Eric Flint - An Oblique Approach

The warrior began to slump, but his body was hurled aside by three other Ye-tai pouring into the princess' chamber. The Ye-tai in the lead stumbled slightly over his dead comrade's leg. It wasn't much of a stumble, but it was just enough to allow Shakuntala's spear to slide over the rim of his shield. The spear-point sank into his throat. The barbarian coughed blood and fell to his knees.

The princess immediately jerked the spear-blade back and plunged it toward another Ye-tai. This one brought his shield up to block the thrust. But the princess had been well-taught. The thrust was a feint. The spear-tip sank into his leg just above the knee. The Ye-tai howled. Shakuntala jerked the blade out and drove it into the warrior's open mouth.

It was a quick, flickering, viper-like thrust—just as she had been taught. But—just as she had been warned not to do—the princess had driven the blade in much too furiously. The spear-tip jammed between two vertebrae.

A moment later, another Ye-tai struck at the spear shaft with his sword. His sword did not—quite—succeed in cutting the spear shaft. But the blow was more than sufficient to knock the spear out of Shakuntala's hands.

The Ye-tai shouted triumphantly and advanced upon her, grinning widely. Shakuntala backed away toward a corner. The huge room, which had served as her reception chamber, was sparsely furnished. The princess kicked aside a large vase, giving herself still more maneuvering space. The beautiful porcelain shattered, spilling dried flowers onto the floor.

Six more Ye-tai poured in through the shattered door. Two of them came toward the princess. The other four veered away, heading toward Shakuntala's maidservant. The girl—Jijabai—was huddled in another corner of the room.

Shakuntala heard Jijabai's sobs turn into shrieks. She heard her maid's clothing being torn and the gleeful howls of the Ye-tai who were wrestling the girl down to the floor. But she had no time to look over. The three Ye-tai who were now moving to surround her in the corner had sheathed their own swords and dropped their shields. The iron rims of the shields bounced softly on the rich carpet which covered the floor.

The princess did not understand the phrases they were exchanging back and forth, but the leering grins on their faces made the meaning clear enough. She turned slightly, pretended to slump, cowering. One of the Ye-tai pounced on her. Her sidekick took the warrior straight in the diaphragm, knocking him flat on his back. Her fist took a second warrior in the exact same location. He coughed, began to double up—then slumped to the floor as Shakuntala's forearm strike smashed into his jaw.

The third Ye-tai leapt onto her back, wrapping his arms around her. She snapped her head back into his face, stamped on his instep, broke loose from his grip, and slammed her elbow into his stomach.

The warrior staggered. Shakuntala spun and drove her foot into his groin. The Ye-tai sprawled on the floor, groaning.

Shakuntala sprang away and raced toward the other corner, where Jijabai was being held down on the floor. The maid was half-naked now. Her arms were being held by one Ye-tai, while each of her legs were spread apart by others. The fourth Ye-tai had untied his trousers and was dropping to his knees between the screaming girl's legs.

His kneel turned into a headlong plunge as Shakuntala's flying kick smashed between his shoulder blades. The princess delivered the kick perfectly, without the impetuous excess which was her usual mistake. She rebounded and landed lightly on her feet. The Ye-tai who was holding Jijabai's right leg gaped up at her. Shakuntala kicked out his teeth. Again, the kick was perfect. The follow-on kick broke the warrior's neck.

But that kick was too powerful, by far. Instead of rebounding, the princess staggered and fell onto her back. Fortunately, the thick carpet softened her fall. A moment later, the Ye-tai who had been holding Jijabai's other leg landed on top of her, grappling for her wrists. He was roaring with rage. His roars were not enough, however, to drown the sound of other Ye-tai warriors pouring into the room. Jijabai began screaming again.

Shakuntala wrestled with her assailant furiously. For her size, she was very strong. But the Ye-tai outmassed her considerably, and was no weakling himself. Then the princess found her legs suddenly seized by other barbarians. Ye-tai howls of glee filled the room, almost deafening in their cacophony.

The Ye-tai lying atop the princess now had her wrists firmly in his grip. He brought his legs up and straddled her chest. His face was not more than inches from hers. He began to say something to her, grinning fiercely. Shakuntala lunged her head forward and bit off the tip of his nose.

The Ye-tai howled and jerked his head. Blood flew from his severed nose. He stared down at her, his eyes wide with rage. Shakuntala spit the tip of his nose into his face. The warrior bellowed fury. He released her left wrist, drew back his right hand, made a fist, and began to strike her in the jaw.

The fist went flying out of sight. The warrior's arm had been chopped off just below the wrist. The Ye-tai gaped at the stump. Blood gushed everywhere, much of it on the princess. A moment later, Shakuntala was practically drowned in blood. The Ye-tai's head had vanished also.

Now, all was chaos and confusion. Shakuntala was almost blinded by the blood covering her face. Then she was blinded, by the Ye-tai's headless body collapsing on her.

She felt the hands holding her legs release their grip. Her lower body was suddenly covered with wetness. Blood. Not hers. Howls and shouts of fury. Clash of swords and shields. Cries of pain. Choking death coughs.

Now a bellowing roar of command. The sounds of more warriors filling the room. Roar of command. A cessation to the sounds of fighting. Roar of command.

Suddenly, silence. Except for Jijabai's sobbing.

Silence, except—

Outside the room, through the windows, Shakuntala could hear screams and shrieks in the distance. A vast, world-filling howl of pain and anguish.

Amavarati was taken. The palace was captured. All was lost. All. All.

The headless body atop her was suddenly removed. She was free again. She sat up and tried to wipe the blood from her face. Someone handed her a cloth. With it, she was able to remove enough blood to see.

The room was now absolutely filled with warriors. A few Ye-tai were still alive, huddled in the corner next to the sobbing figure of Jijabai. More Ye-tai were lying dead, scattered here and there over the floor.

The other warriors in the room were also Malwa enemies, but not Ye-tai. Shakuntala recognized them. Kushans. And one Mahaveda priest.

The priest was scowling back and forth between the Ye-tai in the corner and one of the Kushans. The Kushan commander, Shakuntala guessed.

The Kushan commander was a short man, very stocky. Barrel-chested and thick-shouldered. In his right hand he held a sword, covered with blood. Shakuntala was certain, without knowing exactly how, that that was the sword which had removed her assailant's fist and then his head.

But what struck her most about the Kushan was his face. It was not the features. Those were typical Kushan: coarse black hair tied back in a topknot, brown eyes, flat nose, high cheeks, thin lips, a slight fold in the corners of the eyes. No, it was the face itself. It didn't seem made of human flesh. It looked like a mask of iron.

The priest snarled something at the Kushan commander. The commander's reply was curt, unyielding. He pointed to Shakuntala and said something else. The priest frowned. The Mahaveda turned toward the Ye-tai in the corner and snarled something at them. The Ye-tai began saying something—half angrily, half fearfully—but the priest shouted them down.