by Джеффри Лорд
He went directly to Himgar and broached the notion of using the farm women as scouts. The War Councilor was dubious.
«That could mean word of our presence getting to the city,» he said. «If our scouts betray us-«
«You seem to trust the women in camp,» Blade interrupted.
«Yes, but they are under our eyes all the time. These — they would be beyond our control.»
«So what?» said Blade, annoyed. «The women of the city certainly aren't going to be able to attack us before Rilgon's army arrives. And we're going to have to deal with the women as equals sooner or later, whether we trust them or not.»
Himgar's eyebrows went up. «Has Truja converted you to her views? Do you think we should help the women of the city defeat Rilgon and then negotiate with them?»
Blade had to be silent for only a few seconds before he found his answer. «Yes. The farm women have come to us in the belief that we would do this. And so have most of the women from the city. I think both would leave us at once if we simply broke camp and headed north. They would try to fight Rilgon by themselves, they would lose, and they would die. And then so would the city and everything that we might make of it. But if we stay and fight-«
«How can we?» said Himgar, half-despairing.
Blade did not attempt to conceal the scorn in his voice. «You call yourself a War Councilor, and you ask that question? Truja has pointed the way. We attack them from the rear. With the farm women scouting for us, we will have no problems finding that rear.»
«But-«
«Himgar, if you do not agree to fight Rilgon, I will join Truja. We will lead the farm women and the city women away, and you and the rest of the Purple River people can all go to the devil!» He caught his breath. «You know that I have even less reason to love the women of the city than you do. But I can see that they are worth saving, in spite of that. You cannot, and you are not wise.»
Himgar was silent for a much longer time than Blade had been. Finally he said quietly, «I have heard of how Truja gave you leadership of the scouts. Would you like to become War Councilor of our people in my place? If we are going to do what you suggest, perhaps you should lead.»
«No, Himgar, I am only a warrior from a distant land, and most of your people do not know me well enough to trust me. But I will stand at your right hand and give you all the advice you need.»
«In other words, you will run the battle?»
«Yes,» said Blade.
Himgar shrugged. «So be it. I trust you enough so that I trust your plan, for all that you can do to carry it out. But there are others who may have something to say.»
«I know. Rilgon. And the women of the city.»
Blade wasted no time in setting up his network of scouts. Even though Melyna was among the Purple River army's fighting women, he had little time or attention to spare for her. And there would have been little privacy for them even if he had found the time. The Purple River army and all its assorted allies overflowed the War House and spread out into the forest around it.
It helped matters that Rilgon's army sat down for nearly a week at a point three days' march west of the camp. The Senar and even the Blenar indulged in an orgy of gluttony, rape, pillage, and destruction.
«Rilgon either has no control over his army or doesn't care,» said Blade when he heard that news. «Half of them won't want to move on again. Those that do will have only half their minds on fighting.» And in fact Rilgon's army was distinctly smaller when it moved on at the end of the week.
It was moving along a course that would take it well south of the camp. That was good news for Blade. There were now just over three thousand men and women in the camp. He did not want to try moving such a large and mixed group across country with an enemy-in fact two enemies-nearby.
Rilgon's army lumbered past to the south and settled down again, a day's march farther on toward the city. In the camp, tension mounted by the hour. The sound of weapons being sharpened rose loud enough to be heard miles away. But all the farm women in the area had either fled or joined the camp. There was no one to hear. Only the scouts moved back and forth across the countryside, bringing and sending word.
It was on the fourth day that they brought the long-awaited word. The army of the city-Blues and Greens together-was marching out. Tomorrow it would be up to Rilgon's army. And the day after that it would fight.
So Blade and Himgar and Truja gave their orders also. And their army too marched out, gathering up the scouts as it went. It moved forward-into the rear of the enemy.
Chapter 18
Once more Blade was perched on a branch of a tall tree. But this time he was not ten feet up, but nearly a hundred. If he fell off now, he would not have a soft landing. But it was an excellent place from which to observe Rilgon's army assembling for battle.
It was an act of pure charity to call what Rilgon was assembling out there on the plain to the east an army. The only part of it that had ever heard of military formation was the two-thousand odd Blenar in the center. The rest of the «army» consisted of Senar, arranged in a series of lumpy masses rather like beads on a string, with a thousand or so in each «bead.»
The complete force stretched nearly two miles from north to south and numbered somewhere around fifteen thousand of both races. That was a full one-third less than Rilgon had originally led out. Of the missing third (mostly Senar), some had died at the hands of farmers. Some had lost heart and started back for home. And some had grown too fond of sloth and debauchery to want to keep up with the army.
But fifteen thousand men, armed and even slightly trained, was still a good-sized force. To meet it Blade and Himgar had no more than three thousand. On the other side of Rilgon's line, Idrana was leading up a slightly smaller force from the city. Perhaps she was filled with distrust for most of the fighting women of the city, or perhaps with contempt for the enemy.
Neither the women of the city nor their enemies knew about the Purple River army as yet. Rilgon had chosen to draw up his army with a thick stand of woods a mile to their rear. No doubt he thought it would help stiffen the Senar to know that in a pinch retreat into the forest that was their home was always possible. Perhaps he was right.
But certainly the forest that was intended to stiffen the Senar was also perfect for hiding the Purple River army. Within a hundred yards of the base of the tree where Blade was perched lay almost three thousand men and women. None moved, none spoke; the preparation of weapons had been completed last night. They were waiting for two things-Idrana's army to engage Rilgon's, and Blade's signal for them to charge out of the forest and take Rilgon in the rear.
Right now Blade was keeping his eye on a flag that bobbed on a high pole beyond Rilgon's line. It was a bright green flag with a stylized woman's head on it-the Mother's Banner of the Greens. Blade shook his head. Idrana was so committed to her faction that she would go into battle for the life of her city under it. If she had any Blues at all with her, it was only because they set the survival of their city above vengeance for their slaughtered leaders.
Now the banner was waving up and down, as though the bearers were moving over rough ground. Then it stopped. Blade saw a shiver run down Rilgon's line, and beyond it a ripple of movement. Idrana's army was getting ready for its first movement.
Suddenly a flight of arrows was in the air, looking like a wisp of black smoke from this far away. But before they came down, Rilgon's men had reacted. They snatched up their shields and held them up in front of them. Most of the arrows sank harmlessly into the tough leather. Blade saw a few swirls among the Senar as the careless or the over-confident went down. But very few.
Score one to Rilgon. Against those shields, the women of the city could pour in flight after flight of arrows without much weakening their enemy. Rilgon had hit on the best way of forcing Idrana's women to close the distance. Now-how long would it take Idrana to realize that?
The duel of arrow against shield went on for a good ten minutes. The city banner did not m
ove at all during that time. Then the air between the two armies was suddenly clear. A moment later the banner started forward again.
It was moving straight for the mass of Blenar in the middle of Rilgon's line. Blade cursed out loud and pounded his fist against the branch as he realized what Idrana was doing-and what folly it was. Idrana was charging the enemy's center. No doubt she thought that smashing the enemy's best troops would smash the whole army. But those same best troops could put up the best fight. And while they held Idrana's army in one place, the two wings of Senar, many thousands strong, could swing in and surround the women.
It was already happening, in fact. There was a continuous glitter of dancing steel in the center of the field, where Blenar were going into action. And there was unmistakable movement all along the lines of Senar. The dark masses were in motion, swinging in toward the center, spear-points glittering above them. Blade saw arrows fly again, but it was too late for that now. Within minutes the masses of Senar would be on the women, jamming them together so the archers would have no room to shoot.
It was time and more than time for the Purple River army to go into action. As he scrambled down the tree, Blade could not help wondering if he had waited too long. He dropped the last ten feet in a single bound, rolled, sprang to his feet, and shouted:
«All right-follow me! Center, hit the Blenar. Wings, get the Senar!»
He heard his shout and his orders relayed away through the trees. Then he heard the clatter of weapons and the thud of feet as three thousand men and women rose and began to move.
Blade crashed through bushes and leaped gullies. He was already moving at a dead run when he burst out of the trees, both swords drawn. He tore across the mile of open ground between the trees and the enemy at a pace that would have done credit to a track runner. Behind him came three hundred of the best fighters of the Purple River and the city women, none of them moving much slower than Blade himself. Himgar was in the lead.
They did not waste breath shouting as they raced across the fields without slowing or stopping. The farther they got before the enemy noticed what was coming up in his rear, the better. Half a mile gone, half a mile to go. Blade sailed over a hedge four feet high as if it had been a mere ripple in the ground, nearly tumbled headlong, kept on going.
A quarter of a mile to go now, only a couple more minutes. Behind him Blade could see that almost the whole Purple River army was out of the trees. On either side farm women and the rest of the Purple River fighters were already spreading out, to curl round the masses of Senar.
And now, finally, the rear ranks of the Blenar were turning around, pointing, and beginning to shout the alarm. No need for silence any more. Blade opened his mouth and let out a maniacal screech; it was echoed by all the men and women running behind him. It seemed to rise up to the sky and bounce back, down onto the enemy ranks. Blade saw some of them wince.
Only a hundred yards to go. Blade waved both swords over his head and screamed again. He increased his speed still more, covered the last few yards at a sprinter's pace, and crashed into the enemy's ranks like a battering ram.
Seconds later the men and women behind Blade did the same. They came in so fast that they simply bowled over a good many of their opponents, smashing them to the ground and trampling them underfoot. Most of the Blenar had formed a shield wall facing the women of the city and were holding well against them. But a shield wall faces only one way. And Blade had launched his attack from another direction.
Through the Blenar ranks Blade slashed, both swords leaping and flashing with terrifying speed and thrusting and slashing with terrifying effect. He killed or crippled five men before he was even aware of it, his flawless training and lightning reflexes taking control of his brain. Then he became fully conscious of where he was and what he was doing. He began to carve his way forward, not as fast as before, but even more surely.
The Blenar were trying to turn and face the attack in their rear. But they could not weaken the wall against Idrana's women too much. Within minutes Blade's attack was packing the Blenar so tightly that only the front rank could move or use their weapons. And a single rank of Blenar could not hope to stand against the fury and skill of Blade and his comrades.
Blade saw Himgar hack through the shaft of a spear with one stroke, and the neck of the spearsman with the return slash. A Blenar with two swords ran at him while he was killing the first one. But Truja was fighting on Himgar's flank, and she stepped across to cover the Councilor, thrusting the attacker in the stomach as she did so. The second Blenar sank down on the trampled and blood-smeared grass almost beside the first.
Then a solid mass of Blenar was coming at Blade, and he and the people on either side of him had to give way for a moment. But only for a moment. As the Blenar pushed forward, the attackers curled around them and drove in behind them. Again Blade was the first to make the move and he did so with even more determination than usual. In the center of the Blenar he could see the bulky shape of Rilgon himself.
Blade hacked his way past three successive Blenar, not even trying to kill them. He was satisfied with getting them out of his way and leaving them for his comrades to kill. His goal was Rilgon-the heart and brains of the enemy.
But as Blade drove into the ranks of the enemy, he found his own arms had less room to swing and strike. As he came within striking distance of Rilgon, a dying Blenar reeled into him, pinning his left arm against his side for a moment. At the same moment Rilgon lashed out and down with his long, jeweled sword. Blade's long-sword snapped up just in time to keep the blow from splitting his skull, but the point ripped open the scalp on the right side of his head. Blade felt the pain sear and the blood start flowing. With a convulsive jerk of his left arm, he shoved the dying Blenar away. Then his short sword lunged forward, driving in under Rilgon's shield. Blade felt it sink into flesh, saw Rilgon grit his teeth and let his breath out in a hiss.
Rilgon's long-sword whistled high, coming over and down, and again Blade blocked it. The clang of steel on steel half-deafened him. He swung his own long-sword around and brought it in from the side, hoping to draw Rilgon's shield out of position.
He did. If Rilgon had ever fought before against a thrusting sword, he gave no sign of it now. His shield swung unnecessarily wide to meet Blade's slash. Blade's long-sword crashed into the edge of the shield. At the same moment Blade's short-sword plunged into Rilgon's unguarded side, vanishing halfway up to the hilt.
Rilgon gasped, coughed, and reeled. His shield sagged and dropped away. He lurched back, the shortsword still deep in his side, and coughed again, spraying blood all over Blade. Before Rilgon could do anything else, Blade's sword came down for the last time, with a force that would have sent it through a steel post. It went through Rilgon's neck as though the neck had been a twig. The severed head flew into the air and dropped at Blade's feet. As the body with its spouting neck toppled, Blade jabbed his long-sword into the head and raised it high.
He took a deep breath, and roared, «Rilgon's men-see your leader-he is dead! Now it is your turn-all of you!» Cheers went up from the Purple River army on either side of Blade and behind him. Then Blade was too busy coping with a fresh rush of still-fighting Blenar to shout again or to see the effects of his first cry.
In fact, for a long time he was too busy to see or hear anything that was not immediately in front of him. At least it seemed like a long time-entire hours of slashing and thrusting and parrying with his sword or blocking with a shield he snatched up from a fallen Blenar.
It could not have been hours, however. In fact, it was probably only a few minutes. Certainly the whole battle from first arrow to last flurry of sword-cuts lasted less than an hour. While Blade's attack was confusing and confounding Rilgon's center and disposing of Rilgon, the rest of his army was smashing into the Senar on either flank. The Senar's new fighting skills were no match for the Purple River warriors in their armor, the trained fighting women of the city, or the farm women fighting for vengeance.
The Senar were already crumbling when the word ran through their ranks that Rilgon was dead. Then they not only crumbled; they collapsed. They began to break away and try to run. As they did so, everybody with a bow unlimbered it and began picking them off one by one. Those without bows joined in the attack on the rapidly diminishing force of Blenar in the center. Gradually the Blenar shrank away to nothing.
It was then that Blade made his way forward, over the piled bodies, toward where the women of the city stood in a tight circle around their standard. He could see that there were a good many less than three thousand of them now. Hundreds of the women lay dead amid the bodies of their enemies. Many of those still on their feet were blood-stained and pale. But there was one more woman of the city who would have to die before there could be peace in Brega.
Idrana.
He was within a hundred yards of the women's lines when he saw a familiar long-limbed figure sprawled on the ground off to his left. He turned and quickened his step, came up to her, knelt down beside her. There was nothing more to do for Idrana-or to her. A Senar spear had transfixed her from back to front as neatly as a pin impaling a butterfly. Blade felt empty of any emotion as he stared down at the still, pale face.
Then he heard a voice calling softly, from beyond Idrana.
«Blade-here.»
He raised his head-and started. Twenty feet away, Truja lay on her stomach, raising a pale, pain-twisted face toward Blade. In two bounds he was beside her, kneeling again. She tried to keep her head up, could not find the strength, and instead rolled over on her side. The movement brought a gasp of agony and revealed a gaping wound that ran from breast to groin. It was obvious that Truja had only a few minutes to live.