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Authors: David Sherman

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Lord Lackland was accorded everything he needed to bring demons under his control and to bend them to the uses of the Jokapcul army. The tomes he is reputed to have conjured, once interpreted, are said to have given the Jokapcul army strength far in excess of the power held by any other army of any time or place.

Lord Lackland possessed another area of knowledge that was of value to the Jokapcul—geography. Jokapcul knowledge of the geography and peoples of other lands was, as Lord Lackland quickly learned, abysmal. The High Shoton, upon being appraised of the geographical knowledge possessed by Lord Lackland, commanded his geographers to meet with him for the purpose of determining whether his knowledge was of value to Jokapcul raiders. The geographers, following lengthy consultation with Lord Lackland, concluded that they had a great deal to learn from him of the lands into which the raiders went.

A story has circulated that the High Shoton one day asked Lord Lackland why he would aid the Jokapcul by making them better soldiers and providing them with hitherto unknown magic and geographical knowledge, thus making them more threatening to the mainlanders, of whom he was one. Lord Lackland replied that he desired to overthrow the unjust rule of King Honritu and claim his own rightful position as King of Matilda, a position denied him by the basest accident of birth. The High Shoton is said to have feigned amusement at the explanation.

As for the High Shoton himself, he foresaw a campaign of world conquest that would distract the clan chiefs and other disaffected personages of Jokapcul from their grievances with him. Moreover, he is thought to have concluded that if it became known to the nation-states being invaded that Lord Lackland was behind or connected with the invasions, that knowledge would deflect some of their anger from Jokapcul and might cause rifts among the nation-states of Nunimar, thereby weakening their ability to join forces together against the conquering armies of Jokapcul, whose armies would consequently attain greater and more rapid success in their campaigns. It is probable that the High Shoton saw great gain for himself in a public and widely known alliance between himself and Lord Lackland; he cancelled the planned, albeit unscheduled, execution of Lord Lackland and agreed to ally with him.

But the alliance between the High Shoton and Lord Lackland was not bandied abroad for several years, during which time the tomes were interpreted and their knowledge and magic incorporated into Jokapcul tactics.

When the High Shoton was assured by his kamazai, his geographers, and by Lord Lackland, that all was in readiness, he ordered the first invasion of Nunimar that was more than a coastal raid. That invasion wasn’t made against the Kingdom of Matilda, which would have accomplished the stated objective of enthroning Lord Lackland as king of his natal kingdom. Instead it was conducted against the Duchy of Rumpole, directly to the south of Matilda. That accomplished several things for the High Shoton: it served as a method of proving the new tactics and the magic of his army, one that would not prove too costly should it go awry; the Duchy of Rumpole was much weaker than was Matilda; and a successful invasion there would drive a physical wedge between Matilda and the coastal city-states along the fringes of the Impenetrable Jungle on the southwestern coast of Nunimar. Success would also mean that the sea lanes of communication between Matilda in the north and Bostia and the Kondive Islands to the south would be disrupted. In addition, victory in Rumpole would allow a wedge to be driven between Matilda and the Land of the Dwarves and Elfwood-Between-the-Rivers, inland from it. It is unlikely, however, that the High Shoton entertained any notion of driving a wedge between Matilda and the High Steppes, where Matilda and the nomads were in a near constant state of war. Lord Lackland was positioned prominently as leader of the invasion. To make the invasion look as if it were inspired by the Kingdom of Matilda, the kamazai commanding the expedition left his proper rank at home and took the title of general, and had it broadcast about that he was a mercenary in the employ of Honritu. According to travelers’ tales and other reports—not all of which are to be accorded equal credence—during the years of preparation for the invasion of Rumpole, Lord Lackland’s ambition grew from becoming king of Matilda to becoming emperor of all of western Nunimar.

For a time the subterfuge worked; the earliest reports of the large-scale invasions on the western coast of Nunimar and on the southwestern coast and the seaways laid them at the feet of Good King Honritu. The subterfuge proved so successful that to this day the Kingdom of Matilda is roundly condemned for its part in the invasions and largely isolated diplomatically. Thus, one of the strongest and most capable nation-states in the civilized world is unable to bring its might in concert with other nation-states to fight off the Jokapcul invasion.

 

NOTE: As were the earlier papers by this author on the subject of the Jokapcul attempt at the conquest of Nunimar, this paper has been based on official dispatches, traveler’s tales, and the author’s three decades of study of matters Jokapculian. In addition to which sources are added confessions extracted from Jokapcul soldiers taken prisoner during military operations in western and southwestern Nunimar.

The author also wishes to note at this time that there was a distressing amount of negative comment about the nonscholarly tone of his earlier paper (
Proceedings
. . . Vol. 57, No. 6), despite the fact that it was clearly labeled a “speculation.” A speculation is exactly that. It was the author’s intent to inform his readers as to what might have transpired; it was not an attempt at a fully accurate and scholarly biography, which is impossible under the circumstances. It is the author’s hope that the more pedantic tone of this paper will quell such negative response to this paper, which in any event is based more on confirmable sources than was the previous paper. (MM)

 

V
NO OUTLET

 

CHAPTER
TWENTY

During the afternoon of the sixth day, the forest changed as the small party paralleled the north-south highway. The trees were the same mix of oaks, elms, hemlocks, and their denseness seemed the same. It was the presence—absence, really—of life that changed. When the sun was at its apex, they saw a tree-grazing deer, then didn’t glimpse another the rest of the day. They saw their last hare an hour or two later. Even the wolf disappeared from their ken. The farther they went, the less they heard the melodious twirring and chitting of songbirds, until the only birdcalls were the occasional caws of carrion eaters, which grew nearer as they continued south. Tension rose among them, and their pace slowed almost imperceptibly until they were advancing at little more than a creep.

Haft was the first to dismount. He armed his crossbow as he and Spinner communicated with looks and a few gestures. Spinner nodded, and Haft led the way on foot, his eyes probing every nearby shadow, his gaze peering as far into the distance as the trees allowed, crossbow aimed wherever his eyes looked. Spinner, riding the first in line behind Haft, also armed his crossbow as he too stared into the distance and probed the shadows, scanning the crossbow over the range of his vision. He made sure his quarterstaff was loose in its ties. Doli made to ride knee-to-knee with Spinner, and appeared offended when, without looking at her, he brusquely pushed her away and gestured one-handed for her to follow. She gnawed her lip in wide-eyed nervousness, then fell back with the other women. Zweepee hunched over her saddle to make herself even smaller and more inconspicuous than she was and rode tight with the other women. The Golden Girl rode erect, looking about alertly; the hand at the hilt of her knife flexed as though it wanted a sword. Fletcher, as alert as the two Marines, brought up the rear with an arrow nocked in his longbow; he looked backward as often as he looked to the sides, and seldom bothered to look to his front.

In late afternoon Haft froze at the edge of a large clearing then dropped to one knee behind a bush. Spinner instantly raised his hand for the others to stop. He dismounted and gave his reins to the nearest hands, which, as they most often were, happened to be Doli’s.

“Wait here,” he said quietly. He unlimbered his quarterstaff, held his crossbow ready, and cat-footed to where Haft knelt.

Neither man spoke. What made Haft stop was evident to Spinner even before he reached him. They remained quiet for a time, watching and listening carefully. The clearing was littered with corpses. Vultures hopped about, tearing chunks of flesh from the bodies with great hooked beaks then lifting their heads to the sky as they swallowed. Save for leaves ruffled by vagrant breezes, nothing else moved. The only other sound was the heavy buzz of flies. Spinner and Haft breathed through their mouths to reduce the smell of putrefaction. The faint breeze came from behind them, which explained why they hadn’t smelled the carnage earlier.

After a few moments of watching and listening, Spinner stood. “I’ll tell the others and send them around,” he said.

“Then we’ll go in?” Haft asked.

Spinner nodded reluctantly.

Suddenly, there was a flash of gray and both men went into a crouch, threw their crossbows to their shoulders and sighted into the clearing. Spinner recognized the wolf and didn’t fire; Haft’s quarrel just missed the wolf as it bowled through a knot of buzzards squabbling over the viscera of a corpse. Spinner watched in amazement as the growling wolf raced about the clearing, scattering the vultures and chasing them into ponderous flight. Haft rearmed his crossbow and took aim again at the wolf, but Spinner hit the side of the crossbow just as Haft’s finger closed on the trigger.

“Why’d you do that?” Haft shouted angrily, and began drawing the string back again.

Spinner clamped a hand on Haft’s wrist and said, “
Look
at what the wolf is doing.”

Growling, lunging, and snapping, the wolf pursued the vultures, chasing them away from the corpses. Two of the slower carrion eaters lay motionless on the ground, and another flopped in tight circles around a broken wing.

“So? He just wants the bodies for himself,” Haft snarled. “He’ll eat his fill, then leave the rest of the bodies for the vultures.”

“I don’t think so,” Spinner said. “Wait.”

A few seconds more and another vulture was down, its chest crushed by the wolf’s jaws. By then the rest had heaved their way into the treetops around the clearing, where they screamed down at the wolf. The wolf trotted one brisk lap around the bodies in the clearing, looking up at the vultures, then stopped briefly at the far side of the clearing, seemed to look directly to where Spinner and Haft were concealed behind the bush and nod at them. With a parting growl directed at the buzzards, it melted into the trees.

“He was chasing the vultures away for us,” Spinner said softly.

Haft gripped his crossbow fiercely, still angry because Spinner had prevented him from killing the predator. “Next you’re going to say he was showing respect for our dead.”

Spinner didn’t reply, but that was exactly what he was thinking. He rose to his feet. “I’ll tell the others and send them around.”

“What is it?” Doli asked.

“There was a fight in a clearing ahead of us,” Spinner said.

Fletcher was slowly looking around, scanning the surrounding forest. He spared Spinner a quick glance but otherwise remained vigilant. Zweepee looked numb.

“A lot of bodies ahead,” Spinner said. “The clearing’s less than fifty paces wide. Haft and I will search it and see what we can learn. Fletcher, lead the women around the clearing. Wait for us two hundred paces beyond.”

“I’ll go with you,” Alyline said before he could turn back toward the clearing. She dismounted and handed her reins to Zweepee. “There may be something I can use for fresh garments.” She made a face. “I’ve been wearing my costume for more than a week without opportunity to clean it.”

“Don’t,” Spinner said. “There was butchery. And vultures got to the bodies. I don’t think there’s any clothing left that anyone can wear. If there is, I’ll bring it to you. Get back on your horse and go with the others.”

“I’ll decide for myself if there’s anything I can use.” She brushed past him, striding to the clearing.

Spinner sighed and shook his head, but didn’t try again to dissuade her; that would just ensure that she’d do it.

Fletcher looked at her back and muttered, “Someday that woman will get herself into trouble.”

Doli sniffed and looked darts at Alyline’s back. “I suspect that’s how she became a slave in the first place.”

Zweepee, more practical and without the personal interest in Alyline’s actions that Doli seemed to have, said simply, “Let’s go.” She turned her horse to go around the clearing. Fletcher trotted ahead to lead the way.

Doli looked at Spinner. “Take care of yourself,” she said softly.

Without a sideways glance, Spinner said, “I will,” and followed Alyline. He held his crossbow ready when he entered the clearing. The vultures greeted their appearance with loud caws but didn’t dare drop down to resume their meal; in addition to the men, the wolf was looking up at them from the shadow of a tree.

It looked to have been a small battle, as battles went, but to the men who fought it and remained in the clearing, it was the biggest, most meaningful battle they’d ever been in. If the corpses left to rot were indication, it had been a one-sided fight; judging by the uniforms, the bodies were all from the same army. Their mottled green tunics bore a rose emblem over the heart. Spinner and Haft had both ported in Zobra City more than once; they knew the emblem of the Principality of Zobra. The mottled green was the uniform of the prince’s warders, the soldiers who guarded the land’s borders.

“Nothing,” Haft muttered, kicking at a divot lifted during the battle. He examined one of the corpses. One arm was half chopped off, there were massive cuts in the chest, a wide hole all the way through its belly, a leg missing, and the face mutilated. The corpse he looked at was typical. “They did most of this after the fight was over,” he muttered. “They won, and then they did this to the men they had beaten.” He squatted to look more closely at another body and probed an arrow wound with a finger. “This one was already dead when they shot him again.” He spat in disgust. “Barbarians!”

BOOK: Demontech: Onslaught
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