Wizard's Funeral (14 page)

bristling with metal weapons. The mainsail was large, square and as black as sin. The craft forged through the water, running before the wind, and would be on them in a very short while, unless something unforeseen happened. Who are they? he asked the master. Amekni pirates, was the answer. Can we bargain with them? No. When they attack, they massacre every living creature on board, and then sink their victim ship. Simple as that. No mercy. Theyve never been known to take a prisoner yet. Its their way. But that doesnt sound good sense to me. Money can be extorted from relatives and friends for hostages. Are you saying they dont take hostages ever? Thats what Im saying. Theyre ex-slaves. Embittered, full of hate. They prefer to satisfy their lust for blood and vengeance, rather than enrich themselves. Obviously the two come side by side, since they plunder the vessels before they sink em. During this explanation Soldier had been watching his dragon, closely. The dragons eyes were keenly on the approaching craft. He clearly did not like the black sail with its fire-bird crest. When the pirate ship was close enough, the master of the Winged Goat-fish ordered a heavy catapult on the stern of the craft to fire on it. The sailors did so, but without effect, their rocks landing in the sea around the swiftly approaching vessel. They tried one tar-soaked ball of rope, which had been set alight, but this too sizzled in the ocean when it flew right over the bows of the foe. The pirates were jubilant. They hung from the rigging of their craft and jeered like mad. They waved their weapons and informed the crew of the caravel that they were going to gut them like fish, cut off their appendages, prick the eyes from their heads, hang sailors by their tongues from the yardarm. Well make you swallow turtle dung, they shrieked. Well boil you down for fat to grease our anchor chain. The sailors of the Winged Goat-fish waited in trepidation and fear for these berserk raiders to board their craft. When the enemy was just three lengths from them, the dragon suddenly took to the air. He flew straight at the sail and attacked the fire-bird depicted thereon. To common knowledge there was no creature in the world resembling the fire-bird, which blazed with eternal flames and burned all that it came into contact with. But dragons, it seemed, did not like them, whether they were real or mythical. Soldiers dragon ripped the sail to shreds within seconds. The pirates scrambled down from the rigging as their ship veered wildly and was broached by a lee wave. Sailors plunged into the sea, like maggots falling from a rotten piece of meat. The Winged Goat-fish sped past the stricken craft as it attempted to right itself. The sea was not stormy, but there was a heavy swell, and there were waves which could be bothersome to a ship suddenly thrown off tack. Soldiers dragon did not return to the caravel. Instead he set off for the coast, which could be seen as a thin red line ahead. As he flew off, the dragon let out a strange and penetrating cry. It could have been heard in far distant continents, it was so piercingly loud. Everyone put their hands over their ears, on both ships, and blinked away tears of pain. By that time the dragon was flying low over the water, shrinking to the size of a bumble bee within a very short time. The pirate ships steersman recovered his senses. He turned the craft into the waves, so that it righted itself. Within minutes the pirates had brought up another sail from the hold and were in the process of putting it on, when disaster struck them for a second time. It was Soldier who noticed it first: as a chill wind seemed to riffle the surface of the water. A great dark patch appeared in the sea. Soldier brought the crews attention to the phenomenon. Some looked up, mistakenly thinking what they saw was the shadow of a cloud. Others pinched at religious artefacts, small charms around their necks, believing a god was about to appear. The dark shape moved along, under the water, seeming to close on the pirate vessel. Small fish began arcing across the surface like silver rain, as they do when theyre being chased by predators. Then the water bubbled, as if boiling from beneath. It was something the master thought he had seen before. Underwater volcano, he said, firmly. But what came up was not steam, nor showers of fiery coals, but a living creature. A great sea-serpent, perhaps called from the depths by the dragons cry, surfaced in a hiss of spray and foam. It writhed there, unanchored for a few moments, seeking a purchase. Finally, it wound its coils around the black-sailed ship and began crushing it. Ismans lungi! exclaimed a wide-eyed Spagg. The whole crew of the Winged Goat-fish watched in horror as the pirate ships timbers cracked and split under the pressure. Masts popped out of their blocks and crashed down on the decks. Planks buckled and flew out, some cracking apart and firing deadly splinters the size of daggers into the faces of the pirates. Whole men were squashed in the scaly coils of the giant sea serpent, which stank of weed and ooze a thousand years old. The squamous monster showed no mercy for its victims. Even as it dragged the wreck down with it to its home in an ocean trough, it sucked up the struggling bodies of drowning seafarers, swallowing them, leaving nothing but debris floating on the spot where the craft had been. Cophs corset! whispered Spagg. It was a shocking thing to have witnessed. True, the pirates had been out for blood. They would have slaughtered the whole crew, and the passengers. But still, the suddenness with which the dragon and the sea-serpent between them had dealt with a whole boatload of some sixty or seventy mariners was highly disturbing. It brought home the frailty of the human form. It was as if one had been smacked around the face by ones own mortality and then kicked in the backside by the grim reaper. Life was surely too precious a commodity to have it snuffed so completely, so callously, within so short a space of time? The sailors all went about their duties in a kind of mechanical way, still dazed by what they had been forced to view. The passengers busied themselves with staring at the distant shore, wondering what fate held for them in those red-stone hills, those sandy deserts of the hinterland. Finally, the caravel was cruising into the harbour of Sisadas, the main port of Uan Muhuggiag. Here was a different scene indeed to the one on the other side of the ocean. Although there were many ships going in and out of the harbour, the shoreline itself was alive with activity. Here were open markets, full of colourful, exotic goods on display. There were hod-carriers with baskets full of fruit. Blankets covered with brilliant seashells lay between vendors of game birds with plumage that made pheasant cocks look like the beggars of the bird world. On the beach were poles bearing silver wolfskin coats, red wolfskin leggings, black wolfskin hats. Over this way were caged pet bats for sale, young, frisky pet foxes, giant lizards on leashes, live scorpion neck charms with corked stings, live spider decorations that nested in the wearers tangled hair. Small bumboats bustled about on the water carrying textiles, carvings, bullwhips, knives, and many other goods out to sell to the passengers of the larger vessels in the harbour. In front of the markets there was shipbuilding all along the sea strand: large, potbellied boats called dhundis, not a metal nail in them, put together with pegs and caulked with vegetable oils. The peppery scent of juniper wood was in the air, and sandalwood, and cedarwood, and sweet fresh pine. Soldier, Golgath and Spagg left the Winged Goat-fish and stepped on shore, now having to find their land legs. After being on board a ship that rolled and rocked with every motion of the sea, they found it difficult having nothing to counterbalance. Spagg fell over twice in the market-place, much to the amusement of the swathed people there. He picked himself up each time with great dignity and gave them choice mouthfuls of Guthrum, which, if they understood at all, they ignored. Spagg also had the disconcerting habit of inspecting everyones hands, peering at them closely. Some nice specimens ere, he confided to Soldier. Take a few of those back with me. I thought you only sold hanged mens hands? Well, you can see this lot are just cut-throats and villains, every one of em! Look, you can see it their faces. Theyd have the skin off your cuticles if they thought they could get away with it. Nah, pick any one of them and Ill wager hes killed his grandmother for a stick of firewood. How well-informed your judgements are, Spagg, observed Golgath. Such objective opinions. Well, you know, replied Spagg, missing the irony, my mother brought me up to make decisions, not to sit on the fence. Well-considered decisions. Natrally. What a wise woman she must have been. None wiser. I wish I had known her. Perhaps I would have been in time to prevent a disaster happening. Spagg frowned, What disaster? The birth of her child. Are you being sarcastic? Me, Spagg? cried Golgath, hand on heart. How could you accuse a fellow traveller of such a crime? Well, just sos youre not. Soldier left them to it and went to look for accommodation for the three of them, before making enquiries as to the whereabouts of his wife.

Chapter Fourteen

They found a tavern with a spare room in the Kamala district. Actually, most of the rooms were empty, due to the fact that the public camel stables were situated just behind the tavern - the smell of dung was all-pervading and the flies were as big as hornets. It was not through shortage of money that they chose these accommodations, but Soldier wanted to remain as inconspicuous as possible while he was searching for Layana. There is one sure way of bringing attention to yourself in a new land and that is by spending lots of money. Spagg, who often smelled worse than ariy camel, had the audacity to complain about the stink. What a pong! I wouldnt be surprised, said Golgath, if the camels are saying the same thing. Meanin what? Soldier was looking out of the window at the white roughcast buildings which made up this end of the town. Beyond them lay a desert, who knew how wide, with tall mountains in the very far distance. Uan Muhuggiag was a vast country. There were deserts here, wide lakes, mountain ranges, occasional green valleys and verdant pastures, and a completely different sky. The blue of the heavens here was harder, sharper; the clouds whiter and with more shapely billows. Sometimes they looked small and smooth as white pebbles in a stream. At others they were tall, dark columns holding up the sky. As with the ochre red of the Carthagan pavilions, the colours on the ground were earthier, the hues not bright red, yellow, brown, blue or green, but more textured, as burnt sienna, amber, raw umber, aubergine, tawny and jade. The scents and sounds here were different too. They had more depth to them. The smell of camels dung, of unleavened bread baking in clay ovens, of a nearby carpenters wood shavings, were more substantial than those that came from horse, metal oven and city carpenters shop. The whooping throaty noise of a camel, the cry of the lampseller, the clanging of the goats bell, had more timbre than in the land from which Soldier had come. He loved the exotic feel to the place. He felt lighter, more vibrant, than he had done in Guthrum. Here his spirit was more at peace with itself. Im going to the bazaar, he told the other two. I want to go alone. What will you do? Im goin to eat, replied Spagg, with no hesitation. Ill stay and read, Golgath said. I found a book of poetry in the cabinet by my bed. I shall study the arts. Soldier left them, going out into the dusty streets. There were no cobbles here, no flagstones. Earth was the matter underfoot. He made his way to the bazaar, where he found alleys lined with stalls dedicated to objects in gold, in silver, in ivory, fabrics, gems. One long alley for each material. He strolled down Gold Alley, along Silver Walk, through Ruby Square. He found a long, narrow passageway in which only birds were sold: parrots, parakeets, songbirds, lovebirds. The vendors and buyers were dressed mostly in desert dwellers robes: turbans, smocks, camelskin coats, hoods, face coverings which left just their eyes visible. As he strolled through the suq, he made enquiries. His questions seemed to lead him to one man, the Soldan of Ophiria, a desert lord and king of the Cobalt Tribes. These were a people, he was told, who lived by raiding and pillaging others. The soldan was a very powerful man, Ophiria being the vast desert region of Uan M,uhuggiag, and his warriors were as merciless in battle as the Carthagans. In fact, both peoples had great respect for each other. Their only historical battle had ended in victory for neither side, with but two men standing amidst a sea of corpses. These two decided between them that someone must carry the news back to their respective homelands and agreed that they should walk in opposite directions. When they arrived in their separate regions, their peoples were so ashamed of them for leaving the battlefield alive, without a victory to celebrate, they were both banished. If they had fought, their peoples said, one man would have walked away the victor. Legend had it that the two survivors met up again and, with their wives, sailed off together to an unknown island, where they became kings and founded two new nations, one on the north side of the island, and one on the south. Sadly, they did not permit intermarriage between their two nations, and the result was that the two sets of peoples ended up fighting savage wars against each other for possession of the whole island. This was long after the original two warriors had died and the common bond between them no longer had influence. It appeared, from his queries, that Soldier needed to speak with the Soldan of Ophiria, for this man had networks of spies throughout the length and breadth of Uan Muhuggiag, and would know where Layana had been taken. When Soldier arrived back at the tavern, however, he found Golgath with a contingent of Carthagan warriors. Soldier, said Golgath, you have to go home. Why? Weve only just arrived here. I have to find my wife. These men, Golgath indicated the small force of warriors, have come over the border from their own country. Queen Nufititi of Carthaga has received news that the Hannacks and the beast-people have joined forces to attack Guthrum. The pavilions there need reinforcements. We need to get back to help defend our homeland. Soldier wondered. Was it his homeland? He had made it so, by marrying Layana. It was his adopted country, there being no real memory of any other in his mind. He had dreams of course, but who was to say what was real and what was fantasy in that confused mind? Loyalty must be directed somewhere, and where better than the country who had adopted him, the country of his wife. And what of Layana, while he was over there, hacking men to death? Would she be suffering, waiting for his rescue? He mentioned this to Golgath, saying there was a direct choice: either he joined with his brothers and sisters in arms, or he continued to seek his wife. Golgath was of the opinion that Layana would want Soldier to do his duty first, then sort out his personal life. The princess, Golgath said truthfully, was a resourceful woman in her own right. She might, by her own initiative, be planning or even executing an escape. Such a woman did not need to rely on a man, even if he was her husband, any more than a man would expect to rely on his wife to extricate him from the clutches of a captor. If Soldier were free to do so, she might wish him to come to her aid, but since he was called upon by his country to defend the land, then she would assume he would first settle the fate of the nation, then assist her. We leave immediately, said Soldier. The sooner this business is over and I can return, the better. The two men went into the tavern to collect their belongings, before rejoining the Carthagans. Spagg had refused, absolutely, to join them. Im not goin back over there, throwm up every nautical mile, when I can be waiting here. Ive got Marakeesh comin to join me tonight. He gave his two companions a black-toothed grin. Shes going to knock on the shutter and Im to let her in by the winder, save paying for a double room. Were going to drink some mead and get up to fruskie-friskie. A sea voyage followed by a bloody battle, then another sea voyage? You must be out of your heads. Im staying and thats that. So they left him to his fruskie-friskie. The black warships were waiting in the next bay, the harbour at Sisadas being too small to accommodate them. They boarded at midnight and the fleet was on its way within the hour. The sailing time was much swifter than on the caravel, these sleek vessels being designed for much greater speed. They had several banks of sail, a following wind, and sailors extremely experienced in the seaways. The voyage was uneventful. It was as though the gods knew there were more important issues at hand than displaying their own might and power through storms and monsters of the deep. They too were interested in the outcome of major wars between mortals, and agreed to suspend any show of petulance or bad temper which might normally come from the Seven Peaks. The fleet hove to in a cove just off the Petrified Pools of Yan. The troops disembarked and marched across country, arriving at the gates of Zamerkand in quick time. Here the pavilions were already mustered for war. Soldier joined the Eagle Pavilion, taking over command from Lieutenant Velion. His warriors seemed pleased to see him. Golgath went into the city. He was not of the Garthagan ranks and therefore could not fight alongside Soldier. He promised to see his friend again soon, but for the moment he had to fight with the Imperial Army, alongside the brother he loathed so much. Soldier did not enter the gates, knowing that Humbold was dangerous within them. The situation was different now. The king of a country at war has new priorities, and for the moment Soldier was safe, so long as he did not flaunt himself in front of the man who hated him. If he paraded himself through Zamerkands streets, however, he was asking to be assassinated. As it was, within his pavilion, surrounded by his warriors, he was virtually untouchable. Soldier did have a visit from the new marshal of the Imperial Guthrum Army, Golgaths brother. Well, said Marshall Kaff, throwing back the flap of Soldiers compartment in the vast tent which was the Eagle Pavilion, so your conscience got the better of you? Kaff entered with an escort of five officers, all with their hands on the hilts of their swords. Soldier recognised a lisping cavalry officer who had once tied him to a wagon wheel and flogged him. There were other old enemies there, too, amongst this unholy gathering. Soldier eyed them without favour, staring each one of them down in turn. Then he turned his attention to Kaff, who was examining his quarters with something close to a sneer on his face. I came back with your brother. The fate of our country is as important to us as it is to you and your kind. Ah yes, my little brother. How is he? Ask him yourself. Hes joined the ranks of your own army. Kaff was truly splendid in his silver armour with its golden marshals crest a rampant bull on the breastplate. Scarlet feathers dripped from his helmet and a magnificent sword was on his hip. Kid gauntlets hung from the teeth of a savage looking weasel. The head of this beast had replaced Kaffs missing right hand. This man standing before Soldier was every inch the great warlord. Soldier was glad that Layana could not see him now, or she might have been swayed by the splendour of the uniform and the confidence of the man who wore it. Soldier said, wryly, You seem to have done very well for yourself Kaff had the goodness to redden under this remark. I have been expedient, it is true. You do not know the ways of our people as well as you think you do. Power goes to those who take it. I feel no shame. Queen Vandas ancestors snatched power at a time of crisis, just as Humbold and I have done. They saw nothing wrong in doing so and neither do we. Its how we get our kings and queens. You think nepotism is better? Hereditary right? I think not. If you say so, replied Soldier. However, dont trust your new king and master too far. Hell destroy you, if he has to. He has sold his soul. Tshaw! Kaff exclaimed. Listen, theres a war to fight. We might all die in the coming battles, and there would be an end to our interest in the living world with all its faults and foibles. You and I might be lying together, brothers in arms, in a pool of blood at the end of each new day. Its possible we might be buried in the same common ground, locked in each others cold embrace. Perish the thought, said Soldier, folding his arms. Indeed. So say I. But Im merely trying to put things into perspective. Why worry about affairs of state, when the first thing is to survive a conflict. A philosopher too? At that moment Kaffs younger brother entered Soldiers quarters. He paused on the threshold, seeing many of his former colleagues and his older brother standing there. Soldier could see Golgath was in a confrontational mood. Golgath said, What do you want? My dear brother, said Kaff, bending to kiss Golgath on the cheek, I see youre as irascible as ever. You always were badtempered, even as a child. I still bear the scar on my scalp of the fire poker you hit me with in the nursery. Everyone naturally stared at Kaffs head, where no scar was visible because of the helmet. And I a bruised knee bone; which has not healed to this day! Everyone stared at Golgaths knees, hidden beneath his armour. Soldier said pointedly to Kaff, Thank you for your visit, Marshal. Ah. I must go. My orders are plain. But I would ask one favour before I leave. Its what I came here for. Which is? Kaff took him aside and whispered confidentially. He seemed genuinely concerned. News of the Princess Layana. There was a catch in his throat as he voiced his request. Please tell me if you have discovered her whereabouts and if she is well. Soldier was astonished. It is your master who has her captive. But he will not tell me where, or who holds her, I swear, replied Kaff earnestly. It is the one secret he will not divulge. I have sent spies out everywhere, in every direction, but still can find no trace of her whereabouts. I know you have been looking for her too. I implore you, tell me where she is, and I will do all in my power to have her released. You would go against Humbold, at risk of your life? Even that. Soldier believed him. It irked Soldier greatly that this man genuinely loved his wife, and had loved her long before Soldier had arrived in Guthrum. Had Kaff wanted her simply for her money or position, Soldier could have dealt with it. But having a man desperately in love with his wife made him feel very insecure. You could not blame a man for his feelings, however inappropriate they were. And there was always the possibility that danger to his marriage lurked in the background, when Layana had a safe haven to run to in times of stress. His fear was that if he should argue bitterly with Layana, over some little thing as husbands and wives are wont to do from time to time, she might decide that Kaff was better for her, and leave. The option was always there. Kaff did not look like marrying anyone else. I cant promise such a thing, he told Kaff. My wife is my affair, not yours. Kaff stared at him for a long time, then spun on his heel and strode out of the tent. He was followed by the mincing cavalry officer and his cronies, who did not depart without tossing a sneer or two over their shoulders. Not long after Kaff had gone, the bullroarers and the trumpets sounded. Drums began to beat the alert. An enemy was corning. I must get back to my men, said Golgath. He locked forearms with Soldier. Good luck, my friend. You too. Keep a good watch from those walls. Give us good support. We will. Golgath left. The red pavilions immediately struck camp. They were well-versed in the arts of war. Soldier led the
warriors of the Eagle Pavilion to a ridge beyond the city walls, where they joined others. When the whole army of Carthagan mercenaries were lined up, ready for battle, he had the Wolf Pavilion on his left, and the Dragon Pavilion on his right. He trusted both commanders and men to stand firm. The whole army could be trusted to fight to the last man, if that was required to win. In the evening light the barbarian hordes came across the darkening plain. They came in their hundred-thousands: beast-warriors of the Horse-people, the Dog-people, the Snake-people - many others. On their right were squadrons of Hannack horse, wearing human-skin cloaks and decorated with the jawbones of their enemies. There was also a motley group of odd tribesmen from the mountains and deserts of the north. Here they came. Silent at first. Like shadows crossing the hinterland. A multitude they seemed, A sea of armed creatures, dragging with them battering rams, catapults and giant bows for shooting huge fire arrows over the walls into the city. There were not many heavy field weapons, however, for both beast-people and Hannacks were raiders and liked to travel into battle unladen. They were swift foot-warriors and light horsemen, quick into the fray, quick out of it. Their numbers on this occasion were enough to strike fear into the heart of the stoutest foe, however, as they poured across the plain. The Carthagans stood, resolute and ready. This was what they were paid to do. To stand and fight. To defend Zamerkand against barbarian hordes. On the walls of the city Marshal Kaffs Imperial Army gathered, also ready with its defence. The Guthrumites would fight from within the city walls, ready to loose rainclouds of arrows on the enemy from the heights. Ready with the rocks and the boiling oil, should any of the foe fight their way through the Carthagan ranks to the stonework beneath. The barbarians did not wait until morning, as had been expected. Unusually, quite out of character and against all military custom, they attacked in the twilight. Something had given them great confidence and they came pounding their shields in fury, in a great mass, swarming across the killing grounds, flinging themselves on the ranks of the red pavilions with tremendous force. They had a new leader, and they felt their time had come. It was their turn to rule the world, form dynasties, build empires, destroy neighbours. It was their turn to sack cities, enrich their nations, stamp their enemies into the dust. And so it went. Because the red pavilions were defending the city, they felt the need to protect the whole length of the front wall. This extended the line, especially on the flanks, where the ranks were not as tight. On top of this, the line was broken on the right by the unfortunate position of two of Guthrums largest graveyards. The barbarians drove the Carthagan line left-of-centre further into these cemeteries, causing the red pavilion warriors to stumble and fall on the tombstones. The line buckled as the flank was turned by a single squadron of Hannack horse-soldiers. A ragged hole opened in the defenders. The line extended even more, to close this gap. thus thinning the centre to the point where a Carthagan warriors outstretched arm could not touch his companions shoulder, and from that point onwards the defence was doomed. The shock of the first wave of barbarians was held, but the second, the third, and the fourth were too much. They were too full of conviction, too sure of themselves. The cry OmmullummO! was on their lips. The usurping King Magus had promised them victory and they believed him. A final clash, the multitudes of now screaming, shrieking warriors from the north throwing themselves at the ranks of the red pavilions, and they broke through. They poured into an ever-widening breach in the right flank of the defenders, and began to attack from the rear. There was no rout, but there was a great slaughter. Souls ascending from the Carthagan dead cried Thank you, for their release. The air was full of grateful spirits on their way skywards. Soldier could hear them, crying out, as they rose towards heaven. The red pavilions fell back against the walls of the city. The excited Imperial Army above began prematurely to hurl rocks down, many of these missiles striking Carthagan warriors. Soldier and a group of his Eagle Pavilion were squeezed out to the left flank, then driven back towards some groves of trees, where they fought like tigers. It was no use. The day was lost. The whooping beast-people and their allies had defeated the Carthagan Army with astonishing swiftness, and were already celebrating by beating out the brains of those wounded foes who lay crippled or dying on the battlefield. If darkness had not fallen, there would have been no escape. But night came rapidly on the heels of evening. There was no moon, and no one knew friend from foe. In the first hour of darkness, many of the enemy died at their own hands, comrade mistakenly killing comrade, the wanton slaughter having too much headway to stop. Meanwhile surviving hand-fuls of warriors from the red pavilions crept away, running, stumbling, falling, picking themselves up again, but heading with great urgency towards the ships. Where they could they carried with them their pavilion standards - Boar, Wolf, Hawk, Eagle but to their eternal shame, some of these had been lost to the enemy. This loss was far greater to bear than that of a beloved commander or dear friend. A pavilions standard was its soul, its spirit, and its capture was unbearable to its warriors. However, there was no use remaining until the dawn. The war was lost. The unspeakable barbarians were at the gates. King Humbold and his citizens could not be saved by those outside the walls of the city. For the third time in as many weeks, Soldier crossed the Cerulean Sea. The black warships were almost empty. They had crews, but there were no fleeing warriors to pack their decks. Most were lying dead on the battlefield outside Zamerkand. Many more had fled north, west and east, away from the shores. When Soldier looked back he could see the barbarian fires around Zamerkand, but he could not tell whether they had overrun the castle and its internal town. He felt sorrowful, guilty and ashamed. For the first time in many centuries, he and his companions had failed to contain the barbarian hordes. It shouldnt have happened. They had been heavily outnumbered, it was true, but they had been so before, many times, and had always been sure of eventual victory. This time the heart seemed to go out of the Carthagan Army. Perhaps it was that incessant chanting of a devil-wizards name that ate away at their confidence? Or the fact that they were fighting as the light drained from the sky and the night prevailed over the day? In the past they had rallied at such points, managed to find hard ground, to hold their position, to counterattack and eventually triumph. This time there had been no rallying calls, no shouts ofTo me, Carthagans! Strive and conquer! There were just the sounds of desperate fighting, the moans of falling warriors, the expression of grateful souls being released from their body prisons, the sighs of the dying. They had been frantic in their efforts and urgent in their attempts. They had thrashed, flailed, fallen back, lost their discipline. Their stal-wartness had fled them and they had found themselves forever on the back foot, not pushing forwards, losing ground, losing ground, losing ground . . . Soldier put his face in his hands. This defeat dragged from the depths of his naked soul the shadow of a memory of another defeat, somewhere in his lost past. It was a bitter feeling, almost unbearable. The bile came to his mouth. He wanted to die. How could this happen again? Surely this was the reason why he had left his own world, his mind fleeing in another direction, to escape such shame? If only he had kept his head, called for warriors to stand ground, to hold the line. But he had not. Nor had anyone else. No officer, no sergeant-at-arms, had put forth such a cry. Soldier had seen their own warlord, Jakanda, fall in the third wave of the attack under the warhammer of a dog-warrior. No one had leapt into his position, called for rallying drum or trumpet, cried havoc on the foe. The defeat had been too swift and merciless. Sprawling, numerous tribes, such as the beast-people, with warriors who learned the art of war as a natural part of growing from child to adult, had untold fighters to call upon. They could absorb defeats. They soaked them up like a sponge and put forth still more hordes, without pausing to consider. The psychological aspect of defeat did not affect them. They were used to defeats. No shame was felt, only bitter determination to revenge themselves on their enemies. Gathering themselves together, the barbarian tribes paused only to build up their numbers again, before throwing themselves at their foe. They were relentless. Carthagans, on the other hand, expected to win. Their army was hand-picked from disciplined, well-trained troops. It took a great deal of time and thought to produce such an army. Defeat was unthinkable, and therefore when it happened, the shock was devastating. Their minds were numbed by the thought. The impossible had happened, and they had great difficulty in living with it. In fact, some of them could not. On the battlefield, when the outcome had been clear, many officers and warriors had fallen on their swords. Others, those careful planners amongst them, had taken the poison they kept in their rings or lockets for the purpose. It was pitiful. Here on the deck men and women were weeping. One or two threw themselves overboard, into the dark sea. No one tried to stop them. No one called for the ship to turn. They did not want to be saved. They sank beneath the dark waves, grateful that they did not have to face their families and friends in Carthaga. Their spirits, having been released by their masters, murmured heaven-bound. When the fleet arrived back in Carthaga, the people already knew. The conquest of their army had been foreseen by the temple prophets and there was great mourning in the towns and villages. The wailing of the living, more for the defeat than the loss of their loved ones, filled the air. They tore out their hair, rent their clothes, threw away their sandals and walked on cactus plants or hot rocks, in order to suffer. They needed physical pain to cauterise their mental and spirtual agony. Their humiliation was a terrible thing to witness. Soldier had never seen anything like it. Women covered themselves in ashes and ran mad-eyed through the streets, naked. Men struck themselves with clubs and whips, until they fell unconscious on the ground. Children lay prostrate on the earth, weeping and confused, wondering why the world had come to an end. They sacrificed dogs and doves, littered the streets with dead flowers, and shut up their houses to keep out the light. It was dreadful. Soldier left for the border as soon as he was able, heading for Sisadas.