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One of the smaller pavilions burned and then exploded with an enormous concussion. Flames belched out, knocking the nearby monsters flat. Others ran about, beating at fire on their garments. The Black Falcons had destroyed part of the supply of firepowder as well. Drodanis grinned -- an unexpected plus. "Ride!" he shouted again. His horse, deafened by the explosions, obliged easily and charged toward the rocky path. Drodanis let the horse lead itself because the flames had dazzled his own eyes. The other riders jumped back out, striking and slashing as the monster horde scurried into motion. The creatures gathered their weapons and ran after the attackers. Drodanis didn't look back. He saw four Black Falcons ahead of him galloping down the quest-path. He heard other riders behind, mixed with the snarls and shouts of pursuing monsters. They rode long and hard, knowing their horses could easily outdistance most of Siryyk's fighters. The dawn grew brighter, but the narrow trail forced them to pick their path with care. Below, still in deep shadow, gurgled the rushing stream; the sheer cliffs forced them to continue in single file. The monsters might be able to catch up, but the riders could battle well on this narrow path. Drodanis didn't gain distance too rapidly. He wanted Siryyk to see exactly where they had come from. Seeing only a few riders, the manticore would suspect vengeance-seeking survivors from their earlier skirmish with the Black Falcons -- and would follow straight into the waiting arms of Delrael's army hidden on top of the bluffs. file:///K|/eMule/Incoming/Kevin%20J%20Anderson%20-%20Game%2003%20-%20Game's%20End.txt (9 of 16)8-12-2006 23:21:01 file:///K|/eMule/Incoming/Kevin%20J%20Anderson%20-%20Game%2003%20-%20Game's%20End.txt Drodanis looked ahead and behind as they moved along. He counted eighteen. "We lost two, then," he said. The rider ahead turned back and nodded. "Acceptable losses." Drodanis watched the still-burning fires in Siryyk's encampment. Not many of the monsters seemed to be following them. They were probably getting together for a massive march. Just as Drodanis had hoped. He felt exuberant. He wondered how he could have stayed away from the Game for so long. He felt more important now than he had since before Fielle and Cayon had died. He'd forgotten why he was a character on Gamearth. Now he remembered what it was all about. Blood spattered his face, and his arms ached from the effort of the fight, but Drodanis grinned. He would not have traded this night for anything. * * * * Siryyk the manticore stood with his lips peeled back. Anger made a deep gurgle in his throat as he tried, but failed, to find words that expressed his outrage. Whoever kept attacking them seemed to have only a few fighters -- but still Siryyk's army continued to fail. A third of his fighters burned to death in a forest fire, then seventy three monsters killed by a group of black-clad human riders. After the human riders had fled, Siryyk himself had counted the fallen enemy. Ten humans! They had killed seventy three monsters and lost only ten of their own! Now all of Siryyk's supplies were burning after another attack. His scorpion tail blazed blue. He padded forward to a blazing tent and clawed away the fabric that sheltered their meat and grain. The fire burned his fingers, but he didn't feel it. He winced as he attempted to hurl smoking sacks away from the blaze. His head ached and burned, and the vision in one eye seemed milky. Siryyk knew that his entire face swelled and festered from the venomous smoke Enrod had blasted into his eyes. Another twenty of Siryyk's fighters had died then. Scartaris had controlled all their minds when he assembled the tremendous horde -- but Scartaris had apparently not deemed it necessary to create an army of fighters with minimal skill or intelligence. General Korux came up to him. "Siryyk, we have located the ones who attacked us. We can see them on a quest-path going across the cliff. Do you wish us to follow them?" The manticore whirled. Other monsters leaped out of the way of his swinging electric tail. "Of course!" But then he stopped. "No, show me." Korux led him to the edge of the plateau, where he looked into the growing dawn to see tiny figures working their way along the sheer rock wall. "Bring me Professor Verne instead. Have a Slac team bring the cannon around to the edge. Do we have any firepowder left?" "We lost half of it, but I made sure it was not all stored together. Just in case of such an incident." He rubbed his rough hands together as if congratulating himself. "We still have enough to fire the cannon several times." "Do it, then." Siryyk paced and watched as the huge black cylinder trimmed with frilly bronze "stabilizing struts" rolled forward on its tall wheels. The Slac steered it and tilted its barrel toward the black figures fleeing along the cliff wall. Korux came up with his scaled hand warpped into the folds of Professor Verne's torn shirt. The professor shivered and struggled. His hands were bound behind him and bled at the wrists. Since his escape attempt, they had kept Verne bound and hidden most of the time. Siryyk flared his nostrils. How ironic it would have been if the human fighters had burned the tent and killed the professor. "I thought you might like to watch," the manticore said. "We're going to test your cannon on a real target." Verne saw the escaping riders and stammered, but he apparently could think of nothing to say. "Why are they moving so slowly?" Siryyk asked. He felt suspicion growing in him. "Gives us time to load the cannon," Korux said. He gestured at the Slac who were already pouring firepowder into the breech and hoisting up one of the huge cannonballs. "Aim high," Siryyk said. "It's a long distance. And we must strike the right place to cause the most damage." The Slac team took turns sighting along the barrel, adjusting and readjusting. Korux finally stood behind the cannon, nodded, and went back to one of the scattered campfires. He returned carrying a burning brand in his hand. "It's ready, Siryyk." "Any advice, Professor?" the manticore asked. Verne mumbled, and then shrugged. "Fire the cannon if you like, but it will fail. Your powder is damp and cold. You could damage the cannon by using it now." Siryyk laughed. "A nice try, Professor. But ridiculous. Korux -- you may fire!" The Slac general brought the end of his brand to the touch-hole, then dropped it and leaped backward, covering his ears. A huge explosion knocked the cannon backward a full ten feet, rolling over one of the Slac and crushing his legs. Siryyk decided he would have to remember to chock the wheels with stones next time. He stared across the gorge with his one good eye. It would take a second or two for the ball to find its target. The time stretched out, longer and longer. He saw the distant explosion well before he heard the crack and rumble of impact. Directly above the line of human fighters, the cannonball struck the overhanging rock. The rock splintered and, with a slow rumble, an entire side of the cliff came down in an avalanche. Some of the monsters cheered. Korux clapped his hands. The smoke and rock continued to slide downward into the gorge below. The entire ledge broke away, sloughing down as it gathered momentum. The grinding avalanche knocked away every single character on the path, crushing them, sweeping them toward the foaming river far below. Dust clouds swirled and sank downward. The manticore turned, grinning a twisted smile at Professor Verne. Verne stood with his jaw hanging open, eyes wide, and his face completely ashen. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] |