Страница 35 из 54
Braden backed away quickly, raising both hands.
“No, of course not,” he said. “But what can we do? He’s proven more clever in every encounter so far.”
Mavin’s frown deepened, but she removed her hand from her weapon. “That is strange, isn’t it?” she said at last. “I’ve known Vale since before father’s death. He was good swordsman, and a strong military man, but he was no tactician. In fact, if anything, I would have said he was too impulsive and rash to be any kind of leader at all.”
“The vent access should have worked,” Braden said. He smacked a fist into his palm. “We spent a year and a half getting our man into a position of trust. He served in the citadel for six months, and they were absolutely unaware of that flaw in their defense.”
“Where is this man now?” Mavis asked.
“If you’re thinking he betrayed us,” Braden said, “forget it. He died with Colin in the vents. They didn’t get word from us-they just knew. It’s probably something that witch Makeeda has managed to conjure.”
“Don’t start any rumors,” Mavis snapped. “Vale and his men are enough for us to deal with. If the men start worrying about spells and hexes, we might as well retreat now.”
“They are already talking,” Braden said. “Some of the men were there. They saw her light their comrades on fire with a shake of her hands. She laughed as good men’s bodies burned and danced like some sort of harlot around Vale-like a victory dance. They’ve been talking since then, and they will keep talking until we do something to silence them.”
Mavin bit her lip, and then nodded. “Assemble the officers. It’s time we were a bit more direct, I think. Let’s take this battle to Vale.”
Braden nodded and hurried off.
Makeeda sat in a room miles away from the rebel camp. In her hand she held a small square with a glowing screen. On the screen, she saw Mavin and heard her words. Makeeda threw her head back and laughed.
The speaker crackled to life, and Jason would have leaped from his seat if he hadn’t been strapped in place.
“The rebel offensive is underway,” said the sultry, seductive, electronic voice. In the corner of the screen, Makeeda’s face appeared. She smiled, but there was little real humor in the expression. Jason shivered at the detail in that CGI sneer. Whoever the model was for this game, he hoped never to meet her in a dark alley.
He weighed his character’s assets against those of the rebel force, now registering on the enemy forces radar at the bottom of his monitor screen. He was outnumbered three to one, but he held the citadel. His defenses were operational. He had a variety of battle engines at his command, a small troop of cavalry soldiers, and about five hundred trained fighters who would do battle on foot if the need arose.
The rebels were armed, for the most part, with conventional siege weapons. They were about fifty percent mounted, but that would pose no threat to the citadel. What worried him were the two large wheeled devices located about halfway back in the ordered columns marching toward his gate. He didn’t know what they were, exactly. Weapons, probably, but how to be sure? And if they were weapons, what did they do? Were they a real threat, or only meant to distract him? It was going to take more than a standard siege to take the citadel, but these rebels would know that. They had to have a plan, and he had to figure out what that plan was.
Jason flipped controls and punched buttons until the screen filled with a map of the area. The rebels appeared as green dots on the far edge of the map. Their current and possible routes to the citadel were displayed as glowing lines in varying shades of red. The brighter the color, the more likely it was that the rebels would take that route. He had one bright red line and two that were only slightly darker to either side.
He studied the terrain. The most likely route ran directly down a valley between two tall peaks. A quick calculation told him they’d have to camp on the far side of this valley. If they got caught inside at night they might not make it through, and even if they did, they’d be close enough to fear a counterattack at that point. It made sense that they would rest. A strategy formed.
He called up two of the elite guard characters and outfitted them with horses and weapons. He opened the mission menu and selected “capture.” A set of icons popped up representing known members of the enemy force. The first was a strikingly beautiful woman warrior named Mavis. Jason stared into her ice-blue eyes, moved the cursor with his thumb-operated joystick, and pushed “select.”
Makeeda’s face appeared in the upper right hand corner of the screen. Her eyes were animated, not like a CGI-generated character at all, and when she spoke it was so real he might have been seated across a table from her.
“You have selected a capture mission. Your chosen target is Mavis, lover of Colin and current leader of the rebel alliance. Please confirm your orders.”
Jason didn’t hesitate. He selected confirm. He felt like the mission would accomplish one of two things. Either it would succeed, and he’d have the current rebel leader hostage, or he would send the message to the enemy that they were being watched, and that nothing they did would be a surprise. He also hoped that the party he sent out would bring word of the two unknown siege engines.
Meanwhile, he set about placing traps and barriers throughout the immediate area of the citadel itself. He made certain that the vents were still watched, and concentrated on details. He checked the timer in the lower left corner of the screen. This was a very long scenario. If his plan failed, he wasn’t going to survive staying up to run through it again. He had to keep active, do everything he could think of to bolster the defenses of the citadel, and pray that his side mission wasn’t a waste of time. If they could cut out the leadership of the enemy, the efficiency of the attacking forces should be crippled, at the very least. If they could use the hostage to their advantage, they might avoid major confrontation completely.
When he’d done everything he could think of to prepare, he hit the one button that gave him hope. It was marked, simply, “accelerate.”
Locked in her room, seated in full lotus on a pile of furs and rugs so soft she sank in and blended, Makeeda stared at the small glowing square in her hand. She watched as events blurred. What had been a slow advance of rebel forces across the fields became an intricate web of quickly progressing lines of probability. She watched as one line diverged from the citadel, skirted the forest to the left of the main road, and wound around behind the rapidly approaching rebel forces.
This small force slipped in, and back out, apparently undetected, their mission a success, and moving much more rapidly than the small army with its siege engines and ground troops, wound its way back toward the citadel and General Vale.
“Excellent,” she whispered.
Makeeda tucked the talisman into her robe and rose. In doing so, she missed the quick wash of colored waves across the surface. The images distorted, righted themselves, and then distorted again, but there was no one to see.
Jason panicked as the images on the screen wavered. His small force had infiltrated the rebel encampment, and somehow they’d managed to make off with the rebel leader, Mavin, but now the system seemed to have overloaded. He quickly whacked his hand against the side of the control in the universal frustrated repair tic of gamers everywhere, but it was no use. The picture wavered, cleared up, and then, with a final fizzle of static, went dead.
He sat and stared at the screen. He gripped the controller so tightly he heard a small pop, looked down, and tossed it away quickly before it could break. The straps of the chair held him fast, and he had to fight the sudden claustrophobic wave of fear that threatened to engulf him.