Centyr Dominance

by Michael G. Manning

  She remembered the day she and her brother had tried to save Dorian Thornbear, and failed. Now his son was probably dying on the field, alone. Once again she was helpless to aid her friends. How could she have thought that she could succeed?

  The monster was only a half mile away, chasing what remained of her army. They were spread out and running in every direction, forcing it to fire selectively to kill them. Its accuracy was unbelievable. Moira could almost imagine it looking at her as it advanced implacably.

  And then a figure rose from the earth, sunlight glinting from the polished steel that covered his form. Gram had waited until the enemy’s champion had almost passed him, moving some twenty feet away. Leaping up as the monster leveled its weapon in the opposite direction, he closed the space between them in a flash. Thorn was in its original form now, that of a long two-handed great sword, and he swept it across in a powerful slash. Enchanted steel cut through alien metal, and one of the monster’s legs fell away.

  Moira’s heart leapt into her throat as a surge of hope swept over her, and Alyssa cried out in pure delight, “Yes!”

  Chapter 21

  The thing had begun to swivel its upper torso even before Gram reached it, and removing one leg didn’t destabilize it. It was still standing level on its three remaining supports, and while removing a limb might be enough to send a living being into shock, the metal beast made no particular outcry of pain.

  There were no eyes that he could detect, but it had seen his approach, of that Gram was sure. Somehow the monster could see in all directions. Ducking low to avoid the perilous line of death being spewed out by its weapon-arm, he bent at the knees and tucked his shoulder in beneath the nearest leg and then straightened, heaving the massive limb skyward.

  The weight was more than he expected. He had thought the thing hollow, perhaps containing a living occupant, but its bulk felt more as if it were made of almost solid metal. A normal man would not have budged it; several together might have done little more than shift it slightly, but Gram was not a normal man. Inside his armor his cheeks turned red and his jaw clenched as he lifted, an angry growl escaping his lips.

  Thorn pulsed in his hand, beating in time with his heart, and then the leg was above his head as the massive beast overbalanced, tipping backward to land on its side. The weapon that had killed so many already was facing the earth, unable to fire as he shifted his stance. He lifted his sword, and prepared to remove another leg, but the second arm, which had been dormant thus far, began to track his movement.

  Gram dropped flat, close beside the thing, too low for its arm to follow him as it rang out with a strange metallic clacking sound. He couldn’t remember their first encounter with one of these things, but he had heard Moira’s description of what the second weapon could do, and he doubted his armor would offer any protection. The city had been behind him as he had ducked, and he heard a noise from its direction, a loud booming sound, as if a giant had just struck a huge drum.

  From the corner of his eye he saw dust billowing outward from the city wall as a thick section collapsed. Whatever the weapon was, he had narrowly escaped death. Sweeping his sword upward, he attacked the nearest leg, but the blow lacked the power his first one had due to the short distance and awkward positioning. Even so, his strength and the enchanted edge would probably have cut through an armored man, but against this foe it only left a superficial cut in the strange metal.

  The leg swept down, as the thing attempted to crush him against the hard ground, and he was forced to roll to avoid the attack.

  The move gave the thing time to lever itself back upward, and before he could position himself for another swing the beast was back on its three legs again, the first weapon now lining up with his torso. At this distance, he could see that it was a collection of long metal tubes arranged in a hexagonal pattern. A strange whine issued from them as they began to spin around a central axis.

  Gram was still bruised from the earlier attack that had knocked him nearly senseless a few minutes previously, and he had already decided what he would do if faced with the same thing once again. Leaping upward and to one side, he shouted a word, changing Thorn’s form to that of a shield on his left arm and one handed sword in his right hand.

  He might as well have stayed still, though, for all the good his acrobatics did him. The weapon tracked his movement precisely as the high pitched whine changed to a buzzing roar and something that felt like a hammer of the gods slammed into his shield. He was sent spinning through the air while more unseen blows struck his legs and back as he tumbled.

  Gram hit the ground hard, but he retained consciousness and managed to get the shield between his body and the unholy weapon that was pounding at him. Crouching behind it, he braced it with his sword arm as well, trying to relieve the pain of the rapid-fire concussions his left arm was now enduring.

  For half a minute he was battered, until his shield arm was numb, and his shoulder felt like nothing more than a searing mass of agony, but the shield held. Bits of metal fell around him now and again, though not from his shield, so he could only think they were fragments of whatever the weapon was hurling at him.

  And then it was over. The weapon stopped with a strange series of clicks and a descending whine as the tubes began to stop spinning. His ears noted the sound of the torso swiveling once more—it was about to bring its second arm to bear on him—the one that had just recently destroyed a heavy section of the city wall.

  Gram surged forward, his shield arm hung limp and numb, but his sword arm still functioned perfectly. He closed the gap before his foe could fire, and once there he moved too quickly for it to track him, darting left and then down, his sword striking with blinding speed. It left deep cuts in the metal exterior of the thing, but it was tougher than steel, and without two hands he couldn’t get the leverage to sever another leg.

  He continued moving, right, then under, left again, never letting the weapon line up with him. As he moved, his arm and shoulder began to throb with pain, an indication that feeling was returning to it. Just a little longer, he thought.

  And then he slipped, his left boot sliding on the rough gravel. For a split second he was still, and his eyes were drawn to the gaping hole at the end of the weapon as it locked onto his position. He let his legs go limp, trying to drop beneath its line of fire.

  Another strange ‘clack’ rang out, and the shockwave drove him into the ground as something passed over his head. He could hear part of the city wall collapsing as he gathered his legs under him. The beast had gone still, waiting to charge its unearthly weapon, he supposed.

  The adrenaline of his near-death energized him, and he shifted Thorn to its great sword form, the shield disappearing simultaneously. Moving with what seemed like a lazy economy, he set his feet and twisted his torso, winding up for his swing like a woodsman chopping lumber. His body uncoiled like a spring, and a shock ran through his wounded shoulder as Thorn swept through the highest joint of another of the creature’s legs, sending it toppling to the ground. Avoiding the weapon, for fear of what had happened to Grace, he sent a second well placed blow into the thick midsection, above where the arms emerged. The sword bit deeply into the metal, exposing strange metal innards—something black bled from the wound.

  The thing continued to twitch and heave as he methodically chopped away at its main torso. A minute or more passed before it went still—while smoke continued to rise and sparks flew from its hopefully dead body. Gram took a deep heaving breath and fell as much as sat down before lying back to stare at the sky.

  Everything hurt.

  ***

  “He’s down!” shouted Alyssa, anxiously trying once more to get past the shield that held her in and kept the enemy back. “Let me go!”

  “He wasn’t hurt,” said the spell-twin nearest her. “I think he’s just catching his breath.”

  The remainder of Moira’s army reached the rear of those trying to attack them, and chaos ensued. They were outnumbered by a vast
majority, but the end result was inevitable. Moira began channeling power into them, and they resumed paralyzing and freeing the citizens of Halam, hundreds at a time.

  The horde turned on them, naturally, and some of them were forced to create shields to protect the others while they worked at removing the metal parasites from those they had already frozen. Many from both sides were dead already, slain by the strange weapon of the metal monster, but there were still close to fifty thousand people struggling on the field.

  Moira tried to make a rough estimate in her head and eventually gave up. She knew it would be several hours at least before they were done. She kept the aythar flowing at a steady but sustainable rate and resigned herself to waiting.

  The enemy had other ideas, however.

  Two more of its metal monstrosities emerged from around either side of the city, heading directly toward their position. They hadn’t begun firing yet, though, presumably to get closer for better effect.

  Fifty thousand still living and breathing human beings were gathered around them. If they start attacking now it will be a slaughter, Moira realized. She looked for Gram on the field and discovered he had started moving at some point already. He was close to the back of the mob now.

  Something ripped through the air, destroying one of the shields protecting them and at the same time one of her spell-twins vanished in a turbulent spray of disjointed aythar. A tree several hundred feet behind them exploded into splinters, and a second later they could hear a strange metallic ‘clacking’ sound echo across the field from the direction of one of the monsters.

  Parasite-controlled enemies began flooding through the gap until her defenders readjusted their shields to close it. Alyssa began moving, arms and legs whirling into motion, her hair whipping back and forth with the violence of her shifting stances. Alone she nevertheless represented a one-woman rampage of ruthless violence.

  Alyssa danced, and there was no hesitation in her step, no mercy in her hands. Where she went people died, and those who still moved had suffered crippling injuries. The sheer number of foes might have overwhelmed her, but Chad stood calmly beside Moira, pacing himself and planning his shots. Whenever one, or several, seemed about to overwhelm her, they sprouted feathered shafts, usually in places that were almost immediately fatal.

  The violence was close and disturbing. Moira had to force her attention away from it as her stomach threatened to betray her, but even as she did, a quiet thought came to her. You could end it much more quickly, with less pain. With Cassandra’s power she could level a series of controlled blasts that would kill them all, and even spare her defenders, though not the thousands of minions who were mixed in with them.

  But they were innocents. So many had died already, as a result of her actions, or the callousness of their enemy. Would it matter if the rest were destroyed as well? Would they even want to survive only to discover that half their kith and kin had died in her ill-conceived attempt to free them? For a moment, the thought of blasting the field clear and putting a quick end to things was dangerously attractive to her.

  “No,” Moira said, firming her lips, and then a second attack destroyed another section of the shield, and one more of her defenders died in a flare of shattered aythar. The metal beasts were little more than half a mile away now.

  Gram came through that time, along with another flood of enemies. Thorn was a great sword in his hands, and he joined Alyssa, sweeping bloody arcs through the bodies that stood between them. Moira’s defenders readjusted, closing the gap and making their circle even smaller.

  Moira was desperate, but she knew that even if she resorted to plain violence, they still had two more of those damnable creatures to deal with. Gram was probably in no shape to fight another one, much less two. Once again she lamented the loss of her enchanted belt, the rune channels would have given her the means to cut them into pieces, even at this distance. But they were gone, and she already knew that simple fire and blasts would do little, not that she could use them effectively at this distance.

  A storm! Lightning could be almost as effective as a rune channeled attack, and she could probably manage to direct it even at a distance.

  Ordinarily, weather magic was too exhausting for a wizard to attempt, at least not on any scale. Her father however, had to watch his moods, because sometimes the environment reacted to even his simplest emotions. That was one of the major differences between an archmage and a regular wizard, of course. An archmage could simply persuade the world to do what she wanted, rather than spending the aythar to make it happen herself. Moira didn’t have that option. There had been hints that she might be capable of it someday, but thus far she had only heard the faintest of whispers from the earth and wind.

  She did have access to a massive store of aythar, however.

  Withdrawing her support from her spell-wrought minions, she sent her energies skyward, drawing heavily on the dragon, pushing her limits. Drawing the clouds together took enormous effort, driving the winds and creating the sort of turbulence needed took even more.

  Moira did it anyway.

  The skies darkened, and clouds gathered at a rate that was entirely unnatural. Minutes passed and Moira could feel the newborn thunderheads filling with latent power. She pushed harder, she needed it sooner, much sooner.

  Another of her defenders vanished in a brilliant scattering of sparks, and dozens more poured in, to be met by Gram and his murderous partner. Chad shot only two or three, conserving the remainder of his arrows.

  Moira’s arms were held skyward, trembling with the strain as she continued fighting with what felt like a mountain of air. Doubts assailed her, but she ignored them, I will do this!

  Two more of her spell-twins were destroyed in quick succession, forcing Gram and Alyssa to scramble. Chad used all that remained of his arrows and then began scavenging once more. Their circle had become much smaller.

  A flash lit the field as a bolt of lightning struck near the center. Moira hadn’t been ready for it, and it had come nowhere near her targets. She could feel the tension that had left the thunderclouds above. No! She sent more power skyward, trying to keep a closer rein on the energies there. She needed the lightning when she was ready, so that it could be directed.

  Again one of her spell-twins died, and this time she felt the air torn by whatever passed through it, just feet from where she stood. The air seemed to slap at her, and something far behind took the final blow. She didn’t have the focus to spare to discover what it had destroyed.

  She kept her attention on the sky above. Though her eyes were wide, staring forward, she had nothing left to spare on the rest of the battle. One of the latest to break through the shields came close, leaping toward her with a knife outstretched. His body erupted as Thorn swept through his arm and torso, bisecting him mere feet from where Moira stood.

  So deep was Moira’s concentration that she didn’t flinch as the hot blood sprayed across her face and chest. The veins and tendons in her neck and arms were standing out as she strained to bend the wind and clouds to her will.

  And then she was done.

  Actinic light, harsh and blue-white, flared as a bolt of lightning slammed into the earth where one of the oncoming metal beasts stood. The world seemed to pause for a moment then, a vast, dark silence left behind in the aftershock of that thunderous event. And then the lightning fell again, striking it once more before a rapid succession of flickering bolts found the second monster as well.

  Neither of the metal creatures moved after the first strike to touch them, but by the ninth or tenth stroke both were smoking, and one exploded in a sudden fireball.

  More lightning flickered at random locations, and Moira could feel the power that her efforts had created in the thunderheads above. It was like an avalanche waiting to fall, and the adrenaline surging through her cried out to release it. There was enough there to sweep the field clean, perhaps enough to cleanse the blight of Halam itself from the earth.

  Groaning audi
bly, Moira bent her metaphysical back once more, straining to quiet the currents of air that were rolling past one another, generating the dangerous potentials above. Rain had begun to fall, and she was soaked to the skin as she labored to reverse what she had done. Her dress was soaked through, and her breaths coming in hoarse sobs by the time she was done and the rain began to slack off once more.

  She found herself sitting on ground turned muddy, panting and tired. Father makes it look so easy, she thought, but then he doesn’t have to actually ‘do’ anything. Well—besides worry about losing his mind every time.

  A hand entered her field of view, and she accepted it, letting Gram haul her onto her somewhat unsteady feet. His once shining armor was covered in a mixture of blood, grime, and all sorts of unmentionable things that were probably supposed to remain inside of people, rather than on the outside of him.

  Staring at him, she imagined the sweating warrior inside and whether it was a result of the shock of near death, or the violence she had just witnessed, she felt a feral desire to rip the armor from him and…

  Alyssa met her eyes, and in the other woman’s gaze she saw a full understanding of what she had been thinking. Moira cast her eyes down and stepped away.

  “Not to put too fine a point on things,” said Chad quietly, “but what are we goin’ ta do about the rest of ‘em?” He gestured vaguely at the thousands still beating on the shields that protected them.

  Moira’s circle of defenders numbered only four now, and the circle had shrunk considerably, enclosing an area a mere thirty feet across. Beyond that defense lay tens of thousands of dead-eyed and presumably murderous citizens.

  Gram held up one of his hands, visibly counting his fingers as he tried to make some unknown calculation.