The Crystal Warriors (7 page)

"If you wish to live long enough on Haven to take advantage of the longevity that the Essence provides, you better learn this quickly. The sorcerers you face might have five hundred years of training, and they'll not excuse your slowness and retire with apologies until you are ready. They'll leave you dead."

"Another thing you must remember. If your opponent diverts more of his strength to the attack, you must equal that energy with your defense. But know that once that happens, if he is stronger or more skillful than you, you're dead."

Valdez turned and walked back to the dais. "Now you remember our lesson on bows, don't you?"

The men mumbled an affirmative.

"Good." Valdez reached down to a low platform to one side of the dais and stood back up again, a heavy longbow in his hands. With a single fluid motion he snapped an arrow out of the quiver, nocked it, and then pulled the bow to full draw and pointed it straight at Walker's chest, whose shielding went up to maximum power.

"Now watch, damn you," Valdez roared. Turning, he pointed the bow at the last dummy in the line. A tiny defensive crystal hung around the dummy's neck. With the bow still drawn, Valdez stared at the necklace, and a defensive shimmer developed around it. He released the arrow.

The arrow streaked to its target and with a thunderclap explosion merged with the glowing defensive light.

Fragments of the dummy arched into the air, and the courtyard walls reverberated with a roar like the burst from a flak shell. As the smoke cleared, the men gaped in amazement at the six-foot-wide crater where the dummy had stood.

"Damn you, why did you turn on your defensive shield when I pointed the arrow at you?" Valdez roared.

"Seemed like the right thing to do. Anyhow, I figured you wouldn't shoot."

"Figured, so
you figured,
eh? Suppose I was a turncoat, a traitor? If I'd fired that arrow I would have killed you and half the men sitting around you―that would have been damn good service for one of Allic's enemies."

"Remember, your shield will turn an ordinary arrow, except perhaps for one fired at very close range. But damn it, there is one sure way for an ordinary man to kill a sorcerer, and that's to possess an arrow tipped with a sliver from the red crystal of fire. When a red crystal hits a shield, it's converted to the pure energy of the Essence. The bigger the crystal, the bigger the blast. A catapult bolt tipped by a large enough crystal can blast down an entire wall if it is shielded. They're hard to forge and facet, but in any flight of arrows, always assume there's one of them coming in. You can spot it by its red glow, and through concentration you should be able to sense it even before you see it. Remember that!"

"Some of you might be bodyguards to Allic and it will be your job to always watch for a red-tipped arrow. You'll only have a couple of seconds to react and blast it down, but react quickly, by the gods, or your lord and you are dead. It's one of the favorite tools of an assassin."

"I keep hammering and hammering that all of you must learn the art of concentration. You must be able to react in a second and come to full defense while preparing your offense, and at the same time be able to sense the presence or approach of a red crystal. I look at all of you here now, and only hope that you'll be alive a year from now."

Valdez fell silent for a moment and they looked at one another uneasily.

"Enough. There are more practice dummies on the other side of the courtyard, and for the rest of the morning I want all of you to practice with projection of the force to create fire. I want control, damn it! And I want focus. A good sorcerer, even without a crystal to focus his energy, should be able to ignite a human size target at thirty paces. Now move it!"

As the men assumed their practice positions, Mark could only feel anxiety. Walker and a number of the Japanese soldiers made it look so easy. But damn it, every time he tried to focus his power he found himself breaking into a cold sweat.

As if to add insult to injury, Walker called for everyone's attention.

"Hey, watch this!"

He turned his back to a target dummy and projected an over-the-shoulder shot at his straw opponent. Valdez was all over him in an instant, but Mark decided not to intervene. He was having enough trouble just trying to work up enough energy to equal a Zippo lighter.

Back in the real world he never had any real anxieties about command. He was a damn good pilot, one of the best, and the men wanted to fly for him, believing that he had "the luck"―that indefinable ability to always bring a crew back safely.

The luck,
he thought sadly. Well, that ended on a hillside back in China. Was he finished now in this new world? He couldn't control this thing called Essence for attack, while all around him his gunners and the Japanese soldiers were proving their superiority. Would he be nothing but a fifth wheel here, his ability to control the respect of his men gradually drifting away as a new leader emerged, for a new world?

He looked over at Lieutenant Younger. As if Younger were reading his thoughts, his copilot snapped out a narrow focused beam at his target, then smiled at him with a sarcastic grin, as if challenging Mark to do better. Younger turned away from him and started to speak softly to Sergeant Giorgini and the two of them laughed.

"Captain Phillips."

It was Varma, the dwarf companion and jester to Allic, who had come up to stand by Mark's side.

"How goes your training?" Varma asked in a friendly voice.

Mark was tempted to bark a sarcastic reply but realized that Varma was only trying to be friendly. He liked the jester. Some of the men thought his strange appearance amusing, but Mark had already noticed that Varma possessed a brilliant mind, and beyond all the jokes and foolish rhyming he was one of Allic's most trusted advisors.

"Oh, quite well," Mark replied quickly.

Varma looked up and smiled at him. "But of course. Well, not to worry about it, that's what I say. Anyhow, my Lord Allic requests the presence of you and Captain Ikawa, so let us go." And turning, Varma scurried over to Ikawa's side.

With a sigh of relief Mark left the firing line and followed Varma. He could not help but notice that Younger and Giorgini followed him with their gaze and continued their quiet conversation.

There would be problems with them, he was sure of that now. But being without their ability, how could he ever respond?

* * * *

"So how goes the training?"

Damn, everybody has to ask the same question,
Mark thought.

"My lord Allic, your Valdez is a good trainer," Ikawa replied.

"Please, when there is no one else present, we can drop the 'my lord' routine," Allic said, a smile lighting his features. "It gets tiresome after a while. Here, have a drink."

He pointed for the two soldiers to sit by his side and handed them a couple of goblets.

"A little early for that, isn't it, my lord?" Varma inquired.

Allic gave his jester a silencing stare. "I've lived my first thousand years without too much of a problem, but apparently I still can't have a friendly drink in the morning without some lackey interfering."

"Just doing my job," Varma said.

"Then, do your job and bring Hort in here, and stop nagging me. I'm a demigod, damn it, and I should be able to take a drink without some fool dwarf interfering!"

With his hands raised in a mock display of terror, Varma backed out of the room, bowing low.

"Some people think that being the son of a god has all the advantages," Allic said, looking into his wine cup, "but let me tell you, gentlemen, it can be a downright nuisance at times. They're always checking up on you and passing down some admonishment."

Mark gave a sidelong look of amazement to Ikawa. He still wasn't used to the idea of a flesh and blood man calling himself the son of a god. There were times when he thought all of these people were insane blasphemers. But he realized it was best not to challenge such a thing here. Demigod or not, this man had saved him, and he was obviously a prince of great power. If Allic wanted to call himself a demigod, let him.

The Japanese, with their god-emperor, took such things as a matter of course. He'd have to make sure that Goldberg, who was Jewish, and Smithie, who had a strong streak of the fundamentalist, were kept under control. The last thing Mark needed was a damned religious debate.

Allic drained his cup and tossed it on the table. "There, that's better. Now, to business." He rose and went to the door.

"Bring him in, Varma!"

The door swung open and both Ikawa and Mark rose to their feet. In an instant Ikawa's defensive shield was up, glowing softly in the darkened room.

Bending low at the waist, a towering form cleared the doorway, then straightened to its full three meter height. Its eyes were like two glowing coals; its face a bizarre and chilling caricature of a blood-red skull that had been covered with scorched parchment. The creature stood in the doorway surveying the three before him and extended its arms to reveal two batlike wings that glowed with a faint phosphorescence and seemed to fill half the room. Seeing Allic it bowed low, its head coming down to eye level.

Allic looked over at Ikawa and Mark and smiled.

"No need for the defense, Ikawa. Hort is harmless."

"But that's a demon," Ikawa blurted.

"Sure it's a demon, but it's well trained. Why, he's even housebroken," Varma piped in as he planted a swift kick on Hort's shin. The demon grunted and pushed Varma away with a gentle backhanded swing.

"I've decided to assign him as a guardian to your households. It will give a certain prestige, and protection, to you and your men. And while acting as a protector, he can also teach you the lore and customs of his race," Allic said.

"But I thought demons were the enemy." Mark was clearly puzzled.

"Tell him, Hort," Allic replied.

"I am in service to my lord Allic," Hort said with a low grating voice. "Allic rescued me from certain death when he journeyed to my dimension years ago, and thus I returned with him to Haven, for I pledged him blood debt of a thousand years in repayment. Even demons must keep their word," he finished with a low chuckle.

"Don't worry," Allic said, noticing the offworlders' anxiety. "I have half a hundred like him in my service. Some are willing, such as Hort; others are prisoners, such as Chaka. All of them take the oath. Occasionally one will break his pledge―but tell them, Hort, what happens to an oath breaker."

Hort growled. "Never would Hort do such a thing, Lord Allic. For if I did, you would either hunt me down or burn our pact, causing my death and everlasting damnation."

"If done correctly," Varma interjected, "Allic could make the burning last for years, keeping Hort in constant agony. I like the slower way myself."

"You would, little one," Hort said coldly, then turned to Mark and Ikawa. "If you are my new lords, know that I, Hort, slayer of forty-three of my foes, will serve you for the remaining six hundred and twenty years of my service."

Mark was at a loss for words. It wasn't every day that someone offered you your own personal demon to be your household guard.

"Remember, Hort," Allic commanded, "these two are outlanders. I expect you to teach them well about your people and how to survive against them. But don't trifle with them. They are sorcerers, and I suspect their power will soon be that of masters."

"But of course," Hort replied, bowing low again so that his wings fluttered and covered them with a scent that was not the most pleasant.

Turning, the demon lumbered out of the room, while Varma followed him, imitating the demon's movements in an incredibly accurate mime, causing the other three to chuckle.

Allic turned to Ikawa. "I can feel enormous turmoil within you. What's wrong?"

"I can learn to deal with Hort," Ikawa said slowly, "but it's just that he looks so damn reptilian,"

"Why would that bother you?"

Ikawa hesitated. "It's just that I've had this terrible fear of snakes since I was a child, and Hort made me think of them. I'll get use to him, my lord, it will just take some time."

"That's why I gave him to you. I want you to be familiar with demons, and through Hort you can learn their ways and how to control them. He's loyal, if only through fear of me and the power of his oath. However, he'll test both of you, seeing just how far he can go. Learning to control him is a part of your training. And speaking of your training, tell me, Mark, how goes yours."

There was a moment of embarrassed silence.

"I don't seem to have the ability," Mark said sadly. "My men, and Ikawa's soldiers too, are out there right now with their beams of light and I can barely work up a flicker. I just don't know."

Allic smiled at him. "It comes at different times and speeds, I can see into you, Mark Phillips, and know that you, like your comrades, can use the Essence of power. Walker has his control because he learned it as a warrior back in your world. Ikawa and his men were warriors similar to Walker, and thus they have the ability to fight as well. But remember that the Essence in a master sorcerer can manifest in several different ways. Great masters can control the Essence in half a dozen ways or more. Perhaps you will never control the blast from the offensive crystal that destroys an enemy. There are other skills."

"Such as flying?" Mark asked. "I've seen you and some of your sorcerers flying, and yet none of us can get an inch off the ground."

Ikawa nodded. "To fly like the birds," he said, his voice full of hope, "that would truly be a mastery of power. Among my own people there are Zen masters who, it is said, through long years of practice have mastered the ability to float in the air. Since coming here, that has been my dream. I have spent countless hours alone in my room trying and trying, but with no success."

Mark smiled at Ikawa. So the two of them had been up at night trying the same damned thing.

"It just takes the proper motivation," Allic replied. "Just the proper motivation, that's all."

"Well, how in hell are we to find this motivation? Are you saying I need some Dale Carnegie course to fly? Damn it,"―Mark's frustration started to boil over―"I'm useless on the ground. I want to get back in the air where I belong."