The Blood-stained Belt (12 page)

Sharma nodded
and raised a thumb. We split the canvas with our swords and rushed
in. The man hardly had time to register our presence before Sharma
struck him a blow across the neck and I drove my sword into his
ribcage. He gave one startled grunt, toppled over, and fell to the
floor next to the bed. Withdrawing my sword, I turned to leave but
Sharma grabbed my arm. He said, ‘Wait! There’s one more thing to
do.’

‘He's dead! For
God’s sake, let’s get out of here!’

Sharma gave me
an impatient glare, dragged the body to the middle of the floor,
and unsheathed a broadsword that was hanging on a tent pole. He
hissed, ‘Just getting a souvenir of our visit.’ He brought the
sword down on the neck of the corpse. The blow almost completely
severed the head from the body. Sharma hacked once more and the
head rolled free. He stuffed the head into a canvas bag, slung it
over his shoulder, and jerked his thumb in a let's-go motion.

I said, ‘Hang
on! It’s my turn now.’ I picked up a torch and flung it against the
canvas. Then I followed Sharma into the darkness.

We escaped
without being noticed and made our way to the place where Zaliek’s
light still flickered. When we got there, Zaliek cursed us and
growled, ‘What kept you? You’re holding us up.’

Sharma said
lightly, ‘We had some extra business to attend to.’

I pointed to
the Dornite camp, where the large tent had just collapsed in a
circle of fire, and said, ‘That was part of the business,
commander.’

Zaliek gave a
grudging nod of acceptance. Then he looked at the bag that Sharma
was carrying and said disapprovingly, ‘I see you had enough time to
collect some loot.’

Sharma grinned
mischievously, saying smugly, ‘It’s not loot, commander. It’s a
souvenir.’

‘A souvenir!
Same thing! Any way you look at it, you could have got killed for
it.’ Zaliek cursed, extinguished the torch, and growled, ‘Get
moving. The Dornites will be on our trail soon.’

Sharma said
smugly, ‘Maybe not, commander.’

Zaliek just
snorted sceptically and led the way towards the top of the
ridge.

We travelled
for the rest of the night, only stopping for short periods. At
daybreak, we reached an abandoned village where we were able to get
water, fruit, and some dry bread. There we met two of our scouts
who told us that Vaxili had regrouped what remained of our army and
was trying to establish a defensive position.

While we paused
for refreshment, Zaliek pointed to the bag that Sharma was carrying
and wrinkled his nose in disgust. The floor of the bag was soiled
with a blotchy, red-brown stain. Zaliek said, ‘That bag is
disgusting. What did you steal – a lump of meat?’

Sharma replied
smugly, ‘Better than that, commander.’ He reached into the bag and
hauled out the head, swinging it by the hair.

Zaliek’s eyes
widened. He took a closer look, whistled and said, ‘By Melok,
that’s the head of Drunuk.’ He whistled again and looked at Sharma
in admiration. ‘That’s their commander. Do you know that?’

Sharma replied
in a self--satisfied tone, ‘We thought as much, commander.’

I said,
‘Perhaps the Dornites won’t be following us, commander.’

Zaliek rubbed
his chin thoughtfully and said, ‘You haven't just bought us some
time. You've bought time for the whole of Keirine. Only the Dornite
federal council can appoint a new general. That means that they’ll
probably be arguing about who's in charge instead of following us.’
His face split in a wide, slow grin. ‘And, if I know the Dornites,
they won't stop arguing for a few months, until they've made a new
appointment.’ Still grinning happily, he snorted and said, ‘The
Dornites spend half their time arguing about who’s going to be the
commander of their army. The rest of the time, they argue about
who’s going to replace him.’

At the time, I
wondered once again how Zaliek knew so much about the Dornites. It
seemed to lend credibility to the theory that he was a Dornite
himself even if most people thought that he came from somewhere to
the south of Kitilat. Was Zaliek telling the truth when he said
that the Dornites had a particular hatred of him or was that a
cover for something else? Cowardice? No, I didn’t think so.
Unwilling to fight against his own people? It could be. I shrugged
the thought away. There were more immediate matters to attend
to.

After a few
hours we reached the large village that we marched through on the
way to the battlefield. Vaxili had gathered the remnant of the army
there and was trying to organise a defensive position that
incorporated the outer ring of houses into a system of ditches and
earth walls. However, the troops were tired and dispirited and not
much had been done. As Sharma remarked as we entered the village,
an attack by the Dornites during the next few hours would almost
certainly force a retreat if in fact it didn't inflict another
crushing defeat.

Vaxili himself
rode out to meet us. Zaliek halted, saluted, and made a brief
report after which Vaxili nodded despondently and said, ‘Get
something to eat and drink. You’ll find what you need in the
village. Then report to the south--eastern sector.’ He wheeled his
horse but Zaliek stopped him, saying, ‘My lord, we have something
here that will interest you.’

Vaxili asked
wearily, ‘What is it?’ Zaliek nodded to Sharma, who pulled the head
from the bag and held it up. Vaxili wrinkled his nose in disgust
and asked disdainfully, ‘Are we as savage as the Dornites, that we
carry the heads of our enemies around with us?’

Zaliek said,
‘Your majesty, it is the head of Drunuk.’

‘Drunuk!
Drunuk, you say? Is that so?’ Vaxili’s eyes widened and he leaned
forward to take a closer look. He gave a long whistle. ‘Drunuk,
eh?’ Vaxili smiled for the first time. ‘Drunuk dead! That changes
things. Oh, yes, that certainly changes things.’ He got down from
his horse, planted himself in front of us, and said, ‘Tell me about
it.’

When we had
told our story, Vaxili took off his helmet, scratched his head
vigorously, and grinned in satisfaction. He said, ‘This is a great
service to Keirine. You’ve bought us time to reorganise.’ Putting
his hands on our shoulders, he said, ‘Your service to Keirine will
be recognised.’

Next day, when
we marched into Koraina, our squad led the column with Sharma and
me in the front rank. Sharma held the head of Drunuk aloft on a
lance where it bobbed before us as a macabre symbol of success in
the midst of defeat.

The inhabitants
of Koraina lined the road as we approached the town. The mood was
grey and sombre. Instead of a victory march, this was the return of
a force that had lost more than a third of its men, many of whom
were husbands, relatives and friends of the people of Koraina.
Also, there was an air of foreboding because the defeat increased
the likelihood that the Dornites would sweep into southern Keirine
with renewed confidence, wreaking more destruction and conquering
more territory.

As we marched
through the crowd, a young woman suddenly ran forward. She was
dressed in a robe of pastel colours with a golden ringlet on her
head. Taller than the average, her elegant figure was enhanced by
fastidious grooming and fine fabrics. Running up to Sharma, she
draped her scarf around his neck and called out, ‘Sharma has killed
Drunuk and Keirine rejoices.’ Dancing in front us, ululating and
holding up her hands, she cried, ‘By the stroke of his sword,
Sharma has turned defeat into victory.’

Sharma called
out, ‘Don’t forget my comrade Jina! We both killed Drunuk.’

The woman
called out, ‘Jina is also a hero of Keirine.’ Turning towards me,
she asked, ‘Are you the Jina who is Dana’s friend?’

I nodded. The
woman gestured to the crowd and called, ‘Join us, Dana. Join us to
honour Jina as well.’

Dana ran
forward, calling out, ‘Keirine rejoices in Jina and Sharma.’ She
kissed me, causing me to break step. Zaliek shouted, ‘No women in
the ranks! This is a line of march not a dancing troupe.’ Then he
said more gently, ‘My lady Mecolo, please do not mingle with the
troops.’

She laughed and
replied, ‘Zaliek, you know that I would never come between you and
your duty.’

Mecolo! So this
was Vaxili’s daughter, Mecolo! Sharma and I glanced at each other.
He gave me a knowing grin and then, looking ahead again, called
out, ‘My lady Mecolo, I dedicate this success to you.’

Zaliek shouted,
‘Quiet in the ranks! The next man to speak will face a disciplinary
charge.’

As more young
women joined Mecolo and Dana, the group danced ahead of us,
ululating and calling out, ‘Drunuk is dead. The enemy of Keirine
has perished.’ Whirling and swaying, Mecolo began a song:

Sharma of
Osicedi, soldier of Keirine,

On a lance he
bears Drunuk high.

Jina of
Osicedi, comrade of Sharma,

With his sword
he laid Drunuk low.

Her companions
joined in, singing and ululating, while Mecolo whirled ever more
swiftly with her arms stretched above her head and with her gown
swirling about her, bell--like. The crowd closed in, shouting
encouragement and calling out, ‘Sharma! Sharma! Jina! Jina! A
thousand like Sharma and Jina, and Keirine is safe.’

Vaxili had been
riding just behind our detachment but now he forced his way to the
head of the procession and called out tersely, ‘Mecolo, your father
greets you.’

Mecolo ran to
him and put a hand on his leg. Walking by Vaxili’s side, she said,
'Mecolo and all of Keirine greet the king. They thank Zabrazal that
he is safe and well.’

Vaxili frowned,
bent down, and said something sharp to Mecolo. She bit her lip,
shook her head, and said something in return. Vaxili frowned even
more. He gesticulated dismissively at Mecolo’s companions and then
at our detachment. Mecolo tossed her head, whirled around, and
called to her companions resentfully, ‘We are mere women! The king
says, let the soldiers march without the interference of women.’
They ran off and the crowd opened up to give us unobstructed
passage into the centre of Koraina.

The army
assembled in front of the temple and Izebol appeared on the top
step, dressed in his full high priestly regalia. Vaxili moved
towards him but Izebol waved him away with an abrupt gesture.
Vaxili stopped short as if he had been struck in the face before he
turned on his heel and stalked down the steps to take up a position
in front of the first rank.

Izebol raised
his arms and waited for silence. He called out, ‘Zabrazal grieves
when his people grieve.’ Izebol paused, looked over the assembled
company, and then fixed his eyes on Vaxili. He said ringingly,
‘Zabrazal speaks through his priests and Zabrazal speaks through
the omens. Zabrazal will walk with you in all your endeavours if
you open your ears to the words of the priests and open your eyes
to the message of the omens.’ Izebol stood for a while with folded
arms and lowered chin, looking out over the army and saying nothing
more. There was a deep silence. Then Izebol raised his arms,
pronounced a short benediction, and turned on his heels.

As Sharma and I
walked back to the camp together, I remarked, ‘Mecolo is too
bold.’

‘Oh? You think
so?’

‘Already she
could mean trouble for us.’

‘Why?’

‘Well, for one
thing, Vaxili wasn’t pleased that she neglected him while she
favoured us. He won't forget it.’

Sharma grunted
dismissively. Then he clapped me on the back and said cheerfully,
‘Jina, my old friend, you worry too much. If you’re not worrying
about Zabrazal you’re worrying about Vaxili.’

'Perhaps
there's reason to worry.'

Sharma draped
an arm around my shoulders and said confidently, ‘Forget about it,
man. We’re nothing in the eyes of gods and kings. To them, we’re
just insignificant creatures, not worthy of their attention.’

I said, ‘Even
gods and kings will trample on insects if they cause annoyance.’ I
meant what I said. I remembered the look on Vaxili's face when he
called out to Mecolo. Worse still, I remembered the looks that he
gave Sharma and me while he was talking to Mecolo. The only
consolation – a small consolation -- was that Mecolo had her sights
set on Sharma and not on me. Now that I had met Mecolo I could see
that people spoke the truth when they said that she was vivacious,
graceful and desirable. She was all of those things, and more – but
rather Sharma than me. Yes, I thought, rather Sharma than me.

I resolved to
go to the temple to make my peace with Zabrazal. While I thought
about it, I wondered if I had earned pluses or minuses on his
divine scoreboard. Surely I had been given plenty of pluses for
bravery in the service of Keirine? On the other hand, maybe I’d
been awarded minuses for being the centre of public attention, even
if only briefly? However, when I added up everything on my mental
scoreboard, it seemed to me that the pluses must surely
predominate. After all, didn’t Zabrazal have a particular affection
for those who wielded the sword in the service of Keirine? On the
other hand, didn't I have pride and exaltation in my heart when I
looked back on my escapades in the Dornite camp? My heart sank a
little and pleasurable certainty declined into apprehension. Pluses
or minuses, pluses or minuses? I didn't know. I really didn’t know.
That was all the more reason to make my peace with the jealous
Zabrazal. In the morning I would go to the temple as a humble
supplicant.

CHAPTER
EIGHT: ZABRAZAL MIGHT BE JEALOUS

A day later, I
saw Dana again. Judging by the warmth of her embrace, my share in
her affection had reached a new high. She wanted to know all about
the battle and in particular about our attack on the Dornite camp.
When I finished telling the story, Dana embraced me again, giving
me a long kiss that set the lightning playing across my body. I
pulled her closer to me but she chuckled and moved away. Eyes
shining, she swayed and began to sing the song that Mecolo composed
as she danced before us: