by Garon Whited
Sunday, June 12th
Mary operates the sand table with remarkable finesse. I may need to make another one.
The army is still advancing, slowly, along the King’s Road through the Darkwood. Armies of infantry aren’t usually known for their rapid movement, especially not if they intend to bring their supply train with them. The road conditions weren’t helping. While professional troops can move with startling speed, this force had a lot of amateurs mixed in with it.
When I found out about the invasion, I told the mountain to start changing the road. It’s not vanishing, like the time Thomen sent troops toward Karvalen. Instead, the road surface is growing grooves, generally three or four inches wide, and gradually waving back and forth across the road surface. From above, the grooves look like long, wavy lines extending outward from Peleseyn, westward through the Darkwood, and slowly fading out behind the army’s rearguard.
Wagon wheels do not like them. Neither do ankles. And once the ankles don’t like them, neither do wrists or forearms. The going was less of a highway and more a sadist’s idea of a construction zone.
The real trouble, from the army’s perspective, was the road was still the only way through the Darkwood. The Darkwood is an old-growth forest of great density and thickness, difficult to get through on foot, impossible while mounted or in a wagon. It would take a year of constant chopping by crews of lumberjacks—or a month of wildfires—to clear a way. So it was either take the now-awful road or go back to take a long detour around. North would involve going through the snowfields, while the southerly detour would involve taking ships.
Nevertheless, the road behind them was almost perfectly flat and smooth. It was as tempting as I could make it.
Every mile of marching cost them a sprained ankle, broken wagon wheel, or cracked wrist. I felt bad for the horses, especially. Their hooves weren’t meant for this sort of surface and they didn’t like it. When a horse turned a hoof, it was generally all over for the horse, one way or another.
So, their progress was about as rapid as rush hour traffic with only one lane open.
I shot off a quick text to Diogenes. My backup plan for army-repellent was coming along, but it wasn’t quite ready. Mary’s outfit was, though. I checked the small shift-box and unfolded the new tactical garment. It shimmered a bit, changing color to blend in. There were also some electronic-looking headband devices.
What are these?I texted.
Tactical headset communications,Diogenes replied.
How do they work?
Read the manual.
Snarky computer. I read the downloaded manual while Mary tried on her new jumpsuit.
Mary loved it. It reminded me of a ninja outfit, but with rigid pieces here and there. It fit her remarkably well, had equipment straps built in, changed color to blend into the scenery, and was sufficiently durable to stop most forms of hand weapons. It even included a pull-down thing like a veil over her eyes. The veil wasn’t bulletproof, but it did have the camouflage properties. She could see through it without showing any of her face. Combined with the magic for shadow-manipulation and silence, she could steal the whiskers off a cat, assuming we ever saw a cat.
The manual for the headbands was in typical militarese. In short-form, they were two-way transmitters. A thin strip of material unfolded and applied like tape alongside the face, trailing down to run across the throat. Another strip, from the other side, did the same thing, but ran along the jaw line and up from the chin, stopping right below the lower lip. Microphones. Two more strips descended behind the ears and curled up into the ear canal. This left the ears open to hear ambient sounds while providing audio. The whole thing was about a quarter-inch thick, including the padding, and supposedly had a working range of over five miles.
That’s Diogenes, always looking out for us.
With that done, I consulted the mountain again. This time, I wanted a better idea of some of the outlying western roads. Were they like the ones in Karvalen, with tunnels underneath? I thought so, but I wanted to be sure. The answer was yes. If it was a road, it went deep enough to accommodate a tunnel. This wasn’t just in the kingdom proper, but everywhere the mountain laid a road.
I was pleased and said so to Mary.
“Why?”
“Because it means we can ride from the mountain to the coast and never see daylight.”
“Fine by me, but why is this important?”
“Because we’re going to ambush an army. The road is good and they’re doing the whole Pony Express thing to deliver the recall orders; the army is only a day or so away by fast riders. By the time we get there, get set up, and night falls, we should only have a fraction of the forces to deal with. I’ll draw fire from everyone, especially the priests, and you’ll pick off the commanders. With a little luck, we’ll crush their morale so thoroughly they’ll turn back on their own. At the very least, their effectiveness as an army will be greatly reduced.”
“I’ve only got an eight-kilometer range,” she pointed out. “Is that far enough to avoid religious effects?”
“You’re allowed to duck.”
“Oh, goody.”
“Besides, the laser beam is in the infrared, invisible to the unaided eye. They’ll be aiming at me.”
“Why am I not reassured?”
“Not a clue. Come on. We’re going there today,” I said. Mary came with me to get our gear together.
“Mind if I ask why we’re not taking a gate?”
“Simple. Bronze loves to run.”
“Seriously.”
“Seriously.”
“That’s the only reason?”
“It’s the only reason,” I agreed. “She loves to run and doesn’t get out nearly as often as she would like. It’s one of the criteria I have for a place to settle down—open space, or a private racetrack, or something.”
“We could spend the day in the bedroom, but you want to spend it in the saddle?” she asked. I stopped walking and so did she.
“Mary, my darling, let me be clear. This isn’t a reprimand, or a scolding, or anything like that. So if it sounds like one, I’m doing it wrong. Okay? I want to explain, not make you feel bad. All right?”
“All right. I’ll try to take it that way.”
“Thank you. So, know I’ll happily spend the day with you. I’ll spend the night with you. I may spend the next thousand years with you, barring minor hiccups like capture, torture, and getting lost between universes. Meanwhile Bronze, as patient, tolerant, and understanding as I can never be, will stand quietly by through the next few millennia and simply wait for me to get around to her. But she won’t have to, because I will make time for her. I can’t take her to a movie, dinner, or a show. I can’t reasonably curl up on the couch with her. I suppose, in theory, I could go to bed with her, but it would be awkward and not enjoyable for anyone, to say nothing of the damage to the furniture or to me.” Mary bit her lips to keep herself from speaking and nodded for me to continue.
“So,” I said, “while you and I are snuggled up on a loveseat, or out to lunch, or enjoying some quality time ripping throats in an alley, remember how Bronze is missing all the fun—because I remember it, every time. She’s not merely some horse made of metal; she’s part of me. And she’s smarter than most people, possibly including me. Got it?”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t think of her like that.”
“I know. She’s a magical horse—to you. But she is, in a very real sense, also me. And if that seems odd to you, I agree. I’m part of this package deal and I don’t understand it. I merely accept it, because it’s a fact, like having a heart or a hand. Why? How? I don’t know. It just is.”
“I’ll try to remember. What about Firebrand?”
I’m a whole different order of thing, Firebrand replied. I’m a dragon, filtered through the Boss, and stuffed in a sword. Bronze is a bunch of horse-spirits hammered into a single spirit and bound into a horse fountain.
“I’m not sure what the difference i
s,” Mary admitted.
Neither am I, but I’m pretty sure it has to do with being one dragon instead of six horses. That, and Bronze was deliberate. The Boss sort of involuntarily upchucked me into the sword.
“So, you’re an accident?”
Yes. I suppose, Firebrand agreed, reluctantly.
“Well, we can’t help how we’re made,” Mary replied, airily. “I’ll try to think of all three of you as a package. How’s that?”
Works for me. Boss?
“I’m good with it.”
Now do we get to go kill things?
“Yes.”
Mary and I readied ourselves. She suited up with her high-tech ninja outfit, handguns, and knives. She looked stealthy and dangerous even before she loaded up with the infantry support laser. I went with the full suit of black armor, Firebrand, and weird cloak. The ninja and the knight.
Riding Bronze was a trifle more awkward than expected. We had to try a few different positions before we found a comfortable seating arrangement. I wound up wearing the backpack power unit while Mary sat in front of me and carried the bazooka-like laser unit.
Bronze thought we were adorable, but didn’t actually laugh. I could tell from the way she looked at us as we tried one configuration after another. Part of it is the way her nostrils dilate, but mostly I think it’s the ears. They give her away every time.
“I just thought of something,” Mary said as I settled into place behind her.
“What?”
“Aren’t warhorses supposed to wear armor?”
“It’s called ‘barding,’ I believe. But Bronze is armor.”
“Yeah, but it looks strange to have an armored knight on naked horseback.”
I leaned around Mary to look at Bronze. She turned her head to meet my eyes, ruffled her mane, and flicked an ear noncommittally. Armor wouldn’t bother her a bit, especially if I could get some that looked good.
My horse wants to look cool. Is this how parents feel when their kids want designer clothes? Then again, I go to a lot of effort to look cool—it’s more work than I ever realized. I have no talent for it. Bronze manages it without trying. Maybe we can get her something to wear that won’t clash with her already high levels of coolness. Something fireproof. Carbon-based armor? I’ll have to test her highest operating temperature and consult Diogenes.
“All right. One second. Lean forward a little.” Mary did so and I sent Diogenes a text about it. He agreed it could be done, probably in a titanium alloy for now, possibly in a specialized oobleck when he had the manufacturing capability for it. “There. He’s working on it.” Bronze tossed her head, a clear thank-you. Mary smiled and patted Bronze’s neck.
“And another thing,” Mary went on. “If we’re going to carry ourselves and a bunch of gear, do you think we could finally get a carriage? Even a chariot would do.”
I looked at Bronze again. Bronze was perfectly all right with hauling a cart at insane speeds. It would be nice to pull us in a trailer, rather than being pulled in a trailer. Turnabout is fair play.
“All right, all right. But I’ll have to get it from Diogenes, too. The local technology can’t build a hundred-mile-an-hour wheel axle. We could get up to speed, I’m sure, but it would burst into flames or disintegrate before we got very far.”
“Just in case we need it later,” Mary soothed. “Besides, sometimes you want to travel in dignified state, rather than hoist your head so far above the crowd it becomes a target.”
“Well, when you put it that way…” I agreed, and Bronze nodded emphatically. I sent Diogenes another text; he promised to get right on it. “Now can we go?”
“Just about.”
“What is it this time?”
“Could Bronze run the whole way on her own? We could gate somewhere near when she arrives. Then she wouldn’t have to carry us and could focus on speed. Also, we wouldn’t have to spend so much time hanging on for dear life with an awkward load. In fact,” Mary went on, “while we’re in Karvalen—the mountain—Bronze could spend her time running down the road-tunnels, rather than lurking in her stall by the courtyard doors.”
Bronze and I looked at each other for a long moment, then turned in unison to look at Mary.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing,” I replied, in unison with Bronze’s characteristic snort. I dismounted and helped a puzzled Mary down. Bronze trotted off on her own. I hefted the laser, courteously carrying it for Mary.
“Where’s she going?” Mary asked.
“Originally? Peleseyn. It’s the city closest to the Darkwood along the King’s Road. But, since we’re going to set up more independently, she’s headed to Actareyn. She’ll come out there.”
“Are we gating there?”
“I am. I’ll park you in the forest near the front of the army. With a forest this dense, finding a rough archway shouldn’t be a problem. It’s only a point-to-point gate, not a trans-universal one, and it’s human-sized. I’ll brute-force it if I have to.”
“Why the change in plans?”
“Because you come up with brilliant ideas.”
“Really?” Mary asked, delighted.
“Yes. And you make me re-think my own pitiful plans. I was thinking in terms of riding into battle. You were thinking in terms of getting there easily.”
“It’s all in the perspective. But, as long as I’m questioning your plans and making you re-think them…” she trailed off. I sighed and buried my face in my hands.
“Yes?”
“Stop being melodramatic. Why not just set fire to the forest? Start a forest fire in front of them, start another one behind them, and the survivors can crawl home on their own.”
“First, the Darkwood is a big, complex ecosystem and I don’t want to destroy it. Second, I kind of like dryads and I don’t doubt there are a lot of them in there. Third, I’m not sure what sort of magic or miracles the army may have available, but I’m pretty sure their losses won’t be as bad as we think. Fourth, I have no idea what sort of magic or miracles may be available to any irate forest-dwellers who take exception to my burning down their home. I’ve encountered some odd forest spirits and don’t want to encounter angry ones. And fifth, it would destroy any chance we have of ambushing them. There would be nowhere to hide.”
“You had me at ‘nowhere to hide.’ Any chance I can get a breakdown of officer insignia?”
“I’m not sure they have any. It’s not a cohesive army. It’s a coalition of several militia and a bunch of hired units. Around here they’re considered an army, but not back on Earth. They’d call it a joint task force, or something. Feel free to look them over before you shoot anyone, though. I’d suggest starting with anyone in a fancy hat.”
Shortly before sunset, the army encamped along the road. It wasn’t a formal campsite; they were strung out for a couple of miles. They didn’t have a choice. There was no real shoulder to the road, just roots, trees, and underbrush. A surprising number of soldiers were still present. I anticipated more of an about-face. Still, the vanguard was about where I wanted them, and the long, straight road gave Mary a good selection of targets.
To improve on it, we picked out a good spot by scrying mirror. I gave instructions to the mountain and the road grew sideways, widening a bit underground. It shifted under the trees and earth to either side. The quasi-tunnel effect lessened as trees on both sides started leaning slightly away.
Ahead of the army, one tree in particular shifted as the ground around and under it rearranged to tilt it toward the road. This brought a portion of it directly over the road. Mary would climb it, settle in, and get ready to pick off anyone shouting orders.
Bronze was already in Actareyn, or near it. Once I dropped Mary off, I would gate to Bronze, we would emerge, race down the road, and take the army in the rear.
Hmm. That sounded better in my head.
Anyway, I spent most of the day in my quarters with a stick, a lot of crystals, and spells. Armies bother me. If only a small percent
age of them keep their heads, that’s still a lot of people actively counterattacking. That means spells, missiles, you name it, all coming at Bronze and I. Preparation is the key.
Mary helped for a while, then went off to fetch food while I continued to work. I was doing my thing when Caris came in.
As an aside, those heavy stones the mountain uses for doors are frustrating to children. It takes them forever to open the things. They can do it, but it takes so much time! I spotted one of the grey sashes outside my door giving it a gentle push to help it along.
Caris brought one of the boys—Mikkel, I think?—with her. They came in and waited while I worked, watching. I recruited them with spell busywork—“Put your finger here. Hold it still. Got it? Okay. Now hold it!”—while I finished building an electrical spell. When I finished my current spell, I locked it in place and turned to them.
“Well, what can I do for you?”
“Lights.”
“Please?” I prompted.
“Lights, please,” she repeated.
“All right. Is this Mikkel? Did I remember your name?” He nodded. “Would you like a ball of light?”
He nodded again. I decided to go all-out. A ball of light can change color and bounce around, but that’s about all it does. However, a minor illusion to create a shape like a running horse, some magic to make it glow… picture a stuffed animal toy turned into a translucent field of light and sent galloping off. Add some protocols to make it respond to touch, tune it to run away from or around a given child… Maybe add a sound from my memory of a happy whinny…
One is hard to make, but worth the effort. The second is easier; just clone the first one. Tune them, each to their own child, focus power into them, seal them, and let them go.
The glowing, tiny horse-toys whinnied in unison and started running around their children. The expressions of Oooo! were well worth it. They chased off after the glowing little things without so much as a thank-you. Well, I wasn’t too big on polite protocol at their age, either. I went back to my murder and defense spells.
Mary came back with three guys, wheelbarrows, and Dantos. I smelled food and blood—technically, both are food, but one is food food, the other is vampire food. Mary directed traffic as Dantos came up to me and saluted. I returned it.
