Fires of Memory

by Washburn, Scott;

  “That would give us the opportunity to destroy them all at once,” Atark pointed out.

  “True, but Heguria will still be there next year.” He pointed to the map. “Instead of east, we can go north. We can finish off Berssia completely. Take Gira and then turn east into Laponia. By midsummer we could be in the heart of all these little principalities here. I don’t think we are going to finish this in a single battle or a single campaign, my friend. There are just so many of these people. So many towns and cities; we’ll be sacking the east for the next ten years. ”

  Atark hesitated, but then he nodded. He remembered his own short campaign against the Varags. He had destroyed village after village, but there always seemed to be more. And once the Varags had realized that there would be no mercy shown them, they had no reason to ever surrender. They either fled or fought. If the Easterners were given that same choice, they would probably react in the same way. “Do you think, perhaps, we should deal with these people a little more kindly? Give them a reason to submit to us?”

  “The thought had occurred to me,” said Zarruk. “If they know that all they can hope for is slaughter for the men and enslavement for the women, it will give them the courage of despair. They will fight, and we’ll have to take every city and town by storm—and most of them have old walls just like Berssenburg did, from what I’ve heard. That will be a long and slow process. Perhaps if we treat those who surrender without a fight gently—but be more ruthless than ever with those who resist—it could break their will.”

  “As long as there is enough loot for the warriors,” said Atark.

  “Oh, there will be!” chuckled Zarruk. “I said ‘gently’, I did not mean we would not make demands of them! Gold, food, maidens, we’ll want all of that and more. If they give us what we demand, we will spare their lives and not burn their town. If they resist, every male will be put to the sword, their women treated most harshly and their town left in ashes. Once that message gets across, I think resistance will crumble.”

  “At least after we’ve beaten the army they send against us. As long as that exists, they will still have hope.”

  “True. But they will have to come and meet us sometime, and when they do, we shall crush them.”

  Atark nodded. It seemed a good plan. “What about the cities that do yield to us? Will you leave a garrison to rule them, or simply return every year to demand more tribute?”

  “I think in the larger cities we shall leave a garrison. There are several thousand of the older warriors who are not really up to a hard campaign anymore who I was already planning to leave here. We can do the same elsewhere. The smaller towns, we’ll just come back to again later.”

  “So we shall lay claim to all this land? Live here and rule the inhabitants forever?”

  “Why not? It is a rich, fat land, just asking to be taken.”

  Atark sighed. “And in time, will we become too rich and too fat, my re-ka? There are so many more of them than there are of us. When each man has a fine house and mounds of gold and a dozen pretty concubines to attend him, will they still be willing to ride hard and fight harder?"

  Zarruk laughed. “You worry too much, my friend! Taking the land will be a task of years. What comes afterward we can worry about later!”

  “I suppose you are right. We have much yet to do. So, when do we ride?”

  “The weather will still be bad for some time. Another two months, I would expect. We shall have to send messengers west to tell the newcomers to meet us on our ride north rather than east. Yes, I would guess we shall begin in two months. Meanwhile, I shall send for the Hegurian ambassador. Would you like to stay while I see just how much we can squeeze out of him?”

  “It would be my pleasure,” said Atark.

  * * * * *

  Jarren rubbed his eyes and shifted the candle a bit to give more light. His little magical lamp was so dim now, that it was of little use. He wasn’t sure what time it was, somewhere near dawn, he guessed. Another long, long night of digging through centuries-old tomes on subjects he would never truly be able to understand. He had thirty assistants now, and he could see that several of them were asleep at their desks. Oto Wiebelan was here, too, although he was asleep in his room. Even with the extra help, the new material was piling up faster than they could hope to go through it. Crates and boxes seemed to be arriving daily as universities and librarians from all over the east responded to his call for records dealing with magic.

  He leaned back in his chair and sighed. Mountains of words, but no answers. Over a month had passed since that unpleasant scene with Colonel Krasner. Fortunately, there had not been any apparent repercussions from Hesseran’s blunder with the Hegurian, but Krasner was hounding them to find some solution to the Kaifeng’s magic. Unfortunately, neither Jarren, nor any of the wizards had much confidence that there was any answer. The three magickers had been pushing themselves unmercifully to strengthen their spells. Lyni was doing the best and she could produce several thousand of the ‘waterbugs’ at once. Idira and Hesseran could make a thousand or so. They kept improving, but by Jarren’s estimate, they would probably not be able to make more than forty or fifty thousand by the likely date of the battle. Not enough, not nearly enough.

  They’d all had to argue hard to prevent Krasner from trying to sail back to the Wizard’s Island and dragging all the others back in chains. With the thirty or forty others who were there trained to create waterbugs, it would almost give them enough to stop the fireflies. But the chances of actually dragooning the other wizards seemed so slim, it did not seem worth the attempt. Especially since Lyni refused to guide them back to the island. Without her help, it might take months to find the place. When Krasner realized he might miss out on the spring campaign and bring back the additional help too late to do any good, he dropped the idea.

  So they needed another answer. At first, Jarren had been encouraged by the discovery about the crystal. If one thing could keep the seekers out, perhaps something else could, too. Something more practical to make than lead crystal cartridge boxes! In truth, such things would not work in any case. The Seekers would probably just swarm around until the soldiers opened them to get out their ammunition. Zip-boom! No they needed something else…

  A huge yawn erupted without warning. He really needed some sleep, but he was finding it difficult to rest. The knowledge that there were unread books, scrolls that had not been opened, and that in one of them could lie the answer drove him on and on. He could work for a few hours yet, but he needed a cup of hot tea. He pushed himself out of his chair and headed for the kitchen.

  There was no one there, nor had he expected anyone to be. He built up the fire, put a kettle over it, and waited for it to boil. While he waited, he went to the back door and opened it. The chill, pre-dawn air slapped him awake. It was frosty and very clear. The stars glittered down on him. It occurred to him that those same stars were shining on the Kaifeng hosts. In a month, or maybe two, those hosts would start to move. Killing, burning, and raping their way across the landscape, they would come east. A chill went through him. For some reason, it all seemed terribly real now. For months, ever since he’d first returned to Zamerdan from the Wizard’s Island, this had all seemed like a dream. Like some history book come to life. It wasn’t really going to happen, was it? All of Colonel Krasner’s warnings were just a fairy tale, right?

  Wrong. It really was going to happen. And if they could not find a way to stop the Kaifeng, they would roll over everything. Everything. Even familiar and comfortable places like Sirenza would eventually fall. His mother and grandmother and a dozen aunts, uncles, and cousins lived there. What would happen to them? Old Porfino’s shop would be looted and the old man put to the sword when he tried to use his pitiful wooden club to stop them. The university would burn and Hano Beredane’s head would be put on a pike. The opera house and the art museum, all gone.

  And long before that, Jarren Carabello would be a rotted corpse, ridden into the dirt of some battlef
ield by the hooves of the Kaifeng horses. Colonel Krasner would be dead, Hesseran would be dead. Idira might survive as a slave, and Lyni…

  They’d get Lyni, too. Knowing her, she would not give up without a fight and she’d probably end up killed. But if she wasn’t killed, they would catch her and rape her and make her a slave. Her powers would not help her; they’d just put an iron collar around her neck and then rape her some more. The thought of Lyni as a slave filled him with horror and rage. He liked her far more than he would admit, and he could not bear to think of her harmed. He knew she hated him, but he could not help how he felt about her.

  We’ve got to stop them, somehow.

  The water in the kettle was boiling and he made his tea. The hot liquid drove some of the chill from him, but it could not get rid of the feeling of dread that filled him. They were running out of time.

  He returned to the study and took up the book where he had left off. He finished it just as dawn was coming up but found nothing of interest. He was seriously thinking about going to bed, but some of the students were stumbling back in now, and a few had questions he needed to answer. By the time he was done with that, he was thinking about breakfast. The kitchen was full now, and he was just in time to see Colonel Krasner going out the door—which was lucky: he didn’t need another lecture on how desperate the situation was. But Oto was there and he took his food and sat down beside him.

  “Morning, Jarren,” said Wiebelan. “Another late night, I see. You can’t keep pushing yourself like this, you know.”

  “I’ll go to sleep in a bit. It’s easier to concentrate at night.”

  “Yes, I did that, too, when I was young. Can’t do it now.”

  “This is so frustrating,” said Jarren wearily, “I used to love going through the old books. The thought that I was reading things that no one had read for centuries was thrilling. And when I would find something of interest, I would sit there and think: ‘I’m the only one in the whole world who knows about this’. It was a wonderful feeling, almost god-like. But this desperate search is no fun. None at all. I can feel the time and everyone’s hopes and expectations pressing in on me. I feel like a grape with all the juice squeezed out of it.”

  “You’re tired, Jarren. Go to bed.”

  “Yes, I think I’ll go to bed.”

  “Oh, did you see that package that came for you late yesterday?” asked Wiebelan.

  “Package?”

  “Yes, it was addressed to you personally. I noticed it, because it came from Sirenza. At first I thought it might have come from Beredane, but it’s not his handwriting on the wrapping.”

  “Really?” asked Jarren sleepily. “Where is it?”

  “On the table in the foyer.”

  “I’ll take a look at it. Thank you.” Jarren finished his breakfast and then found the package. It was a book-shaped object wrapped in many layers of paper. He picked it up and carried it up to his room. He flopped down on his bed and fumbled to untie the strings that bound it. He finally had to resort to a knife to cut them and then he tore away the paper. It was an old, leather-bound book that looked exactly like ten thousand others that were now filling the estate. The gold letters on the binding had been worn away so that he could not read them. He carefully opened the cover and saw that a new piece of paper was resting inside. He took it and squinted at it in the bright morning light that was streaming in the window. In spite of his fatigue, his face took on a huge grin.

  Porfino! That old rascal! I was just thinking about him!

  The note said simply: “Jarren, I thought you might find this of interest. Look at page 289. Porfino.”

  Jarren set the paper aside and turned the pages to the title. Practical Magical Alchemy, by Gheradin. The name meant nothing to him, but he shrugged and turned to page 289 as Porfino had instructed. He began to read…

  What follows is a description of a spell I devised at the behest of a merchant who deals in fireworks. The man came to plead with me for help. It seemed that his main customers were traveling circuses and his goods were constantly being imperiled by…

  Jarren’s eyes widened in amazement and every trace of fatigue vanished. “Hess! Idira! Lyni!”

  His bellow roused the entire household.

  * * * * *

  “I’m afraid it has been confirmed,” said General DeSlitz, grimly. “Heguria has formally withdrawn from the alliance. Their troops will not be joining us and we cannot rendezvous in their territory as we had planned.”

  Several of the officers around the conference table gasped in alarm, but Matt simply winced. He’d been fearing this for weeks, ever since he’d heard what Hesseran had to say.

  “But, that’s crazy!” exclaimed one of the staff officers. “They’re committing suicide!”

  “No,” said DeSlitz. “They have concluded an agreement with the Kaifeng. In exchange for a huge tribute, the Kaifs will leave them alone—for now.”

  “Those traitorous bastards!” snarled General Saginau. “Leaving the rest of us in the lurch!”

  “Yes. We shall be losing nearly fifty thousand troops, more, really, since it’s unlikely any of the Ertrian troops will be able to reach us in time now, and we’ll have to completely redraw our plans for the rendezvous and supply.”

  “But why did they do it?” demanded another officer.

  DeSlitz turned his piercing gaze on Matt, and he realized that all of his lies had finally come home to roost. “I think Colonel Krasner can probably answer that question better than I can.”

  Matt cleared his throat nervously and glanced at the other officers. “I would imagine it is because the Hegurians believe that the wizards have not yet discovered a way to counter the Kaifeng magic. Sir.”

  To say that pandemonium broke out in the room would not have been accurate. These were all military men and had a certain amount of self-discipline. Still, the number of dropped jaws and cries of surprise was fairly impressive. Matt forced his face to immobility and simply watched.

  “What…what do you mean they can’t counter it? They promised they could!” exclaimed Saginau.

  “They promised they would work on finding the proper solution, General,” countered Matt. “They are working, working very hard, and they still have hope.”

  “Hope? Hope! We need more than just hope!”

  “Yes, I must agree,” said General DeSlitz. “Colonel, do not attempt to play clever with me. I recall your earlier statements very clearly, and I have accounts of what you and the wizards said both here and aboard the ships bringing you back. There is not the slightest doubt that you and they have deliberately misled us about their abilities. This entire alliance was created based on the assumption that some counter to the Kaifeng magic could be found. Do you have any explanation?”

  “Yes, sir. I will admit that I lied to all of you. Deliberately and with forethought.” There were growls of anger from around the table, but Matt pushed on. “As for my explanation, well, you said it yourself, General: the whole alliance depended on it.”

  “But you admit they don’t have an answer!” cried Saginau. “When word of this gets out, the alliance will fall apart!”

  “And if I had told you the whole truth from the start, the alliance never would have been formed in the first place!” snapped Matt. “Then what would have happened? Everyone would have run around like headless chickens, and we would have still been squawking when the Kaifs rolled over us. The alliance is absolutely essential, and I was not going to say anything that might have imperiled it! Sir.”

  “You had no right to make such a decision yourself!”

  “Just a moment, General,” said DeSlitz, putting up a hand. “You could be right about that, but Colonel Krasner makes an excellent point, too. The alliance is absolutely vital. No individual kingdom or duchy can hope to fight the Kaifs on their own. Our only hope is the combined army. If he had told the truth, it might well have collapsed immediately, just as he says. He couldn’t—and we can’t—allow that to happen.”
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  “But…but how can we hope to win against the Kaif magic, sir?”

  “We’ll do it the way we were planning to before the wizards arrived. Send out the word to get the craftsmen back to work on the bows and crossbows and pikes! We won’t rule out our gunpowder until it is certain the wizards aren’t going to succeed, but we will have to make plans that assume they will fail. We are soldiers, damn it, and we will fight no matter what weapons we end up using!”

  “But won’t that give away the secret, sir?”

  “We’ll just tell everyone we are taking no chances and want to have the other weapons available. They’ll suspect, they’ll worry, but as long as we act like we still expect to win, they’ll go along with it. They’ll go along with it because we’re their only hope and they know it. That places a great deal of responsibility on each and every one of us, gentlemen. But see to your duty and we’ll get through this.”

  The men around the table seemed to relax, ever so slightly. Matt could see they were still shaken, but hopefully they would do their jobs.

  “Colonel Krasner,” continued DeSlitz, and Matt snapped back to attention. “If you were a Zollerhan officer, I’d have you cashiered for this. While I can, perhaps, understand your actions, that does not mean I’m happy with them. You deliberately withheld information from me, your commanding officer. I’m very tempted to relieve you of your command.”

  “That is your privilege, sir. Just so long as I get a chance to fight. I’ll go as a common trooper if I have to.”

  DeSiltz frowned and rubbed at his ear. “Still, the wizards seem to like you, and to remove you now would raise too many questions with the aristocracy who are used to seeing you. I’m afraid we shall have to continue your policy of deception with them. And I suppose that if your wizards don’t succeed, then it doesn’t really matter who the liaison is, does it? Very well, keep your job—but I’m assigning one of my aides to act as my liaison. I’ll expect him to keep me completely informed of what’s happening—and I expect you to give him full access to the wizards.”