Dark Foundations (94 page)

Suddenly aware of how close it was, Merral quickly touched the microphone switch. “Stand firm! When this thing reaches our side of the gap, I want us to hit it with two rounds each—on my order.”

As his words died away, Merral pulled Balancal toward him so that he could speak to him without shouting. “This thing affects morale,” he said in a low voice.

“Oh, wonderful,” said Balancal. “I thought it was just me. You feel it too?”

“Yes. Look, if it gets much closer, I don't think the defenses will hold. Prepare for a retreat.”

Balancal bit his lip. “Right. Thanks for the warning.” His eyes flicked to the flare gun at his belt.

The baziliarch lurched slowly over the reconstructed part of the causeway. Merral saw that the forelimbs ended in great claws, like those of a bird. As it advanced, the Krallen in front squeezed aside, then followed, keeping out of range of its long flicking tail.

“Fire!” Merral shouted.

The rattling, whistling clamor of the simultaneous discharge of over a hundred weapons was almost deafening. For a second, the creature disappeared in a sheet of flame and smoke. Then, apparently totally unscathed, it swayed forward.

“That's impossible!” Balancal protested.

I wish it was
.

As the smoke cleared he suddenly saw that the silvery feature atop the baziliarch's head was not a part of the body, but a metal crown.
How weird.
The body was clad in some sort of loose tunic. As he recognized both the crown and the clothing, Merral had confirmed what he knew: the thing they faced was no animal, but a being with intelligence and authority. What had Vero said? “There is a hierarchy: the baziliarchs come above steersmen.”

The terrible creature swayed forward, its clawed feet scrabbling over the dead Krallen, and stood before the wall.

It reared up on its hind legs so that its head, looking like a weird sculpture, was at the level of the parapet. As it did, Merral saw that head and body were scarred with deep, sharp notches.
It has been in a battle.
He suddenly realized that he had seen the battle where these wounds were inflicted.

The baziliarch twitched its legs against its body again with a rattle that seemed to shake the walls. With a great rustle, it unfurled its terrible, crow black wings. They too were scored and slashed.

Then it opened its vast mouth and gave a harsh abrasive hiss.

Cries and whimpers of dread broke out from the soldiers.

With a new spasm of horror Merral glimpsed a vast emptiness. The dreadful form that stood before him was not really the baziliarch, but merely a physical shell that had been made for him.

The Wielders of the Powers created this frame for the baziliarch just as Azeras said
.

Suddenly, the monstrosity leaned forward and lashed out with its wings.

In an instant, all behind the parapet threw themselves flat. There were yells and screams. Merral felt the wing slice through the air just above him and heard the sound of bodies tumbling into the street.

In a second the wall began to shake and Merral peered up to see the baziliarch tearing at the parapets and its defenders with its forelimbs. Swords, guns, and bodies were thrown every way. In seconds, the masonry began to break up.

Merral saw that soldiers were fleeing.

He caught sight of Balancal lying flat behind the parapet wall and pulled his arm. “We have to retreat!” he yelled.

Balancal, his face almost bloodless, tugged his flare gun free and fired into the air.

There was a new, angry flurry of wings and stones crashed to the ground. As the blue flare erupted above them, Merral touched his microphone button. “Withdraw to the third circle as orderly as you can! Take your weapons.”

His words had barely died away before he saw soldiers jump down the steps and slide down the ladders. Merral, with Lloyd at his side, followed.

Once on the ground, which was already becoming filled with masonry, Merral looked around for Vero and was relieved to see him just behind with Balancal. He ran into Causeway Square, then stopped, surveying the scene with a feeling of sickening despair.

All around there was almost complete pandemonium. Soldiers were fleeing up Island Road; medical orderlies were trying to get the wounded onto stretchers and into ambulances; men were running into each other. Merral saw two women exit a house, their long-barrelled rifles over their shoulders, and stare at him as if seeking advice. He gestured them up the road and they started jogging away. Everywhere, Merral saw faces and heard voices full of incredulity and fear.

“You'd better go,” Vero said, his voice breathless. “Get up to the third- circle defenses. They will need you there.”

Merral heard Lloyd grunt agreement. He wanted to disagree, but a deep booming sound had begun by the Gate House and as Merral looked, the doors of the gate began to buckle.

“What about you?” he asked Vero.

Vero exchanged a glance with Balancal. “My friend, the irregulars were set up to fight behind the lines. So, I guess this is where we leave you. It's time to go and make ourselves a nuisance.”

“That was the plan,” Balancal added, shaking his head at the spectacle around him. “
Tuh
. I didn't expect it to be quite like this though.” Then he gave a dismissive shrug as if being utterly outnumbered and outmatched was merely a nuisance. “Well, we'll do what we can.”

“Balancal,” Merral said, grabbing his hand, “well done so far. Don't give up hope.”

The handshake was returned and as Balancal slipped away to join a handful of irregulars moving up through the square, Merral turned to Vero. “You can't go,” Merral protested. “I need your advice.”

There was a look of pain on his friend's face. “It's not been much good so far. I'll try and follow you. I need to help Balancal now.”

“But it's going to be dangerous.”

Vero gave a sad and drained smile. “No more than anywhere else in this town tonight.” The sound of ominous splintering noises from the gate seemed to underline his words. “We must face facts,” he added. “Against a few Krallen we might have held out. Against so many—and against this thing—we've little hope. Unless the Most High intervenes, all we can do is make a good death.”

Suddenly, feeling close to tears, Merral clasped Vero's hand and squeezed it. “Fight well.”

“And you.” The grasp was returned. “But I'll try to meet you at the summit.”

Vero ran after Balancal and his men. They slipped away into the darkness of a side street without looking back.

Hearing new shouts of alarm, Merral looked across the chaos of Causeway Square to the wall. There, silhouetted against the illuminated sheets of mist, a monstrous figure now swayed along the remains of the parapet. With its tail lashing in spasms and its wings outstretched as if giving it balance, the baziliarch lurched to the Gate House where the flags hung limply in the still night air. With fierce, deliberate blows, the creature struck them down.

It hates them
, Merral realized in a moment of clarity.
It loathes all that they stand for
.

There was a new rattle from the baziliarch. It extended its wings and, with a bound and a little glide, leaped down into the square. There it turned and with its forelimbs tugged at the props that buttressed the gateway's doors.

He was suddenly aware of Lloyd touching his shoulder. “We'd better go, sir. You can't do any more good here.”

Merral turned and, followed by Lloyd, began running up Island Road. At the point where the road began its first turn, he paused and, walking free of the melee of vehicles and frightened people, looked back to the Causeway Square and the Gate House. The baziliarch stepped back from the gateway and suddenly the doors flew open. With a wailing howl that seemed to echo around the town, the Krallen burst in like gray liquid.

Merral rejoined the fleeing crowd.

Merral and Lloyd ran and panted their way up the road along with men and women who were close to panic. They stopped twice: once to help a wounded soldier onto an ambulance and once for Merral to remonstrate another man who, having given up all hope, sat weeping in a doorway.

The utter misery of the retreat—or was it, Merral thought, a rout?—was slightly lifted by the fact that the Dominion forces did not immediately follow in pursuit. Merral wondered if their failure to pursue their advantage was due to the lack of initiative that Anya had identified.

When Merral edged his way through the closing doors of the new gateway at the third circle, he was slightly cheered at the hopeful faces that greeted him.
They are relieved to see me.
He gulped down the water given to him. He gazed around, seeing soldiers having their wounds tended and replenishing ammunition.
They feel that as long as I live, all hope is not utterly lost. It's idolatry, but it's too late to change it now.

Yet as Merral looked at the soldiers gathered at the gate, he saw other emotions in their faces. Some eyes held despair while others bore a hint of accusation.
They expected to face enemies
,
but not to have to face a battle with something impossible to fight.

Of his five captains, four, including Karita, were present. He quickly reviewed their status. All had lost soldiers and all now had limited ammunition. The snipers were down to a dozen rounds each. Ordering them to wait by the gateway where the doors were now barred, Merral ran up to a command position at the top of a small tower on the side of the street. There he found one of Balancal's lieutenants staring at a large screen of street maps while other irregulars peered through the open windows onto the lower part of Ynysmant.

The sounds of shooting and explosions rolled in through the window.

“They are taking their time,” the lieutenant said. “They regrouped in Causeway Square and are slowly moving up. They aren't moving out to the sides. They are taking a lot of losses. But . . .” He looked up with an expression of resignation and shrugged sadly. “There are always more.”

“I know. How long before they get here?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, Commander. Probably not long.” The man gestured toward the window. “Take a look.”

Merral walked over and peered down, seeing the red glow of fires in the lower streets. He could hear the repeated
whip, whip, whip
noise from the XQ guns and could picture the Krallen lines advancing up the streets only to be cut down by fire from within the houses.

But the Krallen, he realized, were his secondary concern. The great focus of his fears was the baziliarch, the being who tore into buildings and defenses, who sapped the strength and will of all who faced him, the one no army could withstand.

Merral stared into the darkness, his eyes unwillingly hunting for the creature. Finally he saw it—a night black form climbing from roof to roof, its wings arcing wide in the darkness as it swept down all flags and banners. In the flash of an explosion he caught the glint of its bizarre yellow eyes.

Oh, Lord
,
this onslaught is not just against us, it is against you and your honor. Act, Lord! Defend your name!

But there was no blast of lightning, no appearance of the envoy, no word of comfort.

Merral realized that he now felt beyond either fear or hope.
It doesn't matter.
We'll just keep fighting until the end
.

His thoughts were interrupted by a brilliant flash at the point where Island Road reached the second circle. A loud boom echoed round the town. Merral looked around, weighing up his limited options. He could see no reason why these defenses would hold a moment longer than those down by the causeway. Indeed the very length of the new walls on the third circle meant that they were almost indefensible.

He walked back to the lieutenant. “I'll order my soldiers to take a position around the defenses here. But I'm going up to the top to see Enatus.” He dropped his voice. “And when they do get here, don't feel you have to defend this line to the last man.” Merral noted relief in the man's eyes. “Delay them as long as possible and then retreat to Congregation Square. We will make a last stand there, and the more fighters we have there, the more likelihood that we may hold them off.”

At the bottom of the tower, Merral found his captains and gave them orders and then, with Lloyd pacing silently behind him, walked up the winding road to the new fortifications at the summit of the town. He felt exhausted and utterly overwhelmed.

He walked through the gateway past machines ready to push the doors closed at a moment's notice and past faces that seemed to search his, hungry for any hint of good news.

The vast square, lit unevenly by spotlights, was full of people and activity. Men and women were loading weapons, running between medical tents, or carrying supplies. In the conversations he overheard, Merral sensed both a barely suppressed fear and a grim determination. He asked for Enatus and was shown inside a sandbagged construction by the side of Congregation Hall.