Nemesis

CHAPTER 10

The Skyshroud Expeditionary Force remained on the field for two days, burning its dead and building temporary defenses out of turf, rocks, and the wreckage of the army's equipment. Everyone expected the rebels to attack and wipe them out, but they didn't. Cavalry patrols were sent out to locate Eladamri's band, but they returned in a few hours and reported finding no sign of the enemy.

The rebels didn't leave behind a single scrap; every thrown spear, every bent sword, every broken helmet was scavenged from the field of battle. Nor were any rebel dead left behind. The plain around the burned Rathi camp had been trampled flat by men, elves, moggs, and kerls, but no other evidence of Eladamri's force remained.

Crovax withdrew to his makeshift quarters-a pile of scorched sod with a square of canvas for a roof-and brooded over his defeat. Organization and defense of the Rathi position fell to Nasser. Aside from grunting approvals to Nasser's suggestions, Crovax did not speak for two whole days. Late in the afternoon on the second day after the battle, he emerged from his hut. Nasser had been lingering outside, waiting for his commander to appear.

"My lord," said Nasser when Crovax stood unblinking in the late day sun. "What are your orders?"

"Any sign of the enemy?" asked Crovax quietly.

"None, my lord."

"Break camp. We will march." Crovax turned to go back inside.

"Very good, my lord. Where to?"

"The Stronghold."

The army had been waiting for just such an order, and in less than an hour they were ready to march. The cavalry fanned out to watch for rebels, and the infantry column, much reduced in length, shouldered their weapons and started off.

The Corps of Sergeants waited patiently for Crovax to join them. The commander's kerl was tethered to the stump of a lance outside his quarters. More than half the army was on the path back to the Stronghold, and there was no sign of Crovax.

"Someone should rouse him," Tharvello said. The other sergeants shook their heads. No one wanted to incur his wrath.

"Nasser, you're his favorite. You do it," said Tharvello.

"I can wait."

"Ha! You're afraid of him too!"

Eyes narrowed to slits, Nasser dismounted his sootsmudged kerl and tossed the reins to the nearest mogg. He squared his shoulders and walked to the door of the little sod hut-just a flap of tattered canvas, waving slowly in the light breeze.

Five feet from the hut, Nasser halted and called out, "My lord! The army is underway. Will you take your place with us?"

A muffled thud, and a cloud of dirt whirled away from Crovax's hut. Shafts of blinding white light burst from every crack and crevice in the sod walls. Nasser threw an arm over his face, and the hut collapsed with a spurt of gray dust and ash.

"Sergeants, to me!" Nasser cried. A dozen seasoned warriors ran to the destroyed shack and tore through the poles and clods of earth looking for their commander. When they found themselves scraping at virgin soil beneath the hut, the sergeants realized Crovax was gone. Everyone spoke at once.

"What happened?"

"Eladamri-"

"-elven magic!"

"Some new weapon-?"

"-Eladamri-"

Nasser squatted in the remains of the hut, toying in the debris with his fingers. His careful contemplation of the situation gradually calmed his fellow sergeants.

At last someone said, "Where did he go?"

"Maybe back to where he came from," Tharvello said. "What do we do now?"

The senior sergeant dusted the drab soil of Rath from his hands. "I will take command."

They were more than happy to let him shoulder the burden. Tharvello said, "What are your orders, Nasser?"

"Without a body, I can't assume Lord Crovax is dead. The commander's last order stands," he decided. "We go home."

Predator was airborne again, thanks to Greven's tireless efforts. After the hostages were secured, Greven returned to the airship dock, where he oversaw the replacement of Predator's powerful engines. The hull was floated out the lower dock and carefully steered to the upper landing pylon. There the final refit would take place, and Greven would take on new crew to replace those lost in the costly battle with Weatherlight.

Ertai disappeared into the libraries of the Citadel, beset by the conundrums of his place in the scheme of things. Days passed, and Belbe saw little of him. When she finally did, she was amazed by the changes slowly transforming him. Early one morning she found him perched on a table in one of the old scroll depositories, surrounded by heaps of discarded documents. It was stifling in the narrow room, and Ertai had stripped to the waist to better bear the heat.

Never a muscular fellow formerly, Ertai now displayed a formidable breadth of shoulder as he sat hunched over a scroll. That, and the fact his hair had become copper-brown made Belbe doubt she was seeing him at all.

"Hello," she said uncertainly. "I see you're making use of the libraries."

"These scrolls are all wrong," Ertai said, pushing the heavy scroll aside. "Their description of energy crossover-"

"What's happening to you, Ertai?"

He looked at her from under heavy-lidded eyes. "What are you talking about?"

"You're changing. Your hair, your physique-"

"It's to be expected," he said, stretching his bare arms, now covered with thin, ropy muscles. "The energy infusions you started me on are doing it. Every time I go back to Volrath's laboratory, I change a little more."

She drew back. "You're still using the infuser? Why?"

"Imagine my chagrin when I discovered the effects of the device were only temporary. When my injuries return, I have to go back to the infuser for another treatment. I should've known it wouldn't actually heal me. If I hadn't been so hurt, I'm sure I would have thought of it."

"Thought of what?"

Ertai leaned his cheek against his knee. "Only natural life-energy can heal human flesh. Other varieties can mask damage by transforming it into something else. In my case, Volrath's device seems to be making me into a lesser version of our friend Greven."

"No!"

"It doesn't matter. I can't stop now, anyway. If 1 miss a day at the infuser, the misery of the torture session comes back. I can't bear it… a little muscle won't hurt me, and my mind is still my own. Maybe even better, if that's possible. I'm reading eight books a day, did you know that? I'll be through this library soon, then I'll move on to the next."

"Be careful, Ertai."

He smiled in his own wry way. Ertai held up his hand, palm out, to the closest scroll-laden shelf. The flowstone rippled like a reefing sail. He sustained the motion for several seconds before it faded.

"Your influence is improving," she said, pleased.

"Yes. I may give Crovax a surprise before long."

She wanted to speak to him about his growing power, but Ertai lowered his head to his reading again and quickly forgot Belbe was present. She backed out of the close little room. Her heart was beating fast, and she didn't know why. It took several minutes to slow it to a normal rhythm.

Belbe continued her rounds of the Citadel, stopping by the factory control room to check on the Accelerator unit she'd installed. The stubborn device kept trying to raise production to inefficient levels above 100 percent, which forced Belbe to improvise a method to hamper the machine's excessive enthusiasm for production. She settled for tampering with the output meter, resetting it by hand to fool the Accelerator into thinking the factory was producing more flowstone than it actually was. However, there was a problem with her makeshift solution. Like every other mechanism in the factory, the output meter was self' correcting. In the course of several days' production, it would discover its readings were inaccurate and correct itself. Thus Belbe would have to return to the control dome every other day to reset the output meter to maintain maximum efficiency.

While she was adjusting the output meter for the first time, she spotted a ball of white light, about two feet wide, circling and descending the energy column. The ball darted first in one direction, then another. Belbe lost it for a second against the glare of the beam, then adjusted her vision to see past the column's corona. High above, the white ball of light hovered over the upper airship dock. It dipped behind the pylon and was lost from sight.

Curious, she left the control station and made her way back to the residential wing of the Citadel. Everything seemed normal. Servants and courtiers bowed as she passed. Guards stood at their stations, unalarmed.

She reached the main intersection in the heart of the palace. From here, stairs and flowbot lifts branched out all over the structure-up to the evincar's quarters, down to the laboratories, libraries, map room, armories, and prison. Belbe strained every nerve in her being, searching for the fiery intruder. The strongest trace (which was very weak indeed) came from a window in the outside wall. From there she looked down on the mogg warrens, map tower, Volrath's laboratory, and the roof of the Dream Halls. The arched roof of the hall bore ghostly heat trails, crisscrossing back and forth. The phantom visitor was there.

For the first time in her short life, Belbe ran. Her legs were quite healed after her fall in the ruins a few days ago, and she ran to the physical limits of her alloy frame. Flashing down the dark corridors of the palace, she passed unsuspecting courtiers and soldiers in a blur. Within seconds, Belbe was at the doors of the Dream Halls. Her hands were just about on the handles when the tall double doors swung silently inward. Belbe rushed into the vast, silent hall.

"Ah, my young mistress."

"Crovax!"

He was still in his dusty armor. She could smell blood and smoke, and saw bits of wire grass snagged in his boots.

"Was that you?" she said, incredulous.

"You saw me? Oh yes, you're the emissary, you see everything." He seemed dizzy and shuffled his feet to keep his balance. "A bonus from our masters," he said. "I can will myself from point to point."

"Teleportation."

"Is that what it's called? Hard on the head, if you ask me." He called up a flowstone stool out of the floor and sat down.

"What about the army? Why did you leave them?"

"My army?" he exploded. "Worthless, cowardly cattle! I would have killed them all if I were Eladamri!"

"You lost your entire army?"

Crovax's face contorted. "I lost little of value."

"How many survived? Where are they now?"

He leaped to his feet. "Who are you to question me?"

"I am the emissary of the overlords," Belbe said calmly. "I ask you again, where is your army?"

"Out there." He flung a hand. "We fought a night battle. The rebels started a fire upwind of our position, and many of the soldiers were trapped by the flames."

"And Eladamri?"

Crovax's voice was almost inaudible. "He escaped."

The distant dream machinery near the ceiling clicked and whirred. For some seconds, it was the only thing moving or making noise in the Dream Halls.

Then Belbe spoke. "You failed."

The cold, hard edge returned to his voice. "This is only the first round. There are many acts yet to play."

"A new evincar must be named soon."

"Then name me! Who else can you choose? Greven? He's been a slave too long to know how to rule."

"There is another candidate." The flowstone around Belbe heaved like a sea swell. She ignored it, and when it was calm again she said, "I refer to Ertai."

"That boy? Do the overlords know you're considering that arrogant little cur?"

"The overlords know everything I do," she said stiffly. "Ertai has magical gifts far in excess of anyone else on Rath. His influence over flowstone grows daily."

"Can he command an army? Can he govern? Can he rule?"

"Those are questions still unanswered about you, Crovax. As for Ertai, he's intelligent, clever, and has many insights. It was Ertai, for example, who devised the stratagem of taking hostages from the local population to insure they wouldn't lend support to Eladamri's rebels."

Crovax broke into an awful, face splitting grin. "Hostages? What a delightful idea. I give the pup credit." He walked a slow circle around Belbe, close enough for her to feel his cold breath on her face. "How many hostages?"

"A thousand." Why she gave him the wrong figure, she didn't know.

"Where are they?"

"The ruins outside of the City of Traitors."

He stopped his perambulation directly behind her. "I see. Thank you, Excellency."

"For what?"

"For restoring my faith in the wisdom of our masters," he said. Cool fingertips brushed the back of her neck. "But hear me, girl. I will be Evincar of Rath."

"Are you threatening me, Crovax?"

The fingers were withdrawn. "Certainly not, Excellency. I merely pledge to do my utmost for the cause. You do your best for the overlords, don't you?"

"I do the task I was made for."

He suddenly enfolded her from behind in his powerful arms, one around her waist, the other around her neck. In a split-second decision, Belbe decided not to struggle but remained as relaxed as possible.

"We're allies after all," he said softly in her ear. "Cooperation can be as satisfying as competition-with the right company."

"I'm here to choose the best person for the job, whoever that is." Belbe still didn't move.

"No emotion involved?" Crovax asked.

"Emotion is not efficient."

Crovax tightened his grip.

"You can't overpower me, Crovax."

"I wouldn't dream of trying, Excellency." He dropped his arms, and Belbe stepped away. Adrenaline coursed through her. She felt like a coiled spring, all wound up. Crovax appeared quite calm.

"I want a full report on the battle in writing, detailing your losses, Eladamri's tactics, and the state of the army," Belbe said, inwardly shaking with excitement. She kept thinking about what it would be like to break Crovax's arms and legs. She knew just how to do it, even through his armor.

"As you wish. When shall I present my report?"

"You will wait upon my pleasure." Belbe imagined his face exploding in a shower of blood and bone fragments, his teeth falling like hailstones to the polished floor. "Where are the survivors of your force?"

"A few days' march from here."

"Will they make it back on their own?" With one kick she could crush his windpipe, and he would slowly strangle to death…

He shrugged. "That has more to do with Eladamri than my soldiers."

"Predator is flying again. I'll send Greven to find your men and escort them home. The ship has no weapons on board yet, but the rebels won't know that." With one blow she could drive the cartilage in his nose back into his brain.

He saluted. "Your Excellency is wise and frugal."

Crovax departed, and the Dream Halls doors closed silently behind him. Belbe leaped into the air, kicking her feet and pounding the air furiously with her fists. When this failed to satisfy her, she ran to the wall and punched an elaborate bas-relief depicting one of Volrath's dreams of glory. The flowstone walls, made to imitate marble, splintered under Belbe's blows. No sooner had the fragments fallen to the floor than they began climbing back up to rejoin the broken structure. She pounded on the wall until her knuckles were scored and weeping glistening oil. Panting with excitement, she stood back to catch her breath.

Her violence triggered the dream device overhead. With a hiss of servos and uncoiling wire, three dream catchers dropped to Belbe's eye level. In each was a dirty white "pearl", representing some dream experience the device thought appropriate to Belbe's current state of mind. She stared at the trio of machines and with a howl of pure fury, seized one in each hand and ripped them loose. The third dream catcher hastily retracted.

Belbe enjoyed crushing Volrath's dreams under her heel.

The army reached Chireef, the last outpost before the Stronghold, three days after the battle. A march that had taken Crovax a day and a half Nasser was content to do in twice the time. His men were tired, many were wounded, and no one was in a hurry to return home from a defeat.

Riders came back with the news that the blockhouse at Chireef seemed abandoned. The doors were closed and barred, and none of the garrison responded to the scouts' hails. Alarmed, Nasser and the Corps of Sergeants rode ahead of the main body with all the remaining cavalry to investigate what happened at Chireef.

The blockhouse looked deserted. Arrow slits were vacant. No sentries walked the roof. Some unknown banner hung limply from the flagpole-the air was too still to stir it. Despite repeated calls, no one inside the blockhouse responded.

The door was a massive bronze affair, and the Rathi soldiers were not equipped to batter it down. A team of four men was ordered to scale the blockhouse walls with ropes and grappling hooks. The outside of the blockhouse was as smooth as glass (to prevent just such attempts at climbing by the enemy), so it took some time before the soldiers were able to reach the roof. Three men were detailed to enter the blockhouse and open the outer door while the fourth hauled down the mysterious flag and tossed it to Nasser.

It was a triangle of rough green cloth with a simplified image of a red snake's head, fangs bared, in the center.

With a loud clank, the doors of Chireef rolled back. The cavalrymen who'd entered the blockhouse emerged looking puzzled. No one was inside, alive or dead. The place had been stripped clean-not even garbage was left.

"What about the cisterns?" Nasser asked. The army was thirsty.

"Empty," the scouts reported. Someone had broken off the flowstone valves, allowing all the water to drain from the storage tanks.

This was plainly the work of Eladamri and his rebels, but the mysterious state of the blockhouse was unsettling. Why were there no signs of a fight? Where were the dead or the wounded? They couldn't even find any bloodstains. How could a band of rebels, armed only with hand weapons, capture a well-defended blockhouse the army had visited only a few days earlier?

A smudge of dust on the horizon warned Nasser the foot column was on its way. Tharvello and some of the sergeants wanted to keep the troops away from Chireef, hide the strange fate of the garrison from the rank and file. Nasser would not allow it.

"Let everyone know," he said grimly. "This is what they can expect at rebel hands! Let them contemplate Chireef and fight harder to avoid their comrades' fate."

Each company marched past the empty blockhouse. Smashed valves and puddles at the foot of the wall made it clear there was no water for them. Word filtered through the ranks about the disappearance of the entire garrison, and a chill enveloped the already dispirited army.

Nasser ordered the march to continue until dusk. Though they were within a night's march of the Stronghold, the senior sergeant didn't want his dejected troops to arrive home in the middle of the night. He decided to camp one more night and march into the city by the full light of day. Nasser sent a percher ahead with this news. Not knowing where Crovax was, he addressed his message to Greven il-Vec.

He halted the army astride the main road from the Stronghold to Chireef, The tired men filed out of formation and dropped their packs in the dirt. Details were sent to gather tinder for campfires, and the communal pots were unpacked for dinner.

These mundane tasks occupied the army in the last hour of daylight. Nasser and his comrades were about to sit down when sentries reported an unknown light in the sky.

Nasser overturned his bowl in his haste to stand. He didn't have to go far before he spied what the sentries had seen: a bright golden light, low in the air and moving with considerable speed. It was approaching from the southwest, directly away from the Stronghold.

"Airship?" suggested Tharvello. "An enemy airship?" "I don't know. Alert the troops. If we're going to be attacked, the men must disperse."

Trumpets and perchers blared, and the soldiers gave up their meager meals to stand to arms. The aerial beacon was easily visible to all now as it maneuvered below the sluggish clouds. Anxious murmurs passed through the ranks.

The hum of aerial engines reached the soldiers. The first dim outline of the ship behind the light could just be made out. "It's a big one," Tharvello said. "Shut up," Nasser replied.

The gilded searchlight raked the grassy plain, right, left, ahead, and back. Some cavalry were caught in the beam, and the kerls pranced nervously when the light hit their weak eyes. Nasser raised his hand to alert the troops. At his signal they would scatter to avoid the airborne attack.

No missiles or bombs erupted from the airship. Instead, it slowed and began to descend. The searchlight swung down, highlighting the patch of ground where the ship would alight. In the reverse glow, Nasser recognized the long prow, the jutting boarding mandible. "It's Predator!"

The Rathi troops let out a concerted shout of relief, and hundreds rushed forward to greet the landing vessel. Predator dropped to within a few feet of the ground and hovered. Lamps blazed fore and aft, and against the light Nasser could see crew members scurrying about on deck.

A rope ladder unrolled to the ground, but the first man off the ship didn't use it. Greven il-Vec jumped from the deck, landing lightly. He stooped to clear the overhanging bulk of the airship, standing erect once he saw the Corps of Sergeants drawn up to greet him.

"Dread Lord!" Nasser said, over the throb of the hovering ship's engines. "It's good to see you!"

"Is this all that remains of the force?" Greven said sternly, surveying the men clustered around Predator.

Taken aback, Nasser recovered his professional demeanor and replied, "It is, Dread Lord."

"Where's Crovax?"

Nasser looked Greven in the eye. "He's not here, sir. We haven't seen him since this morning."

"What?" Greven thundered. Every man present, veteran or recruit, flinched. "Where is your commanding officer?"

Nasser explained how Crovax vanished when the strange explosion demolished his hut. He expected a further display of temper, but instead the giant warrior seemed pleased to hear of Crovax's unexpected departure.

"Gone, is he? His chance to be evincar is gone, too." Greven noticed the press of soldiers around him and snarled. "Do you men have nothing better to do than stand here, gawking like a bunch of hungry moggs?"

The relieved soldiers returned to their campfires. Greven ordered Predator aloft to watch for trouble while he remained on the ground. He wanted to hear a full account of the battle with the rebels. Then he announced he would personally lead the remnants of the Skyshroud Expedition into the Stronghold.

Greven got the whole story from Nasser and the sergeants. They blamed the wind and fire for their debacle and confirmed that Eladamri had Vec and Dal allies in the fight.

Greven listened to every word. His inhumanly hard features were a mask to the assembled sergeants. As Greven sat there, thinking yet saying nothing, one by one the sergeants slipped away to catch a bit of sleep. Nasser was the last to go.

"If there's nothing else, Dread Lord, I'll say good night." Greven gazed at the dying campfire. Nasser saluted curtly and disappeared into the outer darkness.

He hadn't gone ten yards before Tharvello grabbed him from behind.

"What is it?" said Nasser.

"You heard Greven back there. This means the end of Crovax, doesn't it?"

"Such decisions occur far above my head."

"Come now, you and I took up Crovax's mantle gladly, thinking it would advance us in the army and get us out from under that bastard Greven's thumb. Well, Crovax botched it! We should make amends to Greven."

"You talk like a soft-handed courtier," Nasser said. "I'll not sell my loyalty at the first sign of adversity."

Tharvello grinned. "So you're staying with Crovax?"

"I serve Rath, not any one man. If you think Crovax is finished, you're badly mistaken. Defeat or no defeat, he'll be back stronger than ever. Mark what I say."

Nasser left him.

Tharvello opened his hauberk and pulled out the percher he'd hidden underneath. Perchers remembered the last words spoken in their presence.

Your words are marked, Tharvello thought, stroking the winged creature.