Ice Dragon rb-10

by Джеффри Лорд

  But that was assuming total failure of the assault on the stronghold, and at the very least the hundred twenty should wipe out most of the Ice Master’s guards and smash everything smashable in the stronghold. Blade’s raiders were picked for their condition; they had body armor (leather cuirasses and helmets) which the Ice Master’s guards seemed to lack; they had half a dozen crossbows; they had twenty of the little bombs that Blade had used on the fliers. The crossbows could outrange anything the guards carried (and that was perhaps why they had been absent from the Ice Master’s stronghold; too dangerous to the Menel, able to strike from beyond the range of those long arms with their terrible pincers). And while Stramod suspected that the Pi-field would probably prevent the bombs from going off, a way might be found to turn off the Pi-field, and in any case the bombs didn’t weigh very much.

  If they took the stronghold, what about the Menel? The Menel, who were destroying this world as a home for humans-but to make it a home for their own race. They were intelligent beings; not to be wiped out as the guards would be. Blade wished he had an answer beyond that. As far as the fighting was concerned, he had given his orders: the green monsters (so he told the Treduki) or the Ice Master’s new creations (he told the Graduki) were to be avoided if possible, fought only if necessary, and never killed.

  But after the fighting, then what? He would have to try to improvise some sort of communication system, at least one that might convey to the Menel that their ally the Ice Master was dead and they would have to deal with a new group of humans now. Perhaps if the Menel realized that there were many intelligent human beings, instead of merely the Ice Master…? But speculation beforehand was pointless.

  He turned back to watch the land roll away below, reversing the sequence it had followed on the way south-forest, mountain, tundra, then the endless glacier. He was glad the hold had no windows; the Treduki at least might be badly shaken by learning how far into the forbidden glacier lands they were going.

  He came into the stronghold flying high, wide, and open, gambling that the more he looked like a regular run coming in from the Dragon lair, the less the Menel would be likely to pay attention to him and perhaps shoot him down. The gamble paid off. He settled the flier down on the ice within a few convenient yards of the main door, ordered the rest of the raiders to stay put for the time being, and climbed down on to the ice through the same emergency hatch that had landed him in a manure heap the first time he used it. He smiled at the memory, then quickly erased the smile from his face as the door opened and four guards stepped out.

  He tensed as they approached, for here was another moment of test. If these were Menel-conditioned guards, his asking for the Ice Master might be fatal, depending on how far the Ice Master and the Menel had fallen out by now. He was carrying a sword, however, and two crossbows were covering him from the hatch. If the guards had orders to kill him, they would pay for those orders on the spot and the rest of the raiders would tumble out posthaste and go in shooting. And he could rely on Stramod and Nilando to be as careful about saving Leyndt and the slaves and Girls and not killing the Menel if possible as he would be himself. But-

  «Welcome, Blade,» said the lead guard. «The Master has been waiting for you. You and your guards shall come to his quarters at once. It is the safest place.» Blade noticed that the guards’ spears and swords were well-battered, which they had not been the first time he passed this way, and that one of them had a white bandage stuck to where his right ear should have been. Blade spent a few seconds assessing the guard’s tone for possible deception, then nodded and gave the signal for disembarkation.

  Nilando must have had the whole raiding force champing at the bit, because almost at once there was a solid bang of an opening hatch and many smaller bangings as many pairs of booted feet carried their owners out of the flier and onto the ice. Except for ten men left behind to guard the flier, everybody was going. As they came around the nose of the flier Blade saw some of them slipping and sliding on the ice as they tried to match Nilando’s pace, but military dignity was the last thing to worry about now! In fact, the raiders’ looking a bit sloppy might put the Ice Master just a little more off guard.

  Blade formed the men up and the chief of the guard detail led the way into the stronghold. As they filed in, Blade heard behind him murmurs and awed gasps, and some pained yelps as the lights of the entrance chamber flared on, shattering the darkness. The guards led the way over to the patch of floor that Blade knew was the elevator platform, and stopped. So did Blade.

  This was another danger point. The elevator would not take more than half his force at a time, and that only with crowding; his force would be divided and vulnerable if attacked. He would have liked to have stayed behind with the rear guard, but neither Stramod nor Nilando could handle the bargaining with the Ice Master that might be needed down below, and they could certainly handle the fighting that might flare suddenly up here. He nodded to the first company, and forty men peeled off and assembled in the square formed by the guards. The elevator field came on, and the platform dropped into the darkness.

  They sank twice as fast as they had the first time Blade traveled this route, and as the elevator floated to a stop in the underground crossroads chamber the four guards at once sprang off the platform, landing in their fighting stances and glaring down all four corridors. The murmuring among the raiders took on a note of uneasiness, and Blade found himself swallowing, his mouth dry. The corridors stretched away under the light, untenanted now but he knew even better than the guards what might come striding-or lumbering squishily-along them.

  The platform soared up again through the ceiling and vanished into the darkness to bring the second company down; Blade walked around his men, keeping a firm grip on his sword hilt and noticing that many of the men were doing the same. The crossbows were still in their canvas bags; he had given strict orders on that. The fewer surprises for the Ice Master the better-at least before they were ready to spring the big surprise!

  Down came the platform; forty more men with Nilando at their head filed off it and joined the square around the platform. The sides of the square lengthened; Blade and Nilando stationed themselves inside it and kept watch down the corridors over the helmeted heads and through the spear points. A whisper of disturbed air, and the elevator shot up again. One more trip, and the raiders would be united again, andA sound of approaching footsteps brought Blade hard around, to stare down a corridor where a squat shadow now appeared on the ceiling, moving toward him at the same pace as the footsteps. A figure appeared, approached, took shape-Blade gave a small sigh of relief at recognizing the Ice Master-then swallowed again. The moment of action was nearing. As soon as the last load had arrived and taken its place in the square…

  The Ice Master’s face showed that the strain on him had not diminished during the last four days. Quite the reverse, in fact. The hand he extended to Blade shook as Blade grasped it, and he plucked at Blade’s cuirass in order to lead him aside from the men.

  «Blade,» he gasped, «thank all the spirits of space you are here. You brought-«

  «A hundred ten fighting men, fully equipped.»

  «Bless you. You will rule beside me when the day comes when I rule without the Menel. They want me to turn off the Pi-field, so they can enter here with modern weapons and kill all my guards. What’s to stop them from killing us all if they do that? What, I ask you?»

  Blade tried to calm the half-hysterical man with his level tone of voice. «Where are the Pi-field controls?»

  «In the Main Control, beside the Main Core chamber. The Menel will send their guards there and then come up themselves and be able to kill us all, all, all!» There was almost a screech in the last «all.»

  The elevator sailed down to the platform and Stramod led the last three squads off and into the square. Blade looked at the mutant, saw the loathing in his blue face as he stared at the Ice Master, looked back to the Ice Master, saw the man’s eyes bugging hysterically out of his red fac
e, made his decision. But there was one more question.

  «Where is Leyndt?»

  «Leyndt-oh, Leyndt. She-she is in my chambers. She-«and the sentence died as did the Ice Master, as Blade’s sword whipped out of its scabbard and came down in the same motion. The Ice Master’s eyes continued staring as he backed away from Blade, blood pouring down his tunic, the look in them changing from hysteria to amazement, then terror. Before they could change any further, the Ice Master sat down on the floor, then crumpled forward until his body was bent nearly double. All expression went out of his eyes and a trickle of blood flowed out of the corner of his mouth and dropped down into his beard.

  As the Ice Master crumpled, the four guards seemed to snap from their rigid sentry positions and whirled, swords drawn, to run at Blade. None of them got within reach of their swords-or of his. A crossbow went spung and one guard staggered and went down with blood spouting around a quarrel rammed through his throat; Stramod’s long arms flashed out and a throwing knife suddenly blossomed in the chest of a second; the other two were met by Treduki breaking ranks. One Treduk went down but so did both guards, and suddenly the chamber was empty except for the raiders and silent except for their heavy breathing.

  The silence held for long seconds, while everybody listened for any sign that the brief scuffle had been overheard. Then it broke up in a volley of sharp commands and the pound of feet as the raiders broke up into their previously arranged elements. Five fell in behind Blade and followed him down the corridor toward the Ice Master’s chambers at a pace that steadily increased to a dead run as Blade’s eagerness to get in and get Leyndt safely out increased. Most of the others scattered in half a dozen different directions, some to hold the heads of both elevator shafts to the lower levels, others to descend the stairs set in the walls of the stronghold.

  Those stairs were the key to Blade’s plan. Down them would go nearly two-thirds of the raiders, to liberate the slaves and Girls and to demolish if at all possible the Main Control and the Main Core and the entrance to the Menel settlements. Up them would come the slaves and Girls, with the raiders urging them on and forming a rear guard, or if possible blocking the stairs with the bombs, With the lifts held by Blade’s men, victory would go to him who held the stairs and could move up or down at will. Blade intended to see to it that his raiders held the stairs as well.

  Now they were coming up to the entrance to the Ice Master’s chambers. Blade brought his section to a halt; there were bound to be guards in the chambers. The door was closed, but Blade noticed with a faint chill that both it and the floor in front of it showed the marks of Menel claws. So they had been all the way up here. When would they come again?

  He shut off that line of thinking as the door slid open, to reveal a guard’s face peering suspiciously out over a spear point. Blade smiled disarmingly, then his arms rose and came down like sledgehammers, right fist smashing into the guard’s jaw and left hand snaking past the spear point to grab the hand holding the spear. He jerked the guard forward, wedging him in the door, then snatched a spear from one of the men behind him and began to pry the door the rest of the way open. In a moment there was a crackling sound and a cloud of foul blue smoke as something burned out, and the door slid easily open.

  Instantly Blade and his section dove to the scarred floor, as three guards hefted spears and hurled them. One of the men behind Blade was not quite fast enough; a spear caught him through the chest on the way down. But the others were up again in the same instant as Blade and barely a step behind him as he charged through the door at the three guards, his sword drawn.

  He chopped down one guard and sent him reeling back against a second, who leaped aside but in so doing got off balance long enough for one of Blade’s companions to engage him. Steel clanged, sparks sprayed in all directions as the two went at it in a blind frenzy. The third guard backed away from the struggle, then turned with a grim look in his eyes and dashed for the door into the inner chambers. Blade did not need to see the man draw the long knife from his belt to know that killing Leyndt was in his mind. He lunged past the two duelists and after the fleeing guard, but the man had a head start and a good pair of legs. By the time Blade entered the next chamber, it was empty, and he could not tell which of the three closed doors in its walls might take him to Leyndt.

  A second later he knew. Behind the door to the right sounded a scream-not a scream of terror, but a scream intended to sow terror, to make an attacker draw back in fear at its raw frenzy, and to alert help if help was near. Blade dashed to the door, slapped the opening plate, saw nothing happen, looked frantically around the chamber for something heavy as the scream sounded again. There was a squat black table in a corner; Blade hefted it, feeling his muscles strain and creak under its nearly two hundred pounds, then lifted it over his head and sent it crashing against the door. The door split apart and Blade leaped over the smashed door panels and the pieces of the table into the room.

  Leyndt, naked except for a Girl’s short trunks, was backed into a corner, holding a large thick cushion in front of her to block or absorb the thrusts and slashes of her attacker’s knife. Some of them had still gone home, though-blood was oozing across cheek, shoulder above her right breast, and thigh just above the left knee. As Blade burst into the room the guard whirled around, kicking out suddenly with a foot that sailed in under the pillow and drove into Leyndt’s stomach. The breath went out of her with an explosive gasp and she collapsed as the guard turned to face Blade.

  Blade knew already this guard was a quicker thinker than usual; now he had a nasty surprise in the man’s speed. The guard was at him and on him before he could bring up his sword for either a slash or a thrust, darted past the half-raised point, and struck with the knife at Blade’s wide-open throat. Blade felt the knife whisper past the side of his neck as a lightning twisting of his whole body moved him clear just in time, then raised the sword with the point still aimed at the ceiling and brought the heavy metal guard down on his opponent’s shoulder. The man gasped and his left arm-not his knife arm, unfortunately-sagged limply; Blade lowered the sword and thrust at his opponent’s stomach, only to have the tip scrape along the man’s metal-mesh belt and nick him only slightly. The guard sprang back out of Blade’s immediate reach in a single bound, whirled, and took two steps toward Leyndt, knife raised. The knife was just coming down, and so was one raised foot, when Blade caught up with the man and rammed the sword through his back before he could turn. The point burst through his chest, and he toppled face down on top of Leyndt, his blood pouring over her.

  Blade spent only enough time examining Leyndt to make sure that she was breathing and that none of her knife wounds were serious. When he had done this, he hoisted her limp body over his shoulder and rejoined his companions at the entrance. There were only three of them now; the two duelists had killed each other. Blade led the others back toward the elevator chamber.

  As they approached it, the sound of a fight-shouts, screams, the clang of weapons-came battering down the corridor at them. Blade slowed his pace and motioned the others to a halt while he put Leyndt down and stalked forward, pressing as close as possible to the wall, until he could see clearly into the chamber.

  The ten men left in the chamber were standing off a furious attack by at least three times that many guards. Two of the defenders were already down, others showed blood, but at least seven guards lay writhing or still on the floor, and as Blade watched he heard the crossbow among the squad twang, with the usual result of a guard clutching wildly at his chest and collapsing. But the crossbowmen could not fire quickly and the attackers were already pressing the defending raiders into a back-to-back formation for a last stand.

  Blade looked behind him, nodded to the others. Three right arms hefted spears then snapped forward at the same instant, three spears flew down the corridor and into the massed ranks of the guards. The scream from one of them as he died paralyzed both sides for a moment, and in that moment Blade rushed out and charged the gua
rds, sword in one hand, knife in the other, the three others with him running hard behind him and fanning out to come in on either side of him.

  Blade’s sword whistled out and down, slashing through a spear shaft and throwing the wielder enough off balance for Blade to thrust him through with the knife. Another man came at Blade with a sword in each hand; he gave back a step, sliced off the man’s left arm with one slash, then sent the other sword flying in a savage metallic clash of weapons. The man reached out for Blade with his good arm, trying a desperate body-to-body grapple, but crumpled, thrust through by Blade’s knife from in front and a raider’s spear from behind.

  Now two guards came at Blade together, so intent on him that they forgot the man protecting Blade’s left, whose sword swished out and around in a flat arc like a scythe, passing through one man’s neck as though it had been a cornstalk. Blade brought both sword and knife up to guard against the survivor’s downswing, locked the other’s plunging sword in the V formed by his own two weapons, twisted the sword out of the man’s grasp, and as it flew through the air slashed the man in the body. A crossbow quarrel went into a nearby body with a meaty thunk, and the man facing Blade’s right-hanker folded forward and went down on to a floor that was becoming slippery underfoot with the smeared pools of blood from the rapidly increasing number of bodies.

  Then Blade stopped taking note of individual opponents, and was lost in a continuous frenzy of slash, thrust, parry, guard, give back, step forward, chop like a butcher, thrust like a matador, smell the sweat, smell the blood (none of it his own-yet)-until suddenly there were no more attackers staying to fight, and only a handful of them sprinting or staggering away down the corridor. Some left blood trails as they went. Blade saw the bowman pick off a final victim. Then again there was silence in the chamber, except for the heaving and rasping breath of Blade, his two companions, and the six Survivors of the defending squad.