Sword Destiny

by Robert Leader

  Devan dropped the reins of his horses and drew his sword, the blade rasping out of its scabbard. “Stand aside,” he repeated, and to the shocked and hesitant guards, “Open the gates.”

  Gujar placed his shoulders firmly against the upper gate bar and folded his arms across his chest. “Lord Jahan did not order me to fight you, my Lord Prince. Only that for the good of Karakhor, the gate must not open.”

  Devan’s knuckles gleamed white around the hilt of his sword. He stood furious as a goaded bull buffalo and twice as dangerous. Beside him Ranjit, just as large and hot-headed, now stood uncertain.

  Then Ramesh ran lightly down the steps and halted beside his uncle. His slight figure was over-shadowed by the two glowering giants, but tentatively he placed a hand on Devan’s sword arm.

  “Uncle, usually it is I who listen, and you who offers me good advice. Always I have tried to obey you and follow your example. Is this such a good example for me?”

  Devan lowered his eyes and stared at the ground. Time froze as he considered and then he squared his massive shoulders and pushed his sword back into its sheath. He looked down at the boy beside him and then put his arm around Ramesh’s shoulders. With his free hand, he tousled his nephew’s hair, teasing his fingers through the thick black curls. “We are in a war and you should be wearing a battle helmet,” he said at last. His tone was gruff and he pushed Ramesh gently away. Then he looked up slowly to meet the eyes of Gujar. “And we should be on the walls.”

  “Yes, my Lord Prince.” Gujar nodded, breathing a deep sigh of relief as he too slowly relaxed.

  As they all climbed back up the stone staircase, Devan shouted back over his shoulder at the guards. “Make fast those gates.”

  Kamar was still playing to the crowd and the host of Maghalla was still writhing in mass merriment. The child-like mentality of the monkey clans had them leaping up and down and gibbering with delight or else rolling on the ground in convulsive spasms of glee. It was a display that the men of Karakhor could only watch with stony faces. On the far bank, Sardar had moved his chariot up close to the bridge and was leaning forward in good humour.

  “Kamar,” he shouted. “If you show your arse again, perhaps they will come out and kiss it.”

  There was more vulgar hilarity as the soldiers of Maghalla took their cue and clamoured for a repeat performance.

  Jahan signed to Kasim to come close and said softly. “You could kill him?”

  Kasim had an arrow ready fitted and drawn back to his bow. He nodded. “Easily, Lord, I and a score of others. Now that he has taken off his helmet, his neck is an open target.”

  Jahan smiled. “But right now we do not want to kill him, only to humiliate him a little. Could you just—” he smiled again “—kiss his arse with an arrow?”

  Kasim smiled in return, then stepped swiftly to the wall. Below him, Kamar was standing tall in his chariot. Like a performer on a stage he was inviting applause with upward motions of his spread hands. The army of Maghalla responded in raptures and finally he gave them their reward, another deep bow and another upward flick of the tails of his skirts.

  As the white flesh showed, Kasim leaned forward, sighted his arrow and loosed the shaft, all in one split-second, perfectly coordinated movement. The arrow sped straight and true, the razor sharp point just nicking Kamar’s left buttock before it buried itself with a solid thump in one of the floorboards of the chariot. Kamar yelled with the sudden sharp, smarting pain and stumbled forward, slamming into the front of the chariot and almost pitching face first on to the tails of his horses. He looked back in amazement at the quivering arrow and the blood running down the back of his leg.

  Maghalla roared with indignant rage, but now it was the turn of Karakhor to roar with laughter.

  Jahan signaled for those who managed his litter to push him nearer the wall. There, he leaned forward beside Kasim and shouted down, “General Kamar, you have had your fun. We honour your courage and you have our permission to go back across the river. When you return, come prepared to die.”

  Kamar glared upward and then spat at the closed gates. Then he turned his back on them once more and slowly drove his chariot back across the bridge. Those who had followed him did the same, spitting their contempt before they turned away.

  Kamar moved to confer with Sardar and then the whole group of battle chariots moved away for a full war council. The soldiers simply withdrew from arrow range and then most of them sat and waited, some of them playing dice or cards, until commands from the rear pulled them back from the river’s edge. By mid-day, the solid sounds of axes cutting into timber could be heard from the nearest forest.

  “They cut down trees to make raft bridges and scaling ladders and a battering ram for the gates,” Jahan told the others who still watched. “We have a day or two, but then they will be back.”

  Chapter Six

  The long space flight was over. After nearly seven tedious weeks in space, Raven’s Class Five Solar Cruiser had again crossed the solar system and was once more in Earth orbit. The bright blue-and-white-swirled world of the third planet hung suspended like some sparkling sapphire jewel against the star-splashed black breast of the universe. The other five Solar Cruisers of Raven’s small fleet hovered behind him in a silent V-formation, each one a light-pricked silhouette of sharp steel-nosed menace against the softer darkness of the heavens.

  Maryam stood just behind Raven’s shoulder on the ship’s command bridge, staring down at the long-range, telescopic viewing screens that were fixed, one upon a general view of the continent of India, and the other in even more magnified close-up on the Mahanadi plain and Karakhor. She could identify the broad curve of the river and what she knew must be the city, but it was not proud and noble Karakhor as she remembered it. The once splendid city with its red temple towers, golden roofs and milk-white walls had aged a thousand years and more. It now resembled a jumble of broken, time-ravaged ruins, but without the peace and dust of time. The remaining stumps of its battered walls were rising out of a swarming ant-heap of furiously battling humanity.

  For weeks, as the task force had grown slowly closer to Earth, Maryam had become more and more desperate to know what had become of her home, to her father, her uncles and brothers, her mother and her handmaidens and all the soft joy and beauty that she had known. Now she saw and wept, the shocked, salt tears streaming openly down her face. Her heart was sick and heavy and her stomach heaved.

  Raven, Taron, and the others all looked at her with expressions of vague surprise and uncertainty. In all the weeks that they had been together, they had never seen her show so much emotion. To them it was irrational alien behaviour, and until now Maryam had always tried to keep her deeper feelings hidden and under full rein. She knew a Gheddan woman would never weep, or at least not openly. Weeping was a weakness that should not be shown. But now, seeing Karakhor ravaged by Maghalla and realizing that at least half of those she had loved must be already dead, the hot tears began to escape and flow. She could see that the great battle had been raging here for many weeks and that they were almost too late.

  “It seems we have had a wasted journey.” Taron expressed the general view with a shrug. “They are destroying each other. There is nothing down there for either Alpha or Ghedda.”

  “The planet is still habitable,” Raven said calmly. “It is the only one with breathable air. We could settle their squabble with a single lazer blast.”

  “Why bother?” Garl was still doubtful. “There must be other cities. Let us find and seize one that is still intact.”

  “No!” Maryam was horrified. “We cannot abandon Karakhor to Maghalla. We cannot!” She appealed to Raven. “We must help them.”

  “Our orders are to secure your city of Karakhor for Ghedda. To deny it to Alpha,” Raven agreed thoughtfully.

  “You have the authority to re-interpret those orders in the light of a changed situation.” As Second Sword and Second-in-Command, Taron had the right and the duty to point out the al
ternative courses of action. “We must serve Ghedda and the Council of Swords. We could easily take another city.”

  “We could easily take any city,” Raven agreed.

  “There were small cities to the west,” Taron reminded him. “Where the two great rivers made a parallel curve. And just to the south, where there were settlements on the delta.”

  “No.” Maryam wept again. “We must save Karakhor.”

  Raven looked up at her and smiled. “I think we must, but not because you ask it. If Alpha does come here seeking refuge, they will come to Karakhor. They too could easily dispose of your enemies with a ship’s lazer blast and they know they have friends among your people. The Council has commanded me to take Karakhor, so that is what we shall do.”

  His four crewmen exchanged silent glances but said nothing. If they believed that he had in fact made his decision to favour the woman, none of them were prepared to say so.

  “Prepare to land,” Raven ordered. “We will take the ship down on to the plain. The other ships will remain in orbit, but ready to support us if necessary. Garl, target the ship’s main battle lazer on the army that attacks the city. Maryam and I will enter the city. At any sign of intervention, or at my order, destroy this army of Maghalla.”

  There were nods of understanding and no questions. Taron turned back to his navigation screen, Caid and Landis to their engine and thrust controls. Garl hunched over his lazer sighting. Raven switched on the inter-ship communication system and relayed his intentions to his attendant ship commanders.

  The lead Solar Cruiser dipped its needle-nose into the Earth’s atmosphere, spiraling swiftly downward toward the planet’s surface. As they descended, the image on the viewscreen enlarged, and Maryam saw that the entire surface of the river had been covered with huge log raft bridges, allowing the armies of Maghalla to attack along almost the full length of the western wall. In several places, the walls had been broken down and here the fighting was at its most intense. Elsewhere, tall scaling ladders were hooked on to the top of the ramparts, with each bridgehead the scene of more savage fighting. Maghalla had crossed the river, pulled down the walls and worn down the defenders by the sheer weight of their numbers, but still the heart of Karakhor was desperately holding them at bay. Only a few more minutes, Maryam promised them, and we will be with you.

  There was no cloud over the beleaguered city and the ship appeared as a distant black speck in the blue-white glare of the sky. The speck became an arrow from the gods and then the thundering black temple of steel, which to the Karakhorans at least was familiar. Both sides broke off the fighting and backed away. Terrified faces turned skyward and the massed screams of hatred and dying suddenly became the more whimpering screams of fear. The Solar Cruiser pulled its nose up, settling back on a shrinking pillar of fire to land erect on the far side of the plain, by the edge of what was left of the forest. The defenders of Karakhor cowered down behind what was left of their walls, while the armies of Maghalla fled shrieking to the opposite side of the plain. The fire faded and died at the base of the tall, black rocket ship. The stabilizing legs slammed down. The roaring of the engines cut abruptly as Caid switched them off, and then there was a heavy, breathless silence, as though every heart was stopped on both sides of the river.

  For many minutes, nothing happened and no one moved. Then a hatchway opened high in the steel flank of the ship. Two figures appeared and began to climb briskly down the steel rungs of the access ladder, which had also emerged as the hatch was opened. The first, in his golden chain mail and high-collared white uniform, was Raven. The second, again attired in the dark blue silk sari which she had worn when she fled the city, was Maryam. They reached the ground and paused for a moment. Raven raised a questioning eyebrow.

  “As soon as my father recognizes me, he will send a force of chariots to escort us into the city,” Maryam assured him.

  Raven looked at the ruin before them and laughed. “Your father may not have any chariots left. But I am ready for a walk after being confined for so long.” He checked that his sword and hand lazer were both loose and free in their scabbard and holster, and then began to stride boldly toward the main gates of the city. Maryam ran lightly beside him, and despite the awful devastation, her heart was now soaring higher with every step.

  The stunned forces of Maghalla still watched with dropped jaws and wide, fearful eyes. Even Sardar the Merciless was speechless and totally incapable of issuing any orders.

  Maryam had eyes only for the city. She began to execute a little dance, waving her arm and shouting her name to identify herself.

  Then abruptly the harsh voice of Taron cut through the silence on Raven’s open communicator, which was clipped to the back of his wrist. “Commander, we have a problem. The fleet in orbit reports an enemy fleet of Alphan warships fast approaching this planet. It looks as though we are about to be attacked.”

  Raven stopped dead in his tracks. Maryam half-turned to look back at him, her face suddenly draining white. Raven’s face was a frozen blue mask. “How many ships? What type?” he snapped back.

  “Six, all Tri-thrusters.”

  “Their best.” Raven scowled and spun on his heel. He began striding swiftly back toward his ship. “Make ready for immediate take-off, order battle formation. We fight.”

  Maryam ran after him and caught at his arm. “We cannot leave now. We must save Karakhor.”

  “First I must deal with Alpha.” Raven shook her away and began to climb rapidly up the ladder, back toward the hatchway.

  Maryam hesitated and then backed away from the ship. “Raven, please.” She knew it was useless to beg, but in her despair there was nothing left.

  Raven paused for half a second to look back. “I cannot waste the time. Hurry now, we must get back into orbit.”

  As he continued to rapidly ascend the ladder, Maryam backed away a few more steps. She made no attempt to follow him and for a moment she could not even comprehend that he would leave her.

  Raven reached the open hatchway and looked down one last time. It had not really occurred to him that she would defy him and now it was too late to chase after her and bring her back to the ship by force. He shouted her name angrily but she only backed further away. Raven stood frustrated but his duty was clear. He was a Sword Lord of Ghedda and the empire and his mission must come first. He was sword-sworn and there was no alternative. He cursed her unexpected stupidity and then spun on his heel and disappeared inside his ship. A moment later the hatch closed and the access ladder retracted.

  Maryam continued to stare upward, her face pale, unbelieving and horrified. Then she realized the terrible double danger she now faced. In seconds, she would be alone, at the mercy of the hordes of Maghalla, and only if she survived the fireball blast of the ship’s engines as it launched itself back into space. Desperately, she turned and ran. She was too far from the city and there was no hope that she could reach the walls before being run down by the soldiers of Maghalla. So she ran away from both Maghalla and Karakhor, racing desperately for the shelter of the forest and the jungle.

  Behind her, the red fire boiled, and with a thunderous roar of power, the Class Five Solar Cruiser ascended again and disappeared in a dwindling streak of steel and flame into the hot, bright sky.

  As the spaceship vanished as swiftly and as suddenly as it had appeared, Sardar slowly straightened up from behind the haunches of his horses and stood tall in his chariot again. He looked to Nazik and Kamar who were still hunched down in their chariots on either side of him, and then shook his head in an effort to clear it of these baffling and fearsome images. He looked across the plain again to find the slim figure in the blue sari who had been left behind. The woman was picking a frantic path through the hacked stumps of the thousands of trees they had felled to bridge the Mahanadi, and as he watched, she reached the edge of the jungle on the far side and she too disappeared from view.

  Sardar scratched slowly at the deep cleft where the jagged facial scar ended at his
chin. “What does this all mean?” he asked at last.

  Kamar stood and took off his helmet to rub at his unbelieving eyes. “I have heard that before we came here, golden gods came and took away a prince of Karakhor and that blue gods took away one of their women. Until now I believed that it was all nonsense.”

  “The man who returned to the flying temple had a blue face,” Nazik offered. “And the woman called out to the walls that her name was Maryam. Maryam is the daughter of Kara-Rashna who is said to have been taken into the sky by the blue gods.”

  “A daughter of Kara-Rashna?” Sardar blinked his pig eyes as he considered the information. “She could be useful, and her gods have abandoned her. Send men into the forest and find her.”

  Nazik nodded and wheeled his chariot to relay the necessary orders.

  Sardar raised his sword aloft again and grinned at Kamar. “Another charge,” he suggested. “We still have a few hours before sunset.”

  When Maryam reached the edge of the jungle, she ran only a few more yards before she stopped to catch her breath. Her heart was beating fast and her breast was heaving painfully as she gasped for air, but she was in cover now and she had time to pause and think. She had to hold on to a trailing vine for support, but after a minute she had her breathing and heart rate almost under control, and then tentatively she crept back to the tangled edge of trees and creepers and looked back for any signs of pursuit.

  In the same moment, she heard the fanfare of trumpets, buffalo horns and conch shells that signaled the renewal of the conflict, and saw the hordes of Maghalla streaming back to fall like a crashing wave on the crumbling walls of Karakhor. Now her heart felt as though it was being crushed in a giant fist and again the hot tears spurted from her eyes. Then she saw that not all of Maghalla had returned to the savage assault upon the walls. A large group of about fifty foot soldiers and half-naked savages was moving swiftly toward her.