A Manifold of Bindings (The Scrolls of Azbel Book 2)

by John Mangold

  “Or terminating, whichever proves easier,” Torrez replied.

  “Yes, very well,” Maluem replied. “So, if I am deciphering your collective ramblings correctly, there are multiple Royal Houses that do not enjoy a cooperative relationship with each other.”

  “To say the least!” Shelia replied with a barely stifled laugh. “The houses have been involved in a barely contained war with each other ever since Santilis was born. The House with the most power rules for as long as they can maintain the throne, or until another House undermines them.”

  “Given this adversarial relationship,” Maluem continued. “And the probability they all have been informed of our arrival, what are the odds that only one House is currently searching for us?”

  “Slim,” Torrez and Shelia answered as one.

  “Precisely,” Maluem agreed. “With that in mind, I suggest we stop bickering over whether we are being hunted and begin moving as though it is a certainty. The operative word there is moving. Staying still will avail us nothing.

  “To that end, the first step is to stop thinking like a bunch of scared rabbits and start putting ourselves in the mind of the hawk. Now, if you were hunting a Mortog, what is the one thing you would want it to do?”

  “I suppose I would want it to bolt,” Volo offered. “Break cover in some way. That is probably what the flying contraption was trying to do, flush us out.”

  “Exactly what I was thinking,” Maluem agreed.

  “But I thought you said we need to move,” Shelia put in. “We can’t stay here, but we can’t move. What are we supposed to do?”

  “Move without breaking cover,” Torrez answered for Maluem. “She means we have to move smart, not rush out like a panicked rodent. But how can we do that without making ourselves an obvious target?”

  “I was getting to that,” Maluem said. “Now, suppose I conceal our presence with a force bubble, gifted with a few stealth properties-”

  “Won’t work,” Torrez quickly interrupted. “Those fliers have Spell Trackers built-in standard. Remember Maluem, compared to down south, there are very few active Casters in Santilis. Casting a spell out in the open would be like setting off a flare in the dark. If they are paying attention to their instruments at all, we won’t make it twenty yards before they would be all over us.”

  “Very well,” Maluem conceded after a grunt of frustration. “You say that those machines they have work by mechanicals alone? They use no magic to operate?”

  “No, that is what the average citizen thinks,” Torrez reminded her. “Concealed runes are what really make that technology function.”

  “So, if all machines use magically driven runes to work, then it is less likely that they would pick up on a rune being activated, Correct?” Maluem asked.

  “It certainly would be less conspicuous,” Torrez admitted.

  “Excellent. Then we will need to work quickly. First, Volo, I need you to do a bit of spying for us. You will need to drop all of your projecting spells, make yourself as invisible as possible to both eye and sensor.”

  “How do you know they won’t be able to detect me,” Volo asked. “I mean, aren’t I basically projecting myself at all times? That is like a constant spell, isn’t it?”

  “Remember when we were in Enox, you said that when you felt weak that I was unable to see or hear you,” Maluem reminded him.

  “Well, that is if you weren’t just ignoring me,” Volo added.

  “Perish the thought,” Maluem replied. “Clearly, when you are at your lowest energy level, you can still perceive the outside world without it perceiving you. That is the very definition of stealth. Now, in that form, you should be able to avoid unwanted attention much more easily than any of us, unless either of the Entwhistles has some form of infiltration training of which I was not told.”

  “Nope,” Torrez replied. “But Maluem, we cannot be certain they won’t pick Volo up. His projection will likely register extremely low on their meters, but there is still a chance that, if they are very alert-”

  “A much lower chance than if any of us came stumbling out of the brush,” Maluem interrupted. “Besides, we have little time for anything more complicated. While Volo is accomplishing that task, Torrez and I will work together to apply the correct Runes to the Bounce Buggy to give ourselves the proper effect. The final step will be to have Torrez give Volo a quick lesson in B.B. piloting-”

  “Why would I need to know that?” Volo interrupted.

  “Yeah, wouldn’t I be the better driver,” Torrez chimed in. “I have much more experience than Volo at driving, and I stand a better chance of avoiding attention-”

  “But that may not be what we want,” Maluem interjected into their protests. “Pay close attention for, if this works as I envision it, I will teach you a valuable lesson in the distribution of resources. Now, I doubt we have much time, so let us keep the questioning to a minimum while maximizing our actions.”

  24.

  Fire and Gorgons

  Lieutenant Bradley gazed around his small office with a glare of disdain. It was not poorly appointed, considering his office was a towed trailer expanded on sight to form his temporary Headquarters. Lighting, water, heat, and communication gear were all preinstalled, and fully operational three micros after the unit had made camp. It really was a model of military efficiency in design, from its anti-gravitational suspension underneath to the full array of information gathering antenna on its roof.

  Yet, even with all this, it was still a far cry from his spacious offices back at the base. Every detail within this ‘mobile shed,’ as he called it, only served to remind him he was in the field, a place he loathed to be. It seemed to him that once a man attained a lofty rank such as his, there should be lower ranks to handle such unseemly aspects of military duty.

  As he rued once more, the memory of his recently passed over promotion to Captain, his top Sergeant strode in through the room’s single portal, punctuating his entrance by slamming the door shut behind him. Lt. Bradley kept his gaze from him, choosing instead to concentrate his eyes on a small display screen inset in his desk as though vital information was flowing across it. In reality, the only message displayed upon it currently was ‘Transmission Link Severed, Press Screen to Reconnect.’ Bradley quickly muttered a prayer of thanks that the Platoon Sergeant could not see the display from his vantage point.

  “What was that, sir?” Platoon Sergeant Kenimer asked.

  “Nothing, nothing,” Bradley replied with a dismissive wave of his hand, keeping his eyes locked on the screen in his desk.

  After a suitable amount of time had passed, and the Platoon Sergeant had cleared his throat no less than five times, Bradley slowly turned his eyes to his subordinate. Bradley knew he was tormenting the man, but he could not help it. It was one of the few pleasures available in such primitive settings. At long last, with a casual nod, he gave him the acknowledgment he knew the Sergeant was awaiting.

  “Delta Squad has reported in,” P.S. Kenimer said. “No sign of the vehicle Gorgon 712 spotted on the ridge, but there was a slight trail heading off into the woods-”

  “Have they followed that lead?” Lt. Bradley interrupted while messaging the bridge of his nose. “It seems logical that the tracks would lead to the quarry, does it not? Really Sergeant, do I need to spoon-feed your soldiers such basic information?”

  “Sir, no sir,” P.S. Kenimer replied. “Delta Squad followed the trail. However, it only led them to a severe drop off into a nearby ravine. It is unlikely such a small vehicle could have survived the fall. Elements from Delta are proceeding south along the roadway to see if the vehicle may have backtracked somehow-”

  “Backtracked?” Lt. Bradley interrupted again. “Right past themselves and Charlie Squad as well? That would take an extraordinary level of skill on the bandits’ part or an equal level of incompetence on the part of your soldiers. I wonder which is true.

  “Is it not also possible that those we hunt may have faked those tr
ails? Command said these bandits were quite ‘gifted,’ whatever that means. Have Charlie Squad retrace Delta Squad’s tracks. Tell them to turn on their ‘Sniffers’ and go extra slow. I don’t want to be on this mountainside all night, Sergeant, but I certainly don’t want to return to command empty-handed.”

  “Sir, with all due respect, I think we are wasting our time here. From what the pilots reported, it was nothing but a Bounce Buggy on that dirt road. They did pick up a bit of unusual activity on their gauges, but it was negligible, most likely from a glitchy receptor. That buggy was probably full of teenagers out for a bit of fun in the mountains. If that were the group command is after, wouldn’t we know by now? Surely they would have reacted-”

  “First of all, Sergeant, that ‘with all due respect’ phrase will not save you from an Insubordination Court Martial if I should decide to press one. I would watch my tongue better in the future if I were you. Second, those we seek came across the border from Enox. Thus, they would either be on horseback or driving an old vehicle, such as the one spotted. Third, just because they did not turn and attack at first sight does not mean they were not capable of it. They most likely were wise enough to realize that any use of their Bocor magic would draw in far more attackers than they cared to face.

  “But, let us examine your theory, Sergeant, that the vehicle in question merely contained some unruly youths out for a good time in the country. Then these youths would have to be bright indeed to evade three full squads of your finest troops. This might lead one to question the quality of your soldiers’ training, along with the intelligence of their leaders.”

  “Well, as I said, sir, the pilots did report some unusual activity from their gauges. Perhaps-”

  “Perhaps it was not the gauges that were faulty, but the slates reading them,” Lt. Bradley finished for him. “Perhaps we should re-examine that area to see if there were any other details we failed to follow up upon. That is what you were going to say, wasn’t it, Sergeant?”

  “Yes, sir, exactly what I had in mind.”

  “So glad we agree, Sergeant. Perhaps I won’t have to demote you, yet.”

  As the lieutenant said this, fixing the Platoon Sergeant with an appraising glare, he reached up and activated the monocle resting over his right eye. The device was connected to a small array of microscopic computers nestled deep within his brain, allowing him a level of perception and control over his soldiers otherwise impossible. The monocle lit up immediately, projecting a green holographic representation of the mountainside a few inches from his face. Here and there, small orange dots crept along amber paths that detailed the squads’ projected patrol routes. A series of numbers flickered along its borders feeding the officer a stream of data from the sensor arrays mounted on the ‘shed’s’ roof.

  “Well, the sensors are detecting a bit of odd activity in the area, but nothing too ominous,” Lt. Bradley observed. “This may be due to the recent brush with our Patrol Craft. Seeing as how they will be doing their best to mask their presence from us, and that they have been wise enough to keep from breaking whatever cover they have found, they may be trying to work around one of our flanks.”

  With a series of blinks, the map shifted, focusing in on the southernmost point of the unit’s perimeter, the rendering of the mountain’s face scrolling to match the movements of the Lieutenant’s eye. As he scanned, an anomaly several clicks north of their position grabbed the Lieutenant’s attention. A patch of the wilderness appeared to be in constant flux, turning to static at odd intervals. As he centered in on the parcel of forest, the trees would fade into focus for a few micros, only to blur into static once more. The Lieutenant tried in vain to stabilize the abnormality, but the projection remained rebellious.

  “Cancel my previous order,” the Lieutenant barked. “Divert Charlie Squad south and have them approach Alpha Squad’s position from the northeast in a dispersed formation. Perhaps our quarry was not as intelligent as I had presumed.”

  The Sergeant quickly relayed the commander’s orders through the communicator integrated into the communication array implanted in his left forearm. They did not have long to wait before the hologram displayed the results. First, a blue triangle sprang into life, pinpointing the disturbance's location on the map, followed by a small yellow blip in the projected map's upper right border, representing Charlie Squad’s current position.

  As the yellow blip closed in with the blue triangle, indicating the squad was approaching their target, both icons began to change, reflecting the shifting situation on the ground. The yellow blip began alternating between yellow and red, while the blue triangle morphed into a jagged starburst with radiating rings of urgent brilliance. The pair barely had time to acknowledge this sudden shift before the rumble of a distant explosion swept across the mobile HQ.

  Sprinting outside into the early morning air, the two could easily see down the mountainside to the point of the disturbance. As the soldiers watched, a bright blossom of blue flame illuminated the sky directly north of Alpha Squad’s position. Before either could react, a second fireball exploded from the treetops farther north, squarely in the path of the approaching Charlie Squad.

  “We have them,” P.S. Kenimer shouted excitedly, quickly referring to his communicator. “Our squads have the fools trapped between them. Alpha is fanning out to keep our targets from escaping while Charlie moves in for the capture.”

  “Excellent! Have Delta move southwest and cover the gap. We don’t want them to escape us this time,” the lieutenant replied, looking around the compound quickly.

  Through the maze of running soldiers, he could see one of the unit’s aircraft, Gorgon 317, idling on the landing pad. He tried in vain to raise the crew, but he found that his monocle had become frozen, fixed in place on the map display function.

  “Sergeant Kenimer, what is that bird doing on the ground! Get it airborne and down to the disturbance. Those squads are going to need all the air support they can get!”

  More than eager to get away from the infuriating sound of the Lieutenant’s voice, P.S. Kenimer quickly weaved through the chaos of the compound, waving his arms to catch the pilot’s eyes. At last, he could see the crewman’s head turn his way and nod in acknowledgment of his hand, pointing toward the sky. However, as the flier lifted from the ground, Platoon Sergeant Kenimer’s blood suddenly froze. In that micro, as the massive craft broke free from the tarmac, the down blast from its massive anti-grav engines scattered all manner of debris from beneath it, including a tarp that was covering a very oddly formed lump. As the flare-dampeners in his modified eyes adjusted to the brilliance from the aircraft’s lift-off thrusters, he could make out quite clearly what the tarp had been concealing, the bound and gagged forms of the aircraft’s proper crew.

  As he gazed in stunned dismay at the rogue Gorgon barreling off into the northern sky, he could hear his Lieutenant’s irritating voice bellowing from behind him.

  “Sergeant Kenimer, would you please tell me where the kulk that pile of scrap is going?”

  ***

  “Did you see that sergeant’s face,” Torrez howled as he piloted the massive craft over the treetops. “I thought he was going to drop dead right on the spot. Those Chud-monkeys must be as stupid as they are blind. They never saw us coming!”

  “Blind luck is what that was,” Shelia corrected him as she peered through the armored windows. “If anyone had been just a bit more observant or walked over a few micros earlier, we would have been copped! I can’t believe that worked!”

  “A simple matter of drawing your opponents’ attention away from your goal,” Maluem put in from behind them, still marveling at the inside of the machine’s cavernous cabin. “Never underestimate the power of a little misdirection. Speaking of which, I had best recall Volo from his little mission.”

  Looking to her staff, she could see that the core’s glow was pulsing wildly. From its intensity, not to mention the heat of the crystals within her staff’s heart, she knew Volo had to be e
xerting himself mightily. Allowing her fingers to caress its surface, Maluem pictured Volo in her mind and, before she could complete the thought, he was standing beside her in the aircraft. However, what was most startling about his sudden appearance was that he was still in the form of a fire apparition.

  “…tremble in fear, mere mortals for I-” Volo thundered before coming to a sudden halt, realizing that his audience had vanished. “Maluem? Dak! Just when I was getting warmed up.”

  Maluem turned to witness the Entwhistles’ reaction to Volo’s appearance, the pair quickly reminding Maluem of the Sergeant they had left on the ground. The only difference was that the soldier’s expression was the personification of shocked surprise; theirs were of stark terror.

  “Volo! Drop the flames, drop the flames!” Shelia and Torrez screamed in unison.

  Torrez’s reaction was so strong that he momentarily neglected the Gorgon’s controls, sending the aircraft into a sudden dip. Maluem and Shelia had to grasp wildly about themselves to keep from falling to the floor as the monstrosity bucked wildly in the air.

  Working swiftly, Torrez fought the multitude of levers to bring the machine back to a level flight, but not without causing the engines to scream wildly. Just as it seemed he had the situation well in hand, the cabin shuddered severely as though it had been struck by a giant fist. In response, dozens of lights blossomed to life on the intricate control boards over his head, accompanied by a cacophony of alarms. From that moment on, the machine seemed much less inclined to stay airborne.

  “Torrez, I thought you said you could fly this monster,” Maluem yelled as she clung to an overhead handle. “What in Azbel just happened?”

  “I think you called Volo back a bit too soon!” Torrez yelled while he applied every ounce of his concentration to fighting the vessel’s complicated controls.

  Glancing over to Volo, Maluem found him in human form once more, looking as innocent as the day he was born. But the buckling in the floor and the ceiling betrayed the damage his flame apparition had wrought. In some areas, metal vines Torrez called ‘wires’ protruded from the covers, scattering sparks into the air. Despite this contraption’s immense size, it appeared that it was still easily wounded by a little excessive heat. Maluem fixed Volo with a stern glare.