Scabbard's Song (26 page)

Chapter Ten

Reports had it that Humbolds army was on the move. It seemed to be heading for the south-west coastline of the Cerulean Sea. Soldier spent sleepless nights trying to decide the best place to attack He wanted the advantage of high ground as well as surprise. But before he committed his army to battle he had to honour his promise to himself. He needed to talk with Drummond and try to heal the terrible wounds they had inflicted on one another in their old world. A messenger was sent out and Drummonds reply was that he would meet with Soldier in the foothills to the west of Zamerkand. Soldier was to come armed only with a sword (to protect himself against bandits and rogue Hannacks on the journey), which he was to lay down some distance from their exact meeting point. Both parties were to be alone and unarmed at that point, though a bodyguard could be kept a mile distant. Since we have never learned to trust one another, Drummonds message read, we must both be prepared for treachery. I have certainly been led over the years to expect such from you, and you must do the same. Soldier flared at the implication of dishonourable conduct on his part, but felt it useless to send back counterarguments. It was best that it all came out at their meeting. He decided to take no bodyguard (against all pleading from his wife and Golgath, who called him mad) and trust to his own persuasive powers of speech. Soldier felt he had to get Drummond to agree to a reconciliation. He, for his part, was full of remorse for all the anguish he had caused the other man and meant to convince him of his sincerity. Thus he found himself standing unarmed and alone by the needle rock which was to be their meeting place. Drummond came riding up slowly from the west. When he was still some distance from Soldier, he dismounted and hobbled his charger. Then he strode towards his hated enemy. Soldier waited. Drummond was a huge man, of immense strength. His blue eyes were set in a broad, tanned face below a wide brow. Dressed in a leather jerkin and a faded kilt, his thick, powerful limbs protruded from both, bare to the knee and to the elbow, covered in tattoos. A shock of greying hair knotted with cow dung fell from his great head about his shoulders. There was a look of pure malice in his expression. So, he said, stopping an arms length from Soldier, we meet face to face. Its been a long time, Drummond. Too many years of blood have flowed between us. I am come to beg your forgiveness for all the wrongs I have done to your family. And so you should. I was the last of my kin. Now I have but a single son, left behind in our old world, who will carry on the name, but thats no thanks to you, slaughterer. You massacred my whole clan that terrible day, Valechor, and I am determined you will answer for it with your own life. You will recall that your clan murdered my bride on our wedding day, left her staining the snows with her blood, even though she was your own kin! snarled Soldier. Then he remembered he was not here to accuse, but to seek forgiveness. But I am sorry that is all in the past. I know how you feel and I am ashamed for my acts - especially the battle that killed your own first wife. I knew not that she was a woman in male armour. Drummond, we have each wronged the other in unconscionable ways. It is an unholy mesh of foul deeds, perpertrated on both sides. But my death, or yours, will not set right those wrongs, they will only add to them. Can we not leave them in the old world and start afresh here and now, and beg each others pardon for our black actions? The knight Valechor is a coward, spat Drummond. Afraid to die. You know that is not true, Soldier said, patiently. I have fought many battles, many single combats, and have proved my courage a hundred times over the course of a lifetime. But old men grow more afraid than young men. This may be true, but neither of us is yet feeble-minded. No, no, I am simply weary of this feud. I do not want your blood on my hands for reasons buried in our past. They are red enough already. I do not know which of us would prevail - you are as good in battle as I and it could go either way -but even if we have to fight in the coming conflict, on opposite sides, I would rather it was not because of the feud. Let it be for the side we take in this war, not because we carry over the hate from the last. Drummond folded his arms and smiled grimly. You mean even if we forgive each other, I can still kill you in the coming fight? If you wish. But here, Soldier stretched forth his hand, say you feel remorse for your old wrongs. I do. I am ashamed for them. Drummond looked down at the hand and sneered. Is it come to this? he said. That I should touch the vile hand that murthered my kin? I am a king now, my son a royal prince. We prised the monarchy from the last weak line and mean to hold it for our own. We rule that other land you once rode in your arrogant pride. Remember, Valechor, how you trampled on Drummonds as if the clan were nought but tinkers? Cattle thieves and wayside killers! flashed Soldier, once again overcome by passion where he should have remained calm. But but you force harsh words from my mouth. Words I wish to swallow henceforth and never utter again. Here, take my hand. We need to start afresh. After some long hesitation, Drummond reached out and grasped the palm and fingers of his foe. He held them in a powerful grip, staring hard into Soldiers blue eyes. Then, inexplicably, he raised his other arm in the air. Soldier looked at it, puzzled, and tried to pull away, but Drummond held him there, fast to the spot. Although Soldier had left his sword Kutrama behind, he still wore Sintra, his scabbard. She now sang out with a high, clear note, startling both men. Soldier instinctively turned, thinking someone was coming up behind him to stab him in the back. But there was no one. In the next second he dipped his head, knowing that his scabbard could not lie. Someone, somewhere, was about to try to kill him. There was a swish, and an arrow struck Soldier high in the chest, just below the left collar bone. A little lower and it would have hit his heart. In the distance he saw through a haze of pain that an archer had risen from a hollow in the ground. This was the would-be assassin. Drummonds features lit up with pleasure. The erstwhile borderer then drew a hidden dagger from his sock and raised it in expectation of finishing his treachery on Soldier. I told you what to expect! he cried, triumphantly. You are a dead man, Valechor. Soldier kicked out and caught his adversary in the groin, spoiling his stroke. At the same time he wrenched free of Drummonds grip. Pulling the arrow out of his own shoulder, he used it as a dagger to plunge into Drummonds skull. But the other jerked his head aside. The arrow pierced the joint between shoulder and arm, slicing through muscle and severing a tendon. Drummond yelled in great pain, reactively slashing with his knife. A second arrow from the archer flew past Soldiers hip, missing by fractions. Wounded, Soldier struggled with his adversary, as both fought to stab the other. For a few moments there was stalemate. They heaved back and forth, each trying to pierce the others heart. Finally Drummond fell on to his back, his dagger flying from his fingers. Soldier was now weak with loss of blood. He turned and stumbled away. The archer took aim, having a broad back now as a target. However, before he could loose his arrow a hawk suddenly dropped from the sky and tore into his face with its talons. The archer screamed, dropping his bow, his hands going up to try to protect his eyes. It was a hopeless attempt. Now blinded, the hawk still ripping at his features with beak and claw, he ran mindlessly straight into a wall of rock and fell stunned, perhaps dead, at the foot of a cliff. Luz, thought Soldier. It had to be the magician, who had once more taken on the form of a bird. The young man had obviously followed him, or more likely been told to follow him by Golgath and Layana, to protect him should he need it. Thank the gods he had, for Soldier would otherwise be hugging death to his bosom. Soldier reached the place where he had tethered his mount. Once on his horse he rode towards Zamerkand. The hawk stayed, to harass Drummond, for though he also had to deal with a wound, it was not so deep nor so wide as Soldiers. There was no blood gushing forth from Drummonds injury. The hawk flew at the blue-eyed warrior time after time, until it was sure Soldier was well on his way back to his own city, then he left Drummond to his own devices. Soldier reached the city without further hindrance, falling from his horse in a dead faint just outside the gates. He was carried to the court physicians, who immediately stemmed the flow of blood from the artery. Then others were called in, doctors and apothecaries, to assist with his well-being. When he came to he was in a comfortable bed, his dear wife leaning over him, looking grey with worry. Soldier reached up and stroked her hair and drew a smile from her. I shall recover, he said, in time to take the life of Drummond on the field of battle. He would not listen? No, he is too full of hate. Where is Luz? Back safe and sound. She smiled. He has finally learned the spell of the hawk as well as the sparrow Good. Good. I think I must rest . . . He drifted away again. Over the next few days he gathered his strength, doing as he was told by the doctors, eating and drinking that which was good for his recovery. In normal times he would have sent them packing, preferring to drag himself back in his own way But the times were not normal. He had only a short while to make himself battle fit. It was unthinkable that the army should go to war without him. The Red Pavilions would expect him to be in the vanguard and that was where he intended to be. His wife did not argue with him over this matter. The fate of the world depended on victory. There would be no point in recovering if Humbold ruled the earth. Once he felt able, Soldier began to pore over maps and charts, while listening to the reports of his informants and spies. With Golgath he tracked Humbolds progress. It seemed the enemy were heading for south of the Ancient Forests, near the petrified pools of Yan. With chilling certainty Soldier realised that the battle would be fought on the very same hill on which he had awoken when he had first found himself in this otherworld. He had come to sensibility without memory of who or what he was, his armour dented and his sword gone, blood on his sandals and kilt. Clearly he had been in some kind of war, but on meeting with Layana, who had been out hunting with her favourite hawk, he had learned that no battle had been fought on that spot for at least a hundred years. It seemed more than coincidence that the battle looked like taking place in this particular spot, given that it could have been anywhere. Golgath had spent some time preparing the Guthrumite troops for the coming war. Unknown to Soldier, even Layana had enlisted. She told Golgath that if the allies lost the war she would be wife of no one and queen of nothing, so what would be the point in remaining alive? Golgath had to agree. He had recruited everyone and anyone who was remotely fit and able. Many of them had spent the last few weeks in training. They were far from ready, but time was running short. At any moment the trolls might decide not to let the allies use their underground system and the battle would have to be fought on open ground, putting them at a great disadvantage. Q3OO3Q took Soldier down the nearest entrance to his kingdom within reach of Zamerkand. It was in the very same woodland that had hidden the witchboy IxonnoxI when he was a callow youth. Q3OO3Q showed Soldier a hollow oak and asked him to squeeze inside the trunk. In there? said Soldier. Ill never do it. Oh, you will -just try. So Soldier did his best, but it was only because the bark was rotten that he managed it. The shell of the old oak flexed as he squeezed himself into the gap. He then found himself in a narrow, sloping tunnel going down into the earth. He followed this passageway, urged on by Q3OO3Q, who came behind him. There were hairy roots of trees to negotiate, for the trolls had tried to cut their tunnels without harming the denizens of the forest. These white tubers finally formed a knitted ceiling to the passageways and any chambers that appeared on the way. A glowing fungus, nurtured no doubt became of its powers of light, ran the whole way over their heads. The first thing that Soldier noticed was the musty smell of soil. It was a powerful odour that was omnipresent. Underlying this smell was another less pleasant one of stale sweat and grimy garments. The further he went, the more trolls he encountered, and many of them were none too pleased to see him. Some glared as they got on with their daily chores, others spat in front of him, or growled like animals. He got the impression that though he had descended to this world with the king as an escort, the authority of the monarchy in this underground maze was of no great concern to the troll citizens. It seemed that a king down here was not much more than the head of a village, and the trolls did not all agree with his plans. What do you want? snarled one fat troll, standing in Soldiers way. Why dont you go back to the surface where you came from. Now, now, F5555f, said Q3OO3Q, theres no need to be rude. I invited the human down here. Therell be a lot more of them soon, on their way to one of their wars. You know were getting air shafts in return. I think weve got enough air shafts. Well, what you think or dont think, F5555f, is of little concern to me just get your fat arse out of the tunnel. Make me! Do you want me to call my thugs? He turned to Soldier and said, What can you expect of someone with no zeros in his name, eh? F5555f scowled and eventually stepped aside, but he managed to tread on Soldiers foot as he did so. Soldier winced. He was still a little weak from the wound he had received from Drummond and the extra pain was not at all welcome. He gave F5555fs ear a clip with the back of his hand, saying, Do that again and Ill chop that foot off. The fat troll wailed and disappeared into a dark chamber. Who are the thugs? asked Soldier of Q3OO3Q, once they had a clear passage again. Are the letters an acronym for some force of law? No, replied King Q3OO3Q, candidly. Thugs are are trolls who go around beating up other trolls bullying them just for the sake of it. I use them to keep order down here. Dont you have thugs in the overworld? Generally my subjects dont like violence, but thugs seem to thrive on it, so I harness their viciousness and use it to keep myself in power. Soldier blinked, wondering if he actually approved of this king of the trolls. The creatures law enforcement methods were somewhat dubious. Still, it was none