Zona: Princess of Medea, page 28
With a wave, the king stopped him. “Never mind that for now.”
The soldier’s breath came in whooping jerks. “Sire, Your Divinity, I – am Abdul Ibrahim – Steriraz…”
“You’re not from around here.”
“…Arab, – Sire, on my – mother’s – side.”
“Why don’t you tell me what’s brought you here?”
“Sire, Gen – Genral Pattoraz is dead!” gasped the man.
“Slow down my boy. Make your report like a soldier.”
Hearing Deioces, the calm, steady way he was dealing with this Zona was impressed. On the way to Ecbatana all the men around her and her comrades had boasted about this guy, how he’d united the country, stamped out brigandage and lawlessness and brought order. He’d built this city and its defences, was constructing others and providing a road network, was even the source of healthcare and education for his people. Not bad for just over thirty years, but she’d met him near what had to be the end of his reign. It had been difficult not to think of him as an overweight, reeking has-been but now here he is doing the king and commander of his troops rather well. She found herself listening respectfully to his exchanges with the soldier who’d burst into his presence to report a calamity of some kind.
“Sire, Your Divinity, Light of The Sun and Moon,” gabbled the man.
“Cut the titles,” Deioces said. “Right now, in here, they don’t mean anything. So get straight to it. You say General Pattoraz of my northern army has fallen?”
The soldier was nearly crying. “I saw it myself, Sire! A spear went through his chest. He coughed up blood, crashed off his horse and the one behind it, some aide’s or other, stepped on him. He was dead before he struck the ground, made a horrible choking sound, and I heard his skull caved in. Sire, the Army of the North is no more!”
Leaning forward, now with no sign of an upset stomach, Deioces appeared to ponder. Although the breath whistled in his lungs, watching him Zona stayed impressed. Earlier he came across as scared of the shadows in the corners, but look at him now.
“Details, son, tell me exactly what happened,” he told the messenger.
“We were in the mountains, going through one of those passes, it was narrow and only three files could ride together. You know that country up there in the north…”
“I do.”
“It turned out to be a box canyon.”
“Why did General Pattoraz lead his army there? He should have had scouts out and known better.”
“I don’t know, I’m just a…”
“…A grunt, and generals don’t tell you things. But make a guess.”
The soldier hesitated, then said slowly, “There’s a bandit named Zenobiab and he’s got a whole string of tribes under his banner. I don’t know what he uses to attract them, but I’m loyal, I swear it!”
“I believe that. So the army went into this canyon?”
“General Pattoraz had us chasing a party of riders, just us in the front to begin with. They’d disguised themselves as Medeans, but I believe they were Scythian horse, and how Zenobiab got them I don’t know. Anyhow, when they heard the screams the rest of the men charged in.”
“Undisciplined,” the king muttered. “And what had happened to your scouts? The general had some out, I trust.”
“I think he sent some in but they never came out. Zenobiab and the Scythian riders are clever as the sun is hot. Well, I guess General Pattoraz wanted those renegades a lot because we followed them in.”
“Hmmmmnn, General Pattoraz always was too hot-headed for his own good,” mused Deioces. “He only got the rank because he was owed it by someone at court. But that isn’t a matter which should concern you. I should have stepped in and stopped it.”
The trooper looked about to speak but then closed his mouth. The king looked annoyed – maybe ’cos he’s said too much in front of this ordinary guy, thought Zona wryly. “If he’d not been speared I’d have had to punish him for this. A whole army!”
“It was a massacre!” the soldier burst out.
“Let’s see if I got this straight. He took the whole army in there?” Zona couldn’t believe she’d heard right. This guy was a general? Even with court politics...
The messenger swallowed. “Ur, yes. You don’t know – Sire, who is this woman?”
“My name is Zona,” she purred. I’ll give him ‘this woman’!
The man stared, open-mouthed. “Not the Zona? Of Troy, Princess of Latium – you killed Aeneas, Princess of Heliopolis. The battle on the Nile that broke the Sea Peoples; you took down their leaders – Extranbo, Wenamun and Beder! Folk say you were at Babylon, survived the dogmen. That Zona!”
“It would seem I do have a rep…”
“Princess of Medea soon, I’ll bet!” The man’s eyes – he was now full of hero-worship – were glowing. “People say you killed Prince Mutakil Nusku, escaped their jail…”
“I didn’t do him,” the warrior said drily.
“As near then…”
Deioces cut in acidly. “…Never mind all that now. You were reporting to me, soldier.”
I think the ol’ boy might be jealous. Well…
“Yes Sire, I’m sorry.” The trooper drew himself up, snapped off a salute, adopting a more soldierly bearing. “Uh, we rode in there and they were waiting, hundreds maybe thousands of Scythian cavalry. Soon as they saw we were in, they charged, doing that wail of theirs. It was horrible. Seeing it was a trap, General Pattoraz was trying to turn us around to get out of there but it was narrow, blisteringly hot and we were too many. It was chaos. We were tangled up, it was…”
“Stuck all together like an old thorn tree,” Zona finished softly. “I don’t believe this guy. He just blundered into a canyon. Deioces, you sure messed up making this one a general.”
She raised her eyebrows at the king. “Everyone I’ve met thinks you’re smart and tough. Why’d you do it?”
Loyal to his king, maybe the absent General Pattoraz too, the soldier rapped before Deioces could speak, “I don’t care if you are Zona. Don’t you speak to this man like that! You forget yourself! It is our king, the god Deioces you’re talking to.”
Embarrassed, the king mumbled, “The man could fight.”
“That’s it? He never heard of tactics, strategy, and where were his scouts in this?”
“He was a good enough soldier. I provided the plans when they were needed.”
“At a distance or before he went off with his army?”
Zona was still incredulous. Once again she shook her head, jabbed hair from her eyes. I really must have Cam take her knife to this. She shook her head some more, for the time being not caring if it looked as if she was disrespecting the king. My gang wound up putting me through the Gauntlet. I didn’t actually do anything wrong, only save that baby; but this guy called himself a general, got his men behind him. It wasn’t fair. Until the baby, she’d always led her men well, given them victories, plunder and women. So over the years as a marauder and after, she’d got into and out of some hairy situations but never anything close to losing an army.
She couldn’t stop herself. This is just unbelievable! “Screwed up this time, didn’t you?”
“Don’t you talk like that!” It was the messenger again.
“Never mind, boy.” Deioces was glowering at both her and the trooper. As he shifted his butt some more and she heard his robe peel from the throne, the warrior expected another of his special clouds and tensed, but forced herself to stand quietly. Could be I’ve already said too much. Me an’ my mouth. The worst didn’t come and he looked pained as he began to address the trooper. A moment later his face turned heavy with sadness.
“Pattoraz was an old friend, out of my earliest days. I miss him and now I must mourn him. Are you finished, son?”
“Not quite Sir.” Forgetting he was speaking with his king, the man had talked to him like an army officer. Overflowing his throne, wiping sweat from his brow, the monarch let it pass and waited. “Sir, they were behind us as well, and giving out with some more of those unearthly wails of theirs. But first before either bunch reached us, arrows and spears poured on us from above.”
“About what you’d expect in a box canyon,” commented Zona. She turned to Deioces. “I’m sorry, but your pal was such a dope.”
Both men glared at her. The soldier grated on. “The fire from above took down a lot of our men. It made for confusion and panic – until their cavalry hit. It was a massacre, I tell you Sire. A massacre!”
Except for the king’s harsh breathing, the room was silent. Sweat poured off him like a river dividing just before it entered the sea and with it came his odour in waves Zona could almost pick out the air. She wondered if he was about to have a seizure and if her battlefield healing skills would be enough to help. Maybe the light... but she suspected that could depend on what Aphrodite and Athena thought of him. And I don’t reckon the goddess of love’s had much to do with this guy a while. Well, they would see, although she hoped it wouldn’t be necessary…
She dragged herself from her thoughts. Deioces was speaking, decisively, pain in his voice, no doubt over Pattoraz.
“This is what we’re going to do.” He included her in the glare he first locked on the trooper. “We will forget Babylon for the time being. I shall lead an army myself…”
How’s he gonna find a horse to carry him? Man looks heavier than Both…
“…We’re going to punish the Scythians for Pattoraz and his men, every one of them. You are coming with us, warrior.”
“But…” Zona began.
“I’m not leaving you behind to get up to plots behind my back or to run off. Also I can do with that head of yours. I need you working for rather than planning to undermine me. When we’re finished, not a Scythian will dare ever ride into Medea again. I’ll have my army’s flag back, and Pattoraz will be avenged! Then when we return to Ecbatana, my scheme for you can happen.”
* * *
When a few weeks later Deioces had got together the biggest army Medea had seen and was ready to move out, he didn’t ride a horse. Instead he was in a covered litter borne by four Scythian slaves. Beside him Zona walked Black Cloud and she wasn’t in a good mood.
The first thing was she just didn’t want to be there. Zona was headed for a battle, an army at her back; with every piece of herself she repeatedly told herself that for her those days had to be over. For yet another time, she swivelled her head on her neck to look back over the rows of troops who rode and marched behind her. The weather was grey, sticky and clinging which sawed at her nerves. She muttered under her breath, perspiring even in just her vest and kilt. I’ve been at Troy, Latium, the Nile, to say nothing of the things I did in earlier years. You’d reckon that would be enough but, no, the gods have to see this differently. If the coming fight was Marduk’s doing, she’d burn him herself, never mind waiting for Deioces to light the fire under that pesky statue. Let the god have some of what she didn’t want.
Surveying the 5000-strong tiyrmens of men in their round skull-like leather helmets and knee-length coats, she thought that, like Torquat Dar and his boys, they looked good troops. A lot had been pressed into service from Ecbatana’s streets but the training and recruiting sergeants had worked hard with them. She smiled wryly. Their voices were good and I heard enough. Like her, the troops at the front were mounted but walking their horses. The hot weather would soon otherwise leach their energy. She pushed her hair back. She’d passed the last weeks in the palace and it was growing longer without Cam to cut it. Her companions were still kept away in an army mess, and that was another thing which irked her. This damn weather though. It’s never once been cooler since we blew into Ecbatana and I was stuck with Deioces that muggy day. There was one thing going right. At least she couldn’t smell the king in his litter, although there wasn’t any breeze to stir the army’s limp flags. She was too hot but those men in their uniforms had to be roasting, even though the pace was deliberately kept down so men and horses would be fit for battle. They plodded on and gradually the sky lightened and the sun broke through the cloud sheet that swiftly shredded away – which made the air hotter, more stifling. Though the country was flat, yellow-dun grassland with dry brush, the hills ahead cut against the cloudless sky in jagged spires, at least at the van of the army there was little dust. Back with the supply wagons, it’s got to be near solid. It would be gritty inside clothing, noses and throats, adding its acrid odour to those of the army’s sweat and horses.
Again she was wiping sticky knots and tangles of hair from her brow and cheeks. And if I’d had to, I could have handled all that stuff easily enough. I’ve done plenty of armies, ridden in all kinds of places. But Deioces, the fat, stinky cow flop! There really had been no need to keep her friends virtually imprisoned in Ecbatana. Okay, so they were in comfortable quarters, or so he said. Supposedly, they had the freedom to wander any place they liked in the capital. Right now they’re likely eating well – Both will be enormous! – bathing when they like, a lot better off than her at the head of this army. They just couldn’t be here now and she thought sourly, Deioces, you gross slug! Extranbo, Wenamun and Beder, Hosni too, would have thought up some nice words to say about you. Zona shifted in her saddle, pulled a face at the way the leather stuck to her. Wait till she was able to squash him, like he should be! What was the fat man thinking? That the others had to be hostages to stop her running off with the army, and he’d said as much when she first saw him, other times as well.
Now there’s an idea... And what I wouldn’t do to the stinky, corpulent bastard if I could!
Zona mopped perspiration from her face, chest and arms. There was little chance of her getting at him. As her friends were being, she knew she was being watched unobtrusively at all times.
She sighed, glowering at the flat, sun and heat-hazed prairie. In this part of the world they call it steppes, she reminded herself. I guess it’s as good a name as any other. The warrior shifted in her saddle again. Black Cloud was a tall stallion, his pace smooth as a ship on a calm sea but Deioces’ forces had been under way for some time, the sun a good way round the molten furnace of the sky. Zona was a warrior who practically lived in the saddle but her butt and legs were numb and there were a few more hours to go before the army camped for the night. And what I’d give for a bath!
Something was moving through the heat up front. She’d been travelling so long and uneventfully maybe she was imagining it. Zona rubbed at her eyes. I’m bored, tired, sweaty and irritable, so why not? Shaking her head at herself, knuckling more perspiration and dust from her eyes, she peered. It would fit that something turns up about now but the dust cloud was growing, drawing swiftly nearer. Soon she could make out a rider. It had to be one of the scouts posted a long way ahead and round the army, and he was pushing his mount hard.
A tall, thin general named Mercorriazz was leading the army, his sovereign was observing and would weigh in when fighting started. It’s gotta be uncomfortable, trying to command but having him along, thought the warrior. Due to her reputation as a soldier and commander, she was there officially as an advisor, and same thing for the guy. But it’s really because Deioces doesn’t trust me on the loose. He’d sooner have me where he can see me, and the slug has more or less said so, she reminded herself.
The messenger ignored her and Mercorriazz, riding straight for the royal litter. Close to it, he pulled his ride to a dust-clouded stop. Deioces was now being carried with his drapes drawn open, likely attempting to catch the slightest of breezes in the close heat. As he levered himself up on an elbow, Zona moved closer while the bearers set him down.
Plainly he didn’t like being on a lower level than the trooper. Red and shiny-faced, he barked at one of the slaves, “Help me out!”
The guy nodded at the man in front of the litter next to him. Together, the three of them hauled the king’s bulk from the conveyance, Deioces puffing and swearing, looking as if he’d have a seizure any moment. By the time they got him out and on his feet, the slaves looked as if they’d run several laps of a parade ground with heavy packs on their backs, bow, arrows and spears. The thought, Serves Deioces right, grinned when it came up to Zona as she sat on Black Cloud and watched. Reluctantly, she showed it the door out. This was serious or her name wasn’t Zona.
While the king struggled to his feet, the rider had dismounted to fall prostrate, spread before him. The front ranks of the army with General Mercorriazz were looking on too, their weariness washed away by a wave of tension.
Brows drawn together, the bow of his mouth tightened in a line, Deioces waved his bearer-slaves back.
“Out of my way,” he snapped.
Zona stayed on her horse, eyes gleaming, lips trying not to quirk. She was still sore at how the fat king was treating her comrades.
Temper, temper…
Deioces rasped at the scout. “Get on your feet, man.”
His mount lathered with foam and standing patiently beside him, the trooper scrambled up. He was wearing the regulation long, dark coat, pants and boots, and his round leather hat had stayed on when he fell prostrate. Face dark and sweating, barely old enough for his first scraggle of beard, he began to shake dust from his clothes. Even over Deioces’ reek, the warrior smelled him and his mount.
“Sire!” he gasped.
“Take your time son. Get your breath and report properly.”
In spite of her continuing annoyance with him, Zona found herself respecting the king some more. Why can’t he be a plain old badass? It would be so much easier. His steadiness now was a fresh example of why the army gave him the loyalty of which she’d seen a lot since they moved out from Ecbatana, and before then.
