Брайан Ламли - Khai of Khem

The other sighed and Khai began to wonder if perhaps he was being over cautious. “My friend,” Manek said, “even if that were so, still our armies can crush the Khemites without our assistance. There are chiefs enough, as you are well aware. What are we after all but two men? Besides, upon our acceptance to talk they have agreed to a withdrawal of their forces to the very walls of the city! We can ask no fairer than that.”

For a long time, Khai was silent. He got up, went to the door of the tent and looked in the direction of the Khemish defenses. Night would be setting in soon and in an hour or so it would be dark. “If we agree to talk,” Khai said, “when would this withdrawal take place?”

“It would begin at once. Also, Khai, we would go to the meeting-place in a chariot. In the event of any sort of treachery, why!—we’d be back among our own men before any Khemites could possibly reach us.”

He went to stand beside Khai and gazed out upon the evening, unlovely now that the land all around looked like a corpse dead of some hideous plague. “Well, Khai,” he said, “it seems to me we can have done with the thing at a stroke. What say you?”

“I say … that we wait until Gahad Shebbithon gets here before we drive out to this meeting-place. He should be here soon, for I spoke to him when I rode through his camp. Between now and then, let’s see these Khemites draw back their lines, eh? Where’s this flag you mentioned, this signal of acceptance?”

Half an hour later, Khai and Manek drove to a place forward of their front lines where the latter held up a spear draped with a large square of yellow linen. And there they waited as night came on, standing beside their chariot and watching the Khemites draw back under the walls of Asorbes. While they waited Gahad Shebbithon drove up, dismounted and greeted them. Gahad was a man of their own age, strong and capable, and they knew him well. They told him what was happening and instructed him, in the event of anything going wrong, what he must do: namely that he must call the chiefs together and consult with them, and thus decide the best way to deal with the situation.

As the first stars of night appeared, Khai and Manek then drove toward the ground so recently occupied by the Khemites. A lone tent stood just inside the circle of life which surrounded Asorbes, upon the only green grass untouched by the Dark Heptad’s blight. Coming from the opposite direction, on foot, two figures in the garb of Khemish commanders arrived at the tent at the same time. Formal introductions were a little stiff, somewhat stilted, and Khai did not at all like the looks of these two generals of Pharaoh’s army. Manek seemed eager to get on with it, however, and so all four of them entered the tent and seated themselves at a central table.

The tent was lighted by hanging lamps which gave a good, steady light, and Khai saw nothing to account for his steadily mounting feelings of apprehension and nervous distrust. As if sensing his unease, the Khemish commanders produced a stone jar of wine and four silver cups. One of them poured the wine and immediately drained his cup. His friend, Manek and Khai followed suit. As Khai put his cup to his lips, however, he noticed the sheen of sweat on Manek’s brow, gleaming in the lamplight. The wine tasted bitter on his tongue and suddenly he knew that he could not be mistaken. The poison must have been in his cup before the wine was poured!

” ’Ware, Manek!” he cried, starting up from the table. The eyes of the three were hard upon him where he swayed. Then Manek hung his head and looked away, but before he did Khai saw the sickness in his eyes.

The stricken man staggered from the table and slowly his world began to tilt. He fell, and falling saw large sods of grass tossed aside and Khemish soldiers where they emerged from holes in the earth; then there was a whirling and a rushing in his head and he saw no more. Before he passed out completely he heard parts of a conversation. Manek’s voice said:

“Wait for a few more minutes until it’s properly dark. Then you’ll have to give me a good clout behind the ear to raise a bump that can plainly be seen. When I’m stretched out, one of your men should drive a sword through my shirt into the earth. I don’t mind if it grazes me—all to the good—but no more than that. As for the General Khai: Pharaoh must let him live, but that’s all. I’ll not take Kush’s future king home to the Candace, but the merest shell of a man. Is that understood?”

One of the Khemish commanders answered him: “And do you put yourself so completely in our hands, Manek Thotak ? What if we choose to take you also into Asorbes?”

Manek laughed grimly. “And who then would quell the anger of the thousands come here to destroy you Khemites? And who would stay their hands? You’d not only have Kush and a few of her friends on your doorstep but all of Siwad, Nubia and Daraaf, too—and in less than a month, I promise you!

This way Pharaoh keeps Khem, what’s left of it, and I get Kush. There is no other way.”

This much Khai heard, but no more, not for a very long time… .

In the foothills of the Gilf Kebir, Ashtarta had gone wearily to the tent of her handmaidens where she had fallen fast asleep. It was now mid-morning, five days since Manek’s treachery on the approaches to Asorbes. In the Queen’s marquee Khai and Manek lay on their couches in attitudes of death. They had been left alone on the instructions of the seven mages, whose magical efforts for Khai’s recovery had not been seen to work. The seven had seemed unperturbed, however, and had instructed that the generals should now be left alone in peace and quiet. Nothing more could be done. If Manek were successful in some future, as yet unborn world, then he would return with Khai eventually. But it must be soon, before life became truly extinct in the present bodies of the two men.

Thus, when color returned to the cheeks of the two and their eyelids began to flutter—as their chests rose and fell more steadily and with burgeoning strength, and their hearts beat more powerfully within them—none remained to see it. Some minutes passed in this manner and finally Khai awakened. His eyes opened and he stared up at the roof of the marquee above him.

For a mad, fleeting moment he was two men, with the memories of both. He was Khai of Kush—but, he was also Paul Arnott of London. Then, as a nightmare receding, his memories of Arnott dwindled and were gone. His Khai memories, on the other hand, were fresh and vivid in his mind—particularly those memories of Manek Thotak’s treachery!

Khai sat bolt upright then, in time to see Manek awakening where he lay close by. For a moment, they stared into each other’s eyes. Then the blond giant was off his couch in a flash, snarling his rage, dragging Manek by the throat until he had his back across his knee. He could have choked the life from him then, or simply snapped his spine, but he did neither of these things. Instead, he snarled: “Before you die, tell me why?”

“For Kush!” the helpless general managed to choke out. “For Kush?” Khai released his grip on Manek’s throat. “Are you mad?” “No, not mad. I won’t see a Khemite on the throne of Kush, that’s all. Now get it over and done with. Kill me!”

“What do you mean?” Khai asked. “What are you getting at?” “You’re Ashtarta’s lover, aren’t you?”

Now Khai frowned his puzzlement. “Jealousy!” he finally said, his voice flat and disappointed.

“No!” Manek protested. “I’m not jealous. I want nothing of Ashtarta herself—only that when she marries, her husband should be a man born and bred of Kush.”

“You fool!” Khai snarled, his face twisting. “You might very well have destroyed this Kush you love so much! Where are we now? Isn’t this Ashtarta’s tent? You’d better tell me all that’s happened since you gave me over into the hands of those dogs. And you’d better tell me quickly, before I really do kill you.”