Revenge of the Horseclans

by Robert Adams

  "Now the Horseclansmen were ever tolerant of the harmless beliefs of other peoples. Once the High Lord had exposed the misdeeds of the Eeyehrefsee of Kehnooryos Ehlahs which ranged from shady business practices and smuggling to whoremongering and slaving, broken their power, stripped them of most of their ill-gotten profits, and smashed their financial empire, they were allowed to practice their rites almost unmolested."

  "But the last twenty years have seen rapid and very ominous changes in the sect. Certain of the darker practices of the monster cults have crept into the rites of the Ancient Faith, and here and there a priest or a Kooreeos has taken it into his head to foment disorder and even open, armed rebellion on the order of the Djeehahd or 'Holy War' in which certain of the Black Kingdoms sometimes engage."

  "Mostly, such insanities have been scotched before they got much out of hand. Alert Kindred nobles who weren't afraid to shed a little blood for the good of all their peoples simply seized the squarebeards and their lay ringleaders, publicly tried them, publicly executed them, and then imported new Eeyehrefsee who had more interest in keeping their heads attached to their bodies."

  "But Komees Peetuh, who was Regent of Gafnee for a Thoheeks' son who was not yet of age, lived and died a very foolish man." Then the Bard went on to describe the highlights of the Gafnee Horror—a loathsome tale of a rabble risen at the urgings of priests and led by noble Ehleen malcontents; of halls besieged, overrun, looted, then burned; of Kindred men tortured to death; of Kindred ladies dying horribly beneath the lusts of hundreds of attackers; of the blood-drenched sacrifices of Kindred children and babes to the dark god of the gory-pawed Ehleen priests."

  It was Klairuhnz's profession to spin good tales and he was a past master at his art. The pictures he spoke were real—terribly real. Both Bili and Vaskos could see the surging, bloodthirsty mobs and hear their savage roarings, could hear the clash of arms and the crackling of the fires and the screams of the wounded or tormented or dying, could smell the smoke of burning halls and the stink of burning flesh in the Bard's words.

  The priests had been shrewd in the timing of their rising, choosing the beginning of what promised to be a bad winter, when communications between principalities would be sketchy at best. And what few travelers did enter the Duchy of Gafnee never left it; the sinister Eeyehrefsee saw to that. When, with the late arrival of spring, it came time for the New Year Council, all the nobles of the Archduchy were surprised at the absence of Komees Peetuh, who had ere been one of the first arrivals at Lohfospolis."

  "Ahrkeethoheeks Eevahnos delayed the Council for a couple of days and sent an officer of his guard to see what might be detaining his old friend. When that officer failed to return, another officer was sent, along with a half troop of horseguards. None of those men ever came back either, but a couple of wounded troophorses stumbled in. The saddle of one was covered in crusted blood, and a mind speaker got from both animals a story of deceit and butchery."

  "At that juncture," Klairuhnz continued, "Lord Eevahnos had the hill fires lit and called up the levy. With the spear levymen and the Kindred cavalry and the Freefighters of his guard, he sealed the borders of Gafnee and initiated tentative scoutings into it, while his messengers rode north, west, and south."

  "It so happened that Strahteegos Vahrohnos Fil Kuk of Kukpolis was on the march to the Southern Duchies with three thousand kahtahfrahktoee. He and his two squadrons were encamped near Gastohnya, when one of the Ahrkeethoheeks' gallopers happened that way."

  "He at once broke camp. By dawn, he was on Gafnee's northern border, where he picked up a few Kindred cavalry and a troop of Freefighters, then swept down into Gafnee, to the very gates of Gafneepolis. And there they camped until Eevahnos and his ragtag army joined them."

  "Now the original city of Gafneepolis was razed by King Zastros's army a hundred years ago, and wasn't rebuilt for about ten years. Having nothing to fear, they thought, those who built its walls made them neither thick nor high and pierced them for double the usual number of gates. Such a position, defended as it was principally by priests, peasants, and tradesmen, had not a chance against the attack of professionals. It fell quickly."

  Pausing to take a pull of his mug, Klairuhnz would have taken time to relight his pipe, but Bili could not wait.

  "And then?" he urged. "What then, Kinsman?"

  Vaskos spoke. "Apply you to your pipe, Bard Klairuhnz. I'll try to finish the tale. True, I was not there, but as I said, I've friends who were."

  "Well, Bili, when the Ahrkeethoheeks and his nobles became aware of just what had transpired in Gafnee that winter, they commenced to tremble in their boots, as well they should've. First, they scoured all of Gafnee for survivors and found not one living noble Kindred in all the duchy . . . nor did the searchers leave any living person behind them priest, peasant, or villager, man, woman, or child, those who did not surrender quickly died!"

  "Good!" Bili nodded. "That was good work."

  Vaskos stared levelly at the young man for a moment, not noticing the odd smile on the Bard's face. "Think you so, Kinsman? Then hear the rest."

  "The Ahrkeethoheeks had hundreds of people put to savage tortures and got the names of all the lay ringleaders. All who were still living on that list of names, he cast into the town dungeons, along with the priests."

  "With all the living Gafneeans completely disarmed and confined, helpless as babes in the city, the Ahrkeethoheeks gave the Confederation troops and his own complete freedom of the city for seven days allowed them to loot and burn and rape and torment and kill to the point of utter satiation. He and his nobles sent wagon after groaning wagon of loot back to Lohfospolis, as well as all the grain and livestock on which they could lay hands!"

  "It took the pitiful wretches who survived that week of carnage another week to breach their walls to their conquerors' satisfaction, pull down their gates, and dig a long, deep trench just outside the city. Then the Ahrkeethoheeks assembled the couple of thousand Gafneeans under guard by all his forces. He had the priests and lay leaders dragged out and stripped naked, even the women!"

  "Women?" Bill looked bewildered.

  "Yes, Bili," nodded Vaskos. "Some of the lay leaders were women. And right horribly were they treated."

  "The priests and the male leaders were gelded, then pitch was poured on their wounds. That barbarity done with, the Ahrkeethoheeks set his guardsmen to striking the heads from every man, woman, and child of Gafnee, forcing the priests and leaders who had not died of their maltreatment to watch the butchery."

  "All of the female leaders naturally died of their sufferings, but some score of the priests and male leaders lived. They were set on the road, still naked and with their lips stitched shut, loaded with a man-weight of manacles and chains, in two wagons and heavily guarded. Less than half lived to reach Kehnooryos Atheenahs!"

  Failing to note the disgust and horror on Vaskos's swarthy face, Bili commented casually, "Sewed their lips shut, did he? Well, that's one march Lord Eevahnos has stolen on King Gilbuht. It was a good idea too, keep the bastards from spreading their poison along the way or from plotting amongst themselves. But, tell me, Kinsman, how did the rebel swine eat and drink?"

  In lieu of answer, Vaskos asked in a tight voice, "Have you no feeling, then? That civilized men could do such things in the name of justice and our Confederation sickens me! To so mistreat conquered enemies . . ."

  "Conquered rebels," corrected Bili. "There is a considerable difference, you know. That, Kinsman, is the only way to handle the kind of rebellion you and Klairuhnz have described. You must put it down so hard and so thoroughly that no commoner or priest or noble will ever forget the fate of a rebel. I, for one, would like to make the acquaintance of this Lord Eevahnos. He sounds like a wise and most astute man. Why, King Gilbuht himself could not have done a better job!"

  "But to slay women and children . . . even babes . . ." Vaskos began.

  "Nits make lice, Kinsman!" Bili shrugged.

  Vaskos's visage darkene
d perceptibly, and he straightened in his chair. "I have been a soldier for above thirty years, and while I've had to put my steel into a few barbarian women, I've yet to slay a child. Nor will I, ever!"

  Bili raised his right hand, palm to Vaskos in the ancient gesture of peace. "Kinsman, I but requested a tale, not an argument. There is no need for your anger. But ere I see it grow, I shall take my leave." Arising, he smoothed his suede gambeson and started to buckle the tops of his jackboots.

  "Now, hold!" snapped Klairuhnz, unmistakable authority in his voice. "You, Kinsman Bili, sit down! You, Kinsman Keeleechstos Vaskos, act your age and your rank! The Confederation has scant need of hotheaded Strahteegoee!"

  With Bili once more in his chair and Vaskos silent, the Bard leaned forward and continued, slowly and forcefully, his black eyes hard. "None of us here is as innocent as you would have us believe you to be, Kinsman Vaskos. I have slain children, Kinsman Bili has slain children, and so too have you! Think you, how many men have died under your steel, do you suppose? In above thirty years' soldiering, the number must be large, considering all the small wars and skirmishings against the mountainfolk. So how many children starved to death, because you had slain their fathers?"

  Vaskos shifted in his chair, looking down at his big hands, and mumbled, "But that's not the same."

  The Bard nodded vehemently. "Correct. Correct, Keeleechstros Vaskos, it is not the same at all. For the sword offers a clean, quick death, while the death of hunger is long and slow, torturous and incredibly horrible, with the body ravenously feeding upon its own flesh and blood and muscle. Many of those children, Vaskos, would have welcomed the cold, sharp kiss of your sword . . . aye, and blessed you for your mercy!"

  And suddenly Bili was there, was one of them! One of the horde of shadowy, emaciated little starvelings all sunken, hunger-bright eyes and swollen abdomens, arms and legs fleshless and reed-thin, hands like tiny claws and faces like skin-covered skulls, suppurating, dripping sores and teeth dropping from bleeding gums. His hand weakly fumbled for his wine mug . . . anything to fill his gaping, agonizing emptiness.

  Then the nightmare dissolved as suddenly as it had come. "Sorry, Bili," came a mindspeak from Klairuhnz, on a level which Bili had thought he alone possessed, having never before met another who could communicate on it. "That was intended for Vaskos, not for you."

  The Bard would then have broken off the mental connection, but Bili held stubbornly to it, demanding, "Who in hell are you, truly? What are you? No common mindspeaker could've done what you just did, that I know! And no man, possessing such powers as you have would waste his life and talents as a mere traveling bard. Are you then a sorcerer in disguise?"

  "Sorcerers are nonexistent, Bili," came the quick reply. "There are only men and women who use their inherent powers to the detriment or death of others . . . much as you effected the death of Earl Hahnz, or magnified the sound of your warhorses' hooves, so that those brigands thought a troop was charging them."

  Bili started, and his right hand clamped onto the hilt of his dirk. "How . . . what do you know of . . . ?"

  "Only what I was able to glean from your mind, earlier in the dining hall. But fear not, Bili, those secrets are safe. Nor do I fault you, for in a fight to the death, only a fool would refrain from employing every weapon or skill at his disposal."

  "Who and what," Bili repeated insistently, "are you?"

  "You shall know, in time," was the Bard's curt answer. "You shall know all that you now ask, and much, much more. But for now, drink your wine and allow me to finish Vaskos's education, for I . . . we . . . may soon have need of him."

  On the mindspeak level, the exchanges had taken bare fractions of seconds. And Vaskos, whose mindspeak talents were marginal at best, was unaware that Bili and Klairuhnz had even conversed.

  "Perhaps all that you say is right," he answered the Bard's most recent statement. "But even so, that is but scant justification for the atrocities and wholesale butchery at Gafnee. The rebels could've been dispersed to other places, or even sold overseas. But to coldly slaughter them . . . I, for one, could never . . ."

  Slowly, Klairuhnz shook his head. "Vaskos, you have a great capacity for compassion. Used properly, it will aid you in being a better-than-average Strahteegos. Utilized imprudently, allowed to rule rather than serve you, at the wrong time and toward the wrong people, as you are presently doing, it will lead to your downfall, if not your death."

  "Vaskos, Vaskos, you are thinking with your huge loving heart, and not with the mind of a talented and experienced soldier, a leader of men. Think, man, think!"

  Vaskos' forehead furrowed. "What mean you, Bard?"

  "All right, look at it this way," Klairuhnz tried another tack. "You have fought the Tcharlztuhnee, I take it?"

  Vaskos nodded brusquely. "Aye, our most recent campaign was against those devils."

  Klairuhnz went on. "They steep their arrows, darts, and spearpoints in a fermented dung. So what do the eeahtrosee to such a wound, say to a deep thrust in the leg?"

  Vaskos' lips tightened. "They slash the leg to the bone, let the man's own blood wash and cleanse the wound, then they poultice it with pledgets of molded wheaten bread. But what has such to do with . . . ?"

  "All in due time." Klairuhnz cut Vaskos' question off short. "And if the bleeding and the poultices fail, Vaskos, if the toes blacken and the leg purples and starts to stink, what, then, do the eeahtrosee?"

  Vaskos sighed gustily. "What can they do, if the man is to live? They dose him well with hwiskee or strong cordials, bludgeon him unconscious, then cut off the leg." Absently, he rubbed at his scarred thigh.

  "Odd, but I was wounded, just so, by a Tcharlztuhnee spear. But the bleeding and poultices worked, in my case. Very odd, indeed, Kinsman Klairuhnz, that your example should have been a wound so like to mine own."

  Bili smiled into his wine cup. Considering what he had just learned of the so-called Bard's abilities in delving minds, he did not consider the incident at all odd.

  "Just a coincidence," Klairuhnz shrugged, adding, "But that course of treatment is used on a fresh wound, Vaskos. Let us say that the wounded man was pinned under a dead horse, and lay on the field for a day or so, ere he was found by the eeahtrosee. What then?"

  "They'd take no chances," stated Vaskos soberly. "They'd have the leg off almost at once."

  "Why?" demanded Klairuhnz.

  "Sun and Wind, man," Vaskos burst out. "Because if they waited too long, or didn't take the leg at all, the poisons would possibly spread throughout the entire body and kill the man."

  Then Klairuhnz said, "Vaskos, the Confederation is a social body. The Gafnee rebellion was a wound to that body, a seriously infected wound. That infection was well commenced, ere Strahteegos Kuk and the Ahrkeethoheeks came to treat it. To have dispersed the rebels would have been to insure the infection of other parts of the body, the Confederation. Therefore, like eeahtrosee, they excised the infection, removed it cleanly, did everything within their power to halt its spread."

  "Yes, Vaskos, the Gafnee executions were an extreme measure and the hearts of many would brand them cruel, but the mind must see it for what it truly was: a necessary expedient, intended to restore the health of the Confederation!"

  4

  Komees Djeen Morguhn was tall, even taller than Bili, and spare. He marched rather than walked, striding to the silent beat of a personal drum. His face would have been handsome as Bili's, save for the long scar, which in healing had twisted his upper lip into a perpetual grin, and had taken his left eye as well. He was also missing most of one ear, the last two fingers of his sword hand, and his left hand and wrist, which had been replaced by a shiny brass cap and hook. His scars and his limp were the marks of his former profession. Despite the aches and pains, which increased with every year and were accentuated by damp weather, Komees Djeen counted himself very lucky, for precious few career soldiers ever saw their sixtieth year.

  He never really felt dressed unless some manner of
armor weighted his shoulders. Tonight it was a hip-length jacket of brigandine, cinched about his narrow waist by an Army sword belt supporting his purse and plain, well-worn dirk. Between the lower hem of the brigandine and the still buckled tops of his jackboots could be seen his sensible, linen-canvas breeches.

  The short man who followed him went garbed in the simple, five-piece ensemble of the Horseclansman—loose, pullover shirt; wide, big-buckled dirk belt; and baggy trousers tucked into short, soft boots. His only armament was a broad-bladed rancher's knife. Though he could not recall ever having seen him, Bili had no trouble in identifying him as Lord Drehkos, Komees Hari's brother, for the two men were like as peas in a pod.

  The third man, however, was an utter stranger. He was about Bill's height, and like him his shoulders were wide and thick; his long arms ended in a big, wide hands. But there the similarity ended, for the man was obviously a Kath'ahrohs or full-blood Ehleen. His long pomaded hair was blue-black and his skin tone, like Vaskos', was a dark olive, though his finer features made him a far more handsome man.

  This stranger was garbed in black, from foot to pate. His delicately grained, glove-soft boots rose to mid-thigh. Both they and his belt had been buffed until they threw back the lamplight like expanses of onyx. His sleeveless tunic encased him from shoulders to boot tops and was wrought of that thick, lustrous velvet for which the Duchy of Klahksburk was justly famous. The sleeves of his silken shirt billowed from shoulder to wrist, where they were drawn tight, and atop his head drooped a soft cap of the Klahksburk, its center and edges adorned with arabesques stitched out in silver wire. The case and hilt of his dress dirk were of black leather, the former edged and studded with silver and the latter wound with silver wire; its pommel consisted of a bright silver ball almost two inches in diameter. Also silver was the massy, flatlink chain which was draped over his shoulders, but the pendant it supported was gold.