Warrior (The Key to Magic) (35 page)

Their first algar having been disabled by a malfunction of its Algaraemyr Device, Whorlyr and his crew had been a league behind the head of the advance, waiting to transfer to a replacement that was being brought up from Mhevyr.  This accident had in all likelihood saved his and the others' lives.

While the archivist listened intently to his far talking disk, Whorlyr closed the observation hatch and settled on the forward bench.  One of the Salients, a Senior Ascertainer name Sgohlg, handed him a wrapped section of hard bread and a canteen.  Meals aboard an algar were taken as opportunity presented.

"The difficulties with the Emerald Gate have been resolved," Brother Zsii said finally.  "The Salient combat teams will deploy within the hour.  The Archdeacon commands an update on the status of the operation."

Mouth full, Whorlyr chewed mechanically as he took a few seconds to think carefully about the tenor and composition of his report, finished the bread and washed it down with a long draught of water, and then said, "Through the night, we have gained the river banks to the north and south of the highway.  The retaining walls of the ramp leading to the head of the bridge are nearly vertical and cannot be climbed by an algar, requiring that we approach from along the highway.  The Apostate is holding the foot of the ramp with a small force that includes the anti-Shrike weapon.  This narrowed front gives the Apostate a significant advantage and prevents a massing of our forces.  To reduce unnecessary losses, I have halted the attacking droves five hundred paces from the Apostate's position."

As he had been trained to do, the archivist repeated Whorlyr's words without error.  A few seconds later, he said, "Message received."

Whorlyr had already developed a plan to dislodge the Apostate.  "Add this:  I request that the reserve coveys of Shrikes be released to participate in a combined assault to overwhelm the Apostate and to seize the bridge.  The full might of the Shrikes and the algars will be needed to dislodge him."

After the far talking disk operator repeated Whorlyr's message, it was almost a quarter of an hour before the answer came.

"Request approved."

FIFTY-FOUR

Stretched out prone, Ulor crept forward to sneak a look around the burned out steel beetle.  "I think they've learned not to get too close, my lord king."

Sitting flat on his buttocks as he leaned against the still warm metal side of the smashed vehicle, Mar said, "I hope so."

They had managed to hold their ground here, about forty paces up the stone encased ramp that climbed to the head of the bridge.  The sides of the ramp were almost three manheight above the steep, wooded slope that ran down to the river, giving them unassailable flanks.  The waist high guard walls, the destroyed war machine, and the two others like it farther down the ramp provided considerable protection from the Phaelle'n flux lances.  During the night, the Shrikes had withdrawn out of range of Quaestor Eishtren's unerring bow.  

Mar raised a slightly shaking hand to rub his forehead to combat a strident headache.  He had never used magic as continuously and as strenuously as he had in the last day and a half and his skull felt as if it were going to split open.  Though the others had taken turns napping, he had slept none at all through the night.  Moreover, his back and -- and incidentally all three of his stumps -- hurt abominably.   Late the previous afternoon, a volley from one of the steel beetles had caught him from behind, shattering both artificial legs, and he had had to discard them and rely solely on his brigandine.  He had not realized how much he had come to depend upon the wooden limbs until they had been taken from him.

"We might better try to make a break for the other side before it gets too light," Scahll suggested.

Mar and the others had encountered Scahll, Bear and Taelmhon half a league from the bridge ramp.  Mar had thought to berate them for venturing into the teeth of the Phaelle'n attack, but had recalled that by definition brave men did dangerous things.  After setting the other legionnaires and marines from Number One to assist the wounded and struggling armsmen of the decimated I Corps, the trio had taken it upon themselves to try to find out what had become of the royal flagship.  They had reported that I Corps had moved away from the river in a southeasterly direction into the low hills beyond the western bank and had also brought the unwelcome news that Knight-Commander Dhrasnoaeghs had been killed by a strafing Shrike the day before.

With fire, wind, and luck, for all of the previous day and night, Mar had held the Phaelle'n at a bay, giving ground continually but slowing their advance to a crawl.  Still, for each steel beetle that he had destroyed, a dozen had appeared to replace it.

The Shrikes had stayed away, but Quaestor Eishtren had kept his bow busy.  Though the archer's flux arrows did not cause the steel beetles to explode, the invisible bolts easily punched through their armor. He had become uncannily adroit at firing at the occupants and had driven away uncounted attempts to try to run the retreating group down.

Not answering Scahll right away, Mar turned his eyes back across the bridge.  He had not paid much attention to it when he had flown Number One across the river and it had been too dark -- and he had been too busy with the Phaelle'n -- to consider it during the night, but now the day had brightened enough to see all of it. 

Built using the rustic stonework characteristic of the architecture of the late Empire, it was, by some accounts, the longest standing bridge in all of the domains of the Principate.  The Sand River was almost nine hundred armlengths wide at this point and the bridge, including the long eastern ramp, the twenty-eight segmental arches of the structure, and the abutments of the western approach, was almost eleven hundred armlengths in total length.  Thirteen armlengths wide from one guard wall to the other, the roadbed was easily wide enough for two of the steel beetles to travel abreast.  There were no gatehouses to guard the approaches, but the central pillar supported an open triumphal arch that rose up three manheight.

To stop the steel beetles, he would not have to take down the entire bridge, which was probably not a practical possibility given that the monks would sweep up the bridge ramp as soon as he and the others pulled back, just open a gap that was broad enough to prevent a quick wooden repair.  All of the arches were thirty armlengths wide save for the central two, which were close to fifty.  If he infused blocks at the center of one of those, including the keystones and the adjacent voussoirs of the arch, the magical detonation should completely collapse the arch.  He knew that there would likely be iron staples linking the ashlars at major stress points, but felt certain that the size of the blast he planned would carry away those as well. 

"I need to infuse and detonate the center of the bridge," Mar said, looking around at the circle of weary men that crouched or sat around him.  "That will keep the beetles from crossing here. The rest of you get a head start.  I'll follow."

Ulor scooted back and sat up.  "It's my duty to stay with you, my lord king."

"You will need my bow to keep the Shrikes away," Quaestor Eishtren said.

"And my eyes to see them coming," Kyamhyn added.

"Kyamhyn can't look everywhere at once," Dhem asserted.

"Taelmhon, Bear, and me, we all started with the quaestor back in Mhajhkaei," Scahll hazarded, "we'd better stay with him."

The other two men nodded in quick agreement.

Aelwyrd, stupefied from lack of sleep, put a determined expression on his face, but did not actually seem to know what was going on.

Mar allowed a sad smile.  "We'll all stay together then.  Make ready.  We'll head for the triumphal arch, staying as low as possible.  As soon as I've infused the span, we'll race for the other side.  Quaestor Eishtren, I want you to set off the detonation with your bow when we're all in the clear."

"Yes, my lord king."

Mar looked at Aelwyrd again.  "Dhem, make sure that Aelwyrd keeps up with the rest of us.  I'll do what I can with my magic to help us along."

The young legionnaire grinned. "I'll take care of the boy, my lord king."

Making sure that he stayed behind the shelter of the wrecked beetle, Mar rose to a standing height and the others straightaway climbed to their feet.  Except for their swords and the still full quivers that Aelwyrd had refused to discard, they had no gear to carry.  They had also had nothing to eat and only the water in their canteens, but the stress of the battle had made that only a minor concern.

After taking a fast look around to make sure that there was no immediate threat, Mar led them forward.  "Let's go."

After only five paces, Kyamhyn raised his head and stared at the cloud sprinkled sky to the south.  "Shrikes, my lord king!"

"Run for the arch!" Mar commanded.

Light flashed and a rectangle of a shadowed interior appeared on the center of the roadway a dozen paces in front of them.  Tattooed monks in black leather and chainmail began to run from the rectangle, raising devices gripped in their right hands.

Mar deflected the majority of the flux lances that hurled from the weapons, but he could not impede the entire fusillade.

In the midst of reaching for his sword, Ulor spun about, a gaping hole in his chest, and fell.

Quaestor Eishtren's bow fired six times and six of the Black Monks dropped lifeless.  Bear, Scahll, Kyamhyn, and Taelmhon charged to engage another four who presented drawn swords rather than magical weapons.

Mar rushed up to join them and quickly delved the doorway as swords rang together around him.  The base sound-color of the doorway was a droning-apple and he lashed at it with every clashing sound-color that he could create.  Hitting upon an aggravated squealing-orange that neutralized the droning-apple, he destabilized the portal and it abruptly closed upon a swordsman that was halfway through, with both monk and opening disintegrating in a shower of pulsating yellow light.  As quickly as he could, he spun to infuse the leather of the surviving monks, snatched them up one by one, and catapulted them out into the river.

The diving Shrike caught him off guard.  Black cylinders stitched across the roadway, chipping out hollows in the stone, hit Bear and Scahll to his left with battering force, and then Mar felt sledgehammer blows strike his torso.  His brigandine kept him upright, but he lost a moment or two and came back at the tail end of a string of echoing explosions.

"... king's still alive," Dhem was saying.

"Drag him to the arch," Quaestor Eishtren ordered.  "Aelwyrd, help Dhem."

Mar blinked his eyes, saw Dhem grab a shoulder strap of his brigandine.  When he felt a grip on his right forearm, he lolled his unresponsive head around to stare at Aelwyrd's distraught young face.

A great weakness overcame Mar and he coughed raggedly, tasting his own blood. Looking down, he saw a bright red flow pouring freely from a hole in his abdomen and another on the right side of his chest.  Knowing that he would be dead in moments, he focused inward, using what magic he could summon to seal his wounds.

He lost more time.  When he blinked his eyes open again, he was in the shade of the arch, pushed up against the northern pillar.  Facing back to the east, Dhem and Aelwyrd stood in front of him.

Quaestor Eishtren stood out in the open in the obscenely bright sunshine, firing up at the sky.  Shrikes exploded one after another, the flares casting dancing shadows.

After a moment, Mar found enough energy to ask in a course whisper, "Ulor, Scahll, Bear?"

Dhem turned his head, his expression dark and a shake in his chin.  "Dead, my lord king.  Kyamhyn and Taelmhon too."

Mar head an odd sound, turned to look at Aelwyrd, and saw that the youth was weeping.

A screech of dragging metal and the splintering sounds of breaking wood made Mar look beyond Eishtren.  A steel beetle was nosing the blockading hulk aside.  As soon as it had opened the way, it accelerated across the bridge toward them.  Behind it, a long line of armored vehicles rushed to follow.

FIFTY-FIVE

It was raining again, but then, it always rained here at the spire.  Except when it snowed.

"It is ghoulish to watch the slaughter," Waleck grumbled.  "Turn aside and sit by the fire."

The sorcerer used a cloth to wipe condensation from the tablet.  "I have to watch.  This is the culmination of all my efforts."

"You could have been his friend."

"Mar would never have had the courage to do what is necessary to restore magic to the world."

"You mean that he would have eventually grown too strong for you to control."

"As he will soon be dead, this discussion has no relevance."

The sorcerer picked up the cloth again and wiped it across the glistening stone.

FIFTY-SIX

143rd Year of the Reign of the City

Tenthday, Waning, 3rd Springmoon, 1645 After the Founding of the Empire

Crash site of the Empress Telriy

Forty-eight men, many severely wounded, survived the crash of the skyships.  Captain Thylbr and Third Officer Keiarh were not among them.  Mhiskva left a file of legionnaires under the command of a fugleman to dig and fill forty-three graves and care for the injured, and then ordered his war band to move out. 

"The Imperial Highway must be only a couple of leagues to the north and we can reach it in two hours," he told his gathered officers.  "Whenever possible, we will travel under the cover of trees, but I expect that most of the vales will harbor pastures or fields.  When we have to move through the open, each section and quarter-troop will maintain a wide interval between it and the next.  Once we reach the highway, we reform into two loose columns that will proceed along opposite flanks of the highway toward the bridge on the Sand River.  The marines will take the south and the legionnaires the north.  Legate Awer, your section will lead the northern march as a scout in force.  Subaltern Pwintle, your quarter-troop will do the same on the south.  We move out in five minutes."