The Temples Of Ayocan rb-14

by Джеффри Лорд

  But the other two had their swords out now. Blade had to ward off a down-cut from the one to the right as he swung his axe toward the left. The first man's sword clanged off Blade's guard, while at the same moment Blade's axe chopped into the second man's neck. The man's head did not fly off, but it lolled hideously. Blood spurted over Blade, and for a horrible moment he thought he was going to lose his grip on his sword.

  But he held onto it, feinted at his last opponent's head, then swung over and down to slash into the warrior's thigh. It was not a killing wound. But the warrior reeled out of Blade's path, and the stairway was open. Bloody axe and bloody sword waving, Blade tore up the stairs, taking them two and three at a time.

  He barely felt or saw the stone under his feet. It was a small miracle that he reached the top without falling. But he did, and before there were any sounds of pursuit from below. The whole battle had taken thirty seconds at most. The mass of stunned and amazed warriors below would only be recovering from the shock and getting ready to follow Blade.

  Several of Blade's men were on guard duty in the hut at the top of the temple mound. They had their swords already drawn when he came tearing up the stairs, no doubt alerted by the uproar from below. They stared at Blade as he darted toward the door. One of them raised a spear. Another asked, «Master, what is-?» But before he could complete the question, the door slid open. Several of Pterin's disguised Holy Warriors ran in, swords also drawn.

  But Blade was not caught by surprise. He shouted «Treason! Blasphemy!» over his shoulder. Then he grabbed one of the staring temple guards and shoved him hard into the path of the oncoming Holy Warriors. The wretched man screamed as three swords chopped into him. But his dying strength kept him on his feet, so that he plunged among the Holy Warriors. He and they went down with shouts and clatters of falling weapons and waving arms and legs. Blade leaped high, sailing clear over the tangle of bodies. He cut at an exposed head as he went, and landed outside in the cool darkness.

  There were other Holy Warriors still on guard outside, but Blade caught these by surprise. Before they could recover from that surprise, Blade had chopped down the only one who stood in his path. Before the others could close around Blade, he was out on the slope of the mound. The moon rode high over Dafar, brightly illuminating the slope. The stone was dry, and the footing was good. Blade thrust his sword into its scabbard, hung his axe on his belt, and settled down to run.

  As he hit his stride, Holy Warriors from inside the mound began pouring out. They were shouting and waving their arms. In the bright moonlight Blade could see blood on some of them. There had been a fight down below, that was obvious. But more and more Holy Warriors kept pouring out into the open. A few, braver or angrier than the rest, started down the mound after Blade. For the moment, he had a safe lead. But he went down the side of the slope at a dead run, the wind whistling in his ears and his feet thudding on the stone.

  He looked back again when he reached ground level. The Holy Warriors were coming after him now as fast as they could run. One at least came down the mound too fast. Blade saw him stumble and go rolling down the stone, arms and legs flying doll-like. But some of the others were coming down just as fast and staying on their feet. And now Blade saw that some of his pursuers were carrying spears. He would have to keep a longer lead than he had expected. One lucky hit or even a bad graze could slow him down enough to finish him.

  Where should he run? He wished now that he had spent more time exploring Dafar before entering the temple mound. But at least there had been maps in the temple mound. He knew that he was less than a mile from the edge of the built-up area of Dafar, where it spread out into the open country beyond. He did not know that country, but neither would Pterin's goon squads. With reasonable luck he would also find the people on his side, and against his pursuers. He turned toward the east, toward the open countryside, and once more settled down to run.

  As Blade and his pursuers raced up the moonlit streets, he was able to keep a good twenty yards between him and them without effort. He would have liked to widen the gap still more. Twenty yards was too easy a spearcast, even for men perhaps not used to the weapon. But for the moment there were more than twenty of the Holy Warriors tearing along after him, too many to risk fighting when they could see him coming and get ready to face him. When some of them started dropping out, however. .

  The chase continued in deadly silence. The Holy Warriors had no wish to arouse a hostile people from their sleep. And Blade had even less wish to involve innocent people in a fight with the Holy Warriors of Ayocan. But, on the other hand, if they met a troop of King Thambral's soldiers. .

  They met none, and the chase continued in lonely silence. Only the thud of feet on the dirty stones of the street and the heaving breathing of hard-running men broke that silence. Blade risked another look behind him. A few of the Holy Warriors had dropped out or back, but a good fifteen were still coming on hard. Pterin must indeed have picked the very best of all the Holy Warriors of Chiribu's temples to follow him on his mission.

  What would happen to the Gonsaran temple mounds, now that Pterin was dead? In particular, what would happen to Isgon and Natrila for sheltering Blade? With Pterin dead, there might be no one of rank superior to Isgon. The Gonsaran Elder Brother would then once more be ruler in his own House. On the other hand, there might be another Elder Brother among Pterin's followers, ready to deal with Isgon and Natrila. How he would deal with them was not a pleasant thought.

  But there was another equally unpleasant thought, one that Blade could not shake off. If Isgon survived and regained control of the Gonsaran temples, he would not be out of danger. Another Elder Brother could always descend on him, with an even larger force of disguised Holy Warriors and perhaps Death-Vowed. Isgon's only hope for survival would be to launch his Death-Vowed against the rulers of Gonsara as soon as he could. With Gonsara thrown into chaos by his efforts, he would have a strong card to play if any protests or threats came down on his head.

  And if Isgon fell? Whoever succeeded him would have an equal need for a swift success. He would have to knit the shaken and divided Gonsaran temple mounds together again into a fighting unit. Such a man would be just as likely as Isgon to order out the Death-Vowed.

  Blade had planned to flee into the country and remain there for a time. Within a week or two the hunt for him would die out, and he could safely return to Dafar and find means of passing what he had learned on to King Thambral. But now he would have no time. He would have to get to King Thambral as fast as possible and warn him.

  All this ran through Blade's mind in a few seconds, without slowing down his pounding feet. Now he once more tried to recall the maps of Dafar. The High Palace of the Kings lay not far from the river, on the northern edge of the city. For the moment, Blade was running almost directly away from it. Could he turn about and cut back across Dafar toward the palace? Not without a fight with the dozen-odd men who were still on his trail.

  As he looked back toward them, the moonlight sparked on a raised spearhead. Then the spear flashed through the air toward Blade. He cut sharply to the right. The spear sailed past him. Blade heard the wsssh it made cutting through the air and the clank its bronze point made on the stones. A moment later another spear sailed toward him, and again he had to shift sideways. Again the spear missed, but this time bits of stone gouged up by its point hit Blade in the leg. If he turned back toward the river, he would be giving his enemies a chance to cut him off, more than a chance to put at least one spear through him. And one would be enough.

  But not far from the edge of the city the map had shown a second royal palace. The Summer Palace of the Queen, the map had called it. Blade remembered that, and he also remembered what King Hurakun had said about the current Queen of Gonsara. Young, Hurakun had told him, and susceptible to being influenced. A good person for Blade to start with, now that he had a tale to tell. Even if the queen herself were not at the Summer Palace, certainly he could find a sanctuary there, and an
opportunity to quickly get word to King Thambral.

  The Summer Palace was barely half a mile away, almost due south from where Blade was now. He would still have to turn and risk being cut off. He threw another look backward. There were still ten or eleven men after him, at least half a dozen of them with spears.

  Blade took the first corner he came to at a dead run, swinging to the right without missing a step. The new street sloped upward slightly. Blade hoped that would slow his pursuers more than it would him. But he could not help realizing that his own breath was beginning to come short, his legs starting to ache, and his eyes to sting from the sweat pouring down into them.

  His pursuers made the turn and flung themselves after him. One of them also flung a spear, and this time Blade felt the disturbed air of its passage on his skin. An inch closer, and the spear would have hit him. He forced his legs to move faster, and saw the gap between him and his pursuers open up a little. Not much, but enough so that the next two spearcasts came nowhere near him.

  The slope was getting steeper now, and the houses on either side of the street were larger and more luxurious. Once Blade saw a head stuck out of a bronze-decorated gatehouse as he pounded past. Then the owner of the head saw Blade's pursuers, and hastily withdrew.

  Still steeper, still higher, and now the branches of tall trees trailed over the street. Twigs and leaves flogged Blade's face as he ran, and he felt his eyes water and small cuts open on his skin. The blood ran freely out onto his sweat-slick cheeks and mixed with his perspiration. For a moment he had to slow down. The men behind him promptly gained several yards. Another spear whistled toward him. The trailing branches dragged it to a stop in midair and it clattered onto the stone well behind Blade. Then he was out from under the trees and in the open street again.

  As the men behind him struggled through the trees, Blade caught sight of a high gray wall less than a hundred yards ahead, closing off the end of the street. Most of the stone was heavily overgrown with climbing vines. But on one clear patch Blade saw the red-ox badge of the ruling house of Gonsara. The sight put extra strength into his legs. He was halfway to the wall before the men behind him burst out from under the trees.

  Another spear smacked into the stone behind him just as he reached the wall and leaped at the vines. For a sickening moment he felt them sag and tear under his weight. Was he going to be able to climb them after all? Then his hands gripped the heavier stalks, and he began pulling himself monkeylike up the wall.

  Behind him the sound of pounding feet died, as his pursuers stopped. Blade turned, and saw that four of them still carried spears. He turned back and began to climb faster. As long as he was on the wall he was a slow-moving, all but helpless target.

  But the wall was nearly thirty feet high. Long before Blade could reach the top the men behind began throwing their spears. He was halfway up when one smacked against the wall inches from his neck. And he was two-thirds of the way up when a second gashed his thigh. He bit back a gasp and continued climbing. A third spear sailed past him as he reached the top of the wall and rolled himself up onto the flat vine-grown stones there.

  He looked quickly at the wound. By good luck it was only a shallow flesh wound, from which the blood oozed slowly. It would handicap him in a fight or a run, but it would not kill him. Then he looked down the inside of the wall-and swallowed.

  At the foot of the wall a wide moat of scummy water lapped at the moss-grown stones. In the water Blade could see silvery dartings and leapings, and once a fish leaped entirely clear of the water. It was one of the tiny carnivores from the river. Even if he hadn't recognized it, he would have known what lurked in the water. The bare and bleached skeletons of animals-cats, dogs, goats — and men lay half-submerged in the shallow water along the inner side of the moat.

  The moat was at least ten feet wide. And on the inner side was a thorny hedge, another ten feet wide and at least ten feet high. Blade looked down into the street again. The men were still there, and now they had been joined by half a dozen more. The newcomers all carried spears. Getting back down the outside of the wall was hopeless. He would be skewered like a butterfly on a pin before he was halfway down.

  Climb down inside, then. No, jump. He would have to clear the moat-falling among the fish would be certain death. The thorns at least would not kill him. Blade rolled over toward the inner edge of the wall, keeping as flat against the stone as he could. Even so, the motion must have attracted attention from outside. Still another spear flashed past him, clearing the wall and the moat, falling into the hedge with a crackle of branches. Blade hoped that wouldn't alert sentries inside. All he needed was to be skewered by other spears as he tried to untangle himself from the hedge.

  Now he was on the inner edge of the wall. He took a deep breath and rose to a crouch. Again the motion attracted attention, again a spear flew at him. This one laid open the back of his left hand, making him wince. His luck was about to run out. Another deep breath. He braced himself, gritting his teeth at the pain from his gashed thigh. Then arms and legs uncoiled in a single mighty snap of muscles, and he was flying through the air.

  He was falling as he flew, and the black scummy waters of the moat were coming up at him fast. For a moment he felt a chill certainty that he was going to land in the water among the fish. Then the water was no longer under him, and it was the thorn bushes that were coming up fast. They came up very fast, and then they rose around him and he landed with a terrific crash of branches.

  The springy branches sagged and bent under Blade's weight, and the thorns slashed and pricked at his skin. The impact of his landing carried him almost down to the ground, the thorns gashing his skin every inch of the way. He ended up spread-eagled in the bushes, so thoroughly tangled in the branches and the creepers that he could barely move.

  As his head cleared, he realized that he was near the inner edge of the bushes. He realized that small insects were already beginning to whine around him, attracted by the blood and sweat on his skin. And he realized with another shock that a tall figure stood on the grass just inside the hedge. Eyes gleamed in its face; eyes fixed on him.

  Chapter 11

  Blade tried frantically to wriggle out of the bushes, ignoring the extra stabs he received from the thorns. But the branches and vines held him as tightly as the tentacles of an octopus. After a moment he relaxed. If the person standing there watching him wanted to put a spear through him, there wasn't much he was going to be able to do about it. His axe had been torn from his belt when he hit the bushes, and he could not get at his sword.

  Blade had just realized that the onlooker was unarmed, when the person threw back his head and laughed merrily. No-her head. It was a full, rich woman's voice, no mistaking that. Blade had to admit that perhaps his predicament was amusing to somebody else, but not to him. He muttered a string of curses under his breath. Then he started all over again on his efforts to untangle himself from the thorny hedge.

  This time he was able to get a hand on the hilt of his sword, draw it, and lay into the branches. He would have given a good deal for a steel machete, but even the cold-worked bronze sword was better than bare hands. Bit by bit the branches and vines fell away from around him. After what seemed like hours, he finally staggered out of the hedge. His head was swimming from fatigue and loss of blood, but he managed to retrieve his axe. Then he very nearly fell flat on his face at the woman's feet. She laughed again, the laughter fading off into a giggle. Blade looked down at himself, and realized that he was for all practical purposes naked from his sandals up. The thorn-studded branches had ripped his shorts to bloody rags. He felt like swearing again, but this time kept silent. He had the sensation that the woman was sizing him up, and that it would be wisest to submit quietly to her examination. He stood there in silence, trying to keep his face expressionless and his hand away from his sword. He tried with less success to ignore the insects that continued to swarm around him.

  Finally the woman appeared to have completed her examinat
ion, and laughed again. «Who or what pursued you, my friend? You came leaping over the walls as though starving wolves were after you.»

  Blade was not sure how much he should tell this woman. She was obviously of high rank, to be wandering freely in the Queen's Summer Palace. There were a fair number among the ruling class in Gonsara sympathetic to the cult of Ayocan. On the other hand, there were many who hated it as thoroughly as the average Gonsaran. Which was this woman? He saw her gaze harden, as she saw him hesitating.

  «Well?»

  «I was fleeing from Holy Warriors of the cult of the bat-god Ayocan. In some way I had incurred the enmity of the cult.»

  The woman's eyes widened, and her jaw set hard. There was anger in her, but anger at what? Him or the cult? Blade found it hard not to hold his breath.

  Then to his relief the woman herself let out an oath. «Damn them! Thambral swore he would never let Holy Warriors into Gonsara. They must have slipped them in secretly. Do you know how they came to have Holy Warriors to pursue you?»

  «I can tell you, my lady,» said Blade shortly. Relief that the woman was at least for the moment on his side made him abrupt. «But I would rather not do it here. It is a rather public place. The men who pursued me may still be outside, and they have spears. If-«

  But he did not need to explain any more. The woman nodded and pointed toward the looming bulk of the palace. «You will indeed tell me.» Now her voice was that of one accustomed to being obeyed. — «But you need not do it here.» Without a further word she turned her back on Blade, ignoring his drawn sword, and strode away through the trees. She moved so fast that in his battered state he had to push himself to keep up with her.

  She led him to a door on the ground floor of the palace, a small but heavy brass-bound door half-screened by tall bushes and short trees. It opened on a narrow staircase with a ceiling so low that Blade had to bend his neck to keep from bumping his head on the plastered stone. At the top of the stairs another door opened into a small, dimly lit antechamber. Pointed archways led from it into several other rooms. The woman motioned to a carved chest with cushions on top of it that stood in one corner.