Gene Wolfe - Soldier of the mist

Their spears are no taller than the men who bear them. Instead of a pointed grounding iron that can serve as a second spear head if the shaft breaks, they have a round weight at the butt. It is wise of them to make them that way, I think, because so short a spear would be useless after the shaft had broken; but the weight should permit the soldier to reverse his broken spear and use it as a mace. This weight shifts the point of balance to the rear, just as the grounding iron does.

The men of Parsa always have their bows and bowcases. I think they must be fonder of the bow than any other race; surely no race could be fonder than they. Their bows are of wood and horn bound with sinew, and they bend backward when unstrung. Their arrows are hardly longer than a man's forearm and have iron points. Some have blue feathers, some gray. They are carried in the bowcase with the bow.

Their swords are short and straight, with tapering blades sharpened on both sides. Those of the soldiers who came for us have bronze lions' heads on their pommels, and that of Artayctes, to whom they brought us, has a golden lion's head. It is very beautiful, but the truth is that all these swords are hardly more than long daggers-good for thrusting but for nothing else. Some of the men from Parsa do not even carry swords. They have long-hafted axes instead, and that is what I would choose myself in preference to such a sword. The men who bear these axes wear a knife at the belt.

Artayctes is of graying beard, with eyes even harder and darker than is common among his countrymen. Because he wears a jeweled cap and many rings, I decided it was he whom Io saw upon the wall. The woman Io had called Drakaina sat at his right hand, not cross-legged as he himself sat, but with her fine legs to one side and bent at the knee to show their grace. When we came, she drew the end of a many-colored scarf across her nose and mouth.

He addressed her in a language I did not know, and she bowed her head. "Once my lord has spoken, the thing is done."

As the Hellenes speak, he said, "Your tongue is more supple than mine, in this speech particularly. They do not comprehend ours?"

"No, my lord."

"Then explain to them why they have been brought into my presence."

Drakaina turned so it appeared that she looked from the window of Artayctes's audience chamber, yet I saw her eyes were on me. "I told my lord what you did to Pasicrates and said you could no doubt kill three ordinary men. He has a guard of Sestians beside his own soldiers, and three have volunteered to fight you. Not with spears, but with hands bare, as contestants fight in the pancratium. Do you know that event? Only weapons are barred."

I was about to ask what I had done to Pasicrates (whom Io had told me I had fled) when Artayctes clapped his hands and a sentry ushered in the three. All were as tall as I am, well-muscled men at the height of their strength.

Io protested, "This isn't fair!"

Drakaina nodded agreement. "You're right, but the men of Parsa don't like boasting. I'd forgotten that. When they hear a boast, it's a point of honor with them to make the man perform accordingly, even when it was spoken by another. I believe my lord thinks too that Latro has been my lover, though we both know it is not so."

Io said bitterly, "By no fault of yours."

I was watching the three. If the leader could be killed, it would take the heart from the others. Often a leader stands between his followers, but in battle the place of honor is the right flank. As I took off my sword belt I muttered, "Maiden, aid me now."

At once the door of Artayctes's audience chamber opened again, and two more men entered, both as naked as the first three. Neither was large, but the first was so handsome and well shaped in every limb that every other man must have seemed deformed in his presence. The other was older, yet strong still, sun-browned and grizzled, with cunning eyes. Neither made any move to help me, each standing motionless beside the door, his arms at his sides. The three who faced me did not so much as look at them.

Artayctes said, "You are three set at one. Kill him and return to your duties."

The Sestians to my right and left stepped forward so that with the third they might enclose me. I knew that was death and edged to the left, so that the man there would have to fight me alone, if only for a moment.

He grappled, and I struck him with my fist below the navel and in the face with the crown of my head. He reeled and fell backward, his nose gushing blood.

At once the older man flung himself upon him, face to face as lover kisses lover. Until then I had not been certain the rest could not see the two who had come last, but when I saw them I knew. I circled and feinted, sure delay would favor me.

Nor was I wrong. The grizzled man rose, his mouth crimson with blood, and seized one of my opponents from behind. Still the man did not see him, yet his movements were slower.

"I am Odysseus, son of Laertes and King of Ithaka," the grizzled man whispered. "We need more blood, for Peleus's son."

"I doubt it," I told him, for I had seen that the remaining Sestian watched my eyes and not my hands.

When the fight was over, Drakaina smiled-I could see her lips through the thin stuff of the scarf. "My lord Artayctes feels the news I've brought is too important to remain caged here. Furthermore, there isn't food enough in the city for it to resist much longer-the people are boiling the straps from their beds."

Artayctes spoke some angry word, but Drakaina did not look chastened.

"He hoped for relief before this. It hasn't come; so he will go, taking his own people and those from the far lands. He plans to leave the Hellenes here, knowing they'll negotiate a surrender that will spare their houses and their walls. When he's conveyed my news, he'll get an army from the Great King and return to crush the barbarians, if they're bold enough to remain. I've told him you've sold your sword to the Great King, and he's just seen you're a fighter to be reckoned with. He asks if you'll go with him to Susa, where he expects to find the Great King."

I nodded, adding, "Yes, certainly."

Speaking for himself in his harsh accent, Artayctes asked, "Are you not of the Hellenes? You look as they."

"No, my lord."

"Then prove it. Let me hear your native tongue. The Hellenes will learn none but their own."

I did as he said, swearing in the tongue in which I write these words that I owed no allegiance to Thought or any such city. I do not think Artayctes understood me, but he seemed convinced. He took my sword from behind the scarlet cushions on which we sat and handed it to me.

"We will go by night," he said. "The barbarians will be asleep, save for a few sentries. No one must know. The people of this city tell all they learn to Yellow Horse, no matter how often they swear their loyalty. You are to ride beside me and carry this woman with you. See that she is not harmed." By "Yellow Horse" he meant Xanthippos, but he broke his name as I have broken it here.

When we had left the brightly hung audience chamber, Drakaina said, "Before we go, you must be armed. Wouldn't you like a shield and spear besides your sword? What of a helmet?"

Io told me, "You had round things for your chest and back when I met you, master."

I nodded. "A shield and a helmet, certainly, if there's going to be real fighting. No spear. I'll take a couple of javelins instead."

The armory was in the lowest part of the citadel. I asked for an oblong shield of medium weight, but those they had were hoplons, round and very heavy, or peltas shaped like the moon and very light.

"These honor my goddess," Drakaina said, holding up one of the latter. "It's the kind the javelin men in Thessaly use."

I told her that leather over wicker would stop only arrows and slingstones.