Doom's Break

by Christopher Rowley

  His second concern was the problem of moving the thousands of wounded across the Dristen Bridge and down to Dronned as quickly as possible.

  Nuza had performed miracles since she had left Aeswiren's side. But it would still be hours before they got most of the wounded into the wagons and rolling south.

  The problem now was that Thru's line was barely a hundred yards from the medical camp itself. The tents full of those too wounded to move would be within bow shot if there was an attack.

  One other problem had been solved, however. Simona had volunteered to take on Thru's previous job, the unenviable task of running messages between the two army commands. Because of her skill with either language and because she was intimately acquainted with both army commanders, she was perfect for the job.

  She was Thru's first visitor of the new day. She brought good tidings from Aeswiren, who had slept for several hours and was now eating some gruel under the watchful eye of one of Filek's trained nurses. Mentu had done a wonderful job in the night, and the men's morale was intact. However, their food supplies had been lost in the night attack and were no doubt being consumed by the enemy.

  Fortunately, Thru's next visitor was another old friend, Quartermaster General Meu of Deepford, who had brought with him the twenty wagons loaded with rations that he'd promised yesterday.

  "A bit of breakfast will go some way to restoring the troops' spirits. They've had a hard night."

  "Bushpod cakes, bushcurd pies, salt fish, beans, eggs, fresh bread, we've got it all. Even guezme tea!"

  "Guezme! Well, I'll be."

  "Came from Highnoth. Two Assenzi and three donkeys arrived day before yesterday. Amazing, eh?"

  "I'll say. The Assenzi think of everything, and believe me, I hope they keep it up."

  "This sorcery has been outrageous."

  "Foul stuff. He kills to get this power, the Assenzi say."

  Meu was another graduate of the Assenzi academy, so this frank talk of the Assenzi did not faze him. "Let's hope breakfast will help our mots defeat him."

  Thru was happy to receive some toasted bushpod cakes with fried eggs and a piece of salt fish. He washed it down with a mug of guezme tea, the highest quality.

  Throughout both armies, the food and the strange green tea lifted spirits and brought renewed strength. The aromas of wood smoke and toast covered the hillside.

  They were still eating when the throb of the accursed drum began again in the north. As they grew aware of it, both men and mots stopped what they were doing, looked up to the sky with trepidation, and then quickly looked down again. Conversation faltered and dwindled away, leaving them with only the low, muttering throb, an evil sound booming on endlessly.

  After a while it became maddening. Some were unable to stay silent in the face of this oppression. They leaped up and screamed frantic insults to the north.

  The throbbing drum took no notice.

  Thru sent out aggressive scouting parties. Something was coming, and he wanted to have the best possible understanding of the situation before the day became hectic. His scouts, in teams of six and twelve, clashed with the pyluk in the valley below. Another group, working northward along the steep western slope of the hill, were ambushed by men. They fought back and escaped after losing two mots.

  The enemy had followed Thru up onto the top of the hill, and most of his army was set in four large divisions lined up opposite the allies. One notable addition was a fifth square, of a thousand horsemen, that was formed up behind the infantry. They were set out in lines, but most of the men were still dismounted.

  Thru immediately sent Simona to Aeswiren with this information. The enemy's intent was plain: a cavalry charge at some weak point on the allies' line. The most likely place was where the two armies joined. Thru also ordered a review of that part of the line. Pits were to be dug, stakes set in place. A special reserve force of two companies was already formed up, ready to plug any gap.

  Thru drafted a message to his regimental commanders, informing them of all that he knew. On the right they had to keep one eye on that steep slope down to Lupin Valley. Those pyluk certainly were going to be used by the enemy that day.

  On the left and center of the line, Thru emphasized that all the preparatory work they could do on their position would be gold once the fighting began. Dig, set in stakes, fletch arrows, make ready.

  Not long after those messages had gone out, Thru received word that a small circular cloud had risen in the northern sky. It was an odd cloud, and it behaved strangely, ceasing to rise after it had ascended a certain distance. It seemed to spin in place and sparkled in the sunlight.

  Then the cloud began to drift south.

  Thru studied it through the spyglass. It was even stranger when seen close up. Myriad tiny flashes of rainbow came off the cloud, and its edge was peculiarly sharp. It floated south until it was right over the allied line.

  Melidofulo, the Assenzi, had joined Thru by this time and was studying the cloud, too.

  "What is it?" asked Thru.

  "I do not know. I have never seen anything like it."

  The cloud was growing larger, or expanding downward, one or the other—it was impossible to tell from Thru's position. But now he could hear a new sound, a faint hum that came and went with the wind.

  Then the first of the flies appeared around them, small streaks through the air. When they alighted somewhere, they could be seen to be small yellow flies with golden eyes and sharp red mouth parts.

  "Ouch!" came a cry from the front line. It was followed by others in no time. The small yellow flies were fierce biters, and there were millions of them. Any bare flesh was vulnerable, and the insects quickly took advantage.

  The cries of pain, the frantic thrashing and even rolling on the ground did little to stop the assault. Only then did the main mass of the cloud reach the ground.

  The air was simply boiling with flies.

  The cries of pain and outrage were joined by a more general cry of terror as men and mots suffered under the relentless storm of insects.

  Thru, like everyone else, was surrounded by the humming horde. Where they could land on bare skin, they bit and drew blood. Where they could land on a single layer of cloth, they chewed their way through.

  There were so many that it was hard not to breathe them in. They got into the mots' and men's noses and eyes; they bit inside the ears. Some tunneled under collars and cuffs to get at bare skin.

  Slapping, cursing, waving an arm before him like a maniac, Thru found the trumpeters and made them blow the alarm. Inside the command tent he managed to concentrate long enough to scrawl a short message four times, fold the papers, and hand them to messengers.

  "Hurry!" he snapped when they seemed unwilling to leave the relatively fly-free confines of the tent. "The enemy will attack any moment under cover of this sorcery."

  Outside, the horror continued. The sky was darkened with the insects. Troops fought to keep the things off them, even rolling on the ground, driven mad by the biting, crawling masses of flies.

  Thru ran from post to post, hauling sentries to their feet, shouting warnings to everyone he could find.

  Soon he heard a rumble and felt the ground tremble beneath his feet.

  The horsemen were coming!

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  "Admiral, how are you this day?"

  Heuze looked up as the Lord Leader entered the tent. As before, the huge man was clad in a hauberk of chain mail and wore a sword and long dagger at his waist.

  "Better, Lord, much better."

  Heuze made no mention of his hands. They were wrapped in bandages, but they were beginning to swell from infection. The sorcerer had a very short temper and was easily moved to take drastic measures against anyone who annoyed him.

  "You've been given a good wash, I take it."

  "Oh, yes, Lord." A group of slaves had dumped him in a cold stream and rubbed him down before putting fresh clothes on him and carrying him back here.

&nb
sp; "And you've had a hearty breakfast?"

  "Yes, Lord."

  He'd been given toasted buns and some roasted meat. He didn't know where the meat had come from, but he was so hungry that he ate it and shut his mind to the possibilities.

  "Good, because we've got some very important business to attend to this morning, and I want you fresh and bright eyed."

  Heuze didn't ask why. He had learned to keep one's trap shut around the giant unless one was asked a question.

  A gang of soldiers brought in five men, chained at neck and wrist. These unfortunates were then tied down on stout boards so that they were unable to move a muscle. They begged for their lives, but the Lord Leader had other uses for them.

  "None of you will be spared. Your bodies are required for another purpose than living your miserable little lives."

  The men wept. As far as Heuze could tell, they were all young soldiers, and he was surprised to see them made use of like this. But surprise never lasted long when one was in the company of this insane wizard. He had a way of changing one's perceptions of things.

  The horrible golden bowl was produced once more; the giant man mixed green and purple powders together. Once again, he took a life, that of the nearest of the men on the boards, cutting his throat and draining his blood into the bowl.

  This time, however, the material in the bowl remained quiescent. No stink filled the tent. No curious, waving appendages appeared above the rim.

  The Lord Leader spoke mysterious words that seemed to explode from his lips and leave haunting echoes in the tent. Heuze's skin itched, and he feebly rubbed himself with his bandaged hands.

  There came a bubbling sound from the bowl, and the big man reached in and brought out small, glistening purple spheres. He placed them one at a time on the chests of the men bound on the boards. Heuze observed that the balls appeared wet on the surface. Then he noticed that they were wobbling a little, as if they were alive.

  Then, before his astounded eyes, they broke open to reveal pale white things, like worms but equipped with dozens of small stubby legs. These things unrolled and began to wander over the bodies of the captive men. Their cries and pleas for mercy went unheard, and the grim business continued.

  Sooner rather than later, each of the worm things found the man's face and forced itself into his nose, crawling up into the nostril. The men screamed as this unpleasantness continued, but the Lord Leader merely sat on his high chair and studied them.

  The men's cries changed timber one by one. What had been screams of horror became shrieks of agony. Something unholy was underway inside these men.

  Heuze found that he was sweating profusely. The nightmare of these past few days had swollen into something hellish, and yet he had not been tortured since he'd been delivered into the hands of this terrifying being.

  The shrieks continued, and Heuze saw the men's flesh begin to shrivel and their stomachs to swell. Within a few minutes, the men had become something other than men. Their arms and legs withered to little more than bones covered in skin, while their bellies became huge and purple, as if each of them was pregnant with a baby elephant.

  By this point, the screams had died away to little wispy sounds. These men were hardly men anymore.

  Now came silence, except for an odd pulsing of the purple masses.

  The Lord Leader spoke to his servants, who opened the sides of the tent and pulled up the flaps.

  With the sound of rocks falling into mud, the purple bellies split and opened wide. Inside each was a tight ball of something glittering and golden.

  Heuze found that he could not look away, even though the piteous sight of the sticklike limbs and the peeled-back purple flesh made him shiver with horror. The golden balls began to unravel, and a glittering plume began to rise from each of them. The plume thickened as the balls gave up their material to it, and a hum like that of a million bees filled the tent.

  Heuze caught sight of the faces of the guards who were peering inside. Astonishment, fear, and awe were writ large there, no doubt matched by the expression on his own face.

  Inside the tent was a whirling mass of little flies, hurtling around in circles until they found the openings to the outside and disappeared. After another minute or so they were gone.

  The deranged sorcerer stood up and strode outside to watch the conjured flies ascend into the sky in a smooth spherical cloud. When it moved away to the south, he returned to the tent.

  "Remove this mess," he ordered with a gesture to the remains of the five men, only one of whom retained any human appearance.

  Heuze wanted to be sick.

  "There, that went very well, I thought, didn't you?"

  "Oh, yes, Lord."

  "Sometimes, when I manage to work one of these things with such perfect results, I have to wonder if there are any limitations to what I might aspire to. What do you think, Admiral?"

  To be used as a sounding board like this brought back a memory of the way he'd treated Filek Biswas once upon a time. Now Heuze knew what it was like to live in terror on the whim of someone else.

  "I don't know, Lord. You have amazed me again and again."

  "Yes, I amaze myself, too." Suddenly the huge man threw back his head and laughed out loud. "Those fools! Those absolute fools!" he thundered. "They dismissed me from their clique. They laughed at my work." The huge face turned to Heuze for a moment.

  "I speak of the ancient days. When the great Groybeel Vaak would meet in the purple tower of Imels. They thought they understood the mysteries of the universe. They thought they could obtain eternity! Hah! Where are they now? Where is Pinque, who laughed in my face? Where stands Namooli of Thoth?"

  The eyes glared at Heuze, who trembled. He understood none of this.

  "The answer is that they don't stand. Nor do they sit!" The Old One guffawed again. "They are nothing but dust now, scattered across this old world. But I? The one they called Karnemin, the one they patronized as being their student, where am I? Hah! I am about to take complete control of this world for my own. They called me weak—they called me a scientist and not worthy to kiss the hems of their wizard gowns! But it is I, Karnemin, who lives, while they do not."

  Again the great face lowered itself to Heuze's.

  "I speak of the ancient time, Admiral, before the ice. When the last men still thought to hold back the remorseless work of the poison in their tissues. They locked me up! Called me a madman! But I escaped them, and I still live, and they do not!"

  The huge man turned away for a moment to pour himself a mug of water, which he drank off in a single gulp.

  "So I return to the oldest question. The one that inspired them all once upon a time. Tell me, Admiral, though you are a heretical unbeliever in the Great God, He Who Eats, do you have no religious feeling at all?"

  Heuze hesitated a moment before replying. He didn't think it was a trick question, but one could never tell.

  "Not really, Lord. Seems like something that people who need it lean on. I've always leaned on myself."

  "A good trick for a man with only one leg!" chortled the sorcerer. "Have you never been curious about the world? How did it begin, and where did we come from?"

  "Oh, when I was younger, Lord, I thought about such things. But no answers were convincing, so I gave up bothering."

  "Not for you the notion that God began the world and that we are God's children, eh?"

  "Well, I've heard that one. It's the usual idea."

  "Yes, but what if it's completely wrong? What if the world, the sun, the stars, everything began on its own? What if it awaits the controlling hand of the God that grows within it, ripening like a seed of grain within the husk?"

  "I'm not sure I understand you, Lord."

  "Then listen carefully, fool. What if the universe is a dumb thing, an egg, a spore, awaiting the sperm to become the zygote. In other words, awaiting the rise of the intelligence that shall rule it? What if, instead of God providing the universe, the universe exists to provide us with
God?"

  With a sinking feeling, Heuze realized what this man—the Old One—was suggesting. "Then, you, Lord..."

  "Yes, of course. I have a chance of becoming God. Probably as good a chance as that of any other conscious being in the universe. I have conquered death. I have transcended mortal flesh, taking it and wearing it like mortals wear clothing. I have mastered the arts of transformation and spell brewing. I will soon rule this world and from it I shall go forth to conquer every other world!"

  —|—

  "They are coming!" came the cry all along the line.

  The rumble of a thousand horses in motion was clear to every mot and man in the allied armies.

  "I see them!"

  Thru could see them, too, even through the swarming flies. What appeared to be an irresistible tide was heading toward them at a steady trot. While they came on, the mots could barely stand up under the onslaught of the yellow flies.

  Major Beech was in command of the two companies drawn up to reinforce any gap in the line. Thru made his way to the major's post through the blizzard of flies, swatting and cursing like anyone else. The hum of the insect cloud was so loud that he had to shout over it to be heard.

  He found Beech well aware of the threat. The reserve companies were formed up, although mightily distracted by the cloud of flies. Ahead of them, the flank guard, a company of the Seventh Regiment, was preparing to receive the charge.

  Across on Aeswiren's side of their shared line, Thru could make out movements of further preparations, but through the haze of flies it was hard to see exactly what they were.

  "We will wait to see if they break through, let them pass, then move in to reform the line. The horsemen are good for breaking lines, but they cannot exploit the advantage as well as infantry."

  Beech nodded, slapped flies, and grimaced. "Yes, sir. We're all primed on that. Toshak spoke of this many times since we learned that the enemy had horse animals here."

  The cavalry had burst into a gallop. Horns were braying an accompaniment to the thunder of hooves. A cloud of arrows rose to engulf the horsemen, and then the first of the riders were among the pits and outer works of the mot line.