Also, there was absolutely no doubt in my mind that we hadn’t seen the last of Carazaar.
As I drifted feather-light into the conflict, the strongest conviction was borne in on me that Carazaar had too much invested in all that had gone before, all his schemes, all his dreams of impossible dominion, to fade from the scene now.
Oh, no, that rast would be back.
Then all that dire speculation was washed away in the sight of what was going on in one of the town’s squares. A mass of struggling Fish Faces and Katakis surged like stampeding cattle. Many ran and fell to be trampled by their fellows. Many threw away their weapons. A few, a very few, trapped at the tail of the rout, attempted to strike back at what pursued them. At what pursued them! What a sight they made, the brumbytes of the Fifth Phalanx, helmets low, shields high, pikes all in line and thrusting remorselessly on! Nothing could stand in the way of that headlong charge. Over the din of battle rang the chanted paeans of the brumbytes, fierce, devoted pikemen, grim in their dedication to their corps, to their leader and to Vallia.
Slanting in my fall, I saw I would pass over that square and touch down in a cross street a few blocks further on.
Here I landed with a spring in my legs, instantly ready for action. A group of Schtarkins rushed crazily down the street pursued by a bunch of my lads from 3EYJ. There was no mistaking their yellow jackets and the ferocity of their onslaught. All over the city brilliant little cameos like this were being enacted as our forces mopped up the enemy.
They hullabalooed on and vanished past the corner. Directly across the side street the swift stumbling forms of Katakis burst into view. The whiptails were now clearly ruing their alliance with the Shanks. The magnificently uniformed troopers of Karidge’s EDLG galloped after them and great was the execution thereof. Then I looked again, and blinked and smiled. Amidst all the clamor of battle there was no mistaking the stentorian bellow of the massive figure astride a zorca urging on a running group of swordsmen. Nath Javed, Old Hack ’n’ Slay, was in there with the best, hurling his brigade on to the utter destruction of the foe.
In the momentum of the pursuit he did not spot me in the shadows of the buildings. I did not call out. He had his duty to perform and he would carry out that duty whilst breath persisted in his body.
Now there was no doubt we had the upper hand in Taranjin. The baleful influence of Carazaar had been removed. If the Shanks did not take to their ships and escape then none would survive.
I cut through an alley and came out unexpectedly onto a scene I had no wish to see. Four Katakis surrounded the lissom form of a girl. She fought them magnificently with rapier and Claw, striking and dancing as though limned in light. I recognized Deldar Paline Asatha and in the instant I dashed forward a cruel trident thrust past her defense and stabbed her in the body. She did not fall and her Claw sliced the face from the whiptail. But she had been sorely hurt. She stumbled. Then I took the head off the nearest Kataki in a spouting welter of blood. The other two span about and the Krozair brand lunged between corselet rim and helmet of the first, withdrew and twitched across to slice the right arm from the other. He screamed incredulously and Paline put her rapier neatly into his eye.
The Jikai Vuvushi looked at me with wide, drugged eyes.
I caught her in the crook of my left arm. “It is all right, Paline. You’ve done for them.”
“Majister!” Blood welled up between her lips. Gently I placed her on the ground and stripped clothes from the Katakis to cover her, keep her warm. “The Puncture Ladies will be here directly.”
“Majister.” She reached up a blood-dabbled hand, trying to form words. “The Empress! The Katakis—”
I felt all my blood rush to my head so that I thought my skull would explode.
Then I felt deathly cold.
“Paline! Where—?”
She pointed across the street into the continuation of the alley.
I remember the coldness of the alley and the stroke of the Suns across my head as I burst into the avenue beyond. They must have recognized the worth of their prisoner, and slavers to their cores determined to gain some merchandise from this debacle. They were just mounting up. Their zorcas looked a mettlesome bunch, and there were more zorcas than Katakis after the battle. They saw me. Delia was lying unconscious across a zorca and the Kataki’s snaggle-fanged mouth split into a derisive and hating grin. He gave his animal a thwack and he bounded off. There were six others and they galloped off after their leader.
The zorca didn’t particularly want me to mount up. He tried to curvet away, and I had absolutely no remorse as, zorca-man though I am, I gave him a belt to make him behave. He quietened and I flung myself on his back. The whiptails carrying Delia off were now spurring down the street. I could see no one else in view. I gave the zorca the flat of my blade and he started and neighed and then went hell for leather after the others.
I’d catch them. I’d catch all seven of them and I’d slay all seven of them. No one was going to take my Delia from me, my Delia of Delphond, my Delia of the Blue Mountains.
The zorca ran because he understood a demon sat on his back and would unhesitatingly lash him without mercy. I hit him again. We were catching the Katakis. One looked back and yelled.
The stench of battle, the noise, the sights, all flowed away into a hollow silence between my ears. I could see only Delia and the Katakis. A blue mist hovered before my eyes. I felt cold.
At first I didn’t understand, so wrapped up in agony and fury and determination. Then I did understand.
I did not want to believe.
“No!” I screamed it up as I’d never shrieked at the Star Lords before. “No! Give me time, give me time!”
The blue mist thickened. I lost sight of the whiptails and Delia. All around me the blueness grew. The shape of the phantom Scorpion hovered above, gigantic, absolute, not to be ignored.
Up I went. Up and up, drawn into the blueness of the Scorpion of the Everoinye. There was no arbitration. The Star Lords wanted me.
Screaming incoherently, I felt myself flung into the gulfs of nothingness, bathed in cold, destroyed to my heart, whilst my Delia was hurried off into a captivity I could not contemplate in reason.
Delia! Delia! Delia! Ahead of me lay only a black nothingness.
About the author
Alan Burt Akers was a pen name of the prolific British author Kenneth Bulmer, who died in December 2005 aged eighty-four.
Bulmer wrote over 160 novels and countless short stories, predominantly science fiction, both under his real name and numerous pseudonyms, including Alan Burt Akers, Frank Brandon, Rupert Clinton, Ernest Corley, Peter Green, Adam Hardy, Philip Kent, Bruno Krauss, Karl Maras, Manning Norvil, Chesman Scot, Nelson Sherwood, Richard Silver, H. Philip Stratford, and Tully Zetford. Kenneth Johns was a collective pseudonym used for a collaboration with author John Newman. Some of Bulmer’s works were published along with the works of other authors under "house names" (collective pseudonyms) such as Ken Blake (for a series of tie-ins with the 1970s television programme The Professionals), Arthur Frazier, Neil Langholm, Charles R. Pike, and Andrew Quiller.
Bulmer was also active in science fiction fandom, and in the 1970s he edited nine issues of the New Writings in Science Fiction anthology series in succession to John Carnell, who originated the series.
More details about the author, and current links to other sources of information, can be found at
www.mushroom-ebooks.com, and at wikipedia.org.
The Dray Prescot Series
The Delian Cycle:
1. Transit to Scorpio
2. The Suns of Scorpio
3. Warrior of Scorpio
4. Swordships of Scorpio
5. Prince of Scorpio
Havilfar Cycle:
6. Manhounds of Antares
7. Arena of Antares
8. Fliers of Antares
9. Bladesman of Antares
10. Avenger of Antares
11. Armada of Antares<
br />
The Krozair Cycle:
12. The Tides of Kregen
13. Renegade of Kregen
14. Krozair of Kregen
Vallian cycle:
15. Secret Scorpio
16. Savage Scorpio
17. Captive Scorpio
18. Golden Scorpio
Jikaida cycle:
19. A Life for Kregen
20. A Sword for Kregen
21. A Fortune for Kregen
22. A Victory for Kregen
Spikatur cycle:
23. Beasts of Antares
24. Rebel of Antares
25. Legions of Antares
26. Allies of Antares
Pandahem cycle:
27. Mazes of Scorpio
28. Delia of Vallia
29. Fires of Scorpio
30. Talons of Scorpio
31. Masks of Scorpio
32. Seg the Bowman
Witch War cycle:
33. Werewolves of Kregen
34. Witches of Kregen
35. Storm over Vallia
36. Omens of Kregen
37. Warlord of Antares
Lohvian cycle:
38. Scorpio Reborn
39. Scorpio Assassin
40. Scorpio Invasion
41. Scorpio Ablaze
42. Scorpio Drums
43. Scorpio Triumph
Balintol cycle:
44. Intrigue of Antares
45. Gangs of Antares
46. Demons of Antares
47. Scourge of Antares
48. Challenge of Antares
49. Wrath of Antares
50. Shadows over Kregen
Phantom cycle:
51. Murder on Kregen
52. Turmoil on Kregen
Notes
[1] Queyd-arn-tung — No more need be said. A.B.A.
[2] dernun? An imperative demand: ‘Do you understand?’ Not very polite. A.B.A.
[3] bratch! Move, jump, get on with it. Not as ferocious as the infamous grak! A.B.A.
Copyright © 1992, Kenneth Bulmer
Alan Burt Akers has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, to be identified as the Author of this work.
First published by Heyne Verlag in German in 1992.
This Edition published in 2008 by Mushroom eBooks, an imprint of Mushroom Publishing, Bath, BA1 4EB, United Kingdom
www.mushroom-ebooks.com
First English eBook edition by Savanti Press in 1998
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher.
ISBN 1843197073
Scorpio Ablaze Page 19
