According to plan, the vreels flew straight toward the river at three hundred feet altitude. Their pilots increased crystal rotation to a speed that rendered their ships' walls transparent. The men inside the machines were clearly visible to those on the ground. To the Fir Bolg, they were flying chariots, driven by god-like beings. As they approached the river, they spread out along the shore and opened fire with their antimatter cannons. The beams were not aimed at the men, but at the center of the river. Violet shafts of intense light struck the water turning it to steam, ripping into the riverbed, opening fissures under the surface hundreds of feet deep. Thunderclaps erupted across the plain as the air split by the antimatter beams crashed back into the vacuum they created. It was as though hundreds of lightening bolts were cutting the atmosphere, one after the other. The noise was deafening, drowning out the cries of men, battle, and the terrifying noise of the loudspeakers.
The beams dissected the ground, creating turbulent waterfalls as the river rushed into the caverns where the earth had been destroyed. The once placid stream became a hurricane of scalding mist and debris. Water from upstream poured into the great rents, forming rapids and whirlpools all along its length. When the vreels ceased their firing, a gorge a thousand feet long and two hundred feet deep had been ripped into the riverbed.
Except for the heated fight where the king and his men were trapped, the Fir Bolg were throwing down their weapons and fleeing in panic back toward their fort. Warriors, Druids, animals, and women that had followed the army to the plain were all running in a mad scramble to escape the holocaust. No person who had ever lived, or would yet live, had witnessed such sudden and complete destruction as had struck Moytura this day.
Eochaid crouched and looked at Sreng, who shook his head. The Tuatha circle was tightening around them, the warriors near the river were fleeing, and the swords of light had been used on the river. The king's face broke into a maniacal expression. With a fierce war cry, he and his contingent engaged the Tuatha line, swinging swords, huge hammers and clubs. The sounds of battle rose to the level of thunder as hundreds of men clashed against each other with sword and shield. The king and his men fought as never before, but in their hearts they knew that this was their final battle. In spite of their bravery and strength, magic and superior numbers were overpowering them.
The sun was well above the horizon now. Heat and battle exertion were creating a terrible thirst in Eochaid. He had been stabbed in the left thigh by one of the three-pronged Danann spears, and blood was gushing down his leg. He was a strong man, and had killed many enemies in fair combat, but he knew that his army would soon have to yield to the god-like Tuatha. With Sreng and Slainge at his side, he charged straight into the enemy mass, hacking his way through them. The Dananns fell away before them, allowing them to escape toward the safety of high ground a short distance away.
When they reached it, Eochaid fell to the ground, overcome by thirst and loss of blood. He lay panting, looking up at the blue sky, thinking of the peaceful days he had spent ruling his Rath at Tara. He held up his hand toward Sreng. The champion took it, his lips clamped tight, fighting back emotion.
"The command is yours, my friend. I can go no further. Make peace the best you can." With that, Eochaid, last and greatest of the Fir Bolg kings, exhaled his last breath.
In their wild rush to escape certain death, the hoards of fleeing Fir Bolg warriors provided a diversion for Kasdan's escape. When he had floated to the far side of the ridge, he stood up. Water had stopped flowing downstream, and the river had become a muddy bed. He slogged ashore and surveyed the terrain. Far to the west, morning sunshine was gleaming off the blue waters of Lough Corrib. In front of him, the ridge rose gently toward the seemingly deserted crest. Thinking that no danger would approach from that side of the ridge, Kriss had not posted a sentry there.
Kasdan started a rapid climb, taking less than twenty minutes to reach the summit. It appeared to be deserted, but he decided to keep a low profile anyway. He dropped to his hands and knees and crawled toward a low outcropping of rock from where he could see the plain below. It was a stunning vista. Thousands of men were fleeing toward the south, trying to escape the most amazing sight he had ever witnessed. The alien ships were bombarding the river with rays of incredible energy. Where the river had once been, a huge rent a thousand feet long had been blasted into the earth. Water coming from upstream was pouring into the abyss, sending clouds of scalding steam hundreds of feet into the air. He could feel the ground trembling from the destructive force.
With an effort, he pulled himself away from the unbelievable scene and continued belly-crawling forward. As he moved, he scanned for men hiding in the rocks and brush. Within minutes he spotted someone wearing camouflage clothing sitting against a rock near a patch of tall heather. He froze as the man shifted position. He held a rifle in his left hand, and binoculars in his right. Kasdan's hair prickled at the base of his skull. He knew what he was looking at. The man was a member of an elite find-and-destroy team probably sent by Durant to kill him. He was well acquainted with the function of such teams, having utilized their services on several occasions when he was Director of Middle East Operations. He was also aware that they were among the most dangerous men alive, trained to be killers of people.
He watched as the man put the binoculars to his eyes and scanned the plain, looking for his target. While the Marine was preoccupied, he squirmed further down the crest, watching out for anyone else who may be hidden nearby; however, he did not really expect to see anything. It would be unusual for a member of the three-man teams to be any closer to each other than fifty to a hundred yards. The edge of the ridge to the right was a near-vertical drop, eliminating the probability that anyone would be stationed there. To his left was a profusion of waist-high bushes interspersed with boulders of various sizes. If they had followed procedure, the next man would be at least two hundred feet in that direction.
Preoccupied with the melee below, the Marine had no reason to look behind him as Kasdan drew closer. When he was within twenty feet he stopped and checked the terrain again. The rocks and brush were providing excellent cover for him. No one on the left side could possibly see him. He took out the hunting knife and edged forward.
Douglas Childs felt, rather than saw, the approaching danger. He shifted the binoculars a few degrees to his left as if scanning the plain, but his eyes were not looking through them. In his peripheral vision he saw movement directly behind him.
Having gotten to within ten feet of his intended target, Kasdan charged and brought the big knife down with enough force to drive it to the hilt into Childs' back. At the same instant, Childs spun to his left and swung the rifle in a sweeping motion. The knife struck the rock where Childs had been a second before. Sparks flew as the blade glanced off the granite and broke in half. The rifle butt struck Kasdan in the left knee. He grunted in pain and fell sideways.
Childs jumped to his feet and kicked the big man under the chin. Kasdan shook off the blow and struck upwards toward Childs' groin with his right foot. The Marine twisted just in time to avoid the impact to his genitals, taking the blow on his right thigh. He staggered backward a step, bracing against the rock to regain his balance.
In a swift motion, Kasdan pulled the .357 from its holster and pointed it at Childs. He was fast, but Childs was faster. Before he could fire, the Marine dropped the rifle, placed both hands on the rock and lashed out with his feet. The movement struck Kasdan's gun hand, knocking the weapon sideways. It discharged into the ground with a report loud enough to be heard on the plain below. Childs grabbed the rifle and swung it like a club at Kasdan's head. It struck him a glancing blow on the brow, but did not disable him. Dazed, he dropped the revolver and shook his head to clear the pain.
Still off balance, Childs slipped on some loose soil and staggered backward. Kasdan recovered and jumped to his feet. Childs grabbed the rifle, but before he could bring it to bear Kasdan charged him, hitting him in the abdomen with hi
s shoulder. The impact knocked both of them off balance, and they fell rolling down the slope. They slid to a stop twenty feet apart, with Childs uphill. As the Marine jumped to his feet, he pulled his long knife and started toward the other man. For the first time, Kasdan found himself outclassed. Aware that if Childs reached him he would die, he got to his feet and fled down the slope toward the plain.
The main battle of Moytura had subsided and the vreels had finished their work when Kasdan's weapon discharged. The report bounced off the ridge and echoed across the plain. Matt and his group heard it even over the roaring of the river. They looked up to where they knew the Marines were concealed, but could distinguish nothing with the naked eye. Matt took out his mini-scope and scanned the ridge. He was shocked to see two men scrambling down the brushy slope, one of them apparently chasing the other. A puzzled look came over his face. It could only mean one thing: Kasdan had somehow made his way out of the wedge and had ascended the ridge from the other side. Something must have gone very wrong for him to be fleeing down the slope ahead of Childs.
He turned to Jake and Taylor. "If I'm not mistaken, that's Kasdan coming down the slope with Childs chasing him."
Jake took Matt's scope and scanned the location. "You're right. But I don't see the other team members."
"Let's get over there fast, Jake. If we beat them to the bottom we can take Kasdan out right here, once and for all."
Matt told Dbarr what was happening. He nodded and called to some Vryanian soldiers standing nearby. "I'm going with you. These five men will accompany us."
Matt acknowledged him with a nod. "Let's move!" he said in a tight voice.
On another part of the plain, someone else had also heard the sound of gunfire. Sreng looked at the ridge. It never occurred to him that anyone would be there when the battle was being fought on the plain. He knew from the sound that it must be the wizard. No one else possessed a weapon that made such a noise. But how had he managed to be on top of the ridge when he had crossed the river as part of the hundred-man wedge? Those men had reached the other side of the water before the Tuatha's flying chariots had used the swords of light to create the gorge. They had not gone anywhere near the ridge.
He looked down at Eochaid's lifeless body, and a feeling of terrible grief shook his muscular frame. Tears formed in his eyes as the loss of his friend and king washed over him. The wizard had not only killed five of his people, he had also deceived them into believing that they could defeat the Tuatha. He stooped and removed Eochaid's fur cloak. Tenderly, he draped the garment over the king's body, covering his face. A number of men who had been with them during the fight had come up the rise and were standing nearby. He motioned them to approach.
"The king is dead," he told them. He looked at the ridge again then said, "I want you to find some of the women who came with us, and have them prepare his body for transport to Tara. I will join you later. The battle is over. No one will bother you."
One of the warriors, a man named Orsan, asked, "Where is Eochaid's son? He should be here with us."
"Slainge is dead. Killed while we were fighting our way through the Tuatha. One of you go find his body and bring it here." He looked back at the plain where many men lay dead and dying. "Look," he told them. "The Tuatha are reforming. In a little while they will be moving back toward their encampment. Spread the word to our men that there are to be no further hostilities. Before the king died, he ordered me to stop fighting and make peace with them."
The men acknowledged the orders. Sreng took Eochaid's sword and fell into a trot toward the ridge.
Kriss and Glass left their posts upon hearing the gunshot and headed toward Childs' location, but his initial fight with Kasdan was over before they arrived. From their vantage point they could see the two men stumbling down the slope. Twice, Kriss brought his rifle up, trying to get a shot at Kasdan, but both he and Childs were crisscrossing with each other, creating a difficult target. Moreover, both of them were going so fast that they were constantly falling and getting up every hundred feet or so. He finally gave up and joined the downward chase with Glass close on his heels.
From his place of concealment, Kriss had watched the incredible destruction carried out by the vreels. Up to this point, none of them had possessed any knowledge of Vryanian firepower, so were shocked by what they had just witnessed. It was an unnerving thought, and he felt butterflies in his stomach at the thought of an alien presence in ancient Ireland. A hundred yards ahead of them, Childs and Kasdan had covered half the distance to the bottom. At their current rate of descent, Kriss estimated that they would arrive on the plain in less than fifteen minutes.
Matt and his group arrived at the foot of the ridge just ahead of Sreng. From their position, it appeared that Kasdan and Childs would reach the bottom almost exactly where they were waiting. Further up, they could see the other two men coming on fast. From Matt's viewpoint there was no way Kasdan could evade capture or death.
As he turned to speak with Taylor, he saw the Fir Bolg warrior who had hurled the javelin at them from across the river standing less than twenty feet away. Matt took a good look at him. He was tall and slender for a Fir Bolg, with a muscular build and short brown hair. He stood regarding them with cool composure. Matt let his hand drop to his holstered pistol. Sreng followed the movement with his eyes but remained still. A half dozen Fir Bolg warriors who had seen their leader running toward the ridge had followed him, and were standing a short distance away. None of them had any throwing weapons, so Matt did not perceive them as an immediate threat.
Taylor put her hand over Matt's. "Wait, Matt," she said in a quiet voice. "I've seen this man before. It was when I was with Kasdan in the Fir Bolg fort. I have a feeling he's someone of importance."
"He is," Dbarr said in English. "He's Eochaid's right arm. I have seen him several times before during our unfortunate conflicts. If he intended trouble, I do not think he would be just standing there. We should find out what he wants."
Matt nodded and took his hand away from his weapon.
Taylor took a step toward Sreng. "Do you remember me?" she asked in his language.
The King's Champion looked at her with cool eyes. "Yes. You were a captive when I saw you in the street." He nodded toward the ridge. "Of that man being chased down the slope."
"You know him, then?"
"Yes."
"Why are you here?"
Sreng stood silent for a moment, looking at the ridge where Kasdan and Childs were less than ten minutes away at their current speed. "He came to us claiming he could give us victory over the Tuatha," he said. "He showed us a powerful weapon, something that we had never seen before, and promised he would stand beside us when the battle began. I do not know how he came to be on that ridge, but because of him our king is dead. Though he died in fair battle, that man might just as well have killed him directly. He is someone who kills innocent people for no reason, and I intend to kill him."
"You may have to stand in line for that," Matt said in a matter-of-fact tone. "Those men coming down behind him may have a prior claim."
"Their claim cannot be more just than mine," Sreng replied. "When he came to us he said that he was a wizard. We believed him because of the weapon he possessed. On the first day, he killed my brother with it just to demonstrate its power. Since then he has murdered four more of my people. He allowed them to burn to death in that same house where you were being held." He said that to Taylor. "One of them was my king's adopted daughter."
Matt winced, thinking of other murders that Kasdan had committed for no better reason than a distorted sense of revenge. "Come, stand with us," he said to Sreng. "He is our enemy as well as yours." The warrior hesitated for a few seconds then came forward.
"I don't think there'll be enough of our friend to go around," Jake commented in a wry tone.
They all watched as Kasdan reached the bottom of the slope fifty feet away. He shot them a quick glance then turned and ran toward the gorge where the river was po
uring into the abyss. Childs was in hot pursuit a hundred feet behind him. The Vryanian soldiers who were standing by, joined the chase and pulled him down before he reached the gorge. The big man kicked and screamed in rage as he fought to escape. Childs arrived seconds later. Ignoring the Vryanians, he sprang into the melee and hit Kasdan in the face with his fist. It was a terrific blow, knocking him flat on the ground. For a few seconds he lay there, momentarily stunned. Childs drew back with the black knife in his left hand, poised for the downward stroke.
Matt and the others arrived an instant before the Marine struck. "No!" he yelled. Childs hesitated as he saw Matt.
"I want to talk to him first," he said to Childs. "Before you kill him, I need to find out how he got here. It's important."
Childs looked down at Kasdan, who was just recovering his senses, blood running from his nose. He squatted, ripped open the camouflage jacket and pulled it off him. A search of the pockets produced nearly a hundred rounds of .357 ammo, a small folding knife, binoculars, watch, a length of nylon cord, and a small Chronocom pager.
"I'll take the pager if you don't mind, Childs. It'll help us determine how he accomplished his time transport," Matt said.
Childs, well aware of what the device was, handed it over. He stood up and pulled Kasdan to his feet.
The big man shook his head to clear it then looked around. He took a step back from Childs as though anticipating another attack from the Marine. When he saw Matt, his face twisted into a sneer. Unconsciously, he dropped his hand to his belt and touched the empty pistol holster. Still looking at Matt, he patted his pant pockets as if searching for another weapon. Finding nothing, he stiffened and balled his fists.
"You think that because you have these men standing around to protect you, that you're safe," he said to Matt. He saw Taylor, standing a few feet away with Dbarr. "I told you, Taylor, that one of us wouldn't survive this day, didn't I?" he spat at her.