Kur of Gor

Chapter, the Fifty-Sixth: WHAT OCCURRED WITHIN THE VALE OF DESTRUCTION

"It is dark,” said Cabot. “Perhaps we are unexpected."

"Statius,” said Lord Grendel. “Send Flavion to us."

"He is not here,” said Statius.

"Then,” said Lord Grendel to his human ally, Tarl Cabot, “we are expected."

"It will be several hours until dawn,” said Cabot.

"There may be an early dawn, even an early noon,” said Lord Grendel, looking about.

In the darkness, about them, were tense figures, several, silent, not much moving.

"Flavion believes we are conjoined to march in force on the palace,” said Cabot.

"I wonder if he thinks we are so stupid as to actually intend that,” said Statius.

"I do not doubt that Agamemnon is a genius,” said Lord Grendel. “But a common fault amongst those of genius is to assume that all others are fools."

"The others were informed of our plans, and the risks?” said Cabot.

"Yes,” said Lord Grendel, “and offered the opportunity to withdraw."

"How many were lost?” asked Cabot.

"None,” said Statius. “Neither Kur, nor, surprisingly, human."

Cabot could not see much about him, for the darkness. His Kur brethren were better adapted to absorb and profit from the minimal light, but even for them, he gathered, the darkness was limiting and opprobrious.

As Cabot and Lord Grendel, and others of their group, had arrived earlier, in the arranged dusk, he had assessed the terrain, rather as might have been expected of one of his caste. They were in a broad, shallow valley, rather like a gentle, expanded, wide bowl of grass. It was rather oval, something less than a half pasang in length, and little more than a quarter of a pasang in width. At one end of the valley was a simple, memorial stele, recounting what had once occurred there, something over a hundred years earlier, a victory in which the forces of a Tenth Face of the Nameless One had succumbed, and those of an Eleventh Face of the Nameless One had emerged victorious.

"There was a massacre here, was there not?” inquired Cabot.

"It was long ago,” said Lord Grendel.

"It seems a good place for a massacre,” said Cabot.

"So, it does,” said Lord Grendel, “and I do not doubt but what Flavion selected it with that thought in mind."

"It would be hard to climb the slopes, to escape,” said Cabot.

"We will be encircled,” said Lord Grendel. “One would climb into the very muzzles of weaponry."

"The depression, too,” said Cabot, “makes a splendid crossfire possible, from which oppositely situated cohorts would be in little danger."

"I trust, too,” said Lord Grendel, “you are aware of certain resonances here which would be savored by Lord Agamemnon."

"I was informed of the message of the stele,” said Cabot, “that it was here, in this very place, though long ago, that an Eleventh Face of the Nameless One became Theocrat of the World."

"Flavion and Agamemnon, it seems,” said Lord Grendel, “could not resist having their moment of theatricality."

"Is that you, Archon?” asked Cabot.

"Yes,” said Archon.

"Are you all right?” asked Cabot.

"I feel like a tethered verr,” said he, “staked out by hunters, hoping to lure in a larl."

"The analogy is apt,” said Statius, “save that there may be no hunters."

"How many are here?” asked Cabot. Reports had come to Lord Grendel from time to time, consonant with the arrivals of diverse groups.

"Most, if not all,” said Lord Grendel.

"Four then, or five, hundred,” said Cabot.

"Three hundred and fifty, perhaps four hundred,” said Lord Grendel.

"The trenches have been dug,” said Statius.

This had been done easily enough, and presumably unnoted by an enemy, for it would approach later, utilizing the cover of darkness.

"They will provide little protection,” said Archon, “if the minions of Agamemnon stand over them, or enter them, filling them with fire."

"How long until dawn?” asked Cabot.

"Not long,” said Lord Grendel, “as we are now well gathered."

"No,” said Cabot. “Surely Ahn."

"My dear Cabot,” said Lord Grendel, “you are not now on Gor, but within a Steel World. Dusks, dawns, nights, days, are muchly subject to discretion."

"Yes,” said Cabot.

"And weathers, and such,” said Lord Grendel.

"I see,” said Cabot.

"I wonder if the daylight will come brightly, instantly,” said Statius. “Our human allies would then be briefly blinded, as they are so tardy in their optical adjustments."

"Given the graduality of dawns and dusks on the worlds in which the human evolved,” said Lord Grendel, “there was little need for rapid optical adjustments."

If I might add a note here, it should be understood that the human being is primarily a diurnal form of life. More importantly, the Kur might emerge suddenly from the darkness of caves into bright sunlight, to hunt, and, say, the sleen might similarly emerge suddenly from darkness, though commonly from its burrow. It seems reasonably clear then that the Nameless One, in its wisdom, or its blind, adventitious lotteries, casting its cards as it pleased, favored swift optical adjustments in the Kur, and the sleen, and doubtless in several other forms of life, as well. The sleen, incidentally, is predominantly a nocturnal animal. The Kur, we note, can function efficiently, and comfortably, in both light and darkness, provided the darkness is not absolute. In this respect the Kur is clearly superior to the human, at least. As the human is predominantly a diurnal animal, its dark vision is, we suppose, relatively unimportant. To be sure, it can make adjustments to varying light conditions, but, as noted, these adjustments are relatively slow, or slow, at least, compared to those of the Kur and sleen.

"If I were Agamemnon,” said Lord Grendel, “I would in my arrangements lighten the world somewhat but, on the whole, keep it rather dark. In this way his folk may function effectively, directing their fire efficiently, and our humans will be essentially helpless, effectively neutralized."

"Aii!” cried Cabot, suddenly, in pain, and shouts of dismay rang through the field, from both Kur and human, for the world was suddenly, instantly, flooded with an intense light.

"Trenches!” cried Lord Grendel, and others.

And those in the valley, Kur and human, flung themselves bodily into these narrow, rude shelters.

Then, just as suddenly, it seemed, certainly from Cabot's perspective, the world was plunged into complete darkness, and, then, at the same time, lines of fire, traceable as streaks from all sides, many crisscrossing, tore into the valley.

Even the Kurii in the valley were temporarily blinded.

The forces of Agamemnon, forewarned, had, at a signal, it was later determined, closed or covered their eyes, opening them, adjusted as they had been for the darkness, a moment later, and opened fire.

It had taken the forces of Agamemnon a moment after the blast of light to align their weapons and begin to empty a thousand charges into the valley, but, to their amazement, a moment later, it seemed that the valley was empty.

This caused consternation in their ranks, but this was decidedly temporary, as the nature of their foes’ disappearance was readily explicable.

Indeed, very shortly, the firing ceased.

"I cannot see,” said Cabot. “Grendel, are you here? Where are you?"

"We must congratulate Agamemnon,” said Lord Grendel. His voice came from Cabot's right. “His brilliance is unparalleled. Not even we could adjust from darkness to that light in so brief a time. Had we not prepared the trenches most of us would now be dead."

"Can you see?” said Cabot.

"What a splendid enemy is Agamemnon!” said Lord Grendel, rapturously. “Let us salute him! Great enemies make for great wars. To be opposed to so great an enemy does our small and lowly cause infinite honor. To challenge larls is noble, to stamp on urts is inglorious, even embarrassing."

"I fear we are the urts,” said Cabot. “Can you see?"

"Certainly,” said Lord Grendel. “Can you?"

"No,” said Cabot.

"Wait a few moments,” said Lord Grendel.

Some desultory fire came from one side or another, but it did little more than gouge up buckets of earth, and, here and there, as later became clear, tear and blacken grass.

Then, again, the firing stopped.

"Charges are precious,” said Lord Grendel. “They will not waste them. They will come down to finish us off."

"I cannot see to use the bow,” said Cabot.

"Do not concern yourself,” said Lord Grendel. “Those who rise from the trench with weapons will be the first targeted."

"They will not meet you with axes?” said Cabot.

"Certainly not,” said Lord Grendel.

"We have failed,” said Cabot.

"Do not despair,” said Lord Grendel.

At that point it became lighter in the world.

Even the humans could see.

But no enemies descended into the Vale of Destruction.

The rebels waited in the trenches.

Some moments later they were addressed by a loud, mechanically reproduced voice, smiting the vale with authority. It spoke in Kur, but those humans with translators, as Cabot, had no difficulty in following it.

"That is not the voice of Agamemnon,” said Cabot.

"No, it is not,” said Lord Grendel. “I am pleased that you can discriminate amongst Kur speakers."

"Amongst some,” said Cabot, not altogether pleasantly.

"Still, it is an achievement for a human,” said Lord Grendel.

"Thank you,” said Cabot.

The voice, as it turned out, was that of one of Agamemnon's high lieutenants, that of he whom, for convenience of reference in Gorean, we named Lucullus. The message was simple, and direct. It was a summons for the rebels to surrender instantly, submit to the chains of prisoners, and await the mercy of Lord Agamemnon.

"They do not wish to risk approaching us,” said Statius, “while we have weapons, however few and inadequate they might be.” There were, at that time, seven power weapons in the trenches. An eighth weapon, we may recall, had been entrusted to the scout, Flavion.

"The trenches provide some cover,” said Archon.

"Not much,” said Lord Grendel. “This generous offer, I suspect, is motivated less by considerations of tactics, mercy, or military courtesy, than the desire to bring us helplessly and humiliatingly before Agamemnon's tribunal of retribution."

"Are you good at resisting prolonged and extreme tortures?” asked Statius of Cabot.

"I rather suspect not,” said Cabot.

"Would you like me, then, to kill you now, mercifully?” asked Statius.

"Not really,” said Cabot.

"My dear Statius,” said Lord Grendel, “there are sophisticated tortures available to Agamemnon to which even a Kur might object."

"Would you like me, then, to kill you now, mercifully?” asked Cabot of Statius.

"Forgive me, dear friend,” said Statius. “I trust you did not take offense. In a moment of weakness I thought of you more as human, and less as Kur."

"I am human,” said Cabot.

"What is human?” said Lord Grendel.

"Perhaps it would be churlish,” said Statius, “to deny Agamemnon his pleasures."

"There are limits to my civility,” said Cabot.

"And mine,” said Statius.

"And so what is to be done?” asked Archon.

"When they come to kill us, we shall meet them, as we can,” said Statius.

The message of Lucullus had now echoed several times throughout the valley, and no answer had arisen from the trenches.

Each time the message had seemed more severe, and less patient.

"Should we not respond?” asked Cabot.

"We are waiting,” said Lord Grendel.

"What for?” asked Statius.

"For victory,” said Lord Grendel.

"You are mad,” said a Kur. “Let us emerge from the trenches, and rush upon their weaponry, thus dying as befits Kurii."

"Wait,” said Lord Grendel.

"Look!” said Cabot.

Here and there, on one side or the other, some Kurii, and some humans, perhaps some twenty or thirty, emerged from the trenches and, weaponless, arms lifted in surrender, began to climb upward, toward the perimeters of the vale.

"Come back!” called Lord Grendel, and others, but their cries, if heard, were unheeded.

"Fools, fools,” said Lord Grendel. “Piteous, trusting fools!"

Those who had emerged from the trenches were allowed to climb almost to the very rim of the vale before the orders were given and they were incinerated on the slopes.

The light then began to dim, and soon, again, Cabot, and other humans, found themselves in practical darkness, save for some fires on the slopes, brief, soon-extinguished fires, marking places where the grass, here and there, in half circles of some yards, had been ignited by sheets of blazing, discharged weaponry.

"They realize now,” said Lord Grendel, “that we will not surrender."

"Their chains will remain empty,” said Statius.

"What is going on?” asked Cabot.

He sensed Lord Grendel rising in the trench, and looking about. “Yes,” he said.

"Yes,” said Statius.

"What is going on?” asked Cabot.

"They are coming now, from all sides,” said Lord Grendel. “They descend into the valley, in ranks, weapons leveled."

"We are lost,” said Cabot. “I failed."

"This is the moment,” said Lord Grendel. “They are intent on us. They are unaware. There is limited visibility, even for them. They have their backs to the vale's perimeter. They no longer have the height of the vale. They are caught between the height and the trenches."

"I cannot see!” said Cabot.

"Now! Now!” said Lord Grendel. “They are coming over the rim, hundreds, multiply armed. Dear Cabot, you were successful! The minions of Agamemnon are only now aware that there are others behind them."

Cabot could now hear cries of surprise, of questioning.

"They turn about! They are confused,” said Lord Grendel. “They do not know if they are friend or foe! They understand nothing! Perhaps they are reinforcements, additions to their numbers!"

Suddenly there were cries of rage, and the crackling, and streaming of weapons.

Lancets of fire cut through the darkness.

Cabot could hear the sounds of fighting, of grappling, the hiss of weaponry, the striking of blades, axes, doubtless, into shoulders and flesh.

"Rise from the trenches, attack, attack, Kur brothers!” called Lord Grendel, and his cries were echoed, from trench to trench, and coursed down the lengths of trenches, and Cabot, and the humans, confused, bewildered, were aware of mighty bodies, howling with cries of war, scrambling out of the trenches.

It was perhaps a quarter of an Ahn later that it began to grow light, again, gradually, and the routine of the world, adjusted to its timers, certain obstructive circuitries destroyed, returned to its normality.

Cabot, and other humans, wonderingly, slowly emerged from the trenches, to thread their way through soft, furrowed earth, soaked with blood, through seared grass and lost weapons, amongst fallen, scattered bodies, contorted and awry, some blackened by fire, others dismembered. Here and there lay a Kur, moaning, bleeding. Elsewhere a line of sullen Kurii, disarmed, were being fitted with chains.

Cabot sought out Lord Grendel.

"It is victory, is it not?” he asked.

"The tide is turned,” said Grendel. “Those from the small camps, the survivors of the fleet's disaster, in their hundreds, are now with us, and have armed themselves with the weapons of our foes. Lord Agamemnon is now on the defensive. For the first time we may hope for success."

"I am pleased,” said Cabot.

"It is to you we owe this victory,” said Lord Grendel.

"I did only as you advised,” said Cabot.

"It was to you that Lord Arcesilaus entrusted his ring,” said Lord Grendel.

"I know not why it was not to you,” said Cabot.

"You were the ideal herald of his hopes,” said Lord Grendel. “Were you not, in your way, proof that there might be amity betwixt allies, Kur and human? Too, you could make clear the value of human allies, and the nature of our common interests. That these species could be allied at all would astonish Kurii, and the more so that their alliance might prove fruitful. Who better in such a cause than a human warrior to bear to Kur warriors the ring of Arcesilaus, mightiest of Kurii, mightiest of the foes of Agamemnon?"

"I think,” said Cabot, ruefully, “that they might have been shamed to face a fellow Kur in such role, one still with pride and status, who did not share their dishonor and degradation. A lowly human, thus, I fear, might prove a less embarrassing visitor to their great gathering, that beyond the small camps, where they were to await the ropes or knives."

"Too,” said Lord Grendel, “with all due respect, I suspect few Kurii would care to soil themselves with such a mission, with contacting the defeated, the unworthy, ruined, and fallen."

"It was due to the ring,” said Cabot, “that I was enabled to enter their great camp, that of the gathering, engage their attention, and certify my authority to speak, and plead, on behalf of Lord Arcesilaus."

"You did well, friend Cabot,” said Lord Grendel.

"Your subsequent contacts with their agents, secretly accomplished, enabled their intervention in the affairs of the world."

"We gave them the opportunity, if not of redemption, in their own eyes,” said Lord Grendel, “at least that of striking a blow for the world."

"I fear many still feel it incumbent upon them to submit to the rope or knife,” said Cabot.

"That is madness,” said Lord Grendel, “though this, I recognize, may be no more than an evidence of my weakness, a hesitation due to the human in me."

"I tried to convince them,” said Cabot, “that defeat in a struggle well waged cannot be accounted dishonor."

"And were you successful?"

"I fear not."

"What then brought them to the field?"

"To do honor to Lord Arcesilaus,” said Cabot.

"They are Kur,” said Lord Grendel, proudly.

At this point Statius joined Lord Grendel and his human ally, Tarl Cabot. Statius carried a weighty Kur ax, double-headed, and each blade bore blood. Statius, as other Kurii from the trenches, had been active in the field. The Kurii of Agamemnon had not only been taken unawares, but had been found themselves trapped between the fleet's survivors and the forces under the command of Lord Grendel.

"Four hundred are chained, and ready to be slain,” said Statius to Lord Grendel. “To be sure, fearsome tortures may be arranged."

"Those are the very chains, I would suppose, which had been brought for us,” said Cabot.

"Yes,” said Statius, “and now they wear them themselves."

"Only four hundred?” asked Cabot. “We must have been encircled by two to three thousand foes."

Lord Grendel did not immediately respond.

Then Cabot looked about, at the broad field. “I see,” he said.

"Kurii seldom take prisoners,” said Lord Grendel. “Too, you must understand that the attack of a Kur is commonly fatal."

"What of our wounded?” asked Cabot.

"They will be attended to,” said a Kur.

"And the enemy wounded?"

"They will be killed,” said a Kur.

"Lord Grendel!” protested Cabot.

"It is the Kur way,” said Lord Grendel.

"Let the Kur way change,” said Cabot.

"Do not be weak, commander,” said a Kur.

"They were defeated,” said a Kur. “It is a disgrace for them to live."

"Tend their wounds,” said Lord Grendel. “If they wish, they may kill themselves later."

"Would you tend and heal a foe whom you might then face again, and less successfully?” asked a Kur.

"You need not follow me,” said Lord Grendel. “I am weak."

"You are lord,” said the Kur.

"Obey him,” said Statius. Then he turned to Lord Grendel. “What of the four hundred? Surely, even should you not subject them to the tortures which they in turn would have inflicted upon us, you will have them slain, swiftly, if you would prefer."

"Remove their chains,” said Lord Grendel.

"Madness!” cried Statius. “None will follow you, if you do this!"

"I will follow him,” said Cabot.

"I, too,” said Archon.

"I, too, of course,” said Statius, “but who else would do so?"

"I believe Lord Lucullus commanded the forces of Agamemnon,” said Lord Grendel. “Is he accounted for?"

"He is not among the dead, or the prisoners,” said a Kur.

"Some escaped,” said a Kur.

"What of our scout, Flavion?"

"He, too,” said a Kur, “is not accounted for."

Lord Grendel then turned to a Kur. “Please convey my greetings, and thanks, to Mitonicus, and ask him to attend us at his convenience.” Mitonicus, who had commanded the fleet's survivors, was a minor admiral. He had brought his four ships, damaged as they were, back to the world, that they not be lost to Agamemnon's navy. He was one of the few surviving officers, as most, if they had not perished in the fray itself, their ships destroyed about them, melting and fragmenting in the silent fields of space, had hung themselves in shame, some aboard their returning vessels, others, having made worldfall, in the groves about the small camps.

"I cannot do so, commander,” said a Kur, “as he has returned, with his men, to the gathering."

"The work here is not done,” said Lord Grendel.

"He has departed, commander,” said the Kur.

"Mitonicus has the ring of Arcesilaus now, does he not?” asked Lord Grendel.

"Yes,” said Cabot. “It seemed fitting that he should bear it."

"I agree,” said Lord Grendel.

"The four hundred must now, surely, be killed,” said Statius.

"No, free them,” said Lord Grendel, wearily.

"What are we do to?” asked Archon.

"We will return to the forests,” said Lord Grendel. “A precarious stasis now exists. With the departure of Mitonicus, we are unable to force our war to a favorable resolution, but, too, I think that Agamemnon, as well, now lacks the power to dislodge us from our retreats. Further, he must be wary of Mitonicus and his cohorts."

"Not if Mitonicus and his fellows all hang themselves,” said Cabot.

"I do not think they will do that,” said Lord Grendel.

"Why not?” asked Cabot.

"Because,” said Lord Grendel, “they have now tasted victory."