by S. J. Ryan
"It's a longer march," she said. "We won't have as much time to take position. We will also be farther from their troops and our aim will not be as accurate."
"The stones from your catapults will fall harder with the greater drop. But you also need to see beyond one battle. If you attack from the concealment of trees, the Romans will think the forest the problem, and next time they will burn it. All of it. Do you want that done to Britan? Then attack from these ridges, and they won't blame the forest."
A 'legion-colonel' flared, "I think that's the stupidest – who are you to – "
But Carrot bowed and said, "We will do it your way, Father."
They moved before dawn. Upon entering the western edge of the Dark Forest, Carrot advanced ahead of the tromp of sandals and rattle of carts and scent of the men, to focus on the force to the east. Nonetheless, in this battle it was not superior senses that counted, but the scouts who ranged far ahead and flashed lantern signals to report Roman activity.
At sunrise they reached the ridge. Captains distributed the catapult components from the carts and their crews hauled them off the road by backpack. Lantern boys lit the trails up to the top of the ridges, then were sent home as they were too young to fight.
Her misfit army of farm boys spread evenly along the ridges bordering the road on north and south. They may not have qualified as skilled warriors yet, but they erected their catapults and foraged stones for ammunition with efficiency and speed. They camouflaged so well that even Carrot had to look hard though she had memorized their positions when they had started.
She held a final briefing for the colonels and concluded, "Remember this is not a stand. The most important objective is to keep your men alive." Men, she determined, was a term that included boys smaller than herself. "When you return to your crews, search for paths of retreat. There is no shame in retreat, for it is a tactic so that we can attack another day."
"What of our machines?" one man asked. "We can't just abandon them."
"You will, if it appears you are to be overrun. Keeping your men alive past this one battle is more important. Remember, our goal is to drive the Romans from Britan by wearing them out over time."
One man raised a hand. "Have the Romans ever been driven from any land?"
In her anxiety, Carrot felt like lashing out, but she knew the man's question was fair. She calmly replied, "It has been said that Romans are very persistent, especially when humiliated." She did not meet her father's gaze. "But now the Romans have lost half their naval fleet and Londa cannot long sustain even a single legion in the field. They are making this show of force, but it is only a show. If we give them a taste of resolve, the Romans must cede the west for now and perhaps in a year or two I can answer your question."
The men laughed softly and she dismissed them to their positions. Carrot tied a scarlet scarf to a spear, and climbed the tallest nearby tree. She shielded her eyes from the rising sun and watched the sunlight-reflecting snake of Roman armor trickling toward them upon the forest road.
The branches swayed in the breeze and she listened to the birds chirping and recalled the folk poem that her mother had crooned. 'What are the creatures doing down there?' 'Fighting again, the fools.' 'I am hungry, have you seen bugs?' 'If I have, I would not tell you.'
The hardest trick, she thought, is to wait.
The Romans were not traveling lightly. They had long shields and spears in three lengths (shortest for recruits to longest for veterans, she knew from her studies). Their metal armor was strapped tightly and covered with leather padding. From their belts swayed the sheaths of broadswords, shortswords, and daggers. Behind every score of men came a donkey bearing baskets with bows and arrows.
They lacked the capes and plumes of the imperial guard, but Carrot knew these were likely the best in Britan that Rome had to offer.
From her vantage, she waited until the head of the march had crossed the imaginary line she had drawn on the road. With a vigorous snap she flashed the spear and scarf. At once, the eighteen catapult crews loosed their payloads. The stones arched into the shade between ridges, and from the road came crashes and screams.
Carrot barked orders to their crews, and eighteen machines reloaded and fired at will.
Carrot spotted in the middle of the march a chariot, and upon it the one man who did wear cape and plume – and also the insignia of colonel. She hopped from branch to branch to the ground and grabbed a crossbow and notched and fired. At such distance, she missed him but hit the chariot.
The colonel – a real legion colonel – pointed his archers and retaliated with a sleet of arrows. Carrot's men automatically retracted. Carrot ducked too, and the arrows streaked harmlessly overhead.
Carrot rewound the crossbow, fired again at the colonel. The arrow sailed freely past his head, but close enough to revisit in his nightmares. Crouching, he shouted and pointed at Carrot's position and swarms of soldiers streamed up the ridge trail. She readied to order retreat when suddenly a huge log crashed through the brush nearby and rolled down the slope and bowled half the rushing soldiers over.
The other soldiers regrouped – but then thundered another log, and they scattered for good.
Suddenly it was quiet. She whirled from trail to road. The colonel's chariot wove between bodies and rattled eastward. The backs of soldiers sprinted after. Their numbers, though, seemed sparser.
Then she looked upon the road and saw where the other soldiers were – their bodies scattered and broken. She started counting, but the blood and the moaning was too much and she turned away.
And there was her father, standing unsmiling.
"Thank you for the logs," she said. “Without your initiative, they would have been upon me.”
"An old trick," he said. "I'm sure you'll remember next time." He placed a hand on her shoulder. "You do not look well."
She focused on the pastel sky to the west. "When we get back to the village, I will take a broom and sweep a floor and tell myself this never happened. And tomorrow I'll tell all the men to go away so that I can finish the laundry and teach the children."
"No." He hugged her gently. "Ral told me a long time ago and I didn't believe him, but now there is no doubt. This is your destiny. This is what you were made for."
Carrot heard her name being chanted in a growing chorus. She buried her face in her father's chest and sobbed.
"Arcadia," he said softly. "Your hair has turned orange."
"Screw it," she said, dabbing her tears.
52.
Matt watched from a kilometer away and when the fighting was over, he walked to the scene of the battle. He went immediately to the twelve Britanian casualties, removing arrows and sealing wounds. For that he received acclaim from Carrot's troops.
Then he ministered to the Romans still alive, and was almost decapitated before Carrot intervened.
"Carry the dead off the road," she said to the soldiers. "Put them over that embankment so that travelers won't see."
Finished with the grisly task, she spoke loud and with the air of command, "You are all to be commended, and tonight we celebrate. Now, pack the equipment and let us retire!"
Carrot and Geth stayed while Matt focused on his patients.
"I should return," she said. "Will you be all right?"
"Go."
"There are wolves. They are far but I smell them."
"I can handle wolves." Also, they would be more interested in a feast of fresh corpses than chasing the living, but he didn't say that aloud.
Her father took her arm, and they departed. Having Ivan suspend his gag reflex, Matt lost track of time as he completed the healing. He placed the soldiers in a deep sleep which Ivan calculated they would revive from after Matt was gone and before the wolves arrived.
Matt arose and counted the now-healing Roman bodies resting in a row. "Five in all." He looked upon the now-clean road between the ridges. "How many dead?"
"Eighty-seven Romans. Zero Britanians."
"She was lucky."
Ivan said nothing.
"The Romans weren't expecting a battle,” Matt said. “Next time they'll be ready."
"Yes."
"It wasn't all luck. Her drills paid off. It was like a machine. I remember an old video of the moving gears inside a mechanical clock. It was like that."
"Would you like to see that video?"
"Let's go home."
By the time they reached the western edge of the Dark Forest, the sun had set behind the mountains. Bonfires were lit on the training field and the victors celebrated with villagers. The conversation was marked by shouts and laughter. Men and women danced jigs to flutes and drums while onlookers sloshed tankards of local brew. Matt spotted Carrot clapping in time.
"I wonder who that guy next to her is."
"Do you mean the tall younger man with the long hair, or the short older man who is balding?"
"The first."
"His name is Norian."
"How do you know?"
"You were introduced two days ago."
"Oh."
Norian pulled Carrot into the dance. Their eyes and teeth flashed in the firelight as they gazed at each other and laughed and hopped in circles with arms interlocked.
"I wish I knew how to dance," Matt said.
"I have several training applications," Ivan said. "But if I may make an observation applicable to this context, it appears they are engaged in a simple freestyle that requires no training. It would not be difficult for you to competently participate at this time."
"Ah."
Matt stepped toward the bonfires, then stopped. She looks happy, he thought. These are her people. You're just a strange being from another planet.
"Anyhow," he said aloud. "We should turn in."
"Coward."
Archimedes had spoken. He was wobbling on his walking stick. He hefted an immense tankard, spilling contents at the end of his swaying arm.
"Have this, Matt. It's full of . . . courage. Yes, courage! When I was, when I was your age, I couldn't talk to a, to a girl! Any Girl! Without, without, without – "
In his emphasis, the old man twisted the tankard sideways. The contents spilled onto the grass and he shook his head.
"Oh no – my courage!" he said. "Let's acquire more, shall we? Then toast to courage!"
Matt caught him in mid-sway. "You of all people know I can't have a relationship now."
Archimedes shook off Matt's assistance. "I of all people! I of all people, when I was your age, would have grasped the moment. Matt, to the credit of my otherwise misspent youth, I would not have let a dozen farm boys stand in line for her hand while I blinked from a distance like an old owl!"
"Are you really drunk?"
Archimedes slyly smiled. "Heed my words, Matt. This is your world now. The only world you have. Make the most of it."
He walked off, in more or less a straight line.
Matt returned to the village. It was quiet, most of the inhabitants having become revelers at the field. Matt entered his hut and stared through the smoke hole in the roof at the stars. If he didn't heed the words of Archimedes, at least he gave them thought.
Then came flashbacks of rocks crushing flesh. He considered asking Ivan if there was still time to wipe short-term memory, but realized that he wasn't traumatized. He had come to accept brutality as part of life on this world. Then again, he could only process so much at once.
"Knock me out," he said at last. "Wake me at dawn."
At dawn, Layal cooked him breakfast while Tret, usually up around then, snored in the back. Matt heard a lot of snores on his way to the road, where he waited outside the clinic hut. The day was warm, the sunshine brilliant. Matt watched birds swoop and squirrels frolic, then reviewed Herman's telemetry of the Other Side again.
"Geography should match," he mused. "Maybe weather patterns are real, too."
For a long time, he was without patients. They're sleeping it off, he thought. Then a man staggered from the training field, moaning and scowling and tapping his head as he squinted at Matt.
"Wizard, can you address this?"
"I'll see what I can do."
Matt put his hand to the man's forehead, Ivan inserted a multitude of microscopic tentacles, and seconds later the man was gasping and smiling. "Incredible! What do I owe!"
"Free of charge today."
More of yesterday's formidable warriors, mystically transformed by ale and sunrise into befuddled farmers, inquired of his services. Matt was busy until afternoon.
"You know," he subvocaled, "if the Romans had turned around and come here a few hours ago, they would have found our entire army passed out."
He checked satellite view, to make sure. The soldiers were halfway to Londa. Or are they, he wondered. He no longer fully trusted Herman.
"Matt," Ivan said. "You asked me to constantly scan for mentors. One is approaching now. It is inactive."
The augmented-reality arrow pointed to a middle aged man sedately riding a donkey-drawn cart. Matt walked over.
"Easy, Gonda," the man said. The donkey halted. The man smiled at Matt. "Greetings. I am seeking the lady named Carrot."
"She's at the training field," Matt said. "I'll take you." While walking alongside, he said, "You were coming from the east and look like you've been traveling for a while. You had no trouble on your way with the Romans?"
"Didn't see them, in fact."
Matt subvocaled, "That's not possible." He glanced over the covered boxes in the cart and said aloud, "You're a merchant?"
"I sell clothing out of Londa. Thought I'd try to find business over here."
In the middle of a war, Matt thought.
The man observed Matt's jumpsuit and said, "Is that a dress common to Westlanders? I ask because I need to know my market."
"It's – "
"Uncle Ral!"
Carrot hollered across the field. She broke from her group and sprinted to the road. Her hair bounced upon the shoulders of a trim white dress. Matt shook off the trance.
She hugged Ral tightly and exclaimed, "What are you doing here!" She saw him glance furtively and said, "This is Matt. Anything you have to say about the Leaf, you can say before him. And I've told him about you already, and now he knows your face."
Matt looked at Ral's face and said, "Oh. Yeah."
I guess the clues were fairly planted, he thought. But I've had a lot on my mind . . . .
While Carrot stroked Gonda and cooed, Ral bowed, took his cane, and hobbled off the cart, eying Matt. "He's named as the Star Child and dressed in blue. This is the famous Wizard?"
Carrot nodded. "I assume you've come on Leaf business?"
"To gather intelligence. The Inner Circle heard you were raising an army and they wanted it investigated and as you are my niece, I volunteered. I feared I was too late when the Romans marched westward past me the day before yesterday, but I've never seen soldiers look sorrier when yesterday they straggled east again."
Carrot glanced away. "You have no obligation to look after me, as I am not actually your niece."
"So you finally discovered."
"I've known for a long time. But you knew too?"
"I've always known."
"Why didn't you talk to me about it?"
"Your father swore me to secrecy. And he is the one who had to tell you."
"If you knew I am not your niece, why have you cared for me so?"
Ral drew a deep breath. "First, in a way you are still family even if not by blood. But also – I know this will be hard to understand and harder still to believe – I belong to a secret society, which is charged with curating your lineage. We were guardians of your grandmother, your mother, and now you also also."
"He has an inactive mentor inside him," Matt subvocaled.
Carrot shot a glance. To Ral, she said, "I – see."
"I expected more astonishment," Ral said. "Or are you merely humoring me?"
"No, I fully believe you. We should talk more of that,
later. You said you were here for information. What would you like to see?"
Ral grimaced at his shuffling feet. "Well, first of all, perhaps it is some sort of great nonsense, but rumors are that you have, well, it's probably entirely exaggeration, but travelers are telling in Londa, I would laugh but so many have said they have seen it – "
"The airship."
"It truly exists?"
Ral re-boarded his cart and they escorted Gonda to the access road that had been cut from the main road to the valley where the airship was berthed. After Ral recovered from shock, Matt provided a brief tour of the hangar and workshops, describing the activities of the bustling, hangover-free workers.
"And over there," Matt said, "we have windmills that generate electricity to electrolyze water for hydrogen gas."
"Whatever that means, it's amazing!" Ral said. "I've never seen so much industry in Britan!"
"The whole of the Westlands is contributing," Carrot said.
Ral squinted. "Does your ship have a name?"
Matt shrugged. "On the engineering drawings, it was called 'Prototype Six.'"
"We must do better than that," Carrot said. "Matt, what is the most famous zepplin in Earth history? Perhaps it can be named after that."
"Not that," Matt said.
Ral interjected, "I should like to discuss how this ship can be used by the Leaf against the Romans."
"Unfortunately, we have other plans," Matt said. "In fact, it'll be leaving soon."
Carrot frowned.
"Where are you going?" Ral asked.
Avoiding her scrutiny, Matt continued, "I can't discuss it now. Oh, here comes Archimedes. Carrot, why don't you introduce your uncle? They're prepping a test flight, maybe they'll let him ride. If you'll excuse."
On the main road he headed east, past Fish Lake to the pond.
His Orbit-to-Surface Vehicle was where it had landed months ago. He circled around, stepped over the lines of the parachute still entwined with the brush, and entered a copse of cattails near the woods. He slipped through the path he had hacked, and climbed atop the muddied, almost entirely sunken sphere that was otherwise identical to his OSV. He pried open the hatch and slipped inside.
Ivan could block the stench, but crawling bugs were another matter. Matt wasn't going to sit on the mealy remains of the cushions no matter what, and the compartment was difficult to position himself in otherwise.