Legions of Antares (17 page)
Signs
The lively time began with: “Among the damned Hamalese! I’d as lief slit their throats as look at ’em!” and ended with, “It’s so cunning a scheme I’ll be a better Hamalese than any of ’em, as Havandua the Green Wonder bears witness!”
I sighed. Deldar Jorg the Fist and his five men clustered about me, straining their harness, their faces inflamed, breathing hard. “Havandua is not of Hamal.”
“No, dom, no, that is right. I’ll allow you that.”
“So it will be Havil, or Krun — Dernun?”
The word dernun came out inquiringly and not insultingly, but it was hard enough, in its demand for their understanding, to make them snap up.
“Understood,” said Jorg, and he winked, a fine raffish leering wink that made me turn away so that they should not see the foolish smile I could not contain. We sped for Ruathytu and the six swods rid themselves of insignia that would mark them as enemies of Hamal. Each man knew his business. I had the nucleus of a crew. That proved the straw to which I clung as the obnoxious ord-Jiktar Morthnin chewed me out. As an ord-Jiktar, eight steps up the Jiktar ladder of promotions, he stood six above me, a dwa-Jiktar. I listened to what he had to say, watching his face twitch with his own passionate anger, realizing that he was in a position which he, himself, did not think he could handle. You have to feel sorry for men in that situation, of course...
“You will be severely reprimanded, Jiktar, most severely. I shall see to it myself—”
“I have the beginnings of a crew, Jiktar Morthnin. If you wish to make any more of this, then run me up before the Chuktar. He’ll chew you out for wasting his time. I have a full month of the Maiden with the Many Smiles. Only then will you have anything to say to me — now let me get on with seeing to my command.”
His face approached in color a plum left too long in the light of the suns. He gobbled.
I marched off, giving him no time to spit out the retort he was frenziedly attempting to put into words.
Not pretty. He was a Hamalese, so that made it a little more bearable for me...
At the time, I must emphasize, at the time only. We had to get together with the people of Hamal to resist the damned Shanks raiding from over the curve of the world. But, first things first.
The premature invasion of Hamal from the south created a whole new slew of problems, for the Hamalese no less than for the allies. The tempo of life increased and the feeling of being at the heart of world affairs broadened. Ruathytu became even more a city of contrasts, as the seriousness of the situation was brought home by the open comings and goings with the wind of fleets of famblehoys. The swift vollers plied their routes through the skies, and the famblehoys bumbled along as best they could. I took more than a few moments of amusement from the unhandiness of the Hamalese sky sailors.
Many of the fresh troops were bundled off down south and the officers of the garrisons left and the training barracks were of the opinion that many of the regiments being sent to the front were not yet ready. I listened. During these days I learned a great deal. The Empress Thyllis kept herself closeted more and more, not seeing her pallans, going with her favorites to any of the secluded and secret villas she kept up in various parts of the country. The streets of Ruathytu resounded to the tramp of marching men as units were called in to be dispatched south.
All the same, as I went about collecting a crew, I heard what Vad Homath had to say. He was bashing his Nineteenth Army into shape with a frenzy that reflected the urgency he, at least, saw in the situation.
“I am going to Hyrklana and take them apart, the cramphs, even if the whole Dawn Lands rise against us.”
Someone in the crowded tavern where we talked and argued and drank was foolhardy enough to say, “Is that wise?”
Homath’s scar flamed. “Wise! Onker! They invade from the south to weaken us here and in the east.” He looked savage. “As for the north, the Hyr Notor will have to handle that. He has powers ordinary men know nothing of, by Krun!”
He was talking of the great devil, Phu-Si-Yantong, and he was right, uncomfortably right. Our own Wizards of Loh would have to meet and front the deviltry of Phu-Si-Yantong.
“Where do you intend to hit the Hyrklese, notor?” I spoke casually, lifting a goblet. “Neck, belly or groin?”
He was filled with his own anger at what was going on and the stupidity of others, and so was a little off guard. He knew what he was going to do. “I shall go for the belly. A straight drop on Huringa. That will settle the whole issue in a day.”
“Excellent, notor,” I said, and sat back, and drank.
The incautious fellow — he was an under-pallan at the treasury or something similar, I believe — piped up again. “There are other armies involved, Homath. Their Kapts will—”
Homath left off stroking his scar. He bristled. “I have been given the mangy Nineteenth but I remain in command of the force! Don’t forget that. Kapts Hindimun and Naghan and Lart will obey my orders or their armies will be commanded by fresh faces. Believe me.”
The foolhardy under-pallan drew a breath, and sat back, and took refuge in his wine. Homath, hard professional as he was, had clearly been severely shaken by what the Hamalese considered the treacherous attack from the Dawn Lands. Useless to rage, myself, thinking of the marvelous opportunity we had missed. Had Hyrklana and Vallia struck, and then the allies from the Dawn Lands... But we had to work with the tools fates placed in our hands.
“I shall clear the whole of Hyrklana in three months. I shall return with all the vollers they have. It will be up to the armies of the south to hold these yetches from the Dawn Lands.” Homath drank, fiercely, and banged his glass down. “Maintain the aim, that is what we must do and pin our hopes on Havil and the soundness of our military doctrine.”
The others gathered around the Kapt in the tavern agreed in their various styles. They were confident, and had every right to be, for the soundness of the Hamalian military thinking had been proved time and again on battlefields and in sieges where their organization, skill and courage had crowned their standards with victory.
I stood up to make my excuses, for I intended to leave early on the morrow. “My felicitations for success in Hyrklana,” I said, which was, considering all things, sneaky enough.
Homath was talking to a Chulik Chuktar and he half turned to acknowledge my departure. He had no need to, of course. I saluted and threw a few respectful remberees to others in the company I had come to know. Now an interesting reversal, almost a revulsion, of feeling had possessed the people of Ruathytu when news came in of the invasion. Diffs were now, suddenly, welcomed again. My own view was that the apim nobles of Hamal had been growing restive at the increasing number of diff nobles; certainly the fighting men considered diff or apim or whatever only from the prowess, the skill and courage that a racial stock would confer. Whatever the reasons, diffs now moved about much more freely and were once more a splendid part of the magnificent spectacle of Kregan life.
The Chulik Chuktar was saying, “Prisoners confirm that this evil cult of Spikatur Hunting Sword is behind the invasion.”
Homath grunted. Pausing, I waited a moment, standing at the end of the table and with the back of the incautious under-pallan off my starboard wing, listening.
“You were unable to get any more, Chuktar Rarbonatch? No, these fellows of Spikatur chop themselves. I know.”
“By Likshu the Treacherous, notor! You are right. But we confirmed they have no leaders.”
“Or will not admit to them.”
The Chulik polished up his starboard tusk, the one with the ruby inset beneath the gold band. “Our security Jiktar believed it, notor. Although it is difficult to understand.”
Chuliks are trained from birth to handle weapons and serve as mercenaries, and know little of humanity; but they do understand chains of command. That warriors would fight without due heed of officers to command them puzzled the Chulik.
He pulled a piece of paper from his wallet and passed it across to Homath, who looked, made a disgusted sound and threw the paper onto the table. It showed in simple black-ink lines the outline of a sword piercing a heart.
“These signs appear everywhere, notor,” said Chuktar Rarbonatch. “Painted on doors, chalked on walls. We remove them; but they reappear.”
“Remove the sign-writers!” shouted Chuktar Thrend, and the company indicated they shared that opinion. It was time for me to leave. As I left the tavern the sign above the door creaked. The wooden slat was painted in vivid colors, greens and blues and yellows, showing a leem being shot by crossbow bolts. I had thought that Spikatur Hunting Sword would turn out to be a grand conspiracy directed against Hamal and of material assistance to our plans. Well, I was half right and half wrong. By Zair, yes!
The secret adherents of Spikatur might want to get at the Hamalese; but they had, by prodding the allies from the Dawn Lands into a premature attack, materially hampered our plans.
And then, as I went back to the barracks in a not-too-happy frame of mind, there on a wall the chalked sign of the sword piercing the heart gave me heart, reminding me that we did not struggle against this puissant Empire of Hamal alone.
I decided the early start was going to be considerably earlier than anyone expected. Rousing out my lads I told Jorg to get
Mathdi
ready for a long flight. Then I went to see Chuktar Fydur ham Thorfrann, not giving a damn for poor old ord-Jiktar Morthnin and protocol. Chuktar Thorfrann at least knew his job, being a choleric, stout, astute sky-commander, having charge of a wing of twelve vollers. He was bucking for promotion to command one of the awe-inspiring Hamalian skyships. He woke up rubbing his eyes and cursing me.
“I am leaving for a longish flight, Chuk — and I don’t want that idiot Morthnin doing himself an injury worrying about me. If we can recruit diffs again, then I can fill my crew.”
“Why do I put up with you, Jak the Insufferable! By Havil the Green! All right! Go and get your crew. But if you’re not back here on time—”
“I shall be, Chuk.”
It was all both a laugh and petty at the same time. I was tempted to wing off at once, take
Mathdi
to join forces with my friends, and so join in with the invasion. But I could serve much more important ends by remaining within the Air Service of Hamal. And, also, in my treatment of Morthnin and my toadying to ham Thorfrann, I writhed in remembered indignation and resentment at other days, when I had suffered from puffed-up nincompoops with Influence. Thorfrann allowed me a long leash because of my friendship with Prince Tyfar and Prince Nedfar. I remember, I made myself a promise to make amends to poor old ord-Jiktar Morthnin, if I could.
“You think you know where you can pick up crewmen, Jak?”
“I’m hopeful.” I sounded cautious.
“Well, if you can find a few extra — the Wing needs men to fill out the crews. We’re in for the big one, if I’m not mistaken.”
“You mean — we’ll go south?”
He laughed, purple, apoplectic, spluttering. “No, Jak, you fambly! Not those pathetic fools from the Dawn Lands.”
“Hyrklana, then? But Kapt Homath said nothing—”
Again that taint of Influence. That I, a mere dwa-Jiktar, could talk and even drink on easy terms with a vad and a Kapt must have annoyed Chuktar ham Thorfrann. But he just wheezed again, and said: “Vallia!” and laughed, and threw me out.
Of only one thing could I be reasonably sure — about that. I did not think Hamal could possibly put another onslaught onto Vallia, my homeland, together with all the problems she had from south and east and in Pandahem. If I was wrong... No, confound it! By the Black Chunkrah! I said to myself. Maintain the aim, that was what Homath had said, quoting sage military doctrine, and that was what I would do. If ham Thorfrann had reason to believe Vallia was a target, he must be talking about the Hamalese reinforcements for Pandahem. He had to be.
Jorg had
Mathdi
ready and we took off at once.
I’d appointed Jorg the Fist as ship-Deldar, which post just about equates with the responsible position of boatswain on Earth. If the ship fell to pieces, Jorg would be the one to make inquiries of...
We set off eastwards. I fancied my lad Jaidur, who was King of Hyrklana, would be vastly interested in what Kapt Homath had had to say in The Bolted Leem tavern. Vastly.
“Zair does will it!”
Jaidur was now king in Hyrklana, with Lildra, the queen, radiant at his side. It was therefore very necessary to be circumspect, cautious, civil — even ceremonious — in tackling that young tearaway. And, of course, even the youngest of right tearaways grows up in time. Jaidur, my youngest lad, had unmistakably grown in stature and in wisdom. For all that he was still as sharp and cutting as ever as
Mathdi
alighted with the swarm of patrolling flyers surrounding her.
We landed sweetly enough on a platform of the High Hakal, the fortress and palaces of Huringa. Flags flew and trumpets pealed, and there was a plethora of gold and gems ablaze in the light of the suns.
The Lahals rang out. Jaidur and Lildra waited for me. I was conscious that I had left this place borne by the magical powers of the Star Lords, leaving Delia, leaving all that I loved. Now, in returning by mere mortal airboat, I was not in any real sense completing a circle.
There was no time to waste. I did not intend to shilly-shally here with protocol and tiresome formalities. I told Jaidur what lay in store for Huringa, capital of Hyrklana, and added: “Your invasion of Hamal is still vital. Even more so; but—”
“But can you expect me to leave Huringa unprotected?”
“No. But I have forewarned you. You know this Kapt Homath is bringing four armies against you. Therefore you deal with them with your Home Forces. Jaidur — you must invade Hamal. The plan calls for it.”
“The plan — well, I was not king in Hyrklana when that plan was forged.”
Lildra, smiling, placatory, knowing how much Jaidur had had to put up with an absentee father in the past, and, too, I feel sure, remembering how it had rained when I’d taken her out of the Castle of Afferatu, intervened.