Then, just as he was finishing his breakfast, a warrior arrived to tell him that Nornos Kald wished to see him. Immediately, Sojan rose and followed the man to the War King’s apartments.
“I summoned you, Sojan,” Nornos Kald said, when they were alone, “because you are to accompany me on a journey. Our mission is to take II-that, princess of Sengol, back to her father’s country. I desire to bring Sengol into the Hatnorian alliance without bloodshed if possible and the king would think well of it if his daughter was personally escorted home by the War King himself. You had better prepare your weapons and be ready to move from your quarters by dawn tomorrow.”
This news delighted Sojan. He had become bored while he awaited his War King’s orders.
The great Royal Airship was escorted by ten aerial cruisers, heavily armed with Hatnorian air-guns which worked on the simple principle of compressed air, with a range of over half a mile. They were ready to take to the air early the next morning. The ships rose majestically, hovered for a few moments, and then, with motors purring, the great dirigibles veered off towards Sengol which lay far to the North.
Within three or four hours they had crossed the outermost boundary of Hatnor and her satellites and were winging their way at a steady eighty miles an hour over Veronlam, a country which owed no allegiance to Hatnor and which, although fearing the mighty Empire, was constantly stirring up petty strife between the minor Hatnorian nations. They had nearly reached the border of Veronlam when the soft purr of motors was heard and a shell whistled past them and exploded in their rear air container.
“Veronlam pirates!” yelled the fore-gunner.
Quickly the small fleet formed a protective barrier about the Royal ship. One airship was hit a dozen times in as many different places and hurtled downwards, flames roaring from the gas-bag and the crew jumping overboard rather than die in the flames.
Nornos Kald realised at once that to fight against so many would soon end in disaster for his fleet, and he ordered them to turn about and flee back to Hatnor. He decided to rely upon his speedier engines to aid them rather than their powerful guns.
The Hatnorian fleet circled and fled. Nornos Kald was the last to leave the battle and hastily turned about to follow his ships. But alas, it was too late, for three well-aimed shots in their main tank sent them spiralling slowly to earth to land with a sickening crash amidst a tangle of red-hot girders and flaming fabric. Being on the platform of the ship Nornos Kald, Sojan and Il-that were flung clear of the main wreckage, to lie stunned, almost as if in death.
Chapter Four
A Grim Welcome
Sojan did not know how long it was he lay amidst the wreckage of the Royal Airship, but when he awoke it was dawn. He knew that none could have escaped if they had been killed in the wreckage but nevertheless he spent a fruitless two hours searching for his companions—all he found were two or three charred corpses but none lived. Convinced that his companions were dead he took the only unbroken water bottle and set off in the direction of Hatnor.
After some hours of steady walking, Sojan’s eye caught the gleam of white stone far to the South of his position. With a sigh of relief he began to walk quickly towards the gleam which grew soon into a patch and from that into a city, its walls towering fifty feet in places. Realising that he was still probably in Veronlam he knew that it would be useless to try to gain admission on the strength of his allegiance to Nornos Kald the War King.
Stripping himself of his Hatnorian Navy-Cloak and also his Navy-type gauntlets Sojan stood dressed as when he had first entered Hatnor, as a mercenary swordsman.
He easily gained admittance to the city of Quentos as mercenaries were always welcome to swell the ranks of any army.
“By Mimuk, friend, you’re the third foreigner to pass through these gates today,” the guard said, as Sojan was allowed to enter the city.
“The third. That’s strange, is it not, guard?” replied Sojan. “Three strangers in one day! Mimuk, you must be joking!”
“I joke not, friend mercenary, remarkable as it seems two others have preceded you and one of them was a woman. Our warriors found them near the wreck of an airship. Some say the ones we captured were Nornos Kald himself and II-that, daughter of Hugor of Sengol. Two prizes for good ransom indeed if it be the truth.”
Sojan strode off in the direction indicated by the friendly guard.
Arriving at the tavern he hired a room and ordered himself a meal. Finishing his repast, he was horrified to find that the only money he had was that of Hatnor. If he tried to pass this he knew that the suspicions of the keeper of the tavern would be instantly aroused. What should he do? He had brought nothing with him to the tavern save his sword, shield and poignard and the clothes he wore. He reasoned that the only chance he stood was to try to slip quietly out of the door before the proprietor spotted him and ordered him to pay his bill.
As soon as the place seemed reasonably busy Sojan rose and slipped quietly towards the door.
Just as he thought he had reached the safety of the street a hand fell on his shoulder and the leering face of the landlord was brought close to his.
“Going so soon, my hireling blade? Methinks you would like to stay and sample some more of our victuals before you make your—er—hasty departure,” he said with ponderous sarcasm. “Now pay up or my men’ll make sure you pay for your meal—in blood!”
“You threaten me, by Mimuk!” cried Sojan, his easily roused temper getting the better of him. “You dare threaten me! Draw your weapon!”
“Hey, Tytho, Zatthum, Wanrim—come and save me from this murdering bilker!” cried the keeper of the tavern in mock terror.
Instantly three ruffians appeared in the narrow doorway and, drawing their blades, rushed at Sojan, causing him to release his grasp upon the unfortunate man and turn to face this new danger.
Zatthum went down in the first minute with an inch of steel marking its path through his heart. The remaining two were not so easily defeated. Back and forth across the narrow street the three fought, sparks flying from their blades, the clang of their weapons echoing amongst the rooftops.
Sojan was marked in a dozen places, but his adversaries were bleeding in as many as he was. With a quick thrust, a parry and another thrust the mercenary succeeded in dispatching the second man. Now only Tytho was left. Sojan allowed himself to be headed off and the man edged him completely round so that they were now retracing their path. With a mighty effort Sojan, who was still tired after his narrow escape from the airship, gathered his remaining strength together and made a vicious lunge in Tytho’s direction.
Tytho cried out in pain when Sojan’s blade found the muscle of his left arm, but did not relax his grip upon his own sword. Again Sojan was forced further back towards the gaping crowd which had collected outside the tavern. His shield saved him from the thrust designed to end the fight but he knew he could not last longer for he was rapidly tiring. Suddenly his foot caught in the trappings of one of the dead men’s harnesses and he fell backwards across the corpse. A grim smile graced Tytho’s face as he raised his sword to deliver the final thrust.
Chapter Five
Sentenced to Die
Kill him, Tytho, kill him!” the crowd roared in frenzied bloodlust.
Sojan, entangled in the harness of the man he had slain, tried to rise but was stopped from doing so by a shove from Tytho’s booted foot.
The hireling raised his sword again and the crowd leaned forward.
Suddenly there was a disturbance at one end of the street and the crowd quickly began to disperse. As it did so, Tytho saw that the City Patrol, scourge of the local thieves, was the cause of the crowd’s disappearance. Looking hurriedly about him for a way of escape he found none; he dropped his sword and began to run, foolishly, along the street.
The leader of the Patrol raised his pistol. There was the slight hiss of escaping air and the running hireling gave a short cry, threw up his arms, stumbled and dropped on the cobbles of the street.
“What’s happening here?”
By this time Sojan had disentangled himself from the harness of his late opponent and was standing, legs a-sprawl, hand to head.
“You’ve saved my life, sir!” he gasped. “These ruffians attacked me for my money. I succeeded in killing two but unfortunately became tangled up with this fellow.” He indicated the body. “Tytho was about to finish me when you arrived!”
The leader laughed. “You certainly accounted very well for yourself,” he said, “these three are among the worst of the type with whom we have to contend. Ruthless murderers, perfect swordsmen.” Again he laughed, “Or almost perfect. You did us a service and I am grateful.”
He surveyed Sojan’s bloodstained and tattered clothing.
“You’re a stranger here are you not?” he enquired, “a mercenary swordsman, perhaps?”
“Yes, I am named Sojan—they nickname me ‘Shieldbearer’ because I use this.” Sojan pointed to his shield. He was hoping that news of his joining the Hatnorian forces had not reached the city.
“Well, Sojan Shieldbearer, how would you like to bear that shield and wield a sword in the Patrol?”
Instantly Sojan saw his chance. If he could get a post in the organised militia of the city, he might be able to contact his imprisoned friends.
“It has always been my ambition to serve in the Veronlamite Guard,” he lied, “but to become a member of the great Patrol is a chance for which I had not dared hope.”
“Then come with us and we’ll enlist you immediately. And,” the captain added, “get you a decent jerkin and harness.”
Before he could become a full-fledged Patrolman, Sojan had to undergo a course of basic training. When this was finished, his duties were to patrol, with his men, a certain section of the city, and arrest any thieves, footpads or similar wrongdoers. The “justice” was rough indeed and was not appreciated by the population.
All the time Sojan listened out for rumours and from these rumours he gleaned that Nornos Kald and Il-that were imprisoned somewhere in the Prison of Zholun—a mighty towered building situated near the centre of the city. Sojan knew well that the Patrol’s duties included patrolling the prison and acting as guards to “special” prisoners—and he was hoping that he would be given this assignment soon.
Sure enough, one day his hopes were fulfilled and he was assigned to guard a section of Zholun Prison.
With his eyes wide open, Sojan learned where the two were imprisoned.
“One is in the East tower—the other in the West. Nornos Kald lies in the East tower,” a guard told Sojan one night after Sojan plied him with enough ale to get him drunk. “Our War King plans to attack Hatnor and hoped to enlist Nornos Kald’s help in return for his life, but the Hatnorian refuses and is to die with the other prisoner. Their time is almost up. The day after tomorrow, when the two suns pass in unison, they will die by the sword.”
Sojan had to work fast if he was to rescue his friend and their beautiful charge.
Chapter Six
The Prison Tower
Sojan’s first loyalty was to Nornos Raid. He was by now well known to his fellow guards and easily contrived to enter the East tower wherein Nornos Raid was imprisoned. Stealthily he made his way to the metal-studded door of the cell.
“Nornos Raid,” he whispered.
He heard the rattle of chains and through the bars of the door saw his chieftain’s handsome face, drawn and pale through lack of food and sleep. “Sojan!” exclaimed the War Ring. “I thought you died in the crash!”
“The wreckage hid me. I am alive and here to save you if I can. I was assigned to guard the West wing so it will be more difficult—however I shall try and get the keys. Until I return—have hope!”
And with that Sojan crept back along the gloomy passage. On return he found that the Patrolman on duty was talking to someone. He waited until the man had left and then walked into the little room which was being used to house the guards.
“Hullo, Stontor,” cried Sojan, “what’s up?”
Stontor looked worried. “It’s my wife, Sojan, she’s been taken ill and I can’t leave my post.”
Here was an unexpected stroke of luck. Immediately, Sojan saw his chance and took it.
“Well, you go and help her,” he said. “I’ll stay here until you get back. Don’t worry.”
“Thanks a lot, Sojan, you’re a friend indeed. Here are the keys—shouldn’t think there’ll be much doing tonight.” And with that he put on his cloak and ran down the long passage.
Hastily Sojan picked up the keys and made his way back across to Nornos Raid’s cell. He unlocked the door and helped Nornos Raid from his chains.
“I was lucky—a coincidence—guard’s wife ill—but the main trouble will be getting out of the city,” he panted, as he turned the keys in the heavy padlocks.
Together they returned to the guards’ room. Here Sojan left Nomos Kald. Then he made his way back to the West wing where it was a simple matter to get the princess from her cell. Silently they returned to Nornos Kald.
Keeping to the sidestreets and the shadows, the three sped towards the city gates.
Suddenly Nomos Kald hissed, “Stop! Stop, Sojan, there may be an easier way.” He pointed to a flat area dotted with hangars and anchored airships. “With one of those we would have a better chance of escaping.”
“But how?” enquired Sojan.
Again Nornos Kald pointed. “You see that small ship nearest to us—the one anchored down by a couple of ropes?” The ship of which he was speaking was fifteen feet above them, held to the ground by anchors attached to heavy ropes. “With luck we could climb the ropes and gain the ship.”
“It will be dangerous,” murmured the girl with a charming grin. “But I’ll gladly risk it if you two will!”
Sojan answered her grin with one of his own. “That’s the spirit!” He was growing to like this daring princess.
Chapter Seven
The Sky Chase
Stealthily the three padded along the side of the field, keeping well into the shadows all the time. A single guard lolled on the ground. Sojan crept behind him and, reversing his pistol, knocked the man unconscious. With Sojan’s and Nornos Raid’s help, Il-that was able to climb the rope and they boarded the ship. As they clambered over the rail a light suddenly appeared from one of the cabins and an armed man swaggered on deck. He was followed by three others.
“Mimuk!” he cried. “What have we here?”
There was no time for words and, handing Nornos Raid his long dirk and Il-that his pistol, Sojan drew his sword, and engaged the man and his companions. Nornos Raid was close behind him. Back and forth across the narrow deck the six men fought, and the four crewmen were no mean battlers.
Nornos Raid, weak from his sojourn in Zholun Prison, still put up a good fight. Together they succeeded in killing two of their opponents—but the other two were, if not better swordsmen, much fresher.
The clash of steel echoed across the silent field, threatening to wake the world. Sojan was blinded by the sudden flash of a searchlight and taking advantage of this, his opponent cut past his guard and made a deep gash in his side. The pain was like fire and Sojan could barely restrain himself from crying out. He stumbled, almost falling to the deck, and with a cry of triumph the crewman raised his sword. A sudden hiss and a strangled gasp and he collapsed over Sojan. Turning his head he saw Il-that with the pistol in her hand.
“Thanks,” was all he could say as he struggled to his feet and ran to help Nornos Raid.
While Nornos Raid threw the bodies overboard, Sojan started the engines. Below them they heard shouts of a Patrol and two searchlights were now levelled on the swaying airship. Soon they heard cries as the bodies of the crewmen were found.
With two sword strokes Nornos Kald cut the anchoring ropes and the ship rose swiftly into the air. There was a coughing roar and the propellers began to turn. The searchlights followed them; all around them shells whistled.
&n
bsp; Suddenly, behind them, they saw that three battlecruisers of the fastest and heaviest type had risen to follow them.
“More speed, Sojan, more speed!” cried Nornos Kald. “Make for Sengol, it’s nearer.”
With a glance at the compass, Sojan turned the ship’s nose towards the North. Nearer and nearer came the battlecruisers, guns popping softly. II-that, a true daughter of a warrior king, climbed into the gunner’s rear-seat and aimed the guns of their own ship at the pursuing cruisers. She pressed the triggers and the twin muzzles of the gun gave a jerk, a hiss, and there was an explosion. What all a gunner’s skill could not easily have accomplished, Il-that had done with luck—brought down a cruiser in its most vulnerable spot—the main gas-bag. Flames roared from the fabric and the ship lost height. Faster and faster it went as the earth pulled it downwards. The engines roaring to the last it crashed with a flash of orange-and-crimson flame. But the other two ships had still to be accounted for and Il-that was not so lucky this time.
For two hours the chase continued, neither gaining, and all the time the shells from the Veronlam craft were getting closer as the gunner perfected his aim.
“They will catch us soon,” cried Il-that, who still sat in the rear-gunner’s seat, “they seem to be drawing closer!”
“Then we shall have to land and hope that we’re not still in Veronlam,” yelled Nornos Kald above the shrieking wind.
“It will take a long time for us to do so, sir,” Sojan told Nornos Kald, “we have no anchors, and to release the gas in the gas-bag would mean that while we lost height we should also lose speed.”
“Then there’s only one thing we can do!” cried the Emperor, “and that’s this!” Raising his sword he cut deep into the nearest gas-bag. He was thrown to the deck as the contents rushed out and almost at once the ship began to drop, dangerously fast. The three stood by the side, ready to jump. Again Sojan was impressed by the girl, who showed no fear at all.
Sojan the Swordsman ; Under the Warrior Sky Page 3