He cocked his head. Was that the chinking of metal on stone? The scraping on the wall of a naked blade of a sword unsheathed? A sound emanating not from behind this time-- but from ahead. Masters of stealth! They were encircling him. Menleco burst free from the wall. The outlaws probably knew every winding passageway, every turn, every blind alley. He had to find a place to make a stand, to lay an ambush. It was his only hope. He ran, unheeding of the noise of his own footfalls, under which he was sure he could now hear his pursuers chasing him boldly.
He turned a corner and crashed headlong over a lump on the floor. Dazed, he lay sprawled on the cold stones, then scrabbled back to the thing that had toppled him. At first, he thought it was a tangle of bed sheets, abandoned in a heap. But when he flung aside a corner of fabric, he found himself staring down at Calamity itself, a crimson moaning face of eternal grief. He turned the body over and saw the three-days' dead temple priest, still wearing half of the double mask of his order. Good Fortune had deserted him. The smiling half of his wooden mask lay cracked and bloody among the jumbled heap of his robes. Shadow Riders had been here. If the priest could not find sanctuary in his own labyrinth, a tortuous path he walked every day...
Menleco pushed himself away from the body, a startled scream escaping his throat. He rose and scrambled blindly around the next corner. He once again found himself confronting Calamity, not laying in a maggoty heap on the floor this time, but standing tall as a man at the head of a dead-end chamber lit by spouts of crimson everflame. He had reached the end of the maze.
"Ardonis!" Menleco muttered. He felt absurdly relieved, as if he had been engaged in nothing more than a race to this spot, to this place of sanctuary. The priest had come up just yards short. Ardonis' head had been fixed to his shoulders so that it could be easily turned. Menleco ran to him and jerked his ugly face around. Now, perhaps Good Fortune would smile on him.
But the plate in Ardonis' hands was empty and Menleco had no offering to make. Even if he had, there were no priests left to make it.
The scuffling grew louder. He drew his dagger and turned, and then dropped it in fear. The blade clanged on the floor at Ardonis' feet.
What Menleco saw before him was not Calamity, but a Huntress' arrow aimed straight at his heart.
Chapter 17
"No sign of the mighty host. But - damn it all! - not even the stone can see through a blasted veil of dust."
Hurrus handed the farsee stone to Xandros, but Deon swiped it from his fingers before he had a chance to grasp it. Lying on their bellies, the men were peering into a narrow valley. They had climbed the back side of the ridge, hoping to get a good view of the landscape below. Instead, they found only a good view of the next ridgeline - when they could see at all, that is, between the blowing sheets of dust.
"Cunama lies beneath that next hill," Deon said, one eye squeezed tight as he gazed through the stone with the other. "I can see nothing beyond it. Wait…What is this?"
Even without the stone, Hurrus could see what had attracted his attention - plumes of dust rising over the ridgeline, not windblown this time but thrown up by some unseen column.
"Chariots!" Deon said.
They crested the ridge, five of them, and raced down toward the valley floor. From what Hurrus could see, they were plain, unadorned war chariots, each pulled by two horses and occupied by two riders. Perhaps Kerraunus' reports were accurate, after all. Certainly, the Sarians were bestirring themselves.
Deon made to spring to his feet, but Hurrus clamped him down again with a strong hand.
"Be still," he warned.
"But we can destroy them easily," Deon said. They had left the rest of Hurrus' companion body waiting at the base of the hill as they spied the landscape ahead. Twenty mounted spearmen against five chariots - it would indeed be a slaughter.
"They have not seen us," Hurrus insisted, "and we do not know what lies on the other side of that hill. Let them go for a moment. We'll see what follows." The slaughter could turn on them quickly, if what Kerraunus' scouts had reported was true.
Hurrus gazed at the chariots through the stone. They galloped cross-slope into the wind. When gusts blew, they disappeared behind sheets of blowing sand and grit, only to reappear moments later under a clear blue sky. Checkered Sarian scarves covered their faces, but Hurrus could see the riders casting anxious glances over their shoulders as they raced into the valley.
"I am with Deon," Xandros said, in an unnecessarily low tone. His voice was already as deep as a drum. He could have shouted and it would have carried no further than Hurrus' ear amid the howling gusts. "Let us mount up and have at these cowardly bastards."
"You are both admirably bloodthirsty," Hurrus said with a smile. "But now is not the time for killing. Now is the time for watching. The killing will come soon enough."
The village of Cunama, a favorite target of Sarian raiders, had once again come under attack. When Kerraunus had sent a fang of horsemen to run them off, the Snake Men returned with wild reports. The pillaging was done in the vanguard of a general advance of a huge Sarian host, they said.
"Perhaps your men jump at shadows, Kerraunus," Hurrus had suggested.
Kerraunus had fixed him with a steely stare. "If my men say there's a mighty host marching on Cunama, you can believe them."
"More likely they have mistaken a foraging party for Memnon's phalanx," Deon put in.
"Or some hapless villager pissing in a bush for a brigade of Sarian lancers!" Xandros added to an unlikely chorus of laughter. Normally, Kerraunus was not so openly mocked, but the claim was outrageous.
If the reports were to be believed, it would be the largest army the Sarians had fielded since Xarhux's day and the first time they had advanced en masse into Tygetian territory. Myletos had called a war council at once.
"My own scouts confirm Kerraunus' report," Bellog said. "From prisoners we have interrogated, I estimate the enemy to have up to four times the number of men we can put in the field."
He looked about the room with satisfaction at the silence that followed his dire pronouncement. All the men sat at a massive marble table, each of the leaders accompanied by his top lieutenants. Hurrus sat with Deon and Xandros, while Kerraunus was surrounded by a company of his white-cloaked Snake Men. They conferred together often, speaking quietly in a tightly clustered knot. Kerraunus wore his blue war crown and a broad jeweled necklace that spilled over his bare shoulders. Around his chiseled biceps wound coiled serpents of gold. When his men finished conferring, they would part and Kerraunus would sit among them like a king, his expression inscrutable.
Bellog sat back with his thick legs crossed, his fingers tented at his chin. He was in his element now, Hurrus reflected, a man made for meetings, a man who liked the sound of his own weighty intonations. That he had been able to confirm the reports as well as provide the undoubtedly exaggerated news of the size of the enemy host gave him obvious pleasure. Taking advantage of the silence, he stood impressively. Garon and Tepes scooted aside to give him room.
"This is no raiding force, gentlemen," he said. "This is an army of occupation. The Sarians mean to stay this time."
"They grow bold," Kerraunus said out of his knot of men, "under this leader of theirs, this Memnon. He is spoken of as some kind of god-king. Perhaps a battle can be avoided by killing this man."
"You would sooner commit murder than warfare. Is that what you're saying, brother?" Hurrus asked.
Kerraunus leaned forward, slowly. "You can hack your way through Memnon's minions, if you like, Eagle Man. But I prefer a simpler, more direct approach. And to answer your question - yes, I would sooner commit murder than warfare. Wouldn't you?"
"Unfortunately, Memnon does not invade Tygetia alone," Bellog interrupted in his booming voice, "but at the head of an army of unprecedented size. You will get nowhere near him, Kerraunus, unless your Snake Men can slither past the feet of his hundred-thousand to find him."
Kerraunus flashed just the hint of a smile. "Perhaps
they could," he said.
"What do you propose then, Master of Arms?" Myletos asked. He had listened silently since the council began, taking in all sides.
"I propose a night attack." Xandros and Deon surged forward in their chairs, both ready to burst with objections, but Hurrus stayed them with a hand. Bellog caught sight of them and continued quickly, raising his voice. "Given their numbers, it is unwise to engage them in a stand-up fight. We should hit them when they are unprepared. Surprise and the terrors of the night itself should be our allies in this battle."
"This is what my Master of Arms suggests I do?" Myletos asked.
Bellog sat down again. "I would attack them at night, if I were you."
"And you, Hurrus," Myletos went on. "What is your opinion?"
"I would attack them at night, too," Hurrus said, standing, "if I were Bellog."
Deon barked out a laugh, and Bellog frowned ferociously.
Tepes sprang to his feet. "You are no Bellog! Far from it!" He stood beside his father and glowered at the prince from under his heavy brow.
"Indeed I am not," Hurrus said. "Nor am I a Sarian boot-black. Can we agree on that? But you, Bellog…Perhaps that is a different story."
"We don't need to listen to this!" Tepes shouted. "King Myletos, put a stop to it."
"It is all right, son," Bellog said calmly, but with a murderous edge to his voice. "Let him go on. Let the lad make a fool of himself."
"Please, Hurrus," Myletos said. "Let us adhere to the matter at hand..."
"Oh, but the matter at hand is Bellog, is it not? He advises us to go skulking around at night like whipped curs hoping to steal a victory from an army of men. This same Bellog who, while the rest of the country chafed under Sarian rule, worked for the Sarians as a…As a what? Sword-polisher, or some-such?"
"I was but a boy," Bellog said. "I did what I needed to do."
"Boy or man, a coward you remain, Bellog, and I will not listen to your shameful proposals."
"Your words do not harm me, Hurrus. You have never had to make a decision upon which your survival depended. I have. Many. Yet I still live. That is why I command an army. I know what it is to survive."
"What a tragedy, to have never tasted glory."
"Where I have been, survival is glory, son," Bellog said dryly.
"Follow me and I will show you glories beyond mere survival, old man."
"Follow you?" Bellog blustered. Even Kerraunus burst out laughing, whether at Bellog or Hurrus it was impossible to tell. His men leaned in around him, smirking. "I command this army, and you will do as I say!"
"I will not sneak around the Sarians in my own country. That I can guarantee you. Neither will I descend to simple murder, as my brother suggests." He turned a piercing eye to Kerraunus. Kerraunus stared coolly back at him. "I would attack in the full light of day so Memnon can see who it is that destroys him."
"Hear! Hear!" Deon cried out, slapping the tabletop while Xandros nodded in satisfaction.
"Silence!" Myletos cried. "This war council is not a sporting match. Bellog is my Master of Arms and is deserving of your respect, Hurrus. You and your men."
Chastened, Deon fell silent. The old man's fury did not flash as often as in years past, but was still terrible to behold.
"And you will be the one to destroy him, I suppose," Bellog said when the laughter and murmurs of consternation had died away. "How many men do you have left in your Eagle Corps, Hurrus? Seven thousand?"
"I have seven thousand men who will follow me anywhere," Hurrus said.
"You have seven thousand men who can't even march straight," said Tepes.
"I would remind the prince," Bellog said, "that our goal is to push the Sarians back across their desert, not to cover you in glory."
Hurrus smiled. "Oh, but I will do both."
In the end, Hurrus had won the day, as he knew he would. Yet, even now as they watched the Sarian chariots race into the valley, Bellog's words came back to haunt him, leaving a bitter taste on his tongue. He was not about to 'push the Sarians back across their desert'. He should not have left the council with those words hanging in the air as if he agreed with them. That was Bellog's game, played for his comfort and easy living. Where Hurrus was going, there would be no easy living and any man who stood in his way would quickly find that the rules of the game had changed.
Now, it was just a matter of locating the Sarian army. Hurrus had insisted on accompanying his scouts personally. He needed to see the great host with his own eyes before he would believe it. His own Corps of the Eagle Man was some distance behind them, in marching columns.
"The chariots are fleeing something," Hurrus said, noticing how the riders shot nervous looks behind them.
"Or racing towards something," Xandros offered. "Perhaps they intend to secure some piece of ground ahead of us."
"We won't know until we have a look over that next hill," Hurrus said. "Bring up our horses and call up the body. We're going in."
"Yes, sir!" Deon said with vigor. He leapt to his feet and crab-walked rapidly down the slope to where the horsemen waited.
In a few moments, Deon reappeared with their horses. The rest of the mounted troop followed. All of the men were unarmored and lightly armed, dressed and equipped for scouting, not combat.
In the valley, the chariots had come to a halt. The riders conferred with one another, gesturing in the direction from which they had come. Hurrus mounted and sat his horse atop the ridge in full view of the Sarians below. Deon and Xandros joined him. They sat with their hands on the pommels of their saddles, their head scarves fluttering in the wind. Deon wrapped his over his face and secured it tightly. As a gust blew up, obscuring their view of the parked chariots below, he drew his sword. Hurrus heard the sound of hissing metal as the remaining men drew their swords as well. The Sarians were oblivious to the threat looming above them.
"Stay together," Hurrus shouted back at the men. "There is a great Sarian host out here somewhere. Do not allow yourselves to be drawn off from the group. These chariots could be the vanguard of a larger force."
"A force that is about to get a little smaller," Deon said, his eyes conveying the smile on his hidden lips.
Hurrus fixed him with a hard look. "Just see that our force does not," he said, warning Deon against rash action. "Happy hunting, gentlemen. To the top of that hill!"
Hurrus whipped his reins, spurring his horse to action. In the next instant, he was galloping down the slope at the head of twenty sword-wielding horsemen, shrieking the terrifying ululating war cry they had picked up from desert tribesmen. "Alalalalai!"
Whether the Sarians heard them or saw them first was impossible to tell. In either case, they looked up in time to get their chariots moving before the madmen were upon them. Even from his bouncing saddle, Hurrus could see the terrified shock in the faces of the charioteers. The drivers whipped the horses furiously as the chariots picked up speed quickly, racing back up the hill. One of the riders attempted to nock an arrow to shoot back at them, but a sudden jolt as the wheel struck a rock or rise in the ground jarred the arrow from his hand. Hurrus' horse trampled it in the dust behind them as they dashed away.
The chariot horses were strong and fast. Only Deon, who, despite Hurrus' warnings, had sped out in front of the entire troop, managed to catch one of them. He slashed down at the driver, slicing him across the shoulder blades. A sudden bright gash stained the man's grey tunic, but failed to bring him down or halt his charge.
Deon flew over the top of the hill now and the chariots' wheels spun off the ground as they crested the summit. Deon reared as if to deliver another blow, when he suddenly reined to a halt, his charger huffing and shuffling as he peered down the far slope.
Hurrus and Xandros reached him an instant later.
There on the downward slope they saw the village of Cunama. In the blowing dust, they had failed to notice the rising black smoke from its fiercely burning buildings. Flames licked the sky, the wind bending them as the fir
e spread quickly from rooftop to rooftop. Evidence of a violent clash clogged the road. The ruin of one of the Sarian chariots lay amid a scattering of several dead horses and smaller black heaps in the dirt that must have been men. Between gusts of smoke, Hurrus saw the forms of living men with bundles in their arms scampering from the burning structures. Others on horseback rode through the streets to cries of anguish. Hurrus saw a woman being dragged from a house by her hair.
He felt the blood rush to his face. These Sarians were not soldiers, but plunderers and pirates!
"Hi-yah!" Hurrus shouted without hesitation, digging his heels into his horse. He whipped the reins to the left, pointing his mount toward the village and away from the chariots rumbling to freedom behind veils of dust across the plain.
Hurrus rode alone for an instant while his companion body stood frozen in confusion. When they saw where he was going, they quickly spurred forward, joining him in his charge on the village.
Hurrus could feel them galloping at his side. His eyes locked onto the man dragging the woman. He raised his sword. When the man saw him, he looked up in shock. Releasing the woman, he turned to flee. That was when Hurrus saw the man's gold-edged white cloak, the same as worn by all the plunderers.
"They are Snake Men!" Xandros' voice boomed in his ear. "Kerraunus' men! Not Sarians! What do we do?"
Hurrus said nothing. The woman knelt fearfully in the dust of the smoky street. She raised her hands defensively, but Hurrus charged right past her. She shrieked as the hooves thundered mere feet from her body. Hurrus saw nothing, heard nothing, and remembered nothing, as he slashed savagely at the scampering Snake Man. His wickedly curved cavalry sword nearly decapitated him. He was dead before he hit the ground.
The plunderers dropped their parcels where they stood. They ducked into doorways and rolled under wooden walkways and porticos. Bloody blade in hand, Hurrus reined up and looked back at his men. What he saw infuriated him.
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