Scorpio Ablaze

Chapter one-2

“Which it won’t be if those rackety Umblers stumble across it.”

Even in their exhausted condition they had to smile at the thought of Umblers — erratic, incompetent diffs. Llodi finished: “They are a funny old lot, an’ all, an’ no mistake.”

In Kuong’s villa, Mevancy said decisively: “A bath. A long long soak.”

Kuong’s people bustled about. After bathing, a meal and then rest brought Mevancy, Llodi and Kuong back to normalcy. The experience had turned out not too badly in the end; it could easily have killed them all. They decided to walk across to the Mishuro villa early the next day to see Lunky and as Llodi said: “Find out if he’s seen Drajak, an’ all.”

“Strange business,” observed Kuong. “Oh, I know Drajak is a bit weird; but it’s not like him to go off like that.”

Mevancy opened her mouth, and closed it. She was a kregoinya as Drajak was a kregoinye and they worked for the Everoinye. Drajak could have been snatched up by the Star Lords and sent somewhere else on Kregen. Mevancy knew all about that. That was how she and Drajak had met, in a burning building.

The guards stiffened up to attention as Kuong Vang Talin, the Trylon of Taranik, entered the Mishuro villa. Lunky greeted them with outstretched hands, puzzled at their return. When he’d heard the story he gave thanks to Tsung-Tan for their safe deliverance and then startled them.

“Drajak? Yes, he was here. But he’s flown off again.”

A light quick step brought their attention to a young man who bore a face remarkable for its clash of emotions. His forehead was broad and his features well formed with a rebellious set to his jaw. His red Lohvian hair was neatly trimmed. That young unlined face expressed baffled fury, scorn, self-pity and a growing rebellious determination.

Lunky introduced the young man as Rollo the Runner.

The moment the lahals were done with, Rollo burst out: “And damned ungrateful he is! By Chuzto! Just flew off and left me here to rot!”

“What is all this about flying?” demanded Kuong, not quite sure how to take this emphatic young man.

“Drajak had a boat that flew through the air,” said Lunky.

“Yes!” Rollo waved his arms about. “He calls it a voller. Flew away and left me here.” Only then was it borne in on Rollo just how his passionate words could be interpreted. Instantly he swung towards Lunky. “I beg your forgiveness, San Lunky. I did not mean — I am sure you realize—”

Not too long ago Lunky had been just such a young man; now with the death of his master he had become a most powerful Diviner. His face had filled out. He carried himself with poise and assurance. His marriage to Mistress Telsi would soon take place. And, since the discomfiture of the opposition party led by Shang-Li-Po, the party of which he and his friends formed the heart had come to power.

He said: “That is perfectly all right, Rollo. I do understand. I am doomed to lead an inactive life now. You may stride out to adventures—”

“Ha!” Rollo’s fury burst out anew. “I may? When Drajak the Sudden sees fit, you mean. Where are the men he promised?”

“As to that, they will arrive in Tsung-Tan’s good time.”

“Did he,” said Kuong, “explain where he’d been and why he didn’t join us after we had — ah — rescued queen Leone?”

Mevancy remained silent. She could not be sure; but she felt fairly confident that the Everoinye had, indeed, taken Drajak up.

“No, trylon, not a word. But he had this wonderful flying boat.” Talk of airboats aroused conflicting emotions in Loh. Lack of fliers was often given as one reason for the decline and collapse of the Empire of Loh. Conversation became general as Lunky led the party in for a splendid Kregan meal.

At one point, in answer to Rollo, Kuong said: “Our journey has merely been interrupted. We shall start west again with the first caravan.”

“In that case, trylon,” quoth Rollo the Runner, “I would ask leave to accompany you. I am doing no good here. Drajak has gone to Tarankar, so that is where I must go.”

Looking at Rollo’s determined young face, Mevancy saw clearly what an impression Drajak had made on this young man. Could other people see in her face the impression Drajak had made on her?

The episode with Leotes she had now firmly put away from her thoughts. He was paol-ur-bliem like Kuong. The new Repositers would be appointed by the college to collect every scrap of information about the lives of the Accursed in their care, thus ensuring continuity. Now, before Kuong could rush off again, he had to wait for his new Repositer. Lunky threw up his hands in regret, but, as he said: “This is your fate.”

In the event Trylon Kuong received a small, sedate man with a nose more pointed than round, and a chin more round than pointed. He habitually put his hands into the opposite sleeves, and smiled. This was San Cheng.

Mevancy decided to reserve her opinion of him.

Some time elapsed in fresh preparations. Some of Kuong’s gear was retrieved from the desert. A caravan formed and, at last, they could set off west for Taranik and Tarankar. The days in the desert passed as desert days do as the twin suns rose and set. The patient animals plodded on, and, eventually, via Orphasmot and the oases of Claransmot and Hanjhin, took the party to Taranik. Here, in this large and splendid oasis and its imposing lake, they were greeted by the Crebent left in charge by Kuong. T’sien-Fu was able to tell them that the flying boat had flown in and off and that Drajak the Sudden had asked after the very people with the trylon now.

“Well, at least we are following him,” said Mevancy.

Whilst Kuong was in a hurry, it was needful for him to spend some time in his estates of Taranik. No further troubles had been experienced from the Glitch Riders, and the bandits were lying low. T’sien-Fu’s mop of black hair quivered as he spoke to his lord. “But, lord, to go to Tarankar!”

Speaking with heavy gravity, Kuong said: “I have been ordered to go by the queen. Queen Kirsty is forming an army. It is necessary to find out all that we can.”

“But, lord, the man Drajak in his flying boat has gone.”

“It was our agreement to go together. Queyd-arn-tung!”[1]

With considerable reluctance, despite the urgency of their mission, the party left the peace and plenty of Kuong’s estates of Taranik. The groves of trees, the cultivated fields, the herds of fine animals and the wonderful scent of Kregan flowers all called to the wanderer to pitch his tents and settle down here. The glitter of the twin suns off the lake was the last sight of water before She of the Sundering, the river marking the eastern boundary of Tarankar. Kuong took a last deep draught of the perfumed oasis air and then swung resolutely away into the desert.

The wasteland here was real desert, mile after mile of shifting sand. Known as the Glarkie Dunes, the barrier it formed was formidable.

Husbanding water and supplies, keeping steadily on, the party could only speculate what the future held for them.

At last came the day when Llodi, in the lead, hauled up and shaded his eyes, peering intently ahead. Kuong reined in beside him.

“Yes, Llodi. I think those are clouds.”

“And mountains under ’em. That’ll be the river, an’ everything.”

“I trust,” said Mevancy, her sand scarf trailed across the lower half of her face, “I sincerely trust we may swim in the river.”

“That is something to be discovered.”

Although they did not urge their animals to a faster gait, the beasts soon snuffed water ahead and speeded up. San Cheng, his yellow robe flapping, held onto his saddle in a most awkward fashion. He carried a sword and Llodi, for one, promised himself not to stand too close to the Repositer if it came to a fight.

San Cheng had no need to give his history. He had been chosen early on showing signs of promise, had been trained up by the college, and would spend the rest of his life recording Kuong’s doings and sayings. When this body inhabited by Kuong died the Diviners, now led by Lunky, would discover Kuong in the body of a new born baby. By that time it was highly probable that San Cheng’s successor would be the trylon’s Repositer.

Mevancy cried out and pointed.

“Look! That must be Drajak!”

Fleeting swiftly from the distant smudge of cloud and skimming over the desert towards them a dot rapidly grew in size and turned into a flying boat.

Mevancy started to wave and Rollo, after a single look, shouted: “No! No, my lady. We must hide!”

“Hide!” exclaimed Kuong. “Where, by Lohrhiang of the Springing Branch, can we hide in this hellish place?”

“What is it, Rollo?” Mevancy was appalled by Rollo’s panic-stricken vehemence.

“Shanks!”

The flying vessel swooped down. Her brightly-painted squared-off upperworks glinted with gilding above the sleek black hull. Quite clearly her crew had seen the party below. Llodi clapped his heels in and started a blind rush off to the left, Rollo went galloping off to the right, San Cheng was carried off willy-nilly. Kuong cast a glance at Mevancy and ripped out his sword.

“From all I have heard about these Shanks,” she said, speaking as evenly as she could, feeling her heart thudding, “we do not have much chance.”

“Nevertheless—”

“Oh, yes, I agree. Your company has been pleasant, Kuong, and much appreciated.” She drew her sword.

The Shanks flew with precision. Circling, they dropped nets, parties of fish-faced soldiers alighted. All Kuong’s people were rounded up and of them all only two servants were killed. Everyone else was taken.

They resisted. They fought. Of course, they fought.

They were ruthlessly smashed down entangled in the nets, clubbed senseless.

Some awful time later, thrown down into a dark wooden-walled space deep within that black hull, they huddled together, nursing their cuts and bruises. The sight of these fishy people, these Shanks, affected Mevancy profoundly.

Used as any inhabitant of Kregen must be to the wonderful array of diffs, people who are not built as Homo sapiens sapiens is built, she still recoiled in revulsion. These Fish Faces repelled in a fashion at once nauseating, hideous and terrifying.

San Cheng simply sat with his hands thrust into the sleeves of his robe, head sunk on breast. Llodi was trying to prise a splinter of wood away from the wall. Some of Kuong’s servants were crooning a slave dirge as old as slavery itself. Kuong said: “When we are taken out. There are no nets on us now.”

Mevancy, on a breath, said: “Oh, yes!”

They all felt the bump shiver through the room and only then realized they had been flying through the air.

Rollo said: “You’ll get used to it. Now, I do not stop fighting.”

He, and the others, did not stop fighting as they were dragged out. Indifferently, the Shanks clubbed them down, hauling their kicking protesting bodies by ankles or wrists or hair. Mevancy had a chance to let fly with her bindles. Sensing this was the end, she did not husband her biological arsenal but let rip with both forearms.

Three Shanks screamed, dropping their weapons and clasping their ruined fishy faces. Others beat her to the deck and hauled on her hair, dragging her up to the top deck. Even then, in pain, half blind, she did not fail to note the callous treatment living Shanks afforded dead Fish Heads.

Repeatedly struck, dazed, Kuong and his party staggered from the flying ship, still attempting to struggle. Other ships lay on the landing field and the suns shone.

Now black-browed Katakis appeared to take over. These were slavers of Paz, man managers, utterly indifferent to other peoples’ pains. They flashed their tails, to which were strapped six inches of daggered steel, and their whips rose and fell.

The slave coffle under the whips staggered on. Shouting and screaming, the line of slaves was hauled aboard another of the black hulled flying ships and thrust against the bulkhead. Mevancy lifted her head. On the deck a group of Shank officers glittered in scaled armor, glinting with gold, surrounding one who shone more magnificently than his aides. He, then, was the chief. He held a trident. Mevancy stiffened in fresh horror.

Perfectly clearly the whole situation was at once apparent. The Shanks had grown tired of the slaves’ antics, annoyed and aggravated. The Shank lord would go along the line and thrust his trident deeply into each person’s guts, twist and pull. That would be a dreadful object lesson to the rest.

Rollo surged forward and was beaten back by the smash of a trident butt.

The Fish Face lord thrust his trident into a Mionch who went down screaming to snap one of his long tusks against the deck.

The trident lifted. In the next heartbeat it would degut Mevancy.

A heavy throwing spear with red feathers flaunting where head joined shaft abruptly sprouted between the fish lord’s shoulder blades. He went down at once. The other Shanks shrieked in uncomprehending rage, and ripped out their swords, lifted their tridents. They turned to stare down the deck.

Mevancy, sick with the horror and the stink of rotten fish, looked.

She did not really believe.

A voice of power and passion bellowed: “Hai Jikai! Hai Jikai, you murdering torturing kleeshes of Fish Faces! Hai Jikai!”

A bronzed and lithely muscular figure clad in a flaring scarlet breechclout leaped down the deck straight for the Shanks. A great two-handed longsword flamed under the Suns of Kregen.

“Hai Jikai!”