Asimov's Science Fiction: April/May 2013 (26 page)

"They told us the same thing," Joanne said. "They just told us they wanted us to join you and settle in a building they've chosen near the river."

Harold could understand the logic of it. He was a symbol to the itiji and the Imetens. The coordination center could be surrounded and overrun if the Drovil breakthrough succeeded. He would be in a stronger position if he had the river at his back.

And safer. In a place where he could board a raft and run away if the city fell.

He
wanted
to do it. He wanted to do it and they were giving him all the excuse he needed.

But wasn't that a clear sign he should reject the order? What would he have done if he had thought of the idea himself? Wouldn't he reject the idea out of hand as soon as it occurred to him?

He pulled himself up to his full height and looked down on Jila-Jen.

"They're trying to set up a second strongpoint. In case the coordination center falls. A rallying point. Something everybody can fall back on. The Drovils can attack us there just as hard as they can attack us anywhere else."

"And what about the Warriors we're deserting in the priest's house? Are you going to just let them die?"

"They're already outnumbered. We'd just be making a gesture."

"I'm going to follow you, Harold. Jemil-Min ordered it. But we both know this is wrong."

Harold turned back to the leader of the warband. "Lead the way."

He stepped aside as most of the itiji trotted past. He fell in beside the two women and they dropped into a quick march, with Jila-Jen and two itiji as rear guards.

"It's the only thing you could have done," Leza said. "The Harmonizers know what they're doing."

"I know what you're thinking," Joanne said. "Everybody on our side—Warriors and itiji—knows you're doing this because the Harmonizers told you to."

A human dies before a dart.... Three itiji die attacking his sled.... The clouds of pellets roaring from their guns batter wide, bloody holes.... Our line is an evaporating puddle breaking into drops.

Darts rattled on the itiji's armor while they were working their way single file along a narrow, swaying walkway. A Drovil Eight swung through the upper branches, screeching war cries, and dropped on the itiji.

Harold had jerked his sword out of its scabbard as soon as he heard the war cries. A Drovil landed on the itiji in front of him and he stabbed at an exposed neck. A block with the iron shaft of a war hammer knocked his arm aside. The Drovil swung upward at his jaw.

The itiji had squirmed around under the Drovil. Teeth closed on the Drovil's ankle. The edge of Harold's shield caught the hammer blow.

The itiji was grinding on the Drovil's ankle and yanking him off balance. Harold looked into a pair of frantic eyes. His sword plunged into the Drovil's face.

The itiji released the body and drove into the carnage in front of them. Harold turned in response to a scream and discovered Joanne and Leza were fighting off three Drovils.

His sword stabbed at the Drovil grappling with Joanne. Jila-Jen and the two itiji in the rear guard leaped into the struggle. The walkway was so narrow they were pressed together like a gang of wrestlers.

"Lower your sword!" Jila-Jen screamed. "It's over!"

Two Drovils were lying on the walkway. The third had jumped clear and disappeared. Blood covered Joanne's sword blade from the point to the hand guard. Leza was staring at the stuff dripping from the iron ball at the end of her hammer.

"We have to move," Jila-Jen said. "They were trying to delay us. We have to move before we're attacked again."

Harold turned around. The itiji had taken care of the rest of their assailants. He gestured with his shield and they staggered forward, over the bodies of the Drovil dead and wounded.

Golva joined them while they were setting up their new coordination center. A brown swelling distorted the area behind his neck. Blood colored his front claws.

Leza knelt beside him. "Is it all right if I touch that? Does it hurt?"

"It's just a bruise. From a hammer."

She ran her fingers over the swelling. Golva's head snapped back and she pulled her hand away.

"It doesn't feel like anything's broken. Can you feel anything grinding?"

"It just feels sore, Leza. They sent me back here, Harold. We've lost the area around the Iron Priest's house. The Drovils are setting up their base. I'm supposed to become the coordinator if we lose the primary coordination center."

"For the whole battle?" Jila-Jen said.

"They said I should become the coordinator for this end now. And take on everything if they lose control."

Their new command post was a two room storage building in the lower branches, near the main dock. Three Eights of Imeten Warriors guarded the trees around it. Two itiji warbands patrolled the ground and the lower branches. Two of the Imeten Eight Leaders were crouching beside Jila-Jen and studying the newcomers.

"What are you going to do?" Jila-Jen said. "Tell us how to defend this building? With two Eights and two warbands?"

"Everyone is supposed to fall back on us. We're supposed to hold on until the High Warrior and his force can break through."

"Jemil-Min has been trying to break through all morning. How is he going to do it when the Drovils and the humans hold most of the city?"

Joanne was leaning against a wall cleaning her sword with a rough scrap of leather. She could understand the itiji communications as well as Harold could. The Drovils were pushing troops through the hole in Sector Five. The other areas were still holding—but how long could they last with a threat building up in the center of the city?

"He's a Warrior of Imeten," Harold said. "Leading the Warriors of Imeten—the best fighters this world has ever seen."

"And the Goddess is with us," Jila-Jen said. "Do you truly believe that, Harold?"

"The humans are using up energy. There are limits on their ammunition. They get weaker every time they move or fire a shot."

"And the Drovils are getting stronger every time they add another Eight to the fortress they're building in the middle of the city. Lead an attack on the fortress. Destroy them while they're still growing."

Harold stared at him. "With the numbers we've got? We'd be chopped down. And they'd still be there."

"We have you, Harold. The Favorite of the Goddess. Don't you think the Goddess will stand beside you now? When her whole city is in danger?"

Leza had located a water bowl and one of the spongy lumps, cut from a vine, the Imetens used in their baths. She was holding the water soaked lump against Golva's swelling while she listened to them argue.

"What does Golva say?" Leza said. "He's the one with the best take on the whole picture."

Golva's head jerked. He had been absorbing the messages flowing across the city while he followed the back and forth in front of him. Leza had yanked him out of a state of concentration that bordered on a trance.

"What is she saying?" Jila-Jen said.

"She's asking what Golva thinks. He's the one who knows what's happening."

Golva closed his eyes. "The emotional factor is important. It could make a difference. But we should wait until the Master Harmonizers order an attack from the other side."

Golva had responded in English. Normally, he would have repeated himself in Imeten. This time Harold translated for him.

"Is that all the Goddess means to you?" Jila-Jen said. "She's just a belief that makes us fight harder?"

"The Goddess decreed that the itiji should be the equals of the Warriors. That doesn't mean she will support me now."

"She wanted the itiji to be our equals in our city? But she doesn't want the city to live?"

The two Eight Leaders had edged closer to Jila-Jen. They could bring their Eights into the building with a single shriek.

The Warriors didn't spend a lot of time talking about their inner lives, but Harold had picked up a few observations from the itiji. Some of the Warriors had their doubts about the literal existence of the Goddess but accepted the alliance with the itiji because it strengthened the city. A few were convinced non-believers. Most still believed in their religion.

"Do you serve the Goddess or your own people?" Jila-Jen said. "Are we huddling here so you and the other members of your
species
can conquer our city?"

Joanne didn't raise any objections when he asked her to stay behind with Golva. Leza had proved she could handle a weapon when they had been attacked on the walkway but she didn't give him any indication she wanted to repeat the experience.

"It's up to you," Leza said. "At this point I'd probably be more of a hindrance than a help."

He took Joanne aside. He squeezed her fingers. He held her for the shortest moment he could tolerate—just long enough to feel her limber slimness one more time. They both knew why he didn't want them with him. They weren't stupid.

The two itiji warbands trotted along a walkway side by side, with Harold positioned about a third of the way from the front. The two Imeten Eights formed a halo around them, leaping across gaps and scurrying along walkways and branches when they were forced to adapt less spectacular modes. Behind them Golva appealed to individuals who had been isolated from their Eights and warbands.

Harold the Human leads an attack on the fortress the Drovils are forming inside the city. Join him if you can. Destroy the fortress while it's still vulnerable. The Goddess is with him. The gods run beside him. Rally to Harold. Rally to the Goddess.

It wasn't a bad specimen of battle rousing, given that Golva was, by nature, an introverted loner who had been forced to work out, intellectually, the emotions behind the actions of his relatives and companions. He was an outlier in a highly social species, but he had learned to piece together words and actions that would help him achieve his ends, even if he didn't fully understand why they worked.

Itiji sang responses from the walkways around them. Warriors joined the disciplined Eights leaping through the branches. Harold pulled his sword out of its scabbard and raised it above his head.

"Sing the war songs! Raise the war cries! The Goddess is with us!
The gods defend Imeten!"

The first darts from the Drovil defenders thunked on his shield. Warriors shrieked in the trees. The itiji in front of him launched into a deep, percussive chorus that gathered speed as their legs picked up the pace.

Gliad... gliad... vida-vida-
VIDA

Gliad... gliad... vidavida
VIDA

It was the standard itiji assault song. He had heard it boom from thousands of voices during the struggle over Imeten.
Gliad
was a word generations of story tellers and philosophers had surrounded with legend and endless analysis. It was found in almost every itiji language and it referred to the lifelong obligation every itiji owed the community. To win a place in a gliad tale, you usually had to die for your friends and kin.

The itiji scattered around them took up the song. Ahead of him, a band of Drovils waited on a platform that supported two houses. More Drovils blew darts from the trees.

He had decided they should form a compact mass and try to overwhelm the Drovils with the sheer fury of their assault. From this moment on, he was just another member of the itiji warband—a warfriend who could support the teeth and claws of the itiji with the slash and thrust of a sword.

Imeten Warriors closed with the dartblowers. Shrieking furies supported themselves on three limbs and swung swords and hammers at slashable flesh and smashable bones. The itiji in front of him leaped at the Drovils crouching on the platform.

The Drovils had formed a solid, shoulder-to-shoulder double line and they were all armed with swords and wearing armor. They had learned that a point was a better defense against an itiji charge than an uplifted hammer.

Claws and teeth ripped at leather and mangled exposed flesh. Swords stabbed at exposed legs and paws. Harold ran into the mass of struggling bodies and knocked down the blade of the first Drovil who offered him a target. He pushed forward with his shield, pinning the Drovil with the pressure of his extra bulk, and clubbed him into unconsciousness with a down swing that slammed the flat of the sword blade against the Drovil's helmet.

The itiji fighting beside him had started chanting their battle reports as soon as they hit the enemy line.

Lovga has fallen.

A sword cuts my leg.

My claws mangle a sword arm.

The Drovils give way before me.

Harold stepped onto the body of the Drovil he had just battered. The Drovil in front of him fell back, sword pointed forward.

He had penetrated the Drovil front line. Drovils and itiji were fighting on both sides of him. His sword cut into the straining leg muscles of the Drovil on his right. The Drovil collapsed under the howling itiji he had been trying to stab and Harold turned to the Drovil on his left.

Something slammed into his back. The world reeled around him. His sword slipped out of his hand. He realized he was losing control of his legs and stumbled backward, out of the battle.

A Drovil landed in front of him. He dropped to one knee and tried to raise his shield against the war hammer poised above his head. An itiji leaped on the Drovil's back and he let himself slump forward. His whole upper body felt numb and sick.

Harold has fallen.

Harold is down.

Drovils drop from the trees.

Fall back.

Fall back.

An itiji appeared in front of him. "Can you get up, Harold? Where are you hit?"

Struggling bodies surrounded him. The itiji were holding back the Drovils who were trying to reach him.

"My back. Hammer blow. Feel weak."

"They're trying to cut off our retreat. We can't leave without you."

"My sword."

"You can pick something up. Get up. You must get up.
Gliad."

He curled his fingers around the top of his shield and forced himself erect. The four itiji in front of him seemed to be struggling with a full Drovil Eight. The screams from the branches and walkways surrounded him with the din of a full fledged battle between the Drovils and the Warriors. The Drovils were throwing everything they had into the attack. If the Harmonizers launched an attack from the other direction...