Planetfall, p.47
Planetfall, page 47
He dragged his attention back to the Sorian forces on the far side of the bridge, and wondered why they hadn't launched an assault yet. If anything there seemed to be fewer troops than before midday. Something was wrong, they should be deploying for an assault now that the weather favoured the demons. It had been obvious from early morning that rain was dying out, and the Duke and Rylan had brought up all of their reserves to hold in close support of the barricade, in anticipation of an attack.
Movement to the right caught his eye, and he turned to see the High Marshal and Duke Balasore walking across the cobbles behind the defensive wall, where it curved away from Northgate Road, heading northeast towards the river. He turned to meet them as they stepped out onto the main road that ran right through the city of Balasore.
"High Marshal, Duke," greeted Dexter, and the two men came to a halt before him, with Rylan's Stone Hold Guard stopping behind them. "Something's not right, they should be attacking by now," he said.
"Nonsense," boomed the Duke, and Dexter could sense the man's barely concealed nervousness, and wondered why he seemed reluctant to deal with him. "Licking their wounds, that's what," he added, "couldn't take the thrashing we gave them, by God."
"I disagree," argued Dexter, turning to point at the bridge, as the distant sound of hooves striking cobbles could be heard behind them, "there's fewer men there than this morning, just when they should be preparing to hit us with everything they've got."
"Nonsense," repeated the Duke, who was not accustomed to being argued with, and was certain that this wizard, this stranger, could see straight through him with those piercing blue eyes; and the twin seals weighed heavily upon his neck as well as his conscience.
The sound of hooves became louder, striking the cobbled surface of Northgate Road with such a rapid insistence that the Duke couldn't help but look, certain that the rider must be a messenger, and glad of any excuse to avoid the warrior-mage. All three men turned to watch the approach of a black uniformed watchman who lashed his mount with such urgency that there was little doubt he carried important news. The horse slid to an abrupt halt just short of them, and the man threw himself from the saddle to stand before the Duke, not bothering to bow, such was his haste to deliver his message.
"News from the castle lookout, my lord, the black demons have left the city!"
"What?" bellowed the Duke. "Where are they going?"
"The Isford River Road, my lord."
"Gerik!" laughed Rylan, "Gerik must be approaching!"
Dexter nodded. "That would do it, that's why they haven't attacked, they've seen the Marshal and their moving to deal with the threat."
"Yes," agreed Rylan smacking one bunched fist into the palm of his other hand, "we must support him immediately and catch the Sorians between us!"
"We should retake the city first," insisted the Duke, "then we can strike out with the security of our walls at our backs."
"It would take too long, and if the Sorians defeat Gerik they may be back before you can flush out all of the troops that they have left behind," argued the warrior-mage.
The High Marshal shook his head. "We must ride out now! We fight best out in the open, where we can manoeuvre with speed, strike and retreat, taunt them into fighting when we want to, when the advantage favours us. We can destroy their camp and supplies, and without those, they will be forced to retreat. It is our only hope, for they are too strong to face in siege warfare."
"No! What if you are forced to retreat?" demanded Duke Balasore angrily, waving his arms furiously for added emphasis. "The enemy within the city could hold the gate against us and we would be trapped outside, and slaughtered!"
Rylan shook his head again. "We would stay outside the city, and continued to harry the enemy. If we prevent their supplies reaching them, they must retreat." The High Marshal turned to the warrior-mage. "Don't you agree, Ser Dexter?"
Dexter nodded, but before he could speak, an unexpected transmission ripped into his netlink implant.
Dexter . . . help us!
He staggered as Adesina's voice screamed inside his head, and the fear and desperation that the empathy processors recreated, shocked him, despite the shortness of the message. Pain seared through his mind, and he found himself doubled over with his head in his hands, and his teeth locked together.
"Holy shit!" he gasped in surprise, before he could even think of responding to her.
Adesina, what's wrong?
Silence. The netlink was dead. He tried again.
Adesina, what's wrong?
Nothing. Jesus Christ! What the hell has happened?
"Ser Dexter?" asked Rylan, "what is it?"
The warrior-mage shook his head painfully before answering. "It's - it's Adesina, they're in trouble - she's asked for help! They must be quite near or . . . or I couldn't hear her!" He straightened up and looked directly in her brother's face. "We have to help them now! Whatever's happening, we must act now!"
Dexter looked at the Duke. "Your Sealsmen must clear the road to the gates - speed is everything!"
The Duke stared in alarm at the warrior-mage, unnerved by the sudden outburst, but convinced of the man's sincerity - convinced that he was seeing yet more magic performed, for he had no doubt that it was genuine, not after seeing the mage throwing fire in defence of the barricades, two days ago.
"You must clear the road," agreed the High Marshal urgently, "after the aid we have leant you, you owe us that much."
Damned honour, thought the Duke angrily, and damn you, by God, for using my honour like a trading item. These blasted horsemen are still so uncivilized that they don't understand how important it is! The Duke fumed silently, hating to be trapped into a course of action, but knowing full well the truth of the High Marshal's statement.
"Look!" shouted a voice from the barricade, "smoke in the northwest!"
Everyone turned and could see the dirty, black smoke boiling into the sky beyond the city.
"Devils! It's the Devils!" yelled someone.
The Duke turned back to face the High Marshal, clearly unhappy that the mage's warning, and ability, had been supported by such an incontrovertible sign. "Very well, we'll clear the road for you!" He turned and called loudly for his Arms Master and messengers.
Rylan turned to face his guards. "You, fetch Marshal Senon. You and you, pass the word to fall back and mount by squads, and then form up on Northgate Road. GO!" He turned to face the mage. "You'll accompany us?"
Dexter nodded, and could hear Kehrin detailing Carlin to fetch the squad's horses. Rylan turned away as Marshal Senon approached hurriedly, closely followed by Arms Master Bavol and Lords Teslin and Ventor.
The warrior-mage gripped the alien lance tightly, as a whole raft of emotions shot through him, dominated by his fear for Adesina's safety, and that of her younger brother, whom he liked, and - damn it – he had promised Seeker that he would look out for him. He shook his head as he thought how a promise to the dying, suddenly took on a new light when you knew that the dead were watching you. So how long would his vow last, forever, until he left P5469, or had it ended when Tem survived the horror of Darkhorn Pass? He rubbed his free hand across his beard, and wondered how he had got so emotionally and physically involved? He wasn't supposed to, yet he had done it anyway, and it was no consolation that Seeker had succumbed too. Why was he charging off again, when his first priority was to his ship and crew, and what he should be doing was to stay out of trouble, get the repairs made and go home. Could one woman affect him so much, and he wondered what Cathy would have made of it? She'd probably have laughed, he reflected, she'd always laughed at how seriously he took the navy and his 'work'. What would she say now - go and save her Dex?
In front of him, Sealsmen were forming up by company, filling the space behind the barricade with their bulky, steel clad bodies, ready for the assault on the bridge. The wall across Northgate Road was already being ripped down, to allow the Ashur cavalry through, and the Duke's boisterous voice could be heard shouting last minute instructions at his squires. Dexter grinned as he saw a huge war axe waving above the heads of the Sealsmen, that'd be the Duke, he thought, and turned to look behind him, where the first Ashur squads were arriving from Merchants Square, where the horses were kept. His stomach tightened nervously at the thought of fighting from the saddle, let alone firing the demon lance while mounted. God only knows what Comfort would think about that, she'd probably dump him off and leg it!
A shout echoed across the barricade, and he turned in time to see a wave of Balsorians wash over the wall and flood towards the bridge. He stared at the Sorian positions, maxing up his optic membranes so he could see what kind of response the attack was generating - panic from the look of it, hopefully they had left their poorest quality soldiers to guard the bridge. The leading Sealsmen were already on the southern span, their speed and strength amazing him as always, as he wondered again just what lay behind the secret of their physical abilities. There must be something, and given the lack of scientific development, magic was as good an answer as any. The Balsorian's had gained the far end of the bridge, without so much as a single arrow being fired at them. Why was that, he wondered, surely they would have archers to defend the bridge, unless, they had all been withdrawn to counter Gerik. The Sealsmen smashed into the lines of waiting Sorians with a resounding crash that echoed back and forth across the river. The line bent and then ruptured, spewing men in all directions, as the might of Balsoria chopped through and hit the formations gathered to reinforce Duke Nazare's defence. But these fared little better as the heavy Sealsmen kept a compact formation and simply punched their way through and out onto the undefended road to the gates.
The Ashur squads poured through the barricade to follow the last of the Sealsmen, in a powerful column that brushed aside any continued resistance from the Sorians. Dexter stood in awe, as he watched squad after squad crossing the bridge, spears held at the ready, as they rode out to carry war to the demons. Just watching them made a shiver run down his back, and he finally realised why Adesina had insisted on riding with Gerik and Tem. He remembered her comments before Darkhorn Pass - 'to see the five Wards ride into battle together - what more could any warrior wish' - and he understood. It's magnificent and yet terrible, he thought, almost like a narcotic - once tasted and forever craved.
"Ser!"
He looked around, startled, and found Kehrin mounted beside him and offering him the reins to his horse, while the rest of her battered squad watched on in silence. If only I had ammunition for the PA, he thought, then I could really help.
"Ser," insisted the squad leader, "we must join before the end of the column, or it will be too dangerous. The enemy is likely to close up behind us."
The warrior-mage took the reins and swung up into the saddle, and turned towards Kehrin, but just as he was about to speak his netlink implant registered an incoming message, and he stopped with his mouth open and his eyes glazed.
"Ser?" queried the frowning squad leader, "ser, are you all right?"
"Wot's he doing now?" hissed Carlin.
"Looks all funny like," agreed Tallin in a loud whisper, "up to something, I'll be bound."
"Never seen 'im like that, not even when he went mad after the black one got deaded," confirmed Carlin knowledgably.
The squad leader silenced the two with a furious stare, before turning back to the mage. "Ser?"
The mage sat as if transfixed, while the squad muttered nervously, until his eyes abruptly refocused.
"Follow me!" he ordered as he pulled his horse about and headed away from the battle, back towards the West Gate and Hvar.
"We not fighting then?" hissed Carlin.
"He's leaving," allowed Tallin.
"Wot, running away?" asked Carlin, "Why'd he do that?"
Erech in Hvar
The heavy oak door of The Ship inn banged shut behind her, as Kiera walked down the dimly lit main corridor, passing the common room on the left as she made her way to the stairs that were located just beyond the kitchen, which remained quiet at this time in the mid-afternoon. She started to climb the wide wooden steps, hitching a lightweight carryall into a more comfortable position on her right shoulder. The bag contained a variety of food and drink as well as a selection of medical supplies. Strictly speaking, the food wasn't necessary, as the inn served a healthy enough diet, but Kiera had been forced into bartering their possessions to obtain enough credit to pay for their unexpected stay. Fortunately, they had a good supply of the self-heating chocolate drink packs that Garret, the innkeeper, had been happy to take from them, and she imagined that they must have some considerable value as curios - for those who could afford them. Kiera had overheard the innkeeper talking to his wife, Henka, boasting how he was going to make a small fortune by selling the magic drinks to a trader Pilan, in Freeport. Since then, she had resolved to drive a harder bargain, though she didn't begrudge the man's enterprise, as his wife's cooking had been a joy to brighten Kiera's dark days.
It was cool in the stair well as she climbed to the first floor, and a pleasant change from the hot and sultry weather outside, where the complete cloud cover hid both the sun and the sky while the north-easterly breeze was deflected by the bulk of the mountains and didn't really trouble the sheltered harbour. Kiera had been over to the starship for the supplies and to check that everything was secure, but, in reality, she had just needed to get out and away from the room and the sense of despair that seemed to lurk there. At least, in the starship, there was a sense of progress, a reassurance that it would be possible to leave P5469 - and a shower; whereas the room in the inn smelt like a medi-fac ward and constantly reminded her of how seriously ill the engineer had become. The head of the stairs opened out into a corridor that ran the length of the inn, and gave access to the rooms facing the harbour to the front, and the tree clad hill that lay behind the building.
Kiera stopped outside their room and quietly opened the door and slipped inside. The engineer lay as she had left him, sleeping in one of the two beds, with the slow rise and fall of his chest partly hidden by the brown blankets. She closed the door behind her, careful not to wake Emmett, and crossed the floor to the table beside the window, where she left the carryall. The window overlooked the harbour, giving a perfect view of the boats moored against the wall and the children at play. Beyond that, the dark ribbon of the river curved out of sight between the heavily forested banks, while to the right lay the small hill that hid Cochise and the wide open plains of Hvar. She shivered as she wondered just how far away the Commander was and what he was doing, but turned away to check the engineer. The science officer examined her patient's face, concerned at the grey pallor of his skin and the faint rasp to his breathing, while the bags under his black-rimmed eyes seemed to age him prematurely. Establishing a netlink connection to the medi-patch he wore, she checked his vital signs, and found them unchanged. Watching his closed eyes, she noticed how the lids twitched more than they should have, if he were asleep, and suspected he was awake but using his netlink implant to view one of his downloaded films.
She sat on the chair drawn up beside the bed, and touched him lightly on the arm. His eyes flickered open and searched about before they found the science officer.
"Ah, your back."
She nodded. "How are you feeling?"
"Fine."
"Liar - you really are a silly bugger, aren't you. What on earth possessed you to think you could build a new forge in your condition, eh?"
The engineer looked away and stared at the ceiling.
Kiera laid a comforting hand upon his shoulder. "At least you're better than yesterday - hey?" She patted him gently. "All we need to do now is to get you home safely." And the sooner the better, she thought, because there's nothing more I can do, not if there's internal bleeding or any other complications.
Emmett coughed carefully. "How's the ship?" he asked.
"Good," she replied. "We're ready to try a full engine run-up, and then an atmospheric test flight. After that, all we need are the mounting arms and-we-are-gone," she added, trying to make light of the trouble that problem had caused the crew so far, and refusing to let herself dwell on it either.
"That's - that's what I was trying to do - in case Dex can't . . . "
"You would have been better off waiting," snapped Kiera, before she could catch herself, furious that she couldn't control her temper better, especially when Emmett needed peace and quiet, and not a highly strung female mouthing off at him. "Look, don't worry about it, Cochise is ready to fly and Dex will either have got the parts fixed, or we'll have to sort them out ourselves, right? OK, it may take time, but I'm sure we'll be able to, eventually."
"I was just trying to cut down any delay," explained the engineer, still staring at the beamed ceiling of the room, "I'm . . . I'm worried about Susan and the kids, how they'll cope without me."
"Hell, Emmett, you don't need to worry about that," said Kiera helpfully, "you know Susan manages just fine without you. And if she's lacking anything, hell, she'll just go out and get it - don't worry." She patted his shoulder again to reassure him.
That's exactly what I'm worried about, he thought, as his frustration with the enforced confinement exasperated him, and unassailable jealousy tormented his mind. What happens if we are here for months, and she needs sex? She'll just go out and get it - right! His fury made him want to shout it out loud, yet he couldn't even bring himself to admit his fears to Kiera. He clenched his fists beneath the course brown blankets, disgusted with the lack of trust he was bestowing, and furious with his own weakness. He'd never had this problem before, so why now? Was it because of his injuries - was that it? Why should that make any difference?
