Crystal Warriors

by William R. Forstchen

  "There's our target," Mark cried, pointing to the threat on the flank. One after another they winged downward, each man pulling a small crystal from a satchel. Walker pushed to the lead, going into a near vertical dive.

  Walker lined up on what appeared to be a command unit and dove straight for it. At the last possible second he released and pulled out, skimming so close to the ground that he found himself in a hail of arrows.

  The small crystal detonated behind him, cutting down everyone for nearly a dozen yards.

  All across the enemy advance, bomb after bomb impacted, so that within seconds, along a front of several hundred yards, the entire column was down.

  "Better than hundred-pound bombs," Walker yelled, coming up to Mark's side.

  "On to the bridge," Ikawa ordered, pointing to their second major target, a half mile away.

  Mark called for his formation to follow.

  They cut across the open field, ignoring the confusion of battle beneath them. Pulling up to several hundred feet, they leveled out.

  "Three for the bridge should do it―one on each end, one in the middle," Mark shouted. "Ikawa, hit the formations on either side!"

  "In sequence," he went on, "me, Walker, then Jose. Then we form up and turn back to hit their flank!"

  "Ready, now!"

  Mark winged over, diving vertically for the bridge. He released his crystal directly on the massive moorings that held the pontoon bridge in place, and pulled out. There was a wild eruption behind him, followed seconds later by thundering crashes from the middle of the river, and finally from the far side as Jose's bomb missed the bridge and impacted on the bank a dozen yards upstream. A staccato series of explosions rippled up and down both sides of the river as the rest of the Americans and Japanese slammed into the troop formations on either side. Even with the near miss the bridge was destroyed.

  Seconds later they reformed and headed back towards the main part of the fight. Mark looked overhead and saw that Valdez was still holding his own, but the odds were getting worse. Already some of the enemy sorcerers were diving to intercept them.

  "We got company from above," Mark shouted. "Let's rip the shit out of their lines and get the hell back upstairs."

  "Captain, where's Jose?"

  Mark looked over his shoulder to see Walker searching the sky over the bridge, looking for their missing comrade.

  Jesus, the kid must have bought it back there, Mark thought angrily. I never should have sent him out on the wing like that alone. He searched the sky, hoping to see a sign, then looked towards the enemy formation closing from above.

  "He's bought it," Mark yelled. "Push on with the attack. Open line wing abreast; we'll unload everything we've got. Now move it!"

  The flyers came up in one line, Mark on the left, Ikawa a hundred yards to the right. They swept across the field several hundred feet up and lined up straight on the enemy formation which they had staggered moments before. It was now surging forward again.

  The soldiers on the extreme left of the advance saw the enemy sorcerers who had tormented them earlier coming back in again, and they knew their purpose.

  A shout of panic went up and within seconds had worked all the way down to the other end of the formation, a quarter mile away, as thousands looked heavenward and cried out.

  Lining up, Mark dropped his first bomb, and kept dropping them. Before he had tossed his last weapon he found that he could no longer watch. The results of a hundred high explosives dropping on thousands of men packed together in a field was sickening. When they reached the end of their run, the formation pulled up and over, ready to meet the sorcerers coming in behind them. The sight that greeted them was beyond imagining.

  Where thousands had advanced only moments before, there was nothing left but ruin. The field was awash in blood, so that from the air it seemed as if the ground below had been painted from end to end with scarlet. Thousands of shattered bodies littered the field, and the stench of burning flesh gave it the semblance of one vast pyre. Like maggots on flesh, the survivors crawled about or writhed in agony, their screams a rising cacophony of pain. The battle on this part of the field was over.

  "Let's go back upstairs," Mark said grimly, pointing towards the enemy formation chasing them.

  "Captain Phillips," Saito cried, and pointed off towards the northeast.

  A group of fifty or more sorcerers, flying high, were clearing the hills not a mile away.

  "God in heaven," Mark whispered.

  * * * *

  "Damn it," Jose cried, frustrated with his miss. He swung high to the west, gaining altitude for another pass.

  Rolling over and into another dive, he saw where the other two hits had shattered most of the bridge, but he wanted to make sure that his end of the deal was wiped out, too, before rejoining his comrades. They'd be sure to tease him later if he left the task undone.

  Taking his time, he came in with deliberate intent, and released.

  As the weapon left his hand a firebolt slashed past him.

  He dove for the ground while his last drop impacted on the bridge, sending the wreckage skyward. Another bolt slashed in front of him and he jinxed wildly, cutting to run upriver. A glance over his shoulder showed him that three sorcerers were cutting him off from his comrades, who were already unloading their last bombs.

  "Blessed Mary help me," he cried as the sorcerer closest to him rolled in, firing repeatedly.

  He turned straight into his opponent, firing a shot. Then, defying all the rules of combat, he dove lower―cutting straight underneath his opponent―just inches off the ground.

  The sorcerer pulled into a tight turn, while the other two kept to his side, preventing any hope of regaining the protection of his friends.

  Dodging and weaving, Jose drifted further from the main field of action, crossing over the scattered backwash of Sarnak's army which bolted in every direction at their approach. Ruins of the temple where Allic had nearly died loomed before Jose. He pulled a tight turn, swung around them and cut straight up, hoping his opponent would cut around below him. The trap worked, and as the sorcerer came around a crumbling wall, he fired a blast. The shot went wide, striking the side of the building. The sorcerer dove to his right, rolled, and recovered.

  Now fifty feet up, Jose started into a steady weaving climb, hoping to gain altitude above the two others who were still running to his left. The third sorcerer cut below him and came around in a banking turn, racing up towards his two comrades who were climbing skyward, rushing to get higher and then cut across above him for the kill.

  Several hundred feet up they crossed over the main entrance to the tunnel and pressed on. Jose looked desperately around, hoping that the terrain below might offer some means of escape. His eyes fastened on a glint reflecting the early afternoon sun.

  Crystals? He looked closer, wondering why such a hoard would be left out in the open with no guards in sight.

  A firebolt slashed in front of him. Banking hard right, he tried to flee back towards the river, now nearly a league away.

  He suddenly realized that he was lost. By climbing like this to nearly a thousand feet, he was wide open on all sides, without even the hope of using the ground cover to throw off pursuit.

  Desperation seized him. He said a silent prayer, and set himself to turn on them, hoping at least to take one of his opponents before he tumbled to his death.

  A series of blasts ripped across the sky. Where the three enemy sorcerers had been, there was now only a cloud of flaming smoke.

  "Holy Mother of God!" he cried, looking for his deliverers. And then he saw them.

  From beyond the ridgeline just ahead, a formation of fifty or more sorcerers was coming up behind him.

  They had to be the sorcerers placed to guard the Crystal Mountains to the northeast. He knew that they were ordered to stay there no matter what happened, but at the moment he didn't care about orders. They had saved him!

  Swinging back around, he flew slowly, trying to reg
ain his wind and also his nerve. He felt weak all over, as though every joint in his body had turned to rubber. He felt his heart racing like a trip-hammer, his mouth dry as cotton.

  He was alive!

  The formation which had been coming towards him now started to drop as one, all converging on a single point. Jose looked down and saw that they were racing towards the hoard of crystals.

  Why would Sarnak have left so many of the precious gems out like that? He started to drop to take a closer look. His suspicions aroused, he looked again, and it was as though his power cut through the light to see light and power that could not be seen by ordinary eyes. And then he knew, seeing as through smoked glass, that the power emanating from one of the gems was different, darker, redder!

  He looked again at his saviors and still they were flying downward.

  "It's a trap," Jose screamed. "A trap!" His communications crystal, which could send the information, had been destroyed hours earlier from a near miss, so he couldn't talk to them directly.

  "It's a trap," and he tucked into a dive, heading straight for the sorcerers, hoping to reach them before they landed on the pile where their shielding would touch off the great red stone concealed beneath.

  Stunned and screaming, be found himself weaving as half a dozen bolts came up from the approaching party. They did not recognize him! Mind racing, Jose realized that they had seen him flying with the others and thought he was on the other side in spite of his uniform, and now there was no way to tell them differently in time.

  "It's a trap," and at that moment he knew there was only one way to stop them, for if he tried to close and warn them away they would blast him from the sky.

  Pointing straight down, he dove for the cache, trying to get close enough for an accurate shot. He glanced at the other sorcerers, hoping that they were far enough away, and fired a blast at the crystals.

  The world before him disappeared in a blinding storm of light. As if picked up by the heart of a wave, he tumbled end over end.

  In the last instant of life, he felt the remaining bombs he carried in the satchel crash against his chest, the glass containing the small red crystal breaking with the impact.

  * * * *

  "God in heaven," Mark whispered, looking off towards the advancing column of sorcerers. As if from one hand all of them fired at the same time. Mark traced its path and saw what appeared to be three sorcerers in the distance disappear in a flash, while their companion turned and arced away.

  "They're ours!" Mark cried. They must be the guardians of the Crystal Mountain. How or why they had been released, he didn't care, but come they had.

  "All right!" Mark cried. "Up to Valdez and let's finish these bastards."

  With a shout of triumph they started into their climb. The sorcerers who had been coming down on them but moments before, now paused at the sight of the enemy closing in the distance, and those now coming up from below. As one they broke, heading back towards their companions still engaged against Valdez.

  Across that field of strife there came a feeling that the battle was now hanging in the balance. Both sides could claim victories and defeats in the day's action, for though Mark's attack had broken the flanking action, Sarnak's main army was holding its own against Shigeru's determined counterattack. Overhead the price for supporting Mark's sweep had been the near decimation of Valdez's forces, so that only an embattled handful were left, the rest having fallen to their death or spiraled back within the city, crippled and exhausted.

  And in that instant it seemed as if the sun itself had come down from the heavens to tear open the earth with its light.

  A column of fire, dwarfing any explosion seen so far that day, erupted on the hillside above the city. Upward it climbed, into the heavens, and the battle came to a stop as all watched transfixed. Overhead the battle simply disintegrated as the shock wave washed over and scattered those in the air.

  "Turn with it!" Mark cried.

  The flyers wheeled and were engulfed in a hurricane blast that did not subside until they were more than a hundred yards back inside the city wall, flying raggedly at rooftop level.

  The blast was past them, but still the pillar of fire roared heavenward.

  "What the fuck was that?" Walker asked, awestruck.

  "I don't know," Ikawa shouted. "It looks like it took out our reinforcements."

  "Let's get some altitude back." Mark's voice was shaky. "I think we lost our help. We better get upstairs, they're going to need us."

  Suddenly from around the side of the ascending column, there appeared the flight of sorcerers that had seemed to be annihilated by the blast moments before.

  "They must have been too far away from it," Mark screamed in triumph. "All right, let's go!"

  But on the rest of the field, most still had either not seen the reinforcements to start with or were now waiting to see whose side they really were on.

  The unidentified formation came on, skimming low. Suddenly a ripple of fire lashed out from the advancing sorcerers, striking into the shattered remnants of Sarnak's formation. With that single blast they pulled straight up, bearing for the scattered air battle overhead.

  In that instant all who could see gave voice, half in triumph, the others in fear.

  And as if the attack had been planned and rehearsed for months, there came another rippling sheet of blasts from beyond the western bank. From out of a low streambed a mile beyond the city, another fifty sorcerers appeared, skimming the ground, slashing into Sarnak's forces on the other side.

  "It's Storm and Macha," Mark cried. "The battle is ours! Let's close and get this finished."

  With a shout of triumph the Americans and Japanese soared heavenward, and their enemies fled before them.

  Chapter 22

  "It's finished here," Sarnak said quietly, still standing while all around him had been knocked down by the blast which had nearly crushed the tunnel above them.

  Standing by the entrance, he watched grimly as the enemy sorcerers shot past not a hundred yards away and raced on towards the heart of the battle.

  Moments before they slashed into the rear of his army, he saw the other formation emerging from the shallow riverbed on the western side.

  Angry now with himself for having posted only a handful of sentries over there, he watched as the sorcerers from the southern army deployed before going in on their strike.

  "Damn them," he mumbled, more to himself than to those around him. At least neither group had yet seen the tunnel entrances.

  The plan had failed here, but there was still Tor. There was always the just reward he could now claim―and was that not the ultimate goal, after all?

  He turned and looked at Mokaoto. "Take your equipment, destroy what cannot be moved out immediately, and prepare to blow the tunnel entrance. We're pulling out right now."

  "But what about your army back there, and the sorcerers still fighting?"

  "They're finished. I can save only what I have with me here. We leave at once."

  Turning, he strode back into the dark recesses of the tunnel, already dropping from his thoughts the tens of thousands who had served him and were now dying as a result. There will always be more armies, and with the treasures that Tor would bring, there would be more sorcerers, as well. They would come to him begging to share in his power.

  "Mokaoto."

  There was no answer.

  "Mokaoto!"

  The entrance to the tunnel was empty, his assistant gone.

  "Fool." Turning, he disappeared into the darkness.

  * * * *

  Tor stood at the head of his army, poised at the sealed mouth of the tunnel, waiting for the signal from Sarnak. As soon as they knew that all available forces had been committed to Allic's struggle, his time would come.

  He surveyed his strike force. Four hundred of his best sorcerers stood in the ranks. He wanted no ground troops for this raid. The Crystal Mountains were only thirty miles away; a quick flight and an assault with overpowe
ring force on the unsuspecting garrison, and the Heart would be his.

  The message crystal flashed brightly as Ralnath passed the word from Sarnak.

  With a wave Tor activated the trap door. As planned, tons of earth and stone fell away into a side pit dug underneath the mouth long ago.

  Beams of sunlight entered the tunnel's gaping entrance, clouds of dust rising and twisting in the wind.

  "Follow me," he commanded. As one the sorcerers flew through the dust into the sunlight.

  There, waiting for them, stood a regiment of sorcerers and crystal cannons. And in front of them all stood a pillar of light.

  Tor came to an abrupt halt, his forces deploying around him. His roar of frustration was almost deafening.

  "Most impressive, Tor. I can't recall when I've been more frightened," the shifting figure of brightness mocked in a chilling voice.

  "Damn you, Jartan. How did you know?"

  "I've acquired a new sorcerer with some most unusual abilities, and he detected your tunnel some time ago. I did a little searching of my own and had more than enough time to prepare this little reception. I've even brought the Heart with me, though I doubt you would want to be introduced to it." Tor had already noticed the monstrous crystal mounted on the hillside, glowing with an unquenchable fire, and aimed at him. Fear tempered his rage and he began to calculate his chances.

  "I offer life to those deluded followers of yours, Tor. All who drop their crystals and surrender will live. The others die!"

  Tor could sense the wavering in his ranks. He looked over his shoulder with a threatening glance. Those behind him stood rigid, caught between the wrath of their master and his opponent.