by Max Overton
Nikometros shrugged. "As you wish." He jerked on his horse's reins, turning the beast back to his troops.
"How is my sister?" asked Areipithes quietly.
Nikometros stopped and looked back at the other man.
"Have you not wondered how I got past your ambush? How is it I ride out of Marsil-tagal instead of into your trap?
Nikometros stared at Areipithes in silence then glanced at Timon and Jaxes.
"He plays with your mind, Niko," growled Timon. "Finish the bastard and be done with it."
"Good, honest Timon," sneered Areipithes. "How is that bitch of yours, Timon?" He threw back his head and roared with laughter. "At least she is alive like my sister, not riddled with arrows like...what is her name...Sama...ah, yes, Sarmatia."
Nikometros paled and Timon reddened. With a growl, the old Macedonian soldier started forward, his hand scrabbling at the sword at his side.
Areipithes grinned. "Come on then. I'm sure your woman would enjoy seeing you cut down by my archers."
Nikometros grabbed Timon's arm as he passed. "Control yourself, Timon," he said. "Don't rise to his baiting." Louder, he asked, "Where are Tomyra and Bithyia?"
"Oh, quite well, if a bit uncomfortable," remarked the Massegetae king affably. "See?" He raised a hand and the riders behind him parted, revealing four young women on horses, bound and gagged. Warriors trained arrows on them, holding their threatening poses despite the strain from the taut bows.
Timon growled deep in his throat, his jaw clenching in fury. Nikometros glared across at Areipithes, his eyes cold. "What do you intend?" he grated.
Areipithes scratched his beard and yawned. "I could just kill them all. The problem with that is that you would just fight the harder." He smiled across at Nikometros. "Believe me, I have no wish to compliment you, but you have been a considerable nuisance." Areipithes shook his head and waved vaguely in the direction of the two groups of armed men. "Massegetae fighting Massegetae. I want the war to end, Greek, so I offer you good terms. Your life for my sister's...and her women's of course."
Jaxes erupted into a snarl of curses, consigning the Massegetae king to the foulest of fates. Timon, too, swore and cursed, his face pale and set hard as he gazed across at his woman. Nikometros stared at Areipithes, holding the other man's eye.
"Very well," he said coldly.
"No, Niko!" grated Timon. "Not even for...for..." The Macedonian's voice broke with anger and frustration. "He won't honour his promise, Niko. He's god-cursed. Of what value is his word?"
"Timon's right," said Jaxes. "My friend, don't even consider this thing. With you gone, none can hope to stand against him. Don't sacrifice yourself."
Nikometros ignored his companions. "Areipithes," he said quietly. "The Jartai are to be spared. You will offer a general amnesty for all who fought against you. You will not harm, or cause to be harmed, Tomyra, Timon or Bithyia. Swear this on all your gods."
"Of course," replied Areipithes smoothly. "I do so swear. Come now," he added, impatience creeping into his voice, "Throw away your sword and surrender to me."
"Not until the women are freed."
Areipithes murmured to Scolices, who galloped back to the Wolverines. A few minutes later the four women rode up, still bound and guarded by men with drawn bows. They stared, wide-eyed at the men, straining against their bonds and gags. At a nod from Areipithes, his guards cut the ropes binding the young women.
"Say your farewells, bitch-sister," laughed Areipithes. "I'll allow you a few moments together."
Tomyra ripped the gag from her mouth, working her jaws to moisten her lips. "What?" she croaked. "What does he mean? Niko, my love. I'm sorry, my guard was down."
Nikometros shook his head. "No matter, Tomyra. Listen, I want you to go with Timon now, he'll take you to a place of safety..."
"Niko! What's happening? Why aren't you coming?"
Areipithes laughed. "I really don't know what he sees in you, sister. I can only think it is lust, but if that were so, why not leave you to your fate and find another woman?"
"You wouldn't understand love, Areipithes," said Nikometros quietly.
"You think not?" spat Areipithes, his lips curling into a snarl. "I loved my father and was loved by him until this whore of a sister poisoned his mind against me."
"And so you killed him," growled Timon. "True love indeed."
"Enough!" snapped Areipithes. "I won't stay here and argue with barbarians. Say your farewells and be done with it."
Bithyia sidled her mare alongside Timon. "What is happening, love?"
Timon dragged his eyes from Tomyra and Niko as they sat alongside, holding hands and whispering. "Niko has chosen to trade his life for Tomyra's...and yours."
Bithyia shuddered. "He cannot! Timon, you must persuade him. If he is lost we all die."
Timon shook his head. "He is adamant. He will do this thing."
Areipithes shouted and forced his horse between Tomyra and Nikometros. For a moment, Nikometros' face flashed red, his jaw clenching in anger. He nodded, and with a last word to the weeping girl, walked his horse over to Timon. Ignoring the look in his companion's eyes, Nikometros drew his short sword and placed it carefully in his friend's hand. Then with a smile and a nod to Jaxes he dismounted, giving Diomede's reins to Timon. He turned and walked toward the Wolverine patrol.
As Nikometros passed near Parasades, he slowed. "Why, Parasades? He's your enemy too."
Parasades shrugged. "At least he is of the People. I could not stand by and see you become king."
"Me?" asked Nikometros. "I have no desire to be a king."
"Nonsense, Nikomayros. No man turns down power when it is offered him."
"Nevertheless. I only wanted to live with Tomyra and return to my own people."
Nikometros walked on into the lines of Massegetae warriors. They closed about him. Areipithes wore a huge grin as he turned to Timon and Jaxes. "Go then. Disband your army. The war is over. I shall expect you to come to Urul within the month to swear allegiance." He turned and trotted after his men, not deigning to look back at his enemies.
Areipithes, his captive and his ally moved out of the narrow valley of Marsil-tagal, past the confused and uncertain Jartai and rebel Massegetae tribesmen. He rode north, moving quickly after his army. After a while, Timon and Jaxes brought some order to their men and slowly followed the other group, though falling ever farther behind.
As the following group disappeared from sight, Areipithes veered to the east, away from Urul, and picked up the pace. His men rode close guard on Nikometros, now mounted on a rangy plains horse. Their short double-curved bows with arrows at the ready remained always pointed at his heart. Parasades followed, his men keeping their distance from him. Certes along rode close by, a murderous expression on his face. At last he could not contain himself.
"That was ill done, my lord," Certes snapped. "Seldom have I seen an action more dishonourable."
Parasades raised an eyebrow. "Oh? You think being in thrall to a foreigner is the proper station for one of the People?"
"No, of course not. But to betray him to his sworn enemy? It would sit better with my conscience if you'd just killed him."
"Perhaps I should have just let him die in Zarmet?"
"Aye, better that, my lord." Certes slowed his horse and pulled back to the other men in his command, where he rode in a glowering silence.
Areipithes halted at noon near a small rivulet to let the horses rest and for a meal. He ordered his men to strip Nikometros of his armour and to bind his arms firmly. Certes remonstrated with Areipithes but was ignored. Parasades watched silently, his face impassive as Nikometros remounted, with much ribald comment and assistance and was led off again at a slow gallop.
Parasades and his men followed, again hanging back from Areipithes and his prey. Toward nightfall, Areipithes ordered his men to camp. After they set watch fires and sentries, they slaughtered Nikometros' horse and butchered it. Parasades sauntered up to the cooking fires
where the rich odours of sizzling horse flesh mingled with the stench of blood and intestines.
"What is Nikomayros to ride tomorrow?" he asked.
"He rides nowhere," grinned Areipithes. "Tonight he dies."
Parasades nodded somberly. "Good. It is best done quickly."
"Quickly? I think not. I've waited a long time for this moment. I promise you, the Greek will scream like a raped virgin by the time I've finished with him." Areipithes laughed, his men joining in with lewd comments and suggestions.
Parasades shook his head but said nothing. He hacked off a slab of half-cooked meat and took it back to his own fire where he sat alone and ate his evening meal.
Around the main fire, the hubbub of the meal died away. Coarse laughter erupted as the men drew aside, leaving a large open space around the fire. Areipithes signaled and two men dragged Nikometros close to the fire and threw him to the ground. The Massegetae king squatted beside the Macedonian officer and gripping his head, tilted it up.
"Greek," he whispered. "Prepare for death. When it comes you will welcome it as a friend."
Areipithes took out a small dagger and rested the tip in the corner of Nikometros' right eye, dimpling the skin. He pushed gently and a ruby tear appeared. Nikometros stared back at his tormentor in silence, not even acknowledging his presence. Areipithes pursed his lips, considering. "Not yet," he tittered. "I want you to see what happens to you, as well as feel it."
Parasades sat by his own fire, casting concerned looks at the circle of Massegetae warriors and the deadly game taking place in their midst. His own men kept their distance and he heard mutterings of discontent drifting across the still night air. Abruptly he grimaced and stood up, brushing the dirt from his clothes. Parasades glanced at his men then wandered casually over to the larger circle.
He pushed his way through the sweating cordon, feeling blood lust rising like a miasma from so many cruel and avaricious minds. Within the circle lay Nikometros, stripped naked and covered with blood. Two burly warriors held him down while Areipithes worked on him with his little dagger.
As he watched, Parasades saw Areipithes delicately draw the tip of the dagger down the helpless man's arm, leaving a red-beaded trail in its wake. Areipithes giggled, the tip of his tongue resting on his upper lip. "Can you feel it, Greek?" he whispered. "No? Well, you will. In a moment I'll start to flay the skin from your arm. I promise you the pain will be extreme."
"Areipithes," rumbled Parasades from the inner edge of the cordon. "Don't do this. It lessens you. Kill him and be done with it."
The Massegetae king looked round, his dark eyes glinting red in the firelight. "If you don't have the stomach for it, go away." Areipithes grinned and Parasades was horrified to see blood staining his beard and teeth.
Areipithes turned back to his victim and carefully lifting a detached piece of skin, drew it back, peeling it wetly from his arm. Nikometros drew in a ragged breath and shuddered, sweat starting from his forehead. The wounded flesh gleamed in the fire glow.
"Ah! A reaction at last," whispered Areipithes. "Soon you will be screaming like a girl."
Parasades swallowed, tasting bile in the back of his throat. He hawked and spat, moving a few steps closer. "Don't do this, Areipithes," he repeated.
"You're getting tiresome, Parasades. Go away if you don't wish to see his death."
"His death is one thing," growled Parasades. "I've often wished for that, but torture dishonours us all. When have the Massegetae done such things?"
Areipithes shrugged then dropped his head forward on his chest, the blood-soaked dagger trailing in the dirt by his side. "I think I was wrong about you. I don't want men beside me who are slaves to an old-fashioned moral code."
"No more than do I." Parasades stepped quickly across the intervening space and kicked the dagger from Areipithes' hand. With a swift motion he drew his own dagger and held it at the king's throat, his other hand firmly gripping the other man's long hair.
The two men holding Nikometros down leapt to their feet and drew their swords. Around them, warriors leapt for their weapons, dozens of arrows aimed in their direction.
"Call your men off," snarled Parasades. "Or die. Your choice."
Areipithes swallowed uncomfortably, his head tilted back painfully. "You're a fool, Parasades. My men will cut you down where you stand."
"Then why haven't they already?" Parasades moved, altering his grip swiftly. He put one arm around Areipithes' neck, choking him and holding him close while the tip of his knife continued to threaten his throat. "If I die, you die. Without you, your war ends and your sister Tomyra will rule in your place."
Areipithes squatted awkwardly, his head thrown back and his hands vainly seeking to alleviate his choking by pulling at Parasades' arm. "All right," he whispered hoarsely. "What do you want?"
"I want to trade. Your life for mine...and that of Nikomayros too."
Areipithes nodded and gurgled. Parasades let up on the pressure of his arm and the king whooped for breath. "Go ahead," he croaked. "See how far you get."
Parasades quickly slipped his blade between the ropes binding Nikometros and cut them. For the first time Nikometros cried out as the ropes brushed past his savaged arm. Parasades slipped the knife back into place against the king's throat and stood up, dragging the other man with him. He nudged Nikometros with his boot. "Get up!" he said. "Get up or die in the dirt."
Nikometros rolled over onto his knees and stood up, shaking with the effort. Blood cascaded down his arm and over his hip, pooling on the ground beneath him. He said nothing but looked at Parasades quizzically.
"Now what?" grunted Areipithes. "Kill me and you die. Move and you die."
"Perhaps not." A cool voice spoke from outside the ring of warriors. Immediately heads turned, bows lowering involuntarily. The firelight flickered indistinctly on Certes and his hundred men, standing with their double-curved bows strained. Despite being outnumbered more than three to one, no one doubted that the Leopards controlled the situation.
Parasades grinned. "Good man! I was getting worried there for a moment."
Certes nodded humourlessly. "I am glad to see you found your honour at last, my lord."
Parasades moved crabwise out of the circle, trying to keep his eyes on every armed warrior. He kept Areipithes in front of him as a shield. Nikometros walked unsteadily after them, his head high. Outside the circle, half the bowmen slipped away and brought the horses. They mounted and covered the enemy while the rest joined them. One man edged cautiously into the circle and picked up Nikometros' armour and helmet.
Certes helped a now-shivering Nikometros onto a horse, throwing a cloak about him. "To hide your nakedness, my lord," he whispered.
Nikometros forced a smile and wrapped the cloak tightly about him. "We Greeks feel quite comfortable in our nakedness, my friend. But I thank you, the wind is somewhat cool."
Parasades stood beside his horse, still clutching Areipithes, undecided. "What do we do with this bastard? Take him with us or kill him?"
"Neither," replied Nikometros. He shifted uncomfortably on the horse's back, his wounds stiffening in the cool night air. "Let him go. We'll meet again very soon on more equal terms."
"You always were a fool, Nikomayros, but as you wish." Parasades shoved Areipithes away and turning, vaulted onto his horse. The troop immediately wheeled and galloped off into the night, Areipithes' men belatedly sending a ragged volley of arrows after them.
"Where to, my lord Nikomayros?" yelled Certes as the riders thundered over the plain.
"North, of course," Nikometros replied. "We must get to Nemathres' army before he attacks Thoas. We have a battle to win."
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Chapter Thirty-Five
A murmur as of the encircling Ocean rose and fell on the morning breeze, accompanied by a distant clangor as if Hephaestus, smithy to the gods of Olympus, strove to create anew the enormous sword of the war-god Ares.
Nikometr
os gave a savage grin as he recognised the familiar sounds of battle. He and Parasades, along with the hundred warriors of the Massegetae leader, trotted slowly over the rolling plains toward the sounds. The long night passed into day and at last they pulled their tired horses to a halt on a long, winding ridge looking down into a flat, fertile valley. Below them swayed two mighty armies, locked in a fatal embrace, dancing drunkenly to the tune of five thousand swords and shields.
Even as they watched, the larger army, drilled and disciplined, achieved an ascendancy over the other. The Massegetae, under the command of Thoas, slowly pushed the Dumae army backward up the valley. The northern tribesmen fought stubbornly, contesting every reluctant foot of ground, but still they retreated.
"Not a moment too soon," said Nikometros grimly. He twitched his horse's reins and started it slowly down into the valley, his heels drumming into the horse, encouraging it onward. Dressed once more in his burnished armour, donned during a break in their long journey, his wound covered with soothing ointments and bandages, Nikometros drew his sword and uttered the war-paean of his family. Parasades, along with Certes and his men, fell in behind Nikometros in a tight column. They swept down on the struggling mass of bodies that parted before them, men pulling exhausted horses aside, or stumbling back on foot.
Nikometros' column impacted the front line of the Massegetae. It shuddered all along its length and splintered in the face of Nikometros as he wielded his short sword, stabbing and slashing. Behind him, the Dumae rallied, pushing forward again, heaving the other army back. An overjoyed cry pierced the air, turning heads.
"Nikometros! My lord, it is you! How?" Timon galloped up, brushing warriors aside and jumped from his horse, throwing himself at Nikometros, hugging and kissing his foot. Parasades men closed about them, affording them protection as they embraced.
Timon caught sight of Parasades. "What is that traitor doing here?" he screamed, tearing his sword out of his belt. He lunged forward, even as Nikometros sought to restrain him.
"He saved me, Timon," said Nikometros urgently. "He fights for us...or we for him. Leave it, man, we have a battle to fight."
