David Brin - The Practice Effect

Above them all, the little Krenegee beast purred, amplifying the queer resonance that seemed to glow around them like an aura. The afternoon felt crystalline, like a faceted gem, and the use of the cart became like a complicated dance to music just beyond the edge of hearing.

Clearly they were getting better at working together to make the practice trance work.

It gave Dennis a strange sense of exhilaration. Through the pixolet, he could almost feel Linnora’s thoughts as she concentrated. It seemed to tie them together, somehow closer than they otherwise might have been. Arth, too, became part of the matrix, although the Krenegee did not focus upon the little thief quite as much.

Dennis caught occasional glimpses of Pix perched upon its drooping sails. The creature grinned, enjoying the flow of purpose that flooded through it into the machine their lives depended on.

And it was changing. Dennis pushed the cart until he found he had to run simply to hang on! At the top of a steep rise he ordered the robot to stop, and he climbed aboard up front to take the reins from Linnora. The straps, he found, had grown softer and easier to hold.

He was about to start off again when Arth nudged his shoulder and pointed. Dust rose from the trail behind them. Only a mile or so off, they could see another troop of horsemen, followed by a seemingly endless column of foot soldiers, winding along the mountainside.

Trapped! They couldn’t afford to go much faster, or they’d catch up with the units ahead of them. But to slow down would be disastrous!

“I’m going to take down these blasted sails,” Dennis said. “Look at how they’re drooping. They’ll just attract attention, and there never was much wind, anyway.”

Linnora stopped him. “Don’t, Dennis. I am certain they have helped us remain stable and have slowed us safely over a few of those steep downhill stretches, although I admit I don’t understand why. I am sure the cart is practiced for them by now. Removing them would only hurt.”

Dennis could only trust her fey second sense. He kissed her quickly, then turned forward and told the robot to proceed.

They sped off down the mountain road.

Less than a mile farther on, they rounded a corner to sweep by a squad of resting cavalrymen. There were at least ten surprised faces, caught in a blur as the cart fluttered past like some great running bird. Men dove to both sides to get out of the way, tumbling in the dusty slope. Shouts followed the fugitives and soon there were charging troopers after them.

Dennis concentrated on his steering. The cart was already screaming along faster than ever. This time, however, he felt he was in control. In the grip of the practicing trance, he felt lightheaded and powerful.

Let ’em follow! They can eat our dust!

He heard Arth laugh from the back of the car, taunting their pursuers. Linnora was singing softly, an old warriors’ song, with a strong beat and tone of defiance. It wove itself into the trance they shared. Dennis shouted in exhilaration.

The road turned then, and they came into sight of a battle.

Just ahead, in a flat clearing between the hills, the first fighting was taking place.

It looked like the invaders had caught a party of L’Toff by surprise. About fifty of Kremer’s cavalrymen rode around a harried band of warriors dressed in faded green. The mountain men defended themselves in a disciplined manner with their pikes. No horseman dared approach too closely. But neither could the spearmen withdraw. And from their nervous glances to the north, it was clear they knew the rest of the invading army was not far away.

The defenders looked up in consternation as Dennis drove the car over the lip of the hill. A few cavalrymen, expecting nothing but help from that quarter, shouted in triumph.

The shouts turned to dismay as a great flapping juggernaut zoomed down on them. Dennis had no choice but to head into the thick of them. The ground on the right was too rocky, and on the left, only a dozen meters away, was a steep drop-off.

The cavalry horses were well trained, but not for anything like this whirring, flapping contraption! They screamed and bolted, carrying their hapless riders in every direction.

Dennis could sense Arth, standing up in the rear of the bouncing cart, striking out right and left with a staff and yelling with all his might. One knight who charged alongside seemed about to slash at the broad sails with his battle-ax, but just in time Arth’s swinging pole knocked him completely off his horse.

A glimpse behind told Dennis that more of Kremer’s soldiers were coming. And about a quarter mile ahead, a large contingent of green-clad fighters was approaching from the south, to the rescue of the beleaguered pikemen. A fair-sized battle was brewing.

He urged the robot to speed up. Their only chance was to get beyond the fighting, quickly!

Swerving hard to the left, Dennis struggled to avoid a collision, sending another pair of horses rearing in panic in their dusty wake.

If their sudden appearance had thrown off the invaders’ tempo and enabled a few defenders to escape, that was all to the good. But Dennis’s top priority was to get the cart to the other side of this little vale intact. Once beyond, they would be safely behind friendly lines. They could ride unopposed all the way to Linnora’s home!

He felt something move between his legs. He glanced down and saw the pixolet grin back at him from deep within the cart, out of harm’s way. The little Krenegee clearly knew how to take care of its own skin.

On looking up again, Dennis cursed quickly and slewed hard to the left. The wagon swept past a cluster of frightened pikemen, missing the stunned soldiers by the breadth of one of the sails.

“Dennizz!” Arth flailed. Dropping the quarterstaff, he plopped down into the cart. “Dennizz, where are you goin?”

“Where do you think I’m— Oh, no! Robot! Full reverse!”

The little machine tried to comply. Its treads screamed. Clouds of dust rose from below them.

The steep slope before them had been hidden by a thin hedge of shrubs beside the road. They plowed straight through the narrow barrier in a shower of branches. Then they were over, rushing pell-mell down a forty-degree embankment!

“Aaaaagh!” he heard Arth say.

“Hoooyyy!” Linnora contributed.

Dennis struggled to steer as the cart bounced and flew downslope, “Slow down!” he urged loudly. He practiced slowing the descent as hard as he could and could feel the others doing the same.

“Slow down!”

Ahead, less than a hundred meters away, was the edge of a precipice. And there didn’t seem to be any way to stop in time.

“Now, remember what I told you all!” Gath shouted at the other aeronauts. From the undercarriages of ten bobbing balloons came cries of assent.

Gath turned and gave thumbs up to Stivyung Sigel, riding the lead balloon of the south contingent. The big farmer nodded. He brought his hands to his mouth.

“Cast off!” There were two trumpet calls.

Axes split the tethers. Sandbags dropped. Hands spread fresh coals onto the smoldering fires beneath the open bags. One by one, the bright balloons rose past the tall trees and into the sky.

They had waited long for a favorable wind. At last one had come that blew the right way but that would not force them past the battle too soon.

Underneath rode a convoy of support troops ready to catch anchoring ropes when the time came to tether the lighter-than-air flotilla.

Gath was filled with excitement. To be aloft and in action was wonderful after all the waiting. It was a vindication of all the work he and Stivyung had put in with the L’Toff makers and practicers.