David Brin - The Practice Effect

One of the “officers” barked an order. A detachment of men hurried off eastward into the trees beside the road. There was a long wait, followed by a series of loud noises— clangings and loud screams. Then, a little while later, a messenger came running back into camp.

The courier hurried over to the fat man in red, who was taking no chances, huddled beside a tree nearby.

Brady crawled to the edge of his own tree where he could listen.

“…ambush coverin’ a turn in th’ road. I guess one of ’em musta got impatient, waitin’ for us, and sprang th’ trap early. That was a lucky break for us. But we’re still stuck here until we can get word to our army.”

The fat man in red, the one called “Hoss’k,” licked his lips nervously.

“We used our last pigeon to inform my lord Kremer that we had captured another alien wizard! How shall we get a message through, then?”

The officer shrugged. “I’ll send a dozen men in different directions after dark. All we need is for just one to get past ’em.”

Brady crawled back around his tree and sat there a long moment, blinking. His comfortable theories dissolved around him, and he was left with a confusing, dangerous reality.

I didn’t want to come here in the first place! he complained silently to the universe.

He sighed. I should never have let Gabbie talk me into volunteering!

“My Lord, we have received a message from Deacon Hoss’k. He is on his way to North Pass now. He claims to have found—”

Baron Kremer turned and snarled, “Not now! Send word to the fool to stay where he is and not to get in the way of the northern force!”

The messenger bowed quickly and ducked out of the tent. Kremer turned back to his officers. “Proceed. Tell me what is being done to clear Ruddik Valley of the floating monsters.”

Kremer had only just arrived, as the new day dawned, by three-man glider. His head throbbed and he felt just a little sick. His subordinates sensed that he had a short fuse, and they hurried to comply.

“My Lord, we were stopped yesterday by the coming of night. But Count Feif-dei’s forces are now closing in upon the two monsters remaining on the southern rim of the canyon. We are going to provide heavy air support, assisted by the reinforcements you ordered sent from the other fronts.

“As soon as the last two southern monsters are eliminated, well be able to assault the ridge beyond. It will be costly, but the L’Toff positions will then be untenable. They will have to fall back, and the remaining four monsters on the northern slope will then be surrounded. There will be nothing they can do.”

“And how many gliders will have been lost by then?” the Baron asked.

“Oh, not many, my Lord. Perhaps fifteen or twenty.”

Kremer slumped into a chair. “Not many…” He sighed. “My brave, lucky pilots… so many. A quarter, almost a third lost, and none at all left to support the northern force.”

“But your Majesty, the monsters will all be gone. And by now the L’Toff and the Scouts are fully engaged on all fronts. A breakthrough anywhere, and we shall have them! That is especially true here. If we cut through to the west today, it will split the enemy in half!”

Kremer looked up. He saw enthusiasm on the faces of his officers, and he began to feel it himself once again.

“Yes!” he said. “Have the reinforcements brought up. Let us go to the head of the Ruddik and watch this historic victory!”

When morning came, Dennis and Linnora lay side by side, wrapped in one of Surah Sigel’s blankets on the sandy bank, watching the sun rise over the bank of eastern clouds.

Dennis’s muscles felt like limp rags that had been all used up. Only here on Tatir a rag that was so thoroughly used wouldn’t be in as bad shape as he was. It would only be getting better at cleaning up.

Nearby he heard Arth doing his best to throw together a breakfast from the scraps left over from Surah’s larder.

Linnora sighed, resting her head on Dennis’s chest. He was content just to drift, semiconscious in the soft, sweet aroma of her hair. He knew they would have to start thinking about a way off of this plateau soon. But right now he was reluctant to break the peaceful feeling.

Arth coughed nearby. Dennis heard the fellow shuffle near the edge of the precipice, mutter unhappily for a moment, then walk back to the trees.

“Uh, Dennizz?”

Dennis did not lift the arm from over his face. “What is it, Arth?”

“Dennizz, I think you’d better have a look at somethin’.”

Dennis uncovered his eyes. He saw that Arth was pointing to the west.

“Will you stop doing that?” Dennis asked as he and Linnora sat up. He couldn’t quite quash a feeling of irritation toward Arth’s penchant for pointing out bad news.

Arth was gesturing toward the ridge they had fallen from as dusk fell yesterday, with arrows slicing through the air around them. According to Dennis’s wrist-comp, it had been less than ten summer hours since they had plunged over that cliff, straight into the heart of the Practice Effect.

Dennis could hear faint sounds of fighting from that direction. A dust plume of battle rose from the ridgeline above them. The cloud seemed to be moving slowly, inexorably southward.

The L’Toff were clearly being pushed back.

But that wasn’t what concerned Arth. He pointed to a place just behind and below the dust of battle. Dennis looked carefully at the ridge face, illuminated by the rising sun. Then he saw them.

A small detachment of men had dropped away from the fighting on the heights. They were working their way downslope along the slash in the cliff that a spring waterfall had gradually made. They were descending carefully, belaying each other with ropes over the steeper parts.

So Kremer’s troops weren’t letting go yet. They knew how badly their Lord wanted the fugitives and had sent a contingent to chase them, even to this lonely plateau.

Dennis estimated they would be here in a little more than two hours, perhaps three.

Linnora touched his shoulder. Dennis turned around, and winced when he saw that she was pointing now, as well!

You too? He looked at her accusingly before following her gesture.

Off in the south, where she indicated, something bright moved against the sky. Several somethings. He envied Linnora her prodigious eyesight.

“What…?”

Then he knew. The bigger object was a balloon, drifting in the morning light. Its great gas bag was aflame, and several dark, malign objects darted and swooped about it, closing in for the kill.

So. In spite of a brief, peaceful respite, the battle still raged around them on many fronts. It would be best to get off this mesa before Kremer’s rangers made it down here. It might also be desirable to see what their little band of adventurers could do to help the good guys.

And Dennis thought he just might have a way.

He drew out the sharp, hundred-year-old knife Surah Sigel had given him, and turned to Linnora and Arth.

“I want both of you to find me a big piece of sturdy wood, about so thick by so long.” He indicated with his hands.

When Arth started to ask questions, Dennis merely shrugged. “I want to do some carving,” was all he would say.

Linnora and Arth looked at each other. More magic, they thought, nodding. They turned without another word, and hurried into the brush to look for what the wizard wanted.

When they returned they found the Earthman deep in conversation…partly with himself and partly with his metal demon. He had pulled the glider to within a few feet of the edge of the cliff and installed the robot underneath it once again. A pile of gear lay on the sand beside the craft.