David Zindell - The Lightstone - The Silver Sword - Part Two

It was a poor speech, I thought, and Count Ulanu had as much regard for it as I. His contemptuous eyes fell upon me as he said, ‘If you are Valari, it seems you’ve lost your courage that you should suggest such cowardly schemes of running off to the enemy.’

For quite a few moments, he stared at the scar on my forehead. Then his eyes, which had caused Liljana nearly to weep, bored into mine. I felt something like black maggots trying to eat their way into my brain. My hand closed more tightly around Alkaladur’s swan-carved hilt. I felt the fire of the silustria passing into me and gathering in my eyes. And suddenly Count Ulanu looked away from me.

‘ Pilgrims, are you?’ he muttered. ‘Seven of you, what’s to be done with seven damn pilgrims?’

As the hot wind rippled the grasses about the hill, the Blue warrior with the shaved head impatiently turned to speak to the Count. His words came out in a series of guttural sounds like the grunts of a bear. He suddenly raised his axe, which caught the fierce rays of the sun. From his neck dangled a clear stone, which also gleamed in the bright light. It was a large, square-cut diamond like those that are affixed to leather breastpieces to make up the famed Valari battle armor. The other Blues sported identical gems. With the veins of my wrist touching my sword’s diamond pommel, I saw in a flash how these Blues had acquired such stones: they had been ripped free from the armor of the crucified Valari after the battle of Tarshid an entire age ago. For three thousand years, Morjin had hoarded them against the day they might be needed. As now they were. For clearly, he had bought the service of the Blues’ axes – and perhaps their forgetfulness of past treacheries – with these stolen diamonds.

‘Urturuk here,’ the Count said, nodding at the scabrous Blue, ‘suggests that we do send you on to Khaisham. Or at least your heads.’

Like a perfect jewel forming up in my mind, I suddenly saw what Morjin’s spending of this long-hoarded treasure portended: that he had finally committed to the open conquest of not only Yarkona but all of Ea.

‘The Librarians,’ the Count said, ‘must be sent some sign that they’ve forfeited the right to receive more pilgrims.’

While the horses, ours and theirs, nickered nervously and pawed the earth, Count Ulanu stared up the grassy hill at us deciding what to do.

And then Liljana smiled at him and said, ‘But haven’t you already made your request to the Librarians?’

Again, the rage returned to Count Ulanu’s face as he caught Liljana in his hateful eyes. And she stared right back at him, taking perhaps too much delight in her power to provoke him. Then she told us of the hidden thing that she had so painstakingly wrested from the Count’s mind.

‘After Tarmanam,’ she said to him loudly so that all his men could hear, ‘didn’t you send your swiftest rider to Khaisham demanding a tribute of gold? And didn’t the Librarians send you a book illumined with gilt letters? A book of manners ?’

Her revelation of the Librarians’ rebuke and the Count’s secret shame proved too much for him. With his true motives for wanting to humble the Librarians exposed like a raw nerve, the Count’s hand tightened on his horse’s reins, pulling back its head until it screamed in pain. And then the Count himself suddenly pointed his sword at us and screamed to his men, ‘Damned witch! Take her! Take them all! And be sure you take the Valari alive!’

This command pleased the three Blues greatly. They clanked their great axes together, and in harmony with the ringing steel, they let loose a long and savage howl: OWRRULLL!

Then the twenty knights kicked their spurs against their screaming horses’ flanks, and the battle was joined.

The Count himself led the charge up the hill. He was daring enough to show brave, but cunning enough to know that his knights wouldn’t let him ride right onto our swords unprotected and alone. As their horses wheezed and sweated and pounded up the steep slope, two of his knights spurred their mounts slightly ahead of him to act as living shields. And it was well for him that they did. For just then, behind me, a bowstring twanged and an arrow buried itself in the lead knight’s chest. I heard Atara call out, ‘Twenty-three!’ A few moments later, another arrow sizzled through the roiling air, only to glance off the Count’s shield. And then he and his men were upon us.

The first knight to crest the hill – a big, burly man with fear-maddened eyes – drove his horse straight toward me. But due to his uphill charge, he had little momentum and less balance in his saddle; with Altaru’s hooves planted squarely in the earth, the point of my lance took him in the throat and drove clean through him. The force of his fall ripped the lance from my grasp. I heard him screaming, but then realized that he was going to his death in near silence, a wheeze of bloody breath escaping from his ruined throat and nothing more. The scream was all inside me. It built louder and louder until it seemed that the earth itself was shrieking in agony as it split asunder beneath me and pulled me down toward a black and bottomless chasm.

‘Val!’ Kane called out from somewhere nearby. ‘Draw your sword!’

I heard his sword slice the air and cleave through the gorget surrounding a knight’s neck. I was vaguely aware of Maram fumbling with his red crystal and trying to catch a few rays of sun with which to burn the advancing knights. Master Juwain, to my astonishment, scooped up the shield of the man I had unhorsed; he held it protecting Liljana from another knight’s sword as she tried to urge her horse toward Count Ulanu. Behind me, to the right and left, Atara and Alphanderry worked furiously with their swords to beat back the attack of yet more knights who were trying to flank us along the rear of the hill and take us from behind.

With a trembling hand, I drew forth Alkaladur. The long blade gleamed in the light of the sun. The sight of the silver gelstei shining so brilliantly dismayed Count Ulanu and his men, even as it drove back the darkness engulfing me. My mind suddenly cleared and a fierce strength flowed up my hand into my arm, a strength that felt as bottomless as the sea. It was as if I were drawing Altaru’s surging blood into me, and more, the very fires of the earth itself.

The Bright Sword flared white then, so brilliant and dazzling that the nearest knights cried out and threw their arms over their eyes. But other knights and the three Blues pressed toward me. Kane was near me, too, cutting and killing and cursing. Horses collided with each other, snorted and screamed. Altaru, steadying me and freely lending me his great strength, turned his wrath on any who tried to harm me. An unhorsed knight tried to hammer my back with his mace; Altaru kicked out, catching him in the chest and knocking him over. And then, even as Urturuk, the Blue with the missing ear, came for me with his huge axe, Altaru backed up to trample the fallen knight with his sharp hooves. He struck down with tremendous force, again and again until the knight’s head was little more than white bones and broken brains beneath his crumpled helm.

‘Val – on your right!’

I narrowly pulled back from Urturuk’s ferocious axe blow that would have chopped through Altaru’s neck. Altaru, now sensing the enemy’s strategy of trying to kill him to get at me, furiously bit out at Urturuk, taking a good chunk of flesh from his shoulder. Urturuk seemed not to notice this ugly wound. He drove straight toward Altaru again, his mouth fairly frothing with wrath, this time trying to split open his skull.

At last I swung Alkaladur. It arced downward in a silvery flash, cutting through the axe’s iron-hard haft and into Urturuk’s bare chest, cleaving him nearly in two. The spray of blood from his opened chest nearly blinded me. I almost didn’t see one of the Count’s knights coming at me from the other side. But a sudden whinny and tensing of Altaru’s body told me of his attack. I whirled about, swinging Alkaladur again. Its terrible, star-tempered edge cut through both shield and the mailed forearm behind it, and then bit into the steel rings covering the knight’s belly. He cried out to see his arm fall away like a pruned tree limb, and plunged to the ground screaming out his death agony.