Dream Drive Ch. 10

He'd already played the card of the ghostmen to start the battle. It had been an effective move, but he didn't have time to make more. Another cavalry charge was out of the question – his own horsemen were still fighting their counterparts out on the plains. They were miles away.

To the credit of their training, his troops had reorganized quickly, stopping their latest withdrawal from turning into a rout. The snowstorm was an annoyance at first, but its arrival couldn't have been better timed to help cover their retreat.

"My lord, I can sense mages!"

Hale turned to Hildan, one of his two remaining magicians. "How many? Are they at the line?"

Hildan nodded. "I count a little over thirty. They'll be with us in moments."

Hale's forehead creased in thought. They didn't have the ability to form Words, but years of skirmishes with the tribes had shown their unparalleled ability to enchant their warriors. Even the Tower at Renstadt would have trouble creating similar effects with multiple magicians. The entire reason for the timing of their attack was to avoid this problem.

Hale turned to his newly-appointed battle captain, a man clad from head-to-foot in black armor. A forest green cape enchanted for physical protection draped down his back and off his horse. "My lord?" he asked.

Hale would have preferred to have Tell'ad on-hand for strategy like this, but after his latest betrayal – letting Rachel get away - he couldn't be trusted. "How many slaves do we have left?" Hale asked.

"Last headcount put us at 43, my lord," the captain said.

"Excellent," Hale said. "Bring them all up."

"All, my lord?"

"Every last one," Hale said, "unless you'd prefer I use you."

"Right away, my lord," the captain said. He turned and snapped orders to his subordinates.

"My lord." Hildan leaned toward him, speaking quietly. "We won't be able to replenish ourselves easily if we use every slave."

"We've lost the luxury of choice."

"I know what you're thinking," Hildan said. "I don't think the creatures can beat them. We'll just be trading our magic for theirs, and then they outnumber us and we've played our last card."

"It's not about winning this battle," Hale said. He stared up at the mountain, his eyes following the peak up until it was swallowed by the snow. He realized they were going about this in the wrong way. His original thinking had been to destroy the tribes and then claim the land, but there was nothing stopping him from making a claim and then destroying the tribes.
"We need to hit them as hard as we can. Now."

Hildan followed his gaze. "What do you think it is, exactly?"

"I don't know," Hale said. "But we're going to find out. The barbarians have accrued some power, but we have the finest magical education in the continent and years of experience. If they've intuited this much just on feeling, imagine what we can extract from the place."

Hildan nodded. "I understand. But we still have to get through them to go there."

"Remove the detachment of halberds from the left flank," Hale said, raising his voice so his commanders could hear. "Concentrate half on the right with the others. Place the rest throughout the army. Tell the cavalry to charge back and attack into the enemy lines."

"Wouldn't that be a waste?" Hildan asked.

"Not for our purposes," Hale said. "They want a fight - a final stand, a grand battle. The slaves will draw out their magic, and the army will challenge them. In the meantime, we bypass them altogether."

"My lord," came the captain's voice. "As you requested."

Hale turned his horse about. The first slave was readied for him, and the rest were lined up. They all had the same look on their faces – those that knew they were condemned to a place from which no one else had returned.

They were, of course, absolutely right in their assumptions.

Hale withdrew his other matrix, the one he stumbled upon so long ago when the land he ruled was not under his rule, when it was a fourth kingdom and not part of an empire. He placed a hand on the slave's head, and he began to channel.

The slave's skin rippled. His bones creaked and snapped. He began to scream.

Hale watched as the slave transformed, his face still. The soldier dragged another slave forward – his newest acquisition, the inept tribal warrior given to him by Kunaya. What was his name? Boonga?

The tribesman's black eyes flicked from the writhing slave to Hale, and back again. His features were drawn up in disgust. His bravado was nowhere to be found.

Hale smiled down at him. There were few things more satisfying than that look of realization on a student's face when they finally learned something useful. Fear was a good start.

Another man stood apart from the other slaves. Tell'ad. The grizzled commander watched Boonta for a moment, then shut his eyes.

"Get the barbarian a horse," Hale said.

"Sir?"

"In fact, captain," Hale said, "dismount." The captain only paused for a moment before following the order. Hale snapped his fingers at the slave and spoke in his tongue. "Mount up. It's time we had a talk."

The young man lifted his head. He stepped toward the horse, then stopped, as if expecting a trick. He took another step. When his collar didn't offer him pain, he used the stirrup to lift himself into the saddle. He sat awkwardly on the platform, frowning.

"What is it?" Hale asked.

"Why use these hard...things?" He tapped on the saddle. "A horse's plain skin is good enough."

Hale sighed. "We can compare cultures at a later date. I need some information. Information for which I'd be very grateful."

Hale watched the thoughts connect together behind the young warrior's eyes. Pride came first, simmering in his gut, anger at being dragged around like an animal. And then something else surfaced – a memory of pain he couldn't resist. His eyes flicked back to the man that was screaming on the ground. The slave's muscles bulged as his body twisted itself into a new form.

"I'm not planning that for you," Hale said, drawing his attention back. "You were full of pride, so I taught you a lesson. Speak true, and you'll be given your due once we return to my homeland."

The man shifted on his saddle, considering the offer. He swallowed when a new set of screams rose behind them. Hildan was working on another slave. "I understand. What do you want to know?"

"I heard an interesting name earlier," Hale said. "What can you tell me about the person named Jackson?"

The warrior's eyes sharpened into daggers. Shadows filled the creases on his face. "I can tell you all about him."

Rachel, Vuntha, and Chaki followed close behind Hanta as he ran along the warriors, urging them into another line. There was another scream, a series of shouts and then another rumbling growl joined the first. "What is that?" Hanta asked. He glanced back at Rachel.

She shrugged. "Don't look at me. This didn't happen when I was with them."

The warriors began to make another line. Hanta scanned their ranks, looking for something. He raised his hand to another man that passed in the opposite direction, a heavyset fighter with a big necklace of feathers and beads.

The screams and the growls kept growing. Everyone peered into the curtain of snow separating them from the iron men, trying to discern the origin of the cries from the shadows of men shifting into position. Rachel tried to ignore it, but it was like trying to ignore a VTOL engine at takeoff.

One last dying scream faded. The growls cut off. And then, there was just the wind, and the hush of snowflakes patting onto the ground.

The snow formed a fine layer of white on top of the mud. It almost rubbed away the corpses and black craters from the battle, like whiteout striking away the more gruesome passage of an old war story. But under the coating of frost were still irregular patches of scorched black and drying maroon residue. Rachel shivered.

"I think the silence is worse than the screams," Vuntha murmured.

"That's real encouraging, thanks," Rachel said, raising her head. "Why don't you talk about how many people died? That'd really pep everyone up."

Hanta shushed them. Rachel and Vuntha exchanged a glance, then shuffled their feet awkwardly. Chaki had an arrow nocked. They all looked into the distance. Still nothing. No horns, no sound.

"Chaki!" A breathy voice called out to them. "Shaka's apprentice, Chaki!"

Whatever Rachel had been expecting, it wasn't a fat, wrinkly old woman with brown strings and green-orange-blue-yellow beads flying from various parts of her dress. She looked like a moving, living turd, the sort that followed a particularly disagreeable Mexican dish.

"Drospa!" Chaki said. "Drospa, is that you? Is Jackson back?!"

The woman puffed her way to a halt beside them. "Yes, yes." She raised her palm when Chaki started in for details, begging for a little rest.

"Come on, fatty," Rachel said. "At least tell us if he's okay."

The woman brought herself to her full height, face red and frowning. Annoyingly, she was taller than Rachel. Everyone was always taller. "Excuse me?!"

She had enough breath to waste time being insulted. "Skip to the good part," Rachel said.

"You're the other one," Drospa said. "Shaka mentioned you." She eyed Rachel up and down. "Less mannered, clearly."

"I don't dick around in the bushes like that two-celled subhuman," Rachel said. "So is he okay or not?"

The apparent contradiction between Rachel's words and her concern baffled the fat woman. The fat is probably suffocating her brain.

"Rachel, this is a spirit guide, honored in our tribes," Chaki said. "I apologize, Drospa. You have to understand, they don't know our customs, our ways. I had to teach Jackson many things." She cleared her throat. "The teaching still continues. Frequently."

Rachel's mind buzzed with dozens of barbed comments, but considering everything that was going on, she decided to keep her mouth shut. Drospa threw Rachel one more disparaging look before speaking. "The rest of the spirit guides came with me; we're spreading out across the line. Shaka remains with Jackson near the mountain to heal him. He used some sort of power that exchanged his own life force for magic."

"Explains the lasers," Rachel said. "What a swell guy. Too bad all that essence fucked off somewhere. That was thousands, at least."

"I saw," Chaki said. She sighed. "Jackson feels very weak, but that explains it. I can rest easier knowing that Shaka is with him."

"Honored guide, ready yourself," Hanta said. "They're preparing some new kind of devilry. We'll need your aid."

"I am ready to give it," Drospa said. "Jackson brought great harm to his spirit to hold them off so we could reach you. It is time they learned what happens when a spirit guide blesses her warriors."

"I'm still worried about that screaming," Vuntha said. "It wasn't right."

A trumpet sounded somewhere in the snow. The thump of marching soldiers rumbled in the ground. Glowing runes appeared in front of Drospa. The arrow on Chaki's bow glowed white with the potential of an active ability waiting to be unleashed. Rachel raised her sword alongside Hanta's spears and set her feet.

"They're coming," Vuntha said.

"Man," Rachel said, "forget captain obvious. You've been promoted straight to admiral evident."

Vuntha cocked his head. "I don't understand."

"Don't worry," Rachel said. "The teaching continues. Frequently."

A new pattern of thumps rolled over them, almost like a gallop. It was faster than the marching. Growling followed, pouring over the oncoming troops like a pack of wolves. Shadows shifted in the snow.

Rachel gripped the hilt of her sword in both hands. Chaki pulled the arrow over her bow and held it, ready to fire. The warriors all leveled their spears down and out, making a bristling line of metal and wood. Rachel could feel Drospa start to draw runes.

Hulking masses of furred muscle emerged from the snow, barreling uphill out of the lines of the iron men. They pounded across the ground on all four legs. For an instant, Rachel thought they were gorillas – and then she saw the claws, the long snouts, the whiskers.

Rattok.

They dwarfed what Rachel had seen back in the caves, wild, more animalistic, if that was possible – freshly warped from human stock. They plowed through the snow, driving uphill toward the tribesmen like oncoming trucks.

Chaki's bow pulsed. Her arrow flashed out and struck at the one closest to their position. It took the beast in the arm. Its torso shifted from the force, but it didn't stop. Instead, it turned straight toward them.

"Hey, lady," Rachel said to Drospa. "Now would be a great time for some magic."

"Patience," Drospa muttered. Her fingers worked over a weave of symbols hovering over Hanta's back.

"We don't have any time!" Rachel said. "Chaki, cover me!"

Rachel rushed forward. Chaki duly started firing at the Rattok. She missed her first shot, but her second struck home, catching it in the chest. It didn't even seem to notice.

Rachel reached the monster just as another arrow buried itself next to the first. Rachel bent her legs and leapt as hard as she could, using her height to her advantage. She flew through the air at high speed, her sword held in front of her. The iron blazed white. The tip was aimed squarely at the wound on the creature's arm.

Its other arm came up and swatted her like a fly. She slammed into the frozen mud. Her sword fell a few feet away. Her throat worked as it tried to get air back into her lungs. An icon under her suddenly shrunken health bar told her she was stunned for the next five seconds.

The monster loomed over her. It raised a claw high.

A blazing blue figure slammed into the rattok. It stumbled backward, reeling. Smoke wafted from where its skin and fur was singed in a shoulder-shaped patch on its chest. "Get up!"

Rachel's status effect faded; she clambered to her feet. Hanta stood next to her. On his back was tattooed the enchantment Drospa had been creating. It shined blue, then faded into purple, then back to blue again. Rachel could feel the magical power going into it, extending back toward Drospa like the line from a kite.

"How many times do you have to charge in recklessly before you learn?" Hanta asked. "That's no way to fight." The rattok shook its body, then unleashed a huge roar at them. It began to pace in a circle around Hanta. "Get your sword," he said. "Wait for the right moment."

Rachel dashed for her weapon as the rattok closed the distance to Hanta. She snatched her blade up.

Roars and lights were exchanged all over the battlefield. She saw other men, glowing with other colors and symbols, reds, yellows, oranges, greens. They matched themselves up against the oncoming monsters, driving them into duels before they could smash into the line of the tribesmen. Archers stood ready to fire, but they couldn't target the rattok without the risk of hitting the fighters.

Rachel gaped when she saw Hanta. He flickered around the rattok like an indigo-scaled viper. His spear stung it in the legs, the arms. It turned about, slashing with its claws, but Hanta was always a step ahead. He seemed to start moving before the attacks began.

Hanta's feet slipped on the snow. The rattok's claws flashed toward him. Hanta raised his spear to defend, but it seemed like a twig held up to stop a sledgehammer. The rattok's claw struck the shaft of the weapon.

A rune flashed in front of Hanta, blossoming around the rattok's claw. Its hand sizzled; smoke and snapping sounds rose from the point of contact. The rattok shrieked and recoiled. Hanta pounced, stabbing it once, twice, three times.

The rattok regained its balance and swiped wildly, driving Hanta away. He didn't try to outpace the attack, but took his distance, letting it rage. Rachel noticed that part of his enchantment was gone – burned off by using it in defense.

Hanta began his dance again. He slipped under a claw and, choking up on his spear, dragged the steel tip along its waist, slicing deep. It roared again and pivoted, trying to catch him before he could escape.

Hanta closed his eyes. For a moment, Rachel thought he was going to take another claw in the face. Instead, a part of his enchantment flashed, then vanished. His feet blurred, and then he was several feet back, well out of range of the claw.

The rattok had its back to her. Rachel activated her new ability, Incisive, aiming again for the arm Chaki had hit before. Her blade sank into her target, and she sliced upward, cutting out through the top of its shoulder.

The arm she'd targeted fell slack. The rattok shrieked again, but this time, it was decidedly in pain, not in anger. It twisted around, swiping at Rachel, but she had the sense to make a quick escape. Hanta wasted no time in turning the creature's exposed flank into a pincushion for his spear. It's strong, but it's dumb.

The rattok ignored Hanta's attacks for a moment, concentrating on Rachel. She skipped backwards. Its attack speed was very fast – that claw swipe always came out of nowhere - but they moved about the same speed. It was easy to keep her distance.

Eventually, the rattok was fed up with chasing her. It turned back to strike at Hanta. Immediately, Rachel activated Flicker Sticker. Her blade flashed a half-dozen times, and the rattok's bleeding puncture marks multiplied.

The rattok shrieked again. It swiped at Hanta with its good arm, but its attack was sluggish. Hanta slipped around it, then jammed his spear up into its neck. The blade punctured through.

Blood spurted from the injury, but the huge beast refused to die. It grabbed the shaft of the weapon, pulling Hanta close – and then it tried to fall forward, catching him underneath it. Indigo light flashed again, and Hanta slipped out from the arm trying to bring him down with it.

When the creature hit the ground, they were both on it in a heartbeat. Rachel plunged her sword into its back; Hanta focused on his neck, his thrusts attempting to hack its head clear off. A few moments after their attack, it died.

Rachel gained 80 essence. She grinned through the mud and sweat that spotted her face. Not bad at all.

"Better," Hanta said.

"Oh shit!" Rachel said.

Hanta turned to where she was pointing. One of the warriors had been caught by two of the monsters. One of them held him in its grip. Red lights flashed and burned, but the creature growled and ignored the pain. Its partner leaned in and opened its jaws.

There was a sickening crunch as the man's head was bitten off. The enchantments flickered and failed. The corpse slumped over. The two rattok turned to face them. The one finished chewing on the skull and swallowed it down. Their snouts curled up around their jagged teeth as they started forward toward Rachel and Hanta.

The lines of the two armies rested while their champions fought to decide advantage for the next round. Both Rattok and enchanted warriors both were dead, their bodies scattered through the light snow.

Rachel glanced at Hanta. His enchantment was less than half the size it was when they started. "Can you get that thing recharged?" Rachel asked.

"Drospa used everything she had for this," Hanta said. "It's all I have."

"I don't know if we can take two," Rachel said.

"We have no choice," Hanta said. "Ready yourself."

Rachel and Hanta stood side to side. Friendly arrows flew at the two rattok as they came on. The tough hide of the monsters repelled most of them; those that struck home were superficial wounds. One of the rattok reached up to its arm, snapping away an arrow that was stuck there and tossing it aside.

"I'll take the one on the left," Hanta said. "You're light on your feet. Lead the other far away, see if you can tire it out. Try to circle back and attack mine from its blind spot."