The Starfall Knight (24 page)

“Apologies,” Devan said, “but we have not been introduced.”

“I am Captain Rayce.”  He was the oldest of the captains present but his demeanour deferred to Marzell.

“Captain Rayce, I mean no offence but you have no jurisdiction over my being here,” Devan replied.

“Then, we have no responsibility for your safety.”

“I know.”

Marzell held up a gauntleted hand.  “Gentlemen, we can accomodate each other, I’m sure.”

Captain Erlend stepped forward.  “Devan, you’re welcome to board in our camp.  Your brother’s squad has drawn scouting duties for the first watch but they’ll be glad to see you later in the evening.”

“My thanks, captain, but that won’t be necessary.  I will leave my mount in your care, however.”

“As you wish.”

Devan turned to Marzell.  “What are your plans in crossing, Captain?  Marshal Jarrell’s company was not successful.”

“No, it was a disaster,” Marzell replied.  “The Sirinese have taught us a valuable lesson.  Not all battles should be fought with notions of honour and tradition.  We plan to cross as they do.  In the dark, with subterfuge.”

At this, Captain Rayce pursed his lips.  Devan guessed that his seniority, and conventional tactics, had been outvoted by the others.

Devan said, “Good.  They did not hesitate in using it against us.”  He unslung his gear and sword from the saddle.  “When do you attack?  I will join the assault.”

“Tonight,” Marzell said.

Devan’s stomach lurched with the thought of crossing open sky.  He reminded himself of the one concession that darkness would bring – he would not be able to see how far the endless sky descended.

Alessa leaned against the way-station as Leius crawled across the central cable that was almost thicker than his waist.  The young thrasher bore one end of the andonite tubing, hooked around his shoulders.  As he crept his way back to Masteney, the tube gathered underneath like a bunched up curtain.  Alessa wondered how the Centarans had created such a device but then reminded herself that they spent far less time on basic survival than the Sirinese.  She ignored the lush surrounds of Masteney; long live the Imperator.

Grunos and a couple other thrashers held the safety line drawn between them and Leius.  They were uncharacteristically supportive of the youngster, shouting their praise and counting down the distance along the cable.

A hand pressed on Alessa’s shoulder and she whipped around, her arm entwining her attacker.  Elina yelped and dropped to her knees.

“It’s me!”

Alessa glared at Elina.  “So?”

“I mean no harm.”

Alessa snaked her arm loose from Elina’s elbow.  She tapped her belt, making sure that Elina hadn’t pickpocketed anything.  “What do you want?”

“We have captured a boar,” Elina said.  She rubbed her arm.  “Leonus would like to know if you’d join us.”

“Later,” Alessa said.  “I have work to do.”

“As you will.”  Elina backed away but the lines around her mouth belied her subservient retreat.  Alessa made a mental note to carve out her own meal later.

Leius reached Masteney to a chorus of cheers from the gathered thrashers.  Grunos coiled up the tubing and waved at Alessa.  She nodded and led her squad away from the way-station.

She bypassed the town of Masteney, shouts and bawdy singing emanating over the palisades.  The screams of the captured women had long since ceased, not through escape or death but despair.  Alessa did not have to peek through the cracks in the palisade to see the broken women and men who were chained in the town’s stables.  Sirinese of both sexes frequented that area.

“The lads are hungry,” Grunos said as the lights of the town faded behind them.

“They eat when our job is done,” Alessa replied.

Grunos nodded and fell back into line.  Leius and the others said nothing, happy to follow Alessa.  Since her rise in Tarius’ esteem, she had noted the obedience in others even when her orders were more akin to thoughts out loud.  Alessa wondered how they would react if she ordered an attack on Nasius and Dene.

They reached the edge of the aerock at dusk, moons Aer and Vaere bright against the maroon sky.  Sirinis hovered next to Masteney.  The cables between the two aerocks shivered as the land masses were ever pulled towards the north.

“Here.”  Alessa took one end of the tubing and knelt at the edge of Masteney.  Leius and half of the thrashers clambered over to Sirinis with the other end.

Upon closer inspection, the tube was constructed mostly of banded metal fused onto the glass cylinders.  The device bore several initials, likely the mark of the genius who had created it.  Alessa mentally shook herself and turned her attention to the bedrock of Masteney.

She grabbed onto a rope-ladder for support and leaned over the edge.  Alessa ignored the clouds below and a faint line of andonite glowed in the darkness.  She slammed the metal tubing into the dirt and pushed.  A clod of earth tumbled past a glass section but nothing else happened.  Alessa hauled herself back and waited with Grunos as the other thrashers embedded the opposite end of the tube into Sirinis.

“What now?”

“Patience, Grunos.”

Alessa crossed her arms as an easterly wind gusted between the two aerocks.  She clenched each elbow, suppressing the urge to hang over the edge again.

A blue haze pulsed from Masteney’s edge.  The light oozed forward, illuminating the tube, section by section.  The glass shone with every beat of the andonite.  Alessa squinted – it was not the mineral itself but a form of the energy, similar to the gas that was released on impact.

The andonite reached Sirinis and cracks of azure shone in the bedrock for the moment, then faded.  As Alessa approached the conduit, the light faded to a familiar shade of sky, the intensity little more than a candle in a hall.  Though no faster than a trickle, the andonite flowed and tumbled from Masteney to Sirinis.

Clouds obscured Vaere and Aer, casting a pall over the wooded foothills.  Devan crept to the edge of the aerock.  Erlend’s squad pattered alongside him while four riflemen under Captain Marzell lined up opposite.  Her sergeant, Akara, led a strike team of swordsmen towards the way-station, a hundred paces to the west.

“How many sentries?” Marzell asked.

“Three,” Erlend replied.  He lowered his spyglass and scanned Masteney.  “I would’ve expected more.”

“I’m loath to wait around for Captain Benton’s squad,” Marzell said.  “Apologies, Devan.”

“Not at all,” he replied.  He was inclined to agree with the army captain – the sooner he crossed to Masteney, the sooner he would reach Sirinis.

Marzell gestured to the andonite riflemen.  “Riflemen, targets.  Set.”

The riflemen each brought up their weapons and aimed across the gap.  The metal and polished wood gleamed under the starlight.  Erlend lifted his spyglass and said, “Three targets.  Twenty -five degrees left, under the tree.  Five degrees left, smoking a pipe.  Fifteen degrees right, pissing over the edge.”

“Fire.”

The riflemen shot in unison, the andonite clips snapping like a clap in Devan’s ear.  The three sentries dropped.  Smoke burst from the rifle muzzles.  The man near the edge toppled over, his form disappearing into the darkness below.  Devan shivered.

“Let’s move.”

Erlend’s rangers unfurled rope ladders and massive crossbows which were smaller versions of the ballistae used to grapple aerocks.  The quarrels were hooked with cords attached at the other end; the cords were in turn fixed to the rope ladders.  The rangers set themselves and winched the crossbows.  Erlend and Marzell scanned Masteney for activity.  Devan held back, sure that the report of the rifles would bring Sirinese to their position.

The crossbows cracked and the corded bolts sailed across the gap and disappeared into the trees on Masteney.  The rangers hauled on the ropes until the lines grew taut; the grapples had caught onto trunks and forked branches.  They pulled onto the secondary lines and the rope ladders extended across.

“Move!”

One by one, the rangers clipped onto the grappling line and swung across to Masteney using the underside of the rope ladders.  Devan sighed to himself, feeling a knot of jealousy towards the rangers’ confidence and speed.  On Masteney, the rangers disappeared from sight, blending into the gloomy forest.

“Ranger Devan, you’re up,” Marzell said.

Devan nodded and trotted towards the closest lines.  He slid a makeshift harness around his hips and clipped onto the line.  The rope ladder swayed in the airstream between the aerocks.  Devan swallowed and ignored the nothingness underneath.  There was no way to cross the rope ladder on the upper-side – it would always twist around so the weight hung underneath.  In some ways, crawling aross a thick cable was preferable.

With a quick adjustment to his gauntlets, Devan gripped onto the first rung of the ladder and let himself drop from Centara.  His line snapped taut and the harness bit into his groin, the strain a reminder that he was safe.  Some rangers preferred to haul themselves along the ladder upside-down, using their legs as well as their arms like a spider.  There was a risk of tipping backwards and the harness wasn’t built to protect against slipping out head-first.  Devan was no hero.  He clenched his teeth and swung forward using his arms like a monkey.  Rung by rung, his shoulders fired with exertion.

Masteney loomed up and Devan smelled freshly turned dirt.  A hand reached down and hauled him up as Devan scrabbled with his boots for support.  The ranger nodded and slapped Devan on the shoulder.

“This way.”

Devan followed the voice and found the rangers huddled in a hollow with a mossy log to one side.

“What’s your plan, Devan?” Erlend asked.  “Or should I say, officer of the Marshal?”

“I need to cross into Sirinis.”

The gathered rangers murmured.

“What of Masteney?”

“You have Captain Marzell and her forces. I don’t –”

Shouts and the clash of steel rose from the direction of the way-station.  Erlend urged his squad to their feet.  “Weapons!”  The rangers darted off, swords, maces and bows at the ready.

Devan followed, damned if he would be left behind.  He would likely need help in reaching Sirinis alive so assisting Erlend’s squad would go some way to that end.

They emerged onto the clearing that bracketed the main road from the way-station to Masteney town.  The clouds had since moved on, the moons bright in the sky.  At the way-station, Sergeant Ressen’s swordsmen battled against a group of Sirinese.  In the moonlight, the enemies gleamed as if naked from the waist up.  Devan shook his head to himself – what sane person would patrol half-naked?

A pair of Sirinese broke off from the struggle and Erlend called out, “Bows!”

The Sirinese warriors stumbled along the road, rivulets of blood streaming from wounds across their shoulders and arms.  Three rangers stepped forward and took aim, loosed.  Arrows whipped in the air and sank into the Sirinese with a meaty thud.  The two escapees tumbled to the ground.

“Spread out and cover the road.”

The rangers obeyed without a sound but their counterpart soldiers killed the remaining guards and silence fell across the aerock once more.

As the rest of the company made the crossing, Devan examined the dead Sirinese with arrows sprouting from their necks.  They were indeed naked from the waist up, apart from shoulder-straps holding empty sheaths.  One of them wore a salvaged leather gauntlet.  Both bore tattoos that extended across their backs, shoulders and arms that depicted a mass of bones.

“Fit for nothing but dog-meat now.”  Captain Erlend crouched next to Devan and nudged one of the bodies.  “They may be plentiful but also ill-equipped.  Here, let’s get them off the road.”

Devan and Erlend dragged the corpses away and the company formed up in a tight column.  Marzell inspected her soldiers – the halberdiers at the front, followed by her swordsmen, archers and the lone squad of riflemen.  The rangers flanked the column, almost disappearing into the forest.

“Ranger Devan,” Marzell said, “we will be but a moment to take the town.  Then, onto Sirinis.”

“Thanks, captain.”

Marzell raised a fist and called out, “March!”

Devan fell into the vanguard with Marzell.  On foot, they still made good time and passed the northern fields and orchards that sustained the town.  The road wound to the west and climbed upwards.  At the next ridge, Marzell called a halt.  In the distance, the town of Masteney lay ahead.  No lights shone in the darkness, not a single flicker of a lamp or hearth.

The captains under Marzell’s command approached.  Erlend, Marsa and Benton on one side while Rayce and Sturgar emerged from the centre of the column.  Benton greeted Devan with a light touch on the shoulder.

“Your orders, captain?”

Marzell turned to her subordinates and said, “It’s a lot of open ground but all seems quiet.”

“Looks can be deceiving,” Rayce said.  “Don’t forget the incident with aerock Dalimor.”

“Of course not,” Marzell replied.  “But surprise is our weapon now.  We should not delay.”

Benton said, “Marsa and I will scout ahead.  That should help prevent a repeat of Dalimor.  I recommend Erlend’s squad to maintain a perimeter around the column.”

“I agree,” Marzell said.  “Forge two trails to the town.  Deploy your rangers now.”

“Yes, captain.”  Benton, Erlend and Marsa withdrew and headed back to their squads.

“Rayce – gather your company and follow Captain Benton’s trail.  Captain Sturgar – hold off and maintain a rear guard.  I don’t want any surprises coming from Sirinis.”

“Yes, captain!”

“Devan, you’re with me,” Marzell said.

“And that would be?”

“Following Captain Marsa’s squad to the town.”  Marzell stalked off and rounded up her company.

Devan rested a hand on the hilt of his sword and stared at the town.  He thought he could see movement but it was likely mere shadows of the clouds passing across the moons.  The mention of Dalimor had invoked old memories, an encounter with an aerock that had attempted an assault on Elade.  They had been driven off, but not before exacting a toll on the Centarans, both civilian and military.