Sebastian of Mars

by Al Sarrantonio

  I interrupted him. “Is Frane still among them?”

  “Yes. As long as she holds a chance of beating our army, she will not flee. And now we know how she escaped the last time.”

  “How?”

  “Underground. There are tunnels and caves throughout this entire area, just as there are outside of Burroughs, where Frane eluded your mother.”

  I nodded.

  “We will be ready for her if she tries to run this time.”

  “Very well.” I looked to Newton, who had been sitting quietly, studying me, stroking his chin.

  “And what magic can we expect from you?” I asked him.

  “We have airships, which have been busy on Frane’s army in the hills, breaking it up, and will be there for support. She was very foolish to rely on that one weapon. We have similar weapons, in reserve, but I trust you have your mother’s feelings on this, too.”

  I nodded. “They are evil. We will destroy Frane, but on the battlefield, just as my mother did.” I looked around the table, at Newton, at Thomas, at Xarr, at the other military generals I would command tomorrow. The attention they gave me was far different than what they had accorded me when I sat at my first council meeting, barely a kit, with a sprained ankle and no experience of any kind.

  “Very well,” I said, adjourning the meeting. “We will ride out at dawn. It will take half the day just to get to the plains below.”

  Thomas stayed behind, and when the others had left he said, “You are sure about this, Sire?”

  “About what?”

  “Leading the army yourself.”

  “It is what I must do, if we are in hope of reinstating the republic once this is over.”

  He was nodding, but not really listening.

  “What’s wrong, Thomas?”

  Now he looked at me, and there was a wistfulness in his eye. He looked suddenly old. “Nothing’s wrong, sire. It’s just that you’ve changed. Grown up. I miss the kit that relied on me, I suppose.”

  I grasped his arm with my paw. “You will never stop being a great friend, Thomas. And I will always rely on you.”

  “Thank you, sire.” His smile was genuinely warm. “And now I am to tell you that there are visitors waiting for you near the front entrance.”

  I laughed. “Visitors?”

  “One claims to be an old friend of yours, and a king himself. He is a vagabond . . .”

  I ran as if I were a kit again, and found the King of the Gypsies, waiting for me.

  “Radion!” I cried out, taking him firmly in a bear hug.

  He growled a laugh in his deep basso voice.

  “Where are Miklos, and the rest?” I asked, puzzled.

  “Camped with the caravan on the ridge outside. I will join them soon, too. We gypsies must be out under the stars when we get the chance. We will fight with you tomorrow, just as I promised.” He laughed again, a low rumble. “And by the way, I found two stragglers on the way and let them ride with us.”

  He called out, and Darwin entered, with Charlotte behind him.

  “Little fish!” I cried, picking Darwin up and turning him around. His pure white fur stood out starkly against the red of the cave entrance.

  “As promised,” he said, bowing toward Charlotte, who I took in my arms.

  She kissed me, and laughed. “Darwin wouldn’t let me out of his sight for a moment! He spirited me out of Robinson City as if I were a ghost!”

  “A wonderful ghost,” I said, looking into her eyes, and then kissed her again.

  “How are things in Robinson City?” I asked Darwin.

  He shrugged. “Crazier than when we were there,” he reported, and Radion added, “In Darwin we found the dogs who murdered my kinsman and his people.”

  The way he said it left no doubt that he had dealt with them accordingly.

  Charlotte added, “Once word of Frane’s failure reached the city, there was an uprising. My father is now in jail. Many of the F’rar, now that they aren’t afraid of Frane’s thugs, just want a return to what we had before.”

  “When you and I marry,” I said, “it will restore order, and will end forever the enmity between our two clans.”

  “But what about you and I? Will it end the enmity between us?” She laughed. “Perhaps I will still string wires across the hall to trip you up!”

  “I think perhaps we should marry tonight, for the good of all our people.”

  Her eyes brightened, and she nodded. “And for the good of you and me.”

  “Then so be it!” I turned to Radion. “You will attend, of course, as well as Miklos and the rest?”

  He bowed. “It would be an honor, sire.”

  “Good!”

  I took Charlotte in my arms, and our kiss was so long this time that Darwin and even Radion, embarrassed, looked away.

  The wedding was a simple affair, with only four thousand or so guests. I insisted on little ceremony, and that all of those I would command in battle attend. There was much wine but not too much, and dancing, and Darwin stood up on a table in the hushed hall and sang in a reedy voice which made him sound entirely too solemn:

  Come now and celebrate

  Before the hour grows too late,

  A love made for the ages!

  For Queen and Sire

  In fine attire

  Will now turn many pages!

  I call you here,

  Raise wine and beer

  And toast a love for the ages!

  There was much cheering, and Darwin took a theatrical bow, and then Xarr made a speech which was fine and fierce, and then Newton spoke and then Thomas, and there was more wine and then a fine feast put on by my old cooking teacher Tyron and Brenda, who informed me with tears in her eyes that she had done the same for my mother and father, and there was more dancing and singing, much of the best of it by Radion and his people, and as Miklos, much taken with wine, was tossing Darwin into the air, higher with each toss, Radion took my arm and steered me away into a quiet corner.

  “I see you have gotten over your distaste of the grape,” he said, gesturing toward my goblet.

  “Somewhat. I see you don’t fast yourself!” and I tapped his huge flagon, filled nearly to the rim, and not for the first time, with a deep red wine he had provided for the festivities himself.

  His smile was sly, but then it vanished.

  “To business, then, sire,” he rumbled. “You understand that tomorrow I will die.”

  Perhaps it was the wine, but I could not help blurting out a laugh. “That’s nonsense! Surely you don’t still believe what the cards said! The F’rar army is melting away from underneath Frane. By tomorrow she’ll have barely enough troops to fight with.” I shook my head. “It won’t be much of a battle I’m afraid, Radion. Perhaps you will die in my service, like the cards predicated, but it surely won’t be tomorrow.”

  He shook his head, and studied his wine before drinking it, as if perhaps looking for more portents on its flowing crimson surface.

  “No. Tomorrow it will be.”

  A slight shiver went through me, and it must have showed on my face.

  “I’m sorry to darken your wedding night thus, sire,” he said, and put a heavy paw on my arm. “But these things must be.”

  “Then you will not fight! Stay here, and represent your clan at the council table!”

  His laugh was a snort. “If I were to do that the ceiling would fall on me, or some such other disaster. I made a vow to ride with you in your last battle, and no gypsy has ever broken such a promise.”

  “But surely –”

  He shook his head, and his eyes told me that it was useless to argue with him further.

  “And now,” he continued, after taking another drink, a deep one, we must talk of your final card.

  Again I felt like laughing – I couldn’t help it.

  “Beware your new wife, sire,” he said, his voice sinking to even a lower register than normal, and now I knew why he had needed the wine.

  “That
’s ridiculous!”

  Again he shook his head ponderously. “The last card showed love and death for you, at the hands of a F’rar woman.” He looked away, as if embarrassed. “After all, Charlotte is F’rar . . .”

  I stood up. “I won’t hear any more of this, Radion! You’ve met her! I’ve known and loved her all my life. Do you really think she’s capable of murdering me?”

  He shook his head. “No, I do not.” He drank more wine. “I do not. But the card . . .”

  “Please! You’re drunk, and it’s my wedding night, and I cannot refuse you anything. But let’s not have any more of this!”

  He looked up at me, very drunk now, and gave a heavy sigh. A smile washed over his lips, but I could tell he was forcing it to be there. “Please forgive me, sire. I am a foolish gypsy. And perhaps the cards are wrong after all.”

  Charlotte joined us, then, and pulled me away to dance a reel, and when I looked back at poor Radion again he was studying his flagon, and them employing it to great purpose. A little while later he was found asleep, and carried to his wagon outside and put to bed, gently, at my orders.

  But the party went on. There was more dancing, and more feasting, and then a teller of tales, and Miklos sang a wedding song raunchy in nature, and then he took to tossing little Darwin in the air again, and then there was another toast to my Queen and I, and I gave a toast to everyone back, as did my wife, and then there were makeshift gifts for her to open, things we would treasure when we occupied the palace in Wells, an amazing thought, as I told my bride later, given that when we had met we were mere kits running though those halls and making mischief, and now we were to rule them.

  And still the party went on, as if no one wanted tomorrow and its battle to come.

  But finally the hour grew late and the wine grew scarce, and Charlotte looked at me and smiled and we stole away to my bedchamber, and I kissed her, thinking briefly of Radion’s absurd thoughts, which I immediately banished from my mind when she kissed me back, and we made quite a night of it.

  Twenty Eight

  The next morning, as the sun rose over a landscape below us shrouded in a soft blanket of morning mist, I went out to see Radion, who showed no ill effects of his night of drinking. He was mounted with his fighters, and ready to join us.

  “I wish you would stay behind,” I said, but this morning he only laughed heartily and slapped his horse. “A vow is a vow!” he growled heartily, and fell into line behind me as we began to make our way down the side of the great mountain Olympus Mons in a series of switchbacks which seemed to go on forever. I stood at the head of an army four thousand and twenty strong, and quite ready for battle.

  There was a solemn magnificence about our progress, with only the clopping of horse hoofs breaking the stillness; a grim purpose to our steady progress. I heard a droning, and looked up to see Newton’s fleet of sleek black airships, which began to pound the distant hills with bombs as prelude to our attack. I could just make out a mass of red which seemed to coat the hills, two in particular, like ants. I wondered which of them was Frane, who, I vowed, would taste my blade this day.

  Xarr rode beside me, silent as a specter. His scarred face was set in a purposeful way.

  Finally the silence had stretched too long, and I said, “Do you think they’ll fight?”

  “Oh, they’ll fight,” he said with certainty. “With bombs at their back, and nowhere else to go, they’ll fight. Frane knows she’s trapped.”

  “Do you know where she is?”

  He pointed with his sword. “That farther hill, behind the first one. She’s a coward at heart, Sire, and will hide behind the skirts of her troops, what little she has left of them.”

  “Did you send out word of my marriage to her army?”

  He nodded. “And it was a brilliant stroke, having Newton drop those pamphlets. Nearly half of them deserted last night. She’s only left with the ones with nowhere to go, now. Those nearest to her, or subject to her fear, bribes or extortion. These are the hardest, I’m afraid, but there aren’t too many of ‘em.”

  “And they know about my offer of amnesty?”

  “They know. It may even work, for some of ‘em. We shall see.”

  He lapsed again into silence, and we rode inexorably down.

  When we reached the plains it was past noon, and the mists were gone, leaving the bare and sandy pink-red of the landscape. There seemed to be less red on the nearing hills. Our spies had reported that F’rar soldiers were slipping away as fast as they could, and that there had been many executions for desertion. Newton’s bombing had ceased, giving those who sought to leave a chance to do so.

  We began to pick up stragglers, who threw down their weapons at our approach. They were herded to the rear. As we approached the first hill a single desultory arrow came our way, and landed short of us. It was tied with a white ribbon of cloth. Then we were approached by an officer, red helmet in hand.

  “We will not fight you,” he said.

  “And who are ‘we’?” Xarr asked him gruffly.

  “I am commander Efflar. I control half of Frane’s remaining troops,” he said. “She has become insane, and can’t see certain death staring her in the face. The others on the far hill are with her.” He paused. “We will fight with you if you wish.” He looked at me. “It is a great thing you have done, King Sebastian. My men only want an end to this.”

  I looked to Xarr, who shook his head. “Take your troops and head toward Olympus Mons,” he told Commander Efflar. “Leave your weapons here.”

  The officer bowed. “As you wish.”

  As he walked off to gather his men, Xarr commented, “I know of Efflar. He is a butcher, and merciless. If he has given up hope it is all but over. But it would have been foolish to let him join us. They could have turned on us at any time, and would instantly do so if things turned Frane’s way.”

  “I will take that as an education.”

  “You will be educated by many things today, Sire.”

  We rode through retreating, tired F’rar, at least two thousand of them, who trudged past us with their heads down. A mountain of swords and arrows was left behind.

  The second hill grew larger, and now, as expected, a rain of arrows came at us. Above, the sleek black airships began to bomb again, driving Frane’s remaining troops down the hill and toward us. We spurred our horses and, at Xarr’s shout of “Attack!” we rode forward, into the fray.

  There was chaos, with moments of lucidity. The men who came at us were mad with hatred, and with the realization that they had nowhere to go and nothing to do but meet death head-on. These were Frane’s inner circle, the assassins and murderers and torturers who had brought her back to power and kept her there with their maniacal devotion.

  But there were not enough of them to stop us, barely a thousand. The battle was fierce but short, and I was pleased to discover that Miklos had been right, that I was better with the sword than I thought. Xarr and I soon found ourselves with no one to fight at the top of the second hill. A carpet of red-suited bodies lay behind us.

  Miklos rode up with an ashen look on his face. “My king,” he choked out, “my brother, he is wounded . . .”

  A bolt of pain and rage coursed through me. “No!” I cried out, turning my horse to follow Miklos back to Radion, who lay motionless on the ground. Another gypsy cradled his head, but I dismounted and took over the task.

  “Radion,” I sobbed, looking down at him.

  His eyes were clouded, but then they focused on me. He smiled, and lifted a paw to weakly waggle a finger at me.

  “The cards . . .” he whispered, and then added with urgency, “You . . . I know now the meaning of the last . . .”

  Then his eyes went blank as opaque glass, and his last breath left him.

  I rocked his massive head and sobbed, until Miklos gently disengaged me from his brother. “We will attend to him, my King.”

  I nodded, and stood. A rage unlike any I had ever known coursed through me. I mo
unted my horse and rode back to Xarr, who was surveying the far hills and plains.”

  “Fools,” Xarr marveled. “They threw themselves at us like devils. Pure suicide. To save Frane, no doubt.”

  “Where is that monster –” I drew out my spyglass, the gift Radion had given me, and fiercely went over the landscape before us.

  And then I spotted the rogue Queen in the distance, alone on a chestnut colored horse riding wildly, her red robes flaring wildly behind her.

  And then, suddenly, she vanished.

  “I’ll kill that beast myself,” I vowed, and tore off in the direction she had gone, with Xarr shouting behind me.

  I drove my horse over smooth plain which suddenly gave way to rough brush and scattered desert grass.

  And then I saw what I was looking for.

  Ahead, the terrain sloped down to a small open valley floored with red sand. The slope to the right was smooth, but on the left there was a wall bearing four cave openings.

  “I have you, you wretch,” I spat, drawing my horse up at the first yawning hole and studying the ground.

  Horse tracks led toward the third cave, the largest of the four portals, and then they turned away, up the far ridge.

  I saw Frane’s horse up there, as if lost.

  I dismounted and saw feline boot prints leading into the cave.

  Behind me I heard distant shouts, and Xarr’s booming voice calling for me.

  I ignored it.

  I drew my sword and entered.

  I was surrounded by gloom, and the temperature dropped. The floor turned from a dusting of washed sand to hard rock. Each one of my steps echoed like an announcement.

  “Enter, boy,” Frane’s voice echoed ahead of me, but I could not tell from where.

  “Are you ready to die, Frane?” I called.

  I was greeted by a laugh. “Not this day, pup. I should have let them torture you to death. But it wouldn’t have been a grand enough demise for Haydn’s fetid spawn.”

  I advanced, trying to muffle my boot steps.

  “Just a bit closer, pup,” she laughed, and then I heard and saw her all around me.

  She dropped down from the ceiling, her blood-red cloak billowing, and I caught sight of her hidden perch as she fell upon me, screaming like a shrill beast.