The Sword Lord (29 page)

Kananda led them into the palace, through kitchens and servants quarters, heading directly toward the king's apartments and the great hall. Urgency gripped him now and he moved at a run, all attempts at stealth and secrecy forgotten. There was something harsh and ominous in the beating of the gong. The blows were too violent and too close together. They were a signal for some nameless savagery, an omen of impending disaster. Instinctively, and as though the gods had at last relented to roar a voice of warning within his mind, Kananda knew that he had to reach the great audience hall with all possible speed.

Fear spurred him on and he ran almost blindly until he reached a point where two corridors converged. There, he collided heavily with another running man, almost impaling the other on his sword as they tumbled over together. Nimble as a cat, Kananda spun onto his feet again, his sword ready to thrust and finish deliberately what had so nearly happened by accident. Then he stayed his hand and checked his followers as he recognized the panic-stricken face and popping eyes of his half brother.

“Rajar ! What is happening? Where are you going?”

The young prince was momentarily incapable of speech. He struggled to his feet and Kasim and Gujar helped him to stand. He hung between them, white-faced and gasping.

“Rajar,” Kananda demanded in exasperation. “Why is the gong sounding?”

Rajar swallowed hard, his throat moving as he sought desperately to gather his scattered wits. He was convinced in his own terrified mind that the gong was sounding for his own sins. The gods had somehow discovered his part in the attempted assassination of their leader and now they were summoning him to meet the same brutal justice that had been dispensed upon the luckless lord of Gandhar. With this fear in mind, he had been fleeing the palace, but these were things he dared not reveal to Kananda.

“Prince Rajar.” Kasim was shaking him gently and repeating Kananda's question. “Why does the king call an assembly?”

“It is not the command of Kara-Rashna that sounds the gong.” Rajar found his voice at last. “The blue-skinned ones sound the gong. They call the princes and the nobles to their deaths.”

“How? Why?” There was a steel band around Kananda's heart and he hardly knew how to ask the questions.

“Last night the great gong sounded,” Rajar told them hoarsely. “We all went to the great hall to answer the summons. One of the blue-skinned ones was sounding the gong. Then they killed the lord of Gandhar with their white fire weapons. None of us could prevent it. None of us could avenge him. Now the gong sounds again. I fear it is to kill more of us.”

Gujar had turned deathly pale. He pulled on Rajar's arm, turning the young prince to face him. “My father,” he said in stunned disbelief. “They have killed my father?”

Rajar nodded, a cold fist was twisting his entrails and he did not dare look into the son's eyes. “It is so, my friend—you are Lord of the House of Gandhar now.”

Tears filled Gujar's eyes. His body trembled and his hand became ice-white around the hilt of his sword.

“They killed my father—why?”

“I—I do not know.” The lie almost choked him. He sought frantically to evade any further interrogation on that delicate matter and turned back to Kananda. “There is more—the one called Thorn has raped and murdered our sister Namita.”

Kananda stared at him, now the colour was draining from his face and an awful sickness filled his stomach. His heart seemed to stop beating. He said slowly, “Namita—our pure little Namita, so young, so innocent—she is dead?”

Rajar nodded again. “Foully violated—and foully murdered. He choked her to death.”

“And the name of this monster?”

“Thorn,” Rajar repeated.

“Thorn.” Kananda echoed. And the sickness faded in his stomach, to be replaced by a slow swelling wave of righteous and unrestrained fury. His blood flowed hot and his heart began to beat again with the grim, measured thud of a giant war drum.

“Fear not, brave brother.” His left hand gripped Rajar's shoulder. “Now you do not have to go alone to the audience hall. You can come with us.”

The grip was released and Kananda ran onward. Kasim, Gujar and the three Alphans hurried at his heels. Rajar gaped at the silver-suited strangers and then realized with an awful shock that the rest the warriors were deferentially waiting for him to precede them in Kananda's wake.

Nobody had yet realized that Rajar had been running away and so reluctantly he was forced to join them.

 

 

 

This time it was Garl who was sounding the great gong. Raven reclined on Kara-Rashna's throne as before, his fingers idly caressing the polished ivory arms. Thorn and Taron stood on either side of him, arms folded across their chests, calmly waiting.

For several minutes, it seemed that this time they had misjudged the rulers of Karakhor and that no one was willing to respond. Then Jahan stepped grim-faced into the great hall. The warmaster general wore his best uniform, the tiger emblem snarling from his breast, the fire-red gemstone blazing in his turban and the great ruby-hilted sword at his hip. He stopped, facing the Gheddans, saying nothing, folding his own arms and waiting in turn.

There was a movement in the outer corridor. Raven glimpsed a warrior moving into position behind the doorway. The man carried a bow and arrows. Raven's eyes narrowed. The old war-dog was learning. This time he brought not swordsman but archers, numbers unknown, and keeping just out of sight. The decision to kill this old man was a sound one; he possessed a stubborn fighting spirit which could prove dangerous even on this backward planet.

Kara-Rashna came next, dragging his crippled left leg and assisted by only one young warrior from his guard. He wore his best royal finery, a silk turban that was so heavily encrusted with jewels that it flashed back the flickering torch-light in all directions and sheathed at his hip was his sword.

The princes Sanjay and Devan arrived in almost the same moment to stand on either side of their brother and king, each of them looking only slightly less resplendent.

Jahan spared them a fleeting look that was a heavy combination of disapproval, anguish and pride. He had advised strongly against their presence, insisting that this time he should go alone to discover what new atrocity the blue-skinned ones intended. Kara-Rashna had considered carefully but then rejected his general's advice. If his rule was ended, then let it be so. Let the House of Karakhor fall but he would not let it be known that he was afraid to face his enemy in his own palace. Neither would he allow his old friend to die in his place. Once the king's will was spoken, the princes had steadfastly determined to accompany him.

Jahan had been unable to stop them, although he had hurried ahead to post his best archers in the adjacent corridors. He was not sure that they could do anything against the white firebolts but at least arrows flew further than swords. If he kept them out of sight, they might prove a surprise factor, although he had a sinking feeling that the blue-skinned ones were already aware of them.

Raven made no move, although Thorn and Taron had now drawn their hand-lazers. Garl tired of beating the gong, deciding that it had already been sounded enough and threw down the hammer. He turned to face the four who had answered its summons and he too drew his hand lazer. Still Raven waited.

A few more minutes passed, and then Nirad appeared, pale-faced but bravely taking his place beside his father and his uncles. Jahan looked at the boy and groaned. This one he might have saved with a direct order to hide or quit the palace but he had not realized that the young prince had so much courage. Now it was too late.

Raven waited another minute, and then decided that this small assembly was large enough. Those not brave enough to respond to the gong for the second time would do little enough harm if they were left alive.

He rose to his feet and drew his own hand lazer. He intended no ceremony but simply to give the order to fire. The command almost reached his lips but then there was a movement and a loud, ringing voice of defiance behind him.

“Hold cowards of Ghedda! I am Kananda, First Prince of Karakhor! I challenge the one named Thorn to combat by the sword!”

The men of Karahhor recognized the voice and the Gheddans knew enough of the Alphan tongue to understand the words. All turned sharply to see Kananda step through one of the narrow side doors that were on either side of the hall behind the dais and the throne. He moved through the high, carved columns that supported the great dome and circled to the front of the dais, his sword drawn and gripped firmly in his right hand.

“I seek the one called Thorn,” he repeated coldly. “I seek the cowardly murderer of my sister Namita. By your own code—by your own Gheddan law—I challenge him to combat by the sword.”

He was one man, a stranger with one blade, standing between four leveled lazers and the men who had been condemned to die. But he had issued a sword challenge and it could not be denied. Suddenly all of Gheddan pride and honour was at stake.

“I am Thorn!”

The Swordmaster holstered his lazer and drew his own long blade. He moved to the edge of the dais, paused and flickered one brief glance to his commander.

Raven frowned but then nodded. There was no doubt in his mind that Thorn could kill any swordsman that this planet might produce.

“Do it quickly.” he ordered. “Do not play with him. We do not have time to waste.”

Thorn grinned and stepped down from the platform.

 

 

 

Concealed in the corridor behind the doorway on the opposite side of the hall to which Kananda had entered, Zela was seething with acute frustration. Kananda had chosen to split his small force, taking Kasim and Kyle and half the warriors to one side of the hall and entrusting Gujar with the task of leading her and Blair and the rest to the other side. It made sense to try and trap the Gheddans between a crossfire of lazer beams and so Zela had agreed.

What she had not realized was that Kananda had intended to challenge Thorn. Perhaps the idea had not even occurred to him until after they had parted. She had known in her own mind that she would challenge Raven if the opportunity arose, but theirs had been the longer route and she had arrived bare seconds too late. She had taught Kananda too well on the code of their enemies and he had stolen the opportunity from her.

Now she could only wait and struggle to contain her bitter disappointment. The audience hall could only contain one duel at a time, but perhaps her chance would come after Kananda's battle was decided. Then she could call on Raven to settle her own account for Lorin.

In the meantime, she had to remember that this was not just a personal vendetta. She motioned Blair to take up a position on the opposite side of the corridor so that they had this doorway covered from both sides. Through the doorway, half hidden by columns, she could see the doorway where Kananda had made his entrance on the far side of the hall. There was no movement there but she trusted that Kyle was in position with a lazer in his hand.

Her field of vision through the doorway covered only the back end of the hall, behind the throne and the dais. She could not see what was taking place on and before the dais, but the furious clash of swords told her that the duel had commenced.

 

 

 

Thorn had decided upon a swift, savage onslaught to hack open his opponent's defence and then a neat groin thrust to finish. Kananda wore no body armour and a skewering through the groin was an agonizing way to die. That, Thorn was confident, would teach this upstart challenger the lesson he deserved. He charged with blade whirling and the ferocity of his attack carried Kananda back across the room.

Kananda deliberately gave ground. He knew the Gheddans prided themselves upon their sword skill and he sought to lure his enemy into over-confidence. Thorn's blade crashed against his own in a series of lightning blows which it seemed that Kananda was barely able to match. The Gheddan had superb wrist and arm control and the speed of his sword was like a blur of light. The ring of steel upon steel was echoed in the vast, domed chamber above their heads and was carried outwards over the shocked city. For several terrible minutes, Kananda seemed to reel before Thorn's assault and then his blade was struck aside. Thorn drew back and lunged with all his strength. In that second, Kananda was moving like an uncoiling cobra. His body shifted sideways to let Thorn's sword-point dart harmlessly past the outside of his hip and, like the cobra's strike, his own sword was flashing at Thorn's throat. Thorn knew that he had been tricked and instinctively let his body follow through, diving down onto his knees and rolling his body forward. He avoided death by a hairsbreadth, continued rolling clear and scrambled quickly to his feet.

His tumble had taken him close to Jahan and the two princes. Three hands automatically reached for their swords and three hand-lazers swung to hold them in check.

“Jahan! Uncles!” Kananda called sharply. “Do not interfere. This battle is mine.”

Jahan nodded slowly and pushed back his sword. Sanjay and Devan did the same. They understood the principles of gladiatorial combat.

Thorn was breathing heavily now and treating Kananda with caution and a new found respect. They circled each other warily, blades weaving patterns of temptation and challenge.

On the dais, Raven was again frowning slightly. This was going to take a little longer than he had anticipated and he too was sensing the need for caution. There was also a warning thought in his mind. This challenger was Hindu, another prince of this city, but he had issued his challenge in the Alphan tongue. He could only have learned that from an Alphan, which meant that he had Alphan friends. Perhaps they were close.

Garl and Taron were closely watching the sword fight and the small knot of Karakhoran rulers. So Raven half turned to keep watch on the rear of the audience hall where Kananda had made his unexpected entry. He silently willed Thorn to make haste.