by David Brin
He saw Kremer’s rangers running for their ropes, trying desperately to escape the plateau as if the devil himself were after them.
Even he flinched at first as the large, roaring form swooped down toward him from the clouds. Then he saw two small shapes wave at him from the cockpit of the plane.
Arth could understand the soldiers’ flight. His own heartbeat sped as he watched the thing, and he knew what it was!
Arth understood that it would be dangerous to try another landing on the sloping, sandy embankment. The chance wasn’t worth taking while there was still a lost war to be won. He was only grateful Dennis and Linnora had taken the time to drive the rangers away before moving on to more important matters.
Arth waved farewell to his friends, and watched as the flying machine accelerated away to the south. He shaded his eyes and followed it as it headed toward the line of battle, far down the line of mountains.
Finally, when it had become a mere dot on the horizon, he went over to the pile of supplies Linnora had emptied onto the gravel bank. There he also found several backpacks, dropped in panic by the departing soldiers.
He sighed as he picked through the detritus. There was enough here to live off of for quite some time.
I’ll give them a couple days to win th’ war and come to get me, he thought. If they don’t come back by then, maybe I’ll try to build one of them flyin’ things myself!
He hummed softly as he fixed himself a meal and imagined soaring in the sky, no slave to the winds.
8
The battle was going badly. About noon, Gath ordered every spare implement cast overboard in preparation for a desperate bid at escape.
It did little good. The next flight of gliders to attack sent a hail of darts tearing through the canopy. Fewer arrows than ever rose to meet the black shapes. The great gas bag began to sag as heated air escaped.
Another of the bowmen was killed in the onslaught. The body had to be cast overboard without ceremony. There was no time to do otherwise.
Below, the men guarding the tethers were hard pressed. All knew that it was only a matter of time until the forces holding the south rim fell back under pressure from the air, leaving their flank unguarded.
Kremer had obviously seen the opportunity his salient up the Ruddik offered. He had drawn reinforcements away from the northern front, where Demsen’s Royal Scouts had been putting up stiff resistance. Gath had seen several contingents of mercenaries arrive, along with companies of Kremer’s gray-clad northmen, only minutes before the most recent glider sortie. The final assault on the salient would not be long delayed. And once they broke through here, the heartland of the L’Toff would lie open.
Their balloon was leaking steadily now. Gath couldn’t even estimate how long it would stay aloft, practice notwithstanding.
Then, as if all that weren’t enough, one of his men grabbed his shoulder and pointed, asking, “What’s that?”
Gath squinted. At first he thought it was another damned glider. In the bright afternoon light something new seemed to have entered the sky battle … a large winged thing, with a span greater than the biggest of Kremer’s aerodynes.
This thing growled, and it flew as no glider he had ever seen. There was something powerful about the way it prowled across the sky.
Gath’s men muttered fearfully. If Kremer had added another element to the fray …
But no! As they watched, the growling thing rose high, then dove into the updraft at the canyon mouth to attack the slowly rising column of gliders there!
Gath stared in amazement. The intruder swooped about the lumbering wings, disturbing the smooth air they depended upon. The turbulence of its passage sent them out of control. One after another, the black shapes shook, tumbled, and fell!
Most of the glidermen ultimately regained control of their bucking craft, but not in time to reach another updraft. The skilled pilots desperately sought flat areas and had to settle for crash landings on the rough slopes.
Angry airmen stumped or hobbled out of their wrecked flying machines to stare up at the buzzing thing that had brought them down like a hand swatting down flies.
A few of Kremer’s gliders managed to stay in the updraft. They escaped on the first pass of the growling monster, struggled for altitude, and then dove on the intruder.
But the hawk-winged shape easily maneuvered out of reach of the deadly darts. Then it turned nimbly and pursued its pursuers, hounding them out over the arid plain. Each time the inevitable result was another glider wrecked or stranded on the tumbled prairie.
In a matter of minutes, the sky was clear! The L’Toff stared, unable to believe what had happened. Then a cheer rose from the defenders’ lines. The attackers—even the gray-clad professionals—drew back in superstition and awe as the droning thing came around to fly high over the canyon.
As if that weren’t enough, at that moment there came a peal of horns that echoed resoundingly down the rocky vale. Emerging from the heights overlooking the canyon, a detachment of armored men appeared. As a breeze stiffened, they unfurled the royal pennant of Coylia. A great dragon, its broad, sweeping wings outlined in bright green piping, flapped in the wind and grinned down at the combatants.
Gath knew that a bare dozen Royal Scouts had been hiding on the slopes above, to make a big show at some appropriate time. The tacticians had been counting on the Scouts’ reputation to slow the enemy at some crucial moment.
The effect was magnified far beyond what Demsen and Prince Linsee had hoped for. The association between the unknown flying thing and the dragons of legend was unmistakable. In the armies below there were, doubtless, sudden foxhole conversions to the Old Belief.
That was when the great growling monster above chose to swoop upon the army of plainsmen.
No arrows rose to meet it, for although it dropped nothing lethal, its bass moaning struck terror in the invaders’ hearts. They dropped weapons and fled their positions without looking back.
Gath breathed easily for the first time in days. He had very little doubt who the pilot of that noisy, dragon-like glider had to be.
9
“Your Majesty! All is lost!” The gray-cloaked rider swerved in front of his liege lord.
Kremer reined up his horse. “What? What are you talking about? I was told we had them in our grasp!”
Then he looked up and saw the rout in progress. Like a flash flood, the green, red, and gray uniforms cascaded unstoppably down the canyon, only a little way behind the mounted messenger.
The warlord and his aides were caught in the flood of panicked troops. It quickly became apparent that shouting and beating at the men with their swords would not rally them. It was all Kremer and his officers could do to spur their nervous animals over to high ground at the side of the canyon, out of the tide of fleeing soldiery.
Clearly something had gone desperately wrong. Kremer looked up, searching for his chief weapon, but not one of his gliders was in the sky!
Then he turned at a faint noise and saw an unfamiliar shape flying low down the canyon, chasing his men! From long experience, he knew that no glider could fly that way, ignoring the tricky little niceties of air rise and rate of fall. It screamed like a great, angry bird of prey, and around it shimmered the faint lambience of felthesh.
The troops that fled before it had clearly had enough of surprises this campaign. First those nasty, bobbing, floating “balloon” monsters—and now this!
The warlord muttered angrily. As the thing approached, Kremer touched the butt of the needler he wore on his hip. If only it would come close enough. If he could shoot it down, it might restore heart to his men!
But the monster did not cooperate. Its task apparently accomplished, it rose and turned about northward. Kremer had no doubt it was headed toward the battle in the northern passes.
In his mind’s eye he saw it all—the foreign wizard had done this, and there was no way to stop it.
He couldn’t fight this new thing—not now, at leas
t. His battle plan had relied too heavily on his gliders, and they were no match for the monster.
Of course, once news of this disaster reached the east, the great lords would flock to King Hymiel. Within days there would be armies heading west, competing for a price on his head.
Kremer turned to his aides. “Hurry to the semaphore station. Order a complete retreat, both here and in the north. Have my hillmen gather in the Valley of the Tall Trees, in our ancestral highlands of Flemmig. The ancient redoubts there are strong. There we shall not have anything to fear from either armies or the wizard’s flying monsters.”
“Your Majesty?” The officers stared at him in disbelief. One moment ago they were serving the clear and certain future ruler of all the lands from the mountains to the sea. Now he was telling them that they were to live as their grandfathers had, in the northern wilds!
Kremer understood that few men could see the lay of things as quickly and clearly as he. He couldn’t blame them for being stunned. But neither would he countenance slowness to obey.
“Move!” he shouted. He touched the holstered needler at his side and saw them quail.
“I want word to go out at once. When that is done we shall message our garrison in Zuslik. They will strip the town of wealth and food.… We will need it during the months and years ahead.”
10
It was late, even for a Tatir summer day, when the miracle “dragon” returned to the heartland of the L’Toff. The welcoming party on the ground had to follow in zigs and zags until both they and the pilot of the flying machine found a clearing large enough. By then, it seemed, half of the population—those not still harrying the retreating armies—had gathered to greet their saviors.
The craft swooped in low, a glistening shape that shone in the golden twilight. It touched down lightly and finally rolled to a stop not far from a stand of tall oak trees.
The crowd virtually exploded in joy when they saw the slim form of their Princess stand from the body of the flying craft. They gathered around, cheering, and some even tried to lift her up and carry her off on their shoulders.
But she would have none of it. She motioned them all back and turned to help another person stand. A tall man for an outlander, he was dark-haired and bearded, and he looked very tired.
But the biggest surprise came when they saw the thing that sat upon the man’s shoulder—a little creature with two green eyes shining and an impish grin. The Krenegee purred as the people stepped back and fell into a hushed, reverent silence.
Then the L’Toff sighed, almost as one, as the foreign wizard took their Princess into his arms and kissed her for a very long time.
12
Semper Ubi Sub Ubi
1
When Dennis finally awakened he felt a bit strange, as if a lot of time had passed, as if he had dreamed a great deal. He sat up, rubbing his eyes.
Through a filmy curtain, sunlight streamed into the bright-canopied pavilion. He flung aside the silky bedspread and got up from the soft pallet on which he had slept. He found he was naked.
There were excited shouts coming from outside the gaudy tent, and the sound of galloping messengers coming and going. Dennis searched for something to wear and found a pair of soft buckskin breeches and a satiny green blouse laid out over a white-fringed chair. Black leather boots lay nearby … his size. Dennis didn’t bother with the underwear. He put the clothes on quickly and hurried outside.
Only a dozen meters away, Prince Linsee spoke animatedly with several of his officers. The lord of the L’Toff listened to a report from an out-of-breath messenger, then chuckled and clasped the courier on the shoulder in gratitude.
Dennis relaxed a little when he heard the Prince’s laughter. Dennis’s exhausted sleep had been disturbed by recurring guilty thoughts that he ought to be up and about, helping the L’Toff secure the victory he had brought them. Several times he had half awakened, intending to get busy devising new weapons, or to use his new aircraft to harry the enemy. But his exhausted body had refused to cooperate.
That wasn’t to say his sleep had been disturbed all the time. At intervals he had dreamed of Linnora, and that had been nice.
“Dennizz!”
One of the L’Toff officers grinned as he saw Dennis. Dennis had to stare for a moment. He had been introduced to so many faces in the blurry twilight.… Had it been last night, or the night before?
“Dennizz! It’s me. Gath!”
Dennis blinked. Why, so it was! The lad seemed to have grown in the past two months or so. Or perhaps it was the uniform.
“Gath! Has there been any word from Stivyung?”
The youth grinned. “We got a message only an hour ago. He’s okay. His balloon landed in a barony loyal to the crown, an’ he’s headed back with a column o’ troops to help chase Kremer!”
“Then Kremer—”
Dennis stopped in the middle of his question, because the Prince had turned and was walking over. Linsee was a tall, slender man, with a gray goatee. He smiled and took Dennis’s hand.
“Wizard Nuel. It is good to have you up at last. I trust you had a good rest?”
“Well, yes, your Highness. But I’m rather anxious to know about—”
“Yes,” Linsee said, laughing. “My daughter, and your betrothed, by my warrant. Linnora is communing in a nearby grove. She will be sent for.” At the Prince’s nod a young page hurried off with the message.
Dennis was glad. He wanted very badly to see Linnora again. On the night of their landing he had felt as nervous as any young suitor when the Prince arrived and she introduced him. He was greatly relieved when Linsee delightedly consented to their betrothal.
Still, it was the progress of the war that concerned him at the moment. From the air, on that tumultuous evening of battle, he had seen the tyrant’s gray-clad troops retreating on all fronts. Their multihued allies—the mercenaries and liege men of other barons—had melted away after the first pass of his flying machine, leaving the northmen to hurry their retreat, glancing up nervously over their shoulders.
But the retreating gray soldiers were not broken. In spite of their fear, they had pulled back in good order. They were excellent troops, who delayed the pursuing L’Toff fiercely so their fellows could escape.
When approaching darkness had forced him and Linnora finally to seek a landing in the L’Toff homeland, Dennis had worried that, come tomorrow, the enemy might reorganize and return.
“What about Kremer?” he asked.
“Not to worry,” Linsee grinned. “Kremer’s allies are all gone over to the King by now. And an army of volunteer militia is on its way from the populous east. Kremer has stripped Zuslik of everything movable and is even now on his way to his ancestral highlands.
“Sadly, I doubt even the armies of all the kingdom, aided by a flock of your buzzing and bobbing varieties of flying monsters, could pry him out of those craggy clefts.”
Dennis felt relieved. He had no doubt Kremer would cause more trouble someday. A man as brilliant and ruthless as he would find ways to pursue his ambitions, and regard this as only a temporary setback.
Still, for now the crisis was over.
Dennis was glad to have helped Linnora’s people. But most of all he was happy that no tyrant would force him to invent devices for which this world was simply unprepared.
He would have to watch that, in the future. Already he had unleashed on Tatir the wheel and lighter-than-air craft. And Gath had probably figured out the principle of the propeller by now, just by looking over the cart/airplane.
Dennis would have to see what the Practice Effect made of these innovations, once they were mass-produced, before unleashing any more wizardries on these innocents.
A page hurried up to Prince Linsee. Linsee bent to hear the message.
“My daughter asks that you meet her in the meadow where you landed the night before last.” He told Dennis. “She is there, by your miracle machine.
“No one has disturbed your craft since y
ou arrived,” the prince assured him. “I let it be known that anyone who touched the great growling dragon-thing would be gobbled up alive!”
Dennis noticed from Linsee’s wry smile that he shared Linnora’s sharp wit. No doubt while he had slept the Princess had filled her father in on everything that had happened since her capture.
“Uh, that’s good, your Highness. Could you assign someone to show me the way?”
Linsee called forth a young girl page, who stepped forward and took Dennis’s hand.
2
Linnora awaited Dennis in the open meadow by the gleaming aircraft. She sat cross-legged in L’Toff leather and hose before the nose of the plane, while three of her gowned ladies whispered together at the edge of the glade.
From overheard snippets as he approached among the trees, Dennis could tell that the maids didn’t approve overmuch of their Princess dressing like a soldier, not to mention sitting on the turf in front of an alien machine.
The ladies gasped and turned quickly when Dennis said good morning. (Good afternoon, he corrected himself as he saw the lay of the sun.) The maids bowed and backed away. Their attitude was respectful, but it also nervously conveyed that they thought he was just a little likely to grow fangs or walk on air. Clearly the run-of-the-mill L’Toff weren’t all that much more sophisticated than the average Coylian.
That could change, though, Dennis reminded himself as he walked toward the plane.
Dennis frowned in puzzlement. Linnora was all scrunched over, her head poked under the front of the onetime cart. Although he admired the girl’s limberness, to twist about in such a contortion, he wondered what in the world she was doing.
“Linnora,” he called, “what are you—”
There was a sudden thud. “Ow!…” Her cry was muffled by the airplane’s undercarriage. Dennis blushed as there followed a quick chain of expletives Linnora could have learned from only one source. The words certainly weren’t in the Coylian dialect of the English language!