Warrior (The Key to Magic) (31 page)

Break.

"Today I find myself afflicted with maxims and adages."

"One man's future is the same man's past and altering either is often irrevocable.  Meddle and you will learn soon enough that what you had is often better than what you get."

"Lose something in time and you will never find it again."

"To stir no breeze, you must walk between the winds.  To cause no ripple, you must swim between the waters.  To leave no footprints, you must slide between the sands."

"Sometimes I believe that wizardry has a lot in common with other artistic expressions and sometimes I believe that it has nothing in common with anything.

"Don't go in to the current.  Always wade around the shallows."

"Don't meddle.  There is no such thing as an isolated event.  A wizard can lose the love of his life in one thoughtless moment."

"A wizard cannot erase his own existence but he can erase the existence that he has lived and be left with only the memories of a life that never was."

"Causal sequences are only fixed for those that cannot alter them."

The ancient voice went on at considerable length with unamusing anecdotes, convoluted homilies, historical generalities, theoretical musings, practical advice, detailed descriptions, specific techniques, subjective comments, and clinical observations. Whinseschlos spoke for hours and when dawn began to creep through the shutters and paint alternating bands of light and shadow across the walls of his dayroom, Mar was convinced that he would --
again
-- attempt wizardry.

His own first experience with undertime had been a near disaster that he had barely survived and he had resolved never to venture to that dread place again.  But now, with the words of Whinseschlos to guide him and his own vastly improved magical skill, he could almost certainly avoid the hazards that had nearly killed him.

He would not try it soon -- there was too much at stake to take the risk -- but one day he would.

FORTY-EIGHT

17th Year of the Phaelle’n Ascension, 346th Day of Glorious Work

Year One of the New Age of Magic

(Eighthday, Waxing, 3rd Springmoon, 1645 After the Founding of the Empire)

On the plain before Lhinstord

Throttled to half speed, the Algaraemyr platforms swept in toward the earthworks of the Mhajhkaeirii and their allies.  The spreading vines in the potato rows that covered the expansive fields to either side of the elevated roadbed of the Imperial Highway hardly stirred from their passage.  The ground rose some toward the two thousand armlength barrier of log reinforced trenches and embankments, but the slight slope would not hinder the speed of the algars.  Some portions of the flanks of the earthworks, which were anchored on the north by a shallow creek and on the south by a patch of forest, had an incomplete look and it was certain that their construction had been interrupted by the appearance of the Brotherhood's war machines, but the central section that crossed the highway looked solid.

The Mhajhkaeirii officers had of course planned their defense around outmoded concepts of warfare.  Whorlyr expected that he would find covered bunkers behind the line intended to provide protection from air attack by Shrikes, a not ineffective precaution, but the entire notion of a fixed fortification had become obsolete -- as the enemy would soon learn -- once the first algar came off the manufacturing line.

Whorlyr, seated beside Encourager N'loe, disliked having to peer through the drover's port, but knew that standing up through the observation hatch would make him an easy target for the enemy crossbowmen.

His basic strategy was a direct adaptation of that used at Yhmghaegnor.  Five hundred algars would close to within twenty paces and pour fire into the center of the earthworks to focus the attention of the enemy.  The battalions on the wings would pierce the line, roll through, and converge toward the center.

"Brother Zsii, relay an order to all battalions to reduce speed to one-quarter.  We want the Mhajhkaeirii to have plenty of time to bring all their armsmen to the line."

"As you say, brother."

At thirty paces, a swarm of crossbow bolts slammed into the forwardmost algars.  Nearly all of these projectiles shattered impotently on the armored shells.  One lucked through the drover's port of Whorlyr's algar and barely missed him. The shaft lodged into a curved section of a wooden rib just above his head and vibrated with a high-pitched sound for a few seconds.

"Signal to Commanders-of-Cloisters Bh'sh and Zhloartl," he told Zsii.  "Commence envelopment and let the slaughter begin."

FORTY-NINE

"... and then we returned to the
Empress Telriy
," Lord Ghorn finished.

The first thing that Mar had done after Yhejia had come that morning to collect Telriy -- to begin making baby clothes, an activity that struck Mar as confoundingly surrealistic under the circumstances -- was to ask the Prince-Commander to give him a detailed account of what had happened to him.

He had also asked High-Captain Mhiskva, Lord Hhrahld, and Maidsear Berhl to join them in his dayroom, with the intention of once again discussing strategy for the coming conflict.  Lord Ghorn might not have any new advice, but he was certain to have a fresh perspective on the current state of affairs.  Now, the six of them sat in a circle of chairs, though those of the Gaaelfharenii might more properly be considered to be couches.

"Waleck didn't explain why he was helping you?" Mar asked.

"No, my lord emperor.  As I said, it is as if he has two spirits in his body and the two are at counter purposes to each other.  The weaker one is sympathetic to your cause and makes clandestine efforts to provide assistance.  The other, the stronger one, sees you and everyone else as mere tools that he must use to achieve his own agenda.  I received the impression that while the antagonistic spirit is more or less lucid, the sympathetic spirit is afflicted with a deteriorated mental state."

"Let me know at once if he appears to you again.  Right now, I don't have any magic that can neutralize his interference, but I'm working on spells that may help.  Captain Mhiskva told me that you'd like to take command of the First Army?"

"Yes, my lord emperor, if that is acceptable to you."

Smiling, Mar said, "If you want that headache, it's yours.  In a few days, I'm going to take Number One to Lhinstord.  I'll drop you off in the Steo Hills on the way."

"Thank you, my lord emperor."

"Wilhm, Mhiskva, and I should go as well," Lord Hhrahld said.

"I was going to leave Mhiskva in command here at Mhajhkaei," Mar said with a frown.

"My lord king, I believe that the three of us in concert is a most potent weapon."

Wilhm, who had been leaned up in a corner apparently asleep on his feet, opened his eyes and said, "This is the way the dreams go.  We are all together."  Then he leaned his head back into the corner and began to snore softly.

Mar had no doubt that the ancient magic of the giants' blood, which had thus far defied all his attempts to delve, reinforced itself when they were near each other.  Fighting singly, they were no doubt magnificent, but fighting together, they were more than human.

"I wish I had a hundred Gaaelfharenii."

Lord Hhrahld gave a sad smile.  "But you do have three."

Mar turned his eyes to his First Minister.  "Captain Mhiskva?"

"I was born to swing an axe, my lord king."

It was a trite phrase often spoken by heroic characters in three-penny dramas, but in Mhiskva's case there was no question but that it was literally as well as figuratively true. 

Feeling as if he were somehow condemning all of the huge men to death, Mar conceded, "Alright.  We'll all go together then.  Maidsear Berhl -- make that Coirneal Berhl, you'll be on your own with Mhajhkaei."

"With the militia, the constables, and the marine brigade, I should be able to handle anything but a full blown invasion, my lord king.  As soon as more are available, I'm going to mount polybolos on every one of the Tertiary Wall towers.  Each machine is worth a brigade all by itself."

Then, as the talk began to turn as it always did to the routine topics of logistics and deployments, an agitated and scowling Subaltern E'hve presented himself at the door.  Behind him stood one of the magician-pilot couriers, Nihmraeyi, a young, sturdy woman just a few years older than Mar.  It was clear that she had travelled far. Her clothing had a sweaty, wrinkled appearance and she had dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep.  Soot and grime smudged her wind-chapped forehead and cheeks and her light-colored hair, though braided, was mussed and straggling.

"A message from Knight-Commander Dhrasnoaeghs, my lord king!" E'hve announced.

Mar waved them in.  From the courier's expression, he knew right away that the news contained in the scrap of paper that she clutched in her hand was bad.  It being a good hundred leagues to Lhinstord and Nihmraeyi's best speed being less than ten leagues per hour, it also had to be at least ten hours old.

"Read it aloud," he told her.

The magician-pilot unfolded the paper with hands that trembled slightly and let her eyes fall upon it. 

"Evening of Eighthday, Waning," she read in a strained soprano.  "My lord king, it is my shameful duty to report that our prepared fortifications before Lhinstord have been overrun by a devastating Phaelle'n assault that utilized steel-armored conveyances of a previously unseen design.  These conveyances appear to be magical in nature and move in a similar fashion to skyships, but do not take flight.  They are armed and manned, and projectiles are discharged from portholes along their sides.  These projectiles readily pierce plate and chain armor and are stopped by only the thickest stone or wood.  Within the first half hour of the engagement, I suffered the loss of more than eighty percent of my command.  The majority of the casualties have been fatalities.  The Phaelle'n have paused to reduce Lhinstord and this interruption of their advance has allowed me to retreat with some survivors.  I am in full flight to the west on foot.  I will attempt to regroup at the Sand River, but do not believe at this time that I and the remaining legionnaires of the I Corps will be able to take any action that will slow the enemy offensive.  I await your orders.  Knight-Commander Dhrasnoaeghs."

Lord Ghorn leapt to his feet.  "The Steo Hills.  I should leave now."

Already moving toward the balcony, Mar enchanted the Prince-Protector's clothing and towed him along.

"Nihmraeyi, take an order to Coirneal Relvhm at your best possible speed," Mar ordered over his shoulder as he passed through the balcony doors.  "I want the Skyship Corps to move to support the First Army.  I'm taking Number One to Lhinstord.  Coirneal Berhl, evacuate the Palace and everyone else that you can to the Monolith in any available transport.  Turn out the militia and warn the population of the city to expect attack at any moment.  Captain Mhiskva, gather up all the reinforcements that you can and follow me in the
Empress Telriy
."

With Lord Ghorn flying alongside as his grim companion, Mar sailed out to go to war.

FIFTY

143rd Year of the Reign of the City

Ninthday, Waning, 3rd Springmoon, 1645 After the Founding of the Empire

Palace of the Empire, Mhajhkaei

Mhiskva had to hold the
Empress Telriy's
departure.

"They're not in the palace, sir," Berhl affirmed.  "We searched top to bottom."

It had taken six hours, but sixteen hundred armsmen -- three troops of marines from Brigade B and four sections of half-trained legionnaires -- and their equipment and supplies were packed aboard the big skyship and four sail-rigged skyships attached as tows.  Berhl would be left with only two troops from Brigade B, the borough militias, and a contingent of civil volunteers to organize the defense of The Greatest City in All the World.

Mhiskva turned to the master of the vessel, who stood with First Officer Rhoird'myg and the magician-pilot Keiarh.  "Captain Thylbr, are your preparations to get under way complete?"

"Aye, they are, High-Captain. Crew all present and accounted for.  I checked the tow cables personally."

"We will wait another half hour.  If Lord Hhrahld and Wilhm do not turn up by then, we will leave without them."

It was twenty-eight minutes by the spring-wound clock mounted beside the compass on the steerage bulkhead when Lord Hhrahld and his catechumen finally appeared upon the mooring platform.

"I didn't think that the old pirate would miss this trip," Berhl commented. 

"Nor, truthfully, did I," Mhiskva agreed.  "Captain Thylbr, we will cast off as soon as they are aboard."

"Aye, sir.  Third Officer Keiarh, make ready to get under way.  First Officer, away all lines."

Orders relayed across the deck and crewmen jumped to. Keiarh's eyes glazed over and the
Empress Telriy
shivered for a moment.

Berhl saluted.  "Good luck, sir.  I'd better get off myself. Can't swim back from a skyship."

Mhiskva returned the salute, unable to shake the impression that the courtesy substituted for a final goodbye.

It took the two Gaaelfharenii just seconds to reach the stairs of the steerage deck, and as quick as the last mooring line was thrown free, the skyship shifted away from the dock and began a steady ascent.  When the slack came out of each of the tow cables, the vessel was given a jolt, but did not slow.  Behind, the other skyships, sails furled on masts but crews all at their posts, fell in line to follow.

Mhiskva awarded Lord Hhrahld a disapproving frown.  "My lord, I did indicate the time of our departure."