WARP world (60 page)

Dagga was led to a table in the center of the room. On the table sat four objects: a piece of paper with a list of destinations–all holy sites, a knife, the strange weapon that shot poison spines, and a heap of melted metal. The last was all that had been discovered when Dagga and his men had finally entered the barn after the conflict in the Humish Valley.

“Head Constable,” one of the Shasir’threa began, “we have considered all that you have brought before us.

The wizened, sallow faces looked to one another. Their fear was palpable, Dagga could almost smell the sweat beneath their robes.

“Before we render our decision, we would ask you one final time: Do you swear to all you have spoken of?”

Dagga cleared his throat, “Upon my honor, your holiness.”

There were nods and murmurs all around. The Shasir’threa who had spoken raised his hands for silence.

“Be it known, by decree of the Assembly of Shasir’threa, voice of the Shasir’kia, gods and protectors of all S’orasa, that Spiritual War has been declared in these eastern territories. The people known as Kenda have proven to be in league with the O’scuri and demons of the Underneath, they have rejected the light and unification of their lords and fathers. Henceforth, the Kenda are to be purged from this land by whatever means necessary. As the hands of the Shasir, it is the duty of all Law Givers to carry out this decree. Rise and swear your oaths.”

Dagga contained himself as the formalities droned on. When at last he was ushered out of the Sanctuary, he marched directly to Judicia Corrus.

“Well?” Dagga asked, striding beside the Judicia, their boots echoing in harmony through the stone corridors.

“The skyship fleet is to be outfitted for battle. They are preparing one specifically for us. We leave here tomorrow. Priority is to reinforce security around Shasir holy sites and temples. But I will send a dispatch to As’Cata; we begin executing the Kenda prisoners two days from now, at high sun,” Corrus answered, staring straight ahead.

“Odrell Kalder’s mine,” Dagga said.

“Of course,” Corrus nodded. “You have earned as much.”

“Make sure word gets out to the water rats. Only need to tell one, word’ll spread.”

They rounded a corner. Corrus stopped, looked around to make sure they were alone, then spoke in a whisper. “You believe Ama Kalder will return from the Underneath?”

Dagga resisted the urge to frown. He knew what the holy men believed but he wasn’t convinced these were demons they were dealing with. Still, Corrus was a believer, right to the core and Dagga had learned not to question matters of faith.

“To save the old man? She’ll come back,” Dagga said.

Corrus considered this, then raised his chin. “Then we must be prepared to welcome her.”

As Shasir’threa Vintil As’kar took his walk along the perimeter wall of the Malvid temple, he listened to the
pips
and
chees
of morning bird song, convinced it was going to be a good day.

Certainly there were troubles. The perplexing infiltration of the T’ueve Sky Temple, the deception and death of a promising apprentice, and the resulting skirmish had caused much consternation. In the Humish Valley, over thirty constables had been mysteriously cut down. The survivor’s tales were implausible and often conflicting–weapons that sprayed fire, a band of demons, the attackers vanishing from a locked barn. And now, Spiritual War.

As always, the trouble had started with the Kenda.

Below him, he could hear the bustle of newly doubled security forces, which was reassuring. Argument among the Threa continued but word had been sent across the Eastern Territories for an immediate tightening of security and soon the Kenda would be purged.

Already peace had begun to return. Despite the whisperings and panic, he had every faith that the mysteries would be solved, the demons rooted out, captured and destroyed. This was simply the repetition of a familiar cycle of rebellion among the Kenda. At last they would be dealt with, as he had always pushed for.

His fellow Threa had long considered his ideas too radical. Perhaps now they would recognize his wisdom? Perhaps a nomination for ascension was not beyond consideration?

As he stretched his arms wide, Vintil felt the warm rays of the sun reach out to touch him, and took a deep breath of moist morning air.

In the distance, a
flock of birds
was making its way toward him, and he nodded at the goodness of the omen. The katla bird was the totem of his order, and he was sure they were about to confer a fresh blessing upon him.

He turned away from the birds and looked over the grounds of the temple as he made his way back to his sanctuary. Today would be another fruitful day of finger pointing, contention, argument, and opportunity.

There was a strange hum behind him and he turned, wondering at the source. It sounded like one of the blessed o’rakla that conferred mystic energies to their relics but it seemed to be coming from the approaching birds.

Which, upon closer inspection, did not appear to be birds. He leaned forward and squinted at the strange devices that flew toward him from the north. His mouth opened as one of them suddenly accelerated, swooped toward him and a nozzle at the end discharged.

Shasir’threa Vintil As’kar opened his mouth to shout a warning but no sound escaped. The first casualty of the new war, he saw parts of his body fly away from him and then he saw nothing more.

Even without the Bliss, Seg came through the gate pleased at the precision and success of the raid as it was progressing. The first waves were in. The drones had done their job to neutralize the areas around the extrans, secure points and allow the troops to pour through the warp gates unmolested. The pathfinders had carved out bloody perimeters for the follow-on troops, who moved forward aggressively to secure their targets. Behind them, the support and command elements streamed in and moved efficiently, as they calculated and re-calculated the situation on the ground.

One of the most difficult aspects of any raid was the ability of the forces to take over structures without destroying the vita sources within. Preliminary data suggested thus far the balance between firepower and preservation was being maintained adequately.

As he stepped back into Ama’s world, Seg was grabbed by one of the Tenders, who shoved him forward, “Keep moving, keep moving, we have equipment coming through!”

At his side, Ama had held her anxiousness in check until this moment. “Where do we go to…” Her mouth fell open and Seg didn’t have to ask the cause. The T’ueve Sky Temple, an edifice symbolic of Shasir dominance, was in flames.

“There,” Seg said, pointing to the temple. “That’s where we’re going.”

They were chivvied along to the field headquarters that had been set up inside the perimeter of the temple. A massive hole had been blasted in the wall and, even as they passed through, engineer-extractors were busy clearing the rubble away. As they walked, he moved more and more quickly, forcing Ama to scramble to keep up with his long-legged strides.

Two priorities fueled his haste. First, he had to send a comm to Brin, who wouldn’t be expecting his arrival for another week at the earliest. If he had received the air-dropped comm unit, that was. Second, he had a rider waiting—the gunship and his body of troops—to rescue Ama’s father. Complicating both these tasks was their secrecy. No one from his World could know what he had planned; he would have to accomplish his goals while playing the part of an earnest Theorist whose only concern was the raid itself.

When he arrived at headquarters, he pulled on a comm helmet, plugged into the data network and scrolled through the channels to see how the attack was going–his interest at once genuine and mere show.

As he listened to the reports, he was distracted by the arrival of an officer.

“Theorist,” the officer said, keeping his voice low, “your intrans warp gate has been placed at the specified location with the automatics for defense. Code’s as specified to deek the turrents.”

“Good,” Seg replied, then immediately returned to the comm.

So far, the raid was unfolding near perfectly, though they were encountering heavy resistance from the Welf at the temple at Alisir, predictably enough. Both he and Brin had forseen this.

Brin had proposed that he gather Seg’s fifty men near Alisir. There was a boat works along the river large enough to hide so many men, which also would serve well as the launch point of the Kenda revolution. Among Seg’s personal expenses was a comm unit he had arranged, with his segment of the raiding troops, to have dropped at a specified location at the beginning of the raid. The location was known only to Brin and his inner circle who, according to their plan, would wait nearby to recover the comm unit. Ama had written instructions for its use in the Kenda language both for her cousin’s benefit and to prevent any others on her world from deciphering its purpose, should it fall into the wrong hands.

Ideally, once Brin received word that Seg’s People had finished their attack, Odrell had been freed, and the Shasir targets had fallen, he was to prepare the fifty for departure before his own men launched into a full-scale takeover of the Shasir and Damiar strongholds. The early launch of the raid, however, pushed everything out of the realm of ideal.

With a quick look around, Seg scrolled the comm to the secure channel he had arranged with Brin. “Kalder, Kalder, this is drexla,” he said, as quietly as possible, into the comm, then waited.

No response. Ama stared, questioning, and he worked to hide his concern.

“Kalder, Kald—”

“Theorist Eraranat!” Marshal Rethelt called, from the opening of the command tent. “Get over here.”

Seg’s fingers quickly switched the comm channel and he indicated to Ama that she should follow him.

The tent was an open-sided structure where the Marshal processed data with haste while his aides moved in and out to bring him updates.

“Storm take me if this isn’t the coup you promised,” the Marshal said, without even a flinch as the sound of projectile weapons fire intensified down the avenue. The raiders were running things right at the edge of the combat zone, and the Damiar guards were fighting for all they were worth. Such resistance wouldn’t change things, but the locals weren’t simply rolling over.

Seg stood at the edge of a table where the battle schematic hovered, and noted the icons moving across the map as he pulled his helmet off. “Marshal,” he said, rallying enthusiasm, “I see things are progressing well.”

“Your plan, unortho as it may be, is working. As a rule, I don’t usually welcome digis poking their noses into my work in the field, but it would be an honor to have you here, in the command center,” Rethelt said, gesturing to the spot beside him.

Seg didn’t dare look back at Ama. As eager as she was to get moving, he had only just recovered from one disaster brought on by his lack of diplomacy, he couldn’t risk another by refusing the Marshal’s offer,

“The honor is mine,” Seg answered, and stepped closer to Rethelt. “Any difficulties?”

“None we weren’t prepared for. More of those airships than we counted on, but nothing our riders can’t handle. Also, they’ve managed to bottleneck us at zone three. The Welf are fighting fanatically, as you warned they would.”

“You can shift forces around to reinforce your position there.”

“I don’t have much in the way of reserves to work. I hate to admit it, but we should have added more troops, as you suggested.”

“Which is precisely why I contracted my own,” he lied. Seg eyed the holographic map, marking the distance between his target and the Alisir temple with a glimmer of hope. “Can the raiders hold until we reach them?”

The Marshal nodded, “They’re pinned down but not losing any ground. Quicker would be better, though.”

Seg scooped up his helmet, “Speed is assured, Marshal.”

He strode out of the field headquarters, with Ama tight at his side, and pulled his helmet back on. As he switched the comm back to Brin’s channel, he turned to her, “Let’s go get your father.”

The sky machines of the People were nothing like the stately craft of the Shasir. Even the likeness Seg had shown her couldn’t have prepared Ama for what she saw before her. Large, dark-colored, festooned with images of skulls and bones and carnage, with weapons protruding from various surfaces, this ship looked like it had crawled from a Shasir’s nightmare of the Underneath. Seg guided Ama up the ramp, into the back of the craft, then shoved her into one of the seats and fastened the harness down over her before settling into his own seat.