The Blood-stained Belt (11 page)

‘I’m just
telling you what Zaliek said.’

‘Well, it’s too
damn late now, isn’t it?’ Sharma licked his lips, grunted gloomily,
and hitched up his breastplate. The line of Dornite infantry was
moving towards us at a steady trot. My stomach tightened and I
muttered, ‘Oh, man, may Zabrazal protect us. We’re going to need
it.’

Sharma snorted.
‘Zabrazal might not be with us.’

‘What do you
mean?’

‘Izebol
performed a sacrifice.’ He licked his lips again.

‘Yes? So
what?’

‘The omens
weren’t favourable.’

‘What?! We’re
going into battle against the omens?’

Sharma shrugged
and said grimly, ‘That’s what Zaliek said.’

I cursed as
heartily as I ever had before or since. ‘Is Vaxili crazy, sending
us into battle against the omens?’ Sharma just shrugged grimly. I
asked, 'What does Izebol say about it?'

Sharma’s mouth
tightened and he muttered, ‘Zaliek says that Izebol has no say in
the matter. Vaxili told Izebol to keep out of the army’s
affairs.’

‘Oh, that’s a
great move, just when we need all the help that we can get. Hey,
man, isn’t that a really great move?’ Sharma just grunted again
while I cursed. ‘Damn! Against the omens! I can’t believe it.’

Sharma nodded
even more gloomily and, as he eyed the inexorably advancing line,
muttered, 'We don't need the omens to tell us that we're heading
for trouble.' For about the tenth time in five minutes, he hitched
up his breastplate, scratched under his helmet strap, and licked
his lips. In spite of my own stomach-wrenching, skin-scratchy
apprehension, I was comforted to see that the normally cool-headed
Sharma was as skittish as a colt.

Suddenly we
heard shouted commands from the enemy force. The Dornite line
trembled like silver foil shaken in the wind and the soldiers
increased their pace. A subdued rustling whisper reached our ears,
like wind rushing down a distant mountain side. It was the soughing
of thousands of men advancing at a quick trot, line abreast,
through knee-high grass. Then we heard the sound of the Dornite’s
war chant – a steady, rhythmical hymn that rolled with a deep
underlying menace. Until then, we could have been involved in war
games, doing nothing more serious than feinting and maneuvering.
Now, as the war chant rolled in our ears, it was confirmed to us –
seriously, deeply, with utmost conviction – that within a few
minutes we would be the targets of heavily armed men who intended
to kill us, maim us, or, if they overcame us and we survived, take
us into slavery. Quiet fell like a sodden sheet across the army of
Keirine – a deep, reflective silence.

With his eyes
fixed on the approaching Dornites, Sharma murmured, ‘Vaxili said
that the omens only meant that Izebol and the other priests should
get off the battle field and leave the army to conduct its own
affairs.’

My mouth was
dry, my pulse was throbbing, and my skin was as prickly as if I had
rolled all night in a bed of cactus. I muttered with conviction,
‘It sounds like damn good advice. If Izebol has any sense, he’ll
get out of here as fast as he can.’

The Dornites
attacked with their infantry in the centre and then sent their
cavalry to harass our left flank. Our men fought bravely enough but
inexperience soon showed. When our centre began to fall back, our
commanders failed to notice that the line between the centre and
the flank was stretching thin. It was the signal for the Dornites
to unleash their chariots. There were only about thirty chariots
but that was more than enough. Our men knew nothing about facing
horse-drawn armour and the chariots crashed right through our line
and wheeled for a new assault. The cavalry followed, our left flank
was isolated, and our disarrayed centre had to fall back even
further to ward off the new attack. When the chariots scythed
through us from the rear, our centre crumbled and the battle was as
good as over.

On the right
flank, we withstood the Dornite infantry until we were exposed by
the defeat of our centre. After that, it took only one rush by the
chariots to tear our ranks to shreds. Following the example of the
rest of the army, we broke and ran. Within seconds, our unit
deteriorated into a scrambling mob of terrified men, screaming,
shoving each other aside and abandoning wounded comrades to their
fate. Terror, which had been battened down until that moment, burst
forth with energising force and infused us with life-preserving
energy. In short, we ran for our lives.

Sharma and I
fled together along with men from our squad. Sharma pointed up the
slope and panted, ‘Get as high as possible.’ He was right. Being
more heavily armed than we were, the Dornites wouldn’t easily
follow us into the higher parts of the hills. We scrambled up
slopes and crags, panting, cursing, tearing our fingers to shreds
and lacerating our knees and shins as we pulled ourselves
upward.

After about
twenty minutes we stopped to catch our breaths. Looking down from
the hillside, we viewed the carnage that was going on below us on
the broad floor of the valley. Suddenly, from behind us, someone
growled, ‘Where’s the rest of the squad?’ It was Zaliek, looking at
us grimly.

I replied,
‘There are some more men coming up the hill, commander.’

From behind a
boulder, Zaliek peered down the hillside. He cursed and said, ‘If
that’s all that’s left of you lot, I’ll have to get another job.’
Then he grunted approvingly and observed, ‘You’ve still got your
weapons, eh? At least I taught you something useful.’ He surveyed
us sadly and shook his head mournfully. ‘Damn fool tactics, taking
on the Dornites at their own game. A hard lesson, not so?’

About half of
our squad survived the battle. Zaliek got us together and led us
further into the hills where he settled us down in a protected
position and posted scouts, instructing them to report any approach
by the Dornites. We were still there when night fell. Zaliek
withdrew the scouts, saying, ‘The Dornites won’t attack in the
dark, even if they know where we are – which I doubt.’ He unslung
his sword, stretched, rubbed the back of his neck, and said, ‘We’ll
stay here until first light and then we’ll head for Koraina. We
should be all right if we stay on the high ground.’

Half admiringly
and half resentfully, Sharma asked him, ‘Is this in your contract,
commander?’

Zaliek scowled
and replied truculently, 'No, but I won’t have a job if the
Dornites wipe out my unit, will I?’

We settled down
in discomfort without food, water, or protection against the chill
of the night. Sharma and I slumped against a boulder, absorbing its
warmth into our weary bodies. However, even in our exhausted
states, Sharma wouldn’t allow us to rest for long. I was half
asleep when suddenly he sat up, snapped his fingers, and asked,
‘What are the Dornites doing right now?’

‘Hmm? What does
it matter?’ I was dead tired and thoroughly drained. I just wanted
to sleep. Instead of talking about the Dornites, I wanted to forget
about them – wipe them right out of my mind – and in so doing
obliterate the memory of the day’s terror and humiliation.

‘The Dornites –
what are they doing?’

I roused myself
and growled, ‘Celebrating, of course. What else would they be
doing?’

Sharma said,
‘Exactly!’

‘Yes, exactly!
Like I said, what else?’ I closed my eyes and slid down against the
boulder.

Sharma said
thoughtfully, ‘Now is the time to strike at them.’

‘What? Attack
the Dornites? You must be crazy!’ I was so startled that I grazed
my back against the rock as I jerked upright.

Sharma replied,
‘Crazy? I don’t think so.’ He got to his feet and walked off into
the darkness while I slumped down again and dozed off.

I don’t
remember anything more until about half an hour later when Sharma
dug my ribs with his foot and called, ‘On your feet, Jina. It’s
time to move.’

‘Huh? I’m
trying to sleep, man. Leave me alone.’

Sharma crouched
and shook my shoulders. He said, ‘It’s time to move against the
Dornites.’

'The battle is
over, man. We've been defeated. Let's get some sleep.'

'The battle
might be over but there's still a war to be fought. We can harass
them enough to stop them from pursuing our men.'

I wriggled
upward against the boulder and muttered, ‘Are you serious? I
thought it was just another one of your crazy ideas.’

Zaliek loomed
over me, a dark form against the stars, and growled, ‘Volunteers
only! Are you joining us, or not?’

I yawned,
stretched, and said, ‘I guess Sharma's already volunteered me, not
so?’

Sharma chuckled
grimly and replied, ‘You’re a mind--reader, Jina.’

I yawned again,
stumbled to my feet, dusted myself off, and scowled, ‘I just hope
that I can still get some sleep tonight.’

Sharma replied
placidly, ‘I doubt it.’

Everyone
volunteered, more or less willingly, and we set off in single file
keeping to the high ground. It was a cloudless night with a quarter
moon and we were able to make good progress. After about an hour,
we reached the ridge above the Dornite camp. Concealed behind
boulders half way down the slope, we mapped out our plan of attack.
It was simple: we would divide into two groups, each with a clearly
defined mission. The larger group would set fire to the nearest
tents and kill the occupants as they emerged while the smaller
group would kill or maim as many horses as possible and stampede
the rest. We would do it as quickly as possible, restricting our
attack to easy targets, after which we would re--assemble and make
our escape. Zaliek took the lead in mapping out the plan of attack
but refused to accompany us. As he had done that morning before the
battle, he growled, ‘My contract doesn’t call for me to take part
in fighting against the Dornites.’

Our scouts
reported that it looked as if the Dornites hadn’t posted sentries.
It seemed that they were so complacent after their overwhelming
victory that they weren’t taking even elementary precautions.

Sharma and I
were in the group that attacked the tents. As we crawled towards
the camp from the bottom of the ridge, my heart was pounding and I
was heavy with the foreboding that at any moment we would be seen,
exposed as we were on open ground between the tents and the safety
of the hills. The nearer we got to the camp, the more I was
convinced that each tent contained a group of vigilant, murderous
Dornites. I visualised them licking their lips and pricking their
fingers on the points of their swords as they watched us crawling
towards them. I anticipated that they were just waiting for the
appropriate moment to rush out and slake their blood lust by
thrusting their swords and spears through our fragile bodies.

To my surprise,
nothing happened. We reached the lee of the nearest tent, stood up
cautiously, and looked around. There was still no one to be seen
although a number of men were lying asleep around the nearest fire.
Sharma whispered to me, 'By Zabrazal, they're careless bastards!
They'll pay for it. It's our turn now.' He led the way, bounding
cat-like towards the men, his swift form silhouetted against the
fire. After witnessing the disaster and slaughter of the morning, I
felt nothing but grim exultation as I plunged my sword into the
body that lay in front of me, arms flung behind his head, torso
exposed in careless sleep. I struck in vengeance for the carnage of
the day, I struck for Osicedi, I struck for the years of
humiliation, and I struck for all of Keirine. I killed four men in
quick succession and, when I looked around, I was disappointed to
see that there were no more victims to hand.

Next, we lit
faggots from the fire, divided into smaller groups, set fire to the
nearest tents, and killed the occupants as they tumbled out.
Flushed with our success, we wanted to repeat the exercise but the
noise and the flames roused the occupants of the neighbouring
tents. Sharma called off the attack and we ran back towards the
safety of the darkness.

I could see
Zaliek’s signal flickering near the top of the ridge and started to
follow the others towards it but Sharma grabbed me and said, ‘We
can do one more job before we leave.’

‘What? Are you
crazy? The whole camp is awake. Let’s get out of here!’

Sharma pointed
to a large tent that stood about thirty paces away from us and
hissed, ‘I’ll bet that’s the commander’s tent.’

I pulled loose
from Sharma's grip. Exultation had faded into apprehension. My
stomach was in a knot, I was sweating all over, and I wanted to get
away as quickly as possible. I hissed back, ‘All the more reason to
avoid it.’

‘Not so!’
Sharma pulled me onto my knees and, with his mouth next to my ear,
said, ‘Take a look. It’s unguarded. Follow me.’ Keeping low, he
flitted around the perimeter of the camp beyond the perimeter of
light. Cursing, I followed him until he stopped when there was only
one small tent between us and the large tent. I dropped onto my
stomach next to him and asked, ‘What are you planning?’

Sharma hissed,
‘Maybe can get the big one.’

I nodded
glumly, thinking that the big one was probably attended by big
danger. In my opinion, the best thing for us to do was to get out
of there fast -- but I knew that the idea would just bounce off
Sharma. He raised himself to his knees and asked, ‘Are you
ready?’

I nodded
stoically and poised myself for the sprint to the tent.

When we reached
our target, Sharma pierced the canvas with a knife and peered
through the gash. He grinned at me, nodded, and pointed. I took a
quick look and saw a man in the act of getting out of bed. While I
watched, he swung his feet onto the floor, yawned, leaned forward,
and ran his hands through his disheveled hair.