Moorcock, Michael - Michael Kane 03

by Masters Of The Pit (v1. 0)

  We simply stood there regarding each other silently as the other ten members of the council turned.

  With my free hand I drew my sword.

  "A dead man is the most inefficient of all," I said. "And I can make several of you that if you move a step."

  The girl was now weeping with reaction and my heart went out to her now even more than it had done before,

  "Do not worry, Ala Mara," I said, remembering the name her dead father had used. "They will not harm you."

  Now the furthest away from me put a whistle to his lips, ignoring my threat. Its note pierced the air and I knew that the whistle was intended to summon guards.

  Heaving the girl on to my shoulder, I began to dash down the street. I knew that the gate was around the next bend and that if I could put enough distance between myself and the Eleven fast enough their dart-guns could not harm me.

  I ran panting around the comer and rushed towards the open gate.

  Guards were coming at me as I went through the gate and I prayed that I could reach the waiting airship before all was lost.

  Hool Haji must have seen me being chased by the guards because he suddenly appeared at the entrance to the airship's cabin. I half flung the girl at him and turned just in time to engage the first couple of swordsmen.

  They were inexpert with their weapons and I easily defended myself at first. But soon others joined the fight and I would have been hard pressed had not Hool Haji's massive bulk dropped down beside me.

  Together we held them off until several lay dead or wounded on the ground.

  Hool Haji muttered to me: "Get aboard. I'll join you at once."

  Still fighting, I managed to clamber into the cabin.

  Hool Haji made one last thrust, killing a guard and, in that spht-second lull in the fighting, jumped into the cabin.

  I was ready with the door and slammed it shut. Leaving Hool Haji to bolt it, I went past the still frightened girl and seated myself at my airship's controls.

  It was only a matter of moments before the engine roared into powerful life. I released the anchor ropes and we were soon rising into the air.

  "What now?" Hool Haji asked, glancing at the girl as he seated himself in his specially large chair.

  "I am tempted to return at once to Vamal," I said, “and get the taste of that place out of my mouth before doing anything more. But it would probably be best to go at once to the Vaults of Yaksha and see if we can find a machine to cure the plague. Better yet - if we could contact the Sheev, they might help."

  "The Sheev involve themselves rarely in our affairs,” Hool Haji reminded me.

  "But if they knew-“

  “-Perhaps they do."

  "Very well," I said. "We go to Yaksha. Perhaps there we will also find a means of contacting the Sheev."

  "What about the girl?" Hool Haji asked.

  'There is nothing for it but to take her with us,” I said, "after all, in helping her in the first place I have made her my responsibility."

  "And mine, my friend." Hool Haji smiled, gripping my shoulder.

  From behind us, Ala Mara said weakly: "I thank you, strangers. But if I am to be any trouble to you, put me down where you will. You have done enough."

  "Nonsense," I said, setting course for the North and Yaksha. "I want to be able eventually to return you to Cend-Amrid - and when we do return it will be with some effective means of destroying both the tyrannies that dwell there."

  Perhaps moved by this, and obviously remembering the death of her father, the girl began to sob again. I, too, found it hard to remain completely unaffected by her emotion and it was a long time before I could begin to work out what method I was going to use to find the machine that could cure the plague - assuming that it existed in Yaksha at all!

  It would be several days yet before our destination would be reached. And in that time I would have to train myself to think very coolly indeed.

  I did not know then, of course, just what was in store for me. If I had, I might have returned to Varnal.

  As it was, things were to complicate themselves even more and I was going to find myself in desperate straits soon enough - as were we all!

  Chapter Five

  THE BARBARIANS

  At last we were crossing the desert, having decided to visit Mendishar, Hool Haji's homeland, on our way back. This was partly my friend's decision, since he explained he had only recently left there and was sure that there was little to concern him at present.

  We dropped down just outside the entrance we had cleared earlier. We secured the airship, leaving Ala Mara in charge of it.

  At the entrance, which had been covered with a great sheet of non-corrosive metal alloy which we had found earlier, we saw signs that it had been disturbed.

  Hool Haji pointed at the ground.

  "Men have been here since we last left," he said. "Here are footmarks - and there signs that heavy objects have been dragged over the ground. What do you make of it, Michael Kane?"

  I frowned. "No more than you at this stage. We had best enter carefully. Perhaps inside we shall discover signs of the identity of the strangers. Who would have been likely to come here?"

  Hool Haji shook his head. "The footprints show that they were not folk of my race but of yours - and yet no small ones dwell in these parts. They must have come from afar."

  We lifted the covering and passed into the cool interior. It was illuminated by the seemingly everlasting lights of the ancient race.

  We had made wooden steps on our last visit, and these were now chipped and battered, again indicating that heavy objects had been dragged up them.

  As we progressed further into the vaults of the Yaksha, we gasped in anger at the destruction we saw. Machines had been overturned and smashed, jars of chemicals had been spilt and broken, artifacts of all kinds had been partially destroyed,

  On we went, through the many chambers of the underground city, finding further evidence of insensate vandalism, until we stepped into a particularly large chamber and found it almost empty. I remembered that the place had contained many of the most interesting machines of the Yaksha, machines which would have produced much interesting knowledge when I got round to investigating them.

  But they were gone!

  Where were they?

  I could not guess.

  Just then my ears caught the sound of movement ahead of us and I drew my sword, Hool Haji following suit.

  We had just done this when, from the opposite entrance to the one we had entered, a number of men came running, brandishing swords in their hands, round shields of crudely beaten metal on their arms.

  The thing that struck me most about them, however, was the fact that they were all bearded. Almost everyone I had seen on Mars was clean-shaven.

  These men were squat, muscular, with heavy leather harness completely unadorned. Their only decorations were necklaces and bangles of hammered metal, something like iron, though a few wore what appeared in that light to be gold or brass.

  They came to a ragged halt as we prepared to meet them, our swords at the ready.

  One of them, a squint-eyed individual even hairier than most of the others, cocked his head to one side and said in a harsh, insolent voice:

  "Who are you? What are you doing here? These are our looting grounds. We found 'em first."

  "Did you, indeed?" I replied.

  "Yes, we did. You're a funny pair to be here together. I thought you Blue Giants were always fighting people like us."

  "People like you need to be fought, judging by what you have done to this place," Hool Haji said in a tone of distaste.

  "I mean people like him, too," said the bearded one, waving his sword in my direction.

  “That is beside the point," I said impatiently. "What is more to the point is - who are you?"

  "None of your business!"

  "We can make it our business!" Hool Haji growled.

  The bearded man laughed harshly and arrogantly. "Oh, can you? Well, you ca
n try if you like. We're the Bagarad, and Rokin the Gold's our leader. We're the fiercest fighters on both sides of the Western Sea."

  "So you come from over the Western Sea," I said.

  "You've heard of us?"

  I shook my head but Hool Haji said: "The Bagarad - I've heard a Little of you from my father. Barbarians - looters -raiders from the land beyond the Western Sea."

  I had only visited the Western continent once, and then by accident, when I had encountered the strange City of the Spider and Hool Haji and I had barely escaped with our lives. So these, too, were from that mysterious continent, unexplored by most civilized Martian nations.

  "Barbarians!" Again the man voiced his guttural laugh. "Maybe - but we'll soon be conquerors of the world!"

  "How so?" I asked, a suspicion dawning.

  "Because we have weapons - weapons undreamed of by human beings. The weapons of the Gods who once dwelled here!"

  "They were no Gods," I said. "Pitiful demons, perhaps."

  The man frowned. "What do you know of the Gods?"

  "I told you - those who built this city-vault were not Gods, they were simply men."

  "You talk heresy, smoothskin," the barbarian growled. "Watch your step. Who are you, anyway?"

  "I am Michael Kane, Bradhinak of Vamal."

  "A Bradhinak, eh? Hmmm - could get good ransom for you, eh?"

  "Doubtless," I said coldly. "But it would be ransom for a corpse, for I'd die fighting rather than have hands such as yours laid on me."

  The barbarian grinned, enjoying the insult for its own sake.

  "And who's the other?"

  "I am Bradhi Hool Haji of Mendishar, and I need not repeat my friend's words, since they are the same as mine would be." Hool Haji shifted his stance slightly.

  The barbarian lowered his squinting gaze thoughtfully.

  "Well, well. Two good prizes if we can get you alive, aren't you? I'm Zonom the Render - my name well-earned. I've torn men limb from limb in my time."

  "A useful accomplishment," I said mockingly.

  His face became serious. "Aye, it is - where the Bagarad rule. Nobody dare spit in Zonom's eye - save the only man stronger than me."

  "The way you speak, there isn't one," I said.

  "I'm talking about our own Bradhi - Rokin the Gold. You can insult me and I'll judge the insult on its merits. Only if it's a weak one I'll complain. But say a word against Rokin - a true War Bradhi - and I'll tear you apart. I need no sword or shield when I deal with a man."

  "So you, under Rokin's orders, have stolen the machines. Is that it?"

  "That's it, roughly."

  "Where are the machines now? Still on this side of the Western ocean?"

  "Some are, some aren't."

  "You are fools to tamper with them, you know. They could destroy you as easily as they could those you plan to use them against.”

  "Don't try to worry me with talk like that," Zonom rasped. "We know what we're doing. Never call a man of the Bagarad a fool until you look for your beard." He burst into laughter, obviously enjoying what was a common jest amongst his people.

  "I have no beard," I reminded him. "And you would be wise if you returned what you have stolen. You cannot understand the implications of what you have done, nor would you understand them if I explained them to you."

  "We're not afraid of you," he muttered. "And we're not afraid of your big friend. There are a lot of us - and we're the best fighters any side of the ocean."

  "Then we'll bargain," I said.

  "What's the bargain?"

  "If we beat you in fair fight, you bring back the weapons.” I thought this would probably appeal to his simple barbarian instincts.

  "Can't do that," he said, shaking his head as if disappointed. "Rokin would have to decide anything of that sort."

  "Then what do we do?"

  "I'm a fair man," Zonom said thoughtfully. "And we're under strength at present. I'll let you go. How's that?"

  "You're afraid to fight us, is that it?" Hool Haji laughed, hefting his sword.

  It was the wrong thing to have said.

  If Zonom had let us go we could have returned with a force of Mendishar to stop them before they embarked in their ships for the Western continent.

  But Hool Haji had attacked Zonom's barbarian pride.

  It could only be settled in blood now.

  With a roar of anger, Zonom was already rushing at Hool Haji.

  His men came at us, too.

  Soon the pair of us were fighting several whirling blades apiece. The barbarians were hardy, powerful fighters, but lacked finesse in their sword-play.

  It was fairly easy to defend ourselves, even against so many, but we both knew we should be killed very soon unless we were remarkably lucky.

  Our backs were against the wall as we fought, and our blades were soon stained from tip to hilt with the blood of our attackers.

  I dodged a clumsy thrust and stabbed over a shield-rim, taking my assailant in the throat. It was only when I had killed him and was already engaged with another opponent, that I realized I had killed Zonom himself.

  After a time my sword-arm began to ache, but I fought on desperately, knowing that there was much more at stake in this fight than our own lives.

  The fate of Cend-Amrid was in the balance. Perhaps even the fate of the whole of Mars.

  We had to find the right machine, either in the vaults or in the possession of the untutored barbarian who called himself Rokin the Gold.

  I blocked a blow from above and was half winded when my attacker shoved at my chest with his shield.

  I slid my sword down to his hilt, suddenly disengaged and then thrust forward again, contriving to take him in the heart.

  Yet it seemed that as fast as we killed them there were others to take their places and, as usual, I soon lost all thought of anything but the fight. I became, for all that I loathed it, a fighting machine myself, my whole attention focused on preserving my life, even though it meant taking so many other lives in the process.

  For all my fine ideas, when it came down to it I was as much a killer as others I despised for that reason.

  I say this only to show that I do not enjoy killing and avoid it where I can, even on Mars - that warlike world.

  On and on we fought, until all sense of time was lost and it seemed, over and over again, that we escaped death by a hair's breadth.

  But it seemed at last that our assailants were tiring, too. I saw a break and decided that, in this case, we would serve our purpose best if we tried to escape.

  With a roar to Hool Haji, I dived through the gap, seeing from the corner of my eye that he was following me.

  Then, from somewhere in the shadows, I saw another man dart at Hool Haji's side. I knew instinctively that Hool Haji would not see him in time.

  With a yell of warning I turned to save him. I turned too sharply and lost my footing in slippery blood.

  I remember a grinning, bearded face and a shield smashing forward into my own.

  I tried to keep a grip on my senses, struggled to rise. I saw Hool Haji clutch at his side, grimacing with pain. Then my vision clouded.

  I fell forward, certain that I would never wake again.

  Chapter Six

  ROKIN THE GOLD

  I DID wake again, but it was not a comfortable awakening. I was being jolted along on the back of an animal.

  Opening my eyes, blinking in the glare of harsh sunlight, I saw that I was tied hand and foot, strapped over the back of a large dahara, the universal riding animal and pack beast of all the Martians I had ever encountered.

  The sun was shining directly in my eyes, I had a headache and every muscle in my body ached. But I seemed generally in one piece.

  I wondered what had become of Hool Haji.

  And then I wondered what had happened to Ala Mara, whom we had left in charge of the airship.

  I prayed that the coarse barbarians had not discovered her!

  I closed my eyes against the
sunlight, beginning to think of ways of escaping from my captors, ways of finding the machine - if it existed - for curing the plague in Cend-Amrid. I was so tired that it was difficult to think logically.

  The next time I opened my eyes I was staring into the leering face of a barbarian.

  "So you live." He grinned. “I thought you southern folk weak - but we learned otherwise back there."

  "Give me a sword and untie my hands and you'll learn that lesson personally," I said thickly.

  He shook his head wonderingly. "Give you a beard and you could be a Bagarad. I think Rokin the Gold will like you."

  "Where are we going?"

  "To see Rokin."

  "What happened to my friend?" I deliberately did not mention the girl.

  "He lives, too - though he got a slight flesh wound." We were still moving as he spoke - he was riding a dahara. I was filled with relief that Hool Haji had survived.

  “We could not find your daharas," said the barbarian. "How did you get here?"

  I was further relieved on hearing this question, because it meant they had not discovered Ala Mara. But where was she? Why had they not noticed the airship? I tried to reply in a way that would answer these questions for me, at least partially.

  "We had an air vessel," I said. "We flew here."

  The barbarian guffawed.

  "You've got guts," he said. "You can he like a Bagarad as well as fight like one."

  "You saw no airship?"

  He grinned. "We saw no airship. You call us barbarians, my friend, but even we know enough not to believe in children's stories. Everyone knows that men aren't meant to fly -and can't, therefore."

  I smiled weakly back. He did not know that I smiled at his naivete and because this certainly meant they had not seen either my airship or Ala Mara. But I still wondered what had happened to the girl.

  Perhaps the airship had somehow drifted away. I could not guess. I could only hope that both were safe.

  After a while my exhaustion caused me to fall asleep in spite of the rough ride I was having.

  When next I awoke it was dark and the dahara was moving at a slower pace.

  Above the murmur of the barbarians' conversation I heard another murmur - the murmur of the sea.