Crystal Warriors

by William R. Forstchen

  "The latter," Pina said softly. "A lifetime of a thousand years will truly stun them."

  Both assistants nodded.

  "The problem for them," Pina continued, "is how that will affect their desire to return to their own world, and lose the gifts of power and extended life."

  * * * *

  The dawn had been magnificent. The sun now rose to its zenith, flooding the savannah with a fiery light. Sounds from birds and animals had reached a stunning crescendo at dawn, but were now mute―lulled by the noonday heat.

  The men were in various stages of repose, and no one had said a word for some time.

  "Bogeys!" screamed one of the Americans. "There's a formation coming this way from the north."

  Everyone was on his feet in an instant, weapons ready.

  With his binoculars, Ikawa could count sixteen men flying in formation. Each wore the same style of dress as Pina and his men, with a glowing belt of crystals about their waists and wrists.

  Mark's voice came from behind Ikawa. He hadn't even heard the American approach. "Pina says that it's Allic and his escort. He said they're flying over a ground force. I'm betting we see something come around the side of the hill very shortly."

  Ikawa lowered his glasses for a moment and noticed that the other Americans had come over to watch.

  "They're banking in," commented Lieutenant Goldberg.

  Just then a force of mounted riders came into view.

  "Looks like we are stuck in a pretty primitive society," Walker said. "If they use horses for cavalry instead of jeeps or tanks, then you can bet they've never heard of the internal combustion engine. Maybe we can strike it rich by selling a little modern technology."

  Ikawa raised his binoculars again―and gasped. With his face a careful blank he handed the binoculars to Mark while remarking to Walker, "You may be right about the modern technology, sergeant, but not about the horses."

  Mark focused in on the rapidly approaching party. "Jesus! These aren't horses. They look like..." He lowered the binoculars and turned to look at Ikawa.

  Both men stared at each other, and Mark continued, "They are riding what appear to be giant Dobermans."

  Silence. Then one of the Japanese said, "What is a Doberman?"

  Mark, who hadn't taken his eyes from Ikawa's, answered, "It's a dog. Only what they've got is the size of a Clydesdale, and looks mean enough to kick the shit out of a pride of lions."

  He shuddered and handed the binoculars to Ikawa. "And there is a guy flying in the center of the column that makes Pina look about as fearsome as a four-year-old."

  Ikawa nodded. "We had better get ready. I think the next five minutes are going to be very important."

  "My Lord Allic approaches," Pina announced, and he bent one knee to the ground. "Kneel as I do."

  "Say, look," Goldberg interjected, "the Goldbergs haven't bent a knee to anyone since we left the cossacks behind. I'm an American, remember that."

  There was a murmur of agreement from some of the others.

  "Bend your knee to your lord," Pina commanded. And he looked toward the sky in the direction from which Allic was approaching.

  Mark looked over to Ikawa. The Japanese had already followed Pina's command, but the Americans hadn't moved.

  Ikawa gave Mark a beseeching look as the Americans gathered around their commander.

  "Bend your knee!" Pina shouted.

  Mark had to think quick. "All right, men, do you remember that asshole colonel back at the base?"

  "Yeah, dipshit Guest," Welsh mumbled.

  "Dipshit Guest," Mark agreed. "You had to salute him, I had to salute him―even though he was a stinking coward who pissed his way out of every combat mission we ever flew. But still we saluted him."

  "I'd like to have saluted him with my foot up his ass," Giorgini replied.

  "Right, Giorgini, so would I. Here in this place bending a knee is the same as a salute. Now, this Allic guy strikes me as a man with some balls. Just look at that guy fly." Mark quickly pointed towards Allic, who was already coming in for a landing.

  "He's got Pina's respect; he's got mine. I'd rather salute him than that asshole Guest any day of the week." Mark went to one knee and looked reproachfully at his men.

  One after another they followed his lead. Mark looked over to Ikawa, who wore a look of relief that was a reflection of Mark's own thoughts.

  Allic landed by Pina's side and touched him lightly on the shoulder. Pina arose and gave a quick nod of respect.

  "You have done well, my friend."

  Pina started to go back down on one knee in response.

  "No, stand by my side."

  Ikawa was watching this closely. This one knew how to command men, and had a presence as well. He was half a foot taller than any of the others, with a full mane of golden hair pulled back and held in place by a crownlike thing that had glowing crystals in it. His face was dark, tanned as if accustomed to being in the field. This was no palace princeling. This was a warrior, a man worthy of his sword.

  Allic recognized Ikawa's appraisal with a nod. "You are men of qualities," he began. "Pina has told me of your fight with the demons. You will be men that I wish by my side."

  "You understand the agreement that Pina has given to you and in your pledge to me, and through me, to my father Jartan, from whom you will find protection."

  "On our world," Younger put in, "that's called a contract and it's made in writing."

  Pina stepped forward with an oath and Younger recoiled.

  "Damn you, Younger, shut up!" Mark hissed.

  With a wave of his hand Allic ordered Pina to step back.

  Allic swept them with his gaze and there was a hint of anger in it. "Listen, outlanders, and listen this one time. You are no longer on your world, wherever that might be. You are on my world, and in my fiefdom. The rules are mine, the game is mine. I approach you now in good faith: I will do it only once. Those who pledge their loyalty to me will have mine in return. Here on Haven we still honor our word. If a man does not keep his word he is unta, unspeakable. To call against a man's given word will always result in the death of one or the other. I will however forgive you this. Just this once."

  He fixed Younger with his gaze and Younger lowered his head.

  "Do you understand me?" Allic asked.

  "We do," Ikawa replied. "Forgive him his mistake; he is not used to your ways."

  "We understand each other, then. Do you have any questions?"

  "Is there any hope of our ever getting back?" Mark asked.

  "I cannot answer what I do not know. I can only pledge to you that after your three years of service I will do what I can to aid you in that quest. That I now swear to you."

  "Then I am willing to swear service in return," Mark said quickly.

  "I therefore accept you as my vassals. I shall command and you shall obey. In return for your service I will give you shelter, comfort, and protection from your enemies, as you will give me protection from mine. At the end of your service I shall aid you in your quest to return. You may stand, my warriors."

  The ceremony impressed the Japanese, and just as predictably, the Americans groused. One by one they were all brought forward and blood was taken from a vein in their arms while they recited an oath of allegiance to Allic and the god Jartan. The blood was poured on crystals, two to each man. Surprisingly, the blood was absorbed immediately. For Jose, who was still unconscious, the crystals were gently pressed against his wounds. Each man received a wristband with one of his crystals fixed within it. The other crystals were stored within boxes that Allic kept.

  "These are your first crystals," Allic told them. "They will provide you with basic protection. Do not take them off without cause. You are very vulnerable to spells right now."

  Allic looked closely at Ikawa, realizing that he already liked him. He had the strength of command―as did the leader of the other group. Pina had said that these two bands were enemies. Looking from one group to the other, Allic hoped h
e could control the animosity that both parties held repressed. Now that the immediate danger was past, their hatred might boil over. These were good men; it would be a shame for them to waste themselves on each other―and it would require some attention on his part to prevent it.

  After the ceremony, Pina brought over the wounded demon that his assistant had restrained in the field of light.

  "So, Chaka, a little too zealous in carrying out your master's orders this time," Allic said sarcastically. "Three hundred years you have annoyed me, and now you are mine."

  "Loose the field that surrounds me, Allic, and I'll spit in your eye," the demon responded in a voice that sounded like a landslide in a gravel pit. He turned to face the outlanders. "It is because of you that I face more bondage, and I curse all of you. I swear one day to rip your bodies open and eat your livers in front of your dying eyes."

  Chaka reared up to his full ten-foot height, his glowing red eyes filled with malevolence. He opened his mouth to reveal twin rows of sharp yellow teeth that glistened with saliva. His breath stank of corruption.

  He tried to extend his leathery wings, and groaned in pain as the holding spell prevented it. Chaka's face contorted with rage, and he shook his taloned fist at the offworlders.

  "If it takes a thousand years I'll not forget," Chaka roared, fixing Mark with his gaze. "I'll hunt you in this world and the next until I find you."

  The offworlders were clearly terrified, though they tried to hide it.

  All of the sorcerers and riders, however, broke into harsh laughter.

  "I call that bold talk from someone who will spend the next thousand years in the mines," one of the riders jeered.

  "Chaka always was bombast and birdshit," called another. "If you have any real power, Chaka, why are you allowing yourself to be held by such a little field of light?"

  And the entire assembly started laughing again.

  The newcomers watched uneasily, like children trying to comprehend a conversation beyond their reach.

  Allic's body began to glow brightly and he floated into the air.

  "I'm going back immediately. Pina, you'll take command here. Keep the calvary escort and all the triads except my personal escort; fly my new vassals back home, and then detach one triad for a wide sweep to the south."

  Looking over the travelers, he continued, "We'll give them the rank of acolyte initially and upgrade them as they earn it. Quarter them in the guest estate next to the palace wall. Bring them to me as soon as you arrive in Landra to start their training. The way the Essence is growing in them, they may turn out to be first-class sorcerers."

  Speaking to the newcomers, he continued, "Pina will accompany you back to Landra, my capital, where you'll get settled. I will see you to do the initial testing. I'm also taking your wounded comrade back to my palace, where our healers will attend him. Good day to you."

  He turned in the air and smiled at Chaka like a cat staring at a trapped mouse. "I'm taking Chaka with me too. We have a lot to talk about."

  With that he shot into the air, and as he rose heavenward a pulsing beam of blue-white light shot from his hand, circling Chaka with its soft diffused glow. A cry echoed from the demon as he was pulled aloft with light that wrapped around him like fiery coils of rope.

  Allic's escort surrounded Jose with the same field of light and rose to join their commander and his prisoner. Within seconds they had crested the far ridge and were out of sight.

  "Shit!" It was Walker, standing off to one side. He was trembling, a look of panic in his eyes.

  Mark went over to him. "What is it?"

  "Captain, you won't believe it. You just won't believe it!"

  "Try me."

  "Look, Captain, there was this damn wasp. It just kept flying at me and I got pissed off, waved my hand at it, and Captain, I blew it to hell with my finger. Here's another one!"

  Walker pointed towards a droning insect. There was a flicker of light from his fingertip. A thin shaft of light snapped out with an electric crackle, and the wasp vaporized with a tiny puff of fire and smoke.

  Incredulous, the men backed away from Walker, who stood in shocked bewilderment.

  Pina looked at Mark and the others, then turned back to Walker. "So soon," he whispered.

  * * * *

  China

  The cowards hid out on the open slope, none of them daring to approach the entryway to the temple. "Motherless dung-eating curs," he cursed, realizing that he'd have to go in alone and finish it.

  Chang Shin, warlord of the Hing bandits, stepped into the narrow defile, breathing heavily, his face soaked with the acrid sweat of fear.

  His own men had come close to killing him as it was. If he did not go through with this, the survivors of his band would turn on him and slaughter him out of fear and anger over what had just happened.

  He crept forward, bent double under the hundred-pound satchel charge. Chang reached the right-angle turn and crept past the 37mm gun, now a twisted pile of wreckage.

  His throat was tight; his heart felt as if it would burst out of his chest. He pushed on. There was one of them. He wanted to turn away but his morbid curiosity forced him to look again.

  Truly it was a monster from the nether regions―a demon of night. As they had charged the temple, expecting to slaughter the Japanese and white-skinned foreigners, these monsters of the night had greeted them. They had killed his men by the dozens, tearing the hearts out of quivering bodies and burning others with gouts of flame from their mouths.

  He prayed to his ancestors, begging for protection, as he crept up to the smoldering temple. The four demons had died, cut down at last in a wild fusillade, but not before they had wiped out a quarter of his command and melted down the precious gun so recently taken from the Japanese.

  The Japanese and the foreigners. Where were they? Damn them to the realm of nightmares, he hoped they suffered the anguish of a thousand cuts for all eternity.

  Chang pulled the fuse, staggered to the temple door, and heaved the charge inside. Turning, he sprinted away, leaping over the smoldering bodies and puddled remains of the artillery piece.

  He paused in the corridor only long enough to pull the fuse on the other two satchel charges that he had crammed into a fissure in one of the overhanging walls.

  Just as he reached the entrance there was a roaring thunderclap, and another. A giant's hand of concussion hurled him down the slope. Rolling to one side, he watched as the canyon walls trembled then came dashing down, sealing the temple under a million tons of rubble.

  "Curse them all," he whispered. "May they suffer in the nether regions forever."

  Chapter 6

  "Sir, time to awake. The first bell will soon strike."

  "Damn." Mark rolled over, trying to hang on to the last vestiges of sleep. There had been that strange, haunting dream again. It had come to him half a dozen times since their arrival on Haven over a month before. The dream would start with a roiling thunderhead building in the distance, until it seemed to rush across the landscape, filling the world before him with its elemental powers. It washed over him, covering him as if he were floating in the air. And then within the raging torrent he would sense something else, a presence that could almost be touched, if only he knew where to find it.

  "Sir."

  "All right, all right." He opened his eyes.

  It was Yamir, his aged and balding body servant. What an ugly face to wake up to in the morning, Mark thought, and he wanted to return to the dream, but Yamir stood silent, that annoying look of superior reproach in his eyes. How Mark hated morning people, who happily awoke in the hour before dawn and looked down their noses at anyone who was not bounding about when they were, as if late wakers were morally corrupt, or at the very least, suspect.

  "God, I wish you could get me some coffee."

  "You've asked me that before, sir. You know I've never heard of such a thing called coffee."

  Mark closed his eyes. It was beyond him how any civilization could s
urvive without providing its citizens with two scalding cups of Java before starting the day. It was yet another reminder of just how far from home he really was. His mind filled with the memory of Alice, who always woke before him and brewed a pot and set the steaming cup by his bedside before leaving for the hospital. English nurses, he thought longingly. She was most likely in France now, somewhere with the British Eighth Army, and he was...

  "Sir, your robe."

  It was best to start in. Yamir was not only a body servant, he was a trained observer. The men called him a spy, but Mark preferred the other term, since Allic was only following good judgment by having his new men closely watched to get a better understanding of how they acted.

  Taking the robe Mark followed Yamir into the main corridor of the manor. Ikawa came out from the opposite room and the two commanders exchanged nods. They then followed their servants to the bathing hall in the guest estate in Allic's citadel which had become their home. Over the last month the Japanese soldiers had started to lose the faceless anonymity of enemies and started to take on distinct personalities. Mark knew that while his mood was bad in the morning, Ikawa's was downright fierce.

  Turning into a side corridor, Mark could feel the warm moisture in the air and hear the sounds of running water and muffled voices, punctuated occasionally by peals of laughter.

  They stepped through a wide doorway and into a large circular room which was open to the garden outside. Opposite the doorway a bubbling stream cascaded out of the wall and down a smooth stone culvert into a round, steaming pool. Half a dozen Japanese and several Americans were sitting in the pool, and they shouted a cheery round of greetings which they knew their grumbly commanders would ignore.

  Removing his robe, Mark braced himself and stepped beneath the cascade. It was always too damn hot at first, and he gasped as the steamy water thundered over him. Mark found it fascinating that the city sat above a geothermal spring which not only provided hot water for all its inhabitants, but was also used for heating when cool weather came. As near as he could figure, the climate was like southern California: almost perfect weather with a short, mild winter.