Legions of Antares [Dray Prescot #25]

by Alan Burt Akers

  The secret adherents of Spikatur might want to get at the Hamalese; but they had, by prodding the allies from the Dawn Lands into a premature attack, materially hampered our plans.

  And then, as I went back to the barracks in a not-too-happy frame of mind, there on a wall the chalked sign of the sword piercing the heart gave me heart, reminding me that we did not struggle against this puissant Empire of Hamal alone.

  I decided the early start was going to be considerably earlier than anyone expected. Rousing out my lads I told Jorg to get Mathdi ready for a long flight. Then I went to see Chuktar Fydur ham Thorfrann, not giving a damn for poor old ord-Jiktar Morthnin and protocol. Chuktar Thorfrann at least knew his job, being a choleric, stout, astute sky-commander, having charge of a wing of twelve vollers. He was bucking for promotion to command one of the awe-inspiring Hamalian skyships. He woke up rubbing his eyes and cursing me.

  “I am leaving for a longish flight, Chuk—and I don't want that idiot Morthnin doing himself an injury worrying about me. If we can recruit diffs again, then I can fill my crew."

  “Why do I put up with you, Jak the Insufferable! By Havil the Green! All right! Go and get your crew. But if you're not back here on time—"

  “I shall be, Chuk."

  It was all both a laugh and petty at the same time. I was tempted to wing off at once, take Mathdi to join forces with my friends, and so join in with the invasion. But I could serve much more important ends by remaining within the Air Service of Hamal. And, also, in my treatment of Morthnin and my toadying to ham Thorfrann, I writhed in remembered indignation and resentment at other days, when I had suffered from puffed-up nincompoops with Influence. Thorfrann allowed me a long leash because of my friendship with Prince Tyfar and Prince Nedfar. I remember, I made myself a promise to make amends to poor old ord-Jiktar Morthnin, if I could.

  “You think you know where you can pick up crewmen, Jak?"

  “I'm hopeful.” I sounded cautious.

  “Well, if you can find a few extra—the Wing needs men to fill out the crews. We're in for the big one, if I'm not mistaken."

  “You mean—we'll go south?"

  He laughed, purple, apoplectic, spluttering. “No, Jak, you fambly! Not those pathetic fools from the Dawn Lands."

  “Hyrklana, then? But Kapt Homath said nothing—"

  Again that taint of Influence. That I, a mere dwa-Jiktar, could talk and even drink on easy terms with a vad and a Kapt must have annoyed Chuktar ham Thorfrann. But he just wheezed again, and said: “Vallia!” and laughed, and threw me out.

  Of only one thing could I be reasonably sure—about that. I did not think Hamal could possibly put another onslaught onto Vallia, my homeland, together with all the problems she had from south and east and in Pandahem. If I was wrong ... No, confound it! By the Black Chunkrah! I said to myself. Maintain the aim, that was what Homath had said, quoting sage military doctrine, and that was what I would do. If ham Thorfrann had reason to believe Vallia was a target, he must be talking about the Hamalese reinforcements for Pandahem. He had to be.

  Jorg had Mathdi ready and we took off at once.

  I'd appointed Jorg the Fist as ship-Deldar, which post just about equates with the responsible position of boatswain on Earth. If the ship fell to pieces, Jorg would be the one to make inquiries of...

  We set off eastwards. I fancied my lad Jaidur, who was King of Hyrklana, would be vastly interested in what Kapt Homath had had to say in The Bolted Leem tavern. Vastly.

  * * *

  Chapter fourteen

  "Zair does will it!"

  Jaidur was now king in Hyrklana, with Lildra, the queen, radiant at his side. It was therefore very necessary to be circumspect, cautious, civil—even ceremonious—in tackling that young tearaway. And, of course, even the youngest of right tearaways grows up in time. Jaidur, my youngest lad, had unmistakably grown in stature and in wisdom. For all that he was still as sharp and cutting as ever as Mathdi alighted with the swarm of patrolling flyers surrounding her.

  We landed sweetly enough on a platform of the High Hakal, the fortress and palaces of Huringa. Flags flew and trumpets pealed, and there was a plethora of gold and gems ablaze in the light of the suns.

  The Lahals rang out. Jaidur and Lildra waited for me. I was conscious that I had left this place borne by the magical powers of the Star Lords, leaving Delia, leaving all that I loved. Now, in returning by mere mortal airboat, I was not in any real sense completing a circle.

  There was no time to waste. I did not intend to shilly-shally here with protocol and tiresome formalities. I told Jaidur what lay in store for Huringa, capital of Hyrklana, and added: “Your invasion of Hamal is still vital. Even more so; but—"

  “But can you expect me to leave Huringa unprotected?"

  “No. But I have forewarned you. You know this Kapt Homath is bringing four armies against you. Therefore you deal with them with your Home Forces. Jaidur—you must invade Hamal. The plan calls for it."

  “The plan—well, I was not king in Hyrklana when that plan was forged."

  Lildra, smiling, placatory, knowing how much Jaidur had had to put up with an absentee father in the past, and, too, I feel sure, remembering how it had rained when I'd taken her out of the Castle of Afferatu, intervened.

  “Hyrklana has been almost untouched by the wars. There are many brave fighting men, Jaidur. You know that."

  “I know it.” His brows made a bar above his nose. “My scouts reported a swarm of those devilish ships of the Shanks sailing north. They keep well away from the coast. But it could be they seek to lull us. Should they reverse course and strike Hyrklana ... do I need to spell it out, father?"

  “Shanks. There were many of them?"

  “More than any man can remember having seen in one fleet before."

  “Then that is all the more reason for the invasion plan. We have to make Hamal and all the countries of Paz understand they must stand together against these confounded Shanks."

  “That is surely a dream—"

  “No!"

  Lildra, with a laugh more nervous than any of us liked, said: “Cannot we talk to the Empress Thyllis? Surely diplomacy will make her understand?"

  “She's a she-leem,” said Jaidur.

  “I would try diplomacy,” I said, somewhat heavily. “But you tend to be stabbed in the back after you make treaties and arrangements. I know. I think Hamal will listen more readily to sensible proposals when an allied army is camped in Ruathytu.” I tried to clear my frown away, and could not. “But I do not like it, by Vox. I would to Zair there was no need for wars!"

  “Well, father, there is and we are in one, whether we like it or not.” Jaidur motioned the hovering servants with their silver trays of refreshments to approach. “You will eat and drink? For I see you are, as ever, anxious to be gone."

  “I am going to Vallia. I shall convey your love and respect to your mother—if she's in Valka or Vondium. Now, Jaidur—Vax Neemusbane—will you send that army to invade?"

  He nodded. I'd known him as Vax before he knew I was his father. “Yes. Rely on me. If I cannot lead the army myself, I shall send the best men I have."

  “Thank Zair! And I need twenty-five men from you for my ship. Men who can carry off a deception—I know their names."

  He laughed. “Norhan the Flame and Frandu the Franch, I suppose—"

  “If they are available and willing. I suppose no one has run across that numim, Mazdo the Splandu? No?” as they shook their heads. “Well, I have the feeling he will turn up again."

  “You are welcome to them, a pair of know-it-all rogues."

  “Then the next time we meet will be in Ruathytu."

  He looked grave, the laughter lines flown. “If Zair wills it."

  I glared at him. I felt young and impetuous and to hell with gravity and long faces, despite all the difficulties and dangers ahead. The dip in the magical Pool of Baptism in far Aphrasöe had kept me young, physically certainly and, I trusted sincerely and with fervor,
mentally as well. So I spoke with an energy that made Lildra glance up quickly.

  “Zair does will it, Jaidur! And, in truth, so do Havil and Havandua and Djan and any other godhead you can imagine, save those few bloody-minded warrior gods among whom Djan is not numbered. The people of Paz may believe in and worship any number of different deities; they are all united against whatever Fish-headed demons rule the Leem-loving Shanks who raid us all indifferently."

  “I believe you, father. By Vox! You are touchy—"

  Almost, almost, I said, “You'd be touchy if you had my problems.” But I did not and stilled my tongue.

  During the alfresco lunch we discussed in more detail just how the Hamalian onslaught on Huringa might best be met, and I flatter myself I was extraordinarily tactful in giving Jaidur advice. Anyway, he was a Krozair of Zy which, although the Krozairs are doughty fighters, does not automatically turn a Krozair Brother into a strategist. It does give a fellow more than an inkling of military matters. The Krozairs, martial and mystic, an order to which I am devoted, for all their disciplines and skills do not concern themselves overmuch with the problems of aerial warfare.

  “And it is in the air lies the key!” said Lildra.

  “Yes.” Jaidur swallowed his mouthful. “Did the news come in yet of the raids on the voller production centers?"

  I shook my head. “I've received no intelligence. But the raids must have done some good, for production of the silver boxes is causing the damned Hamalese severe headaches."

  “And their flying sailers, these famblehoys. They really are inferior to our vorlcas?"

  “Only in the sail plan and in the handling. If you have the opportunity of capturing any, do so, by all means. Vallian shipmasters can soon make respectable sailers out of them."

  “H'm,” he said, and took another huge bite, and chewed, and Lildra, looking brilliant, drank her parclear off. I sat back and pondered how it was the Good Lord delivered to us children of so diverse a nature. Still, that conundrum makes two worlds go round, surely...

  The twenty-five men I asked for arrived, carrying their possessions in bundles tied to sticks, ready for anything.

  I eyed Norhan the Flame sternly. His shock hair had been cut and trimmed, so that he looked most odd to me, who was used to seeing him fighting in the Arena with his hair mass about him. But he still possessed that knowing twist to his lips and that remarkably evil fishy eye. Next to him, Frandu the Franch exhibited all the symptoms of intense pleasure open to a Fristle, and so I guessed they'd been arguing as usual.

  “Norhan,” I said, “you will be very careful with any pots of combustibles you happen to have about your person."

  “They will find useful employment on the decks of Hamalians."

  The fact that these stout fighting men must act the part of Hamalese was spelled out for them. Frandu riffled his whiskers. “We're too smart for them! By Numi-Hyrjiv the Golden Splendor, we'll run rings around them!"

  So, with an augmented crew and the remberees ringing high, we took off for Valka and Vallia.

  At this time a certain number of locations on Kregen were, for all that the planet remained marvelous and evocative wherever I happened to be, of special importance. Strombor, Djanduin, Valka. And, yes, it would be totally dishonest to exclude Paline Valley from this number. Strombor, the city enclave of Zenicce, of which I was lord, was located on the west coast of the continent of Segesthes and was for all practical purposes out of the conflict centered on Hamal. Djanduin, peopled by ferocious four-armed Djangs and clever gerbil-faced two-armed Djangs, lay in the far southwest of Havilfar and would most certainly be embroiled in the war. I am King of Djanduin. But—Valka. Ah, Valka! That beautiful island off the east coast of Vallia means so very much—the people there Fetched me to be their strom, and Delia and I had made a wonderfully happy home in the high fortress of Esser Rarioch overlooking Valkanium and the bay.

  To Valkanium and Esser Rarioch I flew in Mathdi.

  The journey time was occupied in beginning the organization of the increased crew nucleus and of drawing up a provisional watch list. The man I wanted for ship-Hikdar, equivalent to the First Lieutenant, Bonnu Varander ti Valkor, might not be available. Here lay one of the ever-present problems of selecting men for command; you give them a job and they do it well and you have to weigh up the advantages of shifting them around against the disadvantages. Anyway, Bonnu could handle a voller with superb efficiency and a panache I think peculiar to Valkans. But then, I am prejudiced.

  Most of the men—many of whom you have met in my narrative—with whom I had fought and worked earlier were now fully occupied. Certainly, if Drak could spare a few I'd take members of the emperor's guards, and agonize over the choices.

  Valka swam up out of the shimmering sea in a haze of blue and a rising tide of happy nostalgia. Useless to repeat ecstatic descriptions of the island. Superb, simply superb, Valka, and my home of Esser Rarioch the jewel in the crown.

  Because dear old creaky Mathdi was so clearly Hamalian in origin I ran up the flags Jaidur had given me. The Hamalese, in the days when they built and sold vollers, usually manufactured those for themselves to different designs from those for export. Mathdi was aggressively Hamalian. The brave flutter of red and yellow and red and white flags from her staffs should at least cause the Valkan patrols to think again before shooting us to pieces.

  However, it was a Deldar I knew, astride his flutduin, the powerful bird docile to his commands, lethal to foes, who landed on Mathdi's deck and leaped off his saddle-flyer. He was beaming from ear to ear, bearded, girded with weapons, muscled, alert, a fighter who would never cry quarter—in short, your typical Valkan.

  “Strom!” he bellowed. “Lahal and Lahal!"

  “Lahal, Virko, you great rascal. It is good to see you.” His patrol flew circles about us, watchfully, as per standing orders. “Come and drink a stoup. And tell me all the news."

  “Quidang, strom!"

  I believe even those fighting rogues I had brought from Hyrklana and the Dawn Lands took notice of Deldar Virko the Chunkrah, impressed despite themselves.

  The news was almost uniformly good. That made a pleasant change, by Vox! But I interrupted Deldar Virko to say, “Now hear me, Virko. You called me strom, which—"

  I stopped speaking at sight of his powerful face which crumpled as though in anticipation of unjustified punishment.

  I cursed myself. My Valkans called me strom instead of majister because to them I was their strom first, and the emperor a long place after. This was acceptable, more—it gave me a fine warm feeling. But this was not the cause of my words. I started over.

  “You did right to call me strom, Virko.” He brightened and tugged his beard, listening hard. “In fact, you have given me an idea. I do not want these fellows with me—fine fighting lads—to know I am the Emperor of Vallia."

  Virko nodded sagely. I went on, “If it is to be strom, it cannot be Strom of Valka, for folk know he is Emperor of Vallia also. There is that pretty little island with the wild gregarians, you know it, Virko—Thydun—I fancy I'll have to be called Strom Jak of Thydun for a bit."

  “Quidang!” rapped Virko. “The word will be passed."

  He was bursting with the importance he attached to this mild example of skullduggery and was as excited by it as though winging down into a fight. Anyway, Thydun was a simple enough name, and fitted well enough. He went on with the news and as I listened I realized that it might be better if instead of going to Vondium, capital of Vallia, as I had planned, I sent for the people I wanted. That would keep the operation within bounds, tidy. Also, I would get back to Hamal considerably faster.

  Turko had just about reclaimed his kovnate, both the Blue and Black Hills of Central Western Vallia were cleared, and the lines between us and the recalcitrants to the north had stabilized. Now, as you know, that last was not to my liking. But in the present circumstances when we needed to bring every fighting man against Hamal, firm frontiers, even if temporary, were far be
tter than fighting campaigns up there. Virko flew off to pass my immediate orders by word of mouth, and I settled down to write orders that would summon the folk I needed, to redistribute some of the forces and—and set the Host of Vallia in motion.

  Only one man stood in my mind to lead the Vallians.

  To Seg I wrote, in part: “As the allies from the Dawn Lands have moved ahead of time you must move decisively and fast. Get the forces in motion and keep either Deb-Lu-Quienyin or Khe-Hi-Bjanching at your side always to contact me. As soon as I can discover the deployment plans of the Hamalese, the Wizards of Loh will inform you.” I went on into more detail, but I knew that Seg Segutorio, who traditionally commanded the vaward of the armies of Vallia, would not fail.

  Seg Segutorio, Master Bowman of Loh, from Erthyrdrin—the finest comrade any man could ever find on two worlds, by Zair!

  To my own bitter disappointment in order to maintain the cover name of Strom Jak na Thydun, I did not land at Esser Rarioch in Valkanium. We bypassed Valka and touched down on Thydun, a pretty little island, as I had said, filled with suns shine and ripening fruit and simple folk whose villages were models of tidiness and charm. Here we watered and Deldar Virko, appointed into the temporary capacity as chief of merkers, kept me informed. Merkers, aerial messengers, usually fly fluttcleppers or volcleppers; but Virko handled his duties well. Fast airboats trafficked between Valkanium and Thydun, and I waited and kicked my heels, and presently Mathdi began to fill up with the bronzed keen faces and tough bodies of the men I needed.

  Each one was now given a double task of deception. He was to call me Strom Jak, and he was to act the part of a Hamalese.