Legions of Antares (25 page)

So we left it at that, and
Mathdi
took off for the south.

“By Spag the Junc!” quoth Dav Olmes when we touched down, and I explained to him. “It might work — no, it will work!”

“I do not want to be too long away from Ruathytu, for I have unfinished business there. But you folk from the Dawn Lands have so many different columns—”

“We have, and wisely so, since many of the countries do not get along. But I will have the word spread. The King of Hambascett marches a full two days apart from the King of Ezionn — back home they’d be at each other’s throats at the least excuse. But I’ll see to all that.”

“You fellows from the Dawn Lands — united you could walk all over Hamal.”

“Maybe. But we are as we are. A patchwork quilt of honor and enmity and friendship. A Rapa of Sinopa would as lief slit the gizzard of a Rapa of Sokotro as any old Fristle. I tell you, Jak, it’s a balancing act even to get ’em all to march.”

“Any news of Kov Konec?”

“His illness persists; but he is gaining strength. I do not think he will join the army in time for the last battle.”

I didn’t bother to ask if there was news of Prince Mefto the Kazzur. Dav’s forces were in good heart, and he did have a fair quantity of air, which was heartening. His king had entrusted a sizeable force to him, and Dav had grown easily to fill the position. I nodded to a party of Mionches shambling along over the brow of the hill. They did not look happy. Their helmets, high-horned, were pushed back on straps over their shoulders, and their round shields and pairs of spears dangled and slanted any old how. At their head they carried a banner; but this was cased.

Dav shook his head. “I know, Jak. But I can only do what any sensible commander does. Everyone knows Chuliks will not serve in any army containing Mionches. Perhaps it is because a Mionch has tusks twice as long as those of a Chulik.”

“Perhaps. Although I fancy there is more to it than that.”

Whatever the reason, mercenary Mionches would not be tolerated by Chuliks, and as the fighting ratio was something of the order of six to one, any sensible commander would do what Dav was forced to do. All the same, you could not help feeling a stab of sympathy for the Mionches.

Although Dav would contact other columns marching up to the northwards, we in
Mathdi
made sure we visited the kings and kapts commanding the armies that might be — quite by accident — left out. By representing myself as a pallan at large from the Emperor of Vallia and the King of Hyrklana, I managed to obtain overall consent to our joint plans. Mind you, it would be folly to imagine everything would go smoothly. Always there would be the odd joker who disagreed, had a better plan, was feeling out of sorts, any excuse just so he or she could carry on doing what they wanted to do. I did my best to weld the disparate forces together, seeing more and more the task of the Dawn Lands armies as grapplers of the Hamalese as the Vallians and Hyrklese delivered the knock-out blows. Our greatest concern was that the enemy would concentrate overwhelming strength against one of our columns; and to thwart this an arrangement of patrols and scouts kept well ahead to apprise us of any forward movement. Then the aerial forces would bring reinforcements and succor as fast as they could fly. So far we had not experienced any disasters.

During this time as I flew from army to army it was my fortune to witness only two battles, and these mere delaying skirmishes on the part of the Hamalese. They held us up, when we landed in rear they would detour and run. Then, a few sennights later, they’d set up another block. Their plans were being carried out.

Soon — but not all that soon, by Krun! — it was time for me to go Djanduin.

The little signomant in the form of a bronze brooch given me by Khe-Hi contained nine gems of different colors and values arranged in a circle. Weird though it was, I knew that the two Wizards of Loh could go into their trance state of lupu and witness events through these gems. The value of this brooch was immense, because usually Wizards of Loh concealed their signomants in massive bronzen plates so as to make movement difficult. Yet the task was difficult and fraught with peril, for if Yantong caught a sniff of our Wizards of Loh at work, his own kharrna would lash out with diabolical viciousness. What might happen then I did not care to dwell on.

Perhaps when I reached Djanduin and flew to the capital, Djanguraj, and touched down in the court of the Stux of Zodjuin in the palace there, our Wizards of Loh might have freer access.

The folk of Windy Djanguraj welcomed us as only Djangs can.

The immensely ferocious four-armed Dwadjangs and the shrewd two-armed Obdjangs with their pert gerbil-faces might be no rivals in the twin fields of war and diplomacy; they are well-matched when it comes to entertaining guests and comrades. For a moment I allowed the tensions and worries to slip away. If I felt any guilt I looked at that question squarely and decided that the campaign was running smoothly, I was not indispensable, and I needed to spend time with my people of Djanduin.

Kytun Kholin Dom did his usual trick. His upper left arm enfolded me, his lower left thumped me on the back, his upper right hand gripped my own right hand and his lower right fist tattooed against my ribs. I gripped and hammered back with my half of his equipment. By Djan! It was good to be back in Djanduin!

Ortyg Fellin Coper, his whiskers dancing, forced himself into the melee to greet me, and his wife Sinkie threw herself on me. Oh, yes, this was coming home with a vengeance.

We went through the outrageous extravaganza of Djang celebrations, with processions and bonfires and torchlights and enormous mountains of food and rushing rivers of wine. The people yelled themselves hoarse. I went everywhere and saw everyone and felt great comfort in the prosperity of the country. The local enemy, the Gorgrens, would not be a threat again for some time. They would come back, in the end, for they are a malignant lot and pose problems of unity.

“And so we march against Hamal, Dray?”

“Aye.”

“You speak with a heavy heart,” said O. Fellin Coper. He brushed his whiskers, his face concerned, alert, one of the controlling minds of the country, my co-regent with Kytun.

“I think of the price we will pay — for megalomania.”

K. Kholin Dom swelled his massive ribcage, and his magnificent simpleness revealed itself as he said, “We do not often venture from Djanduin, but we have certain news of what these Hamalese are up to. They will not stop by themselves. The only sure way of stopping them is to stop them ourselves.” He picked up a flagon and held it. “No, Ortyg, no, you are right. The king has a heavy heart, as do we all for the fine fighting men who will die. But if this sacrifice is not made, far worse will follow.” Then he let rip a yell which brought all the faces along the tables up to stare at us. “By Zodjuin of the Silver Stux! Here is to Notor Prescot, King of Djanduin, and hell and damnation to all our foes!”

I lowered my eyelids as the deafening roar of approbation broke in the banqueting hall. With Djangs at a fellow’s back, what is there to fear from mortal men on Kregen?

Enough, by Zair, as you shall hear...

Through the following days we discussed plans. Rather, we elaborated and refined The Plan. For, in Djan’s own truth, there was but the one ploy open to us, and chancy though it might be and dangerous, it offered a rapid end to bloodshed. And when it comes to a gamble in war, there is no one like a Djang to snatch up the challenge with a fearsome shout of laughter. The regiments were inspected and the fliers and flyers of the Air Services. The four-armed Djangs are among the most impressive of fighting men on Kregen, their prowess immeasurable among their peer; and for all that they are little known outside the southwest corner of Havilfar, for they keep themselves to themselves. They are not the brightest of strategists. Point them in the right direction and start them going, and very little will stop them. It is the gerbil-faced Obdjangs who are the brains of the country, and the two races love each other and work together splendidly.

I might add that my crew of rascally fighting men in
Mathdi
were most polite during their stay in Djanduin, and Bonnu kept them well in hand.

During all my adventures over Kregen I had always, as you know, taken every opportunity to write to the places on that terrible and beautiful world of special interest to me, and Kytun and Ortyg were up to date with news. As a consequence of that they had been in communication with Valka, where many Djangs trained up Valkans to fly flutduins, and had employed Valkans — and Vallians — in work more suited to apims. This was how they knew of affairs in Hamal. Reports came in during that time bringing the latest information on the progress of the invasions, of the incursions of the wild men over the Mountains of the West. In many of these reports the name of Prince Tyfar was prominent.

I said to Ortyg and Kytun, “Listen, my friends. This Prince Tyfar. He is a great man. He is no enemy, for he shares our dream of uniting all Paz.” I stretched the truth here a little, but it was true, even if not yet spelled out. “We will never raise hand against him or his father, Prince Nedfar.”

“Then if he brings his army against us?”

I frowned. “I do not know for a surety. But I do not think he will desert his post. The wild men are a pest.”

They nodded. And I knew what they were thinking. If anybody — anybody — tried to fight me or them, the Djangs would be ruthless in protecting me and themselves. Selah!

Then, as though continuing a thought begun in his head, Ortyg said, “This Empire of Hamal is a rich country, enormously wealthy. We can live off the land if we have to. But — our vollers remain unreliable, as ever.”

“At least they are vollers,” I said. “The Vallians are using enormous fleets of sailers of the skies. Their vorlcas must use the winds. And there have been some fair old battles along the lines of communication. Yes, we live off Hamal. We’d never be able to invade at all if we could not.”

This point seemed the appropriate one for me to apprise them of my intentions.

“
Mathdi
will be going back to Kov Seg and Prince Drak and King Jaidur and then around to Dav Olmes and that oddball collection of Dawn Lands armies.” The word was not oddball, being a Kregish word, but that fits. They are a rum bunch in the Dawn Lands, by Krun. “Then she’ll be coming back to you for the assault.”

“And you, Dray?”

“I’m going to deprive you of a single-place flier. I am for Ruathytu.”

“Burn the place down,” grunted Kytun.

“But leave the treasury,” said Ortyg.

That was my Djangs, to the life.

At that point in the preparations there were three separate plans in operation, each resting on the shoulders of the one preceding. Maybe it was a pretty notion that the simple plan of the Hamalese high command should be used to confound itself; if we failed all Hamal would gloat in our discomfiture. As for us, well, a lot of us would be dead.

They’d heard down in Djanduin of Pundhri the Serene, the philosopher I had rescued at the behest of the Star Lords. They approved of his work and teachings, for neither Dwadjang nor Obdjang was apim, and I realized that perhaps I had underestimated not only Pundhri’s importance but the acumen of the Everoinye. Here was a focal point for the future, a strong motivation for the realization of the dreams I had for all of Paz.

There were tremendous scenes as I boarded the little single-place voller. I observed the fantamyrrh in the sight of the people and their noise shook the stones of the palace. The ruby and jade lights of the Suns of Scorpio in their streaming mingled radiance bathed the sea of faces uplifted to the landing platform. I looked down and lifted my arm in salute. They were yelling in unison now, chanting it out.

“Notor Prescot, King of Djanduin! Jikai!” Then, as the voller lifted: “Remberee, Notor Prescot! Remberee!”

“Remberee!” I bellowed down, and turned my face away up to the sky. What it is to have folk like the Djangs as friends!

A damned sight better than having them as foes, believe me.

Everything was drawing together beautifully. Always, something goes wrong with the best of plans, naturally, given the contrary nature of the fates or chance or skill that rule our lives; but short of a major catastrophe we had set up the situation so as to gain the most advantage from any eventuality. The flier soared up and away from Djanduin, heading north and east, and on course for Hamal not by the most direct route but by the safest. My reading of the situation was that it would be criminal of me to take a chance now when I flew a voller that might break down at any moment. So the dwaburs to Hamal were eaten up and the expectations rose in me headily.

What a vision! To encompass the downfall of Empress Thyllis and to make of Hamal an ally in the greater struggles ahead! Slung over my back I wore hidden under my cloak a Krozair longsword, one of those I now attempted to have stored in places where I had friends and where I might turn up in need. Djanguraj now had an armory of Krozair longswords — rather, swords made in Djanduin by Wil of the Bellows, after the pattern of Krozair longswords. Believe me when I say that I, a Brother of the Krozairs of Zy, took thankful comfort from the feel of that superb brand snugged close to my body. A tug, a twist, a cunning draw — and the blade would flame free in a heartbeat.

As I hurtled on over the face of Kregen under the Suns of Scorpio, I felt convinced the Krozair brand would play a part in the dangers ahead. By Zair! I tremble to think that, had I known — had I but known! — the nature of the horror that lurked waiting for me in Ruathytu, I would have turned the voller in the air and flown away, anywhere away from the capital city of Hamal.

Chapter twenty

The Empress Thyllis of Hamal

Far-reaching changes had taken place in Ruathytu during my absence, for I had been away some time as the invading armies approached the capital. For one thing, Pundhri the Serene was in the city and preaching, for the exposition of his philosophy approached the preacher’s art and fire. For another, only the great Arena remained in use; slaves had become too valuable to slaughter by the carload as in the old days. The number of fighting men had increased significantly, both mercenaries and swods of the iron legions. Also, aerial strength was marked by its absence. Here were clear signs of the high command’s plan in operation. Seg would have to face the final onslaught and face many more adversaries than we had calculated.