Empire Of Blood

Chapter 4

All of the men around the fire jumped up, grabbing their weapons. The girl screeched and threw herself flat on the ground. Before Blade could take three steps, he found four crossbows, three lances, and five swords aimed in his direction. A dozen pairs of eyes stared at him over the weapons, hostile but also curious.

The older of the two well-dressed men frowned at Blade, then gave orders.

«Tzimon, Dzhai, climb up on the woodpile. Watch the forest, and call if anyone approaches.»

Two of the other men bowed jerkily and scurried toward the piled tree trunks. Blade looked at the well-dressed men and noticed a strong resemblance between them. Father and son?

The older man sheathed his sword and crossed his hands on his chest. «Well, man who comes forth so strangely from the night. Who are you, and what do you in the Empire of Saram?»

«What I do is seek aid. Food and fire and clothing, to begin with. Then whatever you may wish to offer me.»

«What the Empire of Saram offers those who stray into its borderlands is usually a quick death, if we are feeling merciful. If not, you go to the Emperor and a death that is anything but quick.»

«I have done nothing that honorable men would consider worthy of death, either quick or slow,» said Blade severely. They might take that as an insult, but these men seemed as likely to take the words as the sign of a man with a warrior's pride.

«Who are you, then, that you should ask us to believe such a lie?» said the younger man with a harsh laugh. The older man frowned but turned unfriendly eyes on Blade. «My son speaks wisdom, although his words are not well chosen. This is the borderland where Saram meets the Steppes. You are not of the Empire, and few of the Steppemen have ever traveled here without wishing us harm.»

«What you have said merely proves that those of the Empire of Saram do not know everything,» said Blade. «And do not draw your sword and wave it at me for speaking this truth,» he added, with a pointed look at the son. The young man was glaring at Blade and had his hand firmly clamped on the silver-mounted hilt of his sword.

Blade folded his own arms across his chest. It was a gesture that would have conveyed more dignity if he'd been wearing something besides the knife, belt, and bruises from bumping into and tripping over things in the forest. It served well enough, however. Blade's eyes met the father's and read in them a willingness to listen, if not necessarily to believe.

«Do any of you know of the lands that lie far to the south of the Steppes?» said Blade. This drew blank looks from everyone, exactly as he'd hoped. «Lands that lie far to the south of the Steppes» lay outside local geographical knowledge. They would be willing to believe anything he said about such lands, or at least unwilling to dismiss what he said out of hand.

«I came from one of those lands, a land called England. I am a prince of that land. With six of my warriors I was on my way north to come before the Emperor of Saram. Though knowledge of England has not yet reached Saram, we have heard of the power of your Emperor. We would wish to know more of such a ruler, who might do much for us, either good or ill.»

«His Sublime Magnificence the Emperor Kul-Nam cares little what other people know or think of him,» said the son sharply. «Why did you expect to accomplish anything?»

«We had heard that His Sublime Magnificence was a wise ruler,» said Blade. «Any wise ruler would learn as much about other peoples as he could. Are you asking me to believe that in England we have heard lies, that your Emperor is in truth a fool?»

The son's mouth opened and shut several times but no sound came out. Finally he clamped his jaw tightly shut, as though distrusting what might come out if he spoke again. His father was obviously struggling to keep a straight face. Blade took advantage of all this and continued.

«We could not send through the Steppes a party large enough to fight those who live there,» he said. «Yet we thought a small party of selected warriors might slip across the Steppes and reach the borderlands of the Empire undetected. We were right. We passed across the Steppes as though we were invisible. It was in the borderlands that ill fortune overtook us.»

Swiftly Blade painted a vivid picture of weary and hungry men on wearier and hungrier horses entering the forests, believing that they were safe and thus relaxing their guard. He painted an even more vivid picture of the attackers who slew five of the men at once and drove the others separately into the endless dark forests. He carefully avoided giving too many details, using darkness and surprise as his excuse.

«Did they come against you on foot or on horseback?» asked the son.

Blade shrugged. «Some were on foot, some were on horseback. I do not know whether those who came on foot came that way on purpose or because they fell off their horses in the darkness and the trees. We were not far inside the forests, so it was not hard for the Steppemen on their small horses to come at us.» The size of the horses was an educated guess. In Home Dimension people who lived on open plains usually rode tough, surefooted little horses or ponies.

«This is true. The Steppe horses are sure-footed enough so that in the past they have come as much as half a day's march into the forest. What happened to you and the other man who survived?»

«I do not know where he is, or whether he still lives. I do know that I sprang from my bed, naked as I was, and slew four of the Steppemen. My sword stuck between the ribs of one and he galloped away with it, dying in the saddle as he rode. I had no more weapons but the knife I wear now, and the five who died were already beyond my help. I could see no course that was not shameful-stay and die at once or flee and live to take a better vengeance later. I chose to come away. Perhaps I can ask your help in taking the lives of a good number of Steppemen and so taking away my shame?»

The son's face remained frozen, but the father nodded. «Perhaps. But it must be seen whether you are truly a warrior, or one who has been justly shamed and punished. Those who have brought ill fortune on themselves are often so accursed that they bring it upon others as well.»

Blade was tempted to ask the man if warriors of Saram were so afraid of ill fortune that they refused hospitality to honest travelers. He decided not to. «It shall be as you wish,» he replied calmly. «A warrior who is a prince of England will shrink from no test. Nor did I come all this way to fail in any such test.» He brought the knife around on his belt until it rode clearly visible on his thigh. Then he crossed his arms on his chest again and stood quietly, waiting for the men facing him to make the next move.

The father clapped his hands three times. The girl who'd been dancing sprang up from the ground and vanished into one of the tents. The guards and servants shifted position, spreading out until they formed a complete circle around Blade and the fire. The two leaders stepped back until they were outside the circle. Then the father turned toward the two men mounting guard on top of the piled logs.

«Ho, Tzimon, Dzhai!» he shouted.

«We come, lord,» they shouted back. Both men scrambled down the logs and ran across the clearing toward the circle. They stopped in front of the father, bowed so deeply they almost fell on their noses, and then stood up. In the firelight Blade could see that both men were as broad as he was and nearly as tall. One now carried an axe, the other a mace. Both moved like tough, experienced fighting men.

The father turned and pointed at Blade.

«You see this man?»

«We see him, lord.»

«He says he is a prince from England, a land far to the south- of the Steppes. He has come north to greet our Emperor, of whose strength and wisdom he has heard much.»

The two men looked at Blade, then looked at each other, then wrinkled their broad noses as if they smelled some particularly foul odor. The one on the right spat into the fire. Obviously they would have liked to say something but didn't dare without their master's permission.

«He was surprised by the Steppemen in the forest, he says, and the men with him slain or driven off after a hard fight.» More sour looks from the two men. «I do not know if he lies or not. In any case, he is a stranger come to Saram from the direction of the Steppes.»

The father suddenly drew his sword with a rasp of steel and flourished it toward Blade. The fire sent shimmers of light up and down it.

«Tzimon, Dzhai-kill him.»