Wartorn Obliteration w-2

by Robert Asprin

"Calm yourself," Deo said. He was avoiding looking Aquint in the eye. Aquint had certainly not forgotten that he had been the one to shoot Cat with that crossbow.

  "We should have Nievze cast that blood magic spell right now, while we can," somebody said.

  "It's a very complicated spell," the Minstrel said. "It will take some while to perform it."

  "Then let's get it started!" said Ondak.

  The Minstrel glanced toward the next room, where the wizard was still murmuring mysteriously over the contents of Abraxis's bag. "Nievze hasn't yet found Aquint's blood sample."

  "It's too late for that!"

  "I said, calm down, Ondak," Deo said, more sharply.

  The Minstrel nodded. He looked around the room. "This man lured Abraxis here in the first place. Without him we wouldn't have that bag. If Nievze casts that spell with Aquint's sample still among..." He shook his head. "No. Aquint has earned that much from us. I'll hear no more about it."

  They all quieted, the matter dropped. Aquint didn't quite give the Minstrel a grateful look, but he was impressed by the man's authority.

  The wait continued.

  A passing commotion was heard now and then, in the distance, as night fell. Tension mounted among the group. Finally one among them, asking the Minstrel's permission first, crept stealthily outside for a look around. He returned a moment later, somewhat white-faced.

  "What did you see, Minst?" asked the girl, Gelshiri.

  "There must be many more Felk soldiers in this city now than there have been since Callah's invasion," the one named Minst said. "I saw a company of them, several streets distant. It looked like hundreds."

  The Broken Circle members absorbed that with varying degrees of apprehension.

  "Jesile probably had troops Far Moved in," Aquint said. "Or maybe Matokin ordered it."

  His eyes flickered around at the surrounding faces. Now that danger was looming, would they change their minds about waiting for Nievze to locate his sample among the contents of that bag?

  "Gods," Ondak said. "Listen to that."

  There was a great rumble nearing, booted feet pounding Callah's streets, the rattle of arms. Voices cried out as—presumably—houses were being entered by the soldiers and the inhabitants forced outside.

  It would be worse than the last time the Felk had acted so. In fact, the Felk might be slaughtering Callahans indiscriminately, as a reprisal for Abraxis's grisly death. However, Matokin would also know about the bag. He would understand how important it was to get it back.

  The Minstrel rose to his feet. "Nievze, are you nearly done? Time is growing short."

  From the next room, the wizard said, "I'm working as fast as this can be done. I'm trying—" He sounded slightly hysterical.

  The tumult outside was growing closer still. Deo picked up the crossbow and laid a bolt in its groove. The Broken Circle members exchanged grim looks amongst themselves. Radstac put her hand almost casually to the pommel of her sword.

  There was suddenly the sound of someone moving about on the roof overhead. The footsteps were soft, but the old rafters creaked nonetheless. Grit sifted down from the ceiling.

  "They're on top of us!" Ondak said in a raspy, frightened whisper, ducking his head instinctively.

  Aquint finally stood from his seat. This wasn't right. Why would the garrison bother climbing atop the roof?

  In the corner of the room's ceiling, a hinged hatchway abruptly came open to reveal a space just large enough to accommodate a person. Aquint hadn't noticed the hatch before. If the expressions of surprise on the faces of the others were any measure, no one else had known it was there either.

  When Cat ducked his fair-haired head down through the hole, Aquint was gripped simultaneously with shock, joy, and a strange feeling that the boy's reappearance just now was somehow inevitable.

  "Are you hurt?" Aquint asked, hurrying toward the corner, grinning broadly up at his young friend.

  "Being shot with a crossbow isn't as much fun as you'd think," Cat said, an uncharacteristic try at humor.

  Aquint wanted to whoop with laughter. But there wasn't time.

  "Can we get away from here over the roof?" he asked.

  Cat, head hanging upside down, nodded. "You'll want to get moving fast."

  "I have it!" Nievze suddenly cried out, then came hurrying into the room. He brandished two bloodstained bits of cloth, one the sample that Aquint had just surrendered, the other evidently the one Abraxis had taken from him back in Sook.

  Aquint stepped forward. He seized the two pieces of bloodied cloth.

  "You're sure?" he asked the wizard, intently.

  The man with the grey stubble nodded. "I was trained in this magic. It's what I know."

  Aquint continued to search the gaunt face, looking for signs of treachery.

  "You will have to trust him, Aquint," said the Minstrel, behind him.

  Aquint realized that this was true. He pocketed the blood samples.

  "Let's go, let's go!" Ondak was urging, wrestling a chair toward the corner. He hopped atop it, then levered his grunting weight up into the hatchway.

  One by one, they swiftly evacuated the rooms. When Aquint finally rolled out onto the roof, he felt the bite of the night air. He heard the large Felk patrol nearing in the street below.

  "Keep your heads down," the Minstrel whispered. He was standing by the hatch, making sure everyone got out. Aquint went ahead, catching up to Cat, wanting to put his arms around the boy, but knowing that would only make the lad uncomfortable. He settled for slapping him cheerily on the back.

  "I knew you weren't dead," Aquint said, half-lying.

  Cat gave him a look that, briefly, was warm and welcoming. Then the boy grimaced and resumed his more normal, stoic expression. He said, "I was able to track you to that granary, then to here." Then he said, pointing, "We're going this way."

  Aquint followed, seeing how Cat moved a bit awkwardly, a hand to his side. He hoped the boy's wound wasn't too serious. This rooftop connected to the roofs over the row of craft shops, and these led some distance away from the approaching patrol. The Broken Circle members came after them, everyone hunkered low, moving quickly and stealthily. Nievze was among them, Abraxis's red bag clutched tightly to him.

  Frightened voices rose from the street, as people were turned outdoors. If their group could get off these rooftops at the far end, Aquint judged, they could stay ahead of the patrols, long enough to find someplace where Nievze could cast his elaborate blood magic spell.

  And after that... what? After that, this whole war might be over. It was a delirious, intoxicating, exciting thought, one Aquint couldn't help but entertain, no matter that his pragmatic instincts told him not to wholly trust this plan.

  "You! Up there! Hold!"

  Aquint looked back, dread closing over him. The Broken Circle members were rushing toward the roofs' far end, but somebody must have gotten careless. Now the patrol had spotted them.

  "Hurry!" Cat said. He had apparently used a ladder to get up onto the rooftops in the first place. It was still leaning against the building's eaves. Gelshiri bounded down it. Ondak followed her over the side immediately. But there wasn't enough time to get everyone down that way.

  The Minstrel was still toward the rear. Deo, with his crossbow, was with him. Radstac had reached Aquint near the edge. She looked back now, saw Deo, and reversed course.

  "Radstac, don't!" Aquint called, forgetting for the moment that she was partly responsible for Cat being shot.

  Cat grabbed Aquint's sleeve. "Come on," the lad said.

  He was right, of course. "Everybody jump!" Aquint said to the others, all vying for a chance at the ladder.

  As if to demonstrate, Cat nodded and vaulted fearlessly over the edge of the roof. It was a fair distance to the street below, but most would probably survive the fall with a minimum of broken bones.

  Aquint took a last look behind. Deo, aiming at the street, fired off his crossbow, then fit it with another bolt. Radstac had
drawn her sword. That woman who'd been with the Minstrel at the granary, the one with the amber eyes, was with him now, at his side.

  Nievze suddenly stepped in front of Aquint. "I'm frightened!" the wizard said, voice quivering.

  Aquint roughly seized Nievze's arm. "Come with me, friend. We still need you to work your magic."

  With that, Aquint leapt from the roof, carrying the magic-using Felk deserter down with him.

  DARDAS (5)

  Life pumped strongly through his veins. Life was there with every breath that moved in and out of his lungs. He surged with it, with its vitality, with its exuberance. He was alive, in every sense.

  This was truly the medium of Dardas's life. Finally, this Felk war was delivering what he needed most—an enemy. So far, that enemy appeared to be worthy. There was definitely a tactical intelligence to that opposite army's movements, and in its replies to Dardas's feints and probes. That wasn't some mass of disorganized, armed rabble facing his army out there. Someone, or someones, over there had a knack for military strategies.

  Dardas couldn't keep the grin off his face as the field intelligence reports continued to flow in. Never before, in his days of conquering the Northern Continent, had he had such speedy information available to him. He could know within moments how the enemy was responding to a particular thrust. He could have his orders relayed instantly to the various units he wished to mobilize. It was fantastic.

  Dardas still had no real explanation as to why Weisel had so suddenly withdrawn from their dual consciousness, leaving Dardas with full command of this body once more. It may very well have been the intense fear the Felk noble had felt. Maybe strong negative emotions weakened one's hold on the shared host body, especially when faced with the equally powerful emotions of joy and expectation that Dardas was experiencing.

  He didn't have time to bandy about the theory. At the moment, he was just glad Weisel was out of the way.

  Dardas noticed Raven lingering on the periphery of where he'd set up his temporary base of operations. She had performed an invaluable service for him by pointing out the possibility, which he hadn't considered, that this enemy might have studied his ancient strategies. It was conceivable that Raven, with that one bit of advice, had saved this army countless casualties. Dardas couldn't imagine rewarding her enough, once this was done. Perhaps someday he would elevate her to the status of his permanent consort. After all, she knew his secret, knew he was Dardas. He would want her close to him.

  The Battle of Torran Flats... that was why it had looked so familiar. It had been a great victory of his, and apparently history had recorded and remembered it. If he had acted as he had during that original battle, surely this enemy would have sprung some cunning trap. Maybe his whole army would have been slaughtered, the ferocity of his warriors and the might of his mages notwithstanding.

  By now, there had been several, relatively small engagements between the two armies. First blood had been spilled, and Dardas fancied he could smell it on the night wind, the scent bitter and coppery and... stimulating.

  As yet, however, the all-out clash between the armies hadn't commenced. Dardas had wondered if this enemy would show signs of shying from a nighttime battle. But each of his exploratory thrusts had been met with decisive force, to say nothing of the wily, bold move that had drawn out a unit of his fire-working wizards. Those casualties had been high, but his army could absorb the losses.

  Of course, when things really got under way Dardas had several resources he could tap that would vastly increase his advantage. Those Far Movement mages were certainly going to earn their pay. Dardas had a number of strong, compact units of fighters scattered throughout his forces, with Far Movement and Far Speak wizards attached. He planned to use these for fast disruptive attacks, keeping them in almost constant motion through the portals, stabbing the enemy with short vicious jabs.

  This Isthmus plain would be glutted red with blood before the sun rose.

  Fergon delivered the fresh intelligence. Dardas looked it over and grinned anew.

  "Send forward this cavalry company, here," he pointed to one of the maps on the table before him. One of his senior officers acknowledged the order and relayed it to a nearby Far Speak wizard.

  The rhythm of battle was building. He could feel it. Soon, the full force of the two armies' front ranks would be sent against each other. Dardas keenly anticipated it. For the moment, though, he would continue with these jockeying maneuvers, studying how the enemy responded.

  "Sir?"

  Dardas looked up. Fergon was there again, but without a report in hand.

  "What is it?" he asked. He would be very annoyed if the junior officer wanted to make mention of his father again, who Lord Weisel had known socially in Felk.

  "It's Berkant, General," Fergon said. "He says he has a message from Emperor Matokin, an urgent one."

  "Is there any other kind?" Dardas grunted. He looked past his aide and saw the wizard standing back some distance, waiting. "Very well. Bring him."

  Fergon fetched the wizard, who appeared remarkably calm, despite the night's uproar. Then Fergon and the other officers withdrew out of earshot, giving the two privacy.

  "Battle doesn't faze you, eh, Berkant?"

  "I am not among your combatant magicians, General."

  Dardas gave the wizard a nod. "As you might guess, I am extraordinarily engaged at the moment. I rely on your assurance that this communication is crucially important."

  "It is, General." Berkant had his familiar shred of fabric in hand.

  "Proceed," Dardas said.

  Berkant fell swiftly into the seeming stupor. A moment later, with unfocused eyes, he said, "General, I am told you are facing an opponent army."

  "That's true, Lord Matokin." As always, communicating in this fashion was mildly eerie but Dardas had adapted to many strange things over the past few lunes. "I am confident we will be victorious against this—"

  "I am confident, too, General," Matokin said through the conduit that was Berkant. "I have had confidence in you from the start. You were chosen very carefully."

  Compliments from Matokin? Dardas wondered. Surely the great Felk lord hadn't contacted him just to say this.

  "Thank you, Lord," he said, concealing his puzzled frown, though he still didn't know if Matokin could see as well as hear through Berkant.

  "Everything regarding you has been handled very carefully, General... Weisel." There was no mistaking the ironic emphasis. "In fact, when you originally arrived here in Felk, before you even assumed your duties as commander of the Felk army, I made sure a token of your loyalty remained here with me. I keep it with me at all times, which turns out to have been a fortunate precaution. The idea was Lord Abraxis's, may the gods give him peace. I wouldn't take any credit away from him."

  Whatever ploy this was, Matokin was at least getting to the point. Dardas waited grimly.

  "Blood magic is an invaluable tool for maintaining discipline among the many wizards that have been so meticulously trained at our Academy here," Matokin's words continued from Berkant's mouth. "When I founded that Academy, and set in motion this unifying war, I fully understood the vast power and great delicacy of what I was letting loose into this world. Magic has, in the distant past of both the Northern and Southern Continents, been the cause of untold distress. Its misuse, in fact, was the root of the Great Upheavals."

  Dardas blinked. The Upheavals were an ancient chaotic period of history that had occurred long before his original life, even. They had led to the fall of the mighty empires that had once ruled Northland and Southsoil.

  Matokin was saying that magic was responsible?

  "But," the Felk lord went on, "I will not allow that to happen again. I control magic in this world. I was born with a tremendous natural talent. I am also endowed with a perfect vision for the future of this Isthmus. Nothing will frustrate that plan. Nothing... and no one."

  Dardas didn't cringe. Cringing wasn't in his nature. Matokin had powers, yes, b
ut Dardas was a force to be reckoned with in his own right.

  "What is it you want, Lord Matokin?" Dardas spoke it with a blunt edge in his voice.

  "I want Mage Kumbat returned to Felk."

  Dardas was silent a long moment. Finally he said, "And if I refuse?"

  "I appreciate your not vacillating and still pretending Kumbat disappeared between portals."

  "And I appreciate your appreciation," Dardas said curtly. "Tell me what you intend to do if I refuse to release Mage Kumbat."

  "I believe I've made myself as clear as I need to, General. I have what I need, right here with me, to snuff you out like the flame of candle. Blood magic is potent, and very effective."

  "Is that all you can threaten me with?" Dardas asked, adopting a milder tone now. Matokin could have obtained whatever measure of blood was necessary when Dardas was still insensible immediately following his resurrection.

  "All?" There was a note of surprise in Berkant's voice.

  "Yes. Is that all? Do you honestly expect me to believe that you would kill me right at the moment when you require my talents and services the most?" Dardas allowed himself a chuckle. "You say you've been told about the enemy army. No doubt you are aware of its size. Without me to command this Felk military, that other army could, conceivably, tear through this one, and thereby end your dreams of uniting the Isthmus under Felk rule."

  Dardas savored the moment. It had chafed him from the start, being under Matokin's thumb, having to answer to someone "superior" to himself. Matokin may have indeed been the one to set this war into motion, but without Dardas's command of the army, that war of conquest would have remained an unfulfilled vision. The failed dream of a delusional, power-mad mind.

  He waited for Matokin's reply. He would not surrender Kumbat. Kumbat was his. The mage would provide rejuvenation spells whenever Dardas needed them. Perhaps the wizard could even find a way to permanently expunge Weisel's presence from this vessel.

  Berkant's face remained slack. A slow frown touched Dardas's lips. Was something wrong?

  Abruptly, a muscle twitched violently in Berkant's cheek. The wizard's unfocused eyes widened, and he gulped in air. His whole body shuddered.