Sword Empire

by Robert Leader

  “We need hot food and drink, four strong horses, bed rolls and provisions for a four-day ride,” Raven told him bluntly.

  “It is all arranged. The Sword Lord Karn has explained your mission. You ride to one of the mountain strongholds to the north.”

  Uris turned and began to lead the way back to the small cluster of wooden buildings that was his outpost. Raven raised a hand in acknowledgement and farewell to their pilot, and then fell into step beside the Unit Commander. Maryam climbed stiffly down from the aircraft and followed them, with Taron and Garl bringing up the rear behind her. The soldiers who accompanied Uris formed a circle escort around them and Maryam was aware of their puzzled and penetrating glances. Her brown skinned face was a mystery to them, but her body shape was not, and she could guess at the hot racing of their imaginations.

  “What is this place?” she asked, because the silence annoyed her. “Why does the empire need to post men out here in this vast forest?”

  Uris turned briefly to look at her. “Women do not ask these questions,” he said calmly. “But I know you are a stranger to our world and that Commander Raven has favoured you with his protection. So I will answer you. The empire must patrol its borders, so we maintain this remote landing place and fuel store to service those patrols. The weather is hard and our task is boring, but our swords serve the empire.”

  His arrogant tone aroused in Maryam an urgent desire to slap his ugly blue face, but she restrained it.

  Uris walked on, explaining to Raven, “Normally we only see rotor-flyers out here. The job is more of a punishment than an honour. Most of my men have faced the Sword Court for one stupidity or another. Being sent here makes better use of them than rotting in the cells for a spell.”

  They entered the largest of the rough log buildings which proved to be a combined barracks room and mess hall heated by large wood-burning stoves. There was a crude latrine at the rear of the building, but Maryam chose to walk a hundred yards into the terrifying black privacy of the forest, there to blissfully relieve herself after the last agonizing hours of the long flight. She hurried back to the relative safety of the barracks. Food was immediately served on one of the long communal wooden tables and Uris sat down to eat with his guests. There was hot bread, meat and vegetables, with hot diluted honey to drink.

  Maryam found the meat tough and some of the almost familiar potatoes and root vegetables more burned than cooked, but she was ravenous and heaped her plate as high as the others. While they wolfed the food, she ate more slowly, but the fact that they all talked through most of the meal meant that she cleared her plate almost as quickly. The hot honey water was almost too sweet for her taste, but even with the wood stoves roaring, it was cold in the large room, and she was glad of the inner heat.

  Uris did much of the talking. He clearly missed better quality company and seemed prepared to talk about anything other than his own falling from grace that had earned him this miserable posting. He sighed heavily when the meal was finished and Raven insisted that his party still had time for a good half day’s riding. Reluctantly he led them out to their waiting horses.

  Maryam’s heart quailed when she saw the beasts. She had ridden her father’s ponies many times, but never a full-sized stallion. These beasts were even more than that, they stood an arm’s length taller than any Earth horse. They had long shaggy manes, fearsome yellow teeth, and hot flared nostrils the diameter of a small dinner plate.

  Raven sensed her alarm, and shot her a look of doubt. It had suddenly dawned upon him that he had only ever seen her handle a riding animal from the safer platform of a chariot.

  “You can ride a horse?”

  “Of course I can ride.” Maryam snapped the words at him and hauled up her courage with a deep intake of breath. She turned and grabbed the unsuspecting Taron by the shoulder and pulled him close to the nearest of the huge animals.

  “Cup your hands,” she commanded, and taking the startled Gheddan by the wrists she pushed his hands together, interlocking his fingers. “Like this,” she continued firmly. “And now lift me up.”

  She gathered the reins, reached up for the high, wooden pommel of the saddle, stepped one booted foot into Taron’s cupped hands, and heaved herself upright. She might have missed her swing and fallen against the animal’s flank, but Taron realized what was expected of him, grinned widely, and helped her on her way. He almost threw her over the top of the horse, but she landed astride and held her position.

  Even the horse was startled into momentary submission. For a long moment, the animal seemed to hold its breath and freeze, then it screamed its indignation and reared upward. Maryam could not reach the stirrups, but she had locked her knees tight on either side of the heavy leather saddle and tucked her heels up underneath its overhanging side flaps. She stayed glued in place and leaned forward to heave down the reins with all her strength, pulling the animal’s chin tight against its neck. The horse lunged and reared, and with shouts of warning, the surrounding Gheddans backed quickly away from its kicking hooves.

  Slowly the animal realized that it could not unseat its rider, and some of the fight went out of it. Maryam relaxed the pressure on the reins and allowed its head to come up a little.

  “Easy now,” she spoke soothingly. “You’ve got the lightest burden. Be grateful you don’t have to carry one of these big, ugly Gheddans.”

  There was laughter now, but it was laughter tinged with respect. Maryam patted the horse’s neck, warily eased off a little more rein, and as the head came up further, she reached down to stroke its face. She remembered the sharp yellow teeth, thinking that the animal only had to turn its head now and snap and those jaws would take off her hand. She was afraid, but she would not show her fear and she continued to talk to the animal, softly and gently stroking its nose. The huge beast snorted, shivered and stood still.

  “Well,” She finally looked down at the faces of Raven, Taron and Garl. “Are you coming?”

  Taron grinned again, and then went to mount the next horse. Garl followed his example. Raven smiled up at her, and then carefully unbelted the stirrup that dangled out of reach of her right boot and hauled it up until he could place her foot inside the steel support. He re-buckled the belt and then went round to adjust the left stirrup in the same way.

  “You manage quite well without them,” he said calmly, “but it is a long ride to Stronghold Raven.”

  Maryam laughed, feeling happy for the first time since she had killed Sylve. She was basking in his approval again and it felt good.

  Their blanket rolls and saddle bags were quickly strapped into place behind them, and Raven thanked Uris and his soldiers and bid them farewell. In a single column, they walked their mounts up the narrow track that led northward through the black ranks of the tall trees. Raven led with Maryam immediately behind him, then Taron, and then Garl. Within minutes, the landing clearing with its handful of log buildings and the watching soldiers was left behind. Maryam had not particularly enjoyed her stay there, but the last glimpse of woodsmoke curling up from one of the chimneys lingered in her mind as a reminder of lost warmth and relative comfort. The great forest was gloomy and cold.

  There were huge fern-like plants growing on the forest floor, tangles of black briar bushes, and other growths that she could not liken to anything she knew. Where a tree had fallen and rotted, the carcass would be cocooned in an evil-looking mess of parasitic fungi, relieved by the vivid reds and yellows of some of the strangling growths. There was no other colour here. Even the trees had no real leaves. They were clothed instead in close needles of dark green.

  Maryam looked for signs of life but saw none. There were no visible birds and no squirrels or monkeys in the high branches. As far as she could see, these strange trees with their unpalatable needles offered nothing good to eat for either bird or mammal. However, from time to time, she sensed rustling and movement behind the barriers of giant bracken. Her three companions had pulled their fur cloaks close, but had made sure that
their white-fire hand weapons were not obstructed should they need to draw them quickly. There were predators of some kind at ground level, so there had to be prey animals too. Unless the predators only preyed on passing strangers on horseback. Maryam shuddered and decided not to ask.

  The track they followed was occasionally overgrown, but clearly defined. Raven led, using what he called a com-map, a small screen device which showed the contours of the terrain ahead, and into which he had keyed the coordinates for their destination. A red arrow marked their location on the screen and also pointed the direction to the stronghold they were seeking. Maryam did not fully understand its usefulness, but it was just another of the many things on this world which she still did not fully understand. She could only trust to Raven’s judgement.

  They rode for what remained of the daylight hours, sometimes at a walk and sometimes at a canter, depending upon the state of the track. Despite their awesome size, the horses were well-trained and accustomed to carrying saddles and riders, and Maryam found she had little need to control the animal beneath her. When Raven spurred his mount to a faster trot, her mount automatically followed suit. Behind her, the horses carrying Taron and Garl also adjusted their own pace as required. The four animals were a team, three of them following the leader whom Raven directed. Maryam only had to hold a loose rein and the knowing horse did the rest.

  At last the shadows thickened between the massed ranks of the tree trunks, becoming impenetrable as the dying light filtered away through the branches above. Raven found a clearing beside a small stream that cut the trail and called a halt. The three Gheddans dismounted, and to Maryam’s surprise, Taron came forward and cupped his hands for her boot to help her down. She thanked him with a smile and again he grinned.

  They made a simple camp. Raven produced a large metal spike from his pack which he hammered into the soft earth, and all four horses were tethered to it in a star formation, rump to rump, facing outward. Maryam watched and guessed that in this way no single mount could be attacked by a predator from behind. Again it was an indication that these black woods were not as devoid of life as they seemed. The horses were fed with grain from the saddle bags and provided with leather water buckets filled from the stream.

  Maryam helped Raven to care for the horses while Taron and Garl found sticks for a fire. Soon they had a comforting blaze going, and outside the range of the flamelight, there was now total darkness. Their pack rations were dehydrated vegetables and meat, which when mixed with water and heated made a passable stew. Again they all ate hungrily.

  “How much further to your stronghold?” Taron asked between mouthfuls.

  “Another full day’s ride,” Raven answered him. “Perhaps a few hours more.

  “It is many years since I rode this way. I have only returned twice since I joined the Space Corps, and for each of those visits, Karn was able to supply me with a rotor-flyer.”

  “But not today,” Taron mused softly.

  “Today the Sword Lord Doran has ordered all the available rotor-flyers to take part in a military exercise.” Raven reminded them of Karn’s words and smiled, his teeth glinting in the firelight. “So we ride.”

  “And Karn is Doran’s enemy,” Taron said idly.

  “And you are Karn’s Sword Champion,” Garl added as he casually picked his teeth.

  Raven nodded. “You understand the picture. It could be an interesting night.”

  They all laughed.

  “The whole journey could be fun,” Taron said at last. “How many swords hold your stronghold?”

  Raven shrugged. “Fifty, give or take a blade. Some of the older men may have died since my last visit, some of the young ones will have come of age.”

  “How strong are your enemies?”

  “Brack probably controls some sixty swords. Raige, perhaps a few more.

  “But Stronghold Raven is in a good defensive position. Brack and Raige could probably lose half their blades and still not storm its walls. My brothers are solid and will sit tight. Brack will have to try and starve them out.”

  Maryam looked from one unconcerned face to another. “And you think to end all this by killing just one man?” she demanded of Raven.

  “Brack has issued a sword challenge,” Raven explained calmly. “When I accept it, he cannot back down. Raige can kiss my sword or die. It is his choice. Within a few hours, it will all be settled.”

  Maryam bit her lip and said no more. The man talk continued for a little longer and then died away. Garl rose and piled more wood onto the fire, and then they all rolled into their furs and blankets and lay down to sleep. Maryam could feel the cold gnawing into her bones and her thoughts refused to be still. She ached in every joint, but it had been a long hard day and she was more exhausted than she realized. Her eyelids closed and slowly her mind stopped spinning.

  She never knew whether Raven and the others had slept at all, or whether they had simply lain awake and waited for what they knew was coming. She only knew that one moment she was asleep, and the next a shaft of lazer light had ripped into the fire and scattered flaming firebrands above her head in every direction. She sat bolt upright with hand lazers flashing all around her and the horses screaming in terror. Raven, Garl and Taron had all rolled clear of their blankets, away from the fire, and each man was still rolling and returning the criss-crossed lazer fire that streaked above the campsite.

  Maryam cowered again, fumbling for the knife at her hip as she struggled clear of her blankets. She was between the rearing, panicking horses and the fire, and she realized later that Raven had deliberately placed her there for her own safety. The horses were valuable booty and their attackers had no desire to accidentally kill the animals with their white fire.

  There were cries of pain and rage from beyond the firelight. Raven and his two companions frequently shifted direction as they rolled back and forth, and their more accurate shooting was tracking the enemy lightning bolts back to their source with deadly results. Firing from three sides also meant that the attacking forces were actually hitting each other with their hap-hazard crossfire.

  There was a roar of command from the darkness, and abruptly the lazer fire stopped. From three sides, bulky shadows in thick furs charged with drawn swords replacing the hot hand weapons. As one man, Raven, Taron and Garl rose to their feet, smoothly exchanging their own hand lazers for their preferred drawn steel. Three swords clashed with at least a dozen enemy blades in hot and furious combat.

  Maryam crouched by the fire, feeling small and helpless with only the short knife in her hand. She was ignored, as though the attackers considered her of no account, something that could easily be dealt with later. They saw the swords of the three Gheddans as the only real threat.

  Raven met the first man of that headlong charge with a killing flourish that spun the sword from the other’s hand and cut him dead across the throat. The dropped sword landed on the grass with a thud and skidded close to where Maryam crouched in horror as the dead man crashed face first into what remained of the fire. Raven killed another with two more lightning strokes, and then he was forced to defend against the combined assault of four slashing blades.

  Taron and Garl had also killed the first men to reach them, and then they too were forced on the defensive. The air rang with screams and curses from their assailants, but Raven and his two crewmen fought with grim, silent ferocity.

  Maryam stared at the sword blade that lay glinting in the firelight before her. The blade and hilt looked to be all made of the same cold steel and the hilt was within her reach. She stretched a hand toward it, felt its ice-cold hardness against her fingers, and hesitated. Sylve’s blood had already stained her hands and she wanted no more.

  She heard the grass rustle and a small twig snap to her left. She looked up and saw two more men in thick furs moving stealthily past the horses. They were circling to attack Raven from behind. One carried a sword and the other a double-headed axe that was already poised for a merciless swing at the back
of Raven’s skull.

  “No!” Maryam shrieked.

  She snatched up the fallen sword and leapt to her feet. Both men spun to face her, startled and surprised by her unexpected intrusion. She swung her captured blade to block the descending axe and the axe-man screamed as his fingers were severed and the axe handle chopped in two. As he reeled away clutching his bloodied hand, Maryam found herself facing his companion and fighting desperately for her life.

  The steel sword in her hand was heavy and dragged at her arm, and for a few moments she thought that it must be smashed from her failing fingers. But the man before her was clumsy and swiftly she remembered the few tricks that Kananda had taught her. Three times she successfully deflected the enemy blade, and by then she had got the swing and the feel of her strange new weapon. She tightened her grip with more confidence and attacked.

  The big man before her gave way, and then his rage at being forced back overcame any sense or skill. He battered his way forward again with an almighty swing that missed, and for a few seconds, they were chest to chest and face to face. The big man grinned and leered down at her, feeling his own dominant brute strength and power. His breath stank as he leaned close. Maryam remembered how she had bitten into Sylve’s thigh and the immediate advantage the shock and pain had given her, and deliberately lunged forward and sank her sharp teeth just as deep in her new assailant’s coarse, fleshy nose.

  The man howled and pulled back. Maryam kicked him in the groin with all her strength and swung her sword again. The flat of the blade hammered against the side of his head and all but severed an ear. The man dropped his blade and staggered away, reeling like a drunkard into the darkness.

  Maryam turned her head and saw Raven still hard-pressed. Another of their attackers died under his blade, but yet another was circling to get behind him. Maryam stepped between them and now her shoulders were hard against Raven’s.

  “Back to back!” she shouted, remembering how Kananda and Gujar, or Kananda and Kasim, had always defended themselves against a larger number of their playmates. Raven glanced briefly over his shoulder and his smile flashed toward her. Maryam flashed a smile in return, and then they both returned their attentions to their swordplay.