Soarer's Choice

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  Alcyna and Dainyl stood beside the empty flight stage.

  “I’m holding the last two squads for a bit, to see where they’re needed,” offered Alcyna. “If we don’t get a report in a quarter glass, I’ll send them to defend the Palace.”

  Dainyl could feel Talent forces of some sort from the south, and he turned. Scattered quick lines of blue and blue-green light flashed skyward.

  “Lightcannon…those must be coming from the ships,” said Alcyna.

  Dainyl snorted. There was the proof he had not been able to provide, proof that Alseryl had defected, proof that Samist and Brekylt were working together against Khelaryt. Both he and Khelaryt had been so worried about pteridons versus pteridons—and now look what they had.

  He and Alcyna stood by the flight stage…waiting.

  They could have waited inside, out of the chill, but to Dainyl that wouldn’t have felt right.

  “Why did he let it happen?” Alcyna looked at Dainyl.

  “Khelaryt?” Dainyl shook his head. “I can only guess that he was so worried about the lifeforce losses from direct fighting against them that he hoped they’d feel the same way. I’ve warned him about it. All the lightcannon and light-rifles show that they don’t care.”

  “I’ve known that about Brekylt for years. Khelaryt should have.”

  How many alectors should have known over the years?

  A dull muffled boom rumbled out of the south, and the walls of the compound and the buildings shook.

  “That had to be one of Lyzetta’s devices,” Dainyl declared.

  “From more than ten vingts away?”

  A smaller explosion followed.

  Dainyl kept studying the sky. There were no more lightcannon or light-rifle beams. Either the two squads of Seventh Company had been destroyed or the ships disabled. He wanted to believe the latter, but worried that it might be the former.

  Alcyna walked from the flight stage toward the remaining two squads of Seventh Company. Once more Dainyl followed, feeling even more helpless. Yet…what could he do? Alcyna had the situation in hand—as much as anyone could. Even if he had gone back to the Table in the Hall of Justice, nothing he could have done through the Tables or the web of the ancients would affect the battle around Elcien. And he certainly didn’t want to be in the Palace at the moment.

  “Lift off! Defend the Palace!” ordered Alcyna.

  The remaining nine pteridons spread wing, and in instants the courtyard of Myrmidon headquarters was empty.

  “Now…we wait. Again.” Alcyna’s voice was simultaneously dry, yet weary.

  Dainyl had always disliked waiting.

  Another wave of purple-black Talent washed across Dainyl, and then the ground shifted underfoot, enough that he had to take two steps to keep his balance.

  Alcyna turned to him. “What was that?”

  “Something from the transfer—that’s what it felt like the first time,” he replied. “It killed all the guards in the Table chamber.”

  “I wondered…”

  “Why I’m here?” Dainyl asked. “The Tables aren’t usable, and even if they were, what could I do with them to change this?” He gestured skyward, then paused.

  Four pteridons were flying toward the headquarters compound. But whose pteridons? His hands went to the lightcutters at his belt. Watching the Talent creatures near, he waited.

  One pteridon swept in, coming for a landing, the first indication that the four were from those companies loyal to the marshal and the Duarch. As it touched down, Dainyl recognized Undercaptain Asyrk. The next two fliers were also from Seventh Company. The last pteridon carried no Myrmidon.

  Dainyl jumped onto the flight stage. This time Alcyna followed him.

  Asyrk looked down without getting out of his saddle and harness. “One ship destroyed, sir. The other’s a flaming wreck. Fifth and First Companies have engaged two companies and the ground forces beneath them, but the sandoxen and coaches are carrying lightcannon.”

  “Are you the only ones left from your squads?” Dainyl looked at Asyrk, sensing the truth of the undercaptain’s words, as well as a combination of apprehension, devastation, and sadness.

  “Yes, sir. Each ship had a lightcannon and light-rifles. Some of the squad took hits so the captain could deliver her weapon.”

  Dainyl turned to Alcyna. “I’ll take the pteridon. If another comes in without a Myrmidon…”

  Alcyna offered a grim smile. “I thought you might.”

  “You’ve developed the plan. I can’t add to that, and I might help in the air.”

  “I can’t deny that. Good luck, Highest.”

  Dainyl smiled wryly. Her use of his title was as much disapproval as acceptance. With a nod, he dropped from the platform and loped across the courtyard to the flierless pteridon. Once there, he vaulted into the saddle and quickly fastened the harness, then turned to Asyrk. “Lift off!” Belatedly, Dainyl checked for the skylance and was relieved to see it in its holder.

  The pteridon was airborne, climbing into the north wind.

  Right turn…tight…south.

  Dainyl took a quick survey of the sky over Elcien, but saw only the two squads from Seventh Company in formation above the Palace. His eyes went to the Hall of Justice, and he swallowed as he sensed the entire structure swathed in purple Talent—a force that felt slimy from even a vingt away and from his five hundred yards of altitude.

  To the southwest he saw smoke rising from a fiery shape on the waters of the bay, the smoke being carried southeast by the wind. To the west of the smoke and fire was a widening oil slick.

  Lyzetta…dead…killed defending Elcien…and her father.

  As the pteridon leveled out heading south, Dainyl could see scores more pteridons swirling around in aerial combat, with occasional skylance discharges and even more occasional bolts of lightcannon flashing skyward. The lightcannon blasts were coming from the high road, or close beside it, less than ten vingts south of the bridge that spanned the channel separating Elcien from the southeast shore of the bay.

  The lightcannon were a problem that he just might be able to remove, and should. They were a threat to the future of the world and a threat that neither Khelaryt nor Samist should ever have allowed to continue and grow.

  Down…fifty yards, above the high road.

  The pteridon swept down, and the road flowed by beneath them.

  Dainyl eased out the skylance, preparing for what was to come. Even from more than three vingts away, he could make out the lead lightcannon, both with his eyes and his Talent, so great was the lifeforce stored in the long flat wagon on which it was mounted.

  Lower…

  Dainyl felt as though the pteridon’s wings were only yards above the trees that edged the fertile fields flanking the high road, but the lower he flew, the less likely they were to be spotted until the last moment.

  He strengthened his shields and lowered the tip of the skylance.

  The alectors in black and silver on the modified sandox coaches turned, raising their light-rifles. Thin lines of blue-green flashed against his shields.

  Dainyl could feel the outer edges of his shields fraying, but not badly, not yet, and he aimed the lance, not at the lightcannon itself, but at the heavy-bodied wagon beneath it, filled with crystal storage cells.

  The lightcannon was swinging toward him.

  Dainyl raised the lance and triggered a quick blast, Talent aimed at the cannoneers controlling the weapon. While their shields absorbed most of the blast, one of them was thrown off, and the second lost his grip.

  Drawing even more on the pteridon’s lifeforce, and his own Talent, Dainyl triggered the lance, using his Talent to keep the blue flame-light focused on the wagon.

  Hard left!

  The pteridon banked eastward at his command.

  CRUMMPTTT!

  Even the pteridon was thrown sideways, and then upward, and its lower wingtip sliced through a tree limb.

  Level…stay low.

  For a moment, Da
inyl wasn’t sure whether he’d remain airborne, but the pteridon managed to right itself, even as he could feel the heat behind him, the result of the enormous release of lifeforce.

  Two smaller explosions followed, and from the bluish feel to the second, he was certain it had been one of the pteridons following him.

  Right…and climb fifty yards…

  Dainyl glanced westward and slightly back, catching sight of the still-climbing pillar of flame—and two smaller columns of smoke and fire, one of bluish flames, short of where the heavy lightcannon had been.

  The high road around where the one lightcannon had been was a mass of flames, and the trees and winter-dry grass on both sides of the road had begun to burn. Unfortunately, he also saw that another lightcannon—set up on a knoll to the west of the high road—was still firing at the pteridons above. Dainyl glanced upward. Between the girths and straps on the underside of Brekylt’s pteridons were swathes of black and silver shimmercloth—clearly there for easier identification by those firing the lightcannons from below.

  Right…steady…lower…

  Another set of blue-green lines flashed past him, some hitting his shields, as the pteridon sped just south of the line of flames that marked the high road and toward the remaining heavy lightcannon.

  Dainyl twisted in his harness and aimed the skylance, triggering it twice.

  One of the light-rifles exploded, the flames enveloping the alectress who held it.

  Returning his concentration to the heavy lightcannon ahead, Dainyl eased the pteridon lower, so close to the ground that Dainyl felt the tops of the trees in the woods to the south were higher than he was. Even as the pteridon closed to less than a vingt from the lightcannon, the alectors firing the weapon continued to concentrate on the pteridons overhead.

  The guards between Dainyl and the lightcannon turned abruptly and leveled their light-rifles at him. Before they could fire, he triggered two quick bursts, Talent-aimed at their weapons. One light-rifle exploded, then the second.

  The heat rose past Dainyl as the pteridon swept over the explosions and flame, and he felt as though he had flown through a furnace. Ahead was the heavy lightcannon. Once more, he Talent-guided a long bolt at the cart beneath the lightcannon, boosting the power of the bolt with his Talent and lifeforce from the pteridon.

  For a moment, the pteridon lost altitude, one wingtip almost brushing the top of a hedgerow.

  Left! Hard!

  The pteridon banked, gently at first, as it struggled to hold and then gain altitude, and then more steeply.

  The lightcannon flared into energy, and the explosion flung the pteridon farther southward. Dainyl could sense the Talent creature drinking in the dispersing lifeforce and getting stronger, righting itself. While the pteridons could take concentrated lifeforce when it was un-attached or directed, as at an administration of justice, that happened so seldom that Dainyl was taken aback for a moment.

  Climb!

  As the pteridon circled upward, Dainyl tried to make sense of the melee above him, but before he could pick a target, one of the black and silver pteridons wheeled away from the pack and toward him, angling down in a high-speed dive.

  Dainyl triggered his skylance, but the blue flame cascaded off the other flier’s shields. Those shields were far stronger than those of any Myrmidon Dainyl had ever encountered—and of a deeper purple, suggesting a Myrmidon from Ifryn.

  The return blast flared away from Dainyl’s shields, and Dainyl could sense the surprise from the other flier, even from more than a hundred yards away. The other flier banked to the east and started a climb.

  Dainyl followed, his pteridon gaining quickly on the other. Rather than trigger the skylance from a distance, Dainyl waited until he was less than fifty yards away. Then, as he triggered the skylance, he drove a Talent wedge through the other’s shields.

  Both pteridon and rider flared into blue flame—and once more, Dainyl’s pteridon fed on some of the dispersing lifeforce. Dainyl checked his altitude—more than a thousand yards aboveground so far.

  A skylance bolt slammed into his shields from behind.

  Dainyl darted a glance back. Another pteridon was diving directly toward him.

  Dainyl sent a command—and an image. Straight up, over…and down. The image was a loop that would bring him and the pteridon above and behind the attacker, above because of the climb, and behind because the maneuver essentially stopped nearly all forward motion for a moment. It took more lifeforce and Talent, but Dainyl’s pteridon had that to spare.

  The attacker never saw the bolt that blew him out of the sky—and destroyed his pteridon.

  Another Ifryn Myrmidon came out of a wingover headed for the shoulder of Dainyl’s pteridon, a position from which Dainyl could not turn enough to physically aim the skylance at the attacker.

  Dainyl waited for several moments, using his shields to deflect the blue flames, until the attacker was closer, then twisted the lance as far back as he could, then triggered it, using his Talent to direct the energy through the other flier’s shields. Blue flame exploded into the sky.

  Climb!

  The pteridon responded immediately.

  Within moments, Dainyl was a good three hundred yards above the others—except for one other pteridon, bearing the black and silver, which was a good hundred yards even higher.

  The flier carried no skylance, but something different, a device that looked from a distance like a short lance mounted on a light-rifle frame. Dainyl immediately reinforced his shields, barely in time before a bluish purple beam slammed into those shields, with enough force to lift both Dainyl and his pteridon slightly.

  Hard right, dive. Then left, climb, loop, and half roll! Dainyl followed with the image of the maneuver.

  Another blast of bluish purple flared past Dainyl’s shoulder, but missed even his shields, for which he was grateful. Then Dainyl and his pteridon were directly under the silver and black flier, who had begun to bank westward.

  Dainyl corrected, and his pteridon came out of the roll, opening its half-furled wings, directly above and behind the flier with the light-rifle lance.

  Dive! Dainyl wanted to be as close as possible, suspecting that the flier was Talent-strong, but a comparatively inexperienced flier.

  His quarry tried to turn, twisting his body, only when Dainyl was less than thirty yards away.

  The Talent-boosted skylance bolt slammed into the modified weapon.

  Hard left!

  From the force of the explosion from the weapon, so violent that it obliterated both rider and pteridon, Dainyl’s pteridon went through an unscheduled roll, losing at least five hundred yards of altitude before recovering. Dainyl barely managed to hang on to the skylance, and his stomach was in his throat by the time the pteridon was level, heading toward yet another hostile pteridon.

  Dainyl’s Talent-boosted lance bolt took out both flier and pteridon.

  Another pteridon dived toward him…

  Dainyl reacted…and kept reacting until, abruptly, there were but three remaining black and silver pteridons. All three broke away simultaneously and flew southward, trailed by four pteridons without fliers.

  Dainyl checked the distance—too far to catch them until they slowed for landing, and that was likely to be in Ludar, two glasses later in the day.

  After slipping the skylance into its holder, he banked the pteridon and began to search for any remaining officers. He did not see Ghasylt, but he did fly by Undercaptain Ghanyr—if just high enough that the wing vortices did not entangle—and called out, “Back to headquarters! Pass the word to First Company!”

  “Yes, sir!” Ghanyr raised a hand in salute.

  Dainyl began to climb, looking for Fhentyl or another officer from Fifth Company. Finally, he spotted the captain and winged into a bank, coming out beside Fhentyl. “Return to headquarters!”

  After sensing the captain’s surprise, Dainyl realized that Fhentyl had not seen him join the Myrmidons, but the captain nodded.

>   Dainyl raised his arm in acknowledgment, then banked the pteridon back toward Elcien.

  After several moments, he glanced back over his shoulder. The remaining pteridons were formed into two wedges, with two pteridons trailing. A quick count showed thirty-one pteridons, one of them without a flier. Assuming that none of the Seventh Squad pteridons guarding the Palace had been lost, the three companies had lost more than a third of their strength, and the attackers had lost all but seven out of something more than thirty.

  In less than a season, the Myrmidons had lost almost half their pteridons…and for what?

  Fires raged across the fields and woods around where the ground forces and lightcannon had been, and thick grayish white smoke, with thinner areas of black, billowed skyward. Dainyl scanned the bay below, but there was no sign of the vessel that had been a column of flame—except for a rough oval of floating items and a slick spreading across the gray-blue waters.

  After another quarter glass, as he neared the channel south of Elcien, ahead, he could see the nine pteridons from Seventh Company still circling the Palace. He altered course to intercept them. When he neared the Palace, he looked past it toward the Hall of Justice—still enshrouded in the slimy purple Talent-miasma. He kept his shields up, just in case one of the Myrmidons might fire, but while he could sense skylances leveled at him, no one fired as he eased toward them, both hands held high.

  He finally eased the pteridon toward one of the undercaptains, coming close enough so that their wings would have interlocked, had Dainyl not been higher and slightly to the rear, in order to call out his orders. “Return to headquarters! Pass the word!”

  After a moment, the undercaptain replied, “Return to headquarters! Yes, sir.”

  Dainyl banked back to the west and brought the pteridon down in a steep descent. He swept in over the southern wall, flared, and let the pteridon settle onto the flight stage. For a moment, he remained in the harness.

  Alcyna walked at a measured pace from the headquarters building, then stopped and waited several yards from the raised stone platform.

  Carefully, Dainyl released the harness and dismounted, then took the steps down the flight stage.