The Lords Of The Crimson River rb-35

by Джеффри Лорд

  Once inside the dust cloud, it was every man for himself. Blade controlled his horse with his knees as he fended off pike thrusts with his shield, and splintered pike shafts and crushed skulls with his mace. A swordsman darted forward, stabbing at the belly of Blade's horse, but it was well trained. It snapped its teeth in the swordsman's face, and he jumped back. Before he could close again, one of Padro's courtiers hacked off his sword arm with a battle-ax, and Blade's mace came down on his head. He fell into the dust, which was now turning into a red mud, where dying men wallowed and screamed under the trampling of men and horses.

  After a while, the trumpets and drums sounded again, the swordsmen ran back under the protection of the pikes, and the pikemen themselves withdrew. Duke Padro's banner was still standing, but the Duke himself was being carried away by the only four of his bodyguards who remained on their feet. His olive complexion was now ashen and gray from the loss of blood that followed half a dozen wounds. However he had lived, Blade hoped it would be remembered that Padro of Gualdar died like a warrior and a man.

  So the battle went all morning. The Eastern pikemen would advance, the swordsmen would leap into battle, and men would die thick and fast. But the pikemen never broke through the Duchies' lines. Though they always caused many casualties, they withdrew before they suffered nearly as many themselves. They were slowly but surely whittling down the Duchies' strength, and meanwhile the Eastern cavalry was still almost intact. When the two mounted forces did meet, each Lord of the Crimson River was worth two of his opponents. They didn't meet often.

  Slowly the battle took the shape of a U, with the sides formed by the Eastern cavalry and the bottom formed by their infantry. The Duchies' army was inside the U, with only the top as a way out. Blade suspected that King Fedron could close that escape route any time he wanted to if he threw in the last of his cavalry. That he was still keeping it out of the fight suggested that he too was wondering where King Handryg might be.

  More attacks, more dead, and now men on both sides were falling from thirst, exhaustion, and the inhalation of too much dust. Blade scraped crusted human remains off his mace with his dagger, drank some water, and led his Guardsmen back into the fight. In places he felt as if he were riding through a London fog, except that he'd never heard so many screams of men and horses and so much clashing steel on the streets of London. He'd never been so hot or thirsty in London, either.

  What must have been at least the twentieth attack faded away. Blade heard trumpets with a new note in them and, moments later, wild cheering. He looked to the rear and saw two massive columns of horsemen approaching. The banners of the West Kingdom floated from jeweled staffs, which sparkled even through the dust.

  King Handryg was coming, at last. Now the battle could not be lost, although it might take a good deal more fighting to win it. Blade wished he could feel better, but he was too thirsty and too aware of how many things could still go wrong. He was also a little too cynical about the ability of the Lords of the Crimson River to win a victory if there was no «honor» in it.

  The horsemen divided, passing to the right and left of the embattled armies. To the right went six or seven thousand Lords. To the left went more than two thousand men mounted on small horses and carrying pikes or spears, with leather-wrapped bundles on their backs. More mounted infantry, Blade guessed. He wondered why they were riding so far out to the left. They'd be out of reach of any help if Fedron decided to attack them.

  Then it was as if someone waved a magic wand over the two thousand. Most of them leaped from their saddles, then thrust their spears into the ground. As the horse holders moved off, the men on the ground planted an impenetrable hedge of jutting spears in front of them. Then they unslung the bundles from their backs and unwrapped them. Now, in the hands of each one of fifteen hundred men gleamed a crossbow.

  A terrible silence descended on the battlefield, as everyone seemed to hold his breath. Blade knew what had to be coming next; he wondered how many others did.

  It came. Fifteen hundred archers cocked their bows, dropped bolts into place, lifted them, and shot. Bolts poured down like hail, onto the mounted Lords of the East Kingdom.

  Each of the archers must have picked a target, and most of them were good shots. A thousand bolts must have found targets in men or horses and all the horses and most of the men seemed to be screaming at once. Gone was the silence, and what replaced it sounded like the end of the world. In the uproar Blade also heard curses and cries of horror from the Duchies' ranks. The sight of men, even enemies, dying in such an unlordly fashion was more than they could bear in silence.

  Certainly this was nearly the end of the battle. As the archers shot again, the Lords of the West on the other flank charged. It was a wild, disorderly charge, and for a while it only kicked up dust. Before the dust grew too thick, though, Blade saw Lords of the East begin to turn their horses. They'd already lost their chances of an easy victory. Now they faced a good chance of a messy, unlordly death. Whatever loyalty they owed their King wasn't enough to make them hold still for that.

  At the bottom of the U, Fedron's banner still rose behind his pikemen. He was trying to rally them. Blade was willing to leave that part of the fight to stronger men on fresher horses. He led his Guardsmen back toward the baggage and the water.

  By now the shock of seeing Lords struck down by archers was wearing off. Everyone who still had a voice seemed to be expressing an opinion. Most of the opinions were what Blade expected.

  «Unlordly!»

  «Lawless!»

  «An abomination!»

  «The Fathers will not bless a victory won this way!»

  «We fought properly, at least.»

  «Yes, but we can't allow ourselves-to gain by the victory, or-«

  And then an exchange which froze Blade in his saddle:

  «At least King Fedron fought a lordly battle.»

  «Yes. If we are to have a King, let it be Fedron. I'll swear no oath to Handryg.»

  «My steel on that!»

  «Yes, and my steel for anyone who says a word for Handryg. That-«

  Blade's first impulse was to splatter the brains of those two idiots with his mace. Then he realized that they probably had no brains, only firm prejudices, probably shared by many of their fellow Lords. Prejudices enough to create two factions in the Duchies: those who wanted to swear allegiance to King Handryg and those who preferred King Fedron. Only a miracle would keep the two factions from coming to blows. Then there would be war all over again along the Crimson River, a civil war likely to go on until the land was a barren waste. All the deaths Blade had seen since he reached this Dimension would be wasted, and thousands more would die.

  Such a thought would have paralyzed most men. It made Blade think and move faster than usual, even after a long day of battle. If King Fedron is dead, nobody is going to be swearing anything to him. Then he looked down the battle field to where the East Kingdom's banner still waved, and dug in his spurs.

  As his horse gathered speed, Blade passed close to the Helper who held Cheeky. With an eager cry the Feathered One hurled himself through the air, landing on the head of Blade's mount. The horse shied and Blade reached down, meaning to pluck Cheeky loose and toss him back to safety. But Cheeky refused to budge, clinging to the horse's ears until the animal started to rear.

  All right, thought Blade. You, too, have more courage than sense.

  The legends of later years said that the ranks of the enemy gave way before Lord Blade Duke-Slayer as if by magic. Some stories said that the look in his eyes turned men to stone, or at least made them drop their weapons. He certainly looked dangerous enough, but the fact was that the East Kingdom's pikemen were already breaking ranks when he rode up. He had to be careful not to step on bodies or press too closely against men already turning to run, but he wasn't in much danger from the men on foot.

  The mounted Lords around Fedron might well have been another matter, but as Blade approached them, Alsin ordered a general
attack. He'd seen Blade ride into the ranks of the enemy. Even if Blade was determined to die, honor required the men of Nainan to try to save him. And then again, if he, Alsin, didn't lead the attack, Chenosh would, and if Chenosh died, Alsin didn't even want to think about what might happen.

  So he attacked, and King Fedron sent his bodyguards forward to help the pikemen. The Eastern king was almost alone when Blade rode up to him. He was not turned to stone, though, and he didn't drop his sword. He was a warrior to the last, and he nearly killed his opponent.

  The two men circled each other on horseback, mace and sword crashing against shields. On the fourth stroke the sword split Blade's battered shield and numbed his left arm. Fedron drove his horse in close and his own mount snapped at Blade's thigh. Blade felt the teeth dent his flesh through the mail.

  Then Cheeky leaped to his master's defense, hurling himself onto the head of Fedron's mount. He covered the horse's eyes, and it reared in panic. Fedron was offbalance, and a sword stroke intended to split his enemy's head only cut the air. Blade swung his mace and caught the King in the chest, as his horse reared again and threw him backward. The combined force of horse and mace was too much. Fedron went backward out of the saddle with a scream. Before he could struggle to his feet, his bodyguards broke under Alsin's charge. So King Fedron died-under the hooves of his own fleeing bodyguards.

  Blade didn't wait to help identify the battered royal corpse. With Cheeky on his shoulder, he rode back through the Duchies' army, ignoring the cheers. He rode straight to Castle Ranit, then went up to the room in the keep where his wife lay.

  He did not leave it or speak to anyone there until Miera died just before sunset.

  Chapter 24

  About half the mounted Lords with King Fedron died, most of them under the archery. The rest were already on their way off the field when they heard of their King's death. This news made them move even faster. King Handryg's army made no attempt to pursue, and the Lords of the Crimson River were too exhausted to even try.

  So the battle died down well before sunset. Alsin finished the day by making sure the two armies camped well apart. The Lords of the Duchies resented Handryg's late arrival as well as his unlordly tactics. At the same time, the Eastern army seemed ready to carry off every unattached woman and stray animal in Nainan.

  «Blade will be amused to hear of your trying to protect women and chickens,» said Chenosh, as they rode toward the castle.

  «I doubt Blade will find anything amusing for some time,» said Alsin heavily.

  Chenosh flushed under his coating of dust. «I'm sorry. You are quite right. He-«

  «Never mind. If he was amused, he would be right. But-what else could I do?» He asked the question of the empty air and got no answer. They rode on in silence for a while.

  Then Chenosh spoke up again. «Akin, Fedron is dead, and I do not see how we can get our Lords to trust Handryg. I am not sure I trust him myself, and it is not just because of the archers.»

  «No. He could have come sooner, if his heart was in it. We had food and wine enough in Nainan for all his men and horses. Those wagons of his were an excuse.»

  «Or perhaps he didn't want to take any food from us. That way he would be freer to turn against us anytime he chose.»

  Alsin nodded. He and Chenosh saw clearly that King Handryg was not now, and never could be, an acceptable ruler for the Duchies. On the other hand, with the East Kingdom in chaos, he might not be interested in the Duchies anymore. He might have his eyes on a bigger prize and his hand outstretched to grab it. This prospect could make it easier to do what Alsin knew must be done, but only if he acted quickly. And he could only act quickly if Chenosh agreed at once-tonight, if possible.

  Alsin saw the other riders had dropped back a little and pulled his horse up close to Chenosh. «Your Grace,» he said formally.

  «Yes, Marshal?»

  «You will doubtless be wanting to hold a ducal audience, as soon as possible. But I would like a talk with you alone first.»

  «You will have my ear, Alsin. It is the least you deserve, after all you have done. As long as you mean nothing against Lord Blade.»

  «Nothing at all, Your Grace.»

  Blade stepped away from the bed as the women finished laying Miera out. With her shorn head concealed by a cap and the pain gone from her face, she looked more like the woman he'd known than she had since her wounding.

  He was no longer feeling sorry for himself. Self-pity was basically a futile emotion, and one he drove out as fast as he could. There were also a great many more people in the Duchies worse off than he was, thanks to this war. It was time to do something for them.

  He'd start with Sarylla. She was standing at the head of the bed, making sure that her assistants did everything right. She was now as determined to see Miera properly buried as she had been to save her. But she'd used up the last of her own strength nursing the girl. If she didn't rest it would soon be a question of her funeral. She'd also need some money, and since Blade would be getting a handsome share of the day's loot…

  A knock sounded on the door to the stair, then a voice said, «Lord Blade. It is Duke Chenosh. May I come in?»

  The women stepped hastily aside as the young Duke entered, followed by Alsin and Lord Gennar. Chenosh stood by the bed for a moment, his lips moving in a short prayer to the Fathers. Then he turned to Blade. His face was a mask which the older man didn't even try to read.

  «Lord Blade, Marshal Alsin and I have decided that the Duchies must follow a new path. Handryg cannot be trusted, and Fedron is dead. So we cannot offer our allegiance to either Kingdom. We must found a Kingdom of our own.» The mask broke, and Blade saw in Chenosh the look of a man who must walk a tightrope over a bottomless canyon in order to save his life.

  «We must found a Kingdom of our own,» he repeated. «So I am going to proclaim myself King. King of the Realm of the Crimson River. And my first act as King will be-«

  «To proclaim Marshal Alsin as the new Duke of Nainan,» said Blade, interrupting without thinking.

  Chenosh laughed at the surprise on Alsin's face. «Are you sure he doesn't read men's minds?» he said. Then he nodded.

  Blade would have knelt to both men, but his knees were too stiff. «Your Grace,» he said to the Marshal. «If you are going to be giving out rewards and punishments in Nainan, I would like to ask a favor of you. As your first act, the woman Sarylla should-«

  «No!» said Gennar suddenly. The others stared at him as he crossed the room and put his arms around Sarylla. «The Lady Sarylla may be rewarded if it is Marshal-I mean, Duke-Alsin's pleasure to do so. But first of all, I am going to take her as my lawful, lordly wife. If she will have me,» he added. He swallowed, and Blade saw that the warrior Lord was frightened half out of his wits at the idea of Sarylla refusing him.

  Fortunately for everybody, she managed to gasp out the word «yes» before she fainted into Gennar's arms. He and the women took her out to another chamber, leaving Blade, Alsin, and Chenosh staring at each other.

  Alsin was the first to get his voice back. «Well, if I can be a Duke, then surely Sarylla can be a lady. She is probably better fitted for her task than I am for mine: Nonetheless, I do have that task. And the first proclamation I will make is that Lord Blade is Marshal of Nainan.»

  There was clearly no safe or easy way to refuse, so Blade didn't. In fact, he felt like cheering. Alsin's appointing him Marshal meant his work in arming the peasants was accepted, and that the new Duke's mind was open to the idea of further changes. «I will accept,» he said. «But on the condition that Lord Gennar be made my second in command, and Lord Ebass be given command of the Duke's Guardsmen.»

  «Done,» said Alsin, and Blade gave a mental sigh of relief. Both Gennar and Ebass deserved rewards, and now they had them. Also, Gennar was another man who could cope with all the changes that were happening to warfare along the Crimson River.

  There was no need to talk of details now, and certainly not here, with Miera's sightless ey
es on them. «Although I feel more easy in my mind about my grandfather's death and Miera's now,» said Chenosh, «I feel-well, I feel that his work will go on, and his death will not be a waste.»

  When the two visitors went downstairs, Blade turned the other way and climbed onto the roof of the keep. Cheeky rode on his shoulder. The sky was clearing now, and the wind was brisk enough to feel cool on his skin. It felt even better in his lungs after the thick air of the death room.

  Overhead, the stars were coming out. Blade leaned against the stone battlements, then hastily stepped back as he felt a stone shift under his weight. A fine end to this trip and his life it would be, falling through the battlements and splattering on the ground a hundred and fifty feet below!

  He took a deep breath and opened his mind to Cheeky. He hadn't spoken with the Feathered One for days, and he wanted to see how the battle looked through his eyes.

  «Yeeeeeppp!»

  Blade heard surprise and even pain in the Feathered One's call. Then he felt a prickling all over his skin and a throbbing in his head, just below the threshold of pain but impossible to ignore. For a moment he understood Cheeky's surprise and even shared it. Then the throbbing grew more intense, and although it still wasn't painful, he recognized it.

  The computer was calling to him, ready to bring him back to Home Dimension. Because Cheeky was linked to his mind, the computer was calling to him, too. In fact, he'd picked up the call before Blade did, but didn't know what it meant.

  It was easier for Blade to control his thoughts with this new form of the computer's call. He told Cheeky to keep calm, and at the same time scratched his back in the familiar manner.

  For a moment the throbbing flared to pain. Blade braced himself against a firm section of stone. He heard Cheeky yeeeep again, the world swam in front of his eyes…

  … and he was standing in the transfer booth, with Cheeky still on his shoulder.

  The Feathered One's next yeeeep was rather subdued.