Spirit of Empire 4: Sky Knights (11 page)

Horlen detailed Sergeant Vitor to stay with Havlock, then he followed his men up the stairs.

“What now?” Havlock asked, turning to Galborae.

“First things first, sir.” He motioned to his wife. “Milae, this is Colonel Havlock. He leads the foreigners.” She nodded, still holding an arm about her husband’s waist. To Havlock, he said, “This ugly guy here is my brother, Haron. This even uglier brute next to him heads up the king’s guard. Captain Waldn, meet Colonel Havlock, a great soldier from a far land.”

Captain Waldn did not reach a hand out to Havlock. His eyes clearly showed confusion and, though he was a soldier, fear of the man before him. To Galborae he said, “A far land, indeed. You have brought a magician and his sorcerers to fight the demons. You know how we fee about magic here.”

Havlock withdrew a translator from his pocket and pinned it to Waldn’s ear, then said, “I’m just a soldier like you,” he said. “I have no magic. I look forward to proving it to you, but I think I should prove it to your king first.”

Walden pulled the translator from his ear and studied it for a moment, then dropped it. He ignored Havlock and spoke to Galborae. “No magic? Do you think me stupid?”

Galborae pulled his own translator off his ear and held it out to Waldn for comparison. “See, mine is just like yours. It won’t hurt you, but it will let you understand their speech. We should take one to the king.”

“The king is dying.”

Havlock and Galborae exchanged startled looks. Things were a lot worse here than they’d thought, and neither of them forgot that whatever was happening here was happening all over the planet.

Galborae replaced his translator and reattached one on Waldn’s ear. “I can prove we’re not sorcerers, but if I do, your men might think you’ve become a sorcerer. Are you willing to take that chance?”

“You’re a knight. I know you well enough to know you’re not a sorcerer. My men know I’ll never be a sorcerer either. I’m a soldier, nothing more. It’s him and his men I’m worried about,
”
Waldn said, glaring at Havlock.

“You are not only a soldier, you are a leader of soldiers,” Galborae said. “So am I. I cannot show you my proof here. It’s too dangerous. Will you go outside the gates with us?”

“It’s dangerous there, as well.”

“Agreed, but we’re soldiers.”

“You and I are soldiers. He’s a sorcerer.”

“Test him. For King Tennisol and our people.”

Galborae did not wait for Captain Waldn. He turned and stepped to the door with Limam by his side. He mumbled into his microphone, “Am I clear at the front gate?”

“Nothing showing at the moment, but there’s activity in the area. No promises,” Hawke replied.

Galborae did not respond. Without looking back, he pushed the door open and went through, then continued for a dozen paces. When he turned around, he was not surprised to see Captain Waldn right on his heels. He was a little surprised to see Havlock, Milae, her meld, and Sergeant Vitor right behind Waldn. Vitor’s eyes were everywhere but on them, searching the surroundings through his visor for trouble. Vitor spoke a few words into his communicator, the ship responded tersely, and his eyes kept moving. Galborae sent Limam out to patrol. Both melds, apparently working in concert, split up and moved out to opposite sides of the road.

Galborae nodded to Havlock to take over the demonstration.

Havlock looked up, and this time soldiers’ heads lined every opening in the towers and along the wall above the gates. He took that as a good sign, but this demonstration was for them as much as it was for Waldn. “No, you’re on a roll,” he said to Galborae. “If I show him, he won’t be certain it’s not magic. Besides, his men need to hear what’s going on, and they don’t all have translators yet.”

Galborae turned and spoke to Waldn loudly enough for the soldiers lining the battlements to hear. “What you saw today looked like magic, but so would a sword have looked like magic to our ancestors. We know how to forge metal into swords, but the foreigners know how to forge it into demon-killer weapons. I’ll show you.”

He pulled his blaster from its holster and held it aloft for everyone to see, then aimed it at a pole holding an unlit torch. The blaster spoke, and the torch disappeared. Waldn jumped back like he’d seen his own ghost, his sword drawn in a blur of motion.

Galborae spoke softly into his microphone to Sergeant Vitor. “I’m going to hand him my blaster. If he points it at any of us, stun him.”

“Aye, sir.”

Galborae stepped up to Waldn. “Listen carefully, friend, because I don’t want any of us to get hurt.” He explained how to hold the weapon and fire it, then he stepped back. “No sense ruining more torches. Just point it at the road.”

Waldn held the blaster out before him in one hand. He pulled the trigger and his arm flew back, but his eyes stayed forward. The bolt from the blaster struck the road and glanced away. He stared at the blaster, then turned and stared up at his men on the battlements.

“Want to try it again?” Galborae asked.

“Yes.”

“Be my guest. Just don’t point it at any of us.”

Waldn pointed the blaster at a stone balustrade beside the roadway and pressed the button before Galborae could stop him. The shot hit the stone and blew part of it away before ricocheting off to the side. Bits of stone blew back on everyone, and Milae’s meld snarled.

“Okay, okay, that’s enough for today,” Galborae said, placing his hand on the blaster. “That wasn’t exactly the best target to practice on. We’ll teach you and your men how to use these, but later, okay?”

Waldn kept his grip on the blaster. “I would keep this if it pleases you.”

“I’ll give you one, but not before I teach you how to use it properly. Would you place a knife into your son’s hand without instruction?”

Waldn’s grip on the blaster loosened, then he released it into Galborae’s hand. He turned to Havlock with an accusing look. “You fly through the air.”

“No, I don’t. I ride through the air in a boat that flies. You will ride through the air yourself, maybe tomorrow. Would you like that?”

Waldn shook his head. “No.”

“But you’ll do it for your men, right?”

Waldn peered hard at him but did not answer.

Galborae stepped into the silence. “What’s wrong with the king?”

“He’s wounded.” Waldn looked to Milae for further explanation.

“His wound festers,” she said. “I’ve applied my poultices, but they’re not working.”

“Can you bring him to my ship?” Havlock asked.

Galborae answered for her. “The king will never leave his castle when it’s under siege unless it’s to lead an attack.”

Havlock stared meaningfully at him. “You know what we did for you.”

Galborae shook his head. “He will not leave.”

“Then we’ll have to come to him.” Havlock called the shuttle. “I need a medic with a full kit. Send Sergeant Kori.”

The shuttle settled to the roadway right in front of them. The ramp lowered, but the medic did not show right away. When she did, a sturdy, plain looking woman with sharp, intelligent, brown eyes staggered down the ramp in full gear and an enormous pack on her back.

When Havlock raised his eyebrows, she explained. “I didn’t think a floater would be appropriate, sir.”

He nodded. “Good call, Sergeant.” He turned to Waldn, then stepped ahead to the ramp. He banged his knuckles on the metal which gave a resounding response. “See, no magic here. It’s metal, just like your sword.”

When he looked back toward the gates, the men who had been shoulder to shoulder on the battlements were nowhere to be seen.

* * * * *

Captain Waldn led the contingent through corridors and stairwells to King Tennisol’s quarters. The door opened into a dark room decorated with tapestries on the walls and rugs to soften the coldness of the stone floor. The king lay on a sumptuous, four-poster bed.

When he heard the commotion, he turned his head toward the noise and hollered, “Leave me. Let me die in peace.”

“Sorry, sire. The healer is here to see you.”

“Oh, very well.”

Captain Waldn led the way into the room. Galborae pulled Havlock and the medic, Sergeant Kori, off to the side. Looking mostly at Sergeant Kori, he said in a low voice, “If he dies, it must not be at your hand. Understood?”

She looked daggers into his eyes. “And if he dies at your wife’s hand?”

“That’s just the way of it.”

“I won’t know anything until I examine him.” She set her heavy pack down, took a few things from it and pocketed them, then went to the side of the bed.

“Who are you?” the king demanded, his face flushed with fever.

Milae answered for her. “She’s a healer from a far land. She might have potions that work better than mine.”

“Nonsense. Let me die in peace.”

“No, sire. Your people need you. You owe it to them to take advantage of every opportunity.”

Captain Waldn stepped up to the bed. “Sire, I have reason to believe she’s telling the truth, but I can’t promise you she won’t use magic. She came with sorcerers. They have powerful weapons that defeated the demons.”

The king’s eyes opened wide. “All the demons?”

“I . . . don’t think so. At least six.”

King Tennisol stared at him, then he glared at Sergeant Kori. “We don’t hold with magic here.”

She waited while Milae attached a translator to Tennisol’s ear, then said, “I have no magic, sire.” He touched the translator and continued to stare at her, unconvinced. “Let me examine your wound. Then, if you so rule, your own healer will be the only one to touch you,” she added.

“Sire, I vouch for her,” Milae said. “You know my husband, Sir Galborae. He nearly died at the hands of a demon and would have died had these people not intervened. I have done everything I can for you, but it’s not enough. Give her a chance. Please.”

He considered briefly, then waved his hand in concurrence. “Everyone else out of the room. Captain Waldn, you stay. Keep your sword handy.”

Havlock spoke up. “I’ll stay here with my healer.”

Milae did not wait. She pulled the bed covers down, exposing a dirty bandage covering a poultice on the king’s left thigh. The king gritted his teeth as she removed the bandage, revealing a badly festering wound. Captain Waldn knew what the smell meant and backed away. The wound ran across the king’s thigh, the swelling turning the thigh and hip an angry reddish-green color.

“How did you get this wound?” Kori asked.

“From a demon’s claw. What else?”

“And you survived?”

“It knocked me from the wall. I woke up here.”

She moved to his head and reached out with both hands.

“You said you wouldn’t touch me,” the king said, shrinking away.

“I said I would not touch you after my examination, and I will do my best to honor that promise. I have to touch you if I am to look for other wounds.”

“I have no other wounds. Only my leg.”

“Oh? You fell. How does your head feel?”

“No worse than the rest of me.”

“Then you’re telling me it hurts. Can you sit up?”

“No.”

“I see.” She pulled a flash from her pocket and leaned over him, talking all the while to distract him. “How long ago did this happen?”

“Three days ago.”

She flashed the light quickly across his eyes. He gasped in surprise, but she kept talking, distracting him. “There’s a little dried blood on the side of your head.” She felt the rest of his head, then gently examined the wound with her hands. He closed his eyes in pain.

“There was more blood when I first came to him,” Milae said, standing beside Kori.

Kori just nodded and kept her hands moving down the king’s body. She moved quickly and efficiently, always talking. “When you sit up, does your wound hurt?”

“Of course.”

“Touch where it hurts.”

The king reached a hand down to his hip, well above the wound. Kori and Milae looked at each other, though Kori’s hands did not stop moving. She finished the tactile part of her exam and pulled a hand-sized device from another pocket. She brought it toward the king’s head, but he drew away. She heard the swish of Captain Waldn’s sword coming free of its scabbard behind her.

She moved the device to where Waldn could see it. He reached for it, and she gave it to him. “See? It’s harmless.”

“It’s heavy for such a small thing.”

“It will not hurt him, but it will help me understand his wounds.”

“Wounds? He only has one wound.”

“Not so.” She turned to King Tennisol.” You have at least three wounds. Let me complete my examination and I will know more.”

“Three?” His chest swelled. “Well! I knew it would take more than one to put me down.”

“May I?” she asked suggestively. She didn’t give him time to answer, just leaned over him and ran the sensor over the side of his head, always talking. “Are you ready to die?”

“No, but I know this smell.”

She moved the sensor down to his leg where she spent more time. “I’ve never had your wounds, so I wouldn’t know, but I think three days of such pain would be bad enough that I’d want to be dead.”

“Kings are strong.”

“True. And smart. I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I don’t think it’s your turn to die. I had thought I’d have to take you back to my ship for treatment, but that won’t be necessary. Your wounds are not as bad as I feared.”

“Ship? You came up the river?”

“No. I came in a ship that flies through the air.” She held up a hand to forestall argument, something she was pretty sure kings did not like. “You can talk about that later with my lord. Maybe he’ll show it to you tomorrow. Today, we need to fix you.”

“You’re not taking me anywhere.”

“You’re a king and I’m not, but I’d like to make a deal with you.”

He closed his eyes and let his head fall back on the pillow, clearly exhausted. “I don’t make deals with healers.”

“You haven’t heard the deal. If you’ll let me treat you, I promise you that by tomorrow you will feel much better. You will definitely not be dead.”

He waved a hand weakly at her. “Do what you will, but no magic.”

“No magic. Agreed. Why don’t you close your eyes and rest for a while.”

She stood up and pulled Milae and Captain Waldn over toward Havlock who had stayed in the shadows. Looking at Waldn, she said, “Your king’s fate rests in your hands. Let me treat him and I am almost certain he will not die. If I do not treat him, he will die.” She looked at Milae. “You cannot heal him.”

Captain Waldn answered, “I don’t want him to die.”

“My lord ordered me not to treat him because if he dies the blame will fall on me, hence him.” Captain Waldn looked at Havlock, troubled and uncertain. Clearly he did not want his king to die, but he feared magic and spirits as well.

Sergeant Kori understood his plight. “I promise no magic. I will use some metal tools, but I will let you hold each one first to make certain it holds no magic.” She shifted her gaze to Milae. “I’ll explain as much as I can while I work.”

Milae nodded gravely.

Waldn stared at Kori for a time, then nodded. She went to her bag and dragged it over to the bed. She first removed a preloaded dose of antibiotics. She handed the tube to Waldn, and when he returned it she spoke to Milae.

“If we stay here long enough, I’ll be able to go into more detail. I’m putting a special liquid poultice into his body, a very powerful poultice. It’s going into his body where it will do the most good, rather than just on the outside of the wound.”

She touched the cylinder to the king, heard the hiss, then removed the cylinder and placed it back into her bag. She then pulled another item from the bag, a plastic and metal item about the size of her hand, and gave it to Waldn. He looked it over and handed it back. She activated it, then ran it over the wound on the king’s head. When she was done there, she moved it down to the king’s hip. She spent a lot of time there, running the item back and forth across the bones of his hip.

“He cracked a bone in his hip when he fell,” she said to Milae. “Thankfully, it’s not broken. If it was, I would have had to bring him to the ship. This tool will speed healing of the bone. Without treatment, I think this alone would have killed him. At the very least, he would never walk again.”

“I wondered, but I had no way of knowing,” Milae said.

“There are ways to check that do not require my special tools. I’ll show you later if I can.”

She had thought the king was asleep, but as she ran the healing equipment over his hip, she felt his body relax and a sigh escaped his lips. When she was done, she moved down to the suppurating wound. She pulled several antiseptic pads from her pack, speaking to Milae as she worked, cleaning the area around the wound.

“The best thing would be to open up the wound and clean it out, then bandage it up again, but I’d have to bring him to the ship for that. By the way, you did a nice job of closing it up.”

“I saw what had been done to my husband when he was on the other ship. I’ve been sewing up wounds ever since.”

Kori smiled. “You’re brave. What you couldn’t have known is that Galborae’s wounds were probably sewn and glued in several layers beneath the skin. It holds things together better. Do you know what causes the festering?”

“No.”

“Dirt. The process of repairing a wound like this has a number of steps, but the first one is to clean the inside of the wound and the surrounding skin. The pads I’m using have special poultices in them for cleaning, and I’ll see if I can get you more of them, but hot water works better than nothing. It must boil for a little while, then cool off so it doesn’t burn the patient. If you do nothing else, you will have given your patient a better chance of surviving if you clean the wound. While you’re boiling the water, put any instruments you’re going to use in the boiling water as well. Even if they don’t look dirty, they must go into the boiling water.”

She finished cleaning, then removed a pouch of white powder from her bag. She handed the pouch to Waldn for approval, then opened it and spread some of the powder on the wound.

She stood up, saying, “I’m done.”

Milae stood with her. “Should I wrap it?”

“Not today. We’ll wrap it tomorrow.” She looked to Waldn. “Would you object to me giving him something to eat that will help him sleep?”

Waldn looked to Milae who nodded, and he shrugged his shoulders. “Will it make him better?”

“No, but he’ll be in a lot better mood tomorrow.”

A grin split Waldn’s face. “By all means, do so.”

The four of them joined Galborae and Sergeant Vitor in the corridor, Kori still settling her enormous pack onto her shoulders as she strode toward them.

“He’ll be okay,” she said to them. “Are there more wounded?”

“Oh, yes!” Milae exclaimed.

“With your permission, sirs?” she said, looking between Havlock, Galborae, and Waldn.

Waldn shrugged. “No magic. You promised.”

She nodded. “No magic.”

* * * * *

Night on the battlements seemed to last forever. Soldiers’ minds wanted nothing more than to sleep, but gleasons needed only a moment of inattention to wreak havoc. Nearly 30 gleasons died, but between early warnings from the many melds patrolling the battlements and with targeting data supplied by the shuttles, only three gleasons made it over the wall. Havlock, looking for methods the locals could use after he left, broke out some enhanced vision goggles that did not require targeting data from the shuttles. He had been told they would work at night, and to his surprise they did, though they could not distinguish gleasons from other roving animals any more than his life force sensors could. Havlock did not hand out weapons to the locals, but he hoped to conduct training during daylight hours and arm them the following night.