"Round them up," said Fu'ad. Marad and eight troopers shoved the five remaining gnoles down to the road. They were forced to their knees. Their wrists were secured with rough strips of rawhide.
"Now," said Fu'ad, striding before the prisoners. "Who among you speaks Faziri? Anyone?" The gnoles said nothing, but panted loudly, their black tongues lolling over their prominent teeth.
"I don't think they can speak," Marad said. His face was streaked with blood from a cut on his forehead where a gnole had hit him a glancing blow with a mace. "Faw! They smell awful!"
"Their smell is no matter to me. I want information, and I believe at least one of them understands me." He stopped walking. He pushed the first gnole's head forward with a fingertip. Then, with one powerful swing of his scimitar, he struck the beast-man's head from his shoulders.
The other gnoles shrank back from their dead comrade. They made hoarse, choking sounds. One or two whined.
"As I thought," said Fu'ad, wiping his blade on the dead gnole's tunic. "For all their ferocity, these creatures are afraid of death."
"Not afraid," rumbled one gnole.
Fu'ad brightened. "Ah, it's found its tongue. What did you say, animal?"
"We not afraid of death. We sorrow for our dead sergeant."
"Is that what it was? The goddess of chance has favored me. In choosing the first available neck, I also found your leader, eh? So, beast-man, tell me who you are and what you're doing here."
The speaking gnole looked at his fellow prisoners. He grunted a few syllables and the others replied in kind.
"They say, no hurt to speak. I Mukduth, soldier of the host of Ubrith Zelka. Zelka great general. Fight many, win many. He came to mountain to recover strength after long march."
"And where did this Ubrith Zelka march from?"
"Nomgorod city."
"That's in Permesia!" Mukduth nodded his broad head. "You mean, you marched five hundred leagues from Permesia just to find these mountains?"
"Great General Zelka have—how you say?—falling out. Him fall out with lord, High Boyar in Nomgorod. Take Gray Wolf Company away to south, find new lord to serve."
Fu'ad digested this. There was one point he still didn't understand. "Why have you stayed in this range so long?" he asked. "What keeps you here? The Kaipur-ian plain is far richer in plunder than these remote mountain villages."
Mukduth cast his black eyes down and licked his dry lips. "Great general's orders. We stay."
Fu'ad raised the gnole's muzzle with the flat of his blade. "Why don't I believe you? I think there's something you're not telling, Mukduth."
"Tell much."
It took the deaths of three comrades before Mukduth spoke again. "I tell!" he said. "I tell! Great general wants treasure. Much treasure!"
"What treasure?" said Fu'ad calmly.
"In mountains live little men with wings. Flying men collect anything that shine—gold coin, jewel, glass. Keep in big pile in village. No guard, no soldier. Great general wants to find treasure. With treasure he raise big army, take Nomgorod away from High Boyar. Skriick." The last was Mukduth's imitation of a throat being cut.
Fu'ad took Marad aside. "What do you think of that pretty tale?"
"A pretty tale indeed. Flying men. Treasure! But the beast believes it, I'm certain," said Marad.
"Now that we know what the beast-men are after, we should be able to keep clear of them."
Marad tilted his head toward Mukduth. "What do we do with that one?"
Fu'ad shrugged. "Serve him the same as the others."
The gnole wasn't terribly bright, but his ears were keen. He knew he was about to die, and he wasn't going to sit still for that. Especially since Fu'ad was no longer standing over him with a drawn sword.
Marad turned and came toward Mukduth. He planned to administer a quick strike with his dagger. He never got the chance. Mukduth sprang to his feet and butted the lieutenant in the belly. Marad went down with a great outrush of breath.
"Stop!" shouted Fu'ad. He aimed a high overhand slash at the fleeing gnole. His blade bit deeply into the studded leather on Mukduth's shoulder, but the burly gnole kept running. "Troopers! Ride him down!" said Fu'ad.
Two troopers who had been idling in the road snapped to attention and spurred after Mukduth. He bellowed a challenge so loudly one Faziri's horse shied. The other came on, and at the last moment, the gnole ducked under the lance tip by hurling himself in front of the horse. Hooves clipped Mukduth's legs as he rolled in the dust. The tough gnole wasn't done yet. He got to his feet and limped to the edge of the road. As another pair of lancers bore down, he jumped. Down he slid on the seat of his pants. The rocks and gnarled roots clawed at him. Mukduth slid fifteen paces and halted only when he hit bottom in the narrow ravine. He was up and going again by the time Fu'ad got to the edge of the road.
"Shall we go after him, my captain?" asked a trooper.
"No, you would never get a horse down there, much less a man in mail, tie's gone."
Marad came up, rubbing his stomach. "Hard-headed savage! I think he cracked my rib!" He saw Mukduth's broad back disappearing among the scrub cedars. "He'll warn his general about us," he said.
"If he lives. He must have torn something in that fall, and his hands are still tied. There are many wild beasts in the mountains." He turned his back. "Troopers, assemble!"
They rode back to the place where Nabul had been left. A score of paces from the boulder, a loud voice sounded: "Stop where you are!"
"Who goes there?" countered Fu'ad.
"Nabul, son of Zelir, you carrion bird!"
"It's that worthless thief." Fu'ad eased his horse forward a few steps.
"I've had enough of your cruelty, captain of swine! I lere's where it ends!"
"Keep wagging your tongue, vermin, and I'll have it out," Fu'ad shouted.
"Come and try! "Vou're very bold with unarmed nomads, women, and children. How many helpless people have you butchered, noble captain? A hundred? A thousand? How many enemies of the sultan have you murdered as they slept?"
"Aiyah! I'll have your head for polo!" Fu'ad roared. He couched his lance and dug in his spurs. He could see Nabul's feet projecting from behind the boulder. He would split the foul-tongued rascal from end to end!
Fu'ad shifted his lance over his horse's head and prepared to skewer Nabul as he galloped past. As he reached the boulder, a line of stout chain sprang from the road. The feet were sandals stuffed with grass. Nabul was on the other side of the road, holding the chain taut as a barrier-
Horse and rider slammed into the chain. Both fell, and the impact tore the spike free. With a yelp of triumph, Nabul ran forward and leaped on the fallen captain. He pinned Fu'ad's arms with his legs and wrapped a loop of chain around his neck.
The other Invincibles rushed forward when they saw their leader fall. Nabul found himself fenced in by a forest of lance points, each wielded by a grim Faziri.
"Keep off, or I'll wring his neck!" Nabul said. His voice cracked with emotion.
"Release him or die like a dog!" Marad snapped. Nabul tightened the chain a fraction, and Fu'ad, who had been stunned by the fall, coughed his way back to consciousness.
" You," he sputtered.
"Yes, my fine captain. Now I'm in the saddle, and you are my captive."
"Marad, slay this vagabond!"
A lance tip wavered before Nabul's face. The thief said, "Even if you spit me, I'll still have enough strength left to snap his neck!"
"What do you say, my brother?" asked Marad.
"Hold your hand." To Nabul, Fu'ad said, "What are you scheming for, thief? %ur life? Ytu may have that, too."
"Yes, I would have it, as long as it took to draw one breath after releasing you. Then I'd be paled like a gamecock, eh? Well, not Nabul!" He looked at the encircling troopers. "Who has the keys to these manacles?"
"I," said Marad after a long moment's hesitation.
"Unlock them." Marad did. Nabul yanked the dagger from his belt. "Move a
way," he said. "All of you move away! Ride away, around the bend. I don't want to see anyone!"
"You'll kill our captain," Marad objected.
"Him?" said Nabul, tapping the flat of the dagger to Fu'ad's bearded cheek. "I shall protect him as I would a babe. Now go!"
"Sir?"
"It's all right, Marad. He won't hurt me. He knows what will happen to him if he does."
Marad led the Invincibies away. Nabul got up slowly, the forked tip of Marad's dagger pressed against Fu'ad's neck. "Rise," he said, "but have a care to go slowly. My hand is none too steady."
Fu'ad got to his feet. "Put the manacles on your own wrists," said Nabul. Glaring, Fu'ad complied. Nabul backed away. He wrapped several turns of chain around the captain's chest, binding his arms tightly.
"Now we walk, noble horseman." "To where?" asked Fu'ad.
"Some place less frequented by your fellow Invincibles."
"Then what?"
"Then we shall talk, good captain. I have a bargain to offer you."
Hand in Glove
The city thief and the cavalry captain walked the better part of a league before Nabul called a halt. He kept looking back over his shoulder for signs of the Invincibies. He saw none. That was the disturbing aspect, for he knew they'd follow.
"Nervous?" asked Fu'ad casually.
"Don't be witty," said Nabul. He scanned the open vista along the top of the ridge. "This seems like a good place."
"For what?"
"Just shut your mouth and open your ears, noble captain. My bargain is this: your life for the lives of myself and my companions."
"The proportion of worth is right, but I'm afraid duty won't permit me to make such a trade. You see, my men and I are charged by the vizier himself to bring back the foreign boy alive, and the rest dead. So you might as well kill me now, as it is the Emir Azrel you must bargain with, not me."
"Are you made of stone, man? You're a hundred leagues from Omerabad and the vizier. Ride back and tell him we all died in the desert. You found our picked bones in the sand." Fu'ad shook his head. Frustrated, Nabul struck the captain across the face.
"By the Thirty! Save me from men of honor! You're as mad as they are!" he said. "Am I doomed to be the only reasonable man in the world?"
He grabbed a handful of links and hauled Fu'ad forward again. "What now?" asked the captain.
"I'm going to introduce you to my friends .you'll like them; they're mad, too."
High noon, and the 'strelli rested. Tamakh and Uramettu did likewise, he flat on his back under the canvas, she curled up beside him. Whenever a snore threatened to break free from his throat, Uramettu's foot came back and thumped the priest. Her eyes remained closed.
Marix and Jadira were practicing their climb. They chose a pair of flues in sight of each other and worked on the technique. The task proved safer than Jadira had feared, for the rough surface of the flues held the wide straps fast, and didn't allow them to slip. On the other hand, that same roughness made moving the straps up or down difficult. Each pull left tufts of fiber sticking to the abrasive rock.
From the top of the ten-pace chimney, Jadira could see far and wide. The black crater walls, so omnipresent on the ground, receded to a simple border on the horizon. She shaded her eyes from the sun and breathed deeply. She hadn't realized how much she missed the open spaces of the Red Sands until she'd reached the top of this flue and looked about.
Bubbles of gas had risen through the liquid lava eons ago, creating fantastic blowholes and tunnels. The crater wall above the level of accumulated ash was a honeycomb of these holes, and from her high perch, Jadira could see thousands of openings around them. The sun slanted in. As she followed the perimeter of the crater, a flash in one tunnel caught her eye. She looked back. It flashed again.
"Marix," she called. "Over there: do you see something shiny?"
He pushed his Faziri helmet lower on his face. "Yes. There's something in that cave."
"What could it be?" she asked. He leaned back against the strap and shrugged. "Let's find out."
"We ought to get some rest. There's a long night ahead of us," said Marix.
"It will only take a blink of a dove's eye. Where's your curiosity?"
"All right—race you to the bottom."
He won. Jadira got her strap twisted trying to slide it over the widening girth of the flue. By the time she stepped on solid ground again, Marix was waiting for her. He squatted in the gritty soil, a smug look on his face.
"Yiu're a prize hound, aren't you?" she said.
"Ah, merely skilled."
"On your feet, O Skilled One. We've a hike to make."
They wended their way through the sleeping village. Twice, they saw a 'strelli deep in the grasp of the god of dreams, fall out an open door of its chimney house. So light were the 'strelli, they could fall a score of paces and not be hurt. Often they did not even wake up. Just a soft plop in the cinders, and they slept on.
Jadira and Marix cleared the cluster of flues. A band of open ground perhaps one hundred paces wide separated the 'strelli village from the crater wall. Out of the shade of the chimneys, the cinders underfoot had grown hot in the sun. They walked gingerly to where the curved crater wall met the hot cinders.
"It's like glass," said Marix, running a hand over the fluted wall. "We'll never be able to climb it."
"The hole I saw looked close to the ground," said Jadira. "This way, I think."
They peeked into a number of openings without success. Most of the holes were as clean as a Zimoran gutter, which is very clean indeed. The holes joined the galleries of other hollows, rising through the solid rock to the outside of the crater. Wind whistled mournfully through them.
One hole, larger than normal, did not whistle. Jadira could just barely reach it. She felt the edge of something cool. "Give me a boost," she said. Marix cupped his hands and stooped over. Jadira stepped into his hands, grabbed the rim of the hole, and hauled herself up.
She bent double into the opening and landed facedown in a heap of gold. "Strike me blind!" she said, her voice echoing oddly in the tunnel. The floor of the blowhole, as far back as she could see, was laden with coins, chains, baubles, and bricks of gold. There was silver, too, blackened by age, and jewels lay scattered about like hen feed. And more: glass beads, shiny tin cups, brass and bronze ornaments of every size and description; panes and chips of lapis lazuli, jade, opal and agate. No wonder the tunnel glowed with its own light!
Jadira gave her hand to Marix. He rolled ungracefully into the tunnel and sat up. "By Tuus!" he gasped.
"Have you ever seen the like?" said Jadira.
"Not even in the arsenal of Prince Lydon," he said.
"There's no order, no discrimination," she said. "Why do you suppose the 'strelli put it here?"
"Who says they did?"
"Who else could easily get into this little space without a ladder? They must have been collecting this hoard for years and years."
"I have seen no use for money among them."
"Nor have I. Hmm . . . you know, crows and eagles gather bright stones for their nests. Could it be that our winged friends collect pretties for their own sake?"
"They have a king's ransom here; nay, an emperor's!"
Jadira drew her brows together and frowned. "Or a sultan's undoing," she mused.
Marix scooped a double handful of gold and jewels. "With but a small portion of this treasure, we could live like dukes for the rest of our lives," he said.
"'We'?"
"Of course 'we'. You and I, Jadira, and not a fig would we care for the world's disdain."
"And Tamakh? Uramettu?"
"There's plenty for all."
"And the 'strelli?"
Marix's fevered expression faded. "You're right," he said. "We can't just take it from them. And yet, if they don't appreciate the worth of it—"
Jadira said, "I won't cheat them."
"No, never, but if we ask for payment for the services we're about to perf
orm?"
"Which we would do for nothing. Really, Marix, you begin to sound like Nabul."
He dropped a shower of gold into the pile from which it had come. "I am ashamed," he said quietly. "I, a son of a noble house of Dosen, swooning over money like a tradesman." "Never mind," she said, patting his arm. "Gold has turned higher heads than yours."
They dropped down from the hole and started back for the village. Twice Marix looked back regretfully. Such a temptation for a young, landless man! Jadira linked her arm in his and drew him along.
Tamakh and Uramettu were awake when they returned. Marix described in breathless detail the accumulation of riches in the 'strelli's cave.
"Interesting," said Tamakh.
"Nice," said Uramettu. She crossed her legs and stretched her arms until the joints cracked.
"Well, hang me if I understand you!" said Marix. "Is worldly wealth of no interest to either of you?"
"In truth, my young friend, I am very interested in this treasure find of yours. It may explain why the war-band of Ubrith Zelka has stayed so long in these barren mountains, and why he squanders so many soldiers on wide-ranging patrols."
"You think he seeks the treasure?" asked Jadira.
"Just so. His other depredations are merely foraging forays."
"Strange that Elperex didn't mention the treasure to us," said Uramettu.
"I'm sure they know the greed gold inspires in men," said Tamakh. "That's why they made their request of us in terms of compassion and honor."
"Honor doesn't fill the belly," Jadira said.
"Now you sound like Nabul," said Marix.
With night, the 'strelli roused, but this night they did so in eerie silence. No trilling swarms filled the sky. No swish of wings threatened to drown out ordinary speaking. The ground around their house-flues was crowded with walking 'strelli, hopping about on ungainly feet.
Elperath and her consort joined the companions. '"Ionight the light returns to our sky," she said. Most of the shrill accent was gone from her Faziri. "All the pip-'strelli in the crater have heard what is to happen this night. They wait, and watch the horizon, for the new dawn to break their darkness."
Elperex said, "My heart boils! I cannot wait to begin!"
D & D - Red Sands Page 18
