Arthur H. Landis - Camelot 01

by A World Called Camelot

  “But how,” I asked, “were they not aware of your interference, of your creation of a sterile planet? Surely they must have suspected?”

  “The answer lies in that simultaneously with their invasion —for this took place across the space of a hundred Galactic years—nuclear war broke out between opposing factions on Alpha, along with first attempts at space travel. The resultant Holocaust, though falling short of complete planetary destruction, presented a logical reason for the sterility. As for Alpha’s remnants, taken to Fregis-Camelot in the few ships available … well, we destroyed their memories; this, so that they would not again return to Alpha until such time as a solution had been found to the problem of the intruder, the force. We would point out that in the absence of a magnetic field, destroyed by the force in the creation of the space warp, sterility was easy to achieve.”

  “And it was not aware of your interference.”

  “All was attributed to both the warp and the nuclear Holocaust. From that, they supposed, came the sterility.”

  “In Hooli’s music there was a hint of galactic destruction beyond that of just the single planet, Alpha.”

  “This was a suggestion of the struggle in terms of that other universe; a suggestion of what may well happen here if the force in the long run was to prevail.”

  “Sounds pretty pat”

  “It is pat.”

  “All right,” I said. “Here comes the big one. Why have you not just destroyed the gateway and the force, yourselves? You, seemingly, have the power… .”

  “That is a question, Harl Lenti, Sir Collin, that we are not prepared to answer. Think what you will—that we are weak, that we have other games to play. We say only this: That our goal is a Camelot-Fregis free of the force; a planet Alpha fertile and with a proper field; and a gateway closed until such time as controls can be instituted over any contact with that alien universe so as to guarantee the safety of our own…”

  “There is a lot unanswered.”

  “And so it will remain.”

  “You know, then, of us, of the Galactic Foundation?”

  “We do.”

  “What if we isolate Alpha for total destruction, as a precautionary measure?”

  “We would prevent you. But your Foundation will not do this. For you cannot tell them what we have told you.”

  “I already have—an instantaneous tape at my last message period.”

  The Pug-Boo’s smiles were wider still and their auras halo-like. “There was no message. Your tape was blank.”

  “You bastards.”

  “And also, Sir Collin, what you now know of us can be imparted to no one either. Such an effort, in your idiom, would boggle your mind, bring on an instantaneous mental paralysis. We caution you not to try it”

  “You dirty bastards,” I said again. Then finally I sighed. “All right You sent for me. I’ve been subjected to a thousand bits of nonsense. Now let’s have done with it What’s the denouement? What is this ‘simple’ job that I am to do, that you cannot do?”

  “There is nothing that we ‘cannot do.’ We simply prefer that you do it—for our own reasons.”

  “Great Gods!” I said glumly, and to no one in particular. “Six years with the Foundation, the rank of Adjuster, and I’ve just been reduced to the rank of a pawn on the chessboard by a trio of teddy bears… .”

  “But,” said Hooli—and I knew it was he, for he leaned toward me and winked in the saying—”the pawn has already taken the princess, who will someday be queen. Is not that single thing worth all the rest to you?”

  “You sure know how to reach a guy,” I said. “Yes! It damn well is worth ‘all the rest’ to me. Now speak up. What’s the pawn’s next move… ?”

  “Exactly what you yourself already intend doing. Rescue the princess… . You will return to your small ship and thence to the mountains of lit. The Vuun has most wisely, after returning Prince Keilweir to Kelb, kept your princess and her companion as hostage in their game with Om. While rescuing the princess you will also dissuade the Vuuns from participating in the coming battle. This will be a disastrous ploy against the Kaleen, who counts heavily on their support”

  “And how does one explain my ability to fly through the air?”

  “The Vuuns need no explanation. They are as old as time. They know of space travel—and more. We even suspect that they know of the Kaleen’s true origin. As for the princess— well, ‘tis magic that you practice, sirrah! What else?”

  “You’re just the greatest.” I sighed.

  “We think so, too,” Hooli said.

  “And all of this is to happen just like that?”

  “If you don’t blow the game, Buby.”

  They had begun to fade, so I shouted mentally: “Thanks, you bastards. Thanks at least for the healed wounds. Maybe that’s what you really are—a bunch of small-planet pharmacists…”

  “No trouble,” Hooli’s voice came faintly. “It was no trouble at all.”

  The relaxation came again. An hour of it, two hours. Every fiber in my body—as in those brief moments on the flagstones of Goolbie’s courtyard—was washed with a “goodness” of peace, a rebuilding of tired and weary cells, a replenishing of bright red blood. … I let it happen.

  Then I arose and woke Charney and Hargis, who awakened Griswall and Tober. And we dressed, attending to each other’s armor. Fresh surcoats, underdress and padded long-shirts, buckled swords and fal-dirks. We made our way through the dark halls to the yard and the men-at-arms around the gate warden I asked for but tea dottles, including Henery. My stalwarts were surprised at this, for they did not know what I knew. Then we rode out across the bridge and into the silvery night. And the gate -warden was surprised at that, for he still feared dead-alives.

  The path took us down from the field before Glagmaron castle and onto the “Great South Road.” As we came off the castle hill we could see to our northeast, spread before the walls of Olagmaron city, the rows of tents and dottle rings of the gathered army of the lord Fon Tweel. Fires blazed so that the field seemed an acreage sown with flaming embers.

  My men asked no questions. I told them nothing. That is the way h had to be. We had but twenty miles to travel. We reached the area of the starship in exactly one hour. I led them off the road and up the bluff to where, but a short ten days ago, I had awaited the coming of the princess Murie Nigaard and entourage. At the top, in a small hollow at the base of a stand of trees, I asked them to unsaddle their dottles and let them forage, and to gather around me.

  They did this, and the second moon illuminated our little group in such a way that we were as statuary in a wild and primitive garden.

  I made use of the one weapon—if one could call it that-allowed me by the Foundation: the weapon of hypnosis. It was a simple trick of misdirection, of concentration, and of final control so that within the space of minutes they lay around me in deep sleep. I made them as comfortable as I could then, wrapping each in his saddle blanket against the cold of the night and the heat of tomorrow’s sun. The trees would offer some protection, and the dottles would stay close. Whatever. They would be here for some time—until I was ready for them.

  Then I went to the back of the hill where I had left the ship. I pressed a belt stud to activate the field around it. Once done I gave the numbers, aloud and strongly (shades of Camelot): “Three-seven … two-nine … four-one-” I waited, and slowly, slowly, before my eyes the little starship took form, first wavering, then becoming solid. And there it was, all thirty feet of it, snub-nosed and competent… .

  A simple movement in time; a shift in perspective. It was like coming home. … I entered, and once again I was Kyrie Fern, Adjuster. Damn the Pug-Boos to Hell—and the Kaleen, and all the controlled variables that dared to name me pawn! I had played the game all the way. What had the Boos done to date? Other than a propitious Band-Aid, all achievement had been my doing—mine and the Foundation’s. And why should I believe them in their claim to power over the Foundation—though I r
ecalled that they hadn’t exactly said that I then chose in my anger to forget that my death had been somewhat delayed in Goolbie’s courtyard; that in all that had happened the Pug-Boos’ manipulation had indeed been shaking the web. In one thing, however, I was right My quite positive contribution so far was based on my own initiative. Whatever the Boos were up to, without me and the Foundation that first page might never have been turned at an. So let it be then, I concluded. There was still a job to do, indeed, “a world to win,” as in the old cliche. But I would play it my way—as if there were no Boos at all.

  I settled into the contour seat before the control panel. Within seconds I was a shimmering, silvered dot above the brooding green of Marack’s forests. I followed the great road, scanning, enlarging wherever a point of interest appeared, but checking each aspect of that well-traveled path. Camelot-Fregis looked more beautiful from aloft, if such could be possible, than from the ground. I had not appreciated it before. I did now. I would not run to my princess immediately as the Boos had suggested. For though I truly loved her I thought her sufficiently strong to stand Vuun stink for a few more tens of hours. I would apply the Foundation Adjuster Kyrie Fern-Sir Collin finger to the now baking pie in my own way. I would tie the strings of our far-flung battle lines together, first The Kaleen saw the board as a whole. The forces of Marack did not I damn well intended to provide that service despite the cautioning of the Foundation to retreat to the game of hide-and-seek, and the smug suggestion of the Boos that I play the game as they saw it.

  Best damn them all! I would indeed by the hero-mythos Collin, and that was that!

  Over forests and rivers, across villages, fields, and sparkling lakes. The ship was a silvered blue with a metal skin of chameleon potential. I could see and not be seen.

  Smoke rose over the dour aerie of great Castle-Gortfin. I learned later that it had fallen because those of Garonne’s loyal subjects within its walls had taken and held the gates in aid of an attack from without The Yorns and soldiery pledged to Lady Elioseen had fought to the last for each room, each stair, each cavernous hall beneath that great stone mass. The magic of Elioseen had been evenly matched by that of the king’s sorcerer, Fairwyn. The magic of Camelot, created by the Kaleen, and known equally well by north and south, had canceled itself out again, and the lady Elioseen was now a prisoner. The gates to Gortfin were open, too; the drawbridge was down. A few hundred men had been left to garrison the walls, and the banners of the king floated from its highest towers. The Marackian army had moved south as of four days before; they had not waited for Oortfin’s fall. When I spotted them, they were breaking camp (it was still early morning). Pickets were out. Small parties of cavalry were already moving through the countryside. They were many miles from Gortfin.

  I then passed over many a Kelbian town and village, a great plain ringed with rocky hills and one burned-out small volcanic cone known as the plain of Dunguring, and finally the main port city and capital of Corchoon. The mixed Omnian-Seligian-Kerchian fleet had not yet arrived. This I knew by the rather sparse shipping in the quite beautiful, natural harbor. But a Kelbian army was encamped on the flat and grassy plain to the west of Corchoon. I estimated its strength at twenty thousand. And the herds of fat dottles to their rear spoke of a numerous cavalry.

  Focusing on the royal Kelbian tents, I spied King Harlach and Keilweir himself, an aglitter in silvered armor. Two companies of Yorns were camped on their right, along with an equal number of Omnian soldiery. They were calmly playing at stits, a game of balls and spears and shields. Their appearance suggested that they hadn’t a care in the world. This, despite the fact that their spies must certainly have told them of the advancing Marackian army.

  I studied them closely and saw that their lines were well disposed for either attack or defense, depending upon their strength and strategy.

  With Omnian forces arriving shortly, the deck was definitely stacked. Om’s muster of two hundred and fifty thousand men, plus this twenty thousand of Kelb, plus whatever Great Ortmund would bring to bear—plus the possible participation of the Vuuns—all of it together boded no good for Marack. One would be a fool to think otherwise. I suspected that all this force would move forward to that great plain of Dunguring for the final confrontation.

  I sent my little craft to north and west then, over the lush coastal valleys and plains, and inland. I crossed the borders between Great Ortmund and Kelb at some three hundred miles from Corchoon. Already masses of Ortmundian warriors could be seen making their way toward Kelb’s capital. Then more towns. More villages. And finally, Janblink, capital of Great Ortmund. Like Corchoon and Glagmaron, any town that could be called such was protected by a castle. Janblink castle was a thing of absolute beauty, an arras, a sculptured totality of all things medieval. Perched on a granite hill overlooking a rushing river, with a dozen great turrets, a monstrous encircling ravine with a veritable “bi-frost bridge” as an entry to portcullis and gate—I could only marvel and stare.

  Further scanning revealed it to be well defended. And I knew that the Marackian warlords of Keeng, Fleege, and Klimpinge would make no attempt to take it, but rather would bypass it for a later storming.

  Like a gadfly, I zipped further inland. Ten miles to the foot, beyond Castle Janblink, I came upon the beginnings of a small battle. Lord Breen Hoggle-Fitz’s five thousand had caught the Ortmundian rear guard with its back against a craggy pass. They were deployed on the fields before this pass now. And Camelot’s rising sun, Fomalhaut, shone upon a scene in which Hoggle-Fitz was preparing to advance against them in classical array: a wing of archers to either flank; foot soldiers and men-at-arms in the center, and a phalanx of heavy cavalry to the front—with Hoggle, himself, at point.

  I could see that the Ortmundian rear guard would meet them with a smaller force, but similarly deployed—or so it would seem to Hoggle. From my mile-high vantage, however, I knew better. To Hoggle-Fitz’s right, hidden in a small valley, were additional squadrons of heavy cavalry, half of them Yorns; easily sufficient to turn Fitz’s flank. His archers could never sustain the charge they would mount. The ground sloped down from the valley in such a way that the horde’s momentum, at the point of impact, would be terrible indeed.

  A small creek split the field, shallow, easily forded, with banks about five feet from water level. It was about forty feet wide. It would present no obstacle to a force prepared for it. Since it was closer to Hoggle-Fitz’s array than to that of the enemy, it was dear that his entire line would cross this creek long before contact was made.

  I had twenty minutes at best to interfere. Two of them were used in landing behind a ridge in a grove of broad-leafed trees. I damped the ship, and moved off, carrying my colors with me. I noted as I topped the rise above Fitz’s base camp that a number of animals were also on the ridge. They bad chosen this vantage point to watch the battle. All Gamelot’s mammals seemed to possess this curious proclivity. I grabbed a likely looking dottle from the herd, had him saddled by the herd-master, chose a lance from a sufficiency of such at Hoggle’s armory, attached my colors to its tip, and rode off to smite the heathen. Since the event of Glagmaron’s tournament was still fresh in the minds of the Marackian warriors, I even received a smattering of cheers as I rode through the first ranks on the right flank of Hoggle’s now advancing force. The commander of these five hundred archers with his small covey of men-at-arms welcomed me warmly.

  “Ho-la, my lord,” he said, laughing. They were in good spirits. “You come in good moment. We are about to force yonder pass, which should take but a fistful of minutes. Indeed, sirrah! Though we welcome your prowess, we need it not. Rest here, sir, and from this vantage point you may observe all that will come to pass.”

  I raised a steel-gauntleted hand. “Two things first,” I cautioned. “Send a message to our lord Hoggle-Fitz that you will hold to this side of that little creek, and that he in turn should allow the right wing of his center to lag somewhat. This will present a front to a few squadrons of ca
valry which will come at you from yon”—and I gestured—”hidden valley. With this precaution, and with your archers positioned to feather their hides with your shafts from this side of the creek, their disposition will then be upset And the advance you speak of will then continue without peril… . Hurry! For there is little time.”

  He didn’t bother to ask me how I knew this. He just shook bis head and grinned. Within seconds two riders were streaking to the center van where Hoggle-Fitz’s pennons waved arrogantly.

  We drew up to the creek and positioned ourselves, passing the word down the front of our thousand. I focused my contacts to as many magnitudes as were necessary for a clear scanning of the valley mouth, and waited. The newly risen sun being against us, our young commander—I found later that he was Sir Mordi Tornweedi, nephew to the lord Per-Rondin, captain of the king’s center—was shielding his eyes now. His riders and archers did likewise. And the dottles, sensitive to the situation, stamped their paws and whoooed. Then I saw the enemy squadrons. They emerged from the hidden valley at a slow but quickening gallop, so that when a full five hundred riders had come into view they were already streaking toward the flank of our advancing army in a thundering, shrieking froth of leveled lances and swinging swords. They were indeed a beautiful sight. They wore heavy armor, most of them being heggles mixed with Yorns. There would be, I thought, no stopping them short of a matching force. But that force was there.