Robert Adams - Swords of the Horseclans

There was a short, deadly battle with the former High King’s bodyguard officers when the nobles bore the royal treasures from the pavilion and made to load them onto a waiting wagon, but the retainers of the thoheeksee ruthlessly cut down any who drew sword or lowered spear against them. With the officers all dead or dying, the rest of the guard wisely slipped away, tearing off their Green Dragon tabards as they went—naught could be gained in the support of a deposed and probably dead king.

Grahvos, well aware that whatever was left would certainly be looted by the unattached camp followers, stationed two hundred heavy infantry under command of Vahrohnos Mahvros to guard the ex-King’s pavilion and its environs until the High-Lord’s troops arrived. He also entrusted to the younger man a large package of documents—written oaths of fealty to the Confederation—all signed, witnessed, and sealed, from every landholder in the dispersing army.

A full day and then another night had been required to prepare the warbands for the retrograde movement. By the thirty-sixth hour after the nobles had looted Zastros’ treasures, the Green Dragon banner atop his pavilion waved over a scene of desolation. Outside the royal enclosure, precious few tents remained. Only discarded or broken equipment was left and a horde of human scavengers flitted through swarms of flies feasting on latrines and garbage pits.

Thoheeks Grahvos was the last to leave, having seen most of the troops on the march before dawn. Leaving his personal detachment at the foot of the hill, he rode up to the royal enclosure and dismounted before the pavilion.

“Any trouble so far, Mahvros?”

The young nobleman shook his head. “Nor do I expect any, my lord. Oh, my boys had to crack a couple of heads before we convinced the scum that we meant business, but we’ve been avoided since then.”

“And when the rest of us are on the road?” asked the Thoheeks skeptically.

“There’re damned few soldiers down there, my lord. And none of the skulkers are organized—it’s every man for himself. No, everything will be as it is when the Confederation troops get here.” Mahvros smiled.

Grahvos asked, “What of Zastros? Has he awakened yet?”

“No, my lord, he lives, but still he sleeps,” replied the Vahrohnos, adding, “but we had to bury the Lady Li-lyuhn. She was beginning to stink.”

Grahvos shrugged. “It couldn’t be helped. That guard probably killed her. There was fresh blood on his spear butt. But tell the High-Lord that I’m sorry.

“Also, Mahvros, tell him that I’ll see that the Thirty-three convene in the capital whenever he desires. I am certain that he and King Zenos will want some form of reparations, but emphasize, please, that some few years will be necessary to put our demesnes back on a paying basis.”

He put foot to stirrup, then turned back. “One other thing, Mahvros, my boy; the Council met for a short session this morning. Thoheeks Pahlios was your overlord, was he not?”

“Yes, my lord, but he was slain nearly three years ago. I—”

“Just so,” Grahvos interrupted. “He and all his male kin in the one battle. We’re going to have to affirm or choose the remainder of the Thirty-three rather quickly, and we want men we know will support us and the Confederation. That’s why we chose you to succeed the late Pahlios.”

Delving into his right boot-top, Grahvos brought out a slender roll of parchment. “Guard this well, Thoheeks Mahvros. When you’re back, ride to the capital and the Council will loan you troops enough to secure your new lands.

“Now, I must be gone.” He mounted and, from his saddle, extended his hand. “May God bless and keep you, lad, and may He bring you safely home.”

Reining about, he trotted out of the compound and down the hill.

It was almost a week before Milo made it across the river. The wall had to be dismantled, of course, but that alone would not have detained him, for Lord Alexandras had left a couple of biremes and crews for his use. However, when certain of the Middle Kingdoms’ nobles were apprised that there would be no battle, after all, they split into two factions at the cores of-which were the contingents, from Harzburk and Pitzburk. Armed to the teeth, the factions mounted and rode into the fields west of the camp. And the resulting melee was only the first and largest. It was a very hectic period for the High-Lord.

At length, he had all the northern troops and their battered nobles on the march, their units separated and shepherded by strong bodies of Confederation regulars and Confederation-contracted Freefighters.

Dressed in his best clothing and finest armor, Milo strode out of his pavilion and had already ordered a charger when he felt a familiar touch on the back of his neck. Behind him stood the elephant.

Sunshine—she had chosen the name herself as her mindspeak improved with usage—was noticeably sleeker, as she well should have been, thought Milo, considering the fantastic amounts of food she had consumed. From all over the camp, men had come not just to see her, but to watch her eat. And “hungry as the elephant” had become a common expression to Milo’s army.

When Milo turned, Sunshine moved closer and placed her trunk tip on his shoulder so that its appendage might caress his skin. “Please God-Milo,” she begged, “do not send Sunshine away from you today. Take her with you.”

“Sunshine,” Milo gently and patiently mindspoke, “we have been through all this before. Where I live is cold for much of the year, colder than the land from which you came. You would quickly die there. You must go back south, Sunshine, but Gil will be with you all the way. He will see that you eat all you want and that no man harms you. And when I come to your land, I will visit you. Will not that make Sunshine happy?”

Her answer surprised him. “Let Sunshine bear God-Milo across the river, then, please. You will ride safer on Sunshine than on that skinny-legged little creature.” She pointed her trunk at where Milo’s groom stood waiting with a seventeen-hand war horse. “If you fight, how can that one protect you? Sunshine has slain many two-legs.”

“There will be no fight, Sunshine,” Milo assured her. “Those who were my enemies are now my friends, and you must promise not to hurt the few of them who remain beyond the river; you and Gil will be traveling with them.”

“Sunshine will not hurt any creatures Gil does not tell her to hurt,” she spoke. Then, “But … please ride Sunshine … ?”

“Why, Sunshine,” Milo asked, “is it so important to you that you carry me across the bridge?”

Sunshine came closer, tenderly wrapping him about with her trunk. “God-Milo is the first two-leg who was ever good to Sunshine, who spoke to her and treated her like … like a two-leg. Sunshine cannot stay with God-Milo to serve him all her days, as she should. Will not God-Milo allow her to serve him once… ?”

What the hell, thought Milo, how much more impressive an appearance could I make than arriving on an elephant?

“Gil!” he farspoke. “Have you rigged any sort of saddle for Sunshine?”

Gil stepped from behind the elephant, a sheepish grin on his face and his arms filled with an altered saddle and an assortment of odd harness.

“Damn it!” exclaimed Milo aloud. “You two planned this in advance! Admit it, kinsman!”

“Yes, God-Milo, Sunshine and I planned,” Gil mind-spoke. “But, God-Milo, she is very grateful to you … and she loves you. Often has our Clanbard said that nothing is so unkind as to force a man or woman to swallow honest gratitude unexpressed.”

Milo mindcalled the groom and the three of them saddled Sunshine. The saddle perfectly fitted the area just behind her head.