Empire Of Blood

Chapter 23

Blade munched a piece of boiled salt pork on a toasted ship's biscuit and looked out across the dark water toward the shore. Lights flickered there, cooking fires among the tents of the Steppemen, lanterns in the house of the Seven Brothers, campfires and torches among the huts of the tribesmen, where the pirates were celebrating Blade's victory and their new alliance.

Blade did not blame them for celebrating. The new alliance meant an end to the terrible feeling of being alone against whatever Kul-Nam might hurl at them.

Unfortunately, it also meant a relaxation of their guard. Blade didn't like that at all, and he spoke against it as long and as loudly as he dared. He accomplished nothing, and neither did Prince Durouman. In the end both men gave up. Their new alliance might not survive their openly telling the pirates that they were fools.

The pirates were still prepared to meet attack from the sea. All thirty galleys were anchored in a great half-circle, bows pointing seaward. Their guns could easily fire on an enemy approaching from that direction. It would also be easy for them to weigh anchor and row out against that same enemy, as soon as the rowers were back on board.

There was the problem. Tonight at least half the pirates were ashore, drinking beer and captured wine, gambling, wrestling, competing for the favors of the tribal girls and women. Their barges, boats, and fishing craft were lined up three deep along the beach, ready to take them back aboard their ships at dawn. How fast could they regain their ships in the darkness?

Inside the half-circle Kukon lay at anchor. She was in the place of honor, normally reserved for the senior captain's own ship. There all could see her and no enemy could come at her without passing through the ring of galleys around her.

The honor was flattering, even to Blade and Prince Durouman. It seemed to mean that the pirates were genuinely interested in making this strange alliance work.

It also meant that Kukon lay anchored within two hundred yards of the shore. To both Blade and the prince, that was far more important. Both expected trouble tonight; both expected it would come on land-from the Steppemen.

Neither man could believe the Steppemen would do nothing to avenge their defeat. If they'd been prepared to stoop to treachery to win the duel, they would almost certainly be unprepared to tamely accept losing it. With more than three thousand warriors camped fifteen minutes' fast walking from the celebrating pirates, they could do a good deal. Perhaps they could do enough to cripple the pirates, making them fatally vulnerable to Kul-Nam.

Not that the Steppemen would really wish to serve the cause of His Magnificence Kul-Nam. They would not be thinking of him or of Saram at all, only of vengeance on enemies who had humiliated them. They would take that vengeance if they possibly could, and in taking that vengeance they might give Prince Durouman's cause a blow from which it could never recover.

The Steppemen could afford to be indifferent to that. Blade and Prince Durouman could not.

So after the two men failed to persuade the pirate captains to keep their men aboard ship until after the Steppemen had left, they returned to Kukon. There they gave certain orders, and then settled down to wait out the night.

Blade had been waiting in the darkness now for nearly four hours.

«Aaaarrgggh!»

The cry carried faintly across the water. Blade strode to the extreme bow and scanned the shore. He couldn't see anything unusual. Probably the cry came from a drunken pirate caught in a brawl or trying to-

Blade stiffened. A shadowy figure was stealing along the water's edge toward the pirate boats drawn up along the beach. Behind it crept at least four others.

Someone on one of the boats shouted, in surprise or as a challenge. Fire flared in the darkness as one of the moving shadows lit a torch and raised it over his head. Then the shrill, yipping warcries of the Steppemen exploded and the shadowy figures darted forward. They moved clumsily, as Steppemen always did on foot. But they moved forward with a furious energy that told Blade all he needed to know.

More shadows were springing out of the darkness along the shore as Blade spun around to give his orders. He did not shout so that he would not warn the enemy. In any case, the key men aboard Kukon already knew what they had to do and were doing it without waiting for Blade's orders.

To port, twenty sailors were scrambling down into a barge tied alongside. Each sailor carried a bow across his back and a sword in his belt. Oars flashed and dipped into the water, and the barge shot away from the galley's side toward the shore.

Dzhai and Prince Durouman came running forward along the starboard gangway. Both were armed. In addition to sword and dagger, the prince carried a wicked-looking mace swinging from his belt.

In his good hand Dzhai carried an axe. He sprang up onto the foc'sle, raised the axe high, and brought it down with a chunk! It bit through the anchor cable, and Kukon was free to move.

Prince Durouman turned as his guards came clattering up on deck, gesturing furiously, waving them to silence. Fifteen of the green-liveried musketeers were there. So were the eight surviving guards of the treacherous commandant of Parine. They had begged to be allowed to join in the next fight, to regain the honor they'd lost through their leader's treason. Blade and Prince Durouman listened to that plea. Now the eight would have their chance.

To starboard a fishing boat was tied to the galley's side. The men in its bow pulled it in; then Prince Durouman's party began scrambling down into it. The prince himself waited until all were aboard, then leaped down. He misjudged the distance, landed off balance, and fell with a clatter of armor and an explosion of curses from the men under him. Plenty of noise there to carry across the water and alert the Steppemen! Or rather, there would have been plenty of noise if the battle on shore hadn't already been making its own uproar.

Blade watched and listened. Flames were already flickering around several of the pirates' boats. The glow of torches showed where Steppemen were moving among the boats to set more fires. Slowly the light grew.

Around the house of the Seven Brothers moving figures swirled light occasionally playing on swords and armor. From farther back in the darkness came the flashes and bangs of muskets. The pirates were slowly waking to realize what was happening. Would they wake fast enough? Blade doubted it.

He had no doubt at all of what was happening. The Steppemen knew that half the pirates were ashore, so they were sending a small party-perhaps no more than a couple of hundred men-to set fire to the boats on the beach. That would trap all the pirates on shore and keep the ones on board the galleys from sending reinforcements. Then the main force of Steppemen would sweep in on horseback against the trapped and disorganized pirates. It would be a massacre, not a battle.

Perhaps. But suppose a force of tough, well-armed men came out of the darkness to fight the Steppemen among the boats? Suppose the Steppemen were taken by surprise as badly as they'd taken the pirates?

The fishing boat shoved off, sailors and soldiers all manning the oars together. On shore the fires still grew. They seemed to be silhouetting the Steppemen nicely, without sending much light out to sea. Blade grinned savagely.

Behind him he beard an occasional faint thump or clatter as the rowers took their places, but there was little noise. All of these men knew their ship blindfolded, and all of them were entirely sober. The pirates had sent some wine aboard for Kukon's men during the afternoon, but Dzhai had promptly locked it up.

«Anybody breaks out the wine,» he snapped, «I'll throw the jug overboard and him after it! Then he can drink all he wants from the sea!» Not even the toughest of the men wanted to argue the point with Dzhai. By now he could do easily with one arm things that most men had trouble doing with two, including breaking the heads of unruly sailors.

Blade raised both arms, then dropped them in a silent signal to the rowers. The oars ran out and Kukon began to move slowly toward the land.

The pirates there seemed to be rapidly awakening now. The shadows around the huts were alive with moving figures, stumbling and lurching and shouting in fear or warning or drunken defiance as they ran. Anybody who wasn't awake by now might not live long enough to wake up. The Steppemen were moving steadily along the beach, and some of them were also among the huts. Flames were spurting up from at least three thatched roofs, pouring more light over the battlefield but still leaving the water in shadow. The boats from Kukon were nearly in range now. If the darkness over the water lasted just another couple of minutes

It lasted until suddenly the flash and rattle of muskets broke it apart. Between the musket shots Blade could hear the wicked metallic snick of crossbows. Every man in the two boats was picking a target. Most of the men brought their targets down. Blade saw the Steppemen on the beach waver. A ripple seemed to run through them, like grass rippling in a high wind. Then the lines and clusters were breaking up and scattering, leaving dozens of dark forms on the ground. Some writhed and screamed; others lay still.

The men in the boats reloaded frantically. Blade saw one yellow flash, heard one hissing explosion and then a scream of agony as a man set off his powder accidentally. Blade held his breath, half expecting the boat to disintegrate in a roaring explosion. Instead he heard a splash and then another hiss. The burning man had jumped overboard to put out the fire, willing to drown rather than risk endangering his comrades.

The rippling rattle of muskets and bows came again. More Steppemen went down or reeled back. Some were taking cover behind the pirate's boats along the beach.

The light was bright enough now that Kukon's two boats stood out clearly. Blade saw the men dig in their oars again. The boats surged forward and ran up onto the beach. Before they'd stopped moving, the men in them were leaping over the sides and wading to shore, holding their bows and muskets high, reloading and recocking as they moved. Blade saw Prince Durouman splashing furiously through the water, brandishing his mace, to take the lead.

Blade looked out to sea. Lanterns and torches now glowed aboard some of the pirate galleys. Drums and trumpets rolled and called out. Boats were putting off from other galleys, but none of them were moving yet. For a while longer the battle against the Steppemen would be in the hands of the pirates on land, with whatever help Kukon and her landing parties could bring them.

Then new sounds joined the uproar on land. Blade caught the unmistakable rapid roll of the horse drums of the Steppemen and behind them the swelling sound of hundreds of fast-moving hooves. The Steppemen were pushing in their main attack. If it struck now, it might sweep right into the pirates' camp. It would certainly sweep away Kukon's landing party. Just as certainly, it had to be stopped.

Blade roared orders to the gunners around him. Then he spun around and called out to Dzhai. There was no need for him to speak quietly now-a raging thunder storm would have been drowned out in the crash and roar of the battle. Kukon's rowers put their backs into a faster stroke without waiting for a signal from the drummers. The men at the tiller heaved furiously, feet scrabbling on the deck. The rudder went hard over and Kukon began to turn.

As she did, the first line of enemy horsemen swept out of the darkness. They were moving along the shore at a fast trot, eyes forward, swords in their hands, guiding their horses by the pressure of their knees. They were so completely intent on pressing home their charge against their enemies on land that they did not think of the sea, or of what might come from it. So Kukon caught them totally by surprise when she swept out of the darkness and fired her bow guns into their ranks.

All four guns went off together with a flash and a shock that temporarily blinded everyone on the foc'sle and knocked everyone except Blade flat on the deck. Before anyone could rise or regain his sight, Blade's ears told him that Kukon's salvo had reached its target.

All four guns had been crammed to the muzzle with every stray bit and piece of matter the ship's gunners could find. Beach stones, nails, jagged chunks of wood, old musket balls and old muskets-flying death in a thousand shapes tore through the Steppemen. A hideous chorus from screaming men and screaming horses filled the night, nearly as deafening as the blast of the guns, drowning out every other sound just as thoroughly.

Blade opened his eyes and looked toward the land. The details of the slaughter, mercifully, were half lost in the darkness. At least two hundred Steppemen must have gone down. Nearly as many more had fallen as their horses stumbled over corpses or panicked at the blood and mangled bits splattered all over them.

Blade also saw that Kukon was coming up fast on the shore-much too fast. In their enthusiasm to get in close and get at the enemy, Dzhai and the rowers had worked too hard. Before Blade could open his mouth to shout an order, Kukon ran aground with a tremendous jolt and a horrible grating sound as her keel ploughed over the gravel of the beach.

This time everyone aboard went off his feet. Blade included. Screams sounded as some men fell over benches or were hit by the flailing ends of oars. Other men went clear over the side.

Blade scrambled to his feet. There was no need to tell the gunners what to do. They were getting up as fast as he was and leaping to clean and reload their pieces. He sprang up onto the heavy gun and looked at the scene on shore again.

It was impossible to make out what was happening among the tribesmen's huts. Flames rose in a dozen places. Around the flames, lost in their glare or lost in shadow, swirled scores and hundreds of savagely fighting men. Blade could hear a continuous roar of cries and shots and the clash of steel.

Beyond the piles of dead or dying men and horses, more Steppemen were riding out of the darkness. These saw Kukon. Some of them realized what she was, some of them realized what she had done-and some of them even realized who the tall man standing on her bow was. Steppemen began leaping off their horses, slinging their swords across their backs, and unslinging bows and quivers. Arrows began to whistle toward Kukon, sinking into her timbers and sometimes into the bodies of her men.

Under cover of the archers, other dismounted Steppemen began picking their way over the bodies of their comrades, heading for Kukon. Blade saw these men coming on, heard the whistle of arrows around him and the screams from his own crew. He realized that the Steppemen had thoughts of capturing Kukon. He also realized that they very well might do it. The pirates on land weren't going to help-they were much too busy with their own battle. Prince Durouman's men-where the devil were they?

As Blade tried to pick out the landing party from the tangled scene on shore, he heard a choked cry behind him. He turned to see Dzhai reeling, convulsively trying to pluck an arrow out of his stomach with his crippled arm. Then a second arrow sliced down and struck him just below the left eye. His mouth opened to let out a gush of blood, and his eyes rolled up in his head. Blade leaped to catch him and lowered him gently to the deck. As he did, he felt the pulse fade out of Dzhai's wrist, and the body went limp.

Blade suddenly realized that he'd been holding his breath. He let it out between his teeth with a long hiss. Then he rose to his full height, unslung the great Steppe sword from his back, and raised it high over his head.

«Men of Kukon!» he roared. «For our ship, for Captain Dzhai, for all our comrades, for our allies the Free Brothers of Nongai, for our ruler Prince Durouman-follow me!»

Then he turned and leaped through a gap in the bulwarks.

Blade landed precariously on Kukon's ram, which now rose a few inches above the surface of the water. As he struggled to keep his balance on the slippery surface, Kukon's heavy gun fired again. The blast knocked him off the ram into the water. He went completely under, came up spluttering, and found his footing. The water was only a little more than waist deep.

He raised his sword again and plowed forward, water churning about his armored torso. Around him he heard the whistle of more arrows; behind him he heard more splashes as Kukon's men at last started following him.

He hoped enough would stay at the oars to back her off the beach into deep water, but for the moment he couldn't care too much about that. He was no longer thinking of tactics or strategy or high-level politics. He thought only of closing with the enemy, of fighting and killing.

So it was not a man who emerged from the sea and charged into the oncoming Steppemen. It was a giant who roared warcries in a voice as terrible as that of the sea itself. It was a giant who swung a two-handed Steppe sword as easily as if he'd been swinging a feather fan.

Yet the sword was not made of feathers. It had the weight and the deadly edge of steel. Where it struck, Steppemen died. They died with their heads lopped off or split apart like rotten fruit. They died trying to hold their guts inside their gaping bellies or trying to stop the spurting blood from hacked-off arms and legs. They died, sometimes, before they could even cry out or fall to the ground.

In one way or another, all whom the giant struck died. The giant did not die. He kept on, blood and water dripping from his sword and his armor. He no longer shouted or cursed. He saved his breath for fighting.

Archers might have brought him down. But the press of men around him was too thick for the archers to shoot without hitting their own comrades. Some tried anyway. None of their arrows struck the giant. Some struck down the men around him; most struck the ground or men who were already past feeling anything that could happen to them.

Blade had long since lost track of the number of men he'd faced and struck down. He was beginning to lose track of time. He could hardly see any more, with the darkness and the blood, sweat, and water dripping down into his eyes. He could still see clearly enough, though, to know when Prince Durouman and the landing party from the boats came to join him.

He saw the prince in the lead, sword in one hand, mace in the other, both weapons continuously striking and smashing. He saw the prince's musketeers following behind their leader, trying to keep up with him as he crashed into the enemy. Most of them were no longer trying to shoot. They held their muskets by the barrels and swung them like clubs. The butts of the muskets were already matted and glistening with blood and hair.

The commandant's guards were also there, thrusting savagely with their short swords. Blade saw only five of them, but saw each one of them kill a Steppeman. They would certainly win back their honor tonight, if any of them lived to enjoy it.

Would anyone on either side live through this night? Blade wondered if they would go on tearing at each other, hour after hour, even day after day, until the last man on both sides slumped to the ground dead.

Another wave of Steppemen came in, mounted and trying to ride their horses into the battle. Kukon's guns blasted scores of them out of their saddles. Blade and Prince Durouman led their men in against the rest, ducking low, thrusting or slashing up at the bellies of the horses, then clubbing the riders out of their saddles.

Kukon's guns roared again. Blade turned to see her backing away from the shore, a few Steppemen clinging to her ram. They still clung to it as it submerged. Some of them surfaced briefly, to thrash about screaming until they sank.

Kukon nearly backed into two pirate galleys moving in toward the shore. But both ships had alert rowers, and both swung wide and continued to approach the beach until they could bring their guns to bear on the Steppemen without hitting the men around Blade and Prince Durouman. All the guns crashed out and more Steppemen died. Farther along the beach, Blade could see other flashes of gunfire as pirate galleys moved in to bombard the Steppemen's camp. Flames were rising there also. Landing parties must have made it to shore and gone to work among the tents.

Then the shouts and drums signaled more Steppemen coming in, both on foot and on horseback. Blade and Prince Durouman had time to shake hands and slap armored shoulders dented and caked with blood. Then the battle swept them apart again.

To Blade's mild surprise, the battle did not go on forever. It ended shortly before dawn. All the Steppemen who were still on the shore lay dead or dying. All the Steppemen who still lived were fleeing inland as fast as their own legs or their horses would carry them. The pirates counted more than three thousand Steppeman bodies strewn along the shore between the two camps.

The pirates' casualties were not light. More than three hundred were dead, twice as many wounded. The tribesmen had lost their share as well. They had primitive weapons but stout hearts and only one simple idea of what to do with an enemy: kill him. It had been a good night for such simple, practical philosophies.

Kukon had twenty-five dead besides Dzhai and fifty more wounded. All the unwounded men were exhausted, and there was hardly a cupful of gunpowder left aboard. This was the price paid for disposing of better than five hundred Steppemen and, for all practical purposes, saving the whole battle.

There was no denying it, and the pirates didn't try. The work of Kukon's landing party and Kukon's guns had broken up the Steppemen's first attacks, saving the boats and giving the pirates on land time to rally. Without Kukon, there would have been no rallying-and three thousand pirates lying dead on the beach when dawn came.

Emass put the pirates' gratitude eloquently, although he spoke from a cot where he lay with one leg bandaged from thigh to calf.

«Prince Durouman, Prince Blade. The Free Brothers of Nongai owe you their future. We did not expect that our alliance would bear such a mighty fruit so soon. Now that it has, we have only one question to ask of you.

«How may we best serve you?»

Prince Durouman's answer was nearly as brief. «Gather all the ships and all the fighting men, all the guns and powder and stores you can. Bring all of them to Parine as fast as you can.

«Sail in strong fleets-thirty or more galleys together. Do not waste time and powder attacking the Emperor's scout ships. Protect and defend the ships of the Five Sea Kingdoms wherever and whenever you find them in need. Lose no time for anything else. We have only one goal now-Kul-Nam's fleet.»

«We have another,» sail Blade. «Kul-Nam's head. And after that, a third. The Eagle Crown of Saram, on your head.»

Prince Durouman's face was unnaturally sober as he nodded slowly. Emass smiled. «It shall be done as you wish, Your-Your Magnificence Who-Is-To-Be.»

There was little else to do. Kukon was undamaged-the grounding had done no harm. Her dead were buried, her wounded carried ashore, and her magazine replenished. Fifty pirates came aboard to fill the gaps in her crew. Five hundred would have gone if there had been room for them.

Just before sunset Kukon weighed anchor. Her sails filled, and her rowing drums sounded the cruising stroke. The cheers of the pirates on shore and aboard their galleys roared louder than the night's battle. Kukon turned and headed out to sea.