“The last we heard, Dread Lord, he’d got a little hot under the collar,” the second lieutenant transmitted. “Jolly rotten show, I say. But he was a marine—at least he went out with a bang.”
The solid vibration of ’copter flight reverberated through Ashnak. The big orc waited until the Dark Lord either slept or (more likely) achieved some interior trance of Her own; then he flicked to a separate wavelength.
“Lieutenant Chahkamnit, you heard the Dark Lord. No fighting around Ferenzia. There are no orc marine units giving unofficial fire support to the deserters, mercenaries, and bandits on the Ferenzi borders—are there? Especially not where Herself is going to land. See to it, Chahkamnit.”
“Oh, I say, sir! How am I supposed to do that?”
“Contact our ground forces there and tell them to move the battle!”
“Move a battle, sir?” the orc lieutenant demanded. “How do you move a battle?”
“I don’t care. Just do it!”
Chahkamnit raised the ground forces north of Ferenzia. “Right, lads,” he directed lugubriously. “Shoot faster…”
Sun reflected from the curving glass canopy. Ashnak pulled the visor of his flight helmet down over his porcine eyes, polarising the light. When he woke, the country below stretched out widely, much wider than the Northern Kingdoms’ mountain-ridden patches of fertile land. Forested hills rolled out to a distant horizon, interspersed with strip-fields, grazing lands, castles built on high peaks, and wide, slow rivers. A blazing sun bleached the colour from the ripening corn.
Due south, the sprawling suburbs of Ferenzia stretched towards the great lakes.
“I say, sir, contact ahead—the Ferenzi must have spotted us coming. Pretty good for them, isn’t it, what?”
Ashnak cast a disillusioned eye at the sky. Circling dots, higher than the Hind, were vultures. Lower, on the helicopter’s flight level, twin giant eagles flew figure-eights over the spires and towers of the mighty city.
“Door gunners,” Ashnak checked.
“Yo, sir!”
The Dark Lord’s voice said, “I have been watching them for some time now. They are two of Ferenzia’s most potent Mages of the Light.”
Chahkamnit squinted into the sun. “Really, Ma’am? How can You tell?”
The Dark Lord said, “The vultures are—have always been—My eyes.”
Ashnak winced.
The soft voice in his helmet continued, “It is quite like the old days, watching orcs scurry about. I found that mountain siege quite gripping to watch. And I will not blame you for beginning wars when you did not know of My survival, and therefore could not know My wishes in the matter, and I have been most amused to watch you try to conceal your actions. However, the joke is over. Nothing must interfere with what I do now.”
It took the orc field marshal two fumbled attempts before he reached the commander of the ground forces on the Ferenzi border and convinced him of both his authority and his orders.
The Mages of the Light circled above the city.
“Speak with them, Ashnak,” the Dark Lord commanded. “I will ensure, by My power, that you are heard.”
The orc cleared his throat and spat between his feet. Phlegm spattered the foot pedals. Five hundred feet below his boots, Ferenzia’s blue-tiled roofs cast mid-afternoon shadows into the streets, clear and precise.
“This is Field Marshal Ashnak, Orc Marine Command, calling Mages of the Light.”
Thin, magical voices whispered in the hot cabin, vibrating through the talisman-protected metal. “Vile creature of Darkness! Your hideous engine does not hide our Great Enemy from our eyes. Surrender yourself. Give Him up to our justice, and we may spare you!”
The Hind ceased forward motion and hung, thrumming.
Ashnak leaned forward, taloned hands resting flat on his massive thighs, sweating odorously under the weight of flak jacket, webbing, and arms; but it was not the sweat of fear.
“Well, now,” he remarked cheerfully, “I’m carrying 57mm rockets, wire-guided antitank missiles, 23mm cannon, and an electrically powered gatling-gun in the chin-mounted gun turret. I suppose that might put a hole in your precious city. And I wouldn’t count on those motheaten eagles outflying an attack helicopter with a crack pilot, either.”
Chahkamnit blushed light brown. “Jolly decent of you, sir. Wouldn’t have said that myself, you know.”
The Mage-voices sharpened, echoing through the Hind’s metal frame. “We will perish gladly, knowing that we take with us the Blight of the Earth, the Evil Emperor, the Lord of Darkness Himself!”
The eagles broke their flight patterns, wings beating as they gained height to strike. Ashnak regretfully abandoned his taunts.
“The Lord of Darkness Himself is with us, but I formally advise you now that He’s not making any threat against your ground establishment or personnel. You’ll be making a completely unprovoked attack on us!”
There was a puzzled silence, after which one of the voices, somewhat petulantly, said, “We cannot let you pass unhindered! You have the Dark Lord with you!”
The second Mage-voice cut in. “It’s a trick! If the Dark Lord is here, with these few troops, then He must have an army hidden from our sight, about to descend on our city! Why else would He come here but to make hideous war on us?”
“Actually,” Ashnak rumbled, “He just wants to talk to you.”
There was a pause.
“Talk?” inquired the first voice.
“Talk!” spat the second.
“He wants to talk,” Ashnak said, “but I’ve got no objection to blowing you dumbass flyboys out of the sky if I have to. I’m putting this chopper down. You go talk to whoever commands in Ferenzia. If they ain’t outside the town in under fifteen minutes, I’m gonna take and strafe the fuck outta you. Do I make myself clear?”
In Ashnak’s headphones, the Dark Lord sighed.
“Diplomacy,” She reminded him. “Tact.”
“Highly overrated virtues, Ma’am. Ah. There they go. Chahkamnit, take us down.”
“Roger, sir. Going down.”
Making no overtly hostile moves, the Hind sank down with the beauty of machinery defying gravity, escorted by one of the vast-pinioned eagles. A preying yellow eye stared in through the Hind’s canopy with infinite amusement and weariness in it, tolerating the mage that rode its feathered back.
Lieutenant Chahkamnit brought the helicopter down in a textbook landing on the hard shore between the lake and the city wall. As the wheels touched, the orc marine squad disembarked to secure the perimeter.
Chahkamnit took off his flying helmet and peered out at the Chinook, two squads of orc marines belly-down behind cover and the third squad forming up as the Lord of Midnight’s bodyguard.
“I say, sir, does the Dark Lord consider this hostile territory? I didn’t think we were actually at war yet.”
Ashnak fastened the chinstrap of his marine-issue helmet. “We’re not, son. The question is, does Herself consider anywhere not hostile territory? And then there’s the Ferenzi.”
“Ah. Yes, sir, I take your point.”
Ashnak unbuckled the seat’s crotch straps. Built for a race that certainly was not orcish, they constricted rather more than his circulation. Rubbing his groin, the orc field marshal muttered, “Keep the rotors turning!” and disembarked from the helicopter.