Sword Destiny (8 page)

“Our best archers have tried and failed,” Bharat pointed out. “It is as though he is blessed by the Gods. No arrow can find its mark.”

“I have a better way than arrows.” Sardar grinned. “Tomorrow, the javelin-throwing prince will be brought down. This I promise you. When he falls, Jahan will be drawn to the scene. Jahan or Devan, but I hope Jahan. Then I shall be on hand to challenge him to single combat. One of them will die on my sword. Two of their champions will not live to see another day.”

“Let me take Jahan,” Kamar begged. “I have yet to fully avenge my son.”

“I need you to watch the battlefield while I fight. With Durga gone, you are my first general now. And believe me, while I kill Jahan there will be much to watch.” He turned to Tuluq. “I have other plans for you, my son. And for you—” He nodded to Bharat. “While Jahan and Devan are distracted, you will strike at the very heart of Karakhor. I do not intend for this war to drag on forever.”

 

 

 

On the morning of the sixth day, the two armies lined up to face each other as before. Despite all the bloodshed, the great host of Maghalla seemed almost as numerous as on the first day. They were being reinforced by late arrivals who had not kept up with the main march. However, the smaller forces of Karakhor were inevitably shrinking. The sun touched the white walls and towers of the city, gleaming from the golden domes of the palaces, lighting up the carved red towers of the temples. As the light brightened and the shadows fled, the spear tips and drawn sword blades also began to flash and glitter. The drums beat, the trumpets and the conch shells sounded and again the battle was joined. Like the hurricane forces of two great waves, the ranks of chariots, elephants and men hurled themselves upon each other.

It was four days since young Prince Rajar had made his angry outburst in the audience hall. His clash with Ramesh still rankled and his claim to the throne was not forgotten, but he had recognized his own impetuosity and bided his time. For four days he had acquitted himself well. He had chosen as his main weapon the bow, which he could shoot from a safer distance. He had risen in the eyes of his peers almost as high as Kasim, whom he secretly cursed and envied. However, Kasim was still called unequaled and was not afraid to draw his sword.

Today Rajar had decided to make his move and had casually positioned his chariot in the second rank beside that of Ramesh. He hoped that his elders would have forgotten their differences, but there was one man who was still watchful and suspicious. Ramesh glanced curiously at his half-brother and rival, but had no real awareness that anything was amiss. Gujar, however, was not deceived, and he too fell back a rank to deliberately place his own chariot on the other side of Ramesh.

As they charged into the fray, it was Ramesh who set the pace, thrashing his horses and adding his own defiant war cry to the thousands of throats shouting and screaming all around them. All too soon the charge was checked as the front rank chariots tore through each other, turned, and the fighting commenced. In the turmoil, Rajar let his horses turn and drop back so that he was just behind Ramesh, and leaning forward, he deftly thrust the blade of his spear into the still turning wheel of Ramesh's chariot.

The spear was torn from Rajar's hand but its work was already done. The wheel spokes shattered and the side of the chariot dropped. Ramesh was flung out and then the broken chariot rolled over him as it spun to one side, dragging the horse team off balance.

Rajar whipped up his own team and raced on, as though unaware that anything had happened behind him. He sped along the line of battle, stopped to let his own guard form around him, and then un-slung his bow and began firing arrows into the ranks of Maghalla without once looking back.

Ramesh was left to the mercy of a gleeful group of Black Monkey Clan foot soldiers who charged forward to cut him down. In the same split second, Gujar hauled round his chariot team and smashed through them, trampling their leaders under his horses's hooves. His chariot wheel crashed into the remains of the broken car and harness that still trailed behind Ramesh's staggering team, and for the moment he was trapped. Without hesitation, Gujar abandoned his chariot, leaped down and ran to protect Ramesh.

Another tribesman was leaping at the young prince with a wicked curved sword. Gujar cut him down before the curved blade could fall and helped Ramesh stagger to his feet. The monkey men were on them again and Gujar's blade whirled in frantic swordplay to keep them at bay. Then the guard captain and the guards Jahan had appointed to watch over his nephew caught up with them. The odds were almost even and a ferocious hand-to-hand battle flared, the Monkey Clan scenting a victory and the Karakhorans fighting desperately to save their prince.

It could have gone either way, but then another horse team thundered up, whirling a fast chariot flying the black orchid of the House of Tilak around the perimeter of the close-fighting circle. Kasim stood upright in the chariot, letting fly with arrow after arrow from his singing bow. Each feathered shaft scored a razor-pointed kill and a painted savage dropped in the bloodied dust. The Karakhoran swordsmen took heart and cut and slashed with new vigour. Gujar's sword arm was tiring and the blood was running back down the hilt and over his wrist to his elbow, but then the guards closed ranks in front of him and there was a moment of respite.

He was still supporting the dazed and badly bruised Ramesh with his free hand when another chariot skidded to a halt beside him. Nirad leaned out and shouted his name. Gujar hesitated for a moment, and then decided that Nirad was no part of this, even though he and Rajar were brothers. Quickly he helped Ramesh up into Nirad's chariot.

His own chariot and the broken remains of Ramesh's chariot were still entangled together. Kasim drove up to them, exchanged his bow for his sword and cut both pairs of struggling horses free, and then retrieved the proud banners of the silver panther and the double-headed axe. Gujar jumped up behind him, grinning his relief and offering his thanks.

Nirad reined in alongside them. “What now?” he shouted.

“Gujar must have a new chariot,” Kasim decided. “And Ramesh must be taken back to the city. We will head back to the bridge.”

“I am unhurt,” Ramesh insisted. “The breath was knocked out of me, that is all. I can still fight.”

“Then you, too, need a new chariot.” Kasim was adamant. “You are a prince of Karakhor. We cannot let you fight on foot.”

Ramesh coughed and swallowed a mouthful of dust. Then he said with some embarrassment, “I owe you all my life, especially you, Lord Gujar. I am again in your dept.”

“Thank you, my prince.” Gujar bowed, and then asked tentatively, “How did you come to fall?”

“I don't know. It happened so quickly. I think the wheel must have come off my chariot.” Ramesh shrugged and spread his hands.

Gujar nodded and said no more. It seemed that no one else had witnessed Rajar's treachery, but at least Gujar himself had no more doubts.

The ebb and flow of the fighting had moved away from them and their way back to the river and the city was clear.

“Come,” Nirad said. “We are missing the battle and we need more chariots.”

 

 

 

From the broad shoulders of the mighty Huthar, the one-armed Sanjay was again the dominant figure in the heart of the battlefield. After charging up and down over the terrified foot soldiers of Maghalla, the huge war elephant at last lumbered to a stop, making a defiant stand with ears fanned wide and his fearsome tusks and trunk upraised in a bellowing roar. While the elephant was on the move, Sanjay needed his one good arm to help hold himself in place, but now he trusted to his harness and began to hurl his store of javelins with the usual deadly accuracy. One after another, the enemy champions crashed down into the churning dust, until the ranks in front of him had scattered and he yelled at his driver to move Huthar onward.

In the first few days of battle, scores of the war elephants had been brought down on either side. A brave man could dart in with an axe and hamstring an elephant from behind and that would be the beginning of the end for both beast and rider. Now most men with that particular skill had been cut down, gored or trampled. The elephants that were left were too valuable to lose and each one now had a dedicated team of foot warriors to protect its hindquarters. Of the Maghallan elephants that remained, none of them had the size or ferocity to challenge Huthar and none of their riders could match the speed and skill of Sanjay with a bow or javelin. The Maghallan war elephants and their riders steered clear, leaving Sanjay and Huthar to rule the field.

Again Huthar crashed into the thick of the battle and again he paused to trumpet his deafening bull roar of triumph. Sanjay hurled another javelin and saw its blade crash through the leather armour and pierce the heart of a shocked Maghallan captain. He selected another weapon, looked for another target and then paused with the first flickering awareness that something abnormal was happening. Usually the enemy ranks melted away immediately in front of him, but now some of them were pushing forward and looking frantically over their shoulders. The Maghallan ranks were parting, but from the rear.

Sanjay stood tall on Huthar's lofty shoulders, stretching up to see what was coming toward him. For a moment he could see nothing, just men scattering in panic. Then he saw the two massive Maghallan warriors, walking slowly forward, but leaning backward to prevent themselves from being dragged. Each man held a short chain. The last jostling pack of intervening bodies peeled left and right to clear the way and Sanjay saw the two lean, spotted cats lunging toward him.

They were hunting cheetahs, fed from birth on nothing but human flesh and trained to pull down every meal from the back of an elephant. When the way was clear, the two handlers deftly slipped the chains and let them loose.

The animals were ravenous. Both of them had been starved for three days, and their natural food was the two men perched high on the elephant. Their taut muscles uncoiled with all the leaping power of steel springs as they raced forward. They were the swiftest wild animals on earth and, with an incredible burst of speed, they had reached their target and were leaping upward. They came in two streaking blurs of spotted fur, raking claws and snarling jaws.

Huthar squealed in terrible pain and anger as the two cats slammed down onto his forehead, their claws scrambling for a grip and immediately blinding him in one eye. The first cat reached the white-faced driver and sank dripping fangs deep into his upper arm. Sanjay lunged down with the javelin in his hand and stabbed the cat through the shoulder. It screamed but did not let go and animal and man tumbled together to slam down spitting, flailing and screaming to the dust. The javelin was torn from Sanjay's hand and there was no time for him to select another.

The second cat had clawed its way up over the great dome of Huthar's skull, ripping the soft, bulbous eyeball to agonized, weeping shreds as it did so. It leaped again and crashed against Sanjay's chest, forcing the tall prince to topple backwards. In an instant, the savage white jaws had snapped down on Sanjay's throat, slicing through his chin strap and knocking away his helmet. Its front claws held him by the shoulders, digging deep, scraping on bone and plunging through muscle, while its hind claws raked through his chain mail vest and tore at his belly.

Sanjay writhed helplessly and rolled off Huthar's broad back. His harness held him for a moment and both man and cheetah hung in mid-air, snarling and screaming in a crazed mixture of pain and fury. Then the stitching of the harness ripped away and cat and man dropped together to the earth. The equally pain-crazed elephant was stamping and rearing blindly and no man dared to venture close enough to help. Karakhoran and Maghallan alike all pressed back to escape the blundering bulk of the dying bull elephant, and the roaring, whirling cat with its helpless prey and slashing claws.

 

 

 

Word rippled quickly through the stunned battlefield with the news. Prince Sanjay had fallen. Jahan fought from the back of his chariot nearby, and as the shout went up he paused in his grim work and stared in dismay. Over the sea of heads of the suddenly still fighting men, he saw the rearing, riderless island that was the hump of Huthar's back as the elephant circled aimlessly, bellowing its agony to the sky. Desperately Jahan urged on his horses, hauling their heads round and racing to the scene.

He crashed through ranks of men with no thought of distinguishing friends from foes, but as he hauled up his reins and skidded his chariot to a halt, he saw that he was already too late. Sanjay lay still and lifeless on the ground with the spotted cheetah still tearing at his ravaged throat. With a roar of rage, Jahan sprang down from his chariot and ran forward. His sword was still in his hand, and as the hungry cat looked up and turned, snarling, to face him, he swung the blade in one almighty blow. He struck for the neck and decapitated the animal in his fury, sending the head spinning and rolling in the dust. His wrath was still unabated, and seeing the second cheetah now feeding calmly at the body of Sanjay's dead driver, he swung the great sword again, crushing and cleaving the head of the second animal with all the power of his enraged arms.

The sounds of snarling and feeding stopped. Huthar had run off to die and vanished out of sight and suddenly there was silence over the battlefield. Jahan stared around the circle of watching faces, suddenly aware that they were now waiting for something else to happen. No one raised a weapon or moved toward him, and then he knew. He turned slowly on his heel, the ruby-hilted sword at the ready, and faced Sardar.

The ruler of Maghalla stood tall in his chariot, his black-plumed helmet giving him the illusion of even greater height. He wore black and gold body armour and a large axe swung in his free hand. His scarred face was split into a grotesque travesty of a grin. The death of Sanjay was a triumph for the first part of his three-stage battle strategy and now Jahan stood isolated from his chariot and his guards. Sardar yelled his delight as he charged his chariot straight at his standing enemy.