by Lyndon Hardy
“OK, you got it,” Phobos said. He flew up to join his mates and then picked a target for himself. As he had been instructed, he flew until he hovered a hand span above it and started to spin. He rotated faster and faster, almost to the point that he became dizzy, but not quite. The friction of his body pulled the air and the hovering machine into a tight funnel, making the two of them opaque by its rapid motion.
Shouts of amazement began ascending from the ground, and Phobos smiled. He always liked that part. The speed increased a tiny bit more, and to his surprise the flying machine rose to smack him in the butt. Ah, wrong direction, he thought. The wizard had told him that might happen.
As quickly as he could, he decelerated and then started spinning again — but in the opposite direction. When he got to full speed, the flying machine began to fall away from him, just as the wizard also had predicted. Maintaining his centrifugal speed, he lowered himself gently, depositing the machine on the ground. He had made the device lose all of its lift.
SLOW EDDIE pointed skyward excitedly. What looked like small tornados had appeared in the air and were moving toward the drones.
“Whirling dervishes,” Briana called to him. “Little demons that can swirl the air. A wizard, a rogue one, is on Slammert’s side.”
“We lost the advantage of being able to see the entire battlefield, Slow Eddie yelled. “We are blind without the drones.”
“Briana, we need you.” Jake’s voice came through the confusion. “The flanks are collapsing. They are insufficiently trained. Come and show yourself. They need to see you have not abandoned them, to see who they are fighting for.”
There was a pause, and then Jake yelled again, this time for all to hear. “For Briana. For the Daughter of the Archimage. For my… for my love.”
Briana’s feeling fluttered for a moment when what Jake had yelled hit home. But no time to think about that now. She looked at the flanks of their battle line. Jake was right. They were winning in the center but losing on the edges. And if the flanks rolled back, the center would not be able to stand. They needed more help, but from where? All of the journeymen and apprentices who had agreed to fight were already engaged, wounded or dead. There was no one left in the academy except for the women.
The women! Yes, the women, Briana realized. Ashley. Irma. Insight from her sojourn on Earth. The customs there were not entirely the same as those here. At the academy: cooks: scullery maids, field workers, and all the rest. No one had thought about them when the forces were marshalled. Except for a showpiece like herself, they were never called to battle. On Murdina, such things were not done.
She slapped the short sword on her side. And why not!
Briana ran back to the academy grounds and grabbed the arm of the first maid she saw. “Your exotic one. The one from another world. He is in danger. You can help save him.”
She pushed the thought of what would happened afterward out of her mind. That too was for later. “Round up all of the others. Arm yourself with whatever you can. Pitchforks, scythes. Anything with a long handle and a sharp edge at the end.”
A Tale for the Sagas
“THERE! THAT is where we are needed.” Briana pointed toward the left flank. “Remember to keep a firm two-hand grip on your weapon. Your opponent will try to knock it away.”
She looked back at the cadre she had assembled. Twenty; maybe twenty-five. The number did not matter. They would do what had to be done. Secure the flank so that all would not be lost. She pulled her sword from its sheath.
“For Jake. For Jake, the Exotic. Save him from his fate.”
“For Jake,” the women yelled back. “For Jake, the Exotic.”
They formed into a rectangle three rows deep. Pitchforks in the first two rows, those in the second thrusting between the carriers in the first. Scythes in the rear handled by the youngest, the most nimble, ready to loop around and swing swift death from the sides.
Briana stood in front of them all. With a swift trot she led them onto the battlefield from the rear and aimed for the crumbling line on the left.
As they approached, the encircling attackers stopped their advance. At first they shouted a war cry and turned to face the new opponents. But as the women came closer, their jaws dropped open. Almost instinctively, they lowered their swords, puzzled.
“Get back to your kitchens,” one yelled. “We do not fight wenches. There is no glory in that. Get back to your kitchens. You will have your hands full with us after we take care of man’s business here.”
Briana did not respond. She continued trotting up to the man in the center of the line and stopped.
With a flourish, the man facing her, dipped his blade to the ground. “Well?” he taunted.
Briana did not hesitate. With a smooth motion, she slashed her sword across his neck.
The warrior’s eyes bulged. “We do not fight — ” he tried to say again before he slumped to the ground with blood coursing over his tunic.
The other women charged forward, pushing with their pitchforks against the line of men. Those in the third row whipped out to the sides swinging their blades. Slammert’s men, shocked into action began parrying the thrusts, pushing the blades of some of the forks into the ground.
But they could not bring themselves to swing their own weapons in attack. Cautiously they retreated one step backwards and then two. Those on the ends of their line cried in sudden pain as the scythes sliced true.
Briana sensed that they had to seize the moment now, before all of the shock wore off and the men could fully comprehend that they had comrades on the ground. She swung her sword left and right, deflecting other blades before they could do any harm.
Two more of the men fell, and then almost in unison, four threw down their arms and collapsed to their knees in surrender. The apprentices of the line seeing what was happening gathered fresh courage. Not to be outdone by mere women, one by one, they rejoined the fight. The flank disintegrated into a disorganized mêlée.
The effect was contagious. The center bulge grew deeper and broke through. Slammert’s men were divided into two smaller groups. In mere minutes more, the battle was over. Slammert thrust his sword into the ground and bowed like the rest. Most of his warriors began slinking away.
“Briana, I have done it,” Jake said. He looked at Briana’s blood stained tunic. “I mean we have done it. Your father is saved.”
He extended his hand. “It Is the perfect ending to your quest. Come, now is the time for me to be proclaimed consort in truth.”
Without thinking, Briana extended her hand forward to grasp his. Yes, she had a promise to Jake she had to keep, but after that one time…
Her father would be so proud. The problem with Slammert taken care of. Stories of another orb with customs and wonders so different from their own. Yes, a tale for the sagas to be sure. It was going to end well after all.
End well? The thought jarred. No, that is not right. The portal. Fig. Ashley. The counter-incantation. It all was not over yet.
Briana withdrew her hand and ignored the women who filled the void her action created, all clustering around the man they had help save. She ran back to the portal, and flung open the door.
This time, there was a phone laying there.
Briana pressed ‘Play’ and placed her ear to listen.
“Briana, there is something wrong with me. I can’t think straight anymore. I can’t even remember the number to call. Nine, one… something. I don’t know. I used the portal to go to Oscar’s hut. I can’t remember why I did it. I barely could fumble through recording this… The command is so loud now…”
Briana heard a garble and then what sounded like Ashley speaking again but this time as if she were deliberately trying to imitate a male voice.
“I am Dinton, the eldest brother,” the recording said. “It has taken a while, and this subject has been very resistive to my sorcery. But now her will is mine. She is my… my concubine. Angus and I are the only two of our kind left
in these dismal caverns, and if he has one, then so shall I.
“He boasts that in minutes he will conclude an incantation that will prove he is the one to carry the baton. But no matter how potent it is, I will not agree. Possession will be resolved by a vote of our followers, and if his can no longer be found…”
The recording stopped. Briana gasped. Fig was not on his way to the hospital! The counterspell had not been spoken! Angus will speak the words releasing the SF6 into the air in minutes!
“Briana!” Jake shouted.
Briana tried to think. The SCA, Slow Eddie, the Hell’s Devils. They had made the choice to come to Murdina and stay. Jake was the only Earthling left. He would have to be the one to return and save the planet.
“Jake,” she called out. “The incantation. You have to return and speak it.”
“Are you kidding?” Jake yelled back. “I love it here. I want to be with you here.” He tried batting away the arms pulling him from side to side. “Don’t mind them. It is only the excitement of the moment. We will be famous, written up in these sagas that you keep talking about. What happens on the Earth are no longer our concern.”
Briana watched a moment longer, but the conclusion was inescapable. She was the one who was going to have to say the incantation herself.
Instinctively, she glanced up at the counter to see how many portal passages were left.
It felt as if an icepick pierced her heart. She was stunned.
She blinked to make sure, but there was no mistaking what the translation of the symbol meant.”
“1“
One more trip and then the portal would no longer work! If she used it, she could then never return!
“Briana!”
She would have to make a choice. Jake was right. Story over. The perfect ending was here.
But if she did stay. What about Fig? What about Ashley? What about the fate of an entire world?
But. But. There were too many buts. If she stayed, all would end well. If she did go, she would not be able to return — ever!
“It is not supposed to be like this,” she cried aloud.
“Briana!”
Briana sucked in what felt like the deepest breath she had ever inhaled in her life. The happiness of her own life, or the salvation of many. There was only one choice really. She looked back at Jake and shook her head.
“Sorry,” she mouthed without uttering aloud the word. Before she could change her mind, she raced into the portal.
“Briana!”
Only by Her Wits
BRIANA OPENED the portal door, stepped out, and slammed it shut. The magic transport faded away. No time to look back now. She had made her decision.
She ran inside Oscar’s hut and saw Ashley sprawled on the floor, one arm with a rope wrapped tightly around her wrist and the other end tied to a pipe under the sink. Her free arm was reaching, straining, clawing toward the door and the outside.
“I had to make sure,” Ashley said softly. “Sure that I did not go. Dinton, he calls himself. He demanded that I come.” Her eyes rolled back in her head and she hit the floor with a thud.
Papers, books, and trash were scattered everywhere. It was not evident where in the jumble were the words to the counterspell. The computer monitor on the card table showed the same desktop as the one in the warehouse. The exiles had been here since we left.
She ran to where Fig had been tossed aside like a rag doll and looked at him. He was still alive, but barely.
No time. No time left to waste. She already had made one heart-wrenching decision and had to continue relying on her gut to tell her what to do next.
Stop Angus and Dinton. They were the last two aliens left, Maurice’s last message had said. Stop the incantation. But how? She needed a clue?
“Wait! What was that?” Briana said aloud. Something not there before. A cable leading away out of the door. She ran back outside, tightening the straps to her backpack. She began tracing the cable snaking along the ground. She recognized where they were going. Back to the cave.
The entrance. There it was. The cable led inside.
Briana stopped for a moment and ripped the miner’s helmet out of her pack. She put it on, and swung her head from side to side. There, off to the left, the cable led to a little opening, one she and Fig had missed the last time there were here.
She bent down and peered through the hole. Her lamplight revealed a large cavern on the other side. Large — and deep. She would have to scale down its wall, hand over hand.
Briana rid herself of her pack, and slapped the short sword on her side, reassured. It would have to do the deed.
USING ALL her strength, Briana pushed the rock plugging the entranceway to a lower cavern aside. It was hot, oppressively hot. She felt as if she were in the Sahara. No, worse even than that. She had to find Angus and Dinton soon — before her strength gave out.
Briana shone her lamp back and forth. Nothing distinctive either way. Wait! There to the left. A buzz. No, a deep hum. How did a drone get in here? And movement near the limit of illumination. Bands of canary yellow shifting within the ebony black.
Moving as fast as she could, she advanced. A slight turn in direction. And then, on the floor, crumpled like the clothing of an abandoned doll was a pile of bleached burlap. A helmet cast aside nearby. White hair. It was Ursula, blind Ursula.
And above the woman’s prone form… Briana recalled in horror. Insects! Giant insects with long segmented antenna, multifaceted eyes and thick, black, hairy limbs. Two were pinning Ursula to the ground. Another stood partially erect on two legs. Carrying… carrying what looked like an egg — a giant ovoid glistening with slime. Briana took a step backwards. Not this. Not now.
Out of an indentation in the wall to the left, another of the tiger wasps, this one more yellow than black, sprang forward and coiled its forearms around Briana’s throat. Forced to the ground, her helmet clattered away.
Two more wasps appeared, smaller and with stunted wings. Wrapped their forelegs around each of her arms. She tried to use her legs to burst free. Didn’t work. Illuminated in the cast aside lamp, Briana saw yet another wasp approach, this one also carrying an egg. It bent over her and with its huge mandibles ripped her tunic apart from neck to waist.
Briana strained to loosen her sword arm. Slippery and dripping, it became free. Then, almost immediately, another wasp grabbed it. Four arms, not two, pulled her hand back out of the way. She kicked with both legs. Anything. Anything to avoid what she feared would happen next.
Her left arm became unfettered. Reaching clumsily across her chest and down her side, she freed her sword. Thrusted upward. Into the eye of the one with the egg. Ichor, blue as the sky spilled forth, pulsing, pulsing a thick syrup over her chest.
A cloying, sickly smell. Briana coughed. Pheromones. If these wasps were anything like those on Murdina, they would be aroused into a stinging rage. She stabbed again. The other eye.
The wasp dropped the egg and reared. Blinded, it snapped off the arm of one of its brood. More ichor. More rage. The confining arms released her. All of the wasps were angry, ready to kill. Anything that moved was a target, even another of their kind.
Briana sprang to her feet, stabbing. Stabbing as rapidly as she could. Two more eyes gone. Then four. She stumbled over an egg and kicked it out of the way. A sudden pain flash in her leg. Hot and numbing. She had been stung.
Mostly blinded, the wasps tore into one another. Implantation of eggs was no longer of interest. So then, escape. Escape from these creatures now. Coming in this direction was a mistake. She looked down the corridor. Ursula’s face shone in the lamp light. No, do not go further that way.
The blind woman stirred. With surprising strength, she regained her footing.
“Let me lead,” Ursula said. “I’ll use my hands along the wall.”
“Where are Angus and Dinton?”
“Your voice. I recognize it. You are one of Mr. Angus’ enemies.”
Bria
na stopped. Tightened the grip on her sword.
“Dinton asked me to do it,” Ursula continued.
“Wait! What are you saying?”
“Told me to fetch something at the lowest levels. He wanted me to go there. Go there alone. He knew. He knew what I would find.”
“Angus is no better.”
“I know. I know it now. Mr. Angus. His demeanor. Completely changed.” Ursula broke into a sob.
Briana relaxed her grip. “Where are they?”
“I am taking you to them.”
“WE SHOULD be close now,” Ursula said.
“I see a dim glow up ahead,” Briana said. “Go back to the rock that seals the passage to the surface. Push it aside, enter, and close it behind you.”
Without waiting for a reply, Briana pressed forward. It was getting more difficult to move now. Her leg was completely numb. She had to drag it along, using one hand to press against the wall for balance. Merely standing erect was becoming a challenge. Push what happened with the wasps out of her mind. It was an interlude, a distraction. There was a world yet to be saved.
As she approached the increasing light, Briana heard what sounded like the growling of competing tigers. It must be them — Angus and Dinton speaking, although she did not understand a word.
“She is mine, not yours to command,” Angus said. “Share in pleasure, yes, I will grant you that, but not to order about.”
“An oversight,” Dinton replied. “I apologize. When my own slave arrives, then I will have no need.”
“Your own slave,” Angus snorted. “How convenient you should happen to mention that now — on the eve of putting to the vote on who should wear the baton. But no matter. Compose yourself. See the time. Prepare now to witness what I shall cause to come to pass.”
Briana limped into the alcove. She saw that one of the aliens had grey in his fur. That one must be Dinton, the other, Angus, the one they had captured but then managed to escape. There was a microphone sitting on a table. This is from where the incantation was to be cast!