Wine of the Gods 05: Spy Wars (11 page)

Summer 1361

Karista, Kingdom of the West, Comet Fall

The general studied the mechanism of the "rifle" with interest. "Longer range and harder impact than a crossbow, eh?"

Oscar nodded. "
The projectile is thrown by a very small charge of something we think is similar to cannon powder. It's not nearly as smoky or smelly as the Cove Island cannons, but there's a definite resemblance in the odor."

"They're pretty easy to aim, fairly short training period. We managed to sneak into a couple of the officer's training sessions. Tactics change a bit, because of the greater range, and against a regular army, they're g
oing to be very dangerous." Bran said.

Rufi nodded slowly. "Indeed. They could stand off and shoot volley after volley from out of the reach of our bowmen. I'm afraid that I really need you two to go back to Fascia, and try to get me a timetable for their training, and when they plan to be ready to invade Verona."

Oscar nodded, and saw Bran echoing that.

"So, take a few days off, but I'm afraid there
's not enough slack for you to go home to Ash. I'll have your orders, all official on paper, and a chit for funds ready for you in three days."

Summer 1361

Ash, Kingdom of the West

Obsidian was a beautiful baby.

Question came visiting, her son Jek in a sling across her chest. "That just isn't fair, Never."

Never smirked. "What? Three hours of labor, as opposed to, oh, thirty-six?"

"Exactly. Lefty says—and I agree—that one child is just right for us." She patted her four month old son.

Never chuckled. "I'm glad to hear that's one thing Lefty and Dydit aren't going to be competitive about. It could be a bit hard on you."

Question giggled. "Me? Heck no. He'd have
to go to Cadent and have a orgy, just for starters. And without a good accounting of Dydit's, umm, well, Dad says it isn't really his fault, that he took a long time to shed that spell and Maleth's influence."

Never sighed. "Are we going to get back to exploring? Two babies and two active kids . . . I'm really going to hate it if Dydit goes off without me."

"It's worse than that." Question frowned. "The Government is going to put some serious effort—people, equipment and money—into exploration. It is not going to be our little group's project any more."

"Oh. Well. I suppose I should have expected that. Drat."

"Yeah. Now that they have to consider the possibility of attack through that dimensional gate over there, they have to man a watch post on the gate area, and probably some sort of defendable hard point in between."

Never drummed her fingernails. "I suppose we could dismantle the road. That last ramp and the way through the canyon would be easy to remove."

"Find the horses. Retrieve the wagon, and bring it home." Question brightened.

"No you can't. It's not safe." Dydit yelled from several rooms away.

"Oh. Of course, Dear." Never called back. "Anyway, Lefty will need to find out if they want the route closed before we can take action."

Dydit stuck his head in the room. "They haven't done
much except for sticking some poor sots out in the middle of nowhere to watch them, with the Auld Wulf popping in once a month to swap them out. The Earthers haven't done diddly except guard the gate building and look mean. Well, they sent those pathetic DONA people and some moles. And it's been eight months." His eyes dropped to the baby. "Almost nine, actually. I suppose I should take comfort in their apparently not being able to make decisions any faster than we can. At least Lefty will be out there now, so there will be some common sense in the vicinity."

Question snickered. "Lefty ought to be back in another week, so we can make him find out about the wagon retrieval, and closing the road across the top of the World."

Dydit stuck his head back through the doorway. "They moved the wagon to their camp, and fed the horses all winter long. Then they chased them off to the south. I liked Little Bit, damn it, she's almost as good as Dun. But I think they're long gone."

Never nodded. "Sounds like it. Well. This winter we finished the potion factory in Wallenton. If people will use them, it should bring our medical tech up close to Earth's. And the king is thinking about the advantages and costs of a public school system. I suspect that it's only going to happen in the larger cities. Other places, if they can't get local agreement, won't have any at all."

"Ash didn't have a school until a few years ago." Dydit pointed out. "And your basic education was so good you picked up Algebra and so on easily. Your reading and writing are better than most old Scoone University students. The rest is just history and civics and so forth, different in every country, let alone World."

"That's because all the adults in the village were educated, and schooled the children at home. What about places where nearly everyone is illiterate?"

"The city schools will be a good first step, Never. And some smaller towns will copy them. You can't change everything in a year." Question sighed. "I want to make gyps."

Dydit nodded. "Pre-fall books mentioned cars running on steam and electricity. Weg's all excited at the thought, and hounding the gods about it. The Auld Wulf found some diagrams of electric motors and now the boy is trying to figure out how to make one."

Question grinned. "My smart little adopted brother. I ought to sic him on you, Never, apparently the motors involve a lot of iron and copper. You could make them while you rest up."

"Oh yes, in the copious spare time a baby leaves me."

Summer
1361

Fascia
, Auralian Empire

"Light warps are the best magic yet." Oscar envisioned the mental wedge that split light and bent it around himself. "I just wish I could hold it longer." He strode out with Bran on his heels. They walked right past the guards and into the Amma's Palace.

Once inside, they sought a dark corner and dropped their warps. Illusions, now. With an unnoticeable spell on top. Anyone who did notice them would simply see a palace servant, cleaning something or delivering something. For the busy public parts of the complex this worked well. For listening in on conversations between the Amma and Pax or the Oner Worlders, they reverted to the light warp.

Like this one, which looked like it might finally come to blows.

"I doubt they can be of much help to you." Pax raised a contemptuous eyebrow as he flicked a glance toward the Oners. "As soon as the Gods show up, all these fancy guns will be useless."

"Gods." The leader of the so-called Action Team sounded disgusted. "I understand that you are one of them. Perhaps we should test you."

"With one of your silly games? My agents inform me that General
Rufi Negue, the brother of the king, will be touring the Southern Territories in two weeks. The Amma's troops will be there to meet him. I expect the general will call on the God of War. Why don't we go and observe. So you can see and judge for yourself how dangerous a God is. Even with no warning."

The Amma nodded. "An excellent idea. You may accompany the troops, they are leaving as we speak."

The Oner looked furious, but bowed acceptance. "I thank the Amma for the opportunity."

Oscar grabbed Bran and they backed off. Out of sight they released the light warp. “Nil didn’t say anything about anyone’s head exploding from over use of that thing, did he?”

“No. But there’s no way we can keep it up long enough to follow these guys.”

Oscar grinned. “Of course not, so we’ll have to join them. What do you think? Grooms or Cooks?”

Bran cleared his throat. “They use slaves for both those jobs and all their slaves are castrated.”

“You don’t actually think they check, do you?”

“Point.”

Two hours later they were cringing in front of the quartermaster. “Is this where we were supposed to report?” Oscar kept his head down. “I am a master cook, for the guests and friends of the Amma, who will accompany the troops. Ran is a butcher. I will need fresh meat.”

The quartermaster looked over as the troop commander stomped up.

“We will have thirteen guests and their three servants along for our little vacation tour.” A mix of sarcasm and anger dripped from his speech.

The quartermaster jerked his chin at Oscar and Bran. “Their cook and personal butcher have arrived.”

“Old Gods! Just what I need, the troops seeing these outsiders eating better than them.” He threw his hands in the air. “Keep them as separate as possible.”

***

“It’s just like when we first enlisted.” Bran reduced the lamb to cuts of meat, keeping the best for the guests and passing the rest to the regular cooks. They were starting to be viewed benignly, if not yet favorably.

“Speak for yourself. Even when I was one of Harry’s strays the witches did most of the cooking.”

“You’re just grumpy because we had to get off the boat and march the last three hundred miles. The witches did strange and exotic things to strange and exotic things. All you’re going to cook is salt beef, lamb, and goat. You’re doing fine.”

“Until my spices run out.” Oscar sniffed at the sauce and reached for another lemon. “Or I poison one of them.” his eyes slid to the separate area where the Action Team’s cringing servants were setting up their tent.

“If you do, for the Old God’s sake, poison them all. Or at least those eight. The other four have decent manners and the servants don't cringe when they're the only ones around.” Bran wrapped up tomorrow’s meat with a faint touch of a preservation spell and handed over thirteen big fat chops. “Maybe on the trip home? I’d like to see what these Oners can do.”

“I expect we're about to. These hills are the edges of the Southern Divide, we can't be but a few miles from the Old South Road. If they’re going to ambush General Rufi, it will be tomorrow or the next day. They’ve got scouts out and messengers running back and forth.” Oscar scowled around the camp. “This was a lousy idea, we’re too far from where they talk things over and make decisions.” He slid the chops into his marinade and checked the bread dough.

“So? We can hardly miss seeing all the troops riding out.”

“But how do we warn Rufi?”

“I’ll think of something.”

“Oh, good, but you’d better hurry. They’ve started running all over out there. I think this afternoon may be busy.” Oscar swept his glance around. No one looking, that he could see. He bent over as if to pick something up, and warped light around himself. “Let’s head out the way the scouts always go.”

“Right.” Bran spoke from thin air, beside him.

They bumped and jostled each other as they circumnavigated the encampment. Once on the trail, the puffs of dust from Bran’s feet made it easy to follow him. Six miles down the track, head ready to explode, Oscar grabbed Bran and pulled him around to the far side a rock outcrop. And collapsed. Bran also released his light warp and joined him on the ground.

“I can see the dust the Aura
lians are raising. Let’s let them go by, then we can follow them, see where they’re setting up the ambush, circle and get ahead of them, to warn Rufi.” Oscar grabbed his head. “If I don’t die before then.”

“Good plan. Not the dying, the checking out their ambush.” Bran laid an arm over his eyes and appeared to fall asleep.

Oscar fought off a desire to do the same, and emptied his mind, soaking in the warmth and listening, while letting nothing out.

The troops rode by, two hundred men and horses, looking lean and mean. Probably sweating worse than their horses under their metal breast plates and helmets. Only seeing the camp they’d left, the wagons and work horses, grain and hay, the blacksmith, the armorers, in addition to the usual support for any human troops, showed the effort it took to field even a brief sort
ie into enemy territory. The front ranks carried long lances. The rest would use their swords after any defensive line had been broken by a charge.

The minds of the Auralians ran from bright to dull to his inner senses, varying amounts of magical talent, none strong enough to worry him.

Trailing the column by enough to let the dust die down, the Oners felt odd. Eight of them were connected to each other, not unlike a mage compass, but shielded from Oscar and Bran, separate from them, outside. The other four felt like strong mages, but they didn't join anyone. They were solitaries. All the Oners leaked at the high frequencies, and disappeared in the low. Oscar kept his mind quiet and drawn in. They gave no sign of feeling them. Peering out, Oscar shivered. Pax was with them—and he was completely invisible to the mental sense.

“All right.” Bran eased up beside him. “I had an idea. I’ll hold a light warp around both of us, for half an hour or so, then you do it.”

Oscar nodded. “Good idea. Great, in fact. Let’s go.”

They alternated walking and running, to keep the Oners barely in sight. They spotted where the Army scouts waved them off in a different direction, and followed even more slowly. The Oners tied their horses well back from a canyon rim. One of them walked out and looked over. Nodded in satisfaction.

Bran and Oscar swung wide around them, and dropped down into a break in the cliff edge where they too could look over, without the Oners seeing them.

The Old Road predated the Kingdom of the West. Broad, smoothed from a thousand years of use and sandstorms.

The western scouts were already past them, the head of the column just coming even with them.

“Oh, crap.” Oscar snatched up a rock at threw it. No chance he’d hit any of them, but the rattle caught their attention.

With their eyes scanning the cliffs, Bran stepped out where they could see them, and held his arms out, brought them in, left up, right down . . . Bran hesitated.

“Both arms up, then both down for horse troops.” Oscar hissed.

“What’s a hundred?”

“Right over your head, bent across it, left out, bent up”

The column stalled. The scouts turned and trotted back. Maybe fifty riders in uniform, no armor, some wagons following. Rufi looking up from below nodded and turned to speak to his officers. Had he recognized Bran’s red head?

“Right, so let’s go see what the Oners have to say, coming all this way for nothing.” Oscar started back up when he heard Bran hiss. He looked back. Horsemen, coming from the east.
The Auralians spread out, forming a broad front, trotting horses breaking into a gallop, long lances dropping down.

Yelled orders from the Westerners, a few shields hastily snatched and horses urged forward to take the brunt of the first charge. The Westerner’s usual lances were shorter, more maneuverable. Even if they’d had them ready, they would have been of little use.

The Auralian knights crashed into the hastily formed Western line, and through it. Horses and men screamed as lances hit living targets. Swords clashed.

The embattled general yelled again, not orders this time. A prayer. "God of War!
Assist . . ." That was as far as he got, the Auralians pressed in . . .

And something odd happened, a twist of reality, some broad powerful untraceable
flood
of magic poured over the battlefield.

A huge rearing horse of blackest midnight, a rider in silver chain mail, breast and back plates, black leather, glittering sword held aloft.

The black stallion lunged sideways taking down the Auralian threatening the general, horse and all, while the God of War shortened another by a head. Horse and man cleared a space around themselves with brutal efficiency.

Oscar felt the shields, just physical. Could squint and see a low arc around the horse to keep him from being gutted or hamstrung. But flexible, not hampering the horse's movements.
How does that work?

General Rufi had lost no time. He rallied his still mounted troops and hit one side of the weak spot just created in the Auralian line. They crashed through, leaving men and horses bleeding on the ground, wheeled left in impeccable formation and charged into the Auralians' secondary. They slaughtered a path through and left the Auralians in disorder, trying to turn their line and get through a barrier of their own wounded and dead.

The Auld Wulf had spun to face right and charged the other half of the Auralians. In a messy confused melee he slaughtered men right and left, and the horse leaped and kicked out, and disappeared in mid leap. From the far side of the melee, they charged in again, and as the Amma's knights turned to attack him, General Rufi reversed his troops and hit them at full speed. The King's Own were experts with their short lances, and those with them were in the first line. The second line had already lost theirs, but waded in happily with swords. Just the speed and momentum of the horses was a weapon in its own, knocking the knight's mounts flat when they hit them from the side, trampling riders, carrying their own riders into and through the line of battle before the Auralians could rally to surround them.

The Auld Wulf continued to act independently, throwing fireballs at the officers as they bellowed orders across the bloody chaos. Wherever order appeared, he was there, destroying it. The Auralian line collapsed, reformed back a good way, but retreated rather than trying again, a few officers retaining enough control that it wasn't a rout.

The Auld Wulf stopped then, not pursuing. He searched the horizon and spotted the men on the cliff.

Rufi rode over and joined the staring contest.

Oscar shifted to where he could watch and hear Pax and the Oners.

He felt the Auld Wulf shift his physical shield then, placing it between himself and the spectators. The God added a shield covering the lower end of the light spectrum, heat through about half the visible spectrum. Oscar nodded. The more a shield covered, the thinner and weaker it would be. Now, would the god hold a third shield, or would he keep some offensive capacity?

Edmo jerked his head at Pax. "Aren't you going to do anything?" He turned and raised his right hand to point at the Auld Wulf. The temperature dropped as power was pulled.
Damn. Just like a Mage. I didn't see that they were pulling the heat too, last time.

A line of light hit the Auld Wulf's shield, almost high frequency enough to penetrate, and was quickly followed by lightning. No, not lightning, an electrical current. The God held the shield out, grounded it and drew a line of ionized atmosphere along it, down to the ground. Oscar shivered.
A man wearing that much metal shouldn't play with electricity.
The god swung off the huge horse and dropped to the ground. One quick motion, and his mail rippled, disappeared, replaced by some odd mottled colored clothing, thick-soled, laced boots.