Deadly Wands (51 page)

"A month ago I had over one hundred thousand,
but now I only have ten under-strength battalions after recent
desertions. I am all alone."

Other than several thousand troops.

"Well, you are not alone now," Billy assured
him. "What about the enemy?"

"Until recently, the mob always looted ahead
of us, so when they got hit, we struck whoever hit them. It worked
out well for us. The greediest criminals gave us a trip wire.

“But then entire divisions starting hitting
us -- not retirees, but active duty troops good at formation flying
under Kublai. Who knew that fat bastard could general an air force?
He’s not Subodei, but he’s far more competent than I care for.

“A division now surrounds us on three sides,
plus a few hundred thousand civilians and veterans. We have to move
far every day just to stay alive. We’d have left long ago if we
didn’t have so many civilians to protect.”

The general sighed. He looked ready to
collapse under all the stress. “Genghis Khan is coming with one
hundred thousand of his best quads. My guys are rich now, for the
first time in their lives. They want to live long enough to spend
those riches. They’ll not stay and fight Genghis Khan. He could
show up alone and say, boo, and I'd lose half my force."

“Then run.”

“Can’t you beat them? They say you’re the
best.”

Billy felt tired. “My wands are not magical.
They cannot make the enemy disappear. If I have highly motivated
super-quads who can fly higher, faster, and farther, then I attack
if I have surprise. Otherwise, I avoid battle until I enjoy
favorable circumstances.”

The general looked about to cry. “I don’t
know what to do.”

"Show me the enemy on a map," Billy
asked.

Billy could tell these officers didn't want
to fight. They may have been fierce warriors a month ago, but now
they felt like rich teenagers eager for a night out on the
town.

"They’re boxing you in," Billy concluded
after just a glance at the map. "Once you stay in one place long
enough for them to position themselves, they’ll hit you from three
directions. I suggest you leave as much as possible behind, go
tonight, and fly as far as you can. Give everyone a week off to
hide their wealth, so the Mongols don't know who to follow. Those
who fly the farthest will survive at the expense of the
slowest."

"But who will protect China?" one of the
officers asked.

"They're after blood, while your guys want to
survive long enough to spend their new wealth. Your quads are
worthless until they can safely store their valuables at home. Then
they’ll fight for their homes, gold, and families. Only then will
fliers rally around you for protection.

“I’ll send for the marathoners that I
returned and give you a video of me asking their leaders to send
you everything they have. They’ll help you because they know
they’ll be next. They could loan you one hundred thousand quads,
which will stiffen the spines of the few million Chinese quads that
may be available.

“After the Mongols exhaust themselves driving
deep into your territory, bombard them from behind with everything
you’ve got while they're sleeping. Maximize casualties because you
won’t get a second chance. Harass them until they leave, and make
the Yangtze River your new border. Then declare independence, form
a representative democracy, and sign mutual defense pacts with your
neighbors.”

“But the Khan has half a million quads!”

“Not anymore. My marathoners in the Stans
have killed half of them. I’ll try to get rid of his follow-up
forces. With me behind him, he’ll have to redeploy several
divisions to protect his rear. Stand your ground because he can’t
garrison what he has, much less what he wants to take. We’ve killed
at least several million Mongols, and probably twice that, so the
Khan has never been weaker.”

Billy saw the sheer terror that the Khan
inspired. One of the colonels looked like he had to take a dump.
Billy wanted to inspire that depth of fear in his enemies.

“How many marathoners do you have?” Billy
asked.

“Just one battalion.”

“Have everyone else leave now while the
marathoners bomb the enemy at midnight. Nothing fancy -- just drop
them where the enemy is most concentrated. When the Mongols chase
you, I’ll flash my four wands and do my silly scream to distract
them so your marathoners escape. Then use your marathoners to lure
the Mongols away from your main force and tire them out.”

“Oh thank you, Mr. Baron!”

The general looked tempted to hug him, so
Billy stepped back. Having their decision made for them energized
the staff. The officers rushed out to spread the news that the Red
Baron himself was gonna save them.

"You impregnated my sister and daughter," Zhu
told him once they had privacy. Billy was not sure if the general
was proud or angry.

"They don't even tell me who they are," Billy
replied. "Some tough looking grandma tells me to come and them to
go. You have no idea how awkward it is, someone entering a dark
room to reproduce, then leaving without saying a word. I call it
Ninja Sex because I never see or hear them. If stress, exhaustion,
or sleepiness inhibits my ability to participate, the matron scolds
me like a child. Everyone thinks the Red Baron is powerful, yet
procreating with nameless, faceless silent shadows makes me feel
impotent even as I impregnate them. I sometimes feel like a blind
man in a dark room at night looking for a black cat that isn’t
there.”

“So why do it?”

Billy sighed. “Who knows how long it’ll take
to beat the damn Mongols? I fear Genghis Khan has a trick up his
sleeve that I haven’t seen yet. And the more royal families I mate
with, hopefully the fewer wars they’ll start. After three centuries
of global war, I’ll do anything for world peace.”

"That was my grandmother, Kung-ti’s wife,
scolding you. I remember what it feels like. I look forward to
seeing if your kids resemble the father."

"I'm trying to create a legend, so I hope my
kids don't compare themselves to me. My father was a greater man
than I’ll ever be, and you can tell my children that."

After a nap he infiltrated the enemy camp and
the level of disorganization surprised him. Probably from all the
veterans expecting special treatment, yet refusing to organize into
units. Having cowed the Chinese, they slept soundly, so Billy
walked among them, stabbing as he went.

Billy came across their munitions depot and
smiled. He continued cutting them up, occasionally flying away when
someone shot at him, while at the same time searching for the tent
of that fat bastard Kublai. It took him another hour -- and three
brief firefights -- before he stumbled upon it. And he only
recognized it because of the numerous guards surrounding it.

A battalion was pre-loaded with bombs, so he
worked his way there. He sliced and diced while looking for a rock
to hide under. He just finished putting on a pack that he took off
of a dying bomber when three quads -- all commanders --
unexpectedly surrounded him ready to shoot. He popped up and shot
down before they struck, terrified they’d detonate his bomb and
blow him into tiny pieces. Except he aimed for a bomb pack near
them. The explosion triggered other bombs as Billy escaped at
maximum speed. That woke up half the camp.

He went to ground and walked through the
trees, slicing whenever he could do so safely. It shocked him how
much the damn bomb weighed -- he really did lose a lot of muscle on
the Alps. He needed to eat more and sleep better. The stress was
killing him.

Zhu finally arrived to bomb the camp. Several
hit the bombing battalion and the place lit up like New Years.
Anti-personnel bombs explode on contact, so quads were safer in the
air. As one, thousands of Mongols flew up. This little ruse would
tire them too much to catch the Chinese.

Billy, in contrast, raced to Kublai’s tent.
He popped up into an arc and used wand levitation to throw the bomb
at five hundred meters. Now in a controlled fall, he shot four
wands at Kublai’s security. Just as the bodyguards fixed their aim
on him, the bomb exploded, shrapnel flying everywhere. Billy
adjusted his fall, continued firing, then went to blades to cut the
rest of them down as reinforcements rushed in.

He fled inside the burning tent and stabbed
Kublai, still barely awake. Hiding behind the royal heir, Billy
transferred Kublai’s Millennial Wands. They warmed his hands like a
stiffening penis. The surge in power sent him soaring. With flames
all around them, Billy felt like a dodo bird, which was so dumb it
actually jumped into the cooking pot. Nearly on fire themselves,
Kublai looked him in the eye and told him something explosive.

Billy now had six of the remaining eight sets
of Millennial Wands.

He burned a hole in the ceiling and flew to
the munitions depot. They assembled a log roof over the bomb
wagons, but that didn’t protect them from the sides. Billy sliced a
bomber taking off and threw his bomb pack against one of the
wagons. Seeing what he planned, dozens of Mongols rushed him, but
not before he popped up to his maximum effective distance to point
his arms and legs at the bomb. Four fireballs struck at the same
time with enough heat to detonate it. The wagon full of munitions
disappeared, setting off secondary explosions that shook the ground
like an earthquake. The air super-heated like a dragon farting.

Billy popped away as soon as he fired. He
almost made it over the crest of a mound when the pressure wave
smacked him like a fly. It threw him head over heels into a tree. A
much greater shockwave followed, but the mound sent the worst of it
over him. Billy covered his head with his arms and kissed the grass
in a fetal position. Eyes firmly shut and gulping a lungful of air,
searing heat reached out and gave him a night time sunburn that
almost set his clothes on fire. Despite his head ringing, he could
hear what sounded like a god screaming in agony.

The key to Billy’s survival was seeing into
the future just a little farther than everyone else. So, half deaf,
and with a good case of the shakes, Billy searched for stunned
enemies to eliminate. And there were thousands on the ground
bleeding from their eyes, mouths, or ears. It was like killing fish
on a beach. He wobbled as quickly as he could, knowing he’d soon be
discovered.

As his senses returned, something made Billy
look up. There, maybe a kilometer up, Zhu and his marathoners were
still shooting at thousands of Mongols. So many enemies should have
overwhelmed them, but Billy’s explosion energized the Chinese and
shocked the Mongols.

More and more quads, coming to aid the
wounded, noticed Billy dispatching their comrades. He evaded them
as long as possible until they swarmed too close to comfort. At the
peak of his ability, he could have continued all night, but he was
not near peak ability. After someone he didn’t see whacked him on
the back of the head, Billy took that as a sign and shot straight
up at full propulsion. He did his scream and led them away from the
fleeing Chinese marathoners.

The next week he’d watch a news report of
General Zhu claiming the Baron helped a million Chinese civilians
escape by killing Kublai and throwing the Mongols into confusion.
And associating his own heroics with the Red Baron didn’t hurt his
reputation as his grandfather scheduled a national election for the
following year.

War is terrible for many reasons, but it also
has its moments. He just wished he could see the Khan’s face when
he heard the Red Baron killed his last legitimate grandson.

CHAPTER 67

Genghis Khan impatiently paced outside the
smoldering ruins of Krakow like a cat waiting for a mouse to come
out of its hole. A dozen generals nervously stood nearby, each with
an expert opinion he didn't dare share. The Khan reduced the entire
city to rubble to show his displeasure. Yet even massacring a
million innocent people barely improved his mood. Destroying all of
Europe -- now that would lighten his fury.

This entire expedition had been a disaster.
Flying west was like marching in mud because he needed a long
logistical train to supply a million mouths. The cities he normally
relied on lay in ruins. He had to set perimeters three thousand
kilometers out, with layers of security and redundant sentries to
counter the damn enemy. The problem with marathoners is that they
can come and go with virtual impunity, and are almost impossible to
find.

Genghis was tempted just to take his
specialty quads to travel fast, but fighting like the Baron’s force
meant hardship: frequent hunger, no protection from the weather,
going weeks between bathing, and always wearing the same stinking
clothes. Every little infection became life threatening. Just the
thought of using leaves to clean his backside after crapping made
Genghis shudder. It brought back memories of that decade he
suffered from hemorrhoids.

Sometimes the enormity of his losses would
stun him into a horrifying trance. It felt like a bad dream that
wouldn’t end. Or a metal box he couldn’t escape.

If only he had quads like the Baron’s! He
knew he used to -- that’s how he conquered half the world.

Every night for several weeks the Baron
attacked him, then ganged up on the special units he sent after
him. Genghis lost a few hundred thousand quads and a few hundred
thousand two-wanders without ever engaging in a proper battle. They
attacked and he defended. Never once had he been able to strike
them, much less with surprise.

Not until he crossed the Stans did he realize
how big an area the Baron depopulated. His force found nobody who
spoke Mongolian in the weeks it took his armada to cross the
territory.

What worried Genghis the most is that the
Baron’s force fell from fifty thousand marathoners to just five
thousand exceptional ones. The Khan assumed his arch nemesis was
preparing something diabolical, but he couldn’t figure out what. So
they traveled as carefully as possible.