Crystal Warriors Read online

  Kicking the cover aside, Allic rose, pulled on a long burgundy-colored robe, and pushed open the door to his meditation suite.

  With his approach, a gentle wash of blue light welled from a fist-sized crystal mounted on a pedestal of gold.

  Reaching out with his right hand, Allic touched the crystal of farseeing. Instantly the chamber was bathed in a brilliant glow that caused him to close his eyes. He knew where to direct his thoughts, and turning to the south wall of the room, he bent the flow of energy and directed it outward. Opening his eyes again, Allic watched as the power of the crystal was directed into an intense beam which revealed a map inlaid with gems and gold. The map was highlighted in stark, glowing colors as the power of Allic combined with his crystal to direct the map for a search.

  Emblazoned on the wall was a representation of the realm under his control. Such was its power that only Allic's father, the god Jartan, could have created it.

  The minutes passed. In the distance he could hear his guards changing their watch.

  Slowly his attention was pulled toward one point on the southern border of his realm.

  What was this? Now that he started to focus, the hazy sense of an outside power was confirmed. Someone was tampering with the Essence. It had to be an outsider, since none of his own sorcerers would be there.

  Could it be Prince Macha's people? Whoever they were, they were trying to block his probing, and so he knew their Actions were hostile.

  He bent all his will to the task. Soon he was drenched in sweat; his entire body ached with the effort as he battled through the barrier of wills. He could feel them breaking, their shielding crumbling.

  Suddenly there was a presence, a presence which he had never experienced before. At that same moment he broke through, and for one brief second there was a flash of an image; then nothing.

  Exhausted, he stepped back from the crystal, and the room went dark. Concentrating on his communications crystal, he turned his thoughts to the castle command center.

  "Who's on duty?" Allic asked.

  "It is I, Ulnarn, commander of the third watch."

  "Awaken Pina, tell him he has a little journey ahead of him, and bring him here at once."

  "Acknowledged, my lord."

  If there was anyone he could trust with this, it would be Pina. A quick flight with his triad and Pina would find out who these sorcerers and intruders were, and if necessary kill them without further ado.

  * * * *

  Far from where Mornan and her sorcerers had opened the portal was a land of mountains, the princedom that Sarnak had made for himself in the desolation that followed the Great War 3000 years ago. Towering battlements and massive fortresses covered every entrance and blocked every exit.

  Each mountainside was terraced with small farms and vineyards, and the river valleys were dotted with small villages and farmlands. Only in the desolate higher mountains of the interior were there factories and mines spewing refuse into inacessible valleys and pits.

  In the center of the land, high above a river valley stood a mighty walled city that glowed in the moonlight of the Twin Sisters.

  Sarnak the Accursed, so named for his unproven part in the betrayal and death of one of the Creators, sat on his throne in his darkened chamber. He had watched Mornan's efforts and her death through a crystal―the mate of the one she had used.

  For most of the night he had been watching, and with Mornan's death he had to fight for self-control. But finally even his iron control weakened and his rage began to show, causing his aura to grow brighter.

  Now Sarnak pushed his crystal aside and looked around the room. He was tall and lean, with dark hair and black eyes that were large and mesmerizing, and few there were who dared to face that gaze in the moments of his wrath.

  "Who selected those incompetents with Mornan?" he asked, death in his voice.

  "Wika made the initial assignment." Ralnath, Sarnak's chief sorcerer tried to conceal the fear in his voice.

  "And who approved Wika to coordinate this mission in the first place?"

  Silence.

  "I want an answer," Sarnak said softly.

  "I did, my lord."

  Sarnak turned away with a snort of disgust. Everyone in the room did his best not to draw attention to himself as Sarnak moved to his master crystal, activating it with a wave.

  Quickly Sarnak merged it with those observation crystals set high in his border mountains that overlooked Allic's realm. The room again became dark as his aura slowly died, his frustration giving way to the cold analytical force that was the heart of his power.

  "Allic is projecting his power in a field of interference so I can't see very much," he said to Ralnath, who had come to stand by his side. "But I sense an alien presence, perhaps men from another plane. They're definitely not the demons we had planned for."

  He looked coldly at Ralnath. "Which of our forces can get in there and find out what they are before Allic arrives?"

  The head scribe, standing in the far corner, consulted his master file and nervously walked over.

  "At this moment," the scribe said, "we've almost emptied that part of the border to prevent any possible suspicion of our involvement. But there is a force of twelve demons under Chaka that can be there within two turnings."

  "Send them in immediately, I want at least one prisoner for interrogation; the rest are to be destroyed before Allic can get his hands on them."

  "At once, my lord."

  Sarnak turned and swept them with his gaze.

  "All of you leave me except Ralnath."

  Ralnath could sense the relief of the others as they fled the room, leaving him to his fate. He could remember more than once hurrying from the room as well, and returning later to remove what was left of a man or woman who had failed. He braced himself.

  "I want Wika relieved of his post and crystals. Have him chained to the gallows against possible execution. I'll decide his fate later." Sarnak paused, staring at Ralnath.

  "You know that my first move in this campaign has ended in a fiasco because you approved that idiot's selection of sorcerers?"

  Ralnath nodded. "My lord, each had done well in the trials, according to Wika's reports."

  "I want you to check the validity of those trials, and if there is any falsification you will personally remove the heads of Wika's wife and children and tie them to his chains. I can't help but suspect that he gave the task to Mornan as a reward for more than just her behavior on the testing field."

  Ralnath breathed an inner sigh of relief. The blame was to fall on Wika and not on him.

  "Ralnath, I understand your mistress has just given you twin sons."

  He froze for a moment, then nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

  "Never fail me again, Ralnath. Now get out of my sight."

  * * * *

  "Gather round to me." Mark made a quick count.

  "Who's missing?"

  "It's Jose", Captain," Kochanski called. "He's unconscious." And he pointed to the ground where Jose was already covered with somebody's flight jacket. The pale moonlight made his face look deathly. Mark looked up, and gasped. There were two moons―very bright and set about twenty degrees apart."

  The men followed his gaze, and began shouting again.

  "Shut up, all of you!"

  The only thing that kept Mark from blind panic was the responsibility that by now was part of his nature. He had to get his people doing something―anything―to divert them from their fear.

  The orders rattled off.

  "Goldberg, see to Jose, and try to make him comfortable. Kraut, set up a defensive perimeter. I don't know where the hell we are, but we'd best be prepared."

  "Could be Mars," Kochanski ventured.

  Several of the men started to talk again. In the distance he could hear the same with the Japanese. Hell, there were still the Japs to deal with.

  "What do you mean, Mars?"

  "Ever read any Burroughs? Twin moons, Carter, Martian princess
, and all that?"

  "Later, Kochanski, later. Just do what I've told you for now."

  Mark looked towards Ikawa and saw that he already had his men lined up and was speaking to them in a low voice.

  Several of them broke away and fanned out into the darkness.

  Mark turned back to his men.

  "Kochanski, Smith, Welsh," his voice lowered to a whisper. "Watch the Japs, especially Ikawa and that other officer, you know the bastard." He started to move but turned back. "And for god's sake, if they open up, knock out that machine gun first or we're all dead."

  The men nodded, their faces shining softly in the light.

  "On my command, and my command only, you're to take them out. Now that the Chinese are gone..." His voice trailed off. Gone. Gone to where? He forced himself to re-focus his attention.

  "Just keep a watch on them."

  "Captain Ikawa." Mark turned away from his men and prepared for the possible showdown with their captors.

  * * * *

  "Private Yoshida, control yourself!"

  Any other officer would have slapped Yoshida for the nearly hysterical display, but Ikawa could well understand it. He could barely control his own fear.

  "We are not dead, Yoshida! We are still alive." Ikawa forced a laugh, and gave Shigeru, the sumo wrestler, a sharp punch in the stomach.

  Shigeru grunted.

  "See: If old Shigeru here can still feel pain, then you know we are still in the realm of the living."

  He patted Shigeru on the shoulder and turned away. They had relaxed just a little and he took advantage of it.

  "Sergeant Nobuaki, pick five men and form a defensive perimeter. Sergeant Saito, come over here with me for a moment."

  He stepped back from his men so they couldn't hear.

  "Saito, take the rest of the men and deploy to face the Americans. Be ready to kill them if they make any move. Do you understand?"

  "Yes, Captain."

  Ikawa hesitated for a second. His words would be dangerous in the Empire―but they were far from the Empire now.

  "Sergeant, you are to answer only to me. If Lieutenant Mokaoto attempts to order you in any way regarding the Americans, you are to refer him to me."

  He could see the astonishment in Saito's eyes. Etiquette and discipline had just been broken, but he knew that Saito could be trusted. Ikawa turned and walked over to Mokaoto.

  "Who was killed by that blast of light?"

  "Superior Private Teruzo, Captain."

  "We have everyone else?"

  "Yes, and the Americans as well."

  "Yes, the Americans as well." Ikawa looked past Mokaoto to the twin moons on the horizon.

  "Captain Ikawa."

  He looked up and saw Phillips approaching him, his hands extended out to either side showing that his weapon was holstered.

  "Don't trust him. Captain," Mokaoto hissed.

  Ikawa ignored him and walked over to meet the American.

  At a cautious distance of several feet they both came to a stop.

  "Any idea of where the hell we are?" Phillips finally asked.

  Ikawa looked away from Mark. They stood upon a low cresting hill and Ikawa could see the broad, treeless valley beyond. The twin moons cast a double shadow pattern of light and dark. The air was warm, dry, with a faint scent of the prairie carried by the gentle night breeze.

  Now that it was quiet he could hear the night noises. Some were familiar, but some different―insects, birds, then a deeper rumbling growl that sounded like a tiger but was not.

  The moons alone forced him to admit a terrifying reality; the feel of this place, the savannah-like vegetation, only helped to confirm that somehow, someway, they had traveled far from the conflict that had nearly killed them only minutes before.

  He looked back to Phillips and saw the same sense of wonder and fear.

  "Are we dead, is that it?" Mark asked.

  "Captain Phillips, your guess is as good as mine."

  "But it's a safe bet we're no longer in China," Mark replied, and his tone carried all the implications of that.

  "Yes, we are no longer in China, Captain Phillips. And I could state that again you are my prisoner."

  "Bullshit. I have half a dozen people behind me, all of them with weapons pointed straight at your head. Go ahead and give the command, you Jap bastard, and you'll be the first to die."

  Ikawa started to laugh while looking straight into his eyes.

  "We are cut from the same mold, Captain Phillips. The moment one of your men fires, my people will cut you down, for I've given the same order. So here we stand."

  Ikawa looked away from Mark towards the moons and then back.

  "But we are not your prisoners," Mark replied.

  Ikawa stepped closer and Mark did not back away. Each looked into the eyes of his enemy, a man he would have killed without hesitation only hours before. But under these circumstances...

  "We have to make a choice, Captain Ikawa. We can have it out here and now. Chances are you and I will both die, and in the end maybe, only a couple of yours or mine will live. I don't see any sense to that."

  "No," Ikawa said with a soft chuckle. "Even back in our war, I never did see any sense in that."

  "Then it is agreed that for the moment at least our agreement formed when fighting the Chinese still stands?"

  "Agreed."

  "With the additional understanding that we are no longer your prisoners, here or anywhere else."

  Ikawa hesitated for a moment. But he knew that the balance had been changed forever; the old rules simply no longer applied.

  "It is agreed," Ikawa said softly.

  There was a gentle exhale from Mark, and Ikawa realized that Mark would have given the order to open fire if that point had not be agreed to.

  Again the thought came to him. "You have Bushido, Captain Phillips."

  Mark nodded slightly at the compliment. "Now we have two alternatives," he said, "the first being that we can split up and go our separate ways."

  "Is that what you want?"

  Mark smiled. "Is that what you want?"

  "Don't play a game with me, Captain Phillips. The advantage to separating is obvious: We remove the chance of a confrontation and the fear of a stab in the dark. Tell me, Captain Phillips, would you stab me in the back?"

  "You Japs are noted for that. I lost an uncle on Bataan, Captain Ikawa."

  Ikawa avoided the possible confrontation and turned his gaze to a movement behind Mark.

  "Say, Mark." Kochanski was approaching out of the shadows.

  There was a low call in Japanese; Ikawa gave Mark a quick look of appraisal, then called back to his own men.

  "Captain Phillips, tell your man to approach cautiously. One of my men almost shot him, thinking he was making a move on me."

  "You hear that, Kochanski?"

  Kochanski came up to the two officers. "No hostility intended, Captain," and he gave a slight bow to Ikawa.

  Ikawa found himself liking this young American sergeant, who understood their courtesy and used it.

  "Go ahead, Sergeant," Ikawa replied.

  "Mark, I've taken a little look around this place."

  "Go on, Kochanski."

  "Well, sir, over there where we got thrown out of that whirlwind I found the outline of a pentagram on the ground, just like the one in the temple."

  "You think there's some connection?"

  "Can't think of any other theory, Captain. We got drawn into the pentagram in the temple and got thrown out here. Wherever here is," and Kochanski looked up at the moons.

  "I also found six bodies. One of them is Japanese, Captain Ikawa."

  Ikawa nodded. Teruzo had been a good man, lighthearted and devoted to his parents.

  "What about the other bodies?" Ikawa asked.

  "Never seen them before. Three men, one of them the guy we shot up. Then there's a boy and a woman."

  "Blown all to hell," Kochanski continued, "like from an artillery round. Same
with the others. All cut up by shell frags..."

  "Go on, Kochanski, what are you thinking?"

  "This is like something out of the Wizard of Oz gone berserk―I mean, with that tornado thing that brought us here. It seems like we got sucked from one world to another―maybe through the force of those dead sorcerers playing around with occult-type stuff. They obviously got more than they bargained for, and the shell from the Chinese wiped them out, except for that last guy."

  "This leads us to our second alternative then, Captain Phillips," Ikawa said. "We must assume that whomever they were, they have friends."

  Mark hesitated for only a moment. "Bring your men over here, Captain Ikawa. Kochanski, bring our guys over too."

  A couple of minutes later the men were gathered into two lines facing each other.

  Ikawa turned to face his command and said something, while Mark spoke to his men.

  "Captain Ikawa and I have agreed to an armistice, a truce. Only God knows where we are. But we're going to get back sooner or later, that I promise you."

  He paused. The last statement sounded so hollow, but he had to promise something.

  "We're going to work in alliance with the Japanese. We have to, in order to survive. You saw what that one guy did to the Jap. If the people around here can do that, our only hope is to double our strength by fighting together rather than against each other. I'm ordering all of you to honor this agreement."

  He stared at them, searching out each man and holding him with his gaze. Just one hotheaded action could screw the whole deal.

  "If anybody makes so much as a move against the Japs without my direct and personal order, I'll shoot him."

  There was a snort of derision from the ranks and he thought he heard the word "traitor" mumbled. He could guess who said it.

  "Captain Ikawa!"

  "Yes?" And Ikawa came to his side.

  Mark unholstered his .45 and walked over to Giorgini.

  "Did you say something, Giorgini?"

  Giorgini smiled sarcastically. "No, Captain."

  With one sweeping movement Mark cocked the .45 and put the barrel to Giorgini's forehead.

  "Captain Ikawa."