Part 10 (1/2)
Paron was dead and the last danger to Mak'loh from him gone forever. In his place, a new and far worse danger had sprung up. Paron would at least have preserved much of the city's knowledge and therefore much of its future. The Shoba's soldiers would only kill, loot, and destroy.
The flyer lay on the near side of a wide clearing. Sela peered through the trees and sighed with relief. There were none of the Shoba's men in sight, and the machine itself appeared to be completely intact. Perhaps the enemy hadn't come this far. She ran forward, out into the clearing.
As she did, several enemy soldiers emerged from the trees on the far side of the clearing. Sela leaped for the flyer, at the same time aiming her rifle. The soldiers grabbed arrows, and both sides let fly at the same time.
Sela's aim was good, but the range was too great for the beam of her rifle. The white fire crackled out of existence, well short of the unharmed soldiers. She screamed in frustration, then screamed in pain as one of the plunging arrows sliced into her thigh. She dropped the rifle, heaved herself into the seat of the flyer, and started the fans. More arrows whistled down about her, but this time all of them missed. Before the archers could fire a third time, the flyer was lifting off the gra.s.s. It shot straight up, hitting an overhanging branch so hard that Sela nearly lost control. Then she was climbing up and away.
She kept climbing until she was certain that nothing from the ground could hit her. She climbed even farther, until she could see the towers of Mak'loh in the distance. She firmly put out of her mind the arrow in her thigh, the pain it was causing, and everything else except reaching those towers. Then she set course for the city, as fast as the flyer would go.
Chapter 20.
It was impossible to keep secret Sela's arrival, wearing nothing but an arrow in her thigh and the blood of her victims. Rumors ran around the streets of Mak'loh, and after the rumors came panic. Even many of Geetro's old supporters seemed confused and uncertain, while those who had only left the Houses of Peace a few days before were half out of their minds with fear.
The moment he was sure Sela was in no danger, Blade took off in a flyer and headed toward where Paron's camp had been. This lay well off to the north of the city, along a stretch of the outer Wall invisible from the Warlands plains below. It was just possible that the Shoba was only launching a raid, or even an exploring party. It wasn't likely. The Shoba's commanders had been intelligent enough to notice that the Wall was no longer defended by the various force fields. They would almost certainly be intelligent enough to realize this situation might not last forever. An attack over the Wall would have to be delivered with all the strength at their command, trying for a single knockout punch. They would not risk throwing away the advantage of surprise by making small raids.
Before nightfall Blade returned to Mak'loh, knowing he'd guessed right. From the air he'd been able to see the Shoba's whole army spread out below him-at least forty thousand men and more than a hundred guns.
From the air Blade could see that a narrow valley led west, along the northern Wall of Mak'loh. Ten miles up the valley was a place where the Wall stood on top of a gentle slope gentle enough for drun cavalry, artillery, and even supply wagons, as well as infantry.
With the force fields down, it had been easy enough to approach the Wall, send scouts over it, then blow three great gaps with gunpowder. Now the Shoba's army was marching in an endless stream through those gaps. Ahead of it went a screen of mounted archers and working parties to chop a road through the forest.
Where were the Watchers? Blade saw many of them lying smashed on the ground along the Wall. A few were surrounded by a ring of corpses. Some had fought and given a good account of themselves. Apparently most simply couldn't react correctly without the warning of the Entesh Field and with their programming so unreliable. They'd attacked hesitantly and piecemeal, and been smashed by musket fire. A Watcher would be a target that even a black-powder matchlock could hardly miss. They'd gone down, and without noticeably weakening the Shoba's army.
Whatever happened in the next few days or weeks, the people of Mak'loh would have to start patrolling their own Walls. That would be an enormous step in the right direction-if the people lived long enough to take it.
It was quite possible they wouldn't. Blade summarized the situation for Geetro and Sela after his return that night.
”We can't hope for more than five or six thousand people from the Houses of Peace who will be any good in a fight. We have ten thousand soldier androids. We have rifles for all of these, and a few hundred grenade throwers. We are short of both power cells and grenades. We. . . .”
”We are making more of both, and quickly,” said Geetro. ”We will not be short for long.”
”That is true, if the Shoba's men go away quickly,” said Blade. ”But consider this, Geetro. We are using more grenades and cartridges this one year than have been used in the past thousand. The supply of material to make them is not so great, and we must go outside the Wall to get more. What if the Shoba's men tighten their ring around the city until we cannot leave it?”
”I have thought of that,” said Geetro. ”There is much metal and other material in the Houses of Peace. Some of my people are calculating how to turn it into weapons. They have discovered, for example, that in a single Inward Eye machine there is enough metal to make a hundred grenades or a mortar. As for the explosives-”
Blade held up a hand, although he badly wanted to hear more. He had to force himself not to grin in triumph. Turning Inward Eye machines into weapons would be another enormous step away from the old way of life.
Unfortunately, it would also take time, which Mak'loh might not have. Blade continued.
”We have twelve mortars, people to fire them, and much ammunition. The mortars should be kept out of sight and not used unless the Shoba's men are actually climbing over the city's wall. We want to keep the mortars as a surprise for the Shoba, as they were for Paron.”
Neither Geetro nor Sela needed to be convinced on that point.
”There is much we can do with what we have, but it will not be enough. As Sela knows too well, the Shoba's archers can shoot farther than our rifles. Their cannon can shoot even farther than that. We do not have enough grenade throwers or mortars to fight a battle only with those weapons.”
”Do the Shoba's men know about our rifles and their bows?” said Geetro.
”They will soon enough,” said Blade. ”Then they may send their archers up to the city's wall, to shoot at our riflemen. When the riflemen are dead, other soldiers can run up to the wall and climb it on ladders or ropes. Or they can dig a tunnel in the earth, put powder under the wall, and blow a hole in it. Or-” He shrugged. ”There are too many things they can do, if we give them time. The Shoba's men not only fight well, they see clearly and think quickly.
”So we cannot wait behind the walls of Mak'loh until they attack. We must be able to go out and meet them in battle and defeat them. For that we need the help of the people of the villages in the Warlands.”
Both Geetro and Sela were too polite, or perhaps too desperate, to tell Blade to his face that he'd gone mad, but both looked skeptical. ”If the Shoba's soldiers are as good as you say they are, what can the Warlands villagers do against them?” asked Geetro. ”The villagers were wretched barbarians the last time we fought them. Do you know that they are better now?”
”I do.” Swiftly Blade outlined his plan. Some of it was pure bluff, and some of it was educated guesswork. Much of it, though, was what he'd seen in the Warlands or learned from Twana. Irony-Twana was dead, but what she'd told Blade might lead to a great victory for both Mak'loh and for her own people. She would deserve a large place in the history books of this Dimension, although she'd probably never get it.
He finished, ”If the villages of the Warlands can send seven thousand fighting men, we can carry out this plan. Even with five thousand, I might be prepared to risk it.
”So I will go to the Warland villages, in a flyer. I will start at h.o.r.es, Twana's village, where her father, Naran, is the chief. He is said to be a brave and wise man, who will understand what must be done. If he joins us and speaks for us in the other villages, we will have less trouble. So I will leave tonight, and-”
”No, Blade,” said Sela. ”I will go with you. It is necessary.” Both Geetro and Blade stared at her, but she ignored them. ”There must be someone from Mak'loh, who can speak for the Authority. You. . . .”
”Sela!” exploded Geetro. ”You have just escaped from Paron, and you are wounded as well. You cannot go with Blade!”
”I cannot walk for many days and nights; that is true,” said Sela. ”But I can certainly ride in a flyer and speak to village chiefs. Geetro, you have work to do here. You must get the city ready to defend itself until the Warlanders come. That is work I cannot do. Please, Geetro.”
There was a pleading look in her eyes and a pleading note in her voice, both so strong that Geetro finally yielded. ”Very well, Sela. Go with Blade, and bring back the Warlanders. But if you don't get her back safely, Blade, I swear I'll kill you with my bare hands!” His tone made it clear that he was not joking.
”She'll be on her way back as soon as the talking is over,” said Blade. ”I swear this.” The two men shook hands, and Blade decided to leave Geetro alone with Sela.
As he went out the door, he heard Geetro's voice. ”I think we'd better have the worker androids block off a square in the heart of the city. We must have some area we can still defend, even if they do get over the wall.
”Also, I think we should put some of the mortars on the trucks, so they can be moved-”
Blade closed the door behind him and went off down the corridor with a smile on his face. Geetro was a man who would go far and fast once you gave him a slight shove in the right direction. Blade hoped there were more like Geetro in Mak'loh.
Blade and Sela took off the next morning, just after the lookouts on the walls sighted the first of the Shoba's scouts. Blade took the flyer up to a safe alt.i.tude and headed straight toward the east.
They were over the Wall in half an hour, and Blade turned north toward h.o.r.es. He only hoped it was still standing. He doubted if the Shoba's army had been able to spend much time or effort scouring the countryside beyond the Wall. h.o.r.es, though, lay not far from the army's line of march. They might have reduced it to smoldering ruins just to protect their flank.
A few miles south of h.o.r.es, Blade dropped down to low alt.i.tude to avoid being spotted by either friend or enemy. He swung wide to the east and came in over the same orchard from which he'd watched Twana's kidnapping.
The village stood exactly as it had been, completely intact. There seemed to be even more people than he remembered at work in the fields and pa.s.sing in and out of the gate. All of them froze as Blade's flyer sailed over the trees and hovered in front of the gate. As he landed, some people ran, others dropped flat as if he'd turned a shock rifle on them, and a few grabbed bows and spears. None of them seemed ready to go into action, but none of them seemed quite ready to be friendly, either. Blade and Sela obviously weren't part of the Shoba's army, but they were something even stranger, and perhaps just as dangerous.
Blade stepped down to the ground, hands held out in the cla.s.sic gesture of peace. ”I have important words to speak to Naran, your chief,” he said. ”Bring me to him.”
”What words?” said several people almost together. ”Who are you? Why do you come to us?” Someone added, ”Do you serve the Shoba?” and drew his bow taut. Blade hoped Sela would keep her hands off her rifle. It might not take much to provoke a shooting match, fatal not only to the two of them but to Mak'loh's chances of an alliance with the Warlanders.
”I am from beyond the Wall,” he said in a level voice. ”I do not serve the Shoba. I hate him as much as you do. His soldiers have crossed the Wall and are making war against the city there. It is called Mak'loh. If it falls, the Shoba's army will turn on you next. If you come to the aid of Mak'loh, the Shoba's army will be destroyed, and Mak'loh will-”
At this point Blade broke off, because it was obvious that the people were no longer listening to a word he was saying. They were staring at each other as if they weren't sure who was mad-Blade or them-or even if Blade were real. Then someone muttered something, out of which Blade caught only the single word ”Naran,” and somebody else sprinted for the village gate.
Blade stood in the middle of the circle of archers and spearmen, while the sweat began to trickle down his face and a fly settled on his nose. He didn't dare even to raise a hand to brush it off.
Then the messenger came back, and behind him the same man Blade had seen beaten and kicked by the Shoba's soldiers. The chief looked ten years older and walked with a cane, but his eyes were still sharp as they fell on Blade.