“Not a chance in a Herrelldrin Hell!” and: “Sooner climb back from the Ice Floes of Sicce!”
The various subjects of these casual conversations were let lie there; but one unspoken but immensely important function of Na-Si-Fantong remained. There was a sorcerer of some kind in the castle of Samral. He or she could have played merry hell with our besieging force if Na-Si-Fantong hadn't been along to afford protection. So far, as we understood it, he had done nothing actively hostile against the castle or town, so the chances were that he was being baulked in his turn.
With the easing of the rain the shards of ruby and jade could strike through and begin to steam the ground. Just as we finished eating and were chewing our handful of palines, a messenger called Rees and Chido. Although you could not really call the army Kov Sing-Lee had raised for Na-Si-Fantong a heterogeneous mob, for the troops were all paktuns of one description or another, we were certainly a most disorganized force. There were no regiments or brigades, instead the commanders of each little warband reported to Sing-Lee and took orders direct. Rees and Chido came back from the briefing and their demeanor told me instantly that the assault had been decided on.
“At least the clever Wizard of Loh has done his job.” Chido plunked himself down and took up the tankard I had ready filled.
“He's seen off the sorcerer in the castle.” Rees did not sit but, tankard in fist, strode up and down. “We go in at first light.”
With seven moons in the sky of Kregen, very often night affords no real cover. This night, although not a pitch dark Night of Notor Zan, would see all but the three smaller moons below the horizon at dawn.
“Although that breach is an apology for a way in,” I said. “I'm glad the thing is settled.”
“Aye.”
In a somewhat sombre frame of mind, we made our preparations.
I entertained no hope that we'd surprise the garrison. The star light was bright enough for them to see our columns debouching from the entrenchments. Our ace had to be the five vollers. If they could cause confusion enough to get our Chuliks up into the breach, then we'd stand a chance. Chido and Rees's band were stationed about half way back and our mission was to push forward come what may after the Chuliks.
Silently we shuffled forward in column. I put the little round shield up slanting over my head, everybody else did the same, and we went forward like an animated flower bed. Almost at once the arrows rained down.
Men were struck, and screamed, and fell, kicking. We pushed stolidly on. Noise spurted up from the van, the grim and hideous sounds of strife.
Gradually the light brightened, crimson and emerald flooding in long mingled swathes, streaming colored shadows. Well, many a poor devil on both sides of the walls would never see the Suns of Scorpio rise again.
Now we trampled forward over bodies sprawled face down. Arrows stood thickly everywhere. The screams and shouts and the tinker-hammer of weapons clattered in our ears. Now we were stepping past the bodies of Chuliks, and for all their martial skills, they lay there as dead as any Fristle or Rapa. We approached the breach and found ladders in place and climbed up after the fellow in front and so tumbled over the smashed masonry.
Incoming arrows ceased and I was able to take a cautious glance up. The backs of the fellows going on ahead pushed up and down as they climbed the rubble slope. The brilliant deep green of small branches of vepid bushes we wore tucked into helmet or cap shone as though varnished. A recognition sign was vitally necessary in a ragtail army like this, otherwise we'd be hacking one another to pieces instead of the enemy. The sight reminded me, even then, that I'd felt no particular emotion about that hard brilliant green after my recent experiences in the Eye of the World.
With the rising of the suns the raw stink of freshly spilled blood grew on the air. Soon the stench would be nigh unbearable.
Our little band led by Rees and Chido pushed on with the rest. The orders were simple. Break in, slay the enemy, loot. Chance had not brought me to this time and place, for I was here for a reason and I knew that if I allowed myself to be carried with the tide I might miss the mark. Believing in the hand of Fate is all very well, you have to give a few hard strokes yourself to cut across the tide from time to time.
My heart leaped as I saw a tall armored form face down and sprawled in death. That quick involuntary moment of terror for Inch was unnecessary as I knew. There was no need to turn him over. A party of Ng'grogans served with the army, for Ng'groga was just along the coast. I pushed on.
Down from the walls with a maze of streets ahead and the castle to the side, the triumphant besiegers began to fan out, chasing running foes and searching for booty.
The scenes that follow an uncontrolled sack of a town are unpleasant. I stared about, wanting none of that. Rees and Chido were following orders and heading for the inner gates to the castle. The rest of our band were clearly torn between loot and duty; but Rees maintained a high level of discipline. Anyway, you could almost see them thinking, there'd be more and better treasures in the castle of Samral. I judged my objective lay there, too.
Our fliers had done their work, disgorging a surprise party, and we came up to the inner gates in time to see the last of the enemy and the victorious forward rush of our Chuliks.
We all rushed into the castle.
The place was in no wise one of the great and marvelous castles of Kregen. Its grey stone walls enclosed a sizeable area, roofed in timber and tile, and there'd be a maze of corridors and rooms, no doubt. All the same, I was not impressed by the castle of Samral.
As is the nature of these things in a confused assault, parties are split up and nice starting organizations dwindle into one or two fellows prodding ahead with little contact with their comrades. We came out to an inner ward, and the courtyard looked abruptly ominous. Deep shadows lay all along the eastern walls and the glow of red and green burned on the west.
At my side Horvil ham Vaherne gave a little surprised grunt. I did not turn to look at him but dodged back instantly into the shadows of the gateway through which we'd just walked. Another shaft glanced off the masonry, and a third pinged up off the flagstones where I'd been standing.
Vaherne collapsed. The Lohvian shaft through his neck above the corselet rim snapped as he pitched forward and rolled over. Abruptly, the assault on the castle of Samral had turned ugly, in a personal sense.
At my back Chido said: “Poor old Horvil. He was down on his luck when he joined us.”
“We won't cross that open courtyard,” I said. “Where's a door?”
In the side of the gateway a narrow door led onto a spiral staircase leading up. Chido had with him the twins, Orgren and Nath Fernon, a couple of hefty Rapas, loaded with weapons. Their grey feathers bristled, and Nath's beak was bent lopsided from an old wound. Chido rapped out: “Up with you!”
They went up willingly enough, shields high. Chido flung me a glance.
I started up after them, half-turning to ask a stupid question.
“Where's Rees?”
“Opaz alone knows. He rushed off roaring—”
“He'll be all right.”
Up we climbed to come out into a long gallery that led around the courtyard below. Narrow windows on both sides indicated the builders of the castle anticipated making a stand in this place. The defenders had abandoned it already, withdrawing to the far side from which the arrow had spat to kill Horvil ham Vaherne. We hurried along the deserted gallery.
Around the corner of the yard the gallery led into a series of rooms all deserted and very few with anything worth pocketing. Orgren Fernon said: “Where's the loot? By Havil, there must be better stuff than this.”
“Clear that Bowman away and we'll see.” Chido spoke with a rasp. How changed he was from the dear old goggling-eyed, chinless Chido I'd first met!
Now we went along with very great caution. We were approaching the point directly opposite the gateway. If the set up of rooms was not favorable—and any builder of defensive works would make s
ure they did not favor an attacker—then we could be in for a nasty surprise. Chido pushed forward to the front. Whilst I was not happy about that, it was a requirement of the job.
In the event we rushed into the target room to find it empty. An overturned bowl of squashed palines remained the only evidence of anyone having been here and shooting Horvil ham Vaherne.
“By Rhapaporgolam the Reiver of Souls!” spat Nath Fernon. He was strung up with nervous anticipation, and he showed his disgust forcibly. “This place is as useless as a one-handed archer!”
“Try the other door.” Chido spoke perfectly calmly.
Orgren and his twin checked the door and we went through into a room overlooking the next courtyard. Besides being deserted the place was dusty and smelled of damp. The evidence now was pretty clear that this part of the castle had been unused for some time. Chido looked through the window and gave a tiny gasp of surprise. We joined him.
The courtyard was a shambles. Dead and dying warriors lay everywhere. The slant of the suns threw up the grisly details pitilessly.
“Theirs and ours,” snapped Chido.
“Someone got here first.” I was gazing down hoping not to see the dead form of a glorious golden numim sprawled among the blood.
The two Rapas were now in an extremely ugly mood seeing their chances of loot evaporating with every moment that passed. Sounds of fighting carried to us from both left and right. Chido spoke harshly.
“You'll get your crack at some booty. Let's push on.”
We rushed back through the rooms we'd already traversed, turned at the corner and headed deeper into the castle. At the end of a long picture gallery—although all the pictures were absent and only rectangles of darker color along the walls showed where they'd been—we found a heap of dead men jamming the doors open. Past them more bodies at intervals told us we were nearing the fighting in this part of the castle as our forces pushed the defenders back. A wounded Chulik sat with his back against the wall stoically binding up his leg from which the blood dropped. One of his tusks had been snapped off at the silver band and his face shone bloodily.
“Who is leading up front?” demanded Chido.
“Likshu the Treacherous may know, notor. I do not.”
We left him and pressed on. The noise up ahead grew.
Dead and wounded littered the floor as we advanced through chambers that increased in richness. The two Rapas brightened up, although Nath did growl: “They'll be pocketing everything in sight before we get there.”
Now the rooms were sumptuously furnished, with tapestries and couches and statuary. The only treasures left were those too heavy or bulky to be snatched up as the fighting went forward. A golden statue could always be taken up after the victory. A priceless carpet of Walfarg weave could be rolled up and carried off later on.
We were still a floor up from the ground so that when we came out into an imposing vaulted chamber we could look down from a railed gallery. This place was used as a banqueting hall and must also be the room from which the lord of the castle dispensed justice, for a fancy throne occupied a dais at the far end. Across the floor men fought and died. The brilliant green of vepid leaves glinted in the light falling from arched windows. Our men were surging forward over the floor, and the defenders resisted with a desperation that suggested they intended to fight to the death. The two Rapas let out yells of rage and triumph and dashed down the stairs to join the combat. Chido looked at me. I shook my head.
“It's just about all over.”
“That's vewytwue, Hamun, but—”
“But nothing. You'll get your share as a lord when the booty is divvied out. No sense in getting killed in a stupid fracas like this.”
“It's Wees I'm thinking of.”
“I know. But he's not down there. Anyway—”
Then I stopped speaking abruptly. A bunch of Chuliks hammered into a last knot of defenders, cutting them down and scattering the few who ran. As I watched, the bulky form of Na-Si-Fantong broke from his bodyguard of Yellow Tuskers and dashed for the throne. He bent over the seat and what he did I couldn't see. In the next instant he straightened up, turning so I could see clearly. He grasped a small wooden box in his left hand. He flipped the lid open and I swear his eager face glowed with reflected redness.
So, there before my eyes, was the reason for this whole army and war and siege and conquest. Right there, and grasped in the clutching hands of the Wizard of Loh, Na-Si-Fantong!
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* * *
Chapter eleven
At my instinctive reaction and instant movement, Chido said: “I understood you to say it would be inadvisable to go down there.”
My gaze was fixed on the sorcerer below on the throne dais with the box clutched in his hands. His Chuliks surged about him, forming a wall of protective steel. I paused on the top step and turned my head back to shout something to Chido. His appearance astonished me. He was staring up over my head and on his face was such an expression I could not put a name to it. He held his shield up in a reflex action, as though warding off a blow.
I whirled. The cause of Chido's consternation jumped into focus, and then out again, so that I blinked as though a powerful light had abruptly shone into my eyes.
High on the wall between the narrow arched windows a round black spot glowed. The ebon darkness pulsed with a radiance that emanated black light. The spot grew. It swelled like a bubble of shining inky shadows.
Swiftly it bloated and now glinting sparkles of silver shot through the blackness like fireflies on a night of Notor Zan.
The uproar in the chamber died. I did not look down; but I guessed men were standing, gaping, staring in utter fascination at this awesome apparition. Chido said something and burbled away into silence. That silence held the entire banqueting hall in thrall.
In the exact centre of the black hemisphere a brilliant nodule of green burst into existence. The nodule sparked and spat, changing into a star shape that broadened, peeling back the black like the skin of a grape.
For a heartbeat as the green star flowered I tore my gaze away and snatched a fleeting glance down at the dais. Na-Si-Fantong stood, tall and bulky, clutching the wooden box to his chest. His thick face glared up with a mad look of passion and resentment and—I could not be sure—and perhaps a touch of apprehension.
When I swiveled back the green star had displaced the ebon radiance. In a vertical line in the centre of the star the greenness thickened. Then I saw it was not thickening but that some tall thin object was forcing itself through the green—through the solid stone of the wall. As though that was a signal that released the superstitious fears of the mercenaries, shouts of terror spurted up. Some of the paktuns were running, some stayed rooted to the spot. The Chuliks clustered about their employer and, give them their due, they stuck there. Now I was able to switch my observation from the Wizard of Loh back to the green star and then back again. Na-Si Fantong lifted his right hand. He made a gesture. Instantly I stared at the wall where the tall thin object now projected high into the chamber.
Recognition hit me. It was the prow of a ship!
The bows swelled as more of the craft sailed through the solid stone wall. She was not overlarge, and her double keel quickly curved up as she eased through to flaunt up into a high stern. The vessel sailed into the air and turned and settled to the floor.
Now I could look down on her. She had a flat deck and this deck was crowded with Katakis, glittering with armor and steel. Their fierce downdrawn brows and menacing eyes glowered on the Chuliks. Then I saw who sat at the stern of the vessel, resplendent, imperious, dominating and utterly in command of this situation.
From artificially widened shoulders his robes swept away like a sullen cloud of smoky red. His scaled shirt glistened and his bone white hands grasped the haft of a double-handed axe. Bone white his face, with a thick brown beard, no moustache, a lipless mouth clearly revealing fang-like unhuman teeth, nostril slits—yes, I knew that dev
il face!
On this occasion he did not have with him his followers, naked and half-naked girls in chains, weird other-dimensional creatures, worm-like entities, little scurrying tailed horrors, all claw and fang. He sat in a chair of simple proportions, covered with skins, and he radiated such an aura of absolute contempt and power as to overwhelm.
I forced myself to look at his axe. Double-handed, it was not a great Saxon pattern axe such as that used by Inch. It was double-bitted and each blade curved fantastically, pierced and re-curved and each edge was serrated in sawtooth jaggedness. A very imposing and magniloquent weapon—yes, of a surety. A practical fighting man's implement? I'd bested him when he used a more serviceable axe—was this new one in a different class, possessed of magic, invincible when pitted against a mere mortal man's cold steel?
The ship settled and the Katakis, bladed daggered tails high, leaped for the dais.
My estimation of this fellow's axe play had dropped drastically when we'd had our little dust up. Now I questioned his tactical skill. His Katakis swarmed up onto the dais where the Yellow Tuskers met them with a ferocity to equal and overpower theirs. He'd have done better to have dropped down on them, with the advantage of the high ground.
He wore the helmet that could so easily confuse with its high crown-like curve of tridents, its peaked visor like a barracuda's head in gold, its centre a ferocious fish-head, all exposed needle-teeth. Again I took the fancy that a swift, scared glance would confuse all too easily—was this a man with a fish-face helmet, or was he a fish with a man's face as a neck ornament? Man or Fish, he had brought only Katakis to do his physical work; there were no Shanks with Carazaar.
Chulik and Kataki clashed in a bitter struggle. I stepped back onto the gallery and unlimbered the longbow Chido had given me.
Clean and swift the draw and loose. The shaft sped true. The long arrow struck squarely into Carazaar's unhuman face. The shaft caromed from the skin-covered chair back, splintered into the air. Again, Carazaar was an illusion, projecting his image here by his kharrna. He was in lupu somewhere, sitting in his throne, and yet he was here commanding his minions to his bidding.
Scorpio Triumph [Dray Prescot #43] Page 9