Camelot in Orbit

by Arthur H. Landis

  What difference now?

  “We’ll see two things,” he was saying. “How our enemy fights, and how those horned things with stings do answer our Dark One’s call….

  I inwardly shuddered. For I knew right then that my Omnians had never seen a meeg either.

  The sun broke through again to change the reddish hell to a bronze-gold hell instead.

  Hooli? We rode down over the still burning earth. Bodies were everywhere in the destroyed huts of the village. Those who’d had no time to flee had simply been butchered. And so it was on all the farmsteads, too. We passed great cracks in the rived earth; saw them for the first time, some were as much as a foot in width, with flames and gases still ensuing from their depths.

  Despite the heat we were forced to protect our faces with a section of our cloaks, wet with water. Our poor dottles suffered.

  We halted in the burnt fields on a line some hundred yards from the meager stream.

  The Dark One’s host was at another hundred yards on the farther side. They were motionless then, drums and horns quiet. Indeed, all was silent-excepting sporadic howls from the awesome skaiding. Cowled wizards-as opposed to priest-warriors-and I counted twelve of them, sat their mounts before solid companies of knights and spearmen. Each one was protected by a half-dozen great Yorns in bronzed armor. Noting this, I sent Tober to quick collect my fifty with their leader, Unghist. “I’ve a trick,” I told the frowning Sernas. “We’ll fight the Kaleen’s ‘Cowls’ with Ormon’s fire.”

  To Unghist I said, “You and yours will stay with me wherever I will go. And thus will you earn your freedom.”

  At which Rawl shouted fiercely, disclosing his own unreasonable hatred of Yorns -

  “And since where he goes, ‘all trouble comes,’ you can damn well prepare to die!”

  Unghist said nothing, simply nodded. I glanced hard at the others. They nodded too.

  And that was that.

  The dam-we were looking upstream toward it-was still visible in the haze. We therefore witnessed young Sernas’ attack. He and his cohorts were obviously anxious to prove themselves-though, too, I’m sure, that if things went awry, I’d rescue them with my magick. This is not to say that they lacked in courage, but rather to suggest a certain, lingering opportunism. For they were Omnians. And character had in no way been a part of the Dark One’s curricula.

  The cowled wizards, seeing Sernas’ advance, moved to counter him. Driving hard along the dam’s top, he met them three-quarters of the way across. The height of the earthern structure was fifty feet. Dottles and riders alike were literally hurled from it to fall like rain upon an equally vicious melee at the dam’s bottom. It was a sight to see. Sernas’ sybarites led their men bravely, fought recklessly, and for the sheer joy of winning. The Dark One’s warriors fought because they had to. And, in the doing, found they could retreat with little or no risk from their master. Upon which they retreated still further, and faster. A disastrous error, really. Sernas’ warriors simply drove into their undefended backs with fighting spear and sword.

  It was a massacre!

  Until the Dark One unleashed the first of two gigantic meegs. I say “unleashed,” for it had obviously been held in check until that moment. But the Dark One, ever stupid in the area of detail, had simply overlooked the fact that to a meeg, meat was meat. The living prey was anything he could get his sting into and clutch in his ghastly claws.

  In effect, finding that he could move again-and he could just as easily have leapt backward-the thing jumped ahead one hundred feet to land in the midst of a group of the Kaleen’s fleeing warriors. His great body crushed a number of them; his sting jabbed in lightning-like rapier thrusts in all directions and his claws seized instantly upon those he would kill and eat, for he was ravenous…. The sight produced a wave of horror in the ranks of both armies. Young Sernas, now in possession of the dam, top and bottom, understandably made no move to advance any farther.

  “So that is a meeg,” my princess said.

  I patted her arm while Rawl answered for me, saying, “Indeed, it is! The very reason we’d not be here if there’d been no ice and snow in Marack….”

  Why the Dark One failed to advance his monster farther, I could only guess; the first guess being that perhaps the horror could not be forced from the feeding-even by the Kaleen. The one thing I did know now-it would be of little use to him in the long run. For, as we’d seen, it attacked all living things, indiscriminately. This was not true of the kaati’s though, the Fregisian grizzlies. With them there was a certain control. As for the skaiding?

  Well, there was but one of those.

  We’d have to kill it!

  Great Fomalhaut mounted higher in the eastern sky. The rising heat of it - or mayhap some other power? fought the Dark One’s clouds, forced them away, only to have them return again. There was no point in waiting. Time was running out.

  Our realignment was made quickly and in the face of flights of arrows sent against us.

  The distance being too great, they did little damage. Rawl’s five thousand split to join with the twenty-five hundred at either flank. Young Sernas, after leaving five hundred at the dam, took over the left flank with his blooded captains who were now quite proud of themselves-ignoring, of course, the reality of the meeg, against which they had dared not advance.

  The Barons, Gol-Tabus and Gol-Tairs, moved off to command the right flank. Myself, Lord Akin Sernas and Lord Gol-Spils, would command the center. Three thousand of our best were placed under the command of Lord Hakem and Rawl to act as a reserve….

  We did the one thing needed then, by the Omnians, though I thought it a waste of time. We ceremoniously rode down our length of front to show the colors of all those in rebellion against the Dark One. We did it twice, back and forth; with a dropping of the various commanders to the front of their respective units. At the second pass we were joined by five dottles, led by Hargis, who flew my twin banners. Riding the dottles were Hooli, Pawbi, Jindil, Chuuk, and Dakti, of the five kingdoms of the North.

  I explained this to Sernas and the others. It meant nothing to them. Though the effect of the music of the previous night remained (along with the ongoing, keying of the notes of today) any memory they might have had of the Pub Boos actually playing their instruments had fast faded-a part of the built-in package. So they remained in Omnian eyes what they had always been: mangy little leaf-eaters who were good for nothing at all. They even tasted bad, Lord Gol-Stils told me. Fortunately he did this out of the hearing of Murie and my stalwarts, else they’d had his liver then and there.

  Still, the presence of the Boos did seem to add the lusty cheers and hoorahs that greeted us all down the line. Strange that they had that faculty-to be able to shout, even boast, in the face of the horrors across the stream. In a way, though they knew it not, they were changing. I even sensed a wave of tingling euphoria from all of them. Its’ origin most certainly lay in Pug Boo “goodness.”

  The drums were now going at a hellish rate on the other side. A myriad of great horns were also blasting out. They sounded like great gerds in challenge. As we neared the center again, I ordered Hargis to conduct the Boos to the rear….

  -Upon which, Hooli’s voice, loud enough to crack a mastoid, sounded off.

  “Collin-Kyrie, you’ve one job to do before you get this mass of meat in motion. Unless you kill that damn lizard, baby, they won’t make it.”

  “Whaddaya mean… Check that enthusiasm, man! They’re ready!”

  “They’ll fall apart. Don’t you understand? The skaiding’s controlled, by himself!”

  “The Kaleen?” Even inside my own head, I could hardly hear my voice.

  “That’s right.”

  I breathed deeply. “And if I don’t choose to fight it?”

  “How can you not-Collin?”

  “Even if I killed it-” I became evasive in my sudden fear-“What’s to prevent another from showing up immediately?”

  “That will not happen.”
<
br />   “I don’t know that.”

  “I’m telling you.”

  “Damn you, Hooli! The Omnians will kill the skaiding. They’re ready for it-psyched for it….”

  “Kyrie-they know not what they do! They are true Alphians , born with the curse and the courage of that dead planet. They will ignore what they cannot stand to think of.”

  “No!” I said.

  “What will you do then? lead these poor bastards to their death. Better you crashed your scoutship against the pyramid, adjuster Kyrie Fern, than to mindlessly attack the skaiding.”

  “How in the name of your bloody Dark One am I supposed to kill the skaiding?”

  “You did not destroy the pyramid. The skaiding is therefore your problem. If you cannot kill it, certainly none of these can.”

  “Even if I did, what of the meegs, Hooli? A skaiding can kill a meeg. But a meeg can and will kill ten times the men a skaiding will-for the sheer pleasure of it.”

  “Just kill the skaiding, Kyrie. No one can help you. Just kill it, now!”

  And he was gone. And the others watched me strangely, as if I had been away and had just returned.

  I breathed deeply and looked across at the Hishian host and wondered how, even with skaiding dead, we could defeat that mass of warriors. Our Marackians had yet to arrive, and across that stream were now at least thirty thousand of the foe. I breathed deeply again. They were waiting for my signal.

  Rawl bent close from his mount. “My lord. Is aught amiss? You’re acting strange.”

  I said softly, “Shieldman, brother. ‘Tis that I must first fight that damned monster alone.”

  His eyes blazed in both anger and fear for me. He shouted, “By Ormon, Collin, and do you do it alone, I’ll never call you friend again.”

  The lords around us all drew back not knowing why Rawl said what he did, or what he meant.

  “Do you think,” I said harshly, “that I make this choice myself? Nay, swordsmen. Not this time. My word, sir. If I’d a choice, I’d let you do it ten times over….”

  “Now hear me, all!” I cried aloud, rising in my stirrups. “It is written, sirs, on the palm of my hands that ‘the Collin’ must fight that dread beast yonder. Therefore I ask that no man bar my way, nor seek to join me in what I have to do, for his honor’s sake. Only these Yorns will I take with me, and my swordsmen Griswall and Hargis….

  “My Prince Til-Keeves, who is the true Lord Rawl Fergis of Marack, nephew to Marack’s queen, will command in my absence, is it agreed?”

  And they, expecting miracles, cheered. And why should they not agree?

  But my Princess, sensing something rotten in the state of Om, seized a skin of small javelins from the nearest warrior and said strongly to me, “I go to live or die with you, my lord, for yon ‘beast’ is not Gol-Bades, nor is it a frozen meeg. And if you try to stop me, sir, I’ll draw first blood from you. So speaks your Queen. Now lead, and I will follow.”

  I swallowed hard and nodded, bade the three of them to ride close on my dottle’s rump.

  At the stream’s edge I called the Yorns to me. “There are twelve wizards over there,” I nodded, “and fifty of you. Each wizard is guarded by many Yorns. Do you stay to the rear of us. If a wizard approaches, send some of yours to stop him. They must speak with the wizard’s guards; tell them that I and this new Omnian army bring them their freedom to live as men; that they must not defend the wizard.”

  “Must we then attack the wizards?” Unghist and the others asked in awe.

  Without your fellows there’s nought to attack,” I said bluntly. “Strike at the cowls. You’ll find them empty, filled only with the Dark One’s voice.”

  Unghist, hesitating, looked to the others. They nodded. He said, ‘We will do it, Lord.”

  “You will do more than that,” I snapped. ‘For if this princess, my companion, is attacked, you will defend her to the death. Is that understood?”

  “It is.”

  “Good!”

  I turned then toward the Hishian host, my spear above my head, and shouted in an amplified roar to be heard in all direction:

  “HEAR ME NOW! I AM THE PRINCE TIL-CARES OF THE SELIG ISLES: HE WHO

  IN THE NORTH IS KNOWN AS THE ‘COLL1N’ OF MARACK! I WILL SEEK NOW IN

  SINGLE COMBAT TO TEST YOUR MONSTER, THE DARK ONE’S IMAGE, ON THE

  FIELD OF BATTLE.… DO YOU HEAR ME, FIEND OF DARKNESS?”

  I roared dramatically to the skies.

  “I COME TO KILL YOUR SKAIDING! DARE TO SEND

  HIM FROM YOUR RANKS, NOW!”

  And I sent my mount, an aging but heavily muscled dottle, to dash through the knee-deep stream in a froth of spume and water. As the others plunged in after me the very earth around us shook again. The Dark One’s answer?

  The Hishian kettledrums began anew. I rode arrogantly toward their mounting roar; headed directly to where the great standards of this lord and that hung limply in the heated air. Some pranced their mounts and made as if to charge us. Two did, ponderous in their armor. They rode full at us, spears crouched, each twelve foot shaft tipped with a full two feet of fine-honed steel.

  Hargis and Griswall rode instantly against them, the red burnt earth a cloud of dust around their pounding dottle paws.

  Griswall, whose every move was completely professional, was a delight to watch; that is, if you like that sort of thing. With this inept opponent, he simply rose in his stirrups, whirled the great spear’s blade this way and that, dodged his adversaries’ points-then took the man’s head with the tip of his spear alone.

  Young Hargis-he’d left his shield to his back-also whirled his spear, disdaining the thrust. He knocked his man’s shaft to one side, then, as the fellow rode by, whacked the back of his helm with his spear’s butt. The helm flew off. The skull was crushed. A spatter of brains flew out to damp the dust.

  A roar of shouts and applause went up from our sharpeyed Omnian army…. An interesting thing happened then. The two dottles, freed of their enemy riders, did not turn back to the ranks of Hish, but ran instead, moaning and crying, to the ranks of our own host on the far side of the stream….

  I halted within a hundred paces of the skaiding where I raised my arms again for their attention. “Stand clear!” I shouted. “My battle’s with your Dark One’s image-that great and wiggly lizard. Send him out, if you dare. I await him here.”

  But there was little need to force the skaiding. Indeed, it came out, propelled, I knew-and instantly-as if Hooli himself, had put the thought in my head, by the very intellect I’d claimed in sarcasm. The sure knowledge that in part I now faced the Kaleen himself, sent a chill of absolute dread to weaken all my limbs.

  And the horror, at my call, moved ponderously toward me. Six months before, when I’d scanned it aboard the Deneb-3, I’d thought it unimportant. For its habitat was limited to but a few hundreds of square miles of jungle where no Fregisian ever ventured.

  I now knew different. It moved slowly, a veritable armored tank, impregnable to any Fregisian weapon, sword, spear, or mace. I’d thought, in my arrogance, even as I’d argued with Hooli, that I could still take it if I had to; that I could find some obvious flaw in the beast’s defenses.

  I saw now that it had none!

  Those monstrous, taloned “hands.” That great head. The blazing, nightmare eyes, horned crest, and a mouth to engorge a gog-calf whole-all coupled with the Dark One’s presence-had finally reached me!

  And a sly and pervasive knowledge crept into my thinking: that the thing was without speed to catch me, if I fled! The thought blanked out all else. Even the fact that for me to flee was to lose the battle; for if I ran, so would Sernas’ army!

  And Hooli had known this, had somehow guessed that I’d never really seen a skaiding: and guessed, too, that I’d choose to run-and lose the battle. Therefore the alternative-to ram the pyramid with the scoutship. Now he could but hope that I wouldn’t run; that somehow I’d find a way.

  But for the first time he was wr
ong. There was no way! And knowing this, I knew, too, that as sure as a dottle has six legs, the skaiding would surely kill me. In effect, I truly saw my death!

  My body became all damp with the cloying sweat of animal fear. I could smell it, pungent, sharp! My poor dottle smelled it too. Indeed, he shied, slowed his pace instantly to look back to me who forced him on with trembling knees. Stark terror shone in the dottle’s blue eyes. The trembling of my knees became a quaking of my entire body. The dottle slowed. I made no move to force it further. Two wizards with Yorn guards rode out to either side. And from the corners of my eyes I saw two groups of my own Yorns ride to confront them-a thing no Yom had ever done before.

  Their very act, their trust in me, should have given me courage. It didn’t. My mind was sickened with but a single thought: my death! Here dies Kyrie Fern, the “Collin”; just here in this stupid, magicked valley, on this crazy, beautiful, miserable planet, and at the hands of some weird alien who’s using the body of a Mesozoic-Fregisian misfit, already on its way to extinction.

  But what in the bloody, Christian hell was I to do? Even at full strength, I doubted that the laser could take it. Still, if it was a question of my life, I’d use it anyway. And bedamned to the fact that once the laser was gone there’d be no way to blast the Dark One…. So? To hell with it! I’d use the laser. And after that? Well maybe a ride for the scoutship, with Murie and the rest. After all, my terrified mind suggested, enough was enough, The “contract” had never called for suicide.

  I reached for my belt, my gauntleted hand fumbling so that I failed to distinguish one stone from another. At that precise moment a great voice spoke in galactic-vulgate—

  “Aaaaaaaaa-Collin. Kyrie …” it seemed to whisper; though the sound was that of a soughing wind. “Doooo what you must-and-leeeave….”