Star Barbarian, page 16
Leaning on one elbow, he reached out with the other hand and touched her smiling face, running his fingers over her eyelids and nose, her lips and chin and neck.
He caressed her arms slowly, shoulder to hand, learning the strange soft alien feel of her woman’s skin.
Only then did he dare to touch her breasts, and halted frozen at her involuntary quick intake of breath.
“I have seen men,” he said gently, “of brutish nature, laughing and playing roughly with the women allowed them, and carrying them off to their hidden private camps. I have heard their harsh laughing talk, filled with strange scorns for the women’s ways they plunder so casually. They do not really seem happy, these men, nor do their women. I had never understood this, either in the one or the other, either as people or as pleasure. But I know now they are wrong, where before I only supposed it.”
“I am glad my Kan is pleased with what he learns this night, and may the tribe benefit from his wisdom...” Solemnly she said this, but he caught the gleam in her eye this time and laughed aloud and spanked her lightly on one hip.
“Nay, Tashai’a, tonight the master is the slave, for you have captured me unawares and I must bend my ways to please you.” He caressed her soft breasts gently, and felt himself maddened by the sweet touch of them.
He bent on an impulse and kissed one reddened tip; she moaned and pressed his head against her, and he played there with her breasts and felt the light sweat break onto her skin.
Presently he broke away, breathing deeply, his head dizzy with strange sensations.
“Lie back, my lord,” she said gently. “Lie back once more—and learn!”
* * * *
A light chill morning breeze was prying into the tent.
Jamnar blinked; he had dozed off at last, but the chill had wakened him.
Tashai’a slept nestled beside him, wrapped in skins she had wrestled sleepily, playfully away from him. He grinned and looked down at her affectionately, but, feeling the chill, he presently grasped a skin that was wrapped around her stomach, gently but firmly pulling the skin away from her.
Large dark eyes opened and looked at him reproachfully.
“My lord, more lessons—in the cool morning air?”
He looked down at her stomach, bare now as he held the bamador-skin away from her; and he felt desire again, as if a live coal inside him had fallen on fresh tinder to begin the blaze of lust again, smoldering.
“Nay,” he laughed. “Only more warmth!” and he wrapped the skin around him, then scrabbled at the foot of the bedding for more skins, one immediately proving insufficient against the nipping air.
“Ha! Scorned, then, at last—plundered by my lord, my body pillaged for your lusts and pleasures, then forgotten, cast away, despised...” Her voice trailed away mock-mournfully.
Once more he looked into her eyes, dancing with that indefinable spark.
He cocked his head at her. “Shall I then prove my lady knows not whereof she speaks?”
“Why,” she said merrily, “I speak here!” And she patted the bed.
“It’s just another new thing, of course,” he said, sitting upright and apparently breaking the thread of conversation. “This thing of bodies giving pleasure...” Absently he reached out and stroked her long smooth legs, jostling skins aside to do so. “It needs only to be learned and then... why, it is done! And so there are other new things to be learned elsewhere...” Now her voice was serious. “With other women, my lord—and you have women aplenty. Do not jest, my lord, in this one thing, and I will truly be your slave in these matters—and all others—forever through my life.” He smiled gently. His hands hovered over her thighs, as their breathing slowly deepened together. “Never will I hurt you, Tashai’a, who has given me so much I did not dream of. I do not even want those other women, who are only—”
“My lord!” Tashai’a’s voice was deeply shocked. “It is your duty at the least! Think you a woman joys at having none of her man? Give her at least her due!”
His hands continued their slow caressing over her body. “I do not know,” he said slowly. “It seems to me that Astaphar should not want women treated in such fashion. Should I have so many wives? In truth I must speak to Niala about this. It may be there are customs it is time to change, in these matters as in others.”
At that Tashai’a smiled. “It is possible that some things may change. But the Lord Chief may not give up any wife he once has bedded. I think you might have trouble with this law before much time has passed...
“I know of no such law that binds Lord Chiefs,” he said. “But I will accept it, since I have bedded you.”
Again her secret smile.
But all she said was, “Very well,” and that demurely, sweetly; and presently she moved her legs slightly, and there was love again in the tent with the scent of fyzur wafting through in the chill morning breeze.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“On to huSepash!”
It was not the next morning but a full month later before Jamnar could assemble his new army in satisfactory shape. It was a somewhat uneasy combination of the hearts of the two armies of Arteleon and Ksalash.
Fifty of the Ksalash hunters had come down from their secret nooks in the eastern Kandar Mountains, as well. They were worth five hundred ordinary men, as Jamnar told them with fierce joy when they arrived.
His own hunters had in the meantime penetrated Varrilan to huSepash itself; and word came back that Illorvu was rousing himself to action in the face of the danger that Gaharn showed was clearly threatening him. At least two hundred thousand five hundred men were gathering to the east of huSepash—and Jamnar’s attacking army was a force of barely fifteen hundred as it moved to the west across the Rimorba stream.
Envaro and Prosperon had argued long nights with him about his plans, but he was adamant. He had over five hundred more men available, the captured and then freed, Ksalash men, but he was determined to exercise his instinctive caution.
There was the smell of autumn in the air as the march into Varrilan began.
Jamnar thought of the armies of the past that tramped through his dreams these days, fragments drifting up from Inzu’s memories and mixing with didactic stories ponderously told by Prosperon of battles fought by men a thousand—nay, ten thousand—years ago.
Then he thought about his stunguns, wondering if he was being excessively careful in planning his battles almost as if the stunguns did not exist. But each battle was a different challenge, requiring different techniques for the stunguns—he had to be careful.
The thought of the men he could have added to this present army loomed up again in his memory. Two hundred Ksalash men had been sent to guard the eastern hills of Ksalash lest Aqr-yuth be tempted thence. Another hundred mixed Ksalash and Arteleon held all the fords of the Zhindabu from the Kandar Mountains to the south of Arteleon. Two hundred Arteleon men guarded huThartesh. And in addition there were men deployed from Aynil sept in the northland territories ceded by Illorvu.
Almost as an afterthought he had detached ten hunters as a screen far to the south of Arteleon and Varrilan tradepaths, recalling Borzon’s rumors of new tribate federations in the south. Envaro and Prosperon considered this out spreading of precious manpower unnecessarily conservative, but Jamnar was determined not to be taken by surprise.
The army now moved slowly, cheered by the beat of lively march-drums; Jamnar became impatient, and rode ahead with Envaro. Their kaphals splashed through a stream and onto low banks on the other side.
“You are silent, brother,” said Jamnar. “Are you troubled?”
“In a manner, yes,” Envaro said. “I fear you bring too many innovations too quickly. And this last dispersal of hundreds of men throughout the lands, when they should be drawn all to you for this coming test of strength—I cannot think it wise. The stunmen, what if they should fail? What if their nerve break; or if some wizard blight them with a fearful rot of mind or body?”
“Have you then heard wizard-talk among the people?” asked Jamnar quietly, knowing Envaro’s answer. “You should have told me.”
“Nay, nay, it is but a manner of speaking. For we live in times of peril, and who may say what enormities may next be visited upon our hapless people?”
“Are we then without luck, who have obtained the favor of Inzu and conquered the army of Ksalash?”
“Huh. Such flickerings of fortune may cast their gleam this way one day, the opposite way the next. It is not wise so to disperse your men in the testing-time of battle.”
“I have argued this before; Prosperon agreed at last.”
“Nay, he but conceded that your will was stronger than his—which is as it should be, but bodes ill for counseling, when you force conclusions so against the grain of those who would counsel you.”
“I have taken fifteen hundred men this day; so much I conceded to you, though I could succeed with half that. Look you, we are caught in a time of shifting history; we have once already been surprised in battle, and had we not looked carefully, we should have been again, and never to rise afterwards!”
“Change is change; no man may hold it back with caution,” Envaro said, but Jamnar interrupted him before he could continue.
“That is my text,” he said with a smile. “My caution is at the base mere prudence magnified to action; the element of surprise must be made to work our way, not our foes’.”
Envaro looked stonily ahead.
* * * *
The rolling plains of Varrilan diminished and flattened as the invaders neared huSepash.
Hunter-scouts brought back word that an army of perhaps three thousand men was camped to the east of the city, and that the camp was now frantically scurrying with activity. It was evening when this news was brought to Jamnar, less than half a day’s march from huSepash.
“Excellent,” he said aloud to no one in particular. Septate chiefs, both mounted and dismounted, held themselves near the Lord Chief, expecting him to order camp since the sun was now down.
“Nay,” Jamnar said, shaking his head with a smile as he saw his men about him, and sensing their need for rest, “we dare not rest now, but must push on until our hunters tell us we are two bowshots from their easternmost guardposts. I mean to rouse our forces just before dawn and fall upon the enemy before they realize that we have formed up so near them.”
Somewhat to his surprise, the chiefs made no protest, but moved away each to his own fighting men to pass on the orders.
Three long hours later Jamnar left his men as they finally began settling in to camp for the night. With Envaro and two dozen hunters, he moved forward through the night till they could see the enemy round their campfires.
“As I was told!” Jamnar whispered elatedly. “I see there are no special features of the land, nor has Illorvu done more than set his men all in a line. By the look of it, he plans the line to be so long its ends should overlap ours. Thus he thinks to flank us and be quickly rid of us; he takes good counsel.”
“Which flank, then, will you attempt to turn back?” asked Envaro.
Jamnar turned to Envaro, concealing a smile. “Neither. We shall form as tightly-gathered a group as we can, and we shall storm their center, but not too quickly; should we still manage to break through their center, we will stop, permit them to grasp the situation, and permit them to re-form. We need to be as completely surrounded as possible!”
Envaro nodded, a sour look on his face. “Another innovation. I was certain you would have one for us. But,” he went on, his voice as sarcastic as he could bring himself to make it, “but why do you not simply form up and wait for them to charge us, surround us— and wipe us out?”
Jamnar rubbed his hands over his face and longed for some sleep. “Illorvu is an old fool,” he said, “but I would be a fool to tempt him to think more than he has managed already—do I want him to become suspicious? He might defer battle, await more reinforcements. We cannot forage long among these flatlands; the army must eat. So—we attack.”
“So—we attack,” said Envaro. “Well, after we survey the rest of the field, let us return to camp, that we may sleep our sleep tonight as best we may. It may be the last time we have the choosing of it.”
But Jamnar only laughed.
* * * *
Dawn was clear and cold; thick clouds hid the sun. As day began Jamnar’s army was formed and ready to move forward. He gave a signal, and the drums began.
“That will alarm them,” protested Envaro.
“Yes,” said Jamnar. “It will come to terrify them.”
“A new tradition?”
“The drums will beat as long as battle is offered us; they will stop when it is over. I thought of it just as I dropped off to sleep.”
Envaro said nothing further, but his frown deepened. “Envaro, peace—you will smile before the sun is high!”
“I will smile when the sun shines,” Envaro answered. “For that is our ancient omen.”
Jamnar now said nothing, but once more he smiled. Then he raised his arm and swung it forward.
The army of Arteleon and Ksalash moved forward as a single determined unit, bunched almost impossibly close together. Over a small rise to the west of their camp they marched—and there was the army of Varrilan, its broad front drawn out in full preparation. The black shields of Varrilan made an ominous wall all across the tradepath to huSepash.
“It seems we are not to take them by surprise, then,” observed Envaro dryly.
Jamnar felt obscurely satisfied that Envaro’s reaction was for once not accusing, but rather that of the hunter prepared for anything.
“Yes,” Jamnar said. “Well, it will only bring the day to a more swift conclusion.”
He sighed, and the drumming increased in frequency and volume. He signed again, and his army moved forward at a slow trot.
A flight of arrows rose from the Varrilan army and descended like rainfall.
Shields up, Jamnar’s men suffered few casualties, and continued their jogtrot toward the center of the opposing army.
Another flight of arrows rose from the enemy, but the two forces were already too close together; the wind at the height of the arrows’ flight was swift, and blew most of them astray. Some even fell back into enemy ranks, prompting shouts of rage Jamnar could hear clearly.
Now the flanks of Illorvu’s army began moving slowly forward; the commander had obviously seen that Jamnar had committed his entire known force, bunched together for an obvious, if inexplicable, direct center attack.
The two armies clashed—and Jamnar’s men drove clear through the opposing line!
Himself in the center of his army, protected by the fifty stunmen who surrounded him there, Jamnar was personally safe unless the battle turned completely against him.
But being among the stunmen was a distraction, for they were clamoring at him, begging to be allowed their chance at the enemy, distracting him from the task of judging how much of Illorvu’s army was in sufficiently close range of the stunguns. To add to the dangerous distractions, dust was beginning to rise as the two armies began scuffling together in earnest.
Already, however, Jamnar could see that Illorvu’s left was poorly led. It had hardly begun to move forward, while his right was already almost upon them.
This could be dangerous to his plans: did he dare wait long enough for the enemy left to get within satisfactory range? But did he dare take the opposite chance and open fire on the enemy center and right with stun-guns, almost certainly scaring off Illorvu’s left before it got in range? That alternative would mean the survival of a strong fighting force in its own land, wary in the future of the stunguns. That would mean complications, difficulties, hindrances that in these perilous times Jamnar did not dare to chance.
So he waited.
Illorvu’s right approached, then slammed into the left flank of Jamnar’s tightly bunched army, which stood braced and ready.
“The stunmen!” shouted Envaro, struggling near Jamnar to free himself of the press of their own men. “You must use them! Our men die!”
“This is a battle,” said Jamnar calmly, as Envaro broke through the crowd and came close enough to hear his low tones. “Men die in battle, my brother. They die because Illorvu’s left is tardy in attack, and it must be so, Envaro, that they die, because we must defeat all the enemy this day. As I have told you,” he added unnecessarily. Then he realized his whole speech had been unnecessary, and sought to calm his mind.
His men were dying; it was worse than at the Memthallan valley because he could not make his move at all until the enemy had finished his approach. He had maneuvered to the limit of circumstances, since his men simply did not have time to be trained to more difficult tactics. It was hard enough to impress on them they must maintain a sharp line between the two forces, and not permit friend and enemy to become intermingled. Thus when his stunmen finally did begin, they would be able to sweep close to the fighting and disrupt the enemy.
Now Illorvu’s left was finally coming nearer, nearer, and the drumming got louder and louder, and the noise of the fighting became deafening with the crash of shield and spears and swords, and the maniacal drumming.
“Stands down,” shouted Jamnar to his stunmen, and each set down in front of him a sturdy wooden step, built and carried for this moment.
“On stands!” he called then, and they climbed up on the steps.
This gave them two heads’ height advantage over those in the melee. The fifty were arranged in three concentric circles, twenty-five in the outermost, each taking fifteen degrees; fifteen in the middle, each taking twenty-five decrees; and ten in the center surrounding Jamnar, each taking thirty-five degrees. But the men of Varrilan had now closed completely around the embattled invaders.
