Wartorn Obliteration w-2

by Robert Asprin

  "Care for a drink?" he asked, solicitously.

  "Thank you, General Weisel," Raven said.

  Dardas chuckled soundlessly to himself. This was, of course, still Weisel's body. But, for the moment at least, it was Dardas who once more had complete control of it. He had discovered that when Weisel slept, he, Dardas, could assume command of the body. It had taken some practice, but now he had full power. Even now, pouring a drink for Raven and one for himself, he was aware of Weisel's slumbering consciousness.

  Weisel had control while he was awake in the daytime. But the night, it seemed, belonged to Dardas. He was pleased with this new development.

  Today, the army had moved in around Trael, surrounding it. The city had no defenses that could begin to stand against the Felk forces. The elite guerrilla squad had been Far Moved inside the city. Their goal was to take Trael's ruling council hostage and force a surrender. By morning, Trael would probably do just that.

  It was a rather unassertive way to fight a war, Dardas thought. But it was what Weisel wanted.

  "I appreciate you reporting here so late," Dardas said.

  "I am happy to be of service, General... anytime." A small sultry smile just curled her lips as she sipped her drink.

  Dardas eyed her. He had learned that this Vadya, whose body this was, was a courtesan back in Felk. She certainly was a beautiful woman. Yet, Dardas still had the instinctive impression that this was Raven, the plump girl from the Academy who had put herself bravely in harm's way to save Weisel from assassination.

  "How do you like being an officer?" he asked.

  "I am still absorbing that fact, frankly."

  Dardas laughed. "You'll get used to it. Remember, as chief of Military Security you'll have a kind of ecumenical authority."

  They had reviewed the details of the new position last evening, while Weisel was still awake. Military Security was going to be for this army what Abraxis's Internal Security Corps was for the rest of the empire.

  "You understand that I don't wish to create a climate of fear among my troops," Dardas said.

  "Of course, General. We discussed that at length," Raven said.

  "But I do need to know if anyone in the ranks is discontent or disloyal enough to try to kill me."

  "In general, you're very popular with the troops, according to my own observations," she said.

  "The regular troops, yes." Dardas nodded. "But what about among the wizards?"

  "Actually, from what I've seen and heard traveling with that company of magicians, they respect you. You don't treat them with the same severe discipline that we all knew at the Academy."

  Dardas had learned from Raven just what conditions were like at that magic training school, where students had to swear constant allegiance to Lord Matokin and were encouraged to denounce each other for any disloyalties. Whatever else such treatment did, it had the effect of turning out paranoid, anxious magicians.

  "I have respect for those wizards," Dardas half-lied. He still wasn't entirely comfortable having so many of those magic-users under his command. "I respect my regular troops, too. They've proven themselves in battle. We've come so far in so short an amount of time."

  "History will remember this time," Raven said, smiling again. "And remember you."

  "Bah!" Dardas threw up his hand. "Being remembered by history isn't so great a prize, I can tell you."

  Raven frowned, though on her new face it was more of a coy pout. "How can you say that, General? You'll be remembered for hundredwinters and more as the greatest, most successful war commander since... since..."

  "Since Dardas the Invincible?" he asked, wryly.

  Raven blinked. "Well, yes."

  "Child, one day I may tell you a story, and we will sit and laugh till tears run from our eyes," Dardas said. He was looking deep into her eyes now. Really, she was quite a gorgeous creature.

  Weisel, it seemed, had no interest in the women that Dardas had once regularly sent his aides to fetch. Lord Weisel was single-minded in his determination to master the art of warfare. He didn't distract himself with the pleasures and frivolities of the flesh.

  Then again, Weisel's consciousness was currently fast asleep.

  Dardas moved toward Raven, setting down his drink. He raised a hand and stroked her soft blond hair. She turned slightly away.

  "Do I make you uncomfortable?" He frowned.

  "I... General... should we?" Raven asked in a small voice that was nonetheless a sensual purr.

  "Life is for living, Raven," Dardas said. "You have a new life. Don't waste it."

  His fingers brushed her cheek now. She turned back to him, moved against him, and their mouths met, hungrily. He moved her toward the bed. It was nighttime, his time, and he would do what he liked with it.

  * * *

  Women convinced of their own beauty were, so went the rule, almost always the worst lovers. They entered into a tryst with the belief that the other party must feel supremely privileged to be allowed this intimacy with such grace and loveliness. Men of especially good looks, Dardas mused, were probably the same way.

  But Vadya, while undeniably beautiful, was also a professional when it came to the use of her body. And Raven, who was in control of that body, made up for her inexperience with an eagerness and an exhilaration that were charming. She made for quite a delightful lover, actually.

  Afterward, Dardas dismissed her, though not in a callous manner. He simply told her she needed her rest, and sent her off. He, too, had to sleep. Weisel's body wouldn't be getting much rest if Dardas appropriated it every night while Weisel's consciousness slept.

  Still feeling the luscious afterglow of lovemaking, Dardas fell asleep in his bed.

  He awoke when Weisel did, in the early morning. The Felk noble started out the day with a few limbering exercises, then called for his current aide. He was still following Dardas's routine of rotating his junior officers through the post.

  I think it's time you settled on a permanent aide, Dardas ventured.

  Why do you say that? asked Weisel.

  The whole idea was to familiarize oneself with one's junior officers. Since the start of the war they've all served in the post at least once.

  So, I should pick the best? Weisel asked.

  I recommend Fergon, said Dardas.

  He struck you as the best of the lot?

  The most loyal, anyway. I understand you knew his father.

  Fergon? Weisel considered a moment. Of course! Fergon's father is a nobleman in Felk. We used to meet at the social clubs. A fine man.

  Dardas said, Then perhaps his son would serve well as your permanent aide.

  I wonder if you have any other motive for recommending him.

  General Weisel, as you've pointed out, we are in this together. It's in my interest to provide you with the best counsel I can.

  Weisel pondered it. Very well. I'll make the arrangements later.

  Weisel's current aide stood in attentive silence during the wordless debate. At last, Weisel called for the morning reports. There had been no word from the elite unit that had infiltrated Trael, despite the fact that they had a Far Speak wizard with them.

  "That is disquieting," Weisel muttered, throwing aside the scroll. "Assemble the senior staff," he ordered his aide.

  Weisel stood brooding. He didn't venture outside the pavilion, not even to take a breath of fresh air. Dardas knew that Weisel had been quite shaken up by that assassination attempt. Dardas, too, had been alarmed, but he was more familiar with danger, with the immediacy of death. The constant circle of bodyguards had been Weisel's idea. Frankly, it was getting on Dardas's nerves.

  I thought the guerrillas would have captured Trael's ruling council by now, Weisel said, with some anxiety.

  The mission may have failed, Dardas said.

  What? Weisel's heart beat hard in his chest.

  Come now, General Weisel. It was a good plan, for what it was. You were concerned with taking Trael without taking any undue risks. We h
atched this scheme along those lines. A minimal risk of manpower with a maximum result, if the operation was successful. It is possible it was not.

  Weisel wrung his hands. You're very matter-of-fact about it.

  Dardas felt a surge of disgust. This is war! Every plan isn't going to go off without a hitch. There will be mistakes. You may lose troops due to errors beyond your control. Or you may lose them for blunders you and you alone are responsible for. But that's the point. You are responsible!

  Weisel drew a deep breath. You're telling me I should act like a general.

  If Dardas still had control of Weisel's facial muscles, he would have sneered. He said, Yes. Act like one.

  Because, Dardas added in the privacy of his own thoughts, no matter how hard you try you will never be the military leader you so ardently wish to be. You simply do not have the gift.

  But Weisel heard none of this last.

  The senior staff came into the pavilion. There was much debate, but it was based more on opinion and intuition than any verifiable facts. All anybody could tell Weisel was that no communications had come from inside the city, via that Far Speak wizard who was with the unit.

  "Perhaps the mage has been killed," suggested one of the officers.

  "If the mission was successful," said another, "we would know by now. Trael would have surrendered."

  "Maybe taking their rulers hostage wasn't enough of an incentive for the people to give up their city," said a third officer.

  "Enough!" Weisel said sharply. The senior staff fell silent.

  It's time for action, General Weisel, Dardas advised.

  Weisel evidently agreed. He said, "Trael is ours to take. We certainly have the manpower and resources. We will invade the city. I want operations to commence within the watch. We shall lead off with a barrage from our archers, then send in the infantry. We will hit them from four sides, simultaneously. I want to know the best points of incursion. Resistance will not be tolerated. Every citizen of conscription age will be rounded up. All monies will be confiscated from the city. I expect the fall of Trael to occur before the sun sets. See that it happens!"

  It was a forceful performance. Even Dardas was impressed. The senior officers scurried away to see to the invasion.

  That is how you command an army, General Weisel. You may make the wrong decisions, but it's important that you do make them.

  Even if they are wrong? asked Weisel.

  Even so. Your troops want decisiveness. In my day, I had the absolute loyalty of every man and woman under my command.

  No need to gloat, General Dardas.

  Dardas was amused.

  Trael's falling was predetermined. The city-state simply couldn't muster anything to stave off the invasion. This was to be the fifth city to fall to the Felk, Dardas noted. Where was the opposition? Where were those of this Isthmus who wanted to preserve their independence against the onslaught of total Felk rule? It was discouraging.

  Do you think we'll lose many troops here? Weisel asked.

  Some, probably. If Trael was going to surrender of its own volition they'd have done it already. That means they intend to fight.

  Weisel sighed. He called again for his aide.

  "Tell the senior staff I want to know what happened to our guerrilla unit. If possible, I want whoever in that city is responsible for their fate brought to me."

  "Yes, General." The aide saluted and hurried out.

  You're taking it too personally, Dardas observed.

  How should I take it? Weisel asked darkly.

  Like a general. So the mission failed. That doesn't mean you failed.

  But you said I was responsible, said Weisel.

  You are. You take on the burden of making the final decisions. But you succeed when you accept that hardship, regardless of the relative success or failure of an individual operation.

  Weisel put a hand to his head. Even with his newfound confidence, this was evidently quite a lot for him to handle.

  For a fleeting moment, Dardas almost pitied the man. He was after all not built for this sort of thing. He was a noble who was playacting the role of a general, something far beyond his abilities. He had agreed, at Lord Matokin's request, to serve as the host body for Dardas. Weisel could really only hope to achieve a reflected glory, a surrogate fame. Certainly he didn't have the talent to lead an army, no matter what bits and pieces of command stature and military strategy he'd managed to garner from Dardas during their cohabitation of this body.

  But Dardas's pity quickly evaporated. Weisel was vain and weak. If Dardas had faced him on the field of battle, with both men commanding their own armies, Weisel wouldn't have survived. He was a fraud.

  And Dardas was committed to helping him maintain that facade.

  "I wish I wasn't so tired," Weisel said out loud, stifling a yawn.

  Perhaps you didn't sleep well, Dardas suggested while he secretly laughed.

  The senior staff reported back individually. Weisel, at Dardas's prompting, approved the incursion routes. Really, they could hit Trael any way they liked and the invasion couldn't fail.

  All the while Weisel remained inside the pavilion, while his guards kept the tent encircled. It was, in Dardas's opinion, a very unexciting way to conduct an invasion, not the sort of thing Dardas would have done in his time as a Northland war commander. It occurred to him quite abruptly that he very much missed those days, his original life, when war was a way of daily life and his victories soon became uncountable.

  War was, in fact, his natural element.

  Soon, the invasion was under way. Reports came back to the pavilion that the archer companies had launched their salvos, picking off a number of Trael's defenders. Then the infantry was moving in, storming the city's streets. Weisel received fresh reports throughout.

  As expected, there were light casualties for the Felk. They were very light actually, the sort of numbers Dardas or any other seasoned officer wouldn't have been concerned about for longer than a moment.

  Weisel, however, was agitated. This was, after all, the first invasion he was ostensibly commanding. Dardas had decidedly been the prime mover behind the assaults on Callah, Windal, U'delph, and Sook.

  I'm losing brave men and women, Weisel said mournfully.

  Soldiers fight and soldiers die, said Dardas. Bravery figures into it less often than you imagine.

  That's rather heartless, General Dardas.

  It was yet another example of why this man was so unfit for the role he had assumed. Dardas said, It is a bloodthirsty business. There's no escaping it. But did you imagine the Isthmus could be captured for Lord Matokin by peaceful means?

  Weisel, examining the latest field map, said, No. Or if I ever did, it was a foolish mistake, right?

  Right.

  Trael did fall before sunset, as Weisel had commanded. The Felk cut down the city's defenders until the few that remained surrendered. The members of the ruling council were ordered brought before General Weisel, but the order could not be obeyed. Those council members, four in all, had drunk poison, apparently just before the invasion commenced.

  The bodies of the Felk guerrilla unit were discovered. The report Weisel received was sketchy. No witnesses to or perpetrators of their murders had yet been found.

  "They died bravely," Weisel pronounced to his senior staff, on receiving the news.

  Careful, General Weisel, Dardas cautioned. You don't know that. They might simply have bungled the mission.

  Later came the business of occupying the city. As mammoth an undertaking as this was, this army had performed the feat before. The various specialty units moved in to do their jobs.

  Eventually, when Weisel's direct input was no longer needed for the business at hand, he summoned Fergon and explained that he was to be the general's permanent aide.

  "I'm very honored, sir!" said the young man with freckles.

  Weisel nodded. "I will be allowing my officers to make a few personal communications with Felk via Far Speak. Do y
ou think you might be contacting your father?"

  "Most definitely, General. I can't wait to tell him the news!"

  Weisel smiled. "Then be so good as to tell him, from me, that when the red grass turns green, the dogs will come home." He gave the junior officer a wink. "Your father will know what it means."

  Fergon looked delighted as Weisel dismissed him.

  Dardas, too, was pleased. It had gone as he had hoped. The last time Fergon had served as aide, back when Dardas still had exclusive control of this body, the freckly fool had used that same cryptic phrase from his father on him, expecting Dardas to know the proper secret response. Dardas, of course, hadn't. He had worried that Fergon might become suspicious about "Weisel's" behavior. Now, Weisel himself had smoothed everything over.

  You know, General Weisel, you are right. Things are better when we cooperate.

  BRYCK (2)

  The consistency had taken some while to refine. At first it had caked, then flaked; then it was too runny, sliding off Bryck's face at the least suggestion of body heat. With a little help from other members of the Broken Circle it was correct now.

  It was still uncomfortable, provoking a maddening urge to itch, but as a disguise it was impeccable. Also simple. It appealed to Bryck. There was a certain bold panache about it. The Felk garrison was still searching for him, and he was now walking about in the daylight, unmolested, undetected.

  Tyber gave him the sly nod, and Bryck concentrated, expecting and feeling the pressure around his skull and the mild wave of feverish chill. Tyber was juggling the three leather balls with a brash dexterity. He was competent enough keeping the trio of objects skipping through the air, but what held their audience was his accompanying patter, a mixture of ribald witticisms and fast awful puns.

  Tyber's hands were gloved. Of a sudden one of the three balls erupted into flame, followed just as inexplicably by the second, then the third. The audience, a crowd of about twenty by now, sucked in a collective breath. It was a good trick. Good because as impressive as it was, everyone watching it no doubt thought it was a trick. Sleight of hand. Fakery.