Liberator Of Jedd

Chapter Sixteen

Richard Blade and Gath strode through the narrow streets of Jeddia. Two of Gath's stalwart soldiers were in the van, two behind and a man on each side of them. They made their way around a death cart halted before a large inn. Blade was on his way to his first audience with the Child Princess Mitgu, she whom the folk of Jedd called the Golden Princess.

Blade glanced at the corpseburners carrying out three victims of the plague, a child and two women. He looked at Gath. «You will give orders that no more death carts are needed. All corpses are to be left in the houses, where they will burn with the rest of the city. Find some other employment for the corpseburners — use them as you will.»

«Yes, Sire.»

A burst of crazy laughter came from a house as they passed. Gath doffed his helmet and wiped his face with a cloth. «At first I doubted, Sire, but now I see that you are right. The sooner this accursed city is burned the better.»

They approached a tall wedge-shaped building, of the usual stone and wood, but much finer than even Nizra's house. Here Mitgu lived and here she had summoned Blade to visit her. It had been an order, not a request, and Blade smiled when he heard it. He must not forget that, with the old Empress dead, Mitgu was the new Jeddock. He had begun to look forward to the meeting — never before had he had dealings with an imperious little girl of ten. It would, at least, be a different sort of confrontation.

Gath, on Blade's orders, had posted a strong guard around the home of the little Princess. A junior officer saluted with his sword as they passed and both Blade and Gath returned the salute. They paused at the door and Gath sent the sentry away for a moment.

Blade studied his chief aide. «You are mindful of my orders about Nizra?»

Gath said, «I am, Sire. He is not to be harmed, unless on your explicit orders, and he is never to go unwatched. My spies are busy, Sire, and they are good men. Nizra may do what he will and go where he chooses, but he will always be watched. My men report to me on the hour.»

Blade nodded in approval. «Good. But remember that he is not called the Wise One for nothing — and I daresay his spies are as good as yours. Probably he has more of them. When did you see him last?»

Gath grinned. «I left him in his house, Sire, after I had disbanded his guard of honor and taken their weapons. To tell truth he did not look too unhappy, and there was a great coming and going of men. Spies, no doubt. Would you have me stop this traffic? It would be easy enough to do.»

After a moment of hesitation, Blade said, «No. I want to give him rein, see what he will do. So long as I know what he is doing I can see no great harm. So carry on as before, Gath. Do not impede him in any manner unless he threatens me or the Child Princess. This is understood?»

«It is, Sire.»

«And now,» said Blade, «I must go and meet your little Princess.» He twitched his swordbelt around and straightened his helmet. He had changed his robe for a soldier's tunic over which he wore a highly burnished breastplate. Short trousers of fine cloth and high-laced sandals completed his dress.

Gath was staring. Blade laughed and said, «I am a little nervous, to tell you true. How does one handle a ten-year-old? But I will cope. How do I look, Gath?»

Gath saluted with his sword. «Just as I would have you look, Sire. Like my leader.» He saluted again and stepped back. «I wish 30U fortune with the Child Princess, Sire, but only remember this — words sometimes lie, and among us Jedds a ten-year-old is not exactly a child. Not yet a woman, perhaps, but not a child.»

Blade thought of Ooma and wondered. He had put her age at fourteen or less, and still marveled at her experience and skill in lovemaking. Was Ooma even fourteen? His doubts came back.

But a child, a girl, of ten? Surely she could present no problems. All he had to do was humor her and win her confidence, show her that he was honest and meant her only good. Yet he was faintly uneasy as he went into the house and mounted a stair to an upper chamber where he was awaited.

He approached an ornate door. A middle-aged woman, dressed all in black and wearing an iron chain much similar to that of Nizra, bowed to him and opened the door.

«The Princess Mitgu awaits you, Sire.»

Blade halted and looked at the woman. «I would be alone with her. This is understood?»

«It is understood, Sire. You will not be interrupted.»

Blade stepped into the chamber. It was spacious and very dark except for two tapers gleaming at either end of a large cushioned seat. Rugs and pillows were scattered all about and there was a taint of incense in the room. Blade halted and gazed around. Where was this Child Princess, then?

A close-cropped head of golden hair appeared from behind the divan-like seat. The tapers sparked and reflected themselves in that smooth poll and a pair of wide-set and narrowed eyes studied Blade. For a moment he was shaken, thinking himself the butt of some outrageous joke. This was a boy!

The voice, high and dear and lilting, was that of a girl. «I wanted to see you first,» it said. «That is why I hid and spied when you entered. All of Jedd whispers of you, Sire.»

Blade, one hand on his swordhilt, bowed low and was silent. He did not really believe his eyes, Blade who had been in so many dimensions and had seen sights that few men in his own world could believe.

She had come around the divan now and was confronting him and matching him in silence while each studied the other. Her poise and bearing left no doubt that she was a Princess born. Her flesh — and she displayed a great deal of it — glowed with a coppery-yellow translucence that seemed to give color to the tapers. Blade had the fleeting impression that he could see her fine bone structure trimmed beneath the satiny flesh. This illusion soon passed and his throat dried and his hands were moist in the palms and he, of all men, felt and admitted a fine trembling in his knees. This was youthful beauty incarnate. He had never seen its like before and knew that he would never see it again. And also knew, that if he married this child, he would be powerless to restrain himself from consummating the marriage. Already his groin tingled and for just a moment Blade felt shame.

«Yes,» said the Princess Mitgu. «I will call you Sire. I was not sure I would, but now I see that I must. You look like a Sire. And I think I will marry you. I was not sure of that either, but now I will. You are the handsomest man I have ever seen and not at all like the Jedds. That is a pity in a way, because all the captains will be jealous and make much trouble for you. But that cannot be helped, I think.»

Blade felt like a fool and supposed that he looked a bit like one. Had his mouth been hanging open?

He bowed again and said, «I have much to learn, Princess. I did not know that you had been courted by any of the captains.» It was true. Nizra had said nothing of this, nor had Gath mentioned it. He wondered if it meant new complications, new jealousies? His plate was full enough as it was.

Mitgu cocked a tiny finger at him. «Come further into the light, Sire. Sit with me and we will talk and make ourselves known to each other. A girl should know something of the man she is to marry. And I would have you tell me of great-grandmother. How did she die?»

«She died well,» he told her. «Well and in peace. And it was her wish that we marry, Princess, not mine. I promised her, else I would not be here now.»

Her face, with its small, perfect features, reminded him of a copper rose. The corners of her red mouth turned down. «I loved her, even though she was often stern with me. I would have been at her bedside, but it is against Jedd law for the young to watch the old die. A stupid law, I think, as so many things in Jedd and Jeddia are stupid. But now that you are here, and to be my husband, all that will change. Come, I said. Sit with me.»

Sweat trickled down the back of Blade's stalwart neck. She came to him and took his big hand in her tiny one and led him to the divan. She wore very little, just a vestige of white bra over her small, virginal breasts and the miniest mini-skirt Blade had ever seen. The skirt barely sufficed to cover her and Blade would not let himself look at the slim golden legs beneath the skirt. They were long, perfection in form, and in exactly the right proportion to the compact little torso above them. He could almost have spanned her waist with one hand. But it was the odor of her that most intrigued Blade. And made him extremely nervous.

If it was perfume he had never known any like it. Indeed he did not think it was perfume — it was the clean and uncloyed scent of a well-scrubbed child, a girlchild just hovering on the brink of womanhood. Her tender flesh glowed at him, emanating a warmth and a fragrance and, yes, a golden color that made his face redden and his own flesh sticky with sweat. Richard Blade was finding out things about himself — things that he did not really want to know. Was he really this much a lecher? For honesty bade him admit that he was sexually excited, but this fragile and lovely child had aroused him almost beyond bearing. Yet bear it he must. At least until after the marriage. Beyond that he did not dare to think.

Mitgu pulled him down beside her on the divan. She took one of his hands in both of hers and laid it on her bare leg. Electricity seared through the big man and he made a final effort. He sat bolt upright, took his hand back and put on a most solemn visage.

«We will speak of marriage later, Princess. Plenty of time for that. I came to inform you about my plans and to know if they meet with your approval.»

A formality, but one he deemed necessary. This girl was now the nominal ruler of the Jedds and, though he meant to go through with his plans in any case, it would be easier with her cooperation. He told her of his plan to burn the city and trek to the north.

She was watching him closely. Her eyes, sloe dark and in startling contrast to the golden head with its boyishly cut hair, were tip-tilted at the outer corners and when she smiled with her mouth her eyes smiled too. They smiled now at his attempt to be formal. She squeezed his arm and laughed at him, gold and silver notes that tinkled through the great gloomy chamber.

«You are afraid of me,» she crowed. She clapped her hands in glee. «You are like all the captains, except that you do not go down on bended knee. But you are like them all the same — you think I am a little girl who must be given sweets and humored.» She moved away from Blade and twisted lithely on the divan to face him. Blade was permitted to gaze for an instant between those girlish golden thighs, to explore a silken, coppery cavern where lurked a fuzzy golden shadow. Mitgu wore nothing at all beneath the brief skirt. His heart thudding, his breathing strained, Blade tore his glance away from that virginal target. He felt dizzy and his head spun. Sweat drenched him. He did not understand this — never had he suffered such an onslaught of unbridled animal lust. And for a child of ten! He stood up, conscious only that he must get out of this place before he lost control.

Mitgu clapped her hands again, unmindful of his torment, and laughed at the big man towering over her.

Suddenly she sobered, frowned and extended her hand to him again. «I am sorry, Sire. And I did not speak true — you are not at all like the others. But I would have you know that I am not a child, not a little girl. I am a woman.»

Blade, having got well away from the divan and the temptations there, paced a few steps back and forth and then faced her again.

«Are you, then? A woman?» Blade had won his battle now and felt calmer. His look, still in self-defense, had a hint of coldness and mockery in it.

«If this is so,» he continued, «and you are indeed a woman and no child, then you will understand that I am a man and you will know what is in my mind.»

The sloe eyes narrowed at him for a moment and she laughed again. With one supple movement she twitched off the tiny bra and flung it aside. She gazed down at her breasts, then up at Blade.

«See, then. Are these the breasts of a little girl, a child?»

To Blade, of Home Division, they were indeed the breasts of a child, of a tender and unsullied girl verging on womanhood, and therein lay his greater agony. Her breasts were small and plump and perfect rounds of flesh unspoiled by fondling. Coppery mounds as soft as the flesh of inner thigh. Moving now to her breathing, trembling with hie of their own, tipped with pink buttons of erectile tissue now responding to her inner excitement.

Mitgu put her little hands under her breasts and cupped them and lifted as if to offer them to Blade. She caught her breath and with a half sigh, half gasp, repeated, «Are these the breasts of a child?»

Blade stood tall, his shadow etched by the tapers and falling across that golden little body. As he could cover her, then and there, if he wished it.

Mitgu trailed her fingertips across her nipples, then extended her arms to Blade. «Would you kiss me, Sire? And so find out how much child I am?»

He had taken a step toward her when the door was flung open and the lady-in-waiting entered. Mitgu squealed and disappeared behind the divan. Blade, feeling like a man who has seen the axe begin to fall and then been reprieved, yet turned on the woman with a scowl. An order was an order!

«I was not to be disturbed—»

The woman bowed low and her voice quavered as she nervously fingered her chain of office. «I know, Sire, but there is one who insists. He would not be turned away. He is a cornet, sent by Gath himself, and he has news of the greatest import. He threatened to kick in the door and enter unless I—»

«Enough,» Blade said gruffly. He brushed past her without a backward glance. But he thought he heard a subdued giggle from behind the divan and his face grew hot. That had been a near thing. But one thing he knew — in future, if he had a future in Jedd, he would treat Mitgu as a woman. She was right. She was no child.

The young Jedd waiting for him in an anteroom was one of Gath's sublieutenants. Blade recognized him vaguely and spotted the polished iron cornet around the man's throat. The little iron half-moon was engraved with a large G. This was one of Gath's men, right enough.

As Blade strode toward him, the young officer saluted with his short sword, then touched the blade to his chest armor over his heart. «I am Sesi, Sire Blade, sent to you by the Captain Gath on an affair of the utmost importance. The Captain is busy elsewhere and could not attend you in person.»

Blade crossed his arms on his chest and nodded. Smiled encouragement. «Then out with it, Sesi. What is this great news?»

The cornet, a stripling with a few chin whiskers and very light gray eyes, met Blade's glance for a moment and then looked away. He stared hard at the floor in concentration. Here, Blade thought, was no great intellect. This Sesi would never be a captain.

«I am to give you this message word for word,» the young officer said. «It comes from the Captain Gath as given to him by another. But first I am to tell you that the message was delivered by a fat man.»

Mok. Mok the drunkard! Blade stepped close to the cornet and scowled at him. «The message, then? Get on with it, man.»

Sesi would not be hurried. Evading Blade's eye, staring at the floor and the walls, he labored through it.

«Gath bade me speak thus — a fat man came to the house of Nizra, the Wise One, looking for Sire Blade. I, Gath, halted him and took his message instead. The fat man said: 'The girl Ooma, of whom Blade knows, is in danger and has great need of him. Ooma begs that Blade come at once to her.' «

Ooma! Blade's heart pained and remorse struck at him. He had been so busy, so caught up in a frenzy of events, that he had spared the girl little thought.

He seized the young officer by the shoulder. «You saw this fat man?»

Sesi shook his head. «I did not, Sire. I was given the message by Captain Gath. He saw the fat man.»

But Blade had turned away. «No matter. You will come with me. I have a bodyguard of six below stairs. You will take command of them and follow me without question.»

He went vaulting down the stairs, three at a time Ooma in trouble, in danger. Again he cursed himself for his thoughtlessness. He owed the girl much, had a tenderness for her and yet had been so neglectful.

Blade set a blistering pace out of the city. Through the gates to the south where no guards challenged them and no death carts rumbled. His orders were being obeyed.

The young sublieutenant and the six soldiers panted along behind the big man as he increased his pace. There was no semblance of a formation and they were all trotting to keep up with Blade's long strides. He had noted it before — most Jedd men were short of leg.

They skirted the charnel pit and the rocks behind which Blade had lain in wait for the corpseburner and his cart. He spared them hardly a glance as he started up the hill to the house of Mok and the aunts. The soldiers and Sesi came after him as best they could, sweating and cursing and stained with dust and smoke from the smoldering pit.

Blade could see the house now. There was no sign of life. The humble little cottage brooded, desolate and alone, on its hilltop. The path here wound through a copse of melon trees and Blade halted just at the edge of the grove. His followers slumped to the ground, panting.

Blade studied the cottage. The door stood half open and his heart contracted painfully as he saw the mark — a splash of yellow paint. The plague mark. Ooma?

The young cornet and the six men saw the mark also. There was a frightened burble and Sesi came to stand beside him. «There is plague in that house, Sire. The men will not go nearer.»

Blade shot him a sideways glance. «I have not asked them. And you?»

Sesi would not meet his eye, but mumbled, «Nor I, Sire. My duties do not require that—»

He was cut short by a peal of maniacal laughter from the cottage. The young officer shuddered and stepped back a pace or two. Blade stared up at the cottage. That had been a man's laughter. Laughter?

Peal after peal now, of a man mad with fear and pain, the eerie laughter of a man who sees Death looming out of the black mists. Mok. It could only be Mok.

Blade snapped an order over his shoulder as he sprang up the path. «Remain here, Sesi. Form up your men and keep discipline. Wait for me.» He broke into a run.

The yellow plague mark was like a running sore. Blade kicked the door open and entered. Mok lay on the floor near the table where he had passed out that night. He was on his back, his face saffron and twisted with pain, his mountainous stomach thrust up. He was laughing, the gaping mouth disclosing the ruins of blackened teeth. Laughing and laughing.

Blade, ignoring Mok, vaulted up the stairs, calling out as he went. «Ooma? Ooma — Ooma?»

Echoes mocked him. No voice answered. He peered into the room where he had left her sleeping. Empty. He ran down the corridor and glanced into the only other room. Both the aunts lay in their beds. One look at their yellowed faces was enough. Dead of plague. But where was Ooma? She had sent a message and surely she would wait here for him.

He ran down the stairs and approached Mok. The man still lived, though for the moment he had stopped that terrible laughing. Blade knelt beside him. «Mok! Mok — do you know me? It is Blade.»

The little eyes, lost in folds of jaundiced fat, slowly opened and Blade could discern a last intelligence in them. The mouth opened and words tried to slip past the swollen black tongue and were blocked. Blade bent closer, trying to understand, to make sense of the jumble and slur, of the agonized attempt to speak. Nothing.

He glanced at the table. There was a clay vessel of the powerful fermented melon juice. Blade seized it and dashed half the contents into Mok's face, then he pried open the mouth and poured the rest down the fat throat. It was a faint hope, but the stuff might jolt Mok into a few last moments of lucidity.

The fat man choked and retched and spat. Blade knelt and put his ear close to the frothing mouth. «Mok — Mok! It is Blade. Ooma sent for me. Where is she, Mok? Where is Ooma?»

The fiery liquor did its work. Mok's eyes cleared for a moment and he looked up at Blade with comprehension. His first words nearly tore Blade's heart from his chest.

«Api,» burbled Mok. «Api came. They — they took Ooma and used her, all the Api soldiers, and then bound her and threw her alive into the charnel pit. She would— would not tell them of you, Blade. They would have spared her, the Api, but she would not tell them of you. A-alive — in the pit—»

Mok closed his eyes and let out a deep groan. Blade struck him hard across the face while his guts twisted with horror and remorse. Api? They were immune to plague. And who controlled the Api? Who but Nizra. The Wise One. Blade struck Mok again and damned himself bitterly for being the fool of all time.

Mok was speaking again. «Trap, Blade. T-trap. Ooma did not send for you. She was content to wait until you came. B-but Api came first. Took her. G-gave us all plague with knife. You see—»

j

It was his last moment of lucidity before death. He raised a fat arm and Blade saw the cruel knife gash. They had inoculated Mok and the aunts with plague. Simple enough. Let a dagger fester in a corpse for a time, then plunge it into living flesh and plague would follow almost instantly. But this time it had not struck fast enough. Mok had lived long enough to talk.

There came a scream from the copse where he had left his bodyguard. Then a clash of arms and more screams and cries and the curses of men locked in battle. It was a trap. The Api had been waiting.

Mok's arm dropped to the floor. The fingers curled, stiffened, then relaxed. Mok was dead.

Blade drew his sword and ran to the door and peered out. Three of his men were already down and the remaining three were retreating up the path toward the cottage and giving a good account of themselves. They were being hard pressed by half a dozen Api warriors, as hairy and long-snouted as Blade remembered them.

Blade stepped outside the door and raised his sword and bellowed, «To me, guardsmen. To me! Break off and form around me here.»

His stentorian roar for a moment broke off the hot little battle. The Api paused in their attack and stared at Blade, their pale eyes feral beneath the horned helmets, the pointed baboon muzzles dripping with sweat and slobber. The goons rested for a moment, leaning on their long wooden swords edged with flint; and Blade's remaining three men broke off and ran to join him.

One of the soldiers was bleeding badly from a shoulder wound. Blade ripped away part of his tunic and bound it up as the man gasped out his story.

«They were concealed in the melon trees, Sire. We were betrayed by Sesi, who led us here. And now we die, for there are many of them all around the house.»

It was true. Blade could hear the high-pitched, effeminate calls of still more Api as they emerged from the trees at the foot of the hill behind the cottage and began to ascend. But he patted the wounded man on his unhurt shoulder and smiled at them all. «We are not dead yet, guardsmen. Only obey me — obey me absolutely and keep your courage and we may come out alive yet. They are only Api after all and we will out-think them.»

Yet as he gazed down the hill to where the Api leaders and the traitor Sesi were conferring, Blade did not feel so confident. It was going to be a near thing. Yet such was his rage and despair at the moment that he welcomed it. Let them come on. They would find a Blade as cruel and brutish as themselves. His eyes narrowed as he sought out the young sublieutenant Sesi. How skillfully, how carefully, the cornet had carried out his master's orders. Blade cursed himself again and again. He had made what might be a fatal mistake — he had underestimated the Wise One. What was worse, Blade had ignored the clear indications that this might happen. Nizra had told him of signals from the Api, and Nizra had carefully avoided mentioning the girl Ooma. Blade, busy and full of his own conceit, had let it pass unnoticed. How Nizra must have chuckled, how that ghastly head must have lolled. For by torturing Ooma he could learn the truth about Blade, at least to a point, and thus seek to discredit him as the avatar. Fool, Blade called himself. Fool — fool — fool!

At the foot of the hill the conference broke up. Sesi turned away and sat down beneath a melon tree. Blade smiled grimly. The cornet had done his part and would not fight.

The Api leader, a goon not so large as the slain Porrex, but who looked to be shrewder, began to squeal out his orders. Blade followed suit.

«Into the house,» he ordered. «There are four windows and the door to guard. I will take this door and the near window — each of you will take one of the remaining windows. They are large and clumsy, these Api, and not made for climbing through narrow windows. Now — keep your spirits up and fight for your lives.»

One of the men gazed at the yellow mark on the door and cringed away, crying out, «But there is plague in this house, Sire. We will—»

J

Blade gave him a brutal shove in through the door. «There is a greater plague out here, fool. In! Must I think for all of you?»

The Api were slow in approaching and Blade understood why. He reckoned some two score of the goons, against four. Impossible odds. Once inside the cottage he cast about for some manner of evening them a bit. He stared at the corpse of Mok and had an idea. There was still time, for the overconfident goons were shouting and jesting among themselves as they moved in to slay the four men.

Blade pointed to the vast body of Mok. «Wedge him into one of the windows. Quickly. All that blubber will barricade it as well as an iron shutter.»

And so poor Mok, and his bloated body, did some service as he was thrust head first through a rear window and wedged tightly there by men who groaned and sweated as they lifted the great bulk.

Blade glanced through the remaining rear windows and saw a line of Api coming up the back slope. They were fifty yards distant, some twenty of them, and squealing with battle glee as they swung their long, pointed swords over their heads.

Only two of his men had lances. The remaining guard, he who had been wounded, had only his short iron sword, as had Blade. Blade posted the men with lances at two of the remaining three windows, one facing to the rear, the other forward, and he himself took the door and the window nearest it. He posted the wounded man in the center of the room as a reserve and indicated the body of Mok where it served as a stopper.

«Keep an eye on him,» Blade commanded. «If they dislodge the body, or cut it up or pull it out, then you must guard the window. Otherwise you will be alert for a call to aid any of us that needs it.»

He advised the men with lances: «Make your thrusts short and fast. In and out, quickly. Do not let them seize the lances or break them off. If any of them succeed in getting halfway through a window do not kill them until they are well wedged in and blocking the way to others. You understand why I say this?»

One of the guards, younger than the others, laughed and pounded his companion on the back. «We understand, Sire. Do not fear but that we will do our duty. If we must die here we will make it a dear victory for the Api.»

Blade smiled. «Good man. I do not ask for more. Now take your posts and make ready, for the fight is here.»

As he stalked to the door he heard the other lanceman mutter, «I have heard that he is the avatar — now I begin to believe it. I do not think fear has yet been coined for him, and I am a Jedd who does not believe in much.»

Blade grinned. He stood in the open door, hands akimbo, and watched the Api storming toward them. They had been bunched into two files, each of ten men, and Blade made a sound of derision. This was not the way to do it, not at all, but who was he to tell them? They were twenty-five yards distant. Fifteen yards. Ten yards. Five yards.

Blade leaped from the door with a bull-like roar, a shout that sounded up and down the smoky valley like a horn calling men to battle. A fine tremor beset his nerves and bloody mists moved in his brain. He knew the signs, knew that the battle madness was upon him and he welcomed it.

His great hoarse voice sounded over the clash and the screaming. «Come, Api! Come to me. Come to Blade. Come to my sword, my thirsty sword that lusts for Api blood! Come and die, Api.»

For a split second, the shock of his voice halted them in confusion. The forward files milled in confusion. Blade leaped at the nearest goon and swung his sword in a glinting arc, slashing off a hairy arm. He lunged and put his iron into a massive chest, through armor and bone, and kicked swiftly with his foot to disengage. Then, before they could recover and move in on him, he was back in the doorway, brandishing the bloody sword and screaming defiance.

For a moment the Api seemed on the verge of breaking and running. So terrible a foe as this was new to them, though by now they had all heard the tale of how Blade had bunded Porrex. But this was different. Now it was they who must face this mad creature, this warrior whom their quasimasters, the Jedds — and all Api despised Jedds — whom the Jedds called avatar and obeyed as some sort of god.

Blade had a moment of surcease. He made a brief glance of inspection. Mok's corpse was holding up well and both lancemen had bloodied points. There were no Api snouts at the rear windows. Blade nodded and turned back to his own affairs.

The Api officers, a senior and a junior, were flailing at their troops with the flats of their swords, trying to drive them on. Near the door was an Api corpse, and the beast that had lost its arm was lying nearby watching itself bleed to death.

Over the squealing and screaming and cursing, Blade heard the Api commanding officer shouting threats and promises.

«Forward! On! Are Api warriors to be halted by four men? You had the woman, all of you, and now payment is due. On! And think — you all heard the promises made in the name of the Wise One. Power in Jedd and women — women for all. Think — power and women and food and easy duty for the rest of your lives. Now forward and kill them!»

Even besotted as he was by battle lust, Blade heard and understood. This was Nizra's great ploy. How carefully he must have planned it all in advance. First to discredit Blade as avatar by information tortured from Ooma; this failing, to trap and kill Blade and then loose the fierce Api on the Jedds. Blade cursed himself again, grimly It was by his orders that Crofta had pulled out all the Jedd troops and taken them to the north of the city, thus leaving the southern approaches wide open to the Api.

No more time for thought. The Api had been whipped into line again and charged forward. Blade slipped out of the door and lilted one of the goons, suffering a slight gash in his thigh, then as fast as a heartbeat he was back and defending the door. The Api were hindered by their very numbers. The door was narrow and Blade could only thrust, not swing, his sword, but he did fearful execution. The short iron sword was a live thing in his hand, slashing and hacking, in and out with serpent speed. A long wooden sword slammed down across his helmet and broke in two. Blade killed the Api who had wielded it, had trouble extricating the weapon from the goon's leather harness, daggered another Api who charged him from the flank, and finally got his sword free and darted back into the doorway. Just in time.

One of the smaller Api was trying to get through the near window and take Blade from behind. He had his head and shoulders through and was being shoved by two of his comrades. The Api could not use his weapons, but snarled and lunged at Blade's throat with his fangs as the man brought his sword around and up and down in a terrible stroke. The goon's head fell into the room and bounded across the floor. His headless trunk twitched and writhed and remained stuck in the window.

Now two of the goons were trying to get through the door at the same time. Blade found foot room and thrust them both through, hacked their awkward swords from the hairy paws and cut their throats with backhand strokes. Blood sprayed him. He let the bodies settle in the doorway as a barrier.

The junior Api officer snarled and thrust at Blade. Blade barely turned the point in time, let his short sword slide up the other weapon and slashed the young officer across the eyes. The Api fell back with a high scream. At this sight, the remaining Api in front of the house began to fall back to rally around their remaining officer. Blade, his head roaring with blood frenzy, drenched with sweat and the blood of Api mixed with his own, had a moment of respite.

It was just as well. The Api attacked the rear of the house with no liaison with those in front and did not know the battle was going against them. They were attacking with zeal, in waves of ten, and just as Blade turned he saw the corpse of Mok, hacked to bits, being pulled out of the window. He shouted at the guardsman in reserve, the wounded man, who had already seen the danger and was running to the window. As he reached it a spear was hurled squarely through the window and took the guard in the chest, piercing his armor and standing a foot out behind his backbone. The man fell to the floor with a dreadful scream and began to thrash about.

There was no time for mercy or compunction. Blade needed the spear. And the man was as good as dead. Blade turned him over, seized the shaft just below the point, and drew it on through the dying man's body. The shaft was slimy with blood and gut tissue and he wiped it on his tunic. An Api face appeared at the window and Blade thrust hard with the spear into the beast's braincase. The Api fell back with a shrill death cry.

Blade spun around. The door was still empty of the enemy. They were disorganized on this side. The headless goon blocked the near window. The guardsman at the other front window was resting, reeking with blood, and gave Blade a dull and uncomprehending look of battle fatigue. Blade went to the remaining rear window, walking sideways to keep an eye on the door. Judging from the Api sounds out there, they were some thirty yards down the slope. He was sure they would attack again. The remaining officer would harangue and beat them into it.

The guard at the other rear window was engaged in a tug-of-war. One of the Api had thrust a spear through the window and the guard had seized the shaft and was now trying to wrench it from the holder and bring it inside. But the brute Api was the stronger and was winning.

«Hold on,» Blade shouted. He leaped forward and severed the shaft with a downward stroke of his sword. His man now had two-thirds of a spear and the working end. Blade grinned through the mask of blood caking on his face. He slapped the Jedd on the shoulder and shouted, «You do well. Half a spear is better than none, and you have the point. But be not selfish — share it with them when they come again.»

The man managed a feeble smile and nodded. Blade turned back to the door to await the new onslaught. With misgivings. They were only three now and the Api must have near thirty left. This time, if the enemy pressed hard enough, they must win by sheer weight of numbers. Blade thought this, speculated for a moment, then forgot it. It was not in his nature to wish that Lord Leighton might find him with the computer at that perilous moment.

The frontal attack did not come. The Api to the rear fell back down the slope. Blade peered and frowned. What now? This he did not like. He would almost as lief have them come on in strength, for he had a plan forming. If he could sally out and kill the remaining Api officer he and his two Jedds might yet win the day. But now there was only silence.

Blade waited, his uneasiness growing with each moment. He knew what he would have done in the Api commander's place and now he was afraid that the goon leader would think of it. The two guards left their posts and joined them. Both were wounded, weary to the bone and frightened, and he knew they could not fight much longer.

One of them, peering past Blade to where the Api were conferring with the traitor Sesi, shook his head tiredly and said, «I like this not, Sire. The Api are no thinkers, but Sesi is a Jedd and has some brains. See how he gives orders to the Api captain!»

Blade kept a confident smile on his gory features, but his heart sank. Sesi was pointing down the hill toward the smoking charnel pit and arguing with the Api chief. Blade nodded to himself. Yes. Sesi had thought of it. He watched as two of the Api goons broke away from the main body and went running down the hill.

Blade and his two Jedd guardsmen waited. They were near to perishing of thirst, but there was no water in the house. Blade tried to keep up the spirits of the other two as best he could.

He watched the group of Api on the front slope. They were gathering dry faggots and, using vines for cord, were binding them into compact bundles. Blade said nothing. He knew that the Api behind the house would be doing the same.

The two Api came back up the hill carrying torches, flaming red and yellow and giving off streamers of black smoke. Fire from the charnel pit.

One of the guards looked at Blade in fear. «They are going to burn the cottage, Sire. Drive us out into the open.»

Blade could only nod. «Yes. I was afraid they would think of it.»

The other Jedd dropped his sword and began to weep. «I have fought well, Sire, but I cannot face the fire.» He went to his knees and rocked back and forth, his features contorted and tears streaming through the blood on his face. Blade fought against turning away in disgust. The man had fought well and every man had his breaking point.

The weeping man clutched at Blade's knees. «Surrender, Sire. Surrender now and it may be they will spare us — at least ask for a parley.»

Blade laughed harshly. «No parley. And if you think they will spare us you are as big a fool as I for walking into this trap. No! We must see it through.»

It happened so fast that he could not have stopped the man even had he tried. The guard leaped up and ran out the door, his hands flung high, and screaming at the top of his voice: «Mercy — mercy. I surrender to you, Api, and beg for mercy. Sesi — you are a cornet and a Jedd and I beg you to save me. Mercy — mercy—»

All the Api stared at the running man. Blade felt a sickness grow in him. The guard reached the Api group and they parted to let him through. He flung himself to the ground before Sesi. The young sublieutenant made a motion with his right hand and one of the Api raised his long sword and, using both hands and great force, impaled the guard and pinned him to the earth. As he was still thrashing and screaming in his death throes they cut off his head and mounted it on a spear and waved it up the slope at Blade.

The remaining Jedd stared at Blade and said, «He was a fool. I am not. Better to die here with you, Sire, in honor.»

Torches were being applied to the faggot bundles now Half a dozen of the Api, each carrying a flaming sheaf of faggots, ran up the slope. There was nothing Blade could do. If they ventured out to fight they would be cut down in minutes. He strode to a rear window in time to see more Api creeping up with flaming bundles. Blade cursed and chewed on his parched nether lips. Not much of a choice Go out and fight to the death, or stay and burn to death.

But it was, at least, an easy enough choice to make.

The Api cast their fiercely-burning flambeaus and sped away. Smoke began to seep into the house and tongues of flame were already licking up the walls and devouring the dry wood. Masonry began to crumble as the wood support was eaten away. The Jedd began to cough and swipe at his eyes. He peered at Blade through the dirty gray swirls of smoke.

«Why do we wait, Sire? I do not intend to burn, nor do I think you will so choose. Let us go now and die like men.»

Blade did not answer for a moment. He was peering intently out a window, shielding his eyes from the smoke and hoping they did not deceive him. It was cruel to hope and be disappointed — and yet had he not seen the glint of sunlight on metal? Behind the Api, near the charnel pit, was not the sun reflecting itself in highly furbished iron?

He said nothing of this to the Jedd, but put an arm about his shoulders and asked, «How are you called? Your birth name?»

The Jedd stared back with bloodshot eyes «I am Kaven and I have served Gath since I was hardly more than a weanling. And my father served Gath's father.»

Blade squeezed his shoulder. «Now, Kaven, make ready. For you are right. We will not stay to burn.» He said nothing of what he had seen. No point to raising hopes on what might be only an illusion. Blade shrugged his massive shoulders and picked up the lance he had captured. What was to be — would be.

The floor was red-hot now. Walls were aflame and ready to crumple. The smoke would kill them quickly if they stayed. Blade led the way to the door.

A high shrill of triumph came from the Api as they were seen. A score of the creatures, led by the officer, charged up the hill at them.

Blade found a level spot and spat out a final command. «Back to back, Kaven. Fight as long as you can.»

The man did not answer and in the next moment the horde of slavering Api was upon them.

Blade shortened his grip on the spear and fought with it in his left hand while his right wielded the iron sword with terrible execution. His rage flamed hotter than the blazing cottage. He was in and out, thrusting and backing and cutting, standing astride the Api corpses as they piled up. Kaven too was doing his share of killing. Their backs joined, their sweat and blood mingling, they fought for life.

Blade lost his spear. An Api died with it through his guts and, in falling, tore it from Blade's hand. Blade bellowed in rage and swung his sword with two hands. He heard Kaven scream as he took a wound. Blade chanced a look and saw the Jedd on one knee, still fighting with his lance, his sword arm spurting blood and useless at his side.

The Api leader, forgetting his weapons, leaped in to grapple with Blade, seeking to tear out his throat with the long baboon fangs. Blade drew back in time, shortened his thrust and put it into the leader's chest up to the hilt. The beast screamed a final defiance and tried to close in, his fangs cutting and slashing at Blade's flesh. Blade lost his sword. It would not disengage. He smashed at the long-snouted face with his right fist, a terrible blow that sent the Api spinning away with Blade's sword still embedded in his chest. Blade stood alone, feet outspread, his big hands curved into talons, a gigantic bloody figure now fighting with only his bare hands.

A horn blew in the melon trees. It was a short blast, raucous and brassy and lacking any tone, but the sweetest music Blade had ever heard. Gath's men charged up the hill, an entire troop, some two hundred Jedd warriors. It was over.

Even now he could not spare himself or rest. His plans must go forward. He took a moment to catch his breath, then standing astride a high pile of Api corpses, he cupped his hands and bellowed harshly over the clangor of battle.

«Gath — hear me. Take the Api alive, if you can. Alive, I say! I have use for them. And do not kill Sesi! That is an order, Gath. Do not kill the cornet! I also have use for him. Do you heed me, Gath?»

The captain Gath, his armor slightly bloodied, fought his way through the thinning Api ranks to where Blade stood. He saluted with his sword and panted, «I hear you, Sire. I obey.»

He turned and shouted orders to his officers, who in turn passed them on to their men. The Api began to throw down their weapons and surrender and were herded into groups.

Blade turned to find Kaven trying to get to his feet. He was clutching his right arm and trying to stanch the blood. He gave Blade a grin of joy and utter weariness. «It is good to live, Sire. And the better so because it is such a surprise. Unless I dream and we are dead.»

Blade set about bandaging the man's hurt. It was deep and long, the slash, but in time would heal and leave an honorable scar. «You do not dream,» Blade told him. «Nor is this a dream — you are now a captain. You will serve me as second in command only to Gath.»

Kaven shook his head in wonder. «Another miracle, Sire. I live — and I am a captain. Are you sure I do not dream?»

Blade laughed and turned away to meet Gath. The captain was angry and spared Blade nothing. His blue eyes shot cold sparks as he said, «I had not thought to serve a fool, Sire, when I gave you my sword and heart. But it seems I do, for only a fool would have fallen into this trap. Only a fool would have been lured to this place with but six men to protect him. Why, Sire? In the name of all that is sacred to the Jedds, and that is not much, tell me why!»

Even bloody, nearly naked, hurt and near collapse, Blade could use his charm. A sheepish charm now, because he knew he deserved the rebuke and did not fault Gath for giving it.

His white teeth flashed as he smiled and said, «Because I am a fool, Gath. I admit it. But it was your trusted man who led me here.» And Blade pointed to where Sesi stood, bound and guarded by a few of Gath's men.

Gath flushed and looked downcast in his turn. «I am sorry for that, Sire. But how was I to know that he had sold himself to Nizra? In every brook there is one fish that stinks. But Sesi will pay — how he will pay.»

The fight was over. The Api, disarmed and sullen, were being rounded up and heavily guarded. Blade, watching this for a moment, gave brief orders concerning them and Gath passed it on. Then Gath was informed of Kaven's new rank and the newest captain was led off to receive medical attention. Blade and Gath walked a little apart from the soldiers.

Blade looked at Gath. «There will be no torture. I speak of Sesi now. I will question him myself, when I am ready, and I will learn all I need of Nizra's plotting. When I have done this, you will kill Sesi. Quickly and cleanly. You will cut off his head.»

«But, Sire! This is not the way to handle it. Sesi's treachery was great, as much to me as to you, for it was I who sponsored him from the ranks as cornet. He must take a long time dying, be tortured as no Jedd was ever tortured before. It will serve as an example and—»

Blade gave Gath a cold look, then reached to touch his shoulder. «Do it my way, Captain Gath. I know what I do.

No torture. This is understood?»

And Gath, still grumbling, said that it was understood. He also said, half under his breath, that he did not now, nor ever would, understand the Sire Blade.

Blade grinned and said, «Then you will not understand this, either. I want Nizra taken unharmed. Where is the Wise One now?»

Gath, still sulking a bit, would not look at him. He watched the last of the Api being led away.

«Nizra is in his house, Sire. I doubled the guard and gave orders that he was not to leave. I know that in this I contravened your orders, but I was worried and fearful and I did what I thought best.»

«You did well,» Blade admitted. «I am glad that we are not both fools and that you have Nizra safe. I still have use for him. For one thing, he controls the Api, all that are still free. I would have them all rounded up and disarmed. You will have Crofta's men build a cage for them, as large as is needed, and assemble them on the northern plains.»

Gath shook his head doubtfully. «They will serve only Nizra, those stupid beasts. When they learn that he is out of power they will desert and scatter into the forests to the south. You will not catch many of the Api.»

«Nevertheless we will try. Now, Gath, one last question before I leave you, because I have a task that I must do alone. How came you to know of my danger? What brought you to me?»

Gath gave him a sly look. «Chance, in part. I spoke to the lady-in-waiting of Mitgu and she told me of Sesi and his message. The lady must have been listening at the door. And then I knew all Jedd troops had been ordered out of this region, and where there are no troops the Api like to pillage and rape. So I knew it was not safe for you to wander here with so small a guard.» Gath stopped and shrugged his shoulders. «And I had a feeling in my stomach that all was not well.»

He would not meet Blade's eyes. Blade touched his shoulder and said, «And the rest of it, Captain? Tell me.»

Gath looked directly at him and the skin about his blue eyes crinkled. «I have my own spies, Sire. And they have brought me reports about Sesi. For long now I have thought he was Nizra's man, but I had no proof and so gave him leave to hang himself. So, on hearing all I heard, I myself went to call upon Nizra.»

Blade felt sudden shock. He frowned. «You did not kill him?»

Gath tried to look innocent, failed at it and broke into laughter. «Not I. He is well and secure a prisoner. The thing is — he may have a few cuts and bruises. Nothing that will not heal in time.»

«That is good. I thank you, Gath. You saved me this day and it will not be forgotten. But there is one thing—»

Gath, on the point of turning away to attend to business, halted and looked back. «And that is, Sire?»

Blade grinned. «Next time do not leave it so long. I thought you would never get here.»

Blade made his way down the hill alone, oblivious of the stares of Gath's men and the defiant snarls of the Api prisoners. He went to the smoking charnel pit and looked into it, near to gagging on the sulfurous fumes and sick at his stomach. Row and criss-crossed row they stretched away, the lines of fire-blackened bodies. Blade leaped into the pit and began to search along the paths left by the corpseburners.

It was half an hour before he found the ravaged little body of Ooma with the marks of savage torture everywhere on that once smooth and tender flesh. She had not been burnt and for this much he was grateful. He picked up the frail body and carried it out of the pit and, avoiding the hill, skirted around it and walked until he came to a melon tree growing out of the ruined pavement of a long-forgotten temple.

Blade put her body down and stood gazing at it for a moment. One of her crude wooden combs was still caught in the dark tangle of hair. His face flamed, he choked, and was not ashamed of the hot tears crowding behind his eyes. For a moment he was blinded by the moisture, and the old temple, the courtyard and the single melon tree, disappeared in a scalding haze. Blade gulped, cursed himself softly and began to work.

He knelt and tore out the ancient stones with his hands. He scooped a grave in the soft earth below and placed Ooma in it. He arranged the small, twisted limbs as best he could and covered her face with a bit of his tunic. Then, for a minute or so, he stood looking down at her.

At last he took a double handful of the earth and let it spray through his fingers onto her body. He did not speak aloud, but in his mind he said, «Goodbye, Ooma.»

He filled in the grave, replaced the stones atop h, and left it unmarked. He would never come this way again.

Then Richard Blade trod wearily back up the bill to where Gath and his men were waiting to march.