Blood of the Tallan (The Petralist Book 7)

by Frank Morin

  Abruptly the ride smoothed out, and the Battalion began accelerating south. Captain Leppin reported, “Blind coal has been activated. We should be on target in two minutes.”

  “How long will reserves last?” Jean asked. She was glad they would soon be able to support their already-embattled troops, but blind coal ran out notoriously fast.

  “Not long,” he said simply.

  Admiral Forfar said, “As long as we can hold position over the battlefield, that will be enough.”

  Jean glanced out the western windows. The aerial swarm was still closing fast, and although the Battalion fleet was making headway, they’d never outrun the monsters. Their fast-attack flights were still stuck on deck, which would curtail their ability to destroy the swarm. The Battalions were packed with troops and mechanicals, had full shielding available, and sported many deadly weapons, but from reports she’d heard about the attack on Merkland, they’d be hard-pressed to fight off the nimble flying monsters without flights of their own.

  “Lossit valley coming into view,” one woman reported.

  Even though Jean had watched the initial clashes via the distant sightstone hive mechanicals, seeing the valley open beneath her made it seem more real. They were just clearing the last row of hills when the vast host came into view.

  Despite their many Petralists and their incredible array of mechanicals, Jean still felt a shiver of fear at the sight of what looked like two hundred thousand soldiers pouring into the valley. She tried to embrace that thrill of battle fury that swept through her during the first battle of Merkland, but had to mitigate it with calm control. She might not be one of the soldiers directly fighting, but the choices she made could save or cost many lives.

  “Status of our forces?” Jean asked.

  An officer rattled off the reports. “Arishat Siege weapons have engaged, but rate of fire is severely curtailed due to the need to defend against the enemy Strider attack. Lady Shona is leading a relief column of Striders.”

  Jean spotted the embattled siege emplacements with the fast movers rushing past. She glanced at a nearby viewscreen showing a close-up of the battle and cringed when she spotted one of the trebuchets smashed, with corpses littering the ground around it. The other siege weapons appeared to have withstood the initial attack better, but the defenders were hard-pressed.

  Then she spotted Shona’s runners rush in using a flying-V formation, like a speeding flock of geese. They split the enemy Strider corps, dropping several of the surprised Petralists before splitting into the complex patterns of a running battle. She breathed a sigh of relief. With that timely aid, they should be able to hold their own.

  “Rory and his Boulders are preparing to engage,” another officer reported.

  Jean easily spotted the ranks of Boulders marching to the very lip of the cliff, ready to plunge down and leap into the bash fight. Their five companies, each made up of a thousand Boulders, were badly outnumbered. They faced more than three times as many enemy Boulders, supported by Sentries and Spitters, all moving into position facing the lakes at the base of the cliff.

  “General Wolfram and the Arishat League are engaged,” another soldier reported, gesturing toward the south window. Now that they were entering the battlefield, technicians were shifting the viewscreens so that zoomed-in views were positioned under the windows showing the same sections of the battlefield.

  Along the northern end of the valley, the battle was already underway, with regulars heavily engaged. To Jean, it looked like a wild melee with little organization, but she trusted Wolfram to hold the northern flank.

  “Remain at three thousand feet. I don’t want anyone accidentally descending into their range until phase two,” she ordered as the great fleet swept toward the enemy army.

  Admiral Forfar grinned at her, looking eager to engage. “I concur, Lady Jean. Notify all Battalions to drop camouflage and prepare for bombardment.”

  One of the viewscreens, from a flying mechanical half a mile south of the Battalions and a thousand feet below them, was oriented back toward them and showed the Battalions creeping over the battlefield. From that position, they really did look like low-flying clouds. Closer inspection would definitely reveal odd warps and angles within those clouds, but she doubted anyone in the enemy army was prepared for what they were about to see.

  The camouflage winked out, and the sight still awed Jean, even though she knew what to expect. The enormous Battalion carriers appeared, looking far larger from below. The many rapid-fire mechanicals attached to the underside looked enormously threatening, and Jean realized Hamish had been right when he’d promised her earlier that at the sight of their flying fortresses, at least half of the army was probably going to need a new pair smallclothes.

  “Captain, begin phase one, on your command,” Jean said, projecting calm, although inwardly she cringed at the violence about to be unleashed upon the enemy.

  Captain Leppin saluted and moved to the southernmost window, which offered the best view over the enemy forces. He waited another moment as the Battalions swept over the valley, passing the embattled regulars, then the township with the enemy leadership platforms clearly visible in the central square. They continued onward, allowing the rest of the fleet to move into position, and every second seemed to stretch forever to Jean.

  The enemy reacted quickly. They might be awed by the sight of the Battalion fleet, but they weren’t surprised. Earthen shield walls rose up in great domes over each company. With Sentries embedded in every thousand-man units, they reacted with remarkable efficiency.

  “Commence firing,” Captain Leppin ordered.

  His junior officers immediately spoke into their speakstones, relaying his order. Through the distant drone sightstones, Jean watched as all of those mechanicals underneath the huge ships began spitting fire and destruction.

  Verena had told them how well the rapid-fire siege weapons had worked in Merkland. They struggled against fast-moving flyers, but against stationary targets like that army, Jean could not imagine a more devastating weapon, unless they dropped one of the enormous Last Word bombs.

  They actually had one of those bombs on each of the Battalions, but she hoped they would not be necessary. A single bomb could devastate hundreds, if not thousands of lives. They would be used in the case of elfonnel or in a moment of last-ditch desperation if the queen attacked. Those bombs might distract her long enough for them to withdraw.

  Most of the rapid-fire mechanicals shot high-explosive diorite rounds, although a number of them were using newly developed penetrator rounds that included reinforced hardened granite points to drill deep into the Sentry shields before detonating.

  Explosions swept across the enemy forces, and even huddled under their earthen barriers Jean suspected those explosions were taking a terrible toll. Most of the shields held, blackened and pockmarked by the explosions, but still intact.

  A few did not. Those were probably controlled by newer Sentries. The gunners quickly launched secondary strikes at those vulnerable points, sweeping them with additional explosions that sent soldiers tumbling in every direction. Boulders might be able to withstand some of those strikes, but any others would be pulverized.

  Jean forced herself to watch, despite tears that she fought to blink away. She was a healer not a killer, and it tore at her to see such devastation happening at her command. Hopefully they could finish the battle quickly so she could order her flights to launch and to assist the wounded.

  Sometimes the real world was simply brutal.

  The penetrating rounds worked even better than she’d expected. She witnessed many of them drill through protective earthen shields before exploding, and those very shields served to contain the resulting blasts inside, magnifying them. Many earthen walls crumbled after one of those penetrating strikes, revealing blackened and broken bodies.

  Admiral Forfar said, “Brilliant work!”

  “The winds, they’re dying down,” Captain Leppin reported, gesturing toward t
he deck. The Battalion might have been slipping through the queen’s gale, but winds had still ripped at the exposed men and mechanicals. Now they were looking around or raising fists in triumph. The air appeared calm.

  “Launch all flights against the swarm,” Jean ordered, feeling a ray of hope. She didn’t know what had stopped the wind. Had the queen gotten too distracted by Connor and Evander? She hoped so. With their flights engaged, they could destroy the flying monsters.

  “Commence phase two immediately,” Admiral Forfar ordered.

  That surprised Jean. “Are you sure that’s wise with the swarm closing on us?”

  “Perhaps not, but our bombardment won’t stop them for long. We need to get our forces down there to press the advantage,” he said.

  Jean didn’t like placing those soldiers at risk like that, but couldn’t argue with the admiral’s logic, so she nodded.

  Small attack flights began launching from every Battalion and formed up to meet the flying swarm. At the same time, Thunder Towers lurched forward and began rolling toward the outer edge of the decks.

  The enemy was not going to just sit there and let them blow them to pieces, though. Water erupted out of the Macantact and flowed up into the sky from a hundred different points throughout the queen’s army. Again they had spread out their Spitters much farther throughout their forces than Jean had expected, and that allowed them to link their efforts in a truly remarkable way.

  The waters flowed up into the air and formed great shields of liquid that quickly linked into one enormous shield above the entire army. At first Jean wasn’t sure what that would accomplish, but realized the brilliance of it as explosive rounds began detonating over that watery shield, rippling the surface but accomplishing little else.

  The penetrating rounds seemed to do better at first, in many cases punching clean through and still striking the ground before exploding. The Spitters adjusted quickly, though, and began adding shifting currents of water to deflect those penetrators off course. As a result, in many instances they bounced and skittered along the ground instead of punching straight down, their explosions accomplishing little.

  The mass of ground troops moving against Rory’s position resumed their advance. Despite casualties from the bombardment, they still outnumbered Rory’s forces nearly three to one. Jean could not allow them to maintain that position of strength.

  “Prepare to launch the rods and prepare the pumice initiative.”

  38

  Nothing Like a Good Old-fashioned Bash Fight

  General Rory stood at the edge of the cliff beside the central waterfall. The beautiful expanse of Lossit valley spread beneath him, the view softened by the mists billowing out from the eight waterfalls, as well as clouds of dust from the Arishat League siege weapons and the recent bombardment from the Battalions. Thousands of Boulders, supported by Sentries and Spitters, were moving into position below to greet his forces.

  The day was shaping up to offer an even better bash fight than the great bash fight of Merkland. He breathed deep the clean, water-laden air and grinned, testing the strength of his granite curse, coursing under his skin, ready for battle.

  “Shall we?” he asked Anika. His beloved stood beside him, looking as gorgeous in her battle leathers as ever. He’d been smitten by her beauty, her unrivaled strength, and that glint of battle lust in her eye that set his heart racing. That they could charge into battle side by side filled him with a deep sense of contentment.

  “Yes, mine capitain. We fight. Now!” She lifted a mechanical that was little more than a small Sehrazad steel glass magazine, filled with bombs the size of Rory’s fist. Aiming the squat launch tube extending out the front down toward the lakes at the bottom of the cliff, she activated it. Air from quartzite inside the magazine propelled the bombs out with soft spitting thumps.

  All down the line of their forces, gathered along the edge of the cliff to either side, other Boulders and Rumblers launched more bombs. They rained down, exploding fifty feet above the ground. Rory had no idea how Hamish set the elevation. He was just glad it worked.

  The bombs exploded in soft flashes of light, generating clouds of dust that spread and settled over the lakes and were pushed by the clouds of mist out beyond the shores, toward the advancing enemy positions. Other soldiers dumped bags of pumice powder into the falls rushing past.

  “Pumice layer is deployed,” Anika reported, tossing the empty mechanical aside and lifting the new battle hammer her brother had gifted to her at the wedding.

  “Good. Let’s go say hello,” Rory said with a grin.

  With a shouted battle cry, he jumped off the cliff.

  Anika jumped in perfect unison with him, her voice lifted in a joyous Grandurian battle song. All along the cliff face, their soldiers followed. Five thousand Boulders leaped in unison, a wave of bash-fighting prowess greater than any force Rory had ever commanded.

  It would indeed be a great day.

  As they fell, enemy Spitters attempted to seize the waters of the falls to snatch them out of the air, but most of their efforts failed. The waters were filled with activated pumice dust, so although the waterfalls shook, and a few tendrils extended toward Rory and the others, few actually snatched Boulders or tried to drown them. Those who were caught activated personal blind coal or pumice mechanicals and slipped free.

  The enemy would not dodge a bash fight today.

  Some of the Boulders activated descent mechanicals, small quartzite thrusters that slowed their descent. Rory didn’t bother. He didn’t want to miss a second of the brewing bash fight.

  So he plunged down into one of the lakes, sinking deep, even though he spread his arms and legs to create drag. He didn’t spot the bottom, even though he sank at least thirty feet. Ivor had said the lakes were deep.

  Rory pulled hard for the surface, but felt waters encircle him. The layer of concealing pumice hadn’t sunk that deep, and he’d fallen right into the Spitters’ realm of control.

  For the first time in his life, Rory didn’t fear Spitters. He tapped his new secondary affinity.

  He’d always thought Connor was a good boy, and Connor had proven it at the wedding. Rory had never imagined gaining a secondary affinity. He was a bash fighter. What did he need with limestone? Sandstone would have allowed him to fight longer, but he didn’t really need it.

  Blind coal, however, was a wondrous gift. Rory tapped it, savoring the oily, snakelike feel of it sliding over him. With blind coal activated, he swam out of the Spitter’s embrace and surfaced. He sucked in a water-laden breath, deactivated blind coal, and stroked for the shore, tapping granite to his arms and shoulders enough to accelerate his swim.

  Anika had already surfaced and would reach the shore a second before he did. To either side, Boulders were raining down onto the ground, or surfacing from the lakes. They all had enough blind coal or pumice to survive the initial delaying tactics of the tertiaries. He hoped Ivor and Anton’s attacks would soon distract them from the bash fight, or that Ilse and her teams of Crushers would deal with the annoyance.

  Rory paddled hard for the shore. He didn’t want Anika to get to plunge alone into the enemy ranks without him. She’d love the challenge, but they were a team. Together they slogged through the muddy shore to solid ground. Anika shook her head to clear water, and her long braid swung out wide, spraying glittering droplets. Her eyes were glowing with eagerness, and she looked as happy as he felt.

  The enemy Boulders had closed to within a hundred yards and formed deep ranks. They looked as eager as Rory for the bash fight to commence. He glanced to either side. His forces were forming up, although many were getting delayed by Sentries or Spitters, wasting time and precious mechanicals.

  “We need to give them something else to worry about so they’ll leave our people alone,” he shouted.

  Anika grinned. “Time for freedom call.”

  “My thoughts exactly.” Rory started to advance on the enemy lines, marching with a slow, determined stride. Anika
matched him, and their forces began falling in to either side. Rory extracted a small mechanical launch tube from a chest pocket. Barely six inches long, made of wood, it contained a single mechanical with a simple button activation on the end. Rory mashed the button and pointed the tube into the air.

  With a whooshing hiss, a piece of limestone shot out of the tube and soared high into the air. For a moment, the shouting of enemy sergeants faded as everyone looked up. Two hundred feet up, just above the leading edge of the enemy lines, it erupted into a multicolored sunburst. The light expanded and became words that hung like fire in the sky.

  “The time is now. Guardians rise up and fight for your freedom!”

  Rory lifted a speakstone that Verena had prepared for him. Most of the battlefield commanders had one. They magnified one’s voice, as if a Pathfinder was standing nearby. His voice boomed loud in the hush as he shouted, “Freedom! Today we fight for freedom!”

  The cry was taken up by every member of the troop, echoing from the cliffs behind them and filling the valley with the cry of freedom. To the north, some of the embattled regulars took up the cry. The sound reverberated like shockwaves across the battlefield.

  “Freedom! Freedom!”

  And miraculously, Guardians among the queen’s forces took up the cry.

  Rory had fully expected they would, but he still felt a thrill to hear the cry, to see the raised fists of brotherhood as many of those standing across the open ground from him chose freedom. They’d been pressed into service on penalty of death, but now they had the chance to choose their fate.

  Many chose correctly.

  As surprised officers shouted for order, many Guardians turned on their leaders and attacked them with brutal ferocity. Chaos swept the vast ranks of their enemy. Rory had just upended the scale of the bash fight.