The Warrior's Tale (The Far Kingdoms, Book 2)

by Allan Cole, Chris Bunch

  As I struggled to set it up, a beam of sunlight speared through the magical haze, bathing us in light. I cursed my clumsy fingers, knowing at any moment we could be spotted. But finally it was done and Polillo had the cylinders arranged into a triangle.

  At my signal Corais led the others out. They took the formation Gamelan had drilled into us for half the night.

  Polillo frowned, as distrusting of sorcery as I. An Evocator should’ve been assigned to perform these functions. Gamelan had urged Jinnah to let him go, but the general had refused — without explanation — not even allowing the presence of a junior and therefore more expendable wizard. Polillo unhitched her ax and spread her long legs into a comfortable striking stance.

  I pulled a small bag from my waist pouch and sprinkled gray dust on first one sphere, then the others. The dust was the ground bones of fallen warriors. Feeling more than a bit of a fool, I chanted the spell Gamelan had hammered into my head.

  We are few.

  We are many.

  We are bone.

  We are flesh.

  We are ten.

  We are one thousand.

  I stepped back and drew my sword. Then I threw back my head, opened my lungs and shrilled the battle cry of the Maranon Guard. My sisters echoed my challenge. Our voices ululated up and up until the keening pierced the roar of the battlefield we’d left.

  Then we waited — an army of ten, certain we were about to die. I saw figures running along the castle walls above us and braced for what would follow.

  Suddenly I felt a tingling all over my body. My hair rose, my nipples became hard as stones. The tingling turned to warmth and centered itself at my belly. It plunged into my womb where it gathered strength and flared into a hot fire.

  I howled with the joy and strength of that blaze and I heard my sisters joining in until our ten voices were that of a multitude. I felt I was no longer one warrior, but ten. That ten became ten times that number and I was one hundred women, with one hundred swords slashing the air in defiance. And about me were nine hundred warrior sisters raging at our enemy.

  Gamelan had promised we’d appear to our enemy as an army of a thousand that had suddenly leaped up from the very earth to confront them. I heard bellows of surprise come from the castle walls and knew he hadn’t lied. Battle lust clutched at my throat and I wanted to order the attack, but sanity held sway over my magically charged imagination and instead I shouted to Corais.

  She and another woman raced to the wheeled apparatus and ran it forward. The knobbed end slammed into the gates and although I knew it was too small to leave even a mark, the sound it made was that of a mighty ram — and that is how it seemed to our enemies.

  A shimmer in the air gave me a glimpse of their view: the odd apparatus had become a huge war machine, towering above the two hundred women warriors who operated it, an engine easily big enough to shatter those gates and their reinforcing. The rest of us — eight hundred plus — were dressed in sparkling armor and we displayed all manner of weapons besides that great ram: axes and bows, lances and crossbows, grappling hooks and scaling ladders.

  We made a terrifying sight.

  The shouts of warning were many now, but I could see they offered no threat; panic was the commander of those walls. I heard Polillo laugh and mock their manhood. I laughed with her, imagining their balls shriveling against their thighs. Soon the enemy would strip his defenses from the front gates and rush back to oppose this new threat. Jinnah had held a great force in reserve that would then burst through those weakened defenses and for the second time in Orissa’s history the Archons’ sea castle would fall.

  I heard one of my soldiers cry in alarm. Huge black clouds rushed through the sky. They hovered above us, boiling and whirling. My marrow froze as ghostly laughter roiled from within them. The clouds parted and I saw a man’s gigantic face. His eyes were the black of old grave pits; his fleshy lips blood red and his great beard a desolate forest. The lips peeled back to expose long filed teeth. The Archon laughed again and that laughter was so powerful it broke Gamelan’s spell and my strength fled. I was swiftly diminished until I was not a hundred soldiers, but ten; then but one — and such a small One at that to dare the Archons of Lycanth.

  The Archon’s lips compressed to form a word, and when he hissed it, his breath was foul, so cold it froze us in place. "Antero," he said.

  I thought I heard a note of surprise. His gaze became worms crawling out of black mud to sniff at me, leaving trails of slime on my soul.

  More laughter.

  "A woman!" His mockery was thunder.

  He drew in his breath — a howling in the air — and spit.

  His spittle rained from the cloud, drenching us in unimaginable filth. We were humbled and humiliated by that fetid storm. The face vanished into the cloud mass, which swirled furiously for a moment, then funneled down and down into the sea castle . . . until it was gone.

  The ten of us stood on that naked shelf, helpless against our enemies. Before we died it was our turn to suffer jeers. The men on the walls shouted, mocking our sex; taunting us with threats of the obscene acts they’d perform on our corpses.

  But their jeers had an opposite effect on us — instead of fear, they roused anger.

  Polillo roared: "Come down and fight, Lycanthian scum! I’ll cut off your arms and legs and send your heads back to your women with your balls stuffed down your throats."

  She hurled her great ax upward. But she was so angry she loosed too soon and the ax fell short of the parapets — if any of the rest of us had tried a similar throw, we could not even have reached half the distance.

  The blade struck the blank stone with a crash — but instead of falling back, it stuck! I gaped — the ax had not penetrated the stone, but seemed to hang there in mid air. Why didn’t it fall?

  There was a knot of archers on the parapets and a thick flight of arrows rained. Training overtook fear and we hit the ground, rolling over and over until we lay close along the castle wall itself. I sprawled next to Polillo, hugging the stone to make as difficult a target as possible. But the safety was illusory; soon the archers would crane over and pick us off, or other soldiers would fry us with boiling oil.

  I peered up and realized I was just beneath Polillo’s ax. To my amazement I saw it wasn’t stuck in a crevice or joining at all, but hung from the ledge of a shuttered, not even barred, window. I turned my head this way and that, examining what I had believed to be blank walls. Instead, I saw other windows pocking the face.

  As I puzzled over the trick that’d made the walls seem blank from a distance, someone gave a cry of pain. Jolted, I saw one of my soldiers plucking an arrow from her thigh. Our doom was moments away. I saw those crystal spheres, still out in the open and an idea struck. I gave quick orders to Polillo. She nodded, her face lighting up.

  I came to my feet and darted out — back along the shelf — as if trying to flee, zigzagging and dodging as arrows fell around me. Then I wheeled and doubled back. Polillo had followed me out, but took a different course. While the archers concentrated on me, she raced to the spheres. She plucked one up and hurled it at the knot of archers. It whistled toward them like a shot from a siege catapult.

  The magical sphere struck just below the parapet, where it exploded with a huge flash and roar. I had guessed, or perhaps just hoped, that all of the spells the Evocators had muttered over the device must have given it a mighty charge — one as likely to be unleashed by physical strength as sorcery; just as a perfectly-blown crystal may shatter when tapped with a fingernail at the correct point.

  As stones showered down Polillo scooped up another, and flung it. This sailed entirely over the walls to explode, unseen, in the courtyard within. The final sphere found its mark and I heard screams of pain and terror follow its blast.

  Before our enemies could recover we were serpenting back the way we had come. Corais led the race and Polillo took the rear, the wounded woman slung over her shoulder. We didn’t bother dodging, but s
printed straight as swallows for their nest. But even in that mad flight, shame stung at me; and despite my improvisation, defeat was sour on my tongue.

  We doubled along the shelf toward that shattered guard-tower, the ropes and safety. A flight of arrows whipped after us. Time was running out.

  But as the first swarm struck at our heels, a thought pierced my desperation. I suddenly knew how to solve the riddle of the Archons’ sea castle. I prayed to Maranonia to speed my feet and blind my enemy.

  If the goddess smiled on her daughter, I would return.

  CHAPTER THREE

  THE CASTING OF THE BONES

  Do you know what it is to hate, Scribe? Have you ever looked a fellow in the eyes and felt a loathing so fierce you wanted to pluck them out? No need to answer — your guilty flush betrays you. Good. It’s comforting to know there’s marrow in your bones. It will help you understand how it was between Jinnah and me.

  At first I thought it was merely a mutual dislike. That wasn’t so shocking. It’s perfectly natural for two people to find the other offensive on first meeting. I’ve already underscored the faults I found in Jinnah and his breed. As for Jinnah’s bitterness toward me, this also seemed natural. The patricians of Orissa disapprove of the merchant clans such as the Anteros. Money earned by toil and trade is unseemly to them. They see themselves as the kings and queens of our society. But in Orissa a peasant with pluck and skill can work his way into the glittering chambers that Jinnah entered merely by being born. What’s more, it was the Anteros — thanks to my brother — who freed the slaves, to the immense displeasure of the old families.

  So there was foundation for dislike. He was the commander, so I did my best to hide my feelings. He, however, made little effort to conceal his. Never mind. I’m a soldier who prides herself on being able to serve under any circumstances — even the displeasure of my superior. However, the night before that final battle, as I sat in Jinnah’s tent and laid out my plan, I caught a glimpse of how deep his feelings ran. But I was in such a fever of inspiration I failed to look closer. There is much blood on my hands for that failure — the blood of my sisters and friends. Their ghosts are too sweet to haunt me. But, I do not sleep well, Scribe. And when I do, I never dream.

  * * * *

  The men made no comment as I told them what I’d seen from that stony shelf. General Jinnah stared down his handsome nose at me, his pale, haughty features cast into a mask of polite attention, his thin lips stretched into what could be mistaken for a smile. But as I spoke, his fingers drummed impatiently against the top of his ornately carved field table. His aides, taking the cue from their master, sat in cross-armed boredom. The tent was dank and reeked of spoiled-musk — which was the manly perfume Jinnah, and therefore his aides, favored. The dark bulk that was Admiral Cholla Yi amused himself by undressing me with his eyes. He stroked his lace cuffs while he stared and occasionally fingered the stiff spikes that were his hair.

  Wonderful, I thought. Another fellow who thinks I only need a good bedding by a real man to change my sexual preferences. Normally I’d have challenged him to a ball-kicking contest, but I was so caught up in laying out my plan I ignored his attempt to humiliate. In the far corner Gamelan sat as quiet as the rest. I couldn’t read his feelings, but sensed no hostility from the wizard.

  Jinnah yawned when I told him about Polillo’s ax hanging from the spell-shrouded window, but one of Gamelan’s bushy brows had arched high over his hawk-like features. When I told my commander the use I intended to make of that discovery — along with several others — he yawned wider still. But I saw Gamelan tense and stroke his long, white beard.

  Captain Hux, Jinnah’s chief aide, made an elaborate pretense of scrawling a note. "Shall I send a scouting party around to confirm Captain Antero’s . . . unusual observations, sir?" His voice was languid, moist with mockery.

  Jinnah roused himself enough to put on a show of careful thought.

  I jumped in. "That might give it away, sir," I said. "Only Te Date knows if we’ll have another chance like this."

  Jinnah frowned. "Assuming I found favor with your . . . notion . . . I’d certainly insist on professional confirmation."

  I bit off an angry retort. I pointed at the copy of my report — complete with detailed sketches drawn by Polillo. "You have not only my word, sir," I said. "My officers have signed on as well."

  Hux made no comment — only shook his head.

  Taking the cue, Jinnah said: "I don’t like to insult my command team unnecessarily, Captain. So there’s no need for me to comment further on that point." He picked up my report and riffled the pages. Then he sneered, and let it fall. "This plan of yours, however, gives me much distress. It is the work of . . . how shall I say it? . . . an unstable mind." He turned to Hux. "This is the sort of thing I warned the Council about."

  Anger almost brought me to my feet. But I held back. "I won’t speak for myself, sir," I gritted. "But I will not have my soldiers maligned. “They’ve served as ably, and have suffered as much as anyone and more than some in this war. Sir.”

  Jinnah’s eyes burned, but he remained outwardly calm — that sneer of his tilting upward. "What you have said is mostly true, Captain," he said. "I emphasize the mostly." His head swiveled to Hux again. "It’s the inconsistencies that concern me," he said. He turned back to me, his face taking on a look of kindly superiority. "But I suppose we must make allowances for nature."

  Cholla Yi laughed, quick and mean. I’d had enough. I patted my sheathed knife. "Beware, Admiral," I said, quite low. "Didn’t you hear our general? My nature can’t be trusted."

  His features darkened, but his anger tangled in nets of confusion. How should he respond to my challenge? No woman had ever spoken to him so. I moved on before he could recover. As I shifted my attention to Jinnah I noted Hux and the other aides had been chastened. It was as I intended. They knew my reputation as a fighter. Some had even seen me at my work. They squirmed in their seats like small, naughty boys. But Jinnah met my gaze full on.

  "I respectfully protest your reaction to my plan, sir," I said, making sure there was no hint of insubordination. "I believe it deserves more thoughtful study. If I’m right, by this time tomorrow this war could be over — our enemy defeated."

  "I have given it careful study, Captain," Jinnah said. "And I’ve made my decision."

  "Then I must insist, sir, that my protest be noted."

  Jinnah gave a sly grin. "So noted, Captain Antero." He started to rise, as if our business were concluded.

  "I want it officially recorded, sir," I demanded. "It is my right to have it drawn up and witnessed by every person in this tent. There is a courier leaving for Orissa tomorrow. It is my intention, sir, for my protest to accompany him."

  Jinnah exploded. "How dare you challenge me?" he shouted.

  "I’m not challenging you, sir," I said. "I’m only asking what is my right, if you please."

  "Well, I don’t please," Jinnah snarled.

  "Are you refusing, sir?" I asked. I added an edge to my voice.

  Jinnah’s fury grew, but before it could spill out I saw Hux give a tug at his cloak. The general, as I’d hoped, was being warned that he was treading very close indeed to the edges of his authority. If the war continued to go badly my protest would be made much of by politicians looking for someone to blame.

  He sighed deeply, then slumped into his camp chair. "What do you want of me, Captain?" He pleaded, trying his best to sound like a tired, but reasonable man.

  "I want you to make many mothers happy, sir," I said. "I want you to end this bloodshed and be the hero of all Orissa. I want you to give the orders that put my plan into action."

  He drew in a long, shuddering breath. "I can’t do that," he said.

  "Why not, sir?"

  "Your plan is without merit."

  "If this is so," I answered, "then tell me why. Let me learn from your wisdom, sir, and I’ll withdraw my protest. Tell me, sir, where did I err?"

  Jinnah loo
ked about for support, but before any of his aides could weigh in, Gamelan broke his long silence.

  "Yes, General," he said. "I should like to hear those reasons, myself."

  Jinnah turned to him, startled.

  The Evocator toyed with his beard. "I’ve gone over Captain Rali’s report, and I see no flaws. Of course, I’m not a professional, but . . . "

  Despite his calm manner, the old man was a powerful presence now that he had spoken up. His eyes were mild, but Jinnah visibly shrunk as he turned his full gaze upon him.

  "Perhaps I should give it further study," Jinnah said nervously. He tossed my report over to Hux. "I want a staff team on this," he said, his manner brusque. "Tell them I need an answer within the week."

  "A week?" I shouted, forgetting myself as I saw everything about to vanish down that familiar paper-shufflers’ tunnel. "There’ll be another thousand dead within that time!"

  My outburst was a mistake. I’d given Jinnah the avenue he needed. His thin lips drew back in a wide smear of satisfaction.

  But before he could strike, Gamelan stepped in again. "Yes, yes," he said, rather absently, as if I’d spoken in reasonable terms. "I fear this must be done now, or not at all."

  He fumbled in a pocket of his black wizard’s cloak and as he drew out his hand the acrid stench of sulfur filled the room. Jinnah’s eyes widened as the Evocator opened his palm, exposing five ivory knucklebones with mysterious red symbols etched on them. The room crackled with energy. We were looking at the casting bones of a Master Evocator. I heard Cholla Yi whisper a prayer to whatever pirate god he worshipped. Hux and the other aides were so frightened they looked as if they were about to bolt. On the other hand, I was so swept up with my challenge that I felt nothing, not even a tinge of awe.

  Gamelan’s eyes were now a glowing yellow. He held the bones out to Jinnah. "Cast them, General," he said.