The Phoenix Guards Page 32

  He dismounted and gave his horse to the care of Mica, indicating a lone cherry tree some eighty meters distant where the horses might be tied. He said, “Tazendra, will you stand for me?”

  “I will,” said Tazendra, “though I must add that this means I hold no animosity toward Kathana, which I beg she will do me the honor to believe.”

  “I understand,” said Kathana, whose throat seemed to have become dry during Uttrik’s recital. She then dismounted, handed her horse in turn to Mica, and, turning to Pel, said, “Will you stand for me?”

  “I should be honored,” said the cavalier, “with the same understanding with respect to Uttrik.”

  “Well, I agree,” said Uttrik.

  “And the judge?” said Tazendra.

  “Aerich, of course,” said Pel.

  The Lyorn bowed over his horse’s neck, and he, too, dismounted. “For the witness,” said Tazendra, “we have Khaavren.”

  “I will do it,” said Khaavren, who felt himself nearly choking with emotion. “I will witness the more willingly because I have no preference for a victor, but the less willingly because I would see neither of you die. The gods know that I love you both.”

  Uttrik and Kathana hung their heads at this speech, so frank and full of such heartfelt tenderness. Tazendra, Pel, Aerich, and Khaavren then dismounted and gave their horses into the care of Mica, who brought them to the cherry tree and tethered them there. Khaavren murmured, “It is likely that we will need one fewer on the return; my only prayer is that our requirements are not diminished by two.”

  “Draw the circle, Khaavren,” said Aerich.

  Khaavren, with a look at the Lyorn that is impossible to describe, drew his poniard, and, his heart nearly breaking, bent over and walked the rectangle, his knife inscribing it with cut grasses, making a circle which was, if difficult to see, at least sufficient for a duel in which it was unlikely either combatant would retreat very often or very far.

  Aerich said softly, “The terms?”

  Tazendra looked at Uttrik, who returned her a brief nod, as if to say, “You know very well what the terms must be.” Tazendra bowed to Pel and said, “Plain steel only, to the death.”

  Pel looked at Kathana who nodded to him as if to say, “It must be so.” He then returned Tazendra’s bow and said, “We accept these terms.”

  “Then,” said Aerich, “let us be about it.”

  Khaavren came to stand near to the Lyorn, his head hanging down. Mica, in his turn, standing next to Khaavren, shook his head sadly and murmured, “If this is what it means to be a gentleman, well, I’m glad that I, at least, am fortunate enough not to be one.”

  The combatants took their positions, and Aerich said, “Will you not be reconciled?”

  Uttrik, looking at the ground, signed that he would not. Kathana shrugged.

  “I ask again,” said Aerich, his voice trembling with emotion. “Will you not be reconciled?”

  The assembled party looked at him in amazement; such a breach of propriety being ten times as amazing, coming as it did from the Lyorn. Once again, they each signed that the duel was necessary.

  Aerich sighed audibly. “Inspect the weapons,” he said in a voice so low it could only be heard because of the awful stillness of the fields, where even the wind seemed to have stopped out of respect for the tragedy that was brewing on its lap.

  Tazendra gave a cursory glance at Uttrik’s longswords, while Pel made a brief examination of Kathana’s longsword and poniard. They returned the weapons and signed to Aerich that all was in order.

  “Take your weapons,” said Aerich.

  Tazendra gave Kathana her steel, while Uttrik took his from Pel.

  “Place yourselves within the circle,” said Aerich, whose voice was now barely above a whisper. The combatants did so, the Lyorn taking his place between them. He indicated by signs, apparently unable to speak, where each should stand. Then, with an effort, he said, “Have either of you anything to say before we commence?”

  “For my part,” said Uttrik, “I declare to you that it is only duty which forces me to attempt to take your life, and, at this moment, I say if you kill me, you will be rendering me the greatest service.”

  “And I say,” said Kathana, “that you are one of the finest gentleman I have ever met, and I now so bitterly regret killing your father, which was a low act and one unworthy of a Dragon, that I say that if I am so unfortunate as to kill you, I will place myself at once in the hands of the Empire.”

  Khaavren, who was shaking with emotion, said, “You may do so if you wish, but it will not be me who brings you to the Issola Wing, and for my part, you will be free if you win, and mourned if you die. And you, Uttrik, I say again that I love you like a brother, and I hope you bear me no malice if I say I will betray my oath to my Captain and to the Emperor if it should happen that it is Kathana who walks away from this hated combat.”

  “I bear you no malice for that,” said Uttrik. “In fact, I assure you that I will die happier, if I should die, in thinking that Kathana, whom I esteem as a sister, will, hereafter, be free from all effects of her actions, even remorse.”

  “The only way I should be free of remorse,” said Kathana, “is if you will do me the honor to take my life.”

  “Well,” said Uttrik, “I will try to do so, but, I beg you to believe, not happily.”

  “Then,” said Kathana, “let us begin.”

  “I am ready,” said Uttrik.

  “Be on your guards,” whispered Aerich.

  Kathana stood with her sword-arm, that is, her right, to the front, but her right leg behind. The point of her sword was directed at Uttrik’s eye, while her poniard was placed to strike at his midsection. Uttrik, meanwhile, had positioned himself with his left leg forward, one longsword held back and over his head, in order to strike down and across at the first opportunity presented, the other pointing at Kathana’s eye.

  Khaavren, though the Imperial Witness, could not, at first, watch the dreadful scene, and, telling himself that he would look again at the first sound of steel, cast his eyes eastward over the fecundity of the Pepperfields, where one more death, insignificant compared to the thousands that had preceded it in this place, would soon be added to the tally of that beautiful, horrible, fate-filled plateau.

  “Hullo,” said Khaavren, suddenly.

  Aerich, who had gone so far as to take in the very breath which would have exhaled the word, “Begin,” stopped, and looked at Khaavren, whose eyes were now fixed upon some point out in the distance. He, Aerich, very slowly let his breath out and followed the imaginary line penciled by the intensity of Khaavren’s gaze.

  Seeing this, Pel, Tazendra and Mica looked, then Uttrik, who stood facing the east, and, last of all, Kathana turned around and stared herself.

  After a few moments, Pel murmured, “Easterners, if I am not mistaken. See how they sit bent over their horses?”

  “Thousands of them,” said Khaavren.

  “The invasion has begun,” said Uttrik, as if he could not believe it himself.

  “Then,” said Tazendra, “instead of having to watch one of our friends die, we shall all die together. How splendid!”

  “Splendid, mistress?” said Mica, amazed that she should be positively glowing with pleasure at the thought of her imminent demise.

  “Compared to the alternative,” said Khaavren, drawing his sword, “a pleasure indeed.”

  Pel said, “I admit that it pleases me also.”

  “It is just the sort of thing I had been hoping for,” said Aerich.

  “For my part,” said Kathana, “I quite agree.”

  “As do I,” said Uttrik.

  Mica looked at the lot of them and shook his head, then looking back at the growing line of Easterners, he said, “There is time to reach the horses and escape, if we hurry.”

  The others stared at him. “How,” said Tazendra. “And miss a battle of six against thousands? When will such a chance come again?”

  “Not to menti
on,” said Uttrik, “that, if we escape, Kathana and I will simply have to fight, and I assure you that I haven’t the heart to experience once more what I felt just now as I prepared to try my best to slay her.”

  “Far better to die in battle with honest foes,” said Kathana, “than to be forced to kill a friend. Ah! It is not Easterners out there, it is expiation!”

  “Well,” said Uttrik. “Let us spread out in a good line, and see what they can do.”

  Mica, trembling, took into his hand the poniard Tazendra had given him, but kept his trusty bar-stool in the other. Aerich looked at him and said, “Tazendra, I fully share your desire to fight this battle, but, is it not true that we must give some thought to warning Lord Adron?”

  “Ah,” said Tazendra, “I had not thought of that. You are right. What must we do?”

  “Why,” said Uttrik, “we shall order Mica back to Castle Redface, by the fastest route, which, if I am not mistaken, is the footpath that begins between a pair of watch-stations which are called Nilk’arf’s Tower and which are built upon a tall pair of rocks. To reach it, you must only follow this brook, which is called the Slipknot, and which flows over the ridge very near to the towers.”

  “Well, Mica?” said Tazendra.

  Mica drew himself up and shook his head. “Oh, mistress, leave your side, now, in such a circumstance? I cannot.”

  “Your courage does you honor,” said Tazendra, “but you must, for there is no one else.”

  “And yet, I should prefer—”

  “No more speech,” said Tazendra, sternly. “In twenty minutes they will be here; and every second counts. Go.”

  “Mistress—”

  “Go!”

  Mica, almost in tears, bowed his head, and, without another word, ran toward the indicated rocks.

  “Well, and now?” said Khaavren, coolly surveying the Easterners who approached at a walk.“

  “Now,” said Uttrik, “there is no better place for waiting, the nature of these fields being such that nowhere can we force them to attack with fewer numbers, so I propose that we await them here.”

  “Well,” said Tazendra, “I have one flash-stone, with a single charge, which I prepared while in Castle Redface. Here, Khaavren, you take it, and attempt to kill their leader; that should give them a few moments of concern.”

  “Excellent,” said Kathana. “And the rest of us will endeavor to give Khaavren time to do so.”

  Aerich, Pel, and Tazendra drew their swords, and, there being nothing else to do, they waited.

  Chapter the Thirtieth

  In Which Khaavren is Amazed To Discover

  an Easterner Who Speaks the Dragaeran Language,

  Albeit With an Accent, And, Out of Necessity,

  The Tiassa Becomes a Diplomatist

  AS IT WILL BE SOME few moments before the Eastern army arrives at the place where Khaavren and his friends await them, let us make use of the interval to follow Mica along his route toward Castle Redface. We should say that there had been no hint of subterfuge in Mica’s reluctance to desert his lady and the others; though he had no taste for war, he already developed such a strong attachment to her that the thought of leaving her to die unattended was repugnant to him, even to the point where he would have preferred to die by her side. And then, it was also true that she represented to him his first chance of a life above the level of the most abject poverty, a life for which he had already acquired such a taste that he would have preferred to die rather than to be forced to return to his previous condition. Conversely, his attachment to his lady and to his present circumstances gave him a greater reason than he had ever had for wishing to remain alive.

  All of this confusion in his mind, however, did nothing to diminish the speed with which his feet, driven by his legs, traversed the path which, as Uttrik had said, began between two rocks upon which watch-stations had been built, and which were called Nilk’arf’s Tower (the one on the right being named for Nilk e’Terics, the one on the left for her brother, Narf), which he could just barely see in the distance. He ran for them, then, with the intention of passing between them and following the path thus revealed until, in some fifteen or sixteen hours, he reached Castle Redface, exhausted, dying perhaps, but able at least to warn anyone who would listen that the demons from the east had crossed the mountains again.

  This, we say, was his intention. What actually happened was that, some time before he reached the rocks that marked the beginning of the descent into the hidden valley between the mountains of Kieron and Bli’aard, he stopped, his mouth hanging so far open that it was just as well for him that bees did not live in these mountains.

  What was it he saw that caused this abrupt alteration in his gait and confusion in his thinking? It was, emerging from between these very rocks which were his destination, what could only be an army, and that of foot-soldiers, marching, as nearly as he could tell from the distance, directly toward him. He was unable to determine their numbers, because of the distance, and moreover, because they were still appearing, as if the ground was spitting them forth the way Dzur Mountain, according to the mood of The Enchantress, will sometimes spit forth fire.

  He stood then, watching this army come forth, and, after his first moment of shock, he realized that before him was the answer to his prayers. And this was the more remarkable, he realized, in that it had not occurred to him to utter any prayers. He began to reflect upon the nature of the gods, wondering how useful prayer was, since, in spite of all the things he had prayed for at one time or another in his life, the blessings he had received all seemed to come at times when prayer had been the farthest thing from his mind. These reflections ended abruptly, however, when he realized that the army was still appearing, and that, moreover, now was the time for action, or at least the consideration of action, rather than for the sort of thoughts that were best appreciated during days of travel or hours of leisure.

  After a moment, then, during which Mica stood rooted to the ground, he came to himself enough to consider what he ought to do. “I could return at once to my lady, and tell her that there is help on the way along the Slipknot from Nilk’arf’s Tower, upon which intelligence she would, perhaps, fall back and allow her rescuers time to arrive. But then, she seems determined to die, and might well ignore such a solution. I could, instead, continue on toward the advancing army, and try to convince them to hurry, and thus save my lady, which plan has the advantage that, if, as I suspect, these troops are arrived from Redface, I will have fulfilled my commission, and done so with such dispatch that no one could have anything to say against me. Well, that is the plan, I think; now, to action.”

  This decision having been reached, the clever and devoted servant at once rushed forward, with all the speed of which he was capable, toward the troops, a thousand in number, who seemed to have formed ranks and were marching precisely in his direction. In no time at all, it seemed, he had reached the front ranks, who at first put their hands to their weapons, then, upon seeing it was only a single Teckla who approached them, waited. Their officer evidently perceived that this Teckla had something important to say, for he gave the command to halt, at which time Mica suddenly found himself face to face with Lord Adron.

  “Well, my man?” said Adron.

  “Your Highness,” said Mica, bowing to the very ground.

  “You have something to tell me?”

  “I do, my lord.”

  “Well then—but stay,” he said suddenly as Mica dared to raise his head at last, “I know you; you were the lackey of one of those who did me the honor to stay beneath my roof some few days ago.”

  “Yes, my lord. I am called Mica, if it please Your Highness.”

  “Very well, Mica, then—”

  The conversation was joined at this time by two gentlemen who did not wear the uniform and insignia of Lord Adron. By their bearing, Mica took them to be high nobles. By their dress, one seemed to be a Tsalmoth, the other a Lyorn.

  “Your Highness,” said the Lyorn, “I p
erceive that the column has stopped.”

  “You are correct, Count,” said Adron.

  “Well, I am most anxious to learn the reason.”

  “I am speaking with this Teckla.”

  “I see that.”

  “Then you understand.”

  “Your pardon, my lord,” said the other with a courtly bow, “but we wish especially to learn why the column should stop so that Your Highness may converse with this Teckla.”

  “For the simplest possible reason, Lord Garland,” said Adron. “It is because he is the lackey of one of those we pursue.”

  “Lackey?” said Garland, laughing slightly. “How quaint.”

  The other frowned and said, “You are interrogating him, then? Good.”

  Mica said, “My lord? May I presume to ask Your Highness a question?”

  “Very well, ask.”

  “Excuse me, but I nearly think I heard Your Highness use the word pursue with respect to my lady.”

  “Well, and if I did?”

  “Your Highness is pursuing my lady?”

  “The Horse,” said Adron, “what did you think I might be doing out here with a thousand men at my back?”

  “I had thought, Your Highness—”

  “Well, you had thought?”

  “That, with the invasion, you had come to—”

  “Invasion!” said Adron.