Rebels of Gor

by John Norman

  In the distance we could hear drums and battle horns.

  “Tajima,” I said.

  He had been silent. Now he put down the glass of the Builders. “Yes, Tarl Cabot, tarnsman,” he said.

  “Signal Ichiro on the summit,” I said. “Signal ‘Saddles’ and ‘One-strap’.”

  “Yes, Tarl Cabot, tarnsman,” he said.

  * * *

  We had approached the Merchant Portal with considerable trepidation. Had we departed from the road, or wide path, that lined with white stones, Ashigaru would have investigated. It was not practical to turn back, and, had we done so, that, too, would surely have provoked attention, and, presumably, would have resulted in some sort of inquiry, the outcome of which would have been likely to have been our discovery and undoing.

  “Hold!” said Yasushi, holding up his hand, palm forward. With him were three Ashigaru, which, now, to my surprise, I recognized as the three fellows whom Tajima had entertained in the inn a few pasangs to the west, the fellows who had been disappointingly casual about fetching their gathered rice to the supply wagons, but had been more than helpful in apprising us of local military and political matters with which we, due to our prior journey, had been woefully out of touch.

  “You escaped from the prison pen,” said Yasushi.

  I glanced about. There were more than a hundred Ashigaru within hailing distance.

  “Two of us,” I said.

  “How did you manage that?” he asked.

  “We organized peasants,” I said.

  “But few would be from the same village,” he said.

  “Nonetheless,” I said, uneasily.

  “Interesting,” he said. “Why did you bother? It was dangerous. You were to be released the next morning.”

  “We did not wish to wait,” I said.

  “The entire camp,” he said, “is being searched for fugitives, you two, some slaves, a young warrior, several peasants, and Arashi, the bandit.”

  “How have you been?” I asked.

  “Well,” he said, “and you?”

  “Fine,” I said.

  “Where are you off to?” he asked.

  “That probably depends on you,” I said.

  “That wagon,” he said, “and probably the slaves, are stolen.”

  “If you like,” I said, “we can leave the wagon, say, within a pasang.”

  “I like your draft animals,” he said.

  The slaves were obviously frightened. To be sure, as slaves, they were in no particular danger. In many situations where free persons would be instantly put to the sword, no one would think of injuring a slave, no more than one would think of injuring any other property of value, say, a glazed, red-figured vase from Turia, or a domestic animal, say, a blond-maned, silken kaiila. Free women in jeopardy, say, a blade at their throat, rather than accept an honorable death as a free person, as is prescribed, may declare themselves slave, after which they are stripped and bound, and, despised as the slaves they now are, are held for the iron and collar. Sometimes, wild and distraught, frantic, in a sacked, burning city, free women will even disguise themselves as slaves, that they may be spared. Their ruse discovered, usually by genuine slaves, they are beaten and cast naked to the feet of masters, to be assessed, and, if found suitable, marked and sold. The exception here, of course, was Nezumi, who, if recognized, might have been remanded to Yamada’s executioners for the eel death, or worse. Indeed, it was not clear that Nezumi was in a much better way should she come to the attention of Lord Temmu, as she might then be decollared and cast to the rocks at the foot of the outer parapet of his holding.

  “You are in the presence of free men,” I said.

  Swiftly the slaves, in a rustle and jangle of harness, knelt.

  “Heads down,” I said.

  “Yes,” said Yasushi, “a pretty lot.”

  “We did not have the resources, or opportunity,” I said, “to hire a number of good fellows to draw the wagon.”

  “It is not even your wagon,” said Yasushi.

  “True,” I said.

  “I think you are a clever fellow,” said Yasushi. “That is why I thought you would elect this egress from the camp. It is public and dangerous, but shrewd and bold. There are fewer Ashigaru about, watchful, ready to kill on sight. An urt would be fortunate to slip from the camp otherwise.”

  “I was not clever enough,” I said.

  “I was afraid,” he said, “that you might encounter others here, and it would go badly for you.”

  “That is why you arranged to be here?”

  “Of course,” he said. “I, and the three required Ashigaru.”

  “I recognize them,” I said.

  “Shoji, Akiyoshi, and Fumitaka,” he said.

  “By sight,” I said. “Tal,” I said.

  “Tal,” they said, “noble one.”

  “Better get your beasts up,” said Yasushi.

  “Up, kajirae,” I said.

  With a sound of harness, the girls, I think uncertain, bewildered, stood.

  “You are holding up the line,” said Yasushi. “Pass.”

  “Are we not to be arrested?” I said.

  “No,” he said.

  “Why not?” I said.

  “Did we not share danger and war?” he said.

  “I wish you well,” I said.

  “I wish you well,” he said. “Do not leave the wagon faraway.”

  “Over that hill,” I said.

  “That will do,” he said.

  We then moved from the camp. A quarter of an Ahn later we unhitched the girls and abandoned the wagon. Shortly thereafter, the slaves tunicked, rope-coffled, and back-braceleted, following the lead of Pertinax and Ichiro, wary of patrols, we turned north. The next afternoon, we were picked up at the rendezvous point and were on our way to the encampment of tarns.

  * * *

  Overhead was the snap of wings, like whips, and, below, on the parapets, flighted shadows darted on the walkways, and then, smaller, on the valley below.

  “The cavalry is aflight,” said Lord Temmu, with satisfaction. “Lord Yamada is a fool. He has made the greatest mistake of his life.”

  I was afraid. Lord Yamada was not a man from whom mistakes might be expected.

  “Lord Yamada was informed of this,” said Lord Nishida. “Yet he advances! How can it be?”

  “He did not think the cavalry would fly,” said Lord Okimoto. “Otherwise it would be madness to advance. I, too, thought it would not fly. I thought arrangements were in place.”

  “That Tarl Cabot, tarnsman, was traitorous?” asked Lord Nishida.

  “On what other grounds might Yamada advance?” said Lord Okimoto.

  “On those of madness,” said Lord Temmu.

  “I should be with the cavalry,” I said, “and so, too, others, Tajima and Pertinax.”

  “No,” said Lord Temmu. “I want you here.”

  “That I might be slain for treachery, if all did not proceed as planned?”

  “You may command from here, by the summit, by flags and signal horns,” said Lord Temmu.

  “You are not needed to supervise a routine slaughter,” said Lord Nishida.

  “Lord Yamada was warned,” I said. “I did not think he would advance. I expected him to withdraw, rather than risk the decimation of his forces, the loss of towns and fortresses.”

  “Yet he has advanced,” said Lord Okimoto. “It is clear he did not believe you.”

  “The attack has begun,” said Tajima, peering through the glass of the Builders.

  “He was warned,” I said. “He had my word.”

  “The word of a barbarian,” said Lord Okimoto.

  “Know you so little of the continent?” asked Lord Nishida. “It was the word of one who is of the scarlet caste, the word of a warrior.”

  “His troops will be showered with unanswered arrows,” said Lord Okimoto. “Men will seek cover and dare not move. His supply train will be burned. Foragers and scouts will venture forth only wit
h hazard. His march will be arrested. Then the cavalry may return to his ancestral lands to burn and pillage.”

  In the distance, even without the glass, one could see formations in disarray.

  “This is not war,” said Tajima, grimly. “It is like shooting tethered verr.”

  “Victory is upon our banners,” said Lord Temmu.

  “Hail to Lord Temmu, Shogun of the Islands!” cried an officer. This cry was taken up on the outer parapet, by officers and Ashigaru. It resounded as well on the inner parapets, and I heard it faint, below, in the courtyard of the holding.

  “Let the drums pound,” said Lord Temmu. “Sound the horns of victory!”

  “Hold!” cried Tajima, the glass of the Builders trained on the horizon. “Hold!”

  “What is it?” I cried.

  “There!” said Tajima, pointing. “There!”

  In the distance, hard to determine initially, from the morning sun, there was a speck in the distance.

  Lord Temmu seized the glass of the Builders, and peered through it. “It is a bird,” he said.

  “It is far off,” said Lord Okimoto. “It is a tarn.”

  Lord Temmu handed the glass to his daimyo.

  I knew that Lord Yamada had at his disposal at least two tarns.

  “Yes,” said Lord Okimoto, uncertainly, “a tarn.”

  “I fear not,” I said.

  “Give the glass to Tarl Cabot, tarnsman,” begged Lord Nishida.

  Lord Okimoto passed me the glass, and I trained it on the approaching speck, still far off.

  “What is it?” asked Lord Nishida.

  “I do not know,” I said.

  “It is a tarn,” said Lord Okimoto.

  “No,” I said. “It is not a tarn. It does not have the wing beat of a tarn.”

  “It approaches, does it not?” said Lord Temmu.

  “Yes,” I said. “And now more swiftly.”

  “It is a tarn,” said Lord Okimoto.

  “No,” I said. “It is not a tarn. It is not the wing beat of a tarn. Too, it is hard to judge from the distance, but, too, I think it is too large for a tarn, much too large.”

  “Speak,” said Lord Temmu.

  “Surely you can make it out now, with the glass!” said Lord Nishida.

  “Yes!” I said.

  “What is it?” demanded Lord Okimoto.

  “I have never seen anything like it,” I said. Then I cried out, “Clear the parapet!”

  At that very moment the wall of the parapet a few feet to my right burst apart, stones rising in the sky, a hundred paces, and then falling, gracefully. The walkway to the right was half torn away, and smoked with blackened stone. I could feel the heat from where I stood. The air was acrid, and stinging. Men coughed, many seeking the ladders and stairs to the ground below. The object had passed over us, and a moment later there was an explosion in the courtyard below and behind the parapets, and a geyser of dust sprang up behind us, and, almost at the same time, a twisting skewer of fire tore forth from what seemed a maw of the thing, and a segment of the castle roof, the keep of the holding, was afire.

  The large object then ascended into the sky, swiftly, smoothly, much as a floatable object submerged will ascend to the surface when released. I had not seen such a movement in many years.

  The sight of this thing, the noise, the smoke, and flames, the spillage of rocks and the spumes of dust, brought the tarn cavalry wheeling about, to do battle, to protect the holding.

  “No!” I cried, from the damaged parapet. “No!”

  The large object faced south, not really moving, seemingly suspended, just rocking a little in the air, much as a ship might rock in the water.

  It had been years, too, since I had witnessed solid objects which could remain in place, as did that object, with little or no visible motion, silent, seemingly effortlessly suspended, almost as though alive, waiting.

  “Go back!” I cried, from the parapet.

  The first tarn flew at the object, the tarnsman’s lance couched.

  “No!” I wept.

  A burst of flame rushed forth from what seemed the maw of the thing and the bird and rider, in a flash of fire, were incinerated before our eyes, and, blackened and smoking, enridged for a moment with lingering fire, a scattering of remains tumbled to the valley below.

  A dozen tarns, from the sides, swept toward the seemingly patient, still thing, in the sky, quiet as though waiting, and arrows and Anango darts struck sparks and rang against it.

  “No,” I cried, looking up, helplessly, from the outer parapet. “Get out! Escape! Go! Flee!”

  Lances shivered, and cast knives, quivas, caromed away.

  “Tajima!” I cried. “Signal Ichiro, on the summit, signal, ‘Retreat’ and ‘Scatter’! ‘Retreat’ and ‘Scatter’!”

  The large object now turned about, gracefully, the large, slow-moving wings orienting it. I do not think it was even aware that it was under attack. Rather, it was as though it wished to learn if that might be the case, as such things might be expected. The maw of the thing was then aligned with another bird and rider, and another burst of fire was emitted from what seemed the maw of the thing, and another rider and bird seemed to discolor the sky as though burning debris might have been cast suddenly on blue tiles. One could then see the residue descend against the hills beyond.

  The object then, almost as though mounted on a spindle, turned about, examining the sky about.

  I saw some sparks of light, and noted more broken arrows falling from its sides, to the ground below.

  Ichiro on the summit winded his battle horn, and the ranks of the tarnsmen seemed to erupt about, as though cast by an invisible hand into the wind.

  Another bird and rider perished in a blast of fire, and remains descended, smoking, to the ground.

  Ichiro blew, again and again, the horn of battle.

  Tarns, and riders, withdrew, in all directions. At most one such pair might be sought at a time.

  But the object showed no interest in pursuing any of the riders or mounts.

  Nor did it renew its attacks on the holding.

  It then turned about, again, and slowly circled over the holding, as though it wished that its presence, and nature, might be unmistakably noted, and, perhaps, recalled.

  It then, soft as a winged cloud, turned south, and, wings slowly moving, disappeared over the forces of Lord Yamada, which were now reassembling. Indeed, they were beginning to prepare the trenches and redoubts which would serve for a siege.

  There were men on the roof of the castle, extinguishing the flames.

  The air about still hung with smoke.

  A breeze came from the north, and it would clear the air.

  “It could have destroyed the holding,” said Tajima, looking after the object.

  “Lord Yamada does not wish to destroy the holding,” I said. “He wants the holding.”

  “What now?” asked Pertinax, wiping grit and stains from his face.

  “The next move in this sport,” I said, “is Lord Yamada’s.”

  “A truce,” said Lord Nishida. “Negotiations.”

  “I would conjecture so,” I said.

  “I will never surrender the ancestral holding,” said Lord Temmu.

  “We will fight to the last man,” said Lord Okimoto.

  “You may have to,” I said, “in the ashes.”

  “We will need every sword,” said Lord Okimoto. “We must marshal them. Where is Nodachi? His sword is worth a dozen swords.”

  “Even a sword worth a dozen swords,” said Lord Temmu, “is useless against a thousand swords.”

  “What if the thousand swords are wielded by but one hand?” I said.

  “I see,” said Lord Nishida.

  “One sword,” I said, “applied in a certain way, at a certain time, might do the work of ten thousand swords.”

  “True,” said Lord Nishida.

  “Where is Nodachi?” said Lord Temmu.

  “He left the holding days ago,”
said Lord Nishida, quietly.

  “Why?” asked Lord Okimoto.

  “He said he seeks Lord Yamada,” said Lord Nishida.

  “Lord Yamada is with the march,” I said.

  “How do you know?” asked Lord Nishida.

  “His headquarters tent and banner were with the camp,” I said. “They were stationed at the hub of the camp, at its very center.”

  “Did you see him?” asked Lord Nishida.

  “No,” I said.

  “Nodachi seeks him,” said Lord Nishida.

  “Did you dare to look upon the thing in the sky?” asked Lord Temmu.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “You saw its nature?”

  “Of course, great lord,” I said.

  “The brutality, the size, the fangs of steel, the scales, the vast, skinlike wings, the ridged, spikelike tail, the claws of steel, the shining eyes about the head, the breath of fire?”

  “Yes, great lord,” I said.

  “We must attempt to die well,” said Lord Temmu.

  “All may not be lost,” I said.

  “Surely you know what we face?” said Lord Temmu.

  “I did not believe it existed,” said Lord Nishida.

  “I never doubted it,” said Lord Okimoto, “but I did not hope to see it.”

  “Daichi referred to such a thing,” said Lord Temmu.

  “As was advised by Lord Yamada,” I said.

  “You are skeptical?” said Lord Temmu.

  “I fear so,” I said.

  “But you have seen it,” said Lord Temmu.

  “Of course,” I said. “I have seen what I have seen. I know what I have seen.”

  “It has come from its cave,” said Lord Temmu.

  “Perhaps it was released, unchained,” said a man.

  “But who would dare to release such a thing, to unchain it?” asked Lord Okimoto.

  “Yamada,” said Lord Temmu.

  “What do you think it is?” I asked Lord Temmu.

  “You saw its size, its shape, the wings, its terribleness, the tail, the scales, the claws, its ferocity, its fangs, its breath of fire.”

  “Of course,” I said.

  “It is the iron dragon,” said Lord Temmu.

  “No,” I said. “It is not. It is a device. You may call it an iron dragon, if you wish, but it is not your feared iron dragon of legend, which is a myth. It is a contrivance, somehow controlled, either from within or from some distant point. On a distant world, a far world beyond the moons, a steel world, inhabited by fierce denizens, I saw such things, animated by an ensconced brain, its body the device itself.”