Crystal Warriors

by William R. Forstchen

  Mark gave a sidelong look of amazement to Ikawa. He still wasn't used to the idea of a flesh and blood man calling himself the son of a god. There were times when he thought all of these people were insane blasphemers. But he realized it was best not to challenge such a thing here. Demigod or not, this man had saved him, and he was obviously a prince of great power. If Allic wanted to call himself a demigod, let him.

  The Japanese, with their god-emperor, took such things as a matter of course. He'd have to make sure that Goldberg, who was Jewish, and Smithie, who had a strong streak of the fundamentalist, were kept under control. The last thing Mark needed was a damned religious debate.

  Allic drained his cup and tossed it on the table. "There, that's better. Now, to business." He rose and went to the door.

  "Bring him in, Varma!"

  The door swung open and both Ikawa and Mark rose to their feet. In an instant Ikawa's defensive shield was up, glowing softly in the darkened room.

  Bending low at the waist, a towering form cleared the doorway, then straightened to its full three meter height. Its eyes were like two glowing coals; its face a bizarre and chilling caricature of a blood-red skull that had been covered with scorched parchment. The creature stood in the doorway surveying the three before him and extended its arms to reveal two batlike wings that glowed with a faint phosphorescence and seemed to fill half the room. Seeing Allic it bowed low, its head coming down to eye level.

  Allic looked over at Ikawa and Mark and smiled.

  "No need for the defense, Ikawa. Hort is harmless."

  "But that's a demon," Ikawa blurted.

  "Sure it's a demon, but it's well trained. Why, he's even housebroken," Varma piped in as he planted a swift kick on Hort's shin. The demon grunted and pushed Varma away with a gentle backhanded swing.

  "I've decided to assign him as a guardian to your households. It will give a certain prestige, and protection, to you and your men. And while acting as a protector, he can also teach you the lore and customs of his race," Allic said.

  "But I thought demons were the enemy." Mark was clearly puzzled.

  "Tell him, Hort," Allic replied.

  "I am in service to my lord Allic," Hort said with a low grating voice. "Allic rescued me from certain death when he journeyed to my dimension years ago, and thus I returned with him to Haven, for I pledged him blood debt of a thousand years in repayment. Even demons must keep their word," he finished with a low chuckle.

  "Don't worry," Allic said, noticing the offworlders' anxiety. "I have half a hundred like him in my service. Some are willing, such as Hort; others are prisoners, such as Chaka. All of them take the oath. Occasionally one will break his pledge―but tell them, Hort, what happens to an oath breaker."

  Hort growled. "Never would Hort do such a thing, Lord Allic. For if I did, you would either hunt me down or burn our pact, causing my death and everlasting damnation."

  "If done correctly," Varma interjected, "Allic could make the burning last for years, keeping Hort in constant agony. I like the slower way myself."

  "You would, little one," Hort said coldly, then turned to Mark and Ikawa. "If you are my new lords, know that I, Hort, slayer of forty-three of my foes, will serve you for the remaining six hundred and twenty years of my service."

  Mark was at a loss for words. It wasn't every day that someone offered you your own personal demon to be your household guard.

  "Remember, Hort," Allic commanded, "these two are outlanders. I expect you to teach them well about your people and how to survive against them. But don't trifle with them. They are sorcerers, and I suspect their power will soon be that of masters."

  "But of course," Hort replied, bowing low again so that his wings fluttered and covered them with a scent that was not the most pleasant.

  Turning, the demon lumbered out of the room, while Varma followed him, imitating the demon's movements in an incredibly accurate mime, causing the other three to chuckle.

  Allic turned to Ikawa. "I can feel enormous turmoil within you. What's wrong?"

  "I can learn to deal with Hort," Ikawa said slowly, "but it's just that he looks so damn reptilian,"

  "Why would that bother you?"

  Ikawa hesitated. "It's just that I've had this terrible fear of snakes since I was a child, and Hort made me think of them. I'll get use to him, my lord, it will just take some time."

  "That's why I gave him to you. I want you to be familiar with demons, and through Hort you can learn their ways and how to control them. He's loyal, if only through fear of me and the power of his oath. However, he'll test both of you, seeing just how far he can go. Learning to control him is a part of your training. And speaking of your training, tell me, Mark, how goes yours."

  There was a moment of embarrassed silence.

  "I don't seem to have the ability," Mark said sadly. "My men, and Ikawa's soldiers too, are out there right now with their beams of light and I can barely work up a flicker. I just don't know."

  Allic smiled at him. "It comes at different times and speeds, I can see into you, Mark Phillips, and know that you, like your comrades, can use the Essence of power. Walker has his control because he learned it as a warrior back in your world. Ikawa and his men were warriors similar to Walker, and thus they have the ability to fight as well. But remember that the Essence in a master sorcerer can manifest in several different ways. Great masters can control the Essence in half a dozen ways or more. Perhaps you will never control the blast from the offensive crystal that destroys an enemy. There are other skills."

  "Such as flying?" Mark asked. "I've seen you and some of your sorcerers flying, and yet none of us can get an inch off the ground."

  Ikawa nodded. "To fly like the birds," he said, his voice full of hope, "that would truly be a mastery of power. Among my own people there are Zen masters who, it is said, through long years of practice have mastered the ability to float in the air. Since coming here, that has been my dream. I have spent countless hours alone in my room trying and trying, but with no success."

  Mark smiled at Ikawa. So the two of them had been up at night trying the same damned thing.

  "It just takes the proper motivation," Allic replied. "Just the proper motivation, that's all."

  "Well, how in hell are we to find this motivation? Are you saying I need some Dale Carnegie course to fly? Damn it,"―Mark's frustration started to boil over―"I'm useless on the ground. I want to get back in the air where I belong."

  He was already cursing himself for a fool even as he spoke, for he was letting his frustration show. Never show frustration to a commander, Mark realized, or he'll doubt your ability to command in turn.

  But Allic only shook his head and laughed.

  "Good, good. If you want it, then don't worry, the motivation will be found soon enough."

  Allic drained off another goblet and smacked his lips in appreciation. "Good stuff, this pawinda. Laid it up myself nearly eighty years ago, but the two of you don't strike me as connoisseurs of the finer things. You're men of action, and I like that. Life here, with training all the time, must be getting a little boring for you."

  Mark felt he had said enough already and remained silent. They had been locked away for three tendays of Haven time. There was a whole world out there and he wanted to see it.

  "How about a little mounted patrol this afternoon?" Allic ventured with a smile.

  "Excellent!" Ikawa replied. "I've been waiting to try one of your mounts."

  "Ride?" Mark inquired. Oh no, he thought nervously, not another crisis.

  He knew Ikawa as a Japanese officer took riding as a matter of course. But those things weren't even horses. The creatures called Tals looked more like one-ton Dobermans with leonine fangs.

  "Sure," Mark said, gritting his teeth, "sounds just great."

  "Fine," Allic said, his face alight with a mischievous grin. "After lunch, have Valdez direct all of you down to the stables. My people have chosen suitable mounts for you. I'll meet you at the east gat
e about half a turning after that."

  Mark had long ago roughly calculated that a turning, or a bell, was almost an hour on his old watch. So half a turning...

  Allic stood up as if to signal that the audience was ended, and escorted Ikawa and Mark to the doorway.

  "By the way, Varma reminded me that I've neglected one important part of your comfort." He broke into a broad grin.

  "Oh, we're quite comfortable," Mark replied politely.

  "No, no, if you men are anything like the people of Haven, there is one important detail."

  "I can't imagine what," Ikawa replied. "The training is the best, and for creature comforts our surroundings are magnificent."

  "Not all of them," Allic said. "Varma, get in here―I know you're listening on the other side of that door!"

  The door swung open and the dwarf stepped in. "Only awaiting your command, my lord."

  "Gorm meat. You're eavesdropping again."

  "I'm innocent, my lord, honest."

  "Enough. Do you think you can arrange a little diversion this evening for our new friends?"

  "Of course, of course." Varma looked mischievously at Ikawa and Mark. "What will it be, gentlemen, women or young men?"

  "What?" Mark roared.

  "Well," Varma replied, "I've heard some conversations between your men. Always sex, sex, sex. I don't know what you people do back on your Earth, but on Haven sex is just another form of casual fun. Everybody does it until they make a life pledge to a single partner. And even then..." The dwarf chuckled and looked over at Allic, who roared in appreciation.

  "Dozens of women are dying to spend the night with you outlanders," Varma continued. "They think you might know a new trick or two. But Allic here said to wait until you'd all settled in. So what will it be, gentlemen? Women, or perhaps young men, or both?"

  "Are you calling me a..."

  Ikawa pushed in front of Mark.

  "Ah―why don't you just ask some of the girls to stop by tonight," Ikawa said smoothly. He grabbed Mark and hustled him out the door.

  "Just one woman for each man, then?" Varma asked as they hurried down the hall.

  "More than enough." Ikawa kept a hand on Mark's shoulder until they had turned into a side corridor.

  "Did I say something wrong?" Varma asked, looking at Allic. But his master was bent double with laughter as the two outlanders disappeared from view.

  "That guy," Mark began, "that guy was calling me..."

  "Different people, different customs." Ikawa tried to suppress a laugh. "Don't insult our hosts. They'll catch on to our preferences soon enough."

  "Yeah, but I never thought―"

  "Don't worry about it," Ikawa said. "We'll tell the men about the party later. We want their minds on the patrol this afternoon."

  "Yeah, but..." Then his thoughts turned back to the patrol. Damn, one-ton dogs with foot-long fangs―and why did they have to look like Dobermans? God, give me strength, Mark groaned inwardly.

  The rest of the outlanders were listening to a lecture from Pina who stood in front of a wooden apparatus that held the largest crystal any of them had ever seen.

  That sucker must be at least the size of a basketball, thought Kochanski.

  Pina stopped suddenly in the middle of a statement. He nodded as if acknowledging something, and addressed the Japanese and Americans who were listening to his lecture. "Allic has just informed me that after talking to Mark and Ikawa he has decided that you will all go on patrol this afternoon. The fresh air and a change from boring classes should be well received, neh?"

  A satisfied murmur answered him.

  He smiled and continued, "Now, however, I want to finish my explanation of how our crystal cannon or wall crystals work. They are far too large to be moved about comfortably by an individual and require a much more elaborate aiming device since we use a tighter beam to insure longer range. They are capable of holding a far greater charge than your wrist crystals, so you can pour more and more energy into it, aim, flip the aperture, and fire a blast over a hundred times more powerful then a standard shot."

  "Questions? Yes, Kochanski."

  "This is all very impressive, but limited in many aspects, including line of sight. If we were to introduce gunpowder you would have the advantage of mortars and rockets in addition to rapid-firing machine guns. Don't you think that would revolutionize warfare around here?"

  Pina shook his head and murmured something to Valdez who walked away. Pina continued, "This has been discussed since your arrival and we have decided to delay any development for a while. First, as a sorcerer you never have to worry about running out of ammunition, you just draw in more Essence. Second, your weapons are very finely machined. We can't match such precision without a major expenditure of resources, and we're not sure it's worth it."

  "You're kidding."

  Valdez had returned with one of the Americans' .45s and handed the pistol to Kochanski.

  "Please stand and take a few shots at one of the practice dummies."

  Kochanski looked at his companions and shrugged. He walked out a few steps and turned to face the targets. A quick check to insure there was a round in the chamber, and he nicked the safety off, aimed, and fired.

  The shot kicked up dust beside the target and Kochanski lined up again, trying to correct his aim.

  All the others were watching Pina who had moved in back of him and whose eyes suddenly glowed as Kochanski squeezed the trigger for his second shot.

  Nothing happened. Puzzled, Kochanski cocked the hammer back and tried again. Nothing.

  Pina then resumed his lecture to a captivated audience. "Finally we decided that all an opposing sorcerer has to do is use a little creativity and change the chemical structure of the explosive to render it totally useless. Mind you, we think it might win a battle or two before it is countered, but we haven't decided yet whether it's worth a long term investment."

  Kochanski resumed his seat, feeling like an ignorant child.

  "Any more questions?"

  Saito raised his hand. "Here, sir. The patrol we're supposed to go on this afternoon made me think of it. Just what will our duties be when we finish training?"

  "Well, you never really finish training. I'm seven hundred forty-three years old and I still need improvement in a number of areas. A lot of it is simple. Anger and adrenaline will give any sorcerer enough energy to blast someone else; just as fear and self-preservation will enable your shield to absorb or deflect almost anything as long as your will and strength hold. The rest of your talents can be developed in time. For now, you are warriors."

  "Your responsibilities will be guard duty, patrols, garrison duties, caravan escort, and other special assignments. Of course you will continue to develop your skills throughout. You have much to learn."

  "I know we're sworn to Allic and all that, but do we get any kind of pay for our services?" Younger asked.

  Pina looked at him intently. "You are already lodged in an estate where you have all your food and drink, servants, and clothing provided. But yes, Allic has you listed as drawing pay with the rank of acolyte. If you want cash, simply go to accounting. Most of us just use our communication crystals. If you wish to buy something you call in the details and accounting takes care of the payment. It's all very simple."

  Chapter 7

  Lieutenant Mokaoto fought for his crust of bread, kicking the larger slave in the mouth and retreating to the full distance of his chains. With a roar the other man bounced up and tried to reach Mokaoto, earning another crippling blow to the throat.

  Able to eat in momentary peace, Mokaoto choked down his food. He knew he was barely hanging on to his sanity. Weeks of living in these pits had tried his reason to the utmost. The room seemed to stretch on forever in the dim light, and scores of others were chained as he was, living in their own filth.

  It was Ikawa who had brought him to this, Ikawa the traitor. Without realizing it, Mokaoto began to scream his hatred and frustration, his cries joining the moa
ns and shouts of all the others.

  And his body began to glow as the Essence responded to the draw of his subconscious needs.

  Sarnak, who stood unobserved in the shadows, left the stench of the dungeon and walked back out into the morning air. With a smile he turned to his pit master. "You say he's been showing the Essence ever since his arrival?"

  "Yes, my lord. It is still weak, but every day it grows. I would have thought by now that it would have reached its limit. If he ever realizes that he could use it as a weapon he would be dangerous. He's almost insane with rage, a danger to us all."

  "Leave me. You have done well to break him so quickly."

  As he continued to walk the battlements in contemplation Sarnak motioned to Ralnath. "I see a use for Wika at last. You will go to him and tell him I planned to execute him, but that you begged me to give him another chance."

  Ralnath nodded as Sarnak continued, "I need this outlander developed and trained quickly and Wika will have the responsibility. Tell him that you judge that hatred will temper the outlander's metal even more quickly. If Wika can force him to pass through the trials in three tendays I will spare his parents and siblings. Otherwise their heads will join those of his wife and children."

  "You make the judgment as to Wika's fitness for this, Ralnath."

  Ralnath smiled in appreciation of the plan, and asked, "His crystals, my lord?"

  "By all means return Wika's crystals to him. But you will make sure that both his offensive and defensive crystals are secretly flawed."

  "Understood, my lord."

  "And one more thing."

  "My lord."

  "The offworlder will need to focus his initial hatred. When you feel the time is right be sure that he believes that his imprisonment is Wika's fault, and that I was not even aware of how he was taken, for Wika kept it a secret."

  Smiling, Ralnath withdrew, hoping that Sarnak's anger over the previous failure was no longer directed at him, and that Wika alone would pay the full price.

  * * * *

  The Americans and Japanese stood uneasily in front of the stables.

  "You must clear your minds of all fears," Valdez said quietly. "These Tals are from Jartan's private breed, and the family line has served his house for over five thousand years. The Tals are proud of their heritage and would die before harming any of Allic's warriors. But they have complete contempt for any coward that sits upon their back, so show some courage."