The Temples Of Ayocan

Chapter 20

Twenty thousand of Thambral's soldiers were on the march north from Dafar within a week. Meanwhile ships and barges and war galleys came into the docks of Dafar from all along the river. Five thousand armed soldiers and ten thousand more soldiers climbed aboard them, and two weeks later they sailed north. Toward the middle of the third week, a messenger came to Blade in the gray dawn as he lay beside Natrila. Before she had drifted off to sleep, she had said she was carrying his child.

«Warrior Blade, King Thambral commands you.»

«How?»

«That you be aboard his flagship at noon today. He sails to join his fleet and army on the borders of Gonsara.»

«I will be there.»

It cost him more pain than he had expected, to say goodbye to Natrila. She was as worried about him as if he had been going into a full-scale war. And he also knew- that it was long odds against his being able to return to her. He had been in this dimension a good while now. Sooner or later Lord Leighton's computer would reach out across the dimensions and grasp his brain, plucking him home like a ripe fruit from a branch.

But after all the goodbyes, he was aboard Thambral's flagship when it sailed that noon. And he was on board it ten days later when it caught up with the rest of the Gonsaran forces. The fleet almost blocked the river, and the tents and horse-lines of the soldiers covered the land for a mile along either bank. The clear sky was hazed gray with smoke from the campfires on the land and the cookfires in the brick furnaces aboard the hundreds of ships.

Thambral's plan had worked-so far. The Gonsarans outnumbered the Chiribuan forces on the spot five or six to one. More important, the Chiribuans freely admitted they had orders to avoid a fight at almost all costs. If the Gonsarans did not cross the frontier, there would be no fighting.

The Gonsarans were more than willing to sit where they were, and so there was no fighting. But there was a constant exchange of messages between the two kings. Toward the end of the second week of the staring contest, a message arrived from King Hurakun. King Thambral promptly called Blade to his cabin.

«King Hurakun suggests that he and I meet on a barge in mid-river, to come to an agreement for dealing with the cult of Ayocan. He says he is willing to move forcibly against them as long as I keep my army and fleet on his borders. The danger from Gonsara, he says, has most people unwilling to fight or die for the cult. In fact, he says his army and fleet would quite possibly mutiny if he asked them to fight.» Thambral leaned back in his chair and cracked his knuckles. «You have heard Hurakun in person on this matter more recently than I. What do you say? Can I trust him?»

«I think Hurakun is telling the truth. You can trust him, at least.»

Thambral nodded. «I see. Do you think there is someone I cannot trust, among the House of the Serpent?»

«Yes. Second Prince Piralu. I have never met him, unfortunately, so I can only tell you what I have heard.» Blade summarized his knowledge of the Second Prince. Thambral's lean face grew sober.

«I see,» he said again. «You think Piralu may make this meeting an occasion for treachery?»

«Yes, and the crudest sort of treachery. Consider, your Majesty. The kings of both Gonsara and Chiribu will be together in a single ship in the middle of the river. If a boatload of Holy Warriors and Death-Vowed were to slip alongside. .»

Thambral frowned. «You think Piralu is that desperate?»

«By now-yes, your Majesty. Without the cult of Ayocan he will have small hope of grasping power. The Holy Warriors were to have been his army as well as the Supreme Brother's. Now, though, he can see the end of the cult approaching. I can only say that if I were in his position, I would certainly make one final effort.»

«That may be true, Blade. But I can hardly bring war-galleys to the meeting. Hurakun specifically asks that I come to the barge with only one ship.»

«That need not be a problem, your Majesty. The ship will have to have a crew and rowers, will it not? Why not have both the crew and the rowers alike be picked warriors of your household? A loincloth and a little dirt will disguise a man quite well. And their weapons could be hidden under the rowing benches or such places.»

Thambral laughed. «Indeed, Blade, I think you would be a more proper servant for King Hurakun than for myself. Your mind works not unlike that of the serpent that is the badge of his house. It shall be done as you suggest. And I hope you will keep your weapons close at hand also. I do not imagine that you would care to miss the chance of dealing with a few more of Ayocan's servants.»

«No, your Majesty. I would not.»

So Blade was fully armed two days later as he stood on the foredeck of Thambral's royal yacht, watching the conference barge creep closer across the water. Hurakun's black-painted galley was already moored to the other side of the barge, and Blade could see black-clad figures moving about on its deck. As the Gonsaran yacht crept closer, Blade recognized Hurakun, Kenas, and Mirasa aboard the galley. But where was Piralu? Blade raised his eyes from the barge to where the fleet of Chiribu lay anchored in a long line across the river. He tried to make out the flags on the anchored warships and troop barges, but the sun was too nearly in his eyes.

The Gonsaran yacht scraped alongside the barge. The disguised warriors that made up its crew leaped onto the barge's deck with mooring lines. Some of them stumbled and nearly fell, for they lacked the normal surefootedness of sailors. Nobody in the Chiribu delegation seemed to notice or care, though.

Blade wore his weapons openly and undisguised as he helped the crew lay the gangplank across the railing of the Gonsaran yacht. As its end dropped with a thud onto the deck of the barge, Blade turned his eyes to the north again. Sunlight still danced blindingly on the water, but Blade thought he saw a black-plumed figure climbing down the side of a troop barge into a small boat. He blinked, and looked again. The small boat scurried out of sight behind a large war galley. Blade turned back to matters more at hand. He drew his sword and prepared to help King Thambral across the gangplank.

The musicians aft blew a fanfare on their coiled brass trumpets. Like the «sailors,» the «musicians» today were not slaves or servants, but picked warriors of Thambral's household. And the «musicians,» unfortunately, had not been picked for their musical ability. The fanfare sounded like an entire barnyard full of animals dying in agony. Blade cringed and shuddered at the noise. If he had not needed to maintain some ceremonial dignity, he would have clapped his hands over his ears.

The last of the barnyard finally died in peace, and the drummers took up the accompaniment. They were nearly as ragged, if less agonizing to listen to. Then King Thambral strode out on deck. His robes of state were brilliant green silk, so heavily encrusted with jewels and gold embroidery that Blade could hardly see the underlying color. What the robes might weigh Blade did not even want to imagine. But Thambral strode forward, as erect as if he had been wearing garments made of spiderwebs. He nodded to Blade, then stepped up to the gangplank and raised a hand in salute to Hurakun. Hurakun returned the salute. Thambral nodded to two of the disguised warriors, and they lifted him onto the gangplank. He took two slow steps forward. Blade turned, to look north again.

And this time he stopped in mid-turn. The big war galley he had noticed earlier was moving slowly out of its place in the Chiribuan line. As it did so, a gap of blue water showed. Through that gap were coming two low-slung boats, sails drum-tight with the north wind and oars pounding in a frantic beat. Both were black, the color of the House of the Serpent. But Blade recognized the type. They were the same as the temple boat that had launched the attack on the Lugsa.

For a moment Blade froze, then he spun completely around and began snapping orders. «Everybody-arm at once! Be ready to cut the lines and pull clear of the barge.» His tone of voice made any argument impossible. The musicians and sailors scurried to obey. Then Blade turned to shout to King Thambral, who stood in the middle of the gangplank, staring about him at the sudden uproar.

As Blade turned, several things happened in rapid succession. Prince Kenas noticed the sudden activity aboard the Gonsaran yacht and shouted, «Treachery! They have-«Princess Mirasa noticed the oncoming boats, and screamed, «Treachery! Piralu has-«Before either prince or princess could finish, there was a whistle and a rushing in the air. Then there was a splintering crash as a solid chunk of rock crashed down on the barge's deck.

It landed squarely on one of Hurakun's counselors, smashing him to the deck, a pulped and bloody mess. Then it bounced off the deck, rolled, and crashed into the railing of the barge just to the right of where King Hurakun was standing. The railing splintered. The king, who was holding on to it, staggered. Then his massive black ceremonial headdress overbalanced him, and he plunged head-first over the side. His heavy black robes of state dragged him down out of sight even before the fish could gather around him to tear the flesh from his bones.

Prince Ken as uttered a great cry, «Father!» Princess Mirasa screamed wordlessly, madly, her clear wits and poise gone for the moment. King Thambral froze in the middle of the gangplank, and all the warriors seemed paralyzed with surprise. Then a second stone crashed down on the barge, and the gangplank lurched and threatened to spill Thambral into the river after Hurakun.

The only person not paralyzed was Blade. He sailed up onto the gangplank as though he were on springs. Dropping his sword, he seized King Thambral around the waist, lifted him high, and threw him bodily back aboard the Gonsaran vessel. Two of the warriors aboard the yacht snapped out of the paralysis in time to cushion their king's fall. Then as he felt the gangplank twist again and start to fall, Blade leaped, sprawling down with a crash on the deck of the barge.

He was on his feet again in a moment. «Quickly, your Majesty!» he shouted at Kenas. «Get aboard the Gonsaran boat. Now!» Kenas nodded. The realization that he was now king seemed to be filling him with new strength. He sprang up onto the railing of the barge, and without a moment's hesitation or teetering leaped high across the water. Mirasa screamed again. Then Kenas crashed down on the deck of the Gonsaran yacht, making the planks groan and flattening half a dozen Gonsaran soldiers like bowling pins. Before Mirasa could scream once more, Blade had snatched her up like a doll and flung her after her husband. He plucked her out of the air.

Now Blade shouted across the water to the crew of the Gonsaran yacht. «Get Kenas and Mirasa out of here. Back water and get out of here. Now!» He saw nods among the warriors, and heard rattles and bangs from below as the rowers ran out the oars. Water began to foam white around the yacht's stern as the rowers began to back her away from the barge. Now Blade felt that he could turn to meet the enemy.

The two cult boats were less than fifty yards away now, and coming on without slowing. On their bows he could make out the frames of the two catapults that had hurled the stones. Their decks were crowded with armed men. As Blade watched, some of these pulled on the white bat-masks of the Death-Vowed of Ayocan. Blade ran quickly across the now deserted deck of the barge. He scrambled aboard the Chiribuan galley just as it too backed water and pulled clear of the barge.

He leaped down among the black-clad Chiribuan warriors just as another stone dropped between the barge and the yacht. Water splashed down on the yacht's deck. Blade saw some of the warriors cringe. He sprang onto the yacht's quarterdeck and shouted, «Hold there, warriors of Chiribu! Are you going to let King Hurakun die unavenged? It is in your hands. And remember-those who serve Ayocan are only men! They can die like men, whether it pleases Ayocan or not! And we shall see that they do die!» The warriors straightened and began to shout and cheer. Then the cheers and shouts were drowned out by a tremendous crash as the first of the temple boats rammed the galley in the stern. The howls of the Death-Vowed rose from the temple boat's deck.

But to get aboard the galley they had to pass over its quarterdeck, and to pass over the quarterdeck they had to pass Blade. They found this hard to do. The Death-Vowed swarmed and leaped in a blind frenzy. Some of them fell into the river. Blade stood his ground, took his time, and picked his victims out of the swarm with almost surgical precision. His axe and sword whistled and struck. More bodies living and dead fell down into the river. The water about the galley's stern boiled white and red.

Blade's whirling sword and axe held off the Death-Vowed for only a minute or so. But that was long enough for other warriors aboard the yacht to rally and join him. Together they met the rush of Holy Warriors swarming aboard to join the Death-Vowed. A savage battle with no holds barred and no quarter given or asked churned back and forth along the deck of the yacht. The smell of blood and sweat, the clang of axes and sword, hideous screams from a dozen different throats rose thickly about Blade.

There was a brief moment when the fighting ebbed away from him and he was able to look beyond the galley's deck. The Gonsaran yacht was thrashing toward its own fleet line, with the other temple boat hard after it. The temple boat's deck was crowded with bat-masks. On the stern of the yacht Blade could see Prince-now King-Kenas standing tall, cursing and bellowing at the Ayocani. Several small galleys were slipping out of the Gonsaran line, toward the fleeing yacht, to cover its retreat.

He did not see whether they reached it before the temple boat. The Chiribuan warriors had to give way before a new rush of Holy Warriors. Blade had to shout and bellow and lay about him once again to rally them. He was completely lost in the battle frenzy that swept through him, smashing down with his axe, slashing with his sword, roaring and shouting with breath that came from somewhere. It was not until there were no more opponents around him that the frenzy ebbed. Once more he raised a head streaming sweat and blood to look around him.

Toward the Gonsaran fleet lay a tangled mass of boats, with the temple boat barely visible in the middle. A continuous rumble of battle rose from their decks, and swords and bat-masks flashed in the sun. Well beyond the tangle, the Gonsaran yacht was rowing sedately toward the shelter of the Gonsaran fleet. Straining his eyes, Blade could make out the figure of Kenas still decorating the yacht's stern.

Now the Chiribuan galley's decks were clear of Holy Warriors and Death-Vowed-at least of live ones. As Blade watched, the temple boat's oars thrashed, and it began backing away.

It did not get far. Two light Chiribuan galleys came down on it like hawks on a chicken. Short-handed as it had become, it did not last long against them. Within a few minutes one of the galleys pulled alongside Blade's.

Blade snapped at the first warrior to climb aboard from the galley. «Where is Prince Piralu?»

«His galley has gone upriver, sir. The Fleet Master has ordered out galleys in pursuit.»

«Good. I want to be aboard one of them.»

«Sir I-«

«I said I want to be aboard one of them, my friend. Don't argue.» Blade's voice was soft but deadly. That and his wild, blood-smeared appearance brought the warrior quickly to obedience.

«If you will climb aboard, sir, I think we can-«But Blade did not wait for the man to finish his invitation. He leaped down onto the deck of the galley and began pacing back and forth. The warriors jumped down after him and shouted orders to the rowers. Water foamed, oars squealed, and the galley backed free and swung around to join the pursuit of Piralu.

The galley swept through the Chiribuan line and raced north. The sails were kept tightly furled to reduce wind resistance. But the oars pounded steadily. Over their pounding came the sharper cracks of whips as the oarmasters laid on the lash. Occasional splashes told of buckets of river water dumped over the lash-scarred, sweating backs of the slaves at the oars.

Half an hour went by. The Chiribuan fleet was almost out of sight to the south, the galleys chasing Piralu well in sight to the north. And Blade could even make out the dark shape of Piralu's galley beyond the masts of his pursuers. He swore until he had no breath left for swearing or speech. The stroke that Piralu and the cult had launched had fallen short, but Piralu still lived. Blade wanted to change that.

In another half hour the fleet was gone and the galleys ahead visibly closer. But how long could the slaves below sustain the pace?

Blade turned to the warriors standing by the railing. «Warriors of Chiribu! We'll have to relieve the slaves at the oars if we want to catch up with the others in time.» He started unbuckling his sword belt.

«But-«There were looks of blank amazement all around him.

«Do we want to let the other galleys cut us out of all share in avenging King Hurakun?» Now there were appalled looks all around Blade. «Then let's grab the oars and start pulling.» He bent to throw open the hatch to the slave hold. His example, his manner, and his appearance swept away all resistance. He was in one of those moods that made it all but impossible to disobey him.

Now he could not tell how fast they were catching up, because his world was the dark smelly hold of the galley, the thunder of the oars, the murmur of water outside the planks. He poured his strength into his oar until he began to wonder if he would have any left to swing a sword or climb the side of Piralu's galley. But he did not miss a stroke in those brief moments of doubt.

After some vague time a shout came from on deck. «We're up with the squadron!» The still weary slaves were led back to their benches, and Blade led the warriors back on deck. The men aboard the other galleys now on either side of them stared in confusion at the grimy, sweat-dripping men emerging from the hold of Blade's galley to pick up their swords and axes.

They did not have much time to stare, though, and none to make any remarks. Suddenly Piralu's big galley swung sharply to the right, driving for the bank of the river. Blade's eyes turned toward the shore. Flickers of movement among the trees caught his eye; he saw a white bat-mask flashing in the sun.

«He's got men from the temples of Ayocan waiting ashore,» Blade shouted, pointing. «We've got to cut him off, get in front of him.»

The galley surged forward again as the oarmasters laid on their whips more frantically than ever. It took the lead. The gap of water between it and Piralu's galley began to narrow faster than the gap between Piralu's galley and the shore.

Blade shouted war cries and brandished his weapons as he saw that. He was at the thin edge of reason now, with no thought for anything except the galley that loomed ahead-higher-higher-higher.

Then in one instant it seemed to tower above Blade like a mountain wall as it ran violently aground. In the next instant Blade's own galley ploughed in among the enemy's oars. Wood snapped and cracked. From the enemy's hold came the screams of galley slaves mangled by the flailing oar-handles. Blade's galley kept surging forward, splintering more oars, until its bow rammed hard against the side of Piralu's ship.

The shock as it did so nearly sent Blade hurtling clear into the river. But he caught himself with one hand and one foot, and pulled himself back aboard. An axe whistled down past his head and went chunk into the deck while he was doing so. He pulled it free, then looked up at the deck of Piralu's galley. His arm whipped up, the axe sparked in the sun as it flew through the air, then sparked again as it split a Holy Warrior's head open. Before the man had fallen to the deck, Blade was swarming up the side of the enemy ship.

Without a trace of the «tree of death's» drug in him, he was very nearly as mad as one of the Death-Vowed. His mask was blood-most of it other people's-rather than a bat's head. But his war cries were as blood-curdling, and his weapons struck with greater force and far greater skill. He was as terrifying as any three Death-Vowed ever launched into battle by the cult. When he burst over the railing of the galley, his arrival alone cleared a space in front of him. Death-Vowed and Holy Warriors and Piralu's household fighters alike scattered in all directions. Some of them lost their heads so thoroughly that they leaped clean over the side, and their screams increased the uproar.

Blade did not wait for any more warriors from his galley to join him, but charged straight into the enemy. Now he had Piralu almost in his grasp, and he was damned if he was going to let the Second Prince get away!

The men facing Blade now did not give way before his charge, largely because they could not. He had to carve his way into their ranks with sword and axe. But few of the men he struck down struck back. The deck underfoot became slick with blood and littered with bodies. Foot by foot, Blade fought his way aft toward the cabin where Piralu's standard hung from the door. Behind him he could hear more shouts and the clash of more weapons as the warriors from the other galleys joined in the fight. From the sounds they were moving forward, pushing the enemy toward the bow.

Blade had just beaten a Holy Warrior to the deck with the flat of his sword when the cabin door burst open with a crash. Blade sprang back, raising sword and axe to meet Piralu's charge. But the figure that burst out into the daylight was not Piralu. It stood nearly seven feet high, its head was a white bat-mask set on a dark blue body, and great leathery wings swept back from its shoulders. Axes swung in both clawed hands. Screams of terror rose behind Blade, and the sounds of spreading panic.

Blade knew perfectly well that this was the Supreme Brother of the cult in his ceremonial garb. But he would have gone into the attack knowing that he faced the god himself. His sword blurred in the air as it whistled toward the man's head, then clanged off an axe that rose to meet it. Blade struck with his own axe, and again there was a crash of weapons meeting harmlessly in midair.

And again, and again. Blade doubted that the Supreme Brother would have been able to match him so well under normal circumstances. But the priest was coming to the battle fresh. Blade had already poured out buckets of sweat and a fair amount of blood.

After a dozen exchanges Blade knew that he was not going to be able to get through his opponent's guard. The Supreme Brother's mind seem to leap ahead, to discover Blade's moves almost before Blade's own mind had formed them. This realization touched off a moment of doubt in Blade's mind. But that passed, and its place was taken by memory. In this dimension no one seemed to know anything about unarmed combat.

Blade still felt no emotion, other than a sense of frustration that this fight with the priest was keeping him from reaching Piralu. He had been doing his best to keep the Supreme Brother with his back to the railing. Now he abandoned that, letting the priest take the initiative. Gradually the two men swung about on the blood-smeared deck, until Blade was backed almost against the railing.

Almost. He was careful to leave a space behind him, a space he measured in a quick glance. In the next glance, he saw that the Supreme Brother was going to try to drive him back, wipe out that space, push him over the railing. The timing of his own next move would have to be nearly perfect.

The Supreme Brother rocked back on his heels, then drove in at Blade. Blade pretended to slip, dropping down flat on his back on the boards, his head just clearing the railing. The Supreme Brother gave a shrill yell of triumph, and raised both axes high, leaning forward to strike down at Blade's head and chest. The axes began their descent.

In that moment Blade's feet shot up like a piston. They shot into the priest's stomach, scooping him up into the air, up, up, over Blade's head as Blade rolled back on his shoulders-up, and clear over the railing. Blade's head crashed into something solid. For a moment the world swirled around him. But the sounds he heard-or did not hear-told him what he wanted to know.

The Supreme Priest had no time to change his scream of triumph into one of terror before he struck the water. He did scream as he splashed into the river, and once more after that. Blade heard nothing more, because the splashings of the little fish were not loud enough to rise above the sounds of battle. Blood was pouring from his throbbing head as he staggered to his feet. He was in time to see the last of the air burble out of the Supreme Brother's bat-mask, and see it sink out of sight-dragged down by the weight of the now fleshless skull inside it.

Blade leaned over the railing, conscious that his last reserves of strength were gone, and that his head was throbbing agonizingly. He managed to pull himself straight and turn forward, toward the remainder of the battle.

As he did so, the pain in his head suddenly flared and spread until from crown to chin his head was one raw, tearing agony. The world dissolved. But he could still feel the deck under his feet, know that he was lurching toward the railing, up against it-and over it.

His mouth opened in a scream that died in a gurgle as he struck the water and the river poured into his mouth. He was in the river, bleeding, down among the deadly fish. The computer had him, but it might let him go, and then the fish would eat him and there would be no brain of his left for the computer to-

The computer did not let go. Blade felt a stab of pain in his leg as one of the fish took a bite. Then the pain in his head swelled further, the world's redness pulsed and quivered, then it was no longer red but black. And after that it was no longer anything.