The Given Sacrifice c-7

by S. M. Stirling

  The small group of Graber’s followers who followed behind him had a stiffness that spoke of nervousness.

  Though in fact this is Graber’s territory, in a sense. And though Nystrup is looking pure murderous hate. Not that I blame him, but the needs of the Kingdom take precedence. Not to mention those of humankind, in the long run.

  He turned his head slightly and murmured to the Mormon commander: “Why am I angry because of mine enemy? Awake, my soul! No longer droop in sin. Rejoice, O my heart, and give place no more for the enemy of my soul. Do not anger again because of mine enemies.”

  Nystrup glanced at him startled-that was from his people’s holy book-and angry. Then he nodded slightly.

  The last sunlight was dying on the Gallatin peaks to the westward. Rudi stepped forward, pitching his voice to carry.

  “This man was my enemy and hunted me and my comrades across the continent on the Quest. He was like a burr on our tail, never giving up, faithful unto death to his pledged word and his lords. Only when they betrayed him and he was shown that they were unworthy of a brave man’s loyalty did he renounce them.”

  He put the palm of his right hand on the pommel of the Sword for a moment, reminding everyone present that he could detect any deceit.

  “And when he did turn on them, he did so honestly and with a whole heart, for right’s sake and not for advantage. He risked death by torture and worse to oppose them here on their own ranges, when he might have returned to Montival with me and had a post of honor, because these are his folk and he wished to set them free to live as humankind should once more. Has any man or woman here done more?”

  Silence, and the High King went on: “Not to mention he just removed. . what, twenty-two hundred riders from the enemy’s order of battle. Men we will not have to fight again tomorrow, and some of our warriors will live, or see their homes again whole of limb because of it.”

  The almost-grumbling died away. Graber’s face was a thing of slabs and angles. He might have renounced his allegiance, but twelve years as cadet in the House of the Prophet had effects he would never shed entirely, not to mention the years as a warrior in Sethaz’ army afterwards. It wasn’t an accident that the Prophet had assigned him the task of foiling the Quest. Despite that masklike impassiveness there was relief and gratitude in the cold blue eyes. Graber showed unexpected tact when he reached arm’s length from Rudi; he gave a military salute, and then sank down on both knees with his hands held forward, palms together.

  It didn’t surprise Rudi that the man had learned the etiquette used nearer the Pacific, but it was a graceful gesture. The subordinates behind him, his company commanders and staff, went to their knees as well; that meant they gave their assent through their leader.

  The High King drew the Sword and planted it in the earth between them. Graber took the hilt between his palms, and Rudi enfolded the other man’s hands between his own; that was a new custom, the way the High King took fealty, and a guarantee of sincerity on both sides.

  Graber’s eyes widened a little; touching the Sword of the Lady was never easy, though he had before when Rudi freed him from the bonds laid on his mind. His voice was steady as he spoke, a little harsh but confident:

  “I, Justin Graber, pledge my faith and honor to the High King of Montival and to the heirs of his blood; I will be his sworn man in peace and war, with goods and with counsel, with aid and with arms, taking his foes and friends as mine, though my life be the price of this oath. This I swear on my honor as a fighting-man, and by whatever Powers watch over me.”

  The which he will find, I think. This is a man of faith, and he will hunger for one to replace that which was broken.

  “I, Artos, the first of that name, High King in Montival, Son of Raven, Son of Bear, accept your oath, Justin Graber. From this day forth I am your liege-lord. In peace you may hold secure all that is your own under my hand; in need you may appeal to me for aid; in war we shall be comrades of the blade, and I shall ward your family and children at need should you fall in my service. As you keep faith with me, so I will with you: I promise good lordship and fair justice, to you and to those who follow you-”

  He added that deliberately, just to drive the point home that Graber’s folk-and all the dwellers here not in arms against them-were his subjects now too. He didn’t think there was anyone in the Host who still doubted that he meant what he said about things like that. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Mathilda nodding approval, which was reassuring; he had the most profound respect for his wife’s political judgment.

  “-and I will hold your honor as precious as my own. This oath I will defend at need against all men, and any who do you wrong do also so to me, and at their peril. So I swear by the Lady of Stars and by the Lord Her Consort, and by all the Gods of my people; by Earth, by Sky; and so I bind the line of my blood and yours until the sky fall and crush us, or the sea overwhelm the land, or the world end.”

  Most of the officers made formal greeting and left; a few came forward to shake Graber’s hand. All of the ones who’d been on the Quest did so, and Rudi led them to the open flap of his tent, with a quiet word to have the needs of Graber’s subordinates seen to.

  “How many in your band?” Rudi asked, when they’d been seated and the plain stew and flatbread brought.

  Graber ate with wolfish intensity; he and his were well equipped for the sort of war they practiced in these parts, as far as Rudi had been able to tell, but evidently they hadn’t been eating high off the hog. Or the rangeland steer, in this country.

  Mind, with years of war levies and now fighting on their own territory, it’s going to be touch and go to keep famine out of this land as it is.

  “Fifteen hundred, not counting about five hundred women and kids brought along because there wasn’t anyplace safe to put them.”

  Out of the corner of his eye Rudi noted Ignatius making a note and handing it off to a staff messenger who stepped forward at his crooked finger. The quartermasters would be attending to feeding the newcomers by morning.

  “Including both my wives and my children; friends helped to get them out before the hunt started. My wives are women of excellent character and acted quickly,” Graber added. “The. . High Seekers seemed curiously blind about what I was doing.”

  “They would, my friend, after you were touched by the Sword; and they’ve grown careless about using ordinary means. It’s good that you rescued your little ones and their mothers. There are some prices that are steep even for honor; I’m glad you weren’t forced to pay so high.”

  Graber nodded. That had been another risk he’d taken. “And about three times as many have taken up arms against the CUT here and there on their own, once I showed it wasn’t just suicide,” he said. “I’m in contact with their leaders; that’s not counting areas we. . the Prophet, that is. . overran in the last few years, they’ve just gone back to how they were before.”

  “Not entirely,” Father-or in this context, Lord Chancellor-Ignatius said. “The CUT’s occupation has left many grudges, many feuds. And the reprisals going on right now against collaborators, or people who their personal rivals and enemies can paint as collaborators, will make for more. We’ll be long years settling them.”

  Graber shrugged; those lands weren’t his affair. “A lot more of the Prophet’s levies have just gone home-or gone home to defend their ranches and neighborhoods-as they were driven back into the lands they came from. Not to defend from the invading. . liberating. . armies, so much, as from bandits and deserters and each other. And, ah-”

  “From the Lakota, the ones who aren’t riding with the armies,” Rudi said ruefully.

  He liked and respected the folk of the Seven Council Fires, but they had their own grudges to pay off-and raiding for horses was an ancient tradition with them, one they’d revived gleefully after the Change. Nor did what passed for their central government have all that much control over the individual tribes and clans or for that matter individuals. It operated by consensus,
or not at all.

  “I’ll tend to that, but there’re other things must be done first, and I’m afraid some damage will be done.”

  Graber spread his hands in acknowledgment; it was a cost of finishing the job, and you did what was necessary for that.

  Consideringly, Rudi went on: “Fifteen hundred riders. . that’s more than I expected.”

  Graber gave a rare smile: “For a while I was hiding in the woods with about four men, two of them brothers of my eldest wife, while the Prophet’s hunters beat the bush for us and we put our hands over the children’s mouths to keep them from giving us away,” he said.

  “You wouldn’t be the first to win back to power and fortune and victory from such a state,” Rudi observed. “When we’ve more time, I’ll tell you of a man named Temüjin. . it means The Iron One. . in a land far away, but not unlike this in some respects. Cold mountains and vast plains, at least.”

  Graber looked interested, then returned to business: “But it’s been obvious for a while now the Prophet is going to lose the war, especially after news got back of the Horse Heaven Hills, and the Midwesterners started heading our way. The Church, the Church United and Triumphant, that is, got a lot of credit for the way they reestablished order right after the Change, but that ran out some years ago. What they had left was fear.”

  “And fear alone is a chancy basis for a realm,” Rudi said; leaving unsaid that Graber and his ilk had been among the main instruments to instill that terror.

  Mathilda nodded decisively. “Fear leaves you with nothing to fall back on when the bad times come,” she said, echoing things Rudi had long heard her mother say.

  Graber inclined his head; apparently he’d overcome any feeling of shock at a woman speaking in a council. Or wearing breeks and boots, which Matti was.

  “True, your Majesty. And I had some other good arguments. Not least, that if we wanted to have any say in how things are arranged here after the war, we’d better show we’re willing to fight for the High Kingdom now.”

  “Good,” Rudi said. “A most cogent point. I’m going to need a commander here to keep order, and eventually to rule as my vassal. I’ve no desire to import battalions of unpopular alien bureaucrats, and more battalions of soldiers to enforce their writ at the sword’s edge, and then spend the rest of my days reading and annotating the reports of both. Montival isn’t that sort of realm. After things settle down here, the form of rule must arise from the folk themselves, as the years since the Change have shaped them in their hearts. For that I need a man born of these lands who also has a record the rest of Montival will respect, and I think I’ve found him.”

  Graber looked blank for a second, and then astonished when Rudi leveled a finger at him; so did some of the others. Rudi chuckled.

  “I’ll have to spend more time here than I wish, Major. . hmmm. We’ll come up with some title. . Range Boss, perhaps? Lord of the Eastern Mark? I’ll be wanting a man who understands the land and the folk, for I’ll have other calls upon my time, even though this will be Crown land. It’s not an easy job I’m offering. The lands long under the CUT have been badly harmed, not least in the minds and souls of those dwelling here. It’ll be a lifetime’s work to even begin to repair the damage. Will you take it?”

  Graber hesitated for a second or two, then nodded decisively. “Yes,” he said. “It’s necessary.”

  Then, shrewdly: “And having a local man in charge will make a lot more Ranchers likely to come over willingly-it’ll be a sign that bygones are to be bygones and that they won’t be excluded from power and office as long as they renounce the CUT.”

  “Exactly,” Mathilda said. “And I don’t think anyone will doubt you mean what you say. . my lord. We found you a very determined man when you were chasing us!”

  Rudi covered a yawn as the Questers all nodded. “First we must take Corwin. After that. . more work. But building is more enjoyable than tearing down, even when that’s necessary. Even when the building involves cracking a few heads!”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Corwin, Valley of Paradise

  (Formerly western Montana)

  High Kingdom of Montival

  (Formerly western North America)

  August 29th, Change Year 26/2024 AD

  Corwin was falling.

  The Earthly House of the Ascended Hierarchy was falling in fire, falling in blood. Everyone who felt like defecting or just absenting themselves had done so, or been killed trying; those who remained were mind-bound or more often the core of real believers who were simply determined to die in the last ditch for their faith. The Montivallan forces were in no more forgiving a mood, after what they’d seen on the way or in the Prophet’s capital itself and what had happened to those of their comrades unlucky enough to fall into the enemy’s hands.

  I would of course prefer that the beithacheen had a change of heart and surrendered, Rudi thought, coughing to clear his lungs, leaning back against a broken table and working his left hand where it ached from clenching on the hilt. But if they won’t, I would very much prefer that the irreconcilables die fighting here, rather than taking to the hills.

  The city was smallish and had no wall, but the buildings were stout and mostly stone-built, windowless on their first floors, and all interlinked both by tunnels and enclosed overhead bridges. Many had nothing but slit windows, no other entrance save the tunnels, and every house had to be reduced and then held lest enemies emerge from hidden exits and attack the assault parties from the rear.

  Edain turned, cursed and shot in one movement. A figure above them dropped the rock he’d been hefting to shatter on the granite-block pavement and then followed an instant later, breaking himself and lying limp. The narrow spike of the bodkin head stood up from between his shoulder blades, driven through rear plate of the leather armor by the fall. His helmet clattered away and rolled

  “This is like me mother goin’ after cockroaches,” he said. “Cursing and splashing boiling water to get the last of the little boogers. Wish we could have just stood off and shot at the place with artillery.”

  “If it wouldn’t take forever and a day,” Rudi grunted agreement.

  He swigged from his canteen and passed it to the master-bowman. They had their backs resting against a barricade of broken furniture, with the bodies of its Cutter defenders still sprawled around them. The troops with them were a mixture-Boisean regulars, dismounted men-at-arms and crossbowmen from the Protector’s Guard and Bearkiller A-listers, the High King’s Archers and even some of Graber’s Montanans. Under their varied gear the faces were much the same, filthy and streaked with soot and sweat and blood and lined with strain and exhaustion. Stretcher-parties had taken the last of the wounded to the rear a few moments ago.

  “Water,” Matti croaked.

  He handed her the container, and she splashed a little on her alarmingly red face before she drank, coughed, drank some more. Huon trotted up from somewhere with a collapsible leather bucket that had probably started its life watering horses, and she plunged her head into it for a long moment to emerge blowing.

  “If you’re too tired to fight, don’t try,” he snapped. “I need you alive, not to mention Órlaith. We’ve enough troops to rotate.”

  “I’ll be fine,” she wheezed. “Just needed to cool down for a bit. Mother of God but that felt good. Thank you, Huon; hand it around.”

  It wasn’t very hot, even with the soot and flames from a few structures that had caught fire, though that caught at the throat. He was in full plate as well, though-there was nothing like it for close-quarter work-and he could feel how the heat buildup inside dragged at your strength. Even the very fit just tired faster with this carapace strapped all over the body.

  “At least I’m getting back in shape,” she said, in a more normal voice. “Sort of a drastic exercise program!”

  “Let’s go,” he said, nodding grudging agreement. “Not much farther now.”

  There was a groan and clank and rustle as everyone levered
themselves to their feet. Rudi pushed himself up with the point of his shield-he hadn’t bothered to take his right arm out of the loop on the inside of the big teardrop construct of plywood and bullhide and metal when they paused to catch their breath. It was a twenty-pound nuisance, but you only had to look at the stubs of arrows in its surface to see why even full-armored men carried them.

  They turned a corner. Corwin was almost all built post-Change, laid out in a manner that Rudi found rather attractive in its way, buildings grouped around small squares. Broader avenues divided the squares in turn; in the central zone they were lined with larger buildings, three or even four stories. Everyone kept a wary eye on them, but apparently the assault groups tasked with it were keeping the inmates busy. This street they’d just entered gave into the central, grander open space where the half-finished ziggurat bulk of the Temple rose in a mass of dark stone and scaffolding.

  And it never will be finished, Rudi thought grimly.

  They’d managed to overrun the labor camps before all of the slaves who’d been building it could be killed. He wasn’t altogether sure how much of a mercy that had been. Many of them were quite mad.

  Gliders circled overhead, occasionally darting down to drop message containers with colorful pennants attached; there were a pair of tethered balloons north and south of the city with heliographs, and messengers on foot or horseback or on bicycles dashed about. Mostly it was a matter of small bands hammering their way forward, or even worse of men fighting and dying in the closed spaces of the underground warren, daggers and short-gripped spears and fists and feet and teeth in the dark.

  Ahead was one last barricade, this one apparently mainly made of rough sacks filled with something lumpy-he guessed that it was potatoes, from the size. Hooves clattered behind him, and he looked around: it was a battery of three Bearkiller scorpions, medium fieldpieces each drawn by three pair of horses, with the snarling red bear’s head on the shields.