Jewel of Tharn

Chapter Fourteen

Xeno, obeying his instructions, awakened Blade with the first gray chill of dawn. He told the big man of Isma's visit. Blade nodded curtly and strode to the terrace railing, fastening his cloak around his shoulders again a rising wind. Tharn's new weather seemed to be turning bad. As he reached the rail a spatter of cold rain slashed the open terrace.

The campfires of the Pethcines made a great crescent on the plain before Urcit, a concave shimmer of yellow and ruby light extending on both flanks of Blade's forts. He counted upward of a hundred fires and wondered if they actually represented Pethcinian troops or if Org, at Honcho's prodding, was trying to fake it. Org would not think of such a device himself. Blade shrugged his massive shoulders. What matter? Today would tell the story. The die was cast and all his fortunes were at stake.

Xeno set about awakening and organizing staff neuters. Blade ate and had a great draught of warm soka. Then he gave concise orders and he and Xeno left the Palace for the lines. It was growing lighter by the moment, a bleak dank morning with an increasing wind and cold drizzle and no hint of sun. The wind, Blade thought, might help him. Otherwise he did not care about the weather.

Squarely in the midst of the main fort, a little behind the spot where the women would form ranks, Blade had ordered the erection of a high platform of mani bales. This was built in the shape of a pyramid and crowned by a single large bale. There was room enough for Blade alone. Xeno and his lesser aides were clustered on the next level down.

When it was light enough Blade ascended the pyramid and stood peering over at the Pethcine camp. The campfires were dying now, some of them smoking badly, and the easterly wind was blowing a gray film of smoke across the dark lines of Pethcine warriors already assembled. Blade counted files, rapidly multiplied, and whistled softly under his breath. He kept his face impassive. They were all watching him. But eight thousand! Not counting the charioteers that were drawn up far to the rear of Org's first rank.

Blade loosened the huge sword in the scabbard. It was going to be a bloody day.

Behind the center of Org's line, not too far back, were the skin tents of Org and his ranking officers. Totha's tent, perhaps. And certainly Honcho's. And in Honcho's tent, Blade was sure, would be Zulekia. The neuter had certainly brought the Maiduke girl, to increase the pressure on Blade and make sure that he lived up to his bargain. Blade's little smile was grim. He was counting on Zulekia being there. And he had no intention of living up to his bargain.

He could make out King Org's tent now. It stood a little apart from the others and before it a standard fluttered and snapped in the wind. It was a spear jabbed deep into the earth and from the butt was hung a shield and three horse tails.

Org, Honcho, and Totha came out of the tent as Blade watched. They were all in armor. Totha, wearing breastplates and a short leathern girdle, carried a helmet under one arm. She stopped and stared, looking straight at Blade. He raised a hand. Totha stared for a moment longer, then turned to where Honcho and Org were talking animatedly. Blade grinned. He wondered just how Honcho had managed it, how the neuter had gotten around Totha. Blade had left her primed to kill the neuter, had been more than half convinced the ploy would work. But no. Why? Not that it mattered now.

From the Pethcine lines came a harsh bray of trumpets. Blade smiled again. This was the beginning of the trickery, as Honcho had planned it. There was to be a parley and he, Blade, was to surrender after only a token resistance. The terms would be very generous. Blade and Isma would continue to share the throne of Tharn. Sutha had to go, and Honcho would allow a merciful destruct. Honcho then to be appointed King of Neuters. The Pethcines to be allowed emigration from the Gorge, to settle the plains of Tharn, and be accorded status equal to the People.

Later, as Honcho planned it, the Pethcines would be divided and destroyed in their turn, bit by bit. And, as Blade now extrapolated it, soon it would be Isma's turn. And his own. Then Honcho would rule Tharn alone. And his surgeon would make a man of him. Victory. Heart's desire. Total achievement of aims.

Blade's smile was as cold as the rain. Dream on, Honcho!

The Pethcine trumpets blared again. Org, with Totha and Honcho on either side of him, left his lines and walked toward the main fort. He had no bodyguard. Such was the plan. They would come halfway and wait for Blade.

Blade leaped nimbly down the pyramid of bales. He gave an order to Xeno, who went running off toward the teksin factory behind them. Blade adjusted his helmet at an angle, the black plume brave in the wind, and went out through the sally port to meet the enemy.

He passed Isma and her women, drawn up in a great square, and raised his sword in salute.

The women thrust their swords high in answer. They roared: "Blade! Blade!"

Blade smiled at them. Isma, in the center of the square, flanked about by her Lordsmen, raised her sword but she did not shout nor smile. Her dark eyes followed Blade as he left the fort.

He went alone to meet the three of them. When he was within six paces he halted and saluted with the Pethcine sword. King Org, his greasy ringlets crammed beneath a helmet of metal and leather, glared at the sword and then at Blade. His piggy eyes, ever bloodshot, glared above his curling beard. His voice was thick and cruel, rasping.

"Well, Blade? Do you betray us again? Or do you keep the terms you made with Honcho?" His warrior's eyes roved over the forts and the ceboid troops drawn up on the flanks. "This does not look like surrender to me!"

Blade's smile was glacial. "I agree, Org. It does not."

Org's hand went to his sword. Honcho, with a long-toothed smile, put a hand out to stay it. His green eyes glinted at Blade.

"Surely you will not be fool enough to betray us a second time, Blade. I have shown you what will happen. She is with us, you know. In Org's tent."

Blade stared at him. "I had guessed that. And I do not betray you, Honcho. I never meant to keep any bargain with you, as I am sure you knew. Nor will I betray Urcit, or myself. If you want Urcit, and Tharn, and me - you must take us."

He was conscious of Totha's eyes on him. She was standing easy, relaxed, but her deep brown eyes never left him. Fires burnt in those eyes that sent a chill down Blade's spine. Her mouth was as scarlet, her teeth as white, as they had been in the Gorge when she had done things to his body, and had demanded so much of him. That body, even in armor, was nubile and lithe and the dusky ivory skin as sensuous as ever.

Totha spoke now, for the first time. "You also betray me, Blade! You have made a lie of everything between us."

Blade glanced from Totha to Honcho. "I could name a promise that you have not kept, Totha." He might yet sow a little dissension.

Honcho laughed. "To kill me, Blade? I had not thought you such a fool. Certainly Totha is not, I had no difficulty in pointing out to her where her best interests lay."

Totha spat at the ground. "You desire a Maiduke above me, Blade. That girl Zulekia. Honcho told me of this and at first I did not believe him. Then I spoke to the girl herself and I found that it was true: she wants you, Blade! And for that you are both going to die horribly."

Honcho made an impatient gesture. "Enough of this! But she speaks truth, Blade. Think. If you do not surrender as planned we will attack and defeat you. The girl will die first, with you watching. Both of you will take a long time to die, Blade. If you surrender now things will be as I have promised. I swear it."

Totha spat again. She glared at Honcho. "You will not save the girl! That I vow. Blade's life, perhaps, but not the girl."

Blade grinned at Honcho. "You see. You make promises you cannot keep." He was stalling now, talking to gain time until it was a little lighter and the wind stronger. By now Xeno would have transmitted his orders to the catapult troops on the roof of the teksin plant.

Honcho's green eyes were narrowed on Blade and they were full of speculation. As Blade intended. Honcho was wondering about the Power! Why, with the Pethcines safely in the trap, had the Power not been invoked? Where were the Red Storms and the magveils and the magrays? And where was Honcho's Power? Blade gave him a mocking grin. Honcho did well to wonder. And the advantage was to Blade. He knew what he was going to do. Honcho did not.

Org's sword rasped from the scabbard. He waved it at Blade. His little eyes were glittering with fury. "Fight me, Blade! Fight me now. To the death. We will decide this in single combat."

Blade's sword was swift in reply. "Gladly, Org. Gladly!" It was more than he had expected.

Both Honcho and Totha leaped at Org, catching at his sword arm and forcing it down. Honcho pleaded. Totha cursed and derided.

"Fool!" she blazed at her father. "Old fat fool! That is what he wants. You will be killed and our people will not fight. Fool! Fat stupid fool! Put your sword away and listen to me before you ruin everything."

Blade saw his chance fading. He sheathed his sword and nodded to Org. "Later, Org. Later. Come for me whenever you are ready."

He turned his back on them and strode toward the fort. Once he glanced back. Totha and Honcho were arguing fiercely with Org and half-dragging him back to the Pethcine lines.

Now it would begin.

Blade went straight to the pyramid of bales. He mounted it and made a signal to Xeno. Xeno made a signal in turn. The catapults atop the teksin plant went into action. They began to hurl fire arrows at the Pethcine tents.

Swoooooooosss-swoooosss-swoooosss...swoooosss...

They had followed orders. The arrows, tipped with blazing teksin oil, arched in a high parabola over the forts, firing to windward so the tents on Org's left wing would catch first. The east wind would do the rest.

The first salvo fell short. Blade signaled and the catapults were cogged back for more elevation. Blade could hear the Bearer Maidens singing and shouting at their work. He shook his head and smiled. This whole damned affair was only a festival to them.

The second salvo of fire arrows fell squarely amidst the rude skin tents. Each arrow, as it struck, spread blazing teksin oil. Tents began to go up in flame and roiling black smoke, each one a separate furnace. Blade did not expect too much from the tactic but it would spread a little chaos, plant a little fear, and divert some of Org's troops to saving their baggage.

He kept his eyes glued on Org's tent. And then he saw her. Zulekia. She was naked to the waist, her glorious hair glinting like the tent fires, her lovely face as impassive as ever as two warriors dragged her from the tent She was wearing only a loincloth of some animal skin.

Totha walked up and struck her in the face. She took the blow proudly and it seemed to Blade that she looked in his direction. Then drifting smoke obscured the scene for a moment. When he looked again Zulekia had been flung to the ground and spreadeagled. The warriors were holding her down. Honcho was giving commands. Four of the chariot horses were being driven up.

From the corner of his eye Blade saw Isma leaping up the pyramid toward him. He steeled himself.

At first Isma did not speak She stood beside him as they watched Zulekia being bound to the four horses. Each wrist, each ankle, attached to harness by a long rope of twisted leather. Honcho was careful in his directions. A Pethcine warrior stood by each horse, ready for the command. Blade did not think it would come immediately. Honcho was gambling, even as he himself was gambling. Zulekia was the neuter's only ace in the hole. He would not kill her yet. If things went badly Honcho was going to need the Maiduke girl to bargain with. So Blade thought. So he hoped Honcho was thinking. Yet he felt a moment of despair. The horses must have been Totha's idea. That one was a devil in female form.

Isma breathed hard beside him. The female odor of her, mixed with sweat beneath the body armor, was pungent. She said: "Who is the Maiduke, Blade?"

He shrugged and did not look at her. "I think Zulekia is her name. All I know is what Sutha has told me. She was sent to Honcho to be punished for karno, and Sutha used her as a spy. Honcho must have found her out and now he is going to punish her. Perhaps he thinks it will frighten us, seeing her torn apart by the horses."

"Then why doesn't he do it," said Isma. "What is he waiting for?" There was an odd, choked timbre to her voice and Blade looked at her. She was staring through the smoke at Zulekia and the horses, her dark eyes alight with expectation and her red mouth open. As he watched a dribble of saliva ran from the corner of her mouth. Blade turned away.

Isma said: "Why don't they tear her apart?"

"Honcho has his reasons," said Blade. "Get back to your women, Isma. The attack will come any moment now. And be sure you obey my orders exactly as they are sent to you!"

Isma licked her lips with her tongue. She looked at him sulkily. "Yes, Lord Blade! But I do not understand any of this - why do we not retreat into Urcit and simply destroy the Pethcines with the Power? I cannot understand why you wait."

Blade scowled. "I do not explain my orders. Even to you. Go, Isma, and do as you are told."

She scowled back and she muttered, but she went He watched her rejoin her women and the spindling, scrawny array of Lordsmen. Blade chuckled without glee. Now he was going to have to watch his back. And he must trust Sutha. There was no help for that.

Most of the tents had been burnt out by now. The Pethcines were ignoring them. They were forming into a long double line of skin clad warriors with pointed hats and each carrying a shield and sword and a long spear. Squads of bowmen were deploying in front of the line, on either flank. Trumpets called and echoed and there was much frenzied running to and fro. Blade nodded in satisfaction. It looked like a frontal attack.

He searched anxiously for the chariots and saw them forming up far to the rear, in leisurely fashion. For the moment Org was keeping them in reserve and Blade breathed a bit easier. He knew that his ceboid flanks could not stand up to a chariot charge.

The catapults had stopped shooting fire arrows now. Blade gave another signal, relayed by the vigilant Xeno, and the sound of the catapults changed to a deeper note as they hurled huge jagged blocks of teksin into the enemy ranks.

Whunaaaaggg...whunaaaaagggg...whunagggggggg...

One of the teksin missiles struck, bounced and skipped through a file of Pethcines, leaving behind a dozen shredded hunks of flesh. Screams of anger and pain and terror burst from the Pethdne ranks, but they were filled in at once. Org was striding up and down before his men, waving his sword and haranguing them. A teksin ball struck within a foot of him and he did not appear to notice. Blade nodded reluctantly. Org was a barbarian, a savage, but he was a brave one.

The rain had let up. The wind had stiffened and was whipping the Pethcines' banners straight out from their poles. A final trumpet rasped and then, as if both armies had taken a last deep breath, there was a tiny island of silence among the tumult.

Blade unsheathed the sword. High on the pyramid of bales, above them all, he brandished the sword at the Pethcine lines. His deep baritone roared above the wind.

"Here is your sword, Pethcines. Come and take it!"