Blade Dancer

by K. M. Tolan

  The city center, slightly smaller in area than the community around Keep's Ridge, appeared more intact. Ringed by a low stonewall, it was a reminder of the town's original function as a Datha stronghold. A tower rose from the heights above the red granite walls of the old garrison. The clatter of plates and forks ceased when the first glint of sunlight touched the silver tip of the spire. Mikial sat motionless, her ears straining to catch the faint refrains of First Greetings wafting across the stilled troops like a benediction. She might never know the tenor voice, but his song was one she doubted anyone would soon forget. Datha throats let out a collective breath when the last words drifted down. Only then did the Cothra resume filling mugs and platters.

  Satiated, Mikial waved down a young female Cothra heading toward the town in a powered cart full of empty milk cans. The driver told her that both the Tasur and Tasuria were at the tower. Riding up the highway, Mikial wondered if her meeting had to do with her exile. Surely they were not going to insist on it now, were they? Not without a fight, she scowled to herself. Her driver made sure the ride was a short one, using the horn liberally as she weaved around Cothra repair crews near the old garrison. Thanking her, Mikial jumped off her seat before one of the garrison's iron gates and passed through the heavy walls to the austere square inside.

  The interior was not very roomy, the red granite flagstones of the square wide enough only to handle a High Strike in close formation. Behind the plaza, a three-level building bowed out in a slight curve from the rear wall. Fashioned from red brick that matched the granite around it, the structure supported the tower she had heard First Greetings from. A patio ran along the ground floor, four polished granite pillars supporting the upper two levels. Glass shards covered the yard. Looking up, Mikial saw that the garrison's distinctive round windows had been blown out.

  Her father walked out from beneath the shadows of a patio to meet her with a somber expression, his large frame made even more massive by the armor he wore. “The Tasur and Tasuria are waiting for you,” Jakar rumbled.

  “This isn't about my going to Tessana, is it?"

  He shook his head, as if that was the last thing on his mind. “No. Follow me, daughter."

  “Have you heard from mother?” she asked as a Datha swung open one of the metal entrance doors for them.

  “I have had no word,” Jakar replied, gesturing her up a flight of stairs inside. “I expect she's very busy right now."

  Mikial followed him down a corridor of ochre plaster walls embellished with ancient shields and weapons that were relics even in the Taqurls’ time. She followed her father past several rooms packed with maps and officers. Jakar motioned her to the Commandant's Office at the end of the hall, the lacquered double doors framed by large granite wall tiles.

  She walked into a hushed quiet of burgundy carpeting and heavy nutwood bookcases. The room was the size of three offices. It featured a large tan map of the Holding southern region, which hung behind thick glass along the entire back wall.

  Both the Tasuria and her husband, Tasur Halan Ellis, rose from ironwood desks along the left side of the chamber. Light flooded in behind them from a set of broken bay windows overlooking the plaza outside. Both rulers wore their cream-colored clothes of office, their multicolored belts tied above flowing side-skirts. Sencia gave Mikial a weary nod. Mikial noticed that Tasur Halan's left hand was bandaged. She saw no injuries on Sencia. Mikial clasped her hands respectfully, wondering in which direction her life was about to be sent.

  “Good morning, Mikial,” Halan said. “I am pleased to finally meet you, since Sencia usually deals with this Holding's ladies."

  “My Tasur,” Mikial returned, feeling far more comfortable around Halan than Sencia. Halan looked and acted like an absentminded tinkerer, his ash-gray hair slightly disheveled above a casual smile. It was the intelligence behind his deep golden eyes that hinted at why he wore the Shop Master's knot in his brown-and-yellow belt—the highest rank a Cothra could hold. Neither Halan nor Sencia looked like they had slept much.

  “There is something I would like you to see.” The Tasur stepped over to a wide nutwood table beneath the wall map and pulled back a blue blanket. Metal and ceramics gleamed beneath an overhead lamp.

  Mikial inspected what appeared to be a heavily modified cannon. It certainly looked more powerful than anything she ever fired. The olive-colored barrel was thicker than that of a normal cannon, and was almost as long as two arms. Six ceramic blocks were spaced evenly along both sides of the barrel. The cannon also had optical sights set above its firing handles, suggesting far greater range. What she first mistook as two secondary barrels were apparently power conduits connecting each block. Mikial tapped at the cubes, her hunting eyes tingling with energy contained there. “These are batteries?"

  The Tasur nodded. “You will also note the base of the cannon is broader. Those small hemispheric shapes on the top and bottom before the handles are firing chambers. The batteries adjacent to them are also larger. Pick it up. You will find it weighs more too."

  It certainly does, Mikial thought, hefting the unit. She pulled the wide top strap over her shoulder to better suspend the weapon in her arms. “Good center balance,” Mikial offered, relieved not to find it barrel-heavy. No doubt she was about to become this thing's new user. Mikial studied the faded forge marks upon the barrel that were engraved near the firing chambers in small black letters. “Chekena?” Eyes wide, she hastily set the cannon back down on the table and looked at Sencia.

  “Yes, this is a Taqurl cannon,” Tasuria Sencia spoke up. Sencia's ears flicked as she regarded the device. “Not all the weapons were destroyed after Min Saja. Some ... like this, were kept by the Cothra for research purposes."

  “Research?” Mikial numbly repeated, staring at the cannon in revulsion.

  “It's refurbished, and equipped with new batteries,” the Tasur said with a heavy voice. He looked down. “We are about to turn our backs on the Book of Gile Tassomon in order to face our enemies. This is part of the change you demanded, Mikial, whether you realized it or not. It's what we most feared."

  “The human machine is now above Murcanna,” her father explained behind her. “It has a commanding view of the first three ridge lines, and its crew have been bringing accurate fire to bear on any Force attempting to approach. The machine is beyond the range of our weapons. Not even one of Dalen's creations could catch that airship, let alone survive any fight with it."

  “The Kiorannans have lost Murcanna,” the Tasur added. “The last defenders withdrew up the coastal pass during the night. We are going to have to take the city ourselves. As unprecedented as that may be, we have little choice. Your reports about a Minneran army have been confirmed. We need to keep this Eastern Union bottled up in the Asul Valley. You will use this Taqurl cannon to bring down that air machine, Mikial. Currently, you happen to be the only Qurl capable of firing it."

  “My discharge ratings are high, but...” She trailed off at the pained expression on the Tasuria's face.

  “You may recall being shot several times by the human energy rifle,” Tasuria Sencia spoke slowly, as if coming to terms with some inner reluctance.

  Mikial nodded. “Yes, Tasuria.” She frowned. “I was told it hadn't harmed me."

  “Go ahead, Sencia,” Halan gently urged as Sencia's lips trembled. He turned to Mikial with a less amiable expression. “Dathia, I must order you not to discuss this with anyone. Is that clearly understood?"

  “Acknowledged, my Tasur,” Mikial said, her eyes wide as she met the Tasuria's pained expression. What is going on here?

  “Mikial,” Sencia began, “there are certain protein blocks that the Shandi place in those of your sect to dampen them.” She paused, as if driving the words from her lips. “It has to do with your collection glands. We allow only the ones in the palms and arms to function."

  Mikial gave her a stunned look. “There're more?"

  “There are an equal amount in your legs, and secondary nodules thro
ughout your body. Other glands manipulate the discharge itself, much like we Shandi change our outflow depending on the organs we must monitor. All Datha have these glands inhibited shortly after their birth."

  “Why?"

  “Min Saja provides the reason,” her father said, putting a calming hand on Mikial's shoulder. “Our sect laid to waste most of Dessa's northern hemisphere."

  Sencia's shoulders fell. “Mikial, your protein blocks were burned away by that weapon. We were not able to replace them. The best we could do was tell you nothing.” The Tasuria looked at the weapon on the table, her coal black eyes seeming to darken even further.

  Halan put a comforting arm around Sencia's waist. “Tonight, Mikial, Dessa will hear a weapon that has not spoken since Min Saja. The responsibility for that will be mine and Sencia's alone to bear. We will be going with you, in order to make that point clear."

  “You both could be killed if we're shelled!” Mikial protested, hoping her father would support her. Jakar remained silent, though his deep frown told her that this argument had already been fought and lost before she arrived.

  “Then Creation will have judged our decision,” Sencia answered. “We may well deserve death for what we've done here. In any case, it is our decision, Mikial. Not yours.” She allowed a brief smile to cross her lips. “Let's not get into that discussion again, shall we?"

  Mikial followed her father and the two rulers back down to the plaza, the cannon slung under her right arm. The Cothra had brought up three squat wagons wrapped in camouflaged netting. Propping the Taqurl weapon beside her on the back seat, Mikial hoped the Cothra drivers knew some easy trails. Large motors whined with power, the wide tires propelling them from the garrison. The Cothra referred to the wagons as runners. Hopefully they would live up to that name.

  They headed toward the Holding southern tip with a minimum of escorting Datha so as to not draw too much attention. Below South Watch, Mikial could see lines of transports still coursing down Valleyway Road. It seemed almost incomprehensible that her sect was about to attack a Servant city. No more, Mikial amended bitterly, than watching the High Keep get blown apart. The Minnerans and their allies would have much to regret, providing she could bring Ryan's flying machine down again. Mikial considered the fact that another human might be piloting the machine. Well, at least It isn't Ryan. She hoped he had been successful in his mission to destroy the cannons across from GapWatch. Mikial could not shake the uneasy feeling that each human death only narrowed everyone's future.

  Following the winds and twists of an old game trail, the small convoy arrived at the frontier near sunset. The scent of ocean breezes carried to Mikial's nostrils. She glanced at the Tasur and Tasuria riding ahead of her. They looked exhausted from the constant shaking, despite the tough springs of the vehicle. Mikial regarded the low sun with foreboding. No doubt the plan was to move the Forces forward under the cover of darkness once she dispatched her target. If the drivers did not hurry, she would not even have the chance to see what to shoot at.

  They stopped in the canyon below a ridge that the driver said overlooked Murcanna. A Line of Datha met them, the soldiers moving carefully so as not to attract unseen eyes. The runners were driven beneath a thicket and quickly covered with branches. As she hefted the cannon, Mikial's eyes swept the orange skies overhead. So where was this machine?

  Jakar convinced the Tasur that he and his wife should remain in relative safety behind the ridge. He further arranged for the arrival of a Shandi Immediate Team already in the area.

  Carrying the Taqurl cannon across her shoulders, Mikial followed her father up a rocky path toward the crest. Perhaps, when he saw her in combat, she could win back a measure of his respect. The sun was low and swollen by the time Mikial had bellied the few final yards to her firing position. She chose a spot upon a flat granite slab. Her father waited a short distance behind her.

  The view before Mikial was tremendous. The southern end of the Masar Range heaved up from the sea like gigantic gray scales, climbing northeast toward snowcapped peaks. The Asul River ran along the rising right flank of the mountains, then cut through the foothills to empty out onto a large delta upon which Murcanna rested. The strategic pass between Asul Valley and the coast was capped by a ramparts twenty spans high, and wide enough to run a carriage across the top battlements. Comprised of massive red granite blocks, Haken's Wall contained a town twice the size of South Watch. At least it had recently.

  Eighteen city blocks, stretching from the wall to the coastline, had been pounded as if by a huge hammer. Gaping holes in Haken's Wall attested to the power of human-designed cannons; granite sections thrown back like a child's discarded blocks. Minneran tents were sprinkled among the debris like mushrooms around a burnt stump. Streets were obscured beneath collapsed buildings. Mikial was quick to note that the lone bridge spanning the Asul was still intact and in use by Murcanna's current owners.

  The conquerors were busy consolidating their position by heaping rubble along Murcanna's western approach to Kioranna. Hundreds of Minneran soldiers were dug in behind makeshift barriers that faced the coastal road. Mikial could see many soldiers outfitted with the improved vests and weaponry provided by Ryan's people

  Floating above it all was her target. There was no mistaking the ovoid shape that defied both gravity and reason. Its altitude was no higher than that of an observation balloon, but the range was still impossible for a regular cannon. Peering through her cannon optics, Mikial saw that both side doors of the craft were open. Khaki-clad figures were using field glasses of their own. Mikial's lips pulled back from her teeth. Please let this be the same crew that directed fire on the High Keep.

  Nodding to her father, Mikial prepared to facilitate the enemy's return to the ground beneath them. She unhooked the heavy bipod on the barrel and wedged the legs deep into the rocky soil. As instructed, Mikial tossed two spools of silver cable back down the hill after connecting them to the cannon handles. The Cothra were going to monitor the weapon from what they hoped would be a safe distance.

  Remembering how she brought down the machine once before, Mikial aimed toward the cabin at the rear of the craft. She gathered potential within her body, feeling the same burning sensation throughout her body as she had in Minnera. Mikial drew harder than she had ever dared before. Sparkling webs of energy crackled along her skin with each breath she gave. Energy leapt in hungry arcs as she gripped the firing handles.

  The human craft was moving closer. They must have seen her. Mikial quickly flicked the first of two tabs on the main batteries. She detected currents streaming along the barrel to guide the released energy to its target. Mikial moved the second switch to release the safety. Eager to rid herself of a virtual cloud of energy, she discharged.

  Hyped by combat instincts, her mind grasped the images that made up the next moments in a life Mikial believed to be ending. The cannon exploded. The barrel burst in a bright flash that was sucked up into the departing wake of an even greater brilliance. Something like a miniature sun leapt across the skies. If there was a sound made, it was lost within a powerful backwash of force that flung her back down the ridge. Enveloped inside a glowing balloon of energy, Mikial was vaguely aware of impacting both trees and brush before she collapsed in a heap near the canyon floor. Dazed, she looked up at wisps of smoke that marked her searing passage through the limbs. An Immediate Team was at her side within moments, the Tasur and Tasuria right behind them. Mikial raised her hands, her palms red and still dripping with sweat. She was burned, but nothing like she expected.

  A Shandi expertly ran her hands along Mikial's body. “I'm not seeing any fractures. Ribs, legs ... all fine. Her glands took some trauma ... some minor burns here and there."

  Sencia ran up and crouched beside her. “It wasn't fire, Healer. Mikial, can you stand?"

  Encouraged that the Tasuria would even ask such a question, Mikial lurched up on unsure feet. “What happened to me?"

  “High State,” Halan explained. �
�It's something the Taqurls wrote about your sect doing ... a balance of energies allowing them to unleash incredible destruction."

  Beside her husband, Sencia gave a shudder. “This has been a terrible education in our heritage.” She took a breath. “How do you feel?"

  “Sore,” Mikial said. She looked up to see her father finish sliding down the hillside.

  “Mikial!” Jakar roared, rushing up to her.

  “I'm fine!” she exclaimed in wonder as he held her. “Did I hit the airship?"

  “You did,” he replied. “There's just a line of vapor across the sky to where it used to be.” Jakar's eyes narrowed to slits as he regarded the Tasur. “The barrel blew up in her face! Is that the kind of weapon you expect me to field?"

  Mikial walked away from the ensuing argument. Numbly, she found a log to sit on while the Immediate Team gave her a more thorough inspection. She looked back up the hill as the final remnants of day gave way to the Curtain's light. Datha scouts were stamping out small fires along the crest. What has happened here? What have I unleashed?

  Mikial rubbed her sore wrists and legs, feeling the overused throb of glands she never known she had. “What am I now?” she wondered out loud, staring up the scarred hillside. “Is this what it feels like to be a Taqurl again?” she half whispered.