Hugh Cook - The women and the warlords

'You took longer than I expected,' said Celadric. 'Yes,' said Meddon. 'Still, you're lucky to have made it. Half our prisoners die in the attempt.’

Hearst managed a few words in a wretched, rusty voice. 'Am I free then?’

'Oh no,' said Meddon, laughing. 'Not that lucky. The Ondrask has sharpened a knife for you.' 'Any last requests?' said Celadric. 'You can have my woman, if you like,' said Draven. The Princess Quenerain flinched. 'Water,' said Hearst.

'The prisoner is to be denied all water,' said Celadric, then turned and walked away.

'If it's any consolation,' said Meddon, 'you're going to be in good company. General Chonjara is going to be executed today. That's part of the deal with our friend Draven. He doesn't want the general escaping then coming looking for his woman.’

'Watashi?' croaked Hearst.

'He goes into the stocks in the market place at noon,' said Meddon, 'along with your other friends. They'll be stoned to death by the mob.’

And Meddon smiled, produced a wilted flower and dropped it on Hearst's chest. This was a subtle insult, reminding him of how easily he had been taken the day before. Then Meddon too turned and walked away.

Hearst jerked his hook up to his throat, intending to slash his carotids then and there. But the Ondrask stepped on his right arm before he could do himself any injury. The Ondrask gave a curt order in a language Hearst could not understand.

And guards seized hold of the Rovac warrior Morgan Hearst, and carried him away.

Garabatoon was crowded for the river festival. Just upstream of the bridge, a clutter of rafts and small boats jammed the Hollern River. Then there was a long stretch of river which had been left clear for boat races, river crossing competitions and so forth. Then, further upstream, there were three rafts.

The three rafts lying upstream from Garabatoon all belonged to the Ondrask of Noth. One was a floating funeral pyre, on which sacrifices would be carried out. Another was the Ondrask's personal residence. The third housed the Ondrask's retainers, who numbered about two dozen.

Toward mid-morning, people began to drift out of Garabatoon, and soon both banks were lined with spectators. Then General Chonjara and Morgan Hearst were led to the riverbank. Both men were stripped to the waist and had their arms tied behind their backs.

Hearst watched as Chonjara was led out along a gangplank to the floating funeral pyre. He was made to lie down in amongst the high-piled firewood. He almost disappeared in it. The guards withdrew. The Ondrask climbed up to Chonjara, raised a knife high, stabbed down, and hauled out Chonjara's beating heart. The crowd gave a roar of approval.

Even as Hearst was hustled forward by the guards, other guards were putting torches to the firewood. A black cloth had been thrown over Chonjara's body, but the wood around was splattered with gore. Hearst was laid down in amongst the firewood in a coffin-sized indentation. He took his last look at the sky. The Ondrask loomed over him.

The Ondrask spoke briefly. Hearst did not understand,

but a guard standing at the Ondrask's shoulder translated. 'Goodbye, Morgan.’

'I speak Ordhar,' said Hearst, using the Collosnon battle language.

'The Ondrask speaks only Eparget,' said the guard, in the Galish Trading Tongue.

There was the sound of the black cloth being twitched away. Hearst could not see the body. The Ondrask bent down, leaning to one side. He was dipping his finger in blood. He anointed Hearst with the blood, and spoke earnestly. The guard translated.

'Morgan, I have to kill you, but I bear you no ill. My religion holds that the soul of the warrior goes to Nazagost, the place of the Testing. Have courage for the Test. Endure.’

Hearst made no answer.

He watched as the Ondrask raised his knife. The blade had not been cleaned. It was still bloodstained. As Hearst watched, a drop fell from the blade. He could smell smoke. He heard the fierce crackle of flames, and knew the wood was well and truly ablaze. He saw the the Ondrask grimace, about to stab downwards. Despite himself, Hearst closed his eyes.

He felt a lacerating pain in his chest and heard his own scream. Opening his eyes, he saw the Ondrask holding aloft his beating heart. Then he was falling, his sight failing. He fell through fire, smashed into a barrier, and knew no more.

Morgan Hearst opened his eyes and stared up at a strange sky of blue and green. He tried to speak; a croak came out of his mouth. A stranger, a woman with long hair, fed him water. Honey had been mixed into the water. He drank, and it was good. 'This is Nazagost,' said the woman. 'The place of Testing.’

So it was true. He had died, and had come to the place of Testing. Slowly, he raised his right arm, and saw the articulation of wood and metal that held his hook in place. He was bitterly disappointed to find he had been reincarnated as a cripple.

T will contend against any man, god or hero if the battle can win me my hand,' said Hearst.

'It can win more than that,' said a familiar voice, as someone sitting behind him spoke. 'It can win you an empire.’

'Yen Olass?' said Hearst.

His chest was hurting. Looking down, he saw a ragged cut in his skin, as if someone had sliced it with a jagged knife. He tried to turn around to see Yen Olass.

'Are you dead too?' said Hearst.

'We'll all be dead if we carry on with this nonsense,' growled a voice.

Hearst propped himself up on an elbow and saw Yen Olass Ampadara and General Chonjara sitting in opposite corners of a… a bamboo room? A room on a raft? He glanced up at the ceiling. Loose-woven bamboo, still fresh and green, making a pattern of blue and green as the sky showed through. But he had seen his own heart! He remembered it being dragged out of his body.

'There was a hole in the bottom of the sacrifice raft,' said Yen Olass. 'You were dropped through it. We recovered you. I pulled you out myself – I'm a good swimmer, you know.’

'But my heart-’

'An ox, stupid. He had two great big beefy oxen under that great big black cloth. One for Chonjara, one for you.’

'But I felt my… I felt my heart getting torn out. I remember.’

'That's your imagination speaking,' said Yen Olass. 'You were slashed across the chest, that's all.’

'But if the whole sacrifice was a sham,' said Hearst,

starting to get angry. 'Then why cut me at all?’

'Because my lover is something of a sadist,' said Yen Olass.

'Your lover?' said Hearst. 'The… the Ondrask?' 'Not yet,' said Yen Olass. 'But he will be. Once I'm Kenagek.' 'Kenagek?’

'The Kenagek is the mother of the emperor,' said Yen Olass.

'You're going to try and make yourself Celadric's mother?' said Hearst, feeling confused.

'No,' said Yen Olass. 'Celadric is going to abdicate in favour of Monogail. He doesn't know it yet, of course. But he will.’

'How are you going to persuade him?' said Hearst.

'With a knife,' said Yen Olass. 'A castrating knife, if necessary. He's accepted an invitation to dine with the Ondrask at noon. His brother Meddon's coming too. We'll kill Meddon and kidnap Celadric. Once we get him to the Lesser Teeth, we can make him agree to anything we want.’

'You've left something out of your battle plan,' said Hearst.

'What's that,' said Yen Olass. 'York.’

'Oh, I've killed him already,' said Yen Olass happily. 'I'm famous, don't you know. Hundreds of soldiers are out combing the countryside for me. Celadric always wanted his brother dead, but as a matter of form he's even committed his persona! bodyguard to the hunt.’

'You're crazy,' said Hearst scornfully. 'Garabatoon is still swarming with men. What've you got here? Five? Six?’