Scythian Trilogy Book 2: The Golden King

by Max Overton

  Areipithes grinned ferally. "The Serratae are dead or running back to their mothers. Why else do you think my army celebrates?"

  "Then you will march to meet this new force?"

  "A night to feast, a day to recover." Areipithes laughed out loud. "Yes, indeed. I will take my battle-hardened warriors north and smash these rebels once and for all."

  *****

  The army took longer to assemble than anticipated and it was closer to noon on the second day before the Massegetae forces started sluggishly for the north. A cool wind blew from the west and a warm sun slowly dried the rich dark Scythian earth beneath the hooves of their horses. Areipithes rode with his 'Wolverines' far ahead of the main army, scouting out the best routes, searching for the best new grasses for the horses and reveling in the sensation of being a king, a conqueror and a man on such a beautiful spring day.

  A steady stream of riders crossed the gap between scouts and main army, conveying information as to routes, the disposition of the army and rates of progress. One such rider from the army brought an old Jartai man, crippled in some forgotten war, who had sought out the Massegetae army.

  Areipithes looked the old man up and down as he sat astride the army horse, clutching its mane. He noted the wasted muscle of the man's right leg and his dirt-covered features. The sunny day soothed Areipithes mind and he easily rejected his first impulse to make the old man grovel on the ground at his feet.

  "Why have you come, old man?" asked Areipithes jovially. "Have you not heard I killed all your people?"

  "Not all, lord," quavered the old man. "Though all the kind ones are gone." His face twisted with emotion. "They have no time for an old warrior now. No food either." The man's voice quivered with anger. "Once they would not have dared to insult me to my face. Once I would have..."

  "Yes, I'm sure you were once a redoubtable warrior," drawled Areipithes. "However, I have better things to do than listen to you reminisce. Do you have anything worthwhile to say or shall I just have you killed?"

  Fear flashed across the old man's face and he cringed. "I have news my lord would be willing to pay for, I think," he whined.

  "Really? I doubt it. What could you possibly know that warrants my wasting any more time on you?" Areipithes raised a finger toward one of his men and nodded. The warrior smiled and drew his sword.

  "Your sister, lord. The priestess. She rides south, alone," babbled the old man, staring wide-eyed at his approaching executioner.

  Areipithes raised a hand, stopping his man. "My sister? What do you mean?"

  "The Jartai lords and that foreigner, the Greek, my lord. They grow desperate." The old man grinned at Areipithes, gap-toothed. "You would not begrudge an old man a coin or two? Perhaps some small gold trinket?"

  Areipithes removed a ring from his finger and tossed it to the man, who pocketed it at once. "They seek the favour of the Mother Goddess, lord." He made a placatory sign with his hand. "The priestess, your sister, rides to invoke the Goddess at a shrine near here. I forget the name, my lord, but it's an important one, nearby. Marsil something, I think."

  "Marsil-tagal?" queried Areipithes quietly.

  The old man nodded vigorously. "Yes, lord. That is it."

  "You said she rides alone. You mean with the Greek?"

  "No, lord. He commands the army. I think he wanted to accompany her," the old man winked and leered, "But the others insisted he stay behind. They believe you still to be in the north, my lord, else they would not have let her come alone. Only a few of her maidens go with her." He chuckled. "Some nice looking young women too, if you know what I mean."

  "When did she leave?"

  "Three days ago. They plan for her to be there by daybreak tomorrow. The spring equinox, my lord."

  Areipithes sat in thought. A single finger tapped out a repetitive rhythm on his thigh. "How is it you know all this, old man?"

  The old man shrugged, his bony shoulders bobbing under his threadbare tunic. "No one pays any attention to a old crippled man, my lord, save to kick him or make him the butt of their jokes. I hear things," he spat. "I remember!"

  Areipithes nodded and signaled to a rider. "Rejoin the army. Tell Thoas to keep moving northward. When he sights the enemy he is to wait. He is not to attack, make that plain."

  The rider saluted. "Yes, lord." He half-turned his horse toward the distant army then hesitated. "What do you do, lord?"

  "I ride to Marsil-tagal with my Wolverines," Areipithes snarled. "I think I shall pay my bitch-sister a visit."

  The rider nodded and jerked a hand at the old man. "What of him?"

  "Let him go." Areipithes stared at the old man. "Ride south to Urul, old man. Spend your gold and tell them I bring my sister's head to grace my tent pole." He barked out a laugh and dug his heels into his horse's sides.

  Followed by his troop, Areipithes wheeled and headed south again. The old man watched them go then shifted his eyes to the distant courier heading for the Massegetae army. He grinned and straightened his back. "I think I shall put off visiting Urul for a while. At least until my lord Nikomayros triumphs." Agarus grinned again and started trotting north toward his friends.

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  Chapter Thirty-Four

  The hills above the shrine of the Mother at Marsil-tagal loomed black in the dark spring night. Cold stars, the colour of ice, winked silently in the still clear air, accentuating the unrelieved inkiness of the hunched land. Areipithes drew rein where the wide expanse of the southern grasslands narrowed between the spread 'thighs' of the sacred hills. Behind him, his command sat silently, even the restless horses cowed by the spirit of the place.

  Areipithes sat and stared into the darkness, a niggling worm of unease disturbing his poise. Beside him, a voice spoke in hushed tones. "My lord," whispered the voice. "Why do we wait?"

  "Something is wrong, Scolices," muttered Areipithes. "I feel it as surely as I feel this horse beneath me."

  "I can see nothing amiss, lord," replied Scolices, staring into the night. "Only the dark hills and the stars."

  Areipithes ignored him, waiting. His hunches seldom led him astray and he could afford to be patient. If Tomyra were already here, she would have to ride past them to safety; if not, they would have to wait anyway.

  Slowly the stars wheeled across the Scythian night. Areipithes sat patiently, growing uneasy as the night wore on. At last, he shifted his weight and stretched. He flicked his horse's reins and slowly began to walk his mount around the flank of the western 'thigh'. His command followed, the only sound to be heard above the gentle sough of the wind being the muffled hoof tread on soft earth.

  Areipithes drew rein once more and stared at the altered perspective of the hills. "There!" he sighed, pointing.

  Scolices scratched his beard, peering into the blackness. "What, my lord? I can only see the hills and the stars."

  "Follow the line of hills from the point nearest us...third hump. See the star, the little orange one?"

  "Yes," said Scolices, puzzled. "What of it, my lord?"

  "It is below the crest of the hill."

  "Ah! It is not a star, it is a fire."

  "Yes, I was right, they have set a trap for me and my beloved sister is the bait."

  "One fire?" queried Scolices. "It could just be a herder or a hunter."

  "Perhaps, but my gut tells me differently."

  Scolices scratched again and looked at his king. "So we ride back to the army, my lord?" he said hopefully.

  Areipithes snorted. "No. We end this here at Marsil-tagal. If my sister acts as bait you can be certain her Greek whore-master is up there waiting and watching."

  "My lord," said Scolices with an anxious undercurrent to his voice. "We are but three hundred. The rebels are sure to be stronger. Why not fetch the army here to root them out? I would willingly ride to get them."

  The king laughed, short and sharp. "Not necessary, my fearful friend. I shall turn this trap upon them and snare myself the priz
e." Areipithes started his horse westward again, passing in a great curve around the promontory of hills. The rising land fell away to a smudge on the horizon and Areipithes picked up the pace, his command strung out behind him as they galloped through the night.

  Judging the passing of time by the stars, Areipithes started angling back, south and east, picking up the main line of hills, working up the lower slopes, losing himself in the swales and gullies that scored the hillsides. When at last the riders paused in the darkness before first light, they saw to their north and beneath them a dark and somber valley, bordered by two out flung ranges of hills. On the hidden sides of both ranges a handful of tiny fires flared, scattered pinpoints of light.

  Areipithes grinned and looked to the east. "Dawn soon. Time to move down into the cleft. No doubt my sister will be there, ready to offer up her prayers at sunrise."

  The Massegetae warriors set off down the steep slope in the darkness, guiding their horses carefully over the rough terrain. Rapidly, the flat slope turned into a gentle concavity, deepened and became the female cleft of the shrine to the Mother Goddess. In almost complete silence, hooves softly impacting on springy turf, Areipithes led his men in single file past the altar stone with its crude statue and scattered offerings. Several of the men uttered soft mutterings of respect and fear as they passed.

  Below the altar lay a small glade, sheltered from the north wind by several scrubby willows eking out an existence in the shallow soil by a tiny rivulet. Five horses stood, heads down and dozing, by the trees. A small fire burned by a large rock and figures, swaddled against the dawn chill, lay or sat beside it. As dawn spread, delicately pink, the figures stirred and rose, stretching out their stiffened muscles. One stumbled into the lea of a rock and lifted her skirts, squatting. Another threw a stick onto the fire, yawned and looked up toward the shrine.

  The woman froze, her hand over her open mouth, her eyes widening in shock at the sight of the massed riders sitting patiently at the head of the glade. Her hand dropped slowly to her side and her mouth closed, her eyes darting from side to side. Abruptly, with a flurry of priestly robes, she turned, a cry on her lips and arm stretching for the bow lying unstrung by the fire.

  Areipithes moved his hand and the woman died, arrows thumping into her body, forcing an inarticulate scream from her already dead lips. The other women leapt to their feet, clutching for weapons as the warriors rode down on them, throwing them to the ground and binding them. Areipithes dismounted and sauntered over to the bound women, nudging them with his boot.

  "Ah! Dear sister!" grinned Areipithes. "What a surprise finding you here." He looked around at the hillside with exaggerated gestures. "And where might your lover be? I don't see him."

  "You...you're treading on dangerous ground, brother. You have killed a maiden of the Mother Goddess on holy soil." She looked over at the arrow-riddled body of Sarmatia, her teeth clenched in a feral snarl.

  Areipithes ignored her. "Perhaps he's hiding somewhere? Maybe behind the hills with his men?"

  Tomyra paled and Areipithes dropped to one knee beside his sister. "Did you really think you could fool me so easily, bitch? That I would be so overwhelmed with anger I would throw away caution?" he hissed. "I know he hides behind those hills waiting to ambush me. Well, we mustn't disappoint him, must we?" He got up and dusted his knee off, smiling.

  "Gag her. Set her and her sister whores on horses, Scolices, but guard them well. Set them to ride within a cordon of warriors. I don't want her lover to see her until it's too late." Areipithes watched as his men tied grimy rags around the women. "I was going to kill you immediately I found you, sister, but I think I'll kill your Greek lover in front of you first." He roared with laughter and mounted his horse, waiting until his men were mounted and ready before setting off into the widening plain in the gathering light of the new day.

  The plain and the surrounding hills crouched in shadow though the first rays of new light lit the crests. A thin mist hung heavy in the still air between the hills. Areipithes' men rode out into the open space, their bodies tensed and alert, weapons at the ready. The mist swirled with their passing, rising and obscuring them. Areipithes stared into the rolling vapours, searching for an early sign of his enemies.

  Ahead the mist churned, parting as something moved arrow-like through it from the wide plains beyond the hills. Areipithes reined in his horse, sending riders off to each side with quick movements of his hands. He looked intently at the disturbance, smiling as it resolved into a small body of men, approaching at a canter. Why so few, Nikomayros? I hoped you would bring your whole army to watch your death.

  The approaching body of men slowed as they caught sight of the waiting riders, slowed then stopped within bowshot. After a brief pause, a rider detached from the group and trotted slowly toward Areipithes, a leopard skin band tied below the blade of a long spear held aloft.

  Areipithes gaped as the rider came to a halt a few paces from him. "Parasades!" he barked. "Have you taken leave of your senses?"

  Parasades smiled and raised a hand in salute. "I greet you, Areipithes, chief of the Massegetae."

  "Do you wish to die?" snarled Areipithes. "If so I can oblige you." He raised a hand and a dozen bows trained arrows at the other man's chest.

  "Now what sort of a welcome is that?" drawled Parasades. "Your man came to me with an offer of friendship. I, in turn, come to you with a promise of fealty and you threaten to kill me."

  "You're friend of the Greek. That's reason enough."

  A shadow passed over the other man's face. "He's no friend of mine," Parasades stated flatly. "I seek only stability and a peaceful succession for the tribe. I have no wish to see a foreign barbarian in power. Only Massegetae should rule Massegetae."

  "How did you know I was here if you aren't one of the Greek's jackals?"

  "Thoas. He told me at once where you were. You know, Areipithes, he really is only marginally competent. I'm surprised you keep him in command of your army."

  Areipithes snorted. "I suppose you're looking for his position."

  "Maybe." Parasades grinned. "Is that an offer?"

  "Why should I trust you?"

  Parasades shrugged. "Why not? You asked for my support once before but I declined. Perhaps I've just changed my mind. Certainly if the choice is between a Massegetae or a Greek I will choose the Massegetae."

  "You offer fealty to me?"

  "At Urul, at the proper time, I'll swear my loyalty for all to witness. For now, I'm at your side with a hundred of my men."

  Areipithes pursed his lips and thought hard. After a minute he nodded. "Very well. Your presence could be useful when I confront the Greek. He should be here soon."

  Parasades looked startled. "He's here?"

  "He thought to set a trap for me, using his bitch as bait." Areipithes laughed and signaled Tomyra to be brought forward. "Instead, I have her and shall use her to bring her lover to his death."

  Parasades stared at Tomyra, bound and gagged on her horse. Her eyes burned brightly as she stared mutely back at him. Parasades inclined his head, his expression impassive. "My lady," he intoned. "I grieve to see you in this state." He turned back to Areipithes. "She should be treated with respect, even in captivity. She is a priestess."

  "Not for long," barked Areipithes. "Now bring your men over, Parasades. I think I can see our enemy's response."

  As the sun rose in the bright morning sky, the heat began to bake the mist away and the shadows fled for the cover of rocks and trees. Around the ends of the hills rode two large bodies of men, pennants flying as they wheeled and met, blocking the entrance of the valley with a thin line of riders. They halted then at an unseen signal formed up into a wedge, the point glowing bronze in the morning light.

  "He is so predictable," murmured Areipithes. "He does so love his massed cavalry charge."

  "Effective though," replied Parasades dryly. He shaded his eyes and studied the opposing forces. "Fewer than us, but not by much. If it comes to a fight i
t could go either way."

  Areipithes forced a laugh. "Only a few are Massegetae rebels. The bulk is Jartai women. We'll have no trouble with them."

  Parasades shook his head. "Those Jartai are the ones that fought free of your army at Ubul-tagarn, under the leadership of Jaxes. Don't underestimate them."

  Areipithes pondered this information then shrugged. "It doesn't matter. I didn't come here to fight, just to finish my enemies. I have one," he jerked his head at Tomyra, "Neutralized another," staring at Parasades, "and will soon kill the last of them. Come, let us finish it." He beckoned to Scolices and galloped out into the open field between the opposing forces.

  After a moment's hesitation, Parasades followed. Three riders detached themselves from the opposing group and approached rapidly. Areipithes drew rein at the midpoint and sat relaxed as he waited for the others.

  Nikometros slowed Diomede to a walk, his brightly burnished steel armour scintillating diamond-bright in the sunlight, a warmer glow arising from the bronze ornamentation on helmet and breastplate. His stallion stepped high and proud beneath him, eager for the battle charge. Timon rode beside him, dressed in Scythian fashion but with a Macedonian army helmet and shield. Jaxes accompanied them, his fine quality garments adorned with gold and enamel ornaments.

  "Still trying to impress us with your shiny armour, barbarian?" sneered Areipithes.

  Nikometros stared at Areipithes then his eyes flicked across to Parasades. He opened his mouth to speak to Parasades, hesitated then changed his mind. Instead he turned to the Massegetae king. "Surrender, Areipithes. You must answer for your crimes."

  Areipithes laughed. "I choose not to, Greek. How about yourself? Will you surrender to me?"

  "Must I force you? Too many Massegetae have died already."

  "They are my people, not yours," Areipithes said. "Don't pretend concern for them." He narrowed his eyes. "And don't think you can shatter my men as you did the Jartai or those poor fools at Ubul-tagarn. I have with me my Wolverines. They're more skilled and disciplined than even your Lions."