by Джеффри Лорд
If he hadn't been able to lay hands on his sword and axe, his situation would have been desperate. But he found both and snatched them up just as the door gave inward, with a splintering of wood and a spang of metal hinges coming apart. Three of the Death-Vowed charged through the open doorway, eyes wide in frenzy and mouths open.
They were too blind with fury and the drug that was in them to notice Blade until he leaped at them. The first one he struck died in mid-scream. The scream was cut off abruptly as Blade's axe smashed through the man's ribs and tore apart everything behind them. Then the scream became a gurgle as blood welled up in the man's throat and spurted out of his mouth. The man's terrible drug given vitality kept him on his feet and moving forward. But he was now only a blinded, maimed animal, blundering forward until he collided with the wall and fell to the rug.
The death of the first Death-Vowed alerted the other two. But they were blindly, madly determined to have Blade's death, so they did not retreat. At least not far enough to escape him. His sword whistled low and took one in the thigh. His axe struck overhand and came down on a shoulder, shearing through flesh and bone. Neither blow killed, but both crippled. This time the two Death-Vowed did draw back, enough for Blade to charge between them and out into the corridor.
Now the two Death-Vowed ignored Blade, and lurched forward into the queen's chambers. Would they have enough strength left to find Jaskina and strike her down? For a moment Blade considered going back to finish them off and save the queen. It went against his grain to leave any woman to be slaughtered like a pig by the Death-Vowed of Ayocan.
That moment of doubt was enough for three more of the Death-Vowed to come charging down the hall. In front of them ran one of the deaf-mute servant girls, her mouth open in what should have been a scream of terror. It stayed open in agony as the Death-Vowed caught her and sank their axes into her skull, shoulders, and back. Blood spurted from her mouth as she fell forward and writhed on the carpet. The axes sank into her back again, and she lay still.
Before the Death-Vowed could free their axes and rise to meet Blade, his own weapons came down at them. His sword sliced through the back of a neck, a ragged and imperfect cut that left the head dangling. But not even a Death-Vowed's unnatural vitality could keep the man on his feet after that wound. He fell onto the body of his victim, and lay still.
Before the first Death-Vowed struck the floor, Blade's axe smashed into the forehead of the second. But his bandaged left hand could not grip the axe properly, and it turned in his hand as he struck. Only the flat of the head struck the Death-Vowed, and that only half-stunned him. He took a lurching step forward, and his sword came down with a clang on Blade's, so hard that the shock ran up Blade's arm and jarred his whole body.
Blade backed away, feinted at the man's head again with his axe, and then slashed sideways at the man's stomach. The Death-Vowed was moving forward at that moment, and the tip and a good six inches of bronze sank into his stomach. In the next moment the third Death-Vowed leaped at Blade, striking with both sword and axe. Blade blocked, the axe with his own. But his sword was just pulling free of his second victim's stomach. The third Death-Vowed's sword came down on Blade's with a terrible crash. This time the shock was so great that even Blade's unwounded right hand could not keep its grip on his sword. The sword fell to the rug. The Death-Vowed closed again. He screamed in triumph as well as rage when he saw that he now had two weapons against a man armed with only one.
Blade saved himself by another tremendous leap. It opened a gap six feet wide between him and the last Death-Vowed. For a moment the two men-the one that was still human and the one whose humanity had been sucked out of him by the cult of Ayocan-stood staring at each other.
In that moment another scream, more ghastly than anything that had come before, echoed down the hall. Unmistakably it was a woman's voice. And it was coming from Queen Jaskina's chambers. The two Death-Vowed Blade had maimed but not killed had indeed found her. Now all her plans and schemes were dying under their bronze swords and stone axes.
Blade would not have regretted that too much even if he had been able to spare the time and thought for the dying queen. The scream was still hanging in the air when several things happened almost at once. The third Death-Vowed charged at Blade, waving both sword and axe, screaming in a voice that drowned out Jaskina's death rattle. Blade leaped aside from the man's rush and set his back against the wall, raising his axe.
As he did so, screams and pounding footsteps sounded from his right. Two more Death-Vowed burst out of the stairway there. But they reeled and lurched as they ran, and the chest of one and the back of the other were pumping blood. They charged blindly past Blade and straight into their advancing comrade. They struck just as blindly at him as they would have at Blade. And their comrade was too surprised to defend himself. He died with his eyes widening in amazement and his mouth widening in a scream of terror.
Somehow the realization that they had slain one of their own penetrated the minds of the two surviving Death-Vowed. They stood motionless, eyes wide and staring down at the body slumping to the rug at their feet. Before they could move to meet the new threat, Blade struck. His axe chopped deeply into one man's thighbone, then rose in a whistling arc to slice cleanly through a neck. The severed head soared into the air, then dropped to the rug with a thump and rolled over and over toward the head of the stairs.
It stopped rolling almost at the feet of two gigantic men in the pantaloons and sashes of Gonsaran soldiers. They popped out of the stairway like genies from bottles. Then they stopped with blood-smeared swords in their hands, and stared down the corridor. Their eyes took in the blood on the rugs and walls, the sprawled bodies, and Blade leaning against the wall. Their swords came up as their eyes fell on him. And he straightened and raised his axe as he felt their gaze on him.
«Who in the name of the eighty-one spirits of death are you?» snapped the smaller of the two soldiers.
Blade took a deep breath. «A warrior of the English.»
«Who in the name of-?» began the same warrior, but his comrade stopped him.
«Have you been fighting the Death-Vowed of Ayocan?» said the second warrior.
Blade was too weary to be polite. «What does it look like?»
The warrior grinned briefly. «I see. Well, the fighting is over for the moment. I think-«
It was Blade's turn to interrupt. «I think you had best see to Queen Jaskina. I saw two of the Death-Vowed enter her chambers, and heard screams. And I also think you would do well to take me to King Thambral. I have much to say to him that concerns the safety of Gonsara, and I would prefer to save it for his ears alone.»
How Blade managed to scrape up enough strength to speak in that commanding tone, he never knew. But it did the job. Accustomed from long training to obey any order snapped out in the appropriate tone of voice, the two soldiers bowed their heads. Then the first one turned and shouted down the stairs.
«Come up, come up, comrades. The Death-Vowed are slain, and a man here seeks audience with King Thambral.»
Chapter 19
It took the Gonsarans several days to sort out all the pieces and count the bodies. And they had more important things to do than keep Blade informed about the proceedings. So Blade spent those several days in «protective custody» in the basement of the Summer Palace. He wasn't sure if the Gonsarans were more interested in the «protection» or the «custody.» But his cell was dry, warm, and well furnished, and the food and drink were both good and abundant. So he assumed he was in reasonably good standing with the Gonsaran authorities. At least he was not suspected of sympathy with the cult of Ayocan. Whether he was suspected of having had something to do with Queen Jaskina's death, he wasn't sure. Apparently nobody gave much thought to the late queen. Considering what she had been planning or at least hoping for, neither did Blade.
But bits and pieces of information did trickle into Blade's gilded cage. Out of those bits and pieces Blade put together a fairly good pictu
re of what had happened the night of Jaskina's death and for a day and a night afterward.
When the uproar in the temple mound caused by Pterin's death was over, Isgon had indeed regained command. And Blade's guess had been right. The priest saw that throwing Gonsara into chaos was his best chance of survival. So the Death-Vowed had gone out, more than three hundred of them in one massive and desperate attack.
But they had not fallen upon unwarned or unprepared victims. The man in the gatehouse who had watched Blade and his pursuers rush past had sent the word to his master. His master, one of Thambral's principal generals, had alerted his own troops and also sent word to the High Palace.
The defense could not be perfect, nor was it. Jaskina's guards and servants had been overpowered and some forty of them besides the queen herself slaughtered. One of the royal princes had also died, with his wife and two of their children and various guards and servants. But Thambral had four other sons and five daughters. There had also been casualties among the high military and civilian functionaries.
King Thambral himself spent that night in the Refuge Chamber of the High Palace. It had been built for just such disorderly occasions, and it served the House of the Red Ox well. To get to Thambral, the Death-Vowed would have had to slay every fighting man in the palace and then break through twenty feet of solid stone. They did not even do the first, although every one of them died trying.
Much the same happened to the Death-Vowed elsewhere. When dawn rose over Dafar, almost the entire three hundred lay dead in their blood in palaces and streets and gardens. And then King Thambral emerged from the Refuge Chamber, addressed his soldiers from the balcony of the High Palace, and sent them out to destroy the cult of Ayocan in his kingdom.
This they did. The priests died to the last man, from Isgon down to the newest Brother with the ink barely dry on his vows. So did the Holy Warriors, who fought back with a courage and skill that was a credit to Blade's training, if not to their own judgment. Strict orders spared the slaves and eunuchs and temple prostitutes. The soldiers merely rounded these up and confined them while the killing of the priests and Holy Warriors went on to its end. By the evening of the second day there was not a known Brother or Holy Warrior of Ayocan alive in Dafar. And troops of cavalry were pounding out of the capital in all directions, to purge and cleanse the other cities of Gonsara in the same way.
On the morning of the fourth day, Blade was called before King Thambral. By then, the only thing he did not know that preyed on his mind was the fate of Natrila. It would be a hard fate for the poor girl, to be swept away with her father in the general slaughter of all who were thought to serve Ayocan.
King Thambral met Blade in his private Hall of Audience, hung with trophies of arms and wild beasts taken or slain in the king's younger days. Those were far behind now. The years had thinned him down to almost skeletal leanness, and whitened his hair. He looked as though a strong wind might carry him away into the sky. But his eyes were clear and intense, and his voice low but clear as he interrogated Blade.
Blade held back nothing about his mission in Gonsara nor about what he had done the night of the cult's attack. He felt he could trust the old king to judge wisely. But he still had tense moments when he finished his story and stood with Thambral gazing silently at him.
Then Thambral's wrinkled lips creased in a brief smile. «Well, Richard Blade. That is a considerable story you have told me.»
«It is only the truth, your Majesty.»
«I know that,» said Thambral testily. «I am not doubting your word. You appear honest, and much of what you have said I have also heard from others. But it is still most impressively full of adventures survived and perils escaped. Your wits seem to work as fast as your sword.»
«I hope so, your Majesty.»
«So do I. You are not through with your service to the House of the Red Ox. You will give me good service for some time yet, whether King Hurakun says yea or nay. Otherwise. .» Thambral brought his hands together and made a neck-twisting gesture. Blade nodded.
Thambral went on. «I do not see King Hurakun saying nay, though. You need only help with the final destruction of the cult of Ayocan. When they are gone from the earth, you may return to Hurakun's service. You may even return to your own people, for all that I care.»
Blade was surprised by the fierceness in Thambral's voice as he spoke of the cult. The surprise must have shown on his face. Thambral smiled again and said, «You wonder that I speak so against the Ayocani? I did not, once. I wanted to live at peace for the few years remaining to me, at peace even with the Ayocani. But peace is something that both must seek for both to have it. The cult certainly seeks no peace. And therefore they shall not have it.»
He sighed. «I grieve somewhat that you slew that Elder Brother, Pterin. He would have been most informative about the plans of the cult, I imagine. Of course he would doubtless have had to have been encouraged a trifle before he spoke. But I have those in my service who can encourage a stone statue to speak if they are given enough time.»
Blade shrugged. «At the time I could hardly spare him, your Majesty. I needed his silence, not his speech.»
«To be sure,» said Thambral. «I am not going to pass judgment on you. We will have enough to lay before Hurakun to persuade him as it is.»
«And if he is difficult to persuade?» Blade ventured. «The cult has enough true members in Chiribu to somewhat tie Hurakun's hands.»
«Somewhat, indeed,» said Thambral. «But he had best untie his own hands, or face war with Gonsara. Yes, I know that could play directly into the hands of the Ayocani. But there are none of those left in Gonsara. None to rule it or even to strike at it from the rear. And as for Hurakun-«Thambral shrugged. «You know him as well as I do. Would you say he would really rejoice in fighting Gonsara to aid only the Ayocani?»
Blade had to laugh at the idea. «Hardly, your Majesty. He would march to such a war with all the eagerness of a boy on his way to school. And he would be glad of any reasonable excuse not to march at all.»
Thambral smiled. «I thought as much. Then we shall give him such an excuse. The orders to mobilize my army have already gone out, and likewise the orders to my River Fleet. We shall put one army marching over land, and another aboard the fleet to sail up the river. Thus we can carry war into the very heart of Chiribu if we choose. But I do not think we will have to do so. Tell me, Blade. How many of Hurakun's subjects are so devoted to Ayocan that they will see their homes and crops burned and their families slaughtered to avenge the offended honor of the bat-god?»
Blade's face gave his answer. «Exactly,» went on Thambral. «Hurakun can say to his people, 'Is it truly your wish that I lead you by the tens of thousands to your deaths in battle merely for the sake of Ayocan?' I wonder how many of them will say yes?»
Blade had to laugh out loud. «Your Majesty, I am beginning to think King Hurakun had no need to send me to your lands. The true gods know the Ayocani had no need for another enemy in Gonsara. Not with you sitting on the throne.»
Thambral laughed also. «For that compliment you deserve some reward above what I was already planning to give you.»
«Your Majesty?»
Thambral made no reply, but instead rang a bell. A servant ran in and prostrated himself before Thambral. The king murmured a few words, inaudible to Blade, into the man's ear, and dismissed him.
The servant was back within a few minutes. Behind him were four soldiers carrying a curtained litter. Thambral smiled at the bewilderment on Blade's face. «Go on, Blade. Open the king's gift.» Blade stepped up to the litter, jerked open the curtain-and Natrila wriggled out and into his arms. When he had untangled himself from her and could turn to face the king, Thambral was grinning still more broadly. «She should not have said that she was Isgon's daughter. When she said that, my soldiers very nearly slew her on the spot. But when she mentioned your name, she was saved.» Thambral stood up and made a gesture of dismissal. Blade bowed and started to lead Natrila out of
the chamber.
He was just passing out the door when Thambral called after him. «Don't use up all your strength on her, Blade. Save some of it for the march north. We will be on our way within a week, perhaps two at the most. And you will be with me.»
Chapter 20
Twenty thousand of Thambral's soldiers were on the march north from Dafar within a week. Meanwhile ships and barges and war galleys came into the docks of Dafar from all along the river. Five thousand armed soldiers and ten thousand more soldiers climbed aboard them, and two weeks later they sailed north. Toward the middle of the third week, a messenger came to Blade in the gray dawn as he lay beside Natrila. Before she had drifted off to sleep, she had said she was carrying his child.
«Warrior Blade, King Thambral commands you.»
«How?»
«That you be aboard his flagship at noon today. He sails to join his fleet and army on the borders of Gonsara.»
«I will be there.»
It cost him more pain than he had expected, to say goodbye to Natrila. She was as worried about him as if he had been going into a full-scale war. And he also knew- that it was long odds against his being able to return to her. He had been in this dimension a good while now. Sooner or later Lord Leighton's computer would reach out across the dimensions and grasp his brain, plucking him home like a ripe fruit from a branch.
But after all the goodbyes, he was aboard Thambral's flagship when it sailed that noon. And he was on board it ten days later when it caught up with the rest of the Gonsaran forces. The fleet almost blocked the river, and the tents and horse-lines of the soldiers covered the land for a mile along either bank. The clear sky was hazed gray with smoke from the campfires on the land and the cookfires in the brick furnaces aboard the hundreds of ships.
Thambral's plan had worked-so far. The Gonsarans outnumbered the Chiribuan forces on the spot five or six to one. More important, the Chiribuans freely admitted they had orders to avoid a fight at almost all costs. If the Gonsarans did not cross the frontier, there would be no fighting.