Interesting Times (35 page)

The Horde skidded to a halt.

“What’re they? Trolls?” said Cohen. Ten of the figures were visible now, industriously digging at the air.

Then they stopped. One of them turned its gently smiling head this way and that.

A sergeant must have screamed a handful of archers into line, because a few arrows shattered on the terracotta armor, with absolutely no effect.

Other red warriors were climbing up behind the former diggers. They collided with them, with a sound of crockery. Then, as one man—or troll, or demon—they drew their swords, turned around, and headed towards Lord Hong’s army.

A few soldiers tried to fight them simply because there was too great a crowd behind them to run away. They died.

It wasn’t that the red guards were good fighters. They were very mechanical, each one performing the same thrust, parry, slash, regardless of what their opponent was doing. But they were simply unstoppable. If their opponent escaped one of the blows but didn’t get out of the way then he was just trodden on—and by the looks of things, the warriors were extremely heavy.

And it was the way the things
smiled
all the time that added to the terror.

“Well, now, there’s a thing,” Cohen said, feeling for his tobacco pouch.

“Never seen trolls fight like that,” said Truckle. Rank after rank was walking up out of the hole, stabbing happily at the air.

The front row were moving in a cloud of dust and screams. It is hard for a big army to do anything quickly, and divisions trying to move forward to see what the trouble was were getting in the way of fleeing individuals seeking a hole to hide in and permanent civilian status. Gongs were banging and men were trying to shout orders, but no one knew what the gongs were meant to mean or how the orders should be obeyed, because there didn’t seem to be enough time.

Cohen finished rolling his cigarette, and struck a match on his chin.

“Right,” he said, to the world in general. “Let’s get that bloody Hong.”

The clouds overhead were less fearsome now. There was less lightning. But there were still a lot of them, greeny-black, heavy with rain.

“But this is
amazing!
” said Mr. Saveloy.

A few drops hit the ground, leaving wide craters in the dirt.

“Yeah, right,” said Cohen.

“A most strange phenomenon! Warriors rising out of the ground!”

The craters joined up. It felt as though the drops were joining up as well. The rain began to pour down.

“Dunno,” said Cohen, watching a ragged platoon flee past. “Never been here before. P’raps this happens a lot.”

“I mean, it’s just like that myth about the man who sowed dragons’ teeth and terrible fighting skeletons came up!”

“I don’t believe
that
,” said Caleb, as they jogged after Cohen.

“Why not?”

“If you sow dragons’ teeth, you should get dragons. Not fighting skeletons. What did it say on the packet?”

“I don’t know! The myth never said anything about them coming in a packet!”

“Should’ve said ‘Comes up Dragons’ on the packet.”

“You can’t believe myths,” said Cohen. “I should know. Right…there he is…” he added, pointing to a distant horseman.

The whole plain was in turmoil now. The red warriors were only the start. The alliance of the five warlords was glass fragile in any case, and panicky flight was instantly interpreted as sneak attack. No one paid any attention to the Horde. They didn’t have any colored pennants or gongs. They weren’t traditional enemies. And, besides, the soil was now mud, and the mud flew, and everyone from the waist down was the same color and this was rising.

“What’re we doing, Ghenghiz?” said Mr. Saveloy.

“We’re heading back for the palace.”

“Why?”

“’Cos that’s where Hong’s gone.”

“But there’s this astonishing—”

“Look, Teach, I’ve seen walking trees and spider gods and big green things with teeth,” said Cohen. “It’s no good goin’ around saying ‘astonishing’ all the time, ain’t that so, Truckle?”

“Right. D’you know, when I went after that Five-Headed Vampire Goat over in Skund they said I shouldn’t on account of it being an endangered species? I said, yes, that was down to me. Were they grateful?”

“Huh,” said Caleb. “Should’ve thanked you, giving them all those endangered species to worry about. Turn around and go home right now, soldier boy!”

A group of soldiers, fighting to get away from the red warriors, skidded in the mud, stared in terror at the Horde, and headed off in a new direction.

Truckle stopped for breath, rain streaming off his beard.

“I can’t be having with this running, though,” he said. “Not and push Hamish’s wheelchair in all this mud. Let’s have a breather.”

“Whut?”

“Stopping for a breather?” said Cohen. “My gods! I never thought I’d see the day! A
hero
having a rest? Did Voltan the Indestructible have a bit of a rest?”

“He’s having one now. He’s dead, Ghenghiz,” said Caleb.

Cohen hesitated.

“What, old Voltan?”

“Didn’t you know? And the Immortal Jenkins.”

“Jenkins isn’t dead, I saw him only last year.”

“But he’s dead now. All the heroes are dead, ’cept us. And I ain’t too sure about me, too.”

Cohen splashed forward and snatched Caleb upright by his shirt.

“What about Hrun? He can’t be dead. He’s half our age!”

“Last I heard he got a job. Sergeant of the Guard somewhere.”

“Sergeant of the
Guard?
” said Cohen. “What, for
pay?
”

“Yep.”

“But…what, like, for
pay?
”

“He told me he might make Captain next year. He said…he said it’s a job with a pension.”

Cohen released his grip.

“There’s not many of us now, Cohen,” said Truckle.

Cohen spun around.

“All right, but there’s never been many of us! And I ain’t dyin’! Not if it means the world’s taken over by bastards like Hong, who don’t know what a chieftain is. Scum. That’s what he called his soldiers. Scum. It’s like that bloody civilized game you showed us, Teach!”

“Chess?”

“Right. The prawns are just there to be slaughtered by the other side! While the king just hangs around at the back.”

“Yeah, but the other side’s
you
, Cohen.”

“Right! Right…well,
yes
, that’s fine when I’m the
enemy
. But I don’t shove men in front of me to get killed instead of me. And I never use bows and them dog things. When I kill someone it’s up close and personal. Armies? Bloody tactics? There’s only one way to fight, and that’s everyone charging all at once, waving their swords and shouting! Now on your feet and let’s get after him!”

“It’s been a long morning, Ghenghiz,” said Boy Willie.

“Don’t give me that!”

“I could do with the lavatory. It’s all this rain.”

“Let’s get Hong first.”

“If he’s hiding in the privy that’s fine by me.”

They reached the city gates. They had been shut. Hundreds of people, citizens as well as guards, watched them from the walls.

Cohen waved a finger at them.

“Now I ain’t gonna say this twice,” he said. “I’m coming in, okay? It can be the easy way, or it can be the hard way.”

Impassive faces looked down at the skinny old man, and up at the plain, where the armies of the warlords fought one another and, in terror, the terracotta warriors. Down. Up. Down. Up.

“Right,” said Cohen. “Don’t say afterwards I didn’t
warn
youse.”

He raised his sword and prepared to charge.

“Wait,” said Mr. Saveloy. “Listen…”

There was shouting behind the walls, and some confused orders, and then more shouting. And then a couple of screams.

The gates swung open, pulled by dozens of citizens.

Cohen lowered his sword.

“Ah,” he said, “they’ve seen reason, have they?”

Wheezing a little, the Horde limped through the gates. The crowd watched them in silence. Several guards lay dead. Rather more had removed their helmets and decided to opt for a bright new future in Civvy Street, where you were less likely to get beaten to death by an angry mob.

Every face watched Cohen, turning to follow him as flowers follow the sun.

He ignored them.

“Crowdie the Strong?” he said to Caleb.

“Dead.”

“Can’t be. He was a picture of health when I saw him a coupla months ago. Going on a new quest and everything.”

“Dead.”

“What happened?”

“You know the Terrible Man-eating Sloth of Clup?”

“The one they say guards the giant ruby of the mad snake god?”

“The very same. Well…it was.”

The crowd parted to let the Horde through. One or two people tried a cheer, but were shushed into silence. It was a silence that Mr. Saveloy had only heard before in the most devout of temples.
^*

There was a whispering, though, growing out of that watchful silence like bubbles in a pot of water on a hot fire.

It went like this.

The Red Army. The Red Army
.

“How about Organdy Sloggo? Still going strong down in Howondaland, last I heard.”

“Dead. Metal poisoning.”

“How?”

“Three swords through the stomach.”

The Red Army!

“Slasher Mungo?”

“Presumed dead in Skund.”

“Presumed?”

“Well, they only found his head.”

The Red Army!

The Horde approached the inner gates of the Forbidden City. The crowd followed them at a distance.

These gates were shut, too. A couple of heavyset guards were standing in front of them. They wore the expressions of men who’d been told to guard the gates and were going to guard the gates come what may. The military depends on people who will guard gates or bridges or passes come what may and there are often heroic poems written in their honor, invariably posthumously.

“Gosbar the Wake?”

“Died in bed, I heard.”

“Not old Gosbar!”

“Everyone’s got to sleep some time.”

“That’s not the only thing they’ve got to do, mister,” said Boy Willie. “I
really
need the wossname.”

“Well, there’s the Wall.”

“Not with everyone watching! That ain’t…civilized.”

Cohen strode up to the guards.

“I’m not mucking about,” he said. “Okay? Would you rather die than betray your Emperor?”

The guards stared ahead.

“Right, fair enough.” Cohen drew his sword. A thought seemed to strike him.

“Nurker?” he said. “Big Nurker? Tough as old boots, him.”

“Fishbone,” said Caleb.

“Nurker? He once killed six trolls with a—”

“Choked on a fishbone in his gruel. I thought you knew. Sorry.”

Cohen stared at him. And then at his sword. And then at the guards. For a moment there was silence, broken only by the sound of the rain.

“Y’know, lads,” he said, in a voice so suddenly full of weariness that Mr. Saveloy felt a pit opening up, here, at the moment of triumph, “I was goin’ to chop your heads off. But…what’s the point, eh? I mean, when you get right down to it, why bother? What sort of difference does it make?”

The guards still stared straight ahead. But their eyes were widening.

Mr. Saveloy turned.

“You’ll end up dead anyway, sooner or later,” Cohen went on. “Well, that’s about it. You live your life best way you can and then it don’t actually matter, ’cos you’re dead—”

“Er. Cohen?” said Mr. Saveloy.

“I mean, look at me. Been chopping heads off my whole life and what’ve I got to show for it?”

“Cohen…”

The guards weren’t just staring now. Their faces were dragging themselves into very creditable grimaces of fear.

“Cohen?”

“Yeah, what?”

“I think you should look round, Cohen.”

Cohen turned.

Half a dozen red warriors were advancing up the street. The crowd had pulled right back and were watching in silent terror.

Then a voice shouted: “Extended Duration To The Red Army!”

Cries rose up here and there in the crowd. A young woman raised her hand in a clenched fist.

“Advance Necessarily With The People While Retaining Due Regard For Traditions!”

Others joined her.

“Deserved Correction To Enemies!”

“I’ve lost Mr. Bunny!”

The red giants clonked to a halt.

“Look at them!” said Mr. Saveloy. “They’re not trolls! They move like some kind of engine! Doesn’t that interest you?”

“No,” said Cohen, vacantly. “Abstract thinking is not a major aspect of the barbarian mental process. Now then, where was I?” He sighed. “Oh, yes. You two…you’d rather die than betray your Emperor, would you?”

The two men were rigid with fear now.

Cohen raised his sword.

Mr. Saveloy took a deep breath, grabbed Cohen’s sword arm and shouted:

“
Then open the gates and let him through!
”

There was a moment of utter silence.

Mr. Saveloy nudged Cohen.

“Go on,” he hissed. “Act like an Emperor!”

“What…you mean giggle, have people tortured, that sort of thing? Blow that!”

“No! Act like an Emperor ought to act!”

Cohen glared at Saveloy. Then he turned to the guards.

“Well done,” he said. “Your loyalty does you…wossname…credit. Keep on like this and I can see it’s promotion for both of you. Now let us all go inside or I will have my flowerpot men chop off your feet so you’ll have to kneel in the gutter while you’re looking for your head.”

The men looked at one another, threw down their swords and tried to kowtow.

“And you can bloody well get up, too,” said Cohen, in a slightly nicer tone of voice. “Mr. Saveloy?”

“Yes?”

“I’m Emperor now, am I?”

“The…earth soldiers seem to be on our side. The
people
think you’ve won. We’re all alive. I’d say we’ve won, yes.”

“If I’m Emperor, I can tell everyone what to do, right?”

“Oh, indeed.”

“Properly. You know. Scrolls and stuff. Buggers in uniform blowing trumpets and saying, ‘This is what he wants you to do.’”