Rift in the Races (16 page)

Looking out from the increasing altitude, and with the aid of an ever higher sun, she saw that there were many more than just those below. Several thousand more, setting up outward-facing defenses, clearly preparing for a larger fight. Whatever they had done in this battle, Calico Castle’s defenders had hardly made a dent in the enemy ranks. Frankly, escape was nothing short of a miracle.

She scanned the sky for other ships. There were none. She turned to Roberto, appalled. “Where’s the rest of them? Where are the other ships?”

“It’s not our war,” said Roberto in an odd flat tone.

“What? What do you mean it’s ‘not our war?’”

“It’s not our war. That’s what Captain Asad said. He told me we couldn’t come.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I don’t think so. Ask me after my court martial.”

She saw Taot streaking down for another pass. Knowing of his history fighting orcs, she was instantly stricken with fear for him. “Taot,” she cried with every ounce of strength. “Fly away. Fly away. Everyone is leaving. Retreat.” The hatch snapped shut preventing any further attempts.

She couldn’t tell if the valiant beast had heard her. She didn’t know if he would understand her even if he had. Did he even have a concept for retreat? She ran to an aft window to see if he was still in the fight, but it was too late. The skies were filled with thick smoke behind them, and Roberto was already speeding away. One thing was clear, however: Calico Castle had been lost.

Chapter 9

T
o an untrained eye, the army compound inside the walls of Crown City might be said to have been in a state of chaos. Horses galloped from the stables at seemingly reckless speeds, armored knights upon them spurring them onward while hoisting five-span lances in the air with the War Queen’s crimson pennants streaming wildly at the tips. But each one, each horse and rider, charged into assemblages of their counterparts without incident or commotion and formed, quickly and efficiently, into orderly rows. The riders kept the equine energy in check with masterful skill, though even in that, the entire formation seemed to float on a mild sea, rising up and down on the swells of prancing chargers only just restrained. The beasts could sense the urgency around them. They could hear it in the creak of the saddles so rigidly occupied, smell it in the anxious sweat of men. These were creatures of war, and they understood what was to come in their own way. Each chomped upon the steel bit in its mouth with square-block teeth that would tear the flesh of an enemy in a mercilessly crushing bite. Each stomped its iron-shod hooves upon the ground, the metal-on-stone sound of power great enough to pulp skulls whether helmeted or not. They were as ready as any man among them.

Less orderly to behold, but just as organized, were the wizards popping into view upon large squares of red tile built in several places along the compound walls, their arrivals timed and directed by the mumbling watchfulness of green-robed seers who orchestrated it all telepathically. Transmuters were being teleported in as well, a few active duty, and even more than a few reservists brought in from far across the land, identifiable by their telltale brown robes. In they came, one by one, appearing as if the very air were giving birth to them.

As more and more teleporters appeared, some ran straight to the far end of the compound, while others ran to the edge of the massive black-tiled square at the very center of the yard where the cavalry was setting up its lines. This onyx expanse, a great patio of sorts, spanned a hundred paces on a side, and at even intervals along its edge, the arriving teleporters were arranging themselves. The brown-robed transmuters came to this patio and stood around the teleporters, looking less nervous than they did but clearly preparing for their role in it all. More than one of them had a spell book open in their hands, studying a marginally forgotten spell.

At the center of tiled expanse stood a twenty-pace pole with a square platform at the top and short cross-members up its length serving as a ladder. A rather slight woman made her way up it, the prevailing winds whipping her red conduit’s robes around and exposing pale, skinny calves and bony knees. She climbed to the top and prepared to direct the casting that would send all these men and horses to the fight.

Roberto saw her climbing as he piloted the ship over the compound wall, but he didn’t have time to comment or inquire, as the ship’s controls were not responding properly given all the casting going on. The back end of the ship swung around and clipped a flagpole as he fought to get the ship righted to land, a pulse of magic having disrupted the computer signal that would have fired the port thrusters as they came in.

This was his third time flying into Crown, and all three had been like this. He knew now that the trick was to come in low and slow and keep everybody strapped in. They could always apologize later for anything they broke after they were safely on the ground.

He got control of the port side again and wasted no time landing the ship near the wall that was farthest from the activity in the compound. He cut the gravity engines even before the ship had touched down, and it dropped the last two feet and landed with a jolt. Everyone made some noise of protest inside, but he was willing to take that from them. Two feet was enough time for some other system to cut out, and who knew what that would do. He hated flying into the city, but he had no choice. This was where Tytamon had ordered them to go, and this was where the doctors were—not to mention, he knew well enough he was going to need the Queen’s help to get him out of the trouble he was in with Captain Asad, a suggestion that had also come from Tytamon.

Tytamon’s voice had returned on the journey to Crown City, and he’d explained the nature of an orc shaman’s silence spell to Roberto and Orli. Silence was a wickedly effective counter-magic spell and a difficult enchantment to pull off. The orcs had cast it upon him, and that was what had nearly undone him. He was certain that was what had happened to Altin as well. The fact that the orcs had been able to do it, and done it twice to two very powerful sorcerers, was a matter of great concern. But right now, Calico Castle, with its vast magical resources, was the most immediate problem. They had to get it back.

Tytamon climbed out of the landing craft the moment the hatch was lowered far enough to allow it, and he was immediately met by Lieutenant Andru and several younger officers, three of whom wore the red oak emblem of the medical corps. With barely a nod from Tytamon, all three medics rushed inside and set to work.

“They’ve taken the castle,” Tytamon told the lieutenant. “There are at least three thousand left, and possibly more will have arrived while we were in flight. They came in the night and managed to bypass all my external magical wards. For an army that large to have approached without my knowledge, something remarkable has changed.”

“We’ve got nearly a thousand horse assembled now,” reported the young lieutenant, “with another six hundred mounting as we speak. The griffins won’t teleport, but we had four out-fliers close enough to send them that way as well.”

Tytamon frowned at that. “Did anyone tell them the boy’s dragon is in the area?”

“Taot?” The lieutenant frowned. “No, sir, I’ll make sure they know.” He shot a glance at a young corporal standing nearby; the look was enough to send the woman sprinting off. He continued his report: “General Darklot has six hundred combat mages on the teleportation pad at the wizard’s school waiting only for word that the area is secure, and Her Majesty is over yon pulling together the infantry. We’ll have eight thousand within the hour if all goes well. Those bastards will never know what hit them, sir.”

“Within the hour everything worth saving will be gone.”

“Won’t the Earth forces be able to hold them off that long, sir? How many of their ships were they able to bring?”

“One,” said Tytamon. “And this one here is it. And just as well that was all. The orcs have at least eight shamans, a full circle that I saw. Gods know what they would be able to do to one of those mechanical boxes if they had half a chance. I’m not sure our Earth friends are quite prepared for that just yet.” The young cavalryman nodded, knowing well enough what Tytamon meant. Even a blank understood what a powerful teleporter could do to a closed container filled with men. “And that’s not the worst of it, Lieutenant,” Tytamon went on. “They were able to silence me.”

The color momentarily drained from Lieutenant Andru’s face. “The orcs, sir?”

Tytamon nodded.

“That could be a huge problem, sir.”

“You can bet your spurs it could. So get those horses to the west end of the meadow, and come from that side. The infantry as well. Otherwise, if we spook them, they will run to the forest, and we’ll never find half of them. You can also put a line of archers and lower-rank casters along the south bank of the creek; have your teleporters ready to move them there if the situation comes.”

“I will, sir. And I’ll let the general know your wish for the archers and infantry.”

“And for the gods’ sake, get to the central tower,
my
tower, and secure the basement and the upper floors. If they got past my territorial wards, they’ll figure out how to get inside the tower too. Secure the east tower as quickly as possible after that.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Yes, sir, indeed.”

Roberto came up beside Tytamon then, with Orli only a moment behind and Pernie trailing her like a puppy on an invisible leash. Orli’s face, neck, arms and hands, while grimy and still covered with soot, no longer showed signs of being burned, though as much could not be said for her uniform. The large spear wound on her thigh appeared on the mend as well, though still red and bruised, visible through the tear in her pant leg.

Lieutenant Andru’s eyes narrowed as he saw the injury. “That’s the work my people did?” he spat. “Who healed you?” He took a step toward the ship, clearly prepared to go inside and berate one of his healing officers.

“No, no,” Orli protested. “I told him it was good enough. I’m fine. Altin and Kettle need more attention than I do. I’m perfectly fine. Honestly. I made him stop.”

Lieutenant Andru looked as if he were not completely satisfied. “I won’t tolerate shoddy work,” he said. “You do no one a favor if you are simply being kind to spare him discipline.”

“I told him to stop. He does not require any discipline. I pushed him away.”

The lieutenant clearly didn’t like it, but he chose to let it pass. “Very well.”

“Tytamon,” came the Queen’s voice from behind the lieutenant then.

The armored monarch rode up, resplendent in golden plate mail that was nearly blinding in the sun. A huge broadsword was strapped to her back, and she wore a pair of hand-held crossbows, one to a thigh. “You made it out alive, I see. My messenger suggested you were in some doubt as to that outcome when you sent your first report. I’m glad to see your concerns were unfounded in that regard.”

“Your Majesty,” replied the ancient mage, more formally than Orli could recall having heard from him before.

“Don’t worry, my friend,” she said, riding near and leaning from the saddle to grip his shoulder in a gauntleted fist. “We’ll have your castle back before lunch. You have my word on it.”

Tytamon bowed again, mainly with his head.

“Lieutenant,” barked the Queen, “get to your unit. Your boys will be leading the assault on the gate.” She glanced back at Tytamon. “I can assume our old friend would like the central tower secured straight away. Make sure that happens.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

With that, the towering young man strode off, followed by a pair of corporals whom he immediately sent scurrying in opposite directions with instructions of their own.

“Within the hour, Tytamon,” said the Queen. “We’re off within the hour.”

She road off, leaving the four of them to themselves.

“Holy shit,” said Roberto once they were alone. He’d been watching the activities speculatively, although not without some degree of awe. “You guys opened up the whole can, didn’t you? Do they really think they can take it back that easily?”

“They’ll get it back,” said Tytamon in a matter-of-fact tone. “The question is whether they’ll do it before the damage is done.”

“Why are they attacking Calico Castle?” Orli asked. Her hand went absently to Pernie’s head, smoothing the soft hair on the brave little warrior’s head in a way that soothed them both. Pernie hugged Orli’s leg as if she were a weapon strapped there.

“I don’t know,” answered Tytamon. “We cast a divination after they came and took Pernie last year, but we could not fathom the reason for why they had encroached. That was strange, in retrospect, but since I did find most of what I expected that I would, mainly the overwhelming sense of greed, gluttony and bloodlust, I did not question the slightly odd results. And I certainly got no sense of an impending assault like this.”

“Greed, gluttony and bloodlust?” Orli asked. “Is that really all that motivates them? How terrifying.” Pernie gripped her leg all the more tightly.

“That’s all my divination supplied,” he corrected. “One never knows what motivates the barbaric heart. However, I can tell you from my experience over the centuries, they fight because it is all they care to do. One warlord after another is all they’ve ever known. Queen Karroll crushed the last clever one of those over two centuries ago, and no one has heard a snort from them since. At least not until last year. Apparently I was mistaken to assume that was merely an attack of opportunity.”