Haydn of Mars

by Al Sarrantonio

  The lower mountain was clothed in a thinning forest of junta trees. We came screaming out of them like madmen, a line of four thousand straight at Ceres’s army, which had barely time to organize themselves into ranks. We were among them before they could react, cutting them to pieces, driving deep into their numbers. The red earth was stained with red F’rar blood, and my own lungs were hoarse with screaming war cries. At one point I came face to face with Ceres himself, and cut him down without thought, then the F’rar to either side of him and behind. At his end there was only terror in his eyes. The battlefield was littered with bodies like a quarry with stones. Xarr himself reached Talon’s tent, where the fat scientist cowered in a corner like a dog. He was taken alive, and told Xarr in a trembling, pleading voice that what had been dropped on Burroughs was a concussion bomb, huge in destructive power. Another lay partly assembled, and he offered it to our use in exchange for his life.

  While Xarr was prodding Talon toward me across the battlefield at the point of his sword a group of our new soldiers, natives of Burroughs, spied him, surrounded him and ran him through repeatedly with their swords. Xarr told me later he could not recall the faces of the men who had done this. I did not press the matter.

  And then, finally, as if long years had passed, the cries of battle died out. The sun was low and melancholy on the distant mountains. I sat contemplating my blade, red with drying blood. I felt hollow inside. The countryside was littered with dead F’rar bodies. Their tents had been razed to the ground, their vehicles confiscated or destroyed.

  No healthy prisoners were taken – they fought where they stood, or were cut down like wheat before the scythe.

  The wounded cried, as if the ground itself were weeping with pain.

  Xarr approached me. He was weary with effort, and looked older than the old soldier he was. “There are many wounded F’rar, my lady,” he reported. “Shall we put them to the sword?”

  I looked up at him, and shook my head slowly. “We are not butchers, Xarr. Attend to them.”

  “But my lady...” He gestured toward the distant ruins of Burroughs.

  “I said we are not butchers!” Anger rose in me like frustration. “Haven’t you seen enough blood today, Xarr? To vanquish the F’rar must we become them?”

  He bowed shortly. “As you wish.” He moved wearily off, giving orders as he went.

  I looked up, and saw that our entire army was facing me where they stood in silence. I tried to focus on them but could not. Then one soldier raised his blade and shouted, “Queen Haydn!” The others followed suit.

  Anger and all other feeling drained out of me. I let my blade fall from my grasp, watched its blood stained edge mingle with the red of the earth. I suddenly felt very weary. My eyes fixed on the blade, and then my vision began to dim, and I could not take my eyes from the red blade...

  I awoke in a sun-dappled tent, the scent of fresh flowers caressing my nose. I felt clean and refreshed.

  Outside somewhere a bird trilled happily.

  For a moment I thought I had been transported back to my time with the Mighty, and, when the tent flap was thrown aside for a moment I saw my old friend, striding in with purpose, a sly smile redolent of his love of life on his face–

  It was not the Mighty, but the cook Brenda who bustled into my tent, letting a bolt of bright daylight in with her before the flap closed coolly behind her again.

  “My lady!” she cried happily, moving around me with purpose, fiddling with the huge vase of cut flowers which had been placed on the bedside table. “You’re finally awake!”

  “How long...” My voice was hoarse. I talked in a bare whisper.

  “Ah, you’ll be needing some gemel tea for your throat, you will.” She put her paws on her hips. “You’ve been asleep for nearly two days, my Queen.”

  “Two–days–!”

  “Shh, don’t be talking, now. I dare say you needed your rest. You’ll be needing much more of it for the next two months.”

  For a moment I stared at her, not understanding – but then reality dawned on me and I fell back against my pillows in disbelief. “You don’t – mean–”

  “Of course! What else do you think would knock you flat like that! And very much so, according to the doctor.”

  “A litter...”

  She was plumping the pillows around me, her own kitcheny scent mixing with that of the flowers.

  Suddenly I wanted to throw up.

  She helped me with that, laughing as the vase was stripped of its flowers and put to another use.

  “I imagine they’ll be plenty of that for a few days, too.”

  “Yes. The last time...”

  I thought of my first litter. My thoughts went suddenly black. Then I saw Kerl’s face, remembered our one night of bliss. Then I was suddenly weeping.

  “There, there,” Brenda soothed, cradling me against her ample bosom. “You know your condition makes you more weepy, too. It’s all right to miss him, lass. He was a good man, but I’m sure his kits will do him proud. In many ways you’re a lucky lady. My Bertie and I were never able to have a litter.”

  I looked up at her, forgetting my tears. “No?”

  She rocked me against her. “No. But I’ll be here for you the next two months, and so will the rest of us. Nothing will happen to those little ones inside you, lassie. They’ll be safe and beautiful as can be.”

  For a moment I felt real comfort, and then I abruptly yawned.

  “Tired again? Ah! Then sleep...”

  She lay me gently down amongst the pillows, which cradled me as softly as she had.

  “Sleep...” I heard her say.

  And I did.

  As it had the first time, the morning sickness and weariness quickly passed. Which was a good thing, because decisions needed to be made. We had been, on my account, stationary since the battle, and I thought it was time we moved south. Reports were coming in that Wells was in an uproar. Rebels had begun to battle the F’rar openly in the streets, and even Frane, with all of her ruthlessness, was not able to quell them.

  Very little stood between us and the capitol.

  I sat in a cushioned divan in the war tent, feeling very much royal, and Xarr reported, “I estimate we will pick up between six and eight thousand more men on the way to Wells.” He pointed to the map spread on the table before us, stabbing a series of towns and small cities on the way down to the capitol. He then drew his claw east. “A second, smaller army is forming near Robinson, and will attack Wells from that side while we come in from the north.” He circled around to the south. “The trouble is, there is a huge F’rar army moving with speed from Bradbury, and they will get to the city before us. Even with the reinforcements to the east, we will be outnumbered three to one.”

  “Then we must find another way to beat them,” I said.

  “An easy thing to say, my Queen. But how?”

  I studied the map. “Yes, an easy thing to say...”

  I looked up at Xarr. “Have we heard from Newton?”

  “Nothing. Our radio machines have been trying for days, but there is only silence. A rider is due back late today or tomorrow.”

  Xarr said, “I hesitate to bring something up, my lady.”

  “Please do so anyway.”

  “The...concussion device we confiscated from Talon. I’m told it’s not far from completion. Perhaps if we threatened Frane with it..?”

  “Destroy Wells?” I said in disbelief.

  “Not Wells, but Frane’s home town of Bradbury.”

  “Out of the question. I told you before, Xarr: we are not barbarians. It is a monstrous weapon.”

  “But the threat of it...”

  “Would send the city of Bradbury into a panic. And then what if Frane calls our bluff?”

  He was silent, his reserves of enlightenment exhausted.

  “No, Xarr,” I said, softening my tone, “we must find another way...”

  But that other way eluded us. And, then, it was too late. For on the
seventh day of our march south, word came from Xarr’s riders and spies that Frane had gathered her army from Bradbury and had swept past Wells, heading straight for us instead. By the time we heard they were but two days away.

  “Instead of defense she has chosen offense,” I said. We had stopped on the plain of Margaritifer Terra the night before, and were about to break camp. It was level ground surrounded by rolling hills. I surveyed it, and then ordered a halt. “We will stay here and fight.”

  Xarr waited for me to continue. “Think of it this way, Xarr. If we march, we run straight into Frane in two days time. If we stay, and make her come to us, we have an extra day to fortify a battlefield of our own choosing.”

  “We will still be greatly outnumbered,” he said.

  “Yes. But we will hold the high ground. What do we know of F’rar’s weapons?”

  “Five airships with conventional bombs. All of Talon’s toys were concentrated with the western army, so we needn’t be concerned with that. You could always make use of that concussion device...”

  “And forever be known as a butcher in a league with Frane herself? We will not use it, Xarr. We have three days. I suggest we get to work.”

  “Yes, my Queen.”

  He bowed and left.

  In three days time we were as ready as we would ever be. Our forces held the high hills surrounding the plain, with a significant line barricaded in the middle of the lowlands facing the one bottleneck opening. The plan was to draw the F’rar army onto the battlefield through this opening, then close it up and tighten the circle around them. We would cut them apart from all sides.

  The problem was, our troops were spread very thin, and we had barely enough to do this.

  The third day dawned cloudy and bleak, with a chill light rain falling which was as much mist as water. Riders reported the F’rar army a mere two kilometers away, where they had camped.

  “They are not taking the bait,” Xarr observed at midday, when no movement had been reported.

  “Then we must sweeten it.”

  Against Xarr’s loud protestations, I chose ten swift riders and mounted my own horse. I wore my best armor, and one of the riders bore a flag of the monarchy, with my family crest, a paw with extended claws clutching a branch of peace.

  “If I do not return,” I ordered the old general, “do your best without me. Frane will follow me, I’ll wager. Whether she will catch me or not, we shall see.”

  Without another word, I turned and rode out, leading my little band.

  Frane’s army had settled in a valley below the third hill to the east. When I topped the rise and looked down on it, at first I saw nothing but a roiling mass in the mist that looked like a live carpet. The valley was filled with F’rar soldiers from end to end. Cook fires were burning here and there.

  “Look at them all,” my companion bearing the flag marveled.

  “Let us hope their blood is up,” I said. “Hold that standard high.”

  He and I rode a bit forward, and he brandished the colors proudly.

  I sat straight on my mount, and cupped my paws to my mouth, shouting: “F’rar dogs! Have you come to eat, or fight?”

  There was a rustle below, and grumble in the near ranks. A few faces turned up to regard us.

  “Tell your vile commander, the usurper and traitor Frane, that Queen Haydn has come to put her in her place!”

  Now I saw her, the figure of Frane resplendent in bright red robes, making her way out of her tent. Already there was agitated movement at the front of the lines facing me.

  To my companions, I said, “Be ready to turn and ride like the wind.”

  I turned around and shouted: “Frane! It is I, Haydn of Argyre, your true Queen, who challenges you!”

  A few F’rar had mounted horses, and there was a swell of angry churning in the front. An arrow flew past us, close by.

  “Chase us, you dogs!”

  I took the standard from my carrier, and plunged it into the ground in front of me. The angry shouts had turned to a roar. I saw Frane in the midst of it, trying to keep control. By now the rear ranks were moving forward, the cook fires were being trampled out.

  A line of riders charged up the hill at us.

  I said to my companions: “Now! Ride home with abandon!”

  I turned my horse as a splash of bullets hissed past us, and a line of arrows flew overhead. Ducking low, I charged to the head of my little column. We raced back west.

  Behind us, I counted at least two dozen horses in pursuit, with more in a second line behind them.

  “Ride! Ride!” I shouted, driving my mount on, feeling the ground race beneath his driving hooves.

  We topped the second hill as our pursuers gained on us. I stole a look back and was filled with glee to see what looked to be the entire F’rar army in pursuit behind them.

  Down into a short valley I drove, and then up again with my companions keeping pace.

  We charged down the last hill and through the bottleneck. I shouted to the startled ranks to either side: “Be awake! They’re coming!”

  We were through, making for our own lines, which opened in the middle of the field to let us in, closing behind.

  The F’rar army charged in a seething mass onto the field of battle, in mad disarray.

  The bottleneck closed behind them.

  The battle for the control of Mars was joined!

  Twenty Two

  It rained, and the first night the rain turned to snow. For a while the snow turned red with blood, and then the snow melted with rising temperatures, carrying the blood into the ground with it. The F’rar attacked and we held, attacked again and we barely held. Our positions in the hills closed in. But there were just too many of them. By the morning of the second day the F’rar held the high ground to the north and east, and our battle line had been squeezed to the middle of the field, with scant reserves to the west and south.

  “They’re doing to us what we were going to do to them,” Xarr observed.

  “Yes,” I concurred. “We’ll be surrounded before long.”

  He gave me an estimate of our strength: nearly half dead and wounded.

  “It’s their damned airships–”

  I said nothing, and then said, “Continue to do your best.”

  It was true that their airships, as much as their numerical superiority, had made the difference. From the safety of the sky they had strafed and bombed us, and we had no recourse but luck. We had managed to bring down two of the five with random fire, but the other three had learned to avoid this peril by flying higher, out of range. They were depleting our forces more efficiently than the F’rar ground attacks.

  By the end of the second day we were surrounded, with only one quarter of our strength remaining.

  It was a starlit night. We lit no fires, because the F’rar airships would use them as night targets. There was sporadic fire, but a kind of truce imposed by darkness had taken effect. The smell from the many F'rar cook fires wafted over our hungry and tired fighters like a pall. I walked through our gloomy camp trying to impart a cheer I did not feel myself. I then joined Jamie in Xarr’s tent.

  “It occurs to me that they can afford not to fight tonight, because they know that tomorrow they will end it,” I said.

  Xarr concurred. “There is nothing more we can do. They have only to tighten the noose, whenever they want.”

  Jamie stared gloomily at the ground. I noticed that his paws were shaking.

  “Come now, Jamie,” I said, forcing myself to sound hearty. “You don’t fear death, do you?”

  “Do you?” he said, looking up at me. He looked like a haunted man.

  “Of course I do. I fear for my litter more than myself. And I fear for my people.”

  He nodded, trembling, and looked at the ground again. “I fear only one thing, my lady – that the legitimate Queen of Mars will not be returned to the throne.”

  Patiently waiting out this scene, Xarr said to me, “At first light, they will com
mence attacks from the air. Then they will make a final charge.”

  “Yes,” I answered.

  “And, of course, they will put us to the sword.”

  “That will be F’rar’s way.”

  “She may...want to take you alive, my Queen. That would not be pleasant. If you would prefer...” He brushed the hilt of his sword with his claws, not looking away.

  “It would be better for all of us, I think. Thank you, general.”

  “And you, Jamie?” Xarr asked, trying to lighten his voice in grim jest. “Would you like me to run you through too, like a chicken on a spit?”

  Jamie ignored him, continuing to stare at the ground.

  Xarr mused, “It is a quick end for such a long enterprise.”

  “If it must end, let it end with us fighting for what is just.”

  We stood silent, lost in our own thoughts.

  Dawn rose, glorious yellow and pink, and, as Xarr had predicted, their airships went to work on us. We had retreated into a tight little force, less than a thousand within a circle of fortifications. For them, it was like dropping stones into a barrel. They went about their work with élan.

  Near midday, I watched as Frane’s army made ready to overrun us. I could see her, a far spot of brilliant red, redder than blood, moving her troops into position. The airships circled above, ready to attack like killing hawks–

  And then, in the hush before this final assault, there was a sound below and beyond all other sounds: a deep droning that grew and grew in the west. The airships overhead pulled up and away. And then, as if by magic, I saw one of them give a cough, there was a puff of smoke and it dropped like a dead bird to the ground between us and the F’rar army. The other two fled to the east – and then a massive black machine soared overhead, sleek as a bird, screaming an anger which roared against the sky. It followed the remaining two F’rar machines, dropping them from their perches in the clouds. We saw two bursts of black smoke where the airships had been and then the gargantuan bird turned and began to drop scorching swaths of fire on the F’rar lines.