by Jeff Grubb
The guard at the gate noted her decision and informed the priest of Gix who had asked him to keep an eye out. The priest reported to his superior, who whispered it to Mishra. Mishra merely nodded and began to plan the next campaign of his glorious empire.
Tawnos almost made it to the border before the mak fawa caught up with him.
He had almost expected it. He had been extremely lucky so far, and he knew that luck would run out sometime.
After his escape he had cut north and east across the desert, making for the passes of Argive instead of following the route of ruined towers back to Yotia. That had shaken the immediate pursuers. He spent some time among the Sarinthian refugees on the shores of the Mardun but traveled mostly alone and at night. He rode by the soft light of the Mist Moon when he could and by the erratic sputtering of the Glimmer Moon if its larger sibling was not in the sky. Neither moon had been aloft the previous evening, and, close to his goal, Tawnos decided to risk traveling by day.
He had almost lost his horse and his life to one of Mishra’s inventions earlier in the day. The creation was some sort of reactive device, similar to Urza’s sentinels. In this case, the device lay beneath the sands, waiting for a trespasser.
As Tawnos rode through the device’s domain, the sand around him began to churn, like water coming to a boil. Tawnos tried to reign in the beast, but the horse bolted, taking the scholar with it.
He was lucky again. Had he stayed Tawnos would have been trapped. Metallic coils and saw-toothed arms erupted from the sands, flailing blindly in all directions. A rasping shriek rent the sky from the ground-shattering creature. Far off in the distance behind Tawnos came an answering scream.
Tawnos clung to the horse’s mane, looking behind him as they fled. The coils and arms twitched briefly, then slowly pulled themselves back into their sandy pit, covering themselves as they retracted. In another moment the ground was as it had been before.
Tawnos felt a cold trickle of sweat run down his back. If the device had merely attacked, he would only have had to avoid it or outrun it. But it had signaled that it had been tripped, and something farther back had answered the scream.
Tawnos dug his heels into the horse’s flanks and rode hard for the passes, hoping not to meet any other hidden traps en route.
He looked back once to see a cloud of dust on the horizon. Pursuit. Tawnos pushed the horse harder, but when he looked back again there was already a dark dot at the base of the cloud, ripping up the desert as it passed.
A dragon engine. The land was rising now, and small, stringy shrubs dotted the rock outcroppings. Tawnos thought about hiding, but instead he chose to make for the pass. Most of the dragon engines were large, clumsy beasts and would have trouble negotiating the rocks easily.
He looked back a third time and could make out the details of the dragon engine’s form. It was one of the recent ones, and though it was a smoother, sleeker creation than the earlier Mishra-manufactured models, it still did not compare to the monstrosities that had leveled Kroog. Even at a great distance, Tawnos could see the beast’s head lurch back and forth like that of a spastic insect.
Tawnos smiled, but the smile died as great wings sprouted from the creature’s back. They unfurled in the afternoon sun and began to beat as the engine charged forward. The cloud of dust disappeared as the mechanical creature sailed aloft.
Tawnos cursed and jabbed the flanks of his mount hard, spurring it to a full gallop.
He would not make it, he thought. Flying dragon engines had destroyed most of his air support at Tomakul. There was nothing in the Argivian arsenal that could stand up to them.
For a moment Tawnos considered abandoning his horse and hiding, but instead he pressed on. If he could reach the narrow passage at the beginning of the pass, he might be able to find an Argivian outpost before the dragon found him.
He almost made it.
Tawnos did not see it, but he could feel the pressure of the air as the beast dived above him. There was a roaring, and heat scorched his back.
The horse screamed and stumbled, jolting him from his saddle. Tawnos dived forward, arms swung before his face to protect himself. He managed to twist and land on a shoulder, but the force of the blow rolled him to one side of the rocky outcropping.
The Chief Scholar gagged on the smoke rising from his burning horse. It was still alive and thrashed in agony as its flesh burned away.
Tawnos felt pity for the horse, but the objective part of his mind also noted that the dragon engine had breathed some sort of flaming jelly, a substance that was not extinguished even as the horse convulsed in the dirt. Something new to worry about, he thought.
Tawnos looked up and saw that the dragon engine was above him, pulling up for another swooping dive. There was little cover that the flaming liquid could not breach, and the scholar had no doubt that the engine had sensed his movement and was coming back to finish the job.
That was when the metal-winged birds appeared. They were like a cloud of insects that rose from the east and swarmed the great engine. At first Tawnos thought they were real birds that had somehow been driven into battle. Now he saw they were small constructs, each no larger than a man. They swooped and dived around the larger engine as sparrows harrow a hawk.
The dragon engine craned its neck back and struck against one of the smaller winged machines. The avian nimbly darted away, warned of the assault by the change in air pressure caused by the dragon’s movements.
Though wracked with pain, Tawnos smiled. He knew what the bird artifacts were and who had built them. And from whom the builder had gotten the original idea.
The bird machines dived and darted around the dragon engine. The engine managed to remain aloft, but the avians were faster than its snapping jaws. It breathed its ignited fluid, but that only brought down a single opponent. The remainder flocked around it, and, beating its wings frantically, the dragon engine lost altitude.
The bird machines had razor-sharp beaks and tore the outer housing of the dragon engine away. There were several holes already in the mak fawa’s back, bored in concentrated attacks from the smaller machines.
Tawnos watched as a small bird machine flew into one such tear in the engine’s fuselage, near the joint where the dragon engine’s wing strut met the body. There was a skittering, crunching noise, and then a small explosion. The wing folded in on itself, trying to retract back into the body. The dragon shrieked in almost living pain and pitched to the left.
It plummeted to the ground, its one good wing still trying to scoop the air beneath it.
Tawnos crouched as the dragon engine struck the ground two hundred yards west of him. Even at this distance he could feel the heat of the explosion as its liquefied tanks of fire ruptured and the entire creature went up in an incandescent ball of flame. Tawnos shielded his eyes from the flame, and when he could look again, nothing remained but a burned-out shell of metal ribs. If the engine had been operated by crewmen, they were dead.
The metal birds swooped and regathered in a flock, a chaotic combining and recombining of individuals in different flight patterns. Then they organized themselves into a V-shaped formation and winged eastward toward the pass.
Tawnos limped along behind them, making for Argivian territories.
* * *
—
“Clockwork avians,” said Urza, setting down his favorite chalice. “And yes, they were based on your toy for young Harbin.”
“I had assumed as much,” replied Tawnos, settling down in one of the overstuffed chairs that now dominated Urza’s reception hall. His wounded arm was in a sling, but the Master Scholar was otherwise unharmed.
Urza lowered himself into the opposite chair. The Lord High Artificer’s hair was pure white now, and the lines around his face were deeper. Tawnos was sure Urza had lost weight since he last saw him, and he knew the older man now used spectacles with which to read. Despite himself, Tawnos reached up and ran his fingers through his own hair. It was starting to thin in th
e back.
“After you were…captured,” said Urza, “I sat down with Harbin and went over all your old toys. He knew in what order you had built them and kept them in good working condition. There were some bits of brilliance among them, you know.”
“Mostly ideas and fancies that did not seem to have immediate use,” said Tawnos.
“Indeed,” said Urza, with a wry smile. “Well, the avians had an immediate use. Those flying dragon engines were bad enough, and when they started breathing this liquid fire…” He held up his hands. “We were hard-pressed by your absence. We thought you dead.”
“I wasn’t,” said Tawnos. “Not quite.” He flexed his right hand.
“I’m glad you weren’t,” said Urza, and Tawnos saw the older man meant it. He could imagine Urza at the drawing table, turning over and over in his hands one of Harbin’s toys that his son had outgrown, shoving aside the memories of their work together in order to unlock the design secrets of Tawnos’s creations.
The moment passed, and Urza cleared his throat. “The avians were a gods-send. They were simple, cheap to produce, and easy to target against Mishra’s larger machines. One of the enemies of this war is distance. By the time any weapon moves from the front to somewhere it can actually do damage, a counterweapon has been created and deployed. The clockwork avians have given us a chance against the flying dragon engines, but by the time we had regrouped to make another assault, Mishra had a new guardian on his borders.”
“The ground-breakers,” said Tawnos. “I met one the same day I was attacked by the dragon engine.”
“Nasty,” agreed Urza. “They slow the army down, which gives my brother still more time to prepare a counterattack.”
“What was the liquid fire?” asked Tawnos. “The substance the dragon engine breathed.”
“Another new development,” said Urza, “apparently out of Sarinth. There are deposits of oil and thicker, more viscous fluids that bubble out of the ground there. My brother has found a way to break down that liquid to its component parts, and one of those parts is highly flammable, like goblin powder. It almost destroyed the army before we got the avians in the air.” He paused for a moment. “We still hold Yotia.”
“And the passes in Argive and Korlis,” said Tawnos.
“But we haven’t been able to press forward since then,” concluded Urza. “We’re still waiting for him to make his move. To attack somewhere so we can react. Neither side seems to have the power to make a major push nor the time to adequately secure the borders. And in the meantime, we’re draining our resources at a faster rate.”
“I noted more foundries on the way back to the capital,” said Tawnos.
“More foundries, factories, and mines,” returned Urza. “We have felled most of the forests from Korlis and are buying metal from the Sardian dwarves. The merchants are starting to complain about the amount of gold heading north, and they are agitating for a campaign against the dwarves themselves. They want us to fold the dwarven territories into ours and their resources with them.”
“And your opinion?” asked Tawnos, thinking he should have asked, “And your decision?” instead.
“I don’t want to attack without good reason,” said the older man, “but I’d prefer to keep the dwarves at an arm’s length. You can’t trust anyone just because they claim to distrust the Fallaji empire and want to be your friends. The Gixians did that.”
Tawnos nodded. One of the first results of his return had been the rounding up and imprisonment of the priests of Gix. The fact that they were advisors in Mishra’s court made many people in Argive very nervous and others very embarrassed.
“The priests of Gix had wheedled their way into the school while you were gone; did you know that?” said Urza. “And right under Richlau’s nose, too. He was redder than a setting sun when it all came out.”
“Nice to know there was some good from all this,” said Tawnos.
A silence fell between the two men. Urza frowned slightly, and ground his palms together. “I’ve been working on your clay statues as well,” he said at last. “I have an idea about using that primal clay material without the framework. It would be more malleable that way.”
Tawnos looked at his mentor. “Urza, what’s troubling you?” He knew the older man well enough to recognize when Urza was talking around a subject.
The Lord Protector raised a hand to argue, then shook his head and was silent for a time. “Harbin,” he said at last. “He wants to be an ornithopter pilot.”
Tawnos nodded slightly. “We’ve talked. He rode out to meet me.”
“Like a flash of lightning, as soon as word reached Penregon of your return,” said Urza. “When we first heard about the Battle of Tomakul, and feared you dead, he wanted to run out and join an army unit. To avenge you, you know.”
“I know,” said Tawnos somberly.
“His mother was shattered when she thought you dead,” said Urza, shaking his head, and looked off into the middle distance. “When I came back from a campaign, Harbin never rode out to meet me.”
Tawnos shrugged. “I know he respects you.”
“Respects, yes,” Urza said irritably. “He’s always so polite and respectful. His mother has taught him well, there. But we don’t really talk. He knew all about the toys you made for him, but he has no interest in artifice beyond how it can be used. He’s bright, but that basic sense of curiosity is missing. And he thinks the world of you.”
“He respects you,” repeated Tawnos. “He just grew up around me.”
“Yes,” Urza let his voice trail off, as if his thoughts took him somewhere else. Then he said, “So he told you he wants to fly an ornithopter?”
“About the second set of words out of his mouth,” said Tawnos, “after he made sure I was still alive.”
“And you think?” Urza raised his brows.
Tawnos sighed. “He’s fourteen. That’s a good age to start training. He’s quick, and he’s bright, as you said yourself. He’d make a good pilot.”
“His mother will have me slain if I do,” said Urza. “She doesn’t want her son exposed to the war. She wants him safe and secure. He should go into government, she says. She’s already arranged a marriage for him when he’s of age, you know?”
“He’s told me,” said Tawnos.
“She mentioned it in one of her correspondences,” said Urza, nodding at a pile of unanswered mail. “Nice family. Argivian nobility.” He ground his palms together. “But the problem is, everyone is needed in the war. Everyone. My own factories are operating under skeleton staffs as more men and women are needed for duty. I’ve tried using goblin slaves in the workshops, but they create as many problems as they solve. How can I demand everyone suffer for this accursed war, then protect the boy? But if I don’t, his mother will be heartbroken. I don’t really want to do that either.”
Tawnos looked at the older man. Urza could reason out the smallest detail of a device, but real life always confounded him.
“I think you should let the boy take the training,” said Tawnos at last, phrasing his thoughts carefully.
“Well, he’s made his case to you,” said Urza.
“And made it well,” said the former apprentice. “He’s smart and has good reactions. If he’s expected to eventually lead, he’d best start now.”
“But his mother—” began Urza.
“Will have to accept it,” finished Tawnos. “I’ll speak with her and remind her that I came back in one piece.”
Urza shook his head. “If he’s lost in battle—”
“I didn’t say you should send him into battle,” said Tawnos. Urza raised an eyebrow, and Tawnos continued, “Just let him train to become a pilot. Then make sure that his assignments are in more peaceful parts of the kingdom. Don’t send him to Yotia if an assault is brewing, but have him run messages to Korlis. Scouting missions. Aerial surveys. There are more than enough jobs for an ornithopter pilot that do not involve direct contact with the enemy.”
&nb
sp; Urza looked at his hands. “He won’t like it.”
“Then he’ll complain about it,” said Tawnos, “and if he comes to you, you can point out how bad it would look if the Lord High Artificer and Protector of the Realm used privilege to put his own son in a combat unit over other deserving young men.”
Urza rubbed his chin. “He’d hate that.”
“Yes he would,” said Tawnos. “You see, I have no desire to see Harbin endangered. But I think shielding him from everything will not help him either.”
Urza chuckled and hoisted his heavy chalice. “It is good to have you back, Tawnos. I have been lessened in your absence.”
“And I in yours, Urza,” said Tawnos, raising his own goblet. But as he spoke he heard swift footfalls in the hallway outside. Both men turned toward the door as the messenger arrived, grasping the door frame to bring herself to a halt.
“Chief Scholar,” said the messenger. “Lord High Artificer.” She gulped for air. “A message has come from the spies. Mishra’s army is on the move.”
Both men looked at each other. Then Urza said, “Where? Yotia? The Passes?”
The messenger shook her head and inhaled deeply. “Terisia City. He’s headed west. For Terisia City.”
The ivory towers were burning.
The invaders had first swarmed from the desert more than a year ago and almost overpowered the defenders in the first wave before the gates were closed and the great metal bolts of the portcullises secured. There were thousands of them: grim-faced desert warriors and mindless machines, spilling from the east like hungry insects. They looted the surrounding land, and what they could not carry they burned. They were at the gates of Terisia City within days.
They failed to take the city. The gates were shut in their face, and Mishra’s army was turned back. The next spring they returned with a contingent of siege equipment, battering rams, and dragon engines.
Then began the siege, a slow and torturous process that wracked the city and its people. The towers proved their worth, for the enemy could not get close to the walls without suffering withering fire from the spires. Each tower was in turn protected by the city walls behind it and by the adjacent towers. The entire city was wrapped in a cocoon of stone and protected by a bristling array of ballistas, archers, and grapeshot catapults.
