The Sword of Bheleu

by Lawrence Watt-Evans

  He finished his ale and put the mug to one side. Kyrith nodded, as if accepting his apology.

  “You still haven’t explained the sword or the girl,” Galt said.

  “I’m coming to that. I did go to Dûsarra, you see; the task was an interesting challenge. I had a vague idea that if I found and brought back whatever it was the Forgotten King wanted, I could withhold it from him until he met whatever demands I might decide to make. He is a magician of some sort, there’s no doubt of that.

  “At any rate, I found Dûsarra and robbed six of the seven temples. Some were easy; others were not. I won’t go into detail about what I found or what I did, but there are a few things worth mentioning.

  “Dûsarra is the city of the dark gods, the seven gods of evil that humans believe in. Each of the seven has a temple and a cult—or had. One of the gods is Bheleu, the god of destruction; his temple was a ruin, his altar a pile of burning wood. The sword I brought back with me was on that altar. From the first moment I saw it, it seemed to have some sort of control over me; I felt a compulsion to take it from the altar, ignoring the flames, and to kill the worshippers of Bheleu with it. I did. It was involuntary on my part. As you have all seen at various times and in various ways, the sword is undeniably magical and powerful. It was also very useful; in the course of events in Dûsarra I lost virtually all my other weapons, so that I needed it for my own protection. Therefore, dangerous as it was, I brought it back with me. That was obviously a mistake. I thought I had it under control, but I was completely wrong; it seized hold of me again and made me slay the Baron and start the battle. That did indeed gain me my vengeance upon the Baron, as the Forgotten King had promised, but the other results are less pleasant.

  “After the battle, the sword had apparently exhausted its power temporarily; I awoke in an alleyway with it lying beside me, the red gem dark and no compulsion or anger working on me. I tried to break it, but could not. My attempt only caused it to glow again. Rather than permit it to dominate me anew, I fled and came here, leaving it where it lay.”

  Having completed his tale, he sipped his ale.

  “You claim, then, that your apparent insanity was the work of this magical sword?” Galt asked.

  “Yes, exactly,” Garth answered.

  “That alone?”

  “I believe so—that is, if you refer to my actions since acquiring the sword. I have no good explanation for the depression that first drove me into venturing south after eternal fame.”

  “No, I can accept that; I have heard of such emotions before. It’s not uncommon for overmen of your age. It’s the sword that worries me. If it is truly what you say, was it wise to leave it lying about unguarded?”

  “Perhaps not, but I had little choice. I dared not touch it again; the brightness of the glow assured me that it would seize control immediately.”

  “Would it not be better for you to handle it, now that you know of its dangers, than to leave it where any stranger happening along might pick it up?”

  “Ah, but such a stranger could not pick it up. You saw, did you not, what happened when Herrenmer attempted to touch it?”

  “My view was not clear,” Galt began.

  “I was not there at all,” Saram said, interrupting. “What happened?”

  “The hilt grew hot to his touch and burned him so badly that he could not pick it up. Yet a second later, I used it without taking harm. I have thought this over, considering as well the circumstances under which I came into possession of the sword, and have concluded that it cannot be used by humans. Therefore, we need only keep our own troops away from it to ensure that it will not be used.”

  “I am not sure, Garth. Perhaps we should test this.”

  Garth shrugged. “Perhaps we should, but to test it may be dangerous. If it worries you, then post a guard around the sword. That would ease my own mind as well.”

  “I find it hard,” Galt said, “to accept your claims about the sword’s power. I admit that it has magic to it, but it is merely metal; how can it have a mind and will of its own?”

  “I don’t say that it does; it may merely be linked to some great power. I am tempted to believe that it is in truth controlled by the actual god of destruction, whatever he may be. My experiences in Dûsarra have shaken my atheism; there are undoubtedly spirits and powers in the world beyond what we know.”

  “Could it not be, Garth, that something—perhaps the sword, which plainly is magical, or perhaps something else you encountered in your journeying—has driven you mad and caused you to imagine this controlling power?”

  Garth considered this. “I suppose it could be,” he admitted. “But I do not think it to be the case.”

  “We will have to investigate the sword further and test out what you have said.”

  “You are free to do so, but do not expect me to use it again. I ask only that you be very, very careful.”

  “Whether you are correct in your belief in its power, or merely deluded by madness, it seems to me that we cannot wholly trust you.”

  Garth shrugged. “I will not argue with that. I think you will see, in time, that I am again as rational and sane as you.”

  “That would seem to be settled, then.”

  Galt was interrupted by Kyrith; she touched his arm and then pointed at Frima. “Oh, yes,” Galt said. “Who is this person, and why did you bring her here from Dûsarra?”

  “Frima? That’s simple. My task was to bring back whatever I found on the seven altars; at the time I arrived in the temple of Sai, the goddess of pain, her worshippers were in the process of sacrificing Frima. She was the only thing on the altar, so I took her and brought her back with me. Having done so, I had no further use for her and turned her free.”

  “It would seem you have, as you said, an explanation for everything—bizarre as those explanations may be.”

  “Yes. If you would like confirmation of some part of what I have said about the sword, Frima can attest to its effects upon my temper. She saw on the journey back here that, when the red jewel glowed, I became angry; when it dimmed, I remained calm.”

  Frima spoke for the first time. “That’s right.”

  “Another question occurs to me,” Galt said. “You were sent to fetch these things by the so-called Forgotten King; why, then, did you not deliver them to him?”

  “He refused them. You will recall I said I robbed six of the seven altars. The seventh held nothing but a skull that was apparently part of the altar and which I did not trouble to pry loose. The old man, however, claims that the altar should have held a book, which was the only item he really needed. My failure to deliver this book angered him so that he marched off and left the other things in my possession. I regret that, since his magic seemed able to control the sword; had he kept it, today’s battle might not have taken place.”

  “Curious.”

  “Perhaps not. The caretaker of the seventh temple, the shrine of The God Whose Name Is Not Spoken, told me that the god’s true high priest was a mysterious ancient called the Forgotten King. The description was unmistakably of the same man. The King has not denied it. It is not so strange, then, that he would know what might be found in his own god’s temple, and that he might wish to make use of it”

  “I see. The underlying circumstances here remain unclear, but I begin to understand that they are in fact interrelated.”

  “My own thoughts are similar,” Garth agreed, “and I want no further part of it. I have done with magic and gods and priests, I hope. For the moment, since you feel I cannot yet be trusted, it appears I am done with politics and diplomacy as well.”

  “Then we are agreed that Kyrith and I will retain command?”

  “Yes. We cannot be sure that I am truly free of the sword’s influence. From your point of view, we cannot be sure I am sane. I do hope, though, that you will permit me to advise you. I know more about Skel
leth and the lands to the south from first-hand experience than any other overman living.”

  “True. What, then, would you advise us to do in the current situation?”

  “The most important consideration is to establish peace with Eramma, but it is not, perhaps, the most immediately pressing. The need to provide some organization here in Skelleth seems more urgent. A human should be appointed to take charge of the surviving human population, as a sort of interim baron, under your command; the humans would not take well to the direct rule of our people, and we in turn do not understand how humans think, so that direct rule would be inefficient and unnecessarily galling. I would recommend Saram here for the position, since, as a former guardsman—and perhaps the only one surviving—he has some experience at organization. He was a lieutenant and therefore knows how to give orders. Furthermore, he is a human we are comfortable in dealing with, and one who seems comfortable with us, yet who is not outcast by his own kind.”

  Saram protested, “I don’t want the job.”

  “So much the better; you’ll be less tempted to abuse it.”

  “We can settle that later,” Galt said. “What else?”

  “Well, once some semblance of order is established, the human population should be set to rebuilding the town to suit themselves, while our people serve as garrison and administration and lend whatever aid we can. We now control Skelleth, but it remains essentially a human town and we should deal with it on that basis, allowing the humans to arrange it as they please.”

  “You imply that we should retain possession of it, however.”

  “Oh, yes; why give up a good bargaining point before we’re even asked?”

  “As a trader, I know that’s sound. What else?”

  “Word of events here must be sent to the City Council of Ordunin immediately, and their advice asked—but we must remember we are south of the border and outside their jurisdiction; and we are here on the spot and more knowledgeable than they, so that we must be willing to reject their advice, should it seem foolish.”

  “Would you set Skelleth up as a new nation, then?”

  “No, not necessarily, but I would keep every option open for as long as possible.”

  “Is there anything more?”

  “When the effort can be spared, an exploratory mission should be sent to the Yprian Coast. As well as establishing trade, such a mission should investigate the possibility that the overmen there will be willing to support us militarily against Eramma, should it become necessary.”

  “Now there you have a very good point.”

  “I envision that Skelleth may become a mixed community of humans and overmen permanently, equally part of Eramma and the Waste, serving as a center of trade between them and with the Yprians. I think such an outcome would be highly desirable. There is no reason that the memory of the Racial Wars should continue to blight all our lives.”

  “You are ambitious, Garth.”

  “I think such a scheme wholly practical, Galt.”

  “It may be. We will try it and see. I will admit I have no better suggestions.”

  “Good.” Garth downed the rest of his ale and signaled to the innkeeper. He was pleased; even though he himself was now to be excluded from the mainstream of events—and thereby freed of aggravating details—things seemed to be working out well. The Baron was dead and gone, Garth’s commitment to the Forgotten King was at an end, he was free of the Sword of Bheleu, and it seemed quite likely that everything could be worked out peacefully.

  Oh, there were still loose ends—the Forgotten King yet lived, the sword still existed, and peace was not yet made—but it looked good. It looked very good.

  Chapter Eleven

  Dawn was breaking by the time Saram was convinced he should serve as acting baron until someone better could be found. Garth and the others decided that it was hardly worth trying to sleep before sunset. Garth had had his nap in the alleyway, but the others had not slept since before the battle. Galt had managed to sleep the previous morning, after standing the night watch, but his rest had been interrupted by Garth’s return.

  In short, all of them were exhausted, as were almost all the townspeople and overmen. As a result very little was accomplished beyond a good deal of bleary discussion.

  At sunset nothing had been done about the Sword of Bheleu beyond posting two overmen to guard it—maintaining a safe distance at all times, since Garth insisted that, if they came close to the weapon, it might seize control of their actions. Nothing had been done toward the reconstruction of the village, except that the villagers had been divided into work parties of fifteen or twenty, each under the direction of a skilled craftsman. Ideally, each group would have been run by a master house builder, but the entire village had only a single journeyman in its surviving population; for decades there had been no need for new houses and few had bothered to repair the old ones.

  The overmen had pitched their tents in the marketplace, as they had planned, but did not enjoy the privilege of occupying them; instead, preference was given to women and children, followed by the wounded—including the seven injured overmen—and finally by the feeble or elderly. That accounted for at least three people to a tent. The remainder of the population was left to take shelter in the ruins or do without.

  The warbeasts were gathered together; after carrying out their attacks on the archers, some of them had been left undirected during the remainder of the battle and had strayed aimlessly through the town. They were fed with unidentified corpses or those with no surviving kin; the recognized bodies were spared to avoid offending their families. Some protests arose when it first became known how the overmen proposed to feed their animals, but were quieted when it was pointed out that if the warbeasts weren’t fed they would seek their own meals, and that they preferred to take their prey alive. It was suggested that the town’s livestock would serve, but the proposal was rejected on the grounds of unnecessary squandering of the available resources.

  Garth refrained from taking any direct part in the day’s activity, but watched carefully and offered occasional suggestions to Galt and Kyrith. Galt strove mightily to retain his civilized calm, but as the day wore on it grew ever thinner, allowing flashes of temper to show. Kyrith, handicapped by her inability to speak, gave up trying to give orders by noon and instead sat sulking in the King’s Inn, deigning only to answer questions brought to her and allowing Galt and Saram to run the entire affair.

  Saram, for his part, despite his show of reluctance, took to command immediately. He appointed temporary officials to ad hoc jobs at the slightest excuse, ordering each to fulfill a particular function without ever once explaining how the job should be done. Whenever he thought of something that needed to be done or had some matter brought to his attention, he named the nearest willing human as the minister in charge of getting it done. By the time new tasks stopped appearing, around midafternoon, he had at least fifty ministers under him, making up a good part of the surviving population.

  The new officials, unfortunately, were not coordinated and were as tired as anyone else, so that very little was actually done as well as it should have been. Food and water were found for all the survivors, and the tents were distributed, but rubble was not cleared, no construction was begun, and the remaining fires were left to die on their own.

  Still, Galt saw quickly that Saram had the humans in hand; even though they were accomplishing little, they were being kept busy, and had no time to think about the fact that they were now virtually slaves to an alien species in their own village.

  Once he was convinced that he need not worry about a rebellion, Galt turned his attention to making use of his own warriors. Of the sixty overmen who had accompanied Kyrith and himself from Ordunin, eleven had died in the fighting—almost all from arrow wounds—and seven had been wounded in varying degrees, not counting scrapes and bruises. That left him forty-two. Besides the two he ha
d assigned to guard the Sword of Bheleu, he posted two at each of the five gates and assigned ten more as their relief. That left him twenty. Saram assigned humans, mostly male teenagers who were eager to help but not otherwise much use, to guard the gates as well, so that each entrance to the town had four guards, two of each species, at any given time.

  Galt had objected at first on the grounds that the duplication was an unnecessary waste of manpower, but gave in when Saram pointed out that if men and overmen were to live together they had best learn to work with one another. Furthermore, he pointed out that humans approaching Skelleth might be alarmed at seeing only overmen and might flee, while they would be only confused and wary upon seeing men and overmen together.

  From the twenty remaining overmen Galt chose his apprentice, Tand, and four others, and assigned them to journey to the Yprian Coast as an impromptu embassy and trade mission. They were to depart the following morning and they spent the rest of the day gathering supplies and resting. They were to have two warbeasts—enough to carry them all in an emergency and adequate to defend them against almost any peril of the road, but not enough to deplete the force in Skelleth seriously. Galt held the remaining overmen in reserve in case of an attack by humans angered by the overmen’s capture of the town.