Chapter-3-1

⁠—⁠—⁠— III ⁠—⁠—⁠—

“It is the enemy!”

“It is oh-mu!”

As the exclamations echoed across the camp of the Sem, uncontrollable confusion was spreading as well. It had been already far too late when the twins of Parros carried Istavan’s warning to Loto. The Sem, simians that they were, had a far keener sense of smell than any human, and despite the Mongauli efforts to approach in silence, the Karoi, who had been sleeping on the side of the oasis closest to the impending attack, leaped up in violent surprise when the Gohran army approached. At first the warlike Sem had simply gazed about in consternation, sniffing and bristling like brute beasts, and making throaty squeaks of alarm.

Unaware that the camp was waking around them, Rinda and Remus had run to Loto, nearly falling down in their haste, never guessing that Istavan had heartlessly left them to their fate while he sought safety for himself. When they reached the Raku leader they had launched into a painstaking effort to communicate the situation to him as clearly as possible, but they had barely begun their explanation when the encampment broke into chaos around them. Gripped with fear, they turned to stare mutely into the darkness to the west. Something was happening at the outer edge of the oasis. Suddenly, piercing screams and shrill voices filled the air, mixed with the noise of hundreds of feet running. Loto’s wise old face quickly took on a grim expression.

“Siba! Siba!”

In answer to Loto’s yells, a young Raku soldier ran up, flushed with desperate excitement. The young Sem did not even seem to be aware of Rinda and Remus standing nearby, nervously holding hands. He pointed into the darkness behind him and began jabbering in a piercing voice, but the twins could understand nothing that he said. Loto screamed something back at the young warrior.

“Alphetto!” Loto screamed again, naming his god, his voice changing as if he had abruptly become enraged; then he rose to his feet. Although he stood no taller than Rinda’s chest, he carried himself with the dignity of a chieftain and his presence projected authority. Quickly Loto issued a series of commands, and by the time the disturbance the Karoi started had spread through the rest of the camp the Raku were rushing into action.

The Sem were desert savages, unfamiliar with even the most rudimentary practices of strategic warfare. So it was that they had failed to post sentries around the oasis during the night; nor had they made provisions for a skirmishing force to protect the encampment in the event of a sudden attack. Now, although they possessed better night vision than the Mongauli and they had quickly located their human foes, they lost their heads at the first sign of the unexpected onslaught. Many found that they had lost their weapons as well. Like frightened rodents in a box they rushed about, shrieking abuse and trying to snatch armaments from each other as they tripped over those who had managed to sleep through the racket. The Sem leaders shouted out a constant stream of commands in an attempt to restore order, but their efforts were in vain. Istavan’s advice, that the wildlings should betray no knowledge of the sneak attack and pretend to remain asleep in order to gain time to prepare for battle, had been given to no purpose. Had Guin been present he might have calmed the Sem and put their troops in order by the shear force of his leadership, but Loto didn’t have the same kind of influence over the other chiefs. The Karoi in particular were independent and high-spirited and didn’t cooperate well with the other Sem; the black-furred wildlings were quick to action, however, and now, just as they had been the first to grasp the situation, they overcame their confusion faster than the others. In a matter of moments their pride at being recognized as the great warriors among the Sem spurred them into readiness. While Loto was still listening to the news, the Karoi were already gathering up their axes and poisoned darts.

“Ayeeya!”

At the command of their chief Gaulo, without pausing to form any sort of battle formation, the Karoi streamed forth from the oasis.

“Follow the Karoi! Attack the enemy!” Ilateli screamed, and the Guro rushed to battle as well, with no thought of tactics or organizing their forces.

Realizing that they had lost the element of surprise, the Mongauli wasted no time in beginning their assault.

“Charge!”

“An all-out assault!”

Amnelis' commands kept flying. Astrias Corps was at the apex of the triangle formed by the advancing army, and the red knights urged their horses to a wild gallop, swiftly covering the remaining distance to the oasis. The opposing forces were now so close to each other that attempting to set traps or study each other’s maneuvers—even firing a volley of crossbow bolts—had become meaningless. The Sem and Mongauli simply crashed together and fought face to face, the two forces intermingling like contending waves. Horses’ hooves kicked sand into the air and drawn swords clanged against armor and saddles. In a matter of moments the main body of the Gohran army had reached the outer edge of the Sem encampment.

“Captain! The Sem are heading straight for us!” Pollak hollered.

“Impudent monkeys!” Astrias' voice was feverish as he shouted his reply. “We will crush them! Hold nothing back!”

The hairy mob of Sem rushed forward, brandishing their axes. With a chorus of frenzied squeals they launched themselves against the Mongauli.

“Aiiieee! Ayeeya!”

“Hiaaa! Hiaaa!”

The peculiar, brutish screams that the Mongauli had heard so many times before once again filled the air.

Astrias unsheathed his sword. “Attack! Attack! Attack!

Destroy and conquer!”

The Sem enveloped the front ranks of the Mongauli like a swarm of insects and hurled themselves upon their foes. Some of the wildlings leaped high in the air, pouncing onto the knights’ war horses, dodging the Mongauli blades and smashing down their stone axes upon their foes’ heavy helms. Others attacked from below, hewing at the horses’ legs with their axe blades or blowing poisoned darts up into their enemies’ eyes. It now appeared that the Sem’s counterattack had been prepared much more quickly than the Mongauli expected. Instead of the expected rout, a sea of violent confusion, surging in every direction, had developed in front of the oasis. Now the warriors of the Raku, Rasa, and Tubai had joined the battle as well.

“Aiiieeeya! Ayeeya!”

“Mongaul! Mongaul!”

“Hieee!”

The Sem may have looked like tiny black ants attacking massive, armored locusts, but as they rushed into the fray they showed no sign they had been badly surprised. They fought as a single, wild horde; there had been no time for them to paint their faces before the battle began, so their tribal allegiances were nearly indistinguishable in the darkness. Like countless waves they hurtled from the oasis to meet the longswords of the advancing knights, screaming out madly whether they sank their weapons home or tumbled down, stricken, upon the sand.

“Irrim Corps—forward! Irrim Corps—forward!”

“Cut off the Sem’s retreat!”

“The enemy force is unexpectedly small!”

One after another the orders flew, and the main body of the Mongauli force took the shape of a wedge and began to drive deeper into the oasis while Irrim’s corps moved out from its position as rear guard. Irrim formed his troops into a broad crescent-shaped line and began to circle around the wildling camp to intercept any retreating Sem. The Mongauli knew they no longer had the strength to pursue their enemy further into the desert interior of Nospherus, so an escape now by the Sem would cost the invaders dearly. Irrim understood the importance of his mission and he urged his men to hurry past the battle that had sprung up before them.

“Cut through the oasis! Form up in the passes beyond!” the captain of the black bellowed. “Crossbowmen, forward—footmen, deploy! Close off every pathway through those rocks!” Irrim pointed out a stony crag for his men to use as a landmark—the very crag where, unbeknownst to them, Istavan was hiding.

Meanwhile Astrias, at the forefront of the fighting, was frowning in puzzlement even as he swung his sword to right and left.

“Pollak!”

“Hiaaa!”

A Karoi warrior appeared suddenly through the predawn gloom, leaping onto the head of the young captain’s horse. Astrias pulled back sharply on the reins and cleaved the wildling with his sword, then spurred his mount into a jump to avoid the flailing stone axe of the dying Sem. Without losing his composure, the captain of the red called again for his faithful lieutenant. Pollak had kept his horse close beside Astrias' as the two cut their way through the attacking mob.

“What is it, captain?” Pollak was using his sword like a spear, skewering one Sem after another as they hurled themselves against him. Sticky blood gushed from his foes as he impaled them, and his face had turned red under his helmet from a sudden splash of gore. He spat out some curses and sat back on his horse as he wiped his face clean with the edge of his mantle.

“Don’t you think it’s strange the monstrosity isn’t here?”

“Do you mean the leopard-headed man?” Pollak had shared his young captain’s dislike for Guin from the beginning. The thought brought something else to his attention, and he looked right and left before speaking. “Yes, and have you noticed, sir? I think the Sem’s main force is still in the oasis. Probably he is with them there.”

“And he’s not the only one—I don’t see Count Marus' betrayer or the twins of Parros either. They must be keeping back among the inner ranks of the barbarians. If they were out here they’d certainly stand out.”

“They must be in the oasis.” Pollak noticed with a surge of worry that Astrias had focused single-mindedly on finding these particular foes and had left himself vulnerable to the fighting close at hand. He spurred his horse closer to call out a warning. “Captain, your back!”

“Oh!” Astrias spun in his saddle and furiously cut down a Sem who had snuck up from behind to target him with a poisoned dart. Yet even as blood spouted around his blade his attention drifted once more. “The oasis…”

The night was giving way to dawn. The sky had gone from purple to indigo, and now a lightening blue, with a line of pale brightness at the horizon. Now the Sem were clearly visible, with their bared yellow teeth and bristling black and brown hair splashed with blood. Astrias gazed out at the maelstrom of battle. The scene was truly chaotic—like a swarm of locusts struggling with a nest of ants—human soldiers mobbed by Sem warriors, Mongauli knights riding their horses over the savages as they cut them down. The Sem fought incoherently, without leadership or tactics, and the result was confusion for both sides.

“Pollak!”

“Yes, sir!”

“Let’s head for the center of the oasis.”

“Yes, sir!” Pollak raised his head and whipped his horse forward, signaling the advance.

Quickly the red knights showed the skills developed by their hard daily training, overcoming the nearby Sem and gathering their horses around their captain.

“We will charge the oasis! Our targets are the leopard-man and Eru of Argon!” Even as he spoke Astrias saw Irrim’s troops beginning to move past, through the outskirts of the battle, and let out a triumphant yell. Then he turned to look behind him and saw white mantles among the helms of the red knights and the dark hair and sun-tanned skin of the leaping Sem; it had to be Vlon and Lindrot, at the fore of Amnelis' command, come up to support his own corps and the remnant of Leegan’s. Victory is inevitable. Our Mongauli army cannot fail to defeat these poorly equipped savages. Unless there is some unforeseen counterattack, or they have made some cunning plan, we are going to carry the day with a simple frontal assault. Astrias grinned with satisfaction under his visor.

“Hear me, knights of Mongaul! Let us make this day the last day of the Sem!”

“Aye!”

Astrias heard his men cheer with approval and dug in his spurs.

“To the oasis!”

With their captain in the lead, the corps of red knights galloped through the chaos at the forefront of the battle and pressed on into the oasis. Sem warriors rushed at them from right and left in an attempt to halt their advance.

“Ayeeya!”

“Aiieee!”

Masses of the simian wildlings gathered on the approaches to the encampment, waving their stone axes threateningly. The red knights urged their horses to still greater speed and whirled their longswords overhead.

“Yaaaa—!”

A band of Karoi fell with heartrending cries as they were caught and ridden down by the sturdy hooves of the horses.

“Get out of my way!”

Astrias spurred on his horse with ferocious vigor, taking the first path he found into the oasis. A body of knights followed close behind him. Soon they were galloping past an irregularly shaped shallow pond filled with brownish water and surrounded by trees and a dense tangle of underbrush. As they neared the thickest part of the brush they found that the Sem had awaited their arrival and laid an ambush there; the wildlings opened fire with their blow guns, unleashing a fatal hail of poison darts at the red knights at the head of the column. The darts hissed through the air like the breath of a snake; Astrias pulled down his visor and lay his head alongside the neck of his horse to protect his face, but did not slow his pace.

“Kyaaa—!”

A Sem’s fanatical scream ended abruptly as Astrias' sword struck home. The wildling fell back into the water at the edge of the pond, a fountain of blood spraying from his split skull to dye the stagnant water. Other red knights fanned out on either side of the path, some riding their mounts noisily right into the pond, wasting the water that was so precious here in the barren desert. The horses’ hooves pulled up mud and sand from the pond bottom and churned the waters into murky, roiling waves that soon turned crimson from the bright blood of the dying Sem.

“Hiyaaa!”

“Aiieee!”

The Raku threw aside their blowguns and leaped to attack with stone axes. Astrias gazed about wildly while trying to keep his attention on the Sem. Guin remained uppermost in his mind—he could not forget the insult the towering warrior had dealt him—but he did not spy the striking leopard-headed figure anywhere. Neither could he find the double-crossing false blue knight. The only figures in sight were the small hairy things running through the grass of the oasis, screaming in their strange voices as they attacked. Something suspicious was going on, and the shadow of doubt settled uneasily on the young captain. They’re not here? It cannot be—that would mean this is not the Sem’s main force. But there are some thousands here! Surely there can’t be too many more of them…

“Watch out!”

Astrias heard Pollak’s cry of warning and his well-trained body reacted instantly, ducking to avoid a stone axe by a finger’s breadth. Then as the primitive weapon whistled past he adeptly changed the direction of his horse even as he split another little skull with his sword. Is he plotting something? Is he directing these monkey-folk from some secret hideout while he plans some sinister counter-stroke an ordinary human couldn’t even imagine? He could not get the anxious thought out of his head.

“Guin!” Astrias roared. “Guin, where are you?” He galloped across the narrow end of the pond and up the far bank, streaming with water. “Are you hiding, you coward? Come out and fight with me! Astrias is here! Astrias from Alvon is here to challenge you! Guin! Where are you?”

The captain of the red gazed about almost desperately, looking like a man searching for a lost lover who has vanished inexplicably. Behind him, the battle had spread across the oasis, red-armored knights and brown-haired Raku splashing through pools of water or crashing through the undergrowth as the dead and dying colored the leaves with their blood. Suddenly Astrias' eyes were drawn by a group of Sem gathered in a cohesive group around a tall tree near the edge of the oasis. Some of the wildlings’ most skillful warriors appeared to be protecting this band, for they had slain several knights who rode against them. The group seemed to be trying to make its way towards some safe haven off the field of battle. As he watched, Astrias saw a sudden gleam of white hair amidst the dark-furred bodies. That is the Sem’s leader! The knight settled his grip on his longsword.

“Mongaul!”

I won’t let them escape! Astrias flicked his horse with his whip and sped toward the Sem band. Hurriedly Pollak gathered some of the finest knights of the corps to follow him.

“Follow the captain! Don’t let him ride alone!”

With a loud cheer the knights galloped after Astrias, but he paid them no heed. The only thing that filled his mind was the burning desire to perform some heroic act. If Guin and the traitor were not present, he wanted at least to have the chief of the Sem for himself. He also wanted to be there if Guin should appear suddenly out of hiding, leading a band of elite Sem warriors in a surprise attack. With sword held high he galloped forward as though he could outrun his churning thoughts. In a moment, consternation spread through the group of Sem as they noticed his approach.

“Kyaaa!”

“Aiieee!”

“Alphetto! Alphetto!”

Astrias, clad head-to-toe in red, crashed into the band of Sem with the terrible energy of a demon. Back and forth he rode, gouts of blood, shrieks of pain, and the agonies of death following behind him. The diminutive warriors who tried to stop his charge were knocked down and trampled under his horse’s hooves or kicked screaming into the air.

There were signs of turmoil around the base of the coconut palm where the core of the Sem group had gathered. Astrias saw some of the warriors there spread out to form a protective circle, while others closed ranks about an ancient Sem with grayish-white hair, urgently trying to lead him away.

“You will not escape!” Astrias screamed as he turned his horse and headed straight towards them. Then he noticed two more figures moving under the protection of fleeing Sem. Those are humans! In the new light of the morning sun, his keen eyes fixed on platinum blond hair and a pair of slender, smooth-skinned bodies among the hairy shapes of the wild-lings. He felt a sudden surge of elation lift his heart. I’ve got them! Those are the Pearls of Parros! He had seen the twins once before, when they had been captured by Amnelis by the River Kes and brought into the lady’s pavilion to face her. That single, brief encounter had left a vivid impression. If Guin and Eru of Argon aren’t to be found... To recapture the twins would be a worthy and honorable exploit. Astrias turned from the leader of the Sem and raced after the fleeing children.

“There they are! The twins of Parros!”

Astrias heard Pollak’s shout behind him and gritted his teeth with annoyance. He wanted to catch the twins with his own hands and bring them back to Amnelis.

“They are my quarry!”

Even as he shouted the words Astrias began to bear down on the twins, spurring his horse on mercilessly and scattering Sem on all sides. Any wildling who tried to oppose him he swatted aside with the haft of his spear.

“Out of my way!”

The Sem, though quick on their feet, could not compete with the speed of a horse on a flat straightaway, and Astrias and his men quickly caught up with them. In a thunderous rush the knights overran the wildling band and wheeled around to attack again. When the twins saw their foes begin to turn they tried to change course as well, and head back towards the oasis; but by now both troops were intermingled. Many Mongauli had been unhorsed in the first clash. In a moment a swirling melee developed as the two forces fought hand-to-hand at close quarters.

“Rinda!”

“Remus!”

The twins called out desperately to each other. A great warhorse had come up between them and was keeping pace with them as they ran—Astrias' charger.

“You shall not escape!”

Astrias was half crazed with his desire to carry out some famous exploit, and in his fervor he had totally forgotten about the order not to kill the prince and princess. He raised his longsword to slash down on the boy running beside him. Remus saw the blow coming and dodged to avoid it, feeling the wind of the blade pass over his head; he darted to one side and ducked around a trio of Gohran knights in the twinkling of an eye. But in the speed of his sudden maneuver he lost his balance, and slipped and fell headlong on the grass.

“I’ve got you now!”

Astrias drew a rope from his saddlebag to bind the young prince, but his horse, overwrought and frothing at the mouth with the madness of battle, reared up suddenly and raised its hooves to trample on the boy. Unable to get away, Remus cowered in fear as his doom descended.

“Remus!”

With a scream Rinda sprang past the rearing charger and rolled toward her brother, her long platinum blond hair flying as she sheltered the boy from the horse’s milling hooves with her own slender body. With voiceless rage she twisted to glare up at their attacker.

“Ah!”

Astrias exclaimed sharply and lost his hold on the reins. His horse rose up still further, until it stood straight on its hind legs, and with an inarticulate yell Astrias tumbled ungracefully from his saddle. He fell hard, and his horse veered away and left him there. But in a moment the young captain was moving again, oblivious to the pain of the fall and the embarrassment of losing his mount in the presence of his best men. He pushed himself up from the ground and rose halfway to his feet, then choked and grew still, staring raptly at the girl who had just brought about his fall.

And what a girl she was! Her gleaming hair was mussed up and falling about her dirty face, which was pale with exertion and the gripping tension of battle. Despite the chaos around her she remained poised and defiant, sheltering the fallen Remus, seeming to will that no enemy hand would touch her brother even if she must die to stop it. She stared unflinchingly at Astrias as if her gaze could become a flaring blast furnace, ready to burn to cinders any who dared the blasphemy of touching the royal twins of Parros. Astrias flinched in the face of her passionate dignity, overwhelmed by the majestic presence of this fourteen-year-old queen. For a moment that seemed an eternity, they remained frozen, their gazes locked.

Then Astrias rose, ignoring his fleeing horse, and reached toward the prince and princess. The twins moved more quickly, however, and before the young knight could grasp them they jumped up, took each other’s hands, and took off running faster than desert rabbits, dodging the many out-stretched arms that tried to seize them. They were cornered no more.

“Catch them! Don’t kill them! Those are the twins of Parros!” Astrias bellowed, and behind him he heard Pollak’s shouts echo his orders.

The captain of the red felt breathless and stupefied. He stood holding his sword but seemed to have forgotten about chasing after the twins himself. Somehow, to his great surprise, his heart had been shaken by something he could call admiration. One after another, red-armored horses streamed past him. Gradually he came to his senses and stirred himself to locate his steed. Spotting it, he hurried to its flank and climbed back into the saddle. But still he felt as if his eyes were pierced by Rinda’s burning gaze, a fire he could not resist, flaring to burn him down.