by Luke Norris
“Yea, yea,” Yarn dismissed him with a wave, “remember we have speed but we are not immortal, a stray arrow or simply being overwhelmed by large numbers could still get us killed. That's what we've got Drake for.”
“Well, big boy? You're meant to be some super general right!?” Riff said. “Didn't you say you've been on like four planet runs?”
“Five!” Drake corrected him flatly.
“Hot damn!” Riff exclaimed. “How is that even possible? That must make you some kinda military fighting genius, and stronger than a dark star, to have survived that many planet runs.” Riff raised his wine cup in salute to the big driver.
“Wait a minute here!” Verity said. “Why is there talk of war? We need stability for our plans to work.”
“Yes we do, but at the moment stability is exactly what we don't have here. We have four kingdoms at war with each other. We need to unite them under one king, our little pawn in the palace over there, and then we can get the ball rolling.”
“Surely with our knowledge we can negotiate a political agreement with the other kingdoms?” Verity said. They are just warmongers! What happens to these people means nothing to them. But I'm part of this too. We are manipulating the progress of an entire world for the benefit of three second-stagers. She felt disgusted with herself. “What about this technology you plan on showing these people? You should probably know I have no idea how to build a spaceship.”
Yarn had a twinkle in his eye. “This man here,” he indicated to the half-intoxicated scraggly blond man next to him, “may not look like much…”
“Hey!” Riff objected, glancing at Verity.
“But,” Yarn continued, “is a technically minded genius, and the best engineer this side of the galaxy.”
“Ah!” he said, appeased. “I won't deny it.” His blond beard hid the gaunt lines in his narrow face as he smiled.
“Drake,” Yarn turned to the big driver, “any technology you need for the war machine, Riff is your man, so long as they have the capability to build it. You need to become more apt at the local dialect to command the army properly. Verity, you have to help him with this!”
Verity shuddered. It wasn't the intimidating sight of the driver looking back at her with his huge dark, scared muscular arms resting on the table, but at the thought of her own actions in helping him. I hate myself.
27. The King
It had only been two months since their arrival when the outsiders had first brought the prophecy to the king between the two rivers. Haras had watched with growing uneasiness as they had somehow worked their way into the king’s trusted circle of advisers. Initially, the king had indulged them, then he had included them in his councils, and now it seemed he couldn't make a single decision without consulting the so-called prophets.
Prophets! Haras snorted. If they are prophets, then I'm a yellow-eyed clansman. And now they're planning war strategy while the king is playing with his new gadgets. The man named Riff had made a device for the king, a large tube, when you looked through it made things further away seem closer. It was a marvel. Haras had taken a fright when he first looked at the black mountains in the distance. The detail was so astounding that it was as if he was standing at their base. The king now spent hours on the palace roof watching the night sky, examining craters on the moons. Even to Haras this would have seemed like magic if Riff had not explained the science of light to them, most of which he didn't understand.
Shortly after presenting the king this gift they had asked if Haras be allowed to spend some time explaining the political makeup of the four realms, so as not to take up the king’s precious time. The king had readily agreed, happy to spend time with his new love of astronomy. But these evening meetings were evolving into something more significant, and Haras felt now that the weight of the topics were such that the king should be involved. The king was however suitably distracted.
Haras watched as the three men in front of him deliberated in quiet, concentrated tones.
The woman, Verity, was absent again. He felt a slight tinge of disappointment. Their footsteps echoed around the stone chamber as they moved across the huge mosaic tile map under their feet. It was a rudimentary map of the entire continent from the black mountains to the coast, which extended over most of the floor.
Dark blue tiles showed the meandering lines of the three great rivers, that flowed to the expanse of green representing the ocean. A color represented each of the four realms, and the name of each spelled out in flowing text. Garab was the westernmost kingdom depicted in pastel red tiles. Naharain, where they now were, bordered Garab and was a pastel yellow. Wasat on the eastern border of their kingdom was pastel green. The far eastern kingdom Sharaq in pastel blue was the biggest geographically, almost the size of Garab and Naharain put together.
Haras watched Drake use one of the large poles to slide a one-foot wooden soldier across the map to join another one. These are our kinsmen you're toying with, that represents five hundred men, thought Haras. As if the big driver could hear his thoughts he looked up at that moment and held the sullen gaze of Haras.
“You come!” Drake ordered, beckoning to the captain of the guard. “Why is there no war here?” He pointed to the western realm.
“We are largely at peace with the Garab,” Haras explained, “besides the river creates an effective natural defense for both realms. The Wasat have us overextended on the eastern borders. There is no way we could afford to antagonize Garab in the west, and we would be spread too thin.”
“How large is enemy force here?” Drake struck his pole on the tiled floor that represented the Wasat border. “And where do soldiers cross river?”
As the hours wore on the questions kept coming from the big driver. At first, their arbitrary nature frustrated Haras, but slowly they became more in-depth. Soon the questions were of such detailed nature that strategies started automatically forming in Haras's mind that he hadn't considered before. This man is a general I will bet my life on it. Although his manner seemed dispassionate and cold, Haras couldn't help but respect the man’s military prowess.
“Why do you not know this?” Drake demanded. “You will place spies here, and infiltrate his camp also! We must know size of their reserve force. How many spies do the enemy have in our camp?”
“Well, none of course. We executed the two we found…”
“Baa! There are always spies! I will find others, but we do not hurt them, or reveal we have discovered them! We make sure they hear false information. When spying. This is very important.”
“Yes, of course,” replied Haras. He sees me as a warrior, he sees my potential. He knows I'm wasted here standing in court all day.
“We need to have a quick victory here, but your force is spread too thin.” Drake turned to Haras with an impassive face. “You will get all women and children to attack here as the diversion.” He indicated to a point south of several islands in the river. “Once the enemy has committed its full force our cavalry reserves will flank them coming from the north, at this point. The enemy will be spread in a thin line along the river and torn apart by the charge.”
“Yes, that soun...wait! Did you say women and children?” Exclaimed Haras. The captain of the guard stared dumbfounded at the big driver, whose focus was on the map and didn't seem to notice.
“What Drake means,” Yarn interjected smoothly, “is the force needs to be bolstered. There may need to be a temporary draft to the army for young men to perform this maneuver. Afterward, the boys can go back to their farms. They are only primarily there to create a diversion, probably won't even do any fighting.” He turned to Riff and spoke in the second-stage language in a low voice. “Drivers will be drivers,” they both chuckled.
Yeah, like hell that's what he meant! thought Haras, he speaks the language well enough, and he said women and children, and that's what he meant. He eyed the big man uneasily.
“What is here?” Drake demanded, pointing along the northern border.
“Nothing. That forest marks the northern border, after that are rolling foothills and then eventually the mountains.”
“There are people here! We saw them when we first came.”
“Well nothing really, just small villages and clans in the Highlands. They do provide us grain but it’s an insignificant amount, most of our crop comes from Lowland farms below the forest here.”
“Where are these clans exactly? Demanded the driver.
“There are villages scattered right across the Highlands over the four kingdoms. They are small in number and fight amongst themselves.”
“What does small in number mean? How many?”
“Well, we don't actually know. But they're just yellow-eyes. They know their place.”
Drake looked thoughtful, examining the area representing the Highlands. Then turned his attention back to the southern part of the map and the assault on the border of the Wasat kingdom
“We need to cross the river here near these islands! But this is the only bridge further south?” he asked, tapping a small wooden bridge that had been placed on the map.
“Yes that's the only bridge, and that's the reason for the large numbers of troops there. There is a boat ferry further up here, but that's small, nothing that would help our soldiers...or cavalry for that matter.”
“That's where I come in gentlemen,” Riff said. He had taken to unconsciously twisting the edge of his blond mustache during these sessions, and it aggravated Yarn, who had trimmed his beard back down at the first opportunity.
“I will draft some options for crossing machines, but I I'll need specifics about the river here, like depth, how wide it is and distance between these islands.” He cocked an eyebrow at Haras while twirling his mustache for effect.
“You look like an idiot!” Yarn said, in the second-stager language.
“This plan will strike a deadly blow to the Wasat border forces. I will inform the king immediately.” Haras moved to leave.
“Wait!” Commanded Yarn.
Haras stopped himself at the door. “You object to me informing the king?” His tone held accusation.
“You would not present an unfinished plan to his majesty would you?” Yarn looked the captain of the guard in the eye. “Haras you are a man of tactics and strategy. You clearly belong here. Captain of the guard is an esteemed position, but your vast skill set is not fully utilized there, that I see clearly now,” he paused, “I hear rumors that your men on the field greatly respect you. That makes me respect you.”
Haras drew himself up slightly higher at hearing the words of affirmation that he already knew to be true.
“The king doesn't need advisors coming to him with half-finished plans right now. He needs a general to show him a decisive path of action!” Yarn put a finger on Haras's chest, who promptly puffed up to his full height. “You my dear captain should be that man. We need to iron the wrinkles out of this plan before it is presented though. We will advise the king when the time is right.”
“Yes, of course,” said Haras, walking back into the room. “Let's carry on here!”
“Ah, First-stagers,” Yarn said in the second-stage language, “they're too easy. We will need the king to put his royal seal on the forced conscription though, to boost soldier numbers with boys. Until then he can play with his toys.”
28. Battle
The moon was a thin waning crescent and the second moon still hadn't risen. The darkness was deep. Occasionally iridescent green shimmers of light fell on the frightened faces of the boys.
They're so young, thought Verity, surely this one’s not older than ten years.
“Don't worry!” A hand rested on her shoulder in the dark. “They won't be in the fighting tonight! We need the people to trust this king, and sending farm boys to their death wouldn't help us achieve that. They are just a ruse to make our forces look bigger here.”
“I know, they just look so frightened,” Verity whispered.
Yarn turned to the thousand or so boys before him. “Enjoy the adventure while it lasts men!” He bellowed. “Tomorrow you will all be back on the farm. But tonight you get to be a part of our king’s army. You will talk of this with your friends until you are old. The night you gave victory to the king between the two rivers.” He raised his voice. “Some men go their whole lives without the chance to be part of history, and tonight you are making it! Tomorrow you will be feeding your pigs or plowing the fields, but tonight is your night!” He raised his sword up in salute to the host before him. “For the king!” He shouted.
Verity almost jumped with surprise as the multitude roared their reply. “For the king!”
The young boy who had looked so timid only moments ago was gripped his spear and giving his sternest expression. Verity could see the white of Yarn’s teeth glinting in the dark.
Better?” Yarn asked.
“Mmm,” somehow the fire in the ten-year-old boy’s eyes made her feel sick. Verity had platted her fringe back to keep it out of her eyes, and the rest of her hair fell nearly to her shoulders now. The leather corset she wore was laced and tied tightly around her narrow midriff with shoulder straps leaving the arms free. The light cotton shirt she wore underneath allowed her to use the bow easily.
She had already decided she wasn't going to shoot anybody with it, but Riff had spent time teaching her, glad for a chance to demonstrate his archery. She had become proficient and carried a light quiver of arrows on her hip.
Yarn had suggested she carry a long thin knife, a sword was simply too cumbersome for her small frame, although it was almost long enough to be a small sword. It had a slight curve along the shaft and tapered to an elegant point. But the thought of actually using it on somebody was out of the question unless it was an absolute last resort. It was strapped to her back with the handle extending over her shoulder.
She was still sore and tired from the metabolism training Yarn had given her during the week. He’d shown her how to speed up, move her body quickly, boosting as Riff and Yarn called it.
Everybody in second-stage society had the implants and knew how to slow down their metabolism, and stasis was a part of everyday life for intergalactic travel. But speeding up was different. There was simply no need for a second-stager living in society to move quicker, and the health risks associated made it pointless. In Yarn’s line of work however, it was a required tool. The advantage over first-stagers and drivers could, on occasion, be the difference between life and death.
He’d explained to Verity how to channel adrenaline and focus on triggering the implants that allowed her to speed up her metabolism. He had done some training exercises with her. At first, she hadn't even realized she was moving at a quicker rate than normal because Yarn was duplicating her speed, moving with her. She had noticed the way sounds around her started to become deep and drawn out, as she dodged Yarn’s light practice punches. Only when she slowed her body and mind back down and saw the captain of the guard watching them with an open jaw did she realize that it must have appeared as a blur of motion to the man.
It didn't take long for the rumors to spread through the soldiers ranks that the prophets had special powers. Verity could see the reverence in the eyes of the men. Yarn explained this tool was their ace, but it didn't make them invincible, just very hard to kill.
“Even the drivers like Drake, with all their programming and implants that make them better fighters, are at a disadvantage against our speed. The drivers don't have the ability to control their metabolism, that can only be done on the mothership when they are put into stasis sleep. It doesn't matter though because Drake is the last driver and he is working for us!”
Verity didn't need to be reminded that they weren't invincible. The death of three second-stagers on was still fresh in her mind, including Costa who was indeed killed by a driver.
She shivered. “Do you think Drake will do as he is told and not go on a killing spree?”
“Yes, Drake will follow orders,” Yarn said. “I explained the
importance of being merciful and taking prisoners, so the Wasat people will trust their new king. Once we overthrow their monarchy, we can't afford to have the people rebelling against us. Showing them quarter will help establish loyalty and unity, this will be crucial before we march on Garab kingdom too. Drake is a master of battle tactics, but he understands war strategy too.” They marched on in silence for a time toward the permanent bridge, where they were going to execute the diversion.
Yarn paused, “Riff should be back by now.”
Over the last month Riff had designed and built two pontoon bridges. Each one a hundred meters long, long enough to span the eighty meter stretch of water. The first was for the cavalry to cross five miles up the river. The second was for the infantry, only one mile north of the permanent bridge. He had each bridge split into ten-meter sections for maneuverability, and run drills with the soldiers on how to connect the units quickly, running training exercises until they were able to assemble the entire bridge within two hours. They had been built near the river bank but behind cover as not to arouse suspicion of scouts on the enemy side. The pontoons had wheels attached so the sections could be rolled the fifty meters to the water.
The previous evening, in the dark, they had been placed in the water and assembled along the Naharain side of the river. The northern end of the bridge had been allowed to drift out, letting the current slowly push it toward the other side, while the southern end had been anchored to act as a pivot point. Shortly before the bridge had made contact with the opposing riverbank, several anchors had been released and then winched tight to support the central sections and prevent them from breaking apart in the current. The bridge ended up spanning the river at a seventy-five degree angle from the Naharain riverbank.
“Ho comrades?” Riff called. He dismounted smoothly from his horse and tossed the reins to a waiting boy.
“Over here!” Yarn called back. “And? Are the two units across already?”
