A March into Darkness dobas-2

by Robert Newcomb

  Puffing out his barrel chest, Ox clicked his heels together and smiled. He turned to gather his warriors. In moments he and three hundred others had landed on the ground to start skulking toward the moonlit castle.

  As he watched them go, Tristan clenched his jaw. There was much about this plan that he didn’t like, but it was the best that he and his Conclave had been able to devise. For Garvin to succeed, Ox and his group had to entice Serena’s creatures far from the Recluse. Even so, Gavin would have to perform his part of it quickly, and without being seen.

  Tyranny walked across the deck to stand beside Tristan. Trying to calm her nerves, she produced a cigarillo and lit it. After taking a deep lungful of smoke she reached out to take his arm, then gently tugged him to one side.

  “Good luck,” she said simply.

  “Thank you,” he said. He gave her a searching look. “No hard feelings about our earlier conversation?” he whispered.

  After taking another drag on her cigarillo, she shook her head and tousled her hair. Finally she smiled.

  “No hard feelings,” she whispered back. “But I have to be honest with you. I still haven’t given up. One of these days, you’ll come around to my way of thinking.”

  Tristan let go a short laugh, then looked back at the Minion warriors moving across the moonlit field. Almost at once the action started.

  Shrews by the thousands ominously surfaced the lake surrounding the Recluse. As they snarled wildly, their breath streamed out in ghostly vapors and their teeth and steaming coats glinted in the moonlight. They immediately started thundering across the killing field.

  Tristan held his breath as he watched Ox and the warriors staunchly obey their orders. Holding their dreggans high, they stopped advancing and formed a tight phalanx as they braced for the onslaught.

  Wait, Tristan thought, as he watched the brave warriors hold their ground. Wait, wait…now!

  Like Tristan had willed it from afar, the warriors launched into the air just as the shrews reached them, then started hacking at the monsters from above.

  Tristan anxiously raised Tyranny’s spyglass to look closer. Remember your orders, Ox, his mind warned. Don’t remain in the fray for too long!

  Just then he saw warriors start disappearing into thin air, and he knew that Serena’s other monsters had left the castle walls to join the attack. That was what he had wanted to happen, but it also added much to the danger his warriors faced.

  Sound the retreat! Tristan’s frantic mind begged as his fingers closed harder around the spyglass. You must do it now, before you are completely overcome!

  Suddenly he heard the distant bugle call come floating across the field. As the warriors started flying back, Tristan raised the spyglass to the sky.

  HIS WINGS FOLDED BEHIND HIS BACK, GARVIN PLUNGEDearthward in a nearly vertical free fall. As ordered, he had waited for the diversion to start before he left his hiding place in the clouds.

  Turning his attention from the battle, he focused on his landing place. It was to be on the Recluse’s north side, putting the castle directly between him and the fighting. As he neared the structure he could see that the consuls and Valrenkians had abandoned their posts along guard paths atop three of the four walls. To a man they had gathered on the southern wall top to raucously watch the fighting and to cheer the vicious shrews onward. TheJin’Sai had predicted that their attention would be firmly locked on the killing field, and he had been right.

  As he neared the north shore of the lake, Garvin unfolded his wings to slow his descent. He landed silently on the grass, then snapped his wings into place behind his back. Looking around, he quietly drew his dreggan. As the Conclave had hoped, the area on this side of the Recluse seemed deserted. Knowing that there was no time to lose, he used his free hand to remove the glass tube from his waist pouch and silently crept toward the lakeshore.

  “For the formula to work, you must pour the contents into the water bit by bit, until it is gone,”Faegan had told him.“Then return the tube to your pouch and leave as quickly as you can.” In the quiet of the night, Garvin started to uncork the tube. Then he heard a soft splashing sound.

  He froze, trying to listen. He could hear faint cheering still coming from the southern wall top, but nothing else. Then the splashing sound came again, followed by a low, snarling growl. He cautiously turned to look behind him.

  About fifteen meters down the lakeshore, a shrew stood glaring at him. Its coat was wet and steaming in the cool night air. The beast’s breathing was ragged, and blood dripped from a wound in its right shoulder. Garvin quickly gathered that the wound had probably been incurred during yesterday’s failed try to probe the Recluse. Another bloody gash form a Minion dreggan ran vertically between the beast’s dark eyes.

  Garvin quickly guessed that the shrew had stayed behind to lick its wounds. Worse, it might be just one of many such wounded monsters taking refuge in the lake. Not one member of the Conclave had taken this possibility into account.

  As the shrew stood there snarling at him, Garvin wondered why it didn’t attack. Perhaps it was wounded too badly, or its eyesight had been adversely affected. He had no idea whether shrews could communicate with their masters, but he couldn’t take the chance. The beast had to die. But his mission must come first.

  Deciding to risk it, he took a step closer to the shore.

  The shrew immediately snarled, louder this time. But it did not move. As he held the shrew’s gaze, Garvin took another step.

  The unpredictable shrew snarled, then charged a few paces and stopped again. Despite its wounds, its speed was incredible. As the terrible thing glared at him, its teeth glinted in the moonlight and more blood ran from its shoulder to drip lazily onto the ground.

  If he could steal one more pace, Garvin knew that he would be close enough. Holding his breath, he took the final step. Reaching slowly across his body with his sword arm, he tried to uncork the tube without laying down his dreggan. After a few moments the cork wiggled free and Garvin dropped it to the grass. He held the tube at arm’s length and started gradually pouring the wizards’ formula into the lake.

  That was when the shrew’s instincts took over, and it charged.

  Garvin sidestepped and quickly put his thumb over the open end of the tube. Then he brought his dreggan down and around, aiming for the preexisting wound in the monster’s shoulder. As the shrew went past him he felt a searing pain in his sword arm. The shrew skidded to a stop about five meters away in the slippery grass.

  When the shrew turned to face him, Garvin could tell that his aim had been true-the beast’s wound was far deeper and longer than before, and blood was literally spurting from it with each beat of the thing’s dark heart. In truth he didn’t know what was keeping the monster’s front leg attached to its shoulder.

  He stole a precious second to glance at the tube. Most of its formula had gone into the lake, but a bit remained in the tube’s curved bottom. With one eye locked on the shrew, he starting dribbling the rest of the formula into the water. But before he could finish, the thing attacked again.

  Again he tried to sidestep the shrew, but this time he wasn’t quick enough. The monster brushed against his body, throwing him to the ground on his stomach. To his horror, the tube slipped from his hand but blessedly landed upright in the grass. He lunged for it, but at the same time the shrew bit viciously into his right thigh.

  Desperate to recapture the vial, he tried crawling forward. In retaliation the monster thrashed his leg viciously about, and bit deeper into his flesh. He knew that the beast’s strength and size would soon win out, but he had to somehow finish his mission.

  Lunging forward with everything he had, he felt his thigh muscles tear away, but the vial finally came into his hand. Turning it upside down, he poured the remaining formula into the lake.

  I can die now, he thought, like the warrior I was trained to be.

  But then the beast did something amazing. It let him go.

  Garvin turned as best
he could to look at the shrew. The monster wobbled drunkenly as its jaws loosened from around his thigh. For several tense moments it slowly lifted its awful head and glared at him. Then it collapsed onto its wounded side, dead from blood loss.

  His chest heaving, Garvin did his best to stand. The searing pain nearly caused him to faint away, and he dropped the vial. Much of his outer right thigh was gone, some of it still lodged between the shrew’s pointed teeth. His right arm was bleeding badly. He reached under his chest armor to produce two tourniquets, then wound them tightly around his wounds.

  He was terribly weak from blood loss, but his wings had not been injured and the fleet was close. Suddenly remembering what Faegan had said about not leaving any evidence behind, Garvin nearly fainted again as he picked up the empty vial and returned it to his waist pouch.

  It was all he could do to get airborne. He knew that a direct flight path back to the Black Ships would probably mean the difference between him living or dying. But he dutifully chose to follow orders and backtrack along the more circuitous route that had brought him here. His mind light-headed and his muscles feeling like they were made of lead, Garvin did his best to head west.

  After finally crashing to the deck of theTammerland, he lived just long enough to tell his tale.

  CHAPTER LXIV

  AS DAWN BROKE THE FOLLOWING DAY, TRISTAN NERVOUSLYpaced the bow of theTammerland. The Conclave’s plan was clever, but not without its weaknesses. Everything would have to go exactly as planned, and each player in the scheme would have to do his or her job perfectly. This time Tristan would commit all his forces. If the attack failed, there would be no second chance.

  He sadly looked down toward the deck. Black sailcloth had been wound around the corpse lying there. Tristan had known Garvin for only a few hours, but he had liked him. Garvin had finished his mission successfully, but that didn’t guarantee that Faegan and Abbey’s formula would work. Either way, the sailcloth was a fitting burial shroud. Later on, Garvin’s corpse would be cremated, alongside the other warriors who would fall this day.

  Carrying two cups of hot tea, Shailiha appeared by Tristan’s side. She gave him one and they stood together drinking for a time, watching the fog lift from the blood-soaked killing field. Dark and foreboding, the castle seemed to crouch threateningly atop its mist-shrouded island like a giant spider. Shailiha gave her brother a supportive pat on one arm.

  “Soon,” she said simply.

  “Yes,” Tristan answered. “Your idea is brilliant.”

  “As is yours,” she answered. “But for us to take the castle, both plans have to work, don’t they?” After taking another sip of tea, she gave him a short smile. “We make a good team,” she added softly. Tristan smiled back at her, then looked down the length of theTammerland.

  Thousands of warriors stood topside, waiting to attack. Far more filled theTammerland ’s lower areas. Gathered on the ship’s bottom deck, the highlander horsemen waited nervously astride their mounts. The ship’s giant rear hatch had been lowered, allowing them easy access to the ground. The Minions aboard theEphyra, theFlorian, and theCavalon were also waiting, and ready to strike at a moment’s notice.

  Tristan cast his gaze toward the rising sun. Although attacking at night was tempting, the Conclave members knew that it had to be done in sunlight. Even if Serena’s flying creatures could be marked, they would be difficult to find in the dark. And so the Conclave had nervously waited for the sun’s rays to break over the eastern horizon before launching the attack.

  Tristan watched as the remaining Conclave members wended their way through the warrior and highlander throngs. As they crowded around, he smiled at them. Each had his or her own special skills, and they would all be needed today. Tristan again looked at the sun and decided that the time was right. He turned back to face the Conclave.

  “Each of you knows your orders,” he said, “so there is no need for me to repeat them. Faegan, Aeolus, and Jessamay, it is time to take to your ships. Wait for the signal before starting your spells.” The three mystics gave the prince a farewell look, then left to command their respective vessels.

  Wigg came to stand beside theJin’Sai andJin’Saiou. The look on his face was concerned, thoughtful.

  “We of the craft have never tried anything like this before,” he said. “Our plan might easily fail. But I can think of no finer practitioners to attempt this than Faegan, Aeolus, and Jessamay.” He placed his gnarled hands on Tristan’s and Shailiha’s shoulders. “We will try our best,” he said.

  “We know,” Tristan answered. “In the end, that’s all any of us do. It’s time to get started.”

  Tristan turned toward Traax and Rafe. “Take your forces afield and form your ranks,” he said. “You know your orders. Remember, we are committing everything to this attack. It will be all, or nothing. Once your advance starts, move fast. But don’t charge until you see my signal.”

  Traax came to attention. “I live to serve,” he said. After giving Duvessa a look of farewell, he ran off to carry out his orders.

  Rafe responded by giving Tristan a final slap on the back. “No matter what happens, it was a pleasure knowing you, dango!” he said, then walked off to join his horsemen belowdecks.

  Wigg moved a bit closer to Tristan. “I might have been wrong about those highlanders,” he admitted softly. Tristan’s only answer was a smile.

  After a time, Tristan saw his forces gather on the field. Their great numbers would soon be easily visible to the enemy, and he was counting on that.

  With their weapons gleaming in the sun, thousands of Minions stood in tightly formed phalanxes. Traax and Ox were at their head. Ahead of the phalanxes were hundreds of mounted highlander horsemen, their colorful clothes in direct contrast to the Minions’ dark hair and body armor. Knowing that they were about to go into battle, the highlander warhorses pawed the ground and strained against their bits and reins.

  We will soon know, Tristan thought as he looked back at Wigg. May the Afterlife be with us.

  He gave Wigg a nod. Wigg nodded in return.

  The First Wizard raised one hand. An azure bolt shot from his fingertips and went flying into the air, signaling that the attack should start.

  At once the highlander horsemen charged toward the Recluse while half the Minions flew low cover. The other half ran across the ground behind them. It was a breathtaking sight. Even from the deck of theTammerland Tristan could feel the ground tremble as his forces gathered speed and tore for the Recluse. To draw Serena’s forces out as quickly as possible, the highlanders and Minions started screaming out insults and epithets of every conceivable kind.

  As expected, shrews again surfaced from the lake to face their foes. Snarling and shaking their heads, they thundered toward the approaching Conclave forces. As the two terrible armies charged, Tristan turned his spyglass toward the Recluse walls. Wigg remained by his side, waiting for Tristan’s next order.

  Come, you bastards, the prince’s mind begged.

  And then he saw them. Like the time before, thousands of small areas on the Recluse walls started shifting, telling him that Serena’s flying creatures were about to join the battle. Now there could be no reprieve, no turning back from the Conclave’s plan.

  “Do it!” Tristan shouted at Wigg.

  At once the First Wizard loosed another azure bolt into the air. This time it was a signal to Faegan, Aeolus, and Jessamay. Then Wigg raised his arms, just as Tristan knew the other three Conclave mystics would be doing. As the prince turned his gaze to the lake surrounding the Recluse, he held his breath.

  The entire lake started rising into the air. It was the single-most stunning display of the craft Tristan had ever seen.

  The formula Faegan and Abbey had concocted had three stages, and each one had to work perfectly for the plan to succeed. First, at Faegan’s command the formula would spread quickly throughout the lake. Then the formula would be called on to hold the lake in its original shape as the mystics lifted it into the a
ir. Finally, it had to change the color and consistency of the lake water.

  As the water rose from the lake bed, Tristan was stunned to see that it was indeed keeping its shape. Its inner border matched the fortress walls, while its outer border conformed to the lakeshore boundaries. Not only were thousands of tons of water being lifted into the air, but also everything it contained. Without warning, the mystics allowed wounded shrews, rocks, fish, and water vegetation to go crashing back to the empty lake bed. As the oddly shaped ring of water rose toward the Recluse’s wall tops, Tristan smiled as he watched Serena’s stunned consuls and Valrenkians leave their posts and run for their lives.

  Soon Tristan saw the suspended lake water surrounding the Recluse turn dark red. The crimson liquid was stunning as it twinkled with the craft and literally hung there in space. Now there was only one more thing to be done.

  Tristan looked over at Wigg to see that the First Wizard’s face had reddened mightily from the strain, and that his entire body was shaking. Then he saw Wigg partly relax. Tristan knew that without the First Wizard’s powers, Faegan, Aeolus, and Jessamay would be working harder to keep the lake aloft, but it couldn’t be helped. As Wigg pointed his arms toward the Recluse and brought the final part of the spell, Tristan again looked toward the hovering body of water.

  With a thunderous crash, the lake water exploded.

  Crystalline beads of sticky, red water burst forth in every direction, flooding the Recluse walls and deluging the sky. The red drops flew high and wide, bathing everything they touched in their crimson embrace.

  When Tristan saw thousands of red shapes suddenly leave untouched spots behind on the walls, he knew that his mystics had succeeded. Because the endowed water landed atop the creatures’ skin, even if their color changed they would still be seen. Unfazed, the thousands of red flying creatures did their duty to the Vagaries, and started hurtling through the sky toward Tristan’s forces.