Rebel of Antares (21 page)
From the bushes flanking us a movement caught my attention.
Dark forms leaped from their places of concealment. Sharp, acid-bitter faces, white as death, leered from hunched cloaks of shadow. Vampire fangs gleamed. Eyes glared hot and red. And steel blades shimmered death in the moonshadows.
“Sabals!” People screamed and the two bodies, confused, surged and swayed. “Vampires of Sabal!”
I was the nearest. This was a time for the headlong rush into danger, chancing destruction, no time for thought. If Lildra were harmed, I would feel sorrow and the Star Lords would exact vengeance. But if Lela were harmed...!
My sword ripped free and I went into them like a battering ram. Dark forms shrieked about me, fangs struck, swords slashed. I managed to skewer the first and then it was a matter of ducking and dodging and slashing back. Lopping arms presents a small problem when your muscles are powered by a frenzy of fear for your daughter. Calculating the amount of force necessary to put a vampire thing out of action, and not spend overmuch force on that one, ready for the next, is difficult when your head is filled with a breathless panic. Heads rolled.
A lithe form surged into the fight alongside me. A sword struck with precision and economy. The vampire things, fangs glittering, red eyes like demons, screamed and sought to slay us and drink our blood. And we fought back. We fought them for a space and then other people joined in, and a wall of steel barred off the vampire horrors from the princess.
I looked at the girl who had fought at my side and felt the shock overpower me again.
“I thought you were dead, Jak,” said Jaezila. She laughed, very splendid in that flowing light, her brown hair severely tied back, her russet leathers plain and workmanlike, her sword a bar of blood in her gloved fist. “Tyfar went back to Hamal and I — well — and what are you doing here?”
“Jaezila!” I said, like a fool. “I am with the rebellion.”
“Queen Fahia is like one of her own pet neemus, frantic with fear and rage. So I thought I’d help out — but—” Her face clouded. “We are blade comrades, Jak, you and Ty and I. Yet — yet—”
“I am — glad — to see you, Jaezila. This is not the same silly kind of rebellion Vad Noran attempted. I heard that Tyfar had gone back to Hamal and rejoiced, knowing you and he were safe. But here you are, and very welcome, too.”
There was an oddness about this meeting. Yes, I was overjoyed to see Jaezila again, for she was a girl dear to me, as you know. If Prince Tyfar could be along to share in the fun, such as it was, then that would be even more splendid. Then I realized my own stupidity, and chilled. Jaezila was looking at me cautiously. Of course! She thought I worked for Hamal, as did she, and how, then, she would be wondering, could I be a part of a rebellion aimed at seating a princess on the throne who had vowed to join with Vallia against Hamal? This would be tricky.
What was even more tricky was — what was she up to here? There was absolutely no possibility that I would allow harm to come to her if it was discovered she worked for Hamal. She must be attempting to aid the rebellion and unseat Fahia and then turn the coup to the advantage of Hamal. And — would that mean danger for Princess Lildra? I sweated under the night breeze. What a coil!
We walked back to join the two parties, who were now mingled together and all talking away, excited by the sudden attack of the Vampires of Sabal. These things are not your Dracula vampire at all, being creatures who like to guzzle human blood and who hide in out-of-the-way places and who will die by stroke of sword without holy water or a stake through the heart.
For all that, they are vampires, and horrible and mortal foes to humankind.
Valona came running up, waving her claw, which ran red with vampire blood. “Princess! You are safe!” She saw me and said, “Oh!”
“I am glad to see you are safe, princess,” said Jaezila.
Staring at Valona, seeing her beauty, I smiled. I, Dray Prescot, smiled with a sudden overpowering gratitude. But, for all that, I said to Jaezila, “So you are a princess! Well, I might have guessed it, and I’ve been tangling with princesses for a long time now—”
“You—!” said Valona. “But you are the man who said—”
“And you are a princess, too,” I said, half-laughing, wishing to tease her. “Jaezila and you are friends? That pleases me.”
“We have been through many adventures together, Jak and I,” said Jaezila. “He is a blade comrade. I rejoice to see him alive, for I thought he had given his life to save me and — and another. He will give praise to all the gods that Jak lives. She looked at Valona and, I admit it now for I felt it then, I felt a pang — just the smallest, most unworthy feeling — that if you wished to compare the two girls, then Jaezila far outshone Valona. And this was a base and vile thought.
Before any more could be said in this tangle, Nath the Retributor hurried across. With him strode a giant of a man — an apim — with a strong bulldog-like head and massive jaw, a warrior who wore armor and carried four swords. This impressive fighting man was introduced as Hardur Mortiljid, Trylon of Llanikar. I judged him true to his appearance. He bowed formally.
“I am here as escort to the Princess Majestrix of Vallia, bearing a warrant from Klanak the Tresh.” Klanak the Tresh was Orlan’s cover name, and I felt relief that he had the sense to continue to use it still. We weren’t out of the wood yet. The Lahals were made, and then Hardur said to me, “I give you my thanks, horter, for the gallantry of your fight against the Sabals. They are news from the devil, by Harg!”
“The princess is unharmed,” I said. I still felt this enormous glow of delight, so I could add, “All the princesses!”
Jaezila laughed. No one else appeared to consider the remark worthy of comment, the fact being that my brand of humor is often considered odd even by the phenomenally peculiar standards of Kregan humor. But Tyfar, Jaezila and I shared our own idiosyncratic laughs together, and the suns were warmer as a consequence. Erndor, the slim Vallian who had tried to spit Tyfar and had then thrown a brick at him, came over. Kaldu, Jaezila’s retainer, hovered. Nath the Retributor coughed and cleared his throat. A ring formed with the mingled parties all staring at those in the center, the lantern light falling upon cheekbones and glittering in eyes. I stepped back. The moment approached.
The expectant silence fell oddly into that place of ruins. It trembled invisibly, yet was real, perfectly apparent to everyone. Nath stared at me in puzzlement. I looked back, waiting. And then — of course, onker that I was! — I saw the cause of his embarrassment.
He could not know how things stood between Lela and me. He didn’t know that the Star Lords, by hurling me between the stars, had prevented my knowing my own daughter, as Lela’s dedication to the SoR prevented her from knowing me. So we all stood about like loons when Nath and the others expected father and daughter to fly into each other’s arms.
Valona was quite clearly keyed up. She glowed with excitement, staring about. What it would be — to have two daughters who flourished lethal steel claws!
Hardur Mortiljid slapped one of his swords up and down in the scabbard. He looked down at Nath.
“Well, by Harg, Nath! These Vallians are odd folk!”
Valona glanced up at Hardur.
Nath said, “I will—”
Erndor stepped forward.
“An explanation is owed you, Trylon Hardur, and you, Nath the Retributor, as to you all. If you will allow? We Vallians may be somewhat different from other folk, but in this, the vicissitudes of cruel fate have parted the Emperor of Vallia and the Princess Majestrix for many seasons. For very many seasons.”
The crowd nodded as though perfectly understanding the blows of fate, and the oddness of folk who were not Hyrklese. I looked expectantly at Valona. She stood alertly, waiting... At her side Jaezila stared at Erndor, and then she looked away, searching among the crowd, and coming back again to gaze upon the Vallian. Valona remained bright-eyed and vivid, almost hopping with excitement.
Erndor went on, “So that I do not think one would recognize the other—”
At that revelation, and never mind the blows of fate, the crowd’s shocked oohs and aahs were fitting comments on not only the conduct of Vallians, but the way a father had allowed so terrible a degradation of his relationship with his daughter. Even though they did not know of the Everoinye, I felt that censure deeply. I was just about to do something very foolish when Valona began to step forward. Jaezila took her arm and held her, and then my blade comrade said, “So there is no mystery here. Nath the Retributor, if you would kindly do the office of introducing the Emperor of Vallia, the Princess Majestrix will be in your debt.” She smiled.
Valona sucked in a breath, and Hardur looked down his nose. The crowd fell silent. I did not move but looked at Valona. Nath was slow.
“Well, Nath the Retributor,” said my blade comrade, Jaezila. “The Princess Majestrix is waiting. Is he not here? I would not be surprised. He never seems to be at hand when I need him. Whereabouts is my father skulking now?”
I Stake My Life on the Truth
The world of Kregen went up and down and over and over three times and I was clinging on her for dear life with bleeding fingers to stop being hurled off into a black void of insanity.
Jaezila!
Lela?
And then, the mind does work in strange ways in fraught moments like these, I thought,
So Tyfar will be my son-in-law — if all goes as nature intends. Deuced odd!
I felt like a man turning a corner and being blown back by a sea wind gusting past force ten. I struggled to get a breath. Nath the Retributor, all smiles, was saying, “He is here, majestrix, standing here. Now you have explained, of course, of course. These things happen in imperial families.”
He was, I am sure, quite unaware of any sarcasm.
“Here is Dray Prescot, Emperor of Vallia! Lahal, majister!”
Jaezila looked at me.
Dayra had looked at me, I recalled with anguish from our first meeting, with loathing and contempt. How would my eldest daughter regard the father who kept on disappearing?
She was beautiful, yes, she was her mother’s daughter, regal, commanding, impish — and now a frown dinted in between her eyebrows, and her lips drew down, and her eyes regarded me with a look I just could not fathom.
“Him?” she said. And, then: “Jak the Sturr — my father?” And, then: “He is a blade comrade, Jak, a friend, one who would give his life for me, as I for him, as we have proved. But — the Emperor of Vallia?”
“Jaezila—” I said.
A struggle was going on within her. She had not expected this thunderclap of a revelation. No more had I, by Zair!
But I was over the wonder now. This glorious girl was my daughter Lela. And the magic was — we were blade comrades!
What a splendid contrast to my dismal confrontations with Dayra, who was Ros the Claw!
And of course, Dayra was not evil, only misguided. Now I had an opportunity to talk to Jaezila — Lela — and discover more about Dayra, and find ways for reconciliation. Lela would know about her sister, there was no doubt about that. I confess to a most beautifully euphoric feeling bathing me in wonderful sensations.
Jaezila brought all this down to earth with a thump.
“Whatever my blade comrade has told you, and however much I love him, he is Jak, and not the Emperor of Vallia. I know. I own I am disappointed, for he would have been a good father to me.”
“Jaezila,” I said. “I mean, Lela—”
“It’s not going to do you any good. By Vox! I’ll see no harm comes to you. You know that. But the good of Vallia is in this, Jak, and even you cannot jeopardize that.”
Just as Princess Lildra stepped forward to have her say, she was pushed aside by Hardur Mortiljid. The giant’s face exhibited every indication of bursting. His eyebrows drew down, black with thunder. At his side Nath the Retributor was already drawing his sword. Other men crowded up.
“I stake my life on the Princess Majestrix!” bellowed Hardur. “She has spoken. This man is an impostor. Seize him up!”
Well — I was slow. But I felt as though I’d been hit over the head with a sandbag. They had bonds around my neck and wrists and ankles even as I tried to reason with Jaezila. She looked distraught. I could imagine her anguish.
“Jak!” she called over the hubbub.
The crowd pushed and shoved around us; I was dragged along, shoved up against a stone pillar and the ropes wound round and around pinioning me to the ancient stone. I felt a damned hard edge jabbing me in the back and it was nothing. I couldn’t believe all this. Princess Lildra was shouting, but in the uproar her words went unheeded. These people had found a spy in their midst, and mob law was about to run its course.
“Kill him now! Spy!”
“No, make him tell his secrets!”
“Zigging Hamalese rast!”
Jaezila was tall, but Hardur overtopped her as he overtopped most people. Even Jaezila’s savage retainer, Kaldu, looked a trifle shrunken as he stepped up to clear a space for his mistress. They were forming a ring around the pillar to which I was bound, and the noise and confusion brought fresh mobs running up from the camp. Lantern light splashed bloodily upon the stones, and the moons tinged the scene with rose and gold. A tiny night breeze blew and the scents of moon blooms filled the air. And I was like to bid good-bye to all this exotic world of Kregen.
Lildra looked flustered and, not so much frightened as overwhelmed. Hardur with his giant stature and giant voice dominated events, and his bellows drowned more rational thought. But I thought. I thought that Jaezila, my blade comrade, worked for Hamal. She might not be my daughter Lela. She disowned me; might not I therefore disown her? We would remain comrades, for the bonds between us were not to be broken lightly — and even this business which was very far from light would not sunder my feelings for her, or hers for me, I was confident. Perhaps, as a spy for Hamal, she had wormed her way in and under the guise of the Princess Majestrix of Vallia, worked a mischief against my country?
I looked toward the knot of chiefs, and they were arguing in their more elegant way, as the mobs were yelling and caterwauling, in their more vehement fashion. They wanted my skin, all of them. No doubt of that, by Vox!