The Blood-stained Belt (17 page)

‘Yes, that is
so. Do you have an objection?’

‘General, we
are soldiers, not bandits. We should be attacking enemy soldiers,
not –‘

Jainar
straightened and silenced the man with a gesture. He barked,
‘Soldiers, eh? Well, if you’re soldiers, you’ll know that the first
thing you’re trained to do is obey orders. Not so?’

‘But general
–‘

‘But --
nothing! Listen, soldier, you can leave now if you don’t want to be
part of the attacking force. There are plenty of men who will take
your place. Well, what do you say?’

The speaker
dropped his eyes and shook his head. Jainar put his jaw forward,
looked around the squad, and barked, ‘Any other objections?’

Sharma was
brave enough – or foolish enough – to get to his feet. Jainar
turned his attention to him: ‘You have an objection?’

‘No, general,
not an objection, but –‘

‘What,
then?’

‘General, you
must understand that we haven’t made war on civilians before. It’s
a new thing for us.’

‘I understand
that. But you’re soldiers and you'd better get used to it. The
Dornites don’t make distinctions between soldiers and civilians, do
they?’ Jainar jabbed his finger at Sharma. ‘What’s your name,
soldier? Don’t I know you?’

‘My name is
Sharma, general.’

‘Sharma, eh?
Sharma the famous slayer of Drunuk – the same Sharma?’

‘Yes, general,
that’s me.’

Jainar waggled
a finger thoughtfully. ‘Didn’t I hear something about an incident
involving you and some Dornite bandits when you were a boy?’

‘Yes, general,
my comrade, Jina, and I defended our flocks against three Dornite
raiders.’

‘Defended?’
Jainar gave a short chuckle. ‘You tracked them down and killed them
one by one, didn’t you?’

‘Yes,
general.’

‘Were they
soldiers or civilians?’

‘They were
bandits, general.’

‘Yes. They were
bandits – civilian bandits. And, if I remember correctly, after
that some Dornites attacked your town. Is that correct?’

‘Yes,
general.’

‘Did they only
attack soldiers in your town?’

‘No, general.
There were no troops in Osicedi.’

'And your
brother was killed, wasn't he?'

'Yes, general,
he was.'

'And was he a
soldier?'

'No, general,
he wasn't.'

Jainar grunted,
turned, and began to pace in front of us, hands behind his back and
head down. Then he wheeled around, snapped his fingers, and said,
‘There you have it, eh? The Dornites don’t distinguish between
soldiers and civilians. Nor will we.’ He jabbed a finger at us.
‘Understand one thing and understand it well. We don’t make war on
civilians because we like it. We do so because it weakens the
support base and morale of their soldiers. If we do that, we weaken
their military effort. If we destroy their towns, we weaken their
military effort. If they worry about the safety of their families,
they give less attention to military matters.’ He wagged his finger
at us and barked, ‘If you can’t accept it then you shouldn’t be a
soldier in this army.’ Chin forward, standing with legs planted
apart, Jainar said, 'Get this into your heads, and don't ever
forget it – anything that weakens the Dornites –' he wagged his
finger at us again – 'anything at all, no matter what it is –
anything that weakens the Dornites is good for Keirine. Do you
understand?'

'Yes,
general!'

'I asked you,
Do you understand? I want to hear your reply loud and clear.'

The squad
roared back at him, 'Yes, general! We hear you!'

Jainar was
thorough, leaving nothing to chance. He took us through the phases
of the attack so often that we could almost have recited the plan
backwards. In essence, it was a simple strategy in which every man
knew what to do, how to do it, and when to break off doing it.

On the night of
the attack, the main party, consisting of fifty men, approached the
town along back paths by the light of the half-moon. Jainar’s
thoroughness showed in the way in which he mapped the route
beforehand, sending scouts to reconnoiter the path as far as the
river and then relying on Anagina’s knowledge for details of the
routes from the river to the city. With the outline of the route
firmly etched in our minds and with enough light to see by we had
no trouble reaching the city without being observed. Twenty men
under Sharma's command approached the eastern side of the town,
carrying ladders and fire-pots while I was in charge of the unit
that was deployed outside the main gate.

It surprised us
that there were no guards on the walls. The Dornites must have been
so confident of their superiority that they thought that they could
sleep safely in their beds. As a result Sharma and his men were
able to select their targets at will. Within a few minutes about
twenty roofs were aflame. Having accomplished their task, they
withdrew to guard the smaller gates.

It was the dry
season and the flames spread quickly. From outside, we could only
judge what was happening within the walls by the spreading glow and
by the growing hullabaloo. After about five minutes, the gate
opened and a group of young men appeared carrying buckets,
obviously hoping to dowse the flames with the pathetically small
amounts of water that they could carry from the river. We cut them
down and dragged the bodies out of sight.

There was so
much confusion that no one inside the walls noticed the
disappearance of the men. Soon the next people appeared, comprising
a family party consisting of a man, a woman, and four children. We
killed them as well. Even as the bodies were being dragged out of
sight, there was a surge of people through the gate. We hacked and
thrust at them indiscriminately. It was butchery, pure and simple.
In the confusion, amidst the crackle of the flames, the roar of
collapsing buildings, the shouts and screams, and in the flickering
light, only the fugitives on the outskirts of the crowd knew what
was happening. They pressed inwards to avoid our onslaught while
trying to defend themselves with whatever they were carrying –
buckets, bundles, household implements, or anything else. Their
press, together with the growing rush through the gate, added to
the congestion and soon people were being trampled underfoot or
crushed against the wall.

It was a
sickening slaughter in which we thrust, cut, and hacked at human
flesh almost without opposition. People screamed, doubled over,
reeled, and staggered. They went down underfoot, the crowd pressed
forward all around us, and the slaughter continued. We were at such
close quarters that we stopped using swords and went to work with
daggers. Our victims slumped against us, screaming and gurgling,
and had to be shoved away so that we could thrust at the next
target.

After less than
ten minutes, I ordered my bugler to signal the end of the
engagement. If anyone had questioned my judgement, I would have
said truthfully that, in the confusion and amongst the massing
throng, I had lost contact with most of my men and thought it best
to withdraw before they were overcome by the sheer press of bodies.
However, the truth was that by then, I was more than heartily sick
of the bloody, one-sided massacre. Asjolorm was being thoroughly,
completely destroyed by raging fire and the deaths of a few more
civilians wouldn't contribute anything more to the extent of our
victory.

Anagina
confronted me as we were withdrawing. His face was flushed, his
cheeks were smeared with blood, his eyes were wild, and he was
waving a dagger. He screamed at me, ‘Why are you withdrawing? We
haven’t finished here.’

I said coldly,
‘It’s getting too dangerous. It’s time to leave.’

Anagina grabbed
me by the front of my jerkin, waved his dagger in front of my eyes
and yelled, ‘We have them, man, we have them! We have the Dornites
where we want them! This is not the time to stop!’

I didn’t want
to hang around arguing. Our comrades had withdrawn and we were
already isolated. I shouted, ‘I’m in charge here and I say that
it’s time to withdraw.’

Anagina swore,
pounded at my chest in frustration and turned towards the gate. I
seized him by the shoulder and as he turned in surprise I smacked
him across his cheek. As his jaw dropped, I hauled him around and
sent him stumbling with a shove between his shoulder blades. I
shouted, ‘Get going, damn you, or I’ll make you move.’

As we jogged
down the path side by side, I said, ‘Consider yourself lucky that I
don’t put you on a charge. Anagina looked at me sullenly, his eyes
smouldering. I added, ‘I know what they did to your father, but
you’re a soldier. Remember that and forget about everything else.’
He gave me a resentful half-nod and dropped his eyes.

The attack was
my first taste of command. I liked the experience even if I didn't
easily forget how, abattoir-like, we massacred unarmed and
terrified people at the gates of Asjolorm.

As we made our
way down the path towards the river, we passed a few fugitives.
Most of them were so concerned with their plight that they didn’t
even look at us. A few recognised us as Keirineian soldiers and
attacked us in wild fury, cursing and screaming. We ignored them or
just shoved them aside. I guess that my men felt the same as I did;
they were already sick to their stomachs of slaughter.

As I approached
the clearing where we would join the rest of our unit, someone
attacked me screaming at me in the Dornite language. I felt a sharp
pain down my arm and turned to defend myself, striking out with my
free arm to drive back the attacker. I made contact with soft
flesh, heard a gasp of pain, and drove forward, head down, pinning
the body against a tree, bending the assailant’s attacking arm
backwards. As I drew back my arm to strike with my dagger, I saw
that my attacker was a young woman. Her hair was loose, her eyes
were wide, and her teeth were bared in pain. I held back my thrust
in surprise and she lunged forward and tried to sink her teeth into
my neck but I grabbed her hair and forced her head back. Our eyes
met and she spat at me. Her spittle dribbled down my cheek as I
pressed my body against hers. The old lightning flickered through
my veins and, as the heat flushed over me, I pressed closer against
her, driving into her softness. She screamed as I yanked at her
hair and pulled her head further backwards. With my face close to
hers, gripping her hair behind her head, pressed against her, I
looked at her. It was familiar – too familiar. She reminded me of
Dana in the grip of the Usserdite bandit – the same tilt of the
head, the same grimace, and the same wide-eyed, desperate look. I
went cold, cursed, and threw the woman away from me so that she
landed on her back with a thud. Moaning in pain and fear, she tried
to scramble away, supported on her elbows and digging into the
ground with the back of her heels.

Behind me,
someone said, ‘Kill her, man. She’s getting away.’

I looked
around. It was Sharma. I said, ‘Let her go.’

He said, ‘Then
I’ll do it.’ He unsheathed his sword and moved forward. The woman
was still scrambling backwards, whimpering, and digging her elbows
and heels into the ground, wide-eyed and terrified.

I grabbed
Sharma’s arm, shouting at him, ‘Leave her, man. She’s
helpless.’

Sharma cursed
and tried to shake me off but I gripped him tighter and swung him
around so that my body was between him and the woman. We stood
there for a moment, chest to chest, eye to eye, glaring at each
other. I don't know what would have happened if, right at that
moment someone hadn't shouted urgently, ‘Sharma! Jina! Get a move
on! Our comrades are leaving for the river.’

Sharma grunted,
sheathed his sword, and relaxed. As we jogged down the path to the
river, he said, ‘You could have had her, my friend – one way or the
other.’

I replied,
‘It's over. It’s better that way. Forget about it.’

Sharma asked
quietly but grimly, ‘Are you going soft, Jina?’

I said,
‘There’s been enough slaughter for one night.’ I clutched my arm
and felt the damp warmth of blood. The wound was painful but it
didn’t seem to be deep. I thought, incongruously, that this was my
first battle wound – and I got it from a woman.

Sharma jogged a
few more paces and then said, ‘Dornites are Dornites, man. Dornites
are the enemy.’

'Didn't you
hear me? I said that there’s been enough slaughter for one night.
Leave it be.’

Sharma
responded tight-lipped, ‘Remember our orders, man. There’s no
distinction between soldiers and civilians. This is war and we’re
soldiers.’

A wave of anger
swept over me, fiercer even than the lightning that had burned
through me only a few minutes earlier. I said, ‘Oh, go back and
fight your civilians, Sharma! Go back and cut down every damn woman
and child that you can find. Hey, maybe you can find a few old men
who can give you an equal contest with their walking sticks. And
don't forget to bring their heads back on a lance so that we can
all applaud you. Maybe we can even arrange for a few women to dance
in front of you, eh?’ Sharma said nothing but I sensed how he
started and stiffened with resentment. After a few paces, I said,
‘You think I’m going soft, hey? Wait until we get back to camp. You
can choose your weapons and then we’ll see who’s going soft.’

Sharma shot me
a look that was both startled and appraising. He snorted as if he
didn’t believe what he was hearing and, after a short silence,
said, ‘Forget about it, man. I know what you’re worth.’

‘Do you,
Sharma?’

‘Yes, I do.
Forget about it, eh?’

I just grunted
in reply.

Forget about
it? I never forgot how the lightning-sharp exhilaration pounded
through my body as I pressed against the woman, driving forward,
able to have her, in Sharma's words, one way or the other. More
than that, I never forgot how I saw the image of Dana’s last
moments in the woman’s wild eyes, in her tilted head, and in her
bared throat. Above all, I never forgot that.