The Golden Steed

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

For a few moments Blade wondered if Guroth was going to drop dead on the spot from sheer surprise. The High Captain went white, then red, then purple. He seemed to be alternately strangling and breathing as though he had just run ten miles. Finally both his breath and his color returned to normal, and he stepped forward and embraced Blade with all his strength. Two of the guards let out shouts that sounded like Indian war whoops.

Blade gently pulled himself free of Guroth's bone-crushing embrace and put his finger to his lips. «The cheering can come later. At the moment nobody in all Pendar except you men know that I am here.»

«Including Klerus?» asked Guroth with a savage grin.

Blade nodded. «Including Klerus.»

Now Guroth looked as if he also wanted to shout and yell, but he caught himself in time. «Is it time, oh Pendarnoth?»

Blade did not need to ask «Time for what?» He knew that Guroth saw the situation as he did. «It is. How long will it take you to find out where Klerus is and gather enough men to deal with him and whoever he may have with him?»

Guroth frowned for a moment. «About an hour.»

«Good. Start now.»

For the first time Guroth looked at Blade with doubt in his eyes. «That soon, oh Pendarnoth? Without even asking the king?»

«If we take the time to ask the king, Klerus may learn that I have returned. And if he does, I don't think he will refrain from killing me. He is playing for stakes that have grown much too great.»

«I admit that seems wise. He certainly has a great many soldiers loyal to him. There will be a bloody battle if he calls them all to his aid. But if we strike at Klerus, and take the head off the conspiracy…»

Blade nodded. «The body will writhe around like a headless snake. It may make a lot of noise, but it will not be very dangerous. So send your messengers on their way at once.»

Guroth picked out eight men in a few minutes, and one by one they vanished into the darkness. Some went out the door, and some out onto the balcony and down to the ground on ropes. When they had all gone, Blade sat down and made a meal of the leftovers from the guards' dinner. Between bites of chicken and sips of wine he told the story of his adventures over the last month.

Guroth's face hardened as Blade described the treacherous desertion of the soldiers, then shrugged. «I do not think they lived long enough to get any reward for their treachery. None of them has been seen in Vilesh since your capture, and several of the officers have been reported killed. I suspect Klerus is having them killed off so they cannot tell of your capture.»

«But why shouldn't Klerus let the word out? It would be a terrible blow to the spirits of the Pendari.»

«Perhaps. But it might also make them determined to fight all the harder to avenge your capture. In any case, I do not think you were supposed to be captured. I think you were supposed to be slain on the spot. Dead men cannot escape or play games of their own. And if you had vanished mysteriously…»

Blade grinned. «No doubt General Ornilan, the Lanyri commander, thought the same. So his men carried out his plans, not Klerus'. Then he tried to win me over to work for him. Not only against the Pendari, but against Klerus. Obviously the Lanyri do not trust their own viceroy.»

It was Guroth's turn to grin. «Do you blame them?»

Blade used most of the rest of the hour to shave, scrub himself as thoroughly as possible, and don clean clothes and better weapons. Then he pulled a hood over his head. It was Curana's hood, the same one he had found on her body and worn the night of his meeting with Nefus and Harima. Now he would be wearing it as he went to avenge Curana's death on her murderer. Wearing it made him feel better than anything else could have done.

Before the hour was two-thirds gone, the messengers began reporting back, each bringing a handful of men with them. Some wore field gear, some wore palace outfits, all were armed to the teeth.

The last man brought in not only four of his comrades, but a priest of the Temple of the Holy Guardian. The priest was not exactly a prisoner, but he had about him the air of a man who had not come entirely of his own free will. He looked nervous and ill-at-ease, and kept looking fearfully about him at the grim gathering of armed men.

Blade took the priest and the soldier who brought him aside, into his bedroom. Then he asked, «What does bringing this priest here mean?»

«By your leave, Oh Pendarnoth,» said the soldier. «This priest was the one who told me where Klerus is now. But he seemed to guess why I wanted to know. Since I could not trust him not to run to his fellow priests and tell the whole story, I brought him along.»

Blade nodded. «A wise decision.» Then he turned to the priest. «Well, my friend?»

The priest swallowed hard and said, «It is true that I told him where Klerus is. He is in the cellar chambers of the Temple of the Holy Guardian, in conclave with his allies among the priesthood. And I know that it is your purpose, Oh Pendarnoth, to seek out Klerus and slay him. But you must not use blasphemous and sacrilegious violence against even Klerus within the holy space of the temple. All those of the priesthood, even I myself, would turn against you then.»

Blade frowned. He was rather weary of priests who set religious proprieties above the welfare of their people. But the priest's words seemed to imply a way out.

«My friend, do you mean that you share our hatred for Klerus and wish as we do to see him destroyed?»

«With all my heart, Oh Pendarnoth.»

«Good. If we swear by the most Holy Guardian to lay no hands on him within the temple itself, will you lead us to a place where we may take him as he comes forth?»

The priest appeared dubious for a moment. Then he said, «There is such a place. But Klerus' guards will also be there in strength. A great battle may arise.»

«Does that matter to you, as long as it is not within the temple?»

After a moment's hesitation, the priest shook his head. «It does not. I will lead you.»

Blade clapped the priest on the back. «Good. You have done well for Pendar and will do better before the night is over.»

In spite of his congratulations to the priest, Blade was far from congratulating himself as yet. There was much to do: reaching the temple without raising the alarm, setting the ambush, springing it, and fighting a pitched battle with Klerus' guards. Things could go disastrously wrong at any of these points.

Blade got his men out of the palace without trouble. The sheets of the beds and the cloaks and tunics in the chests provided hoods to cover their faces. A little work with their daggers and they took the Pendarnoth's Guard badges off their tunics. But even in disguise, fifty-odd armed men moving through the corridors of the palace could hardly escape attention.

But Blade and Guroth had replies ready. «We go about the business of the council,» they said to all challenges or questions. Since that was the phrase used by Klerus' own supporters when moving about at night, it dissolved opposition like acid. Blade could not help grinning under his mask at the irony-their best disguise was the same as that of their worst enemy.

Outside the palace they found the streets grimly dark and empty. A strict curfew was keeping people at home. The only living things moving were the scavenger dogs and cats, the patrols of the watch, and the workmen of the shops. The shops were ablaze with light and filled with the continuous clanging of tools day and night. Piles of weapons and long rows of siege engines stood outside them. All the arms workers were exempted from curfew. But neither dogs nor cats nor watchmen nor armorers were inclined to argue with fifty men armed to the teeth.

Blade kept his men moving along at a brisk trot. They covered the mile to the Temple of the Holy Guardian on its hill in less than fifteen minutes. Another fifteen, and they had deployed and hidden themselves in the alleys and doorways of the slum quarter to the south of the temple. It was here that the priest said Klerus would be coming out. Blade was inclined to believe the priest. He counted at least thirty men lounging or standing about near the south door. Although all of them wore the rags of beggars or the smocks of workmen, Blade and Guroth could not be put off by such crude disguises. They easily detected the alert, military stance of the «beggars,» their concealed swords, and the care with which they had taken their positions.

The hours dragged on and the chill of the night deepened. It told on the watching men. Blade heard coughs and sneezes around him in the darkness. At each one he stiffened, watching to see if Klerus' henchmen had taken alarm. Each time he was relieved to see them show no signs of having heard anything. Boredom and cold had taken the edge off their alertness. Blade hoped things would stay that way.

The hours dragged on, and Blade was beginning to wonder. Was Klerus going to wait until daylight? Had he summoned overwhelming reinforcements? Had he taken alarm and decided to take refuge in the temple? Worst of all, had he made his way out of the temple and back to the palace by another route? In that case, Blade knew that he and Guroth might well be the ones facing an ambush before they grew many hours older.

It must have been less than an hour before dawn when a faint metallic clinking broke the silence of the dark streets. It came from down near the base of the temple. Both parties of waiting men were instantly at full alert. Blade drew his sword and dagger and whispered to the man beside him, «Get ready to move at my signal.» He heard the whisper fade away into the darkness as it was relayed from man to man.

The clinking came again, and then the sound of a door opening on rusty hinges. At the base of the temple, figures moved. They were ghost like at first, then they acquired more substance as they mounted the stairs to the level of the street. There were fifteen or twenty of them, but Blade was paying attention only to the vast bulky figure that brought up the rear-Klerus. Some of the newcomers joined the guards. Then all formed a hollow square, facing outward.

Blade wanted to wait until Klerus and his guards had cleared the temple area. That way none of them would have a chance to flee back into it when they were attacked. But as he looked up at the sky, Blade realized that within a few more minutes men would lose the cover of darkness. He looked at Guroth, and the High Captain's eyes met his. They both nodded. The High Captain raised his trumpet, then Blade took a deep breath and shouted:

«For Pendar and for King Nefus! At them, guards!» The trumpet blared out, and before its echoes had died away, Blade was running forward, Guroth hard on his heels. All around them rose savage yells and the pounding of running feet as the Pendarnoth's Guard swarmed out to attack.

Surprise and terror froze Klerus' men in their tracks for a moment. The darkness around them was suddenly pouring out armed men, screaming like fiends. But if his guards were stunned and terrorized, the High Councilor was not. Blade saw the bulky figure whirl about and start back toward the door of the temple. He lengthened his own stride and cut in toward that same door, whirling his sword and yelling louder than any of his men as he ran.

Some of Klerus' guards had bows, but in the darkness Blade's hurtling shape made a poor target. Arrows whistled past him but none struck or even grazed. Uninjured and unslowed, he reached the head of the stairs that led down to the door of the temple. Then he whirled and jerked off his mask in a single swift motion.

One of the guards nearby recognized him even before Blade could shout out his own name. «The Pendarnoth!» screamed the man. «Oh Holy Guardian spare us, the Pendarnoth himself has come against us! Fly, fly, fly!» The last word broke off in a scream of surprise and agony as one of the man's comrades cut him down. A moment later Blade's own sword whistled down onto the killer's shoulder. It sliced through the man's collarbone and half of his ribs before it came to a stop. The man toppled sideways so fast that he jerked the sword out of Blade's hand. For a moment Blade stood in the midst of Klerus' men armed only with his dagger.

But most of them were not so brave or so defiant of the Pendarnoth as his first victim. Most of them were scrambling backward, moaning and crying pleas for mercy. Few of them found it: Klerus' guards went down whether they fled or fought, and Blade could not have called off his men if he had wanted to.

Blade himself barely had time to snatch his sword from the body of his first victim and raise it again when a tall figure sprang at him from beside Klerus. Blade recognized Threstar, the High Captain of the Council's Archers. The man was fighting with two swords and both of them whistled and leaped about Blade's ears. He ducked and leaped and parried, realizing that Threstar was trying to drive him away from the stairs. That would open a path for Klerus to flee into the safety of the temple.

Blade stood his ground as Threstar came at him, although it took all his strength and speed to keep both of the man's swords away from his flesh. The man was fast and strong and determined, and Blade knew he couldn't take any chances. For a moment both men went at it with everything they had in them, but Blade knew he could not afford a prolonged duel with Threstar. Behind the High Captain he could see the massive bulk of Klerus. He was edging around to Blade's right, about to make a dash for the door. Beyond Klerus the darkness was a hideous tangle of fighting and screaming figures. Klerus' guards had realized they could expect no mercy, and they were fighting for their lives.

Threstar closed again, and this time one sword reached out far enough to slice open Blade's scalp just above his left ear. But that reach was a fraction of an inch and a fraction of a second too long. For a moment Threstar's left armpit was turned toward Blade and open to his attack. Blade's dagger lunged out and up, stabbing deeply into the armpit. Threstar gasped and twisted away so fast that the dagger pulled out of Blade's hand. But that was the last time Threstar would move so fast. The dagger had reached his lungs. He choked, and bubbles of blood appeared on his lips. As he slowed, Blade's sword flashed down and smashed Threstar's right-hand sword aside. Then it kept on going, plunging down and sinking deep into Threstar's thigh. This time the High Captain not only reeled but fell.

Blade did not wait to see him go down, because Klerus was rushing forward. A sword gleamed in his massive hands and darted back and forth as he charged. If he could not have safety, he would at least have Blade's life.

Blade gave way before the assault, and for a moment it looked as if Klerus would have a clear run to the door. But Klerus was too blind with fury to see anything but Blade. He lurched forward again. This time he slipped on the blood now flowing freely on the pavement, but he stayed on his feet. Blade parried one of Klerus' slashes, but it came down on his sword like a hammer on an anvil and nearly knocked the sword out of his hand. Again he stepped back, and again Klerus followed him.

But the High Councilor was short-winded from too many years as an intriguer rather than a fighter. He could not keep up such a furious attack for very long. In the swelling dawn light Blade saw sweat pouring off Klerus' jowls, and heard the man's breath rasping in his throat.

Blade waited until Klerus had committed himself to a slash, then closed. He was relying on his own superior speed and the dagger which flashed in his hand. It drove straight forward into Klerus' massive belly. It was not a wound fatal at once, but it stopped the High Councilor dead in his tracks. His mouth opened, and he let out a high-pitched scream of agony and surprise. Blade dropped his dagger, stepped back, and raised his sword with both hands. As Klerus' sword sagged toward the pavement, Blade's also came down. It flashed down at an angle, slicing into Klerus' massive neck, slicing through it. In a spray of blood, Klerus' head leaped from the neck and arched down to the pavement to land with a thud. The huge body stood upright for another moment, blood fountaining from the severed neck. Then it toppled with a much louder thud. It did not even twitch.

Blade stepped back and looked around him. Dawn was breaking over the city, revealing the blood scattered bodies in the street. He counted them. Nearly all of Klerus' men and less than a third of his own force were dead. Perhaps some had fled, but he was not going to worry about them now.

Guroth came toward him, picking his way cautiously across the littered and blood-smeared stones. The High Captain had a strip of cloth bound roughly around his left hand, where the thumb and forefinger were missing. But his unhooded face shone with joy as well as sweat.

«We have done it, oh Pendarnoth. Now for the Lanyri!»

Blade grinned and nodded. «You're wounded, Captain.»

Guroth pointed at Blade's blood-caked scalp. «So are you, Pendarnoth.»

«A little. Perhaps we had both better clean ourselves before we wait on King Nefus. He will want to hear the news that he is now truly King of Pendar.»