The Hag of Calix

by Rod Fisher

  Chapter Sixteen

  STET-ARNAK paced and posed around Gwenay with measured insolence.

  "So...the illustrious Queen of Calix... royal mistress to a realm of tunnel-digging runt men. Such an honor you bestow upon us to visit our humble galley. And such a pleasure to offer you our hospitality. The last time we met, you played a little game with me. You pretended to be someone else. Shameful, your gracious majesty, to deceive a holy man, to spawn a falsehood in the presence of a Dag, it was not becoming of your noble position. Surely you can imagine the depths of my disillusionment," he rolled his eyes feigning disappointment. "When I found you, the faith I felt in the unblemished honor of Antillian royalty had deceived me."

  Gwenay, stood in the, center of the priest's quarters with her arms folded, enduring her humiliation with regal forbearance.

  "You appear young, my dear, he continued, "for a woman who has lived past a century. Would you like to reveal your secret--the magic of your everlasting youth."

  Gwenay refused to meet his eyes or acknowledge his queries.

  The priest's girth shook with a heavy chuckle. He pulled her gown back off her shoulders and ran his hands over her skin. "Very nice.. .youthful...I admire your beauty." He ran an exploratory finger down her cheek. "...and the face... so smooth... finely chiseled, a sculptor might say...but so supercilious." He clucked disparagingly. "The haughty royal expression does not become you!"

  "Keep your greasy fingers off me!"

  "Oh, you have a tongue." He gripped the inside of her upper arm. "That is good because if you wish to use it you can spare yourself a great deal of pain!" As he spoke he pinched her flesh, increasing the pressure to climax with the word "pain."

  Her only reaction was a quick intake of breath. He released her and walked to the stern window of the galley. With his back to her he studied the ship's wake, giving her time to think. When he turned back he had divested himself of pretense. "Where is the Qalandor?" His question hissed through fleshy lips.

  "If I knew I would never tell you."

  "You will tell...and we shall waste no more time." He summoned two men to help him; they forced Gwenay to her knees and cocked her head back. Stet-Arnak produced a silver vial and held it before her face.

  "You have no doubt seen the acid test used to prove the worth of gold. I have my own acid test...for you. In this vial is the sweet nectar of the adder." He shook the vial and laughed at his own cunning. "I will place a drop in your eye. It will cause you pain and will slowly blind you. I can arrest the action by rinsing your eye with water. Consequently, you can choose for yourself how much you can endure or how blind you wish to be." His explanation was patient and painstaking as though she were a student of Arnak torture methods. "I will invert this timing-glass when I place the venom in your eye and you will be able to see the sand run out and how much time remains before you lose your sight completely. Unfortunately, if we have to proceed to the second eye you won't have this advantage. Now, do you wish to answer the question and avoid this painful experience?"

  Gwenay struggled to twist free but the burly swordsmen held her in place. She clenched her teeth and squeezed her eyelids together.

  "Then I must presume that you wish me to proceed." The priest inserted a small hollow reed into the vial and picked up a few drops by stopping the upper end with his finger. He gouged her eyelid back with his thumb and let the pale drops splash onto her eyeball.

  At first she made no sound. The sand whispered into the bottom of the glass, and beads of sweat stood out from her pores. Soon nasal moans fought to get by her gagging tongue, arched high in her open mouth.

  "Look at the sand, my lovely," Stet-Arnak prodded, "it is half gone. You will soon be blind."

  Gwenay writhed in the grip of her captors, throwing her head spasmodically with each paroxysm of pain. The sand ran out and she fainted, a merciful release from her agony.

  "Revive her," the priest ordered. His face was flushed with evil amusement. "She won't be so brave with her other eye. This time we'll hear some screams."

  The guards worked on her with cold water and aromatic spirits until she came around. She opened her good eye and saw the fat Dag standing over her. She screamed at him, deluging him with a vitriolic spew of curses.

  "Oh, you still feel like fighting me. Hold her still." His hand trembled with excitement as he administered the venom to her healthy eye. Her curses changed to a scream of torment, then to a whimper as she passed out a second time. Stet-Arnak kicked clumsily at her slumping body. "Wake up you slut! Wake up I say!" He kicked and grunted and started blubbering like a child derived of a toy. "Wake up, you whoring bitch. I want you to wake up!"

  He remembered the presence of the guards and composed himself. "Bah, take her away. She is not worth the effort. Lock her up with the fishermen," he ordered, "and bring me the fine sword that was brought aboard with her."

  When the galley rode at anchor off the village of Hundar, Stet-Arnak sent one of the captured Maijads ashore with an offer to trade Gwenay and the other fisherman for Bargonast. Since the Maijad rites allowed only female sacrifice, Hundar agreed to the trade. Felic, watching from concealment near the village, saw the switch of prisoners. He puzzled over the meaning of it as Gwenay was dragged stumbling to a hut and Bargonast was rowed back to the galley. Bargonast was hustled onto the quarterdeck to face Stet-Arnak. He saw Felic's sword laid out nearby.

  "Cut him free," the priest directed.

  With his arms freed, Bargonast thumped his fist against his heart in salute. "My thanks, Excellency!"

  "Save your thanks. You may have been better off where you were." The priest lounged on a couch of cushions under a sun canopy. "You bungled the chance I gave you. According to our agreement you were to deliver the Qalandor today. Instead I find you have been made a prisoner."

  "I can explain, your Lordship," Bargonast started to sweat. "I was unable to manage the Qalandor alone, so I thought it would please your lordship if I returned with the temple fugitive, the maid Chessa. She was a prisoner in the village. The Maijads were going to sacrifice her to their smoke god. I was bringing her to you when I was overpowered."

  "And the girl...what of the girl?"

  "She escaped, Excellency...disappeared."

  "Then you have failed me twice." Stet-Arnak's cold eyes drilled through him. "I will not forget that you have failed me twice."

  "But I know where the Qalandor is," Bargonast blurted. "It is in the temple. The temple is Jult's tomb."

  "Have you seen it?"

  "No, Excellency, but it has to be there. I am sure of it."

  "Did you enter the temple?"

  "The door is big. It would take several men to move it. The Maijads are forbidden entrance by their beliefs."

  "Then what do you suggest?"

  "Force." Bargonast rapped his fist into his other hand for emphasis. "Land your swordsmen; drive the villagers out!"

  "They outnumber my men four to one. Defending the galley from their attack would be one thing, but to take the offensive on shore..."

  "But they are poorly armed, Excellency. They could not stand up to Dagran steel."

  Stet-Arnak gazed thoughtfully at the shore. "I have heard they are fierce fighters."

  "True, Excellency, but we have the advantage. I have seen their weapons. Some are iron, but many are tipped with bronze or obsidian--no match for the tempered blades of Antillia."

  The priest clapped his hands and a servant brought a tray of delicacies. "Your enthusiasm for your plan prompts me to give you a third chance to please me." He slobbered his words through a mouthful of grapes. "You will draw weapons from the armorer and take your place at the forefront of my men."

  "I will lead the attack, Lordship, but if it would be possible, I would ask the use of a certain weapon...the long sword lying there." He pointed at Battle Flasher.

  "Very well. Go prepare at once. I shall watch your performance from here while I enjoy these glazed
fruits and this fine wine. I warn you, Bargonast, you must excel in this battle if you expect to salvage any part of our bargain. Now begone!" He dismissed him with a foppish wave of his jeweled hand.

  The call to battle rang through the village before the Dagran troops reached shore. While the women and children were evacuated into the forest, Maijad archers rained their shafts on the advancing boats. The Dagrans overlapped a roof of shields above them. Most of the arrows glanced off into the water.

  A line of warriors ten-deep blocked the shoreline in front of the boats. They banged their spears against hide-covered wooden shields in rhythmical accompaniment to their deep-throated war chant. As the first of the boats grounded, they rushed into the shallows to meet the invaders.

  Bargonast, anxious to prove his worth to Stet-Arnak, was first into the water. He waded forward to test the bristling fence of spears, bolstered by the battle cries of Dagrans splashing close behind. He thrust and slashed with Felic's mighty sword as the two sides came together, forcing the disadvantage of close-quarter conflict on the spear-wielding Maijads. He swung Battle Flasher with his right hand and took the blows of his adversaries on a bronze buckler held in his left. The great blade was alive, severing spear hafts and limbs and causing fearful carnage. The battle knit into a confused tangle of bodies struggling amid a din of screaming and cursing.

  As the melee surged forward up the beach, the spear bearers faded back into a fresh line of defenders armed with swords and cudgels. Bargonast, still in the van, found himself paired off against Hundar. The wiry chieftain was armed with the steel sword taken from Bargonast the night before. He fought silently, his brow creased with concentration as he parried the bearded giant's blade. His bravery and agility only delayed his demise. Bargonast caught his sword arm with his buckler and forced it aside long enough to transfix him. The chief squirmed, trying to free himself from Battle Flashers length, as life left him. In those final seconds his eyes locked in a silent curse on the scarred face of his killer.

  With Hundar fallen, the tenacious spirit of the defenders wavered. They gave way individually at first, but the infection of defeat soon spread among them and the battle turned. The Maijads were routed, presenting only a running rear-guard action as the main body of warriors ran for the shelter of the forest.

  With the village cleared of defenders, Bargonast took a squad of men to the temple, leaving the remainder to patrol the perimeter in case of a counterattack. With poles for leverage they swung the pivoting rock covering the doorway, elevating it far enough to allow entrance. It was blocked in position. Bargonast fired up a torch and, shoving it ahead, crawled through the opening. Inside he stood erect and swung the fire through the clog of webs that festooned the tomb. The wavering light disclosed a central structure of cut stones supporting a sarcophagus. The crypt contained nothing else but the bare stones of the walls and the log beams supporting the roof.

  Bargonast called for help and three soldiers joined him. Together they lifted the slab off the coffin. The grisly display of Jult's moldering cadaver was a visual greeting that shocked even their battle-hardened sensibilities.

  "The hag lied to me!" Bargonast was half angry, half amazed. "It has to be here!" He stirred amongst Jult's bones with Battle Flasher as though expecting the Qalandor to be hidden there. He picked Jult's skull out of its resting place with the point of the sword. Long gray wisps of hair clung to the scalp and the hollow sockets regarded him with a vacuous gaze. Holding it high in the torchlight, he addressed it. "Your lying queen deceived me, Jult. How do you like that?" He launched the skull against the wall. It hit with a dead thud, split and fell to the floor. Bargonast urged the stunned soldiers into action and they dismantled the rock platform. But it was nothing more than it appeared to be. There was no Qalandor hidden within.

  Bargonast came out into the sunshine just as Stet-Arnak came puffing up the slope. He looked at Bargonast and the long face of inner defeat told him all he needed to know. "Get the men back aboard and put this fool in irons," he ordered. "Search the huts and find the blind bitch."

  Bargonast was not disposed to be taken without a struggle. He pulled Battle Flasher from its scabbard and laid about him without mercy, catching his erstwhile battle companions by surprise. They fell back clutching for their weapons.

  "Kill him, kill him!" Stet-Arnak screamed. The fat priest ran at him, his face contorted with rage. Bargonast leveled Battle Flasher at the round belly bouncing toward him and the priest stopped, realizing his vulnerability. He looked around for support, but the soldiers hung back, unwilling to engage the giant. Bargonast jabbed at him and he stumbled back, tripping on his priestly robes and rolling down the slope.

  With a fierce yell Bargonast swung Battle Flasher in sweeping arcs and charged the men nearest to him. The circle opened. He cleared the cooking trench in a bound and raced for the trees. As he neared the soldiers of the perimeter guard he waved his blade toward the bay and shouted. "To the ship...to the ship. Everyone is to return to the ship immediately!"

  The soldiers looked at each other, confused by the change of orders. Bargonast repeated the order until they started moving toward the ship. With the way cleared he sprinted past their rear and into the covering woods.

  Moments later Stet-Arnak confronted the perimeter guard and discovered they had been duped. "After him!" he ordered, "a thousand druacs to the man who brings him back. Punishment for all if you fail!"

  The troops moved into the trees but were set upon by Maijads almost immediately. Arrows and spears came hailing down on them from the treetops and they were decimated and forced back by an unseen enemy. Losing half their force, they retreated back whence they came, dragging the wounded. Stet-Arnak saw the folly of his order.

  The troop captain reported to him. The cheekplate was torn from his helmet and blood flowed from the place where his ear had been. "The natives were all around us, honored Dag; we had no chance..."

  "Yes, yes...take the men back to the galley." The priest cast a last look into the trees. "The fate of that traitorous cur will surely be sealed by a Maijad spear."