by Джеффри Лорд
The leader looked to the right and the left and saw the others in the circle meet his eyes. Eleven swords rose, while eleven mouths opened to shout war cries.
Then Blade heard the thunder of hooves in the distance, and a harsh, brazen horn call. A moment later he heard something else-the swelling whistle and whine of a flight of arrows. And then the arrows arrived.
Two took the leader in the chest, hitting him so hard that he sailed backward off his horse. He seemed to hang suspended in the air for a moment, the mouth that had been open to shout a war cry still open in a shout of surprise and pain. Then he crashed to the ground, kicked twice, and lay still.
Two of his men went down in the same flight of arrows, and a horse jumped and screamed. The circle around Blade held for only one more moment as though the surviving horsemen were too paralyzed to move. In that moment Blade urged the Golden Steed forward. He was heading toward the side of the circle away from the arrows. The oncoming men might be friendly, but that didn't mean he wanted to ride straight into their arms.
The weary golden horse didn't have time or space to build up much speed. It was barely moving at a walk when it reached the circle. For a moment Blade had a sick fear that he was going to be a sitting target.
But then fear hit the enemy horsemen, and they dug in their spurs and bolted. Blade's sword flashed right, then left, and two horsemen sagged out of their saddles. Blinded with fear, they never saw or knew what hit them. Another looked back at Blade and the archers, just in time to get an arrow from the second flight in his throat. He gurgled and clawed at the arrow for a moment, then his horse dashed headlong under a tree. A low-hanging branch swept him out of his saddle and spilled him to the ground. He lay there writhing and choking, until another arrow put an end to his struggles.
A moment later the approaching hoofbeats swelled to a thunder, and a dozen horsemen came pouring past Blade. He had a brief glimpse of small lean men on similarly small and lean horses. Each had a strung bow in his hands, and was controlling his horse even at a full gallop with his knees. They swept past in a cloud of dust. As they did so, Blade saw the bows bend and then snap straight a third time, and another flight of arrows winged off, black against the sunlit sky. Distant screams of men and horses told of more arrows finding their targets.
The horse archers did not slow or slacken their pace until they were almost out of sight. As they pounded away into the distance, Blade saw some of them sling their bows on their backs and break out lances. Each time they passed the body of an enemy lying on the ground, two or three would stop and jab the lances into him several times. Finally they all stopped, then turned and rode back toward Blade.
Blade had dismounted by this time. There was no point to imposing his two hundred pounds of muscle and bone on the exhausted horse any longer. If the horse archers proved hostile, he would have no more chance of escaping on horseback than on foot. Not with his mount exhausted. Not with the new enemies armed with bows that could pick him off like a duck on the wing fifty yards away. And they might not be hostile. «The enemy of my enemy is my friend» wasn't always something one could rely on. But it was at least a reasonable starting point.
The horsemen rode toward him in a wide half-circle. Their lances were still in their hands, but the points were aimed up at the sky. They slowed from a canter to a trot, from a trot to a walk, then stopped altogether about ten yards from Blade. They were all staring at him and at the Golden Steed with a look in their eyes Blade couldn't quite analyze or explain. It was not hostility, but it certainly wasn't friendliness either. Blade swallowed. Were they waiting for him to make the first move? He spread his hands, palms outwards in the universal peace sign.
As if that had been a signal, all fourteen men sprang down from their horses. Then as one man, they fell face down on the ground, hands strewn out toward Blade. A low murmuring rose into the air, a pair of chanted phrases.
«The Pendarnoth has come. The Golden Steed has come. The Pendarnoth has come. The Golden Steed has come. The Pendarnoth has come… «
CHAPTER FOUR
It took Blade a little while to realize that these men were worshiping him as a god or holy man. During that time he stood motionless, hands still outspread in the peace gesture. He suspected there must be an idiotic gape of astonishment on his face. However, his mental reflexes were nearly as fast as his physical ones. If it had been otherwise, Blade would long since have been dead many times over. So he was a god, was he? He had played the role before, in more than one Dimension. It had much to recommend it: good working conditions, set your own hours, all sorts of fringe benefits-he quickly shut off the whimsical line of thinking.
He let the chanting go on for a little while longer, then lowered his hands and opened his mouth. «Warriors! Rise and speak! The Golden Steed is indeed come, and the Pendarnoth with it. But you shall honor them on your feet, not on your bellies.» He hadn't the remotest notion of who or what he was supposed to be, but these few sentences had the right ring to them. Rule One for being a god: If you can't say the right thing, say everything you do say as impressively as possible-then people won't notice any mistakes you might make.
The tone and the words broke through the men's awe. One by one they rose to their knees. Most of them were still staring at Blade. Finally, one man rose to his feet and came forward, both hands held together in front of him as if in prayer. But his head was not bowed, and the black eyes in the lean face were surveying Blade without fear.
«Were there any more of the Rojags besides those we slew here, Pendarnoth?»
The Rojags, Blade gathered, were the horsemen who had been pursuing him. «There were some who may be alive back that way.» He pointed.
«How far?»
«I do not know exactly.» Was that the wrong answer? Was the Pendarnoth supposed to be omniscient? «About ten minutes back that way-«he pointed,»-at a gallop. I was in a great hurry.»
For the first time the man smiled. «That I can well believe.» He turned to his men. «Up, up on your feet, all of you. The Pendarnoth himself has said it-honor him on your feet like warriors, not on your bellies like snakes or bugs. The Pendarnoth said he left some of the Rojags perhaps not dead back about four o f in to the west. Six of you go back, find them, and kill them. None among the Rojags must know that the Pendarnoth has come, that the Golden Steed has come.»
Reluctantly, six of the men rose to their feet, mounted, and trotted off in a precise line. The officer turned back to Blade. «Pendarnoth, it will be simpler if you know my name. I am Guroth, a captain in the guards of King Nefus of Pendar. Rumors had come to Vilesh, the royal city of Pendar, that the Golden Steed had been seen, that the Pendarnoth had been seen. I was ordered to take my men north into the land of the Rojags. I was ordered to see if there was any truth in these rumors and, if so, how much. It seems there was complete and utter truth. It was beyond my dreams and deserving to be the first of all Pendar to hail the Pendarnoth.» There was awe in his voice as he said that, and for a moment he seemed about to go down on his knees again. But he conquered the impulse and went on.
«We saw the dust cloud from a long way off, and knew that it must be Rojags. They do not use the bow, so we can usually beat them. I decided to attack. If we took prisoners, I could perhaps find out more about the rumors from them. As we came closer, I saw that the Rojags were chasing somebody. Then I recognized the Golden Steed. It was a terrible moment for me. How could we shoot at the Rojags without danger to the Golden Steed and to you? But my men are good archers, and we killed the Rojags.»
«You did well, Captain Guroth,» said Blade. The officer seemed to want to be praised, so why not oblige him? «But I also have a name. It is Richard Blade.»
«A strange name,» said Guroth. «But it does not matter how strange it is, for you will not be called by it among the Pendari. It is written in the Book of the Nine Prophets that he who comes to Pendar riding the Golden Steed will be the Pendarnoth, the Father of Pendar.»
«So be it,» said Bla
de. He wondered if he should ask for a copy of the book whose prophecies he had accidentally fulfilled. It might give him a few clues as to how to act. He disliked flying blind in something where his life might be the price of a single mistake.
But Guroth was continuing. «How did you come to ride the Golden Steed, Oh Pendarnoth? The rumors spoke of a man called Nurash, a war chief of the mountain tribes to the north even of the Rojags. Do you know him, or at least of him?»
That question forced Blade into some exceedingly fast thinking. How much could he admit safely? Finally he said slowly, «I have heard of this man called Nurash also. But I have never met him, spoken to him, or even seen him. He is as much a name to me as he is to you. I have heard tales that he is dead, slain by wild animals or the Rojags.»
«Indeed,» said Guroth. «Perhaps the gods saw he was not worthy and sent the animals or Rojags to destroy him. They can do such things.»
«No one doubts this,» said Blade. «But I heard of him as a brave man and a warrior. If he is dead, I grieve, for there are few such.»
«There is no denying that,» said Guroth with a sigh.
Now the men who had gone to track down the remaining Rojags were coming back. Blade found himself almost holding his breath as they approached. The Rojags who had attacked him were almost certainly of the same band that had attacked Chief Nurash. Suppose one of them talked before he died, talked of a fight with another man who had ridden the Golden Steed before Blade? Guroth's wits seemed too sharp for him to let such a story pass. His awe of the Pendarnoth would not keep him from asking pointed questions. In fact, it would make him ask those questions, even of Blade. And if he did not get the answers he wanted? Blade knew that the fate of a man posing as a long-awaited religious figure could be hard indeed. He wondered if the local gods demanded human sacrifices, and if so by what method?
But for the moment at least there was nothing to fear. The six horsemen returned to declare all the Rojags dead-nothing else. Guroth turned to Blade and said, «O Pendarnoth, it seems to me proper now that we ride for Vilesh. King Nefus will want to behold you and do you proper honor. So will the High Councilor and all the nobles and warriors and people of Pendar. This is a great moment for all of us. We are truly beloved of the gods. Now, though all the soldiers of Lanyr come against us, we shall prevail.» Guroth swung himself lightly into the saddle and motioned Blade to do the same.
The Pendari moved out slowly, holding their pace to the gentle jog that was all Blade would ask of the weary Golden Steed. After three hours they stopped by the river to refill their water bottle and lunch on dried meat and flat hard bread. The Pendari warriors would not permit Blade to do a thing for himself. They waited on him hand and foot, filling his water bottles, sharpening his battered sword, pressing clean clothes on him, handing the food to him and all but shoving it into his mouth. Blade felt like a goose being fattened for the slaughter. He could not help wondering in fact if the destined duty of the Pendarnoth was to be sacrificed after he had performed his other duties. What those duties were, he still didn't have the faintest idea. Guroth would no doubt tell him, but it might not be wise to ask the captain too many questions where the other warriors could overhear. Guroth seemed an intelligent enough man not to be surprised that the destined savior of the Pendari knew not the first thing about them or their problems. The other warriors might not be so wise.
Blade's chance came when they had made camp for the night. They pushed on until well after dark in an effort to get clear of Rojag land, and it took them an hour after that to make camp. By the time dinner was over, the fires blazing orange in the darkness, and the sentries posted, the only thing Blade was ready for was sleep. But Guroth had apparently decided to take one of the first watches himself. This gave Blade a perfect opportunity to ask the necessary questions.
He rose to his feet and strode past the fire, out to where the captain was pacing back and forth, hand on his sword hilt, eyes ceaselessly flicking from side to side. The captain made the hands-together greeting to Blade.
«Hail, oh Pendarnoth. It is said that the Pendarnoth shall have ten times the strength of a man. Is this true of you? You do not seem tired.»
Blade laughed. «Am I supposed to have the strength of ten in everything, Guroth?»
The officer smiled. «In everything, so the stories, say. But the stories are not part of the Book of the Nine Prophets. I do not think people will expect that you have the strength of ten. Although there may be women who hope so, and will even try to find out.»
«I will worry about that when it happens,» said Blade with a grin. Then his voice and expression sobered. «No, Guroth, I am only a man who has been called to this honor by the gods after many years of being nothing but a traveler and a warrior. I have traveled far and I have tried to be a good warrior. But I do not know if all I have learned of men and war will be enough to make me worthy of being Pendarnoth.»
Guroth looked hard at Blade. Blade's words seemed to have surprised him, or at least to have been something he was not expecting. There was on his face the unmistakable look of a man weighing his words with care before saying them. Blade was the Pendarnoth, who would have great and terrible power among the Pendari as soon as they arrived. But he was also a man. He might have human weaknesses that would make it unsafe to tell him things he could use against the Pendari. Blade knew that if Guroth decided to be cautious and closed-mouthed, there was nothing he could do except submit graciously-and keep his ears open even wider.
Finally Guroth shook his head slowly. «I am glad you have confessed this to me, for I am of the party of King Nefus. Do not admit ignorance or any other weakness before one of the High Councilor's party. They will perhaps doubt that you are the destined Pendarnoth. Even if they do not doubt it themselves, they will spread rumors that you are not. Such rumors will weaken the Pendari in the face of the Lanyri. And if they neither doubt nor spread rumors, they will at least try to take advantage of your ignorance. They will try to 'tell the truth' about the affairs of Pendar.»
«And that means they will try to win me over to their party?»
«They will. I see you understand how such factions work.»
«I have seen a good many such, and survived them all.»
More than I can ever admit to you or anyone else, Blade added mentally. Aloud he said, «How am I supposed to know who is of the High Councilor's party?»
«Some of them will be obvious, the moment you see Klerus, the High Councilor. As for the rest, I will do my best to warn you.»
That was an opening that Blade had not expected. Now he took prompt advantage of it.
«Yes, Guroth. You say you will warn me. But why should I trust you any more than the High Councilor Klerus? What do you wish for Pendar, and what does he wish? As you say, I am a stranger here.»
This time there was no mistaking the look of surprise on Guroth's face. It was a long minute before the captain recovered from that surprise enough to continue. His words came out even more slowly and reluctantly than before, at least at first.
«I will swear by all the gods and prophets of the Pendari that I speak the truth. And I will also swear by anything you hold sacred, for I understand that our gods may not be yours and therefore mean nothing to you yet.
«But if that is so, I urge you to conceal it. Klerus the High Councilor gets much of his support from the priests, who do not understand what he truly wants. They are most of them good and simple men, who only see in Klerus a man who would have the old ways of worship enforced and those lax in them punished severely. They will be watching you like an eagle watching a lamb on the earth far below, watching for any sign of disrespect to what they cherish. And if they find such, they will tell Klerus, and he will use it against you.»
«Thank you,» said Blade with elaborate sarcasm. «I am grateful to you for telling me so much that I did not ask about. You are generous. But you have not told me why I should join your party.»
«The king's party,» said Guroth, with the first sign
of irritation he had shown.
«Very well, call it the king's party,» said Blade calmly. «But why should I choose either the king's party or the High Councilor's? What does the High Councilor want to do that you and the king oppose? I must have an answer to that, Guroth. If I do not have one soon, you will not have a Pendarnoth. I will mount the Golden Steed and ride away to some land where people will give me straight answers and not use me as a toy in their own games.» There was an edge in his voice as he said the last sentences.
For a moment, Guroth's jaw set hard, and Blade wondered if the captain was going to lose his temper. Then the Pendari officer's mood seemed to change in a split-second. A thin smile spread across his lean brown face.
«You are a suspicious man. It is not going to make dealing with you easy for me. But it will not make it easier for Klerus to deal with you either. You have certainly learned a great deal in those travels and wars of yours.»
«I would not be alive today to become the Pendarnoth if I had not.»
«I can imagine. Someday when we have time you must tell me of your adventures. But that day will be a long time off, I fear.» Guroth clasped his hands behind his back and looked straight into Blade's eyes. «Let us agree. I will tell you what I know of the state of things in Pendar, and how I see them. But I will not ask that you do more than listen to what I will say now. When you get to Vilesh, you can listen in the same way to the High Councilor or whoever he sends to tell you his story. And you may also look about you and see for yourself what is going on.»
