocampus rode under light sails as she had for the last four days. The seas were calm without a hint of storm. On the quarterdeck stood two men, one cursing the kind weather.

‘If only we could count on some clouds to hide the moon! We’ll stick out on a calm, shining sea like a giant leech on a princess.’ The man smoothed his mustaches, a habit of agitation. ‘If the raiders miss any watchers, the landing will be a bloody Bane-feast’, he said, referring to any battle that cost many lives.

‘Relax Marchant’, said the other man. ‘Mavven has been on that island for a week. He is as canny as War-Wizards come, and has a penchant for spying. Between his magic and his brains, those scurvy pirate dogs won’t be able to hide a thing from him.’

‘Scurvy pirate dogs! We’ll make a sailor of you yet, milord.’ Marchant Bisclavaret smiled and laughed, and the worry lines creasing his brow disappeared. ‘You’re right, milord. There’s no one I’d rather have scouting out the cursed place than he. By the time we arrive, he’ll have marked out all their defenses on a map that would make a cartographer scream in envy, and provide a troop roster that would put ship’s quartermaster to shame.’

Marchant became serious. ‘Lord Rowanmantle, I want to thank you for giving Ior overall command. I think it was a wise choice.’

Ior Daragoon was Kalamar’s other experienced commander. Before sailing from the Cormyrian port of Dawngleam, Kal had settled the question of rank, making Ior the commander on land, and Marchant commander at sea.

‘I appreciated your candor, my friend. It takes a wise man to know his limitations.’ Kal glanced to the main deck, and gestured with his chin. "Here comes Ior now.’

Ior climbed the stairs to the quarterdeck carrying two mugs. He handed one to Kal. ‘The Lady thought you might like a mulled wine in this cold sea breeze, milord.’ Turning to Marchant he grinned. ‘And you too, captain.’, Ior said, liking the mustachioed man.

Marchant took it and raised it in toast. ‘To your health, Captain Daragoon. And to the Lady. As fine a queen there never was, even if she is called a Countess.’

‘Since we’re all here’, said Kal, ‘let’s discuss the raid tonight. I heard from Mavven a few hours ago. One of the pirate ships is putting to sea.’

‘Finally!’, grinned Ior. He laughed. ‘I thought we’d be stuck in this tossing tub until we died.’

THE SETUP:

Everyone had been happy. Marchant was a flamboyant swashbuckler at heart, given to heroics. He had an engaging personality that made him seem even more handsome than he was. Other than friendship and an affinity for commanding at sea, Marchant’s greatest asset to his liege, Lord Rowanmantle, was his ability to make men perform in the worst of circumstances. He cared about his men as individuals, and word had it that several times he had very nearly killed himself trying to save men in battlefield disasters. So he had asked Kalamar to give overall command on land to Ior Daragoon, and Kalamar had gratefully accepted. Command at sea was one thing, but on land Kal needed a captain he knew would not jeopardize the whole battle to save his men

‘It’s working!’, cried Ior Daragoon. Captain Ior Daragoon, chief officer of the army of the Duke of Caragore, Lord Kalamar Rowanmantle, watched the battle progress, ignoring the blood flowing from his wounds and the smashed arm hanging useless in its sling.

Daragoon was bursting with pride at the way his soldiers fought against their humanoid foes. Snarling bugbears, huge, grunting ogres, and even a band of giants was being forced back by valiant soldiers beneath the gold standard emblazoned with the crimson lion-head of Caragore. ‘If the intelligence about this island was correct, this should be all of them!’

Lord Rowanmantle glanced at the captain of his army and smiled, allowing himself a moment of satisfaction. His army was performing admirably, and enemies lay in bloody, lifeless heaps all over the field. ‘Keep an eye on the left flank, Captain. Let me know when the enemy is fully engaged and pressing us there.’

‘It will not be long, milord. I can see four of the giants headed that way now.’

‘Then to your post, captain. We will spring our trap very soon, and I imagine you will want to be there to keep order. Chaos at this point would be disastrous!’ Captain Daragoon saluted and rode off, guiding his horse with his knees, his good arm holding a bloody sword.

Kal turned back to the battle. He was riding near the right flank, ready to intervene if the enemy should crush it and jeopardize his plan. Before him were fifty pikemen, all hardened soldiers, heavily armored, arrayed five ranks deep. Left of them were rows and rows of medium and heavy infantry, one-hundred and fifty in all in ranks three deep, mostly armed with polearms. Behind the infantry, spread the length of the battleline, knots of crossbowmen watched for breaks to appear in the lines, waiting to send a storm of deadly missiles into the enemy.

The huge humanoids were starting to take a toll on the numbers and morale of Kal’s troops, and though the soldiers were fighting well, the left flank was being pressed hard. It was all part of the plan.

Kal knew that the enemy would eventually crush that flank and start to roll the line up like an old blanket. He wanted it to happen. Looking to the end of the left flank, Kal saw the giants closing in and turned to his bugler.

‘Signal the left flank to give ground towards the center.’ The bugle call sounded, and the left flank retreated in neat order before the onrushing giants, bugbears, and ogres. The enemy howled as they sensed victory.

With a series of arcane gestures and words, Kal cast a spell. Large, roundish impressions appeared in the sand where the waves broke in the surf off his right flank, just opposite the battleline. Gray smoke swirled, and the tossing waves rose up, coating two massive creatures that were taking form. Big as houses, gray as slate, with legs like tree trunks and an arm each hanging between twin long, curving tusks, the two creatures solidified and began tossing ogres and bugbears around like dolls.

Many of Kal’s pikemen stopped fighting, as did their foes. They were stunned with disbelief. Most of them had never heard of elephants before, let alone seen them appear from thin air.

The four remaining giants that had not charged the left flank saw the elephants wreaking havoc with the line, and moved forward to engage them. Though sixteen feet high, the elephants stood less than shoulder high to the giants. The giants were shocked a moment later when Kal completed a second spell, and the two elephants doubled in size. Suddenly, the were half again as tall as the giants.

A giant was caught in both trunks and torn apart. Goring and stomping, the elephants went to work on Kalamar’s enemies. The humanoids began shifting their line in a vain attempt to handle the elephants.

Closing his eyes, Kal concentrated on his friend Argus.

THE AMBUSH:

Two hundred feet from the left flank, thirty-eight soldiers and sixteen horses were gathered around a black-winged, fat orange tabby cat and a thin man in yellow robes emblazoned with the crimson lion-head. The cat pawed excitedly at a little silver fish flopping in wet sand.

The thin man stood with eyes pinched shut, his face crinkled in concentration and drenched with sweat. The horses trembled, their eyes were wide with fear. The knights stood uneasily beside them, whispering in their ears and patting them to keep them from panicking.

Except for the cat and the concentrating wizard, all eyes constantly flicked to the walls of water sloshing all around them. It was hardly surprising that they were afraid. The soldiers stood about forty feet from the shore, on a sand shelf that rose to the beach. To either side and behind them, the sea swelled twenty feet over their heads, parted and held back as if by invisible hands.

Lord Kalamar Rowanmantle, Duke of Caragore, was not only a powerful warrior and skillful war-captain, but a mighty wizard as well. Still, his soldiers were getting more nervous by the minute. It was a lot easier to believe in what your commander said when he was standing there with you. But Lord Rowanmantle had magically and instantly moved himself to the battle when it had been joined. That now seemed long ago to those waiting in the trough.

Then they would look at the Lady Velanna Rowanmantle, and knew they were safe while she remained. Everyone knew how Lord Rowanmantle loved his blond haired, blue-eyed wife.

Everyone jumped as a great trumpeting sound rang from the field. Though those in the trough had no idea, Kalamar’s conjured elephants had just pulled apart the first giant, and Kal’s army’s left flank was falling back before the giant onslaught.

Silently, Countess Velanna Rowanmantle watched Kal’s fat cat, Argus. She knew Argus was a special cat, magically linked to her husband, and that the cat would receive a signal from Kal when it was time to attack.

Outwardly calm, Velanna was also beginning to worry about time. Though Kal was powerful, the spell holding back the water could not last much longer.

Argus had finished the small fish, and was contentedly and fastidiously cleaning himself, when his big yellow eyes popped open. The cat looked up at her and nodded. Velanna thought, Finally!

Velanna signaled silently to the waiting, sweating soldiers, then laid a hand on the concentrating wizard’s arm. He opened his eyes and looked questioningly at Velanna. To his great relief, she nodded. He slumped to his knees and the illusion that for nearly thirty minutes had hidden the great trough in the water vanished. Anyone looking from the beach would plainly have seen them mounting their horses. Even so, it would have been too late to stop them. As one, they charged up the sandy shelf and onto the beach, pennants flapping from lances and crossbows loaded and ready.

THE END:

The giants caught up with the left flank as it fell back, and the retreating soldiers began to rout. Nothing could stand before the giants as they swept Kal’s warriors aside using entire trees as weapons. Just as panic began to set in, Velanna and the knights and crossbowmen fell on the enemy from behind.

As the knights charged across the beach, the crossbowmen opened fire. Expecting huge humanoids, they fired in groups at single targets. Several ogres trying to intercept the knights were riddled and fell dead or dying with thick bolts sprouting from their chests, heads, and limbs.

The sixteen knights charged on, gleaming lances lowered at the unsuspecting giants. One of the giants turned and had time to shout a quick warning before four lances skewered him. Few on the field had heard the warning shout, everyone heard the death-cry. A couple of knights and horses were smashed, but in moments all four giants were dead. The knights and crossbowmen continued on, driving deep into the enemy flank and rear.

Heartened, Kalamar’s infantry surged forward with a howl. The bugbears and ogres fled, their will to fight finally crushed by the strange and horrible appearance of enemies on both flanks. A huge wall of blazing fire leapt up from the sand and cut off their retreat. With no where to go, they quickly surrendered or died. A cheer went up and the humanoids cowered, thinking they were about to be slaughtered.

Kal rode into the center of his army, Velanna at his side. He raised his hands for attention and silence fell. Kal’s horse was obviously magical; seemingly a black and gray appaloosa, it’s legs ended in misty, insubstantial hooves, as did its tail. It’s footsteps were silent, its hooves pounding the ground of another, unknown place. The strange horse was just one more amazing fact of life about their liege lord.

Standing in his stirrups, Kal solemnly saluted his soldiers, then, unable to contain himself, smiled broadly and cried, ‘Well done! Never have I seen such spirit in the face of such deadly foes! Victory is ours because of your skill and bravery. Well done!’

They cheered wildly, banging weapons on shields. The humanoids were herded together under heavy guard and the army began tending to its many dead and wounded. The isle had fallen.