The Crystal Sorcerers (25 page)

"That we already wish to do," Omna said. "Others call, have found more. Farewell."

Omna slipped away and Mark rose back into the air. Back at the darkened bastion, he settled to the ground and looked around at his grim-faced comrades.

"Let's try to get some rest. We push on in three hours."

The men looked at him darkly, knowing he was right but unable to respond.

Sleep was impossible. The night air was rent with a cacophony of curses, screams, and maddening confusion so that Mark felt as if his soul was being torn out of his body. Huddled together in a room, the men tossed back and forth, more than one stepping outside with the excuse that he was going to relieve himself only to return a half hour later soaking wet.

"Even if the next island
out's
intact," Ikawa finally whispered, coming to sit by Mark's side, "I think we'll be too damned exhausted to fly to it."

"It's been sunk," Mark said grimly.

"Where did you hear that?"

"The ladulta told me, but they said they'll help us when we get there."

For the first time since arriving, Mark saw Ikawa smile.

"We'll just have to trust them, I guess."

"Let's hope so."

"Leti's exhausted herself with healing," Ikawa sighed. "She'll be weaker than we are."

"We've got to keep moving."

"I know that, damn it," Ikawa replied.

"Come on, it's time to go." Mark and Ikawa looked up to see Leti framed in the doorway, her tunic and breeches brown with caked blood.

The men filed out of the bastion and back to the open platform. The storm had cleared enough to reveal the twin moons of Haven riding high in the midnight sky.

The lone soldier stood before them, rage in his eyes.

"Someday you'll understand," Leti whispered sadly. Rising into the air, she turned westward. The offworlders mumbled their apologies and followed her.

Mark, unable to stop himself, looked back and knew that he would be forever haunted by the lone soldier's gaze: the look of an innocent man caught in the wheels of war.

Stretching her weary limbs, Patrice strode to the edge of the dock and looked out across the empty sea, tinged now with the first faint light of dawn.

Never had she pushed herself so hard, and she felt herself trembling with exhaustion. The flying had been tough and seemingly endless through the night. Two of her sorcerers had disappeared, plummeting into the ocean; a dozen others had been left behind on the boat which had been their launch platform. Yet it had worked. The two strike forces had hit with devastating effectiveness, and she smiled inwardly, knowing that the goal was now almost within reach. All communications were being jammed by her sorcerers positioned off the coast in small boats, blocking the offworlders from any hope of sending a message.

It was regrettable that there had not been enough time to finish destroying everything. But the carnage would undoubtedly stop the offworlders in their misplaced desire to help save her victims. There was nothing left of the next city out, and jumping the distance from Tulana's city to the mainland would be nearly impossible even for a sorcerer who was well rested.

The destruction bothered her slightly. Killing in battle was one thing, but the slaughtering of women and children had been rather distasteful.

"My lady, your breakfast is ready."

Patrice looked back at Leona. In some ways the young sorceress reminded her of Vena.

Poor Vena, she thought sadiy; but the girl had served her purpose well.

"I'll be along in a second, dear," Patrice sighed.

With a flash of red, the ocean before her turned scarlet with the first light of day. Breathing deeply of the morning air, a sad smile lit her features.

Several hours of rest, she thought, and then to the mainland by dawn tomorrow. Safely into her own territory, she could leave the escort behind and fly with the power and speed of a demigod, far ahead of Leti and her escorts. By the time the forces of
Asmara were stirred, the portal into Gorgon's realm would be open to receive him.

The water rippled, and with a light splash a slender form darted through the golden depths. Half curious, she watched the creature streak away. There was something about the creature's eyes that bothered her--as if it were somehow accusing her.

Vaguely uneasy, Patrice followed the shadowy form as it popped out of the water again, held in the air for a second, and then turned over and plunged into the depths.

"They're beautiful, aren't they?" Leona said, coming up to stand beside Patrice.

"Beauty can hide an enemy," Patrice replied. "Stay here. If you see it again, strike it."

The girl looked at Patrice with shock. The demigod had seen Leona refrain from striking the boats and people in the water as ordered. She wanted to say something, but thought better of it. For the moment, she'd need all her people. There'd be time enough for punishments after the campaign was finished.

She touched the girl on the shoulder.

"He could be a threat to us," she said with a smile. "Better to take no chances."

Leona merely nodded in reply.

There was another splash, and without turning her gaze from the girl, Patrice raised her hand. A slash of light snapped out; the water foamed and tumbled, stained red with blood.

"Like that," Patrice said quietly, and walked away.

"Over there," Leti cried, her voice trembling with relief. "They did it," Shigeru roared. "I knew they would."

After
Regensburg, his last mission in Europe, Mark could remember such a moment--with two engines out, and fuel nothing more than
vapor,
he had cleared the cliffs of
Dover and finally saw the landing field ahead. It felt the same now. There were no engines this time, but exhaustion had taken him to the limits of endurance and beyond. To splash down would have been useless, for he'd still have to swim on the surface, draining his strength further, and to go below the water would require concentrating on shields. If they didn't have something to land on, further flight would be impossible.

Now there was a place to land and rest, thanks to the ladultas. Dozens of the creatures were slashing about on the surface, and in the middle of their circle was a roughly piled assembly of planks, boards, and fragments of wreckage. It wasn't much, but at least it was a place to
lay
down and sleep.

Dropping out of the sky, Mark winged over the raft and saw ladultas pressing in on the sides and from underneath to keep the platform afloat. He touched down lightly and felt the boards bucking and swaying. One by one, his comrades winged in to land. More and more ladultas appeared, pushing up against the raft, keeping it above the water.

"They're amazing, just amazing," Ikawa whispered in awe.

Walker
looked nervously around, lying stretched out on a plank that rose and fell with the waves.

"Just hope I don't puke," he groaned. An instant later his loud snores echoed across the water.

"Wish I had something to eat first," Shigeru moaned.

"Always your stomach first," Ikawa sighed, but he could not help but agree.

"Captain, look!"
Saito cried, pointing to the edge of the raft.

A ladulta appeared, holding a kicking putta in its mouth. Shigeru took the proffered fish and tenderly patted the ladulta on its flank.

"It said they're getting more fish right now." Shigeru grinned. Reaching into his tunic, he pulled out a knife, quickly cleaned the fish, and sliced off a long strip of golden flesh.

"Care for some, Captain Phillips?" he said with a weary smile.

Hunger finally winning out, Mark took the strip and tentatively tried it, while the other Americans watched him suspiciously.

"Not bad," Mark said, to his own surprise. "You all better eat. We need our strength to push on."

"Captain, I'm picking up someone coming in from the west," Kochanski announced, coming to his feet.

Mark looked up and turned to scan westward. Kochanski never ceased to amaze him with his special ability, which now even seemed to outstrip Leti's.

"I've got it, too," Leti said quietly, wearily standing.

"Get ready--it could be her." Trembling with exhaustion, Ikawa started to rise into the air.

"Jesus Christ," Kochanski whispered. "If it's her, I think our shit is cooked."

"It's Tulana," Leti cried with a smile.

Mark could now see half a dozen forms cutting so low across the ocean that they rose and fell with the rolling sea.

The forms grew larger, coming on hard.

"Damn that bitch's hide to hell!" Tulana's voice boomed as he drew in to hover above the raft.

This was a different man than the one Mark had seen less than ten days before. His eyes were livid with rage, his features purple, as if every vein in his face was about to burst.

"Why in the name of the gods did she do this?" Tulana screamed. "I found the wreckage of my city just over the horizon, and ninety percent of my people were dead. Damn her, I'll draw the bones out of her living body, I will. My ladulta tell me she destroyed Valna as well--nearly four thousand dead."

He looked at Leti, as if hoping against hope that the underwater messages were mistaken.

She could only nod sadly.

Tears of rage clouded Tulana's eyes. "Why?" he asked hoarsely.

Quickly she explained all that had happened, and his features grew pale.

"She's mad," he whispered; and the sorcerers who had accompanied him looked to each other with fear and confusion.

"We need to get a message back to
Asmara at once," Leti said, "but she's jamming our communications crystals."

"I noticed that, it started yesterday," Tulana said thoughtfully. "The Cresus had moved again. I had
Cloud Dancer
two hundred miles west of what was left of my city"--he pointed vaguely back to the horizon--"when I lost contact with my capital. Thought it was the atmosphere or some such thing. Then I caught a garbled distress call and nothing more."

"I've been trying to save some of my people all night. The ladulta told me you were coming up, so I waited here till dawn, hoping I could rescue some more victims and then link up with you and get some answers."

"If she wants a war, she has one," Tulana finished darkly.

"We've got to get back to
Asmara and organize," Leti said. "Once she's home, I think she'll open a portal that we will not be able to contain."

"She's halfway back already," Tulana told her.

"How do you know that?" Mark asked.

"A ladulta died to find out for me. Damn it, she murdered him. His mate called the news up to us; it came in just as I got word that you had landed out here." Mark felt a ripple of anxiety, and Tulana shook his head.

"Sul's with the ship. They've got their blood
up,
I've never seen them this mad before. In my realm, to kill a ladulta is a capital crime. They've never had anything like this happen to them before."

"It's
still a
capital crime," and as Tulana spoke, the ladulta circling the raft started a bone-chilling chant.

"Can you people fly another hour?" the prince asked. "
Cloud Dancer's
closing in from the west. Once we land on it, we could come about and get another hundred and fifty miles closer to the coast while you rest."

"We could try," Mark replied, feeling for the first time in two days that perhaps they might have a chance after all.

Mark woke from a dreamless, exhausted sleep to see Leti kneeling beside him.

"Time to move," Leti whispered, smiling wanly at him.

Mark could not help but notice that she had seemed to age overnight. Her features were drawn, her eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot from exhaustion and fear. Standing, she stepped to
Walker's side and gently touched him on the shoulder.

Blinking the sleep out of his eyes, Mark stepped out of the cabin he had been sharing with Walker and Kochanski, and climbed the ladder onto the windswept deck. Ikawa was already awake, looking toward the sun which now hung low on the western horizon.

"Sleep well?" Ikawa asked, holding out a flask of wine. Mark took a mouthful, swished it around, and spat it over the railing.

"I could sleep for a week," he said.

"When this is over with," Ikawa replied, trying to smile.

"It always seems that there's a next time, though. On Earth there never seemed to be enough time just to sleep.
Then the war of Sarnak, and now this.
Damn it, can't we just have peace?"

"You have to play the cards life deals you, unfortunately," Ikawa said quietly.

The response caught Mark off guard. Yet as he thought, he knew that it was moments such as this that somehow gave a purpose beyond life itself. He still did not know what had happened to Allic, to Jartan, and to Storm. Was she still alive, or was this action of Patrice's tied into a far broader plan which in a matter of days could spell his doom and the end of all he had so come to love? Never had her love for him seemed so precious. If only he could be with her, he thought wistfully. If only he was sure he would see her again.