Siege of Tilpur

By Brian McClellan

It is the height of the Gurlish Wars. Sergeant Tamas, a young infantryman in the Adran Army, struggles to keep his squad alive despite the blundering incompetence of their superior officers. Not only does Tamas have the curse of being an ambitious commoner in an army where rank is purchased rather than earned, he is also a powder mage. His magical ability to manipulate gunpowder is frowned upon by officers and feared by Privileged sorcerers.

When the Adran Army is about to give up on the siege of an enemy fortress, Tamas seizes upon the opportunity to prove his worth as a strategist and mage. But breaking the enemy on his own won’t be easy, no matter how strong he is.

Powder Mage short story first published in the UNBOUND Anthology on December 1st, 2015.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brian McClellan
• Release date: Jan 16, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386779711

Brian McClellan

Brian McClellan is an American epic fantasy author from Cleveland, Ohio. He is known for his acclaimed Powder Mage Universe and essays on the life and business of being a writer. Brian now lives on the side of a mountain in Utah with his wife, Michele, where he writes books and nurses a crippling video game addiction.

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The Siege of Tilpur

Brian McClellan

All material contained within copyright © Brian McClellan, 2015.

All rights reserved.

First published in the UNBOUND Anthology December 1, 2015.

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and scenarios are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. All resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Typesetting by Looseleaf Editorial & Production, LLC.

Sergeant Tamas closed his eyes and listened to orders being called back and forth across the front lines, voices punctuated by the report of artillery blasting away from the next hill over. Captains shouted at their lieutenants, lieutenants shouted at their sergeants, sergeants at their infantry. It was only a matter of time before some poor infantryman snapped and started screaming at the drummer boys for the simple release of having someone of his own to bark orders at.

It was all nonsense, of course. Hold steady, boys, or keep your heads up, or first man over the top gets a hundred krana. Everyone was in line, bayonets set, flintlocks primed, ladders to shoulders, tensed and just waiting for the signal. The only thing the shouting accomplished, as far as he was concerned, was to allow the officers to unleash their own damned uncertainty in as manly a fashion as possible.

Meanwhile the infantry baked in their uniforms, jackets and pants already soaked with sweat. If General Seske waited another half hour to give the order to charge, the desert sun might just reduce the entire Adran army to withered husks.

This is bullshit, a voice said behind him.

Quiet down, Farthing, Private Lillen responded in her lazy drawl. I’m trying to get in a nap before this things starts.

I’m not joking, Farthing said. This is utter bullshit. We’re charging the broad face of a bloody fort in full daylight with nothing but ladders and light artillery. It’s not going to work, just like it didn’t work last time or the time before that. We’re all about to be buggered by grapeshot and sorcery. Might as well call us ‘his royal majesty’s Adran bullet-absorbers.’

You’d think you’d have gotten used to it by now, Lillen said.

Used to it? Explain to me how one gets used to a fireball to the face? The same way you get used to napping on your feet? Because I can’t figure that one out either.

You want to desert? Lillen’s pleasant tone turned mocking. "Because you’ve been telling us you’re going to desert for almost three years now and it hasn’t happened yet. I’m beginning to think I’ll be long dead by the time you finally do it, which is a shame because I want to be there when they haul you back into camp