The Gandalara Cycle I (72 page)

Markasset used that alias when Gharlas hired him to guard the caravan. Stupid. STUPID!
I scolded myself.
But there's no help for that stupidity now.
I concentrated, tried to remember of our encounter in Dyskornis, searched for a weakness. Then I had it. His weakness was the same as his strength. The Ra'ira.

"I see that the female companionship you've been providing to the guards was money well spent," I said. "Got them to do the messy, dangerous work for you, haven't you? I see you prefer muscle to brains - otherwise Sendar wouldn't be here.

"Shut up," warned Sendar. "Gharlas, you want me to make him quiet?"

“That might be
just
what Gharlas wants, Sendar. Because he may be just a little bit worried that I'll tell you what this is all about. You see, he stole a jewel from Raithskar called -"

“KILL HIM!" Gharlas shouted, and Sendar leaped forward, his sword descending in a two-handed arc that would have split me in two -
if
I'd stood still.

But I had ducked around Sendar, and was running straight for Gharlas, scattering or jumping over furniture as it got in my way. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Tarani slash at the big man's back, as his unresisted blow sent his sword tip clanging against the tile flooring. I was too busy to see more than that, because two other guards rushed out to intercept me before I could reach Gharlas.

These two were used to working as a team; one aimed high, the other low. I blocked the sword aimed for my head, jumped, and aimed a kick at the head of the guy swinging the lower blade. He flinched backward and missed his aim.

I heard footsteps behind me, and did some quick calculations. Six hallways opened into that room, and there had been a man in all but the one we had come through. That meant there were at least five guards - maybe more. Even if Tarani were calling Thymas in as reinforcement .. .

It doesn't look hopeful for the good guys
, I thought.

*I will help.*
Keeshah's thought struck me an instant before his mind merged with mine.

The Gandalaran who had been Markasset was a strong and skillful fighter. In the first, awkward days of my residence in his body, Markasset's trained reflexes had saved me more than once. But there had been an occasion, like this one, where the odds were against me and Keeshah had been unable to join the fight physically. He had saved me then, as he was trying to do now, by lending me some of his abilities.

The effect of Keeshah's help was a drastic reduction of my reaction time. I had no greater strength and, in fact, no quicker reactions. What I had was the giant cat's
alertness
to sound, scent, and sight clues that were beyond Markasset's normal ability to interpret quickly. Keeshah's mind accepted the stimuli of
my
surroundings, as perceived by
my
senses. Because of the close joining of our minds, as soon as he interpreted, I had the knowledge necessary to guide my reactions.

So I knew, from the slightly differing odors, that there were only five men in the room. These two were trying to keep me away from Gharlas. From the sounds behind me, I could tell that Tarani was fighting Sendar, and the other two men were coming after me.

They don't know it yet,
I thought fiercely,
but they just made a BAD choice.

That was another thing Keeshah gave me. Spirit. When we were together in this special way, we loved a good fight.

I gauged the distance of the men behind me, and waited to hear the intake of breath that signaled a blow was about to be delivered. Then I whirled and ducked between them, running toward Tarani, and leaving them to scramble out of the way of their own swords.

That's your second mistake, guys,
I thought, as I saw Tarani bring the big man down by slashing into his thigh, and then finish him.
You underestimated the lady.

I turned to make a stand against the four guards, but Gharlas was smarter than that. "Go after the girl, you fools!"

Tarani was on her way to join me, but two of the guards broke past me to block her.

Damn you, Gharlas!
I thought.
You think I'll leave myself vulnerable in order to protect Tarani. What you don't know is, she's worth any two men in a fight.

But as my opponents and I circled and feinted, I caught glimpses of Tarani 's struggle. It seemed more desperate than mine - I saw a couple of last-minute blocking moves that just barely saved her life.

What's going on?
I wondered.
It's almost as though she can't control her own muscles .. .

"Gharlas, you
bastard,
" I yelled, as the truth struck home. He was using his mindpower to slow her down.

In Dyskornis, Tarani had proved that she could break through Gharlas's paralyzing control, given time. Part of her resistance came from her own mindpower, but I knew now that she could resist, partly, for the same reason I could - the non-Gandalaran portion of her mind was less susceptible.

Pressed as she was with immediate physical threat, she couldn't afford the concentration necessary to block Gharlas's power entirely. The paralysis trick had surprised us last time; this time, her natural resistance kept her moving, and the weight of his power kept her fractionally, dangerously slower than she needed to be. It might have had the same effect on me, but he had chosen Tarani for his target. First because, of the two of us, she was the weaker fighter. Second because he was counting on Tarani's predicament distracting me from my own problems.

It was working.

I snapped back into focus in time to knock aside a thrust aimed at my throat, but I was too late to dodge the other man's wild, hopeful slash, and the point of his blade cut a short gash on the left side of my chest.

The burning pain helped me to concentrate; I told myself I couldn't help Tarani until I got rid of these two.

Under the onslaught of these two men, I had been backing toward one of the long side walls, and I had about two feet to

go before I wouldn't have room to breathe, much less fight.

Do something,
I told myself, remembering one of Ricardo's favorite mottoes,
even if it's wrong.

Getting myself pinned had lost me most of the advantages of Keeshah's help, but the eager, feisty presence of his mind in mine gave me a different kind of help - inspiration.

I took a deep breath and offered my best imitation of the roar of an angry sha'um.

Everybody paused for a second or two, startled by the unexpected noise. Everybody, that is, except me. I took a quick step backward, dropped my sword, clenched both hands in the fabric of the ceiling-high tapestry that covered the wall, and yanked the heavy stitchery down. As it came loose, I spun around and sent it sailing at the two guards who, recovered from their moment of surprise, were barely two paces away from me.

The weight of the thing sent them staggering; one corner flipped up to block their vision, and another whipped around behind them. I grabbed up my sword again as one of the guys tripped and fell. The other one was so busy trying not to get dragged down with him that he didn't see me coming. In another few seconds, both of them were out of action.

I jumped over them and ran to help Tarani, who was being pressed into the corner furthest from Gharlas by her two guards. She was fighting grimly, with sword and mind; every muscle of her face and body seemed wire-tight. I roared as I ran and one guard, distracted, looked around. Tarani thrust her sword through the left side of his chest. His eyes went blank, still staring at me, as he collapsed to the floor.

The pull on her sword sent Tarani to her knees, and the last guard closed in on her. I was one jump away from him, my sword raised and ready -and Gharlas turned his power on me.

My body completed the running step that had been in progress, but instead of striking the blow I planned, I skidded past Tarani and the guard without having time to swing my sword. I slammed heavily into the wall. The impact sent the sword flying from my sluggish hand. I turned around, and pushed away from the wall toward the fighting pair. It was like trying to swim through treacle, and inside I was screaming in frustration.

Tarani let go of the hilt of her sword to reach up with both hands; she grabbed the man's sword wrist and hung on. He wasn't as big as Sendar had been, but big enough. He couldn't pry Tarani's clutching fingers away from his wrist, so he pulled his body sharply from side to side, dragging Tarani along the floor.

She stayed with him, her body trailing his sword arm with a violent, jerking motion, until he swung the hilt of his sword at her head. She turned her face aside at the last minute, but the bronze hilt clipped her temple and she went down like a rag doll.

The guard looked around at Gharlas.

"Kill her," Gharlas said.

The fighting red haze of a sha'um's rage shot through me, burning away Gharlas's control.

In Dyskornis, Tarani had helped me fight that power. Given time now, I could have broken free on my own. But with a sword already descending toward Tarani's slender throat, I surrendered to Keeshah the control I denied Gharlas.

I seemed to be only a spectator, as my body lunged for the guard. I caught the man s throat in my hands and dragged him away from Tarani. He turned the edge of his sword against my back, but before it more than touched me, I threw him to the floor. I pinned his forearm with my knee and shifted my weight to that knee, slowly increasing the pressure on his arm.

His body bucked and heaved. His left hand beat against my arms, clawed out at my face. I leaned on neck and arm. The blows became so weak that I barely felt them.

I was delighted when his right hand opened to release the hilt of the sword.

I laughed out loud when I felt bones break under my knee. I shook the throat I held, and the head wobbled back and forth.

Keeshah left me, and I was empty. I pulled my hands away from the dead neck. My fingers left blackening indentations in the man's flesh. The sight of them appalled me, but reminded me of the reason this man was dead.

I half-walked, half-crawled back to Tarani and put a shaking hand against the fair, unmarked throat. When I felt her pulse, mine started to move again.

I stood up and turned toward the big double entry doors. Gharlas was still there. His smile had become a grimace, and there was no mistaking the message of hatred that flowed from his glowing eyes.

"She's alive, Gharlas," I said, picking up the sword Tarani's would-be killer had used. "Your power won't work on me, and all your hired muscle is dead. In Dyskornis you said we would settle things 'another time' -
now
, Gharlas. Just you and I. We'll settle it now. I will leave this room with the Ra'ira."

I started down the middle of the long room, kicking aside the debris of broken furniture. Miraculously, the two tables which held the lamps were still intact.

Gharlas waited for me, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. When I was a third of the way across the room, he cried:
"Stop!"

There was a ring of confidence in his voice. Suspicion made me pause.

"You say 'you and I'," he sneered, "as if we were equals." He took a step closer, and the lamplight from the table nearest him sent wavering shadows from his supraorbital ridges leaping up across his brow. "But you're forgetting who I will be.

" 'King of Gandalara'?" I mocked him. "You're a fool, Gharlas. You can't even hope to rule Eddarta, much less all the cities and towns scattered around the Walls. What are you planning to do, mind-control all the Lords?"

"Such crudeness is unnecessary," he answered. "Pylomel's influence rests with his fortune - when the Lords discover it is worthless, that
I
have the wealth he pretended to have, and that I have the loyalty of the Harthim guards, I will be acclaimed High Lord.'

He might be right, at that,
I thought.
Political rules in this city, though they make a show of being traditional, seem to be largely a matter of convenience.

"What about Indomel? He won't let you take over without a struggle."

"I see you have learned a lot about Eddarta since you arrived," Gharlas said. "Until my plans are ready, I will allow Indomel to act as High Lord - under my control."

"All day, every day? Even with the Ra'ira, do you really believe you can do that?"

"All I need, at first, is subtle control at key moments, and the ability to know what the boy is thinking - those things the Ra'ira can give me easily. But if brute, total control is necessary? That, too, is within my power. For example . . ."

The door beside Gharlas opened, and Thymas walked in.

"You remember this young man, don't you?" Gharlas said. "Without Tarani to help him, he is completely mine. How delightfully ironic that you gave him Serkajon's sword for 'safekeeping.' I look forward to having that sword - after he -kills you with it."

Thymas came toward me, the steel sword held lightly in front of him. I shifted my weight to face him. I didn't back away.

"When we decided to follow you, Gharlas," I said, keeping my eye on the slim, muscular boy approaching me slowly, "we all knew the odds, and agreed that the stakes were worth any risk. Thymas knows that I won't hesitate to kill him to get to you."

Thymas stopped, about ten feet away from me. His body reflected the struggle inside his mind. Muscles stood out on the sides of his neck, throwing into bright relief the ugly scar left by the vineh. A vein at his temple pulsed in a slow, heavy rhythm that seemed to symbolize the boy's determined resistance to Gharlas's power. His arms and hands trembled with the effort to break free of that terrible compulsion.

"He wants it that way, Gharlas," I said, still watching Thymas and feeling a fierce pride in the boy. He was fighting with everything he had, fighting so hard that I could
feel
the strain. "If the only way he can help me get to you is by dying, then Thymas will make it easy for me to kill him. He'll slow down at a crucial moment, leave openings in his defense."