by K. M. Tolan
Her eyes narrowed. “My father is the Principal of our sect. Take his advice seriously, Dahin."
“Alad wants this fight ended,” Dahin said, saddling up. “Your uncle's no fool either, Mikial."
“Just make sure he stays alive!"
Dahin nodded to the Datha that would escort him back down the trail, and then turned to Mikial. “Try and do the same yourself.” He looked back at the tent with scorn. “You're the only one here who isn't blind to everything outside your Holding."
After watching him leave, Mikial went to see if any ropes still hung over the cliff face. The angry snap and pop of rifle fire drifted up from Murcanna, the city enshrouded beneath a haze of acrid smoke. The fighting was punctuated by the heavier thump of artillery. Parva probably thought her dead by now, and she had no idea where he was down there.
“Mikial."
Turning, she saw her father throw back the tent flap. Beneath his helmet, Jakar's eyes regarded her with quick appraisal. “You can still fight?"
“I was about to rejoin my Strike."
“I'm detaching you from your command.” He raised a hand to squelch her protest as he walked across the rock to peer down at Murcanna. “I'll need you as liaison between us and what's left of the Kiorannans after they attack Fort Asul."
“You are going to help them, aren't you?"
Jakar's lips pulled back in a scowl. “I'll support them, but nothing's going to help them. Your Cothra almost got himself shot down by heavy repeaters while flying over the fort. The Kiorannans will be cut apart before they reach the gates."
“Is Dalen all right?” Mikial asked, her heart sinking.
“He's fine. His sect patched the wings and sent him back up. I sent warning to that Kiorannan Steward about the guns, but I suspect he won't listen."
“Dahin told me about your warning,” she said with a dour look. “You know the Minneran leader is in that fort, don't you."
“That's not our concern, daughter. The Kiorannans are welcome to bleed themselves dry. I just need the Union counter-attack delayed long enough for Tessana Holding's Datha to get here."
You are blind, Mikial fumed inwardly, as her father turned back to the tent.
* * * *
Watching from the heights with a pair of field glasses, Mikial saw Alad's forces enter Murcanna toward late afternoon. They were like a brilliant blue-and-green stream flowing across the ashen city. Even from this height she could hear the heavy clatter of hooves on flagstones. Bayonets from Kiorannan long rifles caught the afternoon sun as the army turned northeast across the Asul River bridge. The sound of horns wafted up like a martial breeze.
The Command Staff moved out to join her atop the cliffs. Looking strange in their camouflage battle dress, Ipper Signalers sat down around the group, their ear fans erect. Expecting that this was the opening move in Alad's gamble to end the war, Mikial raised her glasses and watched his troops form up behind Haken's Wall. Fortunately for him, the Minneran artillery was distracted. Puffs of white smoke burst from the foothills left of Haken's Wall. Tenth Force was on the move through the high ground toward Fort Asul.
An Ipper Signaler spoke up near her father. “Tenth Force, Force Commander Curfa reporting. They're taking cannon fire. The enemy hasn't found their range yet."
Mikial watched the cavalry surge through the many breaches in Haken's wall to disappear down the mouth of the Asul Valley. An intervening wedge of mountains blocked her view of their objective.
“Eighth Force ... Force Commander Keel reports the Kiorannans have stopped in the field just beyond the wall to regroup."
“They've stopped?” Her father stared at the Signaler. “Have him be more specific.” Jakar shook his head. “What are they waiting for, the Minneran cannons to reorient themselves?"
“They're forming for a charge,” Mikial guessed out loud. She immediately regretted the comment as several Field Commanders turned toward her with unappreciative glares.
“Eighth Force, Strike Commander Horian reporting,” the Signaler began again. “Kiorannans have redeployed three lines deep across the valley, flag carriers forward of the main body. She reports the sound of horns."
“Tenth Force, Force Commander Curfa reporting. Artillery fire slowing Tenth's advance."
“Aerial Signaler Leek reporting,” came a quick interruption from another adjacent Ipper. “Very large contingent of Union soldiers moving up from behind fort ... both sides of river!"
“Eighth Force, Force Commander Keel, reports that the Kiorannans are charging!"
“Seventh Force, Force Commander Bedda reporting. He requests permission to advance in support of Tenth Force."
Jakar quickly nodded before addressing his officers. “We've made the Union commit early, hopefully to our advantage. Get Sixth Force up to cover the Tenth and Seventh. Order the Eighth back to our flanks as reserve; they've been hurt enough today.” The Sect Principal scowled into the skies. “Instruct the Tenth to cease their advance. I don't want them cut off by the counterattack.” He gave Mikial a moment of attention. “Your Steward had best pull back or take that fort now."
The reports continued, painting out a picture little better than what her father had predicted. The Kiorannans were stopped short of Fort Asul. It was only through the covering fire of Tenth Force that they were able to withdraw to the foothills west of the fort. Mikial could only give a frustrated whine as Minneran reinforcements moved around the southern walls of Fort Asul and finished closing the trap.
It was Dalen's Signaler, circling high over the field of battle, who provided the most concise picture of what happened next. Alad had charged across the field between the fort and the river, driving the surprised enemy across the Asul. Crossfire from the fort forced most of the cavalry back beneath the cover of Tenth Force's cannons along the high ground. A smaller Kiorannan contingent remained near their objective, taking cover within a spur of granite that extended from the foothills. The Steward's banner was with them.
“We can't let Alad Kior die!” Mikial exclaimed, confronting her father. “The one taking his place will be no better than Manwal Kinn.” She ignored the looks from Jakar's staff, setting herself in front of Jakar as he turned from the cliff. “Maltenna's on her way with an even larger army! If Alad's dead, which way will she point it? We have to help the Steward get inside that fort. It's his only chance."
“They can't get close enough to the gates to use the explosives they took with them,” Jakar growled. “His position is hopeless, Mikial."
“Then have the Tenth use their gunners to breach the gates."
“We both know they're out of effective range to manage that, and I've lost too many Datha already without wasting more trying to get close to that fort."
“How about risking just one?” she asked, seeing the only answer left to her. “There's a cannon that might bring that door down by itself. I left it up here."
Jakar's frown faded. “Explain how you intend to get yourself past several thousand rifles across that river."
“Get Dalen to land on the coastal road. I'll fly his airship into the Asul near the fort."
He shook his head. “If that alone doesn't kill you, Mikial, those Minnerans certainly will."
Mikial gave an exasperated hiss. “Then bring the Tenth forward to hit their flanks and distract them!"
“Principal,” a Signaler interrupted, “Tasur Halan Ellis advises assisting the Kiorannan Steward if it can be done with minimum losses."
Jakar stared at the Ipper in disbelief. “I never made that request!"
“Principal Jia did."
Jakar gave the Ipper a black look. “Tell Jia Yeffer to do her listening elsewhere!"
Mikial spoke quietly. “One Dathia is an acceptable loss."
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* * *
Sixteen
Mikial didn't have long to wait on the coastal road near the beach before a familiar camouflage shape glided into view over the ridges. Turning, the airship lined up
on the highway, its long wings wobbling as it sank down with wheels extended. How long have they been up there? Mikial wondered as the machine bounced to stop near Cothra technicians. Hefting the ungainly prototype cannon, she ran toward the powered airsail.
Mikial hardly recognized the haggard pilot that was pulled from the cockpit, his brown hair in tangles. The rumpled brown work clothes he wore were stained with sweat. “Dalen?” Mikial ventured.
He turned to her, his nut-brown eyes dull from seeing far more than his anguish could deny. “Mikial?” He gave her a tired hug. Behind them, an equally exhausted male Signaler was helped from his seat. Dalen turned, his brow wrinkling as another Datha loaded Mikial's cannon in the Ipper's place. The barrel jutted out over the narrow fuselage behind it.
“There isn't time to explain, my love,” Mikial said, giving him a quick kiss. She stepped up on an ammunition box and eased herself into the front seat, still warm and alive with Dalen's scent. “I need this canopy removed."
Dalen stared at the cannon. “You're not planning to shoot that thing from in there, are you?"
“I'm not that stupid. Can you remove the canopy?"
“Don't try shooting that thing in there, Mikial!"
As much as she hated to, Mikial bared her teeth. “Either get the canopy off or I'll smash it off!"
“You'd better get a parachute,” he grated, working at the hinges of the glass enclosure until the bubble sprung loose.
“I love you, Dalen. Tell Paleen the same!"
His reply was lost in the thrum of propellers as Mikial turned the aircraft back down the road. Her helmet protected her from the rush of air sweeping over the windscreen as she pushed the accelerator forward and vaulted skyward. Retracting the wheels, Mikial banked over the Bay of Murcanna. The sun was low on a clouded horizon, promising an early nightfall.
Climbing into crisper altitudes, Mikial turned northward to soar up the Minneran Gap west of the battle. She glanced sideways at weathered trees that clung stubbornly to the sheer rock walls of the Masar Range. A sight that only a determined climber might share. She drew in Dalen's scent that permeated the cockpit. She would regret killing this wonderful machine that was so much a part of him. Lifting the left wing, Mikial steered through a pass between two saw-toothed peaks.
The high canyon down which she flew seemed like Creation's last gift to her. Granite cliffs gave off crystalline sparkles as they plunged into deep blue shadows. The wings bobbed from turbulent eddies of air coursing down the narrow divide, keeping her mindful to the business of getting out the other side in one piece. You'll crash soon enough, Mikial thought to herself as she wrestled to keep the airship steady. The pass echoed with faint sounds of gunfire ahead.
The canyon floor below the airship dropped in a sheer precipice to reveal the winding band of the Asul River, infantry barges strung along its length like a broken necklace. Dipping her right wing, Mikial caught sight of Fort Asul. From her height, it looked like a small red cube around which the Asul curved. Inside, she saw the bores of pencil-sized cannon. Four of them. The Masar Range protected the right flank of the fort, skirted by foothills in which the bulk of the Kiorannan army was trapped. A crumbling finger of granite pointed toward the fort, the area wreathed in blue smoke. Mikial pushed her control stick forward. The Asul was easily three times the span of her wings where it wound along that outcrop. She found her landing spot.
Brilliant streaks of lightning lanced out from the higher foothills as she approached. The Qurl cannons raked through formations of infantry across the river from the outcrop. Tenth Force was covering her approach. Mikial watched as more Datha gunners opened up from positions just north of Haken's Wall, blasting the enemy flanks. The diversion appeared to work. She took only sporadic and ineffective fire from the fort as she dove over its four squat towers.
Mikial put the airship into a hard banking descent. The glistening water just another road to land on. One I'm about to land on too fast, she realized. Mikial jerked back hard on the stick and cut the engines, hoping her cannon would not fall out of the back seat. She felt her stomach sink as the nose shot up, the airship slowing to a near stall. Kicking the rudder pedals, Mikial slewed the nose groundward, the river rushing up to claim her. At the last moment, she pulled hard on the stick to hit the river as flat as possible.
The water struck like a hard kick beneath her seat. Spray obscured her windscreen as the airship bounced once, twice, then settled into the river. Icy water splashed over her as she tore free of her restraints. Mikial cut the cannon from its straps before the cockpit flooded. She sheathed her knife and took the weapon into the river. Only at the last moment did it occur to her that, unlike the regular cannon, this prototype might not be waterproof.
The Asul pulled her down. Her boots hit something solid as the surface closed over her head. Mikial pushed. Her mouth cleared the water for one gasp of air before she went under once more. Again, Mikial felt the bottom. Hoping the river would not carry her back out, she continued hopping toward shore until her feet found permanent purchase.
The frothing line from a rifle ball cut through the water beside her. Several Kiorannan rifles pointed at her over the bank, but that shot had come from behind. Head barely above water, she saw the Kiorannans return fire from the rocks in a sputtering volley. Outgoing fire cracked over her hear. Clutching her cannon, Mikial gained the shallows. The Kiorannans reloaded, and sent another volley into the exposed Union soldiers across the river. Baring her teeth, Mikial vaulted for the shore in a spray of muddy water.
Diving over the shallow embankment past prone shooters, Mikial rolled against a dead yhas another soldier used for cover. Blood sprayed across the young man's green lapels, his one eye lifeless. The other had been shot through. She crawled toward a second grisly barricade from which rifles still fired. Bodies of fallen Kiorannans supplemented the defenses in one final service to their comrades. The air stank with the sour mix of death and gunpowder. Over the grim tableau fluttered the blue-and-green flag of Kioranna's Steward—opposing gold skathe emblazoned on the two-tone background.
“I'm Qurl! Don't shoot!” Mikial shouted over the rifle fire. Pushing her cannon ahead of her, she could not help the irony of telling that to a Servant so they wouldn't kill her.
Arms reached over to haul Mikial across the barricade of dead yhas. A grimy-faced Kiorannan stared at her, officer's epaulets on the shoulders of his torn blue coat. “Aren't you the Steward's daughter?"
“Where is he?” Mikial demanded.
He pointed toward a wedge of granite that protected them from the fort's fire. “I'll take you. Is that weapon for him?"
Mikial crouched lower as a Union volley swept the position, bullets thudding into the piled corpses. “It's for all of us."
She found Alad Kior among a tumble of boulders with a half dozen cavalry soldiers. He was aiming over the crest with an ornate pistol that looked laughable next to the long rifles the rest of his troops used. Alad's amber eyes widened as she bellied up.
Mikial thrust the prototype cannon before her. “I've brought something better than that toy you've got."
“They only sent you?"
“You expected Tenth Force to march like idiots into those repeaters?” she retorted. “Now get back while I fire this thing!"
“Madness runs in our family, I see.” He laughed, motioning to the other soldiers to slide deeper among the rocks behind them. “You realize the favor you are doing Maltenna by dying out here with us?"
“We're both going to spit in her face,” Mikial hissed. She set the cannon on the rocks and swung down its bipod. “I curse you with a long and miserable life!"
“You sound like Maltenna too,” the Steward replied. He pointed a dusty glove over the rocks at the fort. “We are too close for them to fire their artillery at us. Get me inside those walls, and you will have done your family no small service."
“Your family.” Gripping the prototype cannon handles, Mikial peered over the outcrop. Heaps of Kioran
nan dead marked the recessed entrance to the iron-reinforced gates guarding the fort. A line of Union soldiers lay prone along the road before the entrance, also using slain animals and bodies as shields from which to fire. Mikial ignored them. Potentials gathered within her body until her hair felt like it would push through her helmet. Sweat drenched her hands as Mikial gripped the handles. “Steward, you and your men best get away from me. Now!"
The enemy did not disregard her, however. A stream of fire ripped out from the southeast watchtower, smashing into the rocks around her. Mikial answered, her vision lost in a great white dazzle of brilliance.
* * * *
Stunned, Mikial stared at the fort as the last wave of wildly shouting Kiorannans disappeared over the top of the rocks after their Steward. Head whirling, Mikial looked at the cannon. Its barrel shimmered with heat, but otherwise it had survived intact. Through a haze of pulverized stone, she saw that the right side of the garrison gate had been thrown down. Much of the supporting wall had collapsed as well. The Kiorannans swarmed through the breach, snipers clearing the sagging ramparts above the entrance.
Fighting her weakened limbs, she hefted the cannon by its straps, careful to avoid the hot barrel. Mikial looked up at the right watchtower. The only thing keeping that repeater silent was temporary crew shock.
Dashing around bodies and splintered granite blocks, Mikial pressed herself against the fort wall next to the gate. A flurry of gunshots erupted inside. Mikial dropped down in the dust kicked up from her previous blast, leveling her cannon at the tower. Before her astonished eyes, the barrel broke in half with a metallic ping.
Shrieking, she hurled the useless thing aside and threw herself up the crumbled wall. Claws extended, Mikial reached the broken edge of the walkway that led into the tower. A soldier charged through the dust with a lowered bayonet. She sent him screaming over the edge with his throat torn out. She could see the gunner inside as he swung its long gray barrel in her direction.
Lunging through the opening, Mikial ripped out his life. Her hunting eyes warned of others. Mikial spun around and similarly dispatched two wounded soldiers in the corner. She seized the repeater handles, swiveling it on its tripod until the barrel aimed at the square tower on the other side of the gate.
