Another thing Lovas knew about the Device was how to set the spring-loaded arm and now was the time for this action. After climbing into the wagon box, he wistfully examined the springwork fastened on top. His task was to pull the arm back as far the spring would allow and set it. When the hammer tripped, it would strike a round button fixed at the center of the lid. With the strike, something was expected to happen but he had not been told what it was. There was not even a substantial rumor about the purpose of this Device. Such details did not concern him, except the one about twenty-four hours to get two leagues hence.
Bothered by the element of uncertainty, Lovas took a deep breath to gather himself. Finally ready, he put one hand on the lid of the metal container for balance and with the other grasped the metal arm. He forced the arm back against the pressure of the heavy spring and reached for the securing pin. As he reached, the metal arm slipped from his grasp and shot forward. With a dull thud, it struck his hand and not the button in the center of the lid. Nothing happened, except for the simultaneous gasps of his men and the Captain’s bellow from his painful hand.
Lovas shook the pain from his hand, took hold of the metal arm again and pulled it back, this time securing it successfully. Next, he asked one of the men to hand him the bottle of aqua fortis from a cushioned box under the wagon seat.
“Careful, man,” said Captain Lovas. “Stryker says that nasty potion will burn your skin if it spills.” Lovas removed the glass stopper and poured the viscous liquid into the glass housing that covered the now tensioned spring. A moment later, a muffled burbling commenced.
The men flitted glances at each other. Looks of apprehension changed to mild frowns. One man sniffed to indicate I-told-you-so and another sniggered at the lack of eventful action. Most of them started laughing out loud, kidding each other for faulty guesses and undue anxiety. Captain Lovas took a very deep breath, fell back against the side of the wagon and exhaled through his teeth. Seeing his men start to grow rowdy at the innocuous Device, he snapped, “Fun is over, men. Let us leave this blasted place.”
Realizing that their Captain was in no mood for complacency, his troops gathered their gear and hastily loaded it into the two wagons they were to take back. One of the men asked about the horse hitched to the wagon bearing the Device. Lovas said, “Unhitch the animal so it will not move the wagon. Then tie it up nearby. The villagers will make good use of it.”
“They are likely to think the horse is bewitched,” an old veteran whispered slyly to one of his companions.
“Aye,” the other answered. “From the big pother with this evacuation, these poor locals might expect some ‘magical’ wrath from the King’s displeasure. They will blame every new ill or mishap on this infernal lead tank we’re leaving them.”
“Could be a brilliant move by the King, no doubt, since everyone knows he does not like the appearance of magical things. No one would blame him for arcane doings.”
“Lately His Highness seems to be a-changing that, too, with this Stryker fellow.”
“Aye, Stryker is a barrel of a man. Soft, though. No soldierly experience or hard work for him.”
“Claims to come from distant lands with greater learning than anyone the King knows. Seems to have the King’s ear.”
“Too much change going on, I say.”
“And I say you two better stop jabbering and get your rumps loaded up so we can be on our way!” Captain Lovas had unknowingly come up behind them. At his expression of displeasure, both soldiers jumped into the nearest wagon. Minutes later the two wagons started back on the narrow rocky road to Taunton, leaving behind the horseless one loaded with the Device.
* * *
The return direction was into the prevailing wind, blowing hot and dusty straight at them. Several of the men shifted around, trying to get comfortable for the long ride. Taunton was six leagues distant and Lovas wanted to get as far as he could with the half-day remaining. He mulled over his options. The trip back would take the Gilsum soldiers past a couple way stations, each two leagues apart. Lovas decided to push his men hard so they could make the second one, leaving a much shorter, easier trip for tomorrow.
In turn, the drivers pushed the horses to make good time. By mid-afternoon, it was evident this strategy was not going to work. The stiff, hot wind slowed them down and dehydrated both horses and men. Annoyed that they were making half the pace they did when the wind was at their backs, Lovas realized he had to change his plans. When the first way station came into sight, one look at the frothing horses was enough to confirm they had gone far enough for the day. Besides, they had stayed here a night on the inward trip so he knew the water was better compared with the next station. Although his orders were to get more than two leagues from Stedt before stopping, he gave the word to stop. A few grunts and weak cheers followed.
“Say, Captain?” asked a young soldier who hesitantly sidled up. “Can we stay inside the station this night? They say they saw scorpions about the other night here.”
The young man was barely in his mid-teens, too young to know the older men were just trying to scare him with talk of scorpions. He was a new recruit, about the same age Lovas’ oldest son would be, were he not killed a few years ago in army action. Biting the inside of his lip to offset the memory, the Captain answered, “Okay, lad. Your name is Berl, right? Pass the word. Then water the horses and tie them up in that dell over yonder where they will be out of this wretched wind. And give them a good rub down for me, will you, son?”
Lovas acknowledged the young soldier’s awkward salute and watched him jog off, the Captain breaking into a smile at the exuberance of youth that still managed to pervade an oversized uniform. Better that boy should be at his father’s side, he thought, learning the family trade and why girls make better company than the neighbor lads. That is the proper business for him. Not the army. Lovas began to realize why he was so eager to leave the village of Stedt. How could the villagers be blamed for refusing to give up their sons? Shaking his head to break the potentially mutinous thought, Lovas gathered his gear and moved into the stout, oak-beamed structure to join his men.
The soon devoured a spartan meal and found a place to repose as they crowded together in the way station. Someone produced a pint of bitters, followed by second. Passing the pints around, one of the troops stammered a bit in asking a question. “Captain Lovas…um…what d’ya think we will hear about that business in Stedt.”
From the other side of the one-room structure another answered. “Ah, there was nothing to it. Even if something magical or grand was supposed to happen, it would not have been much. Maybe just a scare for the locals. You know the man said it was a wee Device.”
“True,” said another. “He said it was no more than ‘a baby sister to a little girl.’”
“Whatever that might mean, the way he smirked about it,” the Captain answered.
Lovas sat on the floor enjoying a pipe, his back against the wall. Reclining next to him was the soldier remindful of his son. A look of worry crossed the youngster’s beardless face upon hearing the older soldiers. Lovas bent down and whispered, “There is nothing to fear, boy. We’re safe from har—”
Before the Captain could finish, an enormous boom occurred. More resounding than a clap of thunder, the noise was awesome. A minute went by that seemed like an hour, but the sound quickly crescendoed. The Captain put his hands on the floor to steady himself, then realized the building itself was shaking. More than that, the very ground was quaking. Windows cracked.
Huddled in a corner, a veteran soldier sat terrified and wet himself. He whimpered, “The gates of hell have opened!”
Another interminable moment went by. The quake turned to a rumble. Vibrations all around persisted. Lovas heard himself say, “It is coming at us.”
Men covered their ears to protect them from the ungodly roar that bore down on them. A few tried to get up, their futile efforts impaired by objects strewing around. Bits and pieces of the wooden structure fell a
bout as it started disintegrating. When the young soldier next to him climbed to his knees and grew hysterical, Lovas reached out to him. The officer finally succeeded in grabbing him by the collar, but the younger man was screaming terrified and tried to break free. Lovas held him tightly amid the deafening roar and socked him in the face. Pulling himself on top of the unconscious troop, he was just in time to shield him from the falling timbers and madly flying objects as the building collapsed.
* * *
Going down the grade of the dwarves’ mountain was not too difficult, but Nevin and his companions found it slow going once they reached the main road. The road sloped up and down with frequent switchbacks that made Adel’s mountain only seem to inch closer. At least there was no trouble from any wayfarers, though only few were encountered and all passed quickly without exchanging pleasantries. By early evening, they reached a high promontory of a spine-shaped ridge and for the first time they could make out Taunton’s location mid-way up huge Adel’s mountain.
All four gathered to look at the sight. Upthrusted rock formations and craggy spires abounded in all directions. In contrast with the ochre color of the rock, there were numerous pockets of green conifers at all elevations, mostly pine and balsams thought Nevin. With little sign of human habitation around the mountainous terrain, Taunton reigned as the focal point of this panoramic vista. All visible roadways and trails formed a network that lead directly to the capital city. As their destination was now a scant number of miles away, it was an ominous moment for all of them.
Each had their own thoughts as they stared at the fortressed city. Orris fingered his sword, considering the possible threats to their safety before reaching the city. Anson tried to contain his anxiety over the lack of details to his plan, now that the end was literally in sight. Corissa feared that she would be recognized and stifled before they had a chance to meet with King Meire. Nevin’s mind was jumbled; he wondered how aggressive and civilized the people might be, and what stone was used to construct this castle, and just how could Anson prolong the levitation of a heavy wooden limb, and, almost forgetting, has Corissa been taking her medicine. He was about to ask when they were stunned by a double pulse of brilliant light followed seconds later by an enormous explosion several miles away to the east.
Nevin gaped at the quickly rising fireball that swiftly spread into a mushroom-shaped cloud. “My god, Stryker. What have you done!”
Chapter 18
Survivors
With the enormous blast subsiding, Corissa linked a trembling arm with Nevin. “What has happened, Nevin?”
Looking straight ahead, as they all were, Nevin answered hollowly, “Someone has exploded a bomb. Not just a bomb, but a nuclear device.”
“You mean a ‘nuke,’ like those in the hiroshima pictures?” Anson asked, his voice cracking.
“I’m afraid so.” Nevin replied, gazing in shock at the slowly dispersing dust cloud.
“Are we in danger, then?” Anson gasped.
“No, we are far enough away that the blast wind won’t reach us. We could have radiation exposure if the winds turn in our direction, but right now we very fortunate the wind is easterly.”
The distant ground fallout fell so slowly, it seemed that time itself was suspended with the obliterated debris. It reminded Nevin of that slow-motion replay of the eruption of Mount St. Helens that news programs so often repeated because it always riveted viewers’ attention. Shaking his head in a feeble attempt to deny the perverse spectacle, Nevin sighed. “Welcome to the Nuclear Age.”
* * *
Sleep after that was possible only because of their fatigue, but it was fitful sleep at best. At dawn, Nevin woke to see Anson still sitting at the promontory, staring at the horizon. The residual dust of the explosion produced a brilliant pink radiant sky with the sunrise, but the redness of the mage’s eyes reflected more than the color of the firmament.
“We are too late, Nevin. All our efforts and we are too late. How could it have happened?”
Nevin hesitated, not sure if it was rhetorical question. “I suppose a nuclear device could have been brought here, Anson, but it seems more likely that John Stryker somehow found the raw materials and made one. I don’t think there is anyone else around here with the scientific knowledge to pull it off.”
Anson looked up at Nevin, anguish competing with his puzzlement. “Are they that simple to create, such a destructive force?”
“Well, yes and no. It requires some knowledge of nuclear physics and familiarity with the basic design of the bomb. That is no great mystery anymore. The biggest problem is not the knowledge of how to make it, but getting the raw materials. And also safety from the radioactivity, that would certainly be a problem for Stryker or anyone who helped him.” Nevin’s explanation did not console the mage. “I know it looks bad, Anson, but it could have been a lot worse.”
“What do you mean, Sir Nevin? How could such destruction be worse?” Orris asked, now joining them. Corissa remained asleep.
“As nuclear weapons go, it was a small one. And it was also a ground burst; an elevated explosion causes a lot more damage,” explained Nevin.
“Do you mean that people will not suffer like those in the hiroshima pictures,” Anson perked up a little.
“There undoubtedly were, and will be, some casualties, but the ground burst kept down the flash radiation and the wind appeared to quickly disperse the fallout away from Taunton and this mountain range. I don’t know what lies beyond ground zero, probably desert-like terrain, but hopefully it is uninhabited for a good distance. The concussion and shock wave would have flattened anything in its path for a few miles in all directions. Anyone four or five miles away in this direction is probably safe for the present.”
Anson was somewhat relieved that the destruction less than he feared. His zeal started to return, only with greater urgency than he ever showed before. With Taunton so close, only a day away, this disaster may have given them the means they needed to convince King Meire to opt for peace. Anson started rushing around to break camp. Nevin stopped him.
“Wait a minute, Anson. I don’t want you to have false hope. It’s possible, you know, that this King Meire may be pleased about all this. He wouldn’t be the first leader to use arms like this as a means for power. And there’s Stryker, too. Who knows what his motives are, but you can bet he had some reason for building the damn thing in the first place.”
Anson nodded, but his eagerness remain pitched. “I assume you’re right about Stryker, Nevin. We will have to deal with him. But the King is the one we must convince, just as before. I do not know why I think this, but I feel that King Meire is not an evil man. A king who would be willing to destroy a portion of his kingdom and subjects would already be known far and wide for such traits. Remember what King Lucan said? He knew Meire to be a caring man who would not knowingly jeopardize his people. Such a man would listen to what we have to say.”
By then Corissa arose and crossly rebuked them for not waking her earlier. Didn’t they know that they must get to Taunton more urgently than ever. Anson pointed to her and nodded at the proof of his exhortations. It was time to be off. Nevin and Orris traded meager winces.
* * *
Energized by their rest and somewhat cooler weather, they left the promontory behind with Adel’s mountain in full view ahead. Each kept to him or herself, their thoughts private and unspoken, which helped them focus on their pace as they negotiated the hard-baked dirt road. After a few hours, they stopped for a rest where the road was joined by a route from the east. Nevin was talking to Corissa when Orris suddenly raised a hand for quiet.
“Shhh! There are riders coming. From the sound of it, they are in a hurry. We should hide!”
Anson was quick to stop that order. “Wait! This road comes from the direction of the blast. Someone may be in need of help. I will greet them; you can hide behind the rocks over there.” The others quickly picked up their belongings and scurried for nearby boulders, knowing it was us
eless to argue with Anson if he felt people might be in trouble. They kept a clear view of the mage as they hid from sight. Shortly a wagon noisily approached, the driver madly slapping the single horse with the reins. When the driver saw Anson, he immediately reined back on the horse and drew the wagon to a skidding halt.
“You, there!” The driver stood and shouted, pointing at Anson. “We are Gilsum Guardsmen. We have injured men. Can you help us?”
Anson ran over to the wagon and looked in the box. He instantly turned back toward his hidden comrades and frantically waved them to come over. When they did so, they saw four soldiers in the wagon box suffering from various burns, abrasions and contusions. A crude attempt at first aid had not been very successful as some wounds continued to bleed and the men were in shock.
Anson immediately started ministering to the one most seriously injured, calling for cloth strips and something to use for splints. Corissa and the driver, who was not badly hurt, followed Anson’s directions as they tended to others. Orris, however, backed off.
Nevin stopped tearing strips of cloth as he saw Orris withdraw. Nevin jogged over to Orris and spoke low, “You surprise me, Orris. I thought you would be the last of us to be squeamish. These men have a good chance of surviving.”
“I’ve seen far worse than this, Sir Nevin, many times over. I have held together the very guts of men with bellies sliced by Gilsum swords, just to let them get a few more breaths to say their final words. It is for those men that I cannot aid these enemies.”
“Orris, the men in that wagon over there may be soldiers, but they were not injured in any battle. They were battered by flying debris from the shock wave of the explosion. Besides, what difference does it make? We came here to end the fighting, not continue it. If you haven’t come to terms with that by now, maybe you should go back.” Nevin left the Antrim soldier to rejoin the others attending the injured.