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Authors: William R. Forstchen

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BOOK: The Crystal Warriors
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Ikawa turned away from Mark for a moment and looked over his men. "Where's Kurosawa?"

"Dead, Captain," Takeo replied. "He was hit by a shell."

"I see. Captain Phillips," Ikawa continued, "I have fifteen men under me, you nine. We have a light Nambu machine gun; the rest rifles. Our ammunition is enough for the moment. You have several carbines, two Thompsons, and the rest .45s. What else do you have in your survival gear?"

Mark looked back over at his men. There was no sense in lying or holding back now.

"A first aid kit, signal flares―the usual survival pack gear―and rations for my crew to last three days."

"Or all of us for a day and a half."

"Yes."

"Good, then it is settled."

"I guess so."

* * * *

A few moments later, Ikawa saw Kochanski come out from the back of the chamber. He stopped for a moment in the middle of the floor and scuffed at the dust with his feet. After a quick examination he backed away from the middle of the room and came up to where Ikawa and Mark were standing together.

"No way out, but there's a spring in the back of the temple―all the water we need. This place is weird," Kochanski continued. "It looks like it hasn't been touched in centuries, yet the building seems well maintained. There're even those fresh torches. It's obviously a temple, but for what? Just look at the carvings!"

Ikawa looked to where Kochanski was pointing. Tortuous carvings of interlocking dragons and demons covered the wall.

"And there's a pentagram inlaid into the floor. Strange, I thought the pentagram was a western symbol of the occult."

Kochanski walked back to the center of the room and several of the men followed him. With his foot he brushed aside the dust and pointed out the design. Kraut came over and examined the inlaid work, then went over to the altar that dominated one side of the temple.

"Holy Christ, this altar has bloodstains all over it!"

Kraut's words sent a faint prickling up the back of Ikawa's neck. It was as if a hidden door was slowly opening to reveal a coiling, insidious terror from beyond.

"Something moving outside," Walker said, still guarding the window slit with Smithie, the waist gunner, at his side.

"Open up on it," Mark told him.

Walker squeezed off a short burst. There was a sharp cry, then a rising babble of voices.

Mark and Ikawa went to the nearest slit and looked out. In the shadows of the pathway something large was moving.

"Goldberg, get me the flare pistol."

Goldberg loaded a charge in and tossed it over to Mark. He aimed it through the slit and fired. The round slammed down the narrow path, exploding with a brilliant flash.

"My God, they brought up the 37mm!" Mark exclaimed. "How the hell did they do that?"

In the white magnesium light Ikawa could see the cannon positioned in the pathway, its front armor skirting protecting the crew which was feverishly at work.

The Japanese machine gun opened up again, bullets bouncing off the gun's armor.

"The bastards must have manhandled it all the way up the trail," Giorgroi cried. "We're trapped!"

"All right, everybody get ready. They'll blow the door. Once that's gone, they'll charge."

Even as Mark barked the commands, the cannon spat a thundering flash.

The doorway exploded.

"Hold your fire," Ikawa yelled. "Wait for the rush!"

Another round barked out, and then another. Over the ringing in their ears from the explosion came a roar as the Chinese, screaming with fury, braced themselves for the attack.

Ikawa came over to Mark's side. In spite of his fear of approaching death, there was a terror that was far worse, and growing stronger with each passing second. It was like an electric charge running through his body, triggering some primordial dread. Something was horribly wrong with this room.

"I'm getting out of here!" Ikawa shouted above the roar of battle.

"You're crazy!" Mark cried. "You'll get cut down the moment you step out the door."

"I don't care. It's worse in here. There's an evil here―it's a nightmare." His words were edged with hysteria.

Another shot barked out and the remains of the door crashed in with a thundering boom.

The bugles brayed triumphantly. The Chinese were preparing to charge. But Ikawa and the others did not hear them. A louder, howling roar suddenly drowned out all other sound, all other thoughts, all sense of place and time―and the room was suffused with a white, pulsing glow.

Ikawa drew his sword, and with a cry, rushed for the door.

Kochanski was in front of him looking back towards the altar and pentagram, his mouth wide open, screaming, his eyes wild with terror. So riveted was that gaze that in spite of his own fear, Ikawa stopped and looked back into the room, now awash in a ball of pure crystalline light that shimmered and grew, lapping over them with a strange pressure they could actually feel.

Ikawa screamed. The 37mm gun barked one more time. The shell howled past him, merging with the ball of light and the nightmare image from beyond. Ikawa screamed even as he fell towards the light, drawn in by a hurricane roar that sounded as if the universe were being ripped asunder.

Chapter 3

T
he center of the pentagram swirled in a maelstrom of arcing flames. Flickers of lightning crackled over her head, and Mornan looked to Danuth, The other two sorcerers were useless, their powers nearly spent. Mornan felt a ripple of fear, knowing that just Danuth and she might not have sufficient control over whomever it was that Danuth and the apprentice were bringing through.

A bolt of lightning slashed out from the center, booming with a deafening roar that caused Mornan to stagger. There was tremendous power here, she thought. What had Danuth and that damn fool apprentice locked on to? There was another surge of power, and then the first portal worked by the exhausted sorcerers opened wide.

For a brief nicker of time she could see into the realm beyond. She saw the winged demons and started to form her words of command, but there was something wrong―

The other portal was opening too soon! The two should never have opened together. Danuth had fouled up and let the power they were generating get out of control!

Fascinated, she gazed through the opening. This was a place she had never seen before, and to her amazement she saw that this was a realm of men, not demons. Something had gone wrong.

What was this? She screamed with rage as the demons escaped the sorcerers, fleeing through the other portal to the land of men. She turned to Danuth but before she could even voice her anger, it ended.

A 37mm shell, fired by the Chinese, burst through the mysterious portal and exploded. Mornan was cut in half without ever knowing how or why.

* * * *

Mark felt as though he had been sucked into the heart of a tornado that was the pathway to death. He was falling, tumbling through an endless corridor in which time seemed to have no meaning. Memories of Dante came to him and he remembered how some of the condemned souls―was it for adultery?―were forced to tumble forever in the middle of a maelstrom. Seized by panic, he wondered if this was Hell. And the despair of such a thought caused him to cry out.

Even as he screamed he hit the ground. A body landed on top of him and he heard Goldberg swearing.

So Goldberg was down here as well. Opening his eyes, Mark dared to look around. In front of him was a swirling cloud of light, and he saw bodies hurled out of it like riders tossed off a merry-go-round gone berserk.

He rolled away from the cloud and came up against something warm and sticky―the shattered body of a woman. Mark recoiled and stood up. Other forms were standing up around him: his men and the Japanese. Ikawa was already standing to one side, surrounded by some of his soldiers.

The whirlwind was starting to lose power; its light was growing dim. It pulled in on itself, and with a faint hissing pop, disappeared.

"
Has nalarn, Kulmica!
"

Mark turned. A shrouded figure stood in the shadows that surrounded them, its arm raised like the hand of death.

"What the hell is this?" Goldberg whispered to Mark.

"
Has nalarn, Kulmica Sarnak. Juikal!
"

A lightning bolt snaked from the shadowy figure's hand and slammed into a Japanese soldier. He disintegrated into a vaporized mist.

"You bastard!" Walker screamed. Leveling his Thompson, he fired a quick burst. The bullets stitched into Danuth, knocking him off his feet.

Danuth tried to get up and point in Walker's direction. There was another bolt, but it went high, arching over Walker's head.

A fusillade snapped out from the Japanese and American guns. Within seconds Danuth was torn apart, his body bleeding from a score of wounds.

"Jesus, Captain," Goldberg asked, "what the hell was that?"

Mark shook his head. He struggled for control, trying to decide what his next action should be. Were they dead? Was this Hell or a nightmare that he would awake from, screaming? Hell or not, they had just offed some of the residents, and he was certain that someone would be around to check up on the mess.

He could hear his men, some crying, others shouting, their voices trembling with panic. The years of training took over like an instinct, restoring his control.

"Damn it, let's have some discipline here. Everybody shut the fuck up."

Even as he barked out his command he heard Ikawa's voice rise up in a sharp volley of Japanese, and Mark knew that his counterpart was echoing his own actions.

* * * *

Torn from his dreams by an inner sense of warning, Allic, Lord of Landra, sat up in his bed and turned his thoughts outward, probing for the source of the disturbance. He could feel an imbalance, as though the proper order of things had suddenly been shifted.

Kicking the cover aside, Allic rose, pulled on a long burgundy-colored robe, and pushed open the door to his meditation suite.

With his approach, a gentle wash of blue light welled from a fist-sized crystal mounted on a pedestal of gold.

Reaching out with his right hand, Allic touched the crystal of farseeing. Instantly the chamber was bathed in a brilliant glow that caused him to close his eyes. He knew where to direct his thoughts, and turning to the south wall of the room, he bent the flow of energy and directed it outward. Opening his eyes again, Allic watched as the power of the crystal was directed into an intense beam which revealed a map inlaid with gems and gold. The map was highlighted in stark, glowing colors as the power of Allic combined with his crystal to direct the map for a search.

Emblazoned on the wall was a representation of the realm under his control. Such was its power that only Allic's father, the god Jartan, could have created it.

The minutes passed. In the distance he could hear his guards changing their watch.

Slowly his attention was pulled toward one point on the southern border of his realm.

What was this? Now that he started to focus, the hazy sense of an outside power was confirmed. Someone was tampering with the Essence. It had to be an outsider, since none of his own sorcerers would be there.

Could it be Prince Macha's people? Whoever they were, they were trying to block his probing, and so he knew their Actions were hostile.

He bent all his will to the task. Soon he was drenched in sweat; his entire body ached with the effort as he battled through the barrier of wills. He could feel them breaking, their shielding crumbling.

Suddenly there was a presence, a presence which he had never experienced before. At that same moment he broke through, and for one brief second there was a flash of an image; then nothing.

Exhausted, he stepped back from the crystal, and the room went dark. Concentrating on his communications crystal, he turned his thoughts to the castle command center.

"Who's on duty?" Allic asked.

"It is I, Ulnarn, commander of the third watch."

"Awaken Pina, tell him he has a little journey ahead of him, and bring him here at once."

"Acknowledged, my lord."

If there was anyone he could trust with this, it would be Pina. A quick flight with his triad and Pina would find out who these sorcerers and intruders were, and if necessary kill them without further ado.

* * * *

Far from where Mornan and her sorcerers had opened the portal was a land of mountains, the princedom that Sarnak had made for himself in the desolation that followed the Great War 3000 years ago. Towering battlements and massive fortresses covered every entrance and blocked every exit.

Each mountainside was terraced with small farms and vineyards, and the river valleys were dotted with small villages and farmlands. Only in the desolate higher mountains of the interior were there factories and mines spewing refuse into inacessible valleys and pits.

In the center of the land, high above a river valley stood a mighty walled city that glowed in the moonlight of the Twin Sisters.

Sarnak the Accursed, so named for his unproven part in the betrayal and death of one of the Creators, sat on his throne in his darkened chamber. He had watched Mornan's efforts and her death through a crystal―the mate of the one she had used.

For most of the night he had been watching, and with Mornan's death he had to fight for self-control. But finally even his iron control weakened and his rage began to show, causing his aura to grow brighter.

Now Sarnak pushed his crystal aside and looked around the room. He was tall and lean, with dark hair and black eyes that were large and mesmerizing, and few there were who dared to face that gaze in the moments of his wrath.

"Who selected those incompetents with Mornan?" he asked, death in his voice.

"Wika made the initial assignment." Ralnath, Sarnak's chief sorcerer tried to conceal the fear in his voice.

"And who approved Wika to coordinate this mission in the first place?"

Silence.

"I want an answer," Sarnak said softly.

"I did, my lord."

Sarnak turned away with a snort of disgust. Everyone in the room did his best not to draw attention to himself as Sarnak moved to his master crystal, activating it with a wave.

Quickly Sarnak merged it with those observation crystals set high in his border mountains that overlooked Allic's realm. The room again became dark as his aura slowly died, his frustration giving way to the cold analytical force that was the heart of his power.

"Allic is projecting his power in a field of interference so I can't see very much," he said to Ralnath, who had come to stand by his side. "But I sense an alien presence, perhaps men from another plane. They're definitely not the demons we had planned for."

He looked coldly at Ralnath. "Which of our forces can get in there and find out what they are before Allic arrives?"

The head scribe, standing in the far corner, consulted his master file and nervously walked over.

"At this moment," the scribe said, "we've almost emptied that part of the border to prevent any possible suspicion of our involvement. But there is a force of twelve demons under Chaka that can be there within two turnings."

"Send them in immediately, I want at least one prisoner for interrogation; the rest are to be destroyed before Allic can get his hands on them."

"At once, my lord."

Sarnak turned and swept them with his gaze.

"All of you leave me except Ralnath."

Ralnath could sense the relief of the others as they fled the room, leaving him to his fate. He could remember more than once hurrying from the room as well, and returning later to remove what was left of a man or woman who had failed. He braced himself.

"I want Wika relieved of his post and crystals. Have him chained to the gallows against possible execution. I'll decide his fate later." Sarnak paused, staring at Ralnath.

"You know that my first move in this campaign has ended in a fiasco because you approved that idiot's selection of sorcerers?"

Ralnath nodded. "My lord, each had done well in the trials, according to Wika's reports."

"I want you to check the validity of those trials, and if there is any falsification you will personally remove the heads of Wika's wife and children and tie them to his chains. I can't help but suspect that he gave the task to Mornan as a reward for more than just her behavior on the testing field."

Ralnath breathed an inner sigh of relief. The blame was to fall on Wika and not on him.

"Ralnath, I understand your mistress has just given you twin sons."

He froze for a moment, then nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

"Never fail me again, Ralnath. Now get out of my sight."

* * * *

"Gather round to me." Mark made a quick count.

"Who's missing?"

"It's Jose", Captain," Kochanski called. "He's unconscious." And he pointed to the ground where Jose was already covered with somebody's flight jacket. The pale moonlight made his face look deathly. Mark looked up, and gasped. There were
two
moons―very bright and set about twenty degrees apart."

The men followed his gaze, and began shouting again.

"Shut up, all of you!"

The only thing that kept Mark from blind panic was the responsibility that by now was part of his nature. He had to get his people doing something―anything―to divert them from their fear.

The orders rattled off.

"Goldberg, see to Jose, and try to make him comfortable. Kraut, set up a defensive perimeter. I don't know where the hell we are, but we'd best be prepared."

"Could be Mars," Kochanski ventured.

Several of the men started to talk again. In the distance he could hear the same with the Japanese. Hell, there were still the Japs to deal with.

"What do you mean, Mars?"

"Ever read any Burroughs? Twin moons, Carter, Martian princess, and all that?"

"Later, Kochanski, later. Just do what I've told you for now."

Mark looked towards Ikawa and saw that he already had his men lined up and was speaking to them in a low voice.

Several of them broke away and fanned out into the darkness.

Mark turned back to his men.

"Kochanski, Smith, Welsh," his voice lowered to a whisper. "Watch the Japs, especially Ikawa and that other officer, you know the bastard." He started to move but turned back. "And for god's sake, if they open up, knock out that machine gun first or we're all dead."

The men nodded, their faces shining softly in the light.

"On my command, and my command
only,
you're to take them out. Now that the Chinese are gone..." His voice trailed off. Gone. Gone to where? He forced himself to re-focus his attention.

"Just keep a watch on them."

"Captain Ikawa." Mark turned away from his men and prepared for the possible showdown with their captors.

* * * *

"Private Yoshida, control yourself!"

Any other officer would have slapped Yoshida for the nearly hysterical display, but Ikawa could well understand it. He could barely control his own fear.

"We are not dead, Yoshida! We are still alive." Ikawa forced a laugh, and gave Shigeru, the sumo wrestler, a sharp punch in the stomach.

Shigeru grunted.

"See: If old Shigeru here can still feel pain, then you know we are still in the realm of the living."

BOOK: The Crystal Warriors
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