Scorpio Triumph [Dray Prescot #43]

by Alan Burt Akers

  The wine was finished. I placed the goblet on the table and instantly, quicker than the blink of an eye, it refilled.

  I let it stand for a moment. “So the rubies do have a real power?”

  They could have been sarcastic in response, or not deigned to reply at all. Instead the clanging voice said: “Only to those who know how to create the force. Then they must learn to control it. Carazaar most certainly will know how. It is dubious in the case of the wizard.”

  The Star Lords never had had much regard for Wizards of Loh.

  The voice went on: “There is a task set to your hands. It is a matter of observation. You will see what you need to know.”

  As the voice rang to silence the chair rotated. I snatched up the goblet, spilling only a little of the yellow, and saw an iron-bound chest sliding along towards me. It stopped about a pace away and the lid flew up.

  “Dress!”

  This interview had been odd and was now growing odder still. I stood up and looked into the chest. A leather jerkin studded with brass. A tan breechclout. A pair of strapped sandals with iron studs. A leather belt. A round leather helmet with a turned up peak. A plain dagger. A spear and a small round target-like shield. There were also a pouch and a water bottle.

  I made a face.

  “It is not for you to argue or to question the dictates—”

  “I know, I know!”

  So, willy-nilly, I put on the gear and took up the equipment. I was dressed as many and many a poor wight had been dressed on many a battlefield when he was whisked off to the Ice Floes of Sicce. A spearman in the ranks—well, this wouldn't be the first time, by Krun!

  “Is there no sword?”

  “No.”

  Any Kregan fighting man likes to carry as many weapons as is practicable. A simple spearman is always on the lookout to add to his arsenal. About to try to argue, vainly as I knew, I felt myself whirled up into a blue mist. Head over heels I went blindly tumbling into infinity.

  Hard ground slogged into my studded sandals and I staggered forward.

  “Whoa up, dom!” The wheezy voice breathed in my ear and a fist caught my upper arm, steadying me. “Beng Dikkane has borrowed your legs, by Quintrell the Licentious!”

  My sight cleared. A white-painted wall reared on my left and an animal trough stood across a cobbled street. The fellow holding me up must have just walked around the corner as I appeared. All he'd seen was a drunk toppling into him.

  “Thanks, dom—no. Beng Dikkane is beyond my means just now.”

  “You're ill?”

  “No, thanks to—no, not ill.”

  He gave me a shrewd scrutiny from close-set eyes. He was a Hytak, very correct, grim in armor much like mine. He carried a sword at his side, and his tail was bare of bladed steel.

  “They don't care who they recruit, dom.”

  This was a very direct reference to my avoidance of mentioning any deity or spirit. We stood in the entrance to a side street and soldiers and townsfolk passed along the main road ahead. Shadows limned in red and green lay long over the cobbles. The Hytak fished about in his purse.

  “Here, may Hlo-Hli smile on you, dom.”

  He passed across four copper obs, and I took them, touched by this gesture but aware I must continue as I had started.

  “My thanks, dom, may Hlo-Hli have you in her keeping.”

  He stalked off, compact, a fine fighting man, a typical Hytak. Over his shoulder he called: “Remberee.”

  “Remberee,” I said, and added: “Your name, dom?”

  “Nath the Jarvis.”

  “I am Kadar the Hammer. Remberee, Nath.”

  “Remberee, Kadar.”

  He went off around the corner and I looked down at the four coins.

  The pouch given me by the Everoinye contained ten silvers and fourteen coppers. I made the obs up to eighteen and closed the pouch. Then I started off to find the recruiting Deldars.

  An army was being formed here, and it took little time to discover I was in Tuansmot in the coastal land of Shirrendrin. This was one of the countries in southern Loh which had become independent after the fall of the old Empire of Loh. The town was all abustle as mercenaries from all over marched in to sign up and the townsfolk did their best to fleece them of their worldly possessions before they marched out. Rumor had it that Kov Sing-Lee was assembling this army to march on the neighboring land of Kronenvar. What the reasons might be for this attack no one seemed to know or care. All the talk was of booty.

  The climate here was most refreshing after the compost stinks of the jungles. It was a trifle warmer than in my kingdom of Djanduin, over the sea south in Havilfar. I did not expect to see many Djangs here for they do not as a rule venture off as mercenaries. They do get considerable fighting experience, though, not least against the damned Gorgrens infesting the borders. There were all manner of diffs in the town, paktuns with the glitter of silver or gold at throat. I had not been provided with a pakmort or a pakzhan so I was a simple mercenary. There must be a reason for that.

  Before I rushed off and signed up, I decided, I'd go for a wet and a meal and find out what the form was.

  After the Great Hamalese Wars, as those confused conflicts sprawling across continents and islands were coming to be called in retrospect, there were many mercenaries left tazll and seeking employment. There were a lot of Hamalese in the town, a deuced lot, by Krun!

  Knowing Ruathytu, the capital of Hamal, as I did, I fancied I'd be a Hamalese. That was one deception I could carry off without fear—particularly if I claimed to be from Paline Valley.

  For a time after the end of the Witch Wars with the death of Csitra, I'd flown around Paz visiting those parts to which I owed allegiance. Nulty, at Paline Valley, had shown me a splendid time. As Hamun ham Farthytu, Amak of Paline Valley, I owned a real and genuine identity. I'd been to Djanduin, Strombor, visited my Clansmen, and all in all a most uproarious time had been had, not least with my two favorite rogues, Nath and Zolta in Sanurkazz. That made me wonder what mischief those two splendid imps, Zilvi and Nafren, whom I'd just taken up out of a Zair-forsaken Magdaggian slave ship at the behest of the Star Lords, were being preserved for in the future.

  The twin suns were declining and a little breeze was getting up. As I walked along in search of a suitable tavern I could feel the atmosphere of Tuansmot, for the town as it were seethed with suppressed energy. Everyone could sense the onset of great deeds. There was to be war. Immense booty would flow into the town. Well, as you know, I detest and hate war with a detestation and hatred great under the suns. Why sensible people can't gather around a table and discuss their problems like civilized folk escapes me. The trouble here was, these people wanted to loot the towns of Kronenvar, their next door neighbor. If I was any judge, the inhabitants of Kronenvar would object. Their objections would be made with edged steel.

  The Everoinye had sent me here on a matter of observation. When I saw what the matter was I'd know. I most certainly had no wish to get mixed up in some stupid local war. So, as I walked below the black-beamed entrance to The Squish and Queng, I felt great reluctance even to talk to a recruiting Deldar.

  Now these thoughts must have cast a nasty expression over my features, for a passing Och gave me a most apprehensive glance. I straightened my shoulders and thrust dark thoughts aside, anticipating a meal and a flagon, and I put on a most pleasing and simple expression. I had no wish to attract unwelcome attention.

  Had, I wonder, the Star Lords sent that scared little Och?

  The last of the daylight fell through cluttered windows. The floor was wood and well-polished. The tables and chairs were not broken and not dusty. The serving girls were all pleasing and properly dressed. It occurred to me, somewhat belatedly, that I might not have enough cash to pay for a hostelry of this quality. Hesitating, standing in the doorway, I heard a chair crash over.

  Instantly, I sprang about. An enormous numim was charging towards me, his lion-man features ablaze, his golden mane flying. He b
ellowed.

  “Hamun! By Krun! Hamun!”

  He seized my hand and began pumping it up and down and he clapped his other lion-man's hand about me and battered me on the back. His face was one enormous beam of gold. He went on roaring.

  “Chido! Look who's here—it is beyond Havil, I swear. Chido! Where are you?”

  The sound of a chair been kicked away preceded a voice saying: “Where am I, Wees? Falling over your chair, that's what. And I do believe it is Hamun, for I see him with my own two eyes. Hamun!”

  “Rees! Chido!” I was engulfed by both of them and we were all talking at once, Chido's once-aimless, watery-eyed face now strong with experience beaming as Rees's lion-man face beamed. Somehow we settled at a table, the chair righted, and the wine passed. There was a great deal to talk about and news to pass.

  I said: “I flew across to the Golden Winds, Rees, and—”

  “Aye, I know. By Krun, I know! All blown away.”

  “And I flew down to Eurys, and they told me you'd gone—”

  “Gone adventuring with Wees. Aye, by Kwun—for the old fellow wefused to accept my hospitality any longer. He was for a paktun—so—”

  I shook my head. “So off you both went. By Krun! What a pair!”

  Rees ham Harshur, Trylon of the Golden Winds, and Chido ham Thafey, Vad of Eurys, Hamalese both, were good comrades. They knew me as Hamun ham Farthytu, for I'd lacked the courage to tell them my true identity. So we talked on in a welter of reminiscence and information. Chido, who turned R into W—although I do not always report him as such at length—called for more wine.

  Cautiously, I said: “I fear this place may be a little too rich for my purse.”

  “Nonsense, Hamun!” The golden numim roar shook the flagons. “We have done well in the mercenary trade. Opaz has had us well in his keeping.”

  “Quite wight!” rattled Chido. “Our treat!”

  So they'd now openly avowed Opaz! I felt great joy at that, knowing how dubious they'd been about Havil the Green, the official religion of Hamal.

  I said: “My thanks—”

  They shouted that down. Then Rees said: “I must say we noticed your dress. A spearman? In the ranks? By the Blade of Kurin, tell us, what happened to bring you so low?”

  I couldn't help give a glance at the rapier and main gauche each wore. Bladesmen of Ruathytu, we were—or had been.

  “Only temporary. You recall the business of the Battle of the Incendiary Vosks?” They'd both been there, I'd seen them in my capacity as Emperor of Vallia, and they had met me as Hamun. They nodded. I went on: “I've a feeling the damned Shanks are due to hit here soon.”

  “By Kwun—that is wotten news!”

  “This army is for Kronenvar.” Rees pulled at his golden beard. “Kov Sing-Lee is raising it at the behest of a powerful mage.” He lifted his flagon. “He will not be pleased to be diverted from that task.”

  “That sounds interesting. A mage is raising this army?”

  “Wight. A famous Wizard of Loh. Most mysterious feller.”

  “Yes, we're going to attack Kronenvar at his command. When he gets here. But if the Shanks descend on the coast—”

  “We'll have to fight the confounded wotten Shanks, won't we? Even Na-Si-Fantong must see that.”

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  * * *

  Chapter ten

  The rain beat down steadily on our entrenchments before the castle of Samral jutting out on the western side of the town of Miliksin. Everyone was wet. We kept our weapons dry as best we could. The smells of the encampments, at least, were half-washed away by the rain.

  Rees walked up as I stood staring out at the grey walls of the castle. He wore a massive hooded cloak and the water ran glistening to add to the pools underfoot. Every now and then a rock or an arrow would plummet down onto our entrenchments. Rees shook himself.

  “Just lost Nalgre the Foot. Arrow clean through his eye.”

  “They shoot well, these Bowmen of Loh.”

  “They do.”

  Rees and Chido had brought a little force of around thirty men with them, now they were down to twenty two, plus me. I'd willingly agreed to join their band. Because I knew the Star Lords had a purpose in outfitting me as a spearman, I'd insisted I serve in that capacity. Chido in his best military way insisted I take a longbow, so to that I'd agreed. The reason the Everoinye had, I felt sure, was to keep me inconspicuous. They did not wish to attract the attention of Na-Si-Fantong to my presence in his army.

  “Kov Sing-Lee will have to order the assault soon.” Rees didn't sound happy about that. We'd done very little against the walls, and the breach was an apology for an opening. “We'll lose men.”

  I said: “He'll probably send the Chuliks in first.”

  “Makes sense.”

  Our army was a rag-tail affair, with little formal organization. Mostly it was composed of small personal bands, like that following Rees and Chido. A small but, thankfully, competent artillery force was provided by a contingent of Hytaks. They kept battering the walls, concentrating on the breach. The trouble was, their catapults were not powerful enough for the task. As we watched, a rock arched from our lines to crack against the grey stone masonry of the curtain wall. A stone was dislodged, and fell into the ditch. At this, a great roar of triumph welled up from our ranks. Rees made a disgusted sound.

  “The first today. We'll have to take the so-called breach as it is. Our food won't last much longer.”

  “I hear Startigern the Amstrad has fever in his people.”

  “Aye.”

  The greyness of the sky, the never-ending rain, the mud, the foul rations—and now disease. Truly, this was soldiering as it really is, and not a pretty sight at all, by Krun.

  One reason why I persisted lined the road to Miliksin. Every fifty paces or so, each side of the road, a stake had been set up, and some poor wight had been impaled. This was the handiwork of the lords of the town, putting down a pathetic rebellion of the peasants that had started up as soon as the army from Shirrendrin had marched into Kronenvar.

  “If only we had some air!” exclaimed Rees, thumping fist into palm. The small voller in which he and Chido had flown in had suffered the fate of far too many airboats. Her silver boxes had gone black, losing all lift and power, so that she was a mere useless hulk.

  “What does the kov have—half a dozen vollers?”

  “Five. Tyr Nath Ingling's broke down today. Anyway, these people of Loh don't understand vollers.”

  “Well, put five in, loaded with troops. That should cause enough confusion to let us scale the breach.”

  “Scale! Too right, by Krun!”

  Chido walked up along the trench behind the palisade, hunched against the rain. His feet were lost in the water and mud. He greeted us glumly. “It is nearly the hour of mid.”

  “Damned Kronenvars!” said Rees in an ugly voice.

  Spot on the hour of mid the expected missile flew up from the walls of the town and arched over into our entrenchments. The missile was the body of a man. His throat had been slit after he had been tortured. He was one of a small band of our scouts captured in the first days of the invasion.

  This time the missile screamed as he flew through the air. “So they've refined their devilish practices!” Chido sounded wrought up. “I weally do think, if the attack is not successful, we shall have to leave.”

  “If the attack fails,” said Rees, a little too drily, “we might not be here to leave.”

  Since leaving Hamal they'd adventured through the Dawn Lands and elsewhere. Both now expressed deep distrust of their decision to fly here and join Na-Si-Fantong's expedition. The honor of a mercenary would not be imperiled if he gave formal notice of departure in the wake of disaster. Until that catastrophe, honor compelled them to continue to serve.

  I'd not seen the Wizard of Loh, and this was understandable. A spearman in the ranks might see the Kapt of the army when he rode along the ranks with the standard at the commencemen
t of a campaign. The grey eminence at his back would keep himself—or herself—veiled.

  The flap of canvas over my position vibrated under the rain and spilled waterfalls every now and again. We were adequately shielded from a bowshot here. When the rain eased I'd have to take shots at any figures moving on the ramparts. They would, of course, shoot back.

  A far cry, this, from the whirling romantic dash of a cavalry charge!

  So, this was the pattern as we besieged Miliksin.

  Naghan the Bristle arrived to take over the watch. He carried his longbow in a round black leather case and his bristly face looked ugly.

  “Lahal, Naghan,” I said. “You keep time.”

  “L'al,” he replied in his surly Brokelsh way. “By Bakkar! You can take this land and keep it. Better—dump it all down in the Furnace Fires of Inshurfraz. I hate it.”

  “The assault will be going in soon, Naghan.” Rees spoke with a hard edge to his voice. “You can enjoy yourself then.”

  “I will, notor. By Havil, I will!”

  We left Naghan to his post and went off towards the encampments. As is the nature of these things the rain stopped just then. A straggly column of ponshos wandered along towards the camp from the rear, so at least there would be fresh meat tonight. Finding food for an army is a constant nightmare to the quartermasters. Rees must have caught the same thought for he said: “Kov Sing-Lee does his best; but I could wish the Wizard of Loh would open his purse wider.”

  I said: “Out here in Loh the folk have little time for their own wizards.”

  “That's wight! Funny old business. They weckon the Wizards of Loh should have whacked us when we blattered them.”

  “I think most of these countries were glad to see the back of Walfarg,” said Rees as we reached the encampments.

  “So you give no chance to a revived Empire of Loh?” I gave Rees and Chido two swift looks as I spoke. “With or without the mages.”