Ranger

by William Stacey

  "It's true. We had no idea this dwarven deep existed," Veraxia said, her eyes wide with wonder as they walked past a deserted storefront.

  Ylra stopped, reaching out to a glass globe the size of an orange that sat atop a three-foot pole on the side of the narrow street. She tapped the globe, and it lit up with a soft glow that illuminated the immediate surroundings. Moments later, other globes along the street came to life, illuminating the entire avenue. The street was wide enough for two wagons to pass, and it led on for blocks of tightly packed buildings, many resembling small fortresses.

  "Wait," said Leela, trailing her fingers over the globe, feeling the unmistakable aura of mana. "This is magic, but if I can't channel…"

  Ylra pulled Kargin's ax from her belt and depressed the button on its handle. The ax-head flared red-hot. "The street orbs work because the magic is already infused into them, much like the battlewagons." She pressed the button again, and the ax-head turned cold once more. "Still, you have a point," she whispered. "All the dwarven magical objects must have been built outside, beyond the range of the anti-magic field, then brought inside."

  "I have never heard of this anti-magic field," Veraxia said. "I must say, I find it terrifying. You say the source is a star fragment?"

  "The red-star meteorite that struck the mesa hundreds, if not thousands, of cycles ago. Our lack of innate magical ability has always been our weakness in battle against your kind. We dwarves can work magic into items, but we can't wield it ourselves, a deadly disadvantage in a war against the fae. But if we could find the red-star metal and forge more weapons like Witch-Bane, imagine what an entire army of dwarves that didn't need to fear magic could do. We'd have rolled over the fae in weeks."

  "If you still had an army," Veraxia said coldly, although to be fair, she might have just been voicing the obvious.

  "Aye," admitted Ylra, staring at the empty buildings. "If."

  "Maybe this anti-magic field wasn't strong enough to protect them from the Culling Wave after all," said Veraxia.

  "That's what I'm afraid of," said Alex as he peered past an open window and into the dark interior of a home. Dust covered the furniture.

  "No," insisted Ylra. "Kargin said Deep Terlingas survived. This city was his secret to protect, but he swore he and Tlathia visited the dwarves here after the Culling."

  "Let's keep looking," Alex said.

  Many of the buildings were several stories high, linked by masterfully carved stone bridges. The dwarves of Deep Terlingas had lived on multiple levels, moving easily back and forth, reminding Leela of shantytowns in slums around the world, but unlike a slum, this city was immaculately clean, flawlessly crafted, and organized with hanging gardens and statues of grim-faced dwarves set in places of prominence. Ylra pointed out buildings, identifying their purpose—granaries, warehouses, blacksmiths, breweries, halls, inns, and taverns.

  They walked for at least twenty minutes, seeing no one. Mining carts and wagons sat abandoned, most still carrying a load of supplies or mining residue. More than once, they found the desiccated carcasses of oxen-like creatures attached to the harnesses. The homes were empty, with discarded rock-hard meals still set at tables and cutlery and goblets left in place as if the diners had vanished while eating. The subterranean gardens were neglected and dead, with only large glowing mushrooms remaining.

  Leela glanced at Ylra, biting her lip. This was exactly how the Culling Wave had left Earth. No, she realized, not quite exactly like Earth.

  On Earth, the Culling Wave had erased most of humanity but had left behind everything non-organic—clothing, implants. All had fallen discarded while the wave turned living people into mana to be transported to Faerum for the queen. Here, though, there was nothing left of the dwarves, not even clothing. It was as if they had just… walked away.

  They reached a central courtyard built around a marble fountain where several streets met. Around the fountain lay the dried-out carcasses of livestock—sheep and pigs and other animals Leela couldn't identify.

  Alex stared into the dry fountain, a weary expression on his face. "Must have run dry. Damn, we needed that water. This isn't good."

  Ylra reached past him, gripped a lever set into the base of the fountain, and pulled it. A soft banging echoed from far away, then clear water gurgled from the fountain, spilling out the open mouth of a carved fish head. The water splashed into the fountain, filling it once more. Ylra cupped her hands and drank deeply. "It's safe. There was no one to reset it after the livestock drank it."

  Veraxia trailed her fingers over the desiccated carcass of a long-haired sheep with three horns. "These animals must have escaped from their pens. How sad to die like this in such pain." She sighed. "This is what comes from keeping living creatures in pens."

  "You fae keep slaves in pens," snapped Ylra, "not us."

  Veraxia shrugged. "Truth."

  They drank deeply and refilled their canteens. Alex mentioned he'd have First Sergeant Martinez organize teams to refill their water. Leela was closing her canteen's top when she heard a short cry echoing in the distance, like a child in distress. She turned quickly and started out into the dark underground city. The others watched her.

  "What?" Alex asked.

  "You didn't hear that?"

  His eyes narrowed. "What did you hear?"

  "A cry, maybe a child." She saw the confusion on their faces. "No one else heard it?"

  "I heard nothing," said Ylra.

  "Nor I," said Veraxia, "and my hearing is superb."

  "That way?" asked Alex, looking in the direction she was staring.

  Leela nodded. "I think so."

  "There's a coliseum over there," said Ylra. "They're the focus of our cities."

  "As good a place as any," Alex said. He motioned to one soldier with his chin. "That way, Corporal."

  "On it, sir," the young woman said.

  She moved forward with another soldier, their weapons in the ready position. Leela and the others followed. She looked about, doubting she had ever heard anything. Maybe the darkness and the quiet were playing tricks with her head. Maybe it was stress. But it had been so clear.

  Ylra activated more of the street orbs, and the lights bathed the stone buildings in a soft orange glow. Now, though, the shadows shifted as if alive but never when Leela was looking, only out of the corner of her eye. She said nothing, but Alex must have seen it in her face.

  "You okay?"

  She grabbed his arm and whispered into his ear, "I'm seeing things. Am I going crazy?"

  "It's the oddity of this place," he whispered back. "Being underground. Plays with your mind. Trust me. Back in the Task Force Devil days, we all saw weird shit in the tunnels beneath the Magic Kingdom. Some guys had to go on leave to get their heads straight. Others transferred out."

  "Yeah, maybe," she said, hearing the uncertainty in her voice.

  "Mayhap the city is haunted," Veraxia said, clearly having listened in on everything Alex and Leela had just said yet also clearly not feeling the least bit guilty. "It has the feel of a… dead place, does it not? Do ghosts wander these dark streets now?"

  Just how good was her hearing? Leela shivered.

  They moved closer to the large central building Ylra called a coliseum. To Leela's thinking, it resembled an auditorium more than a coliseum, several levels high with stadium seating, but it took a place of prominence among the other buildings. They stopped before large ironbound wooden doors, each at least ten feet high and standing open.

  "Something was going on here," Ylra said. "Normally, a coliseum is locked tight to keep dwarven children out. They like to stage their own tournaments, reenact battles and test themselves."

  "All children do that," said one soldier.

  "Are your children strong enough to bend metal rods when they're having tantrums? Ours are. Besides, dwarven youth get… carried away in the heat of play. Bones break, as do skulls. Our young reach mature strength long before they learn how to control their tempers. Best to keep
'em out, let 'em play where parents can watch."

  "Open or not," said Alex, peering past the entrance, "it looks as empty as the rest of the city."

  Leela heard whispers again. She closed her eyes, but the murmuring was too faint to make out, then it was gone. When she opened her eyes again, Alex was staring at her, his worry obvious. "Fine," she said, brushing past him. "I'm fine."

  They passed through the entrance and down a long corridor before going under stone arches and coming out onto the open-tiered stone seats. Three levels of seats with tiered steps surrounded a large central stage or arena. Leela wasn't sure of the correct term. Filled, the stadium would have housed a thousand dwarves. Now, it sat deserted, the seats empty, but the arena itself wasn't empty: a huge dwarven machine occupied the space, spreading out in all directions. Large brass cylinders and glass tubes connected huge dwarven gears and metal constructions the size of houses but built with the finesse of miniature clocks. And the machinery was running still. The gears were turning, cranking other gears and levers, turning assorted—and odd—dwarven constructs, the purpose of which Leela couldn't guess. Cables ran between the machinery, and a layer of mist covered the ground. And standing at the center of the arena, with cables and tubes connecting it to everything else, was the oddest construct Leela had ever seen—an irregular red boulder as large as a car floated, spinning slowly in midair, over a golden hand, a stand.

  Here, the air hummed with purpose and energy, and Leela felt tingling in the fingers of her left hand, the one wearing the Brace. For a split second, she saw ghostly images—hundreds of short, squat shapes—converged around the machine. A moment later, no one was there. She was going crazy.

  Ylra whistled in admiration. "Now that's something you don't see every day."

  "Found your anti-magic meteorite, I'd say," said Alex, staring at the rotating red boulder.

  "Looks like," said Ylra breathlessly.

  "This is… astounding," Veraxia said, wonder in her voice. "What does it do?"

  Ylra sighed. "Not a clue."

  "Can you figure it out?" Alex asked. "See if they've left any clues where they went, why they just... vanished?"

  Ylra pouted, chewing the inside of her cheek. "In time… probably." She moved closer to the machinery and walked through the various pieces, heading for a raised metal platform containing what looked like a control console.

  Veraxia followed without hesitation, and Alex and Leela looked at one another in uncertainty.

  "Stay here," Alex told the four soldiers before following the others.

  "Don't have to tell us twice," the corporal said.

  Leela kept right beside him, brushing up against him as they weaved their way past the machinery. Ylra and Veraxia were atop the platform, and Alex and Leela came up the metal steps behind them. Ylra was bent over one of the control consoles, examining the gauges and dials.

  "What do you think?" Alex asked her.

  "I think… someone designed this machinery to amplify the anti-magic field."

  Leela's vision tunneled in on the rotating meteorite, and now the voices were whispering again… pleading with her, begging her to—

  "Leela!" Alex said, gripping her arms and shaking her. "Snap out of it."

  She shook her head, staring at him in confusion. "I… what?"

  A moment ago, she had been on the control console with Alex and the others, but now she was on the arena floor, less than a dozen paces in front of the rotating meteorite. How had she gotten here?

  "Please don't scare me like that."

  "Like what?"

  "You started walking toward the meteorite, your left hand raised as if you wanted to touch it. The last time you touched Witch-Bane—the same metal—with the Brace, was when those spider-women-things attacked us. You set off a dangerous reaction."

  "‘Tis truth," said Veraxia. "Whatever you did, Leela the Mage, you stole the life-magic from the Soulless. I shudder to imagine what might happen were you to touch such a large piece of red-star metal with your marvelous Ancient One talisman."

  "I… I don't think I'm okay down here," Leela mumbled, her heartbeat throbbing in her skull. "Something weird is going on."

  "You're not wrong about that." Alex wrapped his arms around her and held her against him. "We'll figure it out, baby," he whispered into her hair.

  "Someone comes," said Veraxia. "Your kind, I believe."

  Leela heard nothing at first, but moments later, they all heard voices calling out across the underground cavern in English. Someone was looking for them.

  Alex sent two of the soldiers out of the coliseum. They returned five minutes later, leading four other soldiers, including Lee Costner, his face flushed with excitement.

  "What is it?" Alex asked.

  "The enemy," Lee said breathlessly. "They've found us."

  "How many?"

  "An entire army. Thousands."

  42

  Alex was panting by the time he and Lee reached Martinez near the top of the gorge. It was still night, but the twin moons lit up the desert, and the eastern horizon was turning scarlet with the coming dawn. The veteran soldier stood in the open, using his helmet visor to scan the gorge and the enemy forces forming before it on the desert floor. Alex activated his own binocular vision but didn't much like what he saw. The enemy formed tight organized ranks, with kelpie cavalry on the wings, boggart warriors forming the bulk of the foot soldiers, and armored trolls forming a vanguard. Packs of hellhounds ranged free before the enemy ranks, no doubt acting as skirmishers. Alex saw no wyvern-mounted mages in the air, but he was certain they were there. While it appeared the enemy was massing for an attack, Alex also noted clues they were digging in to stay. They were raising brightly colored tents with pennants flying atop them and setting up a camp behind their troops.

  "Our intelligence operator estimates we're facing between thirty-five hundred and four thousand warriors," said Martinez.

  "What about our Russian friends?" asked Lee.

  "They're there," Martinez said. "Scan left two hundred meters from the last circus tent."

  When he did, Alex saw several dozen human men in dark-green combat uniforms with Kalashnikov assault rifles. A small knot of four stood staring up at the gorge. While they were too far away to make out clearly, Alex saw one of them had blond hair and held binoculars to his face, no doubt staring at Alex and the others. Just beside the man stood a small figure with long dark hair.

  "Damn," he muttered. "I was hoping we were wrong, but those sure look like Russians."

  "Russian uniforms and weapons," growled Martinez. "Spent my entire military career studying those assholes, preparing for World War Three. Who'd think we'd throw down on another world?"

  "What are Russians doing here?" asked Lee. "And why are they working for the dark elves?"

  "Not a clue," said Alex. "But one is a woman." He returned his visor to normal mode and turned to face Martinez. "How many?"

  "Saw more earlier, setting up a mortar. I'd say a platoon's worth, maybe a company."

  Alex sighed, his hopes plummeting. "And we've got two platoons. Not so good."

  "At least we hold the high ground. They try to come up that gorge, we'll gut 'em so badly they'll be slipping back down again on their own blood."

  "Not sure we have enough ammo to kill them all."

  "If we run out, we can roll rocks onto 'em. This is good ground, sir. That matters."

  All around Alex, the Strike Force soldiers were setting up firing positions looking into the gorge from perfect angles. Martinez was right—they held the vital terrain. The enemy would have to charge up that path, losing steam with each step. The narrow, obstacle-strewn route would force them to bunch together and get in one another's way and become impossible to miss. It'd be a bloodbath.

  But there were a lot, and the Russians had modern weaponry. He wondered just how far the anti-magic field extended. Would it negate the dark-elf mages' magic? If so, they had finally caught a break.

  "They
sent cavalry patrols around both sides earlier," Martinez said. "Probably looking for another path. We're keeping an eye on them."

  "Good." His mind wrestled with options. "What's our fighting strength?"

  "With the augmentees, ninety-two effectives," the other man answered without hesitation. "But only Tac rifles, no heavy weapons, and only two Stingers with three missiles each… so not so good."

  "No," Alex agreed. "But they don't know that. What about ammo?"

  "Each trooper carried a combat load of three hundred rounds on their load-bearing vest, but we burned through most of that already. The good news is we carried another five hundred rounds in each rucksack, and while we left a lot back at the bridge—and more at the village—we still have most of that ammo. Let's say several hundred Tac rifle rounds each. That's not nothing. We also have about half of our fragmentation grenades and smoke, but we left the general-purpose machine guns and ammo at the village. Shit on a stick. Even one GPMG could hold this ground indefinitely."

  "Couldn't bring everything. Not tied to floating nets."

  Martinez grunted, no doubt now wishing they had tried. "Well, at least we still have Long Bow's rig with the needle launchers. She's a one-woman wrecking crew with those things."

  Alex shook his head. "Can't risk the rig. It's our only way out of here… when it finally recharges. Besides, she can't channel up here. No. She's sitting this one out."

  Martinez snorted. "You're full of good news, sir."

  "It is good news. It means the elves can't channel, either. Pass the word. No auto fire, aimed shots only."

  "Already gave the order, sir."

  Alex studied the terrain. The gorge looked to be about three hundred meters long, a perfect kill zone. The boulders might give the enemy cover, but they'd also break up their cohesion and slow them. Even if the dark elves charged their cavalry up that path, they'd be cut apart within a hundred meters. The dead would impede those behind. They'd have to stop and clear the mounds of corpses to keep going, all while under direct fire. Martinez was right. This was great ground.