The Order War (55 page)

“Halt,” demanded the lead rider.

Justen slowed the steam car but did not stop. “We are on
our way to Fairhaven. Are not the roads open to all?”

“Not to those of the Black isle. Only to those who accept the beneficence of Fairhaven.”

“Stop…” whispered Gunnar.

“No. The car doesn’t move well from a complete stop. We can outrun them.”

“The White Wizard’s marshaling chaos!”

Justen sensed the accuracy of Gunnar’s words, and he opened the throttle. The
Black Demon
roared forward.

The horsemen charged.

“Idiots!” snapped Martan. The marine lifted his bow.

Hsssttt!
Fire washed over and around the oak ribs covered with the parchment-thin black iron plate.

“Go ahead.”

Martan released the first arrow, and one horse plunged into another.

“Damn! Worse than from a ship’s deck.” Still, arrow after arrow poured from the armored slit before the raised third seat.

Justen centered the rocket launcher on the sense of chaos, tuning his own senses to the White Wizard, then pulled the striker trigger.

Psssst…

“Aeeiii…”

“Demons! Cursed…”

Flames and chaos flared across the rear of the Hydlen troops as Justen throttled the
Demon
to a higher speed and the black land engine rumbled forward and scattered the lancers.

Clunk…

Fire flared in front of Justen, and his eyes watered. The road blurred. “Gunnar!”

“What?”

“Steer. Can’t see…” Justen gasped, trying to squint to see the road in the sudden darkness.

“I’ve got it.”

Justen felt his brother’s hands on the tiller and released his grip, trying to ease himself out of the driver’s seat.

Even as he moved, he could hear a regular sound;
thump
…thump…thump…
He could feel Gunnar slowing the
Demon
.

“Don’t slow down yet…” he mumbled. “Get away from them.”

“I can’t control this thing as well as you can, but we’re not stopping, not until they’re out of sight.”

“Good.”

“One idiot’s still following,” said Martan.

Justen could sense the arrow being released, and then his fingers fumbled with the shaft that seemed to be stuck in the thin plate of his helmet.

“Missed!”

Another arrow followed the first.

“Shit! Got the horse, not bad, but he’s reining up.”

The regular
thumping
continued, accompanied by a squeaking sound.

“What’s that?” asked Gunnar.

“I don’t know. I can’t see. Can’t get this demon arrow out, and I can’t get the helmet off.”

“Hold still!” snapped Martan, leaning forward from the third seat.

Justen stopped moving.

“Uhhh…got it. Let’s see that.”

Justen could feel the helmet coming off.

“Your helmet stopped most of it, but you’re bleeding like a stuck hog. Head wounds do that. There’s lots of blood in your eyes.”

As he fumbled out a cloth and blotted his face, Justen wanted to rub his aching forehead. “Why does a cut hurt so much?”

“It’s not just a cut. Part of it goes almost to the bone. That archer put a lot behind that. It’s really more like a crossbow quarrel. It bent your helmet. You’re going to have one big bruise.”

The
thumping
continued, and the squeaking increased.

Justen forced himself to concentrate on offering himself a touch of healing and re-ordering; some of the pain diminished and he began to see, although the images were somewhat blurred.

“What do you intend to do next time?” asked Gunnar. “That was only a small group.”

“Next time, I think we let go with rockets sooner.”

“Good idea!” affirmed Martan.

“Now that you can see, can you tell me what the noise is?”

Justen shrugged gingerly and let his senses slide across the craft. The engine was sound, as was the drive shaft, but the noise came from the left front wheel, and the wheel wobbled as it turned.

“I can steer now. I need you to check to see if any of those troops are following.” Justen took the tiller.

Gunnar was silent for a time before answering. “No. You killed the White Wizard, and they’re just milling around.”

“Good. We need to replace the front wheel.”

“Already?”

“It was a freak thing.” Justen sighed. “I think one of the crossbow bolts went through the bearing housing.”

“Bearing housing?”

“Never mind. We’ve got two spare wheels.” Justen throttled down the
Demon
. “We need to unload them and the repair kit first.”

While the other two watched, the engineer unlashed the spare wheel, which Martan carried to the side of the stone-paved road. Then Justen turned to the storage lockers.

“How do you plan to replace this?” asked Gunnar. “At least a quarter of the weight rests on that wheel.”

Justen rummaged in one of the lockers and pulled out a trapezoidal wedge and a square block. “It would be a lot harder if the wheel had broken. But it hasn’t.”

Martan nodded.

“When the wheel is on the flat part here, get me to stop. I’ll set the brake and we’ll block the other wheels.” Justen held up another heavy block of oak with a half-circle bored on one end. “Then this goes under the axle, and we knock the other block out.”

“It looks like it will work,” admitted Gunnar.

With Martan in front of the
Demon
and Gunnar beside the block, Justen edged the craft toward the long wedge.

“Easy…easy. It’s sliding.”

“Sliding?”

“The wheel just pushes it forward instead of riding up on it.”

“Shit…” mumbled Justen. “It couldn’t be that easy, of course. Let me back up and get it moving a little faster.”

The first time, Justen rolled up one side and down the other. The second time, he stopped on top but failed to set the brake quickly enough. The third time, the wedge spun because he hit it at an angle. The fourth time, it worked.

“Now what?”

“This goes under the axle.”

“How?”

“Like this.” Justen inserted the half-circle under the axle shaft and took the heavy hammer, tapping it steadily until the weight of the axle rested on the block instead of on the trapezoid. He eased the trapezoid aside with gentle taps. Then he used the hammer and the wrench to loosen the lugs, and at last he slipped the wheel off.

He studied the bearings and nodded. “See? Something smashed through here. I think that if I had to, I could fix this and make it work for a while.” He set the old wheel aside and picked up the replacement. With quick hammer strokes, he nudged it into place, then tightened the lugs.

“How are you going to get it off that axle block?” asked Martan.

Ducking under the land engine, Justen began tapping at the block, emerging with it in his hand shortly. “It’s angled…here.”

As Justen replaced the equipment in the locker and lashed the damaged wheel in place, Gunnar and Martan looked at each other.

Finally, Gunnar shrugged. “Altara said he was weak on design.”

“That looked like it worked all right.”

Justen closed the locker and glanced at Martan. “Can you add some coal to the firebox?”

“Yes, ser.”

“Do you plan on stopping anywhere?” asked Gunnar.

“You hungry? The first package in the hamper there is
lunch. You eat while I drive and then I’ll eat. Martan can take his time.”

“Don’t we have to sleep?”

“Yes…but not until we can find someplace a bit more distant from people with crossbows and other assorted weapons.” Justen grinned. “Besides, we’ve hardly started.” He slipped into the driver’s seat, released the brake and opened the throttle. “We’re off.”

Gunnar groaned—loudly.

Beltar struggled with the mirror, trying to get the images to focus. Even the breeze sweeping in from the tower window failed to remove the heat from the room.

For an instant, the whitened dust of the metaled road appeared before the white mist swirled back into place. The High Wizard frowned and tried again.

This time the vision held, for a moment, of a black, wag-onlike object without horses, trailing smoke, that rolled along the road from Hydolar toward Fairhaven. Even through the mirror, Beltar could sense the amount of order forced into the horseless wagon. He sighed and released the image, wiping his forehead.

“You see?” asked Jehan. “It’s like a miniature warship, and nothing seems to stop it. Gorsuch brought two squads against it.”

“And?”

“There are three, I think, in it. They have those fire rockets and black iron arrows. Most of the troopers died. So did Gorsuch.”

“Why didn’t they just pile stones on the road?”

“Stones are heavy, Beltar, and I doubt they had time. Besides, do you want to be the High Wizard who blocked the roads? Also, they haven’t attacked anybody who hasn’t attacked them first.”

“They don’t look exactly peaceful.”

Jehan shrugged and waited.

“So why are they traveling toward Fairhaven?”

“I don’t know, but you can tell how much order that machine carries. It can’t bode well for us.”

“So let them come. Let them bring their little land ship.”

“What will the world think if three wizards from Recluce take over the wizards’ roads and deposit a huge chunk of order in Fairhaven? And what will the Council think?”

“Oh? Are you claiming that with one action, they nullify all the effort we’ve put into trying to isolate Recluce?”

“Some would see it that way.”

“Like Derba?”

“He certainly would.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to ignore them, perhaps even to welcome them? Follow Cerryl’s example…almost say that it doesn’t bother us?”

Jehan coughed. “For anyone but you—the wizard who has always relied on his power—”

“All right, all right. You’ve made that point enough. Let’s just send the entire White lancers against this thing. Three Blacks couldn’t fight through thousands.”

“I doubt they could. That’s certainly true. Of course, we have only a few hundred White lancers nearby, and much of the Iron Guard is still in Suthya.”

“And?” asked Beltar. “Your tone indicates that I have overlooked something.”

“What happens if the most powerful White Wizard in generations refuses to deal with a direct assault by a mere three Black Wizards and sends troops instead of showing up himself?”

“You’re telling me that if I don’t act like a wizard, the Council will be…upset?”

“So might the troops, although I could not say that with absolute certainty.”

“I do thank you.”

“It is always my pleasure.”

“How soon will those we called arrive?”

“Histen has pleaded ill health, saying that he will make
haste but that his health restricts him, and Renwek is caring for him. Most of the others are here, or will be here before that…device arrives.”

“Histen…I’ll have to deal with him yet.” Beltar glanced toward the unopened bottle of wine on the table.

“That is precisely what he fears, I am sure.”

“What about Derba?”

“Derba? He will smile until he can wrench the amulet from you, preferably taking your neck with it.”

“You are so cheerful, Jehan.”

“You asked, High Wizard.”

“So I did.” Beltar shook his head, and his eyes flicked back to the bottle of red wine.

The
Black Demon
had passed three single horsemen, one of them a White lancer who tried unsuccessfully to chase the land engine; several wagons, one loaded with cabbage; and a peddler with a mule.

As the late afternoon sun touched the rolling hills to the west of the old but solid stone road, two wagons and a line of horses stretched ahead.

“Now what?” asked Gunnar.

“We steam past,” said Justen. “With the armor in place, of course.”

“But the White Wizards…”

“They already know. Speed is more important than secrecy.”

“How about partial secrecy?” suggested Gunnar.

“Shields so we’re not visible to them?”

“Scare the darkness out of them,” laughed Martan.

“Can you do it?” asked Justen. “Shields, I mean?”

“I think so. Can you steer?”

“If I slow down, but I’d have to anyway.” Justen paused. “What if we get close, fire a rocket, and then vanish?”

“It might work, but they might just bunch up,” suggested Martan.

“Shields. No rocket,” decided Justen. He eased back the throttle as the perceived darkness of the light-shield fell across the
Demon
.

The land engine crept forward, heavy wheels rumbling faintly on the stone slabs of the road, the faint hiss of steam sounding almost like a summer breeze, and the muffled thudding of the engine like a giant heart.

Clink…clink…

“Firdil, do you hear something? Like a wagon?” The horseman’s voice seemed to be almost beside Justen, although Justen could sense that the land engine was still behind the rider.

“…something…hissing like a snake. It smells hot…like brimstone.”

Clink…
The horse edged toward the
Demon
.

Whheee…eeeee
. The horse skittered sideways, as if burned by the contact with the land engine.

“What’s with you?” the rider asked, yanking on the horse’s reins.

“Mine’s skittish, too,” answered the rider still in front of the land engine as she turned in the saddle. “Maybe a demon’s around. It’s hot here. Look—look over at the fields there. It’s hard to see them clearly.”

“Maybe it’s because the sun’s setting.”

“I don’t like it.”

Wheee…
The second horse jumped aside.

“Something big is breathing…right there. Don’t you hear the grinding on the stone?”

“A demon?” The rider eased his horse off the road.

“What are you two doing?” yelled a voice from the wagon seat.

“There’s a demon here!”

Justen eased up the throttle, and the
Demon
slid past the riders and alongside the wagon.

“A what?”

Justen kept his lips clamped, trying not to laugh even while the sweat rolled down his face. The last incident had shown that neither he nor the land engine were invulnerable, and he didn’t really want any more arrows flying his way. Or swords. Or whatever.

“Demon!”

“Darkness! I hear it!” The teamster flicked the reins.
Clink…clink
. The two horses began to trot.

Justen pushed the throttle up, then pulsed the whistle.

Eee…eeeee…

The horse on the left veered toward the unseen land engine, and Justen eased the tiller. The left wheel rumbled on the graveled shoulder of the road. As the teamster saw the dust, he guided the team away from the “demon,” and Justen steered the land engine back so that all its wheels were on the road again.

The teamster pulled his wagon to a halt, trying to calm the jittery horses. Then the lead wagon pulled over, and Justen and the
Demon
slipped by into the twilight.

As the
Demon
swung around the curve and out of sight of the traders, Gunnar dropped the shields. Justen pushed the throttle even higher before he wiped his sweating forehead.

“Whew…” mumbled Martan. “Scared them.”

“Scared me,” confessed Justen. “These roads aren’t wide enough.”

“No road’s wide enough for you,” Gunnar commented as the land engine continued northward and as the darkness grew.

“How can you see?” asked the marine.

“The road’s clear enough.” Justen adjusted the tiller. “I’m hoping we run across an empty way station somewhere ahead.”

“The last one had all those peddlers. They swallowed when we went past.” Martan shook his head.

“The way stations are usually about ten kays apart.” Justen peered into the darkness.

“How you can see anything…is that wizards’ sight?”

“It runs in our family,” answered Gunnar absently. “There’s something ahead, like a hut, and I think it’s empty. Anyway, I can’t sense anything there. There’s a small stream out of the hills, too.”

“How far?”

“About two wide curves.”

Justen concentrated on guiding the
Demon
along the seemingly thin strip of white stone.

“It’s on the right up there.” Gunnar cleared his throat. “Slow down. This doesn’t feel right.”

Hsstttt…

A flare of light sprayed off the front armor of the
Demon
.

“Demons’ light! Frigging wizards!”

Justen blinked, trying keep power to the wheels while dropping speed.

“Where’s the frigging bow?” snapped Martan.

With one hand on the tiller, Justen throttled the
Demon
down to a crawl and tried to sense where the White Wizard stood in the darkness. Then his right hand left the throttle and groped for the rocket striker. He had only the one rocket in the front launcher. How many wizards were there?

“Two…” whispered Gunnar. “One’s behind the hut.”

“Great,” mumbled Martan. “Two Black mages, two White Wizards, and I can’t even see the White bastards.”

Justen took a deep breath. “All right,” he whispered to Gunnar. “After the rocket goes off, you take the tiller and slow this down.”

“Me?”

“Just do it,” hissed the engineer.
Oh, Dayala…hope this works…
His fingers flicked the striker.

Whhhsttt…
As the rocket flared in the general direction of the wizard beside the hut, Justen slipped from the driver’s seat and into the darkness, staggering as his feet hit the ground. He darted from the black iron of the
Demon
and toward the wavering white lines of the wizards’ chaos.

Could he replicate the Balance struggles of the great forest? Did he have much choice?

He drew on the earth, on the mixture of Black and White within, and cast both toward the White Wizards, feeding in the hungers that seemed to come from both.

A huge white mountain cat padded toward Justen, but he let it come, instead raising a black cat, feeding the black cat to match the white cat. The white cat became a fountain of molten rock spilling toward Justen, and the grass beside the stone pavement began to burn.

Justen called upon the cold within the north and the Roof of the World, and a fountain of chilled ice and rock appeared
beside the lava, which immediately formed a black crust and began to shrink.

Then he called upon the deep waters, and a fountain of ice-cold water burst from the earth, cascading over the hut and the two wizards.

Steam fountained where the water struck, and Justen turned the water into ice, and then back to water.

Oooooo…

Like a long whimper, the area around the hut was empty. Justen sat down suddenly beside the stone serving as a step into the way station, absently noting the small fire and the two packs that seemed to shrivel into dust.

Wwhheee…eeeee…

“Those are horses,” said Martan, standing beside Justen.

The engineer had not even heard the marine approach. “They had some wards I didn’t know about. Kept them hidden.”

Martan scuffed the burned grass. “What I saw was real, wasn’t it?”

“Mostly.”

“This is serious business.”

“Yes,” added Gunnar, stepping out of the land engine after setting the brake. “Everything Justen does, I think, is serious business.” He turned to his younger brother. “What was that?”

“A trick from the great forest. The only way you can win is to accept both order and chaos within yourself. I didn’t think any White could do that.” Justen wiped his still-sweating forehead.

“I don’t think most Blacks could do that, either,” responded Gunnar. He glanced around the hut. “I doubt anyone will bother us now. I also think that every White Wizard in Candar probably knows we’re here.” He paused. “Why couldn’t you use that instead of that other…infernal thing?”

“It won’t solve the problem.” Justen slowly stood, grasping the timber framing the way station’s doorless opening to help him rise. “These two weren’t that strong, either.”

“Here…” Gunnar shoved a wedge of cheese and the end of a loaf of bread at Justen.

“Thanks.” Justen slowly chewed on first the bread and then the cheese as Gunnar brought in the pallets and some supplies.

Martan fed more sticks and a small log to the dying fire.

Even before Gunnar had carried in his second load, Justen had struggled to the hearth by the fire, where he soaked up warmth and tried to keep his knees from turning to water.

Martan knelt and looked sideways at Justen. “That wizardry stuff takes it out of you.”

Justen nodded.

Martan rose and left the hut. When he returned, he offered Justen the small bucket of clear spring water.

“Thank you.” Justen took a deep swallow. His legs had stopped quivering, and he no longer felt as though he would fall over.

“I throttled it down and set the brake. What else?” asked Gunnar.

“Open the main release valve by the—”

“Oh…right.” Gunnar hurried back to the
Demon
.

Justen rose and followed, more slowly.

In the darkness, Gunnar turned to Justen. “You didn’t have to come.”

“The way things are going, we both had better check things.”

“Maybe.”

Justen threw the thin tarp over the seats. “This ought to keep anything from getting damp.”

“I don’t feel any rain.”

“Let’s get some food and rest.”

The two walked back into the way station and sat down on the stone floor. Gunnar spread cheese and bread on a square of cloth and then added some pearapples.

The three ate silently.

“We’ll need more coal—or wood—or something,” Justen mumbled, his mouth full of cheese and bread.

“Can we buy it?” asked Martan. “You said you had golds.”

“How? Do we steam up to the collier or the blacksmith wearing black and say, ‘Oh, I’d like to buy ten stone worth of coal or charcoal’?”

The marine laughed. “How about stealing it honest-like?”

“Take it and leave coins?” Justen mused. That was certainly better than theft. “Where’s the nearest town? We can probably make only another twenty kays before we’re running on coal dust. The
Demon
burns coal faster than I figured.”

“Well, we’re traveling faster than I figured. When will we reach Fairhaven?” Gunnar asked.

“It’s at least another half-day’s travel, even with the
Demon
.”

Gunnar leaned back on the thin pallet he had unrolled and closed his eyes.

“Sleeping already?” asked Martan.

“No. He’s riding the winds, trying to find a town.”

“You two…sometimes it’s fine. Other times, I wonder what I got into,” admitted Martan.

“So do we.”