“But, Lord Sword, you're the one they want, but they can't see you. It would only be—”
“Forget it, Lords,” he interrupted. “I'd rather die at your side than abandon you to their rusty blades. We fight together or we slit our bellies together. Which is it?”
“Fight!” they all said as one.
“Good,” Seeking Sword said. “Lord Snake, how large is the nearest group and how long until they get here?”
“Fifteen warriors, Lord Sword. I estimate three minutes.”
“All right. We'll lay an ambush for them. Find their most likely approach, Lord Snake. You four will act as decoys while I lay in wait. Who here is the least skilled with a bow? I'll need your quiver, Lord.” Seeking Sword took the proffered quiver and slung it over his shoulder.
“The warriors almost have to come between those two trees and along that trail, Lord Sword.” Slithering Snake pointed. “Behind that rock up there?”
Seeking Sword looked. On the small rise behind their location was an outcrop large enough to conceal a man. Nodding, he said, “Perfect, Lord Snake. If they don't all approach along the trail, you'll have to signal me somehow.”
Slithering Snake picked up two rocks and pounded them together. “Right, pause, then the number of warriors going that way.” He pounded twice. “Left, pause, then the number going that way.”
“Won't they home in on you?”
“Someone has to do it, Lord Sword. Hurry, they're approaching!”
“Positions, everyone. Infinite be with you!” Two quivers on his back, Seeking Sword retreated up the slope and concealed himself behind the outcrop, preparing the position from which he would shoot. He took his bearings, sighting along the trail between two trees.
Clack, pause, clack, clack, clack. Three warriors to the right.
Clack, clack, pause, clack, clack, clack. Three to the left.
Nine then on the main assault, three on each flank. Down in the clearing, dim bandit shapes rearranged themselves in preparation.
There! The first warrior appeared on the trail, fifteen paces beyond the trees. In rapid succession, five more warriors appeared behind the first. Three, then, were in reserve.
When the first warrior reached the trail-break, Seeking Sword aimed and loosed, firing six arrows rapidly. Four sank home. He had mistimed one arrow and the target had deflected the other.
Screams of the dying filled the night.
Underneath the noise, Seeking Sword heard motion in brush to the right flank. He launched two arrows and one scream rewarded him. To the left flank was a sound. He spun and loosed an arrow. The gasp and curse helped his next arrow find a home in the mouth of the warrior. Slithering Snake signaled again, one warrior right and two left. In the long pause that followed, Seeking Sword listened, grateful Imperial Warriors were so clumsy in the woods.
Suddenly, Slithering Snake signaled three times.
Seeking Sword looked down the trail. The reserves had committed themselves. With three arrows, he killed two and wounded the third, then spun and launched two arrows to his left. From his right, a funnel of flame engulfed him, the heat washing past him without effect. He loosed an arrow directly into the fire. The burning arrow found the pyrathon's forehead, quenching his flame.
Four times the sectathon signaled. “Hold off, Lord Sword, we have 'em now!”
Seeking Sword dropped the bow and drew his sword, jumping down to his left. A warrior sprang from behind a bush. He sidestepped and hacked off the arms and head with one stroke. Like a cat he moved left, not knowing how many he had killed or merely wounded with arrows.
The warrior he tracked was comfortable in the forest. Seeking Sword arrived where the warrior had been moments before without having heard him depart. Not until Slithering Snake ordered him back did he realize the warrior had eluded him completely. He stopped at the outcrop for his bow, then joined the others.
“Let's move while we can, Lords. We don't gloat until we're safe. Lead us, Lord Snake!”
While they traveled, their pace their maximum, Flashing Blade said, “You dispatched ten of them just by yourself, Lord Sword. Great shooting!”
“Thank you, Lord Blade. How did the Lord Finger get his?”
“One of those bastards froze him.”
Fifteen minutes later, Slithering Snake said, “The next group, about thirty of them, have decided to take us on, Lord Sword. What now?”
“They probably saw the last encounter, so an ambush won't work. Are they preparing to ambush us?”
“They've spread out on either side of the north-south road, Lord.”
“Looks like an ambush, eh? Any suggestions, Lords?”
No one had any; the situation looked hopeless.
“Too far still to transmit for help, I take it. What will they least expect?”
“A frontal assault, Lord Sword,” Flashing Blade said.
“Then that's what we'll do, Lords.”
Everyone protested, of course.
“Either that or we slit our bellies. Let me tell you why. The Lord Snake and his two companions were the only ones who left the fortress in the last twenty-four hours.” Seeking Sword paused to breath, his feet pounding the packed dirt of the road in the pre-dawn light. “The Heir's an excellent strategist. He stationed these Imperial Warriors here for the sole purpose of intercepting us as we try to return to the fortress.”
“How do you know that?” Slithering Snake asked.
“I just do. Either we fight our way through them or we don't get to the fortress. Any alternatives, Lords?”
They had none.
“Fall back, Lord Snake—I'll take the lead.”
“I can't let you do that, Lord Sword. In fact, you'll take the rear. Hurry, Lord Sword. Two minutes to contact. Bows armed, everyone. When we're too close for bows, draw your swords.” Slithering Snake then arranged the four of them in the order best suited for the assault.
Those two minutes seemed to last an eternity.
Arrows hissed at them from the flanks. One dropped the rapathon immediately and another sliced open Seeking Sword's right calf.
Senses heightened by danger and pain, he marked the positions of six warriors by the trajectory of their arrows. He leapt over the fallen rapathon and launched three arrows. Ahead, Flashing Blade seared two warriors and spun as an arrow caught him through the shoulder. Slithering Snake tossed away his bow and pulled his sword, then dispatched the first two of twenty warriors rushing to engage the bandits. Seeking Sword leaped into the fray, his blade whirling. With his good arm, Flashing Blade joined them, cutting viciously, the speed of his sword renown, his name earned.
For a long time, it seemed, the three men held their ground, the bodies at their feet restricting their motion. The first rays of sun penetrated forest.
Three warriors charged as a group, screaming, “Aaarrrooowww!” and hurling themselves at Seeking Sword.
The Bandit thought he was—
* * *
—dead if he didn't erect a psychic wall. The warriors looked surprised just before he froze them. The bodies piling up around the three bandits proved useful. He hurled them at the attacking warriors, opening a path for himself and the two men with him. The cut on his right calf was quite deep. Without effort he healed himself.
A company of blue-and-white clad warriors hit them with the full force of their combined talents. Reflexively, he converted the energy, augmented it and transformed the warriors into statues of stone. Guarding Bear would have been proud.
During the brief respite, one of his companions stumbled, an arrow taking him in the shoulder. He placed his hand on the feathered shaft and willed it to come out painlessly. Then he repaired the shoulder as he had his own calf.
As they pushed through the crowd of statues, so thick they had to topple a few to get through, he scanned the area and found a hundred warriors on their flanks. A group of fifty on each side converged to intercept them.
Behind him, the sectathon tried to signal for help from the fortress ahead
, but received no reply. The three of them would have to escape the Imperial Warriors on their own.
Feeling the warriors' probes from either side, he quickly evaluated and fashioned a psychic cloak. Unlike a shield, the cloak didn't stop the probes, but instead deceived the warriors to perceive what was on the other side of the three bandits. The two groups of warriors began to close, the commanders of the detachments puzzled by the sudden disappearance of their quarry.
Knowing they were close and would soon physically sight the three bandits, he projected an illusion of them lagging far behind the reality.
Imperceptible now, they needed only to get to the fortress.
He recognized landmarks in the lightening day. They were on the infrequently traveled north-south road, approaching the crossroads.
There! Above the trees peeked the twin towers guarding the ravine.
From both sides, Imperial Warriors converged on the illusion a hundred paces behind the bandits. He concentrated, changing the projection to make each group of warriors look to the other group like bandits. Like wolves in a pen of unguarded sheep, Imperial Warrior fell upon Imperial Warrior. The slaughter began.
Laughing as they plunged between twin towers, the three bandits entered the ravine that served as the main access to the Tiger Fortress. They were finally—
Flaming Arrow screamed before he opened his eyes. He pushed the (sectathon) blankets off him. Probing Gaze opened the door and stepped in. Bolting toward the open door, the Heir embraced the (pyrathon) sectathon, nearly hysterical with (relief) panic. Stumbling around the (ravine) room as if drunk, he (screamed) ransacked the place, searching for he knew not what.
Probing Gaze limped toward the (metal) wooden door, a cut on his right calf, an expression of (exhilaration) horror on his face.
Flaming Arrow's (enthusiasm) panic subsided. His own right calf was without injury. It was an hour after dawn. The Heir's mind left him.
* * *
—dead, but found himself running through a narrow, familiar ravine, which widened. Ahead he saw metal doors set in stone. He stumbled and two others immediately trampled him. Laughing now, Seeking Sword pushed the (blankets) sectathon off him. Wondering how they had escaped certain death, he embraced the (sectathon) pyrathon, nearly hysterical with (panic) relief. Stumbling around the (room) ravine as if drunk, the Bandit (ransacked) screamed with exhilaration, “We're alive!” again and again, embracing first Slithering Snake and then Flashing Blade. Both of them were laughing as well.
Slithering Snake limped toward the (wooden) metal door, a cut on his right calf, an expression of (horror) exhilaration on his face.
Seeking Sword's (panic) enthusiasm subsided. His own right calf was without injury. It was an hour after dawn. Waves of weariness washed over him, nearly inundating his mind. Why do I feel so tired? he wondered.
He looked toward Flashing Blade, whose calf had an injury like the sectathon's. Not knowing how his own calf had healed, his companions' similar wounds bothered him.
The metal door clanged open. First came the Wizard-medacor Easing Comfort, his face haggard. Seeking Sword guessed he had been busy. Then Raging River stepped out, a detail of six guards behind him.
While the medacor treated the other two men, Seeking Sword approached Raging River.
They bowed to each other as equals.
Watching the other man carefully, the Bandit said, “Now that the Lord Tiger and the Lady Quick are dead, Lord River, there's no one to order you to desist when your sword sings for my blood. Now there's only you, Lord River.”
The small man with iron-gray hair snarled, “Eh? What do you mean, there's only me?” The impertinence in the rough, gravelly voice was enough to warrant instant death.
Seeking Sword expected such behavior from the incorrigible old man. “Either you're with me, Lord River, or you'll take my head now, as you've wanted since we met. You've served one master all your life. Now he's gone. Yet you can serve him still—by avenging his death. Need I tell you, Lord River, the mayhem I'll cause our enemies with this face and this hair? Help me, Lord, and avenge your master. Slay me, Lord, and never will you avenge Scowling Tiger.
“Decide, Lord River! Serve me or kill me!” Seeking Sword turned around, his arms limp at his sides, his back to the fortress and to the ruthless killer Raging River.
A minute passed, then two. Raging River finally moved.
The Bandit waited until all motion stopped, his body as still as stone. Only then did he turn.
At his feet groveled Raging River. He held his sword toward the Bandit with both hands.
Seeking Sword sank to his haunches and placed his hands on the sheathed blade. “Swear, Lord River, by all you hold sacred that you'll serve me with unswerving loyalty, that my law is your law, that my wish is your command.”
“I swear, Lord Commander Sword,” Raging River said, his forehead in the dirt.
“I hereby accept the services of your sword, Lord River. My first wish is that you do everything as before. Why change what works so well, eh?”
“Yes, Lord Commander Sword, thank you. It will be an honor and a privilege to serve you.” Raging River leaned back, settling on his haunches.
“It is an honor, Lord River, to have your service.”
“The Lady Tiger sent me to bring you to the Lair, Lord Sword. She's afraid of the traitors among us. I and the six guards will escort you.”
“Very well, Lord. I want three of them five paces ahead, three of them five paces behind. You and I will walk side by side, Lord River. I'll not be paraded through the fortress like a prisoner, nor will I become prisoner to a position of command.”
“As you wish, Lord Sword,” Raging River said, standing and turning to issue orders, his age apparent now, his shoulders stooped.
The Bandit stepped over to the medacor. “How are the Lords Snake and Blade, Lord Comfort?” Looking into the deep blue eyes, seeing the blond hair and large hands, Seeking Sword remembered the two men at the oak, just south of Seat.
“With rest and food, Lord Sword, they'll fight again.”
“Good, Lord Comfort. I spoke with your son two days ago—a man any father would be proud of.”
“Thank you, Lord,” Easing Comfort said, looking unperturbed.
Seeking Sword clasped his shoulder and turned toward the escort. Raging River at his side, the Bandit entered the fortress.
A year before, he had possessed not an inkling of the destiny awaiting him. Even now, ascending into the vast warren that was fast becoming his own, Seeking Sword couldn't comprehend the magnitude of the power at his disposal, nor of the responsibility upon his shoulders. In spite of that, he felt for the first time in his life that he truly belonged.
He was home.
Chapter 20
The power of the matriarchies reached its apex during the reign of the seventh Emperor Arrow. Flying Arrow's distant cousin and eventual daughter-by-mateship, Rippling Water, assumed control of the Water Matriarchy when she was only sixteen years old. By that time, the Water Matriarchy included almost half of all Eastern women and extended into all four Empires. So avidly did she barter her daughters' pleasures that her enemies called her “the Imperial Madam.” She withheld those pleasures for equal gain. Her mother, the Matriarch Bubbling Water, was the archetype of wanton female sexuality that instills so much fear in our male-dominated society today. Rippling Water, in contrast, was the archetype of the calculating sexual financier that inspires raw terror. Yet she bestowed her personal pleasures upon only one man—or so the histories say.—The Women, The Power, by Shriveling Stalk.
My mother was the guiding force in my life long after she died. Bubbling Water bequeathed her experiences to me—from her rearing as an aristocrat to the week before her death. While those memories have proved valuable, her most wonderful gift to me was how to use them. “More important to me than anything I ever teach you,” she said to me once, “is that you learn to pay attention to your innermost voice. Without that guidance, my teac
hings won't do you a servant's turd worth of good.” My mother had a gift for articulation as well.—Noble and Peasant, by the Matriarch Rippling Water.
* * *
Her robes were a shimmering aquamarine, made from the finest silk. Her hair was the color of turquoise and styled fashionably. Her eyes were the green of jade and set wide on her face. She was the Matriarch Rippling Water, and she bowed to the Emperor Snarling Jaguar.
Smiling, the dark-skinned man on the dais, third of his line, nodded.
The Matriarch had come to ask that the Emperor honor his bargain with her mother, struck nearly sixteen years before but never concluded. In the last stages of consolidating the Matriarchy, Rippling Water was attending to those matters that required her personal attention. In addition, from what she knew of Snarling Jaguar, she simply wanted to meet him.
Sitting back on her haunches, she noted how his appearance had changed in the years since he had traveled to the Eastern Empire to negotiate with Flying Arrow for possession of Swan Valley. While Rippling Water had never met him, among the memories Bubbling Water had bequeathed were those of her fraternization with the Emperor Jaguar.
Crow's feet splayed from the outer corners of his eyes, clear but for the yellowing of the whites. Swathes of gray hair ran along the sides of his head, but the hair on top was black, tightly coiled, thinning. Large and yellow, the teeth looked perfect. The gnarled hands were powerful and encased in metal jewelry. Tendons and veins embossed the skin, emphasizing Snarling Jaguar's age. “Infinite be with you, Lady Water,” he said amiably, speaking the Eastern language without flaw.
“Infinite be with you as well, Lord Emperor Snarling Jaguar,” she replied in the Southern tongue. “Thank you for granting me audience.”
“I have an obligation to be there for my allies when needed, eh Lady?” The Emperor searched her face.
“I'm not your ally, Lord Emperor, please excuse me.”
“Your mother was my ally. I was sorry to hear of her passing. Your father is my ally. His diminished state grieves me. Even if you yourself aren't my ally, Lady Water, I offer my condolences on your double loss.”
The Heir (Fall of the Swords Book 3) Page 22
