The Wizardry Quested

by Rick Cook

  Besides which, the dragons didn’t like him. Every time he entered the aerie he was greeted by growls and roars from the monsters. Gilligan suspected that Stigi had been talking. Karin said that was impossible, but Gilligan knew better.

  ###

  Of course planning was the major form of preparation.

  “It is in our favor that nothing has tried strongly to breach the physical barriers,” Bal-Simba told the group assembled in his work room. “The Enemy has not had the opportunity to learn how to defend against it.”

  “It seems to have put up defenses enough,” Dragon Leader remarked as he studied the magical map showing the known patrol routes from the City of Night.

  “We think that’s more reflex than planning,” Jerry said. “If you’ll notice these tracks pretty much match the Dark League’s patrolling when they controlled the city. But circumstances have changed and that leaves holes here,” he said as he stabbed a finger onto the map, “here and especially to the south.”

  “What’s more, they’re not flying smart,” Gilligan said, “at least not from what the Watchers have seen.”

  “We have not been allowed to test these fliers yet.” There was a note of reproach in Dragon Leader’s voice.

  “That will come soon enough,” Bal-Simba told him. “Meanwhile we do not want to, ah, ‘tip our fingers’.”

  “That’s ‘tip our hand’,” Jerry corrected “Yeah, we want them dumb when we hit them.”

  Bal-Simba caught his air group commander’s expression. “Never fear, you will have the opportunity to test them very soon, but under controlled conditions.”

  “Meanwhile,” Jerry said, “the basic plan for the main attack will be to lure him out over the Freshened Sea with a dummy strike and then hit from another direction.”

  “Bakka Valley,” Gilligan said.

  Kuznetzov nodded. “Konyechno. We spoof them to show themselves and then the second wave eliminates them.”

  Dragon Leader nodded. “We can expect most of their air power to be drawn north, but that still leaves then-ground defenses, plus whatever they hold back for point defense.”

  “Well, there’s a trick we used on the second Schweinfurt raid,” Charlie said.

  Gilligan did a quick calculation and gave Charlie a hard look.

  The older man caught it. “Okay,” he amended. “Someone used it when the Eighth hit Schweinfurt the second time.”

  Dragon Leader ignored the byplay. “There is still the problem of the inner defenses.”

  “We may just have to fight our way through those,” Bal-Simba said. “Expensive, I know.”

  “Maybe we can come up with something as we go along,” Jerry added.

  Dragon Leader looked thoughtfully at the map.

  Twenty

  Sky Zombies

  Well, Dragon Leader thought, at least the rain has stopped. Not that much of an improvement. The air was clammy with moisture and the cold and damp seeped into everything. There were no warming spells which might give them away to the Enemy they sought so carefully.

  Dragon Leader pulled his inner flying cloak closer about him, breathing in the odor of lanolin as he drew air through the thick wool to try to keep out the cold. Behind him nearly a full squadron of the North’s dragon cavalry spread out in stepped formation. It was no comfort to him to know the riders were all as miserable as he was.

  Somewhere ahead of them lay—what? The forces of the Enemy. Probably other dragon cavalry, so the Watchers said, but his job was to find out for certain. His other job was to be cautious in doing it. Well enough, this wasn’t the time for open battle if it could be avoided, and he and his troop would go carefully.

  He scanned the sty ahead, eyes always moving, looking off the center of his vision to catch any movement. Not that he could see far. The wan winter sun was nearly at its zenith, but below them was a solid gray mass of foglike cloud, tinged with rainbow where the sun caught it right.

  Dragon Leader shifted uneasily in his saddle. He didn’t like this at all. Fighting in clouds was bad business and according to the Watchers their quarry preferred clouds and darkness to light. That was odd, but not unknown.

  Dragons, being sight hunters, preferred to fly by day. Just one more peculiarity to weigh upon him.

  “Dragon Leader,” came a voice in his ear. “Dragon Leader, we have your target at widdershins low. Range about three leagues.” Dragon Leader did not break communications silence to acknowledge the message. Instead he rose in his stirrups and signaled his squadron into attack formation. The less magic used now the harder it would be for the Enemy to detect them.

  Behind him the squadron tightened up and sorted itself out into pairs and simultaneously into a box formation. Almost, Dragon Leader nodded approval. Weeks of hard drill had paid off. The movement was as smooth and precise as any veteran squadron during the long war against the Dark League. The dragons were carefully spaced to provide the maximum amount of maneuvering room consistent with interlocking fields of fire. Dragon Leader reached behind him in the saddle and drew his great bow from its scabbard. Then he selected an iron death arrow from the quiver by his right knee and fitted it loosely to the string. With a practiced motion of the right hand he pulled the straps securing him to the saddle tight, but not too tight. Then he turned his full attention to scouting ahead.

  The white crystal set into his saddle horn began to darken on the left side. Magic in that direction, then. He signaled the squadron onto a new heading. The magic detector was passive and emitted almost no magic of its own, but it was not very sensitive. He knew that the Watchers in the Wizards’ Keep were following them closely, but at this distance they could not follow the battle in fine detail. Once the Enemy was sighted they would be able to see through the eyes of the dragon riders but for now they could not help them locate the Enemy.

  Following the directions of the detector Dragon Leader led his squadron lower until his dragon’s wingtips almost touched the rainbow-tinged clouds. Still no sign of the Enemy, but something was making the dragons very nervous. Dragon Leader’s own mount nearly shied beneath him and out of the corner of his eye he saw others toss their heads in unease.

  One of the flight leaders waved, relaying a signal from further out in the patrol. Dragons in sight! Dragon Leader strained his eyes and saw dark, amorphous forms rising out of the clouds toward them. With a touch of his knees he wheeled his mount around to set up an attack as soon as the Enemy came out of the clouds.

  Definitely ridden dragons. But there was something strange about them. Dragon Leader pushed the uneasiness out of his mind and drew his war bow. Ahead of him the leader of the third, left-most, flight lined up for the first attack.

  The enemy dragons glided up out of the clouds with their wings outstretched. First one rider’s head broke the mist, then another and another. Apparently oblivious to the threat above and behind them they continued to climb into perfect position for the ambushers.

  Dragon Leader watched as the leader of the third flight led the attack in a fast, shallow dive, aiming to fire on the rearmost of the exposed dragons and men swoop away without dropping into the concealing clouds. The rest of his flight would follow him in, each taking the next dragon left in line. If the Enemy was really unaware, the lead dragon might not realize the formation was under attack until all his fellows were down.

  The flight leader’s attack was textbook perfect and his release beautifully timed as he fired the iron death arrow into the Enemy dragon’s flank. Even from the distance Dragon Leader saw the arrow strike home.

  The enemy dragon reared its head against slack reins and looked back over its shoulder at the attacker. Then a burst of dragon fire caught the flight leader and his dragon as they climbed away from the formation, sending them plummeting from the sky in a blazing mass. Unconcerned by the deadly arrow sticking in its side, the dragon turned to face the oncoming foe.

  Another death arrow struck the dragon, and another and another as the remaining members of the flight
hastily shifted their aim. One of them tore a hole in the dragon’s wing and one pinned the rider to his saddle. The rider was no more bothered than his mount. He merely swiveled in his saddle to send off his own arrow over the dragon’s flanks. The draw was stiff, the release jerky and the arrow wavered past its intended target without effect. But by this time another Northern dragon and rider were down and the melee became general.

  ###

  Jerry and Taj were hard at it in the programmers’ workroom when Bal-Simba sought them out. The giant black wizard looked as grim as Jerry had ever seen him.

  “There is a new factor we must consider in our planning,” he said without preamble. “The Enemy has a weapon we were not expecting.”

  Jerrys first impulse was to say something like “what else is new?” but the look on Bal-Simba’s face stopped him. “What?”

  “Animated corpses. Our enemy wakes the dead.”

  “Zombies?”

  “Dragons and riders alike.” The distaste was plain on Bal-Simba’s face. “Such—things—are not unknown. But not even the Dark League meddled with them overmuch.”

  Jerry bit his lip. “We haven’t either, except in movies.”

  “No one in the North has experience with them,” Bal-Simba went on. “There are tales, however. They all agree they are difficult to create and harder still to control. Nor do they make satisfactory servants. They are merely puppets dancing on strings.”

  “Maybe this guy’s found another way to make them work,” Taj suggested.

  “So it would seem. A strong patrol of dragon cavalry engaged a flight of the Enemy’s this afternoon and we lost six riders and as many dragons.” The corner of his mouth quirked up in what might have been an attempt at a smile. “Our riders were using death arrows.”

  “And you can’t kill a zombie,” Taj said. “So how do you stop them?”

  “The body must be destroyed so as to render it useless to the animating intelligence. We were finally able to do so, but at a cost far too high. Such things are very hard to stop.”

  Jerry and Taj looked at each other.

  “If you will excuse me, My Lords, I must call upon the families of the riders we have lost. Should you require further information Arianne will be able to assist you.” With that he turned and left the workroom.

  Twenty-One

  Stand to Your Glasses

  The wing gathered in the tavern that night, but no one was drinking.

  Off in the corner three squadron leaders sat with their heads together, talking in low tones. Occasionally one of them would make the hand motions which are the universal language of fliers. Some of the others gathered in twos and threes to talk quietly as well. Most of the riders just sat. Occasionally there would be an outburst of wrath and the sound of a mug shattering as it was thrown against a wall. Dragon Leader stood alone by the bar, sunk in a brown study.

  You could have heard a pin drop when Charlie walked through the door.

  Seemingly oblivious to the mood of the place he bellied up to his accustomed spot at the bar.

  “Heard you boys had a little scrap today,” the old pilot said. “How many did you lose?”

  “Six,” the man at the bar said shortly.

  Charlie gave a low whistle. “Tough. Really tough. But I’ve seen worse, believe me. One time in Korea we were still flying P-51s, we got jumped by a bunch of Migs and lost half our squadron.”

  Still no one said anything.

  “Aw, hell. Come on boys, the drinks are on me. Barkeep, set ’em up!”

  No one moved. No one said a word.

  “My Lord.”

  Charlie turned and found Dragon Leader standing too close behind him. “This is not the time or place for you,” he said quietly. “It would be best if you go somewhere else.”

  Charlie opened his mouth, perhaps to apologize, and Dragon Leader moved even closer. “Now,” he said.

  Charlie closed his mouth and left.

  ###

  Karin was late getting home that evening and for some reason that troubled Mick. She had been working with Stigi as she did every day. Since the first time Mick had stayed away from the aerie.

  He had heard about the battle and the losses, of course, and he expected she’d spend some time with her squadron mates in the complex, wordless process of pilots’ grieving for those fallen. But it was very late indeed when she finally returned to their quarters.

  “Hi, beautiful,” he said and took her in his arms, only to feel her tense.

  “Mick, we need to talk.”

  Uh-oh, thought Gilligan, who had been married long enough to know what that meant.

  He sat down at the table. “Would you like some tea?”

  Karin shook her head and settled into the chair across the table from him. “I’ve asked to rejoin my squadron.”

  “What?”

  “That means I must move back to the barracks,” she rushed on, “so I can be ready to fly at an instant’s notice.”

  “That’s pretty heavy,” Mick said at last.

  Karin leaned forward to put her hand on his arm. “It won’t be that bad. There’ll still be time to see each other and I’ll only be at ready six or seven days out of ten.”

  “You know that’s not what’s worrying me.” Well, not the main thing, he thought.

  She hesitated. “Mick, we lost too many riders to the zombies. We need every dragon and every experienced rider now.”

  Mick didn’t say anything.

  “This is not like the machines you flew. It is no more dangerous than riding horseback.”

  And how many people have been killed falling off horses? But he didn’t say it.

  “There’s a big operation coming up,” he said finally.

  “And you thought I would stay out of it?” The color drained from her cheeks and she pressed her lips together in a tight line. “What do you think I am? Did you honestly believe I would desert my mates at a time like this?”

  Gilligan gave her his best winsome, little-boy smile. “Well, I could hope.”

  As soon as he said it he knew it was wrong. Karin went even whiter and stood up so fast she almost knocked the chair over.

  “I must return to my squadron,” she said woodenly. “I will be back later for my things.”

  Gilligan opened his mouth to apologize, to say the words that would make her stay. But there were no words, so he just nodded and looked at his hands.

  ###

  Sometimes it’s worth freezing your buns off just to be alone. Jerry stood on the battlements and stared off into the night. The stars were back again, shining like bright, hard bits of metal in a crystal clear sky. The air smelled of cold and nothing else. Even the sounds were gone.

  Jerry slipped one hand out of the relative warmth of his heavy cloak and pulled the fur-trimmed hood closer around his nose. The fur smelled faintly of cedar even in the nose-numbing cold. He made no move to go back in.

  So stand to your glasses steady . . .

  This world is a world full of Lies.

  It was Charlie, obviously very much the worse for wear. From the way he was staggering Jerry was afraid he was going to fall off the walkway into the courtyard two stories below.

  He was bareheaded and wearing only his flight suit and flying jacket; not even gloves. The old pilot must be freezing in this weather but he seemed too full of drink and his own concerns to notice.

  “How ya doin’?” he slurred as he came up to Jerry.

  “Okay,” Jerry said neutrally, hoping he’d take the hint

  He didn’t. “I got my ears pinned back good an’ proper tonight,” Charlie told him with an air of alcoholic confession. “I butted into something that wasn’t my affair, squadron business, and I got what I damn well deserved.”

  Jerry nodded and didn’t say anything.

  “A squadron’s like a family, son. There’s times outsiders are welcome and there’s times they ain’t. Forget that and you’re gonna get slapped down.”

  Some comment s
eemed called for. “You must have run into that in Vietnam,” Jerry said.

  Charlie leaned on the parapet and stared out into the freezing night.

  “I wasn’t in Vietnam,” the old man said softly. “Hell son, I didn’t learn to fly until I was thirty-two.” He turned back to look at Jerry. “You know what I was? I was an accountant. A goddamn accountant! But I got lucky and I was in the right place at the right time and when we went public I walked away with nearly twelve million bucks. A good chunk of that went to my second wife, but I was still left with more money than any normal human being can spend in a lifetime of trying. The day we closed the deal, I came out of the lawyer’s office, tore off my coat and tie, threw ’em in a trash can and I vowed I’d spend the rest of my life doing exactly what I wanted.

  “Oh yeah, I got what I wanted.” He smiled off into the darkness but there was no humor in it. “Maybe what I deserved.”

  Charlie hawked and spat out into the crystal night “Thirty years of doing just what I wanted and you know what that adds up to? Not a bucket of warm piss. I’m sixty-three years old, I got a drinking problem, diabetes and a cardiac arrhythmia that’s probably gonna kill me if the other stuff don’t get me first.”

  “Sounds like you had fun, anyway,” Jerry said neutrally.

  Charlie turned to face him. “You know what I found? Too much fun ain’t fun anymore. You need some kind of purpose to make it all mean something.” He waggled a finger under Jerry’s nose. “Now you, you’ve been dragged from pillar to post. But you know what? All of that was for a cause. It means something. Like this here. You’re gonna go charging off to rescue your lady love and maybe save the world. Maybe you’ll win, maybe you’ll lose. But when it comes to the end you’re gonna be able to look back on your life and say it meant something. Son,” the old man said, “from where I stand you’ve got nothing to complain about.”