Hostiles (The Galactic Mage series) (33 page)

“Glad to know you too, sir.”

He tossed the com link to the young man, pointing at it with the purse of his lips as the cavalry officer caught it. “If I understand these enchantments of yours right, I won’t be able to understand a word you say once you get out of range, but at least you’ll get the gist of what we’re up to. Don’t make me regret giving you that.”

“On my honor, sir.”

With his canopy closed once more and the lieutenant on his way to rejoin his men, the colonel radioed the new situation with the Prosperions to his own troops, some of whom protested via muttered profanity, but all accepting it as fact.

The sensors read five thousand of the “demons” now.

“Colonel, there are going to be over two hundred thousand of those things within the hour if my calculations are correct.” There was an edge to Major Kincaid’s voice as she gave the report. “If we’re going to do something, we better get it done.”

“How many suits we got now?”

“Nineteen hundred,” answered Little Earth control. “Six birds in the air. Fourteen more in prep. More troop ships still inbound.”

Colonel Pewter supposed that was good news, but he couldn’t help wondering if ten thousand Marines suddenly didn’t seem like remotely enough.

“Incoming,” said the Major then. “And look, they’re spreading out. Looks like they learn quick.”

Sure enough, the mass of the black beasts was scattering as they ran toward them, separating out from the orc army like sand thrown into the wind. He almost had to laugh. The only thing worse than the real-life discovery of a demon horde was the discovery that such a horde might be even marginally intelligent.

“Keep them pruned back, Raptor squadron, and laser support down here where possible. Marines, hold this ground. And protect the Prosperions if you can.”

And so it began.

Chapter 28

G
romf and the crooked figure of Kazuk-Hal-Mandik made their way to the eastern edge of the formation while the shaman working the concealment spells brought down the dome that hid the army upon the plain. They came to a halt a hundred paces away from the main body of the orc host.

“Let us summon only one at first,” said Gromf. “Test the resolve of God.”

“Still you doubt,” said the old warlock. “Even here, at the brink of victory.”

“I wish not to fall from it.”

“Summon your one if that is all you have the stomach for. I will bring God forth.”

Gromf shook his head, but he knew that Kazuk-Hal-Mandik would not be convinced of the risks he took.

Leaving his God Stone in its pouch, Gromf began casting the demon summoning spell he had learned from the human song. He didn’t bother with the circle of sulfur this time. He once more found and followed the hidden threads of mana that wove their way through the deepness, through the great hole in the world and down through the furious rotations of the massive vortex that emptied into the valley of God’s demons. Gromf again went down and peeked through the tiny opening at the tip of the vortex, down into the writhing mass of black deformities, the heap of twisting limbs and gnashing teeth, the claws reaching up to him as if calling for him to choose them over all the rest. They knew that he watched; their hateful eyes turning up at him proved it even as he looked down.

Again Gromf felt the presence of God, saw the flash of his eagerness like a signal fire on the edge of the valley. He tried not to look, but he could not help it. God smiled his earthquake smile. Gromf tore himself free of that hollow gaze and speared a demon at random with a shaft of mana that he made. He hauled it out, up through the funnel, and like a sling this time, he flung the demon out to the northeast of the army, far from himself and his people.

It appeared in the air above him and landed three hundred paces away, a five-legged form of darkness like the shadow of a long dead tree. It landed heavily and stood upon the plain, its red eyes turning this way and that, taking in the scene.

Gromf looked to Kazuk-Hal-Mandik, but the old shaman was still casting his own spell. He looked back to the demon and waited for it to charge. It turned and glared at him, all of those eyes narrowed in obvious hatred, but then it spun and roared.

It roared to the east. Which Gromf thought odd.

But then Gromf saw the cavalry charging in, over a thousand humans on heavily armored horses, thundering at the orc flanks at breakneck speed. Already!

How could they have known? Gromf wondered. The counter-magic had always been in place. Here, while summoning, but also in the mountains, all these months, all the plans carefully concealed. The hiding magic the great promise of Discipline. And yet there they were, humans riding into the army’s flanks the moment the concealment spell was gone, as if they’d been waiting there all along.

The ground shook then, terribly, and even beneath the cloudy sky, a shadow fell over Gromf as something large loomed nearby. He turned to see what it was just as he heard Kazuk-Hal-Mandik cry out, “Behold, God has come.”

The army behind them all fell to their knees, though Gromf didn’t see it, for he was too busy staring at the arrival of this figure that had seemed small in the bright light of the subterranean pool or, at least, not much larger than Gromf himself. But here, on the surface of Prosperion, standing beside him, God was huge. As tall as ten orcs at least, and that one long arm ran off for fifty paces like a rope of stone, the girth of a pine trunk. God stood upon his crooked legs, seeming to surmount the plain, and he roared so loudly birds fell dead from the sky, their bodies falling like feathered hail to land with dull thumps upon the grass.

Gromf looked again to Kazuk-Hal-Mandik, who had eyes only for the face of God. The old warlock raised his God Stone to the giant before them and muttered prayer words in the old language, the language before Discipline. Gromf shook his head.

God looked down at Gromf and that crevice in his head cracked across his face again. “Now do you believe, tiny mortal?” God asked him in a voice that nearly knocked Gromf down.

“I have never doubted that you would come,” said Gromf, holding his ground.

“Open the gate, and I will show your people to glory.”

“Why do we need them all? You can slay the humans alone, for you are God.” He pointed across the plain to where the human cavalrymen were nearly upon the demon Gromf had brought. “There is your first taste of human flesh.”

The five-legged beast Gromf had summoned was almost among the humans then. He could see as it approached them that several of their magicians cast giant fireballs and long lances of ice. Those washed over the demon uselessly, the lances broke into pieces, burst into mist like snow. Gromf laughed. He had learned that lesson too: magic was of little use against them.

The cavalry charge pulled up short as they came upon the demon then, or perhaps they were thwarted by the size of the army they saw formed upon the field. They may have thought a thousand cavalry a nice flanking move, but it was not enough with a demon now in their midst.

Gromf looked around for signs of the main body of the human army, for surely there was more, this thousand just a feint, but it was not there.

So much for human intelligence, Gromf thought. How foolish did they think orcs were? Or how feeble. This small group of horsemen spoke of a human insult.

The demon he had brought forth grabbed horses and flung them wildly about, plucking them out of the grass like tubers and tossing them high into the air. The cries of the terrified humans, the shrieks of the tumbling mounts made Gromf happy, and it occurred to him that he might have been wrong about God.

“Open the gate,” God commanded again.

“I will do it,” Kazuk-Hal-Mandik said, rising from where he had fallen to his knees.

Behind him, Gromf could hear the clink and clatter of armor and weapons as the army rose to its feet again as well.

Gromf waited for God to go and help the other demon with the humans, but God did not move. He seemed to teeter there as Gromf watched, and the young shaman wondered if perhaps God could not walk at all. He spent a moment in study of God’s misshapen limbs, the absurd angularity of so many joints. God’s legs looked as if they might crumble with little more than a kick.

Gromf would not be opening the gate for him. Not now. Let the old warlock try.

He turned back to see how Warlord viewed the unfolding events, and it was with pride that Gromf saw the leader of the All Clans content to let the demon do the work on the human cavalry. Warlord watched, and made only the motion for Gromf to hurry up when he saw that the young shaman had looked to him.

Gromf nodded but could not help feeling reluctant to summon more. The one alone had just set the humans into retreat.

Or had it?

Suddenly thundering into view came a new army, an army of metal-clad humans like none Gromf had ever seen. They were tall and thick like mountain ogres, yet ran with the speed of mounted men. Their whole bodies were covered in steel, and yet they were angular and thick. Even upon the muddy turf, their feet pounded loudly, shook the ground, like the thunder of the migrating mammoth herds.

“What new magic is this?” he asked God, but God seemed to be glowering into the distance at what he beheld as well.

Gromf thought it might be best if he did summon at least another demon or two to help the first one deal with the golden queen’s new surprise.

Once again he went into the mana stream, followed the braided cord into the valley of demons. He speared two more, not sure he could pull them both forth without the God Stone.

He could.

He threw them out to where the first one was chasing after the horsemen who were now in full retreat. He saw immediately that the steel-clad human giants had now also turned to run away. That was a good sign. Perhaps this new magic was not a threat after all.

He chastised himself for his moment of fear. There was no amount of steel plating that could harden the weak human heart. Even wrapped in their brand new magic, they didn’t stand to fight against one demon, and in the time it took to bring forth two more, they ran away like younglings from a bear cub. He laughed and watched as his new-flung demons landed amongst the fleeing enemy.

The largest one he’d summoned, a great black bubble of a thing with a flat head and several thick legs, landed near one of the steel giants, the impact of its landing rocking the ground so mightily that the armored human was thrown twirling into the air. Gromf laughed as he watched the magic armor land hard on its back. He wondered if it would get up again or if the human inside had turned to mush on impact.

Apparently not mush yet, the steel giant rocked and twisted itself back to its feet, turning just in time for Gromf’s hulking demon to bash it with a massive forelimb. Again the human in the bulky armor spun through the air. Gromf’s contentment continued, and he could not help but question what had made the golden queen think such armor could be of any use. Her warriors were an embarrassment to her people, and it made him wonder how orcs had ever been defeated by such feeble things as men.

Gromf’s demon crawled with amazing speed to another armored human nearby, whipping its steel-encased legs out from beneath it and then straddling it when it fell. The demon began to pound upon the armor with its mighty limbs, hammering the bulky steel suit deeper and deeper into the muddy ground with each blow. Gromf leaned forward, willing his keen eyes to see better across the distance so that he might watch the blood spill when that armor cracked open like a nut.

That’s when the first human, the one who’d been knocked about just moments before, somehow, remarkably, got up despite how hard it had been hit and how far it had been flung. Gromf realized that perhaps that magic armor was stronger than he’d allowed. He watched as the first human ran to where the demon beat upon the downed one in the mud. Two streaks of something white burst from the ribs of the running human’s armor, the smoky lines shooting across the intervening space and then exploding in bright yellow flashes of light and a mighty sound. The explosion destroyed four of the demon’s legs, causing it to tilt sideways and sag. Meanwhile, the upright human continued to close the distance, its right arm upraised and directed at the demon, the end of it emitting a bright plume of fire and a high-pitched metallic whine. Gromf could see that the fire was not long enough by any stretch to cover the distance, but the human was too stupid to stop trying as he ran. A few moments after the too-short fire erupted, Gromf heard the demon roar in pain, though he could not explain why.

Then the human was upon the demon and somehow managed to jam its left arm up inside the massive creature with greater ease than Warlord had with his mighty axe. The human simply thrust his arm up through the armor plate and began, what Gromf could only assume, to grip and tangle the demons guts with a steel-clad fist. Soon the demon lay dead upon the field.

Gromf realized now that the humans had tricked him into thinking they were weak. He looked back to see if Kazuk-Hal-Mandik had opened the gate yet. He closed his eyes and forced himself to listen to where the old shaman was in the casting of the spell. From the verses he heard, it would still be some time before the gate was open to let the demons out; opening the gate was much different than cracking it some and pulling a demon or two through.