The Death Of A Legend

by Robert Adams

  “Well, then, Lord Byruhn,” said Bili, “if we both speak of the same man, of the same war party that my force ran off the plateau back there just before the earthquake, you may commence to sleep in peace this night. My good axe split the bugger’s oversize head like a ripe melon.”

  Byruhn’s thick eyebrow developed a steep arch over each eye. “Big you assuredly are, sir duke, as men of our sort go almost as big as me, you are; but still I find it difficult of belief that you could have single-handedly slain an armed Muhkohee It was single-handedly, I presume?”

  “Yes, I did it alone, Lord Byruhn, but it was no great feat of arms!” Bili snapped coldly. He had not actually been called a liar by this Prince Byruhn, but close enough. “When his Northorse fell, he lost his helm, and apparently his guts as well; at any rate, he cast away his sword and shield and tried to outrun warhorses, afoot, and him in full armor, too. But my Mahvros here” — he absently kneaded the muscles under the big black’s roached mane and the stallion all but purred — “overhauled him and, for all the thickness of his skull and that odd ridge of bone running down its center from front to back, I clove him to at least the eyes.”

  The prince eyed Bili shrewdly for a long moment, then he smiled, really smiled, this time, and broadly, then raised an arm and beckoned over one of the huge Muhkohee. The giant was beside them in only three unhurried strides, and for all of Mahvros’ height and his own, Bili found that still be had to look up in order to observe the Muhkohee’s face at close range. And this was not the biggest of the leather-clad ones, though certainly the eldest and most venerable. Still, this old one was nearly two feet taller than the one Bili had axed down.

  “Elmuh,” said Byruhn solemnly, “this be Bili, Duke of Morguhn, from down in the lowlands. He led the warriors who drove the outlaws off the plateau and, with his great axe, he slew your son, Buhbuh.”

  Without a word, the old Muhkohee stiffly knelt at Bili’s left, then extended a monstrous hand, palm up.

  “Remove your gauntlet, please, sir duke,” Byruhn answered Bili’s questioning look, “that he may contact you flesh to flesh. He’ll not harm you, never you fear; not even I could command him to do such now.”

  Not comprehending any of it, Bili drew off his scaled glove and placed his big, scarred hand in the wide-spreading, hairy palm, whereon it appeared as a babe’s, before the long, thick fingers closed gently around it.

  The Muhkohee looked deeply into Bili’s eyes, and, the young man met their gaze unflinchingly. While they remained thus, Bili became aware of the Muhkohee’s odor — strong, musky, but not truly unpleasant. It was unlike the body odor of any man or woman he ever before had smelled. Then, with a distinct shock, he realized what was so startlingly different about the Muhkohee’s eyes; the pupils were not round but almost oval, and the surrounding color was not white, but rather a tawny-golden hue.

  “Quite correct, honored sir.” The mindspeak was as strong as any Bili had ever received. “I, we, are not human, not entirely. But I am human enough to feel deep gratitude to you for freeing my poor little son, at long last, from the flesh which imprisoned his tortured spirit. May your gods bless you for that praiseworthy and generous act.

  “But when I consider what and who you are, honored one, I realize that selfless deeds are but natural to your nature.”

  Breaking off contact, the old Muhkohee spoke aloud to the prince, “This be the champion whose coming was prophesied lord prince. He is the one who will stand beside us in the Last Battle.”

  Bili could only assume that the old Muhkohee had mind-spoken his fellows, for they all approached, to range themselves behind old Elmuh and sink, like him, to their knees, but all in attitudes of submission or veneration; even he who had held the Northorses was there, and not even the one whose face the haft of Bili’s thrown axe had smashed was missing, and he now seemingly oblivious of either pain or swelling or bleeding.

  As for Prince Byruhn, he had once more removed his gold-encircled helm and was regarding Bili with a mixture of helpless gratitude and awe.

  Bili did not understand any of it then or for some time yet to come.

  * * *

  Upon his leaning that the force under Bili’s command was all but starving, Prince Byruhn spoke a few words to Elmuh, and shortly four of the younger Muhkohee set out, moving faster afoot than could their lumbering Northorses. One of them bore a huge handful of darts — each almost the size of a conventional wolf spear — another, a long self-bow and a quiver of arrows, the third, a leather sling, and the fourth, a couple of big sacks.

  Although Bili, Rahksahnah, the two Ahrmehnee headmen and Prince Byruhn had early on dismounted to gather about a fire before Bili’s shelter and share cups of cold brook water laced with mountain applejack contributed by the prince, the rank and file had not been so hospitable or trusting of the newcomers, either the human or the Muhkohee. The southron nobles and the burkers and the Ahrmehnee warriors had returned to their respective fires and camps in the fringes of the wooded sections and simply eyed the knot of the men-at-arms of the hulking prince. But all kept their armor on, their weapons belted or near-to-hand and their mounts on quickly reached picket lines.

  But when the four Muhkohee came loping up the valley less than two hours later, heavily laden with eatables — several large deer, a yearling black bear, a monstrous boar and some dozens of such smaller game as hares, squirrels and birds, plus two bulging sacks of various herbs and tubers, some of which were strange to even the woods- and mountain-wise Ahrmehnee — a sudden thaw took place among the ravenous squadron and all joined willingly to help the Muhkohee carry, then clean, dress and begin to cook the various meats and wild plants.

  By the end of the shared meal, it being the first full feeding that most of Bili’s folk had had in days, the truce was on the way to becoming the alliance which Prince Byruhn was so obviously seeking, with even the Ahrmehnee and Moon Maidens seeming now at ease in proximity to the huge, ugly, very strange but surprisingly gentle Muhkohee.

  When the small party of leaders grouped around Bili’s fire had eaten their fill and were sharing more of the generous prince’s apple spirits, one of the Muhkohee glided from out of the surrounding brush. For all their size, Bili had quickly noted that these semihuman creatures could move as silently as shadows.

  This one halted a few feet away and waited for his lord to bid him speak. At Byruhn’s nod, he stepped over to Bili, and it looked to the young man as if the single stride spanned at least two Harzburk yards. Respectfully, the huge one knelt and proffered Bili’s axe — the big, heavy weapon looking like some small child’s toy axe in those monstrous hands.

  Noticing that his weapon had apparently been not only cleaned but polished to a high sheen as well, Bili profusely thanked the Muhkohee, addIng, “I now regret that I had to hurt one of your folk, master wizard. I hope that he is not too severely injured.”

  The thin lips drew back off the massive yellow teeth. “No, lord champion, the haft of your axe but broke my nose. But it only caused me pain until Pah-Elmuh had the time to heal me. I now bleed no more and hurt no more and the bone will soon knit and the colored swellings subside. But for a pure-blooded man, you are most strong to so easily wield so fine an axe, lord champion.”

  Goggle-eyed, Bili just stared up into the giant’s face for a moment. With exacting scrutiny at the close range, he could with some difficulty discern a certain spongy appearance of the wide-spreading nose and slight swellings of the face along with what seemed to be old bruises.

  At length, he demanded of Byruhn, “As steel bites, my lord, are these Muhkohee of yours like unto the Undying, then? He looks to have been smitten far more than a week agone, not less than two hours, only.”

  Byruhn smiled. “No, sir duke, it is but an example of the singular healing powers of my Elmuh, who is most remarkable even for his remarkable breed. He has right often done the same for me and for many another, both Muhkohee — as you and the Ahrmehnee call the Kleesahk — and full men. He can
halt bleeding both inner and outer, remove pain and often repair smaller hurts without even touching the injury. This is why I insist that he go to war with me, for all that he truly hates warfare and will fight only when all else has failed and then only to protect himself or those he loves.”

  Bili arose suddenly. “My lord Byruhn, if all that you say be full truth, then I have some folk who lie much in need of your healing wizard.”

  What Bili and most of his followers saw in the next hour was nothing less than miraculous. Men and women who had for days and nights been writhing in tooth-grinding agony suddenly were bereft of their pain and sank into deep, restful sleep or watched, in fascination, as nimble eight-inch-long fingers expertly cleansed and poulticed and bandaged wounds and burns and the stumps of lost digits, or splinted limbs afresh or took out the remainders of smashed teeth.

  The last patient was Tyluh, a captain of Freefighters, a native Yorkburker whose loss Bili had sorely felt; for not only was he an excellent commander but he was one of the few Freefighters who could mindspeak well, and he could even farspeak to a limited range. His helm had buckled under the oak-and-granite mace of a shaggy, and he had lain like a log ever since, breathing but shallowly. The most of one whole side of his close-cropped poll was a single soft swelling. Bili had seen similar bloodless head wounds before, and he had never seen a man live for long after receiving one.

  After tenderly examining the unconscious officer, the Muhkohee wizard, Elmuh, looked up at Bili and Byruhn and said, gravely, “this poor man is near to his death, lords. A piece of his skull is now pressing hard upon the thin sack which holds his brain.

  “It is possible that I can remove that bit of bone from its dangerous lodgement, but he may die, even then. So what would my lords have me to do?”

  “He will certainly die, and that, soon, as he is,” Bili stated flatly. “So your efforts can do him no possible harm, whatever passes. You have wrought wonder already for my poor folk, here, and I am forever in your debt, master wizard. So, should you attempt to save brave Tyluh, too, and fail, how could I hold his loss against you? Do what you think should be done.”

  The Muhkohee with the broken nose set off at a lope, movrng faster than a trotting horse, for all his pigeon toed gait, his thick arms swinging widely to balance his body on his even thicker, short legs. Quickly, he was back with a leathern roll. From this roll, Elmuh took several knives and odd-looking instruments of bronze or brass and set about his surgery, the younger Muhkohee assisting him as they were needed. When captain Tyluh’s head was swathed in bandages and the huge wizard had washed his hands and his gory instruments in the nearby brook, he returned to kneel before Bili and Byruhn.

  Smiling tiredly, he said, “There still is an even chance that he will die, my lords. It was a sore injury; but at least I now can reach his mind with my own and I have wrought such as can within his mind to stimulate the healing of his bones and flesh. Also, I have bidden him remain in his protective stupor until I waken him; for were we to move him, as we soon must, and him conscious, he most surely would die.”

  Bili paced forward and reached up to lay his hand upon one of those impossibly massive shoulders. “What can I do for you to repay such bountiful kindnesses, Master Elmuh?”

  The dark pupils of the amber eyes had become mere slits against the brightness of the sun, so Bili could discern nothing in their glance, but the Muhkohee’s lips slipped back off the massive dentition in a smile. Again came that very powerful mindspeak. “My lord champion, it is my true pleasure to relieve any who suffer, be they men or Kleesahk or animals. What you and my prince and this mate you have so lately taken for your own will do for me and mine was decided and ordained long before first your newborn eyes opened to the light of your Sacred Sun.”

  Bili felt then an odd, disconcerting prickling somewhere deep within his mind, Silently, he asked. “Then you would wish that my repayment to you be rendered in the form of service under Prince Byruhn, your lord? Is that your true meaning, Master Elmuh?”

  The old Muhkohee beamed, “As I have said, lord champion, putting aright the ravages of disease or accident or the shameful effects of the basic savagery of man has ever been my pleasure and my joy; these past hours work have been most satisfying to me for that reason and it is rather I who should thank you for allowing me to do what I could for your suffering men and women.

  “As for the service to the prince and to my race of you, your folk and your beasts, that is a fact foreordained by both ancient prophecy and my own scrying, and though I have seen much that you will lose in that service, also I have seen much that you will gain. Believe me, lord champion, for I possess the power to see what is to be . . . sometimes; the Eyeless Wise One taught well my father, and my father did pass all of those teachings on to me.”

  * * *

  Bili and Prince Byruhn faced each other across the coals at the firepit before Bili’s dwelling, Rahksahnah hunkered at Bili’s side and the huge bulk of Master Elmuh leaned on the trunk of a tree a few feet behind the prince. A little to Bili’s right, busily engaged in washing his face with a licked paw, sat the massive, fierce-looking prairiecat, Whitetip.

  Despite the relative frigidity of the tail end of the mountain winter the cat’s long winter coat was beginning to pull out in patches, giving him a somewhat disheveled look, but he was still impressive, with his long, white canines, his seven feet of overall length and the full nine hands he stood at his thick-thewed withers. His base color was a rich, golden chestnut, with ghostly traces of darker rosettes scattered on the body and on the two-foot tail, which also sported a snow-white tip, from which came his name.

  Prairiecats of the pure breed, like Whitetip, were highly intelligent mindspeakers and had been willing allies of the Kindred for hundreds of years on the high plains, mountain, and prairies whereon the Kindred Horseclans had led a nomadic, wandering existence for centuries. And when Milo Morai, now the High Lord of the Confederation, but then the Undying God of the Kindred, had led the long migration of above forty of the Horseclans from the prairie to this eastern-seaboard land, scores of the great felines had accompanied their human brothers and sisters.

  However, it was soon discovered that a settled life upon thickly populated lands where much of the wildlife had been killed off or driven away was simply not the proper place for prairiecats, and when a very famous old man of the Horseclans elected after some years to return west, a large proportion of the adult prairiecats accompanied him.

  Those few who were left in the east were mostly scattered and over the years since, had mated more than once with the native treecats — smaller, lightly built and lacking both the long cuspids and much of the intelligence of prairiecats, although even most of the wild ones had at least a minimal mindspeak ability.

  A specimen of such disastrous interbreeding was the female cat that was curled asleep to the other side of Whitetip. She was less than half his weight and only a bare half his height, and her upper cuspids were only a little larger than those of her treecat cousins; for all of Whitetip’s disparagement of her — he made it plain that he felt her to be runty, deformed and retarded — Bili thought that the young queen was intelligent enough and had decent mindspeak. But she seemed awed by the huge purebred male and constantly deferred to him.

  Bili and Byruhn were talking, while Rahksahnah strove hard to follow the men’s conversation; but, couched as was that conversation in the nasal, northern dialect of Mehrikan and well sprinkled — in Byruhn’s speech, at least — with archaic terms and obsolete phraseology, more than a few of the bilingual Ehleen noblemen would have shared her difficulty, to a greater or a lesser extent.

  “So then, Byruhn,” said Bili, “your noble sire is the rightful King of Kuhmbuhluhn, you say? But Kuhmbuhluhn is not a kingdom, Byruhn, it’s been a grand duchy for three quarters of the last two centuries. Only recently has the High Lord Milo designated it a principality and its ruler a prince, which he could legally do, since the Ahkeethoheeksee of Kubmbuhluhn had bee
n his vassals for scores of years.”

  Prince Byruhn frowned, then, shrugged the thick shoulders beneath his quilted, padded and much-embellished gambeson of fine black leather. “All of which is, of course, the direct result of my great-grandfather’s brief moment of folly. That and my great-granduncle’s foresworn and shameful duplicity.

  “Know you, young cousin Bili, that when the middle lands were but a single huge kingdom, Kuhmbuhluhn was but a small, south-central mark of that kingdom, always menaced and sometimes ravaged by the Ehleenee and right often the springboard for raids in force against them.

  “But this order changed, five hundred years agone. The sea waters — both the salt sea and the freshwater sea to the north-west — swept far and far inland, permanently claiming for their own many a mile of less elevated lands, while hideous earthquakes rocked and racked and ruined all the lands of men, changing the ages-old courses of rivers, toppling some mountains and raising up new ones where none had been before. Strong burk walls crumbled like so much dried mud, as, too, did whole cities and towns and an ordered society was thus plunged into an utter and howling chaos.

  “But Kuhmbuhluhn was only minimally affected by the vast calamities, and while the great nobles — the Grand Dukes of Redn and Bethlum and Pitzburk and Eeree and their satellites — butchered the King in Harzburk, then commenced to fight each other like some pack of savage mongrels, my distinguished ancestor Leeahn — the first of that name and also known as ‘the Great’ — utilized his small but effective army well. With it, he carved out a modest kingdom of both Ehleen and Mehruhkuhn lands, nor did he have to fight for all of them, by any means, for when complete disorder besets a land, men clutch at any straw which gives promise of stability.

  “As years became decades and many bloody defeats made it clear to the new states — Harzburk, Pitzburk, Tchaimzburk, Yorkburk and Getzburk, among others — that they could neither strip lands from Kuhmbuhluhn nor dissolve it, they at last grudgingly recognized the rank and status of my house. Then, as the Ehleenee, too, slowly recovered and became ever more aggressive and warlike, seeking to reconquer lost lands and gain new ones, our value to the other Middle Kingdoms became apparent and they not only desisted in making war upon us, but commenced to aid us against the Ehleenee to the south and the fierce mountain tribes to the west.”