Rift in the Races (7 page)

Altin cleared his throat and began. “The redoubts are, in essence, replicas of my tower, a structure with which most of you are familiar, having encountered me in it when first we met. As you can see, this entire top floor upon which we stand is in fact an assemblage of redoubts, short towers with three floors and battlements at the top, just like mine, but for their being square to maximize space. Each of these has an assigned crew of three mages and carries everything it needs to function independently of
Citadel
.”

He looked across the crowd to see if anyone looked like they were lost. No one did, though Thadius had slid close to Orli and was peering down at her with an expression Altin did not care for. He was forced to press on, however. “Think of the redoubts as you might the small boats on a titan hunter or whaling ship, or perhaps the small ships your people use, the one you arrived in today as an example.”

Heads began to nod. Captain Asad once more exchanged meaningful glances with a few of the other captains. He made a point of moving in a way that allowed his video log to record the entirety of the expanse. “How many of them are there?” he asked.

“Two hundred and twenty-five,” Altin replied. “For the most part, we anticipate they will simply stay here, serving as the battle deck of the fortress—if Aderbury will tolerate such an analogy. The mages that man each one will function powerfully as a single unit from here.”

Aderbury wrinkled up his face. “You know I hate when you make boat analogies.”

“I know.” He winked at his friend and pressed on. “The whole set of them works as
the
battle stage for
Citadel
while it operates as a singular space fortress, but they can also serve as a swarm of combat-ready vessels that can fight alongside
Citadel
, whichever suits a given combat necessity. That central tower you see out there is the command center for combat operations whether
Citadel
fights assembled or as a swarm. We’ll be headed there next.”

A general murmur commenced amongst the visitors from Earth. Roberto leaned to Orli and, with a nudge, half asked, half speculated below his breath, “So, is he saying that all these little blocks fly around like his tower did when we first met him? Like fighters or something?”

“Yes, he is saying precisely that,” said Captain Asad, having overheard.

“Oh,” said Roberto. He looked back at Orli, then to Altin, and the genuine nature of his personality bypassed his tactical filters for a time. “We don’t even have fighters.”

It was fortunate for the swarthy lieutenant that Captain Asad’s eyes were not actually gun turrets and that he could not actually fire deadly projectiles or searing beams of high energy from them.

And Roberto’s point was a glaring one. While most of the fleet’s small cargo carriers and transports were equipped with lasers and a limited arsenal of short-range missiles, none of them would be worth the value of the scrap metal they would become if they were deployed for combat in space, certainly against the Hostiles, but just as much so against a “swarm” of magician-powered towers like the one Altin had been in when he wiped out hundreds of Hostiles singlehandedly. Not that Roberto thought that was a problem, but if it came to fighting, the fleet’s small craft were air-to-ground support and nothing more. Space fighters they definitely were not. They had far less power than the star ships did, and only marginally more maneuverability. It was readily apparent from the stony countenances of not only Captain Asad but a few of the others that this was an unexpected bit of intelligence.

“So, now that you know what the redoubts are all about,” the War Queen said as she watched the paranoid pall fog the faces of her fleet allies, “let’s head to the spire. Up there you will see something truly amazing. It’s not only a first for the kingdom of Kurr and for
Citadel
, it’s a first for all of Prosperion. The elves haven’t even done what we have done, as you are about to see.”

Most of this was meaningless to the Earth folk, but the group moved through the redoubts obediently. As they did, Altin let Aderbury take his place at the lead again, allowing himself to casually drift back toward the end of the line, where Orli was. They exchanged glances and expectant grins, knowing they were nearing the point where they could finally have some time alone, but neither said a word. Content to walk together patiently, they slowed just a little so they could have at least a sense that they were already alone.

But of course Thadius noticed it and called back to them in his kindest tones. “My dear Miss Pewter, you don’t want to miss what’s coming next. Her Majesty makes no jest. The spire holds a wonder beyond reckoning.”

“How would you know, Thadius? You have never been up there.” That came out pettier than Altin wanted it to, and he wished he could take it back as soon as he said it. Not because it wasn’t true, but because, well, such was the nature of courtship and rivalry.

Thadius saw his opening, of course, and, striding back to where they were, feigned sympathy and said, “Altin, old man, you’re snappish as a badger today.” Without waiting for a response, he went on, “And besides, I’ve read the reports, just as everyone on the Royal Armada Council has. Of course I know what’s up there.” He leaned closer to Orli and added, “I say, I do believe the old git needs a nap. All this walking must have been too much for him.”

“Lord Thadius, surely you have something better to do than consort with commoners like us,” Altin said. His dragon, Taot, couldn’t have summoned an acid cloud as corrosive as that.

Thadius gave him a patient look, then turned to Orli as if she were Altin’s mother and Altin had been caught at some form of naughtiness. “It’s not often that commoners are given titles like our poor Altin was,” he said, affecting the deepest sympathy. “It’s almost always the case that if they are, they struggle under the weight of them. Usually it’s having so much responsibility that gets them; the strain manifests unpleasantly.” He turned to Altin again, clapping him on the shoulder and looking down at him in the fashion of extreme charity. “However, our dear boy’s biting mood might simply be the stress of being in the presence of a creature as lovely as you, Miss Pewter. Lads who seldom experience such proximities tend to fall apart straight away, a sad reality of being unfamiliar with the circumstance.” He finished the statement with a greasy smile and another wink.

Orli thought he might be wearing a bit of eyeliner, but she could not be sure.

She held Altin’s arm tightly as she returned Thadius’ smile with a pleasant one of her own. “No naps for this old man today,” she said. “He’s promised the lovely creature an evening’s amusement. Hasn’t he?” She squeezed Altin’s arm and lent him a supportive smile that expressed how happy she was to be next to him.

Altin nodded. He would have spat something back at Thadius, but word wars were not his forte. Worse, he couldn’t help feeling that at least some of that last bit had been true. Orli was mesmerizing, and she did put him out of sorts. But that didn’t change the fact that Thadius was obviously trying to be a cancer on the evening he had in mind.

“Have you a chaperone?” asked Thadius as he rose to his full height, several inches taller than even Altin’s six-foot frame. “We are not without conventions and propriety here on this world, Miss Pewter.”

Orli tipped her pretty face up to him and said, “I’m not from around here.” The Southern belle accent she affected was lost on both of them, but she sent Thadius back a wink that was as loaded as any of his own had been.

Thadius didn’t miss a step, however. “Well, perhaps you’ll allow me to amuse you some evening after you’re done working in the mines.” He put an emphasis on the last word and gave the barest twist of his features, a hint of disgust meant to suggest there were alternatives not only for a day’s amusements but for her day-to-day circumstances as well.

Orli laughed it off. “Oh, thank you for the offer, Lord Thoroughgood, but I can’t imagine anything more fun than scandalizing Altin everywhere we go. Besides, you’re far too worldly for a down-to-earth girl like me.”

“I see,” said Thadius as irritation seeped through hairline cracks in his imperial façade. He did his best to shore it up.

“Come on,” said Altin, tugging on her with the arm she held so faithfully. “We have fallen fairly far behind. Let’s be done with this.” He looked at her meaningfully and added, “Is there any chance you feel up to chasing sunsets when we are finished?”

“I’ve been waiting weeks for you to ask.”

They walked off, leaving Thadius to fume privately to himself.

Chapter 5

T
he climb to the spire was a long one, several minutes working up a very steep set of winding stairs which ended, eventually, by emerging through the floor in a circular space barely fifteen paces across. Most of the group were out of breath by the time they arrived. Only Orli, Thadius, the lieutenant and the Queen were not winded to some degree as they finally crested the precipitous ascent. This was a reality that had the marchioness glaring furiously at Aderbury and Her Majesty. The only reason Aderbury was not berated for his “ridiculously lofty design,” as the marchioness would later refer to it, was that she was wheezing beyond the capacity for speech. Otherwise, she would have demanded that he install magic carpets—the sort of thing that could be found in any civilized construction in Crown City, no less—or at the very least the reduction of the tower’s altitude by at least half.

Altin was winded as well, though not nearly to the degree of the marchioness and certainly not that of the ponderous Vorvington—the portly earl was so belabored by the ascent that he bent, hands on his knees, with his ever-florid face glowing like a rose-tinted lampshade and his mouth carping for breath as one might after a day-long battle with demons. Altin regretted having not thought of providing a Feather Climb spell for them at least. He should have brought hummingbird feathers. The thought had simply not crossed his mind. However, even if he had brought them, he wouldn’t have suggested using them, not after the incident with Thadius back there.

So he panted far more than he would have liked, hating the fact that Thadius stood at his comfortable ease next to the powerful general and strapping young lieutenant exchanging laughs with one another as the young lord teased his poor pink-faced uncle mercilessly. Altin disguised his fatigue as best he could and found himself grateful for Vorvington’s diversionary rotundity.

The marchioness, however, was further infuriated by Thadius’ mockery, and she brought it to an end the moment she’d gathered enough breath. She didn’t say much—as embarrassing Thadius in low company would not do—but a simple “Thadius!” was enough to bring the levity to a halt. A single word with the force of a cracked whip.

And, if the climb and the impropriety of the young lord were not enough for the vexed marchioness, a high-pitched tone, a piercing shrill just at the edge of hearing, added itself to her list of irritants. Imperceptible at first over the huffs and puffs of their arrival in the chamber, the tone had slowly begun make its presence known and thereby began to agitate nearly everyone in the room. Not all of them heard it, but those who did became easy to spot as, one by one, members of the party began making faces and reaching for their ears, their eyes scouring the area in search of the source of the sound. But there was little there to see.

The room was bare but for one oaken door on the south wall. There were no decorations, no artwork or carvings in or upon the stone walls. The room’s only torch burned benignly against the wall opposite the door, and it wasn’t even a fancy one, just a plain thing made of bundled reeds, enchanted with the most basic spell to preserve the flame almost interminably. There was nothing else. Just the door, the torch and the ringing sound.

After a moment of it, a few of them began looking back and forth amongst themselves. Captains Jefferies, Paxton and the pale and lanky Putin all began fiddling with their com badges and checking the battery packs of their side arms. Captain Paxton reached for Captain Asad’s com badge when she was done with her own, to which he responded by pushing her hand away and shooting her a reproaching look.

“What are you doing?” he demanded. “What’s going on?” His eyes slid back and forth beneath the lowered boom of his thick black brows like a turret gun in need of something to blast.

The Queen grinned as she watched the group for a moment longer before finally relenting. “I see Peppercorn was correct,” she said, directing the comment to Aderbury and the general standing nearest to her, rather than to Captain Asad. “They
can
hear it. Interesting.”

“What is interesting?” demanded Captain Asad, as the turret swung toward her and locked on. “What is it
they
can hear?” From the severe and studious expression upon his face, he was trying to detect whatever it was the others heard, but with no success. Roberto and Captain Briceno of the
Abraham
exchanged glances that said they both felt left out as well.

“That,” said Aderbury, “is the sound of anti-magic, the ultimate alchemy of the enchanters school. It is nothing less than the unachievable, achieved. And our chief researcher, Peppercorn, is the Y-class genius behind it all. She predicted that the massive incongruence of this spell would be so spectacular it would create a physical rippling that even blanks could hear. And it appears she was correct.”