Adams, Robert - Horseclans 10 - Bili the Axe

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Bili the Axe by Robert

Adams

PROLOGUE

Those who spoke did not think the dying old man could hear

them, but he could. Despite the drugs and other arts which the

Zahrtohgahn physicians had administered to him to eliminate

the pain of his infected wounds, Prince Bili Morguhn of

Karaleenos could still hear his overlord and the others who now

were discussing his long, long life and his imminent demise.

"If only he had been as are we," said Bili's half brother, the

Undying Lord Tim Sanderz. "As it was, I had hoped for long, as

he got older and older and stayed fit and far more hale than

many far younger men…"He sighed sadly.

"No more than I had hoped, Tim," said the Undying High

Lord Milo of Morai, concern for his realm mingling with the

sorrow in his eyes and tone. "Bili of Morguhn is a remarkable

man in a multitude of ways, and he's going to be devilish hard to

replace. I'm sure that you and Giliahna will give it your best shot,

but even with your great natural gifts and abilities, you are going

to find it damned hard to fill the shoes of Bili the Axe."

Now it was the High Lord who sighed and sadly shook his

head. "And it's my fault, really. Long years ago I knew that I

should start grooming a likely man—if such exists—to take over

the Principality of Karaleenos when Bili died or became too ill or

senile to longer handle it properly, but he just lived on and on

and on, never becoming even marginally inefficient, the reins of

all the affairs of the principality always tightly in hand. So it was

so much easier for me to just leave it all to him, who did it so

well, and apply my own efforts to other affairs in other places,

rationalizing falsely, deluding myself with the thought that it was

better not to give offense to this most valuable and valued

vassal."

He sighed again. "And now it's too late to take more than

stopgap measures. At least, you'll have old Lehzlee for a few more

years, he has been Bill's right hand for the last twenty or so years.

I'll send your great-grandnephew, Djaik Sanderz of Morguhn,

down here from Theesispolis for a farspeaker. It's possible that

you'll have widespread support from Bili's people, since you're

related to him, but don't go wasting a lot of time trying to woo or

win over any who seem hostile or uncooperative—replace them

immediately they demonstrate an unwillingness to change their

ways to suit the new regime. Your strength lies in the west,

among your relatives, so recruit there, in the western duchies

and the Ahrmehnee stahn—Morguhn, Sanderz-Vawn, Baikuh,

Skaht, and Kamruhn—and you might farspeak Prince Roodee of

Kuhmbuhluhn; perhaps he has some likely men he can send you.

You two are related, aren't you?"

"Rather distantly," replied Tim. "His grandmother… no,

great-grandmother, I think… was my father's get by his second

wife, Mehleena, the fat, treacherous sow. Princess Deeahna was

the youngest of that brood, too young to have absorbed very

much of her mother's madness, religious fanaticism and treason;

Giliahna had promised the then prince, her stepson, a bride of

her own blood, and when this Deeahna was old enough, she was

sent to Kuhmbuhluhn.

"The Princess and young Speeros Sanderz-Vawn were the only

two of that pack who didn't die in disgrace. As you know, Bili

had Mehleena's eldest, that buggering swine Myron, impaled

right after that rebellion… after suitable public torture and

maiming, of course. And although I was roundly criticized and

castigated for the deed, I saw the young bitch who slew my

sergeant so treacherously atop a stake, too. The eldest daughter,

Dohlohrehz, married an Ahrmehnee who beat her to death when

he caught her in bed with another man."

"And what of this brother, Speeros? Did he find a prince

charming to marry, too?" queried Milo a bit caustically.

Tim shook his head. "For some reason, Speeros shared none of

the insanity and perversions of his mother and elder brother.

Except for his height and big-boned build, he didn't even look

Ehleen. He and his sisters were taken as wards by various Clan

Sanderz kith and reared by them and Chief Tahm, although, you

may recall, Gil had little Deeahna brought up to Theesispolis a

couple of years before she sent her to wed Prince Gy of

Kuhmbuhluhn. It was Chief Tahm found a husband for

Dohlohrehz amongst his Ahrmehnee kin. But even before either

of the girls were placed, Speeros had ridden up to Goohm and

enlisted in a squadron of dragoons— enlisted, mind you, the

third-eldest surviving son of a Kindred thoheeks."

Milo's dark brows rose. "Oh, yes, I'm beginning to recall. I

gave that man a Golden Cat, Third Class, and a commission,

didn't I? But… but I seem to recall that he died a thoheeks

himself, Tim."

"Just so." The blond man nodded briskly. "By the time you

sent me to take over the cavalry arm of the army, that boy had

clawed his way to a senior sergeantcy in the lamtha troop of the

Kohkeenos F'tehro Squadron. They and two battalions of the

Seventeenth Regiment of Heavy Infantry held the whole damned

West Ahfut Tribe off for almost two weeks after the disaster at

Bleak Meadow."

Milo's lips tightened at the grim old memories. "Better than

six regiments of my Regulars, wiped out to the last man! That

idiotic swine of a Strahteegos Tohnyos of Kahvahpolis never

knew how lucky he was to die with those men he so stupidly

misled; if he'd come back alive, I'd have had the bastard impaled

before the entire army… on a thick, blunt stake, at that!

"But that stand that was made at Maizuhn Gap was

magnificent. There's no other word fit to describe it, Tim. Three

battered, understrength units, plus a handful of packers and

engineers and various other service-troop types, holding off in

the neighborhood of ten thousand blood-mad mountain

tribesmen for the time it took the westernmost settlements to

prepare for trouble and relief columns to get within striking

range.

"But if the stand was magnificent, how does one describe that

fighting withdrawal from the Gap? It was this Speeros

commanded the withdrawal, wasn't it?"

"Yes. By that time, he was the highest-ranking man left in any

of the units who was capable of command; the only two officers

not then dead were too seriously wounded to matter. He had

them retreat slowly and in excellent order, and he saw the

mountaineers bleed well for every rod and mile of the way, too.

He made it back to Thorohspolis with about a thousand foot and

almost half the original strength of the squadron.

"I had ridden up with a strong advance party of the relief

column, Milo, so I was there when those bloody, filthy, unshaven,

ragamuffin heros marched into the city—and I'm here to tell you

that they marched in, with their drums marking the pace and

their tattered banners unfurled, and a stirring sight that was. I

don't think there was a man or horse that wasn't wounded in

some way or other, Milo, yet even some of them who were

hobbling along on makeshift crutches did their pitiful

damnedest to strut.

"Speeros formally turned over his assumed command to me,

then dropped his well-nicked saber and tumbled from off his

horse. My surgeon found no less than nine wounds on that man's

body, Milo, two of them so serious and so long untended that it

was for long doubtful he would even live."

"As I remember, now," said Milo, "he looked none too hale

when I put the chain of that Cat over his head. He retired soon

after that, didn't he?"

Tim shook his head. "Yes, he retired, but not on account of

those wounds. He served on at least two more campaigns in his

new rank of squadron commander, but then Tahm of Lion

Mountain died without issue and Clan Sanderz of Vawn chose

Speeros to replace him as chief."

"What sort of officer did he turn out to be, did you hear?"

asked Milo. "As I recall, after all these years, it's damned seldom

I've heard a man's Cat cheered as enthusiastically as was his that

day at Goohm."

"Most spoke very highly of Colonel Speeros. Those few who did

not were Academy officers who dislike and distrust a mustang

and always show it," Tim replied, adding, "His last campaign

before he retired and returned to become Chief of Sanderz-Vawn

was directly under my command, and I can recall no slightest

reason to complain of his or his squadron's performance; that

was the year we finally crushed the Western Ahfut Tribe, when

we took back those standards they'd taken at Bleak Meadow."

"Well," grumbled Milo, "if lose a good senior officer I must, I'd

far liefer he become a noble administrator for the Confederation

than a useless corpse. I assume he was a good thoheeks?"

"Those few who could recall our late father—his and

mine—likened Speeros to him. They said that he was hard but

unstintingly fair in his treatment of all. Before he died, even poor

old Bili over there had forgiven Chief Speeros his treasonous

maternal antecedents and begun to not only address him as

cousin, but even have him up here on occasion for hunts and the

like."

"He wed and bred, then, did he?" inquired Milo. "You said

earlier that one of his descendants is now chief."

Tim nodded again. "Yes, one of his wives was a noblewoman

of Getzburk, who had been a member of the entourage of his

sister, the Princess Deeahna of Kuhmbuhluhn; another—he had

three wives, two of whom survived him— was a girl of the

Vrainyuhn Tribe, an Ahrmehnee relative of his predecessor,

Chief Tahm; the third was a Kindred chit, daughter of a

far-southwestern thoheeks, Chief Breht Kahrtuh of Kahrtuh—you

know, Milo, the clan that breeds our war elephants."

"One of the clans," answered Milo. "Clan Djohnz was the first

clan in that pursuit; Kahrtuh and Steevuhnz came down there

two or three generations later.. I know—I was with them."

They talked on, and old Bili would have enjoyed joining in

their discussions and reminiscences, but death was very near

now, and he could no longer speak aloud easily. He might have

used his powerful mindspeak abilities, had not the drugs fuzzed

his mind in that direction. So, as the two low voices droned on,

he let his mind sink into memories of far happier days of the

distant past.

CHAPTER ONE

Little Djef Morguhn's dark-blue eyes first saw the wan light of

Sacred Sun three weeks after the midwinter Sun Birth Festival.

The infant was big, too big and big-boned for his mother's

narrow pelvis to accommodate, so he was perforce delivered by

means of Pah-Elmuh's Kleesahk surgery, when two days of

unproductive agony had shown that a natural birthing must

result in at least one and possibly two deaths.

One of the narrow-hipped Moon Maidens had already died in

her effort to give birth, and Lieutenant Kahndoot had remarked

to Bili that this was one of the principal reasons the Maidens of

the Moon Goddess had never increased their numbers any more

than they had over the centuries—very difficult birthings

resulting in the deaths of mothers, infants or both being not at

all uncommon to their heritage.

Bili wished that Rahksahnah had been so frank with him,

much earlier,.when Pah-Elmuh might have easily aborted the

babe with no danger to the mother, and he had bluntly said as

much.

The Moon Maiden officer, Kahndoot, had just shaken her

head and smiled. "No, Dook Bili, our Rahksahnah would have

considered that an act of cowardice. Besides, she has come to

love you deeply and she longs to be the woman who bears the son

who will one day succeed you. Being who she is and what she is,

she fears not death, if her death be the price of her victory."

Not that these frank words mollified or in any way brought

Bili comfort during the two long days and nights of his woman's

torture, while he paced and swore and tried to stop his ears to

the moans and groans and strangled-off screams. Finally, after

he had entered the prince-chamber by very brute force and seen

for himself just how weak Rahksahnah was now become with

strain and blood loss and unceasing pain, he had frantically

mindcalled Pah-Elmuh.

The midwives, who had so stubbornly resisted his, Bili's,

entrance to the room, willingly and gladly surrendered this

difficult birthing over to the renowned Kleesahk healer, for, were

the truth known, they were frankly despairing. They all watched

the huge humanoid's procedures with fascination. So, too, did

Bili… and Rahksahnah.

Bili was familiar with pain-easing drugs and with the esoteric

hypnotism practiced in lieu of drug anesthesia by the black

physicians of Zahrtohgah, but use of either of these methods left

the patient bereft of consciousness or so near to it that it did not

matter greatly. Yet, although still very weak, almost swooning

with the long, protracted agonies and substantial losses of blood,

Rahksahnah was clearly conscious, her tooth-torn lips trying to

form a smile as she looked up at him and the hulking Kleesahks

who were readying the instruments Pah-Elmuh would soon use.

Sensing the concern of the young thoheeks, the senior

Kleesahk chose to use his powerful mindspeak, beaming into

Bili's mind a reassurance. "Lord Champion, my way is far better

than those of which you think. Yes, I too know of many plants,

infusions of various portions of which often serve to ease pain,

but most of those plants also are poisonous in large doses, and

enough of any of them to ease the pain of birthing would

necessarily be very close to a fatal dosage, for the pain of

birthing—even of an easy, normal birthing, which this is

assuredly not—has few peers in agony of man or Kleesahk or

beast.

"However, after the Wise Old Eyeless One taught my father

the ways in which he could use his mind to help other beings to

heal themselves, my father discovered that both the human and

the Teendhdjook brains, if properly stimulated, can cause the

release into the body of certain natural substances which are

better at blocking out awareness of pain than even the strongest

plant infusions I would dare to use.

"My father passed this arcane knowledge on to me before he

died, and you have seen me use it to relieve the sufferings of

wounded folk and beasts since the very first day we two met.

This is the same art I have just practiced upon your battle

companion Rahksahnah. Like the poor female who died before I

could be summoned, Rahksahnah's body is ill suited for easy

childbirthing. Her hips are as narrow as a male's, and the

opening in her pelvis is too small."

Bili gritted his teeth and beamed his grim question on a

restricted, personal level, lest Rahksahnah—also a

mind-speaker—overhear. "Then what will you do, Master Elmuh?

Slay the babe and remove the body in manageable pieces? If

such must be, it must be, for her life is dear to me and this world

abounds with broad-hipped human brood stock on whom I can

get babes aplenty."

Pah-Elmuh smiled, showing a mouthful of yellow teeth as

large as those of a warhorse, though shaped and arranged much

like those of a human. He beamed. "Be not so pessimistic, Lord

Champion. I have the knowledge and the skill to save both. I shall

open the womb and remove the babe, then close up the body

again; I have done such before."

Bili frowned. "But it is very dangerous, is it not? I have heard

of such a thing being done, though only rarely, in the lands to the

east, whence I came. Often the babe lives, true, but the woman

usually dies, soon or late."

Pah-Elmuh smiled again, admonishing, "Lord Champion, all

living things must die, soon or late. But both Rahksahnah and

this babe will live. Those of whom you speak, those men of the

east, have not a way to bid the patient's body to mend itself of

the effects of their surgery, while I do. That it is that removes the

deadly danger, here. Watch—you will see."

And Bili watched, and Rahksahnah watched and the cluster of

wise women and midwives all watched the seemingly impossible

nimbleness of the Kleesahk's thick, black-nailed, eight-inch

fingers. Long, sure strokes of his bronze knives opened one layer

after another of skin and flesh and hard, dense muscles to finally

expose the near-bursting uterus. But the most amazing thing to

all of the human watchers was the almost total lack of blood flow

from the incisions.

Bili beamed a question at Pah-Elmuh but was answered just

as silently by the surgeon's Kleesahk assistant. "Your pardon,

Lord Champion, but Pah-Elmuh's mind is as busy as are his

hands, just now. Indeed, his mind it is that is preventing the

female's body from bleeding, for he feels that she already has lost

more blood than is good for her."

When once the uterus was opened, the babe lay exposed,

though enclosed in a sack of tissue. Pah-Elmuh carefully lifted it

out, sack and all, severed the umbilicus, then waited while his

assistant tied off the cord near to the babe with a short length of

strong thread.

When the Kleesahk had stripped off the tissue sac, the

midwives and wise women all exclaimed at the size and fair

shape of the boy babe and waited for the huge humanoid to

impart the slap that would shock the infant into breathing in his

first breath of air.

But Pah-Elmuh did no such thing; rather he simply regarded

the tiny morsel of human flesh resting upon his broad, hairy

hand, while his mind instructed the mind of the babe. Drawing

in a deep, deep breath, little Djef Morguhn roared out his rage

and indignation. Then the Kleesahk gave this newest member of

the squadron of Bili, Chief of Morguhn, to the waiting women,

while his huge hands went about the task of closing the deep

incision in Rahksahnah's body, that incision still having bled no

more than a few drops.

On Djef Morguhn's eighth day of life, Prince Byruhn rode in

from the north, with two of his noblemen and a dozen dragoons.

All without exception were bundled to the very ears in furs and

woolens against the frigid weather, both the men and their

mounts showing the effects of their long, hard journey through

the deep snows from King's Rest Mountain. Nor, Bili, was quick

to note, was that all, for both the prince and the tall, slender

nobleman showed new scars, while the short, broad and

powerful-looking nobleman walked with a decided limp to which

he was clearly not yet accustomed.

While the dragoons proceeded on to the ancient tower keep

and Count Steev's servants bore in the baggage of the noble

guests and the prince, those three huddled dangerously close to

the blazing hearth, sipping at large containers of hot brandied

cider, while clouds of steam rose up from their sodden woolens

and ice-crusted furs.

Having been early alerted telepathically by Lieutenant

Kahndoot, whose Moon Maidens manned the outer works and

the ponderous gate, Bili had immediately set the servants

assigned to him and Rahksahnah to moving mother, babe and all

effects to another room, thus freeing the prince suite for Byruhn.

He himself had first alerted Count Sandee, then descended to the

first floor to greet his employer and temporary overlord.

Draining off the rest of his brandied cider, Prince Byruhn

whuffed twice, then began to unwind from about his thick neck a

lengthy, silk-lined woolen muffler, remarking with a twinkle in

his blue-green eyes, "Come you not too near us three ere we've

bathed and changed clothing, Cousin Bili, for I trow I've as many

fleas as my horse has hairs. But wait, come you with us to the

bathhouse. I'd know more of your fine campaign, and I'm certain

you'd know of mine own."

"They are a singular people, most singular." The prince

addressed Bili from the huge, sunken, tile-lined tub now full of

steaming, herb-scented water. "They are not Ohyohers originally.

Their legends say that they came from somewhere beyond the

Great Inland Sea, to the north of Ohyoh, and for the last two or

three score years they have been slowly moving south through

the Ohyoh country, conquering and looting or at least disrupting

every demesne through which they passed, but never trying to

settle or occupy their conquests for any long period of time.

"Then, some few years back, a very strong leader arose

amongst the native Ohyohers. He organized almost all of the

small statelets under his banner and has since been pushing

these Skohshuns—as the enemy call themselves—hard,

endeavoring to hurry them across the river and out of Ohyoh

entirely. He is succeeding, to my detriment, alas."

Bili wrinkled his brow in thought, then interjected, "My lord

Byruhn, on my first campaign, in Harzburk, King Gilbuht's army

faced a unit of Freefighters who called themselves by the name of

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