The Balintol Cycle I

Chapter one-2

I caught Fweygo’s eye and jerked my head sideways. He frowned and shook his head, looked away. Whatever plans were afoot, he was too conscious of his obligations to the Star Lords to cause unnecessary trouble.

Because this world was Kregen where just about anything can happen, and in the words of the immortal song, probably will, the opposition menacing us could range from monsters to demons to regiments of demented archers. A soft tap on the outer door caused Nandisha to start up, trembling. Her face turned pale. Ranaj went swiftly to the door, the sword once more in his fist, and opened the panel a crack. A few words were spoken low-voiced and he turned back. “The animals are here.”

Once action was upon them these people did not waste time. Ranaj’s wife, whom he addressed as Serinka, brought the children out. They were all of an age, around seven or eight, and these unusual proceedings kept their eyes half-open despite their drowsiness. The four adults took a child each, leaving me the only childless person in the room. Ranaj led off out.

We went the opposite way along the corridor, through a low doorway and down an outside flight of steps. Moonlight tinged everything a mellow ruddy pink and I kept an eye on the shadows.

Two figures held the reins of five freymuls. No one spoke a word. The freymul, a useful saddle animal often called the poor man’s zorca, comes normally in a chocolaty brown hide; these were more creamy. Assisted by the silent hostlers the party mounted. I felt the animal between my knees and although I guessed I’d have the worst animal, hoped he would prove not too bad. With a soft “tchk, tchk,” Ranaj started off for the open gate of the yard. Smells of wine faded and the odors of the town strengthened.

Spots of rain started to fall. The children were swathed in the adults’ riding cloaks. I had no cloak. My tunic began to get soaked.

Riding gently we went along the side alleyway towards that noxious alley where Fweygo had dealt with the two footpads.

I rode last.

Needless to say my head kept screwing around to survey the backtrail and every pink-tinged shadow was closely scrutinized.

Ahead a wider street with a few lamps guttering and splintering the falling rain into lances of multicolored fire offered better going. Fweygo gentled his freymul alongside mine and we rode stirrup to stirrup.

The child he carried had at last fallen asleep. He spoke so that only I could hear.

“We should get a voller at Bharang. After that the trip to the capital should not be difficult. Bharang’s about eighty or so dwaburs off. Keep your eyes and ears open.”

One useful thing about having four arms like a Kildoi is that you can grasp the reins, hold a child, and still have spare hands to grip weapons. In addition that cunning tail hand can give your mount a thwack or two to get him moving along smartly. Apims like me with only two arms and no tail are sometimes at a severe disadvantage on Kregen.

I said: “Who are these people afraid of? Who’s chasing them?”

“Their flier broke down and they made an emergency landing here. Nandisha’s uncle just died. There are dynastic problems. The Everoinye were vague on the point.”

I refused to say anything like: “By Krun! How unusual!”

Mind you, the Star Lords probably confided a whole encyclopedia of information to this golden Kildoi Fweygo. They usually didn’t even bother to let me look at the first page.

Even so, even so, they had acted in a vastly different way of late. Gently gently was the way ahead in my relations with the Star Lords.

“We’ll have to cross one of the bridges to head west.” Fweygo did not sound too concerned. “Unless Ranaj has organized a boat.”

Looking rearwards along the street I could make out a few people moving about and a party of riders just appearing around a corner some hundred yards off. There were four of them and they were muffled in cloaks. That, I told myself, was because of the rain. They trotted gently along after us.

Our little party turned left down a street where the overhanging wooden houses cast deep serrated shadows. The center of the roadway ran with water. Ahead the river wall showed a humped tower block guarding the gateway.

That part of the problem of tonight’s expedition was down to Ranaj in the lead. I fancied he’d carry enough authority and conviction for the task. A glance back confirmed the four riders had followed us around the corner. In the lead Ranaj turned left again at a slight angle away from the bridge. Here we passed between miserable buildings, little more than tumbledown huts, sagging in the rain. Mud squelched beneath the freymul’s hooves. I hunched down in my soggy tunic and watched the backtrail.

The four riders did not appear. If they were following us, and given the usual desperate nature of these ventures of mine upon Kregen, they probably were, they could have cut down a parallel alleyway to reach the river.

“A boat, then,” said Fweygo.

I said: “Four riders. They may be following.”

Fweygo instantly switched around to look back. He shook his head. We went on through the rain towards the river.

The tangle of huts ended untidily against a shining expanse of mud where the town wall reared black by the river bank. Nets were hanging up on wooden racks. Small skiff-like boats lay pulled up onto the mud. Their exit onto the river lay through a small gate of iron bars beneath an arch under the wall. The whole set up would not be tolerated in Vallia. All the same, that was our way out.

The man who shambled across to meet us was a Gon with a cloak pulled up over his bald head. His eyes were red, his nose was red, and from time to time he sneezed like one of Congreve’s rockets going off.

He indicated the boat we were to use. We never used it.

Even as Ranaj had one foot on the mud, the other still in the stirrup, a most ferocious bellowing uproar spouted up. Dark figures appeared over the wall directly to our front. In the glinting pink spears of the rain other and far more lethal spears glittered. A single glance, a simple deduction, were all that were required to assess the situation.

The Gon shrieked out: “Pirates!” and dashed madly back into the shadows past the nets.

Ranaj yelled: “Numi Hyrjiv! Back, back, now!”

He regained his saddle still cradling the infant. The princess stuttered out some incoherent cry. Ranaj seized her bridle and in an instant whisked the animal about, fairly dragging freymul and rider by main force.

Fweygo snatched at the other animal, leading Serinka as her husband led Nandisha. The whole party spurred back towards the huts.

The raiders swarmed over the wall, dropping down like ripe black flies. They made huge squelching sounds. Maybe they did not expect to find this expanse of mud within the walls; no doubt I would not have, it was not usual. Whatever — the obstacle gave us time to start off. The freymul is a willing animal if not as powerful as one might wish, and these five responded. We dashed back past the nets towards the low huts.

A few arrows went flick flick past; but the rain would interfere with serious shooting this night.

The raiders must have pulled up the river after dark and were now intent on butchery and pillage. Pirates were the reason Amintin was situated ten miles up river from the coast and why no windows were pierced in the lower floors of larger buildings. No doubt the watch on the walls had been sheltering from the wet. What mattered now was that the pirates were in the town and we had not found a way out.

From squelchy sloshings to staccato raps the freymuls’ hooves traversed mud and cobbles. Uproar surrounded us as the good folk of Amintin awoke to the ghastly realization of what was about to befall them.

Of one thing I felt sure as we racketed along towards the main street: this unholy lot ravening at our heels would not be the only pack of reivers to climb the walls this dark and stormy night.

As though Pixirr the god of mischief listened to my thoughts a mob of terrified Amintins stumbled up from the next side street and pursuing them with zest and venom a whole horde of reivers barred our way ahead.

Ranaj roared: “This way!”

He yanked his animal around and dragging Nandisha’s freymul hurtled straight across the muddy street. Fweygo followed with Serinka. Knowing my place in their scheme of things I, as usual, brought up the rear.

Where the arrow came from that pierced Nandisha’s freymul not even the most senior and devoted follower of Erthanfydd could have told. Quite possibly the shaft had been let fly by a frenzied townsman or woman. The result was Nandisha and the child toppling into the mud and Fweygo having the dickens of a job avoiding a catastrophic collision.

The poor freymul lay kicking his legs in spasm. Ranaj was rumbling incoherently and Serinka started to climb down to attend her mistress. I was there before her. The princess started up, still clutching the child.

“You are unharmed?”

“I — I think so—”

The bedlam at our backs increased. There was no time. I lifted her, and in Zair’s good truth there was not much to her, and hoisted her onto my animal. Through it all she did not relinquish her grasp on the child.

Fweygo snarled something and I hurled back at him: “Ride, Fweygo!”

I gave the freymul a thumping great thwack over his rump and he started off with Nandisha holding on like a drunk holding onto a barstool.

“Drajak!” yelled Fweygo.

Ranaj dropped the wounded freymul’s reins and sent his animal after Nandisha. Serinka said nothing. “Drajak!” shouted Fweygo again.

“Ride!” I roared up at him. “You know why!”

Even then I saw his Kildoi face twisted in indecision. Maybe he had never been disciplined by the Star Lords as I had; he certainly would not be banished four hundred light years across empty space in punishment. Running from a fight and abandoning a friend, of however recent an acquaintance, was not in his nature. But, as a good kregoinye, he understood what must be done when the Everoinye ordered.

“I’ll see you later.” As I spoke I dragged out the sword furnished me by the Star Lords.

“Yes, Drajak,” he said, turning his animal and hauling Serinka along. “Yes. Make sure you do, make very sure.” Then he galloped off.

So I turned to see what the devil I could make of this perilous situation.

Pirates were, it seemed in the erratic pink moonlight, running everywhere. Townsfolk screamed and fled and were cut down. One or two houses were already alight despite the rain and there would soon be illumination enough to see how to get oneself killed with no trouble.

The reivers had to be stopped from following Fweygo. That was my job. That task was down to me.

Objects became easier to see as the fires gained and the rain eased. The smell of wetness and of burning hung over the town. Directly opposite me the mouth of the alley down which Ranaj had led the rest of our party was where I had to make my stand. I had no bow, unfortunately. Well, if this was the way of it on Kregen, and this my doom and fate, then so be it. I’d do what I could before they cut me down.

Pulling back my shoulders I started off. I, Dray Prescot, Lord of Strombor and Krozair of Zy, strode off to make a valiant last stand.

My foot slipped on a patch of evilly glistening mud and over I went, twisting to regain my balance, to land smack on my back like an upended turtle.

So much for gallant exhibitionism!