Sword Empire (11 page)

The aircraft was fuelled and ready for its flight with its engines already fired and running. They filed aboard and took their seats. Raven saluted again through the glass window of the cockpit and Karn returned the salute as the aircraft began to move. The pilot at the controls was silent as he concentrated on his take-off procedures and within minutes they were gaining height and flying.

Karn watched until they were out of sight, before closing his eyes and seeming to collapse inside his uniform. He fought the pain for several minutes before he was able to brace himself again and walk slowly back to where his sky-car waited to return him to The City of Swords.

 

 

 

The flight took seven long hours. At first Maryam was fascinated, peering through the window at the passing landscape far below. The land was rugged, split with silvery streams and rivers and belts of woodland and forest between the rolling hills. There were towns or villages in every small valley, and the land around them was cultivated and clearly marked into fields. There were mechanical things instead of oxen ploughing the furrows, and on the interlinking hard roads, wheeled chariots sped to and fro without horses.

Everything was strange and wonderful to Maryam, and for a while she could even forget the taste of Sylve's blood, and that awful look on her rival's face as she had curled up and died. Maryam still wore the long Gheddan knife on her hip. Instinct told her that on this world she might soon need it again, but she hated its cold reminder of what she had done.

Raven conversed casually with the pilot, who had relaxed once his ship was safely in the air. Garl and Taron talked together, but their talk was mostly about whores and fighting and drinking. Through most of the long space flight from Earth, Maryam had stayed close to Raven as she struggled to learn his strange new language. By the time she had mastered the alien tongue, there was no time left to really get to know his crewmen, so now she tried to ignore them as totally as they seemed to ignore her.

The cultivated fields gradually became fewer and smaller, shrinking as the thin silver slivers of water dried up. The land below became increasingly barren as their flight skirted the edge of the Stone Desert. To the east, there was nothing but a vast plain of sand shades and boulders, and to the west, low red and black lava hills. Immediately below them was the shallow course of a river bed, dried out except for the occasional hint of green brush and scrub that suggested buried water. Twice they overflew the broken ruins of ancient cities, where smashed walls, tower stumps and what might have been the remains of harbours lay haunted and silent, shrouded in wind-blown dust. Here rested part of the history and the long dead ghosts of Ghedda, forsaken by the vanishing river or perished by the sword.

Her companions had tired of their boring conversations and had fallen silent, until Taron became aware of Maryam's interest in the dried out valley below. A third ancient city appeared, collapsed into shattered remnants of past pride and vanity, perched on a high bluff where the river bed formed a curve. As the shadow of their aircraft passed over it, Taron surprised her by leaning closer and offering her an explanation.

“The lost city of Axell.” He pointed downward with brutal pride. “It fell in the Great War of Glory when the Great Gheddan Empire was formed around the City of Swords over a thousand years ago. The Sword Lord Strang, who founded the Sword Empire, surrounded it with five hundred thousand blades. Fifty thousand swordsmen died on each side, and Strang threw every corpse into the river. The bodies blocked the river, poisoned its waters and dispersed their flow. Strang destroyed the river itself, along with every man, woman and child, and every city along its banks. Now there is nothing left of those who opposed the birth of our Gheddan Empire.”

Maryam shuddered at his words, and the horror of the images they conjured in her fervent imagination. However, what really dismayed her was his matter of fact tone. Taron was trying to impress her, and in his own way, offer a crumb of comradeship.

After several hours, the desert was behind them and they were flying over grass and low green wooded hills. Maryam slept fitfully as the two Gheddans snored beside her. Finally she took interest again as they began to see traces of habitation once more: the nomad camps of herdsmen with small herds of wild-looking horses or cattle. Slowly the undulating ranges of the hills became higher and more dominant. Thickening forest began to fill the valleys as they flew ever northward. Soon there was only forest covering everything, a vast, crumpled blanket of dark green. On her home planet, the jungles beyond Karakhor were lush and wet, with seemingly a thousand shades of shimmering, blossom strewn greens. Here there was only the one, bleak, almost black shade of green, with no sign of life or flowers.

They flew over lakes of black water or black ice, Maryam could not be sure which. The world below her looked progressively more harsh and more cold. More and more frequently the small aircraft passed through thick, frightening layers of grey cloud. In those moments, the forest below was hidden and she felt that the pilot must be flying blind, although none of her companions seemed perturbed.

She did not want to face the world below, but the novelty of this eagle's-eye view of the fifth planet had long since faded. She was cramped and uncomfortable and began to long for the experience to end.

When the Great Northern ranges finally pushed their massive ice-cloaked peaks and spines above the far horizon, they were wreathed in dark swirls of cloud and storm. Maryam sensed their immensity even though they were still far away, and shivered at the sight of them. The ice giants loomed closer, but then the nose of the aircraft dipped and she realized that the pilot was at last bringing them back down to land.

The towering spikes of the tree tops reached up toward them, and just as Maryam was on the verge of closing her eyes and screaming, a gap appeared. The aircraft dropped down through the trees, hurtling between almost solid rows of the great black pine trunks, which were only a spear's-length away from either wing-tip. Then Maryam did squeeze shut her eyes, but she bit down on the fear-filled scream and held it back. She was still a daughter of Kara-Rashna, a Princess of Karakhor, and her pride was stronger than her fear.

The aircraft touched down on the hard grass runway, bounced twice and then settled and slowed to a stop. The pilot switched off his engines and relaxed. The three Gheddan passengers began to unbuckle their safety straps. Maryam slowly opened her eyes.

There were men approaching, a small group of Gheddan soldiers in dark grey uniforms and black fur cloaks. Their leader wore two crossed swords of rank on his sleeve. Raven dropped lightly from the aircraft to meet them. Raven, Taron and Garl had all left their white and gold uniforms behind and for this mission were wearing rough leather tunics and leggings beneath their heavy grey furs, yet Raven's manner and stance quickly marked him out from the other two. The Gheddan officer immediately offered the open palm salute.

“Commander Raven, I am Uris, Unit Commander of this arse-freezing, forgotten limit of an outpost. You are welcome to what we have.”

“We need hot food and drink, four strong horses, bed rolls and provisions for a four-day ride,” Raven told him bluntly.

“It is all arranged. The Sword Lord Karn has explained your mission. You ride to one of the mountain strongholds to the north.”

Uris turned and began to lead the way back to the small cluster of wooden buildings that was his outpost. Raven raised a hand in acknowledgement and farewell to their pilot, and then fell into step beside the Unit Commander. Maryam climbed stiffly down from the aircraft and followed them, with Taron and Garl bringing up the rear behind her. The soldiers who accompanied Uris formed a circle escort around them and Maryam was aware of their puzzled and penetrating glances. Her brown skinned face was a mystery to them, but her body shape was not, and she could guess at the hot racing of their imaginations.

“What is this place?” she asked, because the silence annoyed her. “Why does the empire need to post men out here in this vast forest?”

Uris turned briefly to look at her. “Women do not ask these questions,” he said calmly. “But I know you are a stranger to our world and that Commander Raven has favoured you with his protection. So I will answer you. The empire must patrol its borders, so we maintain this remote landing place and fuel store to service those patrols. The weather is hard and our task is boring, but our swords serve the empire.”

His arrogant tone aroused in Maryam an urgent desire to slap his ugly blue face, but she restrained it.

Uris walked on, explaining to Raven, “Normally we only see rotor-flyers out here. The job is more of a punishment than an honour. Most of my men have faced the Sword Court for one stupidity or another. Being sent here makes better use of them than rotting in the cells for a spell.”

They entered the largest of the rough log buildings which proved to be a combined barracks room and mess hall heated by large wood-burning stoves. There was a crude latrine at the rear of the building, but Maryam chose to walk a hundred yards into the terrifying black privacy of the forest, there to blissfully relieve herself after the last agonizing hours of the long flight. She hurried back to the relative safety of the barracks. Food was immediately served on one of the long communal wooden tables and Uris sat down to eat with his guests. There was hot bread, meat and vegetables, with hot diluted honey to drink.

Maryam found the meat tough and some of the almost familiar potatoes and root vegetables more burned than cooked, but she was ravenous and heaped her plate as high as the others. While they wolfed the food, she ate more slowly, but the fact that they all talked through most of the meal meant that she cleared her plate almost as quickly. The hot honey water was almost too sweet for her taste, but even with the wood stoves roaring, it was cold in the large room, and she was glad of the inner heat.

Uris did much of the talking. He clearly missed better quality company and seemed prepared to talk about anything other than his own falling from grace that had earned him this miserable posting. He sighed heavily when the meal was finished and Raven insisted that his party still had time for a good half day's riding. Reluctantly he led them out to their waiting horses.

Maryam's heart quailed when she saw the beasts. She had ridden her father's ponies many times, but never a full-sized stallion. These beasts were even more than that, they stood an arm's length taller than any Earth horse. They had long shaggy manes, fearsome yellow teeth, and hot flared nostrils the diameter of a small dinner plate.

Raven sensed her alarm, and shot her a look of doubt. It had suddenly dawned upon him that he had only ever seen her handle a riding animal from the safer platform of a chariot.

“You can ride a horse?”

“Of course I can ride.” Maryam snapped the words at him and hauled up her courage with a deep intake of breath. She turned and grabbed the unsuspecting Taron by the shoulder and pulled him close to the nearest of the huge animals.

“Cup your hands,” she commanded, and taking the startled Gheddan by the wrists she pushed his hands together, interlocking his fingers. “Like this,” she continued firmly. “And now lift me up.”

She gathered the reins, reached up for the high, wooden pommel of the saddle, stepped one booted foot into Taron's cupped hands, and heaved herself upright. She might have missed her swing and fallen against the animal's flank, but Taron realized what was expected of him, grinned widely, and helped her on her way. He almost threw her over the top of the horse, but she landed astride and held her position.

Even the horse was startled into momentary submission. For a long moment, the animal seemed to hold its breath and freeze, then it screamed its indignation and reared upward. Maryam could not reach the stirrups, but she had locked her knees tight on either side of the heavy leather saddle and tucked her heels up underneath its overhanging side flaps. She stayed glued in place and leaned forward to heave down the reins with all her strength, pulling the animal's chin tight against its neck. The horse lunged and reared, and with shouts of warning, the surrounding Gheddans backed quickly away from its kicking hooves.

Slowly the animal realized that it could not unseat its rider, and some of the fight went out of it. Maryam relaxed the pressure on the reins and allowed its head to come up a little.

“Easy now,” she spoke soothingly. “You've got the lightest burden. Be grateful you don't have to carry one of these big, ugly Gheddans.”

There was laughter now, but it was laughter tinged with respect. Maryam patted the horse's neck, warily eased off a little more rein, and as the head came up further, she reached down to stroke its face. She remembered the sharp yellow teeth, thinking that the animal only had to turn its head now and snap and those jaws would take off her hand. She was afraid, but she would not show her fear and she continued to talk to the animal, softly and gently stroking its nose. The huge beast snorted, shivered and stood still.

“Well,” She finally looked down at the faces of Raven, Taron and Garl. “Are you coming?”

Taron grinned again, and then went to mount the next horse. Garl followed his example. Raven smiled up at her, and then carefully unbelted the stirrup that dangled out of reach of her right boot and hauled it up until he could place her foot inside the steel support. He re-buckled the belt and then went round to adjust the left stirrup in the same way.

“You manage quite well without them,” he said calmly, “but it is a long ride to Stronghold Raven.”

Maryam laughed, feeling happy for the first time since she had killed Sylve. She was basking in his approval again and it felt good.

Their blanket rolls and saddle bags were quickly strapped into place behind them, and Raven thanked Uris and his soldiers and bid them farewell. In a single column, they walked their mounts up the narrow track that led northward through the black ranks of the tall trees. Raven led with Maryam immediately behind him, then Taron, and then Garl. Within minutes, the landing clearing with its handful of log buildings and the watching soldiers was left behind. Maryam had not particularly enjoyed her stay there, but the last glimpse of woodsmoke curling up from one of the chimneys lingered in her mind as a reminder of lost warmth and relative comfort. The great forest was gloomy and cold.