Swords From the East (55 page)

The heat grew more oppressive.

"This is certainly Hades," thought Billings, "and if Alashan and Nadesha have been slain I shall no doubt meet with them."

Whistling to himself, he began to work his way back toward the river, determined to find out what had become of his friends. A horse was sorely needed, yet the poor beasts he met with riderless were foundered.

However, joining a party of Bear clansmen who were engaging a similar number of Kirghiz, he used his sword with such effect that the captain of the Tatars pointed out a fresh horse, and stopped long enough to answer Billings's question as to the battle.

"The jackals have left the pack," he said grimly, meaning that the outlaw tribes had deserted the Kirghiz, so Billings judged that the Tatars were more than holding their own.

He glanced curiously at the Cossack dress of the mapmaker.

"By the Heavens, good sir, you know how to use a sword. Come with us and you shall see Ubaka Khan himself, who is seeking out Nuralin Khan. We will duck that head-of-flame in the waters of the Kara-su where he set a trap for us."

Following the noyon, Billings came out of a gully into a mob of horsemen, Tatar and Kirghiz, without semblance of rank, hacking and stabbing at each other, the whole mass moving down the slope toward the river.

The charge of the tribesmen had reached the nucleus of soldiers that Nuralin Khan had formed about him during the night, and the Kirghiz had given ground before the whirling attack of the Tatars. On the steep clay slope the momentum of the horses could not be checked. Billings's beast was caught in the current and in a trice he was at the edge of the river.

In front of him the Kirghiz were swimming their horses across or crowding for the ford. The thirst-tormented animals lingered to drink of the muddy and blood-stained water. Neither side had pistols or muskets in use, so a pause ensued in which Billings made out the figure of Nuralin Khan, hatless, on the farther bank.

"Stop, dog, skulker, slayer of prisoners-" Ubaka Khan had heard from captives of Loosang's act in bringing Alashan and Nadesha to the river to be killed-"stand and await the ox!"

The eyes of the old Khan were sunk in his head, and blood dripped from his mouth. Billings could not understand how the man kept going, naked to the waist as he was in the heat that sapped human strength. Followed by lines of Torguts, Ubaka plunged his horse into the river and swam it across.

Nuralin Khan looked about him, saw his followers hanging back at the edge of the thickets, and remained where he was. To flee would be dangerous. If he could cut down Ubaka it would take the sting out of the Torgut attack, and he could then hold the line of the river.

As Ubaka trotted toward him, Nuralin raised his red head and cast a lance. The old Torgut was watchful and slipped to one side in the saddle, allowing the shaft to flash past his ribs. The belt of Nuralin Khan was still filled with an assortment of weapons; for an instant he hesitated which to draw.

And now a strange thing happened. Ubaka's sword was in its scabbard. Seeing this, the red-headed khan took his time. He drew out a long pistol, cocked it, sighted, and pulled the trigger. Ubaka was not ten feet away. The onlookers heard the click of steel striking flint, but there was no report. The plunge across the ford had dampened the priming in the weapon.

Quickly Nuralin Khan dropped the useless firearm, and his hands darted to knife and sword hilt. At the same time the Torgut chief reached forward and caught the wrists of his foe, pinning them down.

"Slayer of my son," he said slowly, "taste what ye have stored up for others."

With the words, he leaned toward the Kirghiz, putting the whole of his strength into his grip. The face of Nuralin Khan grew redder slowly. Once he spat into the eyes of Ubaka. But the old Torgut had no need to see what was to be done. The muscles behind each shoulder blade stood out in cords down to his belt. His head sank as his shoulders stiffened.

Billings saw the hands of Nuralin Khan wrenched loose from the weapon hilts. The Kirghiz was bent back over the high crupper of his saddle until his fingers quivered and his teeth gritted as the wooden edge cut into the small of his back.

Meanwhile he had succeeded in freeing his feet from the stirrups. Maddened by pain, he twisted to win free, failed, and struck his pony in the neck with a spurred heel. The horse started forward. And Ubaka changed his grip.

One of his vise-like hands thrust under the beard of the Kirghiz giant; the other fastened behind the head. As the pony slipped out from under the Kirghiz and the man fell back, Ubaka gave a wrench.

Billings heard two sharp snapping sounds. One of Ubaka's stirrups had broken under the strain, and the neck of Nuralin Khan had broken.

The Torgut let the body of his enemy fall to earth and looked at it a while, breathing heavily. Without drawing a weapon the Khan of the Torguts had slain an experienced fighter, heavily armed and desperate.

To escape the rush of the Torguts, the Kirghiz who had been awaiting the fate of their leader fled into the forest. As his men came up, Ubaka halted them.

"Find Loosang," he commanded.

This suited Billings exactly, and he followed the others up the mountain slope along a track beaten down by the Kirghiz. Regardless of the fighting still going on to the right and left, the Tatars pressed on. The head of Ubaka Khan nodded as he rode, and the Khan from weariness slept in the saddle. But he was alert at any noise nearby.

A sulking Tajik pointed out the way that Loosang had taken, up one of the gorges, and before long they sighted the blue robe of a priest fluttering into the bushes ahead of them. With a cry the Tatars spurred on.

The bushes gave upon a clearing surrounded on all sides by pines, from which the whole of the Kara-su could be seen far below them. Here the gylong was cornered, but he was not Loosang.

No one paid any attention to him at first. In her bedraggled garments of the temple, Nadesha faced them, a knife in her small fist and her brown eyes glowing with hatred, until she caught sight of their Tatar dress and the big bulk of Ubaka Khan.

On the ground at her feet lay Alashan. One arm was thrown across his eyes as if to shield them from the sun. His right hand gripped the length of a lama's long trumpet midway between mouthpiece and flare.

Beside him was stretched the lifeless body of a gylong. The grass of the clearing was trampled and crushed as if many feet had stood upon it and moved about.

Without a word Ubaka Khan thrust aside those in front of him and dismounted, bending over the form of his son. Nadesha fell on her knees and attempted to free Alashan's hand from the horn.

"See, my lord," she said, "with this trumpet Alashan slew the gylong who lies here. Then they struck at him with swords so that he fell."

"Tell your story," ordered Ubaka.

"You have heard the tale of Captain Beel-ing, my lord." She looked at the mapmaker and then down at the boy. "You know that we were brought here, captives. The lama, Loosang, would not entrust me to any but his own men. They told us we would see the Tatar clans surprised at the fords of the Kara-su. Alashan said no word to me of what he meant to do."

She pointed down at the river.

"Here we were stationed, under guard of the lamas. When the first clan of the Horde crossed the river, the men from Sonkor began to watch eagerly through the trees. Those who had Alashan between them also watched. One he pushed aside and from the other he wrested this horn, which sounds a great blast. He blew it, once loudly, then again, before they cut him down."

"Ha!"

"It made the priests very much afraid, because they believed that Nuralin Khan would ride upon them and kill them for permitting the warning to be given. So they ran away into the bushes; but Nuralin Khan did not come because the fighting began almost at once. I waited here, keeping the sun from Alashan, who is sorely hurt."

Then for the first time Ubaka Khan's hand felt of the chest of the boy, and his fingers were thrust into the cuts to learn how deep they might be. Under the rude touch Alashan writhed and opened his eyes.

"Build you a horse litter," the Khan commanded his followers, "and see that he is taken to my tent. Tell the women to dress his wounds, for they are deep and half the blood is out of his body. But he will not die, for he is strong-strong."

Ubaka rose, and he held his chin high. Then the Tatar nobles spoke the words for which he was listening.

"The boy is a man in all things," they said, one after the other. "He is wise, because he saw the trick that we did not see ... Alone he went among our enemies ... They could not kill him ... he is a khan.

"Ahatou-Alasshan!" they repeated.

Even as they spoke, a blue-clad figure crept from among the Tatars and began kissing the boots of Ubaka Khan. It was the gylong, and his face was quivering with a fearful eagerness.

"Oh mighty Khan, ruler of unexampled benevolence-fortunate father of such a son-spare my life! You follow Loosang, and I saw where he went. It was that way!"

The priest pointed into the pines. Ubaka looked at him a moment in silence. Suddenly he stooped, caught up the bronze horn in one hand. Lifting it above his head, the Khan brought down the heavy end on the crown of the gylong.

The skull of the traitor was crushed inward. Ubaka hurled the trumpet into the bushes and strode toward his horse. The sight of his son had driven all thought of Loosang for the moment from his mind.

"The men have called him Khan," he repeated to himself. "So, he shall ride with me."

Down below them the firing had died out at last, and the Tatars were in possession of the river. But Billings had not forgotten the lama. He had noted carefully the direction the gylong had pointed out, and now turned to see how Alashan was faring. To his surprise the eyes of the boy were fastened on him. He beckoned Billings nearer.

"My father has called me a man," he whispered. "I give you thanks and honor for your ride to the Horde with the word of peril. And when my wounds are healed you and I will cross swords until one of us lies on the ground. I have sworn it."

His glance strayed to Nadesha.

Billings started to laugh and then grew thoughtful. He explained to the boy that, although he liked Nadesha immensely, he did not woo her, and that Nadesha herself loved only the son of the Khan. But Alashan shook his head.

"She has made you her anda, and henceforth her life must belong to one of us only. The swords will point the way."

By now the litter of boughs was finished, and Alashan was placed on it. The movement rendered him unconscious. As the Tatars were slinging the litter between two ponies, Billings, who had been standing in a brown study, glanced at the boy, but, perceiving that he was beyond reach of words, turned to Nadesha.

"I am not going to fight Alashan," he said in Russian, "after all this. There is a way out. I am leaving the Horde. Ubaka has said that I am no longer a prisoner." He pointed to the unconscious boy. "See, the son of the Khan wears your girdle, Nadesha."

For an instant her brown eyes dwelled on his, and she held out a slim hand.

"May the way be open before you, my brother."

But even as she spoke, she hurried after the litter, scolding the men for shaking the boughs and urging them to ride carefully. Billings thought briefly of his belongings-if they still existed-somewhere in the Horde, and of horses, supplies, necessary for his hazardous trip back along the road of the Torguts.

Ubaka, however, was out of sight, and there was something Billings planned to do that would not wait.

An hour later Billings had reached the edge of a ravine where the boles of the great hemlocks were close together and their branches formed a roof that made the light dim. For some time he had followed a faint track that had now lost itself among the rocks. Down the steep bottom of the gorge a stream rushed and roared in a series of falls.

Scanning his surroundings carefully, Billings strained his ears for any sound that might lead him to what he sought. The only movement he detected was that of some kind of a panther on a ledge under him. He could see the hide through a nest of rocks, and once he looked into its muzzle, raised toward him.

For a while he studied what he could see of the thing, and then smiled broadly.

"Gad, 'twill bear closer scrutiny!"

He tightened his sash and drew his rapier, laying the scabbard aside. Sliding, and lowering himself over the boulders, he made his way down to the ledge beside the fall of the stream.

He was within arm's reach before the hide slipped off the back of the false panther, and Loosang rose to his feet, pulling off his mask as he did so. For a moment the two regarded each other.

The lama was half-naked, the scars prominent on his tall frame. Over his waist hung an apron of skin, but his hands were empty.

"I have no weapon," he said slowly. "Come, Captain Billings, we have no quarrel, you and I. You are a giaour-I, a priest. We are wiser than the Tatars. Instead of fighting, we can share wealth together."

As Billings did not answer, he went on quickly.

"You do not believe me. But it is so. I have taken gold and silver coins enough from the Tatars to make you a rich landowner with serfs."

"I do not doubt it. But now we are going to fight-you and I-with our hands, if you have no weapon."

Loosang's lined face puckered. Billings never took his eyes from the lama's.

"Captain Billings, you are not a fool-although some would call you so. Each week, on the road of the Horde, I buried a large bag of Russian money-an official's salary, each time-under the stones of the shrines that were built where my yurt stood. I can retrace the course of the Tatars."

The lama broke off, his lips tightening. He had forgotten, as he spoke, the map that Billings had made. His hands fell to his sides.

"You see I am telling the truth. And you have seen the power of the Sonkor lamasery." Sweat glistened on his bald forehead, but his eyes were bold. "If I return there, safe, I can turn the tables on my enemies. It would be worth a fortune to you-and escort back to Russia."