IronStar

by Hallman, Grant

  “I am deeply impressed,” said Issthe. “We have never seen one return from a heart that has ‘only’ stopped. His ath’la lifted out, then flowed back. A little ragged, but returned. It seems that not only Wrth children will want learning at your new school.” The wristcomp beeped again.

  “Tash’ta, thank you, that is enough. Ana’the needs more blood, but we must find another volunteer, we do not want to weaken you.” The girl’s eyelids fluttered open. “Ana’the will need another two measures of blood to be safe. I am sure we can find more people whose blood type matches. Please find others to be tested.

  “Tash’ta, you can get up now… what’s wrong, girl?”

  “Warmaster,” the young woman said shakily, “I was told you needed someone’s blood. I thought you meant all of it…”

  “What!” Kirrah’s jaw fell. “They did not say it would not harm you?”

  “No, Warmaster, Patat’th was in a hurry, he just said…”

  “And you came anyway?”

  “Yes, Warmaster, of course.” Tash’ta sat up a little unsteadily on the second table and put one hand on Kirrah’s arm for support.

  Kirrah looked accusingly around the circle of people now crowding the small room. “How many others thought I was asking for their lives?” she demanded. There was an uncomfortable shuffling in the room, including two of the students, and Slaetra and Brai’klao.

  “Ahhh! People! Do not throw your lives at me so! I cannot bear it! Slaetra! You were just going to watch me slay Tash’ta?”

  “Kirrah,” Slaetra said, her eyes somber but her lips quirking upwards. “You are our Warmaster. You command every life in Talam. We are completely serious about this. You have used this shee’thomm magnificently, better than anyone who has ever led us in war. I doubt there are a hundred persons in this entire city who would not give their life to your request, without question or hesitation. None, certainly, in this school.

  “However, it is a relief to know that this particular request was not so dire, and I’m sure Master Brai’klao will want to have a word with the young man who delivered your message, about the virtues of clarity, at his next class if not before.” From the look exchanged by the two senior Masters, and the arch of Slaetra’s eyebrows, Kirrah could well imagine the lad’s fate. Irshe appeared at the door with another half dozen volunteers, and the crowd began to disperse in a hum of voices.

  Some ninety minutes later, with two more units of fresh, compatible blood in him, Ana’the was resting comfortably in the priests’ care. Kirrah and Irshe walked together across the torchlit courtyard to her apartment.

  “Irshe’jasa, your people still surprise me.” In the faint light of the small inner moon, she could imagine one dark eyebrow sliding half a centimeter up his forehead. “Tash’ta just… just threw her life to me, without a word of protest, not even a question. So did Slaetra and the others who were misinformed by that, that unfortunate student. Are the Talamae not afraid of death?”

  “Of course we are, Kirrah’jasa. Tash’ta was terrified. I did not see it, but she told me later she almost fainted when your device selected her.”

  “Being afraid, but acting anyway - in the Regnum Navy, we call that ‘courage’. Here, not only soldiers, everyone seems to have …more of it, more than I am used to. It is the reason I am sure we will win… when I am sure.

  “But I do not want Tash’ta, or you, to think that I will barter lives like that, just spend one to save another. It is not…” Irshe’s touch on her arm stopped her stride and her words. He stepped in front of her, and looked down into her face with a puzzled expression.

  “Kirrah - you have surely commanded men in warfare before. I have. The barter of lives is the task of the commander. If we did not believe you would do it, and do it well, we would not follow you. When you sent Rash’koi and a few archers to harass the Wrth outside our walls at night, when you let five hundred enemy ride into the city into an untested trap, when you ran down to the river to strike with your not-sword against the O’dai vessels, you were trading lives to save lives. This is not something to be ashamed of.”

  “It just seems so… so easy, Irshe - go there - do that - die here - while I give the commands. I do feel ashamed that it is not I, accepting the risks, every time.”

  “Kirrah’jasa, the word you used, anshath’la, to us it means not only willingness to do something necessary which one is afraid of doing. It also means doing something necessary which one is ashamed of doing. When you demanded Doi’tam-fira'tachk serve, not according to his honor, but yours, everyone at that meeting knew that you were his commander. It is why he shifted, and why he has worked so hard for you ever since, training and rebuilding the cavalry.”

  “I did not understand what my object-which-speaks meant, when it translated the Regnum word ‘courage’ into anshath’la. That literally means “arm of the spirit”. Now, I think you have a most realistic language.” They resumed walking side by side. “By the way, the name ‘Ana’the’ seems close to anshae, ‘arm’. Do you know if it has a meaning?”

  “It means ‘strong-of-arm’, in the old dialect. His mother chose that name - as an infant he clung strongly to her breast.”

  “You knew his mother?”

  “She was my mother’s sister. Ana’the is my cousin-by-blood, I grew up caring for him when his parents traveled.”

  “I am so sorry, Irshe’jasa, I did not know. As soon as he becomes conscious, we must hear his story.”

  “I am afraid his story is all too clear, Warmaster. He was on patrol south of the Geera. He was attacked by O’dai light cavalry, they use that style of quarrel Issthe pulled from his back. I believe they were an advance party for a larger force. That would be their standard procedure in enemy territory, to hunt and stop scouts like Ana’the. What the O’dai were unable to accomplish by Wrth and by river, they now attempt by land. Soon.” Now it was Kirrah’s turn to stop Irshe, and look up into his face.

  “Irshe, we are as prepared as we can be, for whatever they attempt. I am weary after this day, and I want to be rested for whatever comes. Do you think you could not call me ‘Warmaster’ for the rest of the night? Without risking the realm, of course?”

  “As my friend wishes.” His voice conveyed the smile that darkness masked. “One other thing, Kirrah’jasa. As we sat at dinner earlier tonight, your device-which-speaks made a sound, and you smiled…”

  “Oh, I had forgotten, Irshe’jasa. The device was reminding me. Today is the day I calculated, if all has gone well, that my, …my friends from the Regnum Navy, will be setting out on their journey here.” Why didn’t you say ‘rescuers’ like you started to, Lieutenant? Not so anxious to be ‘rescued’ any more, are we?

  Shortly thereafter they sank gratefully onto what Kirrah had come to think of as ‘their’ bed, and fell swiftly asleep in one another’s embrace. In what seemed like far too little time, they were awakened shortly before dawn by fresh peals of alarm bells from the south wall.

  Chapter 30 (Landing plus eighty-six): “Plan B”

  “A fair fight will count as evidence of poor tactical planning on your part.” - unofficial sign over the door to the Naval Warfare Tactical Simulator at the Regnum War Academy.

  Kirrah rubbed sleep from her eyes and sipped steaming hot brew from the mug graciously provided by Mastha’cha. From this height atop a riverfront guard tower, she could look south through the thin morning drizzle straight across the small lake, and see the O’dai encampment formed up on the southwest shore. Hundreds of tents, baggage trains, piles of equipment, horsemen, colorful banners, and four or five ominous-looking long-beamed machines in various stages of assembly, spread out across the plains.

  “Damn!” she said in the Regnum language. “Sorry, Opeth, I don’t have words to curse satisfyingly in Talamae. But when I developed the mortar tubes with Wai’thago, I expected they would fill our needs until the Regnum Navy arrived. Now I wish I had made larger tubes, able to throw farther.”

  “One wishes to ap
ologize to our guest from the ‘other shore of the sky’,” said the weathered Armsmaster, his thin gray hair and bushy eyebrows beading in the fine drizzle. “It is not our custom to be invaded every tenday. We have had years of peace, until the Wrth began their raids last winter. I fear our guest will form a poor opinion of the people of this world.”

  “Your ‘guest’ lays all this at the feet of the Kruss, Armsmaster. I am sure there were disagreements and unfriendly ambition here before they came, but they have thrown oil on every small flame they could find, seeking to inflame human civilization. I wish I knew how many they are, and how long they’ve been here. Our captive told me sixteen plus guards, but I trust him not at all.”

  Kirrah turned and looked back across the small lake which formed the south termination of the city. Three tributaries of the river Geera met at its east end. The Upper Geera flowed in from the northeast, along which she and Irshe’s party had first approached the city over eighty days ago. The Geeratha - ‘mother of Geera’ - flowed from due east across the plains. A third, the South Geera, arrived from due south to disgorge its waters into the complex weave of currents. Between the South Geera and the lake’s outflow at its west end, the south shore was a four-hundred meter wide, nearly circular projection of low-lying land bulging out into the eight hundred meter long lake. O’dai soldiers were spread over this entire peninsula, setting up tents and erecting equipment as though they owned the place.

  “Those machines look even larger than the siege weapons we saw on the O’dai ships. I believe they can throw a large stone farther than our arrows. I expect they will attack our towers and our new riverside wall, and then hope to cross the river on rafts with their infantry. How many do you think they are?”

  “I see five large siege weapons,” the grizzled Armsmaster replied. “I would say eight thousand infantry and archers, and about two thousand light cavalry. There may be another thousand men handling baggage and supplies. And unless I’m mistaken, those ten large carts carry smaller siege weapons, siegebows and catapults intended for use against massed archers and infantry. It seems the O’dai also know your teaching about ‘rock, scissors, paper’ - every weapon has a weakness, and they have brought an answer for each of ours. A fast charge would put those light cavalry among our archers before we could loose four arrows.”

  “I hope that’s what they think, Opeth. No offence,” she amended, seeing his eyebrows raise, “but if they expect to get horses among a company of pike and archers, they will be painfully re-educated. I think we may finally have a job for the cavalry that Doi’tam-fira'tachk has been training so hard. We are going to have to destroy those siege weapons, hopefully before they are ready. How long do you think they will take to set up?”

  “Three takka, if they hurry. They seem to be in no rush.”

  “So it seems. They are acting more like farmers at a festival,” said Irshe from behind her.

  “Perhaps we can show them a festival,” said Kirrah. “Will they parley, do you think, or do we go straight to fighting?”

  “We can try parley, Warmaster,” said Opeth, “…but no one sends an army like this,” his callused right hand swept the far shore, “this far, to seek parley. Their Wrth allies failed them, now they are here to take our city themselves.”

  “I want to talk with them first, Armsmaster. Whether they negotiate or just make demands, whatever they say will tell us something. How do we arrange a parley that is safe for both sides? I remember the treachery of their Captain Durkalo.”

  “We shall arrange it, Warmaster.”

  “Let us also begin preparations, Armsmaster. Here’s what I want ready by noon, if we see signs that they are about to operate their throwing-machines. Trebuchets, in my native language. First, inform Doi’tam-fira'tachk, then…”.

  Within minutes, couriers were carrying orders across the city. Soon, thin trickles of smoke began to rise from the four new steamboats at the docks, upriver. A Talamae rowboat crossed halfway across the small lake and a courier fired an arrow with a blunt end and a message scroll attached, onto the south shore. Half an hour later, several brightly-dressed O’dai carried the arrow to the river’s edge, and made a small show of breaking and burning it. So much for negotiations, Kirrah muttered darkly. On to Plan B.

  “One of the trebuchets is already erect! Hurry the loading!” Kirrah winced inwardly as the young sailor flinched under her totally redundant nagging.

  “Yes, Warmaster!” Seeing a familiar face among the soldiers streaming onto the steamship, Kirrah called:

  “Hu'dakai-dakka'tachk!”

  “Yes, Warmaster!”

  “Find Doi’tam-fira'tachk and Prax’soua-ro'tachk and tell them I want to see them there, on the dock, immediately.” The man saluted and ran up the gangplank to where men and horses were being packed onto the deck of the Flowerpot II.

  “Irshe! Have you seen… there he is!” Kirrah collared Lieutenant Rash’koi as he arrived from the city street, and they waited together. In moments the other two soldiers joined them, Prax’soua still looking a little uncomfortable with his new sergeant’s ribbons and full-length chain mail. Kirrah addressed them all:

  “Soldiers of Talam, heed your Warmaster! We have practiced each step of this dance many times. Today we bring it all together in the face of the enemy, for the first time. Everyone’s life will depend on everyone doing exactly as we practiced, no less and no more. I remind you this is not your traditional way of fighting, but if you trust what we have learned, we will prevail. We must destroy those trebuchets, or our walls will not stand. Is everyone ready?” A chorus of assents did but little to reassure the butterflies swarming in her belly.

  “The other steamships signal ready, Warmaster,” said Captain Og’drai, who had materialized at her side.

  “Board, everyone. Captain, you know a place to land us?”

  “Yes, Warmaster. Between the South Geera branch and the sandbar, there is a small deep hole where we fished as children. It will let us land the men.” The four steamboats pulled away from the docks and turned under oar power until they were facing south. The drizzle had stopped as they’d begun loading, and now a shaft of wan sunlight pierced the thinning overcast. A huge grin on his weathered face, Captain Og’drai struck twice on the ship’s bell, and each of the four vessels shipped their oars and began to gather speed as their propellers bit the water. Behind them, another dozen smaller oar-powered cargo boats set out. Three hundred meters across the lake, men were visible scrambling back from the shore to report to their masters.

  “Speed, Captain! Don’t give them time to prepare for our landing! They will not expect us to cross so fast! Don’t slow down! If we break your ship I will make you a new one!”

  “Yes Warmaster. It will be the most glorious half-bhrakka in the history of the Talamae navy!” You’re right about that, thought Kirrah. All that work building these ships, for a strategically critical two-minute run across a lake the size of a medium-sized city park.

  “Ready forward mortars! Continuous fire!” the Captain bellowed. Puffs of smoke blossomed from all four vessels as they began lofting mortar rounds into the O’dai encampment. Shouts and the sounds of explosions drifted from the south shore where the first volley of eight exploded in the enemy encampment. Seconds later, the second volley followed. By the time they approached the south shore, the seventh volley was firing. O’dai infantry were gathering at the shoreline in ragged clumps, crossbowmen and swordsmen. No horse yet, good… A dozen crossbow quarrels from the O’dai thunked into the wood of the ship, a few spanging harmlessly off armor or raising a grunt or curse as they punched a mailed soldier.

  “Grenade arrows, fly!” Rash’koi shouted from the starboard rail. Smaller but devastating explosions tore into the nearest O’dai formations. Suddenly the ship swung left and ground to a halt a few meters from the bank, next to a small ancient wharf. Sailors swiftly lowered a ramp over the side and Major Doi’tam and the other fifteen heavy cavalry that could fit on the steamship’s dec
k, thundered down into the shallow water and up the meter-high bank. Behind them poured the twenty-five pikemen and twenty archers who had crammed into every available space on or below deck. The other three steamships landed seconds behind them, already debarking men and horses to left and right. The two mortar tubes on the bow and the midship and stern tubes on the ship’s starboard side facing the shore, kept up a steady barrage of fire into the center of the O’dai encampment. As the heavy cavalry made short work of the enemy archers and swordsmen in the immediate vicinity, Kirrah raced down the ramp and up the bank. She was gratified to see her company already forming up with a double row of pike facing the enemy, archers behind them and cavalry returning to their assigned position at the flanks. Nice Major Doi’tam, good boy! No glorious charges, not here!

  Two hundred meters away across the milling confusion that had been an orderly war camp, soldiers and cavalry were visible forming up. As she watched, half a dozen mortar rounds landed in an irregular pattern among them, throwing screaming horses and less identifiable bits in all directions. The enemy formation surged, then scattered again under the pounding. Now’s the time!

  “Sappers, ready!” The three men and a woman, each carrying three demolition charges, stepped forward. “Start with that one, let’s go!” Her arm pointed to the nearest trebuchet, a half-assembled affair of ten and twenty meter wood beams, rollers and ropes sixty meters downstream. As a mass, the Talamae formation moved down upon the siege weapon. Its workers quickly abandoned their position and raced west to help their fellows at the next emplacement. Explosions continued to pound the O’dai wherever they grouped. In a few moments, the Talamae formation engulfed the enemy device. Cavalry swords chopped at ropes while the sappers set their iron-bound gunpowder charges under the device’s main hinge.

  “Fire in the hole!” called the woman in charge of the sappers, using a time-honored Terran phrase Kirrah had introduced to the Talamae language. Their entire formation moved off at a brisk trot toward the next trebuchet, another fifty meters downstream. More Talamae longbowmen were approaching in the smaller oar-driven boats. Sixty-four heavy cavalry, a hundred pike, eighty archers onside, another hundred twenty archers on the way - not bad for their first amphibious landing, Kirrah congratulated herself. Still, this is a raid, not a conquest. Keep focused, Lieutenant…