The Crystal Warriors (21 page)

This is the real threat!

He felt something sense his presense and he turned to flee. Back through the ground, rising heavenward to get away, even as a dark form probed and grasped at him, trying to pull him from the chair.

Struggling, he clung with both body and spirit, and as he rose the ground seemed to burst asunder.

Before him in the distance was Allic's city of Landra, stripped naked so that the supposed menace from the south could be contained. But that was not the real danger!

Beneath his feet an army was marshaling, and at last all the bits and rumors―Macha's strange attack, the reports of Sarnak's kingdom stripped of troops―at last it was clear.

Even as he hovered, wondering, there was a tugging from below. He looked down and his heart froze: He was gazing into the eyes of Sarnak, who regarded him with cold hatred.

"You know too late," Sarnak whispered.

Kochanski tried to form words of defiance, but Sarnak's power held him speechless, immobile.

"I might be tempted to let you leave and tell," Sarnak said. He hesitated, then shook his head. "But I think it better if your soul comes with me. I have a place prepared for ones such as you."

He reached towards Kochanski.

There was a blinding flash. With a strangled cry Kochanski tried to pull back. He felt hands gripping his shoulders and he shrieked. The hands shook him.

He opened his eyes. It was Jartan. Dazed, Kochanski looked around and saw that the two of them were still floating above Jartan's palace.

"Sarnak!" Kochanski cried. "He tried to..."

"I know," Jartan said soothingly. "With the chair you stay here, yet you travel far. But what you see can be sensed by one standing by you. I could see the shadow of torment closing over you, so I pulled you back."

"It's Sarnak!" Kochanski announced. "I could see it all. The war with Macha is nothing but a lure for Allic. Sarnak's dug a tunnel to within sight of Landra, and is sneaking an entire army through it. Even if Allic stops Macha, Sarnak will still win."

"Jartan," and he hesitated for a second, "all of them, Allic, Mark, Storm―everyone has walked into a trap!"

P
atrice stood by a large pool in her courtyard, watching flickers of light in the reflections. Her aura glowed as she strove to see how the war between Allic and Macha was progressing. Finally, she lowered her arms and the darkness of the night came back to surround her.

"What did you see, Mistress?"

"Nothing more than we already know," Patrice answered the witch. "I don't understand any of this. Why are Macha and Allic fighting? There is no logic to it."

She shook her head. "Mobilize the army. No matter who wins, I want to be prepared to intervene as an ally with the winner. And increase the watch on Sarnak's border. He is much too quiet."

The witch nodded and touched her communications crystal, sending the orders.

Patrice had turned her attention back to the waters of the pool. "By the way, how are my new toys?"

"The two outlanders are responding well to the drugs, mistress. Soon they will be as pliable as babies."

"Keep me informed. I can use them, no matter how this war turns out."

Patrice turned her mind back to the conflict. Her spy in Landra had informed her that the city was dangerously undermanned, but there were too many dangers for her to move before her own plans were ready. She glanced at the sky. Dawn was coming.

* * * *

"I think you better get your men up," Ikawa said, leaning over to wake Mark.

Stretching, Mark came to his feet. A light mist had risen, cloaking the field like a burial shroud. Mark rubbed the sleep from his eyes and looked to the men who lay on the ground around him. They were all here now, except for Kochanski and Goldberg. Where was Goldberg?

"Thinking of Goldberg?" Ikawa said, more as a statement than a question. Again there seemed to be that ability to almost read what the other was feeling, and he looked at the Japanese captain.

"He could still be alive," Ikawa said gently.

"Who? Oh, Goldberg you mean. Perhaps." Mark turned away.

"All right," Mark commanded, going to the men who were his only link to the other world, "time to stand to. Dawn soon."

The men started to stir, cursing.

Ikawa walked back towards his own command and Mark fell in by his side.

The mist around them was slowly dissipating, the sky behind them shifting from deep indigo to scarlet and orange.

"You know, Mark, at times I almost fear what I am becoming here. There are times when I can somehow see... see what is around a corner, waiting and lurking. And then I wonder if by seeing I am drawn to that path, or can still change it, and the seeing is nothing more than a warning."

"Go on, spill it. What's bothering you?"

Ikawa turned away from Mark and walked over to the barricade, Mark following in his footsteps.

Through the mist they could hear Macha's troops stirring, the noises for a day of slaughter.

"They have something over there." Ikawa's eyes were full of fear.

"I dread this day," he whispered. "There is something over there, something I can almost smell."

"And you think that death will take you today," Mark said evenly. God, how often he had climbed into a plane with that certainty of death hovering over him. Convinced that when he again touched earth, he would be trapped in flaming wreckage. And yet at the end of the day he would climb out of the plane, his legs trembling, only to lie awake that night thinking that tomorrow would be The Day.

He knew what Ikawa was fearing, and no words could drive it away.

Mark lay his hand on Ikawa's shoulder.

Ikawa looked back at him―then his gaze shifted past Mark and his eyes grew wide.

Mark spun around. Nothing was there except the mist, now bunting away. A breeze came drifting across the field to blow away the last of the mantle of grayness.

"I saw something," Ikawa said.

"What?"

"I thought I saw something rise into the air and come back down."

Ikawa pointed to the sentries posted along the wall. Several of them were peering intently towards the enemy encampment, visible at last now that the mist was nearly gone.

"Whatever it was, it's back down now," Mark replied. "Most likely a sorcerer or demon rising for a quick scan."

Ikawa was silent.

All around them warriors were forming into ranks. Pennants swirled and stretched with the coming of the breeze. Morning was upon them, and with it the promise of battle.

"We'd best see to our people," Mark said. "I'll meet you at Allic's tent,"

"Our job is to hold," Allic said to his unit commanders. "As long as we hold the top of this pass, Macha cannot break out onto the high plateau."

"But a number of raiders have already worked their way around us," came a voice from the back of the tent. "My homestead is only a half-day's ride from here."

"Damn it, we can't stop all of them," Allic snapped. "Some raiders are bound to work their way around. But the main force is blocked. They don't dare to leave an organized foe in their rear."

"I've detailed half a thousand Tal riders to hold the raiders in check and to keep our communications open. But
here
is where we have to stop their main force, until the other frontier armies can join us. I've stripped Landra to hold Macha here. Damn it all, it's here that we hold him, or your farmstead and every other farm in the province will be gone inside a week."

"Pina, what do you estimate their forces at?"

"Forty thousand, my lord."

From the silence in the tent Mark realized that Pina was only now admitting in the presence of his subcommanders just how bad he felt the odds really were.

Allic smiled, as though relishing the chance to prove his skill against an extra enemy or two.

"We've got the wall crystals here; that will cut them down," Allic said. "Have the ranks form the standard shield wall when the attack comes."

"Ikawa, are there any projectiles left for your weapons?"

The others in the tent murmured among themselves. The miracle of the guns had brought them the precious time needed to strengthen their position.

"Not enough to make a difference now," Ikawa replied. "We should hold what we have left as a final reserve."

"All right then, place your weapons in this tent. If need be I'll give the command to use them."

"Mark, I like the way your people fight when they fly," Allic continued. "When the battle is joined, can you lead the whole group of offworlders like that again?"

Mark looked over at Ikawa. His people had no training or instinct for the close formation fighting, but they'd have to try.

"Yes."

"Then I'll lead my sorcerers up. Mark, you command the offworlders. Fight them as you see fit."

Allic smiled at Storm. "Macha has no idea you're here yet, so when you..."

A distant thunder filled the air and rolled away. It pulsated again, louder than before, and then yet louder again.

"The drum roll of the Subata," Pina said quietly.

Mark saw the hesitation cross Allic's features.

"Full ground defense!" he snapped at the frightened trumpeter who had burst into the command tent. "Form squares with shield walls, sorcerers stay in squares."

The signaler rushed from the tent, and within seconds half a score of trumpeters were sounding the commands. The camp outside broke into pandemonium as the ground troops rushed to take position.

"Pina, all sorcerers are to man heavy wall crystals," Allic shouted, and then he turned his gaze on the offworld commanders. "Mark, rally your people here and hold the center square; don't go up or you're lost. Ikawa, stay with me but send your Saito to the next square with several men. We'll need them to help fire one of the wall crystals."

As Mark and Ikawa emerged from the tent, an ominous pulsing washed over them. In counterpoint to it came a distant rolling chant: "Torm, Torm, Torm."

"What the bell is going on?" Mark shouted as Storm dashed out of the tent after him.

"The drums mean that Macha has brought up his regiment of Subata."

"What the hell is a Subata?" Mark cried.

"Look, here they come!" Storm pointed off to the south.

Ikawa was already staring in that direction, a look of primal terror in his eyes.

Mark turned southward, and his cry of fear echoed the anguished shouts of those around him.

* * * *

"My lord, there should be no stopping them now. It has been long since their last feeding."

Macha looked to the commander of the Subata, and the sorcerer grinned at him with wolfish delight.

Macha felt a wave of revulsion. The Subata were needed, but they were a weapon of desperation, not a worthy one. A man should be met by another man, with spear, or bolt and shield. This bestial slaughter was not to his liking at all. But he had lost too many already; he wanted this fight concluded before Allic's other forces could unite.

"Just see that they don't turn back on us. If they do, I'll have you staked out for your lovelies to finish off."

The sorcerer tried to show defiance by refusing to turn away from Macha's gaze, but at last he broke. He feared not that the Subata would turn, but that somehow Macha would be able to read the other thoughts, the hidden work, the secret plan in service to another lord.

A shadow passed over them―a shadow that blotted out the sky. A foul wind blew across them from the beating of thousands of leathery wings. Macha gazed upward as the Subata host moved forward to the attack.

For a moment Macha almost felt pity for Allic. His army could never withstand the Subata. With luck, before the day was out the fools would be relieved of this renegade Allic, who could so brutally stab his neighbors in the back.

* * * *

The plains and hills surrounding Landra were filled with Sarnak's army. His sorcerers and demons already had full command of the air since they far outnumbered the skeleton force Allic had left behind.

His engineers were already completing the pontoon bridge that would allow him to cross the river and attack the west side of the city, further dividing its defense.

Sarnak stood on the crest of the slope, his banners fluttering in the breeze, his cape swirling out in the wind behind him. The sun shone upon him and he was content.

I have never felt so alive, so complete, as I do at this moment,
he thought to himself.
If only it could last forever...

His field commanders were doing well, maneuvering the men with practiced ease, sending out skirmishers to test the walls, drawing the fire of Allic's heavy crystals so their positions could be marked.

Already he could see that Allic had played into the trap, for his spies had reported nearly two dozen of the heavy weapons but a month ago, but only twelve could now be spotted. So the fool had left his city naked for the taking. Perhaps this plan could work completely after all.

"Soon you shall be the prince of Landra," Mokaoto said evenly. "Let me be the first to congratulate you."

Sarnak turned and gazed at the Japanese officer.

"Tell me," he said smoothly, "was it usually the custom in your army for officers to congratulate each other before the battle had even started?"

Mokaoto was silent at the reprimand.

"Perhaps following your logic I should congratulate you on what you plan to give your former commander once this fight is completed."

At the thought of his revenge Mokaoto smiled grimly.

"To achieve your dreams, you must first risk," Sarnak said evenly, "as I now risk. You may therefore have the honor of leading the first wave of sorcerers against their wall, signaling the general attack."

Mokaoto did not flinch or look away.

Whatever this man is, Sarnak realized, he does have courage. Useful, but also a liability. He had sensed that this man's power was still growing. Courage, combined with cunning, could be a benefit, but it could present problems, too.

"Now go," Sarnak said coldly.

Mokaoto lifted into the air, shouting the signal for the attack.

A tumultuous shout came up from the throats of tens of thousands.

The first wave started in.

Within seconds the walls of Landra were wreathed in fire and smoke as wall crystals fired, and heavy battering crystals, dragged all the way through the tunnel by gangs of laborers, fired in reply.

Even as the thousands rushed forward, more men poured from the opening of the tunnel which had been blasted out of the hills, a league beyond the city wall. The reinforcements emerged in joyful anticipation of the pillage about to begin.

Sarnak also laughed. The two armies which should be allied against him were tearing the life out of each other, far to the south.

* * * *

"Christ in heaven," Walker screamed. "What the hell are they?"

Mark stood riveted in terror, as his men and the Japanese formed up beside Allic. All around them sword- and spearmen prepared to receive the attack.

At first it had seemed like a black cloud rising from the Torm camp, but it was a cloud made up of thousands of individual shapes.

"They're fucking snakes!" Giorgini cried. "Fucking snakes that fly!"

"Holy merciful god," Mark whispered. There were thousands of them, and the smallest were at least twenty feet long. Larger ones were two, even three times that size. Their bodies seemed to be shaped like airfoils, and they flew by means of an undulation combined with the flapping of thin, batlike wings that spanned a distance nearly as wide as they were long.

Now he understood Ikawa's foreboding. He turned to the Japanese captain, but Ikawa was rigid, almost catatonic.

Jesus, he was terrified of snakes, Mark remembered, and now this!

"Ikawa," Mark yelled, "you've got to hang on; you've got to defend yourself!"

There was no response, only a blank look of despair.

All up and down the line Allic's men braced for the onslaught, forming into a dozen squares, one to each wall crystal, the formations checkerboarding the confines of the earthen-walled fortress. If there had been a hope for escape, panic would have broken the position then and there. But after the initial terror, all seemed to realize that in running there was no escape, for the Subata would hunt them one by one. Only through squared shield walls and a hedgehog of spears pointed upward could they hope to survive. Grimly the warriors fell into their positions.