The Sword Lord (10 page)

After a moment, they separated. There was work to be done and there were still too many of their companions too close for comfort.

“We should be thinking of finding Ramesh,” Zela said reluctantly.

Kananda nodded and got to his feet. He swung up into the saddle of Gujar's horse and gave orders. The party moved forward once more. A few of the foot warriors grumbled but soon settled into a silent, loping run. They were crossing a broad plain of long grassland, scrub bushes and patches of low trees. It was possible tiger country, but the signs indicated that Ramesh had still been travelling fast when he passed this way.

The trail continued south, toward a blue blur of distant hills that darkened into thickening forest and black mountains. They were leaving the frontiers of Karakhor and pressing toward the untamed wild lands.

Chapter Six

They caught up with the hunting party late in the afternoon of the second day, where the land broke up into low, jungle-clad hills on the very edge of the black forest. In a shallow valley between two of the hills, they found the first body. One of the young lords who had ridden with Ramesh lay in a crumpled sprawl, with sightless eyes staring up at the sky. A spear blade had pierced his heart and his throat had been cut. The carrion birds that had led them to the spot circled overhead, crying angrily at the interruption.

Kananda looked down from his horse and felt sick in his stomach. He had feared the worst and it had happened. They were too late. Emotion tore at his heart and battered at the portals of his mind, but he knew he had to maintain a clear head. He sucked in a deep breath to hold down the waves of anger, grief and frustration. Then he rose to his full height in the saddle to survey the landscape all around. They had been moving with ever-increasing caution and this was no time to relax.

There was nothing to be seen or heard except the circling vultures, and yet Kananda sensed that they were not alone. He lowered himself back into his saddle and said grimly, “We will dismount to search this area. A man on horseback is too easy a target. But we will stay in one group. No man is to move out of sight of the rest of us. And be prepared to defend yourselves at any instant.”

The horse-riders dismounted and the majority of the party drew their swords. A few of the soldiers chose to unsling their bows and notch an arrow in readiness. All of them had been wearing arm shields since the start of the day.

Zela hesitated a second and then drew her sword in preference to her hand lazer. The lightning bolts, as Kananda chose to call them, were best held in reserve.

The search quickly located a score of bodies. Twelve of them were from the hunting party, three more scattered and pierced with arrows where they had fallen alone, and the others slain in a group where they had valiantly stood to defend themselves. The rest of the dead were wild men, naked but for a belt of monkey skin supporting the bark-cloth pouch that held their private parts.

Within ten minutes, all of the missing hunting party had been accounted for except Ramesh. Of the young prince there was no sign.

“They would know his rank from his apparel,” Kasim offered hopefully. “Perhaps they have taken him alive.”

“Perhaps,” Kananda answered in a hollow voice. There was no real hope in his heart, just the crushing feeling of having lost his brother and of failing terribly in his duty. However, he knew the direction in which his duty lay now. “Bring me our huntsman,” he ordered.

While he waited, he studied one of the dead savages. The corpse had long, tangled black hair, and its dark face and skin were painted with coloured clays and berry juices to give it a ferocious aspect. The face was coloured chalk white with large red circles drawn around the mouth and eyes. The lips were painted with black triangular teeth to give the impression of a mouth within a mouth.

“This is a war design,” Kananda told Zela who stood beside him. “The extra teeth are painted on to frighten enemies. So this was not the case of one hunting party falling foul of another.”

Zela said nothing, but she sensed his suppressed emotion and her hand was a comfort on his shoulder. Then Kasim returned with Hamir. The man expected to be blamed and was trembling as Kananda straightened and turned to face him.

“The attackers have taken Prince Ramesh,”' Kananda said calmly. “Alive or dead we do not yet know. Can you tell which way they have taken?”

“The signs point down this valley, sire, and then into the forest.” Hamir swallowed hard and then added, “But, sire, I think we are being watched.”

“I think so too. But only one pair of eyes, perhaps two. If there had been enough of them to attack, they would have done so.” He paused thoughtfully. “Can you track the main party at night?”

“Tonight there will be a moon. If there is not too much cloud, I can follow the sign down the valley. But in the jungle? If there is a path, it may be easy. If not…” He shrugged and spread his hands.

“Then let us hope for a path. We will leave here now and return at nightfall. The watchers will see us go, and they will run back to their village before dark. These wild men are afraid of the darkness. They believe that the night is haunted by the spirits of the forest and of their dead. That will be the best time to move against them.”

Kasim looked toward the remains of the hunting party. “Have we time to bury our dead?”

Kananda shook his head. “It galls me to leave them, but if those who watch us have sent a runner after their main party, then those who attacked Ramesh could return and surprise us before we have finished. It is best if we leave now.”

There was no more argument. The riders swung up on their mounts and the small force began an apparently dejected retreat.

 

 

 

Two hours passed before the sun began to set behind the western hills. The sky flamed briefly pink and gold, and such was Kananda's state of mind that his imagination saw it as a dying funeral pyre for his lost brother. The flames dulled, like a glow from red embers, and then they were gone. The shadows closed in, a few stars pricked through the darkening heavens, and a half moon rose in the north. They rode for another ten minutes until a hundred stars were shining in the night sky. Kananda felt certain then that they were no longer being followed and he called a halt.

They rested for an hour and then turned back. Some of the foot soldiers moved reluctantly, but none argued. They stayed in a close group, and in the soft moon and starlight, Hamir was easily able to retrace their route. Two more hours and they were back in the shallow valley where the dead still lay unburied.

There was a scuffling sound, as a jackal or some other scavenging animal was disturbed from its feast, but then stillness. Kananda and his party stood motionless, all their senses alert, their hands softly muzzling the horses, but there was nothing to alarm them. There was no longer the sensation of being watched.

Kananda nodded to the huntsman and he continued to lead them down the valley, past the scene of the ambush. The band of savages who had attacked the hunting party could be estimated at between thirty and forty and their trail was clear to follow. It led through the hills to where the forest loomed as a black, tangled wall in front of them.

Hamir scouted ahead and came back.

“There is a path.” His voice was caught somewhere between relief and fear. “It is narrow, but we can follow it into the forest.”

Kananda dismounted and the others did the same. “We will go into the forest on foot,” he decided. “If the gods are smiling, their village will not be too far inside the forest and we will recover Ramesh before dawn. Two men will stay here with the horses.”

They entered the jungle footpath with swords drawn. The huntsman led, with Kananda at his shoulder. Zela came next, then Kasim and three more of the young nobles. There were ten soldiers to follow them. They were seventeen strong. The odds against them were unknown, but at least twice their number had attacked Ramesh and his hunting party. If they were to succeed, then the elements of surprise and darkness had to weigh heavily in their favour.

The jungle closed around them, suffocating and threatening in its almost total blackness. There would have been no room for the horses here and they kept to the footpath only because there was no other way. The path was like an invisible tunnel through the seemingly impenetrable tangles of foliage on either side. There was a constant low rustling, chirping and buzzing from the small nocturnal animals, birds and insects that hunted unseen on the forest floor. Leaves and creepers continuously touched their faces or dragged across their bodies like cold, caressing fingers.

Their progress was slow and nerve-wracking, and for the first time Zela began to concede that Blair might have been right. Perhaps this was not a wise course of action on her part. A hand lazer might be an effective weapon in a stand-up battle between two human forces, but it would be of little use against the fangs of the cobra that might be coiled in waiting beside this jungle path or against the prowling leopard that might be even now stalking them through the lower branches of the trees.

Her right hand tightened on the hilt of her sword, and her left hand tightened on Kananda's shoulder. It was an involuntary shudder of apprehension, but then Kananda's fingers reassuringly touched her own. Zela smiled then in the darkness. Blair might be right—probably was right—but this was where she wanted to be. Kananda needed her and that was enough.

It was difficult to judge time and distance and so they could only guess at how far they had penetrated into the forest. It seemed like forever, but at last there was a break in the blackness ahead. The red glow of fires cast a flickering light and they could smell the woodsmoke. The trees thinned out on either side and they discerned the faint silhouettes of some low, conical huts.

Hamir stopped. Kananda gently drew him back and signaled the others to wait motionless. He moved silently forward, intending to reconnoitre alone, but Zela and Kasim moved equally silently beside him.

Kananda stopped them after a few more paces. They were on the edge of a wide clearing that contained the native village. The huts were crude constructions of grass and leaves, plastered with mud onto a framework of branches. They formed a large circle around the perimeter of the clearing. In the centre of the clearing was a large black tent, big enough to comfortably sleep a dozen men. There was a smaller tent on either side of the big one, and these were more simply constructed of wild animal skins. A large wood-fire burned in front of each tent and a few smaller cooking fires flickered in front of some of the perimeter huts. The village appeared to be asleep. The only inhabitants awake were the guards standing in pairs in front of each tent.

All this Kananda saw at a glance, but then his gaze was riveted upon the tall pole that had been erected in the centre of the clearing, just in front of the central fire. A body was displayed on the pole, suspended head downward by lashed feet. The arms hung limply, stained with red streaks from the spear wounds in the bare chest. The firelight played on the once-proud face, still distorted in its final agony. The body no longer looked like that of the young prince Ramesh, but Kananda knew that it was his brother.

“We are too late,” Zela whispered softly with her mouth close to his ear. “I am sorry.”

“It is as I expected.” Kananda kept his voice low, although he wanted to scream his fury. His knuckles gleamed white around the hilt of his sword. “But we cannot leave Ramesh there on display for the sport of these animals. I must retrieve his body and return it Karakhor.”

“It will not be easy,” Kasim murmured. And he pointed to the black banner that fluttered over the large tent.

“I have seen it,” Kananda answered bleakly. He turned to Zela and explained, “The black leopard banner is the emblem of Sardar. Our enemy, the king of Maghalla, is here. See the banners above the other two tents, the black monkey and the red monkey? They are the chief clans of the monkey tribes. Their chieftains are here also. This can only mean that Sardar has already made his alliance.”

Kasim breathed fiercely between his teeth. “We must warn Karakhor.”

Kananda nodded. “That is vital, but I will not leave without Ramesh.” He laid his sword carefully on the earth in front of him and unslung the short bow from his back. He pulled an arrow from his quiver and checked its straightness against the starlight before notching it to the bow. “We need five more of our best archers,” he instructed softly.

Kasim moved back to the main group and returned with four of the soldiers. All had their bows unslung. Kananda pointed out each man's target and they knelt in a line. “When my arrow flies, they all fly,” he commanded. “Then, no matter what happens, I shall cut down Prince Ramesh.”

His five companions nodded silently. Kananda drew back his arrow and took aim on one of the guards standing outside Sardar's tent. The Maghallan wore a black loincloth and turban and his upper torso was protected by a leather waistcoat that was partially unlaced at the chest. Kananda aimed for the spot that was a finger's breadth to the left of the breastbone. He looked to see that the others had also taken aim, and then loosed his arrow.

The soft twang of the bowstring was the signal that launched the other five arrows. The first Maghallan fell dead with Kananda's arrow piercing his heart. His companion staggered a moment with Kasim's shaft through his neck and then he too fell. The four savages guarding the monkey banner tents were the lesser danger. They were half asleep, and probably only placed there in mimicry of Sardar's efficiency. However, three of those also fell dead. The fourth stumbled back against the tent he guarded, his eyes popping open and his mouth dropping slack as he stared dumbly at the arrow embedded in the joint of his shoulder.

Kananda was already moving, slinging his bow across his shoulders and snatching up his sword as he raced to the centre of the clearing. He reached Ramesh in seconds, wrapping his left arm around his brother's cold shoulders as he reached up with his sword to slash through the ropes that secured the feet. With the second stroke, Ramesh fell free from the pole and dropped over his left shoulder.