by T J Marquis
“But no,” said Naphte. “I’d be discharged, even if we won. My family needs the income. Anescama’s not a cheap place, you know.”
Dahm shrugged. “As you will, Commander. But my young friend is right. Jon won’t want to stay, once he’s awake to choose. We thought we’d get on the move while we wait.”
“Well, I can’t stop you, being civilians, but I do wish you’d reconsider. Wait a day, will you? Figure out your plan, I’ll give you what you need, by way of thanks. Maybe you’ll see that it’s better to stay.”
“We’ll wait a day,” said Dahm. Bahabe flicked her gaze to him, but said nothing. “And we thank you, Commander.”
Chapter 9
Razed
A full day had not passed before the scout rode in. It was early the next morning, and clean up of the battlefield was still the prime directive.
The scout came in, riding not a horse, but a hovering, steel-plated vehicle that reminded Dahm of something Elder Corel would have built back home. Dahm was up on the ramparts and saw the thing come skimming in, leaving no trail of dust in its wake. The gates were opened and the scout admitted.
Dahm took advantage of his borrowed fame to go stand by Naphte as he met the scout. Bahabe saw him coming down the stairs and joined.
“Patroller Garred,” the Commander said. “What news?”
The man looked tired, downcast. Dark hair was plastered to his brown forehead. How long had he been riding?
“The camp at Road’s end,” Garred said, “it’s razed. I…” he choked up. “I think the citizens escaped - didn’t see any bodies. They hadn’t even named the place yet…” he trailed off.
“Stick with me man,” said Naphte. “The materials, the longhouses. They burned it all? Anything we could salvage?”
Garred shook his head. “Nothing that I saw. And it’s worse. They… I think they broke the Road.”
“Impossible,” said Naphte. “It’s withstood the elements for, well who knows how long?”
“It’s true, sir,” Garred said. “The onramp - it’s torn open. You can see its inner workings and… well I climbed up the slag -”
“Slag?”
“Yes sir. I can’t imagine what they did, but they melted it like wax. You can see the insides, black and ruined. I climbed up and tested it. It doesn’t work.”
Naphte could say nothing. Dahm saw that this was a bigger blow than the man could ever have expected.
“Dragon fire perhaps,” he said. A red stripe had appeared in the center of his forehead. His eyes tightened.
“So I searched out the angle of their approach. They came due west from Ota,” said the Patroller.
“I got back on the zirah and flew there and back as fast as I could.”
“No,” said Naphte. “No.”
“It’s razed too, sir. No sign of survivors. The site was still smoking.”
It probably should have been a confidential report, but Commander Naphte didn’t seem to be holding the fort with a rigid hand. A crowd had grown, and people moaned at this news.
“It’s worse, sir. They sealed the tunnel. Even if the Road was working, we’d have no way to get through.”
The soldiers of the fort were stunned. Many of them cursed. Some stomped off to spread the news.
“What are we going to do, sir?”
Naphte didn’t answer. He turned and strode stolidly back to his office, shutting the door.
“What does it mean?” asked Bahabe.
“I think they’re cut off,” said Dahm, watching the Commander’s door. “Which means we are too. It’s over the mountains for us, or chase the tail of that vanguard and see how they entered the country. I don’t like either one.”
“Neither sounds good,” said Bahabe. “If we could fly like Jon… Wait, the barges! Do you think he’d give us one?”
“I doubt it, though that is good thinking. We could use the speed.”
“But he owes us. He owes Jon,” Bahabe pleaded as if it were Dahm’s call.
“But it’s their country, Bahabe. Their war, their spoils.”
“But Jon’s the one that won the battle. I’m going to talk to him.”
Bahabe made to move away, but Dahm put a hand on her shoulder.
“Maybe you will. Maybe you should,” he said. “But give the man a moment. For all we know, he had relatives in one of those towns. And either way, they were his people and his responsibility. Let him take this in.”
Commander Naphte didn’t emerge until well after dinner time.
The men and women of the fort had eaten, had seen to Dahm and Bahabe, asking for tales of the great wizard’s exploits. Where was he from? How many years had they been his apprentices? Bahabe claimed they were sworn to secrecy, and the soldiers were disappointed.
When Naphte did emerge, he strode right up to Dahm, who could feel the man’s tension.
“We have to chase them down. You were right. We route them, and to the pit with the consequences.”
Dahm just nodded. There were wars in which you allowed the enemy’s retreat. This was not one. Not when the enemy had murdered civilians out of hand.
“We will fight with you,” Dahm said. Naphte looked at him strangely, seeming to take him in fully for the first time.
“You are a warrior, aren’t you,” the Commander said. He shook his head. “Where are you from? You’ll forgive me, I’ve been distracted.”
“I understand fully,” said Dahm. “Just know that you won’t regret having us along.”
“Her too?” he said, pointing his chin at Bahabe. She narrowed her eyes.
Dahm said only, “Her too.”
She puffed up a bit.
“What about your superiors?” Dahm asked.
“I’ve already sent a Patroller up north with the news. They’ll berate me either way. I may fare better with a victory at hand.”
“Leadership never argues with success,” Dahm agreed.
But Naphtes smirked. “Unless it’s not time for a promotion. Anyhow, we leave at first light. Go to the armory. Take whatever you like and call it Lord Jon’s tribute. My soldiers will assist you. I have the distinct pleasure of filling out paperwork!”
He turned and left Dahm with a parting smack on his shoulder.
Dahm chuckled at Bahabe. She was so eager to claim her spoils, she wouldn’t even answer the guard’s questions as she barged into the armory. People were still at work there, moving crates and stacks of things in and out, cleaning guns collected from the battlefield, sorting other weapons into piles. Dahm explained the Commander’s orders, and goodwill toward Jon precluded any possible bureaucratic barriers to the pair’s entry.
Dahm couldn’t deny the joy of perusing well-crafted weapons, though he didn’t expect to claim much for himself. He might consider a proper greatsword, if he saw one.
Bahabe seemed to want to touch one of everything. He wondered if she’d ever seen some of these weapons before. What might they have had, back on her island?
She lingered over a rack of spears, but turned away. She regarded many blades, but found none to her liking. It was one of those strange rifles that finally caught her fancy. Dahm hovered as she lifted one. Everyone nearby watched her closely.
“It’s light,” she said in surprise.
“Is it?” Dahm said. He’d used guns in a few other worlds, but he’d never seen one like this.
She turned the thing over in her hands, careful to keep her finger away from the trigger. She’d either held a gun before, or she was just attentive. Dahm relaxed but stayed near.
The rifle was blocky and white, with only an ironsight. It seemed to be armored, dozens of plates overlapping, and a light on the right side pulsed blue. Dahm surmised that indicated it was loaded.
Bahabe looked up at him. “You don’t have to worry. I know it’s dangerous. I just thought, if we do get in a fight, I should probably be able to keep my distance.”
“That’s good thinking. Are you sure you’re ready to fire it?”
The girl had probably never hurt another living thing before. Dahm was concerned, but he didn’t want to alarm her.
“Doesn’t seem too hard,” she said. That wasn’t what Dahm meant, but he held his tongue.
Dahm didn’t find the perfect greatsword, but he found one that would do. He ran a thumb and forefinger up its edges, sculpting it to razor sharpness with his craft, then sheathed it and went about finding a longsword for Jon. He wasn’t sure if Jon would use it, but it couldn’t hurt to have around. The one he ended up choosing was something salvaged from the battlefield, and it looked like a smaller version of the one the Nulian Commander had wielded.
It was long and tapered, of that faintly glowing, red-mottled steel. The shape of a flame was etched into the blade near its hilt. Dahm touched it to the floor, and raised his eyebrows as it sank into the stone like a knife into butter. He was tempted to keep it for himself, but it was too small for his tastes. Surely Jon would like it.
When their tour of the armory was done, Dahm and Bahabe went to check on their friend. He was still asleep.
“So we’re really gonna do this?” Bahabe asked, watching Jon breath so painfully slow.
“East is the way to go,” said Dahm. “And it’s either over the mountains, or around them. Going south, at least we have a ride.”
“I’m ready for him to wake up,” Bahabe said, laying a hand on his chest. “I’m getting worried.”
Dahm was too, and yet he felt paradoxically confident that Jon would awaken eventually. A gift of that magnitude wasn’t given to the man, simply to showcase such massive potential only once. And a vision wasn’t shown to a person if the very pursuit of that vision was doomed to failure. Something was at work in Jon. They just had to carry the torch until he was returned to them.
“It won’t be long,” Dahm said, laying a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Have faith.”
Chapter 10
Zansari
Everyone awoke in a sweat, stepping into the sun and squinting at the bright new day. Smoke from the pyres full of Nulian dead rose in plumes from beyond the ramparts.
The abandoned hovering barges had been collected and staged outside Otu’s walls. Anekan soldiers had been outfitted with the white rifles, of which there were hundreds, and everyone seemed eager to be on the move. It wasn’t much of a force that was heading out - only about half a battalion - but the soldiers were emboldened. The Nulian force was on the run, and probably wouldn’t be expecting pursuit.
The other half battalion would be left to hold the fort at Otu, and these made a big show of grumbling about it. Yet orders were orders, and they obeyed.
A small group of Naphte’s officers had been allowed to train on machines like the scout’s small hovercraft, which they called a zirah. It’s controls were simple compared to that of the barges, but gremlin pilots had ripped open the barges’ command consoles and rewired things into crude, but simple and effective levers and buttons. They’d scratched inelegant pictures next to the jury-rigged components that indicated up, down, forward and back. There was even a lever with a simple torch engraved next to it - spotlights.
Throughout the course of everyone getting settled, Dahm came to understand that these machines were exceedingly rare. Naphte kept fretting over the fact that he hadn’t filled out the proper requisition forms for the barges, or the confiscated cobalt rifles. He explained his worries to Dahm as they stood examining one of the barge’s consoles.
“Really everything is supposed to be inventoried and delivered to the capitol, where the Zansari keep everything under lock and key,” he said. “If we don’t succeed in routing the enemy, I’ll probably be discharged for this.”
“Why is it all so exclusive?” Dahm asked. “In my home, I share… we share such things with everyone in need.”
“That would be the way, wouldn’t it?” Naphte said. He ran a finger along the console’s corners. “But they like to collect the old technologies. It’s like they’re saving up for something.”
Maybe for this invasion, Dahm thought, but didn’t say it.
“Wait, old?” said Dahm. The barges and the zirah didn’t look old.
“Where’d you come from? You think we can make things like this nowadays? They’ve only just gotten electricity in Anescama and Bayport. I don’t think Enkann’s got any. It’s been decades since Centrifuge was operational, and people haven’t made vehicles like this,” he gestured, “in recorded history, far as I know.”
“So whenever you come upon such a relic,” Dahm said, “you round it up, make a tally mark, and they put it in a warehouse somewhere?”
“Just that,” said Naphte. “You know, it kinda feels good to get my hands on something forbidden. This’ll be a fun ride, discharged or no.”
When all was ready, Naphte gave the order, and the little army set out under the baking hot sun, one hundred soldiers to a barge - a fleet of four. One of Naphte’s Patrollers ranged ahead on the zirah to scout for the retreating vanguard.
Bahabe had settled in next to Jon, in a tent that had been erected for him. Its corners were anchored down to steel rings that studded the surface of the barge in a grid pattern. The walls of the tent flapped like a ship’s sails in the wind of the barge’s passage.
He was tossing and turning this morning, grimacing as if experiencing a nightmare. Why hadn’t he awoken?
It didn’t make any sense. Bahabe’s use of her own powers had never affected her in this way. Even after she’d healed Jon the other day, she hadn’t been laid out like this. Sure she’d felt the pain, but not this debilitating fatigue.
Perhaps it was just that their power came from different sources. Certainly, she’d never experienced the things Jon had described. Only this pull.
She felt it now, the invisible tether tensing ever so slightly with each mile to the south. She was moving further from the source, and she feared the amplification of the sensation as the distance increased. Bahabe steeled herself against the discomfort. It was either strike off on her own or bear it until she’d seen Jon off safely.
She glanced at him. His lips were dry - he must be parched. He needed water. She stood and was between the tent’s open flaps when she heard Jon’s voice rasp from behind her.
“Bahabe,” Jon said. She turned as he sat up in his cot, rubbing at his eyes with his other hand. He blinked away the deep sleep and looked around, squinting. “Where are we? Is Dahm okay?”
Bahabe had no time for his questions. She bounded over and wrapped him in her arms. “If you even think about doing something like that again, I’m taking you back to the island forever,” she said. She heard the tears in her own voice, but she didn’t let them fall. Jon needed a strong companion right now, not a weeping little girl.
“I got hit,” he said into her unkempt curls of hair. “In my dreams it was a bus.”
“What’s a bus?” she asked.
“Like a wagon, but no horses. Big and heavy.”
“It was a dragon, Jon. We thought it would kill you, but they retreated, and there was hardly a scratch on you.”
“A dragon?” Jon asked, perking up. “Well that makes me feel better. Wish I’d seen it.”
“My friend the masochist,” Bahabe smirked.
“The light,” Jon said. “It protected me the whole time. I think it took over for a while.”
“What do you mean?” She stood back from him, studying as if to see evidence of the light’s ignition.
“I felt… a hunger. It wouldn’t stand for the presence of those undead. They had to be slain. But I was scared, Bahabe.”
“Why, Jon? They never stood a chance.”
“Not of them,” Jon said. “Of myself. I liked it. I liked having control over the battle. If it hadn’t been for that bloodlight that appeared -”
“I saw it,” Bahabe said.
“- I might have killed them all. But I thought they were monsters.”
“They are, Jon. Murderers, warmongers. It was obvious,” she said.
&
nbsp; Jon shook his head, let it dip low. “But they have thoughts, lives. Whenever I killed one, I caught a glimpse of its mind. I think I saw their final thoughts. Nearly did me in.”
“And every time you killed one, another light appeared,” Bahabe said. She mused on this. “Is it hiding? Can you call it back out?”
Jon grimaced. “I think so, but it’d feel like taking my pants off. Is that weird?”
Bahabe blushed and looked out the tent’s opening.
“I think I’ll have to look at them some time,” Jon said, “but not now. Where are we?”
Bahabe told him about the razing of Ota and the sealing of the pass. She relayed what Dahm had learned about the endless tower in Jon’s vision.
“So we’re following the retreat south to see how they got into Anekan lands,” Bahabe said. “We’ll be on the southern border of Enkann if we duck south around the mountains. Dahm and I figured it’s what you’d want to do.”
“It was a good guess,” Jon said. He lay back with a tired huff of breath. “Bahabe, I’ll have to be more careful next time.”
Bahabe was about to say that perhaps he wouldn’t have to fight again, but she doubted that could be true.
From outside, they heard voices calling a halt, and they felt the barge ease to a stop.
“What’s going on?” Jon asked.
Bahabe stepped outside just as Dahm came up to the tent.
“What is it?” she asked him.
“Naphte’s superiors,” Dahm said. “They came after us. Is Jon awake?”
“He just woke up!”
Dahm looked relieved. He stepped into the tent to greet Jon and welcome him back to the world of the living.
It felt good to wake to his friends. Their newly forged bond comforted him. They had cared for him as he slept. Already, Jon couldn’t imagine where he’d be without them.
Dahm crushed him in a manly hug and Jon chuckled with what breath he had left afterward.
“What you did back there - never seen the like of it,” Dahm said, slapping Jon’s back. “We’ll have to talk about your technique, though.”