by Max Overton
"So if Nikomayros is not the Golden King then who is?" demanded Prithia.
"I have communed with my gods and I believe him to be Alexander," stated Ket firmly. "It is possible that the prophecy talks of a man yet unknown, or a Scythian king, but I think it unlikely."
"Why not?" blurted Dolra.
"Of course," sighed Bithyia.
Ket laughed. "To answer you first, Dolra. Scythia is indeed known as a land of gold. All around me are ornaments and jewelry fashioned from the gold found in your streams, yet how are the Scythians to find a king? Your tribes are too independent to be ruled by one man."
"Areipithes calls himself king."
"He calls himself king, yet is he? I think not. There is more to kingship than holding a people in fear. No, the king of gold is not Scythian. Nor is he likely to be a man yet unknown. In the year since the prophecy was first uttered there has been no hint of such a one. No," Ket shook his head, "It is Alexander."
"Why Alexander?" asked Bithyia.
"He is king of much of the known world already, though still a young man. He has riches beyond measuring. His hair shines like gold and the fire of his spirit burns like gold." Ket's voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. "Why, when he came out from the oracle of the God Ammon-Ra at Siwah after visiting his heavenly father's temple, his face shone as if lit from within. If any king can be called 'golden' it is he."
"Does this mean Alexander will invade us?" squeaked Prithia.
"No," replied Ket. "He will stay in the south, which means our Nikometros must leave the Scythian plains and go to meet him. It is his prophesied destiny. Only after he leaves Scythia will he find his Golden King."
"So my lord Nikomayros will leave here to live in the land of the Golden King?" Tomyra's gentle voice caught and she turned away. Bithyia put her arm around the young girl's shoulder and gently wiped away a tear from her cheek.
"Do not fear, my lady. He won't leave you."
"I won't try to stop him, Bithyia. He'll return to his people and his king and leave me behind on these now empty plains." Tomyra sniffed and rubbed her nose with the back of her hand. She smiled weakly up at Bithyia's concerned face. "It's all right, dear one. As long as I have friends like you I'll survive."
"My lady, I..." Bithyia paused, uncertain. "My lady, he loves you. He won't leave you."
Sarmatia and Prithia reached out to comfort their mistress, stroking her hair and murmuring reassurances. The cat, Bubis, ousted from his position on Tomyra's cloak by the crowding women, stalked off, his tail erect. After pausing for a short while in the middle of the tent, he sauntered slowly back to Ket and rubbed against the old man, butting his head against Ket's leg.
Ket reached down and picked up the cat, cradling him against his thin chest, nuzzling his thick fur. "Come, beloved Bubis," he murmured. "You have disturbed these dear girls enough for today." He looked up and called out in a loud voice. "Excuse me, miss. Would you happen to have some fish for my cat? It is past his dinnertime and..." A loud clamor from outside caught his attention and his voice trailed off in surprise.
The noise increased, with the sound of horses galloping through the muddy streets and men shouting excitedly. Sarmatia dashed to the tent entrance and pushed out into the rain. A few moments later she ducked back in, her face aglow with excitement. She wiped her rain-streaked face and grimaced.
"Areipithes!" she exclaimed. "He's marching north at the head of a large force. The army is called out."
Bithyia, together with Dolra and Prithia helped their mistress to her feet and together the five women hurried from the tent, leaving Ket and Bubis sitting quietly. Ket remained silent, listening to the rain and the rising clamor of the town, his hand rhythmically stroking the soft black fur of his cat. After many minutes he nodded, his hand pausing on the cat's back. Bubis opened his eyes and looked up into the old man's wrinkled face.
"So, Bubis," Ket whispered. "It starts at last. The journey south to the Golden King."
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Chapter Twenty-Nine
Nikometros turned, calming Diomede's impatient prancing as he looked back along the column of horsemen trudging through the mud and sleeting rain. Two days of continuous travel in the inclement weather had sapped the strength and spirit from his men despite the encouragement of his officers.
At least my Lions look halfway prepared, he thought. Not like the Jartai force. Nikometros brushed the rain from his face and stared through the curtains of drizzle at the main army. Nearly a thousand riders plodded dispiritedly along, even the semblance of order lost as the columns of men and horses disintegrated into a slowly shifting mob.
Moving through the advancing swarm, Nikometros saw his Jartai officers, Jaxes, Sopartos and others vainly trying to restore order. In their presence, the men shuffled their mounts into vague lines, stepping out with purpose. As soon as the officers passed on to another group, however, the disorder reasserted itself.
Nikometros cursed and kicked his horse into motion, galloping forward along the column of Lions. The men raised their heads as he passed and gave a ragged cheer, sheets of water cascading from their sodden clothes. Nikometros gave a wave of terse acknowledgement and splashed through the puddles to the front of the column where Timon and Tirses rode side by side.
"This venture is lost before we even meet the enemy," Nikometros fumed. "Look at this rabble." He gesticulated at the Jartai army. "Do you expect them to fight?"
Tirses gave Nikometros a mildly reproving look. "My lord, you have nothing to fear from your loyal Massegetae," he said. "They will fight, even if those Jartai women do not."
"Aye, Niko," growled Timon. "We've trained them well."
"You're right, Tirses, my apologies," muttered Nikometros. "But what can we do with only two hundred men?"
"There are Parasades and his troops too," reminded Timon. "His men are almost as well trained. That's another two hundred."
"Speaking of Parasades, where in Hades is he?" Nikometros scanned the muddy plains ahead of them, searching for any sign of life in the misty rain. "If he's going to scout the way ahead, he ought at least to report back from time to time," he grumbled. "It's dawn since we saw him."
A rider detached himself from the rambling Jartai army and galloped across the mud, sending sprays of water into the air. As the rider approached, the trio at the head of the Massegetae column could make out the burly form of Jaxes whipping his mount along. He brought his horse to a sliding stop beside Nikometros, spattering him with mud then guided it into a slow walk alongside his commander.
"Jaxes," greeted Nikometros. "What brings you here so urgently?"
"My lord," growled Jaxes. "Lugartes has received word that a small group of Massegetae are nearby. He intends to turn and fall upon them."
"What?"
"Outriders saw a body of Massegetae encamped in the valley of Ubul-tagarn. Lugartes is determined to attack them."
"Where is this Ubul-tagarn?" asked Nikometros. "I haven't heard of it."
Jaxes shrugged, sending water showering from his broad shoulders. "A small valley to the east. It's flat ground, suitable for horses."
Nikometros shook his head. "He must not attack," he snapped. "Certainly not until the enemy position has been reconnoitred."
"I fear it's too late, my lord," growled Jaxes. "See, even now he turns the army."
The ragged columns of Jartai horsemen turned to the east in disorganised groups, the mob streaming across the soaking plains toward a low line of hills. In the lead, Nikometros could make out a small group of figures beneath a colourful pennant, the personal standard of Lugartes.
"Who does the fornicating fool think he is, Niko?" grated Timon. "You were voted war-leader, not he. He has no business leading the army off like that."
"No, but my lord Nikomayros insisted on making Lugartes joint war-leader," reminded Jaxes. "Forgive me my plain speaking, lord, but that was ill advised. The power has gone to Lugartes' head and he is determined to a
ssume full command. He thinks a quick and easy victory will give him the support he needs."
"Curse the man," fumed Nikometros. "We must restrain him. Tirses," he turned to the Massegetae officer beside him. "Bring your men on the double, we must..."
"My lord," interrupted Tirses. "I think the scouts return." He pointed southwest, toward the river.
Moving slowly through the swamped fields spreading out from the flooding Oxus River came a large body of riders. For a long time the column of approaching horsemen remained indistinct, the only noteworthy fact that could be deduced being the discipline of the riders. As they neared, pennants flying from tall lances identified the column as being Parasades men. A tight group at the front of the column was recognised as the Leopards, the spotted hide of their titular beast encircling the spear hafts. Behind them rode a less disciplined body of men, sporting a rag-tag of emblems and pennants.
Parasades drew his column of riders up alongside the Lions, and rode across to where Nikometros awaited him. He nodded at Jaxes politely then jerked his head in the direction of the Jartai. "Where in Hades are they going?"
"Lugartes has decided to attack a small enemy encampment," replied Nikometros.
"That man has the brains of an ox," observed Parasades. "Where does he think he is? Areipithes lies not half a day's travel south of here."
"You found him?" asked Nikometros sharply.
"Camped near the river, in full sight." Parasades grinned, the humour never touching his eyes. "Settled down for a long stay too. He has put up fortifications."
"Why in all the gods' names would he do that?" queried Timon in a puzzled voice. "He marched out to meet us. Now he hides behind walls?"
"Perhaps he's lost his nerve," laughed Tirses.
"How many men does he have?" asked Jaxes. "Has his army deserted him?"
Parasades nodded. "His army is smaller than we thought. Barely a thousand men if the number of tents is anything to go by. Their morale is poor too, they barely noticed us when we rode up."
"They saw you?" queried Nikometros. "Was that wise?"
"We were in no danger, barely a dozen men bothered to fire arrows at us." Parasades grinned again. "I tell you, I was tempted to attack them and end this war immediately."
Nikometros frowned. "You have alerted them to our presence, though."
"Do you think he hasn't had his spies reporting back our every move anyway? I left fifty of my men to watch them until we could bring the army up."
"What do we do, Nikometros?" queried Timon. "The army is getting further away by the minute."
"We ride to stop Lugartes attacking until we ascertain the strength of the enemy," replied Nikometros crisply. "With Areipithes close we must move cautiously." He waved his command forward and picked up the pace to a measured gallop, splashing off across the water-soaked plain in pursuit of his allies. Parasades waved his own command into a parallel course. Slowly the disciplined squads of warriors overtook the plodding masses of Jartai.
Lugartes looked round at the noise of horses thundering up behind him. He scowled as he recognised Nikometros and reined in his horse. "Why have you left your station on the right flank, Nikomayros?"
Nikometros ignored the question and posed one of his own. "Why have you turned aside, Lugartes?"
"I'm about to win the first victory against the enemy," said Lugartes, satisfaction oozing like rancid oil over his beard. "My scouts tell me there's an enemy camp in the next valley, in Ubul-tagarn. I will destroy this camp and every man in it."
"Must I remind you that I am war-leader," said Nikometros softly. "You can take no independent action."
"I am joint war-leader," replied Lugartes. "By your own mouth. I make my own decisions regarding my Jartai army." He sneered and gestured at the men behind Nikometros. "You play with your own small force. I will exercise my skills with the main army."
Nikometros bit back his anger and put out an arm to restrain Timon whose face darkened at the insult. "It seems we must clarify this position later. However, for now, I assume you have reconnoitred the enemy camp properly?"
"And alert them to our presence? I will sweep over the crest of the hill there," He pointed ahead of the trudging army, "And crush them like an avalanche." Lugartes smiled. "If you wish to partake of the victory and the spoils, you can join my army," he added magnanimously.
Nikometros inclined his head. "I will be there, at the head of my men."
Lugartes barked out a short laugh and galloped up to the front of the straggling army, now nearing the crest of the valley of Ubul-tagarn. He drew his sword, waving it above his head and rode over the crest, out of sight. With a half-hearted roar, the Jartai army followed him, the mounted warriors spilling over the edge into the long descent.
Nikometros met Parasades' eyes with a look of resignation tinged with anger. He turned and shouted out orders to Tirses who passed them along to the men in his command. The Lions, with the Leopards alongside, galloped up the low hill and into Ubul-tagarn.
Below them, the first of the Jartai warriors reached the enemy camp, Lugartes now hanging back exhorting his men forward. Nikometros started to give the command for a cavalry charge but the words died in his throat. He drew rein and sat staring down at the developing melee.
"Where are the horses?" Nikometros rasped.
"What do you mean, my lord? What horses?"
Nikometros pointed. "How did the enemy get here? Where are their horses?"
The enemy camp stood stark on the empty valley floor, a scattering of tents off to one side, scarcely sufficient to house even the few soldiers present. There was no trace of horse lines or baggage, as if the enemy had magically appeared out of thin air.
The soldiers below them, numbering only some hundred or so men, stood stolidly in a square, facing outward in all directions. The men held long sarissae, or jabbing spears, and sheltered behind large hide shields. A shower of arrows arced toward them, spending its force on the shield wall. Only a handful of men fell, the wounded being dragged back to the shelter of the middle of the square.
"Where did they learn that manoeuver," mused Parasades.
The first Jartai horsemen arrived, swerving to avoid the long spears and stumbling into other riders, throwing the line into confusion. More arrived and began circling just beyond reach of the spears, firing arrows at the defenders and screaming insults.
"Cowards!" grated Timon. "One good charge and they could split that line."
"Those Jartai women have not got the stomach for it," crowed Tirses.
"Control yourself, Tirses," said Nikometros softly. "Remember they are our allies." He sighed and adjusted the sword at his side. "I do not like this situation but we must make the charge for them," he added.
"Wait," cried Tirses. "There, Jaxes leads them."
A small group of Jartai riders gathered itself about one of their number and hurled themselves at the defenders. The line buckled but held, the attacking horsemen withdrawing, leaving several bodies on the ground. Another group tried, with no greater success.
"Too few," stormed Timon. "The fools! How can a few break the line? It must be a massed charge."
"The leadership is divided," commented Parasades quietly. "None can agree, hence nothing useful is accomplished."
"What do we do, Niko?" queried Timon.
"There is something wrong here but we cannot abandon our friends." Nikometros turned to Tirses. "Signal a charge. We shall break that square for them." He kicked his stallion into motion, the column of his men forming up behind him. Their speed increased as they broke into a gallop down the long slope of the valley.
Behind, on the crest, Parasades controlled his fidgety mount and stared after Nikometros. Certes looked at his commander then at the fast moving column of men.
"My lord? Do we not join them?" he asked anxiously.
"In good time," drawled Parasades. "His men are quite capable of breaking the line without us. We shall follow on behind." He urged his horse into a walk, sitting re
laxed as it ambled down toward the fighting, his warriors laughing and joking behind him.
Nikometros leaned forward over the neck of Diomede, working his feet under the leather strap in front of him. His thighs gripped the horse firmly and he took a tight grip on the reins, winding them about his left hand. He glanced to his left and was glad to see that Timon had already braced himself for the impact with the enemy. He drew his sword and held it out in front of him, the thundering vibration of the charge making the point dance in front of his eyes. Blood pulsed in the veins of his forehead as the excitement built.
The fighting drew nearer. Jartai warriors cast worried looks over their shoulders and moved aside, parting as gauze before a sharp dagger. Ahead was the enemy line, the soldiers in it suddenly visible as individuals. Niko's eye caught that of a tall, thin man in the front rank of defenders. Hidden behind a large shield and long facial hair, the dark brown eyes appeared vacant, as if dreaming of home and family. Blue eyes, fair hair and gleaming armour atop a foaming horse ripped at his attention. The man's eyes widened then shifted, looking for an escape. His lance wavered, drooped then disappeared as the fast moving avalanche of horses and men burst into and through the line. The thunder of the collision contrasted with the brittle snapping of lances and bones, and the high pitched squealing screams of horses.
Nikometros' eye caught a flash of steel arcing beside him and the man with the vacant eyes dropped, his head split open. Around him rose a cacophony of shouts and screams as men died, fled or found a purpose for living in the destruction of their fellows.
The line of men opposite the point of impact, their backs turned against the charge, disintegrated as the momentum hurled the column out the other side of the square. In the trampled ruin of the battlefield, the Jartai warriors raised a cry of triumph and fell upon the scattered remnants of the Massegetae defenders.
Nikometros found himself in an open space beyond the battle, surrounded by his men. Faces distorted, the young warriors of his command grinned or grimaced as the fact of victory and survival overtook them. They milled, turning to stare back with interest at the heaving mob of Jartai warriors consigning the last of the defenders to an ignominious death.