A Sword for Kregen

by Alan Burt Akers

  I took a breath.

  “And you wish me to pay you the price?”

  Before he could answer, I went on: “You will recall what I told you when that was mentioned before—”

  “No, emperor! By Jhalak! I know you to be a stiff-necked tapo; but will you not listen?”

  I nodded and he went on speaking, and, I thought with a twinge of amusement, a little huffily. It seemed he could hardly understand just what he was saying, or why he was doing what he did. But he ploughed on, natheless.

  The gist of it was that the folk of Drak’s City felt it would be to their advantage if I was alive and running Vondium. In this I fancied they did not put a great deal of store by the considerable army now at the disposal of the government. Their confidence in their own tumbledown city had been shaken by their defeat and enslavement by the Hamalese. What the chief assassin told me, quite simply, was that they intended to repudiate the contract, they would not accept it, and they wanted me to know. But—

  “There is a chance that the client will bring in stikitches from outside Vondium. We frown on that; but it is known. I assure you, emperor, on the honor of a Hyr-Stikitche, that we will prevent that if it is in our power.”

  What was odd about that was not the talk of assassins’ honor, which is just as real to them as any form of honor code to any other group of people, but the suggestion that in stikitche matters the khand of Vondium might not have the power to do what it willed.

  “You have my thanks, Aleygyn. Vallia is sundered and torn, and our enemies press in on us from all sides. I think it is a task laid on all of us to resume peaceful ways. But that will not be possible until these invaders have been driven away—”

  He did not so much surprise me as reveal that he, too, was a Vallian.

  “Until they are all buried six feet deep and sent to rot in the Ice Floes of Sicce!”

  “Agreed.” I chanced a shaft. “There are many fine young men in Drak’s City, men who have proved they can fight. They would be welcomed in the ranks of the new Vallian Army.”

  The eyes within the slits of the mask glittered on me. The suns were shifting around and that mingled opaz radiance crept under the arch of the Gate and drove back the shadows.

  “I will talk to the Presidio,” he said, whereat I smiled. The folk of Drak’s City aped Vondium and the whole of Vallia in holding their own Presidio, their governing body. It was a charming conceit. “There are men here who would form regiments that would show you soft townsfolk how to fight.”

  “I await them in the ranks.”

  “Not,” he said, a tang in his voice, “in the Phalanx.”

  “No, I agree. As light infantry, skirmishers.”

  “We have paktuns here—”

  “I do not employ mercenaries. Many paktuns have become Vallian citizens. We are a people’s army. You are Vallians. Your young men will be paid the same as any other Vallians in our ranks.”

  He digested that. And then we spoke of the practical side of the matter for a time until I felt I was getting altogether too chummy with a damned assassin, even if he was mindful of the welfare of the country. I twitched Grumbleknees’ reins.

  “I bid you Remberee, Aleygyn. I shall send a Pallan to talk with you about the rebuilding I promised. I am serious. As serious as I hope you are in sending men to join the army. The quicker Vallia is back to her old peaceful ways the better. Remberee.”

  “Remberee, Dray Prescot.”

  But the old warrior did not stand up to say good-bye.

  Chapter Four

  Delia Thinks Ahead

  “And you really had a long conversation with a stikitche! My heart — suppose—”

  “But it didn’t.”

  “All the same, you are just as feckless as ever you were. I wish Seg and Inch were here—”

  “They’re just as bad.”

  “True.” She sighed and then laughed. “You’re all as bad as one another, a pack of rascals and rogues!”

  “There is a matter I must talk to you about and yet have not the courage to—”

  “Dray! Oh — my dear. You are going away again!”

  I nodded.

  “Back to your silly little world with its one yellow sun and one silver moon and no diffs?”

  “By Zim-Zair! I hope not!”

  I told her a little of what had passed between me and the Star Lords, and then added: “And it is mighty fine of them to warn me. They do not often do that. But, my heart, rest assured. As soon as whatever must be done is done I shall fly back here just as fast as I can.”

  “You make it all sound so — so—”

  “I know.”

  The warm gleam of the oil lamps shed a cozy glow in our snug and private little room. We had both spent a busy day. We were surrounded now by the good things of gracious living, or as many of them as our straightened circumstances would allow, and we relished this time when we could relax and talk of the doings of the day and of our plans for the morrow. To change the conversation, I said: “What do you make of Vodun Alloran, the Kov of Kaldi?”

  Delia made a sweet little moue and tucked her feet up more comfortably on the divan. She wore a lounging robe, as did I, and we joyed one in the other. “Well, he is bright and forthright and, I am sure, a fine fighting man. What he is like as a kov I do not know. But, somehow, I must have more time to plumb him properly.”

  I glanced at her. Delia usually knows her own mind.

  “He strikes me as a useful man to have in the army. He will fight like a leem to get his kovnate back.”

  “I am sure. He is a fighter, of that there is no doubt.”

  Again, I sensed that deliberate withdrawal.

  “I am minded to give him command of a brigade — as a kov he will never accept less. It is a pity he has no men of his own to form a regiment. But with the expansion, promotion will prove no problem.” I yawned. “I’ll be glad when we can finish with all this fighting and get back to decent living again.”

  “So, Dray Prescot, you imagine you are well acquainted with decent living?”

  She teased me; but it stung. I had been a wanderer, a soldier, a sailor, an airman, a fellow who struggled and fought and brawled until, it seemed, he could not possibly understand that life was not meant to be lived thus. But, the knotty problem there was, quite simply, that all this took place on Kregen. What a world Kregen is, by Zair! Wonderful, unutterably lovely, unspeakably ghastly, at times it is all things to all men. And yet I would not willingly be parted from that world four hundred light years from the planet of my birth or from the woman who meant more than anything else. I had been a slave and now I was an emperor — well, an emperor of sorts.

  “The quicker—” I began.

  “Yes. I have had word from Drak. Queen Lush is bringing him home.”

  I gaped.

  Then: “Drak? Queen Lush — bringing him?”

  “He is not hurt,” she said, quickly. “Well, not much. He has rescued Melow and Kardo. The message simply says that we should expect them.” Her eyebrows drew down. “Queen Lush is — well—”

  “Queen Lush is Queen Lush,” I said. “She has changed wonderfully from what she was when Phu-Si-Yantong sent her to entrap your father. Then she did as she was told, for all she was a queen with great wealth and power—”

  “And beauty.”

  “Oh, aye, she looks well, does Queen Lush. And Drak?”

  “There is no doubt, at least in my mind. Queen Lush means to marry Drak.”

  “She set her heart on being Empress of Vallia. Well, it seems she will have her way, seeing she knows very well that I shall hand over to Drak. She has heard me say so often enough.”

  “Mayhap you do her an injustice.”

  “I would like to think so. Yes, perhaps I do. I know she was much taken with Drak. Well — any girl with any sense would be. And that brings up Seg’s daughter, Silda.”

  “I like Silda.”

  “That settles that, then. When she went against Thelda’s wishe
s and joined in the Sisters of the Rose—”

  “Hush.”

  But I had already hushed myself. One did not speak lightly of these female secret Orders. And, too, mention of Seg and Thelda brought up a sharp agony I just could not face then. So I went on: “Silda is a charming girl and I would welcome her as a daughter-in-law. And Seg would be overjoyed. But — what says Drak in all this?”

  “I think,” said the Empress of Vallia, “you would have to ask Queen Lushfymi of Lome the answer to that.”

  We did not play Jikaida that night, for there was a mountain of paperwork Enevon Ob-Eye, the chief stylor, had landed us with. With the morning and a new day in which to work we set doggedly to that work. Rebuilding and healing a shattered city and people demand strenuous and unending efforts. All the time I felt the relief that Drak was safe. He was the stern and sober one of my sons, and yet he could be wild enough on occasion. He had taken over in Valka, as the strom, when I had been snatched back to Earth. He had known me when he had been young, unlike his brothers, for Zeg had been rather too young, and Jaidur had not known me at all. But these were not the reasons I felt he would prove to be a splendid emperor. It seemed to me that he had been born to the imperium. I was just a rough-hewn sailor from a distant planet, schooled by the wildly ferocious clansmen of Segesthes, picking up bits of lore and scraps of knowledge from here and there on Kregen. But Drak was an emperor to his fingertips. I confess I joyed in that.

  Mind you, I did not forget that I was the King of Djanduin. But Djanduin was dwaburs away in Havilfar, and my friends could run affairs there perfectly. The moment I could snatch the time from Vallia, it would be Djanduin for me. Even, perhaps, before Strombor. As the Lord of Strombor I reposed absolute faith and confidence in Gloag, who was a good comrade and the one handling everything there. That I had some still remaining links with Hamal, the hated enemy of Vallia, remained true. I was, in Hamal, Hamun ham Farthytu, the Amak of Paline Valley. Nulty was the one in charge there. But that seemed to me distant and vague and blurred; one day I would return to Paline Valley. As Hamun ham Farthytu I would seek out my good comrades, Rees and Chido. Good comrades, and also Hamalese and therefore foemen to Vallians.

  What a nonsense all that was!

  The plans I hoped to see come to fruition demanded that Vallia and Hamal join hands in friendship, and with the nations of the island of Pandahem begin to form that grand alliance we must forge so as to combat the vicious shanks who raided from over the curve of the world. All these things went around in my head continually as we worked on the immediate problems of clearing Vallia of her invaders.

  The news from Seg reaffirmed his skill in keeping the clansmen off our necks until we were able to defeat them once and for all. Patrols of observation in the southwest reported little movement from the invaders there; but that part of the island had been under the heel of foreign lords with their mercenaries for long enough for us to watch and ward the borders and build our strength for the counterstroke.

  The Presidio now met regularly in the sumptuous Villa of Vennar, situated on one of the exclusive hills of Vondium. The place had been abandoned since its lord, Kov Layco Jhansi, had proved himself a double dyed villain and a traitor. The deren[1] of the Presidio had been burned to the ground. We would not waste resources on rebuilding that, not until Vallia was free, and particularly when there were abandoned villas with enormous chambers suitable for the purposes of the Presidio lying empty.

  In the Presidio Kov Vodun na Kaldi proved a volatile and persuasive speaker. Constantly he sought to encourage us to action. His hatred for the Hamalese and the Pandaheem was implacable. With his reiterated calls for the utter destruction of the invaders he reminded me of Cato and his never-ending Carthago delenda est.

  Various conversations with him from time to time revealed him as a man with a history. Fretful at being the son of a kov who might have to wait years before he came into the title, the lands and power, and the responsibility, he went abroad and became a mercenary. Because Vallia had not kept a standing army, being mainly a trading maritime nation, many of her young men took themselves overseas to become mercenaries. Many had become famous paktuns. Kov Vodun was one such, entitled to wear the pakmort, the silver mortil-head on its silk cord at his throat. He did not wear it at home for, as he said, that would be too flamboyant.

  So, he did understand something of soldiering.

  He mentioned various places in Loh, where most of his service had been spent, and, as I summed him up, he grew in my estimation. We needed men like this, tough, no-nonsense professionals to put the polish on the crowds of eager but raw recruits who flocked to the standards.

  When I offered him a brigade, somewhat diffidently, I must admit, expecting him to refuse, he accepted.

  “Give me the brigade, majister. You will soon see my men will form the best brigade in the army.”

  The appointment was warmly endorsed by the Presidio.

  Thinking myself foolish for offering a command to a man half expecting him to refuse — a very poor way of going on — I wondered if Delia’s attitude had contributed to that feeling of inexplicable hesitancy. Naghan Vanki, the emperor’s chief spymaster, reported that everything Kov Vodun had said was true. Vanki gave him a clean bill of health, and my spirits lifted at that. Asked about the mysterious green-cloaked figure, Vanki gave his thin smile.

  “He is merely an adviser to the kov, majister. He is one of the Wizards of Fruningen, a small sect but with some claim to serious consideration. They regard Opaz, I am told, as a single entity and not, as indeed they truly are, the Invisible Twins, one and indissolubly twins.”

  I raised my eyebrows at this, for Vanki expressed an extreme view. Most people regarded Opaz as the spirit of the Invisible Twins made manifest. And I knew of the island of Fruningen, a small rocky scrap jutting out of the sea northwest of the island of Tezpor. Reports, amplified by Kov Vodun, told us that the Vad of Tezpor, Larghos the Lame, had been hanged upside down from his own rooftree by flutsmen. And, Tezpor lay due north of the large island of Rahartdrin. There was nothing simple I could do for Katrin Rashumin save pray to all the gods she was safe.

  “So far I have not met a Wizard of Fruningen,” I said to Naghan Vanki. “They are clearly not to be compared to the Wizards of Loh.” At this Vanki let his thin smile indicate the idiocy of the remark. I went on: “But how stand they in relation to the Sorcerers of Murcroinim?”

  “If one were to engage the other in wizardly combat, Majister, I fear they would both disappear in puffs of smoke.”

  “At least that argues real powers.”

  “Yes.”

  Naghan Vanki had dealt with a few real powers in his time, powers of steel and gold; I did not think a sorcerer would discompose him overmuch. A tough, wily old bird, Naghan Vanki, always impeccable in his silver and black.

  So Kov Vodun got his brigade and began smartening them up and putting a snap in their step and iron into their backbones.

  Then, although it spelled misery and desolation for the unfortunate people involved, an event occurred which gave me a capital opportunity to delegate responsibilities in Vondium to the Crebent-Justicar, the Lord Farris, and the Presidio, and take off for action.

  “So you are off again, then, husband,” said Delia as I strapped on my harness in our rooms and wondered just what selection of weaponry to take. “This time I think I shall go with you, for the folk of Bryvondrin have suffered much and yet they have taken in and cared for the people of the occupied provinces east of the Great River. And they are our people.”

  What she meant was plain. Bryvondrin, situated in one of the tremendous loops of the Great River, the enormous central waterway of Vallia, was an imperial province.

  “True. But what concerns me is that the enemy have got over the Great River. We regarded that as a first-class natural barrier. And, my heart, it is only seventy dwaburs away from Vondium.”

  “Too close for comfort.”

  “But that does not mean you wi
ll fly with me—”

  “You would prevent me?”

  I sighed.

  “I would if I thought it would do any good. You know how I joy to have you with me — but if there, rather, as there is to be fighting—”

  “Fighting!”

  I felt suitably chastened. Truly, Delia of Delphond has served in her quota of battles, to my own dread despair.

  Her handmaidens, Floria and Rosala came in all chattering and laughing, rosy, gorgeous girls. They brought stands of clothing over which, I felt sure, they would all giggle and try against themselves and spend hours deciding exactly what to wear.

  Aghast, I said: “You are not bringing them?”

  “Are you taking Emder?”

  “Well — to be honest, no.”

  “Then it will be as it was in the old days.”

  So that was decided. As usual, the decision seemed to have arrived of its own accord.

  Naghan Vanki reported that the invasion over the Great River was not in overmuch force. His spies had the composition confirmed by cavalry patrols from our small forces there.

  There were some fifteen thousand fighting men, ten of infantry and five of cavalry, mainly totrixes with some zorcas. These men were formed and disciplined, professional mercenaries and although they were not in great force they were formidable. Their object, as I saw it, was to create a secure bridgehead for their further encroachments on our country. Certainly, they held all the land from the Great River to the east coast.

  “We must fly out in sufficient force to make very sure of the victory,” I told my assembled chiefs when, dressed in war harness and with Delia at my side, I rode out to see the army off. We were constrained to leave strong forces in Vondium, for obvious reasons, and I had had to pick and choose the units to go. Everyone wanted to be in on the act, and there were some long faces decorating those hardy warriors I had to leave behind.

  Firstly, the Phalanx. Nath insisted on accompanying me and he would bring the Third Kerchuri of the Second Phalanx. With foot soldiers, Hakkodin and the attached archers, the Third Kerchuri amounted to some eight thousand men.