by PJ McDermott
Blowing hard, Hickory discarded her headgear and joined Jess at the control panel. “So far, so good. Are you able to figure out how this thing works? Can you drop the shield?”
“I think so. There’s an alarm system, though. I just need to—ah! That’s it.” Jess looked up as the barrier flared and they perceived the area that was previously invisible. Several stakes fixed into the ground had chains attached, and in the center of the virtual cell sat a table with a jug and several cups on it. A figure could be seen huddled over the table. “Force field is down. We’re in. Let’s get Mack and get out of here.”
They sprinted to the table. Mack was asleep and handcuffed. His clothes were dirty, and one eye was swollen like a boiled egg. Jess caressed his head, pushing his hair back from his forehead. “Mack,” she whispered urgently. “Mack, wake up. You’re being rescued, you daft thing.”
Mack rubbed his eyes and stared in disbelief from his one good eye. “Jess? What are you doing here? Don’t you know you’re in the middle of a rebel army?” He saw Hickory smiling at him and pushed himself from the table to his feet. Staggering, he grasped Jess to him. “Oh God, it’s so good to see you. I felt for sure we were gone.”
“We?” She looked around, puzzled.
“You don’t know? Hickory, Jess this is going to be a heckuva shock.”
“What are you on about? We need to get out of here straight away. Your story can wait,” said Jess, trying to drag him with her.
Mack shrugged himself free. “No, you don’t understand. It’s Gareth. He’s here.”
Hickory felt a chill run through her and a bitter taste in her mouth. Mack had to be hallucinating.
Mack looked from one to the other. “Oh for God’s sake. He’s here. Gareth’s right here! Look.” He shambled across to the opposite side of the confinement area. “He’s in a bad way. He’s been tortured—I think mentally as well as physically. He’s just about given up. Gareth… Gareth come on, mate. Wake up. Look who’s here.” He leaned down and shook the sleeper.
The bundle of rags lying on the ground stirred, and a hand emerged to draw back the hood.
Hickory and Jess gasped.
“It can’t be,” said Hickory, her eyes wide and her heart pounding.
“You’re… you’re dead,” said Jess, tears coming to her eyes. She looked at Mack, who grinned and nodded to her.
“It is, Jess. It’s Gareth,” he said.
“Mother?” The croak was quiet, hopeful, and then the tone hardened. “No. Just another trick you’re playing on me, you bastards, but I know what your game is and I won’t play. You hear me? I won’t play!”
“Shhh!” said Jess. “We won’t harm you. We’re your friends. We’re here to help you. Come on. Get up. We have to get you both away from here, pronto.” She dragged Gareth to his feet and looked at Mack. “Can you manage?”
He nodded. “I’m okay.”
Gareth mumbled incoherently as they made their way to the yarraks. When they reached the pen, he struggled. “No, no, no! Where are you taking me? I’m not going. I don’t know anything—I’m only an engineer.”
Hickory realized Gareth was raving, his mind still locked in whatever prison Vogel had created for him. She didn’t know whether his condition would heal, but he would give them away if he kept this up. “I’m sorry, Gareth, but this is for your own good.” She hit him firmly on the jaw and Gareth collapsed into Jess’s arms. “He can ride on the yarrak in front of me. You two should travel together,” she said to Jess and Mack, ignoring the shocked looks on their faces.
They heaved Gareth over the back of a mount then led their animals away from the Bikashi camp. When Hickory judged they were out of earshot, they mounted and urged their steeds to full speed.
The yarraks lumbered along steadily at little more than jogging pace, but they could keep that up for several hours without needing to rest. Gareth came round not long after they’d set off and expressed surprise to be galloping along beneath the stars. He was lucid and listened with interest as Hickory told him about the body on Silver Hill she had been certain was his.
“Some poor unfortunate lookalike Vogel used to throw you off the scent. I saw him being put in a cell. He bore a passable resemblance to me to start with, and he must have been nearly unrecognizable before they dumped him.”
Now they were on their way, Hickory could think about what had happened. “The poor sod. He was you, Gareth. I was so convinced. God, I’m so sorry. I should have demanded the autopsy results when it became evident Nolanski was working with Vogel and the Pax.”
“Don’t be. It’s not your fault.” He shuddered and fell silent.
“Why is Vogel so interested in you?”
“He wasn’t to start with. He left me for Sequana to deal with. After my first session with the interrogator, he dropped in for another chat.” The muscles in his neck twitched. “I told him exactly who I was—everything about me, everything. I couldn’t stand any more pain. He wanted to know about my expertise in faster-than-light technology. He told me the Bikashi system wasn’t anywhere near as advanced as the one developed on Earth.” Gareth giggled quietly to himself, his eyes wild. “He decided I was just the person to help design a better FTL, one they could use when they had their hands on the planet’s crynidium. He said he would help me…” Gareth’s eyes closed, and his voice faded to silence.
Hickory thought he had fallen asleep. “Gareth?”
“Yes, yes. I’m here. He said he would help me, and I thought anything would be better than being left in that dungeon. Hickory, he… he was an ensign who should have left for Earth on leave. He...” Gareth’s eyes wandered wildly, and he sobbed.
Hickory sensed he was being haunted by the screams of the doppelganger.
“I...I can’t remember much of what happened after that. They took me somewhere. I know they used drugs on me, and there were a lot of people asking questions, Bikashi scientists, but I don’t have any idea where I was. Most of the time, I was either being questioned or put to sleep.” His shoulders slumped and then he giggled. “They did things to me, and I can’t remember what. I can’t remember!”
Hickory was silent for a moment, holding him tightly to her. “It’s all right, Gareth. Everything will be fine. You’re safe now. Try to sleep. I’ll wake you when we get to Ezekan.” She thought about Vogel. I hope I get the chance to meet you again.
They met the Teacher, as arranged, within half a day’s journey to Ezekan along the old road. Mack backtracked a few miles to check whether they were being followed while the others ate some rations and made hot tea from leaves provided from Kar-sѐr-Sephiryth’s pouch. Hickory worried about Gareth. Physically, he looked drawn and he had lost weight, but it was his mental wellbeing that concerned her most. He seemed to blink in and out of reality without warning, and when he was in that other place, there was a slyness about him that was utterly foreign.
She spoke with the Teacher. “Is there anything you can do to relieve his pain?”
Kar-sѐr-Sephiryth glanced to where Gareth sat on the grass, disconsolate, his head hanging down and his back bowed. “I will do what I can.”
Fifteen minutes later, he returned to Hickory’s side. “Gareth is very sick. He cannot bring forth what has happened to him. The memories are there and in time they will rise to the surface, but they cannot be accelerated without harm. I have done what I can to ease his mind, and in time he will recover. When we reach the city, I will prepare something that will help heal his body.”
Hickory had hoped for more, a miracle perhaps. A snap of the fingers and hey presto! Gareth would be cured, the old Gareth fully restored. Then she realized how futile this was. Past events can’t be altered, nor can their consequences. And when Jesus was on the cross, his Father would not take away his suffering though he begged.
Mack hurried into camp. “Bikashi—about a dozen of them, less than an hour behind us.”
They mounted their steeds and set off at the yarraks’ top pace and did not rest
again until they had climbed the mountain and passed through the hidden gate to the city.
War
Hickory hadn’t slept since she’d arrived, but adrenaline kept her going. Time enough to rest when this is over. Her father had approved the plan, and now she stood on the outer wall watching the rebel horde assemble on the plain less than a mile away. She worried about Gareth, but he’d told her he felt better and was helping Jess and the city’s smiths fit out the balloons for modern warfare—Prosperine style.
The rebel’s approach to the city had been hampered by the orchards along their route, and they were forced to wait for the massive war engines to catch up with the main force.
Josipe-sѐr-Amagon had been given the task of further delaying the rebels. Working through the night, he and the city guard had strung chains between trees and planted clusters of sharpened stakes in deep trenches. They dug rows of parallel ditches two thousand yards from the walls and spiked them with upward pointing spears, then covered them with branches.
Grim-faced Avanauri guards, soldiers, and ordinary people crowded the walls alongside Hickory. The High Reeve armed citizens with spears, swords, and bows. Those who missed out carried their own weapons—slings, scythes and sabers with elaborate handles, passed down from parent to eldest child ever since the war with the north. Children, not yet old enough to wield arms, held long poles sporting triangular house flags that flapped wildly in the breeze. Hickory looked back at the dirigibles and hoped the wind wouldn’t get any stronger.
The courtyard below her buzzed with Avanauri running here and there. Naurs and nauris dragged catapults into place between the outside and inside walls. Yarraks towed carts piled with rocks to be stacked beside them. Others scurried to store food and water beneath the parapet to be distributed by aging naurs and children when the need arose.
Although satisfied they had done the best they could with the resources available, Hickory wished they had a score of assault rifles to even up the odds a little. Her father was adamant on that score. He didn’t want to escalate this into a war between the Bikashi and the IA. “If this is to be a holy war,” he said, “our side will be aligned with the forces of light.” The slaughter caused by such weapons would terrify the Avanauri. Because of their appearance and their use of “devilish” weapons, the Bikashi guerrillas were already branded demons, even by those for whom they fought.
The clerics nurtured a belief in the righteousness of their cause by providing blessings and absolution and distributing amulets to the troops. They hoisted sacred statues of Balor and Connat-sèra-Haagar and other war heroes on top of the fortifications and positioned them to face the enemy.
A horn sounded from far away, echoing eerily against the walls. On top of a hill in the distance, Sequana stood in his stirrups and raised his staff. His generals and war machines were aligned alongside him. He pointed right, left and then center. The enemy artillery trundled forwards.
Hickory searched for the Bikashi and found them astride their mounts, at the rear of Sequana’s main force. They would be held in reserve until needed.
The Pharlaxian army continued to advance.
The defenders cheered as the leading trebuchet toppled into one of Josipe’s pits. Immediately, a platoon left the enemy ranks and combed the area searching for further traps. Though under heavy fire, they planted crossed flags in several locations.
The main force approached until it was within two thousand yards of the walls. Rebel operators ratcheted the counterweight into the firing position and levered the first projectile into the sling. They released the trigger and the massive counterweight fell; the long arm revolved, gathering speed until it reached the optimum height, and the sling whipped its load towards the walls.
The defending forces mocked them as the rock fell harmlessly short.
Pharlaxian chieftains urged their yarraks to drag the engines forward fifty paces. The second rock smashed into the wall midway up, breaking into debris and dust. The next shot sailed over the wall and shattered in the courtyard, injuring several defenders. Sequana ordered all his war engines to commence their bombardment. Rocks and fiery projectiles rained down on the city.
The defenders took shelter beneath their shields but couldn’t escape the barrage. All around, the injured screamed in agony from ruptured limbs and burning skin. They writhed on the ground, missing arms and legs. Some lay dead from no apparent cause. Hickory heard a thump next to her. She turned, and a body collapsed against her. Where its head had been, there remained only ragged bone, torn flesh and gurgling blood. She pushed the corpse away and bent over gagging.
At ground level, beneath the parapet, a captain held a bloody hand to her side and shouted orders, urging her troops to greater effort “Fire!” The long arm of the catapult swept forward, releasing its cargo. “Reload,” she roared. “Move yourself, warrior! Bring those rocks over here.”
Projectiles flew overhead in both directions. Pots containing combustible liquids smashed on the ground inside the walls. Naurs and nauris screamed in panic, as rancid clouds of smoke and flames erupted, consuming tents, war machines, and defenders alike.
The wounded were rushed to field hospitals, their arms and legs dangling from makeshift stretchers. Hickory saw Kar-sѐr-Sephiryth working among them. He glanced up from attending an injured soldier, and she saw his lips move in prayer.
Another salvo of rocks and flame broke on top of a tower and parts of the wall collapsed, landing in a cloud of dust and stone.
Hickory activated her SIM. Jess, what’s your status? We need you now. She ducked as a shower of broken rock fell towards her.
On our way. I hope you can give us cover. We won’t last long once the Bikashi see what we’re up to.
Hickory watched the fleet of balloons approach from the city center, trailing puffs of vapor, as their pilots cranked up the thrust to full speed. They crossed the wall, and the defenders gazed open-mouthed at the sight. Jess had organized for the air-yachts to be fitted with sirens, and the resultant cacophony was alarming. Hickory shifted her gaze to the Bikashi. They hadn’t moved as yet. It was time for her to do her thing.
She took a deep breath and searched within her mind until she located the empathic receptors. She could sense the power build in response to her intense concentration. Electrical impulses began to swirl around, speeding into her SIM and back to her nerve centers, faster and faster. Her head ached, but she delved deeper and the electrical energy crackled in her nostrils and behind her eyes. White bursts of energy increased in strength and frequency until she felt as though her head would explode. She reached out above the advancing army, over the ridges and hills, over the rivers and mountains, and when she thought she could no longer hold the command, she felt the contact.
We are Charakai. We come.
The airships advanced ever so slowly towards the Pharlaxian forces. Jess, in the lead balloon, signaled to Gareth who waved back. She hoped the boy was ready for this. He had assured her he was fine, but the state of his mental health worried her. The Teacher had told her Gareth’s memory would return piece by piece, but Jess didn’t like the hunted look in his eyes. When they got home, she would organize a holiday for him with the girls and Mack and herself. He’d like that. St Moritz, perhaps. Somewhere nice and cold, where they could go skiing and throw snowballs at each other. Have some fun. When they got home. If they got home.
She ducked instinctively as a projectile flew past, missing her by only a few feet. I hope that was just accidental, and they’re not firing at us. More rocks were in the air on their way to the wall, passing harmlessly by the flying ships. Another few minutes and we’ll be inside their minimum range, and then…
The walls of the city had been severely damaged. They still stood, but for how much longer could they take this pounding? Hickory watched anxiously as the balloons approached the rebel war-machines.
She saw the first bomb being bundled over the side of the leading ship and watched it tumble through the air and strike th
e ground beside a ballista.
This had been Gareth’s contribution to the defense of the city. Each balloon was loaded with canisters containing gunpowder surrounded by close-packed stone pebbles.
The bomb burst in a flash of noise, smoke, and fire. Earth and rock soared in a deadly salvo that smashed the wooden structure, transforming it into lethal shards that felled many of its operators. The rest panicked and ran.
Suddenly, the air was filled with the noise and smoke of simultaneous explosions as the remaining balloons unleashed their deadly cargo. The acrid smell of gunpowder and burning flesh drifted to the defenders on the wall, who cheered wildly.
The airship squadron demolished three of the war weapons, killing dozens of their crew before the Bikashi arrived within striking distance. Vogel issued a command and his troops knelt and opened fire on the balloons. Bursts of white energy exploded from the muzzles of the guns, sending deadly missiles towards their targets. The balloons and their crews disintegrated with a roar and a blinding flash, leaving only a cloud of vapor to say where they had been. They were an easy target for the experienced marksmen and within minutes more than half had been obliterated.
The cheering from the defenders turned into cries of terror at this display of demonic power. Some fled their posts in despair, but they weren’t the only ones. Some amongst the rebel forces threw themselves to the ground and hid their faces. Hickory watched grimly. This was what her father had been afraid of. The use of high-tech weapons against the superstitious Avanauri was unconscionable.
She saw the temple priests, led by the High Reeve and the Chief, exhort the deserters to return to their posts. For the moment, the naurs seemed to comply, but for how long?
