Legions of Antares [Dray Prescot #25]

by Alan Burt Akers

  By Krun! I can tell you these doughty fighters joyed in these games of skullduggery!

  In any event, I crammed a hundred and ten souls into Mathdi. Plans for their employment filled an idle hour with dark schemes. I will not detail their names. Each one was accounted a kampeon, a veteran of the army or Air Service, and many were hyr-paktuns returned to their homeland to fight for Vallia. As soon as we were all aboard, Mathdi lifted up and away from Thydun, and we dropped the blue haze of Valka astern of us. We flew on over the sea, heading south, heading for Hamal and our foes and for perils and adventures that would, if the light of Opaz shone upon us, bring us the victory.

  * * *

  Chapter fifteen

  Of the Power of Hamal

  The conceit of our enterprise filled the swods with unholy glee. Or, given the feelings we had of a great crusade, perhaps it would be correct to say holy joy. We were bringing a Hamalian Air Service vessel to join with the Hamalese, and she was stuffed with Vallians and Hyrklese and men from the Dawn Lands, foes of Hamal! As I say, the conceit charmed us all.

  We maintained a strict discipline from the very start, doing everything by the Hamalian book, which Chuktar Fydur ham Thorfrann, our wing commander, had made sure I thoroughly understood. There were hitches, of course. Much laughter boomed and rang about Mathdi as some wight forgot he was no longer a Vallian and started cursing away and bellowing “By Vox!” until he was reminded that “By Krun!” was now de rigueur. There were surprisingly few fights between the contingents, and protocol was quickly settled as the watch list was promulgated and men knew the jobs they were expected to fill.

  Among the intelligence I had received had come news that Drak was about to relinquish command of the forces arrayed against the rebels in the southwest and return to Vondium. The insurrection down there looked to be quashed. If he intended to lead the Vallian armies in the coming invasion, I would have to think very carefully. In all probability, although not liking the solution, I would instigate two separate invasion columns, giving one to Seg and one to Drak. That way, at least, we'd make the Hamalese split their forces yet again.

  Vast distances across Kregen may be covered in a voller, and, conversely, if you are down on your own two feet those distances stretch to enormous proportions. It was mighty comforting to know I had a voller which would not almost inevitably break down.

  We gave the island of Pandahem a wide berth. The lord of the countries there groaning under his evil dictatorship was Phu-Si-Yantong, and I knew he would not sit tamely and do nothing while the invasion struck at Hamal. We had to be quick, damned quick!

  The ship-Hikdar, Bonnu, came up to me and said, “I'd like to paint over that damage in the larboard beam, maji—strom. It detracts from the look of the ship."

  I beamed on Bonnu ti Valkor. If an observer might recently have decided I'd been far more interested in my new voller Mathdi than in the invasion, he could be forgiven. He'd have been wrong, but understandably so. I fancy Bonnu was more concerned about Mathdi than about anything else. Well, and so he should be, as any first lieutenant should, until the action began.

  I shook my head. “Leave the dint there, Bonnu. It makes the ship look older and more fragile than she is. Camouflage."

  He didn't like the idea.

  “I'm used to running a taut ship—"

  “Of course. That's why I asked for you."

  He stared. “Asked, maji—strom? You have merely to give the orders and men obey."

  “It's not,” I said with something of a grunt, “always like that."

  The ramshackle empire the people of Vallia had asked me to save for them was now much more healthy. But, all the same, I still didn't take kindly to despotic overlordship, having suffered from nastiness of that kind for much of my life. Had the Lord Farris, commanding the Vallian Air Service, told me Bonnu was tied up, I'd have accepted that, and gone for Hikdar Vinko the Shrewd. He was running the second largest skyship we possessed. The largest was run by Hikdar Naghan Erdmor, and I did not wish to deprive him of that task. So I said, “You have to compromise when you run an empire, unlike running a ship, Bonnu."

  “Yes, strom."

  “Although,” I added, “arranging watches and selecting men and deciding on tasks is not simply a matter of giving orders, is it now?"

  “We-ell—"

  And we both smiled as Mathdi bore on through the level air.

  “You must keep on at the men in their deception asHamalese, Bonnu. We cannot risk a slip-up jeopardizing the enterprise."

  “Many of them have been mercenaries, as you know, strom. And the Hamalese are accustomed to strangers serving them. Even renegade Vallians, may Opaz frown upon their misdeeds."

  This was perfectly true. There were men from many nations and races serving with the Hamalian forces, and strange oaths and customs were accepted.

  As it turned out, the crew of Mathdi integrated easily enough with the crews of the other eleven vollers in Thorfrann's wing. I'd warned them about the obnoxious ord-Jiktar Morthnin, and our lads were wary of that one. Chuktar ham Thorfrann greeted me with open surprise at the crew and the mettle of them, and with news that was not only unwelcome, news that was a bombshell of disaster for my plans.

  “I don't believe it, Chuk!” I said. I know I must have looked wild.

  “It is true, Jak, and there is nothing we can do about it."

  “But we have to fight the invasion! Those cramphs from the Dawn Lands are marching on Ruathytu! We can't go flying off to the west and leave the action!"

  “Our orders are just that. We have to reinforce the air arm tangling with the wild men over on the Mountains of the West and those are our orders and must be obeyed."

  I fumed. What a debacle! I'd already refused to go to the west with Tyfar, and had got out of that through friendship. Now I was under orders to go. If I refused I'd be deprived of command and Mathdi would be given to another captain. And with her, her crew ... Her very special crew...

  The voller yards at Urnmayern, just outside the city to the north, resounded to the noise of vessels being given last-minute attention and with the preparations for early departure. Provisions were being loaded, and ammunition was trundling up the ramps into the fliers. We'd water last, and then we'd be off.

  “Look, Jak.” Chuktar ham Thorfrann's apoplectic face betrayed resignation. “You're in an odd position. You are a Jiktar commanding a single voller, an unusual situation. Yet look at the wing I command. Mathdi is old and creaky; yet she is as good as most of the wing. The truth is, we are tantamount to a second-line formation. We are what the Air Service can scrape up to send against the wild men and the raids on the voller plants. You have to accept that. We'd be massacred if we went up against the vollers of Hyrklana."

  "Mathdi would give an account—” I started to bluster.

  He shook his head, that acceptance of his position forced on him and to be obeyed according to the laws of Hamal. “Oh, you'd fight. And you have found yourself a hell of a crew. Just how you'd have done that I don't know. But do not delude yourself."

  “Hamal has to throw everything against the invasions—"

  “Everything except an army and its air to stem the stab in the back. Our task is vital. If the wild men are allowed to break in—do you know the geography out there? Where the volgendrins are?"

  “A little—"

  “It's a big country. If the raiders can stop production of the contents of the silver boxes—” He eyed me. Hamal kept information strictly secret on the details of production of the silver boxes. They were crucial, which was why we'd sent off raids against the centers. We'd done a great deal, and Hamal's voller fleets were reduced as a consequence. And now I was to fly off to try to stop my own people! Ludicrous? Not really, funny, yes. Damned inconvenient, of a certainty.

  “Well,” went on Thorfrann. “Best not to know too much about the silver boxes. We use them to power our fliers, and that is all we need know. Our task is to safeguard their production."

&nb
sp; The dilemma facing me was a moral as well as a strategic one. Political considerations weighed, too. Where would I best serve the interests of Vallia and the alliance?

  In my frustrated impatience it appeared to me some malignant fate insisted on dragging me away from the invasions over to the Mountains of the West. The decision not to take command of any individual column advancing into Hamal had been arrived at some time ago, my decision being to keep a free hand. The idea had been to keep a watching brief on the progress of the different armies. Stuck out over in the far west would allow me little freedom of movement. So, I fumed.

  As a result I spoke a trifle warmly. “You told me we were due for the big one, against Vallia—"

  He brisked up, prickling. “Not so! I happened to mention the name Vallia.” He wheezed around in his fiery way and then, because he was a true horter, he shouted: “Yes, yes, Jak the Insufferable! I thought we were going to teach those cramphs of Vallese a lesson. But I am disappointed. Our wing has been detached from the expedition; Chuk ham Gorthnil is going instead."

  At that point it was vitally necessary for me to keep a civil tongue and to make my face conceal the volcanic spate of rage that shook me. I put my left hand on my sword hilt and gripped so that it hurt. Somehow, from some small stock of common sense I possess, I managed to say, “A great pity, a great pity. We could have done a deal of mischief against the Vallese. When does the expedition leave?"

  “The same time as we leave for the west. Now clear out, Jak. I have work to do—I'm not just a voller captain with nothing to do—that ship-Hikdar you have is a smart one."

  “A smart one,” I repeated like a lunatic parrot. Somehow I saluted and took myself off. This news was devastating—our onslaught on Hamal was akin to poking a hornet's nest with a stick. Thyllis's empire might be fighting on more than one front, they might be forced to send squadrons and armies east and south, and find men for the west—now they had the strength to dispatch an expedition north. I tell you, at that moment as I walked out into the clamor of the voller berths, I felt a chill sweat start at this fresh realization of the horrible power of Hamal.

  The vital need now was to discover the composition of the forces flying against Vallia, their point of onslaught and their plans. When we flew west, they would be flying north.

  The hornet's nest was buzzing with furious energy and venom.

  The Hamalian high command knew exactly what it was doing. These days what the planners had contrived would be called a preemptive strike. They'd hit Hyrklana and Vallia, force them back on the defensive, make them think twice before committing forces to the invasion in support of the allies from the south.

  I made the round of the taverns and inns of the Sacred Quarter. The Bolted Leem, the Thraxter and Voller, the Ruby Prychan and the Diamond Lily drew blanks. I needed to talk to Prince Nedfar and his entourage. He would know. If he was in the Golden Zhantil, I believe I'd have forced my way in. As it was, I ran him to ground in the Bolt and Quarrel. He was sitting with his friends, drinking and laughing, and everyone was in high good spirits, so that I guessed they were all due to fly off very very soon.

  I made myself smile.

  If any unpleasantness had to be employed, I was perfectly clear in my mind that nothing short of absolute necessity could make me lift a hand against Nedfar. And was not an attack on Vallia an example of the absolute necessity? I trusted that Opaz in his infinite wisdom of the Invisible Twins would spare me that.

  Because Nedfar had chosen a tavern he had heretofore not often patronized—I am sure this had something to do with the recently altered attitudes to diffs—others beside myself had difficulty in tracking him down. I guessed he wanted a little of privacy and yet would not forgo the company of good friends. As I entered and began to steer a course between packed tables, a man pushed past, urgently, shoving me out of the way. Because I was playing a part I allowed myself to be shoved.

  “Immediate message for the prince!” he snapped at me as he bustled past by way of explanation and apology.

  He got Nedfar's instant attention.

  Just as I came up to the table, Nedfar's eager, eagle look changed. All the sparkle went out of him. He looked drained.

  “Tonight?"

  “Three burs ago, my prince. Heads will roll—but the mischief is done—"

  The messenger wore drab clothes, with the air of a stylor and clerk about him. He was frightened, too.

  Nedfar stood up.

  “My friends. You must excuse me.” Then he could not contain himself or the bad news. “I have just heard that my daughter, the Princess Thefi, has absconded with my aide, Lobur the Dagger."

  Instantly the prince's friends started up from their chairs to express their concern and a babble of voices filled the tavern with noise. I stood back. The messenger bowed and withdrew, happy to escape. Nedfar looked haggard. He loved his daughter and was fond of his aide, but an alliance between the two had not, I surmised, occurred to him. Perhaps Tyfar and I had seen more than most—without any special aptitude on our parts. Kov Thrangulf, who was serving with a regiment of personal zorcamen in command of a division down in the Dawn Lands, had been the man chosen to wed Princess Thefi. No doubt Nedfar would send for him. As for Lobur the Dagger—he had cut adrift from friends, home and family, casting himself and Thefi into the treacherous currents of fate. I could only wish Thefi well. It was not my business.

  My business was discovering all I could of the projected attack on my own homeland.

  Quite useless to attempt to speak with Nedfar now. His every thought was of his daughter. I stepped back, out of the way, watching. One of the pallans at the table, speaking heatedly to the man at his side, was the Pallan of the Hammabi el Lamma, the man in charge of arrangements at the palace on its artificial island. He and Nedfar must have become acquainted in the course of Nedfar's visits to his cousin the empress.

  Surrounded by his friends and with the ever-vigilant guards in attendance, Prince Nedfar left the Bolt and Quarrel. As he went the jugglers were performing on the patio, and a small booth with gaudy decorations was playing one of those silly, sly country farces the Kregans do so well, all oversized noses and stuffed pants and bludgeons and falling about. The musical accompaniment battled against the surrounding noise.

  If Prince Nedfar's thoughts seethed with concern for Thefi, my thoughts boiled with apprehension for Vallia.

  Now while it is not universally true to say, as so many do, that if anything in a military operation can go wrong it will, there is so much truth in the saying as to make it vital of cognizance in any planning. The multiple invasions of Hamal had been projected with just this probability in mind. If one went wrong, others would succeed. The Dawn Lands and their infernal lack of patience to strike back at the despoilers of their lands had made a nonsense of most of our planning. But some could be saved, if we could stave off the preemptive strikes against Hyrklana and Vallia.

  There lay no doubt whatsoever in my mind now as to what must be done. Back at the Urnmayern voller berths I roused out a few of my rascals. They lined up on the tween decks of Mathdi, and sentries were posted. I looked at them, these cheerful cutthroats. I stared particularly at Norhan the Flame.

  “I've a job for you, Norhan. And the rest of you will be advised to listen to Norhan."

  They listened to me and then they listened to Norhan, and by the time the Twins rose into the night sky over Ruathytu we were prowling through the back alleys, a gang of desperadoes, and woe betide anyone who stood in our path.

  They split into teams, and my last words to them as they went off were: “And if questioned you are merely disaffected volswods. You have nothing to do with Vallia. Dernun?"

  “Quidang!"

  So we went off about our nefarious tasks.

  A night breeze blew the scents of moon blooms, and clouds scuttered across the faces of the moons. Torchlights waved their golden glow from the corners of walls. At this late hour few sounds broke the stillness of the city; but occasionall
y a hubbub broke distantly from the Sacred Quarter. Over there the Bladesmen still able to live it up were trying to carry on the hell-for-leather traditions in such marked contrast to the rest of the country. The clouds layered thick shadows. The voller berths were closely guarded as a result of previous attempts on the part of fanatics of Spikatur Hunting Sword and spies and saboteurs. We crept on, muffled in cloaks, to all appearances a drunken party returning home clutching our pots and jugs to us. We staggered.

  Chuktar Naghan ham Gorthnil's wing of vollers, which had been selected to replace ours in the attack on Vallia, lay berthed at the Hlunub Yards. The walls reared tall and stark and anti-aerial precautions, although in our view slack, still presented problems to any onslaught from the sky. We threw ropes with grapnels and swarmed up onto the walls. Only two sentries were encountered during this phase of the proceedings, and both went to sleep peacefully enough.

  In the shifting light of the moons the yards lay spread out before us. Gorthnil's vollers, all twelve of them, lay ranked and neat, according to regulations. And, in truth, they were of superior quality to Thorfrann's.

  Norhan said in a slurred whisper, “They'll do nicely."

  “And make it fast, O Man of the Flame!"

  Like shadowy demons cloaked in a mummer's play, the saboteurs disappeared between the ranked vessels. Saboteurs, yes; but this was an act of war, distasteful though it might be. When the first tongues of flame rose, I cursed, for they broke through a hatch in the nearest ship. That voller must have been loaded with combustible stores. Before anyone could realize, she was a torch, spouting to the sky.

  “Run!” I bellowed down. Now it was a race, a race between our returning lads and the guards tumbling out of the guardroom.

  All the eerie darkness of the opening moves was gone. No longer were we a band of secret saboteurs; now we were a handful of fighting men. The little group with me, increasing in size as each team rejoined, drew their swords and prepared to battle on against the onrushing Hamalese guards to give our men a chance of escape.