A Victory for Kregen

by Alan Burt Akers

  How could I? But this seemed to me wrong. I felt I should have known his name.

  Tucked around the strap was a little cloth packet of cham. The Paltork no doubt chewed stoically as he marched forward; well, I fancied he would never return to claim his favorite chew.

  The group of officers did not dwell overlong on that depressing scene. Having made sure that everything that could be done was being done, we trailed back to camp in a heavy silence. Of our voller force, nine returned. We had lost five. The flutduins had done well and had taken minimal casualties. As the returns came in I realized the thorn-ivy ambush had worked, and worked extraordinarily well. Our casualties were exceeding light.

  I took Turko and Deft-Fingered Minch and one or two others, and left the Eighth Army under the command of Orlon Sangar, with orders to recoup and to clear the area, and flew direct for the northeast.

  No one expressed any surprise or chagrin that I should be leaving. It was taking me some time to realize that emperors could behave in this peremptory way without causing comment. After all, every man knew the emperor’s concerns were wide, covering all of Vallia, and he was clearly needed elsewhere.

  We caught up with the grandly named First Army at a bleak little town of Northern Jevuldrin called Ithieursmot. Its chief claim to fame until now was a mildewed mass of ruins left over from the Sunset People. Drak lay in his camp cot in his tent and fumed and swore and was in a thoroughly bad temper.

  “The wound in itself was not serious,” Quienyin told me as we stood looking down on the fractious Drak. The needlemen had worked well and Drak was in no pain. “But the prince had taken a savage knock on the head which Rendered Him Unconscious.”

  Silda sat on a low stool at the cot side, holding Drak’s hand, and would not be moved. I thanked Opaz she was there, her own wound bandaged, and her ripped leathers replaced by a yellow gown. Had she not been, I think Drak would have blown up.

  “Deb-Lu has explained it all to me, Father,” said Drak. “It seems I owe my life to you.”

  “As to that, it is Deb-Lu-Quienyin in whose debt we both stand. And, Quienyin, you know my thanks is yours — aye! And I do not forget all we said in the Desolate Waste, and the Moder and the Humped Land. It is all coming together, now.”

  “Did I tell you,” said the Wizard of Loh, “what your pair of rogues, Hunch and Nodgen said when they were apprised who you were?”

  “I am not sure I wish to know that.”

  Drak looked suspiciously at me. He had not seen me smile overmuch when his mother was not present.

  As to the fracas in the stone chamber, Drak had brought on a battle with superior forces, which was why he had been unable to spare me very many, in the complete conviction that Seg would come up with the Second Army. Seg had done so; but a flash flood had delayed his arrival by three burs. In that time Drak’s army had fought devotedly, but a wing of clansmen had broken through. What I had witnessed had been the last dying attempt on the clansmen’s part to slay the Prince Majister of Vallia before their whole force was broken and driven off. Seg’s arrival and Quienyin’s wizardry had saved us, and now the Second Army was hot-foot thrusting the minions of Zankov, cavalry, infantry, and air, farther north. The Hawkwas, a most savage bunch who were now devoted to the Emperor of Vallia, were swinging in to crush the enemy between them and Seg. Altogether, a satisfactory day’s work, if you omitted to dwell too long on what might have occurred.

  Then a fast voller arrived to tell us that Kov Vodun Alloran had been victorious in the southwest and was marching strongly into his own kovnate in the corner of the island.

  “It seems as though we are successful in the south,” said Drak. He smiled at Silda as he spoke.

  “There remains the southeast,” I said. “And those rasts up north. And the islands—”

  “Oh!” flamed Silda. “We will do it! We have to look on the bright side.”

  I put a hand to my jaw and stared at her. Her bright face stared back, defiant, challenging, and I felt a poignant stab of happiness for Drak. Now, if only he had the nous to take the happiness that was his, and forget all about Queen Lush...

  With my old gravel-shifting voice I said, “We will win, in the end, Silda, because defeat is unthinkable.”

  Then, to Drak, I said, “Have you seen your mother?”

  “No. Nor anyone else of the family. But they are all right.” He glanced up at Quienyin. “Otherwise we would have heard.”

  I grumped at this. But he was right.

  “I would like to go after those rasts. But we must consolidate what we have and strengthen our new frontiers. The army will have to be looked at, too.” My face, I think, must have looked its usual ugly self, for Drak lost a little of his fretfulness. “And as for hiring mercenaries—”

  “They fought well and earned their hire.”

  “Maybe. But I want Vallia to be liberated by Vallians. Is that clear?”

  “Why shed our blood when—?”

  “Just because it is our blood and the prize is blood-worthy. If it is not, you will never secure peace in the land.”

  We might have wrangled then; but the needlemen insisted Prince Drak needed rest, and we were shepherded out. Silda did not accompany us. She was the best medicine Drak could have.

  My comrades in camp and I decided we ought to hold a right roaring bender that night. We had done well. There was much to do. But for this night we could forget problems and carouse around the campfires and bellow out the old songs under the Moons of Kregen. And so we did. But for all the wild singing and drinking and dancing as the campfires spurted lurid highlights against flushed faces and feverish eyes — can one ever forget problems? I do not think so. A few moments of oblivion, dearly bought, look cheap and tawdry when the problems remain, as intransigent and menacing as ever with the pallid light of the suns.

  Every man contains a scorpion within him. And every man is commanded by the Star Lords. My Scorpion had materialized itself and become real; my Star Lords had revealed a glimmer of themselves.

  In this, surely, I was more fortunate than the unhappy people who struggle uncomprehendingly against the vagaries of their own nature and the vicissitudes of what, mistakenly, they call fate.

  If it be true that men are born to rule and men are born to be slaves, then surely it is an onus placed on those who rule to command toward life and not toward death? The study of history tends to the belief that those with power abuse it because they understand only a tiny part of what power is. If individual people are as nothing before the great weight of destiny, and there is no reason in the universe, then a man has just the one single fact to which to cling: he is a man. Nothing more.

  Unknown powers within and without ourselves — the Scorpion and the Everoinye — may overthrow us and we may go down to eternal ruin; but can we do any more, seeing we are but men?

  We had won victories against what my people regarded as the powers of darkness, yet I knew we must all go forward together in the light of Opaz, against greater forces of evil. And who was to say that those other evil powers would not, in time, be reconciled?

  “There is a magnificent golden Kildoi, there, Dray,” said Turko.

  “Aye.” The firelight glinted from Korero’s golden beard and he smiled, lifting his two right arms. His tail hand wrapped around a silver goblet, and he drank.

  I made the pappattu and I made it in a certain way.

  “Korero the Shield — Turko, Kov of Falinur.”

  A welling burst of song roared out then from the nearest group around their campfire, rollicking words that finished, “No idea at all, at all, no idea at all.”

  We all half-turned to look and listen, and when I turned back — lo! Turko and Korero were gone.

  What transpired between those two touched me nearly, and I, fallible human being that I am, trembled as vague rumors, laced with sly chuckles, reached me. Garbled stories of a fight that sprawled away into the moon shadows, a titanic conflict that roared over kools of land, made me imagine al
l manner of disasters. But, when I found them, the Kildoi and the Khamorro, they were sitting together and quaffing and not a bruise or a cut on either. They stood up as I approached, lithe, limber, superb men.

  “You two—” I started. Then the ridiculousness of the situation overwhelmed me. How small my faith had been! “I need you both, in different ways. You are not Vallian born — well, no more am I — but our path is set out for us. Falinur is to be won back, for one thing.”

  “The kov was saying—” spoke up Korero, his golden beard glinting, his tail hand curled around his jar.

  “Korero expressed the view,” said Turko.

  They paused and looked at each other. I took the measure of that look.

  “Well, that’s settled, then.” I spoke briskly. “We’ll round up an army and no doubt Drak and the Presidio will bestow an imposing number on it, and we’ll see about Falinur.”

  “It is in my mind, Dray, to ask Korero to march with us.”

  “If the Prince Majister can spare him. When it’s done I’ll expect Falinur to be a model kovnate. As for your taxes, Kov Turko, see they are paid promptly, and in full. And I shall call on you for a few regiments. See about raising a brigade of swarthmen.”

  They both looked puzzled. “But — you—?”

  “When I get back we will have to think seriously about the rest of the island. This King of Urn Vallia, for example.”

  “Get back?” they said together.

  The first pastel tints of the new day lightened the horizon, the air smelled crisp and clear with a lingering trace of woodsmoke to spice the atmosphere with promise of breakfast, She of the Veils sank slowly wreathed in roseate clouds. This was a dawn on Kregen and there cannot be any other dawns in all the worlds among the stars to compare with that, by Zair!

  “Get back,” I said firmly. “Much of Vallia has been freed from the maniacs who destroy all they touch.

  Prince Drak is fully competent to run the country. The army is in good heart with these victories under their belts. Where we have the land, the people prosper. The harvests are good. There is a spirit abroad that will not be denied. I shall not be long — at least, I trust I shall not be long.”

  “But—” said Turko.

  “Where—?” said Korero.

  “You two sound like that mythical fellow from Balintol with two heads.”

  “Mythical or not,” said a voice from the shadows at my back, “he is a fellow who stays at home for some of the time. Just where are you off to this time?”

  For two heartbeats I did not turn around. I felt all that glorious dawn of Kregen rush together and collide and burst into my stupid vosk skull of a head. I felt the dawn colors riot and coruscate and burn through my veins. Slowly, slowly, I turned.

  She half-smiled, yet her face was serious and grave, pale and with the first hints of the exhaustion brought by long journeyings and too-intensive work. I barely noticed her clothes — black silk tights, black leathers, black boots, with her rapier and dagger depending from golden lockets and the wide black belt with the golden clasp. A scarlet cape swung from her shoulders. She stared at me and I stared at her, and, like two loons, we stood, not moving, staring with unappeased hunger one upon the other.

  I took a breath. The fragrance of the dawn air, the subtle pastels of apple green and rose, the distant chorus of those marvelous birds of Kregen all — all swam about me. The morning radiance touched her hair and brought alive those glorious tints of auburn, making a halo about her face. I swallowed down —

  hard.

  It occurred to me that I might have said, “So you have come home, then?” But, instead, all I could say was, “There is still much to do. We have made a beginning—”

  She took a step forward.

  “Yes, there is still much to be done. You great grizzly graint! And you are flying off again!”

  “Hyrklana,” I said. “You know.”

  “I know. And you will leave today?”

  I took a step forward. We moved toward each other. She raised her arms and I saw the wonder of her face.

  There was nothing else in all of Kregen.

  I held her, held her close, and I felt her arms clasping me.

  “Delia!”

  “Dray!”

  “I must go to Hyrklana, as you must go about the business of your Sisters of the Rose—”

  “Only for Vallia—”

  “We are driven—”

  “But not for much longer. It will end, one day—”

  “Yes, there is light at the end of the tunnel, at last.”

  I held her close and I could feel the warmth of her and the tremble between us. All of Vallia, then, all of Kregen, seemed of small moment, tiny, insignificant, beside my Delia, my Delia of Delphond, my Delia of the Blue Mountains...

  “And you will fly for Hyrklana today?”

  I could feel the growing heat of the Suns of Scorpio burning upon me.

  “No, my heart. I do not think I shall leave today.”

  A Glossary to the Jikaida Cycle of the Saga of Dray Prescot References to the four books of the cycle are given as:

  LFK: A Life for Kregen

  SFK: A Sword for Kregen

  FFK: A Fortune for Kregen

  VFK: A Victory for Kregen

  NB: Previous glossaries covering entries not included here will be found in Volume 5: Prince of Scorpio

  ; Volume 7: Arena of Antares ; Volume 11: Armada of Antares ; Volume 14: Krozair of Kregen ; Volume 18: Golden Scorpio .

  A

  Absordur: A woodland trylonate of the Dawn Lands, rich in timber and minerals.

  Aeilssa: Princess.

  agate-winged jutmen of Hodan-Set: A mythical host of ghostly riders who scourge the nighted plains of Kregen.

  Aidrin: Country of the Dawn Lands; Jikaida City is the capital.

  Alloran, Vodun, Kov of Kaldi: A shrewd man who lost his lands in Vallia’s Time of Troubles and who dreamed only of returning in triumph; commanded the Fifth Army, the Army of the Southwest.

  Almuensis: A cult of Sorcerers of considerable powers.

  alkwoin: A valuable mineral obtained by open-cast mining.

  Amklana: A province of Hyrklana and its proud and beautiful city.

  Andrinos: A Khibil wrestler brought with Turko and Saenci by Dray Prescot out of Pandahem. VFK

  Aracloins: City areas of confused alleys and covered souks and bazaars, teeming with commerce and villainy.

  arbora trees: Called this because their flowers look like arbora feathers.

  Archolax the Bones: A spare man of gravitas, appointed Pallan of the Treasury of Vallia.

  Ariane nal Amklana: The chief lady of the city of Amklana who did not come too well out of her adventure down the Moder.

  Astrashum: A city of the Dawn Lands from which expeditions set out for Moderdrin. Here Prescot, Nodgen, and Hunch were sold on the auction block to Tarkshur the Lash. FFK

  B

  Bakkar: A Brokelsh spirit or deity.

  Balassmane: A superb nikvove charger ridden by Prescot at the opening of the Battle of Kochwold.

  LFK

  Banje: A shop selling candies and trifles and trinkets for children.

  Barkindrar the Bullet: A Brokelsh slinger from Hyrzibar’s Finger; one of Prince Tyfar’s retainers.

  Battle of Irginian: In which the Army of Vondium overthrew Mogper’s army under command of Kapt Hangreal. LFK

  Battle of Kochwold: Traumatic fight in which the Phalanx of Vondium and other arms successfully resisted the great charge of ten divisions of Clansmen of Segesthes, and the zorcas of Filbarrka triumphed. When Prescot left, command devolved on Seg Segutorio, commanding the vaward. LFK

  Battle of Ovalia: Where Prescot sprang the thorn-ivy trap on Jhansi’s army led by Kapt Hangrol, the Vallian Eighth Army winning despite being outnumbered over two to one. VFK

  Battles of Kanarsmot, First and Second: In which Vallian forces held and threw back raiders over the Great River. SFK

  Bellendur: Kov
nate of the Dawn Lands.

  Belzid’s Belly, By: A Brokelsh oath.

  Belzur the Aphorist, Master: A new and successful playwright of Vondium.

  Beng Drudoj: Patron saint of wrestlers.

  Beng Lomier: Patron saint of strolling players.

  Beng Teaubu: Martyr who was drawn many seasons ago in the chundrog of Jikaida City.

  Bevon: A powerfully built yet gentle Brukaj, slave to Master Scatulo, who obtained freedom by acting a piece in Kazz Jikaida; good comrade to Prescot. SFK

  Bilsley: A vadvarate of the Kingdom of Mandua in the Dawn Lands. Dav Olmes is vad.

  Black Chunguj, By the: An oath indicating disapproval of an unjust act.

  “Black is White and White is Black.” A song about a Pandaheem who kissed the baker’s wife and went floury white to see the sweep’s wife, and so went home white and black.

  Blind Archer, By the: Plea to the Bowman of Chance for a good shot when the mark is difficult and a hit uncertain.

  Brad the Berry: Landlord of the Hagli Bush in Vondium, a cheerful, resourceful man around whom rumors cluster. Raised a regiment from his regulars; but marked out for high office.

  Brince: Second cousin to Inch.

  Brokkerim: Familiar form of address from one Brokelsh to another.

  Brudstern: Sword mark shaped like open flower, whose magic is whispered rather than spoken. Usually punched on forte.

  Brugheim: A kovnate of the Kingdom of Mandua in the Dawn Lands. Konec Yadivro is kov.

  Brukaj: A diff with a bulldog face and powerful hunched shoulders, with somewhat short legs. They are determined and dogged.

  Bruk-en-im: Brukaj spirit or deity of good will.

  Brumbyte’s elbow, By: A Vallian pikeman’s oath.

  “Brumbyte’s Love Potion”: Sentimental song created in Vondium out of regard for the new phalanx.

  C

  calsax: armored howdah containing warriors mounted on the backs of huge beasts such as dermiflons, boloths, and trompipluns.

  Challenger: Flying sailing ship commanded by Captain Hando which took Prescot and the Vallian paktuns off Wenhartdrin. VFK