The Japanese swept in, firing repeatedly. So tight was the press that men and snakes died together in the fire from above, as the attackers cut through to their beleaguered friends.
"Banzai!"
From out of the few survivors, four Japanese, led by Saito, lifted into the sky as the square beneath them disappeared and was consumed.
Now the warriors pressed upwards, the Japanese in the center, the Americans flying a tight circular formation around them. Now they were more than a score, each protecting the other, screaming their defiance. The snakes gave back from this challenge and swarmed to other less risky targets.
With the instinct of a flyer, Mark pushed upward, knowing that safety could only be found by being above your opponents. The sky beneath them was covered in an undulating darkness of beating wings.
Leveling off at a thousand feet, they swung into a wide arching turn, firing continuously on the combatants below. Mark realized they might be hitting their own men as well, but it was the only hope they had for breaking the attack.
"We got some bandits coming up at nine o'clock," Walker shouted. "Fifty plus!"
Mark looked off to his left and saw sorcerers and demons sailing out of the enemy camp. Beneath them the Torm infantry was slowly advancing, hesitating to come near the Subata.
Mark saw one of Pina's assistants in the formation with them, and he swung to Mark's side.
"This is why Allic wanted us on the ground," the assistant shouted accusingly. "There we can help defend! Up here we have to fight the snakes and Macha's sorcerers!"
"Can anyone control those bastards down there?" Mark shouted.
"Once their first blood lust is sated, the drumroll will stop. They've been trained to snatch whatever dead they want and withdraw."
"As they retreat, Macha's army will close and hit what's left."
Two of the formations below had been swarmed under; the others were just barely holding on. If the Subata could break another couple of squares there'd be a hole in the line so big that Macha's men could march through before Allic would be able to redeploy his men.
"Those Torm sorcerers are closing in fast," Walker warned.
Even as he shouted, the first bolts snapped through their formation.
"Shit!"
They could fight up here and perhaps hold their own, but they were needed at the battle below.
A shadow passed over the group, and with a strangled cry of fear they looked up, wondering how yet another formation of snakes could have gotten above them.
But this was no formation. It was a swirling cloud of night that flashed with light.
A bone-chilling wind lashed them. Bolts of lightning shot from the cloud into the snakes below.
"Goddamn!" Mark shouted. "It's Storm!"
His men looked at him in confusion.
The wind slashed past them and hit the Subata. Hissing and shrieking they were driven back from their feast.
The Subata could soar on rising drafts and float on the gentle morning wind but they did not have the power to battle a storm-driven gale. Within seconds the attack started to break apart. A wild shout came up from the beleaguered troops below.
Mark looked heavenward but his heart was full of fear. He knew the strength of his lover. She could take the power of nature and play with it as she willed. It was another thing altogether to conjure a storm out of stillness. She was pressing herself to the limit.
"Ikawa!"
Mark whirled around. "Damn him!"
Mark felt totally useless. His command control was disintegrating under the pressure of trying to decide where to engage in the battle. Now Ikawa had broken out of the formation, still wild with battle frenzy, and was diving straight at the Torm sorcerers, the rest of the Japanese following in a ragged line.
"Follow them!" Mark screamed.
His men winged up and over, one after the other dropping, pulling a perfect formation dive. Within seconds they were alongside the Japanese. Mark tried to signal them to close, but Ikawa and most of his command were beyond caring or comprehension. They were fey, convinced of defeat, and as if touched by the fatalistic spirit of their samurai forebears, they now sought death with the hope of taking as many of their foes with them as possible.
The charge bore down on Macha's sorcerers. Bolts of fire slashed the air. The Torm sorcerers broke with the onset of the attack, again following their old instinct to pair off against opponents and fight one-to-one. But the offworlders were presenting them with warfare of a different sort, as the Japanese in their madness still retained some memory of what Ikawa and Mark had taught them. Within seconds three of Macha's sorcerers were injured and out of the fight. And then a power stronger than any of them overwhelmed the field.
The sky grew black as night, flickering with fire. Wind borne, Ikawa drove forward, wreathed with incandescent flame, Mark and the others following in his wake.
Their formation sliced through the enemy sorcerers who scattered in every direction, both sides now firing ineffectively as all were buffeted by the wind. Within seconds the attacking force was over the Torm lines, which had stopped in their advance.
A blast of flame, the combined power of several wall crystals, came up from the center of the Torm lines. The flame seemed to merge directly on one of the Japanese privates flying a dozen feet ahead of Mark.
There was a flash. Horrified, Mark flew through an inky ball of smoke that stank of burning flesh. Private Matsumoto was gone.
"Evasive!" Mark screamed. "Break right!"
Another flame shot up, cutting where the formation would have been in another second if it had flown straight.
"Evasive, break left!" Mark screamed.
They cut another tight turn, firing back now, hoping to disrupt the enemy below. Damn, they could just stay up here drawing shot after shot, Mark realized, but every time they tried to cut in towards the center of the enemy position, the heavy fire drove them back.
They'd have to do something damn fast. The Subata attack had been broken, the winged snakes were retreating, some of them already beyond the rear of the Torm lines. But the ground forces were still intact. Even as the desperate struggle was waged overhead, the enemy surged into the attack. The change in fortunes had only been temporary. Within minutes Allic's forces would be overwhelmed as the enemy broke into its charge.
"Keep them busy," Macha shouted, pointing to where the offworlders weaved back and forth, dodging the powerful counterblasts of his heavy wall crystals.
* * * *
It was still almost going to plan―except for that damned storm.
Then he realized: Allic's sister Storm had come into the fight.
Shouting with rage, Macha strode over to a heavy crystal, pushing the lesser sorcerers aside.
"My lord," Orma his battle advisor said, coming to stand by him, "we can handle them. You're needed to concentrate on command, to project the aura of strength which heartens our men against Allic's will."
"It's Allic's sister up there." He pointed at the rolling darkness that was now directly overhead.
"Another demigod," Orma cried, his voice edged with fear.
"So am I!" Macha roared. "A match for any of Jartan's damnable spawn."
A blast of fire arced from the heavens, striking an advancing company of spearmen, hitting their standard with an explosive roar. Dozens of men fell, the column reeling from the impact.
A blast, and then another blast snapped out, cutting the center of the advancing line.
The sorcerers around Macha drew back in fear. Their lord seemed wrapped in darkness as he called to the very source of his Essence, drawing in his power, forcing it to do his bidding.
His armies hesitated, sensing that they had lost the protection of their lord's guiding will.
A bolt of fire as brilliant as the sun shot from the crystal in Macha's hands.
At the same instant a flame of equal brilliance cut down from the heavens. The two met, blinding all who had looked. For a moment it seemed as t
hough the two fires had merged into one, and then they shot past, each to its separate goal. The battle wavered, stopped, as tens of thousands stood transfixed.
Stunned, Ikawa still continued with his dive, the men behind him scattered by the shock wave from the twin blasts. He pulled up, skimming low over the Torm battle lines. Off to his left he saw a column of fire rising where the bolt from above had struck.
Out of the flame emerged a figure, his cloak smoldering. The man staggered, fell to his knees, then attempted to rise.
That must be Macha, Ikawa realized, the fatalistic fury that had seized him reasserted its hold, and he dove to the ground, skimming over hundreds who stood transfixed by the impact of the strike. Macha saw him coming and raised a wavering arm. The blast that snapped out was weak by former standards, but still powerful enough to nearly overwhelm Ikawa's defensive shield and knock him sideways through the air.
He knew he would never survive the next shot, but turned to charge anyway.
Macha's arm was poised for the final blast when he was struck from behind, his weakened shield flaring and fading as he almost lost consciousness.
Mark hit the ground hard, rolling away from Macha. Standing, he let loose with a tremendous kick, catching his foe square in the groin. Reaching down he ripped the offensive and defensive crystals from Macha's wrists.
The rest of the offworlder battle group came in around Ikawa and together they landed, forming a protective circle around Mark and Macha.
For the moment there was nothing to protect them against. The ground still smoldered beneath dozens of scorched and torn bodies. The entire command team, except for its leader, had been blasted to oblivion.
Mark looked over at Macha. "You bastard, I should kill you now," Mark roared. "But Allic probably needs you alive." Macha didn't reply as he lay on the ground, doubled up in agony.
"Captain, we better get moving," Kraut shouted. "They're reorganizing." Mark looked up and could see a number of enemy sorcerers and demons swinging in to protect their fallen leader.
Mark motioned to Ikawa and together they picked up Macha. Straining under the burden, they lifted, and flew just above the enemy host, racing to the protection of their own lines.
Screams rose from the Torms at the sight of their leader being borne away. The Torm sorcerers tried to cut them off, but dared not fire.
From out of the Landrian line, Allic and his entourage came, soaring above the offworlders to provide protection. The Torm sorcerers drew back as the Landrians jeered their contempt.
They crossed into the beleaguered fortress to the shouts of the embattled defenders. Alighting next to the command tent, Ikawa and Mark dropped their burden as Allic landed beside them.
"Mad heroics," Allic said grimly. A sad, almost bitter smile creased his face and he clapped Mark and Ikawa on their shoulders.
"Mad heroics, and damn admirable, as well."
"It was Storm," Mark said. "She broke his defense. We merely did the mop-up operation."
"Yes―Storm," Allic replied.
Where was she? Mark looked up and for the first time realized that the sky was clear, the air fresh.
"Storm?"
"She's in there," Allic said, and pointed to the tent.
Without asking leave Mark rushed into the tent.
He was almost afraid to approach. She looked small, fragile, as if somehow she had drawn in upon herself. As he drew closer be couldn't contain a low cry of fear.
Her face was badly burned, the injury streaking down her left shoulder to her flame-charred hand. He realized that Macha's blast must have overwhelmed her, bursting her defensive crystal.
"Storm?" he whispered, drawing closer. But she was silent.
A panic swept over him. She was dead!
He came to her side, his hand slipping under her tunic, trying to find a heartbeat.
"I am a little too tired for that kind of attention right now," she whispered, opening her eyes.
She tried to chuckle but it was obvious that every movement was an agony. She grimaced, trying to suppress just how badly she felt at the moment, but Mark could see the charade.
"The fight?" she whispered.
"We have Macha," Mark replied. And I'll cut his heart out for this.
"Good, very good. You must understand, Mark, that it was a fair fight between us."
"You make this all seem like a game. Sometimes all of you make me sick with this damned honor."
Her eyes started to flutter closed.
"Storm!"
Was he losing her? He reached out and shook her unburnt hand.
"Damn you, that hurts," she whispered. "I'm only resting. The Essence is gone from me; I must draw it back into myself. It'll take time―be almost pushed me beyond the edge. I'll come back, love, but it'll take time."
Her words slipped away. A deathly stillness came over her. Mark could barely detect the flutter of her heart, the gentle swelling of her breasts, as she drew in the shallowest of breaths.
He watched, still fearful that somehow he would lose her. In the background he could hear words of anger. Coldly he rose and strode back into the sunlight.
"You treacherous bastard," Allic roared. "I'll cut out your heart and stake it to the ground for this!"
Still on his knees Macha glowered up at Allic.
Half a dozen of Allic's sorcerers surrounded their captive, each focusing on a separate ring of containment, concentrating with all of their energy to hold the demigod in place, now that he was starting to recover from the shock of Storm's blow and the coup de grace delivered by Mark. Nearby, two of the remaining wall crystals were positioned to give support.
"Go ahead. I don't give a damn," Macha gasped, "but I'll still have the satisfaction of knowing that all of your carcasses will be heaped upon my pyre before the day ends. Maybe you'll live, though, Allic. It'd be like you to desert your retainers and fly off once you lose this fight, drunken scum that you are. You, the son of a god? You aren't worthy to wipe my ass."
"Damn you to fire forever!" Allic roared. "Bring me a sword!"
He looked to Pina. "You heard me. Bring me a sword!"
"My lord Allic," Pina said softly, drawing closer so that the others would not hear. "You can't just execute Macha, especially not like this."
"Can't I? I've lost more than a thousand here this morning. Are you telling me they should go unavenged? My sister lies near death in that tent because of him."
"All of it was a fair and open fight," Pina replied softly. "Restitutions and levies can be demanded from Torm as Macha's ransom. Our men fought with honor against his. Killing Macha will not bring them back."
"I don't care," Allic cried. "I want his head on a stake, with his damned black heart jammed into his mouth."
"My lord," Pina said, a note of pleading in his voice. "As long as we hold Macha alive, his people will not attack. The moment they know he's dead, they'll keep on coming till they all are dead, or we perish."
"Better that than to let this back-stabbing oath breaker live another minute."
"Me, an oath breaker?" Macha roared, struggling against Allic's sorcerers to come to his feet. "You're the back stabber. Your people crossed the river, raided my villages, and killed members of my family. If I had not struck back you'd probably have destroyed another dozen of my towns while still whining about your innocence."
"You lie!" Allic screamed. "A sword, are you all deaf? Bring me a sword! I'll not honor his body with flame."
Pina was motionless, the others around him frozen at the uncontrollable fury of their lord.
Allic looked around the circle. With a shout of rage he strode up to Sergeant Saito and snatched the pistol out of Saito's belt.
"Is this loaded?" Allic asked.
Saito nodded, looking to Ikawa for guidance.
Allic took the pistol, cocked it, and put the weapon to Macha's forehead.
"My lord, not like this."
Allic swung around. It was Ikawa.
"And who are you to
challenge me?" Allic shouted, his face contorted. "You are my vassal!"
"Precisely why I speak, my lord," Ikawa replied. "A samurai serves and protects his lord, not only on the field of battle, but also in counsel. If you wish to kill me for speaking, then do so. But I must speak, my lord. Do not kill an honorable foe in such a manner."
A hush fell over the assembly. Ikawa dared a glance to Mark, but he could see the rage in Mark, as well. It must be over Storm, he realized. He braced himself.
"You are brave but foolish," Macha shouted. "Your lord is an oath breaker. He betrayed his treaty to me―why should he listen to you?"
"That's a lie," Allic cried, his gaze still riveted on Ikawa, who drew closer so that only Allic could hear his words.
"I respect you too much to see you thus dishonor yourself in a moment of rage," Ikawa whispered. "If I had known that this would be the result, I would not have helped bring this prisoner to you. I've spared prisoners who were my hated foe. Do the same now. Please, my lord."
Allic was silent, his gaze cutting into the vassal. Ikawa closed his eyes, bracing for the impact of the bullet, either into his skull or into the man who kneeled on the ground before them. As he waited he was amazed at the sudden clarity of it all: only minutes before he had risen into the air, driven by a terror beyond his imagining, praying for death to snatch him.
The fear of death still had clung to his heart when he dove to his confrontation with Macha, hoping only to take a foe with him into the void. But now..
Now he wanted to live. He felt death even closer here, but at last there was no fear.
The gentle wind felt unnaturally hot. As though from a great distance, Ikawa could hear cries of alarm. The breeze grew, hot and strong, buffeting him.
He opened his eyes. A pillar of fire was hovering before him, pulsing with flame.
Allic was looking to the light, and Ikawa followed his gaze.
The light pulsed, coalesced, and took the shape of a being Ikawa could recognize. Judging by the hawklike eyes, sharp brow, and narrow face, this must be Minar, the father of Madia.
Ikawa looked again to Allic. His commander, still torn with rage, stood before Minar's pulsing image.
Crystal Warriors Page 25