"A very long story. We're in danger."
"Same as it ever was, eh?"
They dosed Tamakh, Elperex, and Nabul with the potion. Each one came to thinking he was still at the exact moment he had lost his wits.
"... dispel this evil in Agma's name!"
"I can't see them! How can I fight them when I can't see them?"
"I sense the heat of their flesh! There and there—!"
"On your feet everyone!" said Jadira. "It's time we left this place."
Flames gushed from a higher section of the citadel. Someone had set the wooden structure afire. They watched aghast as the flames licked quickly along the shingled gables. The hand of the unseen Phraxa tugged on Jadira's robe. It pulled her toward the opposite wall.
"He wants us to go this way," she said.
A soldier ran in, wielding a short spear. Uramettu grabbed the weapon by the shaft and slung the Maridan-tan into the wall. His helmet didn't save him, and he collapsed, leaving a deep dent in the wood. Uramettu stripped him of spear, shield, and short sword. The latter she offered to Nabul.
Phraxa jerked impatiently on Jadira's robe. "Come on!" she said.
Smoke was filling the corridors when they entered. Maids and footmen ran pell-mell through the reek, clutching valuables and coughing. The invisible Phraxa led them down the hall, up a twisting set of steps and left them standing before a wide oak door.
"What's this?" said Marix.
"I don't know, but I think we're supposed to go in," said Jadira. She pounded the panels with her fist. "Too solid. We can't break it down with our bare hands."
"Wait!" said Nabul. "This is my specialty." He knelt-in front of the door and ran quick fingers over the black iron lock. Taking off his left sandal, he extracted a length of iron wire from the sole.
"So! That's why you insisted on keeping those city-sandals," said Tamakh.
Nabul put the pick-lock in the slot under the latch. He worked it round and pulled down the handle. The door swung in.
"Easy as clay," he said.
The room was an armory, with all types of weapons standing in racks and lying on tables. The companions helped themselves. Elperex hopped over a stand of swords. He chirped with delight. Nabul came to see what excited him so.
"The efreet bow," he said. He gave it to Jadira.
Elperex also found something for his own use: a rolled up net of finely stranded hemp, the edges of which were weighted for throwing.
The skylight overhead blossomed red with fire. Ash and hot cinders sprinkled down on them. "Out, out!" yelled Marix.
In the corridor, a group of soldiers blocked the way. Uramettu, Marix, and Nabul moved to the fore, as they were best armed to meet them. Tamakh stood back with Jadira. He tried to cast his glamor over the Maridantans, but the noise was too great for his spell to be heard.
"I see we shall have to do this the old-fashioned way," said Uramettu.
"Hai-yah!" cried Marix, bounding forward with a kick. His blade clashed with a soldier's, rebounded, whirled, and caught up the foe's point. Marix lunged. In the narrow hallway, the Maridantan couldn't avoid his thrust. The keen tip passed through the brigandine. Marix recovered, and the soldier fell, blood pumping from his pierced heart.
Uramettu fought off a pair of men with her longer spear. Nabul made a lot of noise and jumped up and down, but never closed with his opponent. In the end, it wasn't necessary; the fire above burned through the ceiling beams. The upper floor cracked and fell on them.
"Back out! This way!" Jadira said. Separated by flaming beams, the soldiers and companions drew apart. More burning logs joined the heap, and everyone fled for their lives.
Somehow they reached the outer wall of the barrow. The only way down the hill, the baffled gate, was clogged with screaming, desperate people, retainers and soldiers alike. They jammed the narrow gap so tightly no one could escape.
"Can we go over the wall?" asked Nabul.
"We're at the top of a tall hill," saidjadira. "The fall would break our necks."
The uppermost portion of the citadel, flaming logs standing out in the night like burning bones, collapsed to one side and broke apart. An avalanche of hot debris slid into the bailey, sending the packed crowd into new paroxysms.
Uramettu leaned into a section of the palisade. She pushed and rocked the rough-hewn logs. The others fell in beside her and assisted. Soon the section of wall was wobbling in and out.
"Now, together, push!" Uramettu said. The wall went down with a splintering crack. "Get on!"
The five clambered on, with Elperex flying close overhead. On the left Uramettu and Tamakh dug in their feet; on the right, Marix and Jadira did likewise. At a count of three, they shoved off.
The section, six oak logs pegged together with planks and pins, slid down the steep earthen bank. Gouts of dirt flew in their faces, while stones and jagged splinters of wood tore at them with every bump and bound.
"We're going to hit! We're going to hit!" yelled Nabul frantically.
Everyone could see the ditch rushing to meet them. Jadira clutched Marix; Marix grabbed Nabul. Uramettu kept a hand on Nabul and one on Tamakh. Overhead, Elperex screeched wildly.
The wall section hit bottom. The pins gave way, and the whole assembly flew to pieces.
The Lame Count
It was daylight when Jadira next knew the world. She was on her back in the dirt and bright sunshine was in her eyes. Marix was lying across her waist, unconscious. She moved her right hand and felt wood. A log as wide as her leg had buried its sharpened peak in the dirt and pivoted overhead, finally smashing down a hand-width away from her head. She blessed Mitaali and tried to sit up. Pain lanced through her chest, and she decided it wasn't worth the effort.
"Marix," she cried hoarsely. "Marix, can you hear me?"
He groaned. Shaking his head, he got to his hands and knees. "Are you all right?" asked Jadira.
Marix put a hand to his chest and inhaled. "All is well. I seemed to have landed softly."
"Yes, on top of me."
"Oh! Are you hurt?" He stretched out alongside her.
"My ribs. I may have broken them."
Coughing nearby proved that Nabul lived. Then he said, "Elperex? Where are you, monkey?"
"Nabul, come here," Marix called.
The thief, his clothing hanging in tatters and his eyepatch askew, stumbled into view. His good eye was well blacked. "Have you seen Elperex?" he said vaguely.
"No," Jadira and Marix said in unison.
"Can't find the little monkey. Hope he's not dead. Was going to train him to be a thief. . . what a second-story man he'd make. Small . . . can fly . . ."
"Sit down, Nabul. I think your brain has been scrambled," said Jadira.
At the top of the barrow, smoke poured out of the ruined citadel. Shading her eyes, Jadira could see other segments of the stockade had been thrown down by fleeing inhabitants.
A large figure obscured the sun. Uramettu looked down and said, "My sister, are you hurt?"
"In my ribs. Where's Tamakh?"
"Over there, resting. He broke his arm, but I straightened it and put on a splint."
"Elperex? Elperex?" Nabul called in an odd, off-key voice.
"See to the thief," said Uramettu to Marix. "I will tend Jadira."
Marix took Nabul aside and picked splinters out of his scalp. Nabul had a swelling the size of a goose egg on the crown of his head. Marix sat him down and ordered him keep still, while he shaded him from the sun and fanned him with the tail of his burnoose.
"This will hurt," Uramettu warned. With a hunter's wisdom, she knew the only treatment for cracked ribs was a tight bandage. White-lipped, Jadira nodded that she was ready. Uramettu lifted her just enough to slip a broad band of cloth under her. Jadira clenched her eyes shut and smothered a scream in her throat. Uramettu let her down as gendy as possible. She pulled the bandage across and split the ends.
"Inhale as deeply as you can bear," she said. Jadira sucked in her breath caref
ully. Uramettu quickly tied the bandage ends. Jadira let out her breath, and the cloth strip caught her. "Y>u won't die, my sister. "You are too strong to do that."
"Ai," she said. "It hurts too much to be fatal."
Elperex flapped in with a flurry of wings. "Walking friends!" he said shrilly. "Many walking humans in iron approach from the north. Many more go with them on the backs of horses!"
"Faziris?" asked Jadira. Elperex didn't know the difference. "Do they carry any banners or pennants?"
"Yes, a cone of black with stripes of yellow, like the tail of a hornet."
Marix heard and came over. "That's the standard of Maridanta. Count Tedwin is near."
"Is this count friend or foe?" said Uramettu.
"That depends on who survived the fire," saidjadira.
They sent Elperex to keep an eye on the oncoming army. Meanwhile, the other companions extracted themselves from the wreckage at the bottom of the ditch. Tamakh's right arm hung from a crude sling around his neck. Uramettu had bound strips of oak around the broken limb. Nabul was still befuddled, but able to walk. He and Marix carried Jadira between them up the less steep slope of the counterscarp into the wattle-hut village of Vitgis.
The muddy streets were clogged with the dead and injured. Little difference was made between them; often they lay side by side. Helpful villagers washed faces and tended burns of the victims. No one paid the companions any heed.
Elperex returned. "The Hornet People are at the town fence," he reported. "A twisted man in black leads
them."
"Tedwin the Lame," said Marix.
"Since we've no time to hide and no strength to flee, there's no point avoiding him," said Jadira. "Shall we go to meet His Lordship?"
The tired, battered companions limped down the main street to the village baffle. Once outside, they saw the host of Maridanta drawn up in battle array. At the front of his troops was Count Tedwin. His cuirass was lacquered in black. A soft velvet hat swept low over his thick, black eyebrows. He rode a black horse with his bad leg draped over a special saddlehorn. A blond giant clad in mirror-bright armor stood by his lord with a drawn six-span sword. The standard of Maridanta whipped in the wind over the giant's head.
Marix moved out in front of his friends. Dirty and smoke-stained, he still managed to convey the attitude of an aristocrat in his stance. He bowed in the shallow western style and said, "Hail, my Lord Tedwin."
"Who are you?" said the lame count. Unlike his sister's, his voice was smooth and powerful.
"Marix, third son of Count Fernald of Dosen."
"Indeed. What has happened here? Where is my sheriff, Frolder, Narken's son?"
Marix explained in barest detail the events of the past day and night. Tedwin took the news of Frolder's treachery without so much as a blink.
"Does he live?" asked Tedwin calmly.
Marix hesitated, feeling the menace from the black-clad lord. He said, "I know not, lord."
"And my sister?"
Marix stared at the ground and shook his head.
Tedwin summoned his general. He ordered his army to surround Barrow Vitgis and allow no one to leave. The count, his personal bodyguard, and fifty men-at-arms would enter to secure the town.
"You will accompany me," he said.
"I?" said Marix.
"And all your companions. Come."
The giant led the way. As Count Tedwin rode by, the villagers prostrated themselves in the filth and ashes. The men-at-arms spread out behind their lord, searching among the fallen for Frolder, Countess Liantha, and the two Faziris.
The street wound through the silent village to the foot of the barrow mound. There the giant raised his hand for a halt. He readied his huge sword.
Out of the swirling smoke strode Fu'ad, straight-backed and commanding even though his beard was singed and his face smeared with soot. In his arms, he carried the still form of Count Tedwin's beautiful sister.
"Are you Count Tedwin?" he said, speaking past the wary giant.
"I am."
"Fu'ad, son of Raflk, captain of the Sultan's Invincible Cavalry. You will forgive me if I do not bow."
Tedwin clucked his tongue, and the blond giant sheathed his sword. He came back to the count's horse, lifted the lame man from the saddle, and set him on his good leg. Tedwin was short, shorter even than Nabul, but his voice and aura of command were greater than any man's present. He limped heavily to Fu'ad.
"My sister is dead," he said. It was not a question.
"She is."
Tedwin touched the wide stain covering the front of the raven silk dress. "How did it happen?"
"When Marix of Dosen and the nomad woman Jadira put out the candles to escape, my comrade Marad and I drew swords and stood back to back to defend ourselves. Sheriff Frolder had a short sword. He called out to the countess to remain seated, but she sought the sheriff and threw herself on his blade."
"Why would she do that?"
"I saw her face, my lord, when the sheriff revealed his cruel plot to kill you and marry her. I suppose the noble lady loved your lordship so much that she died to save you, my lord."
"How do I know you didn't kill her?" Something in the count's voice made Jadira shiver, despite her aching ribs.
"I don't murder women," Fu'ad said loftily. A retort begged for release, but Jadira stifled it.
Tedwin peeled off his black suede gloves and took his sister from Fu'ad. He touched Liantha's fine hair and caressed her cheek. Slowly, painfully, he limped back to his horse. Tedwin made more clicking sounds with his tongue, and the giant stooped to take the countess from his arms.
The count faced Fu'ad. "Where is your comrade, this Marad?"
"Dead. A burning wall fell on him."
"And where are Sir Frolder and his pet magician, Phraxa?"
'' Gone—vanished.''
Tedwin put his good leg in a stirrup and hoisted himself back on his horse. "Hear me, Captain: because you brought my sister out of the flames, I give you your life. Whatever bargain existed between you and Sheriff Frolder is voided. You have one hour to leave my sight. If I find you in Maridantan territory after that time, I will
have your head on a pike."
Fu'ad lifted his chin. "If that be your lordship's will, do it now, for I cannot return to my country dishonored."
"Faziris are so tiresome," complained the count. "Roldof, let it be done." The blond giant handed Lian-tha down to four waiting soldiers. He drew his great sword and advanced on Fu'ad.
"Stop!"
The group parted and Jadira stepped out. "If anyone is to kill that murdering dog, it should be me," she said.
"By what right?" asked the count.
"This one led the soldiers who massacred my tribe. Their blood cries out for vengeance!"
Tedwin drew a polished, gold-hilted saber from his saddle. He flung it point-first at Jadira. It stuck in the scorched earth at her feet. Without a word, Jadira freed the saber and went to Fu'ad.
"So," he said, "you prevail after all."
"On your knees, butcher."
Fu'ad dropped down and leaned forward on his hands. "I trust the blade is keen?" he said.
"Extremely," Count Tedwin replied.
Up went the shining blade. Tamakh cried, "Jadira, no! Have mercy!"
"Mercy? Did this one have mercy on my husband? My family? My whole tribe?" She gripped the hilt in botb hands and brought the saber down. She turned the blade so that the dull side struck Fu'ad on the head. He pitched forward and lay still. Jadira stood hunched over, wheezing from the pain her effort had caused her.
'"Vou missed," said the count.
"No, my lord. I did not." Jadira twisted the chain that held the Eye of the Sultan until it snapped. She threw
the gold disc as far as she could. "Have him tied on a horse and whipped back to Fazir. That's the worst punishment for him. The wrath of his vizier will be ten thousand times worse than mere beheading."
The faintest trace of a smile crossed Tedwin's lip
s. "Let it be done," he ordered.
Jadira returned the saber and rejoined her friends. Tamakh beamed at her. "I knew you would not be so cruel," he said.
"Did you? I was not at all certain what I would do until I did it." She leaned on Marix and sighed. "In my place, Fu'ad would have killed me. All I knew was that he would not be my teacher."
"Thank Tuus for that," said Marix.
*****
The lord of Maridanta had come to Barrow Vitgis on his way to the conclave in Tantuffa. He had weighed the need for unity against his ambition to be sole master of the Five Cities and had come down in favor of unity. After all, no one would be master if the conclave failed. No one but the Sultan of Fazir.
That afternoon, Count Tedwin dispatched Marix with a hundred lancers to retrieve the seal of Prince Lydon. They galloped away, promising to return soon after sundown.
A city of tents sprang up on the plain outside Barrow Vitgis. Tedwin's own chirurgeons looked after Jadira and Tamakh, and gave Nabul a poltice to ease his shaken wits. The count reposed in his great tent, where the body of his sister was laid out for proper funeral rites.
Uramettu shared a tent with Jadira. "What do you think of this Tedwin fellow?" she asked.
"An unhappy man, I'd say, with moods as dark as the clothing he wears," said Jadira. "Yet he has delivered us, fed and housed us, and had our hurts seen to. I find it hard not to like him, all in all."
"That is my feeling too." Uramettu lay down on the soft pallet next to Jadira. "Sleep well, my sister. Tomorrow we ride to Tantuffa."
"Surrounded by friends, for a change."
Though it was not yet sunset, Jadira gladly slept. The learned doctors had given her a soporific, and her pain melted like fresh butter in the desert sun. She drifted away, her mind a mix of images of the dangerous days past.
I ought to cut your throat.
Whose voice was that? Kemmet Serim? Fu'ad? The efreet Kaurous? Ubrith Zelka? The cold line of a knife blade dug into her neck. Jadira squirmed, trying to push the knife away. She struggled enough to revive the tearing pain in her ribs.
Her eyes were open, but her mouth was stopped. A hand seemed to clamp it shut—though no hand could be seen.
D & D - Red Sands Page 25