Alan Akers - Warrior of Scorpio

“I want you to give me your word, by the sacred name of Hlo-Hli, by whatever pagan goddesses rule you, that you will not leave my army until you have led it to victory.”

“And what if the host of Umgar Stro prevails?”

“In that case, the issue will not matter to anyone.”

“Nothing is certain in war.”

Her whole attitude bespoke extreme uncertainty; she was bandying words with me, and she a queen.

“Give me your word-”

“I will do what I can for your army against Umgar Stro, because that happens to fit into my own desires, Lilah. Beyond that even your Hlo-Hli can do nothing. Now give Naghan leave to speak.”

Her small mouth compressed and the switch lifted. But she turned to Naghan calmly enough and told him to report.

“The Princess Delia of Vallia is now known to me for certain as not the name of the female prisoner on whose track I spent a great deal of time-”

I stood there. I could not speak or move. I simply glared at this calm matter-of-fact man called Naghan the spy, and he saw my eyes and he swallowed, that grave courageous man, and went on: “As San Yuong has said, all the prisoners except himself were killed at Plicla. I have been in Chersonang. There is a female prisoner there, who may or may not be the Princess Delia of Vallia. I have discovered only that she is kept penned in a dungeon, miserably. I have had no opportunity to speak with her, but she has female servants and slaves. The talk is that Umgar Stro is too busy to win conquests at this time; when the battle has been won he will deign to try his mettle with her.”

Queen Lilah sniffed. “From what I hear of Umgar Stro that fits his contemptible character. He likes his women pliable; drugged, eager for love. He will not waste time fighting a woman; he demands they yield to him with counterfeit joy.”

“I know that type of sub-man,” said Seg. He would not look at me.

Before anyone could stop her, Thelda burst out: “And is the man who forces a girl any the less of a sub-man, then?”

Orpus stroked his beard, which, as always, lent weight to what he was saying. “No. Passion in either case is unlawful and vile. But — I put it to you that no woman can be raped unless she desires it.”

Thelda gasped, looking shocked, and Lilah smiled reflectively. I remembered the stories of her cast-off lovers, the abandoned detritus of the Queen of Pain.

I said: “When do we leave?”

“On the morrow.” Orpus nodded, and he seemed pleased. “The plans are perfectly laid. You will ride at the apex of the host, Dray Prescot. The Queen’s generals have planned everything with meticulous attention-”

Seg Segutorio, highly incensed, cut into Orpus’ words.

“What of Delia?”

Naghan remained silent. Lilah moved her switch, but she, too, did not say anything.

“Delia may be the woman,” Seg said. “We do not know-”

“We will ride at the head of the host, Seg, you and I,” I said. “We will fight. If the army of Hiclantung can follow me, then it may. But I shall fight through to Umgar Stro, I think, or I will be cut down.”

Orpus nodded briskly. “Excellent. Our plans call for a great charge that will reduce the cramphs of Chersonang to slime beneath our feet. They are but Harfnars-”

“Harfnars, yes,” said Naghan in his quiet voice. “But they fight exceedingly well. And Umgar Stro with his Ullars has drilled and strengthened them. Half-men they may be, but they will fight.”

Orpus boomed a great basso laugh.

“There will be no treachery in our ranks, this time, when the Ullars fly down upon us. We have learned how to defend ourselves against impiters and corths. When the accursed Harfnars see their new allies retreating, bloodied and torn, they will not fight as they have done in the past.”

Clearly the sense of historic conflict sounded in Orpus’ words. For many years the hatred and rivalry between Hiclantung and Chersonang had festered. Now a new element in the Ullars had been added. There was sense in what Orpus said — sense, and a deadly danger these Lohvians would not see. So we sallied forth on the morrow, a proud and eager company. Queen Lilah was with the host. Wearing her green tunic and with a glittering gilded breastplate, she led out for a space. With Seg and myself, mounted upon nactrixes, rode Hwang’s regiment of cavalry. Heavy horsemen, with long lances and armor, and with a breathtaking panoply of embroidery and silken banners, they rode arrogantly, confident in their own prowess.

The infantry marched in their regimented formations. Varters rumbled in the intervals. There were also many strange contrivances mounted on carriages whose purpose I was to come to understand passing well in later years. At this time I saw them in action but the once, and was impressed. Thelda rode with Seg and me. Lilah wanted to keep her under her eye. Seg and I wore half-armor, bronze breastplates and shoulder-pieces, beautifully made. There comes a time in a people when armor is so splendidly made that its very beauty cancels out much of its function. The empire of Walfarg had fallen to interior problems as much as by barbarian invasions, and a symptom of that ancient disease showed in the conspicuous artistry of the armor, its incredible standard of workmanship, its comfortable fit, its padding, its cunning fastenings — and in the ominous clefts between piece and piece, the gaps at neck and shoulder.

I did not care.

I felt a lightening of my spirits. I had been imprisoned in a silken bower unable to break free; and now I once more rode beneath the twin suns of Scorpio and advanced into Kregan warfare. I did not know if Delia lived. I would find out. Of that I was certain.

The whole glittering procession marched firmly toward Chersonang and following us tailed a massive baggage train. No comforts would be missed on a Lohvian campaign. We would, in any case, spend only a few days on the march before we crossed the border and approached Chersonang city.

“You do realize, Dray, that that she-leem only wants you to lead her army? She wants you to rush in first and break a way for the rest of her lackeys. You’ve had no say in the strategy, have you?”

“Yes, Thelda, and no, Thelda,” I said. “I have more or less promised. You must understand why I agreed.”

“But there’s no need!” She bit her lip while Seg shot a quick glance at her as she rode between us. She wore a proper riding habit, and once more looked a great lady, her switch in her gloved hand.

“Oh?”

Her nactrix jostled closer to mine; she reached out her hand to me and her face showed a strange look, of compassion, baffled desire, remorse — self-doubt, even. Thelda had never been one to exhibit the slightest self-doubt; even the business of the vilmy and fallimy flowers had not fazed her for long. About to pay attention to what was festering in her, I was caught by the long shrilling sounds of Hiclantung trumpets, those fabled silver trumpets of Loh. Intense activity boiled up.

“Look!”

Low over the horizon, skimming the ground and rising and falling over groves of trees, a myriad black shapes darted down on us. A swarm of midges they appeared at first; and in seconds the narrowing distance converted them into fanged and wide-winged impiters, metal-jangling, with fearsome Ullars perched on their backs waving their spears in ferocious glee at the onslaught. Between the scattered clumps of trees the ground undulated gently in waves of rippling grasses, a motionless sea endlessly in motion. The Ullars flew their mounts directly down on us, disdaining any attempt to stalk us from the sun. Instantly the compact formations of the Hiclantung infantry shook out into fresh patterns and I saw the forest of upraised left arms, the longbows bent, the sunlight glinting from the jagged arrow barbs.