by Lin Carter
“From this window I have enjoyed a good view of the city, and this crude map shows the layout of the streets rather well,” she pointed out. “Like you, I had planned to escape over the rooftops, for that avenue seems to entail the slightest risk of discovery. I had hoped for a dark and moonless night for my attempt at escape. Here is the city wall, along the northern side of the promontory … there are the gates. They seem to be not only very heavily guarded, but well lighted as well. However, my observations have shown that no guards patrol the top of the wall … hence if we can gain this sector of the wall undiscovered—”
“We? Surely, Princess, you do not think I can gamble your safety as well as my own!” Karm Karvus protested.
She regarded him with a calm, level glance.
“If I do not go in your company,” she said firmly, “then I shall go alone. Now, then, notice the roof of this building here … it thrusts out much further than the others … with a bit of luck, and some agility, we can leap from the edge of this roof to the top of the wall. I have already woven several lengths of cloth together into a sort of ladder, using thick knots in the fabric in place of rungs. We can tie one end of this length of cloth around the merlon of any one of these crenelations and thus lower ourselves down outside the walls …”
Karm Karvus rather feebly tried to argue the dangers of such an expedition, the hazards of discovery, the perils of slippery tiles, and the difficulties of clambering over wave-lashed rocks to the base of the promontory and thence into the thousand deadly dangers of the jungles through which they must find passage before reaching the nearest friendly city. But Yian of Cadorna turned a deaf ear to his protestations.
“Listen to me, Prince of Tsargol,” she said firmly. “I am no pampered and delicate maiden, I assure you. I can ride as well as a man, and hunt. I am practiced with the sword and the bow and can hold my own in combat with any man. My beloved father has often bemoaned his lack of strong sons, so in so far as I have been able I have trained myself to take a son’s place in his affections. In this matter I will listen to no arguments, for I am going, either with you or without you.”
“But, Princess—!”
“—Kashtar of Tarakus thinks to use me as a key to unlock the gates of my father’s city. But I refuse to be the instrument of the downfall of my house. If the doom of our dynasty comes, if the freedom of Cadorna the Golden is lost before the force of some oppressor, it shall not come through me, for far rather would I go down to the cold halls of the restless dead, than be the tool of the destruction of my people. This I have sworn to the Gods of my city, and in this matter I will brook no opposition!”
Karm Karvus made some further objections, but gradually they subsided. The Prince of Tsargol was not the first man to lose an argument with a woman, nor was he the first to discover the futility of pleading reason and common sense with a woman who has already made up her mind. So, in the end, he resolved to take her with him.
THE storm at last blew over, and they were ready to depart. Yian disappeared for a moment, then reappeared in new raiment. Pointing out that thin silks, were hardly fitted to clambering over rooftops, she had changed into tight-fitting breeches of supple suede that showed off her long and slender legs to their best advantage. She had also donned knee-high boots of light, flexible leather, a long-sleeved blouse, and a warm woolen cloak against the cold. Her long black hair was braided back so that it would not encumber her arms, and a kerchief was tied about her brows. With her bright, sparkling eyes and the fresh color in her cheeks, and her long limber form, she looked like a beautiful boy in the tight breeches and swashbuckling cloak.
For the Prince, she had supple doeskin buskins to replace his water-soaked boots whose leather had cracked and split. Fresh dry clothing and a warm cloak such as her own completed his costume. These garments she had found in an old chest in an unused room.
The rain had stopped, but the Moon was still hidden behind thick-piled stormclouds, so they might be able to make their escape unobserved, with luck.
They set forth without delay, Yian having committed to memory the landmarks of her rude chart of the streets. Cursing himself for a fool, Karm Karvus helped the Princess over the sill. Why had he permitted himself to be burdened with her presence—surely the girl would not be able to climb the roofs as ably as himself. After all, he was a trained and limber warrior, in the full prime of his muscular manhood—
Of course, almost the first thing that happened, was that Karm Karvus lost his footing on the slippery tiles, and fell about a dozen feet down the rain-wet tiles of the steep-sided roof, until he managed to break his fall by seizing a chimney. Dangling awkwardly by one hand, it did no good to his self-esteem to watch the Princess come nimbly down the sloping roof to his rescue, as surefooted as any mountain goat. He was surprised at the steely strength of the girl as she hauled him to his feet again and assisted him back to the peak of the roof. And thereafter he made no further complaints as to the complications her presence afforded.
From roof to roof they went, at times swinging across the narrow cobbled alleys, and at times being forced to leap from the edge of one roof to the edge of another. Without any further accidents they came, at length, to the edge of the city and looked down upon the wall that guarded this side of Tarakus from attack.
Yian of Cadorna had laid her plans well. This portion of the wall was dark and unguarded, lying as it did midway between two gates. It should not have been very difficult to leap from the roof ledge to the top of the city wall, for the wall was broad enough for two guards to walk abreast and the other edge of the wall was crenelated so that one could not very easily over-estimate the leap and fall off.
Except, of course, that Karm Karvus slipped again.
His boot-heels slid in a puddle of rainwater just as he was gathering his strength for the hazardous leap into space. The result was that he went skidding and sliding to the brink of the roof and toppled over, hurtling down to the rain-wet cobbles below.
He might well have broken his leg or even his neck, but as luck would have it, one of the guardians of the gate was patrolling the inner wall on kroter-back, and this unfortunate was passing directly beneath him as Karm Karvus fell.
He landed full on the shoulders of the astounded guard, and the two of them went tumbling from the saddle, as the kroter squealed and bucked in its fright.
Karm Karvus was on his feet in a moment, and before the half-stunned guard could marshal his groggy wits, the Prince of Tsargol knocked him unconscious with a well-placed right to the jaw. Out cold, the guard went sprawling backwards into the inky shadows.
Karm Karvus peered about swiftly, but it seemed the guard had been alone and that the brief flurry of activity had aroused the attentions of no one. Silently he cursed his luck, but then he paused to reason that at least the accident had gained him a weapon. For he unbuckled with swift hands the baldric of the guard and settled the embossed leather about his own shoulder. Now he had a sword, and he was delighted to see that it was a slim rapier of Tsargolian make, the very weapon with which he was most familiar. Swiftly he disarmed the guard, taking a long-bladed dagger from his harness. Then he bound and gagged the unconscious guard in strips of tough cloth torn from the guard’s own cloak, and rolled the body well back into the shadows where chances of his discovery were slight. As for the kroter, he tethered the beast to a drainpipe nearby, securely tying him with his own reins so that he should not return with an empty saddle to the guard-house and thus cause suspicion and alarm.
Yian had been anxiously watching all this from the roof-ledge overhead. Now she took the only step possible. Their fortunes were in hazard now that they were separated, and they must rejoin each other at the first opportunity.
Measuring the distance between the edge of the roof and the top of the wall with her eye, the girl gathered all her strength. Keeping a cool head, she bent double—and launched herself into space with a mighty leap—
Watching from below, Karm Karvus felt his heart ris
e into his mouth as he saw that slim figure flying through space. How easy it would be for her to miss, to slip, to lose her footing! One miscalculation, and she would hurtle to the slick cobbles below.
But Yian of Cadorna had not lied when she said that she had trained her body like a man. She landed nimbly atop the wall with inches to spare—and was safe. Now she swiftly unwound the knotted length of cloth from about her shoulders and let one end fall down the inner side of the wall to within reach of Karm Karvus’s hand.
Swiftly and silently, the young warrior Prince climbed the length of knotted cloth hand over hand, and within moments he rejoined her—drawing himself up over the edge of the wall. The outer edge of this wall was deeply crenelated with rising merlons and gaping crenels like a sawtooth blade. The Princess had swiftly tied a noose around the base of one merlon, and therefrom had let the crude ladder dangle down the inner side of the wall. Now that Karm Karvus had gained the top of the wall and stood beside her, she drew the knotted ladder up and flung it down the outer wall. Using the thick knots for handholds, Karm Karvus and the girl swiftly descended to the jumbled mass of wet black rocks below. Spray exploded in blinding sheets of white spray about them, the tumbled and broken rocks were slimy with moss and mold underfoot—but they were over the wall and on their way to freedom at last!
As swiftly as possible, they clambered over the great slippery masses of jumbled rock. There was hardly any chance of an alert eye observing them as they traveled the length of the promontory, for in the confusion of black stone and thundering spray they were hardly likely to be visible from above. But should the Moon emerge from behind her mantle of stormy clouds, the danger of chance discovery would be greatly increased.
Thus, taking care not to miss their footing, but making all possible speed, Karm Karvus and Yian of Cadorna clambered swiftly and silently over the broken rocks towards the mainland of the continent, where relative safety lay in the edges of the jungles of Ptartha.
WET, bedraggled, and weary, with aching arms and tired legs, they at last gained the base of the promontory. As yet, it seemed, no one had discovered either Yian’s absence or the means whereby they had made their escape over the walls of the Pirate City.
It was shortly before dawn. Already the skies of the East were dim with pale and ghostly flame, and the stars burned less fiercely through rents in the cloud-veiled skies. Day would be here soon.
Before them the jungle rose like a wall of black emerald. It was mysterious and gloomy, its impassive silence broken only by vagrant whispers and the rustling of small creatures padding through the matted underbrush.
Now they had left their human enemies behind; but new and more terrible foes lay deep within the hush of the jungle gloom—the savage predators whose hunting grounds they were about to enter. Their human foes they had eluded with cleverness and cunning, but Karm Karvus knew that only strength and courage and shining steel could defend them against the dripping jaws of the denizens of the Ptarthan jungles.
Gesturing to the girl to keep well behind him, he advanced to the margin of the jungle, drawing his sword. No sooner had he but taken the first few steps into the emerald gloom, however, than a black and towering shape loomed up directly in his path. It had materialized out of nowhere with the speed and silence of some grim phantom.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Karm Karvus lunged. The naked blade in his fist sped glittering as he thrust at the heart of their unknown adversary—
CHAPTER 11:
THE ARMADA OF DOOM
More strong than talisman or rune
Or visions conjured from the moon,
Or arts of sorcerer or seer
Is one strong man who knows not fear.
—The Scarlet Edda
DAWN rose over the edges of the world, lighting all the skies with a brilliance of gold and crimson flame.
Ere the first light glowed in the East, the hosts of Tarakus were awake. Hundreds of grinning corsairs, armed to the teeth, poured down the long stone quays and filed aboard the slim galleys with the long black hulls.
There were spearmen and bowmen, swordsmen and sling-throwers, men to man the catapults and the fire-arrows. Warriors from all the cities of the South were there, dark-eyed and black-haired Turanians from Shembis and Tsargol, Thurdis and Zangabal … swarthy-hued desert warriors from Vosashpa with purple-dyed beards and lean, hard-faced warriors from Darundabar and Dalakh below the Mountains of Ardath … towering giants from the Red Forests of Kodanga country were there as well, with their long blond hair woven in thick braids, and a few of the mighty Blue Nomads, renegades fled from the justice of the hordes that roamed and ruled the Great Plains of the East … yellow-skinned, almond-eyed Cadornyana, and slender sallow-faced men from Pelorm and Tarakus itself, with silky black moustaches and vicious, cold eyes.
And in the heart of every man that poured aboard the waiting corsair fleet burned the lust for gold and gems, for wine and women. Soon, they knew, and grinned hungrily at the knowledge, the fabulous wealth of rich and glorious Patanga would be theirs. When the heavy treasure chests of the City of the Flame opened to pour a glittering flood of golden riches at their feet, not a corsair of their number but would be wealthy for life, a landed lord, with gold enough to live his years in luxury and splendor. They laughed at the thought, and fingered the gemmy hilt of dirk and dagger and keen-bladed cutlass … soon the sea wolves would run amok through the broad avenues of mighty Patanga, and the golden wealth of Earth’s most glorious Empire would flow at their feet …
Long ere dawn rose above the borders of the world, Belshathla was awake and at work. The Gray Magician checked and rechecked the weird instrument of twinkling brass rods and mysterious crystal globes bolted to the foredeck in the flagship of Kashtar himself. All was well, and no harm had come to the Lamp of Madness, doubly precious now that it alone survived the destruction that the cunning of Karm Karvus, or perhaps the vainglorious pride and vanity of the Gray Magician himself, had wreaked on its only duplicate.
An unholy lust burned in the cold eyes of Belshathla as he envisioned the horrors that the Gray Death would bring down upon Patanga, as his hand—his hand!—swept the towering battlements of the City of the Flame with madness, murder and death!
Now came Kashtar himself, surrounded with his chief lieutenants, hanging on his word for last instructions. His slim figure resplendent in scarlet, the Pirate King of Tarakus surveyed the might of his great armada as it rode to anchor under the first faint light of dawn there in the vast enclosed harbor of the Pirate City. No greater naval expedition had ever been launched in all the long and crimson annals of warfare … and almost within his grasp, it seemed, lay the summit of his ambitions, the Throne of the World itself. Cold fires blazed up in his somber eyes as he envisioned the mighty Thongor in chains, forced to kneel before the Flame Throne, at the feet of Kashtar the Red Wolf! What a glorious moment of triumph that would be, and how he longed to see it dawn …
“All is in readiness, Wolf,” his chief lieutenant, a swarthy and bewhiskered rogue named Duranga Thool, reported. Kashtar nodded somberly. For a moment he gazed about him, exulting in the heights of his power, his lungs drinking in the fresh salt tang borne to his nostrils on the keen winds of dawn. Then he gave the word.
“Open the Sea Gates!”
The word was passed from man to man to a sailor perched high in the rigging. This man lifted signal flags and gave the word to the twin citadels that guarded with unsleeping vigilance the mouth of the enclosed harbor.
But tiny mites at this distance, guards on the long seawall before the twin citadels bent their backs. Windlasses creaked, ropes drew taut, dawnfire flashed from water drops as the mighty brass links of the gigantic chain were hauled dripping from the depth. The chains parted and, at last, the channel lay free and open, with the empty waters of the Patangan Gulf beyond them.
Kashtar mounted to his own quarterdeck and gave the signal and the morning stillness was broken by the slow throb of drums as chanting seam
en bent to the oars. The first rank of vessels began to draw up their sea anchors and turn in precision formation to leave the harbor.
Oars dipped to roil the waters, then rose flashing in the early light. Rose and fell and rose again. Like gigantic water insects, moving on slow spidery legs, the advance ships moved between the twin citadels into the open Gulf.
Rank by rank the ships began to move, and gradually, rising above the creak of the oarlocks, the boom of the drums, the wash and gurgle of the waves, came the full-throated song of the pirates of Tarakus, roared from half a thousand lusty throats …
The night is clear, the tide is fast,
Break out the sails once more!
We’re forth upon the sea at last
To seek a golden shore …
Strong and fierce the corsair hymn rose on the clear fresh air of morning, growing ever greater in its strength, as the crew of ship after ship caught the tune and carried it echoing across the gliding waters …
The stars are bright, the wind is cold,
The moon is drifting free.
We’re out to seek for pirate gold
Across a silver sea …
BUT one ship there was in all that vast armada that did not sing. Its lean black hull cutting the waves, brass-beaked dragon prow catching fire from the red light of dawn, scarlet sails spread and booming in the brisk wind, the Scimitar rode with the rear of the corsair fleet to the sack of the City of the Flame.
Pacing his quarterdeck, a moody scowl upon his frowning brows, Captain Barim Redbeard cudgeled his wits for some way out of this dilemma.
Beside him, pale and tense in the dawn, young Charn Thovis watched with a sinking heart as rank on rank of the pirate fleet, galleys and carracks and ships of war, sailed through the stone gates of the harbor on flashing oars, lifted full canvas, and turned sharp prows towards distant Patanga.
