King of The World's Edge

by H. Warner Munn

  “It was her prophecy to me that should I seek to the westward when the time was ripe, there should I surely find the Land of the Dead. Well, I am in a western country of which she could have had no knowledge, and we have wandered far in it, yet there is nothing here to indicate the proximity of an earthly paradise. Other things which she foresaw have come to pass and I hesitate to believe her misled in this matter.

  “But all my studies of the stars do not confirm her statements. Perhaps the time has not yet come.”

  “What do the stars say?” I asked, shivering in the cold wind.

  “Too little. I feel that something is being concealed from me. All that I can learn is that something evil is about to befall, and soon.”

  “I know that myself. Look you, Myrdhinn. Two weeks we have been here, and to what good? First they meet us on the plain in pitched battle and we lose a thousand men. Then we attack the walls and find that they have developed bows and arrows since the death of their Kukulcan who forbade them to use such an innovation. True, their bows are not good and their arrows unfeathered, but with a strong pull even their archery finds a mark at the distance they shoot at. The fact is, Myrdhinn, that another two weeks of this will bring snow upon us and our army will disband in spite of all we can do.

  “We can’t carry on a long siege without proper provisions in this harsh, unfriendly country, and we have no reserves to fall back on. We are fighting an agricultural people who are well provisioned. On the contrary, our allies are a hunting people who have little thought for the morrow, if they are fed today. Our resources are used up, Myrdhinn. Snow means defeat. That is what / read in the stars.” Myrdhinn shook his head.

  “Nay, this is a personal evil, meant for me alone. See yonder. There floats the Ghoul, the dark star—in my house, and in the ascendant.”

  “I know nought of mystic lore, nothing more than finding my way north by the Plow. I cannot help you.”

  “True,” he said, somberly. “You are a man of war.

  Well, let us to thoughts of war. How are the ballistae coming?“

  “Forty and six are ready to move up tomorrow. Fifty more will be complete within a week. Of arrow engines we have three score. That total used up all of the clamps. I have had enough boulders dug up to last three days. Arrows are plentiful and fire-lances are being made. I should say that day after tomorrow we may commence such a rain of missiles into the North Fort that they will be forced to evacuate.”

  “Good. Let us hope for a speedy conclusion to this bloody affair. What is that?”

  A high wail began to our left, rose to a shriek and soared above us like a screaming ghost

  “A whistling arrow from a sentry,” I snapped, startled and angry because of it. “Something is wrong in the artillery enclosure. Look, there are flames! An attack, Myrdhinn, a night attack! They are burning our engines!”

  I set my bone whistle to my lips and blew a mighty blast.

  Aztlan shot out of its sleep in a hurry. Three companies formed on the plain, and as I led them off at the double, the clouds, which had been scattering, came together again and rain pelted down upon us as though the heavens were weeping to watch us.

  We met the raiding-party in the hollow of the eastern ravine. It was a dreary battle, with nothing in it to warm the blood. Darkness became complete, save when occasionally broken by very distant and unseasonable flashes of lightning. Nothing was right about this war, even the elements had turned against us, I thought, not realizing then that but for this unexpected and untimely shower we would most likely have lost our entire park of siege weapons.

  The rain was cold and froze upon our weapons and clothing. Many wounded died that night from exposure, or were drowned in the loose mud which washed down , from the walls nearest the fortress.

  They had ladders out against the walls, and hoping to cut off their retreat, I led a charge to capture these, but most of them were already drawn inside and we were destroyed by the stones which plunged down upon us as we clawed vainly at the slippery sides of the ravine in an attempt to follow. Three hundred men died uselessly that night, with nothing gamed for so many lives. Fifty of them were Valiants.

  And the taunts from the wall next day burnt our brains like fire.

  Crazy with rage, I besought Myrdhinn for help. Twenty engines were totally destroyed, and more than half the ballistae were so weakened that they must be rebuilt.

  The others were placed, some on the plain, others so that a steady downpour of stones could be kept up across the various ravines at the sides of the North Fort. But although we knew that we were doing execution, we heard no sounds of pain or fear from within, only jeers and mockery.

  Again I begged Myrdhinn to use sorcery, but he refused as usual.

  “No. Let it be a clean, honest war, with no magic mixed into it. However,” he said, “now that you have learned that you cannot butt down these walls like a brainless aurochs, I will show you how the People of the Long House took the City of the Snake with little loss.

  “Set up three ballistae for me, at the edge of the wood fronting the eastern wall, and tonight we will give them a surprise. We made some eggs in Thendara that will hatch out the Thunder Bird inside of Miapan!”

  Just before dark we lit fires at the edge of the wood. Then up came the engineers trundling barrows laden with dark spheres, each of twenty-pound weight and about nine inches thick. Under Myrdhinn’s direction, one of these was placed in a fire convenient to the nearest ballista. I could see then that its composition was partly of metal, for the hue changed with heat, from bronze to golden and then to shimmering pallor. It glowed, and little crackling noises could be heard inside as rainbow colors raced across its surface.

  Finally a glowing cloud surrounded it as the fiery vapors pent within began to issue forth from its pores.

  Myrdhinn’s assistants then removed it from the fire with tongs, placed it in the ballista pan and knocked out the chock.

  It seemed to sail from us slowly, a train of glowing vapor following it as it soared over the ravine and fell into the city.

  A deep rumble followed, the ground shook, an awful flare of light made the stars dim, and in the ensuing hush we heard the sounds of lamentation and of fear within the ramparts of Miapan.

  Now another flew, shining even more brightly with the heat of its passing through the air.

  Over the walls and out of sight it went, and instantly burst with a dreadful splitting crash, as when lightning rends a large oak from leaves to roots. Again the uprush of ghastly light, shining through the chinks of the log palisade and the wicket gates. Then utter darkness and the long screaming of the wounded and burned.

  “What is it?” I gasped. “Hellfire?”

  “Nay, son, naught but the fiery principles of earth, combined and blended, heated to bursting-point and ignited by the further friction of the air as each con-tamer rushes through that medium and is heated more than its walls can stand. Weakened, it bursts and drenches all with unquenchable fire.

  “Have you forgotten how Ovid, in speaking of the leaden missiles used by slingers, writes:

  Hermes was fired, as in the clouds he hung;

  So the cold bullet that with jury slung

  From Balearic engines, mounts on high,

  Glows in the whirl, and burns along the sky.

  “That gave me the idea, but the composition of the fiery material is old. Archimedes used this same preparation in another form to inflame the Roman ships at the siege of Syracuse, and Hannibal used it in still another form when he split the rocks of the Alps and let his armies and elephants through. No, it is not new, only forgotten and that is well: else war might be too terrible.”

  Other missiles were now coming out of the fires, and the engineers began a persistent dropping upon the

  North Fort. One by one, they flew and fell, these awesome dangerous products of Myrdhinn’s lore—terrible, hairy stars, soaring in the black nig
ht sky, bringing death, terror and destruction in their train.

  The ground shook constantly, houses were blazing within, but the Mias steadfastly refused to give up, and dawn came and found them still in possession and strong enough to hurl our attack into the ravine again and pile it up there in confusion and utter rout.

  At the same time, Aztlan, Nor-um-Bega, and a large force of Chichamecans charged across the plain and reached the walls, but were forced to retire in a shower of arrows, atlatl darts and slingstones, leaving many dead and most of their courage behind them.

  Tolteca held the river safe and did not break ranks to attack, there being an almost perpendicular earth wall before them which it would have been suicide to scale.

  Now that daylight had come, we ceased throwing Myrdhinn’s awesome missiles, though the ballistae kept on pounding the works with boulders, knocking great holes in the palisades, through which those arrow engines that could discharge phalaricas managed to place those flaming javelins with fine precision into both the North and Middle Forts.

  We left the South Fort mostly untouched, hoping to take the other works first and drive the defenders out into the lower section where they would be compactly crowded and at our mercy.

  Again night came, and again the fire-balls flew and burst and scattered death. Sometime during those hours, the North Fort was quietly evacuated and at dawn of the second day of this new horror of war, I launched a half-hearted sally, with what remained of my Valiants, giving Man-who-burns-hair the command and allowing him to carry the bronze eagle of the Sixth, that they might know courage.

  I really expected it to be thrown back again, but an attempt had to be made or the whole siege must be given up. Myrdhinn’s fire-balls were gone!

  On the contrary, it reached and went over the wall without facing a dart or stone. I saw the eagle wave violently as its bearer danced on the firing-platform of the wall.

  My trumpet caroled. Answering brays went up, and Aztlan and Nor-um-Bega poured into the North Fort!

  By midmorning we had all the force which had held the plain placed to best advantage inside the walls, had set up a pair of ballistae to batter away the resistance ahead and were ready to advance along the isthmus.

  As you can see by the map, two crescent-shaped mounds had long ago been built to barricade the narrowest section of the isthmus and protect the Middle Fort. These had been recently joined by a log wall several feet thick, its components inextricably tangled together, and sharpened stakes pointing out at us from every cranny.

  Here the Mian warriors defied us and our artillery. After an hour of stone-throwing which did little good against this heap of splintered logs, we advanced, fought and retired with considerable loss.

  Then I had a battering-ram constructed, but this only beat the logs more tightly together and our adversaries laughed at us while they cut our engineers down.

  I was wild at being held back by this paltry agger, and calling a meeting of tribunes, I asked for suggestion.

  Vicinius suggested using the testudo to reach the barricade and then a sudden sally. It seemed the only Thing to do. Nothing but a direct assault would carry it, for the position could not be flanked owing to the steep declivities of loose and slippery earth which fell away on either side into the deep ravine.

  So I instructed my picked Valiants, and in phalanxes three companies moved forward with shields in front, over our heads and at each side, all closely overlapping.

  Above us, as we trotted, the boulders from the ballistae hummed and thudded into the twin mounds, black with fighting-men.

  Their darts and stones rattled on our tortoise sides like hail, but did little damage. Then, as we neared the log wall, the engineers ceased firing lest we be struck. We charged, flinging down our shields upon the spikes, and over this protection we reached the top.

  Then the cry from our men might have been heard in Rome, as they broke ranks and, leaving cover, came charging down to support us.

  We desperately needed help, being greatly outnumbered. The fighting was furious. It was hack and kill, pull out the blade and dodge, recover, poise and stab with pugio and gladius against the thrust of long lances. Reeling under a rain of blows, we fought and fell. Vicinius died there, and Intinco the Caledonian killed his slayer and fell dead across his friend’s body—and women were to mourn them both in Adriutha.

  I had less than twenty men around me when our men came up the wall like a wave and, cheering, surrounded us and drove the Mias back, back, fiercely contesting the way until they were pressed against the Great Gateway of the South Fort and could go no farther.

  The commander who had been in charge of the resistance sank to his knees with weakness from loss of blood. All his men were dead and he the last to defy us. Twice he strove to shorten his lance and fall upon it, but could not.

  Then, through our press, came leaping Man-who-burns-hair.

  “I know him!” he howled. “My master who scourged my back to rags! He is mine!”

  He whipped out his knife. The kneeling man looked up dauntlessly.

  “Ha, slave. Wolves yap at the dying cougar!”

  With a last quick motion he swept the antler circlet from his head and leaned forward that his scalp might be the easier taken, and as his remorseless enemy snatched away the bloody trophy, we knew the Middle Fort was ours.

  Across the Great Gateway the defenders, though they must now have been fighting entirely without hope, had flung up a barricade of their house furnishings, dead bodies of animals and people, to make three parallel walls which we must take one after another. It being nearly dark, we made no attempt to essay this system of defense, but occupied ourselves in moving up twenty ballistae and catapults to command their forum, which was situated in the center of the South Fort, around a dewpond, their only remaining water supply.

  The defenders were engaged during most of the night in strengthening their defenses, though loud voices and much waving of torches were reported by our stationerü and I took this to mean that there was some dissension among them.

  What it might be we could not conceive, unless some counseled surrender and others would not agree.

  We learned in the chill before dawn, when a savage sally broke out on the river side of the fort and at least five thousand men hurtled down the embankment, across a terrace and came howling upon the sleeping, poorly picketed camp which guarded our fleet of 250 coracles. And Tolteca, whose charge they were, broke its ranks like cravens, and let the Mias through!

  So this fighting-force, still free and united to rally and attack again, made off down the river in search of allies from some of the tiny hilltop forts if there were any yet untaken by the wild rovers.

  At dawn, a hawk-visaged man clambered over the barricade of corpses, to the sound of Mian trumpets. He was clad in the white doeskin shirt, embroidered with pearly shell beads, that is the emblem of a herald in Alata. In his left hand he bore a green branch as a request for a parley.

  The stationerü let him through to me.

  He bowed, but not humbly, and I could almost hear that stiff, proud neck creak as he bent his head and asked for terms.

  “I have no terms to offer you,” I said, “but immediate laying down of all your arms, removal of your defensive walls and preparation for an evacuation to take place by midday.”

  His eyes flashed, but he answered not a word as he turned to go.

  “After that is done, I will give you my terms,” I called after him, and chuckled fiercely to myself as I smote my armored.chest with my clenched fist. Marcus! Marcus! Look down and see this day!

  21 The Passing of Myrdhinn

  I sat in my booth near the edge of the wood, looking out across the plain, while shaving. Along the isthmus and out of the North Fort were marching companies bearing tied bundles of darts, arrows and lances to be stacked above the piles of hatchets and knives, that all might be burned together.

  Somehow,
my pleasure in the sight was waning, knowing what was to follow, and knowing it to be foul treachery by any rules of war.

  Myrdhinn came in and sat down. His face likewise was gloomy.

  “Have you made plans for the evacuation, Venti-dius?”

  “Amnesty for all Tlapallicans who change their allegiance. Death to the rest and death to all Mias!”

  Myrdhinn started from his seat in horror. I calmly went on shaving.

  “That is massacre!”

  “Extermination,” I corrected.

  “Ventidius, you have become too hard,” Myrdhinn said softly. “You are no longer the eager fellow who sought adventures and new lands with the zest of a boy. Is nothing left of the old Ventidius? Does nothing remain but the man of war?”

  “Nothing,” I said quietly. “Did you expect more? I was born knowing of war’s alarms. My mother fled from a burning city to save her life and mine. My father died there. I have been bred to war; it is all I know.

  “There was one soft spot in my heart. Marcus had that. I loved the boy. You know what happened. On the Egg my heart became all hard.

  “Have you forgotten the vow we made in that reeking pit? Have you forgotten that we swore to avenge Marcus?”

  He looked at me steadily.

  “How many lives do you need in repayment for one? Have you not heard the saying of Hernin, the Bard of the college of Llanveithin: ‘The brave is never cruel’?”

  “I never knew him. His words are words for others, not for me!” I crashed my fist down on the bench and stood up. “My last word, Myrdhinn. Death for all Mias!”

  He took my hand and gently urged me down again. “Ventidius, listen. I have just come out of Miapan. They are burying the dead there, son. If you were to see it, I think you would be moved to pity.”

  “What do I know of pity? What can such as I know of pity? Many times you have called me a man of war and I have not felt offended, for truly that is all I know —all that I am. Here in this new country I have carved out a dominion that is mine. My people worship me as a living god of war who delights in blood and offerings of bleeding hearts. I tell you, Myrdhinn, I am beginning to enjoy the sight of suffering!