Spirit of Empire 4: Sky Knights (13 page)

“It will be a long time before I step into the belly of that sky ship. Let’s fight that battle after we’ve defeated the gleasons. In the meantime, you might be able to help me in other ways. I’m under siege. My food will not last forever.”

“Can you last a year?”

“I’ll be into my siege supplies this winter. A year is a long time, and I have a lot of extra mouths. Probably not.”

“I’ll see what I can do, but I make no promises. It would be best if we can clear the gleasons from your land so your farmers can return to their homes and fields. I will train your men and leave weapons, but gleasons are tricky. Some will get through.”

Tennisol shook his head. “We always know when they’re near—our melds sense them. That’s not the problem. The problem is that most of my fighting men are dead.”

Havlock’s eyebrows rose. “I hadn’t thought about the melds. They could be a huge help. Can you train farmers or townspeople to fight the demons?”

“I need my farmers farming. I need my tailors making clothes. I need my blacksmiths making swords. It takes years to train a fighting man.”

“The farmers and tailors and blacksmiths will fight if their lives and the lives of their families depend on it. Until they return to their villages, make them fight. I can’t stay here forever—I have to fight gleasons in other kingdoms. I’ll leave one squad and one sky ship to train your people, but the ship can only stay for two weeks. We’ll evaluate your situation then and see if they need to stay longer.”

“Two months,” Tennisol shot back.

Havlock grimaced. “One month.”

“Done.” Tennisol looked at Galborae. “You can get started now teaching our farmers how to be soldiers.”

The king’s inference alarmed Havlock. “Your Majesty, I can’t let Galborae go. I’m utterly dependent on his guidance.”

Despite the gravity of the conversation, Havlock quickly picked up on the gleam in Tennisol’s eyes. The king knew. Tennisol looked at Galborae with a raised eyebrow, his mind calculating. “How much are you worth? A few more weapons? An extra month of protection?” His gaze moved back to Havlock. “An extra year of protection?”

When Milae finally got a break from her healer duties, Galborae and Sergeant Kori led her into the shuttle where a whole new world opened up to her. It had already opened up to her medically, but Sergeant Kori wanted to continue Milae’s training in the shuttle’s sick bay, possibly even up on the transporter in orbit if the opportunity arose. She wanted Milae to learn basic techniques that could be passed on to local healers, but as a teacher, Milae needed to know more than her students. Kori hoped to break out her textbooks and discuss germs, basic anatomy and physiology, and any basic science Milae could absorb.

* * * * *

Havlock believed the gleasons chose challenging targets rather than just any old target. After all, they had left a significant number of domesticated animals alive. He wanted to test his theory by drawing the gleasons into a more challenging fight. After a lot of discussion, he and Galborae decided that traveling by road would probably draw the gleasons out. Havlock had no ready means of traveling by road, so Galborae set out to find another way.

He returned with a man who swaggered up to Havlock with his meld in trail. One of the few clean-shaven men in the city, Havlock had seen him hanging around observing his men training the locals in the use of Empire weapons.

The man bowed formally before him, though he exuded an air of friendliness. “I hear you’re looking for transportation to Tricor, Lord.”

“You have the means?” Havlock asked.

The man nodded. “I’m a trader. I’ve been stuck here for months. Traders don’t like to stay in one place for long, and I’ve been watching you train with these new weapons.”

Havlock studied the man and wondered aloud, “Would you by any chance have recently purchased a load of swords from the famous smiths here?”

“I’ve purchased a number of trade goods here, swords among them.”

“And you need to sell them before news of these new weapons gets out?”

“Precisely, sire.”

“We have only a limited supply of weapons,” Havlock said.

“The best weapons are always in limited supply, but that’s not the issue. I have plenty of other items for trade. If I’m the first to travel this road, I’ll get a jump on my competitors.”

“It’s not just you going, then?”

“No. I travel with my family and a few merchants.”

“You know how bad these demons are. We expect losses.”

“Our travels are always dangerous. We’re good fighters. Train us to use your weapons and we’ll fight beside you.”

Galborae looked at Havlock. “A caravan will be slow, but it might disguise us to some extent.”

“Are the gleasons smart enough to notice a difference between us and traders?”

“I don’t know.”

“What’s your name?
”
Havlock asked.

“Gadma Kratzn, Lord.”

“I’m not a lord. I’m Colonel Havlock.”

Krtazn’s brow furrowed. “Not a lord?” He turned to Galborae. “Not a lord?”

Galborae shook his head. “More like a knight, but he’s in charge.”

“Everyone’s calling his men Sky Knights and he’s their lord, so he’s a lord after all.”

Havlock scowled. “How long is the journey by caravan?”

“In normal times, several months. We have reason to push harder this time, and I’m told the towns along the way are deserted so we won’t stop. Maybe a month.”

Havlock winced. A month was a long time for a test. On the other hand, depending on how things went, he and Galborae might be able to leave the caravan for a while and visit another kingdom or two during that month.

“How long before you’re ready to go?” he asked Kratzn.

“First light tomorrow. I’ve already purchased gorlacs for your men.”

“Gorlacs!” Havlock turned alarmed eyes to Galborae. “No way.”

Galborae clapped him on the back. “There’s nothing to it, Lord. I’m sure they’ll be trained . . . the gorlacs I mean.” He glanced sideways at Kratzn who nodded, and he added to Havlock, “Our men can practice today. These gorlacs will be easy to manage. That is, uh . . . provided you can meld with them.” He suddenly looked worried. “Can you?”

Havlock looked at him in surprise. “You mean see into their minds? I’ve never seen into anyone’s mind. Probably not.”

As it turned out, Havlock and his men did meld with the gorlacs. Apparently the ability to meld came from the gorlac, not the rider, something even Galborae and Kratzn had not known. Melding with a gorlac was considered a low-level meld. Simple commands could be conveyed by the rider, and strong feelings such as fear and enjoyment and fatigue could be sensed in return, resulting in a limited bonding with the animal.

Havlock had never ridden any kind of animal before. He stepped around the gorlac trying to get a feel for the creature, and he felt it’s mind focusing on him, an unsettling feeling. This particular gorlac’s supple, leathery skin was completely black and shiny and covered in a fine, downy covering, but gorlacs came in brown, rust, white, green, yellow, and any combination of those colors.

Havlock’s gorlac stood about chest high to him. Intelligent, bulbous eyes followed him as he ran a hand along its flank, over its saddle, then forward along its neck. He continued a little more gingerly along its head and jaw, lowered now as the gorlac studied him in return. Flat molars lined most of the jaw, but sharp, nasty teeth filled the front of a long muzzle that ended in short, curved tusks, one on each side, enabling the creature to live on meat, roots and pretty much anything else it desired. A long, curled tail with a single tuft of hair, its only long hair, efficiently cleared insects from its hide. Four legs lined with multiple, sharp, bony spurs ended in padded feet with vicious claws, now retracted.

When he mounted his gorlac, Havlock felt like he was sitting astride an animal that was partly draft animal and partly cat. He was surprised at how smoothly the creature flowed across the ground on its padded feet. His marines spent the afternoon learning to ride, the gorlacs helping them by telegraphing their needs and intentions, but the men were far from expert by the end of the day. Shooting from atop a gorlac was not nearly as accurate as from a stable platform, but he believed his men would improve in time.

The men were not happy about fighting gleasons from atop gorlacs—they knew how hard gleasons were to kill even under ideal conditions. They argued for scooters, even for unloading the stingers, but Havlock wanted to keep those tools in reserve. He was determined to develop fighting methods that he could spread around the planet to locals.

After gorlac training, Havlock joined Lieutenant Fogel and his squad on their shuttle to re-provision and get a good night’s sleep. Everyone woke up hurting the next morning, a consequence of abused muscles from riding, and they now had even more reason for wanting the scooters. Sergeant Vitor led them through a demanding exercise period to work out the kinks, but they were happy to hear they would start the journey on foot rather than on the back of a gorlac.

Havlock was not as lucky: he needed mobility. The shuttle discharged his men, the main gates swung open, and Galborae, Trader Kratzn, and Milae rode out on gorlacs, stopping beside him. Milae handed him the reins of her gorlac and joined Sergeant Kori on the shuttle.

Havlock climbed up on the gorlac, swinging it around in a circle for practice and looking out into the distance. From the castle’s position on the top of the hill, the dirt road followed a descending ridge line, then meandered through fields and forests along natural contours, eventually turning to the left and running out of sight.

This was the path the caravan would follow. He settled his gorlac and looked up to the high castle walls, not surprised to see the battlements lined with soldiers and private citizens. The departure of the caravan was an important event here.

The main gates swung wide and a wagon edged its way out, pulled by six shaggy beasts. Enormous armored heads sported long muzzles that ended in four sharp tusks. A dense mat of coarse, blond hair covered the creatures, hanging all the way to the ground. The driver appeared to be controlling them by voice and with a long stick that he brushed across their backs periodically, but Trader Kratzn informed him that Drodans also responded via meld commands.

“So they’re mind-linked too? They don’t look smart, but they do look nasty,” Havlock said.

“Oh, no, not at all. Most of the time they’re as docile as can be. The tusks are mostly for foraging.”

“So they eat fruits and vegetables?”

Kratzn shrugged. “Like the gorlacs, they’ll eat pretty much anything we give them.”

The first wagon was a garishly painted rectangular wooden box some six meters in length and three meters high. The driver and a meld sat on a plank seat jutting out from the front of the box which was covered by an overhang to shield them from the weather. A lookout sat atop the box under a sunshade. The wagon rolled on four spoked wheels, the front wheels a smaller diameter to make turning easier. Bright tassels and painted designs decorated every inch of the wagon, conveying a sense of cheerfulness. Kratzn had explained to Havlock the day before that these wagons, in addition to carrying freight, doubled as homes for the families who owned them. Lots of personal touches had been given to these homes over the years.

Another wagon appeared, this one even larger but less solid-looking with its lofty, brightly colored, fabric top. It, too, had been decorated. Another wagon appeared, then another and another and another, two of them covered by fabric, the last one another wooden box.

“How many are there?” Havlock demanded.

“Seventeen wagons and 63 people,” Kratzn answered proudly.

“What? I had no idea! You said you traveled with a few family members and employees. I can’t provide security for all this.”

“My people practiced with your weapons yesterday,” Kratzn responded. “They’ll be fine. We’re accustomed to challenges, and we’re pretty good at taking care of ourselves.”

“Have you fought gleasons out on the road?”

“Well . . . no. We were here when the first demons came. The king ordered us to remain inside the city. My men have all fought demons on the wall.”

Havlock shook his head. “You’re nowhere near ready to fight gleasons out in the open. I’m not sure we are either.” He called Sergeant Hawke in the shuttle. “I need two more shuttles and their squads. One shuttle will drop its squad, the other will standby in reserve. Inform Major Lebac that he’s to deploy the five remaining reserve shuttles from the transporter. It’s time to get everyone working.”

A gleason struck before a third of the wagons had come through the gate. It came stealthily and alone, but the shuttle gave Havlock plenty of warning. He called Lieutenant Fogel and Galborae to his side.

“Let’s see what Limam can do for us,” he said to Galborae.

“She’s aware of the approaching gleason,” Galborae responded.

“Let’s see if you can take it out without the shuttle stunning it for you.”

The three of them used a wagon for cover. Galborae, his visor in place and receiving signals from the airborne shuttle, sent Limam a few paces out. His visor showed a blurry image moving carefully up the incline toward the road. Limam lowered herself to the ground with her ears tightly back. A low snarl sounded from her throat at the same time as the drodans set up a low moaning. The gleason seemed to understand what this meant because its slow approach changed to a full charge.

The ship warned them at the same moment Galborae raised his stunner. Firing on a wide angle along Limam’s line of sight, his third shot hit the gleason. It lost its invisibility as it went down, but it was back up in an instant, shimmering toward invisibility again. Fogel’s stunner was not on wide angle. He hit the gleason with a full stun charge before Galborae’s stun charge wore off, and Havlock’s blaster was not far behind. A shot to the torso knocked the gleason down, but it rose up again, mortally wounded but charging swiftly.

Pandemonium broke out along the caravan. Drodans moaned and waved their massive heads, probably a consequence of the blasters firing, and traders on foot ran for cover inside their wagons. Havlock shouted to hold fire, wanting to give the traders a good view of their enemy, but the ship called with news of two more gleasons approaching at high speed.

Galborae directed Limam away from her immediate target and toward another. She quickly located a second gleason and his visor confirmed a target in that direction. Galborae and three marines brought it down while the others finished off the first gleason.

The ship took out the third gleason. “Hey, what’s up with that, Sergeant?” Havlock demanded.

“Sorry, sir. Looked like you were pretty busy,” Hawke apologized.

“Well . . . we were. Thanks, but give us more time if you can. We have to learn to do this on our own. We don’t have enough shuttles to fly cover over the whole planet.”

“Aye, sir.”

The caravan eventually settled down and began moving again just as the next shuttle landed and discharged its squad. That brought more unhappiness from the animals, but the drivers managed to keep them under control. Lieutenant Fogel and Sergeant Vitor gave the new arrivals a quick briefing and deployed them on foot on both sides of the rear half of the caravan. Fogel deployed his own squad to the front of the caravan.