March To The Stars

aphorisms, 'Shit happens,' and so a few of the humans' allies learned the hard way that the most terrible thing about white phosphorus is that there is no way to extinguish it. You have to get it off, or simply let it burn out. Water doesn't quench it; it only makes it burn hotter.

Yet what happened to the Diasprans was only very bad; what happened to the Krath was indescribable. The blazing phosphorus raised the temperature in the gate tunnel to over a thousand degrees Kelvin in a bare instant. The dozens of Mardukans who were covered in Poertena's fish oil never had a chance as it flashed into vapor and flame. The only mercy—if such a noun could possibly be applied to a moment of such transcendent horror—was that death came very swiftly, indeed.

It came less swiftly for the forces gathered around the interior side of the gate as the ravening flames licked outward. Some of those at least fifteen or twenty meters back actually survived.

The flame gouted up through the murderholes, as well, narrowly missing the last Vashin cavalryman as he scrambled down the scaling rope on the outer wall. The inside of the gate tower was like a chimney, channeling the explosion of heat and fury that set fire to all the woodwork and oil-drenched barrels in the tower's interior. Force fed from the conflagration underneath, which now included burning bodies, the flame and heat swept through the upper sections of the tower as if it were a blast furnace.

In seconds, the entire gatehouse was fully involved.

* * *

'Cut it out, you stupid beast!'

Roger jerked on the reins of his civan as it stamped nervously. He understood why the flames and the smell of burning flesh made all of the cavalry mounts uneasy, but understanding didn't make his own mount any easier to control, and he felt a sudden longing for Patty.

For virtually the entire march across the far continent, his primary mount had been a flar- ta pack beast—an elephant-sized monstrosity that resembled nothing so much as an omnivorous triceratops. His particular mount had had more than a touch of the much more dangerous wild strain that the Marines had taken to calling 'capetoads.' Patty had been five tons of ravening, unstoppable mean in a fight, and at times like this, when it looked like a hard slog all the way to the mountains and possible battles with barbarian tribes beyond, he missed her badly.

But there'd been No Way to fit a flar-ta onto a schooner, so for the time being, he'd just have to put up with these damned two-legged idiots, instead.

Pahner walked over and glanced up at the prince as Roger attempted to soothe the nervous civan.

'I think your plan worked, Your Highness.'

'Better than I'd hoped, actually,' Roger admitted, listening to the steady roar of the flames consuming the gate tower's interior. 'They'll have to wait for it to cool before they can pursue us on this side of the river. Either that, or climb down the walls.'

'But they'll have sent out runners on the far side,' Pahner pointed out, gesturing across the barely glimpsed river. 'You know there's a bridge upstream somewhere and garrisons are already being turned out.'

'Then I suppose we should get headed out,' Roger said, kneeing the beast around to face north, away from the inferno at the gate. He lowered his helmet visor and tightened his gauntlets.

'Time to show these religious gentlemen why you don't pock with House MacClintock.'

CHAPTER NINETEEN

'You are an absolute idiot, Sor Teb,' Lorak Tral snarled.

The general fingered his sword as he glared at the Scourge while smoke from the fires wafted even into the small interior meeting room. It hadn't taken long for the fire from the gate to spread throughout the upper temple district, especially with oil– and fire-covered soldiers running screaming in every direction. A brief, fortuitous deluge had helped control the worst of the flames, but the damage was extensive. And that didn't even count the damage to the gatehouse itself ... or the loss of the High Priest. The jockeying for that position always led to social unrest, and in the wake of the chaos left by the retreating humans, the city balanced precariously on the brink of civil war.

'You may not speak to me that way, Lorak,' the Scourge's reply made an insult of the naked name. 'Whatever has happened, I am still the Scourge of God. I am the Chooser. Beware who you call an idiot.'

'I'll call you anything I want, you idiot,' the general told him in a voice of ice. 'You may be the Scourge, but until this is settled, you are to refrain from any further action. Is that perfectly clear?'

'And who made you High Priest?' Teb snapped. He refused to show it, but a tiny trickle of fear had crept into his heart. Lorak was normally a rather self-effacing type; there must have been notable changes in the last hour or so for him to take this high a hand.

'He is not the High Priest,' Werd Ras said quietly. The Flail, the head of the internal police, had kept out of most of the maneuvering for the succession, but he had eyes and ears everywhere.

'However,' Ras continued, 'a quorum of the full council has determined that he will have plenipotentiary authority to deal with this situation. And he is specifically ordered to bring the humans to ground. The council was ... not impressed by your actions, Sor Teb. Endangering the Voice was idiotic. Doing so with too few guards simply compounded your idiocy. And deserting him when it was clear your plan had failed was inexcusable.'

'You're going to try to stop the humans with your Sere vern?' Teb said to Lorak scornfully. 'All you know is how to make pretty formations. The humans are headed for the Shin. They had one with them, disguised as a Shadem female. You do know what that means, don't you?'

'You make too much of the Shin,' the general replied with equal scorn. 'It is high time to teach those barbarians a lesson.'

Teb's eyes widened.

'You are joking, right?' He turned to Werd Ras. 'Tell me he's joking.'

'The fact that there was a Shin in the group that killed the Voice was reported to us. In fact, there are some indications that it was the Shin who actually did the deed. Be that as it may, if the Shin aid the humans, they will be pursued to destruction. Messages have been forwarded to Queicuf and Thirlot and will be passed to the Shin. If the Vales aid the humans, they will be put to the torch, and all of them will be taken as Servants.'

'So now you're Choosing, as well,' Sor Teb said with a gesture of humor. 'I suppose the Shin are just going to take this lying down?'

'I don't care how they take it,' Lorak said. 'It is high time that those barbarians learned who their masters are.'

' 'Masters,' ' Sor Teb repeated thoughtfully. ' 'Masters.' You know that the last three times Kirsti tried to mount punitive expeditions against the Shin, they were cut off and slaughtered.'

'That's because none of them insured their line of supply,' Lorak replied with a gesture of contempt. 'We'll set up Thirlot and Queicuf as fortified supply depots and maintain heavily guarded convoys into the mountains. Like the Scourge, the only thing the Shin know is raid and ambush. They won't be able to cut that line of supply, because—like your precious Scourge—they don't even know what 'line of supply' means.'

'Ah, yes, that's us,' Teb said, tossing a false-hand in a gesture of mock agreement. 'Not much more than barbarians ourselves. Just one last question; you say you informed Queicuf and Thirlot. Does that mean you're just going to let them scurry all the way to the hills before you go after them?'

'It's impossible to mount a prepared assault in the time it will take them to travel that far,' Werd said. 'And what's happened here today is sufficient proof that a prepared assault will be necessary to overcome the humans alone, far less crush the Shin, if they should be stupid enough to offer them aid. So, yes, we're going to let them 'scurry to the hills.' If the garrison in Thirlot or Queicuf is able to stop them, all the better. If not, we'll inform the Shin that they can turn the humans over to us or face the consequences.'

Sor Teb fingered his horns for a moment. He hadn't come from within the social hierarchy like Werd or