The Warrior's Tale

by Allan Cole, Chris Bunch

  I came to my feet and darted out - back along the shelf - as if trying to flee, zig-zagging 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 towards 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 by 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 enemy 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 sprinted 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 towards 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'

  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'll 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 each other offensive on first meeting. I've already underscored the faults I found in Jinnah and his breed. As for Jinnah's bitterness towards 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 impatiendy 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, favoured. 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 had yawned when I'd first told him about Polillo's axe 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 pretence 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 mocker}'.

  Jinnah roused himself enough to put on a mild 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 favour 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 swivelled 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.1

  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, 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 looked 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 her report, and I see no flaws. Of course, I'm not a professional, but...'

  Despite his mild manner, the old man was a powerful presence now that he had spoken up. His eyes were mild, but Jinnah visibly

  shrunk under their gaze.

  '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 sulphur 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.

  Jinnah averted his gaze from the yellow, lion's glare. He licked dry lips. 'But I thought, you ...'

  Gamelan shook his head. 'It is upon you, my General, that our fates rest.'

  After a long hesitation Jinnah reached with a trembling hand. Gamelan let the bones fall into it. Jinnah reflexively clasped them tight. And Gamelan began to chant:

  Bones of Fate

  Reveal thy tally:

  Who shall win?

  Who shall lose?

  Who shall greet thee

  In the Demon's Pyre?

  Jinnah shrieked in pain and flung the casting bones onto the field table. The smell of his burnt flesh fouled our nostrils.

  Jinnah sucked on his injured hand. 'I... I... can't,' he croaked.

  I heard fearful whispers from the other men. I kept my own feelings frozen in heart and brain. The only comfort I allowed myself was a hand firmly clasping the hilt of my sword. It did my nerve no good, however, when I saw the look of shock on the Master Evocator's face.

  'Its happened? he hissed.

  'What?' Jinnah said. Fear made it a whisper.

  Gamelan shook his head, commanding silence. He turned this way and that, sniffing and listening to every small sound of the night. I felt my skin prickle as his senses ferreted about. Somewhere far off we heard a direwolf pack howl over a fresh kill.

  Gamelan whirled to confront Jinnah. The Archons have made some kind of breakthrough,' he said. 'We must act quickly, or all will be lost'

  'But what.. .'Jinnah was confounded.

  Gamelan ignored him. He grabbed up the bones and thrust them at me. 'Toss them, Captain,' he said.

  I only stared at him. Why was I being asked to do this? If the gods were suddenly deserting us, how could I alter their flight?

  'Do it, Rali,' Gamelan snarled. 'Before it's too late!'

  Numb, I obeyed - barely noting that he'd addressed me so familiarly. I opened my hand and steeled it as Gamelan once again let the bones fall. And I swear by all that we hold true and holy, that time seemed to stand still. It was as if a shadow fell between me and the others. I smelled my mother's sandalwood perfume. My skin seemed to take on a sweet glow, as if I'd just stepped out of a bath of warm milk and honeyed wine. Everything just seemed so ... right... in this shadow-world. The bones nestled in my palm as if they had been specially carved for the fit. They were cool to the touch and for some reason it troubled me that their feeling was quite pleasing.

  Once again Gamelan chanted. Once again he prayed for a tally of our common fates. The bones remained cool in my palm; the only change was an increased feeling of tingling pleasure. As he chanted, another voice - a woman's voice - whispered in my ear: 'Rali means hope. Rali means hope.'

  'Cast them,' Gamelan said.

  Awkwardly, I threw the bones. The shadow-world feeling - and those are the only words I can think of to describe it - left me as the bones bounced and rolled across the table.

  As they struck the tent was lit by a lightning bolt striking close by. Thunder followed - so loud we clutched our ears in pain. Gamelan didn't seem to notice. Instead, he gave a gleeful cackle and jumped forward like a cat to peer at the knuckles. Another cackle and he swept them up. But as he returned them to his cloak pocket he gave me an odd look. I made no effort to read the look. To be quite honest, I consciously avoided any reflection on what the wizard might be thinking.

  He turned to Jinnah, who stood staring, gaping like a pond fish. 'She is our only hope, General,' he said. 'I don't know the why of it. I just know it is so.'

  Still, Jinnah hesitated. He looked at me and in that brief moment the veil was lifted and I saw the hatred in his eyes. It was cold and black and deep. I was rocked back. At first, wonder leaped into my mind. Why should I be the object of such hatred? Then my wonder grew deeper still as I saw that beneath his look was fear. Before I could reflect further, I felt my own hatred stir. It became an intense flame and I was so caught in it I nearly leaped the table to kill him where he stood.

  Then the tent glowed as another spear of lightning pierced the night. We all jumped as a second volley of thunder blasted us to our boots.

  Jinnah grabbed a tumbler of brandy and drank it down to steady his nerves.

  'Well, General?' Gamelan pressed.

  Jinnah nodded, weak. His voice rasped through the tension when he answered: 'We attack tomorrow. At dusk.'

  At dawn we made a sacrifice, or rather three sacrifices, which suggested not just how important, but how dangerous that coming night's mission might be. First, we sent Maranonia a sheep. It should have been a fat ram, but, as I've said, the land around us was combed bare and the poor scrawny ewe we found would have to suffice. After the battle was won proper homage could be made. Maranonia was a soldiers' goddess and would understand sometimes the idea must satisfy more than the reality. Someone suggested a Lycanthian prisoner should be given to Maranonia, but that idea was quickly rejected since it doesn't make much sense to seek a goddess's approval by sending someone whose blood-drenched soul would make the strongest argument against what we desired. Next, we made a smaller sacrifice of fish to Orissa's gods and each of us made a private offering to her own hearth god. I hoped those gifts in particular would be found satisfying and few of us would have to make personal obeisance by the next dawn.

  The res
t of the morning was spent in final preparation. Just as the ballads of battle seldom mention the sweating smiths ensuring the cavalry mounts are well shod before the charge; or the armourers and spark-shooting grindstones putting the final edges to the killing blades, no one ever realizes that soldiers - at least soldiers who succeed - almost never spy an objective and, bellowing mightily, rush to attack.

  Our camp was a haze of activity from dawn until midday. Each woman's kit was checked by her sergeant, double-checked by her section officer and then finally inspected by Polillo and Corais. At noon we ate heartily - a traditional before-battle meal of roast beef and eggs. I'd had to send a victualling mission composed of my most skilled thieves far out into the countryside to procure it.

  A sudden shower - invoked by two medium-level Evocators - sent us scurrying in mock-surprise for our tents. Out of sight, we changed into battle gear - drab clothing and blackened armour. The rain whipped a breeze through the open door of my tent and I shivered. But it was not from the chill wind.

  I'd had cast too much of my capital on this single spin of the top. The cold logic of war dictated a complete unit should never be committed to a single battle, particularly if the odds were high. Soldiers could, and did, shrug when only a handful returned from battle; but when a unit was completely destroyed, death fingers went down all our backbones.

  But only a handful of my Guardswomen were to remain behind. A few of them were sick or injured and the reset were a fresh draft of untrained recruits from Orissa who'd arrived under an eager young ensign the day before. She was the only officer left, besides Corais, Polillo and myself. Since the Guards' officers led from the front and by example, the death rate had been catastrophic and there'd been no time for officer's boards or field promotions.