Hasan - A Novel Part 20

Dahnash looked at the cone and edged away. "Well-"

"You were the one who told me all about marids. How they sink ships in the sea and blow away cities with a single breath. Now tell me about this Magma."

"Mortal, maybe we'd better move away a s.p.a.ce while I explain. No sense asking for trouble."

Hasan restrained his impatience and got his party mov- ing toward a mountain overlooking both the temple and the cone, and commanding a good view of the black plain between them where the kings were already conjuring legions into existence. He was at a loss to comprehend this reluctance on the part of the ifrits, who should have little to fear from one of their own number.

"I told you about the five orders of-" Dahnash began. "Yes, I'm sure I did. Well, the power of the groups varies exponentially, not arithmetically, and-"

"I wish you'd speak intelligibly."

"Yes, mortal," Dahnash said, frustrated. "Every group has its specialized members, and likewise the marids, but they're not so limited. Most of them used to be G.o.ds, you know. In modern times they've been demoted-but they still pack plenty of power.

"Now take Magma. He's mostly a fire spirit, now-but he can tear up the air and shake the ground something awful, too. If he were closer to the ocean, he could make a wave that would swamp every city on the coast. I mean, he's got power, straight, raw elemental force. He doesn't have to p.u.s.s.yfoot with inertia and centrifugal dynamics the way ifrits do. He-"

"Get to the point," Hasan snapped, still unwilling to admit that he couldn't follow many of the ifrit's terms. "Why can't we ask him to help us stop the Queen?"

Dahnash stared. "Ask him to-mortal, are you out of your mind?"

Hasan waited in stony silence.

"Mortal, I've been trying to tell you. Magma is a marid. That's no ordinary spook. He doesn't help people."

"Well, what does he do?"

"He sleeps."

Hasan took a deep breath. "I mean, when he isn't sleeping?"

"He destroys."

He was getting nowhere. "You're telling me we'd bet- ter leave Magma strictly alone?"

"I'm telling you."

"Then I'd better appoint someone to see that he remains undisturbed. The battle may get a little noisy, and it's right on his flank." He looked at Dahnash.

The ifrit retreated. "Now hold on, mortal. I wouldn't dare go near-why, he'd abolish me like so much imagi- nation if-"

The chief appeared. "I will watch him, Hasan. Magma knows me. I can probably look down his chimney every so often without bothering him."

"Good. You keep me informed on Magma, and Dahnash will keep track of the progress of the battle." Hasan had discovered that he rather liked the feeling of generalship.

By noon Queen Nur al-Huda's troops were ranked upon the plain. They were, Hasan noted with surprise, largely male; only the Queen's elite personal guard was amazon. Columns marched over the hill in seemingly endless array and spread like flowing water across the field, armor and weapons glittering. But once in place, the battle array opened in a monstrous flower, the bright shields countless petals, spears like- A flower! Hasan had marveled more than once at the circular rafflesias, like bowls three feet or more in diame- ter, containing a central cl.u.s.ter of stamens. They were beautiful from a distance-but perfumed like offal.

One of these was growing on the plain. Five circular phalanxes, each ma.s.sed with hundreds of footmen, clus- tered around the outside: enormous leaves. A circular column represented the outer rim of the blossom, and a smaller circle was the inner disk. In the center stood cl.u.s.ters of men with spears held high, the stamens: twenty-five groups in the largest circle, fifteen more in the me- dium circle, five in the smallest.

The amazons stood in the very center, protecting the Queen.

The army of the seven kings, in contrast, was a motley horde. From this distance it was impossible to distinguish individual features, but Hasan could tell that the majority of the creatures was grotesquely unhuman. Some were small, like warty toads and hairy spiders; others were enormous like warty rhinoceroses and hairy ghouls; the remainder was similarly repulsive but less describable.

The ifrit organization had no beauty. There seemed to be no discipline, no unifying pattern.

It seemed so wrong to be on the ugly side. Hasan felt guilty, and he knew that Sana, standing beside him in silence, felt it too, for she turned away and entered the tent the ifrits had provided. Mansur, the younger boy, went with her, but Nasir stayed outside to gaze round-eyed at the preparations.

"We'll tear up that stinking flower soon enough," Shawahi said with grim antic.i.p.ation, and Nasir clapped his little hands and grinned.

Dahnash appeared. "They are sounding the charge!" He vanished.

There in the ravaged landscape the ravage of battle began. The clotted mobs of the ifrit army charged upon the living flower. Hasan saw the outer leaves sway as though ruffled by a cosmic breeze, then bend and dissolve into individual contests. He heard the clash of weapon upon claw and spear upon sh.e.l.l.

Dahnash appeared. "Enemy units engaged," he an- nounced. "Aggressor casualties heavy; ours moderate."

"Wait!" Hasan yelled before the ifrit left again. "I can't follow all that. Isn't there some way I can see the battle for myself?"

"Mortal, it isn't safe. One of our own dogfaces might snap you up accidentally."

"Couldn't I wear the cap and ride the back of one of the chief's ifrits? No one would know I was near, and the covenant doesn't apply to his subjects, does it?"

Dahnash remained doubtful. "The flak is pretty heavy ..."

"Let me do it!" Shawahi said. "I haven't got so long to live anyway, and I'm an expert military observer. Give me the cap."

Hasan agreed reluctantly. He wanted to see the action himself, but Shawahi was right. She could learn a lot more in a short time than he could. He handed her the cap.

She selected a flying ifrit and was off. Hasan noticed that all of the ifrit remained in sight, though the old woman was totally invisible. Apparently there were limits to what contact with the cap-wearer would do. A small object disappeared, but not a second individual.

Another thought came. He had missed the obvious again! Why not- "It wouldn't work," Dahnash said, "The chief's ifrits are bound to their homeland. They couldn't carry you home."

The outer leaves of the flower pattern were locked in turmoil. It was impossible to tell from here who was winning or even what was happening. Was war always as confused as this?

The chief appeared. "Magma is sleeping restlessly," he reported. "I'm afraid the noise of the battle is irritating him."

"Can't be helped. We can't withdraw now." Secretly, Hasan hoped the marid would wake. He wanted to see what would happen. But he also knew that this was a foolish desire. He was getting blase about magic, and that could be a fatal att.i.tude.

Shawahi's ifrit came in for a landing. "What carnage!" the old woman exclaimed when she appeared, not at all put out. "Our champions are locked in deadly combat with theirs. Heads are flying from shoulders, trunks are falling, blood is flowing in rills, and arms and legs are floating about disconnected. Beautiful!"

"I want to see!" Nasir cried.

"But who is winning?"

She thought for a moment. She evidently hadn't consid- ered the matter. "I think we have the advantage," she said uncertainly. "It's rather confused in the melee. . . ."Then her face lighted. "But you should see those jinn spout flames from their nostrils! That engagement is a-"

"A real scorcher," Dahnash said as he appeared. He was gone again.

Nasir jumped up and down. "I want to see! I want to see!" Hasan decided the boy would never have made a Buddhist.

All afternoon the conflict raged. Gradually the lovely flower on the battlefield broke down, as first the leaves withered and then the outer circles of the blossom dis- solved. But the ranks of the jinn were thinning also, and Hasan knew the issue wasn't settled yet.

At dusk the two hosts drew apart, and at either end of the field the flickering campfires blazed. It was beautiful- but the night breeze also brought the stench of gore. Dim light flickered as well from the smoke above the mountain. Magma was rolling about, perhaps annoyed by the odor.

The more distant mountains ringed the entire scene in somber evening splendor. How could such an ugly situa- tion be so beautiful!

The seven kings reported to Hasan. "They will not withstand us more than three days, for we had the better of them today. We took two thousand prisoners and slew numbers beyond counting."

"How many did we lose?" Hasan inquired.

The kings looked embarra.s.sed. "About the same num- ber-but our army is larger than theirs."

Hasan was rea.s.sured, but Shawahi shook her head and said nothing.

The kings returned to their troops. The chief's guard set up sentries, while the majority slept on the ground. This surprised Hasan; he hadn't realized that ifrits had to sleep too, though it made sense when he thought about it. He retired to the tent and spent a night in Sana's arms like none he remembered.

The lovely flower bloomed again in the morning. Once more the ifrit horde engulfed it like a savage carnivore- anomalous as the concept might be-and drenched the plain with blood. Again Magma the Marid tumbled fret- fully in his sleep, puffs of steam and ash signaling his displeasure as surely as the chiefs steady reports. But Dahnash brought indications of a favorable outcome, and Hasan, rested and vigorous for the first time in days, was happy to agree.

Only Shawahi was worried. "The amazons have not yet fought," was all she would say when pressed.

By afternoon the melee on the plain was subsiding. Scattered battles now showed where before there had been a continuous press, and corpses, human and b.e.s.t.i.a.l, were piled in grotesque mounds. The sides appeared to be evenly matched. It looked as though there would be few survivors of either army on the plain tomorrow.

But the chief's warriors had not even tasted battle. Many of them were disappointed, but this was where Hasan saw their real advantage. If any of the Queen's troops survived, he could wipe them out with a single foray from these reserves. There had been no need to worry.

Sana came out to watch the finish, smiling. "I'm glad it's over," she said. "I don't like fighting-and Huda is my sister. She'll go home now."

"After everything she's done to you, you can say that?"

"Well, she's Queen, and has to do what she feels is right."

Hasan looked at the bruises that still showed on Sana's face. Yet he knew that forgiveness was in her nature. How could she have married him, otherwise, after the way he kidnapped her?

Something else occurred to him. "You say she'll go home now? Surely she is dead."

"No, my husband. See-her circle is not on the field tonight, yet it was unbroken today."

She was right. Where had the Queen gone? Had she fled to her city before the battle ended, to escape capture?

The seven kings reported again at dusk. "Master, the field is ours," they said. "We have routed the army of Wak, though its mistress escaped us."

"So I noticed. Well," Hasan said, thinking of his wife's sentiments, "she can't do us much harm by herself. All we want is to be left in peace to finish our journey. Tomorrow we'll-"

He was interrupted by an outcry from the defensive perimeter. Helmets and shields were advancing upon their camp in a compact ma.s.s.

"The amazons," Shawahi said. "She held them in reserve."

Suddenly the hillside was lighted with the flame from the mouths of fighting jinn. Hasan saw the enemy: armored ranks of women, the same troops he had accompanied to Wak. Now they were fighting, not traveling-and he was on the other side.

More ifrits appeared as the chief rallied his reserves. There were many of them-great animal shapes and crea- tures never seen by man. But though their rush seemed irresistible, the surging helmets of the amazon task force swept steadily closer.

Hasan hastily ordered sword and armor and put them on. Shawahi, veteran that she was, had never removed hers. Sana donned a tunic of finely woven metal, and even the two little boys were happily outfitted for defense. Hasan summoned Dahnash and set him to guard Sana and the children.

"But my love-where are you going?" Sana cried, holding him.

"I have to fight."

"Fight here. We shall all be lost if you die out there in battle."

Hasan was not afraid. He had always thought he would be terrified to face professional troops in combat, but the violence of the past few days and his present responsibili- ties as commander of the jinn and protector of his family inured him to the qualms he might once have had. He was ready to fight, to overcome, to kill-and if need be, to die in defense of those he loved.

a.s.sured of this, he found he had the courage to stay back from the thick of the fray and stand guard over his family. There was nothing he had to prove.

The clamor and carnage pushed closer. Peering out into the night, he could see the potent arm of the enemy line reaching toward the center of the camp, cutting down everything that sought to block its advance. Shawahi was right: the amazons were a different breed from ordinary troops. The Queen had neatly engaged and neutralized the forces available through the rod before making her serious attack. Just when he had thought the battle was over, the real encounter had begun.

He saw a single amazon, pert and agile in her armor, attack a ponderous animal-ifrit twice her height. Its gleam- ing dagger-teeth clashed together like steel striking stone. The ifrit rose upon two muscular hind legs, balancing against its mighty tail, small front legs almost hidden beneath its monstrous head. Red eyes flared, mottled gray jaws gaped. It roared with the sound of fifty wounded tigers and brought its open mouth down upon the woman, an orifice big enough to engulf half her body at a single bite.

Her sword flashed. The tip of the creature's tongue dropped meatily to the ground. Her spear flew out and buried itself in the ifrit's distended belly. She leapt upon it as it toppled and kicked with metal-pointed toes at its eyes. One of its awful hind feet came up to rake her body. Her armor tore free as though it were paper, and blood flowed richly down her side, but she slit its throat and went without pause on to the next opponent.

No man Hasan had seen could have done it-yet this was just a single encounter among hundreds. And he was on the other side.

One after the other, the ifrits came and died. Some were like outsized rhinoceroses, carrying curved wraparound bone-armor on their heads many feet across, with three devastating horns rising from the center. Others were low and flat, armored all over but with sharp spikes sticking out in rows and with crushing maces on their tails. Still others were giant birds, with stubby wings and beaks that crunched off arms and feet with every peck. But terrible as these forms were, most of the quivering bodies mounding the area immediately before the tent were ifrit bodies, and most of the agonized dying screams gurgled from ifrit throats.

They screamed a long time, for though the ifrits could be destroyed, they could not die completely.

Breakthrough! And the battle had come to Hasan. He clapped the cap upon his head so that the enemy could not see him and laid about him with the sword. Shawahi took her place beside him on the left, adroitly keeping her sword away from the seemingly empty s.p.a.ce he occupied, and Dahnash took the right. Now there were no sour comments from the former and no smart remarks from the latter. The moment of decision was upon them all, and the odds, truly revealed at last, were against them.

Shawahi was old, but she had trained these amazons for many years. She was still a match for any one of the savage women. Dahnash, for all his impertinence, turned out to know how to use a sword when he had to. He was not a firebreather-smoke rings were all he could muster- but he was sharp-eyed and agile and he loved his present shape well.

Hasan had had good training under the tutelage of El- dest, back on Serendip. He knew how to cover his vulner- able spots and wait for proper opportunity before wasting a stroke. With the enormous advantage of invisibility, he should have had easy success.

It was not to be. The amazon facing him was tall, strong and skilful. Though her helmet covered most of her hair and part of her face, her features were as delicate and fair as those of a girl just blossoming into womanhood. Though her shield and armor covered all of her torso, Hasan could tell by the necessary shaping of it and the movements of her body that she had a figure to drive a rutting sultan out of his mind.

It was very difficult to strike such a woman with mali- cious intent.

Hasan hesitated, but she did not. She blinked once, prettily, when he put the cap on; then she whirled her sword in a dazzling arc before her, trying to cut him down before he could move. He parried with his shield, almost thrown off balance by the genuine force of the blow-but immediately she was slashing from the opposite side, forc- ing him to parry again and thus reveal his position. These girls must have been warned about the cap, and the uncer- tain nature of the illumination evened the odds considera- bly. Hasan could see her only vaguely when the torches of ifrit breath subsided, and her movements were so quick and her attack so swift and sure that he had no opportunity to avoid her blows and thus hide himself effectively.

Her sword clanged against his helmet, knocking it askew and smashing the metal against one ear. He was unhurt, and the cap, by a miracle, remained in position, but this forced him to realize the danger he was in. The next swing might contact with his neck instead, and sever his invisi- ble head. She knew his size and defensive posture, and could and would destroy him by aiming her slashes where his vulnerable parts ought to be.

"Hurry, Hasan!" Shawahi cried. She knew what was holding him back, and how fatal this hesitancy could be. The gap was widening; more amazons were filling in behind the first three. A giant corpse was in view: Hasan recognized it as the immortal remains of one of the kings, honoring his commitment to the rod to the end-defunct at the hands of these same feminine warriors. This was no game he was playing, no polite demurral of the fairer s.e.x; this was his life and the lives of his loved ones, and the figure before him was not a damsel but his enemy.

Hasan threw himself flat on the ground, knowing that what would be suicidal when visible was a winning tactic now. The amazon almost lost her footing as her sword whistled through empty s.p.a.ce. He caught her shapely toe and yanked. The metal slipper came off and she fell. He kneeled, took his sword in both hands, and smashed the edge across her exposed ankles.

He was sick when her foot flew off-but she gave him no time to think about it. Her body flexed and she was on her knees, her blade slicing into his shoulder. The fine ifrit armor halted it, but not before she gouged a painful chunk from the muscle next to his neck. His shield dropped for an instant as his arm was paralyzed, and the point of her sword jammed into his breastplate. Too low-but had she been able to see him, that blow would have skewered his neck. She was rapidly bleeding to death, but she meant to kill him yet.

Hasan aimed carefully and plunged his sword point through her face.

She fell back, blood spouting horribly as his blade came free-but even then she made no sound, and her two hands came up not to clutch at her own face, but to claw at his. One razor nail ripped into the corner of his mouth; then, at last she died.

Three more amazons were descending upon him. Their expressions showed both berserk fury and alert awareness of his position and advantage. Only death would stop them.

He fought barbarously, using his invisibility in whatever manner it could be used. He knew that he was no match for an amazon in fair combat, and that they gave no quarter and outnumbered him. He bashed against them with his shield and kicked at their feet, and when one fell against him he flattened her face with a mailed fist, and when one fell away from him he rammed his spear up under her metal skirt.