The Blood-stained Belt

by Brian H Jones

  ‘Why not? Who do you think Vaxili’s daughter has for friends? Do you think they’re going to import some true-blue aristocrat-friends from the Dornites, or from the Usserdites, or what?’

  ‘All right, all right, I accept that Dana and Mecolo are friends. But how do you know that Dana isn’t playing a practical joke?’

  ‘Because I know Dana and I can see that she's serious! Anyway, so what if it's a practical joke? Let’s say that we arrange a meeting tomorrow and no one turns up? So what? Or some other woman turns up instead of Mecolo? Again, so what? What have you got to lose?’

  ‘And what if only Dana turns up?’

  ‘By Zabrazal, Sharma, that’s a remark in poor taste!’

  ‘I was just teasing. Hey, man, don't --’

  ‘I don’t like that sort of teasing! You hear me? I do not like it!’

  ‘I’m sorry. I apologise. Let’s forget about it. All right?’

  I grunted, ‘Apology accepted. Forget about it.’ However, Sharma’s imputation rankled with me for a long time after that.

  In spite of Dana’s schemes, Sharma and Mecolo had to wait a while longer to meet. That night, the bugles sounded just before midnight. Their shrill notes hauled us out of the depths of sleep and dumped us in the rough discomforts of the world around us. Cursing and complaining, we tumbled out of bed, trying to light lamps, falling over each other, tripping over our boots, and scratching around for our weapons and equipment. Commanders bellowed instructions, raging at the muddled confusion and trying to get their units together in the dim, flickering light of torches. It took nearly an hour for the whole army to assemble on the parade ground and even then there was still a lot of shuffling, bumping, coughing, swearing, hitching of belts and straps and adjusting of equipment.

  Finally, when the army settled down into a semblance of order, Vaxili addressed us briefly. He told us that a Dornite army had swept in from the south-east, looting, taking captives and occupying a large tract of territory. Tersely, he reminded us of what we had learned during our period of training. This, he said, was our first big test and for the sake of Keirine and ourselves we dared not fail it.

  So this was it! This was the big one – us against the Dornites, the first head-to-head between the army of the Kingdom of Keirine and the ancient enemy. All of us were excited and some were even elated. However, those feelings were buried under the discomfort of broken sleep, the weight of our packs, and the usual chaffing of soldiers under discipline. Yawning and muttering, the army trudged out of camp and took the road that led south from Koraina – the same road that Dana and I had wandered along a few days earlier. There were shouts and curses in the dark as the commanders tried to keep order and more curses as men stumbled over obstacles or collided with each other. To add to the confusion, messengers on horseback forced their way through the ranks. Most of my comrades had never been near horses before and were terrified of them. At the sight of these dark forms, huge and alien against the dim night sky, men scattered to left and right. Zaliek cursed at them and shouted, ‘How the hell do you think you’re going to stand up to the Dornite cavalry when you run like children from a single horse?’ It was a pertinent question.

  By mid--afternoon, we were marching through countryside that had been pillaged by the Dornites. Hearing that the army was approaching, the inhabitants began to come down from their places of refuge in the hills. As we marched through a large village where just about every house had been damaged or destroyed, people lined the roadside, grim-faced, shouting and jeering at us:

  ‘What good is an army that arrives when the Dornites have already left?’

  ‘What are we paying taxes for – just to feed your fat stomachs, eh?’

  ‘When you’ve finished fighting the Dornites, come back and rebuild our houses, if any of you survive.’

  An old man was sitting on a stool in front of his house surrounded by pieces of broken furniture. As our unit marched past him, he heaved himself to his feet and shouted in a high, thin voice, ‘May Zabrazal damn you to deepest darkness!’ He tried to pelt us with stones but he was so feeble that the missiles didn’t reach us. When he exhausted his supply of stones, he shouted, ‘You should have your faces smeared with cow dung.’ It was an extreme insult. Zaliek heard the muttering in the ranks and shouted, ‘Eyes front! Pick up the pace – hup, hup!’

  A young woman came out of the house next door, made a derogatory gesture with her fingers, and shouted, ‘They raped his wife and then cut her throat. A woman of sixty years of age and him nearly seventy! They made him watch. Where were you? Are you here to protect the living or to bury the dead?’

  Zaliek didn’t even flash a glance at her. He just bellowed at us, ‘The next man who doesn’t keep his eyes to the front will be put on heavy duty! Hup, hup!’

  Sharma hissed, ‘We’ve killed three Dornites already, you and me, but I’ll be a lot happier when we’ve killed three hundred of the bastards.’

  ‘Or three thousand?’ I said it ironically but Sharma flicked an approving look at me and nodded.

  I quoted Zaliek’s maxim: ‘Forget about revenge. Forget about resentment. They get in the way of clear thinking.’

  Sharma said, ‘Don’t worry, my friend, I’ll be thinking clearly when we get to grips with them.’

  ‘That’s good. Keep it like that.' The destruction all around us brought it home to me that the enemy was close at hand. Dry-lipped, I said, 'You’ll need a clear head and steady nerves. Facing those bastards isn't going to be easy.’

  ‘Are you worried?’

  ‘Worried? No, I’m just scared out of my mind, that’s all.’

  We marched along in silence for a while before Sharma said, ‘Me too. But don’t worry – we’ll be all right when we get to grips with them.’ Then, after a few seconds, he said quietly, ‘When we meet them, I won’t forget what they’ve done to our people.’

  CHAPTER SEVEN: SOLDIERS OF KEIRINE

  Next day, we met the Dornites at Gandonda. Shivering in the morning chill and blanketed in mist, our army advanced down the valley from the north-west. Dornite bugles sounded somewhere in front of us, muffled in the thick air, and from time to time through drifting gaps in the mist we could see signs of distant movements. Then, as we advanced and the mist began to lift, we saw that the Dornites had formed up at the shallow head of the valley. From our position, the Dornite army looked like a gleaming belt that stretched across the floor of the valley. They stood there in complete silence, immobile except for the occasional movement of a horse or the light wafting of breeze-blown plumes. It was eerie, like confronting a life-sized, life-like, petrified frieze.

  At a distance of about one thousand paces, Vaxili halted the advance and re-formed our line, strengthening the centre and drawing our flanks forward so that they advanced along the sides of the valley. At that point, Zaliek planted himself in front of our squad and said, ‘Good luck! Remember your training. This is where I leave you.’

  There were protests but Zaliek silenced us with a gesture and said firmly, ‘My contract calls for me to train you not to fight against the Dornites.’

  Someone called out, ‘Are you afraid?’

  Zaliek’s eyes narrowed as he replied, ‘No, Nadali, I’m not a coward. But I’ll tell you one thing – if the Dornites capture you, they won't kill you. In fact, they’ll be only too happy to take you alive. But if they capture me, they’ll kill me in ways that you don't want to know about. I need to be paid double if I’m going to face danger like that. Anyway, it’s not my fight, is it? You’re the soldiers of Keirine, not me.’ He saluted us, hitched his sword over his shoulder, Dornite-style, and moved towards the rear.

  Sharma broke ranks and followed Zaliek. He trotted back within a few minutes, looking bleak. He pulled me towards him and whispered, ‘It’s like I thought. Zaliek says this is crazy.’

  ‘What’s crazy?’

  ‘We’re fighting in level country. The Dornites have all the advantages – cavalry, chariots, and room to maneuver
. We’re playing into their hands.’

  ‘Thanks, Sharma, you’ve just made me feel a lot better.’

  ‘I’m just telling you what Zaliek said.’

  ‘Well, it’s too damn late now, isn’t it?’ Sharma licked his lips, grunted gloomily, and hitched up his breastplate. The line of Dornite infantry was moving towards us at a steady trot. My stomach tightened and I muttered, ‘Oh, man, may Zabrazal protect us. We’re going to need it.’

  Sharma snorted. ‘Zabrazal might not be with us.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Izebol performed a sacrifice.’ He licked his lips again.

  ‘Yes? So what?’

  ‘The omens weren’t favourable.’

  ‘What?! We’re going into battle against the omens?’

  Sharma shrugged and said grimly, ‘That’s what Zaliek said.’

  I cursed as heartily as I ever had before or since. ‘Is Vaxili crazy, sending us into battle against the omens?’ Sharma just shrugged grimly. I asked, 'What does Izebol say about it?'

  Sharma’s mouth tightened and he muttered, ‘Zaliek says that Izebol has no say in the matter. Vaxili told Izebol to keep out of the army’s affairs.’

  ‘Oh, that’s a great move, just when we need all the help that we can get. Hey, man, isn’t that a really great move?’ Sharma just grunted again while I cursed. ‘Damn! Against the omens! I can’t believe it.’

  Sharma nodded even more gloomily and, as he eyed the inexorably advancing line, muttered, 'We don't need the omens to tell us that we're heading for trouble.' For about the tenth time in five minutes, he hitched up his breastplate, scratched under his helmet strap, and licked his lips. In spite of my own stomach-wrenching, skin-scratchy apprehension, I was comforted to see that the normally cool-headed Sharma was as skittish as a colt.

  Suddenly we heard shouted commands from the enemy force. The Dornite line trembled like silver foil shaken in the wind and the soldiers increased their pace. A subdued rustling whisper reached our ears, like wind rushing down a distant mountain side. It was the soughing of thousands of men advancing at a quick trot, line abreast, through knee-high grass. Then we heard the sound of the Dornite’s war chant – a steady, rhythmical hymn that rolled with a deep underlying menace. Until then, we could have been involved in war games, doing nothing more serious than feinting and maneuvering. Now, as the war chant rolled in our ears, it was confirmed to us – seriously, deeply, with utmost conviction – that within a few minutes we would be the targets of heavily armed men who intended to kill us, maim us, or, if they overcame us and we survived, take us into slavery. Quiet fell like a sodden sheet across the army of Keirine – a deep, reflective silence.

  With his eyes fixed on the approaching Dornites, Sharma murmured, ‘Vaxili said that the omens only meant that Izebol and the other priests should get off the battle field and leave the army to conduct its own affairs.’

  My mouth was dry, my pulse was throbbing, and my skin was as prickly as if I had rolled all night in a bed of cactus. I muttered with conviction, ‘It sounds like damn good advice. If Izebol has any sense, he’ll get out of here as fast as he can.’

  The Dornites attacked with their infantry in the centre and then sent their cavalry to harass our left flank. Our men fought bravely enough but inexperience soon showed. When our centre began to fall back, our commanders failed to notice that the line between the centre and the flank was stretching thin. It was the signal for the Dornites to unleash their chariots. There were only about thirty chariots but that was more than enough. Our men knew nothing about facing horse-drawn armour and the chariots crashed right through our line and wheeled for a new assault. The cavalry followed, our left flank was isolated, and our disarrayed centre had to fall back even further to ward off the new attack. When the chariots scythed through us from the rear, our centre crumbled and the battle was as good as over.

  On the right flank, we withstood the Dornite infantry until we were exposed by the defeat of our centre. After that, it took only one rush by the chariots to tear our ranks to shreds. Following the example of the rest of the army, we broke and ran. Within seconds, our unit deteriorated into a scrambling mob of terrified men, screaming, shoving each other aside and abandoning wounded comrades to their fate. Terror, which had been battened down until that moment, burst forth with energising force and infused us with life-preserving energy. In short, we ran for our lives.

  Sharma and I fled together along with men from our squad. Sharma pointed up the slope and panted, ‘Get as high as possible.’ He was right. Being more heavily armed than we were, the Dornites wouldn’t easily follow us into the higher parts of the hills. We scrambled up slopes and crags, panting, cursing, tearing our fingers to shreds and lacerating our knees and shins as we pulled ourselves upward.

  After about twenty minutes we stopped to catch our breaths. Looking down from the hillside, we viewed the carnage that was going on below us on the broad floor of the valley. Suddenly, from behind us, someone growled, ‘Where’s the rest of the squad?’ It was Zaliek, looking at us grimly.

  I replied, ‘There are some more men coming up the hill, commander.’

  From behind a boulder, Zaliek peered down the hillside. He cursed and said, ‘If that’s all that’s left of you lot, I’ll have to get another job.’ Then he grunted approvingly and observed, ‘You’ve still got your weapons, eh? At least I taught you something useful.’ He surveyed us sadly and shook his head mournfully. ‘Damn fool tactics, taking on the Dornites at their own game. A hard lesson, not so?’

  About half of our squad survived the battle. Zaliek got us together and led us further into the hills where he settled us down in a protected position and posted scouts, instructing them to report any approach by the Dornites. We were still there when night fell. Zaliek withdrew the scouts, saying, ‘The Dornites won’t attack in the dark, even if they know where we are – which I doubt.’ He unslung his sword, stretched, rubbed the back of his neck, and said, ‘We’ll stay here until first light and then we’ll head for Koraina. We should be all right if we stay on the high ground.’

  Half admiringly and half resentfully, Sharma asked him, ‘Is this in your contract, commander?’

  Zaliek scowled and replied truculently, 'No, but I won’t have a job if the Dornites wipe out my unit, will I?’

  We settled down in discomfort without food, water, or protection against the chill of the night. Sharma and I slumped against a boulder, absorbing its warmth into our weary bodies. However, even in our exhausted states, Sharma wouldn’t allow us to rest for long. I was half asleep when suddenly he sat up, snapped his fingers, and asked, ‘What are the Dornites doing right now?’

  ‘Hmm? What does it matter?’ I was dead tired and thoroughly drained. I just wanted to sleep. Instead of talking about the Dornites, I wanted to forget about them – wipe them right out of my mind – and in so doing obliterate the memory of the day’s terror and humiliation.

  ‘The Dornites – what are they doing?’

  I roused myself and growled, ‘Celebrating, of course. What else would they be doing?’

  Sharma said, ‘Exactly!’

  ‘Yes, exactly! Like I said, what else?’ I closed my eyes and slid down against the boulder.

  Sharma said thoughtfully, ‘Now is the time to strike at them.’

  ‘What? Attack the Dornites? You must be crazy!’ I was so startled that I grazed my back against the rock as I jerked upright.

  Sharma replied, ‘Crazy? I don’t think so.’ He got to his feet and walked off into the darkness while I slumped down again and dozed off.

  I don’t remember anything more until about half an hour later when Sharma dug my ribs with his foot and called, ‘On your feet, Jina. It’s time to move.’

  ‘Huh? I’m trying to sleep, man. Leave me alone.’

  Sharma crouched and shook my shoulders. He said, ‘It’s time to move against the Dornites.’

  'The battle is over, man. We've been defeated. Let's get some sleep.'


  'The battle might be over but there's still a war to be fought. We can harass them enough to stop them from pursuing our men.'

  I wriggled upward against the boulder and muttered, ‘Are you serious? I thought it was just another one of your crazy ideas.’

  Zaliek loomed over me, a dark form against the stars, and growled, ‘Volunteers only! Are you joining us, or not?’

  I yawned, stretched, and said, ‘I guess Sharma's already volunteered me, not so?’

  Sharma chuckled grimly and replied, ‘You’re a mind--reader, Jina.’

  I yawned again, stumbled to my feet, dusted myself off, and scowled, ‘I just hope that I can still get some sleep tonight.’

  Sharma replied placidly, ‘I doubt it.’

  Everyone volunteered, more or less willingly, and we set off in single file keeping to the high ground. It was a cloudless night with a quarter moon and we were able to make good progress. After about an hour, we reached the ridge above the Dornite camp. Concealed behind boulders half way down the slope, we mapped out our plan of attack. It was simple: we would divide into two groups, each with a clearly defined mission. The larger group would set fire to the nearest tents and kill the occupants as they emerged while the smaller group would kill or maim as many horses as possible and stampede the rest. We would do it as quickly as possible, restricting our attack to easy targets, after which we would re--assemble and make our escape. Zaliek took the lead in mapping out the plan of attack but refused to accompany us. As he had done that morning before the battle, he growled, ‘My contract doesn’t call for me to take part in fighting against the Dornites.’

  Our scouts reported that it looked as if the Dornites hadn’t posted sentries. It seemed that they were so complacent after their overwhelming victory that they weren’t taking even elementary precautions.

  Sharma and I were in the group that attacked the tents. As we crawled towards the camp from the bottom of the ridge, my heart was pounding and I was heavy with the foreboding that at any moment we would be seen, exposed as we were on open ground between the tents and the safety of the hills. The nearer we got to the camp, the more I was convinced that each tent contained a group of vigilant, murderous Dornites. I visualised them licking their lips and pricking their fingers on the points of their swords as they watched us crawling towards them. I anticipated that they were just waiting for the appropriate moment to rush out and slake their blood lust by thrusting their swords and spears through our fragile bodies.