Rick Cook - The Wizardry Quested

"Your part approaches, Lady," Bal-Simba told her. The others have assembled in the great hall."

Gilligan nodded to the Chief Watcher. "You have the watch."

Erus inclined his head and stepped to the tank to watch and issue whatever further instructions might be necessary.

As he followed the others out the door Gilligan’s feelings were decidedly mixed. His training told him he was abandoning his post at a critical time, but his reason told him there was nothing more he could do. Unlike a controller in his own world he didn’t have the capability to shape the battle from here on out. The forces were launched and everything depended on the execution. Now he could go kick ass with impunity.

Gilligan wasn’t the introspective sort so it never occurred to him to wonder how much of his decision was reason and how much was the driving need to actually do something.

Perhaps fortunately, he was gone by the time the tank showed the zombies closing in on Karin and Senta.

Over the sea north of the City of Night a new battle was shaping up. The Enemy launched the last of its forces to meet the incoming squadrons.

The zombie squadrons bore north in ragged formation. These were the scrapings of the Enemy’s aerie and many of the dragons and riders were so badly damaged they could barely fly, much less maintain formation. Still, under command of their guiding intelligence they all climbed and circled as best they could. The League dragons came on in a smooth squadron weave. The defenders had height on them and the sun at their backs. Wings locked, they dove on the intruders. A blast of dragon fire and a spark went tumbling from the sky. Another blast and another scrap of burning parchment went fluttering seaward.

In quick succession they knocked a dozen more "dragons" from the sky, all scraps of parchment.

That was proof enough even for zombies. As one they turned away from the drones and ran for the City of Night.

It was already too late.

The dragon cavalry of the League had trickled south under a cloaking spell, giving wide berth to the City of Night. Now they swept in around the volcano and over the City of Night on its slopes. Wing on wing of dragons soared above the Enemy’s city and strafed anything that moved on the ground with bursts of dragon fire. The Enemy’s aeries were empty and no dragons rose to oppose them. The zombies that trickled south from the decoy missions arrived in dribs and drabs and were easily burned from the air by dragon fire.

The great hall was not merely full, it was jammed. The eight wizards who would send the storming party on its way were pushed back against the wall by the crush. Besides a twenty-foot dragon, most of the castle guard was mustered, armed and ready, and another dozen or so wizards were scattered among them. Mick Gilligan was toward the center with his new pistol. Taking up half the space was a knot of 127 dwarves gathered close around their long and as far from the dragon as they could manage.

Kuznetsov and Vastly came pushing through the crush to stand next to Gilligan. From somewhere the Russians had come up with powder blue berets, striped jerseys and fatigues in a pattern of camouflage that Mick found just a little disconcerting.

"Brings back old memories, eh?" Kuznetsov said as they positioned themselves. Around them the wizards raised their staffs and began to chant.

The Colt had sunk quickly, leaving only a small oil slick behind. Charlie had managed to launch the life raft before the plane disappeared, but with the zombie air force overhead Charlie had hidden under it rather than riding in it. The undead riders had made pass after pass on the bright yellow raft, tearing it to waterlogged shreds with their arrows. Then, as one, they had wheeled and headed south, leaving Charlie alone in the water.

As the last of the enemy dragons disappeared into the clouds, Charlie inflated his life jacket and surveyed his situation. He was hundreds of miles from land and already the chill of the water was starting to creep through his exposure suit. He had no food, no radio and nothing with which to call for help.

"Son," he said to the empty ocean. "It don’t get any more sporty than this." Then he saw dorsal fins slicing toward him.

The whole purpose of the operation was simply to distract the Enemy for just this instant. Distraction enough so it wouldn’t notice that Moira was arriving with company. Or what that company was carrying.

Although the Enemy was naturally multi-tasking, each new assault had spread it thinner and thinner. From the very beginning Watchers had been scrutinizing parts of it, judging its reactions, looking for signs of slowdown and confusion. When they came, when Bal-Simba judged the time was right, a dozen wizards struck against the Enemy’s defenses to push the attackers through.

They were in an enormous echoing room in total darkness. Glow lights floated up from a dozen wizards simultaneously and the group realized they were standing in a gigantic limestone cavern. Even with a dozen lights the illumination barely reached to the edges of the room and threw eerie shadows into the parts it didn’t quite penetrate.

According to plan the group divided up. Following separate magic detectors, Moira, Bal-Simba and half the guardsmen went one way, Jerry, Taj, the Russians and the rest of the guards went another. The dwarves formed into a column and marched off in their own direction.

"How do you think they will do?" Jerry asked the guardsman nearest him as they looked after the dwarves.

The man rubbed his chin where his chain mail coif met his jawline. "Either turn and run at the first opportunity or break off and start looting."

"Well then?"

The guardsman shrugged "So we send them off independent. Can’t hurt, should draw some of the Enemy off us." He paused, considering. They may even do some damage."

"I still don’t like this," Taj said to Jerry as the other parties moved off.

"Neither do we, but we don’t have much time to search. This way we have a better chance of finding either Moira’s body or Wiz and his group before the Enemy can seriously oppose us."

"Besides," Kuznetsov said, "this will confuse Dushmann. If we move quickly," he added significantly.

Terry took the hint, checked his homing crystal and ordered his group to move out down a side passage.

"Sharp lookout now," Tosig Longbeard commanded. "And mind those side rooms. They might have something in them."

As the humans scattered in response to their magic detectors, the dwarves worked through the dungeons more methodically, checking each room and nook for j valuables. Thus they moved more slowly and were closer to the arrival point when the Enemy’s first counter-attack struck.

"Something’s coming," Durgrim told his King.

"Sound the recall," Tosig ordered and looked around him.

It wasn’t an ideal situation. Rather than being in a snug tunnel, the dwarves were in another large room where the enemy could come at them from all sides.

"Light," the dwarf long commanded, and the blackness of the cavern gave way to the twilight gloom dwarves prefer to daylight.

As the last of the dwarves scurried back to the safety of their fellows, Tosig’s breath caught in his throat. From all sides ragged lines of shambling, twitching undead warriors were converging on the little band of dwarves.

Against human foes it might have worked. But dwarves are tougher than mortals and bonny fighters beside.

"Steady the shield wall," Tosig bellowed "Here they come."

As if by instinct, the dwarves crowded into a tight circle two-deep in the middle of the cavern. Those in front dropped to one knee with their round shields before them. The rear rank shrugged their shields off their arms and stood behind the protection of their comrades’ shield wall with both hands on their axe shafts.