by Джеффри Лорд
But most of them were not so brave or so defiant of the Pendarnoth as his first victim. Most of them were scrambling backward, moaning and crying pleas for mercy. Few of them found it: Klerus' guards went down whether they fled or fought, and Blade could not have called off his men if he had wanted to.
Blade himself barely had time to snatch his sword from the body of his first victim and raise it again when a tall figure sprang at him from beside Klerus. Blade recognized Threstar, the High Captain of the Council's Archers. The man was fighting with two swords and both of them whistled and leaped about Blade's ears. He ducked and leaped and parried, realizing that Threstar was trying to drive him away from the stairs. That would open a path for Klerus to flee into the safety of the temple.
Blade stood his ground as Threstar came at him, although it took all his strength and speed to keep both of the man's swords away from his flesh. The man was fast and strong and determined, and Blade knew he couldn't take any chances. For a moment both men went at it with everything they had in them, but Blade knew he could not afford a prolonged duel with Threstar. Behind the High Captain he could see the massive bulk of Klerus. He was edging around to Blade's right, about to make a dash for the door. Beyond Klerus the darkness was a hideous tangle of fighting and screaming figures. Klerus' guards had realized they could expect no mercy, and they were fighting for their lives.
Threstar closed again, and this time one sword reached out far enough to slice open Blade's scalp just above his left ear. But that reach was a fraction of an inch and a fraction of a second too long. For a moment Threstar's left armpit was turned toward Blade and open to his attack. Blade's dagger lunged out and up, stabbing deeply into the armpit. Threstar gasped and twisted away so fast that the dagger pulled out of Blade's hand. But that was the last time Threstar would move so fast. The dagger had reached his lungs. He choked, and bubbles of blood appeared on his lips. As he slowed, Blade's sword flashed down and smashed Threstar's right-hand sword aside. Then it kept on going, plunging down and sinking deep into Threstar's thigh. This time the High Captain not only reeled but fell.
Blade did not wait to see him go down, because Klerus was rushing forward. A sword gleamed in his massive hands and darted back and forth as he charged. If he could not have safety, he would at least have Blade's life.
Blade gave way before the assault, and for a moment it looked as if Klerus would have a clear run to the door. But Klerus was too blind with fury to see anything but Blade. He lurched forward again. This time he slipped on the blood now flowing freely on the pavement, but he stayed on his feet. Blade parried one of Klerus' slashes, but it came down on his sword like a hammer on an anvil and nearly knocked the sword out of his hand. Again he stepped back, and again Klerus followed him.
But the High Councilor was short-winded from too many years as an intriguer rather than a fighter. He could not keep up such a furious attack for very long. In the swelling dawn light Blade saw sweat pouring off Klerus' jowls, and heard the man's breath rasping in his throat.
Blade waited until Klerus had committed himself to a slash, then closed. He was relying on his own superior speed and the dagger which flashed in his hand. It drove straight forward into Klerus' massive belly. It was not a wound fatal at once, but it stopped the High Councilor dead in his tracks. His mouth opened, and he let out a high-pitched scream of agony and surprise. Blade dropped his dagger, stepped back, and raised his sword with both hands. As Klerus' sword sagged toward the pavement, Blade's also came down. It flashed down at an angle, slicing into Klerus' massive neck, slicing through it. In a spray of blood, Klerus' head leaped from the neck and arched down to the pavement to land with a thud. The huge body stood upright for another moment, blood fountaining from the severed neck. Then it toppled with a much louder thud. It did not even twitch.
Blade stepped back and looked around him. Dawn was breaking over the city, revealing the blood scattered bodies in the street. He counted them. Nearly all of Klerus' men and less than a third of his own force were dead. Perhaps some had fled, but he was not going to worry about them now.
Guroth came toward him, picking his way cautiously across the littered and blood-smeared stones. The High Captain had a strip of cloth bound roughly around his left hand, where the thumb and forefinger were missing. But his unhooded face shone with joy as well as sweat.
«We have done it, oh Pendarnoth. Now for the Lanyri!»
Blade grinned and nodded. «You're wounded, Captain.»
Guroth pointed at Blade's blood-caked scalp. «So are you, Pendarnoth.»
«A little. Perhaps we had both better clean ourselves before we wait on King Nefus. He will want to hear the news that he is now truly King of Pendar.»
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Blade was able to lead his men back to the palace before the sun rose much higher and the streets filled with people. Those few who were up early scuttled hastily away from the large band of armed men carrying a shrouded body through the streets. Over the past few years Klerus' men had made people wary of being too inquisitive about such sights. Even as he was being carried dead through the streets of Vilesh, Klerus' reputation was clearing the way for the men who had killed him.
But rumors move faster than marching men. Before he was halfway to the palace, Blade heard alarm gongs and horns sounding in the palace. Yellow smoke began to spiral up from signal fires and he heard the roll of drums. The palace garrison must already be pouring out of its barracks. Blade knew that it contained many of Klerus' sympathizers. Though nothing these men might do could bring the High Councilor or his plots back to life, they might still send Blade and Guroth after Klerus. Blade was prepared to pay that price. But he was hardly enthusiastic about the idea.
Blade ordered the guardsmen to step up their pace, and they moved through the streets at a jog. Guroth brought up the rear, urging the men on. Soon they broke out into the main square of Vilesh and saw the white walls and gilded roofs of the palace gleaming in the rising sun. But that same sun also shined on the armor of the palace garrison already filing out into the square. With strung bows ready, they stood in a deep line across the gates.
Blade realized that he had to move fast before some officer sympathetic to Klerus decided to stage an «accident.» But the only effective move he could see might be as suicidal as doing nothing. He would walk out into the empty square alone, calling to the soldiers, relying on their unwillingness to fire on the Pendarnoth.
He called Guroth to him and explained his plan. The High Captain was too surprised to say anything, either in praise or in protest. He stood there gaping as Blade turned and strode out into the square, head up and arms at his side.
Silence fell fog like on the square as Blade strode out toward the waiting soldiers. He kept his eyes roaming along the line, trying to seem as if he were looking each soldier individually in the eye. Only one soldier was needed to nock an arrow and fire to bring things to an end. But at least the guardsmen behind him could see what happened and perhaps run for cover.
Nearer and nearer he came, until he could begin to make out individual faces, the decorations on the gilded armor, one man raising a hand to scratch his head. He decided it was time to speak. He stopped and took a deep breath.
«Soldiers of Pendar. I, the Pendarnoth, speak to you. With my own hands this night I have slain the High Councilor Klerus, for his many treasons against Pendar and against King Nefus. In all of these treasons he had but one goal-to sell Pendar to the Lanyri who are even now marching upon this city. They are leaving behind them a trail of death and destruction. If they had come upon Vilesh with Klerus still alive to lead them, it would have gone down like any village. You would be dead under Lanyri swords, your wives ravished by Lanyri soldiers, your children dashed against the walls or hauled off to grow up in Lanyri slave pens. All this Klerus wanted to bring upon you.
«And when he had ruined Pendar, he dreamed of ruling over its ruins, to help the Lanyri bleed the corpse yet more. But my night's work has put
an end to all this. I return with the traitor's body…» he pointed back to where the guard stood, Guroth at their head «… to lay before King Nefus. I will throw myself on his mercy, and if he judges me wrong in what I have done, let his will prevail. But I think he will call this night's work wise. And then I shall lead you out against the real enemies of Pendar-the Lanyri!»
Blade had never fancied himself as a speaker. He had never dreamed he could say anything to move such a mass of tough men. So he was as surprised as anyone by the reaction of the soldiers. They gave a single shout that was almost terrible to hear, two thousand men all yelling their throats out. Then they broke ranks and swarmed forward toward Blade, raising their hands and shouting, «Hear the Pendarnoth! Klerus is dead! Long live the Pendarnoth and King Nefus!»
They reached Blade and nearly trampled him to death in their enthusiasm. Then a few strong ones formed a circle around him, while others lifted him up onto their shoulders. It was on their shoulders that he made his way through the gates, into the palace, to the audience chamber of King Nefus. And it was from their shoulders that he greeted King Nefus. Even if the boy-king had wanted to punish Blade for killing Klerus, he would not have dared.
He would have faced a revolt of his own soldiers if he had done so. All he could do was wait — a long wait-until the soldiers quieted enough so he could make himself heard.
Then he climbed up on the throne and called out:
«Pendarnoth, you have this day slain a notable traitor to Pendar and to our house. You have done well. This day I call you by a new name, 'Pendarstrin,' the Savior of the Pendari.» This set off another round of cheers, and Nefus took advantage of the uproar to slip out. Blade did not see him again until that afternoon, when the king summoned the Council of Regents to his presence.
Standing in full ceremonial robes, with Guroth on one side and Blade on the other, Nefus addressed the council in blunt, clipped phrases. «It is Our royal will that the Pendarnoth shall be now the High Councilor of Pendar. There are some among you who played your part in the treasons of the late Klerus. If you accept the Pendarnoth and give him and Us good and faithful service, you will be forgiven. If not, you shall die as Klerus did.» At Nefus' signal both Blade and Guroth drew their swords. And behind them so did fifty of the Pendarnoth's Guard, with Princess Harima standing among them.
The message went home. Indeed, it could hardly have done otherwise, unless the councilors were very foolish or very tired of life. They voted Blade into the office without a dissenting vote. Then they sat down to discuss how to prepare Pendar to meet the Lanyri invasion.
Blade kept the meeting short and the discussion perfunctory. He had no intention of revealing his plans for surprising and destroying the Lanyri too soon. And he would never reveal them before a group whose loyalty he distrusted as much as the councilors'. So he merely spoke of the need to increase the output of the armorers' shops, train the soldiers, lay in supplies, and so on. The only specific item he mentioned was the need to increase the number of siege engines, particularly the long-range ones. There were already a hundred of these, but Blade wanted three times as many. The councilors listened in silence, not even bothering to ask questions. Those who had always been loyal didn't need to; those who had supported Klerus were afraid to. Again, without a dissenting vote, they endorsed Blade's program.
Blade saved the meat of his plans for a very private session that evening. Only Nefus, Harima, Guroth, and some other reliable officers attended. Blade gave them a frank outline of the way he saw the situation, then turned to his plans.
«I will no longer be content with merely driving the Lanyri back,» he said. «I want to see them destroyed, destroyed the way they have destroyed Pendari towns and lives.»
«That will be difficult,» said Guroth. «If there was nothing but the Lanyri infantry coming against us, we could do as we have always done. Ride around and around them, picking our time of attack to take them at their weakest, and then drive home our charge. But the Rojags are riding with them, and that will make it hard for us to choose the time we will fight. We need to destroy the Rojags as well if we wish to destroy the Lanyri.»
«That may not be as hard as you think,» said Blade. «The Rojags are strong when they are in a mass. But break up that mass, and they have no discipline, no courage. They scatter and run. If we can break up their formations, we will have the chance to fight the Lanyri in the usual manner.»
«That is true,» said Nefus. «But how can we do this thing? It is not as easy to attack another army of horsemen as it is to attack soldiers on foot. The horsemen can choose where to fight much more easily.»
«Then we tempt them to fight where we choose,» said Blade.
«You make it sound so easy,» said Guroth sourly.
«It is not easy,» said Blade. «I have never thought it is, or will be. But it is our best chance.» And he began describing his plan for the decisive battle. Occasionally Guroth or one of the other officers would ask a question. Usually it was simply to clarify a technical point. But once Guroth broke out in indignation. He was joined by Nefus and Harima.
«This cannot be, oh Pendarnoth! We cannot let you risk your life again, after you have already risked it so many times. What would be the effect on the minds of our soldiers, if they saw you fall?»
«I hope they will avenge me properly,» said Blade. «No, I must ask you to let me do this as I have proposed. General Ornilan is too able to miss an open trap unless we somehow blind him to its presence. And the best way of blinding him is to offer me as the bait of the trap. I humiliated him by my escape. He will desperately want to wipe out that humiliation by killing or capturing me.»
«Desperately enough to throw sound tactics to the wind?» asked Guroth.
«I think so,» said Blade. «I cannot make any promises. But can any general do more?»
Inevitably, for they recognized the realities of war, they accepted this. And because they accepted this, they also accepted Blade's plan. Blade walked out of the chamber arm in arm with Harima, feeling certain that he had done his best. He could only hope that would be good enough. And he had at least the consolation of knowing that he would have his answer within a few weeks.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Less than a mile behind Blade rose the walls of Vilesh. Two miles ahead rose a cloud of dust marking the advancing Rojags. Invisible behind that dust curtain was the Lanyri army-invisible, but there, where they were supposed to be. Scouts had been bringing in reports at ten-minute intervals all morning. Behind a cavalry screen thrown out by their Rojag allies, the Lanyri were advancing straight toward Vilesh.
Ornilan was throwing his entire army straight at the Pendari capital. Perhaps he did not know that the main Pendari army was lurking off to his right rear. Most of its fifty thousand men and horses were hidden in groves of fruit trees and fields of ripening grain. Most of the men were dismounted, saving their horses. Only a few thousand were mounted, enough to keep the Rojag scouts pushed back.
Or perhaps Ornilan knew and didn't care. Perhaps he couldn't resist this opportunity to get his army within striking distance of the walls of Vilesh without fighting a battle. If Ornilan was that sort of headlong fighter, perhaps there was no need to lure him into the trap prepared for him?
Blade very much wanted to believe that. Around him was only the Pendarnoth's Guard and two army regiments-barely two thousand horsemen in all. He wanted very much to believe that he didn't really have to sit out here on the Golden Steed and wait while five times that many Rojag cavalry advanced on him. But he couldn't let himself be that optimistic. He simply had to wait and see.
Around him also stood ruined cottages, the souvenirs of a Rojag raid two weeks ago. A thousand enemy horsemen had pushed right up to the walls of Vilesh. But when the smoke had cleared away, Blade realized that the Rojags had given him a valuable gift.
He scanned the ground around the ruins, narrowing his eyes against the glare of the sun. He would have traded five hundred horsemen for a pair of
sunglasses, and a thousand for a pair of binoculars. But even his naked eyes could make out furrows and dents on the ground. During those two weeks, the long-range siege engines lurking behind the walls of Vilesh had been ranging in on the ruins. Now they could drop a salvo of two hundred stones and spears within a hundred-yard radius of the ruins. Blade had seen them do it. The next time they did it, those stones and bolts would be coming down on a mass of Rojag cavalry. Or so Blade planned. Part of the plan was for him to ride out in the face of ten thousand Rojags with his two thousand Pendari to wave the bait in their faces.
If he was going to be bait, he was going to be tempting bait: Not only was he riding the Golden Steed, he was wearing the ceremonial war garb of the Pendarnoth. There had been no such thing until the night before, when a regiment of craftsmen urged on by Princess Harima had finished their work. Now Blade gleamed and sparkled all over as he sat in the saddle. His high-crested helmet was gilded and burnished, and the metal clasps of his leather armor shone golden. A massive gold buckle set with diamonds held a blue cloak encrusted with gold embroidery around his shoulders. His belt was made of gilded links of fine steel, with a gold buckle almost large enough to armor his stomach and groin. A scabbard of gilded leather held together with gold-headed rivets carried a sword with a jeweled and gilded hilt and gold engraving on the blued steel blade. The inscription read: «THAT THE PENDARNOTH MAY STRIKE DOWN THE ENEMIES OF PENDAR.»
Gilded greaves on his calves, gilded spurs on his boots, gilded bit and bridle and stirrups, gilded rivets holding the high-peaked saddle together-the gold and gilding went on and on. Neither Blade nor the Golden Steed could so much as twitch a muscle without making sun blaze from something golden. Blade hoped he and his mount looked both impressive and tempting. But he had a private, nagging feeling that he merely looked ridiculous.