Omens of Kregen (3 page)

Nath Famphreon, the new kov of Falkerdrin, had given us the run of his palace. Now he sat drinking with us, a young man and still learning; but, by Krun, he had learned a very great deal in the very recent past.

Nath na Kochwold, the commander of the entire Phalanx Force, an upright man and a good comrade, wanted to straighten out the arrangements of locations for the various Phalanxes and Kerchuris.

Kapt Erndor was there, grim and yet far more at ease than heretofore. He would be taking the bulk of Turko’s Ninth Army north. Turko, of course, the Kov of Falinur, would have to return to his kovnate and carry on sorting out affairs there.
[1]

There were others around that table and sprawled on the sofas, some you have met before in my narrative and others who so far still have not found a mention.

Together in friendship we were good comrades all.

Despite my long seasons on Kregen, four hundred light-years from Earth, I still found myself blinking at the amazing contortions folk like Korero the Shield could perform. Mind you, he did have four arms and a tail equipped with a powerful grasping hand. He rode ever at my back in battle. Now he used any of his five hands. In this I knew I was in error; he was a Kildoi, and they, like Pachaks and Djangs, who have more than an apim’s miserable allocation of only two arms, are mighty strict about which particular hand is used for which particular purpose.

Now Marion and Nango had gone, Turko could say outright what was in more than one of our minds without offending the happy pair.

“Y’know, Dray, it’s a great pity good old Seg was not with us today. He’s a fellow for a good wedding.”

“Aye, Turko. And Inch, also.”

“The truth of the matter is,” said Nath Famphreon, “and I speak as a newcomer to your circle — Marion was really only concerned that the emperor was here, with the empress.”

Sharp, the new Kov of Falkerdrin. He was right, though, no doubt of it. Seg with his wife Milsi had gone across to Balkan where Seg was the new High Kov. In this he had my blessing, for Balkan was a rich province that traditionally kept out of politics. The place would give him immense wealth and a secure base. I so much valued my true blade comrade Seg Segutorio that I joyed for him in this turn of good fortune.

“I trust Seg will take the reins into his own hands without trouble,” said Delia.

“Sink me!” I burst out. “If anyone gives Seg Segutorio any trouble I feel sorry for the poor benighted idiots.”

“True, my love, true.”

We talked then in general terms about the condition of Vallia and in detail of the problems we faced. The island empire was now all but re-united. Once that was successfully accomplished Drak and Silda could take over, leaving Delia and me free to follow our own wishes for a change.

Kapt Erndor leaned forward and said: “The troops are in good heart, praise Opaz. The 30th Division is due in tomorrow from Vondium. They flew up.”

“What,” said Turko in mock surprise. “You mean to say Lord Farris actually spared some of his precious aerial fleet? Marvels and wonders will never cease.”

“With this last campaign, kov,” said Erndor, “we are much better off for air than we’ve ever been.”

“We’ll need all the fliers we can get over those damned mountains.”

“What is the mettle of the 30th?” Nath Famphreon wanted to know.

“Raw,” said Erndor. “They are commanded by Strom Chuktar Enar Thandon. A cold fish. Still, they have one good regiment, the 11th Churgurs commanded by old Hack ’n’ Slay.”

At that moment my attention was distracted by what appeared to be a column of heated air rising from the opposite corner where the marble floor, of tiles in brilliant yellows and greens, supported an enormous jar of Pandahem ware. The flowers growing there perfumed the air most pleasantly.

Delia said, sharply: “There!”

Before any of us could react, the column of air thickened and coalesced and turned into the figure of a man.

For a tense moment we all stared. Then we relaxed.

That figure with its long plain robe, its massive turban about to topple in confusion over one ear, the wise, commanding and yet endearing face, told us this was an old comrade.

“Deb-Lu,” said Delia. “So you came to the wedding at last. Welcome.”

“I have already spoken to Marion and Strom Nango. That is not the purpose of my visit to you.”

At once my nerves quivered alert. When Deb-Lu-Quienyin, a most powerful and puissant Wizard of Loh, used his kharrna to pay calls through the occult other dimensions, things tended to happen.

He moved forward and, as was often the case, the lighting where he was — and that could be anywhere at all, by Krun — illuminated and shadowed his face and figure differently from the way the lights and shades fell in Nath Famphreon’s palace.

“Lem the Silver Leem,” he began.

I surged upright, all the blood rushing to my head. My rapier was half drawn before I was aware.

“Dray,” Deb-Lu said, commandingly. “Rest easy. There is nothing for you to do—”

“Nothing to do! There will only be nothing left to do when all the stinking adherents of Lem the Silver Abomination are destroyed and forgotten!”

“Quite so,” cut in Delia. “And suppose, Dray, we allow Deb-Lu to tell us the news? Before you burst a blood vessel.”

“Very well, my love,” said I, most meekly.

“The news is soon told.” Deb-Lu made an ineffective gesture to push his turban straight. “A temple was reported in Vondium—”

“By the Black Chunkrah!” I was incensed. “The foul blight tries to fester in Vondium the Proud itself!”

Delia put a hand on my arm. I put my fingers on hers, and, as ever, felt — well, never mind that. The Wizard of Loh went on speaking, taking my outburst in his stride. But we all knew the vileness of the creed of Lem the Silver Leem. Its devotees practiced the torture, mutilation and murder of young girl children. They carried out their grisly rites in order to gain preferment within their horrendous cult and glory in the sight of Lem.

“Joldo Nat-Su, the city prefect, was informed. He did what was necessary—”

“Burned the obscene lot to the ground,” rumbled Turko.

“Aye, Turko. Joldo did that. There were very few survivors from the temple. The business was done and was seen to be done and is now over with.”

“But,” I said in a voice of granite.

“Indeed, Dray, but. We believe there are other temples. The blight was brought in with the mercenaries and has kept well underground.”

“Damned mercenaries. I shall return to Vondium at once—”

Delia squeezed my arm; she did not speak.

It was left to Deb-Lu to say: “Hardly wise, Dray. You are about to finalize the reunification of all Vallia. No further temples have been discovered so far, and when they are they will be dealt with. I merely informed you to keep you abreast of a situation I know to be of great concern to you.”

“Too damn right it’s of great concern.”

Delia put her finger on the nub of the problem. She said crisply: “What news of the witch, Csitra, Deb-Lu?”

“Ah,” said old Deb-Lu in his most infuriatingly wise way. “At least someone has a head upon their shoulders up there in Falkerdrin.”

Turko laughed at this, and the company appreciated the justice of the remark. Quite clearly, if I went roaring back to Vondium, the capital city, to sort out the Lemmites, I would be seen and Csitra would by this time have inserted another of her agents, duped tools, to spy on me.

Then she would send another of her plagues within the ghastly scheme of the Nine Curses against Vallia.

Csitra only used a sending of horror to places where I was and where I was known to be. She suffered from the serious delusion that I could be persuaded to care for her, as she lusted after me, through cajoling force.

The most serious aspect of the situation was that folk tended to blame me for all the horrors that descended upon their heads. Well, by Krun, and they were perfectly right. If I succumbed to the witch, the plagues would go away.

As I had no intention whatsoever of succumbing to her wishes, and I did not want my people to suffer from the Nine Curses, then I had to live in places where we were sure Csitra could not spy on me.

“Very well,” I said, in a right old grumbling way. “You are right: I’ll go up north and bash this King of North Vallia. But I want continuous and timely reports on the Lem blight.”

Then the obvious — a horrible — thought occurred to me.

“Deb-Lu — you do not think Csitra has a hand in this latest outbreak of the Lem abomination?”

His wise old face with those crinkly lines showed a moment’s hesitation. Then he spoke out fairly.

“My best intelligence suggests she has nothing to do with it, Dray. I keep up an Observation upon her and her uhu, Phunik, down there in the Coup Blag. But — and I stress the shadowy nature of all this, Dray — but I cannot guarantee this one hundred times out of one hundred.”

I sat back. What a moil all this was! There was so much to be done, in Vallia, in the grouping of continents and islands called Paz, so much effort to be put into our struggle against the Shanks, that interruptions like Lem the Silver Leem and this fool witch Csitra acted like stinging insects festering around an animal’s eyes.

Deb-Lu was quite right. I had to deal with the most important factors first. Csitra, by her actions, had thrust herself into the limelight as the next objective. Still—

“Deb-Lu, have you anything further on the far eastern question?”

This referred to the Shanks, those implacably hostile Fishheads, and their attack upon the large island of Mehzta over on the remotest eastern fringe of the grouping of Paz. I did not want our own people to learn of this yet, for purely selfish reasons. We had to clear up our own problems, and those of the lands near to us, before we could expend our limited strength in remotely distant operations.

And this distressed me, for my good comrade Gloag was from Mehzta. His homeland was being ravaged and despoiled so that the rest of us could use the breathing space in the Shanks’ attack to good purpose.

“Nothing, Dray.”

I nodded. I noticed that here, Deb-Lu was calling me Dray instead of Jak, as was very often his custom.

With that apparently bumbling and yet active enough movement of his, Deb-Lu turned to look across to the side. We all knew he was not looking at what we could see in our comfortable corner of Nath Famphreon’s palace.

What he was looking at had existed where he was.

He nodded his head with such vigor the turban toppled dangerously close to falling. He spoke. We could not hear what he said.

He swung about to face us.

“Khe-Hi has just paid me a swift visit instead of cutting into our conversation.”

If anyone not a sorcerer told you he understood the protocol and the way of polite manners between Wizards of Loh — never believe him. Wizards were a law unto themselves. I could see no reason on Kregen why Khe-Hi-Bjanching should not use his kharrna to pay us a visit while Deb-Lu-Quienyin was here.

Deb-Lu went on: “You will hear the news soon enough, for a swift messenger is on the way. Advance knowledge could prove useful.” He made a dab at his turban. “The upstart King of North Vallia has pre-empted your attack. He has struck down in force stronger than would suggest a mere raid, has routed your frontier force, and is marching south looting and burning.”

Chapter three

An aerial skirmish

From the air, the vadvarate province of Kavinstock looked peaceful enough.

The ruler of this province, holding the noble rank of vad, had been Nalgre Sultant. He and his son Ornol, members both of the once-powerful political party of the Racters, had vanished after their defeat and the reunification of Kavinstock with the rest of Vallia.

As the small armada sailed on through the level air, I studied the land below. It looked in good heart, although occasionally we flew over areas of decay and destruction resulting from the late war.

Far ahead over the horizon the ugly smear of black smoke rising into the air told us that death and destruction still prevailed here.

“The black-hearted cramphs,” said Targon the Tapster at my side.

“Aye, Targon,” I said, heavily. “We have come a long way since first we met. And it seems to me all that time there has been fighting and war.”

Targon the Tapster, with other redoubtable fellows, had helped form the bodyguard that had turned into the First Emperor’s Sword Watch. They took it in turn to command the regiments. They detested going anywhere without me, or of letting me off the hook to go adventuring on my own without them along. The same fractious desires animated as well the lads of the Emperor’s Yellow Jackets. And, as I well knew, the two new regiments in my guard corps, the Emperor’s Foot Bows, and the Emperor’s Life Churgurs, shared that dedicated devotion to my person.

All of which, as I have said, made me feel very small, and gave me considerable qualms for the safety of the kampeons in the regiments.

We’d grabbed every flier we could lay our hands on and had flown up as fast as we could drive the vollers. With a foul wind, the vorlcas, the massive aerial ships that depended on sails and their ethero-magnetic keels to move them along, were severely restricted. They’d fly up eventually, though, Opaz willing.

Kapt Erndor, Nath na Kochwold and the other commanders would move heaven and earth to get up and into action just as fast as they could.

Targon said: “And you are confident the city of Tali will be able to hold out?”

“Tali is a sizable place, with many towers and walls sixty paces thick, for I paced them myself. Still, there is no certitude in a town holding out against a siege.”

“We will distract them long enough.”

“I don’t want a lot of casualties,” I said.

“We are all your juruk jikai. The guard corps will not hang back in a fight.”

“That’s what I’m worried about.”

Over the deck to where we stood in the prow, Delia walked up with that smooth grace that always catches the breath in my throat. She heard the last words of our conversation.

“I feel exactly the same about my guards,” she said. “Nath Karidge is such a bold reckless fellow.”