The Warrior's Tale Read online

  The new woman's name was Dica and she seemed even younger than I'd been when I enlisted. I took her aside and told her if I didn't return on the morrow, she was the new commander of the Maranon Guard. She paled, but her lips firmed. I made note - such resolve indicated a worthy soldier in embryo.

  'Should we fall,' I ordered, 'it will be your task to return to Orissa and rebuild the Guard. Maranonia requires no less of you and there are enough pensioners of the Guard left in Orissa to assist you. Your first duty, however, will be to recover the colours - which we'll be carrying tonight. If we don't return, the colours will be where all the Maranon Guard lie - inside the citadel of the Archons.'

  I dismissed her and turned to Corais, who'd waited until Dica left the tent before smiling wryly, knowing full well why I'd spoken as dramatically as I had: 'Very good, my Captain,' she said. 'If we must die this night, your words will help build our legend. Polillo, were she present, would be in tears.' Then she sighed. 'Isn't it a pity this legend business can be so damned painful?

  While the storm still continued our tents were taken over by a small detachment of men. It had been arranged for them to light cooking fires, move from tent to tent, mount guard and, in short, suggest to any observer, magical or physical, that the Maranon Guard was still being held in reserve.

  We girded ourselves for battle and moved quickly along the rear of the Orissan encampment to the bluffs that led to the shore beyond Lycanth where Cholla Yi had his galleys beached on rollers. The night before I'd attempted to suggest what craft we might need for our attack in my stumbling landswoman's way. Cholla Yi had snickered in a pretended friendly manner, as if our near-duel hadn't occurred, and said I needn't continue.

  'It isn't uncommon, Captain Antero,' he'd said, 'that we sailors also prefer silence and secrecy on occasion. Each of my galleys carries one or two boats of a design so perfect you yourself might have worked with the builders. I'd hoped to use them for cutting-out expeditions against the Lycanthian merchantmen bottled up in the harbour -once we'd found a way to cut that great damned locket-chain keeping us out. But none of us should dream, for the gods love disappointment.'

  He went on briskly: 'Each boat can carry ten men, and is crewed by a coxswain, with four seamen to work the paddles. You might have your soldiers' and he couldn't but put sarcastic emphasis on that word, 'told off in teams accordingly so our debarkation won't sound like a goosegirl calling her flock.'

  I'd merely nodded. The admiral was what he was and we were what we were. I thought then, one way or another, the night's purpose would be the last I'd see of him, so his behaviour was unimportant. So much for my talents as a seer!

  Once we reached the mercenaries' camp I dispersed my Guard under cover and put them under the charge of Flag Sergeant Ismet, who was one of the great oddities in the already strange group of women who made up the Guard. As soon as I saw her my confidence rose. With women like this, how could we fail?

  Ismet, you see, was an example for us all: from the green recruit, to her fellow non-commissioned officers and finally to the officers themselves. She was a constant reminder - to use the hackneyed phrase - of the spirit of the Guard we served. Some whispered Ismet might be an incarnate of Maranonia herself, especially since she hadn't seemed to age in all the years she'd served. Ismet's dark complexion - darker even than the tropical natives of the north -added to her mystery. Where she came from, no one knew. She'd merely appeared one day and announced her intent to enlist. When questioned about her background she made no attempt to answer -only vowed she'd become a Guardswoman or else starve herself to death. There was a hubbub, but no one doubted her determination. The details of the tale are a bit foggy - perhaps my predecessor of long ago was soft-hearted, perhaps there hadn't been enough recruits to fill the ranks. More likely someone looked into the woman's eyes and simply blew. Ismet showed familiarity with all forms of arms. She was sworn in as a recruit, but spent less than a month in the rear ranks. She was promoted again and again, until she reached the highest rank of non-commissioned officer. She refused further promotion, in spite of wheedlings, blandishments and threats. That was two generations ago. Ismet never took a leave, but only passes. She never sought to live outside the barracks, nor made a pairing that lasted beyond a week or so. She often said that a soldier should concern herself with but three entities - herself, her squad and the Guard.

  After my women were sited, I went with my legates and a squad of four, to the admiral's tent. Gamelan was waiting. He told Cholla Yi he wanted to speak to us alone. Cholla Yi grumbled menacingly, but Gamelan only gazed steadily at him. The Evocator's eyes changed from placid, deep pools of wisdom to the yellow stare of a great cat about to pounce. Cholla Yi's mouth snapped closed and without another word he bulked out towards the beached ships, shouting pointless orders to his men.

  Gamelan had the materials for his spell ready. He'd quizzed Polillo closely about her axe left buried in the sill of that sea-tower window. Now he held up a small model of her weapon. He lit a brazier and said we should kneel in front of it. Herbs long known to be good for the eyes were cast onto the embers: rosemary, hyssop, rock rose, white willow. He whispered as he scattered the herbs and plumes of sweet smoke rose, split in three and blew across our faces. Instead of burning our eyes, the smoke felt soothing, comforting. I saw a fourth plume move back towards his open palms where he held the tiny axe exactly as if it were the full-size murderer's tool cast by Polillo. He softly chanted:

  The axe that was blind

  Could still see to find.

  Let the gift of the blade

  Pass on to the maid

  And sharpen, not fade

  The eyes they shall see

  All that can be.

  As he chanted he moved around the brazier, gently touching the tiny axe to each of our eyelids. Polillo flinched involuntarily - she was as leery of magic as anyone I'd ever met. Once she confessed to me that she'd dreamed that sorcery, somehow, some way, would be the death of her.

  'There,' Gamelan announced. 'You should feel nothing at present, except perhaps that the world looks a bit... sharper,' and he smiled at his mild jest. 'This is a nice, simple spell,' he explained. 'It should be of use at the proper time, but is not strong enough to attract... shall we say, attention from the wrong quarters at an inappropriate moment.'

  My legates rose, saluted and I dismissed them. Gamelan stretched. 'Now, all we have to do, my good Captain, is wait. I will allow myself a single glass of Admiral Cholla Yi's wine while we do so. Perhaps you might join me?'

  'I don't usually drink before a fight,' I said. 'However... I'll gladly keep you company, especially since I wish to ask a favour.'

  'You have only to request,' he said. 'I could prattle on about how our hopes are with you and how much rides on this, but I believe speeches are best suited for those who can be stirred by them. After the signals of the bones last night, any words would be redundant. I only wish that I could go with you, at the point of the spear. But my age, and...' He gestured down at his robes. I nodded in understanding. The presence of such a powerful Evocator on our hopefully silent assault might well send magical signals to the Archons as clearly as if we wore full parade armour and were attacking at midday with pipes blaring.

  That led naturally into my request, which startled him. He stroked his beard. 'I am very surprised, Captain, or Rali, if I may. I don't know if you're being extraordinarily cynical about your own tactics, or what.'

  ‘I’d like to think I'm merely planning for all eventualities,' I said. I was not telling the truth at that moment. 'Could it damage my main plan in any way?'

  'Possibly, possibly,' he said. 'Yet another piece of magic riding with your soldiers does increase the likelihood of the Archons or their minions scenting you. But... wait. I know of a spell. Very old. Very simple. It was used by witch smellers in my father's father's time. Such a primitive conjuration might be beneath the senses of sophisticated wizards such as the Archons. I can cast it in a few minutes. If you were
an Evocator, I could teach you the spell for your own use. But since you are not... hmm. An amulet, perhaps?' He nodded, finding favour with his idea. 'Very good, indeed. And I could scrape my casting bones for a bit of detritus. What they sensed last night from the Archons' own magic ... that could serve as a trigger for you. Hmm. Not at all improbable or difficult.

  'Yes, yes,' he went on, becoming excited. 'I think there is merit. I must set aside what has become, if you will forgive the confession, a growing sense of friendship for you, Rali. I must now consider you as nothing more... nor less... than the best hope of Orissa; a warrior, not a friend, without considering if I am sending you further into harm's way.'

  'If risk wasn't my chosen companion,' I said, 'I'd be in Orissa surrounded by husband fools and babes, worried about the next meal and a new gown.'

  Gamelan half-smiled. 'If I give you that amulet, not only might it lead to those you desire ... but also to the centre of their power.'

  I said: 'If you're right, and they are plotting some great stroke of magic against Orissa, won't that have to be destroyed as well?'

  'Destroyed, perhaps, or possibly, if the taint is not monstrous, the knowledge brought back to Orissa to be put to better use.' Gamelan shook his head. 'Although I am reminded of what Janos Greycloak once told your brother about magic - that sorcery is only dark or light depending on the observer, a cynical thought I am still not sure I understand completely.' He drank his wine. Then: 'Very well, Captain. I shall give you something that can turn you into a little ferret seeking evil - and, if you choose to use it, you shall be pulled inexorably down those dark shafts after your prey.'

  At this, I managed a smile. 'Ferrets,' I said, 'have always been lucky for my family. My brother swears the ghost of such a creature he owned as a boy saved him in his fight with Raveline.'

  'That is an omen indeed,' Gamelan said, brightening. 'I feel less like I am sending someone out on a mission they will not return from.'

  A smile was on his lips, but it didn't light his eyes. And I knew he was merely trying to reassure himself as well as me.

  As the sun dipped towards the horizon, the galleys were pushed down rollers into the low surfbreak and, once launched, rowed to a crude floating dock leading out from the beach to deeper water where we boarded. Since we wouldn't be journeying far or long, we crammed into three of Cholla Yi's ships. The eighteen small boats, seventeen plus one spare, he'd spoken of were towed close to the stern of the ships so they couldn't be spotted from the Archons' castle. We sailed east - as if setting course to Orissa. The oarsmen, twenty-five to a side, rowed easily - as if for a long journey that required no haste and our sails held firm in the wind.

  I was on the lead ship - Cholla Yi's own craft - and as we slipped through the waves, I tried to relax with Corais and Polillo on the quarterdeck. The sea was calm, and glittered gold and red in the dying sun. I tried to think about the calm waters and the sharp cry of a gull hanging in the calm air beside the ship rather than what lay ahead of us. A dolphin sported in our bow wave, then was gone. Cholla Yi joined us. I'm afraid I didn't try very hard to disguise my distaste for him when I asked why he'd decided to accompany this expedition. Wasn't it beneath the dignity of an admiral?

  Cholla Yi's gaze flickered - he'd caught my tone - then he became a jovial patriarch: 'Ah, Captain, you don't understand the problems of we poor souls who choose to soldier for a more material goal than glory. If we don't make certain to be at the final triumph of the war we enlisted for, all too often our employers attempt to economize in the settling of accounts. Which leads to all sorts of unpleasantness.' Then he became serious. 'Besides, with sailors like mine, a leader is only allowed the quarterdeck so long as he remains in the battle's van. By accompanying you, I therefore accomplish a double task.'

  He bowed and walked down the companionway - to the main-deck, where the rowers sat along the bulwarks on their slightly raised benches.

  'If he happens to get too near the railing,' Polillo said, 'I might accidentally bump into him. I've heard many sailors never learn how to swim.'

  Corais showed her sharp fox's teeth. 'Afterwards, dear woman, afterwards. When we're safe on dry land we'll invite him to a cliff, promising to indulge his most horrid fantasies in private and I'll kneel down behind him and then you can bump to your heart's desire.'

  When the sun was down, sails were furled and masts and yards struck, as if we'd disappeared over the horizon. In the gathering dark, with little to see above the deckline, the ships were almost invisible. The small boats were let out on their tow-lines so as not to impede the oarsmen, and the galleys turned back towards Lycanth, the rowers stroking as if racing. I'd wondered how men could accept such a fate, endlessly pulling a length of wood to and fro and thought they might be slaves. But Corais, who was insatiably curious about everything and had asked, said no, they were free. In fact, galleys were only rowed when speed was vital. Under normal circumstances, they'd be driven by sail alone.

  Two hours before midnight we closed on the entrance to Lycanth's harbour. I could see, bulking huge against the night, the sides of the crater that was the city's harbour - and even the mass of the sea-castle which was our goal. The night was peaceful, balmy, exactly the weather Gamelan had ordered spells to be cast for. It bespoke of spring's arrival, warm, and just a bit sleepy. Nothing could happen on such a peaceful night: sentries would dream of an end to their pacings; their watch commanders wouldn't find it necessary to make rounds more often than the regulations required; men off watch would sleep soundly and so forth.

  We disembarked into the boats. In spite of what Cholla Yi had implied about my women's probable incompetence on the water, not a sound was made in the loading, not a weapon was lost, not a Guardswoman fell into the dark, heaving ocean. We moved off towards the harbour entrance. Indeed, these boats were perfect for what I intended. Instead of oars, each had two wheels on either side near amidships. Each wheel was fitted with paddles, like the fins of a sea turtle. The 'oarsmen', if that was the correct name for them, sat in the centre of the boat next to the wheels, working a circular crank that sent the wheels spinning and the boat slipping silently towards the shore, with nary an oar-splash or needed command from the man at the rudder. I could see, however, that manoeuvring these boats wasn't for simpletons, since all four 'oarsmen' must work in close unison, or else we'd have zigged across the ocean like crazed water-beedes.

  As we moved towards our goal, I reconsidered my plan. Its greatest virtue, I believed, was its simplicity. Elaborate tactics seldom survive the first shower of arrows. I planned to have my Guardswomen climb the chain blocking Lycanth's harbour from the water all the way to the top of the cliff, where it was fastened to the castle. After we reached the top of the chain, we'd look for a window large enough to enter. Once inside, we were to move as rapidly and quietly as possible to the castle's main gates. General Jinnah would have assault battalions waiting just outside. When we swung the gates open, the main attack would be mounted.

  It wasn't as impossible as it might seem - more than one great fortification has fallen to a handful of soldiers with steel in their hands and hearts. If we failed - as all were predicting - what of it? My women would leave their bodies inside the sea-castle. More then ten times their number had died just in that one hopeless attack we provided the diversion for earlier. And, from what Jinnah felt about the use of women in battle, wouldn't it please him to no longer have the 'cloven sex', as I heard him call us, insisting on such annoyances as logic and forethought instead of mindless brawn and battle-planning worthy of a bull in must?

  Now it was time to test the edge of the sword I'd hammered out, to see whether it cut clean or bent or shattered uselessly. There was also a second, very private goal - which was the one I'd asked Gamelan for help with, even though I hadn't fully explained exactly what I intended.

  The harbour opened before us like some fabulous monster's gaping jaws. Then we were drawing close to the chain rising from just below the water's surface up to th
e sea-castle high above and there was no longer time for reflection. Training, muscles and, yes, familiarity took over.

  My Scribe lifted an eyebrow as I said the last, thinking perhaps a basic part of the Guards' training was swarming up and down great chains, and wondering why he'd seen no such training devices on our parade-ground. Actually, there's little difference between climbing from chain link to chain link - a woman bracing herself, a second woman stepping on her to reach the next link, at which time she became the top rung in the ladder and so on - and what all Orissa has seen us do in holiday demonstrations of our athletic prowess, scrambling over obstacles at great speed. With the minor exceptions that now there were several thousand enemy soldiers above, and our 'obstacles' were big pieces of slimy, rusting iron, dripping seaweed, barnacles and other sea creatures that would no doubt be revolting in daylight. Polillo and other Guardswomen known for their strength were in charge of the manoeuvre and I became nothing more than one more climbing, and bracing, soldier.

  Link by link, woman by woman, we went up the chain. Finally, Corais, Polillo, Ismet and I reached the last link, where it was fastened to a huge staple set in the sea-castle's vertical wall. There were four of us clinging to this final link - the others waiting below - and I had a momentary' image of us as tiny charms on some giantess's bracelet. I shook my head. For some reason, perhaps the proximity of so much sorcery, my imagination was rioting like a drunken civilian's this night.

  Three of us sent our eyes scanning the sheer, blank tower above and to the side, while Ismet kept a sharp watch - an arrow nocked on its string - on the battlement above in case a sentry should peer over.

  Gamelan's spell was running through all our minds... 'Let the gift of the blade... Pass on to the maid... The eyes they shall see...'

  Our eyes saw past the ensorcellment around the tower. Here were arrow slits, there slots that were to illuminate dark stairs; then we saw windows that gaped open with nary a bar or shutter. The Archons, like many people with a single great strength, put too much trust in their main weapon of magic. Far above I saw half a dozen wide openings and guessed they marked the luxurious prison Amalric had been held in. But we wouldn't need to test further our climbing skills, because not twenty feet to the seaward side, and about fifteen above, was a portal nearly as wide.