Thief (The Key to Magic Book 7)

by H. Jonas Rhynedahll

  He could -- possibly -- create an undertime corridor large enough to accommodate a marching legion and thereby move the entire force to Mhevyr in as little time as it took the several legions to march a few dozen paces.

  Of course, he could just as well open the corridor into yesterday, but that action would almost certainly introduce dangerous complications that he had no desire to deal with.

  At this point, though, he had begun to become hesitant to resort constantly to wizardry. The ability to simply redo an error or sidestep a challenge made it seem as if the effort to do or to achieve in the first place was a wasted one.

  He flew to the area assigned to the Defenders, spotted Lord Ghorn at a cook fire with Commander Tresh and descended to land near where they squatted eating their breakfast.

  The two senior officers and the other officers and legionnaires about them all jumped to attention. Mar waved a hand to send all of the others back to their improvised seats -- most simply sat back upon their greatcloaks on the rough ground.

  Lord Ghorn gave the imperial salute, then gestured at a row of large covered pots set out on flat stones "Welcome! We have a feast! Trail bread, cheese, beans, dried beef, and corn mush. Would you care for a plate?"

  "I've already eaten."

  And he had -- a full lunch meal at a roadside tavern near Lhorvhavhen -- but he saw no need to mention that.

  The Prince-Commander nodded. "Would you mind if I continue to eat while we talk?"

  "Certainly."

  Lord Ghorn picked up his copper bowl of corn mush and a large spoon. "This sludge is inedible without butter and salt, but I have long since become accustomed to eating it without and actually will not touch it with proper condiments."

  Commander Tresh, also eating mush, flashed a grin in agreement.

  "You are concerned about the pace of the army," Lord Ghorn added in the same casual tone.

  "Yes," Mar told him. "Now that we have seen that Lhinstord was abandoned, I think that the monks must be retreating all the way to Mhevyr. If they had any more combat ready Shrikes, they would be trying to slow our advance. The Skyship Corps and the rifle section could get to Mhevyr by morning."

  Lord Ghorn took a large spoon of the off-white mush and swallowed. "Our objective should be Plythtwaelndt, the great fortress that sits just north and west of the city. The monks would have occupied it straightaway and it is there that I believe we will find the bulk of their forces. Between here and there are five major towns, all of them defensible to some degree or another, even against magical attack from the air and the ground. While there are also quite a large number of villages and hamlets, I would judge none of them to be of military importance."

  The prince paused to take a swig from a canteen. "If we do not make certain of all those towns -- like Lhinstord, they could have been abandoned -- we will not be able to secure our supply line back to Lhinstord. We do not have sufficient skyships available to bring up all of our supplies, so we must have a dependable overland route to feed the legions."

  Lord Ghorn took another bite.

  Mar pressed his lips into a thin line. "So we have to trudge to Mhevyr."

  "No. Commander Tresh and I have been discussing potential strategies and we have come up with a plan that utilizes the few skyships that we do have to achieve a much faster advance. Our basic assumption is that the monks have no military force comparable to ours between here and Plythtwaelndt. If they did have such a force, they would have defended their major conquest in this area, Lhinstord. As you suggested, we will send the Skyship Corps and the rifle section ahead, but only to the first town, which is named Parill. As soon as the Khalarii are deployed, the skyships will turn around and come back to embark III Corps which will leap over Parill and go on to Mewrol, which is eleven leagues farther east. Once again, when III Corps is on the ground, the skyships return to pick up IV Corps and fly ahead to the next town, Estelboeaw. Once Parill is pacified, the rifle section will move up to assist where it is needed and III Corps, leaving behind two sections as a garrison, will leap ahead again to invest Ahlwer Town. We follow the same procedure at Camerloh and then we are on the monks' doorstep, perhaps as early as Fourteenthday morning if we encounter no significant resistance."

  Mar nodded. "I'll leave with the Skyship Corps within the hour."

  At Parill, Mar, standing on the foredeck of the Emperor Rwalkahn, Coirneal Relvhm's flagship, was presented with an odd and unanticipated sight: two legions armed and armored in the traditional manner. Centered on the imperial highway to the east of a wide stream, the two thousand armsmen were lined up in orderly ranks but were clearly not arrayed for battle. At their head flew the red and blue banner of the Empire.

  "They look like they're on parade, my lord king," Ulor said.

  "Should I deploy the rifle section?" Mhiskva asked.

  "We could give them a salvo from the polybolos first," Relvhm suggested. "A full broadside would encompass their entire formation."

  Mar's frown deepened. "No, we can't fire on our own flag. We'll have to go down to see what they're about first."

  While Coirneal Relvhm and the skyships, polybolos manned and ready, circled overhead, Mar led High-Captain Mhiskva and five riflemen through an undertime corridor to appear before the half dozen officers drawn up alongside the Imperial standard.

  Five of the officers were easily identified by their bearing and the state of their equipment as long service legionnaires. At a guess, they were mercenaries from the Archipelago.

  The sixth was something else altogether.

  This man, wearing no badges of rank, stood a pace to the fore of the others, He immediately gave the imperial salute, not awkwardly, but not with familiarity -- he had practiced.

  It was clear that he knew who Mar was.

  "My lord emperor, I am Whorlyr and I present you the open town of Parill," the officer announced with a welcoming smile. "All recalcitrant monks have been incarcerated to await your justice."

  Though he wore chainmail, helmet, and short sword similar to the equipment of the others, the man's facial markings clearly identified him as one of the Black Monks.

  Mar readied a spell. "You're Phaelle'n."

  "I was. Now I am a servant of the Empire."

  "I decide who serves the Empire."

  Whorlyr inclined his head. "We are at your orders."

  Angered by the fact that he felt compelled to accept this former monk at face value but not showing it, Mar turned to Mhiskva and ordered, "High-Captain, take charge here."

  "Aye, my lord king."

  Mar flew into the sky.

  *************

  "We cannot trust him," Lord Ghorn advised. "But we also should not imprison him without clear justification. If he has truly changed sides, then we must demonstrate to anyone else that might be inclined to leave the Brotherhood that we will welcome all who will fight against its tyranny."

  "He'll have to be watched closely," Mar said. "If he changed sides once, he could do it twice."

  "That is a given."

  "I want to accelerate our time table. I'm going to leave three legions at Parill and take two ahead to Mewrol. I'll order both sets of transports back to you. Send two legions to Estelboeaw and three to Ahlwer Town. Then have the skyships work throughout the night to assemble all three corps at Camerloh. We need to be at Plythtwaelndt on Thirteenthday."

  Lord Ghorn gave him a strange look. "Have you been forewarned by the sorcerer?"

  "No, I just have a feeling."

  By early morning of Thirteenthday, the three corps that now composed First Army, III, IV, and Skyship, were eight leagues from the fortress and marching hard.

  None of the towns had proven to have Phaelle'n garrisons, but reports from townsfolk indicated that the forces of the Brotherhood had completed an orderly and staged withdrawal only the day before.

  More than ready to come to grips with the monks, Mar left command of the imperial forces in the hands of Lord Ghorn and High-Captain Mhiskva and stayed in t
he air as the army moved forward.

  The day was bright and clear and he soon cast his spyglass lozenge to peer ahead at the fortress. As soon as the focus stabilized, he felt a jolt of fierce excitement. They were not too late!

  A steady stream of steel beetles and other similar but unarmored conveyances that were being used as transports were even now rushing through the twenty armlength wide iron-bound wooden gates.

  With hardly a thought, he raced ahead of the army. A few carefully placed Bolts of Trag'here would bring down the gatehouse and trap the bulk of the fleeing column without the walls. Even if the Black Monks escaped into the fortress, they would have to leave more than a hundred of their vehicles behind to suffer the full brunt of his magic!

  Two hundred paces from the rear of the column, he slowed and took aim at the gate.

  His unease bleated only a second before he was struck. The spell threw him through the air as ripping ethereal currents lashed his body, cutting to the bone. One loop of the attack wrapped around his right thigh and sawed for a moment, nearly severing his leg just below the hip. Red blood spewed from the wounds like a holed bucket. The remains of his leg was a crimson fountain that stripped his life away.

  Seconds from death, he let undertime enfold him.

  It took time -- a lot of it -- to restore his flesh.

  He drifted through the swirls and eddies of the ethereal torrent, studying his attacker while he healed himself.

  It was a single sorcerer, dressed in the clothing of the ancient age. Somehow, another one had survived. The man was on the ground beside a metal construction that boasted dozens of flux modulations, very few of which Mar could delve.

  The man was not a wizard; he was oblivious to Mar's spying.

  After a day or a year, it was impossible to say which, Mar returned to the second after he left. He wrapped himself in multiple wards only seconds before the sorcerer attacked again. This time, the flux modulations crashed uselessly against Mar's defenses.

  He sailed towards the sorcerer's position, readying the most powerful spell that Waleck had taught him.

  An explosion of meaning from the ether almost sent him into a tumble.

  Telriy and Celly!

  FORTY

  7026 by the Common Reckoning

  (Thirteenthday, Waning, 3rd Springmoon, 1645 After the Founding of the Empire) Tertiary Launch Site

  Ten minutes from touchdown, Oyraebos released out of his rack and gestured for Khoe and Bilddhri to do likewise. The men of the heavy weapons teams, their automatic rifles and mortars stowed in spare racks beside them, were all racked forward of the three sorcerers. They would stay in their webbing until the shuttle had actually landed.

  First, he visually and ethereally checked his own battle harness and sidearm, then did the same for the other two sorcerers

  Thankfully, there had been no attacks on the shuttle during the descent, by missile or otherwise. Even so, he had maintained magical countermeasures for the entire flight, surrounding the craft with ablative buffers and interference wards, and would only release the flux modulations when the craft landed.

  Emeraae had only been able to find two male sorcerer volunteers in the twenty minutes it had taken to get the civilian shuttle Jackal ready and launched from its docking bay. The majority of the powerful male combat sorcerers had been sent aboard the Wolf with Section Leader Dhavosh. Oyraebos had arbitrarily turned away the several qualified and experienced female volunteers; all of them were under child bearing age and were thus the indispensable and precious future of the Project. He would not place any of them at risk under any circumstances.

  "As soon as the shuttle comes to rest," he told the other two, "we port out together. We fight to our strengths. Khoe, you are passive defensive spells. Wards and buffers up before we step out. Bilddhri, you are active defensive and backup offensive. Focus on my target with complementary area of effect spells. Clear?"

  Both men nodded. Khoe was nearly twice Oyraebos' age, out of shape, and a bit overweight, but he was a rank seven veteran and an acknowledged expert in personal wards and ablation halos. Bilddhri was young and fit but only rank three and his experience under fire was meager.

  "We are going to take and hold a hundred pace perimeter around the shuttle to give the security teams time to emplace. As soon as this foothold is secure, we will break out the flyer and Bilddhri and I will go for the crash site. Khoe, you will stay to oversee the defense of the Jackal."

  "What sort of resistance are you expecting?" Bilddhri asked. The younger sorcerer was not nervous, but he did seem on edge.

  "Like all grounder cities, this place has a military contingent. Estimates are two to three hundred infantry armed with swords and primitive missile weapons. They have some low speed aircraft, but as far as we have been able to determine these skyships have no modern weaponry. The guide beacon is bringing us down right in the middle of their main military area, so we should expect that an attempt will be made to mount a defense."

  Khoe grimaced. "They will be slaughtered."

  "My hope is that an immediate and comprehensive demonstration of the power of our magic will give them sufficient pause to prevent a full scale battle."

  "What if they insist?" Bilddhri pressed.

  "We will defend ourselves. We cannot permit any damage to come to the shuttle. At the moment, it is irreplaceable. It will take a minimum of a decade to create the infrastructure necessary to build another. We also cannot lose a single Project member. The future of magic itself depends upon each and every one of us and the children that we must have. We will not hesitate to use lethal magic when it is required."

  "The ones that lose husbands, brothers, and sons will hate us for generations," Khoe said. "I have seen it before."

  "The Project shall out live their hate," Oyraebos declared. "But we need to focus on the next few hours. Our first priority is the survivors. It is almost certain that all of the Eagle's magic systems are offline. They have only their own spells and perhaps some portable devices to sustain themselves. It is likely that they have only limited access to food or water. When we hit the ground, we need to get control and we need to do it fast."

  Still grim, Khoe nodded. "We will get it."

  Oyraebos used a simple spell to channel the artificial gravity to bring the three of them across the chamber to the main exterior hatchway. For safety, only at the hatchway could a tunnel through the shuttle's deflector wards be opened to allow ports with their low powered wrist units.

  "Match coordinates and slave control to my bracelet," he ordered. Both gestured to initiate the simple spell that did so.

  An imp popped into being next to them and the Flight Officer's baritone spoke from it. "Touchdown in five, four, three, two, one! We are on the surface!"

  Oyraebos touched his port.

  The three of them appeared in bright sunshine about twenty meters from the landing struts. The port magic automatically shifted them upwards to place them on the top of the large stack of wooden timbers that had occupied their exit point.

  As both of the other two sorcerers began weaving spells, he turned about in a quick circle to correlate the layout of the landing zone that he had memorized from high altitude images to the actual ground level terrain and structures.

  Jackal's landing wards had flattened one of the skyships that had been under construction at its touchdown point, crushing the heavy timbers down upon the masonry stone cradle that had held it. Two other nearly complete vessels had been displaced and damaged, but otherwise no buildings had been harmed. The only grounders that he saw were workers -- he had to assume that anyone without the physical armor that their soldiers wore was a civilian -- running away from the shuttle.

  An ethereal blast rocked the wards that surrounded the three of them and the fireball released by the explosion briefly threw them in shadow. None of the ethereal energy or physical affects penetrated Khoe's wards.

  "What was that?" he demanded, spinning back around. "Were we struck by a m
issile?"

  Bilddhri had his skry stone in his hand. "Physical projectile from south-southwest, about two hundred meters." He looked up and pointed. "Top of that big stone tower."

  Khoe was gesturing rapidly. "Modifying the wards to compensate."

  "That was an ethereal explosion," Oyraebos insisted.

  Another blast struck the wards, but the ethereal barrier remained firm this time.

  "The flux was released by Vessel failure," Bilddhri replied, still concentrating on his device. "The projectiles are some sort of earthen material bound together with a spell and then overloaded."

  Oyraebos readied a magical attack to destroy the tower, but then reconsidered and allowed the flux modulation to dissipate. "Can you discharge the projectiles at source without igniting a detonation?"

  Bilddhri gave a firm nod. "Yes."

  "Then please do so!"

  The younger sorcerer raised his right hand, made a fist, then twisted it. After glancing back at his skry stone, he gave Oyraebos a quick nod. "All Vessels in that vicinity disarmed."

  "Right. Let's get off this lumber and --"

  A rain of gravel washed over the three sorcerers, striking them through the wards with enough force to make them all duck and cover their heads. Khoe's protective spells were not configured to block low velocity purely physical objects -- such wards would have effectively trapped them inside and prevented any advance.

  "Get an overhead ward up to block this!" Oyraebos yelled.

  Khoe cursed and brought his hands down long enough to begin waving them to adjust his spells. Before he could finish, a larger stone flew down from the sky and struck the sorcerer a blow on the shoulder that made him cry out in pain, leaving his spell unfinished.

  "Where is this coming from?" Oyraebos demanded of Bilddhri as he took hold of Khoe's shoulders to support him.

  More stones fell about and on them, some of this rocky hail as large as an egg. When these larger stones bounced from the timbers, they left deep depressions in the hard wood. If one chanced to strike one of them, the injury would be serious -- even potentially deadly.