Deadly Wands (31 page)

“Killing Mongols reduces the pain of lost
loved ones,” Billy explained from experience. “And the more he
kills, the better he feels.”

After Jim left them in the trees, Billy asked
Jack: “Is it true you have a million employees?”

“I have thousands of descendents who run
companies that employ a million Americans.”

“I need an organization to manage my
investments. I’ll give you access to my charity fund in San
Francisco if you’ll expand my food production, infrastructure,
education, and healthcare projects. All I ask is that you record
detailed expense reports and that you publicly credit the Red
Baron. I’d also like to give you access to my general war fund
accounts in Europe in case something bad happens to me.”

Jack started laughing hysterically, literally
rolling on the ground like a kid being tickled, which the boy took
as a “yes.” Billy could almost see a huge burden falling from
Jack’s shoulders.

“Why me?” Jack finally managed to ask.

“Because you won’t rob me. You already spend
every coin you can get your hands on to avenge your family.”

Jack liked the logic. “In that case, I’ll
make you my heir.”

The following morning, Billy called them
together.

“Prince, if you duel enough, you could become
the most powerful quad in the world. I’ll loan you a ton of gold
for you to bet, on the condition that 90% of your winnings go into
my general war fund."

"50%"

"85%, since you can't win without my wands,
can't bet without my money, and can't survive without quad
protection. But let's sweeten the deal by assigning female
bodyguards willing to mate with you, and a kilo a year for eighteen
years for each child comes out of the 85%. But you have to duel at
least 10,000 times a year."

"60% and I'll duel 15,000 times a year,"
Prince countered.

"80%, 15,000, and you get to keep these
beautiful Millennial Wands that I took from the Third Millennial.
My father dueled with these babies." The crowd gasped as Billy took
wands from his arm launchers and boots. "You've seen what I can do
with these beauties."

Actually, he held up Subodei’s backup that
his father used. The more powerful Millennials that he really used
he hid under his shirt.

"Let me see those," demanded Jack. He held
them to the sunlight, peered closely, even sniffed them. As the
final test, he lit them up, pushing out flame ten meters to
enthusiastic clapping. Jack looked like he got laid.

“Jack, we’re too famous to duel, so you can’t
have them, but the Mongols welcome Indians in their arenas so they
don’t have to fight them in the field. Prince, the sooner we kill
their super-quads, the faster we’ll win the war. Mali will also
duel, so don’t kill any dark women with huge hair. The lives we
save by dueling could very well be our own children."

“You just want to get rid of me,” Prince said
flatly.

“It’ll be easier to ravage your sister
without you here,” Billy admitted.

The athletic Indian took the wands from Jack,
felt their power surge in him, then shot twelve-meter long flames.
He’ll have no problem killing a million people for those wands,
Billy concluded.

"You have yourself a deal, Baron," he said,
shaking Billy's hand for the first time, his animosity buried.

That night, Billy found Blade off by herself,
still seething mad.

“I’ve been an ass, so you can hit me again if
you want.”

Luckily he wore his helmet because she
smacked him hard enough to knock his head off. He held out a set of
wands, even as she began kicking him mercilessly until she
exhausted herself. Then she snatched the bundle and tried them
out.

She changed from fire to steel to flying
through trees. Satisfied, she landed and accepted his apology. Sort
of.

“Okay, Baron. What do you want for them?”

The question confused him. “I want you to
make me a better swordsman.”

“And what else?”

“What else is there?”

“Princess said you gave her a ton of gold for
having your child, and that you’d do the same for me.”

“I sure don’t want my children growing up
poor. Life is too short to live poor.”

“Okay. For a ton a child, I’ll give you as
many as possible. But you must bathe first,” she said.

Billy ran for the stream.

CHAPTER 36

Jack built up a vast network of spies to keep
him informed. That night one of them flew in, looking terrified.
Poor Jack turned white when he reviewed the news. Everyone gathered
around. Jack tapped his throat so everyone could hear.

“General Tamerlane is coming with a marathon
division.”

“We need more super-quads,” Bear concluded.
“We should all recruit every super-quad we know. Hell, we should
have done that as soon as Red arrived.”

Nobody could argue with that, so most took
off to convince old war comrades to join Team Red. Jack flew to get
the new Americans, who were already late.

Vemana and Sarvanja, two ancient cousins from
India who looked like identical twins, sought out Billy. Two
centuries ago, Tamerlane sacked Delhi and stacked one hundred
thousand skulls into a giant pyramid. Jack lost several thousand
quads and the cousins lost most of their extended family, but at
least they stayed loyal to Jack after all these long years.

Billy always saw them as very tough birds,
but now they looked scared to death.

“Sorry, ladies,” he greeted them, “but
Tamerlane is mine. I have a personal grudge against him that I
don’t care to explain.”

“You’ll kill him for sure?” one of them
asked.

“I must be the one who kills him. But I’ll
give you the video of his death.”

Their vast relief made them look like they
just finished a giant dump. Their lips turned in what Billy assumed
must be smiles. They hugged each other excitedly and, for a moment,
Billy feared they’d hug him, too.

“Can you bring me some premium talent from
India?” he asked them. “I may need help with the other ten thousand
Mongols.”

They left for India without even waiting for
lunch.

“No way they get back in time,” Billy
predicted.

“Maybe not,” Bear said, “but every super-quad
in India respects them. If you kill Tamerlane, you’ll have the
gratitude of all of India. Even Indians with Mongol blood hate
Tamer the Lame.”

“We don’t even know when the new bad guys
will get here,” Billy complained.

“I’ll go find them,” Prince offered.

“You just don’t like seeing me with your
sister,” Billy taunted him with a smile.

Prince playfully stuck out his tongue.

Billy returned to his little tent, only to
find Mali waiting for him with his wife.

“I don’t think I’m pregnant yet,” Mali
complained angrily, as if it was his fault.

Over the next week, Billy re-organized those
who stayed according to how high they could fly. Wand strength
didn’t matter so much as ability to breathe slowly. When quads
returned, he placed them in ten under-strength companies according
to their ceiling. Company #1 could fly the highest, while the
lowest ceiling made up #10. Billy put them through the usual
formation maneuvers to get them used to each other.

It surprised everyone when Prince returned
just a week later to tell them that the Mongol marathoners landed
in Valencia after dark and haven’t been seen since.

“From the French coast they flew south to a
coral atoll near Spain. I’d have drown if I didn’t find a
sympathetic Spanish fisherman. In the middle of the night, they
flew to Valencia and disappeared, so I alerted the nearest Spanish
base. They didn’t attack at dawn, like I expected, and the Spanish
still have not seen them when I left. I’m not even sure the Spanish
still believe me.”

“Valencia?” This really bothered Maria.
“That’s right in the middle of their coastal territory. They could
fly out to sea, then surprise us anywhere along the front line,
from the French border to the southern tip near Africa. Oh, and
Valencia has their main bomb factory. How can we counter that?”

“But why didn’t they attack the Spanish near
Valencia when they had surprise?” Billy asked.

Something worried Billy, so he crossed his
legs and fell into a meditative state. Meditation helped reduce his
“fever,” as he called it -- the excess energy that he needed to
burn off through fighting or flying. Everyone talked about
counter-tactics. Instead, Billy thought of his dad. He’d know what
to do. He always did.

“Put yourself in their shoes,” papa would
say. “What would you do in their place?”

Billy chuckled because, if he commanded the
Mongols in Spain, he’d be pissed. Three centuries of victories
convinced the Mongols of their own superiority. The only reason
they had not yet finished the Spanish is that they concentrated on
the French. They saw the Spanish as more of a nuisance than a
challenge. I’d use these ten thousand marathoners to buy time,
inflict crushing blows, and teach the damn Spanish a lesson they’d
never forget. Yeah, punish them. Demonstrate Mongol
superiority.

“Oh, crap!” Billy yelled before opening his
eyes, unaware that a few hours had passed. He popped over the camp
and called a meeting. “Prince, how long did the new Mongols fly to
reach that islet?”

“Twelve really long hours.”

“Did they wear armor?”

“Of course not.”

It was simple physics: the less they carried,
the farther they flew; the more they carried, the lower and
slower.

“Maria, if they can fly twelve hours light,
could they get to Madrid from Valencia carrying incendiaries, and
still return to Mongolian lines?”

Everything became obvious to everyone. They
cursed as one.

“It’s why they didn’t attack the Spanish near
Valencia -- bombing Madrid requires a day to rest up. They flew so
long from France to lose anyone tracking them.”

Maria’s face turned red in horror. “My family
lives in the capital!”

“What are we gonna do?” Bear asked, ceding
leadership.

“Bear, get the Americans on the Pyrenees.
Maria, take your Spaniards and warn every military unit between
Valencia and Madrid. It’s almost sunset. Weighed down by bombs,
they probably can’t get to Madrid before midnight. Every company
will fly separately so the slower companies don’t hold back the
faster ones. If you can’t get to Madrid in time, then hit them on
their way back. Any questions?”

“What are you gonna do, Red?”

Billy smiled at them. “I’m gonna ambush
them!”

CHAPTER 37

The Mongols assaulted the Spanish near
Valencia after sunset. The ten marathon battalions flew out to sea,
rose to maximum height, and crossed inland unseen. The first three
hours passed uneventfully. They enjoyed great weather and scouts
didn’t even spot any spies trailing them.

The first sign of trouble came when a squad
shielding them from above shrieked a warning. The closest battalion
commander could not see the squads covering them, so he sent ten
squads to find them. He’d rather over-react that under-react.

That’s when the blasting started. The Mongol
commander heard brief firefights that told him nothing. His ten
squads had fanned out. Those closest now investigated the
firefights. Again, more blasting. Those furthest away closed
warily, then disappeared.

General Tamerlane broke up his best battalion
into one hundred squads to screen their advance and protect them
like a cocoon. So whatever lurked behind him must have already
destroyed several squads, plus the ten he sent after them. The nine
battalions flew in a line, with him on the far right, so the only
direction he didn’t have to worry about was to his left.

He flew to the rear and ordered the last
company to drop their bombs and deal with the problem. He followed
to identify the threat. There could not be too many enemies or
they’d be visible.

His danger bells suddenly rang louder,
although he didn’t know why. He felt something falling at him. He
pulled up and scanned the sky. Part of the problem were all the
damn clouds. And, at night, it was so hard to see someone dressed
in black.

Just then something blotted out the light
from a star, and descended straight down incredibly fast. This
wasn’t something falling, but someone flying down at maximum speed.
He shot at it, but the meteor dodged and fired back. Because he
hovered immobile, he had no momentum going in any direction, which
made evading the impossibly fast fireball impossible. He foresaw
his own doom and his last thoughts, before falling from the sky as
a burning ball, were for the safety of his men. Just as sailors
fear drowning, he had always feared falling to his death.
Mercifully, the fire entered his lungs, so he suffocated before he
splattered the ground.

Once Billy took out the commander, he sped
for the battalion. The company sent after him were now a kilometer
away and still flying in the wrong direction.

Billy descended upon the rear two lines, each
slice of his blades cutting through several marathoners. Flying
requires using the foot wands to propel one forward, while the hand
wands pointed down to support one’s altitude. In the panic that
comes from suddenly plummeting to Earth, a flier can either use his
hand wands to control his fall or risk a quick shot at the guy who
sliced him. Most chose self-preservation.

But finally someone shot at Billy, which
alerted those in front. Since he no longer enjoyed surprise, Billy
rose and targeted bomb packs.

Fireballs expand as they travel, losing
potency. But there’s a sweet spot between distance and intensity.
While ordinary quads would have to get too close to shoot safely,
firing four fireballs at the same bomb gave Billy the range to
explode munitions every heartbeat.

Every squad leader saw the obvious threat.
Some ordered their men to drop the bombs, while others ordered them
to attack. If they all did one or the other, fewer would have died.
As it was, Billy could deal with one squad at a time, dodging
laterally, varying his speed, or rising when the enemy got too
close. They needed to swarm him, shoot him from behind, or get
enough quads to fire volleys that couldn’t be avoided.