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sky.
The lone soldier stood before them, rage in his eyes.
"Someday you'll understand," Leti whispered sadly. Rising into the air, she
turned westward. The offworlders mumbled their apologies and followed her.
Mark, unable to stop himself, looked back and knew that he would be forever
haunted by the lone soldier's gaze: the look of an innocent man caught in the
wheels of war.
Stretching her weary limbs, Patrice strode to the edge of the dock and looked
out across the empty sea, tinged now with the first faint light of dawn.
Never had she pushed herself so hard, and she felt herself trembling with
exhaustion. The flying had been tough and seemingly endless through the night.
Two of her sorcerers had disappeared, plummeting into the ocean; a dozen
others had been left behind on the boat which had been their launch platform.
Yet it had worked. The two strike forces had hit with devastating
effectiveness, and she smiled inwardly, knowing that the goal was now almost
within reach. All communications were being jammed by her sorcerers positioned
off the coast in small boats, blocking the offworlders from any hope of
sending a message.
It was regrettable that there had not been enough time to finish destroying
everything. But the carnage would undoubtedly stop the offworlders in their
misplaced desire to help save her victims. There was nothing left of the next
city out, and jumping the distance from Tulana's city to the mainland would be
nearly impossible even for a sorcerer who was well rested.
The destruction bothered her slightly. Killing in battle was one thing, but
the slaughtering of women and children had been rather distasteful.
"My lady, your breakfast is ready."
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Patrice looked back at Leona. In some ways the young sorceress reminded her of
Vena.
Poor Vena, she thought sadiy; but the girl had served her purpose well.
"I'll be along in a second, dear," Patrice sighed.
With a flash of red, the ocean before her turned scarlet with the first light
of day. Breathing deeply of the morning air, a sad smile lit her features.
Several hours of rest, she thought, and then to the mainland by dawn tomorrow.
Safely into her own territory, she could leave the escort behind and fly with
the power and speed of a demigod, far ahead of
Leti and her escorts. By the time the forces of Asmara were stirred, the
portal into Gorgon's realm would
be open to receive him.
The water rippled, and with a light splash a slender form darted through the
golden depths. Half curious, she watched the creature streak away. There was
something about the creature's eyes that bothered her--as if it were somehow
accusing her.
Vaguely uneasy, Patrice followed the shadowy form as it popped out of the
water again, held in the air for a second, and then turned over and plunged
into the depths.
"They're beautiful, aren't they?" Leona said, coming up to stand beside
Patrice.
"Beauty can hide an enemy," Patrice replied. "Stay here. If you see it again,
strike it."
The girl looked at Patrice with shock. The demigod had seen Leona refrain from
striking the boats and people in the water as ordered. She wanted to say
something, but thought better of it. For the moment, she'd need all her
people. There'd be time enough for punishments after the campaign was
finished.
She touched the girl on the shoulder.
"He could be a threat to us," she said with a smile. "Better to take no
chances."
Leona merely nodded in reply.
There was another splash, and without turning her gaze from the girl, Patrice
raised her hand. A slash of light snapped out; the water foamed and tumbled,
stained red with blood.
"Like that," Patrice said quietly, and walked away.
"Over there," Leti cried, her voice trembling with relief. "They did it,"
Shigeru roared. "I knew they would."
After Regensburg, his last mission in Europe, Mark could remember such a
moment--with two engines out, and fuel nothing more than vapor, he had cleared
the cliffs of Dover and finally saw the landing field ahead. It felt the same
now. There were no engines this time, but exhaustion had taken him to the
limits of endurance and beyond. To splash down would have been useless, for
he'd still have to swim on the surface, draining his strength further, and to
go below the water would require concentrating on shields. If they didn't have
something to land on, further flight would be impossible.
Now there was a place to land and rest, thanks to the ladultas. Dozens of the
creatures were slashing about on the surface, and in the middle of their
circle was a roughly piled assembly of planks, boards, and fragments of
wreckage. It wasn't much, but at least it was a place to lay down and sleep.
Dropping out of the sky, Mark winged over the raft and saw ladultas pressing
in on the sides and from underneath to keep the platform afloat. He touched
down lightly and felt the boards bucking and swaying. One by one, his comrades
winged in to land. More and more ladultas appeared, pushing up against the
raft, keeping it above the water.
"They're amazing, just amazing," Ikawa whispered in awe.
Walker looked nervously around, lying stretched out on a plank that rose and
fell with the waves.
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"Just hope I don't puke," he groaned. An instant later his loud snores echoed
across the water.
"Wish I had something to eat first," Shigeru moaned.
"Always your stomach first," Ikawa sighed, but he could not help but agree.
"Captain, look!" Saito cried, pointing to the edge of the raft.
A ladulta appeared, holding a kicking putta in its mouth. Shigeru took the
proffered fish and tenderly patted the ladulta on its flank.
"It said they're getting more fish right now." Shigeru grinned. Reaching into
his tunic, he pulled out a knife, quickly cleaned the fish, and sliced off a
long strip of golden flesh.
"Care for some, Captain Phillips?" he said with a weary smile.
Hunger finally winning out, Mark took the strip and tentatively tried it,
while the other Americans watched him suspiciously.
"Not bad," Mark said, to his own surprise. "You all better eat. We need our
strength to push on."
"Captain, I'm picking up someone coming in from the west," Kochanski
announced, coming to his feet.
Mark looked up and turned to scan westward. Kochanski never ceased to amaze
him with his special ability, which now even seemed to outstrip Leti's.
"I've got it, too," Leti said quietly, wearily standing.
"Get ready--it could be her." Trembling with exhaustion, Ikawa started to rise
into the air.
"Jesus Christ," Kochanski whispered. "If it's her, I think our shit is
cooked."
"It's Tulana," Leti cried with a smile.
Mark could now see half a dozen forms cutting so low across the ocean that
they rose and fell with the rolling sea.
The forms grew larger, coming on hard.
"Damn that bitch's hide to hell!" Tulana's voice boomed as he drew in to hover
above the raft.
This was a different man than the one Mark had seen less than ten days before.
His eyes were livid with rage, his features purple, as if every vein in his
face was about to burst.
"Why in the name of the gods did she do this?" Tulana screamed. "I found the
wreckage of my city just over the horizon, and ninety percent of my people
were dead. Damn her, I'll draw the bones out of her living body, I will. My
ladulta tell me she destroyed Valna as well--nearly four thousand dead."
He looked at Leti, as if hoping against hope that the underwater messages were
mistaken.
She could only nod sadly.
Tears of rage clouded Tulana's eyes. "Why?" he asked hoarsely.
Quickly she explained all that had happened, and his features grew pale.
"She's mad," he whispered; and the sorcerers who had accompanied him looked to
each other with fear and confusion.
"We need to get a message back to Asmara at once," Leti said, "but she's
jamming our communications
crystals."
"I noticed that, it started yesterday," Tulana said thoughtfully. "The Cresus
had moved again. I had
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