Exile to the Stars (The Alarai Chronicles) (21 page)

“Oh,
no. Not this, too. It can’t be real, it....”

Lost
for words, he guided Cynic off the road and swung down from the saddle without
taking his eyes from the large valley spread out below them.

“It
has to be real,” Jeff breathed. “It just has to be.”

Walls
soaring high and shining in the sun, pennants snapping in the breeze, a vast
city rambled across hills and a sizable portion of the valley.

“Look
at those walls,” he said in disbelief. “They must be 70 or 80 feet high!”

As
if on cue, a tenor horn raised its voice followed closely by a distant clanking
rumble from within the city. Jeff followed the wall with his eyes until its
gap-toothed crenels and merlons curved out of sight.

“How
it shines,” he whispered. “First Mirkwood, now this.” He began shaking his
head. “If armored knights trot out of that gate, I’m going to lose it
entirely.” He laughed delightedly. “What a city! If there was ever a Camelot,
it must have looked like this.”

Resting
an arm on the saddle, Jeff watched people stream in and out of the city. Okay,
he reflected, so I was expecting a tree-trunk palisade or maybe earthworks. And
why not? There is nothing around here to justify a wall of this size. If it was
northern Italy in Barbarossa’s time, sure, but who do these folks need to keep
out? Gurthwin surely would have mentioned it if there were other cities close
by. Has to be connected with the last invasion.

Cynic
shifted his weight.
“The sun is warm, the day bright, but are we to so stand
until night falls?”

Brought
up with a start from his musing, Jeff gave his horse an affectionate slap on
the rump and stepped into the saddle.

“Every
man needs a horse like you to keep him straight, buddy.”

“Every
man does not have such good fortune,”
Cynic responded
with good humor, and trotted down the hill.

“Easy
does it, fellow,”
Jeff chided, reining him down to a
walk
. “We need a good cover story or it’s possible I’ll wind up in a cell
and you will be pulling a plow again.”

Cynic
was appalled at such a thought.
“What is this ‘cover story’ you speak of?
Truly I do not again wish to pull a plow.”

It
was a difficult subject to summarize. Jeff explained why humans often found it
necessary or found excuses to build walls.

“…Thus
we must gain entrance and discover if this city poses a threat to Valholm, yet
must not rouse suspicion.”

“You
have a sword, I am a war-horse. Should we not fight together?”

“Out
of the mouth of babes,” Jeff laughed as Cynic halted at the back of the line of
people waiting to enter the city. “Okay, mercenaries we have just become.”

The
line moved so slowly that Jeff had plenty of time to work out the wrinkles in
their cover story and examine the surrounding land. The river they had been
following off and on, the Vana, flowed into the city on his left or east
through a low archway in the wall. The countryside was divided into neat,
checkerboard fields set off by tall hedgerows. Teams of horses could be seen
pulling plows, while groups of farmers or serfs appeared to be sowing ground
already prepared. What looked like small villages were scattered throughout the
part of the valley Jeff could see. A good distance to the west, he spied a
cluster of substantial buildings in a park-like setting.

“Now
that could be the residence of a duke or baron,” he said under his breath.

While
absorbed in his analysis they had moved closer to the gate. Jeff was aroused
from his musings by the jingle of harness, angry cries and growing agitation in
the crowd that now surrounded them.

Looking
over his shoulder, Jeff saw a troop of mounted soldiers forcing their way
through the crowd. The troop was enveloped in a cloud of dust that had caught
up with them as they slowed down, but Jeff could see they were lashing people
in their way with short whips. As he watched, a man was bowled over and fell
under the hooves of the lead horse.

The
road had progressively risen above surrounding countryside as it approached
Rugen. Those on foot, which included everyone except Jeff and the soldiers,
scrambled to get out of the way. Some were pushed over the road’s verge and
tumbled down the stony embankment.

Jeff
had his hands full controlling Cynic, who was sidling nervously. He had never
encountered such a press of humanity and wanted to get free, but there was
nowhere to go.

“All
right, big boy, settle down. Let’s get over to the side of the road so we can
look these troopies in the eye.”

It
was no more than ten yards to the edge of the road, but Jeff began to wonder if
they could make it even that far. At one point a press of people became jammed
against either flank. Jeff felt Cynic shift weight to his front feet.

“Cynic,
no! Don’t kick these people. They can’t help being pushed around anymore than
you.”

They
eventually made it, and Jeff took a moment to mop sweat off as he watched the
soldiers come on.

“No
way am I going to put Cynic over that embankment. He’d break a leg for sure,”
Jeff growled. He got a good look at one of the whips and pulled his saber.
“Weighted ends. Those bastards!”

The
lead horseman briefly slowed as he approached. Short, fat, ugly and stupid,
Jeff decided. So much for armored knights.

“Off
the road, scum.”

Jeff
was surprised that he could understand the language. Before he could open his
mouth to reply the trooper raised his whip to strike Cynic on the nose. No
thought was necessary.

The
saber flashed up and down in one easy motion. The blade snicked by only an inch
or two above the soldier’s fist, severing the whip at its base. Startled by the
saber whistling close, his horse reared high. The soldier cursed and drew his
short sword.

Those
on foot rushed north in an attempt to get clear of the fight. Troopers swung
their whips in vicious arcs but the crowd flowed against them like a human
riptide. Spooked by the press and panicked screaming, troopers’ horses began to
buck and rear. Those who retained control forced their horses into the crowd in
an effort to join the fight. The combined effect stirred up clouds of dust that
obscured the road in a yellow fog.

Back
in control, the soldier spurred his horse toward Cynic. “You dare challenge
Morgat? Your guts will feed the birds this night.”

Their
swords met with a bright clang as the horses’ shoulders thudded together.
Cynic’s head shot out like a snake and his teeth clacked shut just short of the
Morgat’s hand. He jerked his hand back with a startled curse.

“Gods
and demons!”

What
a bunch of crap, Jeff fumed. Just like up north. What good will trying to talk
with this idiot do? Just get me killed. Screw it! He turned another blow while
trying to find an opening, but Cynic’s head kept getting in the way.

Cursing
sulfurously, his timing shot to hell, Jeff felt like a novice as he clumsily
parried blow after blow. At some distance he heard the cry, “Guard! Guard!”

Gatekeepers
had called for backup and passed the buck to higher authority. The rest of the
troop had lost their battle with the mob and been swept north. Two of them lost
control of their horses and went plunging over the embankment with cries of
alarm.

For
the first time in his life Cynic was in a real fight. Battle fever flamed hot
and he gloried in the power that was his to command. This was living; this was
what he had been born to do. Lunging ahead he struck Morgat’s horse, knocking
it onto its haunches. Shrilling the stallion’s falsetto, Cynic savaged the
animal’s neck with his teeth and reared to strike out at Morgat.

Cynic’s
charge had Morgat grabbing leather and ducking to the side. His horse just
wanted to get up and run for it.

Knee
to knee with Morgat, Jeff bellowed, “Yee-ha, Cynic!” and attacked. He beat down
Morgat’s guard and laid open the side of his face. On recovery he sliced
Morgat’s ear and left it dangling by a thread.

“Got
to finish this and get out of here!”

Morgat’s
face was a mask of blood and he was reeling in the saddle. Jeff rammed the hilt
of his sword against the soldier’s helmet and knocked him senseless to the
ground. At the same moment the city gate swung open.

“Hold
now by order of the guard captain. Hold, I say!”

The
road was packed with people rushing back and forth like schools of terrified
minnows. Morgat’s troop was organized and moving his way. Their escape route
was blocked. Wrestling Cynic back to the side of the road, Jeff rested the
saber across his lap and waited to see what would develop.

While
the confused mass of humanity slowly sorted itself out, Jeff waved his hand about
in a futile effort to see through the choking cloud of dust. As the dust
thinned, he became aware of about twenty mounted troopers drawn up outside the
gate with a plainly uniformed soldier at their head.

“The
boss has arrived,” Jeff muttered. “I’m in deep shit if he’s an idiot like
Morgat.”

Motioning
his squad to stay put, the guard captain walked his horse forward sitting
ramrod straight in the saddle. Tall and raw-boned, he radiated anger eyeing the
pudgy form sprawled on the ground.

Shaking
his head in profound disgust, the guard captain pulled his horse to a stop near
Cynic. He rested gauntleted hands on the saddle horn and eyed Jeff
speculatively.

“As
you value your life, I am hopeful you will have a most convincing explanation
for all of this.” Pointing at one of the soldiers in Morgat’s troop, he
growled. “Retrieve that carrion on the ground. At once!”

The
worthy singled out to take charge assisted Morgat to his feet and boosted him
onto horseback. Shortly, the crestfallen troop was underway toward the city
gate. The guard captain pointed again, this time at Jeff.

“Disarm
this man and take him into custody.”

Without
further comment, the guard captain trotted his horse to the head of the column.
Two troopers moved in to flank Cynic and another positioned himself behind.
Jeff and one of the troopers eyed each other for some moments before Jeff
reluctantly handed over his saber. It was the first time in months that he had
been more than an arm’s length from it, and he felt totally exposed.

On
impulse, he said, “That is no ordinary sword. I am the only one who can wield
it. If it does not come back to me I guarantee it will make you rue the day you
were born.”

The
trooper turned the saber over in his hands several times, the blade shooting
mirror flashes as he did so. Jeff stared levelly at the man when he looked up.
The trooper felt his skin prickle at the golden-green brilliance of the
stranger’s eyes.

Holding
the saber as if it might burn his hands, he said, “If I may have this weapon’s
scabbard, I will see that it is quickly given to our captain.”

Jeff
noted a spark of intelligence in the young man’s eyes and extracted the
scabbard. As soon as the trooper had the scabbard in hand another swatted Cynic
on the rump and they trotted into the city, hooves clattering on cobblestones.

They
had no more than passed under the portcullis when Jeff’s attention was drawn so
many ways at once that he was distracted from fears for his personal safety.

Two
story buildings constructed of masonry at street level and wood above crowded
the street, blocking the sun with protruding balconies. Roofs were thatched
with straw that drooped over the eaves in moldy straggles. What whitewash
remained was heavily splattered with dirt. Jostling people dressed in homespun
crowded narrow, winding streets and only gave way to the troopers with muttered
curses.

Jeff
gagged when a putrid stench hit his nose. He traced the smell to a stream of
raw sewage running down the center of the cobblestone street, and to piles of
fly-infested garbage.

In
spite of the smells, Jeff was delighted with everything. Head turning right and
left as they moved along, he became absorbed in trying to place the
architecture. While it wasn’t Medieval Earth, the similarities were
tantalizing.

They
emerged onto a broad, dirt-covered area that had parade ground written all over
it. The guard captain gave his horse to a stable hand and strode into a
building without looking back.

When
Jeff dismounted his arms were pinioned and tied behind his back. Someone gave
him a kick and he stumbled toward the building. Jeff sent a thought to Cynic as
he was hustled through the door.

“We
may be in serious trouble. I want you to go quietly with that dink holding the
other horse. Keep your ears open and find out what these nags know.”

“I
will do so, but am concerned for your safety.”

Pushed
down a hallway, Jeff was thrust through a doorway into a simply furnished
office. The guard captain was seated behind a dilapidated desk and dismissed
the troopers.