The Empire of the Zon

by R. M. Burgess

  As Deirdre entered, her chief aide approached.

  “I have Captain Rhea on the comm, First Principal,” she said deferentially.

  “Please put her on the main holographic platform,” said Deirdre mechanically. She sat in the controller’s seat, which gave her a commanding view of the entire situation room. A moment later, the hologram of Captain Rhea appeared. She saw Deirdre and put her hand on her heart in salute. Deirdre nodded.

  “Captain Rhea, I assume that you have seen all the data we have sent you as well as monitoring the general comm,” began Deirdre without preamble.

  “Yes, First Principal,” Rhea replied. “I await your orders.”

  “Change course immediately for Aurora Citadel,” said Deirdre. “Destroy whatever reserves the enemy has left outside the citadel. Then stand off to sea and deploy airboats in close support of our centuries. You may also debark the Palace Guardian units you have aboard. I am recalling Centuria Lady Alexandra to join you. Work out a rendezvous with her.”

  “I hear and obey, First Principal,” said Rhea, but she left her acquiescence hanging, suggesting she wished to say more. Deirdre picked up on it immediately.

  “Let me know your concerns, Captain,” the First Principal said. “We’re all in this together.”

  “Princess Deirdre, I concerned about deploying airboats in a close ground-support role,” she said. “One of the Thetis’s airboats was shot down at Ostracis by the barbarians using ’grators. By all accounts, these barbarians are more numerous, and we have unconfirmed reports that they have ’grators. I do not want to send my pilots into more danger than necessary.”

  “Each and every one of my huntresses is as dear to me as my own daughter,” said Deirdre, ever politic. “I have no wish to place them in any greater danger than is absolutely necessary. While these barbarians have been using dynamite, we have no confirmed reports of ’grator or laser pistol fire from them yet. And remember, Captain, we are fighting for our very survival here. We are in danger of losing our second city to the barbarians. We must win this battle.”

  “I think we can achieve as much with high-altitude precision fire as with low-level close support,” said Rhea carefully. “As you know, the heavy ’grators on our Mark VII airboats are precise even from five thousand meters.”

  “Very well,” said Deirdre, nodding her head in assent. “I have never been one to second-guess my field commanders. It is your operation for today, Captain Rhea. I plan to fly out and take command of the Aurora theater tomorrow. May Ma watch over you, and may her third eye guide your arms to destroy our enemies.”

  Deirdre signaled one of her staff to close the channel. Next she asked to be connected to Diana. Her staff opened a comm channel, and within moments, the tall, daunting figure of the Guardian cornelle appeared on the holographic platform. She was astride her great white stallion, Hikon. There was ash in her hair, and her uniform was mud-spattered and bore traces of blood.

  “Have you seen action?” asked Deirdre immediately. “Are you hurt?”

  Diana grinned, her eyes bright.

  “Princess, I am happy to report that we have annihilated a troop of Utrean light cavalry,” she said, her smile pleasant but her tone cold. She gestured toward her person. “My uniform bears the blood of a captain in the Skull Watch. We have roasted him alive along with his corporals.”

  This was greeted with grim smiles around the situation room. There were even one or two muted cheers. Diana went on.

  “In this time of trouble, I have taken the liberty of making common cause with the Engine Maidens. First Maiden Durga Bodina rides with me. Supported by Captain Rhea in the Hydromeda, we will retake Ostracis and deal with the cowardly vermin who have brought so much misery to our weakest and most vulnerable sisters.”

  “I am afraid that Ostracis will have to wait, Cornelle,” said Deirdre, trying not to sound too brusque. “We have more pressing problems on our hands. Aurora Citadel is under heavy attack from forces loyal to Duke Hilson. These barbarians have somehow managed to get ahold of dynamite, and the outer walls have been breached. And like the attackers of Ostracis, we have reports that these Brigons have our weapons, though we have not seen any ’grator or laser pistol fire as yet.”

  Diana looked stubborn, but she did not contradict Deirdre.

  “I have ordered Captain Rhea to sail immediately for Aurora,” said Deirdre. “I want Centuria Lady Alexandra to join her with her airboat and take charge of the Guardian centuries aboard the Hydromeda. Captain Rhea will debark them at Aurora. I am proceeding to Aurora myself with further reinforcements and taking overall command on the ground. We must drive the barbarians out of Aurora! This is our top priority now; I must commit our best resources there.”

  “What are your orders for me, First Principal?” Diana asked formally. “I await your pleasure.”

  “I want you to join Captain Hebe on the Thetis,” Deirdre said. “I’ll ask her to send an airboat to pick you up. I would like you to take over field command in Utrea. We must hit back at Shobar and keep him off balance. But we will only be able to commit a minimal force to the Utrean theatre, and it will take a seasoned hand to make it effective.”

  “I hear and obey,” said Diana, though her expression was dubious. The channel was cut, and the hologram faded.

  It was barely a minute before Deirdre heard a gentle ping on her personal and private comm channel. Very few had access to this channel. Giving the controller’s seat to her chief aide, she hurried from the situation room and returned to her quarters, asking her handmaiden to ensure that she was not disturbed. Only then did she open the channel. As she had expected, it was Diana.

  “Princess Deirdre,” said the Guardian cornelle, wasting no time on formalities. “As you know, I am tracking the barbarian Greghar. He has Lady Caitlin with him. Are you asking me to abandon your daughter?”

  “Diana, I offered Caitlin a battlefield command to expiate her disgrace,” said Deirdre, trying but failing to keep a trace of bitterness out of her voice. “She has repaid me with this show of defiance. I do not have the time or the energy to mollycoddle her now. The Sisterhood faces its greatest danger in a thousand years. She is a grown woman, and she has made her choices. Let her live or die by them.”

  Diana’s pale eyes did not leave Deirdre’s face.

  “You are her mother,” she said finally. “Surely you do not mean that.”

  Deirdre ran her long fingers through her silky blonde hair distractedly.

  “No, I do not,” she said with a note of hopelessness. “Of course I want to keep her safe and sound. But I cannot use our best units to do it, not at a time like this. I must leave her to her fate, even though it breaks my heart to do it.”

  “We Zon prize motherhood above all,” said Diana. “But I think there is a way to serve your maternal instincts while still maintaining the sanctity of your duty to the Sisterhood.”

  “How?” asked Deirdre, not daring to hope.

  “Princess, the Engine Maidens are not under your command and answer to no one. As you know, Durga Bodina and I have been friends since our Academy days. Durga is very impressed with Caitlin’s actions in the fighting pit in Dreslin Center. If I were to suggest to her that she take over the task of tracking Greghar and Caitlin and perhaps even retaking Ostracis, I think she would jump at it.”

  Deirdre did not speak for a few moments, her mind quickly working through all the angles.

  “In this time of war, it hardly matters what atrocities the Maidens commit,” she said, thinking aloud. “Everything they do will be accepted and even lauded after what the barbarians have done in Ostracis and may yet do in Aurora. Suitably armed, the Maidens will be a formidable guerilla force in Utrea and enable us to concentrate the legions against Hilson. And whatever her other qualities, Durga Bodina is an inspirational leader.”

  Deirdre paused again. When she looked up, Diana could see that her mind was made up.

  “Diana, this is a brilliant idea,” she said. “But we
have little time. I assume you have already given Durga arms and batteries?”

  “I’ve given her enough weapons to arm a century,” Diana replied, nodding. “And enough battery power to keep her going for at least a year of fighting.”

  “Good,” said Deirdre, pleased. “And Diana…” She paused before continuing in a more heartfelt tone. “Tell Durga that if she brings my Caitlin back safe, she can claim anything she wants from me and from the House of d’Orr.”

  DUKE ARTOR HILSON rode at the head of his personal retinue, surrounded by his crack regiments, thirty thousand strong. He was a powerful and well-preserved man with a full head of auburn hair, peppered with gray. He had a full but well-trimmed beard of a slightly lighter color, piercing eyes, and a characteristic Shelsor nose, attesting to the fact that the Hilsons had royal blood in their veins.

  His elder daughter, Talia, rode at his side, her baby son safe in a wagon, tended by several nurses. She was quite a bit taller than Esme and svelte where her sister was voluptuous. In spite of these differences, their sisterly resemblance was so striking that they were often mistaken for one another. The expedition was only a few hours away from Dreslin Center, and she was looking forward to seeing her sister again.

  “I received a groveling message from Baron Marnus Matalus,” Duke Artor was saying. “He will join us in Dreslin with thirty thousand men-at-arms. He says he has given your worthless husband, Horus, a tongue-lashing and sent him on an embassy to Shobar in Nordberg. I regret the day I consented to the alliance with the House of Matalus. The father is greedy, your husband is a philanderer, and the younger son was a hothead, always looking to get himself killed before the Zon gave him his wish.”

  “Oh, Father, Horus is very good to me most of the time,” said Talia. “He means no harm. He has a roving eye, it is true, but most men do. Even you.” Here she turned her bright eyes on her father, her vivacious expression taking the sting out of her words.

  “I am discreet,” grumbled Duke Artor. “That boy Horus flaunts his wenches in the marketplace. If he does it one more time, I swear I will send one of your cousins to call him out and kill him. Then I can marry you to someone who deserves you.”

  “Like Harald?” asked Talia.

  Duke Artor harrumphed, not pleased.

  “Your cousin Cheval Kantus has breached the walls of the Aurora Citadel,” he said, changing the subject. “Now there is a man worth having.”

  Talia wrinkled her nose.

  “He is almost as old as you, Father,” she said. “And he is so taciturn; he has no sense of humor.”

  Duke Artor grunted.

  “What I need now is more warriors and fewer comedians,” he muttered.

  Talia reached over from her saddle and touched his arm, dazzling him with a radiant smile.

  “You are warrior enough for all of Briga,” she said.

  He took her hand and kissed her fingers. They rode on in companionable silence.

  It was dusk and the sun was almost below the horizon when they approached the Pontoon Bridge. They could see several companies of the Royal Black regiment drawn up in serried ranks on the other side of the bridge, their ceremonial uniforms glittering in the torchlight. Harald and Esme were at their head, magnificently attired and attended by several Life Guards on huge warhorses. Cornel Baron da Coel and Baron va Haxos were respectfully behind them.

  Duke Artor signaled a halt. He rode forward with Talia by his side and just his immediate entourage in attendance. They crossed the Pontoon Bridge and approached the royal party. As they came within easy hailing distance, Duke Artor bowed low in his saddle to the king as well as to his daughter, Queen Esme. Talia followed her father’s lead. The royal couple acknowledged their respects with small, formal nods, as was customary.

  After exchanging formal greetings, the royal and ducal parties entered the city through the Residency Gate. The Hilson regiments set up a huge camp outside the city walls, and hundreds of cook fires soon sprung up for their evening repast. In contrast, a huge ceremonial banquet awaited the high-ranking nobles inside the Great Stony Keep. As night fell, the Hilson party cleaned themselves from the dust of travel, and everyone changed into opulent formal wear. Thousands of candles made the Great Hall almost as bright as day. Duke Hilson sat on the king’s right. Queen Esme sat on the king’s left, with Talia beside her, both dressed in matching gowns of the finest musk-lace. They were obviously delighted to be together. The rest of the high-ranking guests were all seated in strict order of protocol.

  “You are aware, sire,” said Duke Artor, “that even as we speak, my armies are fighting street battles with the Zon in the Aurora Citadel.”

  Harald looked worried.

  “Duke Artor, I cannot pretend to be pleased with this development,” he said in a low tone. “We have enjoyed a long peace with the Sisterhood. Briga has prospered in peaceful coexistence with the Zon. We have become the envy of New Eartha. You have opened largescale hostilities without consulting me or my Privy Council and without a declaration of war. Military conflict will merely impoverish us.”

  “You speak naively, my boy,” said Duke Artor. “The Zon rule Briga and all of Tarsus for their own benefit, not ours. Every year we pay a huge tribute, cementing our vassal status. They handpick our kings, our barons, and even our larger landowners. They have kept us slaves through their powerful weaponry. Well, no longer! We have acquired the means to level the odds, and I have every hope that the Aurora Citadel will fall to us. As soon as that happens, I will march on Atlantic City.”

  Harald did not like this line of conversation. He was worried that any minute, Esme would join in, supporting her father’s position.

  “Well, Duke Hilson, I have called an emergency meeting of the Privy Council immediately after the banquet,” said Harald. “I invite you to attend. Lady Selene, the Zon Resident, has lodged a formal protest with my government and asked for an explanation of the actions in Aurora. I have assured her that they are not sanctioned operations of the Kingdom of Briga.”

  Duke Artor leaned back in his chair and smiled.

  “I will attend the Privy Council meeting with great pleasure,” he said.

  GREGHAR AWOKE WITH a start. He instinctively knew that something was wrong, that he had overslept. Why had Caitlin not woken him up at the end of her watch? He arose from his bedroll and padded around the main chamber of the cottage, which included the kitchen as well as the dining and sitting areas. The hearth was cold, and it was still very dark. He lit a candle and felt the unease rise in his throat when he saw Caitlin’s weapons belt on the kitchen table with her laser pistol and Karya.

  He donned his cloak and went out into the cold night through the front door. He quickly found a fresh, heavy trail of boot marks in the snow. He followed them around to the rear of the cottage to the hideout Guttanar and his men had used behind the hedge. In front of the hedge, the snow was churned up, marking the scene of Caitlin’s abduction as clear as day. With his ranging expertise, Greghar rapidly reconstructed the chain of events. When he reentered the cottage, both Aghari and Nitya were up. They read his face immediately.

  “What has happened to Lady Caitlin?” asked Nitya fearfully.

  “She has been taken by the Skull Watch,” said Greghar grimly. “I was a fool to think that the hood of her cloak would conceal her identity from them. I am going to the tavern to see if they are still here.”

  Aghari and Nitya wordlessly dressed and donned their cloaks. All three of them cautiously approached the tavern. It was ominously dark, and all the doors and windows were shut. Greghar went to the main door and pushed—it was not latched or locked. The three of them entered. They found Jordun, the tavern-keeper, sitting at the bar with Hathar. They had shot glasses of rye liquor in front of them. Both turned bleary eyes to the new entrants.

  “Where are the men-at-arms?” asked Greghar flatly.

  “Gone,” said Hathar dully. “They saddled up and rode out over an hour ago.”

  “Where is Lady Caitl
in?” broke in Nitya, her voice high-pitched with anxiety.

  “The Skull Watch took her,” said Jordun wretchedly. “They brought her here first, bound hand and foot and gagged. The captain, Guttanar, he beat her mercilessly! His men held her up, bound as she was, and he kept hitting her, on and on and on! I saw it all through a crack in the door, and it made me sick. When he finally stopped, she lay curled up on the floor, retching blood into her gag.”

  Nitya felt the sting of salt and realized that tears were streaming down her face. Greghar’s face tightened, and his eyes grew hot with anger.

  “You call yourselves men!” he spat. He pounded the bar with his fist in frustration. “You watched those cowardly dogs gang up and batter a helpless woman and did nothing! Are you not ashamed of yourselves?”

  “Be reasonable, Greghar,” said Hathar tiredly. “We are but farmers, bakers, butchers, blacksmiths. We are not soldiers. It is not our place to save a Zon huntress from a troop of King Shobar’s best men. Why should we risk our hearths and our families interfering in a conflict between King Shobar and the Zon? Guttanar rides to present the huntress to Cheval Nestar Crogus in Ostracis, and we are glad to see his back.”

  “I have no time to argue with you, Hathar,” said Greghar. “I must follow them immediately.” He turned on his heel and headed for the door, Nitya trotting behind him.

  “Come back, Greghar,” called Hathar. “You will not get far. They took all the horses in Grenhall when they left. You will not find a mount for miles around. You cannot follow them afoot, especially in winter.”

  Greghar stopped and looked over his shoulder.

  “Hathar,” he said quietly. “I would follow them if I had to crawl after them on my hand and knees.”