The Crystal Warriors (27 page)

"Once we pull out, they'd break in anyhow," Mark roared, turning to face the sorcerer. "Think about that, damn it! Look out there, just look," and he dragged the sorcerer to the edge of the wall and pointed to the thousands of refugees who now crowded the single bridge standing between the two halves of the town. Most of the western section of the town had fallen during the night. Even as he pointed a score of demons came low over the river, striking troops who were struggling to cross the bridge. As the crowds pushed and swayed, trying to get out of the way, dozens fell screaming into the swift currents below.

"We don't have the strength to protect them anymore," Mark shouted. "So we evacuate, and hope that Sarnak ends the slaughter."

The demon squadron rose, dragging victims aloft. Coming in high over the citadel walk, they dropped the men, who plummeted to their deaths.

"Well, do you think those bastards will be interested in quarter now that their blood is up?"

The sorcerer was silently looking down at the masses who struggled to gain entrance to the last stronghold.

"Well, answer me, damn you!"

The sorcerer looked at him, his face an image of pain.

"My family is down there, offworlder," and he spat the last word with contempt, "but I follow my orders."

"Well goddamn it, where I come from orders are orders till they no longer have logic. So either help or get the fuck out of the way."

There was a low cheer from the other Americans.

Mark turned toward the three massive crystals cradled in their individual baskets of woven rope. Each basket had three rope lines extending out from the center; the end of each rope was knotted around a short wooden pole.

"All right, Walker, strap the clay pots on."

"Detonators," Walker commanded, kneeling. He looked over his shoulder and grinned like a child about to light a firecracker in the school bathroom.

Jose came forward and carefully gave Walker three pots, their lids sealed shut with wax. Ropes dangled from the two handles on each of the clay pots and Walker quickly wrapped the ropes around each of the crystals, securing the pots to the softly glowing gems, still hot from firing. The slings were then bundled up, so that the entire affair of pot, gem, and sling was one tightly woven mass.

"Boy, when this thing hits the ground..." Walker laughed like an excited child.

"What's inside those pots?" the sorcerer asked with growing nervousness.

"Why, a red crystal, of course," Walker laughed.

"Sacrilege!" the sorcerer screamed. "It is blasphemous to use a great crystal like this. The gods themselves will surely curse us, for the crystal is their gift, that we might focus the Essence."

"They already have, asshole." Walker's voice was edged with sarcasm.

One of the communications sorcerers came through the crowd. "We've just got the word from Valdez," he announced. "Allic is still unconscious but will be evacuated in half a turning. Once that's done the city will be surrendered."

"Yeah, well, tell him to take a couple of minutes first to come up and watch the fireworks," Walker shouted back, his words barely audible as another series of explosions rocked the citadel.

The sorcerer was silent.

"Just tell Valdez to come up here and watch," Mark snapped, and signaled to his crew. They formed up on the crystals, three to a bundle with Shigeru being the ninth man. As one they lifted in close formation, wheeled out from the citadel and climbed into the predawn sky.

The city below them was engulfed in flames and smoke. Half a dozen wall crystals, mounted on the enemy-held outer wall, fired at them, then suddenly fell silent.

"Look out for air defenses," Mark cried. "They're holding back their fire."

"Here they come," Ikawa yelled, "five o'clock low!"

Mark almost laughed at the Japanese officer now using the terminology of the American air corps. But he could see where a dozen or more sorcerers, escorted by a score of demons, were ascending from just outside the outer wall.

"There's our target on the ground, approaching the citadel from the south." Walker was leading the third drop team, which was directly behind Younger.

"There must be thousands of them," Mark replied.

The enemy host was advancing down the main plaza, which ran from the southern gate to the fire-blasted citadel wall. At its fore were three heavy wall crystals mounted on wagons, firing into the citadel, where the shielding would glow bright red, overload, and another section of battlements would slide away. Above the roar they could hear the thousands of infantry chanting: "Sarnak, Sarnak, Sarnak!"

Another volley―but this time there was no defensive shield. The blasts sliced through the citadel like a white-hot poker through butter.

"Swing out over the outer wall, we'll turn into final, and then a straight run down the plaza," Mark ordered. "You got that?"

The team shouted.

"Walker, drop first, by the outer gate, try to hit the crystal mounted on the wall. Younger, you're second, in the middle; I'll drop third on their crystals."

"Captain, that's damn close to our own people," Younger said nervously. "We don't know just how big an explosion these things will kick."

"You wanna take the time for a few tests first? We'll just drop and find out. Ikawa, keep those bastards off us. Turn onto downwind now."

The formation swung around running downwind and parallel to the enemy column, several thousand feet below.

The enemy sorcerers charged upward, while from the flank more formations came up to greet them. The air hummed and flashed with firebolts. The Japanese stayed close to the bombing team, keeping the enemy at bay.

A wild flurry of shots roared up, again wide. Mark realized that the enemy was holding off, waiting for its forces to get into position before closing in. He could only hope that they would hold off long enough.

They passed the outer wall and crossed out into the open countryside. He wanted to turn immediately, but knew that every second further out would allow them just that much longer for a straight and level approach as they came back in on their bombing run.

Ten seconds, five.

"All right, turning left, now!"

The formation rolled into a perfect turn. The enemy sorcerers, assuming that this was a party carrying wounded in an escape attempt, had positioned themselves further out to meet them. But now their target had turned aside and was flying back in towards the city.

"On final!"

Ahead of them several wall crystals, mounted on one of the battle towers, were pointed straight up, sending flaklike bursts into the air.

It was like before, Mark realized: the enemy fighters, like trailing sharks, looking for the weak, the flak up ahead. Below was the flaming wreckage of a city, waiting for yet more death from above.

"All right,
Dragon Fire,
we are on final," Mark shouted. "Walker, you've got the lead. Concentrate!"

The city gate was before them, the heavy assault troops pouring through its blasted portals.
Another couple of seconds,
Mark thought,
just a couple more seconds.

"Bombs away!" Walker cried. As the crystal fell, Walker and his team banked hard right to act as escort.

They were flying down the main plaza, packed with enemy troops. Straight ahead Mark could clearly see where Sarnak's wall crystals were pouring their fire into the citadel's upper works.

"Two away!" Younger shouted.

"Steady, steady now." Mark was looking straight down. He could imagine the bombsight, the cross hairs tracking the target. He had to be sure. A couple of seconds too late and it would hit the citadel wall.

"Steady, steady. Bombs away!" Mark released; a split second later Welsh and Giorgini, carrying the other two ropes, released, as well. The bundle dropped. They surged upward; their burden fell directly beneath them, growing smaller as it rushed to meet the ground.

"Don't watch it," Mark screamed. "Don't watch it!" The world behind them disappeared in a blinding incandescent.

* * * *

"They're turning back," an apprentice shouted, pointing towards the mass formation that had flown over them several minutes before.

Kala looked back to where the apprentice was pointing.

"Ignore them," Kala shouted. "It must be Allic and two others that they're carrying like that. Sarnak has all ways blocked. Our job is to coordinate this break into the city. Back to your duty."

The heavy crystals next to them fired again. The enemy shielding had gone down completely; now it was simply a matter of cutting out huge sections of the wall, making a path wide enough that a hundred men could rush in abreast.

"Damn it, let's take it," one of the infantry commanders roared. "Enough with this sorcery―it's time for the sword."

Kala looked over at the commander. He could see that the man's blood was up. Allic would be a prisoner in minutes, either in that foolish attempt to flee, or if they were turning back, he'd be captured in the city. The battle was for all practical purposes over. He wished he had the power to order the infantry to stand down. Once the troops were released it would be a massacre. Damn these people, they were savages.

"Listen, sorcerer," the commander shouted, drawing closer, "raise your fire. Their shielding is down and I'm going in."

The commander raised his sword high, his heralds standing to either side lifted his pennant into the early morning light.

"Forward," he screamed. "No prisoners!"

"No prisoners!"

The host advanced, a surging ocean of armed men, their swords glinting wickedly in the light from the flaming citadel.

"They've dropped one of the bundles," the apprentice cried, grabbing Kala by the sleeve.

"What the..." He watched as the round bundle tumbled end over end.

"The second one!" the apprentice cried.

Those bundles couldn't have been Allic or anyone else. The men carrying them had not been hit. They were flying straight ahead in an almost stately, lumbering formation.

The third bundle dropped.

And then a memory came, of the offworlder, Mokaoto, talking about how wars were fought back on Earth. About how they rained death from...

"Run!"

Even as he fled he glanced back at the plaza, now swarming with troops. He could clearly see the first bundle coming down by the main gate.

"Kala, what is it?"

He turned to look back at the apprentice.

The world lit up as bright as the noonday sun. The apprentice, who had been staring straight at the blast, screamed, covering his eyes as the world was washed in light. Kala started to turn and the shock wave knocked him to his knees. Men were down, screaming; buildings on either side rocked and swayed, roof tiles falling off, heavy leaden panes shattering.

A second sun rose―the flash washing over them again―and this time the ground bucked beneath his feet, slapping him into the air, the concussion knocking the breath out of his lungs.

In the last seconds he had left, Kala saw his apprentice lying on the ground, a sliver of glass as long as an arm sticking out of the boy's chest.

Above the roar he heard a whistling sound, dropping in pitch, growing louder. He looked straight up and saw his death falling from the sky, growing larger, filling the heavens.

He never saw the flash.

* * * *

Sarnak looked in stunned disbelief at the three pillars of fire. The concussion of the second explosion was still washing over him when the third explosion hit. Even from half a league away the roar seemed to be all-encompassing. The tower of flame was detonating and redetonating, soaring ever higher.

"They're blowing their own crystals," he said numbly, not quite believing what he had just witnessed.

Like everyone else he had assumed that the bundles must have contained Allic and two others. As they flew out on their wheeling turn towards their bomb run, he had thought again, realizing the burden being carried was too small and that this might be a diversion for the real breakout in another direction.

And then the bombs had dropped.

Mokaoto had told him about this thing called bombers. But they had destroyed the crystals, and from the size of the last explosion he could see that several of his own precious crystals must have been hit, and detonated, adding their power to the conflagration.

"Genius," he whispered, "I thought only I had the daring to thus defy the wrath of the gods."

But even as he stood in admiration his hatred burned cold and hard. The battle now hung in the balance. He might lose, he knew, but the offworlders would lose something, as well, if they tried the same maneuver again.

As he stood watching, a cold wind swept down from the north, snapping the pennants out by his side. He looked up at the wind-whipped flags, snorted, and returned to his command tent.

* * * *

"Jesus almighty," Walker roared, "did you see that? That last one must'a touched off them others. It was like the world was gonna shake apart."

The formation, having swung wide, was circling back to land on the observation tower. Shigeru, along with Welsh and Jose, had already broken off to pick up another set of slings and three more "detonators."

"Looks like trouble, Captain," Walker said, coming up by Mark's side.

Valdez was waiting for them, his rage causing his battle shielding to glow brightly.

They landed even as a distant echo came rolling back from the mountains, repeating the roaring thunder that had swept over the city only minutes before. At the moment of the flash the battle in all quarters had stilled, defender and attacker paused in terror, wondering if the gods themselves had intervened. Now as the echoes washed down from the hills, the battle began anew.

As Mark and the others landed on the citadel wall, they ignored Valdez for a moment and walked across the battlement to gaze at the plaza below.

Massive craters, each a dozen yards or more across and just as deep, scarred the street. Each of the blasts had taken out everything within a hundred yards, leveling the buildings.

The carnage was sickening. Hundreds of bodies lay scattered, ripped apart so badly that they were not recognizable as human.