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

by Allan Cole, Chris Bunch

  My women broke their spearwall and ran toward me, shouting congratulations. For a moment, I paid no mind, but sent up prayer thanking Maranonia, and begging her to treat the spirit of the animal kindly. It had led us a hard chase along the steep slopes along the far side of the island, turning often to charge and try to break through the tightening cordon. Brought to bay, it’d fought hard and died bravely. Polillo was loud in the beast’s praise, as were some of the other Guardswomen.

  For them, hunting was the noblest of pastimes, second only to war. For some of my women who came from the wilder provinces beyond Orissa, it was, in fact, a religious ceremony. For me, it was a task I enjoyed, since it was outside, it tested my muscles and ability to read the ground, and put food on my table that I myself had harvested.

  But there were other sports I enjoyed more — a cross-country paper chase, crag-climbing, or, without a weapon, tracking an animal to its lair to see her kits or just to watch how she passed her time. When I hunted, I preferred to take my game as simply as possible, to hopefully stalk it without it being aware, and to grant the gift of death before fear came on it.

  It was interesting to see, though, how others felt, and how their feelings affected the way they performed this necessary task of supplying the fleet with meat for salting and smoking. Polillo, as I said, thought hunting the finest sport known. For her, that meant the chase itself. She loved to hunt by herself, or with one or two equally agile Guardswomen. She would start game and then run it down, killing it with a short spear or, sometimes even with a hatchet, thrown with deadly accuracy on the run and then giving the final grace with her gutting knife.

  Corais, on the other hand, said she found hunting not only too much like work, but boring. She hunted alone, and always made a kill. Her method was simple, but difficult. She’d walk through an area two or three times before she armed herself, generally at first light and again at twilight. When she knew the habits of the animal she wished to take, she’d creep out and find a hide either in the middle of the night or at midday, when the animals slept. When her prey came to feed or water, Corais would strike. She preferred a short, heavy bow, and seldom needed but a single shaft to bring the animal down.

  To others, hunting was more social. Ismet dearly loved to organize a hunt, with beaters driving the prey toward positioned killers, a hunt she’d laid out on a sand-table, making sure each hunter understood exactly what she was or was not to do. Sometimes I thought the hunt itself, with its precise moves and strikes, not unlike a running-ball match, was an end for her, and the kill no more than a trophy to award a well-played match.

  We heeded The Sarzana’s cautions, and didn’t take any of his beast-men, not that any of us would’ve considered killing them, either for sport or food; nor did we hunt those animals who wore the diadem of his servitude. We also held to the code of the huntswoman, and took no animal with cubs or who about to bear young or an unbred yearling. All the game we slew, or fish we hooked or speared, was for the pot. We paid no heed to brilliantly-plumaged birds whose feathers might have graced our helmets, or exotically-furred animals whose skin might have decorated shields or hauberk. After gutting and skinning, animals were either smoke-dried, brine-cured or potted. Game birds we netted or quicklimed and then gutted and salted their bodies before packing them tightly into barrels.

  We didn’t need to spend any time fishing — that task was handled by working parties of seamen and The Sarzana’s dolphins. It was eerie to watch. All that was needed was for sailors to wade out on a beach. Then the dolphins would drive the fish toward them, just exactly as I’d seen dogs drive sheep into their pens in the highlands above Orissa. Suddenly there’d come a threshing and splashing out in the bay, rapidly moving toward us. Then we’d see the fish, forced into schools, trying to escape the diligent dolphins. Once the fish were close inshore, and within the net’s killing circle, the sailors would be ordered to drag out, and yet another bulging net of flashing silver would be beached, ready for cleaning and smoking.

  I noted The Sarzana always took part in these fishing “expeditions,” and made sure, when the nets were dragged ashore, a portion was taken for him. He’d wade out into the low surf, moving awkwardly for a man whose trade had been the sea at one time, and toss a fish or two to each dolphin.

  I told Gamelan about this reward, and he smiled, and said, “didn’t I tell you once before that magic held more than its share of flummery? The Sarzana, not being a stupid man, doesn’t waste his strength with spells when a well-thrown tunny can keep a servant bonded to him as strongly.”

  As for vegetables, these were either dried or kept fresh with a rejuvenating spell The Sarzana cast for us. They would last at least a month, perhaps two at sea. Eggs were dipped in hot tallow, and would be good for three or four months.

  Finally all the galleys were nearly ready for sea, and we wanted to be on our way. Orissa lay many, many leagues away, and we still needed help in finding a course home. I think all of us knew that our time here on Tristan was at an end. Now it was time to sail on.

  * * * *

  The Sarzana’s island gave us more than just a place to refit. It also let us relax, and let the long tension of pursuit, battle and blood ooze away, even though all of us knew we were half a world from home, and the seas between us were most unlikely to be peaceful ponds.

  There was one strange and ugly incident that marred the calm.

  I had the night duty and had just finished changing my guard at the second glass after midnight, when two Guardswomen pelted into the guardroom. One was Janela, the other Ebbo, a spearwomen. Both of them had been assigned to Corais’s detachment on the plateau above with The Sarzana. They brought themselves to attention and took several deep breaths before reporting. There’d been an attack on Corais.

  “What happened, exactly?”

  “We were not told the full details, Captain,” Janela said. “We heard shouts, turned to, and Legate Corais and Sergeant Bodilon were outside the building we’re barracked in. Legate Corais ordered us to arm ourselves and make good haste to you, and report. She said she hadn’t been injured, but requested your presence. She said there was no need to turn out the Guard.”

  “Anything else?”

  Janela looked to either side, ensuring no one might overhear her, and even as my anger grew that someone or something had dared to attack one of my people, I noted Janela’s professionalism. “The Legate wore no armor, but was naked, except for her sword.”

  I decided Corais might or might not have been right. I told the sergeant of the guard to wake all the watch, and post two sentries at each post. Then she was to wake the Guard, but without causing alarm or disturbing any of the sailors. I turned command over to Polillo, and, taking five of my steadiest women from the nightwatch, went back up those long flights of stairs with Ebbo and Janela.

  Corais’ detachment was quartered in a small domed pavilion made of stone that might’ve been intended as a trysting place. It not only gave luxurious living quarters to Corais’ squad, but sat separate from the other buildings on a low rise, and was the most easily defensible structure on the plateau. Torches blazed around the pavilion, and as I trotted toward it I saw The Sarzana’s mansion come to life as well.

  Corais women were ready for battle, swords unsheathed, bows strung and broadheads tucked into archers’ belts. Corais, now wearing full battle array, sat, grim-faced, behind a table just inside the entrance.

  She stood as I entered, and saluted. Before I could say anything, she said, “Captain. May I report privately?”

  I dismissed the others. Corais looked about her, and evidently decided she might still be overheard. She led me outside. I could see, just at the edges of the torch light, the gleam of armor, where she’d put out sentries in the darkness. I waited, but some seconds passed before she spoke. I could see Corais’ face, and it was pale, and shaken, far more than I’d ever seen her look even after a battle where we’d both lost friends. I realized something was very wrong, softened my voic
e, and told her to report, from the beginning.

  Since the weather was so pleasant, she said she’d taken to sleeping on a cot just outside the pavilion’s entrance. Perhaps it was wrong, but there were guards set at the four compass points around her, and she “felt” no threat could come to her. “Evidently,” she said, “I was overconfident.”

  She’d gone to sleep wearing what she normally did when on standby, as all of us were — light, quilted underclothing of silk that would serve as padding under her armor if she were called out.

  “I was dreaming,” she said. She fell silent for a long time. I was about to prod her, but something said not to. “I dreamed of . . . men,” she eventually continued. “A man, actually. I thought my mind painted him clearly, giving me every detail, but I guess I was wrong. All that I can remember is that he was tall, broadly muscled, black hair close-cropped I think, clean-shaven, and with a smile that spoke of dark sins and their pleasures. He was naked.

  “His . . . his member stood erect, and he came toward me.” Corais shuddered. “I knew what he intended, and . . . and I wanted it! I wanted him to take me!”

  She turned to the side and was rackingly sick, vomiting again and again, trying to purge not only her body but mind. I shouted for Bodilon to bring a rag, a washbasin, and wine. Corais started to say more, but I motioned silence until the sergeant had left. I sponged Corais’ face, and made her rinse her mouth with wine, then drink a full cup.

  “How in the name of Maranonia could I have wanted that,” she said. “The idea of . . . of being with a man has always sickened me. You know that.”

  I did. Corais, like myself, was fortunate in that we’d never thought the embrace of men as desirable, nor had either of our parents forced the notion on us.

  “He was about to . . . about to touch me,” Corais went on, “and then, for just one moment, I came back to myself, and it was as if I were struggling upward for air, through some pool of slime, and I would never wake in time.

  “But I did, and the spell broke, and I saw that loathsome body for what it was. I was awake, and I was naked, and Rali, as I love you, as I love the Guard, as I love Maranonia, I swear that creature was still there, bending over me, one knee trying to force my thighs apart! I shouted, and rolled to the side, and came up with my sword in hand, ready to strike. But--”

  “But there wasn’t anybody there,” I finished for her. “And your sentries were fully alert and said no one had come between them.”

  I could see what Corais was about to say next, and put out a hand to touch her lips into silence.

  “You weren’t dreaming,” I said.

  “I know that. But how can you?”

  I didn’t have an answer, but I spoke the truth. I did know. Something or someone had tried to rape Corais, rape or more, and it was not a nightmare, but something that stalked this island, and lived, either through sorcery or in the real world. Scribe, don’t ask me where this truth came from. From my own ghosts, from the power I was learning from Gamelan, from the Goddess herself, from my faith in Corais, who had told me once her only dreams were of sylvan glades with gamboling animals.

  Corais’ eyes were wet. She stared long into my face, and then nodded once. “Thank you,” she whispered, “for believing me.”

  I was about to say something more, then noticed, standing beyond the sentries, one of The Sarzana’s grotesquely-costumed beast-men. I went to him. He held out one of the ivory tablets. I paid no mind.

  “Take my greetings to your master,” I said. “I wish an audience with him in one hour. Go!”

  The creature looked at me, and I saw fear in its eyes. It bounded away into darkness.

  I turned back to Corais.

  * * * *

  An hour later, I tramped up the long path to The Sarzana’s mansion. Flanking me were two squads of Guardswomen, weapons ready. There were two beast-men waiting at the steps. I paid them no mind, but strode past them into the mansion’s hall, without removing my helm.

  The Sarzana was waiting. He wore gaily-colored robes, as if he’d only recently risen from sleep.

  “Someone,” I began, without preamble or polite greeting, “tried to attack one of my officers. It was Legate Corais.”

  The Sarzana’s eyes widened in shock. “Up here? On my plateau?”

  I nodded.

  “Gods. What did she do? What happened?”

  “That doesn’t matter,” I said. “She did nothing, and is safe. I know it wasn’t one of our men. She described the person, but I’m not sure her memory is exact.”

  “May I ask what you’re thinking?” The Sarzana began, and I could see his brows furrow, that fire-ice gaze start to burn at me, and his lips form into that thin line.

  “I am not accusing you, Sarzana,” I said. “I hardly think a lord of your powers would stoop to rape. But what of your creations? Your man-beasts?”

  The Sarzana shook his head rapidly from side to side. “Impossible. Quite impossible. When I created them, I gave them the power to lust, and to breed. But I held it back, as a final gift for when I leave this island. No, my friends are as safe as the castrated ones who once guarded my seraglio. Safer, even, since even the knife can err. Captain Antero . . . I vow that none of mine had anything to do with this. When I heard the outcries, I was in a deep slumber. I tried to use sorcery to determine what had happened, but there is . . . was . . . something out there in the night that clouded my vision.”

  “You think Corais’ attacker was magical?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “A demon? An incubus? I had no time to learn from the villagers before they were murdered what spirits might haunt this island. Nor did I perform any thaumaturgics to find out. Evidently I should have.

  “Captain, I cannot say how horrified I am. I take this as an affront. I promised you safety, and I failed to provide it. I am deeply ashamed. But I promise you for the rest of the time you remain on this island, nothing shall happen. I’ll begin casting spells this very hour to keep your women . . . and Cholla Yi’s as well, from the slightest jeopardy. More, I’ll send my own demons, and there are some who owe me fell deeds, to cast about for whatever tried to commit this terrible thing. And when I find it, him or them, their tortures shall be beyond your most hateful dreams.”

  I looked deeply into The Sarzana’s eyes, and I believed him. I saluted formally and stalked out.

  There were no other incidents until we left the island. In fact, even the sexual attempts from the sailors stopped quite suddenly. But I no longer let any of my women go anywhere except in pairs, and, at night, no one, from Corais to myself to Dica and Ismet, was permitted to sleep beyond the sentry-ring.

  The Sarzana was a constant presence, although he never intruded nor forced his company when it might not be wanted. But he was always there. The lowliest spearwomen might be walking her post at the loneliest end of the village, and The Sarzana would stroll past with a word of cheer, or a sailor might be concentrating on a splice, and find The Sarzana holding the line’s end away from his knotting so it wouldn’t snag. We officers ate with him often, although never so sumptuously as that first banquet.

  He never asked directly if he could accompany us when we left Tristan. But it was an idea that grew and grew, until at last we somehow all knew he’d joined the expedition, and we felt stronger and safer in that knowledge.

  Just how he would help us, and just how much assistance we, in turn, were supposed to provide, was also never discussed. Not that The Sarzana was mute about his dreams, nor how one of us or all of us might be included. He systematically wooed each officer. I first saw his seduction at work was one afternoon in his mansion. I’d gone looking for him at Gamelan’s request to see if The Sarzana had power over windspirits, such as seaport witch had. I found him in deep conversation with Cholla Yi, sitting in that alcove he’d told us the story of his rise and fall.

  As I approached he said “there’s much wisdom in what you say, Admiral. Perhaps if I would have had a small cadre of loyal and skill
ed seamen with their own ships always at my beck things might’ve gone differently, and I could have summoned aid from my home isles and not been driven from my throne. You’ve given me much to think on, sir, much indeed.”

  I cleared my throat before I entered. The Sarzana stood, and greeted me. I made my request, and he said such a matter was quite simple, and he’d begin preparing the proper spells at once. After he left, I looked at Cholla Yi and lifted an eyebrow. I realized he’d heard me approach.

  “So?” he said, without embarrassment. “So I’m looking for gold? What’s the sin in that, because you choose to fight for a flag? I’m a mercenary, and we must always be looking for a new master. Certainly when we return to Orissa your Magistrates will be only too glad to see us sail away. Not that I’ve any great love for them anyway, to be honest. My men and I still think we were given an unfair casting of the die when we were compelled to carry you and your women over the seas chasing that damned Archon, instead of getting our pay and our loot as promised. Besides, do you care, Captain, what I do, once my duty to you and Orissa is honestly fulfilled?”

  “I do not, Admiral,” I said. “Once your duty is complete! And not before!”

  “Then we are friends once more,” he said, and emitted that great boom of noise he meant to pass for jovial laughter.

  That was but one instance. The Sarzana also spent a great deal of time with Gamelan. It seemed if I saw one, I saw the other. I found myself resenting it, oddly, then caught myself short. What was I thinking? Was I being basely jealous? Of course a great Evocator such as Gamelan would find more to talk about in the company of an equally gifted sorcerer rather than a beginner like myself, who had less than a village soothsayer’s knowledge. But there was a very real concern after I’d overheard The Sarzana’s offer to Cholla Yi. I knew what The Sarzana must be dangling in front of Gamelan.