A Victory for Kregen dp-22

by Alan Burt Akers

  “Now may Likshu the Treacherous smile, doms! Our comrade Turko leaves us and we replace him with three of his compatriots!”

  So, laughing, filled with good cheer, we set off for the flier hidden away in the jungle. Fliers are rare craft in Pandahem. Andrinos and Saenci walked on ahead of us, close together, so I was able to have a private word with Turko as we followed. When I expressed myself as being surprised that so many Khamorros came to Mahendrasmot, he smiled that ironical, infuriating damned smile of his.

  “Mahendrasmot is well known. The fairground attracts people from far away. And, Dray, as you saw, the Khamorros were not high khams.”

  “And you?”

  He repeated what I had heard from our comrades of their shattering surprise when they had been sorcerously hurled back to their homelands. Turko had begun to work his way back to Vallia and had bogged down here, out of cash, and taking the fairground job to earn his passage money on. At this time there was no real volume of trade between Pandahem under Yantong and our sections of Vallia, apart from smuggling. He would have landed in an inhospitable section of Vallia, and he told me how concerned he had become at the rumors and stories out of Vallia.

  He was avid for news. I told him of the changed circumstances in the island empire, how the old emperor was dead, and of how I had been fetched to be the new. I said we must all act as our consciences dictated, and there were new men in the world, and Vallia was most miserably divided up and many of her people cruelly mistreated by Yantong and his minions, by riffraff, flutsmen, aragorn, and by the Hamalese.

  “There are stern battles ahead, Turko-”

  “And I shall be there, with my shield.”

  “It is in my mind to make you-” And then I stopped myself. I had been going to say I would create Turko a kov, that exalted rank similar to that of duke, as a preparation for broaching the subject of Korero. I saw that as contemptible.

  I said, “I have fought in a few battles since we parted, Turko. I have a fine Kildoi to guard my back with his shields. You will meet Korero the Shield.”

  His eyebrows lifted and he half-turned. Then, in stony silence, he walked on up the jungly path. Andrinos and Saenci were laughing. The suns burned down.

  I ploughed on, my throat on fire. “Since you will have no truck with steel and edged weapons, in which you have my admiration, I think it right-”

  Then he said, “So you are casting me off?”

  “My Val!” I said. “Sink me! Of course not! You are a fambly to think it, let alone say it!”

  “So what is in your mind for me, then, Dray? Or should I call you emperor, majister-?”

  “Do you wish to try a few falls, dom? Listen, and shut that black-fanged winespout!”

  Then he laughed. “You are the same, at any rate, thanks be to Morro the Muscle!”

  “Seg and Inch are both kovs of Vallia. I see no reason why you should not be a kov also. I shall arrange this. And, as a kov-”

  “You can get rid of me and my shield at your back in the day of battle?”

  “Not so. Oh, no! When we fight the Hamalese, as we must, and the clansmen, and the riffraff tearing the heart out of our country, I shall count on you, Kov Turko, to be in the thick of it, as usual.”

  He kicked a jungly frond that tendriled across the path.

  “And, being a kov, and high and mighty some of them are, as we both know-” He stopped speaking then and scowled.

  We walked for a space in silence.

  Khamorros have reflexes as quick as thought. Turko’s hand whipped out and his fist cupped a sparkling fat, blue insect. It was harmless. It buzzed in the prison of Turko’s fingers for a space; then he opened his hand and the fly buzzed free.

  “Yes,” he said. “Seg is a kov and Seg is damned unhappy with his kovnate. Oh, Thelda loves it-” He saw my face. “What? Is Thelda dead? What has chanced with Seg?”

  Very firmly, I lied to him. “Thelda is reported dead, seeing no one has seen her in Vondium since we were all parted. Seg is getting over it.” As I spoke I realized these were not lies, for Seg’s wife, Thelda, although not dead but very happily married to Lol Polisto in all ignorance that her real husband was not dead, was generally regarded as being dead. Seg thought so. I cleared my throat. “Seg is unhappy, yes… But that does not mean you will be.”

  “It does not. If I am to be a kov I would like to take over Seg’s kovnate of Falinur. They are a bunch of rogues who deserve to be brought into a better understanding of life.”

  I was astounded. Then it was my turn to laugh. “I have spoken to Seg about his kovnate. He remains a kov. But, Turko, you have the lands and the titles and are the Kov of Falinur.”

  “Right,” he said, and I did not miss the ring in his voice. “I thank you for this, majister. There will be changes. And the first will be to alter that damned miserable ocher and umber checkerboard schturval.[4]

  Those colors for your kovnate clothes and symbols are depressing. I shall border each square with a nice thick line of cheerful red.”

  “Quidang!” I said, and thus mocked him in turn.

  He was filled with a bubbling confidence, which both amazed and heartened me. I had been totally unsure how he would take to the idea that he was no longer to stand at my back in battle with his shield. I had wondered how he would receive the comical notion that he should be a kov, with titles and estates and cities owing allegiance to him. He seemed to be thriving on the latter idea, and I, shrewdly I suppose, surmised he had not given up on the former and would seek to stand with me in battle as always. Korero would have to be handled, too…

  So, as we found the hidden voller and all climbed aboard, I felt that the future for the midlands of Vallia looked brighter than it had for seasons.

  We took off and soared away, heading for the islands of Vallia and what was left of my empire. And, at the thought, I suddenly felt a coldness, and stupidly longed to be down the Moder with all the Monsters and menace… By the Black Chunkrah! A few footling fun and games around passages and secret doors and ghoulish weirdies seemed then to be children’s pastimes beside the job facing me in Vallia and all of Paz. Again and again I had tried to throw off the yoke, and always some stupidity in my own nature forced me to resume the burden. The single decisive fact impelling me to go on was simply this: that I had been called on, chosen, fetched by the people of Vallia to lead them in their way of life and their struggle for freedom.

  My comrades were individual people, with strong characters and minds of their own. If, sometimes, it sounds as though I ordered them about willy-nilly, this is not so. Each one was a personality, a real living, breathing person, and if I fail to bring them vividly alive to you in these tapes, then the lack is mine, the loss yours, for, by Zair, they are a bonny bunch!

  Now Turko said to me, “I see you fly due west. So you do not intend to chance the mountains?”

  I shook my head.

  “This voller may not let us down as those cranky rubbish heaps from Hamal so often do. But the mountains offer a risk we do not have to accept.” I looked at him. “Anyway, I’ve a mind to fly over Rahartdrin.”

  I had told him how we had lost contact with so many of the outlying provinces and islands. Rahartdrin, the large island off the southwest of Vallia, was the kovnate of the Lady Katrin Rashumin. As a friend of Delia’s, her welfare concerned me. No news had come out of that part of the empire, and all our spies had either reported failure or had not returned.

  Turning north off the west coast of Pandahem, we soared on over the southern reaches of the Hobolings and struck out across the Sea of Opaz. The whole distance was above seven hundred dwaburs and we estimated should take us the best part of three days, as the flier was not of the fast variety. We took turns to conn the helm and stand by the levers, Saenci catered splendidly, and we bustled through the skies of Kregen in fine style.

  The strategic concept of having to stop for fuel, and have coaling stations conveniently scattered across the world, was one with which I was at that
time unfamiliar. Vittles and water were the limiting factors in a journey time. The silver boxes, the vaol and paol, with their mix of minerals and gas, upheld us and drove us on, so there was no need to make any halts.

  Out over the Sea of Opaz, the islands of the Hobolings dropped astern; looking for the dawn and then a few burs of sunshine before we reached Rahartdrin, I stood at the controls and felt the lightness of spirits on me. I felt more free then I had for ages, and this despite the ponderous weight of the problems facing me at home. Going back to Delia; that was the answer. So I stood there and snuffed the night air and Deb-Lu-Quienyin appeared at my side.

  His ghostly form glimmered spectrally against the side of the voller. I could see the canvas stitching through him.

  He gestured. Commandingly, he pointed two points off the starboard bow. Darkness shrouded the sea, with the massed glitter of the stars above and the Twins fast sinking in the west. Then he stabbed his fingers into the air, five fingers, and his mouth framed the word “Bur.” The Kregan bur is forty terrestrial minutes long and there are forty-eight of them to a Kregan day.

  I moved the controls and the voller swung onto the heading Quienyin indicated. The Wizard of Loh smiled, and pushed his turban straight, and disappeared.

  Well, I said to myself, lucky Andrinos and Saenci had not witnessed that supernatural manifestation. I felt the chill. Yet how splendidly different this apparition from those with which that egomaniacal cramph Phu-Si-Yantong favored us!

  Turko came on deck at the change of course. He yawned.

  “In about five burs’ time, Turko, we shall see something interesting. The suns should just about be up by then.”

  He looked at me. “What-?”

  A brief, a very brief, explanation had to suffice.

  “And this Wizard of Loh. You will no doubt kick Khe-Hi-Bjanching out as you-”

  “Now, Turko!”

  But he was smiling, and as we sailed on he launched into a summary of his plans for his new kovnate. I listened. I fancied the recalcitrant folk of Falinur were in for a shock. Turko had seen how Seg’s methods had failed to impress. As I listened I realized that Seg had attempted to do things in the way he knew I would approve, without force. Turko was prepared to bear down that much harder — well, by Vox! So was Seg; but he had genuinely attempted to apply the new principles we all wanted to bring to the hard and harsh world of Kregen. There was a lesson here. But, I knew, I would not give up my plans, even if, from time to time, they were temporarily set back.

  As for Quienyin, this visit proved to me he had been accepted in Vallia, and for that I joyed. I broke the bad news about Falinur with a little lift of that mockery subsisting between us. “Oh, and Turko. The ex-pallan, Layco Jhansi, has taken over in Falinur. We will have to send him packing first.”

  Turko glowered. I had told him of the treachery of Layco Jhansi, the old emperor’s chief pallan. “I find it odd, to say the least, Dray. Vallia, the island empire, divided up into a parcel of warring factions. Odd, damned odd.”

  “Odd but true. We hold Vondium and much of the south and midlands. But we must patrol these artificial frontiers, and hold strong reserves in loci where they can march instantly to any threatened point. And the flutsmen drop down anywhere, for they are returning to Vallia in increasing numbers. The world regards Vallia as doomed and as merely a fat prize to be sucked dry. Oh, and we have good friends in Hawkwa country, up in the Northeast.”

  “And Inch and Princess — I mean Empress — Delia? The Blue Mountain Boys, Korf Aighos, they would not take kindly to these rasts stealing from them. That is certain. And the Black Mountain Men. Inch’s kovnate must have fought.”

  “They both did and have kept themselves relatively clear of the vermin infesting our land; but it is mighty hard.”

  He had received the news that our island of Valka had been cleaned up with joy. “I expect fresh regiments from Valka to join in the struggle,” I told him. “The job is immense.”

  “Right. So between Inch and me, we can squeeze this traitorous Layco Jhansi until he squeaks.”

  “You have yet to win Falinur back.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  He did not say that the gift of the kovnate was a poor gift, seeing it was occupied by usurpers. I felt fresh resolve in him, and knew the wise thing had been done here.

  Seg Segutorio had been happy to dump Falinur. Next time around, he would run a kovnate that would be a marvel.

  The voller’s speed was about five db.[5]She was not fast, but she was a useful, chunky craft with a deal of urge in her. Neither Turko nor I could place her country of manufacture. The wise men at home would have to examine her silver boxes to learn what secrets she contained. Certainly, she was unlike the fliers with which we were familiar.

  The alteration of course to starboard would bring us east of Rahartdrin. A number of small islands dot the sea off the south coast of Vallia here. Some are densely populated by reason of their fertile soil, others are barren and empty. Many are ringed by fanged rocks. As the sky lightened and the first rays of palest rose and leaf green flushed the sky we saw that a gale had broomed the sea beneath us during the night. We had been speeding faster than we thought. Down there the sea heaved in long, running swells, the breeze brushed the tops into shot-silk, it was a day for expanding the chest and avoiding a lee shore. Turko pointed. I nodded.

  A ship down there, dismasted, wallowing, had not avoided a lee shore. The islands ahead reached out cruel reefs of rock and the sea spouted in climbing combs of foam. The ship was doomed, for she could never claw off the rocks and round the headland into a muddy bay opening up on the far side.

  “This is what Quienyin meant,” I said. “But he had more in his mind than merely to summon us to witness a shipwreck.”

  “She’s an argenter out of one of the free cities along the Lohvian coast,” said Turko. His expression remained noncommittal. What we did would be down to me, and Turko would loyally support me, for that was the way he had chosen.

  “We could-” I said, and stopped and looked again, figuring angles and calculating with a seaman’s quickness. “It could be done.”

  Turko mistook my meaning. “You’ll never get them all aboard, Dray!”

  The deck of the argenter was packed with men. Like any ship given the appellation of argenter, she was broad in the beam, capacious, a tubby, comfortable, not particularly weatherly vessel, and fleets of argenters formed the backbone of the merchant navies of the maritime nations — except Vallia. I noticed an odd thing about those men seething on the deck below. They had all stripped off so as to be able to swim after the impending shipwreck had pitched them into the sea; but every man carried weapons strapped to his naked body. Yes, I know I say a Kregan will not willingly walk his world without weapons; but when you must swim for your life in murderous breakers, that, surely, is one occasion when you must cast away your sword, your spear, your bow? These men were naked and armed. Turko was quite right. Taking a quick block count I reckoned there must be a hundred fifty to two hundred men jammed on the deck, all braced for the impending impact. We’d never get them all in this flier.

  “Rustle out what rope we have aft, Turko. Get Andrinos. We’ll tow that argenter around the point!”

  Instantly, without fussing, Turko went aft to the rope locker. We might not have enough. We could drop a line to them down there; they’d not shoot a line up to us. A pretty little calculation entered my mind as we maneuvered into position. Could even Seg Segutorio, in my view the greatest bowman of Kregen, shoot a shaft trailing a line from that ship up to us? Turko let out a yell and he waved, so I knew we had rope enough.

  The trickiest part of the operation would be keeping a steady strain on the hawser. The argenter was going up and down sluggishly and rolling with that dead effect that told me she was filling. It would be touch and go. Three results were in the offing: she could strike the rocks and fly to flinders, she could be towed around the point — or she could sink before either of those ev
ents took place. The line dangled down and was seized in a forest of upraised arms and made fast to the inboard stump of the bowsprit. Gingerly, I opened up the forward control lever and the voller moved ahead. Aft, Turko kept a watchful eye on the line.

  “And get your head out of the way. If she snaps-”

  “Aye, Dray. I know.”

  And, with his superb Khamorro reflexes, he would be moving and avoiding the deadly whiptail of broken line faster than the eye could follow.

  The argenter proved a stubborn beast. Most Kregan vollers are soundless in flight; had engines been involved they would have been screaming in protest. But we moved. We moved!

  Slowly, painfully, we hauled the argenter crabbing through the waves, seeing the white water bursting clean over her. Not a man was washed off. Her blunt bows rose and fell and churned the white froth in a welter of foam. Slowly she came around and we crawled for the point. The hawser sang. This unknown voller might not be fast; but she could pull!

  Gradually we saw the vital stretch of sea opening up as we hauled the ship away from the rocks. It was a maelstrom down there. The men clustered, looking up at us, and we prayed with them that all the gods of Kregen would smile on this enterprise.

  As we passed clear of the spit of land dividing the cruel rock reef from the muddy bay, a small group of totrixmen galloped along the spiny ridge below. The six legs of their mounts spraddled out and their leathers glistened in the flung spray. They carried lances, and their helmets gleamed in the early light. They rode inland and were lost to view.

  “Company,” I shouted at Turko. “We’ll have a reception committee.”