Pirates Of Gohar

Chapter 21

They were on the move within an hour. Khraishamo and Rhodina sat on the sacks in a cartload of grain, while Blade rode beside them on a borrowed horse. Blade had a sword, a Maghri club, and two spears. He gave one spear to Khraishamo. Gribbon flatly refused to give any of the three a bow and arrows, and Blade didn't think it wise to press the matter.

«He'll do what he calls justice to us,» said Blade. «I'm not sure what that will be, so I won't ask for more than we need.»

What Gribbon called justice to his three unwelcome guests became clear in the next few days. He gave them enough food and drink, but let them make their own sleeping arrangements, spoke to them as seldom as possible, and didn't lift a finger to protect them from the Maghri. His attitude was unmistakable: «You bastards made trouble for us. I don't dare make trouble for you, but I won't go out of my way to prevent it either.»

Blade refused to worry. They knew exactly where they stood with the rebel leader, and they were in no danger from the Maghri. The warriors made that very clear to Blade, even before dawn on the first day of the march.

Blade's courage in challenging Sigluf made a good impression. Nor did most of the warriors mind that Blade was blood-brother to one of the Sarumi.

«The Sarumi-we hear they fight well,» said one warrior. «So it is no shame, being brother to one.»

The warriors also had their own opinion of Sigluf. «He fights well, and leads well. I would follow him anywhere in a battle,» said another warrior. «In camp, he goes on fighting, with his mouth and-«He pointed at his groin, and all the others laughed. «He takes too many women. If you beat him, and want some of his…?»

Blade shook his head. «Thank you, but I don't need his women.»

«You share Rhodina with Khraishamo?» Among the Maghri two or three brothers or sworn comrades frequently shared the same wife.

«No. I am from-far away. I will be returning to my home when this war is over. I could not be a good man for a woman of the Maghri.» They all admitted that under the circumstances he'd made a wise choice.

Meanwhile, the army of the Mythoran rebels was growing. Blade gave up asking Gribbon for information about the army and its plans, and instead watched it grow while he listened to the men talk. In five days he had a roughly accurate idea of what was going on around him.

To start with, it was a mistake to speak of «the free Mythorans» or «the rebels,» as if they were a single group united against Goharan rule. There was one group of rebels among the merchants and craftsmen of Mythor, and another among the farmers inland. The merchants had more money, and it was they who'd made contact with the Friends of Mythor in the north. The farmers didn't have much money, but they had more men and more weapons even without the Maghri.

They also suspected the city people of being unreliable, or at least infested with Kloret's spies. They were probably right. Kloret would hardly insist on keeping Imperial agents out of Mythor, unless he wanted a free hand for his own people to infiltrate the rebels there. Did he merely want to watch them, or did he perhaps dream of controlling them? That dream, at least, wasn't going to come true, now that the rebels of the back country had taken matters into their own hands.

With the help of the Maghri, the farmers would become the backbone of the rebellion. The Maghri were supposed to be sending nine thousand mounted warriors, and the farmers were supposed to raise more than seven thousand. In all of Mythor's lands the Goharans had only eight thousand fighting men. To resist the Maghri they relied on the aid of the farmers, but the farmers and the Maghri were now allies riding side by side against Gohar's power. Those rebels who would talk to Blade at all were supremely confident of victory.

Blade wasn't nearly as optimistic. The Maghri were brave, tough, and experienced, but followed more than two dozen different chiefs. The farmers were also brave, but not nearly as experienced. They followed one leader, Gribbon, but what he didn't know about warfare would fill a large book. The fight was going to be a bloody one, no matter how it came out.

Blade was even less optimistic when he learned how the Maghri were going to be paid for their support. They were going to be allowed to loot the property of all Goharans and any Mythorans who didn't support the rebellion. To Blade, this sounded like a perfect prescription for a complete shambles. What would keep the Maghri from stealing everything that wasn't nailed down or on fire, and never mind who owned it? What would keep people stripped of all their property from turning against the rebels? And after that, what would prevent chaos in Mythor?

Blade didn't know, and apparently no one else seemed to be thinking of the danger. After getting a few blank or suspicious stares, Blade reluctantly decided to keep his mouth shut. If he could do anything at all, it would only be after the fighting was over.

When that would be, he didn't know. The rebel army was supposed to gather swiftly and secretly, then strike with surprise on its side. Now the storm had turned a good part of the countryside into a sea of mud. Nobody was going anywhere swiftly.

In theory, it would have been wise to postpone the uprising for a few weeks. But autumn was coming on, and they couldn't afford to lose that much time from the campaigning season. Also, the Maghri were already over the border when the great storm struck. Surprise might already be lost. So there was no way for the rebels but forward. Even Blade admitted this.

The storm also did some good. Neither side could move quickly. Also, rumors had it that many Goharan soldiers were now scattered across the countryside, helping victims of the storm. The general commanding in Mythor could barely put five thousand of his men in the field at the best of times. Now he might be able to send out even fewer. The rebels might ride most of the way to Mythor before they had to fight a battle.

Blade's first five days with the army were long and slow. The growing mass of horsemen crawled across the countryside, through mud which sometimes reached the knees of the horses. More than once the carts of the supply train bogged down completely, and everybody dismounted to help the teamsters dig out.

By the end of the fifth day, none of the teamsters would hear a word against Khraishamo or Rhodina. The pirate used his massive strength freely, wielding a spade or sometimes heaving a cart free by sheer musclepower. Rhodina was always ready to lay a fire and heat soup and spiced ale when the carts were ready to move again.

Blade wasn't able to do quite so well, but gradually the Maghri and even some of the rebels came to trust him to deliver messages. He also managed to acquire a bow and quiver of arrows for himself, and a battle ax for Khraishamo.

«It's not quite as good as the one you had aboard Blue Swallow,» he told the pirate. «But I'll see that you get one like it when the war's over.»

«Thank you, Blade,» said Khraishamo. «But it's I who should be giving you a gift of weapons. I owe you more than I can ever pay you in three lifetimes.»

«Then don't waste the only one you'll have trying to do the impossible,» said Blade. «I won't thank you, and Rhodina will never forgive you for neglecting her.» Khraishamo was laughing as Blade spurred his horse back toward the head of the column. He rode a Mythoran horse, but he'd fitted it with improvised stirrups. Some of the Mythorans were doing the same.

Day after day the army marched south, and day after day it grew. A tribe or a war band at a time, the Maghri came in. There were plenty of passes in the hills to the east, and the Goharans had garrisons in very few of them. At every estate, farm, or village, riders and wagons would come out, sometimes only a handful, sometimes a hundred or more. Blade began to suspect the rebels might actually gather the sixteen thousand men of their dreams. Certainly they already had at least twelve thousand.

At the end of the ninth day, Blade heard whispers that the army would turn toward the coast tomorrow. The plan was to reach the coast, then march on Mythor from the south. Many of the farms and estates there were rich, some were in the hands of Goharan sympathizers, and none of them had suffered heavily from the storm. There would be good foraging for both men and horses.

Blade hoped there wouldn't be any surprises along with the good foraging. The rebel army hadn't been attacked, but twelve thousand horsemen were hardly invisible. The Goharan general in Mythor was supposed to be a good man, who might have plans of his own. The rebels hadn't been scouting, and Blade couldn't help wondering if they were going to pay heavily for that mistake.

By nightfall, Blade had more personal matters on his mind. Gribbon sent him a message.

«Tomorrow at dawn, you meet Sigluf in a dueling circle. The fight will be to the death.»

Blade went to bed early that night and slept soundly. He'd fought too many duels in too many Dimensions against more formidable opponents than Sigluf to lose any sleep over this one. Nonetheless, he was awake before most of the camp, inspecting his horse, harness, and weapons. By the time other people were waking up, he'd eaten breakfast and was ready for a few last words with Khraishamo and Rhodina.

He gave them his bow and arrows, since Khraishamo had learned to use a bow for fishing on Shell-Island. He still preferred hand-to-hand weapons, and said so. «Also, I don't know if I can hit anything on dry land with this.»

«With luck, you won't have to,» said Blade. «But it will be good for hunting if you need to get away from here. There's always a chance my luck today will be bad. If it is, I don't know if you can trust Gribbon. Better wait until night, then slip off and head for the sea. The teamsters should help you, and you can hide along the coast until the war's over.»

«We'll be thinking about it, Blade, but-«

«You'll do it,» he said sharply, then smiled and kissed Rhodina. «Don't let this overmuscled lout get any ideas about avenging me on Sigluf, and don't get any yourself. If I'm dead, I'm dead, and the English will be out one Historian. You people don't have to escort me into the next world.»

Then he mounted and rode off toward the open ground where the duel would take place. He hoped he'd convinced them, but from the look on Khraishamo's face he doubted it. Those two gallant, magnificent idiots!

The place for the duel was a circle a hundred yards across, laid out on level ground at the foot of a low hill. Maghri with lances and Mythorans with swords stood around the circle, glowering at each other except when they turned to glower at Blade when he rode up. Blade hoped the duel wasn't going to cause bad blood between the two allies. He was willing to take risks for himself, but he didn't care to see the whole rebellion against Gohar collapse.

Regardless of what Emperor Harkrat and Empress Elyana might think, Blade was now heartily in favor of the rebellion's success. It had gone too far to turn back. Failure now would mean only a bloody massacre and an embittered people held down by brute force. That would play directly into Kloret's hands. A victorious rebellion in Mythor, on the other hand, might bring Kloret down. It would certainly put a good part of the people and the lands of this Dimension out of Kloret's reach.

Blade reached the dueling circle first, rode out into the middle of it, and dismounted to spare his horse. He'd taken the strongest horse he could get, not worrying about whether it was trained for fighting or not. If it would hold up under him, he would do all the necessary fighting.

Then Sigluf rode up with a terrific rattle of drums and blaring of war horns, along with a large escort. Gribbon was with him. Sigluf rode into the circle without dismounting, while Gribbon told everybody what they already knew.

The duel would be simple. Each man would have a thrusting lance, a throwing spear, and a shield. Sigluf had a sword, Blade a war club, and neither of them had any armor. They would fight until one of them was dead or could fight no longer, and the winner would have the right to kill a disabled loser. They could use whatever tactics they chose, but the first man to go outside the circle three times would be declared the loser.

Blade mounted and waited until it was obvious that Sigluf was going to let him make the first move. Blade spurred his horse toward his opponent and Sigluf swung his mount out of Blade's path, controlling it so that he could hold both lance and spear. Blade had his shield on his left arm and his right hand on the reins. He wanted to get Sigluf to use up as many of his weapons as possible before closing in to settle the fight.

Sigluf cooperated. The arm with the spear went up and back, then forward. The spear flew at Blade. Blade judged its flight, then threw his shield up. The spear hit hard enough to jar his arm from wrist to shoulder, and the head drove clear through the wood and leather to stick out six inches on the back side. If he'd been holding the shield close to his body he might have taken a flesh wound. As it was, he was unharmed.

Before Blade could do anything with his own spear, Sigluf charged. As the chief charged, he swung his shield off his back and lowered his lance into striking position. Blade had barely time to turn his horse and take the lance on his own shield. Once again the shock nearly immobilized his arm, but Sigluf found his lance point jammed in the shield. Before he could pull it free Blade gripped his war club and swung it at the lance shaft. The shaft didn't break, but it cracked and sagged as Sigluf pulled the lance free and backed his horse away before Blade could strike again.

That exchange was the last for a while. Sigluf now saw through Blade's tactics and refused to come close. He was as good a rider as Blade, and his horse was not only better trained but carrying at least fifty pounds less weight. So he easily avoided Blade's rushes. After the first half-dozen failures, Blade decided to wait until Sigluf decided to close again. His horse still seemed as strong as ever, but he didn't want to risk tiring it.

By now it was well past the dawn of another damp, grayish day. On the ground it was clear, but low-hanging clouds laid a blanket of mist and rain on the hills just beyond the dueling circle. Blade realized that he hadn't seen the sun for more than a few hours since the storm caught their boat out at sea. All the world seemed to have turned gray and damp and seemed ready to stay that way until the end of time. He suspected that a few days of bright sunshine would improve everybody's spirits. It would also dry out the ground and speed up the army's-

Sigluf charged, shouting a high-pitched war cry, shield slung again, head down, and sword held out to one side for a wide slash. Blade jerked his horse around, but Sigluf was on him before he could get ready with either lance or spear. Instead he twisted as far around in the saddle as he could, and struck with the spike of his shield at Sigluf's face.

It was an awkward blow, and Sigluf was able to duck low enough to save his face. But he was wearing a leather cap held on his head by a strap under his chin. The shield's spike caught under the brim of the cap, gouging Sigluf's scalp and jerking his head backward. By sheer reflex he yanked on the reins, making his horse rear back on its haunches. Blade had just enough time to drop his shield, bring his war club around, and strike Sigluf on the chest. The Maghri chief slid backward out of his saddle and over his horse's rump onto the grass. His mount promptly got to its feet and trotted off.

Sigluf staggered to his feet as Blade backed his own horse clear. He still held onto his sword, but with the other hand he was rubbing his chest. His face was twisted with rage, pain, and surprise. Blade knew that since he'd unhorsed the man in fair combat he could now ride Sigluf down. However, he had no intention of killing the man if he could avoid it. Now he also decided against doing anything which would humiliate him. Disgraced but left alive, Sigluf might pay a secret visit to Blade some dark night, knife in hand. Blade felt he already had enough trouble guarding his back in this army.

So Blade kept backing his horse until he was more than fifty feet from Sigluf. He was just starting to dismount, when suddenly a rider came pelting down the hill, shouting in a shrill, almost hysterical voice: «Goharans! The Goharan riders are coming! Ten thousand of them are coming over the hills!»

«The Goharans!» shouted someone in the circle.

«We're caught,» said another, a Maghri. Then, more loudly: «We're doomed! Flee!»

Blade swung himself back into the saddle, lifted his spear, sighted on the warrior who was shouting in panic, and threw as hard as he could. The spear flashed across the dueling circle and struck the man in the chest as he started to turn. He choked, clutched at the spear shaft, and fell on his side.

Blade rose in his stirrups and bellowed, «I'll do the same to the next bastard who starts crying like a coward! There aren't ten thousand Goharans in this whole land. They've sent enough to be dangerous, but only if we run. If we stand and face them like warriors, we've nothing to fear worse than a warrior's death!»

Blade's first shout froze everyone around him. His next words got them moving again, but not in the wild panic that might have developed if he hadn't spoken. They were gathering together, pulling out weapons, and looking around for the enemy rather than for the best way to run.

«Sigluf!» Blade shouted. «Get on your horse and warn Gribbon. I'll command here until we find out what we're facing.» The Maghri chief stared at Blade for a moment, then nodded and ran toward his horse. Blade saw Khraishamo and Rhodina standing among the Mythorans and rode over to them.

«Both of you-get back to the wagons! Have the teamsters pull them into a circle and get inside.» That would give the teamsters and their animals some protection. It would also give dismounted Maghri and Mythorans a defensible position for a last stand, if it came to that. Blade hoped it wouldn't, but there was no point in hoping until he'd seen what the Goharans were actually sending against the rebels.

He spurred his horse toward the hills, and the men around the circle parted in front of him. Some of the Maghri were mounted by now, and six of these joined him. Blade reined in to let them catch up. This gave him time to realize that he might be starting his last ride, scouting in the face of an army with only six companions.

However, as is so often the case in war, somebody had to do the job, and Richard Blade was the man on the spot.