Sword Empire

by Robert Leader

  Taron and Garl were both defending themselves ferociously, but they heard Maryam’s shout and saw the sense of what she was doing. They backed up against each other and now there was no opportunity for any of the attackers to move behind any of the defenders. Five of the attackers already sprawled dead around the campfire, and two more quickly went down under killing thrusts from Taron and Raven.

  The tide of battle turned. There were only six or seven of the attacking force who had not either fallen or fled, and they began to falter and back off.

  “They tire. Kill them.” A tall, lean-mouthed fellow shouted and charged again at Raven.

  Raven recognized the voice that had ordered the first charge and stepped forward, his own blade flashing like bloodied quicksilver in the last of the firelight. The tall man parried the first few strokes and then lost the sequence. He parried again, but Raven’s blade was not there. His eyes opened wide, knowing he had made his last mistake. Raven lunged neatly, his sword point passing through the other’s open mouth and emerging at the back of his neck.

  It was enough. Suddenly all of the others were stampeding in retreat. Taron and Garl lowered their red swords and relaxed. Raven withdrew his blade to let his last opponent drop, and casually wiped it clean on the dead man’s furs.

  Maryam stood there panting, looking at the others and hardly able to believe that all of them were still alive. Taron had a red scratch on his wrist and Garl a small cut on his cheek. Raven was unscathed. Maryam slowly lowered her own sword and looked down at her arms and body. There were splashes of red on her sleeves, but none of it was her own. She had not actually killed any of the men she had helped to drive off, and so there was no remorse as there had been over Sylve. In fact, in the aftermath of this encounter, there was none of the sense of guilt that had evolved from the feeling that as she had replaced Sylve, so she must also be partly responsible for Sylve’s jealousy. These men who had attacked them had no such excuse, and for having helped to defeat them, she was actually feeling better.

  Raven sheathed his sword and embraced her in a huge bear hug. Then his lips crushed hers in a passionate kiss.

  “You fight even better than a Gheddan woman,” he told her. And she knew that was high praise indeed.

  Taron and Garl hugged her in turn, although without the bruising kiss. It was their first sign of emotion or real friendship. Maryam was still shaking at the end of it all, but for the first time since she had arrived on this planet, she felt that she was accepted. Taron and Garl were showing her new respect, and although she no longer thought of Raven as her Blue God, she was now satisfied that she had proved herself worthy to be his mate.

  Raven checked the horses and then rebuilt the fire. Taron and Garl dragged the litter of bodies off into the darkness and returned to sit by the fire and dress their minor wounds with cleaning and healing salves from their packs. The Gheddans seemed confident that, for this night, their enemies would be too busy licking their own wounds to return, but now all of them were too wide awake to sleep.

  “So now we know,” Taron said at last. “The Sword Lord Doran does not want you to return to the City of Swords.”

  “Or the Sword Lord Brack does not want you to arrive at Stronghold Raven,” Garl added bluntly.

  Raven shrugged. “You are both right. My guess is that somehow Doran has passed word to Brack. We are expected.”

  “So there will be more ambushes along the way,” Taron concluded. “Doran can afford to pay well, and Brack must know that he must die if he meets your challenge. They will try again, and we are only three swords.”

  “Four swords!” Maryam snapped firmly, and although the muscles of her wrist and arm now ached abominably, she lifted the steel-hilted sword which still lay close to her thigh.

  They stared at her, and then Raven smiled and nodded.

  “Four swords,” he agreed.

  They all laughed uproariously, and Taron slapped his thigh with delight. They were not laughing at her, Maryam realized, they were showing more approval, and she too smiled and relaxed.

  “I thought that on the third planet women were not schooled in war,” Raven said curiously. “So where did you learn to use a sword?”

  “My brother Kananda showed me,” Maryam said proudly. “When we were little we fought with wooden swords. My other brothers did not want me to join in, but Kananda would always allow me to play and teach me the moves.”

  “Wooden swords!” Garl repeated, and he and Taron burst into laughter again.

  Raven was still thoughtful. I am Kananda, First Prince of Karakhor! He recalled the words and remembered the dramatic entrance of the Hindu Prince who had challenged and defeated Thorn in the throne room at Karakhor. “I think I would like to meet your brother,” he said quietly.

  Maryam gave him an impulsive hug and a kiss. “I would like that, too. Perhaps one day, if we return to my planet, I will be able to introduce you to my brother Kananda.”

  In her imagination, Maryam could only see her beloved brother and her wonderful blue lover meeting as friends. She could dream of them clasping hands in the warmth of her love for each of them, the power of it binding them together, as it bound them to her.

  Raven’s thoughts, however, were very different. He had no sense of loss over the death of his former deputy commander, but he knew that here there was a score to be settled. If the opportunity arose he would be pleased to cross swords with the man who had killed Thorn. Gheddan Honour demanded that the Hindu Prince should die.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The air-cushioned skimmer craft had traveled over a thousand miles up the reeking, twisting course of the Black Swamp River. For Zela and Jayna, it had been a slow two-day journey, which could have been covered in less than an hour if the Alphan High Command and the pilot of their strato-bomber had dared to venture this far into Gheddan air space. For Kananda, it was still high speed progress compared to the creaking, oar-pulled or sail-pushed movements of the trade barges and war galleys which plied the more familiar Mahanadi as it curled past Karakhor. It seemed that with every hour his homeland faded ever further into his past memories, while the strange and dangerous land ahead grew ever more menacing.

  They lad left the worst of the swamps behind, together with the giant, black-scaled monsters that lurked in the depths. They had seen no more of the long-tongued, fanged lizards, and yet the lack of such visible horrors was somehow not convincing. The vast expanses of evil marshland had dried out and the tangled islands of half-drowned tree roots and bleak foliage had given way to ranks of gloomy trees with strange, needle-like leaves which now pressed close upon the river. As the trees became thicker and taller, the atmosphere became more and more claustrophobic and the damp air had a bone-eating chill.

  As the river narrowed and took more loops and turns, Zela was forced to reduce their speed and move more slowly. As the skimmer lost speed, it also lost altitude and settled on the surface of the water. They felt the movement of the river’s push against them as they moved upstream and Zela was forced to concentrate on the controls as she tried to predict and avoid possible collisions with the sandbars and changing curves of the banks. Finally she had to stop altogether, just holding the bow steady against the thrust of the current as they came to a junction where an even smaller stream joined the main flow from the east. She turned her head and looked questioningly at Jayna.

  “Take the side stream,” Jayna said calmly. “We are near to the headwaters of both rivers now. They and the Great Steel River all flow down from the Great Northern Ranges. We should be able to get upstream for another hour. Then we must leave the skimmer and walk toward the rising sun until we strike the Great Steel. Then we head downriver again.”

  Zela nodded, but made no comment. She only needed confirmation that this was where they left the main flow. She gently eased more power into the throttle and turned the bow of the skimmer into the new course.

  It was a tight passage, and at times they were almost touching the tree trunks on eith
er side. The smaller tangles of foliage and branches that now overhung the banks were constantly scratching and slapping at the skimmer’s flanks. Finally the river narrowed into a turn where they could go no further. As Jayna had predicted, this last lap of the river journey had taken just less than an hour.

  Zela backed up to a small cove where she could beach the skimmer, cut the power and allow it to settle. They climbed out warily onto the mud, but the river here did not seem deep enough to hide anything particularly dangerous. The tall forest was another matter. It was dark and deep enough to hide a whole range of unknown beasts and reptiles. A small creek entered the cove and provided the only break in the tangled gloom. Kananda stared into it with some apprehension and his hand strayed to the hilt of his sword. Now that he had left the controlled warmth of the skimmer, he shivered as the cold air touched his exposed flesh.

  “If the trees were not so tall, you would see the ice peaks of the Great Northerns from here,” Jayna informed him. “To the east and west lie frozen marshes and vast ice lakes, and behind them the polar ice cap. Ghedda is a ball-freezing place, and the further north you travel, the colder it gets, but fortunately we turn south again once we find the Great Steel.” She leaned back into the cockpit and dug out heavy sets of thick black furs which she threw over to her companions. “In the meantime, we wear these.”

  They donned the long-sleeved fur cloaks and belted them into place. Then together they hauled the skimmer as far as possible up into the creek. They unloaded their shoulder packs, and then the black net rope came out again to be spread and lashed in place to cover the craft from view. Again they cut tangles of black branches to weave into the netting and finish off the mask of camouflage. Kananda kept a wary eye on the forest and the river, but this time there were no hungry interruptions.

  After the long hours of being cooped up in the cramped confines of the skimmer, it was good to be working and moving again, and when the job was done there was nothing to detain them any further. They hoisted their packs and with Jayna leading they followed the thin trickle of the creek into the gloom of the forest. The dark water was ankle deep, but their leather boots were knee high and kept them dry as they splashed their way forward.

  The creek soon petered out into a few bubbling springs seeping out of an area of grey moss and broken, lichen-smothered rocks. Here, Jayna unslung a heavy chopping knife from her pack and used it to cut a way through the barrier of low thorns and branches that clogged the rising ground between the dark walls of trees. As they pushed forward, the land gradually rose from the river valley, the trees grew more sparse and seemed to shrink in height. The gloom receded a little and patches of grey sky appeared through the hostile curtains of sharp needles above.

  They were into more open woodland, ascending a sloping ridge where Jayna only needed to make an occasional swing with her knife when Kananda heard the first baying howl. He stopped dead in his tracks, his hand flashing to his sword. Zela, too, froze, but not before her hip-holstered lazer had seemingly leaped into her hand.

  “Timber wolves,” Jayna said casually. “They hunt in packs where the forest is not too dense, but they probably will not bother us. For one thing, there is plenty of small natural prey here, antelopes and wild pigs which make a meal more to their taste. Also, despite their size and ferocity, they will be afraid of us. Wolfskins are second only to bear skins as a choice for winter furs, and the wolves are more numerous. Men who venture into these forests are usually hunters. The wolves know their smell and recognize their danger. They usually keep away.”

  There were more warning signal calls, blood-curdling sounds, but they were becoming more distant. Jayna resumed their march and Zela and Kananda exchanged shrugs and glances and followed.

  At nightfall, they stopped and made camp in a large open glade, lighting a large fire to keep the wolves and any other predators at bay. They ate Alphan military rations from their packs and drank from their water bottles. It was a frugal meal but they had all been reluctant to stop while there was still enough light to hunt or snare something more substantial. Each of them had their own urgent reasons for wanting to push ahead as fast as possible on their journey.

  They were tired, but the night was bitterly cold, despite the leaping flames of their campfire, and sleep did not come easily. They heard another wolf pack pass close: first the eerie signal calls, then the excited howling of the chase, a distant howling as the pack closed for the kill, and finally the brief, terrified death shrieks of whatever had been the prey.

  For a few moments, all three had risen to their feet, their backs pressed even closer to the searing heat of the fire, drawn weapons in their hands. Then as the sounds of the chase receded, they had slowly relaxed. Jayna was the first to return her lazer to her holster and sit down with her back to the fire. She pulled her cloak of furs around her shoulders and sat staring moodily into the night.

  None of them were sleepy now. Zela and Kananda sat beside her, wide awake and listening to the distant sounds of the wolf pack feeding. They too pulled their furs closer, partly against the scorching heat of the fire behind them, and partly against the freezing night air all around. The faint tearing, snarling and crunching sounds slowly faded and the silence became uncomfortable.

  During the river journey, Zela had been forced to keep most of her attention on the controls and the route ahead. There had been too many twists and turns and sandbars for her to spare much thought for anything else. However, she was still conscious of the fact that they were very much an untested team, and she was still not sure of how well they would actually work together. She knew all of Kananda’s strengths and weaknesses, but Kananda was a total stranger here. For all practical purposes, she was a stranger herself. Jayna was the key to their success or failure, and she still knew too little about Jayna.

  Zela was used to command, and to knowing everything there was to know about the people under her. Now she was second to Jayna, and would have to defer to Jayna’s instincts, knowledge and abilities. Now was the time and the opportunity to probe gently, to learn a little more, and hopefully to build a stronger relationship.

  “You have not told us much about your daughter,” she said softly. “What is her name?”

  Jayna continued to stare into the darkness beyond the firelight, her body hunched and lost in her own thoughts. Then the words registered and she realized that Zela was speaking to her. She turned her head slowly. For a moment, she seemed still reluctant to leave her own private world, but then she smiled sadly.

  “Her name is Blaze. Blane and I saw her as a bright light for the future, so we called her Blaze. She is with her grandparents now, Blane’s mother and father. They will take good care of her.”

  “You miss her?”

  “Of course.” Jayna bit her lip, the first time they had ever seen her show any emotion. Then she said softly, “I do not think that I will see her again, but at least I know that our little light for tomorrow will be on the first escape ship to Earth.”

  “Our foolish planet has not achieved self destruction yet.” Zela refused to give up hope. “Perhaps things may not be that bad.”

  “I see you do not fully understand the blind stupidity and arrogance of the Gheddans,” Jayna said bitterly.

  There was another uncomfortable silence, and then Kananda said quietly, “You have not yet told us what happened on your last mission?”

  “We grew overconfident,” Jayna answered him, and the bitterness was still there. “And perhaps too desperate. Our mission was to gather intelligence and we had descended the Great Steel River as far as the City of Swords. I danced at night in the taverns, with Tujo, our dancing tree bear. Blane played the lyre when he was not using his fists or his club to keep back the customers. All the time we kept our eyes and ears open. There is no secret talk in a Gheddan tavern. They are all noisy, brash and careless with their tongues. What we learned is that all Ghedda is anticipating war, a first strike with airborne weaponry and then a full conquest of Alpha by the
Gheddan Sword Brigades. It was common knowledge. The talk was all of the killing, looting and raping that was to come. It was all gleeful talk. They could hardly wait.”

  She shuddered and drew her fur cloak a little tighter around her shoulders. They had all turned to face the flames and the firelight flickered over her drawn blue features. Her dark lips were clamped shut for a moment and her face a mask of blue stone. Then she spoke again.

  “We knew that they were only waiting for their orbital lazer platforms to be launched, and that we had to get back as quickly as possible with a warning. On our last night, Blane asked too many direct questions and aroused the suspicions of the tavern owner where we were dancing. He called the City Guard. Three of them came to arrest us. The drawn swords told us that they were on official business as soon as they entered the room, and they came straight toward us. Fortunately there was a dancing platform that gave me a slightly elevated view above the heads of the crowd, and there were enough of the leering animals watching to block the guards for a few seconds.”

  Jayna paused, remembering the moment. It was etched all too clearly in her brain. Then she finished softly, “I spoke a warning to Blane. He chose to fight. He slipped the leash and muzzle off Tujo and pushed him into the crowd. Our poor bear had taken a lot of prods and goads from strangers in his time, and as he floundered into the audience, some of them tried to kick him away. Tujo went mad with rage and promptly tore into them with claws and teeth. Blane yelled at me to run and I ducked out the back door. I thought Blane was following me, but realized too late that he had taken up his club and charged the three guardsmen. I managed to escape, but I learned later that Blane and Tujo were both cut to ribbons by the guards and the mob. Blane gave up his life to give me a chance to escape.”