The Warrior's Tale Part 11

'We'll have to fight,' I told Corais.

Then I shouted to Stryker: 'Signal the admiral. He is to withdraw at once. We'll guard the rear.'

No sooner had the flags been hoisted than I heard the high-pitched wail of a thousand voices crying for battle. The canoes speared towards us, King Keehat's war canoe in front.

'To the west, Captain,' Polillo shouted, and as I feared, a score or more enemy craft skimmed out of hiding to flank us.

A black cloud of arrows lifted from Keehat's group, but the range was too great and only a few fell among us, and none struck their mark. We came about and pulled hard away, the rowing master's drum pounding for full speed. But fast as our galleys were, the canoes were faster and they were quickly closing the gap. There were hard b.u.mps all along the side as the first of the flanking party reached us.

'Repel boarders,' I shouted and Polillo leaped forward with a squad of pikewomen.

One man was already coming over the side, but Polillo got to him first, her axe swinging down, severing his fingers and he fell away with a terrible scream. There were more cries of pain as her pikewomen thrust and clubbed away.

I sent archers to the rail just as the second swarm of arrows struck. Once again, none of us fell, and I had the satisfaction of seeing our own shafts plunge into Keehat's forces. At least nine were hit, one fatally. Ismet led a group of slingwomen back to the quarterdeck and a hail of lead stones smashed among our attackers. The galley shuddered as we ground across a sandbar and I stumbled. When I came up we'd broken out of the bay, but the canoes were all around us and men were swarming over the sides, swinging swords and clubs. I had time to see that Cholla Yi and the other galleys were speeding for the open sea, then I drew my sword and plunged into the fight. I cut my way to Polillo's side, then together we charged a knot of boarders, Polillo bellowing her war cry. Her axe swept a man away from my back, and I parried a sword thrust, then cut back to spill its owner's guts, spun left to hack another man down, then right to catch an attacker under his chin, then left again to kick one man in the groin and thrust my sword into another's chest. Blood sprayed to blind me, and I cut by instinct until I could clear my sight. I saw Gamelan with a heavy staff, swinging wildly all around him, clubbing anyone who came into his reach. Not far from him one of the oarsmen swung his own monstrous club with deadly effect. Polillo hooted laughter as bloodl.u.s.t overcame her and she ploughed into half a dozen naked swordsmen. She left them flopping on the deck, with severed limbs and burst skulls.

Then a stiff breeze caught our sails and the galley surged forward. In a few minutes we were clear, chopping down the last of our attackers and hurling their dead and wounded over the side.

I ran back to the helmsman's post and saw the war canoes falling behind us. In the prow of one I could make out Keehat, shaking his staff and urging his men on. There seemed to be hundreds of canoes, with hundreds more pouring out of the bay. Keehat was not going to give up merely because we were outpacing him.

I exchanged hasty signals with Cholla Yi. The wind was pressing us west, but we feared to divert too much from our search for a southern route around the reef. Cholla Yi attempted a feint. We sped west, putting as much distance between us and the war canoes as we could, then tried a dash south, but as soon as we neared one of the islands, a huge group of war canoes leapt out at us, forcing us west again. Again and again, we attempted the same ruse, but each time we were turned back.

I could sense Keehat's shamans were magically pa.s.sing the word from island to island, giving each tribe a chance to ready themselves to attack us.

As we pushed past one island we entered a sea of debris. Coundess trees, timbers, and entire houses bobbed in the current. There were bloated corpses everywhere, farm animals, wild creatures and hundreds of people - men, women and children. It was the aftermath of the great seaquake that had nearly destroyed us, and wrecked much of Keehat's kingdom. The devastation was an awful answer to any fool who might ask why the King hated us, and why he would go to any lengths to revenge his kingdom.

As we tried to pick our way through the horror, one of the damaged galleys was hulled by a log lurking just beneath the surface of the water. As it sank, we hauled the crew off. But we weren't quick enough, because the war canoes were on us again, dodging easily through the flotsam. Once again, we were showered with arrows. Once again, a galley was boarded. It was one of the damaged ships, and it was not so lucky as we had been - none of my women were aboard to fight off the attackers.

We heard the sailors' screams for mercy, but couldn't stop to help as we eluded Keehat's hordes and fought our way out of the trap.

After we had made good our escape, I wearily called for Stryker. I told him to signal Cholla Yi and the rest of the fleet. As I spoke I could see Keehat and his forces churning steadily along in our wake. Another group was spearing off to one side in case we attempted another dash south.

We had only one choice: flee west into the open sea, and deeper into the unknown.

King Keehat pursued us as relentlessly as we had hunted the Archon. For a week we drove onward, sailing, or rowing as fast and as hard as we could. But, as soon as we slowed, or came to a stop to rest, or to fish to restore our rapidly dwindling supplies, the war canoes would appear on the horizon. The weather was inconsistent, alternating between foggy calms and sudden squalls, so we could never depend on wind-driven speed to carry us far enough and long enough to shake him. Once we thought we had, after nearly two days of non-stop rowing and sailing. We anch.o.r.ed late the second night in a dead calm, too exhausted to go on, but fairly certain we'd escaped. We awoke the next morning as his canoes burst out of a fog bank, with Keehat bellowing for our blood. We barely got away in time; even then, one galley was within bowshot and several rowers were killed by the King's strongest archers.

Finally, I had enough. I was tired of running, tired of the dark looks my Guardswomen were giving me - all our training and tradition was to confront, not to retreat - and tired of feeling like a small fish trembling in fear of a larger one. Besides, the farther we got from the volcano-reefs, the more certain we were of becoming hopelessly lost.

I called a meeting: my staff, Cholla Yi and his, and Gamelan. I opened by asking the wizard how he thought Keehat had managed to stay at our heels so long, without ever seeming to tire.

'Is it his shaman?' I asked. 'Has he cast some spell to continuously replenish their strength?'

Gamelan shook his head. 'It is not magic,' he said. 'Spells for such things sap a wizard's powers. They only work so long as the magician is fresh.'

'Then, what is it?'

'I suspect it is the milk of those gourds we found,' Gamelan said. 'Even a small sip, if you recall, seems to stoke the furnaces of both body and mind.'

I did, indeed. We had shared all we had got from the floating tree. Reluctantly, still wanting little of magic, I'd duplicated the speaking spell, so that at least some of the others could understand and communicate with any people we might encounter in these waters. And even with so little for each to drink, everyone had remarked how giddy and ... well well they'd felt. they'd felt.

'I'm certain that with a good supply of that wondrous fruit, the King and his men can keep up this pace,' Gamelan continued. 'It also has the side benefit of staving off hunger pangs, so their canoes will be burdened only with their weapons, and water. They can easily keep their bellies from feeling pinched with a little fishing on the run.'

'This is stupid,' Polillo growled. 'I say we stand and fight. There can't be more than a few thousand of them.'

Corais had a similar view, although much cooler and reasoned: 'We can play the fog trick on them,' she said. 'We can charge out, pick off as many as we can, then slip away again. It won't be long before he shouts "enough!"'

'It'd never work,' Phocas said. 'The men are too tired.'

'Whiners,' Polillo snarled.

'The smallest mistake could bring disaster,' the admiral said. 'There's too many of them.' 'Cowards,' was Polillo's reply.

Phocas and the admiral's other men were angered by her taunts. 'You should be more careful with that mouth,' Phocas warned. Others growled their a.s.sent.

Polillo bulled her head forward and made a wide, mirthless smile. She pointed at her mouth. 'There it is. Stop it from flapping, if you dare.'

There were mutters, but no one was foolish enough to test her. Phocas turned away and pretended to be busy with some charts.

I said: 'I think Legate Corais is onto something. We can fight them like direwolves against a herd of boar. We hide in the fog, leap out to harry them - hamstring a few if we're lucky - then back into hiding. There's other tricks ... like pretending that one of us is falling back, letting them close, then strike and run, strike and run, until he's sick of so many dying, or becomes so weak we can finish him off.'

Cholla Yi shook his head. 'It's too risky. My men would refuse.'

I raised an eyebrow. 'Aren't you their admiral? admiral? Who commands -you or their livers?' Who commands -you or their livers?'

Cholla Yi shrugged. 'I command, of course. But that'll end the moment the men lose faith in me.'

His tone was so sanctimonious and oily I didn't believe a word he was saying.

'My women are ready to fight,' I said.

'By the G.o.ds, we are are ready,' Polillo hissed. 'And if you put me alone with your men for a day, they'll be ready too. I'll put some steel in their spines, or they'll curse their mothers for bearing them.' ready,' Polillo hissed. 'And if you put me alone with your men for a day, they'll be ready too. I'll put some steel in their spines, or they'll curse their mothers for bearing them.'

Instead of taking offence, the admiral sighed. 'If you want my men to fight,' he said to me, 'you'll have to turn the expedition over to me. To be frank, they're tired of getting orders they know come from a a woman.' woman.'

So, that's it, I thought. Cholla Yi was playing as much of a waiting game as King Keehat. And he would drag his heels until I stepped aside.

'They blame our bad luck on you and your women,' the admiral continued. 'And who can say they're wrong? Every sailor knows women and ships don't mix. For some reason, the G.o.ds of the sea don't like women, and the G.o.ddesses become jealous of your presence.'

Gamelan laughed - a mocking sound that turned Cholla Yi's words into a fool's song. The big man flushed, twisted his hands into fists, but still managed outward calm. He gave me a bland smile.

'Are you refusing to fight, Admiral?' I asked. It was time for bluntness.

'Not at all,' he answered, but the bland smile vanished. 'I'm only warning you that if you order it, the men may not follow.' 'And if the orders came from you ...?' Cholla Yi smiled. 'Then they'd fight.'

Abrupdy, I rose from the chair, ending the meeting before Polillo's temper got the better of her. That was my excuse, at any rate. I'll admit mine was beginning to blow foul.

'We'll talk again?' Cholla Yi asked as we took our leave. He sounded anxious.

'Oh, yes,' I answered. 'We'll talk again, Admiral. You can be sure of it.'

I gave him my most carnivorous grin and exited.

There is a barracks' game young soldiers played in my time. It was called Loser's Win, or Hobble. Hobble was played between two young women. Each had to be barefooted, and each was provided with a sharp throwing knife. You faced your opponent from a distance of two paces. The object was to throw the knife as close to the other's foot as you could, without cutting it. There were three tries each. Each throw had to be closer than the last, and if any thrower faltered, she lost. We played for money, watch and duty sharing, and once to settle a love triangle. The winner in that contest lost part of her big toe, which brought the game to the attention of our superiors, and to its end.

It was that sort of game I found myself engaged in with Cholla Yi. With a seaborne horde at our heels, he was betting I would be the first to falter, and relinquish command. The stakes were our lives.

So, I must admit, Scribe, when I left him that night, displaying my most evil, knowing smile, I was bluffing. But, you should also know that I always back my bluff. You see, it was I who was one of the combatants in that final game of Hobble I told you about. No need to sneak a look at my feet. I have all all my toes. my toes.

But the conclusion of that test of wills was delayed for a long time. And it was Gamelan who delayed it.

Two nights after the meeting a heavy fog settled over us. It was so dense we dared not continue, or the fleet might have been separated for good. I ordered a halt, using horns to signal, and we lay becalmed to wait until the fog lifted. We could only pray that Keehat was doing the same.

Gamelan called me to his cabin. There was a cheery light glowing in his magical brazier when I entered.

'Come sit and share a little brandy with an old man,' he said.

'I should be on deck, keeping watch,' I replied.

'Nonsense,' he said. 'There's nothing to see. If there were, it would be too late and those savages would be on us. Come and sit and I shall tell you how to end this chase in our favour.'

I had reason to be nervous as I obeyed and better reason to empty the first tumbler of brandy with one swallow and pour another. The first spell he'd made me cast had left me shaken from the strange world I had encountered. When I'd duplicated the Spell of the Tongues for the others - again, at his insistence - I'd become more fearful still. The feeling of being drawn down, as if by a water devil, had been even stronger. To my horror, I realized I was reluctant to withdraw. There seemed to be so many promises beneath the surface of that magical meniscus; promises that drew me as much as when I'd first seen that map of the Western Ocean, and ached to know what was beyond.

Gamelan fumbled in his robe and came out with the sc.r.a.p of feather he'd stolen from Keehat's staff. Blindly, he held it out to me. 'We have something that belongs to that barbarian King,' he said. 'Something he prizes above all else ...' I took the feather, knowing what he was going to say next:'... His manhood.'

I took the feather, my fingers trembling. 'I know what you want, wizard,' I said. 'And I cannot - will not - do it.'

'What is it about magic that you fear so much, Rali?' he asked.

'You know,' I said.

'I don't know! Tell me!' He hissed.

'Get someone else!'

'There is no one. Tell me!'

And so, I told him. It is a tale that has nothing to do with Halab's tragic ending. And I have told it to no other person in my life, with the exception of Otara, and she is dead. So, write carefully, Scribe. I only tell it now because of my promise to speak only the truth.

I became a woman at an early age: my monthlies began at ten; by eleven I had the b.r.e.a.s.t.s, hips and feminine beard below my belly of a full-grown woman. But although my body had blossomed, my mind was still in early bud and I went about my days in tormented confusion. I thought about s.e.x a great deal, which disgusted me, because I didn't yet know my inclinations and connected all such yearnings with men. I'd become all hot and sticky for no apparent reason, but whenever I saw a man when I was in such a state, my stomach turned when I contemplated their rough beards, hard forms, and sour smells.

It was in my twelfth summer, and we were visiting one of my uncle's estates. He had vast olive orchards, a good kitchen-garden, and kept several herds of goats as well, so summers at his estate were always filled with plump black olives, good white cheese, my aunt's rich black bread, and tomatoes and onions as sweet as any confection. One day my cousin, Veraen, and I made up a lunch of such things and took a long hike into the hills to watch the young goats play. Veraen was fifteen, and although he had grown since I'd seen him last, I was taller than he, and stronger as well, so our time together had been uneasy and conflict-ridden. Normally, we were the best of summer friends. This was one of those afternoons, however, that was so blissful that all thoughts of such things had disappeared along with the dandelion fluff that flew over the green hills on scented winds.

That day, we ate our fill, drank from a small spring that sprang out from under an old oak tree, and lay down to enjoy the shade of the tree. It was a hot, quiet afternoon. The cicadas buzzed among the wood, a few birds twittered and hopped about, and a solitary wasp hunted for mud to daub her nest. The air was thick with the smell of wild rosemary, oregano and thyme that had gone to blossom.

Veraen began to tell silly stories, which made me laugh, and then he started to tickle me and I tickled him back. We reverted to childhood, becoming nearly hysterical with laughter - rolling about and wrestling and tickling.

Then childhood ended, and before I knew it my hem was up, my undergarments were down, my legs apart and Veraen was clambering on top of me. Then my senses returned and I pushed him up with a hard forearm. Veraen was on his knees, his breeches open, and I saw his p.e.n.i.s - not a boy's, but a man's organ, thick and hard rising up like a drawbridge. The sight soured my stomach.

'Get away!' I said.

Instead he fell back on me, pinning my arms, and driving blindly at me, trying to force entry. I bucked and fought and finally managed to get one hand free. I hit him as hard as I could, got my other one loose and was about to hurl him off when I felt a heavy blow against my head.

'Stop fighting,' he shouted and I saw he had a rock in his fist.

Instead, I screamed in anger and pain. My strength surged and somehow I rose up and somehow he struck me with the rock again and somehow I killed him.

Yes, Scribe, I slew my cousin. And, yes, I am speaking of Veraen Antero, and I know what you are thinking, and I am telling you to speak not one word to me, but write all I say, exactly as I say it.

One moment Veraen was on top of me, hitting me with a rock, and the next I was standing and Veraen was motionless on the ground -his neck twisted, his dead eyes fixed in terror and pain.

I stood there, too shocked to feel anything but the sharp knowledge that my life had just plunged from a cliff. Now only evil could follow.

A woman's voice came from behind me. It was a sweet, lilting voice that drew me around as if I were a compa.s.s head, drawn to the will of Sirens Of The South, who command all direction.

'Rali,' she called. 'Raaaleee.'

She was under the oak, just by the spring. She was beautiful; otherworldly beautiful; G.o.ddess beautiful. Her hair was black as night and spilled like water across skin of fresh cream. Her eyes were smoky-black with lashes like a dancer's fan, and they were so striking that for a moment I did not realize she was naked. But she wore her nudity like clothing, as if this were her natural state.

She motioned to me with a long, slender arm. 'Come to me, Rali,' she said.

So, I went. I felt as if I were floating slowly across the ground. She took me in her arms and I wept for me and what I had done, and I wept for Veraen, for what he had done. Then she raised my head up from those soft, mother's b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and looked deep in the eyes. I looked back and lost myself in the welcome darkness I found there. All else vanished from my mind.

'I love you, Rali,' she said.

Instead of surprise, her words seemed natural - right. I knew that she loved me.

'I have been waiting for you, Rah,' she said. And that seemed right, too.

She took me by the hand and led me to the place where the spring leaped from beneath the oak's great roots. We walked into the little pool and a gate opened just where the spring came out and then we walked into her garden, the gate swung shut behind us, and we were standing before a house made of green forest bowers.

'This is your home now, Rali,' she said.

And that is what it became. I lived there with Basana for one month short of a year. We were lovers. Basana said she was the G.o.ddess of the spring and had fallen in love with me when Veraen had first showed me the spring two years before. It did not occur to me to wonder why. Youth accepts such things blindly - as its due. Except, perhaps, with Otara -and that only once -1 never felt such pa.s.sion as Basana fired in me. I say this as a woman of much pa.s.sionate nature, which is a trait all Anteros share. It is our greatest weakness. She enveloped me in love: gave me gifts, sang me songs, fed me delicacies, praised my beauty, my wisdom, my nature, my all. I forgot my home and family - indeed, all the world I came from. Until one day when I tried to rise from the bed of blossoms she made fresh for me each night, and found I could not. I was so weak, I could barely lift a hand, or voice a call for help. And when Basana came into the room, her loving smile became a hungry snarl. never felt such pa.s.sion as Basana fired in me. I say this as a woman of much pa.s.sionate nature, which is a trait all Anteros share. It is our greatest weakness. She enveloped me in love: gave me gifts, sang me songs, fed me delicacies, praised my beauty, my wisdom, my nature, my all. I forgot my home and family - indeed, all the world I came from. Until one day when I tried to rise from the bed of blossoms she made fresh for me each night, and found I could not. I was so weak, I could barely lift a hand, or voice a call for help. And when Basana came into the room, her loving smile became a hungry snarl.

She came to the bed, and pinched my flesh all over, saying: 'So sweet, so sweet.'

I tried to weep, for I knew I had been betrayed, but could only shed a single tear. Basana giggled when she saw it, and kissed it away. Her mouth lingered, but not from love.

Then she rose, and said: 'Don't cry, Rali. I've fed you on love for nearly a year, and now that you're ripe you mustn't complain, because it's my turn now.'

I tried to move, and she gave me a soothing pat. 'There, there, dear,' she said. 'It's my nature that's at fault, not you. I have no soul of my own, and require a young girl's every ten years for nourishment. It's true, I didn't really love you, dear Rali, but I had to make you believe I did, or that withered little thing I found by that boy's body would have been no good at all. The best soul, I've learned, is full of happy, love-fed sweetness. Not just flavour, mind. You have no idea, my dear, what wonders it does for my mood. To be so young, so young, and so and so ... alive ... alive year after year!' year after year!'

She told me she'd leave my room for a small while to prepare. While she was gone, I could take comfort in the fact that although she did not really love me, of all the girls she'd pretended to love, she'd come closest to not pretending with me.

As she was turning away, I smelled sandalwood and then my mother entered. She was naked, like Basana, and more beautiful, I think. She moved like a panther and fire sheeted from her eyes. The only thing she carried was a sharpened willow switch.

Basana shouted and sprang to meet her - great talons reaching where hands and feet had been before. Her teeth became long fangs snapping for my mother's throat. Before she could reach her, my mother thrust with that willow stick and it pierced Basana through the heart. Blood spurted from her breast, and she fell dead to the floor.

My mother didn't look at her but came to me and took me in her arms.