Climbing again Saito and Walker flew side by side. With a mock show of pain Saito rubbed his rear end, then broke out laughing.
"Next time, my friend," he chuckled. Walker, grinning with delight, and as usual completely unaware of the others' concern, fell in alongside the sergeant, and the two traded a round of good natured jibes.
Mark looked over at Ikawa and forced a smile. "Saito's getting damn good."
"Your Goldberg's been giving him some pointers."
Your Goldberg. The way it was said struck Mark as strange. What was happening here? he wondered. Here on Haven he had found everything he had ever dreamed of having. Storm was a wonder of love that was beyond imagining. He held the power of a lord, and beyond that he could truly fly, a thrill still so intoxicating that for a moment his thoughts drifted again to the wonder of it all. About him were all his comrades, Americans and Japanese, weaving back and forth across the sky, racing ahead, climbing, dropping, chatting, and laughing as they leisurely floated through the air.
At the center of the group was a circle of ten of Jartan's sorcerers carrying a tightly woven net in which was piled their supplies, and the rather frightened Vena, with Imada floating by her side. In a way Mark felt sorry for the men and women who were assigned to be their bearers. They were a strange breed of sorcerers; never having mastered the lightning reflexes and offensive striking power for combat flying, they had instead developed the ability to carry heavy burdens through the air, and thus were always useful. They put him in mind of military transport pilots, absolutely essential to any endeavor, yet never knowing the ultimate challenge. They had developed their own guild, and looked at the single combat flyers around them like an adult troubled by a brood of boisterous children. Like transport pilots, they were the unsung heroes of any military operation, and in times of peace, they were in many ways far more important than the aerial combat flyers of Haven who could barely get off the ground with the burdens these sorcerers moved vast distances with ease.
What would happen to all of this if a gate back home was found? He tried to imagine life back on Earth and knew that he would be forever haunted by this dreamlike world. Yet he felt honor-bound to return; he had taken an oath and his country was still at war. What would it be like to return to that war? It was hard now to even imagine the sensation of holding a yoke in his hand, the whispering of the wind replaced by the roar of four Wright Cyclone engines. And the flak, the damn flak bursting ahead, with the Zeroes swinging in so that he felt small and naked as their cannon fire slashed through the plane.
Mark looked at Ikawa. They would have to kill each other back there. The two of them, who had more than once saved each other's life would be enemies again. Yet they were both honor-bound to go.
"Will you go back?" Mark asked, unable to contain the question any longer.
Ikawa tried to smile. "I have the same oath as you."
"We would be enemies again," Mark said sadly.
"That would never happen," Ikawa said, reaching out to touch Mark on the shoulder. "I would rather die myself than hurt you."
"I know that, my friend."
And Ikawa was his friend, the closest he had ever known.
"What about the others?" Mark asked.
"I think our oaths as officers are different," Ikawa replied. "I will not order any of my men to return. Here they are warlords; back home they would be nothing but numberless bodies. Yet even so, I think quite a few will go. The ties of their families are strong for them."
"I think Smithie might go back, maybe Kraut as well," Mark said slowly. "The others I'm not sure, but you're right, it will be up to each individual."
"You two seem awfully glum." Leti drifted to Ikawa's side.
"Oh, just chatting," Mark said, a little too quickly. He knew what Leti must be feeling; he had seen it in Storm's eyes when he had first told her about Kochanski's discovery of the druid. There had been no scene, she had carried herself as always with the mature bearing befitting her station. Where was she now--and Allic as well? Mark breathed a silent prayer for their safety. Here he was worrying about what was just a slim possibility, while his lord and the woman he loved might even now be in combat, or worse.
"The island should be just over the horizon now." As she spoke, Mark could discern a faint smudge of white.
"Tulana, we have you in sight now," Leti announced into her comm crystal.
"Good to hear from you, Leti, you lovely old wench."
Startled, Ikawa looked at his lover.
A faint blush tinted her face. "Tulana's an old friend," she explained. "He owns the central chain of islands. We've known each other a long time."
"I see," Ikawa said evenly, trying hard to hide any jealousy.
"Your bottom still as lovely as ever?"
She held the crystal away and said quickly, "He never got that far."
"It's all right," Ikawa replied, trying to stay calm.
Mark struggled unsuccessfully to suppress a grin.
"Well damn me, woman, tonight will be like old times, so hurry up and get down here, I've been waiting all day. In fact I've been waiting for nearly a damn decade to see you again,"
"We'll be down shortly, coming in out of the southwest." Then Leti touched Ikawa's hand and said. "He can be a little tiresome."
Ikawa merely nodded.
Feeling it best to leave the two alone, Mark swung away and climbed through the light scattering of clouds. The air was warm and pleasant, the ocean below a splendid turquoise glittering in the late morning sun.
Still riding the easterly wind, the group held formation a mile above the ocean. At first it appeared they were approaching an anchored ship, floating in the middle of the sea, but as they drew closer the sheer size of it all started to set in.
"Damn thing must be five thousand feet across," Goldberg shouted, coming up to fly beside Mark.
"Makes a carrier look like a rowboat!" Kochanski called.
Amazed, Mark felt as if he was flying over a 17th century fortress town in Europe. The island was laid out in a star pattern, the five points resting on massive circular pontoons, dominated by spirelike battlements which tapered upward into towering masts. Each of the five points was obviously a bastion with crenellated walls and a central keep. The five bastions were free-floating, linked back to the central island by broad triangular drawbridges, with the points reaching the bastions, and the bases linked firmly to the main island.
The central part of the star was more than six hundred yards across, resting on a circle of pontoons. From the air it looked like a crazy patchwork quilt of narrow streets, warehouses, homes, and even several small temples. Bobbing at the tip of each bastion were glass-covered stills, which converted the sea water, through evaporation by the sun, into drinking water. On the leeward side of the island, the open space between two of the bastions served as a harbor for what appeared to be half a hundred fishing vessels and a score or more heavy oceangoing sailing ships.
The sailing ships captivated Mark's attention almost as much as the island city. The largest one, nearly a football field in length, was reminiscent of the classic clipper ships of McKay which had raced the famous China route a hundred years before. The ship was twin hulled, its lines sleek and graceful, with masts a hundred yards or more in height.
"Damned if that one over there doesn't look like a trireme," Kraut shouted, pointing to an arrow-sleek vessel that was cutting through the gently rolling sea, its oars rising and dropping in unison.
"Time to go down," Leti called, and winging over she started into a nearly vertical dive.
"Look, I'm a dive bomber," Walker shouted, and extending his arms like wings, he rolled up and over. Laughing, the rest of the group fell to imitating him. Mark joined in the fun, arms extended, plummeting straight down.
The star city filled the world beneath him, rushing ever closer. Following Leti's lead, they dove directly towards the central part of the island, to an open platform atop a pyramid-shaped temple. Mark cut his spe
ed and swung out, then circled in and lightly touched down, the rest of the group alighting around him. The platform was empty except for the new arrivals. Looking up, he saw the transport sorcerers making a far more stately and workmanlike approach, Imada still hovering alongside them.
"Leti darling!"
Mark turned to see a huge, shambling bear of a man, nearly seven feet in height, with shoulders as wide as Shigeru and a flowing auburn beard that swept down past a broad leather belt which seemed ready to burst due to his tremendous girth.
The giant strode forward and with a single hand swept Leti into the air, as if she were a toy. With a display of bravado he loudly kissed her on the cheek and then made as if to kiss her on the neck.
"All right, Tulana, put me down, damn it!" Leti shouted, but Mark could hear in her tone that she was delighted to see him.
The huge man dropped Leti and surveyed the group.
"So where's this great warrior that ruined my chances for you?" he roared.
Leti nodded toward Ikawa who stepped forward. Mark could see that his friend was anything but pleased at the reception they had received so far.
Tulana extended his hand, his eyes aglow. Ikawa took it, and there was a moment of silence as if the two were sizing each other up.
A grin finally creased Tulana's face.
"You're all right, my man. Though when I first heard about you, I had a mind to look you up and tear your head off out of sheer jealousy--till I heard the particulars. Anyone who could win back Leti's Crystal of the Night is a better man than I, and damn my eyes and teeth, I don't admit that very often."
Ikawa finally relaxed, and Leti, with perhaps a little too much show, slipped her hand into his.
"By Jartan's bloody eyes, I'll bet you offworlders have never seen a floating city like mine," Tulana shouted.
Surprised at the blasphemy, the sorcerers looked nervously around.
"Oh, don't worry yourselves none. I got some of the codger's blood in my veins. I'm a grandson of Boreas and a great-grandson I am of Jartan's on my mother's side. I'm a favorite of Jartan to boot, so I'll swear by the old goat as much as I like, damn me. I guess that means I was just making a pass at one of my great aunties." Tulana roared at his own joke.
"Come on, I'll show you the sights and then it's time to break open a barrel or two of beer."
"Did you say beer?" Walker shouted.
"The best to be had."
"Say, I think I'm gonna like this place." Eagerly he fell in alongside the ruler, who, still shouting imprecations, started down the steps of the pyramid.
Mark walked over to Ikawa, who smiled and said, "I thought the son of a bitch was going to break my hand."
"I think he likes you," Leti ventured, unable to keep from grinning.
"Well, thank God for that," Ikawa replied. "I certainly wouldn't want to upset the family."
"You know," Mark said, unable to contain himself, "if you two ever make some sort of formal marriage out of this, that guy's going to be your nephew-in-law."
"Just what I've always wanted," Ikawa groaned.
After several hours of crisscrossing the city, which Tulana was showing off with evident pride, Mark found himself to be captivated by the place. Even in the unique world of Haven, it ranked as one of the more bizarre regions he had ever seen.
Tulana's island of Salemar was over three millennia old, and as far as he could guess, the giant had been ruling it and eight others like it since their creation during the Great War. The islands had originally been created as rest points for sorcerers crossing the ocean and afterwards evolved into major trade ports linking the continents. There were now four such chains crossing the ocean and from each of the chains, like spokes on a wheel, dozens of minor centers radiated outward so that no point on the ocean was more than half a day's flying time from a safe haven. Tulana kept boasting that his system was the first, and that all the others were but minor systems controlled by rivals who at best were simple-minded incompetents.
Mark found that there was a certain organic quality to the artificial island, like an ever-living organism that was forever building itself, wearing down, and replacing parts at need. It was, Mark felt, as if a great ship from the time of Alexander had somehow survived across the ages, due to constant maintenance, and through time had acquired the architecture and design of every ship that had been built afterward, so that in the end the vessel was an historical melange.
The floating island was built on a series of pontoons, which in turn were anchored by heavy cables to the ocean floor. Each island was located above a relatively shallow spot in the ocean, so the depth here was under a thousand feet. All elements of its design had been engineered to ride out the roughest storm.
But the city's understructure was what held his attention the most. A vast interworking of pegged timbers, ropes and iron beams, it set up a cacophony of creaks and groans as the island rolled in the sea.
The city supported nearly ten thousand inhabitants and was far more than merely a port of call for sorcerers flying across the ocean. It served as a trade center and safe haven for ships as well, but gained most of its livelihood from the shepherding and harvesting of fish.
"I've got millions of tons of food growing out there," Tulana boomed, pointing expansively to the shimmering ocean. "I'm prince of a chain of nine of these islands and control most of the central ocean. It's the best damn realm in this world!"
Tulana looked back at the weary travelers who sat about his long table in the main feasting hall, which on all sides was open to the pleasant afternoon breeze, offering an uncluttered view of the sparkling ocean in every direction.
"A beer would sound mighty good right now," Walker said, looking hopefully up at Tulana.
"Ah, damn me, I've been neglecting you." Laughing, Tulana clapped his hands.
A doorway into the floor opened and half a dozen servants appeared, dragging up a heavy barrel which they deftly cracked open. Heavy leathern flagons were filled and passed around, foaming amber brew dripping down their sides. Without waiting for the others, Tuluna swept up a flagon in his beefy hands and drained it off. Expectantly he looked over at Walker who tentatively sniffed the brew, brought it to his lips, and took a short pull. A look of delight lit his eyes.
"This stuff is great!" Kochanski called.
"Now for some mituni," Tulana shouted, and servants appeared carrying trays of golden fish, sliced into thin strips. The Americans looked at each other in confusion.
"Sushi!" Shigeru cried and, caught up in the informality of his host, the lumbering wrestler stood, scooped a handful of raw fish from a passing platter, and downed it in a single gulp.
"Excellent!"
"Jesus Christ," Smithie mumbled, looking at Mark. "Is that stuff what I think it is?"
"Raw fish," Mark said, trying not to appear nonplussed, while around him the Japanese eagerly dived into the repast.
"How the hell can you eat that stuff?" Walker asked Saito, while trying to keep a look of disgust off his face.
"It's delicious," Saito replied, spearing a long golden sliver on the end of a fork and passing it to Walker.
Walker wrinkled his nose.
"They say it makes you a better lover," Shigeru growled. He leaned over Walker's shoulder and dangled a piece in front of Walker's face.
Walker tentatively sniffed it. "I don't want to tell you what it reminds me of," he said quietly, and Mark couldn't help but break into a laugh.
Tulana, surveying the scene with obvious amusement, clapped his hands again.
"Bring in the zah!"
"Damn it, look at the size of that lobster!" Kraut shouted. The room broke into a round of excited cries as four servants appeared, carrying a monstrous, four-clawed creature, steamed red and nearly the size of a man.
Laying the creature before Tulana, one of the servants handed him a heavy mallet. Tulana brought the weapon smashing down on a claw, which cracked wide open to reveal a mass of creamy white meat. Pulling a knife from
his belt, Tulana sliced out several pounds of flesh with deft strokes, speared the chunk on the end of the blade, and leaned over the table to offer it to Mark.
"Go on, take a bite, and pass it on."
Mark bit and was stunned by its sweet richness. Grinning, he passed the blade to Kochanski.
"Better than Maine hardshell," Kochanski replied with delight.
The servants now fell to, wrestling the claws free, smashing them open, and passing the meat about, while Tulana buried his face in the first claw, so that his beard was soon coated with juice and meat.
"See why you didn't have to worry about me being interested in him?" Leti said quietly, smiling at the Japanese captain, who was fastidiously cutting a large piece of zah into more manageable slices.
In the distance a horn sounded, counterpointed by a rolling of drums.
Tulana tossed the half-devoured claw onto the floor, his eyes afire. "Damn them, they're at it again!"
Cursing, he walked over to the edge of the pavilion and leaned over the side.
"From what direction?" he bellowed.
"Northeastern quadrant. A patrol ship just relayed the message," came a voice from below.
"How many?"
"Three, possibly four. They're Cresus--we know that for certain."
"I'll bet my pouches they're the same ones hit us last week and killed old Gupta. Well, make the ship ready, I'm getting sick of these bastards."
"All right," Tulana shouted, walking back into the center of the room, "feasting's over for now. We're going hunting!"
"These men have never done something like this before," Leti said anxiously. "Maybe they should sit this one out."
"What the hell--they're sorcerers, aren't they? Come on, a little hunting will do them good."
"What say you," Tulana yelled to the assembly, "you're not afraid of a little fishing expedition, are you?"
"Fishing? I'd love to!" Shigeru cried, lumbering to his feet and tossing a handful of sushi aside. "Let's get going."
Crystal Sorcerers Page 16
