King Eloikas would not much care for a battle if Syzambry escaped. But if the battle put an end to the count and his scheming and treachery, the king would forgive his captain-general much more than that.
Decius leaned forward in his saddle, then drew himself upright. A captain-general could not appear uneasy, not when he led no more than a score of men toward battle against perhaps twice their number. The villager who had warned of Syzambry's march might have miscounted, but Syzambry could indeed have fifty men.
As the trumpets sounded again, Decius nodded to his banner bearer. The banner of the Silver Bear rose and stood out in the wind. Decius nodded to his squire, riding almost boot to boot with him, and the lad handed over his master's shield.
The stout oval of metal-rimmed oak settled on Decius's arm like a familiar friend. He did not draw his sword. It was not yet. time to be reduced to guiding his horse with his knees, not over such rough ground.
A final blast on the trumpets echoed from the hillside. The captain-general's men spurred their horses to a trot as they rounded the final bend in the trail.
Before them stood Castle Dembi and the equally ruined village at the foot of its hill. Half of the huts in the village seemed to be aflame.
On the hillside sprawled the bodies of men and animals. A column of heavily burdened men on foot was scrambling past the bodies.
Decius reined in before the ruins of the village shrine. The ground about him showed the traces of many shod horses. A cloud of dust on the trail leading into the forest showed where the horsemen had gone.
"Who comes here?" a rough voice shouted from the village.
Decius was not accustomed to being so addressed, not since he had won his spurs at seventeen. But if whoever shouted had just survived a fight against Syzambry's minions, he had good cause for suspicion.
"Servants of King Eloikas," Decius replied. He would not name himself lest it provide Syzambry's rear guard an easy victory.
"Advance and be recognized." The voice was still harsh, but now it sounded like a seasoned captain's.
Decius dismounted, threw his shield in front of himself, drew his sword, and advanced past the shrine. He had taken five steps beyond that when the voice came again.
"Far enough, thank you."
"Easy, Conan," came a second voice, which Decius would have sworn was a woman's. "He bears Decius's Silver Bear, quartered with the arms of the kingdom. I'd wager it's Decius himself."
What sounded like a brief dispute followed, too low-voiced for Decius to understand. Then two men” no, one was a woman”strode from a hut to face him.
The man overtopped Decius by nearly a head. He wore a sooty shirt and breeches, boots, and a serviceable broadsword. The woman”
"Mistress Raihna! It was you, then?" The villager had also spoken of a caravan sheltering for the night at Dembi village. Catching Count Syzambry looting any caravan could mean the end of the man. Catching him looting the long-awaited royal caravan guarded by Mistress Raihna's company”
"It is," the woman said. "Does that displease you?"
Decius realized that his disgust at driving Syzambry into flight must show on his face. "It does not displease me at all, Mistress Raihna."
He wanted to add, "Nor do you," which would have been the truth, but perhaps one best left to another time. The description of Raihna he had from the steward had said that she was fair to the eye, but not how fair. That was easy to judge now, considering how little she wore.
As Raihna had the reputation of a captain with her wits about her, Decius was certain that this was not her common fighting garb. But there was no denying that in it she both drew and pleased the eye. For a moment, Decius wished the black-haired giant standing at Raihna's shoulder anywhere but here.
"I only wish that Count Syzambry had not fled at our trumpets. I had hoped to drive him into a final, desperate attack. Then
"Well, the gods be thanked you didn't," the giant growled. "You'd be laying out our bodies how, as well as our men's."
"Who are you?" Decius asked. Ceremony seemed wasted on this man.
"Forgive me, my lord," Raihna said. "This is Conan the Cimmerian¦ in this band, captain under me."
The last words drew a few bawdy laughs from Decius's men. Neither Conan nor Raihna replied, although Decius saw Raihna's nostrils flare. Her nose, he observed, was as well formed as was the rest of her.
"Well, Captains," Decius said, "I trust that it was Count Syzambry who fled?"
"If he's a small man with large pride whose men shout 'Steel Hand" as a war cry Raihna began.
"You have met Syzambry. Tell me more."
The tale went swiftly, and Decius found himself listening carefully to Conan even while he observed Raihna. The Cimmerian seemed to have his wits about him more than most, for all that he could not have seen twenty-five summers. But then, it was battles rather than years that seasoned a captain. Decius knew that well”indeed, better than a reasonable man could wish.
When they finished talking, Decius saw that his men were looking at Conan and Raihna with open admiration. He would have done the same had he not had duties to his king.
"Well, call your hill-climbers back," Decius said. "I think we can be out of here before noon."
"We no longer have all of our mounts or pack animals," Raihna said.
"You just told me that," Decius said, letting impatience creep into his voice. "If some of your men, as well as mine, can walk, we shall be able to carry all the packs."
"And the wounded?" It was the Cimmerian who spoke, in a voice like a grindstone sharpening a war ax.
"They can wait until I reach a castle that has men to spare. There are several on the
"No," Conan said, more politely than before. "Raihna, if Decius insists, I will stay behind with the wounded. Otherwise, Syzambry will be sending men back to cut their throats or to torture knowledge from them."
Decius decided that the Cimmerian had passed the test. The man could have proposed that the packs stay behind, perhaps with himself as guard. Or he could have been careless of the wounded.
He had done neither. He had not only his wits about him, but some notions of honor. Raihna had not brought a cuckoo or, still worse, a serpent, into the Border realm. Too many men had come wearing fairer guises than the Cimmerian and left red ruin behind them.
"If most of us walk, your wounded can ride as well," Decius said. "This will mean camping tonight rather than reaching a castle."
"I am sworn to my men and they to me," Raihna said firmly.
"And I am sworn to Captain Raihna," Conan added.
Decius would have given a good sword to know by what oaths the two were sworn to each other. No look had passed between them to hint that they were lovers, but the captain-general would have wagered the same sword that they were. This displeased him, although he could not have said why.
Conan and Raihna walked in the rear of the united bands when they marched out well before noon.
"King Eloikas made no bad choice when he gave Decius his banner," Conan said.
"You think so?" Raihna replied. "When his eyes were on me as they were?"
"A man can be a good captain and also a good judge of women," Conan told her. He did not quite touch her. "Otherwise, where were we last night?" he added softly.
Raihna colored briefly, then laughed. "I stand rebuked. But truthfully, King Eloikas must have made some bad choices”or else had bad luck”to be afflicted with folk like Count Syzambry."
"Had you heard of him before you came north?"
Raihna colored again, and this time her calm did not quickly return.
"I”we were eager to start. Eager to make our name. We were told that¦
that the Border Kingdom had powerful robber lords. But we did not think¦ we did not think that they were more than what is commonly found in wild lands."
Conan saw pain and shame on Raihna's face. She would not make that error again. Besides, he wanted no more rebukes for telling her how to do her work.
"If I make no mistake, Syzambry is one who fears neither god nor man nor King Eloikas," Conan said. "That sort is less common, and always worse."
Raihna's face twisted briefly into a mask that might have frightened children into fits. Or the mask of a child who had been that frightened”by what, Conan did not care to ask.
He knew that Raihna had left Bossonia in haste for reasons of which she did not care to speak. He had met her when she served as bodyguard to the sorceress Illyana on their quest for the Jewels of Kurag. What she had done between leaving Bossonia and taking service with Illyana was a mystery that she chose to leave dark.
So be it. Raihna was bedmate, battle comrade, and captain fit to follow. That was enough to tell Conan that whatever happened to her had not turned her wits. More than that he would not ask of man, woman, or god.
But he would ask a few questions of King Eloikas, or of someone close enough to him to know the answers. As long as he was sworn to Raihna, Conan cold not return to the road south. He was bound to the Border Kingdom, and if need be, to the fight against Count Syzambry.
Such a fight was always chancy, more so than a pitched battle by daylight against an open foe. Out of such a fight, though, a shrewd man might snatch something worth having.
Conan knew that he could rise again in the south if he entered the southern realms as a beggar. He would rise faster if he entered with a clinking purse.
Chapter 5
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The coming of Princess Chienna to the Pougoi village did not awaken Aybas. He had been unable to sleep since he had seen the Star Brothers preparing for a sacrifice to their beast.
He lacked the courage to ask if they intended to sacrifice the princess herself. He told himself that even if he possessed the courage, it would make no difference in the end. He had made clear Count Syzambry's wishes many times over. If the Star Brothers ignored both him and the count, there was nothing to do but bear word to the count.
Bear word to the count, and then swiftly take himself out of Syzambry's reach. The little lord would not thank the bearer of bad news any more than would most ambitious men.
Gongs, drums, and that hideous wooden trumpet signaled the coming of the warriors. The common battle trumpet of the Border Kingdom was an offense to the ears. What the warriors of the Pougoi used was beyond Aybas's powers to describe.
Would he ever hear an Argossean flute-girl or a Nemedian lyre-maid again? Would he even hear the wailing pipes and thudding drums beating for the march of the Aquilonian foot on a bright autumn day? He doubted it.
He also doubted that he would accomplish much by feeling sorry for himself, save to fuddle his wits at a time when he needed them clear.
Taking a deep breath, Aybas pulled his cloak about him and stepped into the village street.
Heads were thrusting out of doors all the way down to the valley. A few folk even stood in their doorways, staring into the darkness. Aybas saw some of these make gestures of aversion as he passed. He wondered if the gestures were against him, against the Star Brothers, or simply against whatever ill luck might come to the Pougoi through meddling in the affairs of kings and counts.
Aybas had long since realized that these hill folk were more longheaded than Count Syzambry realized. No amount of gold could silence their tongues or blind their eyes. If the count gained what he sought, he would have a reckoning with the Pougoi as well as with the other hill tribes they had preyed on for a generation to feed their wizards' pet.
A stand of spiceberry hid Aybas, as it had hidden Wylla and her father two nights before. From within it, he stared out across the rocky fields of barley as distant fireflies grew into crimson-hued torches.
The pungent reek of the herbs the Pougoi used in steeping their reed torches made Aybas sneeze.
This drew no attention. The warriors of the Pougoi marched up to the wizards, and the leader raised his spear crosswise in both hands.
"Hail, Brothers of the Stars. We bring what we have sought. Bless us now."
It did not sound like a suppliant coming before a priest. It sounded more like a captain commanding something he would take if it were not given freely.
Aybas would not pray that the Star Brothers take offense and quarrel with the warriors. Such a brawl would end Count Syzambry's hopes by ending the life of the princess, if indeed it was she within the covered litter. Aybas's reward would die with her, and so might he.
The fall of the Star Brothers might also unleash the beast. The creature might rampage through the hills, devouring all in its path, with neither men nor magic able to bind or slay it.
One by one, the Star Brothers nodded. As the last bearded head bobbed on the last thin neck, the principal Brother raised his hands. A globe of fire, vermilion flecked with gold, sprang into being between them.
It turned wizards and warriors alike into figures of blood and shadow.
The Brother with the globe raised his hands higher. The other Brothers began a chant that Aybas had never heard, and he liked it even less than the rest of the wizards' music.
The globe leaped into the air and rose higher than the top of the dam, higher than the uppermost pinnacle on the tower of the greatest temple in Aquilonia. It screamed as it soared, a scream that seemed to come from a living throat, a scream that the beast echoed.
Then the globe was no more, and fire was raining down on the warriors.
Gold and vermilion mingled in the fire, and the warriors raised their faces and weapons to it.
The fire descended upon the warriors. It turned their eyes and mouths to pools of fire. To Aybas, it seemed that the Pougoi warriors were now some man-shaped breed with cat or dragon blood, or both.
Their weapons did not turn to fire. They rose from their wielders'
hands, as gently as soap bubbles, glowing softly. Aybas watched, breathless, as they ascended, rising almost as high as the globe of fire had done.
When the weapons finished rising, they bobbed about for a moment like twigs in a swift-rushing stream. Some of the spears turned end over end. Some of the swords danced as if sorcerous hands wielded them.
One sword clashed in midair with a battle-ax. The sparks they struck from each other poured down upon the torches. As if the sparks had been water and not fire, the torches died.
Crouching like an animal on all fours, Aybas briefly shut his eyes. He did not see the glow die from the weapons and all of them plunge out of the sky and into their masters' hands.
He did hear the crunch, like a rotten melon bursting, as the battle-ax clove the skull of its owner. He also heard the scream as another warrior's spear plunged through his outstretched hands and drove into his belly.
Every mortal ear in the valley must have heard that scream, and likewise the beast's reply. Aybas would have sworn that the sounds of slobbering and sucking could not roll like thunder if he did not hear them do just that. A moment later he realized that he was also hearing witch-thunder, which had come without lightning several times before and considerably frightened the wizards.
Both wizards and warriors seemed stricken mute and motionless by the uproar. One warrior finally broke into movement, bending over his screaming comrade and silencing him by cutting his throat. As silence returned, another warrior opened the curtain of the litter.
The woman who stepped forth moved with the grace of a queen, for all that she was barefoot and wore only a soiled nightshift. Her dark hair would have flowed down upon her shoulders under other circumstances.
Now it made a bramble-bush tangle. Bloody streaks on neck and ears told where jewelry had been savagely wrenched off.
On one slim arm rode a swaddled bundle. Aybas uttered a short prayer that the bundle was only clothing that Chienna had been allowed to bring away. Then the bundle wailed and the princess changed her grip that she might soothe her baby.
Aybas felt strangely calm. Prince Urras's crying was the first wholly natural, wholly human sound that he had heard in this valley in many days.
Then the drums and that hideous raw-throated trumpet raised their din again. Aybas realized that it was time that he make himself seen, even at the side of the Star Brothers. It would not do to let the wizards wonder if Count Syzambry truly valued the princess. Death would come to her very swiftly if they began to doubt that.
Aybas rose, brushed dirt and the dust of spiceberry flowers from his clothes, and strode toward the Star Brothers with his hand on the hilt of his sword.
Princess Chienna took no comfort from seeing a man in civilized garb approaching her. She had two causes for this.
One lay in heeding Decius's wisdom, likewise that of her father and of her late husband, Count Elkorun. All three had said that false hope in a desperate situation brings deeper despair. Since despair would slay her child as well as herself, she would fight it as long and as fiercely as possible.
The other reason for denying herself hope came from no one's counsel.
It came from knowing that a man such as she saw before her could only be serving her enemies. Count Syzambry, most likely, or another lordling in the tumbledown alliance the count had raised against her father.
Their alliance would fall, the princess was sure. She was not sure that she would see its fall with living eyes, but she swore now to all the gods that she would see it from beyond death if she had to.
As his mother's rage touched him, Prince Urras forgot that he had been soothed into silence and began squalling again. With a fierce will, Chienna calmed herself and began rocking the baby in her arms.
He went on squalling. She decided that he was probably hungry.
"Is there a wet-nurse among you?" she asked. She wanted to say, "in this accursed pesthole of a village."
"I will inquire, Your Highness," the man said.
Chienna hid surprise. By the Great Mother's Girdle, the man knew the forms of courtesy!
"Do you that," Chienna said graciously. She bounced the baby up and down. "He hungers, and I am sure it is no part of your plan to encompass his death."
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