“There, along the avenue, rebels!”
A Captain took control of the situation, as he was the highest ranking officer present and bucking for promotion. The circumstances were urgent and required immediate action. There was just no time to defer to a higher authority.
“You two Lieutenants, one hundred men apiece, fall in, tight formation and advance on my command.”
Within a short space of time over two hundred men were ready to advance against the rebels while the remainder of the available Dominion soldiers outside the gates were being hastily organised by other Captains. Still more soldiers poured out from the Royal Keep buckling on weapons.
“Draw weapons and advance,” bawled the Captain and the unit marched forward down the avenue, weapons held at the ready.
Coming at them was a wedge of rebels with Arwhon at its head. He had fewer men behind him than there were enemy in front and most of those men carried farm implements of some description but this was part of his plan, the most dangerous part. Arwhon started to trot toward the enemy, trusting his men were right behind him, until drawing his sword he picked up his pace some more. They hit the enemy line like a spear point and penetrated three or four rows deep where Arwhon started laying about him with precision. He didn’t think of these soldiers as people with families and loved ones. That way lay madness. He chose to think of nothing, his mind empty of all but his training.
Right behind Arwhon, at his back, Shiri made invisible defensive walls of energy, only as needed to deflect weapons, otherwise she would tire rapidly. However, the rest of the Tarkent rebels were doing well, wielding farm implements in a way the soldiers facing them had only ever heard as fanciful rumours. Jointed flails normally used to thresh grain flipped the heavy swords out of the way before the other end smacked into heads, scythes, one held in each hand easily combated sword thrusts and cut both going forward and back, simple staffs wreaked havoc as they far outreached the heavy swords of the guard unit. The Dominion soldiers suffered for their underestimation of the fighting skills of their Tarkent opponents.
The rebel wedge penetrated deeper into the Dominion forces, both sides taking losses, although far less amongst the men of Tarkent. In front of the gates, another two hundred soldiers had been formed up by now and the command was given to advance. Arwhon saw the fresh Dominion soldiers start to move forward and roared out a command. The Tarkent rebels slowly started to give ground as though they were being beaten back. A cheer went up from the embattled Dominion soldiers and they pressed harder as the reinforcements arrived. Back at the gates more Dominion soldiers were chafing to get into the action as the murderous lust rose in their hearts. Another hundred was quickly formed up and dispatched down the avenue to wreak bloody destruction before the rebels turned tail and ran away.
Arwhon and the rest of his group were being sorely pressed now and Arwhon was starting to tire so he opened the channel to Power and felt himself fill with it. Now when his sword clashed with another it sliced clean through, flashing red as normal steel gave way to it. Dominion soldiers stepped back from him as they realised his sword was a far deadlier weapon than it had first appeared. Shiri put a hand on his back and a bolt of pure Power shot into her. She was amazed at its strength and momentarily battled to contain what she had drawn.
At that moment, Arwhon roared.
“SIDES, SIDES. COME IN THE SIDES.”
In reply there came an answering roar as two groups of previously concealed rebels ran in toward the edges of the Dominion forces in a classic pincer movement. Arwhon’s frontal attack had been the lure to draw the defenders away from the Palace and out into the Plaza. It had worked. Tarkent rebels toward the rear of the Dominion formation slipped into the Palace grounds to keep the gates open and fight whatever forces were still inside but the doors to the Keep itself were slammed shut and barred. The hand to hand fighting was intense but gradually the rebel forces gained the upper hand and after surrender was offered as an option, many Dominion soldiers threw down their arms and stood with their hands in the air. A few mistakes were made here and there but this was war.
Gradually the hubbub died down and order was restored, with groups of weaponless prisoners being herded together under the watchful eye of a few rebels. So far, well and good but the doors to the Keep remained locked. As Arwhon walked through the front gates of the Royal Palace, Chalc appeared in front of him. Literally appeared. One moment he was not there then he was, putting the amulet back into his belt pouch. Whispering went through the rebel ranks.
“The doors were closed before I could get back in. I am afraid Kroy is in there with the Royal Family. I don’t know how many men he has in there either but Yongsan is still inside.”
“No matter Chalc, we’ve come this far and you’ve done a magnificent job. We’ll just have to deal with what we must.”
Shiri remained with Chalc at the bottom of the steps and as Arwhon strode toward the doors his brows furrowed with thought. He was charged with Power and his sword had been shearing through enemy weapons easily. Remembering the incident on the path to Gildon’s Keep where the edge of his sword had become hot enough to melt rock, an idea, unbidden, coalesced in his mind. Arwhon’s face cleared as he stepped in front of the right side door, slowly raising his sword above his head as he did so. The onlooking rebels thought he must have become a little battle crazy, looking for all the world like he was going to try to chop his way in.
He was.
Arwhon took his stroke. In a shimmer of red and white, the sword cut through the door horizontally above head height as though it were butter. With a look of concentration on his face he regarded the door before twice powering his sword downward. Both strokes cut easily and even left a groove in the stone floor beneath the thick timber before a huge section of door fell outward with a loud crash.
Before Arwhon could enter, Kroy stepped into the opening with an evil grin on his face. A groan went up from all present when they realised he held a captive. Kroy’s good left arm was tightly wrapped around Mindayo’s waist while the other brandished a knife to her throat, the blade attached to the silver socket on his wrist. Kroy doubted he could stop the rebellion now but he still wanted his prize and intended to take it and escape.
“You again,” he snarled at Arwhon. “Why is it always you who spoils my plans? Without you I would have collected the ring from its bearer in Cumbrisia’s End and been in Martine’s favour. Even here you’ve managed to destroy everything I had. Well I’m leaving with Mindayo. Put that sword down and have someone saddle me a horse, a good one mind, and provision it. If I can’t leave with her, I’ll kill her here and now and you can all be damned.”
Arwhon stepped away from the doors and backed right down the stairs, still carrying his sword, not wishing to relinquish it. Kroy pulled the edge of his knife blade tighter against Mindayo’s throat, the pale skin threatening to part.
“Put down the sword I said.”
Arwhon did, well back from the steps and stood, his mind racing to find a solution to this new problem. He intensely disliked the man before him, not only because Kroy had already killed him once but because Kroy stood for everything Arwhon hated. Lying, cheating, cruelty, greed and cold-blooded murder. Kroy forced Mindayo, held in front of him as a shield, down the steps, drawing closer to Arwhon’s grounded blade as Arwhon fell back anguished.
He couldn’t give up that blade.
A white shape plunged from above in a perfectly timed stoop. Wings flared for last minute braking as Krissi, the gryffon, landed on spring loaded cat-like hind feet behind Kroy and taloned front claws grasped Kroy’s shoulders, punching the wickedly pointed talons through clothes, flesh and cartilage to bend Kroy’s arms outwards to the sides. Mindayo screamed and ran forward into Arwhon’s open arms as Kroy stood in agony in the grasp of Krissi, arms skewered into a fixed half-surrender, unable to move. To give him his due, the man was brave and although he must have been in agony, he gazed down on Arwhon with fire in his eyes.
&n
bsp; “You are a man full of surprises. A worthy opponent. I suppose it’s too late to ask for leniency?”
Krissi was yammering in Arwhon’s mind. ‘Hungry, hungry.’
Arwhon came to a decision, one he hoped he would never regret.
“Yes. It is too late Kroy.”
Cradling Mindayo in a close hug, he swung around holding her tightly in his arms as he mentally released Krissi. He heard the sounds of course, as Krissi crunched through neck vertebrae to kill her prey and also the sounds she made dragging the body away at Arwhon’s mental request. When Krissi had moved well beyond the light into a dark part of the courtyard, Arwhon let Mindayo go, reclaimed his sword from the ground at his feet and after wiping it clean, sheathed it while trying to ignore the sounds of a gryffon feeding.
Gradually the stunned silence was broken by the Tarkent rebels congratulating each other and the wounded being cared for as the city’s stricken inhabitants emerged from their houses to discover their new found freedom.
Chalc motioned to Arwhon and Shiri.
“Shall we go up?”
The three of them, escorting Mindayo, entered the Royal Keep and climbed the stairs followed by some Tarkent rebels. A few enemy soldiers were scattered around but had seen through the windows which way the tide had turned and lay down their weapons, surrendering. Chalc led the Princess, Arwhon and Shiri up level after level until they came to the base of the stair leading up to the Royal Quarters. There lay Yongsan, a crossbow bolt protruding from his chest. Barely alive as Chalc cradled his Teacher’s head, Yongsan gasped out his final words.
“It was that cowardly one..... with the silver stump....... Mindayo had come out to see what was happening.”
Yongsan’s breathing became more ragged but he summoned the will which made him who he was and continued.
“Chalc, you will have to become the Master now....... This country needs to learn of the west....... Help the King keep Tarkent free...”
He grasped Chalc’s hand in a vice like grip.
“Promise me Chalc.”
Chalc was in anguish and he looked up at Arwhon.
“Promise him Chalc. I’ll explain.”
Chalc looked down on the man who had taught him since he was a small boy. Treated him fairly and corrected him when he was wrong.
“I promise Yongsan. I will become the Master and help the King.”
Yongsan smiled as blood trickled from the corner of his mouth then drew a shuddering breath and died. Chalc closed the Master’s eyes and sat quietly, grieving his Teacher’s death.
Arwhon waited for a moment before squeezing Chalc’s shoulder.
“Where are the King and Queen?”
Before Chalc could answer, Mindayo ran past them through the screen doors beside the stairs. Arwhon followed and saw her cross the room to a corner and slide open the screen there. The King and Queen sat regally cross-legged in the small cupboard space as though the events taking place were a normal everyday occurrence.
Arwhon bowed deeply.
“Tarkent is now yours Sire. Your people wait to see you.”
The King and Queen exited the storage cupboard and rearranged their clothing, restoring their resplendent composure. They each gave Mindayo a small hug and as they left the room, saw Chalc knelt beside the body of Yongsan, head bowed.
“So, we lost the old Master,” the King said sorrowfully. “Along with all my Advisors the Dominion has killed off. They will be greatly missed.”
A remarkable idea suddenly occurred to Arwhon, one which would solve a number of problems at one stroke. He had no explanation for its sudden occurrence but he turned to the King and drew him off to one side.
“Sire, forgive me for being so bold but Chalc has just now been elevated to Master. Yongsan’s dying breath named him so. Chalc knows the ways of your country and also of the western lands, having lived in both. I know of no one more honest and true. He would be an excellent bodyguard and be able to advise you on all sorts of things in times to come. Together, we’ve helped free The Broken Lands from Dominion and their King gave him a farm there in recognition of his courage. He’s a rare and truly loyal man.”
The King looked up sharply at Arwhon.
“Isn’t he your servant?”
Arwhon grinned.
“Chalc wanted to be my servant so he could come back to Tarkent without the Dominion arresting him. We’ve done that. I made no mention of him being my servant for ever. He’s free to leave me now.”
The King walked over to where Chalc knelt beside the body of his old Teacher and placing a hand on Chalc’s shoulder lifted him up until Chalc stood before him.
“Before we go downstairs, I want you to know I now appoint you my Chief Advisor, Head of my Bodyguard and in charge of the defence of Tarkent. Any information you can give our people on western life will help us live well with other cultures. I’m sorry about Yongsan, we’ll hold a fitting funeral for him later but right now the citizens of Tarkent need our help.”
Chalc glanced up, resolve already firm on his face before looking to Arwhon for his reaction.
“Chalc, I agreed to take you on as my Servant so you could return to your homeland. You’re here and your country’s need of your knowledge and skill now far outweighs mine. Tarkent has to come to learn of the western lands and needs a person of your ability to organise an army and trade. I release you from my service and thank you from the bottom of my heart for everything you have done for me. Because of your teaching I know I’ll be able to manage to continue with my quest to rid the lands of evil. I also need to know Tarkent will continue to be secure. Congratulations on your appointment and wish your daughter Wychee all the best from me.”
He reached out his hand out and clasped wrists with Chalc, who looked closer to tears than Arwhon had ever seen him.
“Thank you Arwhon, you are truly a man of honour.”
Chalc turned to the King.
“I think we should go downstairs Sire, so the people can see you and know Tarkent is now free. There will be time to honour Yongsan later.”
The King agreed and followed Chalc.
As the King walked through the front doors of the Royal Keep, a resounding cheer rose from the crowd gathered in the courtyard, both the rebels who had fought the Dominion soldiers and the local citizens, come from their houses in the city. All went down on their knees and bowed their heads to the ground.
“Arise my people; we have much to do. This man Chalc, who stands beside me, has been appointed my Chief Advisor and will act for me in our rebuilding of Tarkent. I am proud of what we’ve accomplished today. I intend to see Tarkent will never be overcome again.
A long life to you all.”
With that the King bowed to his people then retired into the Royal Keep to see to his wife and daughter. Chalc set about his new duties, including determining likely leaders able to cope with all the details required to get Kyto back to some semblance of normality as soon as possible.
His first official command however, was to detail a group of well armed rebels to strip the weapons and boots from the Dominion soldiers who had surrendered, guard them for the rest of the night then escort them west out of Tarkent to the borders of Debrishar.
Tarkent would not be known as a country which condoned prisoner slaughter.
It was a long night for Chalc and as the light of morning paled the eastern sky, he had begun to bring some order and normalcy back to Kyto. It was a bright new day and the start of a new life for Chalc.
Arwhon had followed the King back up the stairs and assisted in the preparation of Yongsan’s body. Shiri aided in the cleansing of blood from the crossbow wound and the dressing of the lifeless, venerable teacher in the fine clothing provided by the King himself. Without the indomitable steel will his training had endowed him with, Yongsan’s body seemed almost birdlike, small and frail, with white hair falling in wisps from the topknot at the back of his head. Shiri worked wonders and soon Yongsan appeared to be merely sleeping. His body w
as moved to a room suitable for a state hero and left with a candle burning by his head. Arwhon and Shiri were found a comfortable room for what remained of the night and managed a few hours sleep before the morning.
The King and Queen wished Arwhon and Shiri to be their guests for a few weeks so they could join in the celebrations for the liberation of Tarkent from Dominion but Arwhon felt tugged by an urge to travel west and discussed this with Shiri.
“If you feel its right, we should leave, Arwhon. More forces than we know are at play. We really must follow your inclination and depart tomorrow.”
After breakfast they went to see the Barsoomi Riders. Breeta, Randar and Neta had survived the attack on the Royal Palace and didn’t disguise their pleasure at seeing Arwhon and Shiri again, for although they’d been well treated, none of them understood the language of Tarkent. As soon as Arwhon saw the Riders, he felt a strange tingling in his head, not painful at all, followed by another strategy leaping fully formed into his mind yet again. He excused himself and straightaway returned to the Royal Palace to see the King of Tarkent. He was admitted immediately.
“Sire, the country to the south of you, the eastern half of Graswyn holds many of Empress Martine’s soldiers. You do not have an army to fight them but King Daveed of Barsoom has many men who would be willing to fight the Dominion. As a special favour I would ask that King Daveed be allowed to lead half the Barsoomi mounted forces through your country and mount a surprise attack from Tarkent on the Dominion forces in Graswyn. Empress Martine would not expect that and its time all the lands worked together to throw off the shackles of Dominion.”
The King looked concerned.
“I appreciate your enthusiasm Arwhon but what is to stop the Barsoomi taking over Tarkent if they like it?”
“Sire, the Barsoom people live for the Plains and breeding their horses there. It’s the only place their horses will breed true. They’re not farmers to sit in one spot and till the soil. They need the open spaces of the Plains of Barsoom. Pretty as Tarkent is, it would not suit the Barsoomi at all. I would like to send two of the Riders who accompanied us to fetch half of the Barsoomi Tribe’s Riders to engage the enemy in Graswyn. Consult with Chalc, your Chief Advisor, I’m sure he would agree with me.”
The Fall of Belvedere Page 23