Rival Crowns (Challenger's Call Book 7) Page 2

  I dutifully remained quiet so that he could think in peace.

  "Chris, I think you may have just helped me realize something," my father said at last. "It's been easy to dismiss Malcolm's victories, because until very recently they've happened in remote areas we've already written off as not worth the expense of maintaining. And because we've all known him back on Earth as a crippleheaded retard incapable of even convincing anyone that it's safe to leave their little girls around him.

  "But the people of these worlds are different from the ones we've been manipulating back on Earth. They trust him more, probably because the Starsown has trained them to somehow—which is frustrating, because we've worked so hard to discredit him, just on the off-chance he could somehow get free and rally them. At any rate, we should have realized that the Starsown had probably trained him to do the exact same thing she's been doing to oppose us—discover powerful allies we had no knowledge of, and utilize them against us. That's not a long-term solution, because it won't do anything but delay us wherever our power is already concentrated, like in the Spirit Kingdoms or Dawnlands, but in the worlds we've already written off, such a strategy might produce unexpected results.

  "That finally gives us a reasonable excuse for the idiot's success. We've all been focusing on the fact that there's no way an eighteen-year-old orphan whose brain we damaged could slay our strongest assets remaining on those worlds, then turn around and organize a network of resistance that spanned multiple planets. It's more likely that he just learned from his nerd girl crush where her remaining assets were still hiding and exploited them when we turned our attention away from those worlds. Only when he did so here, he probably awakened something from this world's past that the Starsown had never discovered."

  My father's eyebrows scrunched in concentration.

  "This is good," he decided. "Not only is Malcolm helping us discover more resources that were previously hidden away, he's unearthing third parties that have the potential to outmatch his own hidden allies. Which shows us the new way forward," my father announced. He gave me a level, serious gaze.

  "Chris, you're being promoted again. Because, as disappointing as it is to discover that you weren't able to keep the Pit Knights alive, the fact that you were able to duplicate Malcolm's feat of uncovering hidden assets is too useful of a discovery to pass up. Especially since, this time, you were able to do so before John's own brat could!" he added fiercely, eyes shining with smug triumph. "You're going to continue to help us coordinate with the Horde, but at a much grander scale. They hold you in high favor, and now that we've finally realized just how badly they want to kill Malcolm's brat, we'll be able to increase their presence without any of the concessions we were afraid they'd make us pay. So, we're going to quit fucking around ourselves with those little probes and let them devote as much energy they want to killing Malcolm directly. Your job is to manage their efforts while keeping on the lookout for more resources we might have missed."

  "Yes, sir," I replied, giving my father the appropriate nod. "The only problem—the only complication," I corrected quickly, "with that idea is that, as far as I can tell, Malcolm is still in the same world that the new asset just sealed off. I can play any role you want in our objectives with him, but I think he considers the Horde to be 'of the Breath,' whatever that is, because he killed the Pit Knights and other nearby Horde with extreme prejudice. If we choose to negotiate with him, it may be best to leave the Horde behind. This is assuming Malcolm is still alive to begin with."

  And if he isn't, I'm fucked, I dared to think for a moment, before smothering that thought.

  "That's an excellent observation," my father said with another grin. "You're well on your way to thinking tactically, and unlike John's brat, you're doing it without a bunch of Icons and a manipulative alien woman doing all of your thinking for you." He gave the nearby door a quick glance. "I think it's time you joined us in our meeting, Chris. You're going to help me explain this development to the Board, then you're going to use what you've learned to help us discover our new colleague's weaknesses and how we can use them to our advantage."

  "Yes, sir," I said as my father stepped toward the door and opened it, still grinning triumphantly. "You can count on me."

  Then I prepared myself to deal with Dalfrey, Barnes, and everyone else currently in the top ranks of our organization, and stepped through the door.

  Chapter 2: Herald of Woe

  Davelon's Perspective

  “You were right,” the hooded man said, as the rest of my team joined the Wealthwalkers and looked out from over the dune. “The army is much larger than we expected. Yet, you predicted that, even before we used the Breath. How?”

  “I wasn’t sure of it, but you said this was the least-policed route,” I reminded Rashem.

  We were currently looking over the top of a large sand dune, down at what was hopefully the last army of crazed Horde left in the northern region of the Golden Sands, since by now the other armies should have linked up with the larger force that Wes poisoned.

  “But there hasn’t been enough time and incidents for them to have been sure of that by now,” the tan, elven man whispered back, still confused. “And they’re clearly too insane to act on anything like reconnaissance reports. Sir Earthborn,” he added respectfully—even though he didn’t need to, because he clearly wasn’t arguing with me for any reason except to understand what was happening.

  “They’re still creatures of opportunity. Even though they're even more insane than those bird men you told us about,” I continued, since I could tell he was still confused. “The Muhten had an obvious goal: to take absolutely everything they could. But these Horde monsters don't have any real goal except to kill Wes. So they’re going to act on a lot of little details that the rest of us won’t pay attention to. In fact, since they’re relying entirely on their subconscious, they’re going to act on opportunities they won’t even realize they’re noticing. It’s like with crime.”

  I paused to figure out how to explain my point. It was a theory my dad and his old partners had developed in law enforcement. Despite a few studies disagreeing with them, they firmly held to the old belief that most of the insane criminals all came out during the full moon. But it wasn’t because the moon made people crazy, they said. It was because there was still enough darkness to hide in, but just enough light to help them see well enough to do whatever crazy thing they felt like doing.

  But those criminals didn’t even realize that, according to my dad and his colleagues. The lunatics weren’t looking out their windows going, “Huh, the moon is full; I guess it’s absolutely the perfect time to go steal a shopping cart and bash out all my ex’s windows with it.” They just subconsciously recognized the benefits of having more light, and then moved forward with the rest of what their subconscious was telling them to do.

  “Davelon’s really, really good at picking out details others miss.” Rachel spoke up before I could finish working out how to explain full moons and urban crime to the prehistoric-aged elven archer from another world. “And he’s really good at predicting how others will think. He always has been, and since he started Rising, he’s gotten phenomenal with it. It’s one of the reasons I—I mean, we—made him the leader of our little team.”

  Rashem looked at her curiously. Then his face went carefully blank the next moment, and he nodded.

  “I see. Thank you both for explaining. At any rate, Sir and Lady Earthborn, we should plan our next move.”

  I looked over the hill, worried that the monsters below might somehow hear us, but nothing changed. They were still a long way from us, and the whisper-like song magic that the Wealthwalkers used ensured that our words didn’t travel farther than a few feet beyond their target’s ears.

  “Okay,” I began, “I’m going to do what I’ve been doing, and realize that even though we're nominally in charge, my team and I still have far less expertise than your people have regarding encounters like this, so we're going to hear yo
ur plan first.”

  Rashem frowned at that. I caught him looking over the hill at the same time I did.

  This time, there were thousands of Horde, making it by far the largest group we had encountered so far. In the past, when there had only been a few hundred Hordebeasts, the Wealthwalkers had used their magic to create a storm of arrows and kill off a large portion of them, then we would charge forward and use our talents on anything that was immune to the arrows for one reason or another.

  But we wouldn’t be able to do that this time.

  We’d get two volleys, maybe three or four, and then our group of thirty or so would all be in melee with hundreds of rabid Mongrels and Miscreants who were too strong to die in a single swing, and too crazy to pay attention to any pain they felt.

  We’d either get overwhelmed or barely win, and either way, we’d suffer heavy casualties.

  And because they were crazy and wouldn't flee, the tactics that the Wealthwalkers were most familiar with wouldn’t work as well.

  Still, though, Rashem had been in probably a hundred more battles than I had, even counting my team's tour in the Woadlands. He and the other Dunegraced could probably think of something, even if it wasn’t their preferred tactics.

  “We’ll need a minute to discuss this,” the dusk-skinned man admitted, “as I do not think we can use the same tactics the Lord Challenger himself would use with this group.”

  “What do you think my brother would do in this situation?” Rachel asked.

  “With respect," Rashem said carefully, and looking oddly uncomfortable, "he would come up with some idea that probably shouldn’t work to begin with, and therefore be completely unexpected, then ensure that said idea worked by providing an absolutely terrifying amount of explosive, raw power.”

  “Yeah, that does sound like him,” Rachel answered thoughtfully. “It’s one of the reasons I stopped letting him play mages in my campaigns.”

  “Campaigns?” the elven man asked in a confused tone, then shook his head. It was faint, but I could tell something was still annoying him. “Never mind. At any rate, there are tactics we can use, but all of them will be risky. Even if we lead them in a wild chase through the desert, it will take time for the environment to kill this army off since they can consume their own dead. Moreover, since these rabid animals are serving as a distraction anyway, any extra delay they cause our forces is a success, assuming enough of the other forces survived the Lord Challenger's sabotaging of their supplies. Especially if this throng gives up chasing us and continues to head toward Mejem.”

  That was the real kicker. We were still in the early stages of building up our forces in this world, and dealing with the suicidal Horde prevented us from controlling the normal routes of traffic. Wes may have bought us a great deal of time by damaging the force advancing from the south, but more armies were likely coming, and even if they weren't, we really needed to be in a position where we could control the routes and start sending reinforcements into the other worlds still suffering under Malus occupation.

  Finally, we didn’t have enough troops to defend Mejem’s walls yet, not from thousands of rabid Horde. If only a few made it through our defenses and into the general population, the loss of life and morale would be severe.

  But if we actually could pull this off and keep everyone alive, we’d be able to undergo a number of Rises, which would help us deal with the next threat. And the threat after that. And so on.

  Easy, man, the better half of my brain warned me, you’re starting to think like Wes.

  “What about that trick that Wes showed us?” Christina spoke up, careful to keep her voice low as she walked closer to us. “The one with all the bombs that go off when your enemy chases you?”

  “Those traps work best when you can predict where your enemy will travel,” Rachel said. “With this many monsters, and this open a terrain, we can’t really do that. Not with our current amount of mana.”

  “With respect,” Rashem interrupted, “the Lord Challenger himself never used that trap on this many foes at once, as it would be a drain for even his impressive amount of mana. I do not doubt he would find a way to win, but I suspect it would use all of his resources. All of his known resources, at any rate.”

  I had actually asked about that last bit because it was a surprisingly common topic of conversation among pretty much everybody on Wes’ team, no matter what planet he was on. Apparently he had raised up enough underground endangered forests and previously extinct civilizations by now for most people to notice and comment about it.

  There were enough outrageous stories that my curiosity got the better of me, and I tried to investigate them. A few weren’t true, and were obviously outrageous claims that were quickly corrected by anyone who knew the real story.

  But it turned out that I could trace most of the stories to a set of records.

  Somehow, at some point, a small handful of eyewitnesses managed to leave behind accounts. Most of the accounts were in writing, but there were a few short, hastily written songs and even a carving or two depicting the events.

  Funny enough, the songs, writings, and carvings all corroborated almost completely. Which is impressive, because they were clearly written hastily.

  And angrily, I thought. It was just a guess, but the writing felt like someone had initially been thrilled by the project of recording their accounts, then overwhelmed and annoyed by the sheer number of them.

  However, that wasn't important right now. I needed to examine our environment and find a way to win. The only thing that really stood out to me was the way our guide seemed irritated about something. I didn't think it was our issue with the Horde, because his facial expressions indicated that whatever was bothering him was distracting him from focusing on our actual problem, and he was trying to fight past it.

  "Hey, Rashem," I whispered, trying to make sure that only he could hear me. "Are you okay? You seem like something's distracting you."

  The dusk-skinned man blinked, as if he was just now noticing his own annoyance.

  "Apologies, Challenger," the Wealthwalker replied. "It embarrasses me to admit it, but I had a severe itch that was distracting me." He reached into his hood and quickly scratched the top of his nose. "It's a strange quirk that I barely remember having, after all those centuries of imprisonment."

  "I remember that," his brother, Epham, the Wealthwalker next to us said with a grin. "It wound up being useful for us, though, since the only time you ever got that itch was..."

  He trailed off, and both men's eyes widened in alarm.

  "A sandstorm is incoming," Rashem said quickly, and loudly. "And a large one, at that, if my body is already sensing it despite the clear horizon. We need to leave immediately, or we will all be buried alive."

  "What about the Horde?" Rachel asked, even as she crept down the hill with the rest of us.

  "If they still need air to live, then they will not be a problem for anyone in a few moments. Hurry!" the man snapped urgently. "We will use the Breath to guide us to safety, and our magic to help us travel as quickly as possible. There are old havens our magics can guide us to, but only if we act immediately!"

  An itch didn't seem like much to go on, but if the rest of the Wealthwalkers were taking Rashem's nose seriously, then my team would be fools not to do the same. We raced down the sand dune, and it troubled me immensely to notice that the Dunegraced were not bothering with stealth. By the time Rashem's people had begun their new chant, we could hear whoops and cries from the distant Horde, meaning that they had either heard us or noticed the clouds of sand we were tossing up as we ran. After all that work to creep stealthily upon their position, it was frustrating to know that not only had we given up fighting them, they would be chasing us now.

  I told myself to focus. Things would only get worse if my team saw how upset I was—even if I wasn't the real leader. Besides, half the time, whatever play my old football coach called never went according to plan, either.

  But, as my d
ad used to tell me—and Wes used to show everyone—you didn't need to be the coach or quarterback to help pump your team up. I glanced around to see if anyone was having trouble keeping up with the Wealthwalkers' pace. All of our bodies were much stronger than they had been on Earth, but long-distance running like this hadn't really been part of our training, not like weapons and magic had been. Depending on how far and how fast you needed to go, running could be a lot more complicated than most people realized.

  Christina was currently doing fine, but she had actually enjoyed running back on Earth, and had almost joined the track team instead of cheerleading. But I knew for a fact that Andre, Himari, and Rachel all hated exercise, and actually preferred overcoming Challenges to getting up for an early morning jog. Judging by their forms, they would do fine for about twenty or thirty minutes, but then they would crash hard.

  So I let myself fall back near them, but not close enough to where it looked like I was singling any one of them out for help. Then, I opened up the mindlink Wes had showed us how to use, and began speaking to them—both to save my breath for running and to avoid embarrassing them.

  Come on, ya'll, I tried to say encouragingly, I know running sucks, but I'll show you how to make it easier. Watch how I breathe, and it will hurt way less by the time we get to shelter. In...out...in...out...

  Part of my mind worried I was being more obnoxious than helpful, but as I fell farther back, I could tell that they had started mimicking my form and breathing patterns. The relief it gave them was noticeable, and Rachel blasted so much gratitude and admiration through the mindlink that I had to force myself to stop reading too much into her emotions. For the dozenth time, I had to remind myself that hitting on my best friend's sister was super uncool anyway, especially with everything going on right now. She probably needs me as a friend more right now, anyway. Now, focus.