Polychrome

by Ryk E. Spoor

  The Rainbow Castle was silent now; he had even sent the servants away with the rest of the people. On Caelorum Sanctorum was space and enough, and safety assured; the Above would not mind, he thought, if he used it as a refuge for his people, so long as he kept the veil of cloud high and deep between the Mountain and the Heavens.

  If only I could call upon them. But I gave that up long ago, when I chose this place, this world.

  His footsteps echoed endlessly through the high vaulted corridors, and the Music of the Spheres was sad and muted. Once more he cast his gaze to the pool, but only shadowed shapes moved within. They have passed through the Great Barrier around Oz, and I can see nothing clearly through that, unless I were to put forth my full strength…and I may need that soon enough.

  He moved then and stood on the battlements, looking out. His vision was keen beyond mortal, or even ordinary Faerie, imagining, and he saw all about the castle now for a hundred miles and more. A gift of my heritage, yet a pale shadow of my father’s sight. He would have given much for his father’s vision now.

  Nothing. Not a Tempest, not a soldier, naught but ordinary clouds and the brilliance of sky in all the directions below, and below.

  Iris Mirabilis glanced upward with a sudden surge of fear. Even they would never dare an assault upon the Holy Mountain!

  He relaxed as he saw no sign of movement beyond his people, but a tension remained. It has been days, now, since all my armies passed into Oz. I have sensed a clash of armies, my daughter’s first battle. Surely they know I can have few, if any, here to defend the Rainbow Kingdom. If Amanita and Ugu are as powerful as they must be, then they also know this cannot be a battle of armies, it is a battle of Powers. Why do they not come?

  He slammed down one massive fist, and the entire wall quivered under the impact. Here, with none to see him, he need not be restrained. With no others in the line of fire, he could use his powers as he had not done since ages past, when first he founded the Kingdom. That was why he had sent all away, left himself the sole and lone defender of all he had built.

  Yet none came to challenge him. The air was clear and empty of all but questions.

  In his heart, he knew his hopes for a battle, perhaps a final battle, were nothing but distractions, a way for him to ignore the truth. The Prophecies of the Bear were enigmatic in ways, but deadly clear in others, and it was not here in his Kingdom that the fate of worlds would be decided. It would be decided by the actions of one man who owed the Rainbow Kingdom even less than he thought, and of one girl who was owed far more than she could imagine now.

  Even so, the Usurpers would not pass up this chance. He had listened to the news that had come from Faerie, the course of action taken by the Usurpers, their choices and strategies as manifest in their deeds. Early on they had been…crude, would be the best way to put it, in their approaches. But as time had gone on, at least one of the rulers of Oz had become more far-sighted and cautious in their strategies — Ugu, he suspected — and to that one the opportunity to at least test the defenses of the Rainbow Kingdom when they were at their lowest would be something that could not be ignored.

  Unless there was something else that Ugu knew that he did not. Iris looked out again, the sense of foreboding laying even more heavily upon him. Nothing.

  “They will not come.”

  Startled, he glanced down. The Little Pink Bear stood, almost invisible, in the shadows at his feet.

  A chill ran down his spine as he took in the meaning of the words…and the fact that they had been spoken by this comical-looking Oracle. “What do you mean?”

  “They will not come; they are not coming.” The high-pitched voice was as jerky and semi-mechanical as ever, the voice of a passionless child as a judge and seer. “There is no need.”

  Now the chill turned to a dawning, vague realization and horror. “Why? If they time their strike right, there would be no better opportunity, and little risk; they could withdraw and return their forces to Oz before the full forces under Nimbus and my daughter could reach the Grey Castle!”

  “Because they know what you have planned, and use that to their advantage.”

  He snatched up the tiny stuffed creature, shaking with anger and fear for everything he held dear. “How could they know?”

  “Once in motion the Prophecy was, then in their hands the Prophecy fell.”

  He was speechless with shock and found himself on his knees, staring at the emotionless black-bead eyes. “They have had the Prophecy since Erik Medon arrived in the Kingdom?”

  The crank turned slowly. “Yes.”

  It took nearly all of his control to keep from crushing the Bear in his hand. “Why did you not tell us this, Bear?”

  “You did not ask. I am built to answer questions.” The Pink Bear’s voice carried a slightly wounded tone under its usual mechanical sound.

  “But you can act and speak now on your own. As you did just now.” He rose slowly and placed the Bear on the wall, and the lightnings gathered about his hand. “Now you will explain why you did not speak long ago, and explain well, or by my father and the Above I shall reduce you unto ashes and scatter those so far that not all the power of Above and Below could gather them again.”

  “Fate.”

  Nearly he released the Power. “What?”

  “Fate,” the Bear repeated. “Destiny. Wyrd. The thread is spun, the words are spoken, Clotho, Lachesis, Atropos, Urdr, Verdandi, Skuld.”

  He went cold, cold inside. “You knew it would happen from the beginning.”

  The little Bear looked at him, and its voice carried a force and power he had not heard before. “The future is not known. It is only made. But the way to the future is guarded by many, and there is no victory without cost, no Prophet who carries not the weight of the Prophecy in the knowledge that many things must be allowed to happen or there is no choice.”

  Suddenly what stood before him was no stuffed and somehow amusing Seer; though its form changed not at all, he saw something else, a vast and shadowy Presence that was more ancient than Iris Mirabilis himself, even older than his mighty father. “Is that what you wish, Iris Mirabilis, Bifrost-Child, Sign of Promise, Kamanabillu? To have all safety in knowledge, and take all of choice away?” The power held him in terrifying thrall, seething with the absolute certainty that it now held before him. “Would you, then, choose to have no choice?”

  He fell to his knees, stunned and appalled. “No!”

  “Then there must be possibility of spies, chance of betrayal, unknown and unknowable things that still chart the course of prophecy, that the choices of Man and Faerie and God may still be of meaning and their strivings not the echoes of a clockwork they see not.” The presence began to fade.

  “No. I would not have that,” he said, more quietly. “Never that.

  “But…she is my daughter, and still so very young.”

  Chapter 47.

  We crested the final hill and looked down. “Oh…my…God,” I heard myself say slowly, feeling the horror creep its way down my spine. Before us lay the Usurpers’ Army. And behind them, the Grey Castle.

  It was a gargantuan edifice, a mountain of grey stone walls that might be three miles or more on a side, towers reaching hundreds of feet into the air, enclosing — or so they said — the entirety of the Emerald City within those walls.

  But what was worse was the land. Almost at our feet, in a line as sharp as though cut with a razor, the grasses turned from brilliant green (with a touch of lavender) to dead, cold grey, the color of the darkest, deadest dust of the Moon, the color of spent, cold ashes. The Grey Castle lay at the center of a perfect circle of sterility, a symmetric monochrome memory of life that was.

  The only color on the dead, rolling, petrified meadows was the Army. And color there was, but all of it wrong; the bruise-harmful green-black of the Tempests, fever-bright flame-orange of Infernos, frozen-hatred ice-blue of Torrents, poisoned-earth swamp-brown of Temblors, and the myriad other delirium-intense hues of t
he soldiers, their armor, their weapons, the siege engines, stretching across our entire path and many, many ranks deep.

  I looked over to the others. “I guess this is it.”

  Nimbus, Ruggedo, and Polychrome’s eyes reflected the knowledge that the others lacked; this was a battle we might fight, but did not expect to win.

  “So it is. One last parley, and then — the battle,” Nimbus said.

  “I guess you don’t expect them to surrender now.”

  “It would seem…unlikely.”

  Once more the five of us strode forward; once more, General Guph and the select four Dark Elementals met us.

  “General, we have brought the battle to your very doorstep. You have now seen that we have forces in hand that you cannot hope to match, even if the might of your individual warriors surpasses that of our own,” Polychrome said without preamble. “We do not wish any more slaughter of the people of Oz, for most of these warriors — as you know — are not men and women of war, but merely victims of the magic of the Usurpers.”

  Odd, though. I thought as she spoke. There’s still a lot of people out there not impressed into their armies…and not all the words they’ve had to say about the Usurpers were bad. Well, not quite; I haven’t heard anyone say a good word about Amanita, except when they looked terrified about someone repeating what they said and then stammered something about how wonderful she was. But Ugu…there’s been people saying how he actually made some things better. Solved disputes, arranged repairs of bridges and things, a lot of other little and big projects that weren’t all focused on this war.

  Polychrome had gone on. “If the Usurpers will not surrender themselves, then I ask you — I beg you — to stand aside and let this conflict be between those who have stolen the heart of Faerie, and those who would restore it.”

  Guph raised an eyebrow. “Prettily said, and your first battle was conducted well, Princess. Yet in the end you know that there are limits to even your True Mortal weapon, and sheer numbers with the powers we have are, in fact, that limit. You seek to cloak as mercy what is, in truth, fear of defeat.” He gestured her away. “Look to your weapons and make your peace with the Above, for when this battle ends, ’tis I and King Ugu and Queen Amanita who will stand triumphant.”

  “So be it,” she said grimly. “But have a care, Guph; for your speech places you as equal to the Usurpers, and they have no love or tolerance for any rivals. They will see to your heart, and your reward for victory will be not power, but death.”

  Before he could muster a retort, we were already moving away. I leaned closer to her. “Zing!” I said with a grin. “That was a good parting shot.”

  Her smile flashed out for a second before fading. “I fear it is only the truth.”

  “And the truth hurts,” I said, returning her smile.

  We reached the crest of the final hill again and turned. For a long moment, nothing moved save the live and dead grass, and the banners of each army, in the faint breeze from the still-rising Sun.

  And then the horns sounded, and the charge began.

  This time we were not to be in the vanguard, but a reserve force and coordinators. My anti-magical capabilities were perhaps the most powerful single force on the battlefield, able to shatter coordinated mystical assaults, blunt the charges of magical warriors, make holes in defenses; at the same time, Zenga and Polychrome together were most capable of helping me get to the widely separated targets without getting caught up in intervening messes, by the combination of Zenga’s strength and Poly’s ability to dance on air. The two girls coordinated well — though not, oddly, as well as Poly and I had in the first battle, and I felt a warmth spread through me for a moment as I remembered. It had almost been like dancing with her again.

  The clash of armies was even more deafening now, for our seventy thousand and more were now facing sixty thousand, an army even larger than we had first believed. Nimbus had pulled our force into a sort of serrated double-flared arch whose units would shift in a coordinated fashion, arranging it to minimize what amounted to exposed surface area, allowing our weaker forces to concentrate maximum force on the attackers.

  My military knowledge being weak, I didn’t know exactly how to describe it, but it looked in action something like a grinding attachment, funneling attackers around the perimeter and to the center where more and more of ours could attack fewer and fewer of theirs. This meant the strongest of the Army of Faerie’s defenders were at the outer, more exposed edges, with the more adept at assault being near to the center.

  The key to keeping that working was, of course, to not let them flank on either side. Superior numbers were currently in our favor, but the proportionate power was on their side.

  Now the gloves were off and all the powers either side could use were being thrown into the fray. Nomes and other Earth-spirits merged with the ground and came forth elsewhere, mirrored by their brutal Temblor counterparts. Sea Faeries unleashed waterfalls and Torrents deflected them or Infernos vaporized them, filling vast areas with mist and steam that blinded both sides; Sky Faeries and Storm Guards clashed above with Tempests and shadowy, terrifying wraiths that seemed manufactured of the stuff of nightmare. Siege weapons pounded each other and opposing troops with stone and flame and light and dark.

  With both sides now throwing all their magic into the fray, even the battlefield became both opponent and ally. The ground shook and danced, groaning uneasily under the forces of Faerie at war. Stormclouds boiled overhead, winds whipped unpredictably, funnel clouds started to drop in one direction and were then sent dancing elsewhere. Polychrome had to start focusing her attention more and more on that aspect, using powers I could see were very new to her to redirect winds, shunting storm and cloud aside.

  Nimbus was forced to use a squad of Sky Faeries to move me from point to point on the battlefield. Up and off to the left, beat back a flanking charge, another flight to the right, now dropping into the center to break up a knot of Temblors that threatened to break the entire formation, Sky Faeries falling as I came in to rains of arrows and bolts of power, and I felt sick. I might be a hell of a weapon, but the cost in men to use me… these people are dying just playing taxi!

  I landed, feeling not only furious at the waste of this war, but shaky, tired. “Nimbus, this is not good.”

  He shook his head, flashing signals to one of his commanders even as he answered. “It is bad, Lord Medon. These creatures of the enemy are hard to control and direct, yet someone does so. I am beginning to suspect that it is not Guph.”

  “What? Why?”

  “I am…not sure,” he answered after a moment. “But even the clumsy directions they will follow seem too…precise. Almost as though our adversary understands each shift of my strategy even in the moment I make it. I have ordered a change of motion now, and — see!”

  The two curving lobes of the grinder-army flowed slightly back then merged into a charging wedge, defenders layering and interlocking with assault-heavy forces to try to split the enemy army in half. It was a maneuver of absolutely astonishing precision and speed made possible only by the training, morale, and close command coordination of our army.

  Yet…

  A mass of Dark Elementals seemed almost to have blundered to the correct position, straight ahead of the oncoming wedge, a force so strong that I was going to have to be sent there just to give the wedge a chance — to regroup and reposition, if not to break through.

  “I think I see what you mean,” I said, my gut tensing as the Sky Faeries prepared to take me aloft again.

  And the battle went on. If most of these troops had been human, I don’t know if that dragging sense of eternal battle could have been sustained; exhaustion would have set in, and there would have been pauses as the troops regrouped, gathered their dead, prepared again. I seemed to remember that was the way of things in ancient battles; hand-to-hand combat was like boxing (except with really sharp pointy gloves, little differences like that), and no one could keep that up for ho
urs on end without rest.

  But there was no weariness that could touch the Temblors, the Tempests, the Torrents, the Infernos, and not much could touch their ensorcelled shock troops, either. And while our troops may have been weaker, they were no less magical, no less able to continue.

  For my part, as a resource run from one side of the battle to the other as needed, I got plenty of little rests, so while I was tiring, I, too, was far from finished.

  And still there was no clear victor, and the battle raged on, and the sun was beginning to set, and across the length and breadth of the grey plains were bodies.

  And then it happened. An emerald-green bolt suddenly lit up the entire battlefield, and a part of the lefthand arch of our Army was obliterated.

  “Holy crap, what was that?” I pulled out a spyglass Nimbus had given me and looked. “Nimbus, they’ve got something on the main castle, looks for all the world like a Navy cannon, a sixteen-inch gun. It’s starting to glow again, too!”

  “Lord Erik, you are the only one who can deal with such a weapon. Go, go now!”

  The Sky Faeries snatched me up and we streaked through the boiling sky towards the battlements, where that massive cannon was building towards another shot. The storm roared into full power and we felt the winds dragging at us — only to stop, suddenly. I looked back, saw Polychrome standing in a momentarily clear space, arms thrust upward as though shoving the entire storm aside. We were almost there –

  And out of the cloud in coordination so perfect it seemed mechanical dropped twenty Tempests, curling down and around in a four-pronged pincer that closed directly on the Faeries carrying me.

  I plummeted towards the ground below, and despite the mystical nature of that ground, I wasn’t sure I would survive. This falling-from-great-heights thing is really getting old, I thought. But out of the corner of my eye I saw other movement, several other movements, other assault forces erupting in clockwork timing from the ground and air, and one Sky Faerie, bleeding, but diving, closing in on me, the Tempests screaming in behind, her hand catching mine, spinning me around; I kicked out and the Tempest that was just upon us exploded into nothingness, its fellows fleeing from my power, but we were close to the ground, her power failing, impact!