Swords of the Horseclans

3

The first to see the ship was a stripling of Clan Kuk, whilst descending the precipitous path from plateau to beach. Sacred Sun had but barely risen and the night mists still lay thick upon the tidal estuary. The lad first heard the rhythmic clock-clock of oars against tholepins. Then the sharp prow of the long, low vessel nosed out of the opaque whiteness. She was painted a dull, brown-black, some ninety feet long and something under twenty feet in beam. Her two masts were unstepped and lashed into crutch-shaped forks. She seemed some huge bug, walking across the water on her twin banks of slender oars.

By the time Djahn Kuk of Kuk had scratched together a force of warriors and maiden-archers, got them armed and mounted, and gained the edge of the plateau, the intention of the shipmaster to ascend the river was plain.

An old chieftain shook his grizzled head. “It’s not one of God-Milo’s boats, that’s for sure, and it’s like to no merchant ship I’ve ever seen.”

“No,” agreed the Kuk of Kuk. “I think it’s one of the raiding boats from the Pirate Isles—the Sea Isle Ehleenee. I’ve never seen one, I admit—for some reason, they never raid Kehnooryos Ehlahs—but I’ve heard them described right often. Well, if they try attacking this plateau, they’ll wish they’d stayed out on the Great Ocean!”

He swung about in his saddle and addressed his eldest brother, Pawl, Tanist of Kiik. “Ride back and blow the war horn. Send a man up the tower to light the signal . beacon. Get the old and the young, the sick and the kittens into the fort, along with all the herds that can be quickly gathered. Send half the warriors and maidenarchers to me and the rest to the fort And send me any cat that isn’t nursing a litter, too.”

Rahn Duhklus of Duhklus was one of the first to join the Kuk, heading a dozen and a half riders. The deep-throated blowing of the great horn was still moaning the length and breadth of the plateau, while clouds of dust were beginning to rise into the lightening sky. The men at the river’s edge could not see the first flash of flame from the fort’s highest tower, but when the dense column of sooty smoke mounted upward it was visible to all.

The Duhklus growled impatiently, fingering his dirk-hilt. “We should send riders to warn the inlanders; the Dirtmen aren’t as well able to fight for themselves as are we.”

“Send horsemen through ten leagues of Saltmarsh?” replied the Kuk. “That ship could be to Kehnooryos Atheenahs, ere our riders reached solid ground. No, and besides, where there’s one of those bastards, there’s usually more. With most of our young warriors and the largest part of the Cat Clan on campaigns, I’ll not countenance any more weakening of our defenses, Tribe brother.”

“And, look, you.” The Kuk swept his arm to the northwest, where a thin line of black smoke was rising against the blue sky. “The Goonahpolisee have seen our beacon. The capital will be alerted soon enough.”

High-Lady Mara Morai, Milo’s wife and presently ruler of Kehnooryos Ehlahs, as well as commander of what troops were left in the garrisons of the capital and its port, was upon her morning ride. She and her retainers were combining the exercise with some desultory hawking when they saw a rider coming, hell-bent, across the fields.

The full-armed kahtahfraktos drew rein before her and saluted quickly. He was streaming sweat and dust-covered and his mount was flecked with foam and shuddering with effort.

“My lady, the Lord Hamnos prays you return at once. A pirate bireme from the Sea Isles has come up the river and would dock at the port. It is said that the Sea Lord himself is aboard and he seeks audience with the High-Lords.”

Mara was glad that she was seated when the old Neeaheearkos, Lord Petros, officiously ushered in the three visitors. She hardly noticed the two older strangers, but mere sight of the youngest man sent gooseflesh over every inch of her skin, and a glance at one of the side mirrors showed that her face had visibly paled.

“Lekos!” she breathed, more to herself than to anyone else. That face was his, and each line of the slim, whipcord body, even the pantherish grace of his movements, were those of the young Alexandros of Pahpahs. Eighty long years of life had not erased her love for him, she now realized. She loved Milo, but not, she admitted, as she had loved Lekos. But she had no more time for musings, for old Petros was speaking.

“… felt that these matters were of such urgency that he himself embarked to inform the High-Lords. His ship has sailed or rowed night and day and entered the river at dawn. I thought it best that it be moored amongst the Fleet, since some merchants are known to bear ill will toward the Lord of the Sea Isles and his captains.”

At this, there was a tittering in the gathered throng and the two older seamen laughed openly. Mara noticed that even the younger man allowed himself a wry smile … and that smile, too, was of such old familiarity that it sent a pang through her heart.

Three hundred years of life had at least granted Mara instant control of her emotions. Her face a mask. She nodded. “You have done well, Lord Petros. The strangers may be presented to me.”

The court herald banged his staff, bellowing, “Now conies Alexandros, Lord of Sea Isles.”

He announced two other names, but Mara did not hear them. Alexandros, she thought. What other name could such a one bear? I saw him slain, forty years ago, and he then an old man past sixty. Yet, here he stands before me, that same young man I loved … and who so loved me … eighty years in the past. How is such a thing possible?

The two older seamen knelt, but the younger one bowed formally from the waist—the obeisance due to one equal in rank. When he spoke, his voice was deep and rich, but so, too, had been that of the earlier Alexandros.

“My Lady Mara, often have I heard your beauty praised, but lavish as was that praise, my own eyes now tell me that it was an unforgivable understatement.”

“Young lord,” she replied, “your compliment was most gallantly couched and much appreciated. But my curiosity has become aroused. No one of your people has visited our shores—professionally or otherwise—for at least forty years. What now brings you to our court?”

Alexandros took a step forward. “My lady, I bear urgent intelligences for the ears of the High-Lords alone. I must speak with them … and that soon!”

Mara shook her raven tresses. If no one else had informed him, she might as well do so; he’d know soon enough. “Lord Alexandros, my husband, High-Lord Milo, the High-Lord Demetrios and his wife, the High-Lady Aldora, are all on campaign. I hold the Confederation in their absence. We four are all equals in rank and power, so you may deal with me as you would with them.”

Shortly, he bobbed his head. “Very well, my lady. But I know something of courts. I would speak what I know only to you. These captains will corroborate my words.”

Mara ordered the reception hall cleared, then thought more deeply and led her guests down a side corridor to a small, windowless, thick-walled room. Neeaheearkos Petros and his squad of marines had followed and would have entered, but she forbade it.

Petros reddened, expostulating, “But they still are armed, my lady. You should have guards, within as well as without.”

Mara laughed and laid one slim hand on his arm. “You forget, old friend, steel cannot harm me. And I feel Lord Alexandros to be an honorable man. If you wish to serve me, have wine and fruit and cheeses fetched. You have done well today.”

When all were seated and refreshments were placed on the table and the door was securely bolted, she took a chance and addressed the young lord telepathically. “Do you mindspeak, Lord Alexandros?”

He answered her in the same manner. “Of course. No one who cannot can hold high rank among us. It is the way we communicate with our orks, much as do your people with their cats.”

“Then I propose we converse in just this way, since even the stoutest of doors and the thickest of stones may develop ears on occasion. But we four are not the only ones here with mindspeak talents, so maintain your shields against all save short-range, personal contacts. Now, what is this earthshaking news, Lord Alexandros?”

While sipping at his wine, the young man’s mind said, “We have… contacts amongst the swamp and fenfolk of all coasts except yours. In return for immunity from raids, as well as a bit of hard money now and then, they keep us informed of such matters as vulnerable towns, movements of patrols and warships, sailing dates of worthwhile merchant ships—things of that nature.”

Mara nodded. It was reasonable that, over many generations, professional marauders would have built up such a network of agents.

Alexandros went on. “Throughout the last five years, we have generally avoided the coasts of the Southern Kingdom. With the dynastic struggle ongoing, every city, town, and village that wasn’t a blackened ruin was an armed camp. Stray detachments of troops were tramping hither and yon over the countryside, at little or no notice, and it sometimes seemed that every headland concealed a warship or flotilla. The Captains’ Council decided it was just too risky.”

“But I’d heard that the war was all but over some six months ago,” Mara said.

“True,” commented Alexandros, assuring her. “The new High-King is Zastros of the House of Zladinos, a most ambitious man, it would seem.”

“Since when,” interjected Mara, “has the usurper of the Southern Kingdom become a High-King?”

Alexandros grinned. “Since Zastros had himself crowned such, my lady. As I said, he is a very ambitious man.

“At any rate, when we heard of the end of the civil war, two biremes were dispatched to nose along the coast to see what they might and re-establish relations with any of our former informants who might remain. Captain Yahnekos, here,” he said, gesturing toward the dark-visaged, hook-nosed man to his left, “captained one ship and Captain Vanskeleeg”—this time he nodded at the graying, fair-skinned man on his right, who was cracking nuts in his big, square, tar-stained hands—“the other. Why don’t you tell the High-Lady how the voyage went, gentlemen?”

“Well,” began Captain Yahnekos, “we slipped through the shoals by night, and by dawn we were sheltered in a little overgrown cove what’s near a lake at the ebb. To see it from a sea you wouldn’t think a damned pirogue could get in nor out; but, unladen, a bireme can. I’ve used that cove quite often over the years . . two full fathoms up to ten foot of the shore in most places, a sweet-water spring no more’n two cables’ length inland. I come on ‘er me-self, y’know, more’n twenty year ago, an’…”

Captain Vanskeleeg shoved aside a heap of nutshells. “Your pardon, my lady. Yahnekos, here, is a first-rate captain, but if he fought the way he talks, he and his company would all be sharkbait long since.”

“We laid up in his cove the full length of a day, put out men to watch the sea and sent patrols inland to some swampmen’s villages. Not a single sail was spotted that whole day long, not even fishing craft. It looked like we had the only two ships on that whole stretch of coast.

“But when the patrols come back, it’s a different pot of fish. Both of the villages was part burnt and looted and the swampers what wasn’t dead was scattered to hell and gone. Aroun’ night, an old swamper—name of Pinknee, who’d been one of our men there—come down to the cove. He said soldiers had been scouring the swamps for nigh on a month, not slavin’, though, impressin’ for the fleet an’ the army. All they was takin’ alive was strong, hale men an’ boys an’ oncet they’d got ’em chained up, they’d kill every oldster and child they could get a spear into … and after they’d done with the women, they’d kill them too, even the good-lookin’ ones, by damn!

“Anyhow, seems old Pinknee’s village had just been hit that mornin’. He never did say how he come to get away, but he did tell us how we could cut off the soldiers what done it. We talked it over and decided we owed it to the swampers and, besides, it sounded like fun. We hit ’em whilst they was makin’ nightcamp, kilt an hundred-an’ six pike-pushers an’ one officer. We persuaded the other officer”—the captain’s thin lips split in a wolfish grin—“that it might be to his best interests to tell us why he was ‘pressin’ the swampers, what town he and his troops was from, an’ how strong the garrison was. After he’d told us ever’thin’, we give him to the swampers.

“So, anyhow, we come to find out that ol’ Zastro’d pulled all but six score of the garrison outa Sabahnahpolis—that’s a middlin’ size town, a tradin’ town, just inland of the swamps. Town’s on a bluff and has good walls. Some swampers say it’uz builded on top of what useta be a God-town, but that don’t cut no bait fer us. We’d alluz been scared to tackle’er afore, but we worked us out a plan.

“We put chains on mosta the swampers, but so they could shed ’em easy like, y’see, and they all strapped dirks an short swords under their shirts. We figgered Yahnekos looked more like that Ehleenoee officer’n me, so we put that fancified cuirass on him—and was that a job, my lady; big as his ol’ belly is, we had to lay him down and set two big men on top of the breastplate afore we could get the thing buckled!”

Both Alexandros and Vanskeleeg grinned hugely, while the thick-bodied Yahnekos glared at them from under lowered brows and muttered something obscene under his breath.

Vanskeleeg continued. “So we got an hundred-odd of our reavers into the pikemen’s gear and, along about dusk the next day we marched up to the landward side of Sabahnahpolis. They’d closed the gate, o’course, it gettin’ toward night an’ all. You should’a heard ol’ Yahnekos, though—sounded just like one of them nobles, he did! Said he’uz tired and needed him a wash, an’ if they didn’ get them gates opened afore he’d took another breath, he’d have ever’ manjack’s parts off an’ feed ’em to his hounds.

“Well, the gate opened up and we marched in and it was a bad night for Sabahnahpolis, it was. After we’d killed all the gate guards, we headed for the river gate to let in the shipload of reavers an’ swampers what had come upriver in my ship an’ Yahnekos’. We come to the marketplace and here sat this fat man in gold armor on a big, pretty horse. Behind him was what looked like five hundred pike-pushers and we figgered we’d fought our last fight, but we charged ’em, anyhow. But it turned out they was nothin’ but merchants and wharfmen and factors and such like, all dressed up in old armor. They didn’ know one end of their pikes from t’other, an’ when it looked like they might have to use them overgrowed spears, they throwed ’em away and scattered.

“Well, our boys killed as many as they could catch, and ol’ Yahnekos, who was still aboard the horse, went after the feller in the gold armor an’ he damn near lost him, too, an’ I can’t but feel sorry for them two poor horses with them two tubs o’ blubber a bouncin’ and a jouncin’…”

“Enough, you red-faced pig!” Captain Yahnekos slammed a hard hand upon the table. “You call me garrulous, yet you’ve strung a short tale out over the best part of a quarter hour.”

He addressed Mara. “My lady, my captive proved to be the Royal Governor of Sabahnahpolis, one Daidos. At hia order, the city stronghold was opened and, when we’d disposed of all the garrison, Daidos showed us to the treasure that made our voyage so profitable—thirty pounds of silver coin and nearly twelve pounds of gold, taxes and excise monies destined for the capital.

“Our boys gleaned a good bit more from within the town, then took time to knock down the main gates and smash in all the boats, after driving every horse they could find into the swamps. Slows up pursuit, that does.

“Daidos told me that he could bring a goodly ransom from his king or his family, so I had him put in Captain Vanskeleeg’s forepeak, as it’s bigger than mine. I’d taken a fancy to Daidos’ daugher and Vanskeleeg to some merchant’s spawn, so we let the boys grab some wenches to keep them happy on the return voyage and pulled out for the Sea Isles.” He showed strong, yellow teeth in a crooked grin.

Alexandros took over the narrative. “By the time I first interviewed Governor Daidos, he was in poor shape, both physically—he’d never been to sea before, and a bireme is not the most comfortable of ships in a rough sea—and mentally. He spoke to me without attempt at prevarication, as one Ehleenoee gentleman to another. He told me that he had lied to Captain Yahnekos. His family had been impoverished by the civil war and he knew his king to be far too busy with certain plans to see to the ransom of one minor official. In return for his life, he pledged upon his honor and the honor of his house to impart to me information that could very well save my kingdom. His words had piqued my curiosity, so I agreed not to kill him if his story proved true.

“Daidos said that all the ships of the Eastern Fleet and a third of the Western Fleet were assembling at Neeaheeopolis, their great port just north of the Death Swamp, which separates the Southern Kingdom from the Witch Kingdom. Meanwhile, Zastros is gathering a huge army, calling troops from as far west as the Ocean River. After five years of a kingdom-wide war, you know that his realms must be aswarm with veteran soldiers, and Zastros is offering them anything that he feels might tempt them—amnesties and lands to” nobles who fought against him, manumissions to escaped slaves, excellent wages to mercenaries, and mountains of loot for all. And they’re flocking to his standard in droves. A week before his capture, Daidos had reliable word that Zastros already has near one hundred twenty thousand men! His cavalry alone number some forty thousand, and he has five hundred armored war carts, each drawn by a pair of Northhorses. Too, he has units of another animal—I cannot now recall what Daidos called them—the description of which he gave sounds like a huge, deformed boar. If he wasn’t exaggerating, they are more than three meters high, have four legs as thick as trees, tushes as long as a tall man, and a long nose that drags the ground but is flexible as a snake and can be used to throw darts or stones or slash with a three-meter sword blade! Sounds utterly fantastic, does it not? Yet Daidos swears it all to be true.”

Mara nodded slowly. “Such beasts do exist in the Southern Kingdom, Lord Alexandros, though I was not aware they had been trained or adapted for war. In our language they are called ‘elefahsee’; the aboriginals call them ‘eluhfuhnts.’ The kings of the Southern Kingdom have been breeding them for centuries. I saw their herd about a hundred and fifty years ago.”

She regarded her wine for a moment, then added, “I would suppose that Kehnooryos Ehlahs would be the logical objective of Zastros’ hosts, since we have already subdued most of Karaleenos.”

“Yes, my lady,” said Alexandros. “But he harbors more grandiose schemes, as well. His fleet is to pace his army up the coast, going up navigable rivers to assist his land force where necessary. They intend to bottle up your fleet in this river and capture the ships, unharmed, if possible.

“When Kehnooryos Ehlahs is taken, Zastros will send his fleet to try to storm the Sea Isles or, failing that, blockade us and starve us into capitulation. Obviously» the madman has never seen the Sea Isles and has but scant information concerning them. Our central lagoon and its islands are impregnable. There is but one narrow, twisting channel from the sea; otherwise, our seaward coast is an unbroken ring of cliffs—jagged, precipitous cliffs, my lady, the very lowest being twice the height of this city’s wall. They constitute natural fortifications and, in the few places skilled climbers might come up, we have added stretches of crenellated wall and certain other refinements.

“If he thinks to starve us out, he and his fleet have a longer wait than I think they can afford. We have little arable land and grow little food, but for that very reason our storehouses are always stuffed to bursting. Beside which, the lagoon is usually full of fish.

“No, my lady, my kingdom and I have precious little to fear from any number of Zastros’ men or ships, but you and yours will be hard-pressed to overcome the host he is gathering. I command forty-three biremes and a handful of sailing-merchantmen fitted with sweeps, a total force of near five thousand of the fiercest fighters in the world.”

“And you want to cast your lot with Kehnooryos Ehlahs?” Mara was genuinely puzzled. “But why? Why to many things, Lord Alexandros? Why did you undertake so long and difficult a voyage for the sole purpose of apprising us of our peril? Why would you now risk your ships and your men in our behalf?”

Alexandros refilled his goblet and leaned back in his chair, stretching his long legs before him. “That, my lady, is a long story, but I’ll tell it, that you may know that honor of my house and not avarice impels my offer.

“It began forty years agone, when your clansmen and allies were threatening this city and realm.”