by K. M. Tolan
Mikial dashed toward the protection of the low stonewall of a jetty and risked a peek over the top at the small harbor it sheltered. Hundreds of Minnerans had taken cover among piers and landing ramps. There were no boats to be seen. She did, however, find her intended target. The bright flash of the repeater gun outlined two yhas carts thrown across a gravel road leading to the harbor.
Mikial detected several distinctly-Qurl patterns coming up behind her. One was a Dathia with a cannon. Two others were her escorts.
“Mureak Cellas,” the Dathia introduced with a quick nod. “Let me guess. You're Mikial, right?"
She nodded. Mureak looked about her age, and the name did seem familiar considering how few Dathia the Holding had. “You just graduate? I don't remember you in school."
“I graduated in South Watch,” the Dathia's contralto voice replied. “That's where I live.” She glanced behind her companions, then back at Mikial. “What are you doing in Seventh Force's area?"
“Going after a gun that's got my Strike pinned down north of here."
Mureak grinned. “We're after it too. You find it?"
Mikial pointed over the wall. Nodding, one of Mureak's escorts ran up the beach and looked around the jetty. He made a quick series of hand signals. Moments later, the four of them leapt in unison around the corner. Mikial and her counterpart leveled their cannons and fired at the carts, while their escorts raked the piers with darts. Twin bolts of lightning leapt across the beach, rending wood and flesh. Waving off assistance from one of Mureak's escorts, Mikial jumped back behind the jetty. Mureak joined her, helped along by the other Datha. She looked at Mikial with surprise. “Not the least bit stunned, eh?"
“I've developed a tolerance,” Mikial explained with a laugh. She left to find her Strike before Mureak realized just how senseless that statement was. Being unblocked was one thing. Telling anyone else about it was asking for trouble from the Tasuria.
Mikial rejoined Parva in time for a concerted push against the enemy forces trapped inside the harbor. Bolstered by the arrival of Yora Horian and the rest of her High Strike, they became part of a pincer movement that also included two of Seventh Force's High Strikes. Cut off from the Asul River bridge by the other half of Seventh Force, Union soldiers fought desperately from behind jetties and beached boats. Each pocket of resistance had to be isolated and cleared in a withering exchange of bullets and darts.
The southwestern portion of Murcanna was in Qurl hands by midmorning. Daylight brought with it the first detonations of enemy tube artillery as Eighth Force regrouped at the beach for an attack across the bridge. The initial shells went long, impacting against the cliffs. With Shandi Field Surgeries being set up near the coastal road, the small but deadly projectiles became an immediate concern. Seventh and Tenth Force gunners were quick to reply from positions east and west of the bridge. Mikial knew it was only a matter of time before the larger cannons at Fort Asul spoke out.
Her Strike Commander must have realized the same thing. Yora flung her High Strike across the bridge, Mikial among those who spearheaded the assault.
* * * *
“Large building on the left ... the LEFT!” Parva shouted behind her as geysers erupted in the water beside them.
Pressing herself flat against the granite flagstones of the bridge, Mikial re-oriented her cannon on the structure near the far bank. The Strike had made it across six of the eight support piers before a hail of Union bullets stopped them. Now the tube artillery was finding their range as well. Parva's other gunner lay next to her, as dead as the batteries in his weapon. Ricocheting bullets sent granite shards bouncing across her armor. Mikial drew hard, the batteries of her own cannon exhausted. Parva was used to her sparkle by now, and knew what to do next.
The cannon kicked against her shoulder, the shock wave rippling across the bridge. Her discharge struck just beneath the tile roof that the enemy fired from, collapsing it into the building below. Mikial's head spun. Parva seized her foot and dragged her back behind him. Dazed, she watched two other Datha run by with their cannons to the next support pier. The bridge shuddered as enemy tubes finally struck home somewhere behind her. Mikial crouched against the bridge wall. Time to get off this thing! She watched Parva take his Strike to the far bank, motioning her to stay put until her strength returned. Mikial glanced up into the smoke-filled sky where distant wings glinted off the morning sun. A pilot, possibly Dalen, had joined the battle less than a chime ago. He was now spotting for the current assault. Just stay high and out of range.
* * * *
Mikial's vision and senses cleared. She found herself staring at her own blood on the flagstones. Pain shot along her right leg, and her head pounded with each breath she took. Someone had tied a yellow ribbon to her arm. Datha ran by, unrelenting armored blurs that charged toward the thunder of combat. She saw Mureak dash past, the Dathia giving her a concerned glance. Seventh Force, Mikial realized, marshaling her groggy thoughts. That meant the Eighth had made it across the bridge. She looked at the freshly scored bridge wall just behind her and knew why she hadn't made it across herself.
More Qurls rushed forward. Several had slimmer bodies that looked incongruous beneath their camouflaged armor. Immediate Teams, Mikial's numbed mind realized as a Shandi finally reached her.
The Healer's face looked no less hardened than that of any soldier. The Shandi made a cursory inspection “Dathia, think you can keep those claws to yourself while I work?"
“Yes, and hurry,” Mikial grated, “I've got to get back to my Strike!"
“Fast fixes is what I am about,” she replied, sliding up beside her. “Hold your leg still while I remove the shrapnel. I'll make sure that this won't hurt."
* * * *
True to the Healer's promise, Mikial was up and moving toward the front within half a chime, her leg tightly bandaged and local nerves blocked to prevent an interfering limp. Her wound had been a shallow one. The real damage was a slight concussion from the artillery shell blast. The wretched helmet had saved her life. The Shandi managed to ease her headache, cautioning her to seek another Immediate Team before the day's end for a more thorough examination. It was a promise Mikial doubted she could keep. Collecting up her cannon, she crossed the bridge to join another harsh fight underway at Haken's Wall to the northeast.
Torn granite ramparts blazed under concerted Qurl cannon fire. Heavy repeater guns barked in reply. One of the bunkers atop the four-story structure was struck simultaneously by seven Qurl gunners, the defense point disappearing within a cloud of fragments. Mikial searched in vain for her Strike. Hissing with frustration, she ran to where an exchange of rifle fire marked a Qurl effort to take one of the two main breaches.
Crouched behind a burnt-out stable along with a Line from Seventh Force, Mikial began hammering a lone Union repeater position set up in the rubble beneath the breach. She immediately became the object of heavy counter-fire, bullets tearing at the soot-covered walls around her. Her shoulder was struck as if by an iron fist. Crying out, Mikial rolled to once side and looked at the gouge in her armor. The new vest was working. At least the Cothra had gotten that right! Badly bruised but otherwise intact, Mikial took time to recharge as a Line of Datha slew infantry drawn out to suppress her.
Amber eyes gleaming with determination, Mikial took aim once more despite the impact of bullets around her. Her cannon spat out a brilliant lance of energy, piercing the gap between granite blocks where the enemy gun crew lay. There was no return fire this time.
With their defensive centerpiece smashed, khaki-clad troops pulled back from the breach under murderous fire from Datha rifles. The Strike to which she attached herself quickly exploited the opportunity, driving the foe into a frantic rout up the rock-strewn valley behind the palisade. Clambering over granite blocks, Mikial watched as hundreds of would-be conquerors fled along the riverbanks toward a distant red rectangle. Fort Asul, she realized. Setting up her cannon, Mikial added her own contribution to the Union's bloody retreat
.
Mikial's firing was interrupted by shouted orders to take cover. Surprised, she pulled up her weapon and dashed to where fallen sections of granite formed a makeshift shelter near the breach. Within moments, something flashed pink behind her, splitting the air with a great clap of destruction. Another followed. She watched splashes of fire and debris leap up from the already ravaged town. This wasn't tube fire. Fort Asul's larger cannons had finally entered the battle. Scrunching down, Mikial winced as a near miss drove home the point that this operation was far from being won.
An armored Ipper runner took cover beside her. Between the blasts of artillery, he gave her instructions to report back to her Force Command Staff. Giving him an incredulous look, Mikial hefted her cannon and made a wild dash back toward the bridge as artillery fire shook the ground around her. She found Force Commander Keel hunkered down behind the same jetty she had taken cover at earlier.
“Mikial,” the calico officer rumbled, pushing his helmet up to fix her with a resolute stare. “You said in your report that you had met with Kioranna's Steward, right?"
She nodded, ducking as an artillery shell rattled overhead to impact in the harbor. Water, and bits of the pier, rained down on them.
“Good,” Keel finished. “Because you're about to meet him again. We have a large contingent of Kiorannan cavalry coming down the coastal road. Principal Jakar wants you to find out what their intentions are.” Keel gave an annoyed growl as the ground shook from another nearby shell. “We have spotted more Minnerans on their way down the Asul, at least six thousand in strength. I've enough of a fight here without adding the Kiorannans to it. If those Servants want to take our place, tell them they're welcome to the city as soon as we can disengage."
“I'll leave at once,” she acknowledged.
“No weapons,” the Force Commander cautioned, pointing to her pistols. “Talk nice, Dathia. We have only three High Strikes to guard our flanks right now."
Mikial borrowed a gray-haired yhas and headed up the gravel road squeezed between the Qurl Hills and the sea. The battle receded behind her, leaving only the pounding of surf against broken granite spires. Blue-tailed fishers wheeled and dove from rookeries along the wooded cliffs to her right, oblivious to the violence she left.
Mikial pulled the helmet off her aching head and let the ocean wind sweep through her matted scalp. Hopefully she still had enough hair left to be recognized, assuming the Steward was part of the advancing army. She rode around a granite spur and saw a long column of riders following the shoreline. Green-and-turquoise banners flapped in the wind as if the Kiorannans had taken it into their minds to have a parade. Dismounting, she wondered if they even knew that her Holding had taken Murcanna for them.
A dozen riders detached themselves from the column and sped toward her. She was promptly surrounded by a rifle squad, led by some nervous young officer in a wide-brimmed turquoise hat. They sent back a messenger with her request to speak to the Kiorannan commander. Mikial was encouraged when the rider returned with instructions to let her be. Mounting up, the Kiorannans sped back toward the main body.
She did not have long to wait before a lone rider approached, his golden yhas’ long legs sending up clots of wet sand. Mikial gave a thankful breath, recognizing the Steward. Alad's slender features were hidden beneath a green long-coat with turquoise lapels and twin rows of brass buttons. His shallow cheeks were smeared by dust and several days’ growth of beard. His auburn hair looked little better than hers, except that it was nicely trimmed, instead of being hacked off.
“I hoped they would send you,” the Steward said, reining in his animal before her. “More than that, I was hoping you had returned home safely.” He swung off the saddle with a frown. “You didn't need to leave Kior like that."
Mikial shook her head. “I was kidnapped, actually. Commander Chasa thought he could force Maltenna to support the Eastern Union by taking me.” She did not include Ryan and her other adventures in her explanation. Things were already far too complicated without explaining about humans and flying carriages.
Alad gave her a sharp look. “Chasa is working with Minnera?"
“Until I killed him for his trouble.” Mikial inclined her head southward. “We've more pressing problems. My Holding was forced to take Murcanna for our own protection. You're welcome to what's left, but the Datha need to withdraw first."
He slowly looked her up and down. “It looks like you had a hard fight, niece. Where are the Union forces now?"
“Running up the Asul toward their fort."
“Any sign of reinforcements?"
Reluctantly, Mikial nodded, suspecting Commander Keel would have preferred that bit of intelligence left out. Keel was not thinking of the consequences, either. If Alad were killed, the Holding would find a far less cooperative Steward in Maltenna.
Alad bent down and selected a smooth pebble from the sand and flung it toward an onrushing wave. He gave her a meaningful expression as the stone vanished in the pounding surf. “I have brought a full Set of two thousand soldiers. Will that be enough to hold Murcanna until morning?"
She gave a low hiss. “You'll be dead by sunrise. Around six thousand Union soldiers are on their way down the Asul.
“Our spies tell us that Manwal Kinn rides with them,” Alad replied. He gave a fierce grin. “Together, we have the chance to kill Minnera's Protector and end this Union of his."
“Together?"
He looked over her shoulder, as if trying to envision the battle beyond. “Tell your commander that he has two choices. Join with my forces in an immediate attack on Fort Asul or get driven into them instead. I am not letting him out of Murcanna."
Mikial gaped at him. “Those Minnerans have cannons and repeater guns that would tear any assault apart!"
“Your people seem to have made provisions for that,” he replied, tapping at the gouge in her vest's right shoulder. “Rifle balls from one of their new guns, yes? No doubt you have found ways through their armor as well."
“Most of us have yet to be equipped. We're not a shield for you to hide behind."
Alad's reply was edged with a precise coolness. “I am not interested in any shield, Mikial. What I expect is the full support of your infantry while I take that Minneran fort. This offensive must not be given time to become entrenched. Neither of us can accomplish it separately, but together we can gain time until your mother arrives with more reinforcements."
A second army under that female's command? Was he asking for a pistol ball in his back? Mikial bit her lip. “I will carry that message to our Principal."
He raised his hand to wave another rider toward them. “No need to burden you further with that responsibility, niece. I brought my own spokesman."
Mikial quickly recognized the barrel chest and golden beard that bushed out over the approaching rider's green-and-turquoise jacket. “Dahin!"
“How come you can't stay out of trouble?” Dahin said with a grin, riding up beside her on a black yhas.
“I expect my Set Commander to be sent back to me when he has finished,” Alad said, pointing a finger at the hills. Kneeling his yhas, her uncle swung back up in his saddle. Bringing the animal to its feet, he wheeled back toward his troops. “I will forward a daughter's warmest greetings to Maltenna."
“Don't you dare!” she shouted over Alad's laughter as he rode off.
Mikial mounted. Dahin's dark blue eyes wrinkled as he scrutinized her scored armor and battle-smudged face. “Have you taken the city?"
“For the moment,” she said, filling him in on the situation as they headed back down the coast. “The Steward must be desperate to even think we'd join forces with him,” she finished, as the dull thumps of artillery became discernible above the surf.
“No more desperate than your having to leave your Holding to attack a Kiorannan city,” he retorted. Dahin scrutinized her closely. “What about you? Leaving like you did back at Kior was—"
She raised her hand to interrupt him. “I didn
't leave willingly. We'll talk later about my mother's choice in Set Commanders."
“Chasa grabbed you, eh?"
“I hope she wasn't too fond of him. Anyway, I returned home safely."
“And wasn't killed as a traitor, I see."
Mikial gave Dahin a sharp look. “Would you really have stopped the baby exchanges?"
His look was an uncompromising affirmation of the fact. Dahin gestured down the road. “Ah, we're to be welcomed."
“Just a Datha Line,” she said as the Qurl riders galloped toward them. “I expect that you'll soon be meeting my father."
They were escorted up the steep winds of a trail on the eastern side of the hills. Mikial's hunting eyes revealed many times more Datha among the trees than those she could see with her regular vision. These were probably the three High Strikes Keel had mentioned. Within a chime, she and Dahin arrived at a large camouflaged tent held up by two center poles. Tucked back beneath the cover of trees, the tent was close to where her Strike originally had rappelled down the cliffs. Dahin was escorted inside. Much to Mikial's displeasure, a trio of Shandi in olive battle dress took interest in her. Instead of joining Dahin, she had to sit beneath a tree while a Counselor and two Healers inspected her injuries.
By the time Dahin reappeared, Mikial had a new dressing on her right leg, and her head no longer ached from its concussion. The look on Dahin's face was not much different from the grimace he had while first looking down the cellar steps at her.
“Well?” Mikial asked.
“Your people will support our flanks as we take Fort Asul,” Dahin replied. “The Minnerans are flying a gold wheat-and-sword pennant above the fort. That means Manwal Kinn is in there, no doubt pleading with his allies to hold their ground. We have a chance to win this war today, with your Holding's help."
“Then why the bleak look on your face?"
Dahin laughed. “Your foster father is as direct as he is big. He wants me to tell the Steward he's a complete fool to charge up there."
