Dark Foundations (75 page)

He ran a finger over the embossed Lamb and Stars emblem on the front of the armor jacket, somehow reassured by all it stood for.
I must keep that central.
It is the Assembly that we fight for and the Assembly's Lord who will defend us
.

Finally, Merral turned to a slender box on the table. A long black handle protruded out from a plain scabbard of spun synthetic. He pulled out the sword. It was a meter long, perfectly straight with razor sharp edges on both sides. It gleamed softly in the dull light of the room. Cautiously, Merral swung it, feeling that with the slight weight of the battery in the handle, it was well balanced.

“There are tricks,” Vero said. “The main one is that the blade must hit at absolute right angles to cut through the ceramic. Angled blows are useless. And body or head blows are the only ones that kill them. If you have the time—and are so inclined—you can chop their legs off one by one. The battery is on as long as you hold the handle, but only the tips of the blade are live. That voltage won't hurt too much anyway.”

Merral swept the blade again.

“And they need to have their heads crushed or necks severed afterward to avoid them being repaired. But we have teams with hammers and axes.”

Merral returned the sword to the scabbard, attached it to his belt, then turned to a mirror on the wall. His image riveted him.
I look like some ancient warrior.
What have I become?
“The old times
are
back.”

“Sadly so,” Vero said.

Ten minutes later, Merral stood in front of the command center looking down past the dark jagged rocks with their smattering of trees to the defenses at the mouth of the gorge. Beyond the gorge, the moist green and blue flatness of the Edelcet Marshes stretched out, ending sharply against the rearing brown and gray cliffs and bluffs edging the Hereza Crags. Beyond the marsh lay the low beige smear of the Langerstrand Peninsula.

As he gazed at the scene, he could hear the noises of hasty preparation around him: shouted orders, running feet, the clatter of equipment.

It was already warm and the faint southward breeze off the mountain had little cooling effect. Already the air seethed and flickered above the hot rocks.
It will be a scorching day,
and cruelly so in the gorge
.

When Luke Tenerelt joined him, they embraced. Merral noted that the chaplain had shunned armor and that his uniform was sweat stained.

“Glad to have you here, very glad,” Luke said, stepping back to scrutinize Merral. “So beneath all the armor of war, how are you?”

“To be honest, Luke, I wish I were someone else, somewhere else. Is that a sin?”

Luke shook his head. “Not as long as such thoughts don't make you duck your responsibilities. But, if I may ask, how are you handling Perena's loss?”

There was a bench under the shade of a spreading mulberry tree. They sat down and for ten minutes Merral talked of his feelings about Perena and his fears for the day ahead while Luke listened.

“I think,” Merral said finally, “what I have realized from Perena's death is this.” He paused, finding the right words elusive. “I had hoped, Luke, deep down, that death and suffering would miss me. I believed that, although there might be deaths, I and my family and my closest friends would be immune. Yesterday, I learned that this is not so. This war will cost us all dear.”

Luke gave a nod of slow agreement. “A wise realization. One of the oldest and most subtle heresies is the idea that evil can be defeated cheaply.”

Merral said nothing.

Luke pointed to the base of the gorge where tiny figures of men and women moved with feverish activity and sighed. “I may need to be reminded of that myself today.” He looked up. “Duty calls, Commander. I have many people to see. But let's pray, shall we?”

A few moments later, Merral's diary chimed under his armor jacket. He fumbled for it and looking at the screen saw a wide, pale, and distorted face peering at him from an odd angle.

It was Jorgio. There were beads of sweat on his face and his lips trembled.

“Mr. Merral, I can feel something.” His voice was husky, as if strained almost to breaking point. “Something to the east. Something stirring.”

“What sort of thing?”

“It's big. It watches. It's full of hate.”

“Thanks for the warning, my friend. Oh, and yesterday, were you praying for us?”

Jorgio's lips trembled again. “I was. I knew there was a battle and that the enemy had to see some things and be blinded to others. And I reckon he did. But I didn't know as Captain Perena was involved. And . . .” Words seemed to fail him.

“She won, my old friend. She won.”

There was a dull nod as if Jorgio didn't trust himself to say anything.

“But keep praying, Jorgio. We will be fighting today.”

“I will. But remember, Mr. Merral, you won't be alone.”

The screen went blank.

Merral was about to say something to Luke when he heard hurried footsteps behind him. It was Vero and his face bore a troubled expression.

“My friend, we need you. There's activity on the peninsula. The Krallen are moving.”

25

C
olonel Lanier was staring at the wallscreen when Merral and Vero entered.

“Commander,” he said, two fingers rolling a spindly end of his mustache, “the word from the team on the peninsula is that the Krallen seem to be taking position behind the compound gates. There are also unexplained noises within the tower.”

Merral looked at the time. Eight-fifty-five: five minutes before the deadline expired. “Any news of the hostages?”

“None. We guess they're around the base of the tower.”

Thirty people,
including Isabella.
As he thought of her, a potent mixture of emotions came to mind: concern, sympathy, the charred remains of affection, and a good deal of guilt.
I really should have warned her
. Realizing everyone was looking expectantly at him, he pushed those thoughts away to be dealt with later.

“Colonel, my guess is that in ten minutes or less the Krallen will move toward us. I don't think we want the peninsula team to engage them. Let's pull them back now.”

The colonel hesitated.

Vero, who had been listening to something on his earpiece, nodded. “Colonel, the word from my intelligence team is that the enemy is about to move out. I agree with the commander. Get them back to the gorge. We can use them here. When the Krallen come under the crags, the irregs will attack them. They don't want our people in the way.”

“Well, then I agree,” the colonel said slowly and turned to an aide. “Order them back as fast as they can.”

Merral asked where he could get a good view and was led through the opening that until recently had been the door to the patio, up a ladder onto the flat roof.

At the far end a tall man dressed in the same pale green armor Merral wore stood under a hastily erected awning, staring westward through a tripod-mounted fieldscope. At his feet lay a slender tube.

As Merral gazed in the same direction, he could see just below him men still excavating positions.
“Digging in,” the soldiers of the old wars called it
.

“Welcome, Commander,” said a familiar voice.

Merral turned to see that the man in the armor was Azeras. Merral glanced around but only Lloyd was in earshot. “Greetings, Sarudar.”

“And you, Commander. You had a day of successes yesterday.” He bowed. “I honor the name of Captain Lewitz. I owe her memory an apology. I thought she was all words. Instead I find that she was brave and skilled.”

“She is both an example and a loss, Sarudar.”

“I am sure.” He shook his head. “However many people you lose, the pain stays the same.”

His tone tells me he knows that from experience.
“Sadly, I can imagine that.”

Merral noticed that Azeras did not bear the Lamb and Stars emblem on his armor. Yet apart from that detail—which was easy to miss—he found there was little to distinguish him from anyone else in Tezekal.
Has he become like us
,
or are we now like him?

“Sarudar, you talked of yesterday, but what of today?”

“Indeed.” Azeras's worn face darkened. “I am not optimistic. I have never heard of a victory being won against such odds.”

“I see.”

“You want my private opinion, Commander?” Azeras drew closer to Merral. “Most of these men and women—and possibly all of them—will not be alive tomorrow. It's simple mathematics. You are outnumbered ten to one. Yes, you have the blades—very fine—and the armor—very fine too. But it's the sheer numbers that will do for you. And they will take no captives. They have enough already. And if the thing in the tower comes out, it could be over soon. But look.”

He pointed to where far away, just below the Hereza Crags, a small convoy of a dozen vehicles came into view along the road.

The party that had been watching Langerstrand; at least they've made it safely here.
Merral looked at the distant peninsula beyond them, then turned back to Azeras. “I know the baziliarch's name. It is Lord Nar-Barratri.”

Azeras scowled and made a circular gesture with his forefinger. “Ah. I suspected as much. It's not a name you mention. It's unlucky.”

“I'll take that risk.”

“You may think again on that. But let me warn you: if he comes here and opens his wings to let the darkness in, all your discipline and all your hopes will crumble in bare minutes.” Azeras had the look of a haunted man. “I am sorry. I wish I had some hope, but even with the best troops the True Freeborn ever had, we would find this too much. He can't be resisted. If he appears, you'll feel that defeat is certain.”

“Sarudar, I hear your words. I do not treat them lightly. But we must resist. We have no choice. But I have a question for you: if this defense is so doomed, why do you stay?”

“I have made a promise and I will keep it. Fate writes our days for us. We must all die somewhere, and here on a world of sun and air and sea is as good as anywhere. I have brought my banner.” He gestured to the tube at his feet. “And, at the last, I will fight under it.”

“I disagree with you on how things work. But you can leave if you wish. I am happy to release you from your promise.”

“Thank you. But that would be a matter of cowardice and dishonor. And Fate cannot be so easily cheated. A man's destiny cannot be dodged by running. But don't worry, I have shared my doubts with no else. I will fight, and you'll find that I'll stand firm—until death, if needed.”

“Thank you, Sarudar. I can but pray you are wrong.”

Lloyd, who had walked over to peer into the fieldscope screen, suddenly beckoned Merral over. “Better take a look, sir.”

The image on the screen lurched from the effects of vibration and haze, but it was all too easy to see that the high gates in the fence had been flung open wide; through them a gray horde of creatures poured out.