Authors: Kim Hunter
There was great strength and litheness in his walk. Just by looking at him Soldier could tell that here was a warrior with superior skills. What was more, Vau seemed completely unafraid, unlike his opponent, who appeared agitated and anxious. The Dog-warriors calm face was pointed, his ears pricked, his eyes bright. The mouth below the long nose was half-open, the tongue lolling out. Soldier felt the anger and hatred rise within him. Here was the creature who had disfigured his wife, turned her face into a hideous map of scars. Vau had no shield, only a two-handed battle-axe. The combat on that shabby patch of turf was brief and mercifully simple. Vau clove the head of the Carthagan in two after only six strokes had been exchanged. Thank you. Soldier heard the words distinctly in the silence which had followed the encounter. His eyes followed a faint wisp of nothing, rising upwards towards the clouds. Or perhaps it was just a whirl of fine dust raised by the wind? He was unsure. Vau suffered no injuries whatsoever. On the point of victory the Dog-warrior raised his head and howled blindly at the sun. His comrades behind him barked and yapped and howled their delight. They moved to the edge of the slope, drumming their shields with their weapons, ready to charge down on the Carthagan army. They knew they had a psychological advantage and they meant to follow it up before the Carthagans found their courage again. The defeat of a warrior in single combat can have devastating effects on the fallen mans army. That their champion had been dispatched so quickly and effectively depressed the Carthagans and made them doubt themselves. There were groans amongst them and some had despair written in the slope of their shoulders as well as in their facial expressions. At that point, had the beast-people charged, the Carthagans might have actually been routed. Some might have run despite the strict code of warfare (there are always some who run away) and though others would have stayed and fought to the bitter end they would not have prevailed. The heart had gone out of them. Fortunately for the Carthagans, the beast-people hesitated, perhaps to savour the moment of victory. In this prideful second, during which had they charged they might have ensured a successful outcome of the battle for the beast-people, a second combatant went running down the slope towards Vau the victorious Dog-warrior. A red haze had come down over Soldiers eyes. It was he who had gone flying down the incline, his foaming mouth roaring his fury. He fell straight down on the vanquisher, Vau. There was such an explosive rage, such a lava of loathing in Soldiers breast, he was like a volcano which has contained the earths magma for so long that when its finally released it fountains from the ground in a white hot spray of molten hatred. The mildly-surprised Vau, having beheaded his victim, stood up with reeking, smoking sword. He was undaunted by this show of temper. Narrowing his eyes he regarded the charging man and decided he did not know him. Vau had tasted blood and was not afraid of some maniac who had broken ranks and was falling on him with blind vengeance. Vau believed his attacker to be the dead mans father, brother or dearest friend. There was no other reason for such a wrathful onslaught. Such an intemperate assault was to the Dog-warriors advantage. Rage is not always the best companion of skill. Vau intended to coolly stand his ground and chop his blood-maddened opponent down. But Soldier was not to be halted. He was like an oncoming natural force a great wind or a meteor hurtling through space and his path was through the Dog-warrior. Too late Vau realised that he was facing a tornado. He swung at Soldier with his sword, as he had intended, but Soldier was travelling much too fast to present a good target. Vaus blade struck him on the rump, but he continued to hurtle into his antagonist with such savagery it petrified the Dog-warrior. Struck by this irresistible force, Vau went flying backwards. His last vision was of the hideously distorted features of his attacker, whose absolute fury had turned his face into a crimson, ridged mask under which the old Soldier was unrecognisable. The reversed warhammer came down with terrible power, the squared metal spike going through the right eye and going on to crush the whole canine skull. Several more strikes went into the chest and abdomen, even though Vau had died instantly from that initial blow. Finally the head was literally hammered off the body, the flat of the Hannacks weapon repeatedly beating down on the neck and spine, using a rock as an anvil, until body and head broke away from each other. Soldier held up the canine head with his free hand. Hhhhaaaa! he cried. Dead! Dead! He stood there blood and gore running down his arm from the severed head, his face now suffused with triumph, while two silent armies looked on in stunned shock. He turned in the direction of the beast-people and worked Vaus upper and lower jawbones with his hands. He howled, as Vau had howled, just a short while earlier, holding open the mouth of his victim. Oooooowwwwwoooo! he cried, using the head like a puppet. Ooooowwwwoooo! Ooooowwwwooooooooooooo! The front ranks of the beast-people reeled back against their comrades in disgust and utter horror. It was a few seconds before a Carthagan commander regained his senses enough to sound the charge. Now it was the Carthagans who held the psychological advantage. Their wamor had dispatched the beast-peoples champion with ease. They were a superior army, better trained, better drilled, better soldiers. They went roaring down the hill in a waterfall of joyous confidence. They poured up the slope on the other side to drive into the stupefied beast-people, and began hacking them down where they stood. Dog-heads, Horse-heads, Stag-heads, Fox-heads. All began to retreat, striding at first, then breaking into a run, until it was a full-scale rout. The victorious army raced after them, cutting them down as they fled in terror. The day belonged to the Carthagans, whose hearts were indomitable. Soldier was sent for by Captain Montecute. Soldier had washed and cleaned himself. He was now calm and in control of his thoughts and actions. A milder man you could not find in the halls of the clerics. As such, he stood in front of the captain, who regarded him with some distaste as well as awe. You have a terrible demon inside you, warrior. Soldier hung his head, ashamed now of his actions. I know it. I know it. Such an ugly display of frenzied violence. Had he done you some wrong, this Vau? Soldier looked up, the shame gone. He bit my wife on the face. He destroyed her beauty. Light came to the captains eyes. Ah, yes, of course - I keep forgetting - the, er, lovely Princess Layana. Such a mystery, why she married again, and to a common man such as yourself. Still, thats none of my business. What is my business is the fact that Ive been ordered to promote you to lieutenant. Normally, you could have expected only sergeant-at-arms, after surviving a charge with the Forlorn Hope thats the rank Velion has refused. But the killing of Vau helped us win the battle. So, welcome to the officer class, Soldier. You will replace one of my previous lieutenants, who died in the battle may her spirit be with the gods. Soldier accepted the promotion gracefully.
Chapter Twelve
Soldier returned to the Eagle Pavilion to move his kit down to the far end of the great tent where the officers slept. He gathered his things together into a bundle. He did not have a great deal to take to the privacy of the officers compartments. Once he had it all together he turned to his comrades. So far no one had spoken to him since after the battle. Its been a privilege serving with you, he said, quietly. I hope I shall remain with this pavilion, even though Ive been promoted. I would like us to still fight together. There was a marked silence. Small men with square muscular bodies, and tallish wiry women, turned away from him and busied themselves with small domestic tasks. Others whispered to their neighbours, holding a conversation with a friend, but ignoring Soldier. He felt shunned. What? he said. Now that Im a lieutenant you cant talk to me? Velion suddenly stood up and took his arm, leading from the pavilion into the open air and out of earshot of the rest of the warriors. Theyre worried about you, she said, when she could not be overheard. The way you killed that Wild-dog-warrior . . . Oh, that. But Ive explained it to people. He violated my wife, ravaged her beauty. This was a personal score. Yes but the fact is, theyre afraid of you now. Itll take time for them to trust you. We took you for a professional soldier someone who knew the business of fighting, someone with experience but no one guessed there was such a hellion inside you. Theyre worried about saying the wrong thing, or making a mistake in front of you. Every one of them dreads coming under your command. Do they? asked Soldier. What about you, Velion? Surely you still trust my judgement. She looked doubtful. I dont know. You went berserk. Yet, at the same time, you killed your opponent with superb efficiency, given the weapon you had. Thats whats so frightening about you. Soldier shook his head, wonderingly. Well, I did what I had to do. He did not add that he had terrified himself with this Soldier he had let out of himself during the battle. He did not know this man any better than his comrades did. That Soldier had come from somewhere deep within the recesses of his soul, from another world, from another life. Velion pointed to a bloody flour sack in Soldiers grasp. Whats that? she asked. He glanced down at it. This? Vaus head. Youre keeping it? Just until Ive shown it to my wife. I want her to see that the creature who bit her has paid for it with his life. She may want to burn it. I dont know. I heard it said that the queen decreed no one should mention the incident again in Princess Layanas hearing. Well, that was before I killed him. Now, Im sure it will be all right to discuss it with her. I want to exorcise the terror of that attack from her mind. It may help her to sleep better at nights, now that she knows he is dead. Velion shrugged. Dont say I didnt warn you. Now, youd better go off and join your officer friends. Theyre not my friends. You are. She shook her head. Youve given that up now. Is that why youve refused to accept your promotion to sergeant? asked Soldier, with a trace of bitterness in his tone. You want to remain one of the common warriors? She looked down at the ground. I didnt accept promotion because I didnt earn it. You earned it for me, with that singing scabbard you have slung from your belt. Without that, Id be dead. Wed both be dead struck down from behind. Soldier glanced down at the sheath. So what? So you had an advantage. Its only like having the sun behind you, or the wind blowing grit into the eyes of your foe! One takes what one can get on the battlefield. Theres plenty of hard luck stories too. You could be the one blinded by the sun or sand. Well, I have to feel I deserve it, before I take it. She was suddenly warm again. You - youre doing the right thing. I know you want promotion so that you can feel worthy enough to have a princess for a wife. You have to increase your status for this reason. I understand that. Thank you, Velion. He stared at the sunset. It was not spectacular: a washy shade of yellow. It seemed as if the natural world were growing sicker and sicker, along with the dying King Magus. Well, Id better get on. She slapped him heartily on the back with the flat of her hand, almost winding him. Ill be watching out for you on the battlefield. You do the same for me. He grinned. I will. You can be sure of it. They parted and Soldier took his belongings to his new quarters, a private room inside the great tent, separated from others by walls of hanging goatskin. Depositing his kit in the bedspace, where previously the lieutenant to whom he had first spoken on approaching the red pavilions had slept, he then went to see Captain Montecute. What will be my new duties? asked Soldier of his commanding officer. You will be taking over the archery squadron of the Eagle Pavilion, said the captain. Normally a warrior promoted from the ranks is sent to another pavilion. Its better for discipline that hes separated from those who regarded him or her -as a comrade. Its difficult to give orders to former friends and for them to take them from someone they know intimately. But Im staying with the Eagles. Yes, no one else wants you. Soldier blinked. What? No other pavilion will take you, said Montecute. The stocky little mans eyes remained fixed on a point just to the right of Soldiers chest. Even the colonel was dubious about promoting you, but I persuaded him it was the right thing to do. You did? Thank you, captain. Dont thank me. I have reservations too - but Im a stickler for the rules. The rules say bravery in action is rewarded. The rules say that those who volunteer themselves for single combat and prevail should be elevated. The way in which you killed that Dog-warrior sickened me to my stomach. Heroes are made of cleaner, brighter material than the stuff from which youre fashioned. You draw your courage from some dark, hellish place some pit of savage violence not accessible to ordinary Carthagans like myself. Soldier gritted his teeth. I see. However, theres no doubt you saved the day for us and because of that you should receive whats due to you. Soldiers eyes were hard. Thank you, Captain - now, is there anything I should be doing now? You could go and help the physicians with the wounded. You mean, use my dark magic to raise the dead? Captain Montecute shook his head slowly. Dont throw sarcasm at me, Lieutenant. I can still have you stamped into the dust whenever you displease me. Soldier drew a deep breath and kept his silence. After Montecute had stridden away, Soldier went to the hospital tent. There were men and women there with horrible wounds. Some would not live. He helped the physicians with binding woundwort and other medicinal herbs, including some mosses and clay, around open cuts to stop them festering. The important thing was to keep gangrene and other poisons at bay. Infusions of yarrow and honey with hot water were made and administered to prevent runaway fevers and rising temperatures. Those who saw Soldiers gentle hands minister to the injured thought he did so with great tenderness and compassion. They could not equate this Soldier with the one they had seen out on the battlefield. The two did not appear compatible. Several of those in the tent were mortally wounded. They often passed away with a sigh on their lips. But souls released here did not thank anyone, unless it was a physician who had bungled. Seven hours later Soldier left the hospital tent. He staggered out into the early morning, just as the mists were curling around the guy ropes. Exhausted, he went straight back to the pavilion to sleep, not even going to the field kitchens for food. That day, as he remained in a fatigued state, there was skirmishing with the beast-people, but no fully-fledged battle. At the end of the second days fighting the beast-people capitulated. Those who could be taken into captivity were rounded up. The rest of the defeated enemy ran for the passes and eventually took goat tracks up into the hills. Another campaign was over for the red pavilions. When Princess Layana learned that Soldier had joined the red pavilions she had sent for a Carthagan she knew and asked him to keep her informed of events. This secret messenger carried word of the red pavilions victory to the Green Tower in the Palace of Wildflowers. The messenger had rushed away straight after the battle and had few details, but Princess Layana learned that her new husband had led the Forlorn Hope into the battle and had been responsible for seizing the day when he volunteered for single combat and won his contest. Nothing was said to her about Soldiers state of mind when he did do, nor about the race and name of his victim. The messenger did not think these important. She simply understood that her husband was the hero of the hour and it pleased her immensely. She told herself she had no real feelings for this man, but it did her no harm to have a husband who was a great warrior. But of course, she told herself, as she fed her fan-tailed doves in the cupola of the tall green tower, he is only my husband in name. He has no feelings for me. I was simply the method by which he was able to escape execution. She warned herself not to become a fool. If this Soldier learned she looked upon him fondly he might take advantage of the power it could give him over others. Indeed, should he wish to manipulate her he might pretend to be in love with her in order to feather his nest. Layana told herself to be on her guard, not to reveal any tender feelings for this handsome stranger, nor to give him any kind of signal which would make him think he was well regarded. It would be best, she thought, to show him nothing but contempt and hauteur. That way she could never be hurt. A cold front. That was the answer. At that moment Drissila came into the room. Captain Kaff wishes to see you, my lady. A small frown formed on Layanas brow. She was aware that Kaffs attentions were well-meant, and her friendship with him was valuable to both of them in many ways, but she knew why he was here today. The news that Soldier had been promoted to lieutenant would not please the captain. He was jealous of the new marriage and would not have been unhappy to hear of the death in battle of the stranger. She wondered why he had come to speak to her of the matter, when he must be aware she would not accept any criticism of Soldier from other men, even though she had doubts herself. Soldier was her husband and that put him beyond condemnation in earshot of the princess. Send him in, Drissila, but warn him to mind his manners. I shall, my lady. The maid-servant was gone in a rustle of silks and chiffon. Layana went to a tansu in the corner of the room, opened one of its drawers, and withdrew a black velvet hood. She pulled the hood over her head. This garment, and others like it, had been specially made by a seamstress whose job it was to hide the ugly side of the princess as well as possible. One side of the hood came down over the marred half of Layanas face, cleverly leaving the beautiful half with its soft, unblemished skin revealed. The genius of the hood was that it allowed Layana to see through both eyes. In this garment she was able to meet the captain without feeling hideously exposed. It helped her confidence. Kaff came marching in a few moments later wearing armour and carrying his helmet under his arm. According to the code of good manners his sword hilt was tied against his thigh showing that he knew he was aware of being in the house of a friend. He had obviously come straight from duty on the walls. So good to see you looking so healthy, my lady, he said, giving her a sweeping bow. You know I pray nightly for your recovery. You waste your time and that of the gods, if you do, Captain. You know my affliction is incurable. Kaff shook his head firmly. No one has said that. It might be that one day the spell will lift and you will be well again. What is it you want? He looked a little nervous. I wondered if my lady would like a walk around the blue lake today? The weather is fair and would seem likely to remain so. A breath of fresh air would do you no harm whatsoever and might put some colour into your . . .he paused, awkwardly, but having gone thus far had to finish,... cheeks. My one unblemished cheek, you mean, she murmured. Captain Kaff, you dont displease me with your attentions, but you must know I am now once again a married woman. I cannot look upon it as a permanent state. You must. Are you waiting for me to murder my latest spouse? The large man looked embarrassed and shifted uneasily and awkwardly in his armour. Oh, I wouldnt call it murder, my lady. These are accidents, due to your unfortunate condition. Be careful one of these accidents do not befall you, one of these days, Captain Kaff. He made a dismissive gesture as if the thought had never occurred to him and now that it had, he was prepared to risk it for the pleasure of her company. You are a brute, you know, she said with sudden frankness, I could never love you. Kaff looked taken aback, as well he might. She had never spoken to him in this manner before. Nor had she used the word love in his presence. He presumed she was only able to do so now because he was no longer a threat in that respect. Brute? he looked hurt. How so? Have I ever given you cause to think Im less than gentle towards you? Im sorry, I dont mean it that way. Kaffs face hardened. You know hes just using your position to get what he wants. Layana raised her eyebrows. And what does he want? Kaff was careful not to cross too far over the invisible line. I dont know, but I guarantee its for his own ends and we shall all end up regretting that we didnt chop off his damned head the moment he stepped into the castle. I still think hes a spy, probably for the Hannacks. How did he defeat that Hannack horseman on foot? Theres not a man in Guthrum who could have done that. The Hannack pretended to attack the soldier to give him some credibility in our eyes. Layana shook her head in disbelief. It may have escaped your notice, but Soldier is not bald. A wizard could have disguised him. Youll have to do better than that, Captain. If I hadnt chanced along he would be dead by now. That doesnt sound a very successful Hannack plot to me. Kaff left the Green Tower in an ugly mood, heading for Marshal Crushkites quarters. Layana then decided she needed fresh air and freedom. She told her house servants she wanted to go to the textile market. A sedan chair and carrying slaves were arranged for her. She would, as always, be accompanied by six palace guards. The man in charge of the six guards was Corporal Tranganda. She had a long-standing arrangement with the corporal, whose fortunes had increased a great deal because of it. Layana paid Tranganda in gold to allow her to go hunting while she was supposed to be
shopping. Tranganda settled with his soldiers, so everyone was happy, but the corporal knew he was taking a terrible risk. If Chancellor Humbold ever discovered the arrangement Tranganda would be cooked alive in his armour, very, very slowly, over a charcoal fire. Take me to the blacksmith today, she told Tranganda, as he marched beside her sedan chair. I need some time. Yes, my lady. He directed the chair carriers, who all came from the island of Amekni, a residue of the empire which still provided slaves for the Queen of Guthrum and her family. The Amekni slaves were not ill-treated (or they would run away) and were well-provided for in the way of food, shelter and rest. They were slaves in name only and were often better off than house-servants in this foreign land. However, much is in a name, and most of them simmered with a passion for their island home and its inhabitants to be free of the Guthrum yoke. After a while Tranganda said, Forgive me for asking, my lady, but but what would happen if you became ill while out hunting? She smiled at him gently. He was now in his late thirties and the years were passing. Very young men care little for risks, being devil-may-care and wild-thinking, but as they grow older they tend to take better care of themselves, especially if by that time they have enough money to buy a small farm and live comfortably in the country. Tranganda was a good man, but he was beginning to grow nervous. Layana might soon have to begin training someone to take Corporal Trangandas place. You are referring to my madness. It only comes upon me in the middle of the night, never during the day. It may last over days, but the first attack is in the night hours. He nodded. I did not mean to be impertinent. Youre risking your life for me, Corporal. Youre entitled to all the information that is needed to judge that risk. Thank you, my lady. See, here we are at the blacksmiths. They approached the forge from a back alley. There Layana alighted and went inside. Butro-batan was called from his forge by a middle-aged woman who kept house for him. He met the princess in his own rooms. Forgive the shabby look to my humble home. Butro-batan always made the same apology and Layana had long since ceased to tell him it did not matter. If you care to wait here Ill get the boy to fetch your palfrey from the stable down the street. Thank you, Butro-batan, she told him. In the meantime, Ill change into my hunting clothes. Ill need my hawk, too. The horse was duly brought. Most princesses would have settled only for a golden-maned palomino, or at least a pure white mare, but Layana was not so fickle. She was going hunting and her mount required some camouflage. Layanas little mare was a piebald, a creature of black-and-white patches that could melt into the shadows. Her name was Wychhazel. Once more the princess was anonymous, under her swathes of indigo hunting calico. She too was like a blue shadow, with nothing but her eyes visible. With her crossbow and her goshawk, Windwalker, on her gloved fist the princess set forth. The guards on the city gates knew her by sight. That is, they knew her as a youth of a great family who loved hunting, even if they did not know her exact identity. They knew her horse and hawk, they knew her voice, and many of them were in love with her deep brown eyes which always looked kindly upon them. They had been told (a rumour carefully spread amongst the soldiery by Corporal Tranganda) that she was the son of an elderly lord, a cleric, who despised hunting. Since almost all Guthrumites loved hunting there was much sympathy for a boy who wished to follow his favourite pastime. Once out of the castle Layana rode south towards the Ancient Forest, her favourite hunting grounds. Windwalker had been well cared for, by Butro-batans apprentice, the twelve-year-old Cim. Cim adored animals and he lovingly greased Windwalkers buckskin jesses the leather straps attached to a hawks legs by which the hunter held her whenever they were in his care. Jesses have to be kept soft and supple and Cim made sure they were kept in this state. The jesses need to be long, so that the hunter can grip them and hold the bird without hurting it and the hawk can scratch itself when it wishes, but not too long as to restrict the bird in flight. Cim also spent a great deal of his free time not in abundance as a busy blacksmiths apprentice in making Windwalkers hoods, so that her eyes were covered while on the fist. This prevented her from panicking when fast-moving creatures broke the forest pale, or the horse jolted and bumped. The hood Windwalker was wearing at the present had a little spray of scarlet feathers sprouting from its peak. Once out on the downs and riding, Layana talked to her animals all the time. So, Wychhazel, have you been getting enough exercise lately? Has the boy been trotting you in the exercise yards? And you \Vindwalker, my fine feathered hunter, have you been flying up around the turrets of Guthrums city, showing off your skills to an admiring audience of market traders? Of course, the creatures did not answer her, but as a lonely old woman talks to her cat, so a lonely young woman held conference with her hawk and her horse. There were replies of sorts. They knew her voice and the mare whinnied gently while the hawk warbled, which involved stretching her wings above her head until they nearly touched. They were three companions out for some good hunting, and they were one with the world. The landscape was not all Layana would have wished it to be. But it would be restored, so it was said, once HoulluoH died and his successor took his place. How they hung on to life, these wizards, even when they had seven times the span of an ordinary man! Seven hundred years and still HoulluoH would not let go of this mortal coil. Things would get worse before they got better. She crossed a stream where there were dead trout floating on the surface; went through a brake where the ferns were brown and dying from lack of rain; skirted a spinney which was thick with spiders webs, over-run with fungi and smothered in too much lichen and moss. A stag broke cover at one point and had Layana not had the hawk on her fist it might have resulted in an exciting chase, or race, pitting her mount against a creature of the wind. On the edge of the Ancient Forest, near where Layana had first met Soldier, a pair of pheasants took off, their wings whirring. Layana let slip her accipiter. The bird was in yarak keen to hunt and she raked away from the princess to climb above the two pheasants. The game birds had heard the bells attached to the hawks legs and they were wise enough to know there was death in the air, but there was little they could do about it. When the hawk stooped and raked, and the first bird fell, the other knew it was safe. It flew down to a grassy ditch. The struck pheasant fell out of the sky, stone dead with the raking it had received: just one blow from the goshawks talons on the back of the neck. It was the cleanest, quickest way to kill a game bird. A hunter could try shooting partridges and pheasant out of the sky with a bow, but the likelihood of actually hitting flying quarry with an arrow was almost negligible. More often than not they were snared on the ground, resulting in a lingering, painful death. At least with the hawk death was swift and relatively painless. The pheasant was the first kill of the day. There were more as the hours went by, including a hare shot with the crossbow. Finally, Layana was ready to return to the castle. The afternoon was drawing on and there were people who would be wondering about her. Whirling the lure she enticed Windwalker back to her fist, hooded her, secured the game on her saddle, then rode back towards Zamerkand. As she neared the walled city she saw in the distance a long line of marching men. They were carrying scarlet banners bearing representations of animals and birds in black-and-white. The campaign was over. The Carthagan red pavilions were returning victorious. A flutter of excitement went through her breast as she saw that the leading pavilion was the Eagles. She quickly suppressed this feeling, certain that it was all so worthless.