At the centre of the ragged line of armoured men, Kheda led a slow advance across the damp, muddy ground. The youth Ridu raised a cry of ‘Chazen!’ and the oarsmen backing the swordsmen picked it up, every repetition gathering menace.
The unknown men and women drew back till they had their boats at their backs, swords thrust forward. All Kheda could see was ugly defiance. Men and women alike, all were young, their feet planted firmly on this ground they had claimed and brandishing swords with more ferocity than skill. A couple wore chain mail and a handful more had somehow scrounged the coats of nail-studded leather that were customarily a village spokesman’s privilege. The rest were relying on hastily sewn jerkins of turtle hide or sharkskin.
The Chazen line advanced to within twenty paces of the beached boats. With an inarticulate roar the enemy rushed forward, wild strokes cleaving the air until Chazen blades met them with a grating clash of steel.
Kheda’s vision shrank to the foe before him, anything to either side a blur. His opponent thrust desperately, a last instant of hesitation robbing his sword of any real strength. Kheda parried easily before turning his stroke into a backhanded slash to bite deep into the man’s upper ann. With skills honed since his earliest youth, he swept up his off-hand sword to run the man clean through just below his ribcage.
Not so low as to strike a hip. Not so deep into the body as to risk binding on the backbone.
Kheda ripped his sword free of the dying man and took an instant to assess the combat on either side. Dev was more than holding his own, even if his strokes owed more to natural viciousness than real skill. A rower to Kheda’s open side was not doing so well, already bleeding from a ragged slash to his thigh. Kheda moved to shield the man with his armoured body and a killing stroke came down to rasp impotently along the warlord’s mail-clad arm as Kheda forced the rusty sword aside.
Kheda brought his second blade round at waist height to disembowel this new adversary but the man leapt backwards in the nick of time. Even as he shied away, the man twisted his own sword into a brutal thrust at Kheda’s face. The warlord couldn’t help but flinch, knocking the blade away with an instinctive blow. The nameless adversary followed up his advantage, sword spiralling down to hack at Kheda’s unprotected legs. Kheda dropped instantly to one knee, awns rising as he did so. The solid steel side plate of his hauberk met the enemy’s notched blade as Kheda’s leading sword swept up and across to cut the man’s hand off at the wrist. The spray of blood had barely reached the warlord before his second blade bit deep into the man’s thigh. Springing to his feet, Kheda ripped the blade backwards and bright heart’s blood soaked the man’s grubby cotton trews. As he cried out, he locked gazes with Kheda for a timeless instant.
You’ve been in battle before. You’ve a deftness in your swordplay that speaks of decent training. And you ‘ve seen enough blood to know that you ‘re dying.
As the man let his sword ann fall, unprotesting, Kheda put all his strength into a backhanded scything stroke. The man’s severed head flew a few paces sideways to startle another foe rushing in to attack Dev. The man stumbled and Dev was on him, running him through the breast. The wizard’s enthusiasm betrayed him and he found himself struggling to extricate his sword from the clinging embrace of the dead man’s ribs.
Kheda saw a youth lift his sword in a shaking hand to thrust at Dev’s face. The warlord shoved Dev aside and stepped forward to sweep the stained and notched blade away before bringing the youth down with a sharp slice to the side of his leg. The lad fell to the trampled and bloodied ground, clutching the crippling wound to his knee, his shrieks lost in the all-encircling clamour.
As Dev finally ripped his sword free, Kheda heard a new sound shoot across the tumult. Getting Dev’s atten—
tion with an emphatic elbow, he jerked his head backwards and the two of them retreated from the thick of the fight, the Mist Dove’s eager rowers closing up the gap they had left.
A second hiss of arrows flew across the beach and Kheda looked to see Tawai and his archers up on the Mist Dove’s side decks sending a rain of arrows soaring towards the village. Aysi and a handful of his swordsmen were advancing towards the huts. As the cascade of shafts ceased, Aysi broke into a run, the others hard on his heels.
‘After them!’ Kheda ran inland, Dev at his side, his breath rasping within the confines of his helmet. Sweat soaked the padded cotton beneath his armour, hot between his shoulder blades and trickling down the hollow of his spine to disappear into the cleft of his buttocks. His shoulders protested at the unrelenting weight of his armour and his thighs burned with the effort of running up the incline towards the sorry huts. When they arrived, no enemy was still standing. Several were dead with arrows ripped through their bodies or dying of mortal sword wounds. Two were face down in the dirt with a Chazen foot on their necks to make sure they stayed that way.
‘My lord!’ Ridu appeared from behind one of the tumbledown huts, gore clotting on both of his swords. ‘Here, quickly!’
Kheda sheathed one sword and raised the face plate of his helmet. ‘What is it?’
‘Aysi,’ Ridu gasped, face ashen.
Kheda rounded the but to find the old warrior flat on his back, his helmet cast aside. One side of his face had been laid open by an axe blow, the weapon lying beside him. Its owner was sprawled some distance away with enough gaping wounds to kill him three times over.
Aysi’s nose and cheekbone were smashed, white splinters sinking beneath the welling blood that had already drowned his mined eye. It pooled in his ear, soaking through his grizzled hair to puddle on the ground beneath his head. The warrior’s jaw worked desperately as he choked on blood and spittle.
‘Don’t try to talk’ Kheda knelt and gripped Aysi’s hands as the old man feebly sought to clutch at his pain. As the blood trickled away from the hideous wound, Kheda saw just how deep it had gone.
‘Get the warlord’s physic chest!’ Dev bellowed and other voices carried the order down to the beached trireme.
There’s no staunching this, no salve that can do anything, not even dull the pain before he dies.
Kheda held both of Aysi’s hands firmly in his mail gauntlets. You proved yourself a mighty warrior today. You have won a warlord’s consideration for your family and your whole village.’
Aysi’s unwounded eye looked up past Kheda, uncomprehending, as his lips moved soundlessly. He coughed up more blood and froze in a rigid spasm of agony before going limp.
Kheda heaved a sigh and laid the old man’s lifeless hands gently on his breast. ‘Is anyone else hurt? Ridu!’ He raised his voice to get the youth’s attention.
No more than scratches.’ The youth looked down at his dead mentor, distraught. ‘Apart from Aysi.’
‘Let’s make sure his death hasn’t been in vain.’ Kheda rose to his feet and gripped the lad’s shoulder hard with one mailed hand. ‘Did you catch them all?’
Dev glowered at his side. ‘Are you sure none of them fled into the trees?’
No, that is, we got them all.’ Ridu scrubbed tears from his cheeks, his hazel eyes still white-rimmed with shock.
‘Bring your captives down to join their friends.’
Kheda waited a moment to be sure the youthful warriors had themselves in hand before striding back down to the shore. ‘Let’s see what these scum have to say for themselves.’
Now what?’ Dev’s brown eyes were avid.
Now you’ll see what it means to have me as your warlord,’ said Kheda shortly. ‘You and everyone else.’ I didn’t look for an opportunity to send this kind of message, but I can’t afford to pass it up. Down by the sea, the dead had already been dragged aside into a loose-limbed heap, the dying left to whimper out their last moments. Those who had thrown down their weapons were circled by oarsmen holding ready blades. The prisoners knelt with their forehearls pressed to the damp earth. Kheda saw that the trireme’s archers had come ashore and were gathering up the abandoned blades. He summoned Tawai with a snap of his fingers. �
�Did they carry daggers?’
None, my lord, just rough knives.’ The archer came over with an armful of swords, some scabbarded, most not.
‘They had some warrior’s weapons.’ Kheda carefully extricated one naked blade from the pile. The steel was stained with rust as well as blood and the filthy silken cord braiding the handle was inexpertly wound. ‘But scarcely cared for and clumsily sharpened.’
‘Salvaged from some isle where the invaders slaughtered Chazen warriors?’ Tawai hazarded. ‘The savages never bothered picking up fallen blades.’
‘Didn’t know how to use them,’ remarked Dev derisively.
‘They killed enough of our people with their stone clubs and wooden spears.’ Tawai looked at the barbarian with as much distaste as he dared.
‘We are hardly likely to forget that,’ said Kheda with mild reproof. ‘No, nothing about this sword tells me where it came from, or whose armoury it was made for.’
Telouet might have seen similar somewhere, might have known enough to hazard a guess. No one here is going to be able to.
He tossed the mined blade aside. ‘Let’s see if one of these vermin can tell us where they got their blades.’ The circle of rowers parted obediently to give him access to the cowering captives, who raised hopeless eyes to the armoured warlord.
‘Who led you here?’ barked Kheda.
Most immediately dropped their gaze to the patch of ground in front of their knees. A few were startled into betraying the same man with an unguarded glance.
‘Bring him here.’ Kheda pointed a merciless finger.
Dev promptly stepped forward and wound one hand in the loose cloth of the man’s tunic, throwing him down in front of Kheda, who studied him dispassionately.
‘One of our warriors died today, reclaiming this land for Chazen. You owe the domain a death.’ Kheda nodded at Dev, who looked back at him with faint confusion.
Much as I like to see you disconcerted, wizard, this is hardly the time.
Kheda held his breath as understanding dawned in Dev’s eyes and the barbarian drew his sword with slow deliberation.
‘My lord, please . . .’ The prisoner shrank into himself, shoulders hunched.
His plea was silenced as Dev’s blade flashed in the sunlight. The captive’s head leapt from his shoulders, the cut clean and barely bleeding.
Hopefully no one else will have seen enough beheadings to know what an impossible stroke that was. Hopefully I was the only one who saw that shimmer of fire edging Dev’s blade.
His face a mask of implacable severity, Kheda looked around the cove to see the Mist Dove’s oarsmen wide-eyed with awe at their warlord’s decisive action. The swordsmen and archers were more open in their vengeful appreciation of such immediate retribution. Kheda addressed himself to the rest of the quaking prisoners with cold condemnation.
‘You came unbidden into Chazen waters. Far from seeking my permission to stay and promising your duty to me, to this domain and its blood, you have plundered this island and who knows what else besides. Shall we see what we find in your ships and your huts to answer that question?’ he wondered ominously. He paused for a moment and was relieved to see guilty glances passing between some of the captives, condemning them as thieves as well as interlopers.
None of you carries any dagger to acknowledge the domain that bore you, so you’ve plainly abandoned such allegiances,’ he continued with scorn. ‘At least that spares me the tiresome chore of seeking recompense for your malfeasance from any other warlord. You can all pay for your offences with your bodies, as slaves. My lady Itrac Chazen will be opening her dealings with the domains to the north shortly. I’m sure she can find some value in your worthless carcasses.’
Kheda turned his back on a despairing wail of protest stifled by a heavy blow behind him. He summoned Tawai with a curt gesture. ‘Call the Mist Dove’s sail crew ashore. They can flog these wretches into submission and stow them aboard the Yellow Serpent. I’m not carrying that amount of dead weight on the voyage back to the residence. Light a fire and burn those bodies, they deserve no better. Set Ridu and his boys to burying Aysi fittingly. His body in the soil of this place will assuredly confer strength and courage on those who may dwell here in the future.’
‘As you wish, my lord.’ Tawai bowed low.
‘And tell your men I am most impressed with their skills. You are obviously an excellent teacher. I’d be grateful if you’d share your talents with the residence garrison.’ Surprising the archer with a smile of warm approbation, Kheda walked away along the shore towards the beached trireme.
Dev drew level with him. You don’t want to spring surprises like that on me,’ the mage said frankly. Kheda glanced around to make sure there was no one close enough to overhear them. ‘At least you rose to the occasion.’
‘I always do that.’ Dev chuckled.
‘I think I saw how,’ said Kheda, unsmiling. ‘Just be thankful no one else did.’
‘So what do we do now? My lord,’ Dev added for the benefit of Shaiam, who was climbing down from the trireme’s stern.
Kheda addressed himself to the shipmaster. ‘The Yellow Serpent can stay to patrol these waters as we decided earlier, even with captives in her hold. We don’t need them weighing us down ‘
‘My lord.’ Excessively apologetic, Shaiam inten-upted and gestured out to sea. ‘The Thorn Circle has appeared.’
Nyral’s ship?’ Kheda moved to get a clear view and found that he recognised the fast trireme. Well, well. I wonder what he will have to say for himself
‘Was it just his laziness that let these scavengers get a foothold here?’ Shaiam looked dubiously at the slowly approaching vessel. ‘Or could he be in league with them?’
‘Either way I’ll be stripping him of his command for failing the domain so grievously,’ Kheda said severely. ‘The only question is should he just be flogged bloody or until we see the bones of his ribs.’
‘Care for a wager on that?’ Dev cocked a sardonic brow at the shipmaster.
Kheda continued as if the barbarian hadn’t spoken. ‘The Thorn Circle can follow the Yellow Serpent under a new master. You and Hesi decide between you if it’s Yere or the Yellow Serpent’s helmsman who’s earned the promotion.’
‘The Thorn Circle’s crew have sailed with Nyral a long time, my lord,’ said Shaiam doubtfully. ‘I don’t know how they’ll take to a new shipmaster.’
‘Then tell Hesi to remove any who look as if they might be trouble and to mix plenty of the Yellow Serpent’s oarsmen in with the rest.’ Kheda looked steadily at the tall mariner. ‘And let the Thorn Circle’s men know that Hesi has order to ram them at the first sign of mutiny. A light galley won’t sink a fast trireme but the Yellow Serpent could certainly spring enough planks to cripple it. Tell Hesi to drive it into shallow water first, though, if it comes to it,’ he added wryly. ‘Truth be told, we can’t afford to lose any vessels and I don’t want to lose any men if we can help it. I just want Nyral and the rest of his crew to know that I am master here.’
‘There’ll be fewer doubters when word of this day’s work sprearls.’ A broad grin cracked Shaiam’s dark face.
‘I certainly hope so.’ Kheda smiled conspiratorially before nodding towards the captured boats now stripped of their ineffectual cloak of knot-tree branches. ‘Pick the best men you can spare to crew those and to spread that word a little wider. Have them tell Hesi if there are any honest folk living in these backwaters. I’d like to have someone ready to send word if they see any unknown ships that might be considering a sniff down towards the pearl reefs. Tell Hesi I’ll send him out a cage of courier doves when I get back to the residence so that he can report to me directly.’
‘Yes, my lord,’ said Shaiam with satisfaction. ‘And now let’s deal with Nyral,’ concluded Kheda softly. The Thorn Circle was drawing cautiously alongside the Mist Dove. The three men stood silently as the fast trireme grounded softly and her stern ladders promptly lowered. Dev turned and whistled and the Mist Dove’
s swordsmen quickly drew up behind Kheda in a guard that made up in grimness for what it lacked in polish. Tawai and the archers moved casually to one side, making sure they all had a clear shot at whoever disembarked from the newly arrived ship. There’s nothing like the unity that comes from having been in a battle together. I’ll settle for that, even if it isn’t inborn loyalty to me as their warlord. Kheda nodded to acknowledge the fast trireme’s shipmaster as the man splashed through the shallows to bow before him. Nyral.’
‘My lord.’ There was no hint of obsequiousness in the heavy-set mariner’s voice or in his brown face, with his long black beard plaited to a sharp point. He wore a Redigal dagger on his scarlet leather belt, just like the helmsman standing at his shoulder, one massive hand dwarfing the thin and tattered route record that he clutched. There was a strong resemblance between the two men: both had deep-set, circumspect eyes and tip-tilted noses, though something forceful had sent the helmsman’s all lopsided a few years ago.
‘What traffic have you seen since we left you to watch these sea lanes?’ Kheda demanded.
‘A Daish flotilla, my lord.’ The man’s confident answer was entirely unexpected. ‘A great galley escorted by two fast triremes and two heavy.’ Nyral shrugged, curly head canted arrogantly. ‘They flew the old pennants from Chazen Sari’s day but we didn’t feel inclined to try stopping them, did we, Banse?’ The helmsman cleared his throat. ‘I recognised the steersman of the galley and the shipmaster of one of the light triremes.’
‘I knew several of the swordsmen on the heavy triremes’ upper decks.’ Unbidden, the Thorn Circle’s rowing master joined them. Like the other men, he wore a sleeveless tunic and loose trousers of dirty white cotton. He wore the narrow double-edged dagger of the Aedis domain on his belt of plaited rainbow cords.
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