The Warrior's Tale

by Allan Cole, Chris Bunch

  My women celebrated as wildly as any of the others. Polillo tramped into our encampment with a keg of looted brandy on each shoulder. She broached them with her axe, and the amber liquor flowed into my sisters' throats. Corais and Ismet stayed reasonably sober, keeping watch on their comrades' tempers. Such extreme happiness, mixed with brandy, can be a powerful elixir for the unwary, and the demons of anger are always ready to pounce on the smallest insult. Many a lovers' quarrel has been settled with a blade after a battle. We had blood enough on our hands.

  As for me, I suddenly found I'd become that oddest of creatures - a hero. The young recruit dreams of such a thing, weary muscles trembling in their sleep after a day of shouting sergeants lashing her from one absurd task to the next, dreams of one day standing tall but humble as thousands of voices shout her name; while old soldiers speak in hushed tones when she passes. I dreamed such dreams when I was young. But when the hero's garland really was bestowed on me that day, I did not find it so pleasant. The fast ship that carried news of our victory to Orissa, also bore flowery descriptions of my deeds and the deeds of the Maranon Guard. The battle-blasted landscape echoed with my praises. Wherever I walked crowds of soldiers parted before me. Some reached to touch my tunic as if it were sacred cloth, instead of a rough soldier's weave. Gifts were heaped before my tent and the mound grew so quickly I had to post a guard politely to turn their bearers away. There were marriage proposals by the scores. Men begged to father a child with me. Women - even those who'd once turned their noses up at me - left intimate things in my path, and whispered hot entreaties from the shadows to share my bed. It was said a day would be named in my honour, with all the special sacrifices and ceremonies that sort of thing entails.

  I did not find it pleasant, Scribe. I still do not. It is a false thing, a deadly thing, that can turn a happily common mortal into a demon of vanity. Heroes belong in the grave. It is the only place they can be safe from themselves - and their worshippers.

  The worst thing about my sudden leap to sanctity, was that Jinnah's hatred deepened as he saw himself being robbed of the hero's crown he'd coveted. Somehow word leaked that Jinnah had been forced by Gamelan into carrying out my plan. Within hours after the last Lycanthian surrendered, there were jokes being made at his expense. The long, bloody siege was being dubbed 'Jinnah's Folly,' and there were those who cursed him bitterly for letting the fight go on so long, and for so many addle-brained decisions which, they charged, had cost thousands their lives.

  To be fair, the Lycanthians had been the toughest of foes, and the Archons so powerful they nearly bested our own Evocators. Still, there were many things Jinnah would have to answer for, not here, but when he returned to Orissa and stood before the Council of Magistrates. It was apparent that some god would have to take a sudden, and very great liking to Jinnah if he was to save himself from a shame that would last into the ages.

  Jinnah's luck, however, changed that very night. It rode in on a furious storm that sank our encampment in a sea of mud. The rain was blinding. The seas raged high, crashing over the rocky shore in waves three times the height of a tall woman. Then Jinnah sent word that I was to come to him - immediately. Not to his tent, but to the sea-castle and to the Private Chamber where I'd killed the Archon's brother.

  As I entered the vast room I couldn't help but grip the little amulet Gamelan had given me. I took comfort the awful odour that had betrayed the Archons' presence was gone. As I looked about, shielding my eyes from the white-hot glare of sorcerous torches rekindled with Orissan magic, I saw with much surprise there was no sign of the struggle that had taken place just hours before. Everything seemed to have been put back into pristine order by Gamelan and his Evocators. I saw white-sashed novices sweeping up the last bits of broken glass. They were given to yellow-sashed apprentices who shook sweet-smelling smoke on them, whispered enchantments, and the bits reformed themselves into jars, or vials, or crystal bowls, etched with sorcerous symbols. Other wizards and their helpers were moving quiedy about, replacing things on tables and benches and hand-carved shelves. The whole thing was being directed by several red-sashed senior wizards, who seemed to be working from parchment maps of the room that Gamelan, or an assistant, had used spells to recreate. To one side, near a large golden urn, I saw Jinnah and a knot of aides. They were watching Gamelan, who had set up an odd apparatus on a portable altar. He was making some adjustments, but no sooner had I entered than he looked up - his yellow eyes darting about until they found me. He made a signal - as if in warning. Before I could make clear his intent, Jinnah saw me.

  'Ah, Captain Antero,' he said. 'The hero of the hour.' There was venom in his tone. 'Come here, if you please. We have need of your assistance.'

  I knew jealousy and hatred had mated in Jinnah's breast, but as I joined the group I was startled to see a look of pure delight in his eyes. I wasn't sure what to make of it, but the look reminded me of our old kitchen cat when she had a rat at her mercy.

  'General,' I said, 'what is the trouble?'

  'It seems we may have won the battle,' Jinnah said, with odd relish, 'but not the war.'

  'Well put, sir,' his toady, Captain Hux, said. Then to me: 'We fear all your bold actions may have been for naught.'

  I looked at Gamelan. 'The Archon?' I asked.

  Gamelan nodded, grave. 'The General sent Admiral Cholla Yi after him,' he said. 'But the Archon raised the storm we are now experiencing, and forced him to give up the chase.'

  He continued making adjustments to the apparatus, which was a complicated thing - with spider)' tubes and wires and glass retorts filled with multi-coloured liquids set to a boil by some magical force. Coloured steam issued from them, but there was no odour.

  I shrugged. 'It can't storm for ever,' I said. 'We'll catch him soon enough. No land will take him in, now that he's lost his armies and his homeland. Our spies will soon ferret him out.'

  But as I said this, I felt a chill at my spine, and involuntarily touched Gamelan's amulet. The old wizard caught my motion and nodded. 'We can't risk our future to chance and spies,' he said. He made a wide gesture, taking in the vaulted room. 'We've recreated every detail of this chamber at the moment before you so boldly entered, down to a cockroach that had just investigated the contents of a wizard's pouch.'

  Gamelan lifted up a small leather bag. The leather was rich and scored with symbols. He undid a gold tie, pinched out a bit of dust and held it over one of the glass retorts. 'This was one of the ingredients for a spell. It's made of ground bone and the stalk of some vegetation. But it is bone and plant life that none of us have ever encountered.' He dropped the dust into boiling liquid. Then he corked the retort and pushed a piece of copper tubing through a hole. The tubing ran into the maze of tubes and glass that made up his apparatus. Gamelan spun the blades of a small prayer wheel set up next to the device. We heard the faint sound of bells, as the wheel began its automatic chant. I knew little of magic then, but had no doubt the machine, linked somehow jo the prayer wheel, was born from my brother's and Janos Greycloak's discoveries in the Far Kingdoms.

  Gamelan made no explanation. He turned back to us as if the apparatus had nothing to do with our conversation.

  'Tell her the rest,'Jinnah urged. 'Tell her what you have learned.'

  Without preface, Gamelan said: 'We have found unmistakable evidence that the Archon and his brother were only days away from creating that weapon we all so feared. What's worse, the Archons had prepared for possible defeat by making duplicates of all their equipment and notes. Those things were placed in special trunks that cannot be penetrated by any natural or sorcerous force. When our friend fled on Lord Symeon's ships those trunks went with him.'

  My innards gave a lurch. I turned to Jinnah, angry. 'Storm, or no storm, we should be out there right now hunting him down. What possessed Cholla Yi to turn back? Symeon didn't have much of a start on him. And I've no doubt that pirate has faced worse tempests before.'

  'Admiral Cholla Yi did his best,' Jinnah sa
id. 'But he did not have the means to press the chase.'

  'He wanted more money, I suppose.' I did nothing to disguise my disgust.

  Jinnah nodded. 'Naturally. We fight for ideals. He fights, for coin. Besides, he needs more ships, supplies, and a greater force so that when we catch the Archon, we can finish the job.'

  It suddenly came to me that the general was being altogether too casual. What was the purpose of this meeting? Why was he wasting time telling me all this? I was but one of his officers. Instead of telling me his plans, Jinnah should have been issuing the pertinent orders. An expedition needed to be mounted immediately. The greater the distance the Archon and Symeon put between us and their ships, the more difficult it would be to capture and defeat them. As we spoke an Orissan commander of sea-experienced soldiers should have been readying his men to board Cholla Yi's ships to resume the chase, just as I should have been putting my women in motion for a quick march home to take up guard in case the Archon somehow found the means to threaten Orissa. All the talk of doomsday weapons and slippery wizards reminded me of the Maranon Guard's historic duty to keep Orissa safe. Then it began to dawn what Jinnah had in mind.

  Before the realization was fully formed, he said, in the most oily manner imaginable: 'You'll be pleased to know, Captain, that I've decided the Maranon Guard should have the honour o(this most vital mission.'

  'That's foolishness, sir,' I retorted. 'My soldiers are more battle-weary than any others in our army. Or are you forgetting today's battle?'

  'Of course I'm not, dear Captain,' he oozed. 'It was your courage and theirs I had uppermost in my mind when I made my decision.'

  I knew instantly what he was about. He was as transparent as any courtesan's dancing veil. With me out of the way, Jinnah would be able to shift the glory my Guard had won onto his own shoulders. As well as a jackal pack's worth of the booty from our defeated enemy.

  'Yes, indeed,' Jinnah continued. 'This is a mission of such importance that only one woman is suitable for it. The Hero of Lycanth. Captain Rali Emilie Antero.'

  I knew I was lost, but I tried one more sally. 'I'd be glad to oblige, General,' I said, as smoothly as I could. 'And we all thank you for the singular honour, but the Maranon Guard's duty is at home. As a matter of fact, I was going to come by in the morning, and ask you for my orders.'

  'You can have them now,' Jinnah said. 'But you won't be going home. As I said, this is a task for a hero. And a hero it shall have. As, no doubt, the Magistrates shall agree when I toast you at the victory feast in Orissa a few weeks hence.'

  Hux and the other aides sniggered.

  Jinnah's next words came in a growl of command. 'You and your women will join Admiral Yi at first light. Your orders are to pursue the Archon. You will find him and kill him. You will spare no effort, no cost, no life, until you find him and kill him. What's more, I order you not to return until that goal has been accomplished. Do I make myself clear?'

  It was like a banishment, as if my women and I were being punished for our success - which we were.

  You seem as stunned as I was, Scribe. The histories that have been written of those events make no mention of Jinnah's motives, do they? Welcome to the side of the world that women dwell in, my friend. It's quite cramped, for men require - and command - a great deal more room than me and my sisters. It's quite cold over here, as well, Scribe. The fuel for our fires has been rationed, you see. It has been deemed that we only need enough to warm childish pride in our looks, the ability to win a bed mate, and to keep hearth, children and kitchen clean. And it's quite gloomy. You don't need much light when you're a mere reflection of men.

  I stared long and hard at Jinnah after he had spoken. I tried to will him to call back his words. But I wouldn't, and perhaps from his view couldn't, retreat. I wanted to shout that the Guard was a land force, and had been so since its inception. We had no experience with the sea. I wanted to curse him for trying to steal the glory that only an hour before I'd disdained. I wanted to plead with him - not for my life - but for my sisters' lives. How many now had a hope of returning to Orissa's blessed shores? But I couldn't do any of those things. Orders had been clearly given, no matter how insane.

  But I didn't give him the least satisfaction in seeing my turmoil, my fears. Nor did I click my bootheels and fire off my crispest salute. For he did not deserve this respect. And respect was all I could deny him.

  So, I merely nodded. And said: 'Very well, sir. But if I am to do this, I must insist on one thing.'

  'What is that, Captain Antero?' Jinnah sneered. He did not dare retort that I could insist on nothing. After all, the general himself had called me the Hero of Lycanth. How can one deny a hero?

  'I want complete command of this expedition, sir. Cholla Yi is to be told in no uncertain terms that my every whim is to be instandy obeyed. Obviously, I will not misuse this, sir. I will leave to him matters of the sea. But in the hunt, itself, and in any conflict, it is my word that must rule.'

  Jinnah laughed unpleasantly. 'The admiral and I have already discussed these things, Captain,' he said. 'I made quite clearwhat role he is to play.'

  More sniggering from Hux and the other aides.

  'Sir, I request that you repeat all that I have said in a formal conference with Admiral Yi.'

  'If you think it's necessary, Captain,'Jinnah replied, 'I shall be glad to do so.'

  He turned to take leave. 'I'll call a meeting within the hour.'

  Then I heard Gamelan croak. 'One moment, General.'

  Jinnah stopped. He looked at the old wizard, a frown of worry creasing his too-handsome features. Was Gamelan going to somehow interfere? I had such wild hopes myself, but Gamelan quickly dashed them.

  'An Evocator will need to be assigned to this expedition,' he said.

  'Choose whom you please,' the general replied.

  'Oh, I shall? Gamelan snapped, making certain Jinnah realized the Chief Evocator's choices were his and his alone to make. 'And I choose myself.'

  Jinnah gaped. 'But that's ... but you're ...'

  'Too old?' Gamelan snorted. 'That's the very reason why I shall go. The work that remains to be done here would be best dealt with by younger wizards. And, I dare say I am more of a match for my sorcerous cousin, the Archon, than any of my fellows. No, I believe this expedition will have a better chance if I am along.'

  I saw delight in Jinnah's eyes: two enemies with one blow. He could not have hoped for more. 'May the blessings of Te-Date be upon you,' he intoned.

  Gamelan didn't answer. He was fussing with his apparatus again -acting as if he'd already forgotten the general's presence. After a long, somewhat embarrassing moment, Jinnah shook his head, and departed, his aides crowding around his heels like rock lizards just out of the egg scurry after their mother in case their father comes home to make an early dinner.

  I remained behind. I was beginning to get an inkling of the old man's ways.

  'Thank you,' I said.

  'For what, my dear Rali? For burdening you with someone with years as long as his beard?' He stroked the unkempt mass at his chin. Gamelan's eyes were a warm yellow, like a cheery hearth. Crooked teeth laughed through the grey thicket.

  'Just the same,' I said, 'until you spoke up, I thought this whole thing hopeless.'

  'You doubt your ability to carry it off?'

  'Not really,' I said. 'If the odds were even. But I do not think my commander intends for me to return. I believe he's more worried about his own reputation - and fortunes - than the safety of Orissa.'

  The yellow hearth of his eyes burned hotter. 'That was my opinion as well, Rali,' he said.

  For the first time I took note at how familiarly the wizard had begun to address me. As if he saw friendship in his future. At that instant, I welcomed that offer. Although, as an Antero, I was nervous about it. My family has not had good fortune with wizards. But we did not speak of such things then.

  'My distrust,' Gamelan continued, 'was the reason why I insisted I go along. We can giv
e the Archon no peace, or he will complete that weapon. It will take him longer than if he were allowed to remain untroubled in his chambers. Also, he does not have his brother to assist him. But we dare not let him rest in one place, or the victory here will be hollow indeed.'

  As I pondered that danger, Gamelan laughed. It is an odd thing to hear a wizard laugh. I have met many in my travels, and that human thing we all do so naturally does not come easy to them. Some shriek like a witch. Some croak like a mating frog. Some howl like direwolves greeting the moon. When he was happy, which I later learned was a rare thing in Gamelan's life, Gamelan hooted - like a great hunting owl. For the first time since we had met, I rather enjoyed that sound.

  'I have another reason,' Gamelan said. 'I must confess that it is quite selfish.'

  'And what is that?' I asked.

  'I remember the day when I gave permission for your brother and that rogue Greycloak to seek the Far Kingdoms. I sat on my throne of office, feeling like a little boy, instead of a wise old Evocator of much responsibility and power. I tell you, I would have traded that throne and every speck of knowledge and authority, if only I could have gone along.'

  Now, it was my turn to laugh. 'Adventure? Is that your poison, wizard?'

  Another hoot from Gamelan. 'I was born to it, Rali,' he said. 'But fate intervened. I was unlucky enough to be cursed with sorcerous talent. But that is another story, which I shall be delighted to bore you with on our voyage.'

  He shook his head and twisted his beard in great delight. 'Imagine. To speak of such things... storytelling, and voyages, and adventures. Why even now I feel quite like a youth again.'

  Indeed, he seemed to have dropped years in the few minutes that has passed since our conversation had begun. His cheeks above his beard had a rosy hue. His eyes were brighter. His form straighter. Why, he almost looked handsome. If my women were of a different bent, I dare say several of them would have been ready to come to blows for a chance to trip that old man up on a hearth rug. I swore to myself that sometime during our journey, if the moment presented itself, along with a comely woman who liked the company of men, that I would guide her to the wizard's bed.