Saints of the Sword

by John Marco

  "All right now, we're going to get you two apart. But you're going to have to help me." The prince looked at the bloodied one. "You started this, didn't you?"

  Very gently he slid his hand under the neck of the smaller stag. The beast bucked a bit at the sensation, but Redburn held firm. Then he did the same to the larger elk, lifting its head a little higher than the other one. He began to sing again as he worked, calming the beasts while he cajoled them apart, working their racks with smooth motions. They were like water in his hands, fluid and flexible, almost put to sleep by his lulling warble. Soon he had the smaller elk's antlers lowered, and with one last push they popped apart. Both beasts quickly raised their heads, astonished to be free again. Redburn laughed.

  "Yes! Very good!"

  "You did it!" Breena cried. She dashed out from behind the tree and hurried up to her brother, sharing his laughter. The two stags looked about in bewilderment.

  "Well?" Redburn chided them. "What are you waiting for? There are cows to be rutted, fellows. Get to it!"

  Seeming to understand, the stags trotted off.

  "What about their wounds?" asked Breena. "Shouldn't we have done something?"

  "I got a look when I was close-up," said Redburn. "It seemed a lot worse than it was. They'll wash themselves in the stream, then be on their way." He smiled at his sister. "I did well, eh?"

  "My hero," said Breena dryly. Then she kissed him on the cheek. "You did very well."

  Redburn blushed. His sister was his best friend, yet still her affection embarrassed him.

  "Should we head back to the castle now?" he asked.

  "Are you done watching the latapi?"

  "Well, there's not much to see anymore. You scared them off, remember?"

  "Don't hold a grudge. It doesn't become you." She glanced into the sky, studying the sun. "It's noon. I'm getting hungry. Are you?"

  Redburn hadn't thought about it, but now he realized he was famished. They had been out riding all morning, checking the borders and herds. Since the recent spate of skirmishes with Talistan, it seemed wise to patrol often.

  "Now that you mention it, I could eat. But I want to ride back along the Silverknife."

  Breena agreed. Riding along the river would take them out of their way, but the Silverknife marked their border with Talistan. Redburn already had patrols out, but the border was long and winding, and it took a lot of eyes to patrol it. He knew Breena wouldn't mind the extra riding.

  "Come then," he said. "We'll take the Silverknife and be back at Elkhorn in two hours. In the meantime . . ." He dug into his pocket and pulled out a length of dried sausage. ". . . we have this." He broke the meat apart and handed half to his sister. Breena sniffed it and grimaced.

  "Smells more like your pocket than it does like meat."

  Redburn shrugged. "That's all we've got. If you don't want it . . ."

  "I never said that," said Breena. She put the food in her mouth and started chewing.

  Redburn stuck his own piece between his teeth like a pipe. "Let's go, then."

  The Silverknife River ran west to east along the border of the Eastern Highlands, about ten miles from Elkhorn Castle. Along its banks were villages and farms where Highland people lived and raised sheep, toiling in the shadows of green mountains. But there were also great, unspoiled stretches, and the Silverknife fed these, too, nourishing silent stands of pine trees and wandering herds of elk. For generations, Redburn's family had been custodians of this land, guarding it against invasion from Talistan or greedy lords of the Black City. The forests belonged to several clans, but Redburn's was the largest and most influential. He was prince now because of his father's death, and as clan leader he had the responsibility of keeping the Eastern Highlands safe.

  Usually, the young prince didn't mind his charge. He had been bred for it, after all, and Highlanders did not shirk responsibility. His prowess with the latapi had been granted by heaven, because his lineage was chosen to protect the land. But it had been easier in his father's day. Arkus had been alive then, and though he had been a tyrant, he had been satisfied with the taxes the Highlands paid, and never meddled too much in their affairs. Arkus had kept the peace in the Empire, and Redburn's father had kept the peace among the clans, and that was the natural order of things.

  Times had certainly changed.

  As they rode along the Silverknife with Redburn still seated behind his sister, the prince's mind wandered. He thought about his father who was dead and his mother who was still alive, and about all the children the two had sired. Redburn and Breena were oldest, so their siblings looked to them constantly for support. When Redburn was a boy, he and Breena would wander along the banks of the Silverknife pretending they were fighting back the Talistanians on the other side. Now that game had become a reality, and Redburn didn't want to play anymore.

  It was well past noon, and the twins had made their way closer to home riding east along the river. They were emerging from a quiet forest into an equally quiet plain of grass, in an area between hills that was untouched by settlers. Deer grazed here, the small kind unsuitable for riding. Along the river does and fawns came to drink. Redburn spotted them and smiled.

  "We waste our time," he said. "There's no trouble today."

  "Peace is good enough for me," replied Breena. She had been driving the elk slowly so not to tire it. "We'll go on a bit more, then head back to the castle. I'm hungry."

  "Still? After that big lunch?"

  "You're a beast, brother. Besides, the others will be worrying about us. I didn't tell them we'd be gone so long."

  "Just a little farther, then," agreed Redburn. "I'm anxious for home myself."

  So they rode just a little farther, and when they reached the edge of the grassy plain Breena moved to turn south when something caught her eye. She stopped the elk, getting Redburn's attention. "Look there," she said. "Those are horses!"

  Redburn squinted. He did indeed see horses. And men. A great many of them. Worse, they were on the south side of the river. Redburn sat up straight, peering across the plain. He knew from the uniforms of green and gold that these were Talistanians. Instantly his good mood dissipated.

  "Those whoresons," he rumbled.

  "What are they doing? They're on our side!"

  "How dare they cross the river? How dare they!"

  "We should get help," said Breena. "We're not so far from the castle. If we hurry--"

  "No. Ride on."

  "Redburn . . ."

  "Ride on!"

  Breena did as her brother ordered, jabbing her heels into the elk's side to speed him. Both of them wore swords they hoped they wouldn't have to use, but Redburn already had his drawn. There were at least twenty horsemen. More than a match for them and their small elk. But it didn't matter. This was his land.

  "What are they doing?" asked Breena.

  "I intend to find out. Trespassers! They call us barbarians, yet they show our borders no respect."

  "Your temper, brother," chided Breena. "Be calm. They are many."

  "They are Talistanians. They deserve my temper, sister."

  "They will say that you deserve it when they run you through. Please, Redburn. They are baiting you. At least try to control yourself."

  Redburn said nothing. The Talistanians had been "baiting" him a lot recently, but their purpose remained a mystery. The prince kept his fist around his sword, and when at last they were in clear view of the horsemen, he waved his weapon.

  "You there! What is your business?"

  Every helmeted head turned toward the riders. They wore strange-looking helmets, forged into the faces of demons. A standard bearer rode among the brigade, holding aloft the charging stallion banner of Talistan. Beside him was a man of obvious rank, his shoulders decorated with stripes and ribbons. The man held up a hand to calm his company while Redburn and his sister approached.

  "I asked a question," Redburn bellowed. "Or are you all deaf behind those ugly masks?"

  The one with the r
ibbons trotted forward, followed close by his standard bearer. His demon-helm tilted as he regarded the siblings and their mount. Then a horrible laugh broke from behind the metal.

  "As often as I see it, it still amuses me," he chortled. "The way you ride those animals is ridiculous."

  "Is it?" Redburn smoldered. "Maybe you should think of changing your own mounts. I think it would be more appropriate for Talistanians to ride rats." The prince slid down from the elk and strode toward the horseman. "Who are you? What are you doing on my land?"

  Behind his metal faceplate, the soldier's eyes shifted to Breena. "Who is that young lady? Your wife?"

  "That is the Lady Breena, dog! My sister."

  "Sister? Then you must be Prince Redburn. I admit I didn't expect to see you so quickly." He studied the prince. "You are not what I expected . . . boy."

  "Expected or not, I am he." Redburn pointed his sword at the man. "State your name. And your business here."

  "I am Major Mardek of the green brigade. These men are under my command."

  "You're trespassing," said Redburn. "You've forded the river and entered my territory."

  "Orders from King Tassis Gayle. I am to survey this area. There have been spies and saboteurs sent to Talistan from your country. I'm to put a stop to it."

  "That's a lie!" hissed Breena. She dropped down from the elk and stood beside her brother. "We've sent no one into Talistan and you know it. You're the ones who have been invading. Without cause!"

  Mardek waved her off. "Woman, you and your savages have been plaguing our territory. Several witnesses have reported Highlanders crossing the river into Talistan. No doubt you are spying on us trying to gauge our strength. Or maybe just trying to steal some proper mounts for yourselves."

  Mardek's men started laughing. Redburn bristled.

  "There are no spies, no saboteurs, nothing of any sort coming out of my country, Talistanian. If there were, I would know about them. We've merely been patrolling to keep a watch on you."

  "And we've been patrolling on our side of the river," added Breena.

  Mardek shrugged. "As I said, I am under orders from my king."

  "Burn your king. This is my land. You've seen enough. Now go."

  Mardek seemed to smile behind his mask. "Or what?"

  Redburn had to stop himself. This was just what they wanted.

  "You are trespassing," he said evenly. "You admit to crossing the Silverknife into our territory. That is a crime. I could report this all to the Black City, see what the emperor has to say about it."

  "The emperor?" Now Mardek really was laughing. "Do you think that fop will care a whit about your little problems, wildman? You go ahead and report it to him. Go and see how much attention he pays you."

  "Get off our land," Breena said. She drew her sword. "Or you'll have a fight on your hands."

  "Ah, now you threaten us!" declared the major. He looked back at his men. "You see? They have drawn their weapons on me. They say they are no menace, yet here they stand with swords." He leered at Breena. "You should put that blade away, lass. I have a far prettier sword I'd like to show you."

  Breena was about to lunge, but Redburn held her fast.

  "Not today," he whispered. "Put it away."

  "You are liars and thieves, all of you," spat Breena. "Including your king!"

  "Breena, put it away . . ."

  "Yes, dear wench," echoed Mardek. "Why not put the sword away? No need to resort so readily to violence. Or is that your savage way here in the Highlands?"

  Redburn turned on the major. "Go," he ordered. "Right now." "Very well." Major Mardek reined in his horse. "We've gotten what we came for." He pointed at the seething Breena. "There is our proof of Highland treachery, I'd say. But listen to me well, Prince--we'll be keeping an eye on this border. If any more of you put one toe on Talistanian soil . . ." He chuckled, letting the threat linger in the air. "Do you understand me, Redburn?"

  "Be on your way," ordered the prince. "I'll not tell you again." Major Mardek and his troops turned and started toward the river. They had come across where the Silverknife was shallow, and as they splashed back toward Talistan, Redburn wondered how safe the river could keep the Highlands. He watched them go, not satisfied until the last horsetail had disappeared into the trees. Then he turned toward his sister. Breena was shaking with rage.

  "You did a good job of controlling yourself," he said. "Excellent, sister."

  "Those bloody bastards." Angrily she sheathed her sword. "They're teasing us, Redburn. They want a fight."

  "That's obvious." Redburn took his sister's hand, leading her toward their mount. The elk stooped as they approached, waiting for them to climb up.

  "We'll have to post more patrols," said Breena. "Now that they've proven they'll come across the river, we'll have to keep an even closer watch on them."

  Redburn climbed onto the latapi, taking the front position, then helped his sister on. "Yes."

  Breena stared at him. "Redburn? Are you listening?"

  "I've heard every word. I'm just thinking." Redburn spurred the elk forward. "Come, let's get home."

  "What are you thinking about?"

  The prince sighed. "I'm wondering how we can avoid a war."

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Elrad Leth and his bodyguard Shinn rode through a thick morning fog. They were heading north along one of Aramoor's widest avenues, a roadway now forbidden to all but official transportation. A warm gust from the ocean had turned the air soupy, and the sun struggled to burn off the haze. Leth wore a cloak to stave off the dampness. Lately he had been feeling poorly, and the disagreeable weather had given him a cough. It seemed that the whole world was conspiring against him these days. Desperate for good news, he had decided to check on his clandestine project.

  Along the shore of Aramoor were a number of small docking ports. Aramoor was not a hub of commerce the way Talistan was, but the little nation had one good port where ships from the north side of the empire could come. The port was nestled in a secret cove, removed from the busiest trading lanes and surrounded by a concealing forest. It was called Windlash, and it was perfectly suited for Leth's clandestine business. The road they now travelled led directly to Windlash, It was empty but for the two riders. There was no activity, none of the wagon traffic Leth expected, and the quiet disappointed him.

  "He's doing nothing," the governor grumbled. "If I find him sitting on his ass . . ."

  A fit of sneezing cut off his threat. Leth wiped his runny nose on his sleeve. Next to him, Shinn rode as if nothing was wrong.

  "What do you think?" Leth asked. "It's quiet, no?"

  Shinn shrugged. "You tell me that Duke Wallach knows what he's doing. Maybe you are wrong, maybe you are right. I don't know."

  "But there's no activity! Why did he pay for the wagons it he isn't using them? I expected to see some traffic on the road!"

  The Dorian didn't answer. Duke Wallach had claimed to be moving as quickly as he could. Still, Leth wasn't satisfied. It was why he had decided to check on Wallach's progress--that and the summons from the king. Apparently, Tassis Gayle was growing anxious, too.

  "We will surprise him," muttered Leth. "And if he's not working those bloody dogs hard enough, I'll have a few words with him, I swear."

  "You should check on him more often," advised Shinn. "This project of yours is too important. You leave it to the duke at your peril."

  "It's his money, Shinn. I can't tell the man how to spend it."

  That wasn't exactly true, but it quieted Shinn. Elrad Leth had many reasons for not going to the project site. First, he didn't care very much for Wallach. The Gorkneyman was as arrogant as Tassis Gayle. And, of course, there was the stink. Five hundred slaves could raise an awful stench. Since beginning the project some months ago now, more and more able-bodied Aramoorians were being conscripted into Wallach's work crews. Their gaunt stares haunted Leth. Whenever he went to the camp, they glared at him. For some reason, they frightened him.

  T
he road carried them quickly toward Windlash. The trees lining the path thinned and soon they could hear the ocean ahead. The scent of brine and human effort replaced the perfume of pine needles. Leth braced himself. He slowed his horse just as Windlash came into view, and for the first time in weeks saw his secret project.

  All of Windlash had been turned into a work camp. The docks and piers were choked with men burdened like beasts with ropes and chains. A garrison of soldiers stood armed with clubs, while mounted troops maneuvered through the crowds, ready to ride down escapees. There were chained dogs on the docks and overseers with whips--specialists from the slave yards at Bisenna, also purchased with Wallach's fortune. Huge machines with booms and pulleys stood at the edge of the shore, used to grapple waiting ships, and long iron carts with wheels as tall as men stood ready along the main avenue. These were to transport the disassembled pieces of the vessels across the forbidden road to the south shore of Aramoor. So far only a handful of ships had made the journey. It was dangerous, treacherous work, and scores of workers had already been maimed or killed.

  "God, what a wretched sight," said Leth. He turned up his nose at the smell of sweat and urine. In the distance, he saw Wallach's fleet floating on the waves. Only one vessel at a time could be disassembled and moved across country. Presently the men were at work on a two-masted galleon, using muscle-power and machines to pull her to dry dock. She was a big ship, and would be good for fighting once armed. And arms were another speciality of the duke, who had already purchased cannons and shot from Doria. Leth couldn't help but smile. Wallach had his hands in everything. His fortune made him useful.

  "Come," said Leth, prodding his horse onward. Shinn followed without the slightest hesitation. Apparently, the sight of slavery didn't bother the Dorian. Together they rode into the heart of Windlash where a handful of guards hurried over and offered their assistance. All along the docks and work yards, Aramoorians stopped to stare. A universal loathing galvanized the camp. Elrad Leth looked away.