Wizard's Blood [Part Two] (57 page)

Ahead, in what looked to be a manager’s office, she saw a light and detected movement. Quietly she made her way to the door and peered inside. It was clearly the office of someone important. Inside a middle-aged man, clearly a wizard, had his back toward her. He was looking through some papers, muttering to himself. With a start, Shyar realized she knew the man. He was one of Cheurt’s closest confidants. He’d been in the offices in the castle any number of times, and was apparently a very masterful engineer. Much of the engineering work that had been accomplished using the designs from Earth had been performed under his guidance. His loss would cost them dearly.

Shyar wasn’t concerned that the man didn’t realize she was there. Like all of the wizards here, he hadn’t raised any shields, which made him as easy a target as any commoner. She’d found some of Jolan’s ideas about the rules and fairness in combat quaint. The fact the man’s back was turned toward her when she unleashed a bright blast of energy that wrapped around the man and incinerated him from existence didn’t bother her in the least. Her strike had been so focused that the table and papers hadn’t even been singed by the energy that had whisked the man from existence.

As she headed toward the entrance, knowing it was time to get back, she had another thought. The granulation of the powder in the hundreds of thousands of rounds was carefully controlled. She was good with such things. It took only a moment and a marginal use of her power to envelope the whole of the stored ammunition and cause the granules to break down, becoming more finely divided. The ammunition would produce far greater pressure when fired, causing even unaltered arms to explode. The total supply of ammunition was most likely only a fraction of that which would reach the war zone, but hopefully it would become intermingled with the ammunition from other sources causing a logistics nightmare as they tried to find the bad lots. They might have to throw out the entire supply.

On her way back to the castle she considered causing additional breaks in the lines she saw running overhead. It would be a simple matter to make a series of hard to find separations under the insulation, but she decided the information coming in by telegram was as much to her advantage at the moment as Cherut’s, and left the lines alone. She’d done enough for this night. Before slipping back into her cell, she corrected the small break in the line in the office, allowing the telegraph to function normally.

She had a lot to think about. From the office where she’d killed the wizard, she’d learned the shipping schedule. She hadn’t decided whether she wanted to try to investigate options in the town across the river. Tomorrow she’d decide.

The first sergeant assigned to Seret’s defending forces had found a quiet shaded spot away from the others and was spreading the necessary equipment out on a flat rock located just a few inches away from where he sat. This was his private time, and he was preparing to clean his rifle. It didn’t really need cleaning since he hadn’t fired it today, but it was something that relaxed him and gave him time to ponder the situation. Years before when he’d first entered the army he’d used this time to polish and sharpen his sword. Usually there were small nicks to be filed out, and the edge always seemed to need a bit of the stone to keep it sharp. A soldier who neglects his tools is a soldier who isn’t likely to see the final payday.

The rifle was a lot different than his sword had been. He’d had this one for a bit more than a year, and the rough treatment it’d received as a matter of course in the life of a fighting man had left it scratched and gouged in places. The wood had several deep scratches. The hard wood had never fit as well as the sergeant had thought was proper. Clearly it had been made to be functional rather than pleasing to the eye. What was important, however, was how it functioned. The bore of this particular weapon was clear and free of damage, unlike some of the poorly treated weapons he’d seen during his inspections of the men. The action was oiled and functioned smoothly, and he’d taken care to ensure the sights remained aligned with where the weapon placed its projectile. A man would be a fool to do otherwise, but there were a lot of fools out here.

He was surprised how things had changed in a few short years. Wars were fought so much differently a couple of years ago when he had carried his sword. There hadn’t been any major altercations back then, but everyone trained for battles that would go a certain way. In those days, it was swords and bows that the fighting men had to battle against. A man’s skill with the sword had a lot to do with his chances of making it through a given battle. There were other factors, of course, many outside a man’s control. But skill certainly made a difference. The enemy archers added a bit of randomness, but a man usually knew when the clouds of arrows were coming, and keeping one’s head, hunkering down properly with a shield, and you’d usually come out all right. It was those that panicked or forgot their training that got taken that way.

Wizards were the elite back then. A normal soldier had no chance against one of the wizards. The enemy magicians could take a whole company with one of his spells if he got the chance. It took one of the specially trained teams with one of their own magicians to counter such a threat. He’d seen what they could do when this war started.

Now, things had changed dramatically. The wizards were being restricted, their awesome power pushed aside by advancing technology. The wizards could be killed almost as easily as any other man. The rifle he held in his hand could kill one if it was simply loaded with a small bit of copper. Copper was rare, but somehow there was enough of it that those who needed such bullets were able to get them. The special teams even had rifles that would reach beyond a man’s normal sight and accurately place a coppered bullet into the heart of the cursed wizards. He’d personally seen one of the snipers bring down one at over five hundred yards. He wondered how many the enemy had lost. They couldn’t have an unlimited supply, so the constant pounding had to hurt them.

Other frightening weapons had come to Gaea. The vehicle that soared through the air had almost defeated them. He’d never thought it possible for someone to actually invade Seret. His homeland was too strong for any such invasion. He’d been so wrong. With the killing vapors that were dropped from above, he’d watched as many of his friends perished without a chance to strike back. Good men. Some he’d shared this life with for as long as he’d been in the Queen’s service. He didn’t know how Angon had done it, but somehow they had been able to destroy the feared devices.

The battles of the past week had been possible because of the absence of the flying machines and the reluctance of the wizards to expose themselves. Perhaps their numbers had been reduced to the point that they were no longer an effective fighting element. Now, once again, it seemed the war would be more often fought soldier against soldier. It was still different though. While he’d have faced his enemy at sword’s length and been able to take the measure of the man he needed to kill, now he’d most often target and kill the man at a distance where he was no more than a shape in a uniform. The other side would do the same. The reach of the rifles allowed the men to battle when they were more than a kickball’s court distance away. Often one didn’t know the enemy was present until the first of the bullets started to strike. Unlike even the arrows, the warning was often absent when the bullets started flying.

Chance was much more important to one’s survival now. Skill had become far less important. Before he’d have been willing to bet on himself against almost any other in an encounter. But now, a first year recruit could fire a bullet, poorly aimed, that might just pass through the very spot he was standing. Each battle was a roll of the dice, and there would be many battles to come. Pushing Ale’ald’s army out of Seret would be just the beginning. They’d do that, he had no doubt of the fact. They far outnumbered the enemy. But, all of Kimlelm needed to be cleared of the invaders, and he’d heard talk that command wanted to go all the way to Ale’ald and purge the bastards from Gaea once and for all. He gave himself one chance in four of seeing that day, and he could be far too optimistic. He didn’t know where he came up with the number, but he’d long been a gambling man, and odds seemed to come to him. He longed for the old way. If this had been a war fought the way he’d been trained, then he’d have been far more confident of his ultimate survival.

Gloomy thoughts indeed, he muttered to himself, and he packed away his tools and pushed himself erect to walk back to camp. If he survived the battle that would begin tomorrow, he knew he’d repeat the ritual again come evening, and probably have some of the same concerns passing through his mind.

* * * *

Across Kimlelm, word was starting to spread. Because of the slowness of communication, the word had to originate in many places and grow independently of what may have started in other remote cities. But the enemy had been hurt in many locations. People had seen wizards and soldiers miraculously killed by unseen attackers. Somehow warriors from Angon and Seret were able to penetrate the battle lines that Ale’ald had erected and bring information and advice deep into the conquered land. The hope they brought kindled something that had been dying in the people of Kimlelm.

The people didn’t know if the invaders were worse than those that had invaded Kimlelm in the past. They had nothing to compare with. None of the current population had been alive the last time that Kimlelm had been invaded. The stories told by old relatives about such matters had died away after a couple of generations, and those living now hadn’t even heard the passed down versions of the tales. They knew, however, that the Ale’ald invader had no concern for their welfare. They were treated as slaves, slaves with little value. Anyone who didn’t do as directed was simply killed. Anyone who stood up to the invader or took action against them was killed, often along with family or some random number of males that happened to be handy. The message was clear. Give us trouble and you and some of your countrymen will pay.

Women were taken as desired by the invader. Any number of the more comely young women were placed in centers and tasked with “entertaining” the troops. Those that didn’t cooperate saw their families killed while they watched, before they themselves were publicly treated to a fate far worse than that which awaited them in the brothels.

Small groups had already been forming. Being associated with one was a death sentence if discovered, but many reasoned there was little to lose. Now that these groups were being contacted and given some training, the membership swelled. The actions taken varied from simple resistance to active measures against the invading army.

One of the early actions occurred in Yermo in a factory that produced the motors for the plane. A factory fire destroyed all work in progress, including the last three motors that could be built due to the shortage of integrated circuits from Earth. In other factories, items were made with missing parts, or with parts that had been carefully weakened to fail after little use. The salt used to cure bison for food for the enemy army was secretly laced with another compound which could kill if enough was ingested, but which would make the consumer violently sick even in minute amounts. Sand was liberally added to the powder mixture in one ammunition factory, producing thousands of rounds of useless ammunition.

Soldiers soon found themselves needing to go in groups. Those that traveled about alone often failed to reach their destination. Bodies were seldom found and, despite severe retribution by the invading army, the events continued to occur. The impact on morale was serious, and the losses due to faulty equipment huge. Ale’ald found itself having to divert large numbers of soldiers from the battlefield into a monitoring role to ensure such sabotage was limited.

* * * *

In faraway Trailways Dinal was biding his time. He had been reduced from being the local law to being a lowly messenger boy that carried directives from the Ale’ald command to the small population of Trailways that had survived the invasion. He had accepted his situation, in part because there was little choice, but also because it often placed him in a position where he could learn things. Things like the problems that Ale’ald appeared to be having of late. Events were clearly not going so well for the invaders, and it might be time to put some of their planning into effect.

The people had slowly put a scheme into place waiting for the proper moment. Food and travel supplies had been carefully stored away, a little at a time. Small raids had been made against the invader’s stockpiles, and the amount taken carefully regulated so as not to attract attention. Bows and makeshift knives had been manufactured. A community that lived so far from the main cities had people that were resourceful in many ways.

There were places to hide in these hills that the invader would never find, at least not without expending manpower they simply couldn’t afford. The entire population was primed to simply disappear and then, after a week or so, slowly make their way down into Angon. They were confident they could handle any of the troops they discovered along the way.

Now that it was midsummer and the enemy was clearly distracted with troubles elsewhere, Dinal was certain this was the opportunity they had been waiting for. The town would melt away after dark, but not before leaving a few surprises for their enemy.

Trailways was a central routing for the telegraph lines that Ale’ald maintained into parts of Kimlelm. Many of those lines would go missing before they left. It would take them time to repair because most of the spare wire had mysteriously disappeared already. The two wizards and three senior military that ruled the area without compassion would be killed. Asari had explained to Lorem when he was there how a coppered arrow could be used against the wizards. Lorem still had a bit of copper, and had quietly prepared three such arrows which he’d hidden carefully against the day they would be used. It would cost him several golds in personal wealth, a small price to pay given what the Ale’ald army had already taken from him. The soldiers would be easy. They had become complacent. Dinal smiled. It had been a long time since he’d seen a real encounter. His blood flowed hotly as he looked eagerly forward to the night’s work.