Kelvin Knight - Chimaera's Copper Part 15

De Gaulic's dark eyes speared him. "You lie, General Reilly. You serve she who the Roundear fought."

d.a.m.n, this man was sharp! "Zoanna?"

"None other."

I might have known! That temptress wouldn't just have drowned! But why didn't Kian and Kelvin find her? Has she been in a different frame?

"You are surprised, and yet not surprised, General Reilly."

"Yes, I-"

"Do you want to serve her? Her interests?"

"No. No, of course not. But-" He hesitated, unsure what he should say.

"You do not wish to serve her? You do not want to attack in her name?"

"Not in her name," St. Helens said. He felt more confused about this than he dared admit. "I'm a soldier and I serve a king."

"A false king."

d.a.m.n! De Gaulic must know everything! The witch must have spied it out. Does he know, then, that we can't help ourselves? "It is not the place of the servant to question the master."

De Gaulic smiled. "Yet you hesitate, General Reilly. Do you ask yourself why?"

St. Helens pulled himself together. It was most uncomfortable, standing here like this, having the truth rammed repeatedly into his unwilling mind. "I serve an ideal. A purpose. A good purpose. I have to invade.

"There will be dying. Much slaughter."

"I know. I'm sorry about that. Surrender to me now. Then when the roundear comes he'll make everything right."

"Will he?"

I hope. "He made things right for the people of Aratex."

"Will he with Kance? With Klingland?"

"Both. There shouldn't be fighting."

"And where is the Roundear of Prophecy now?"

"Otherwise occupied at the moment."

The general's expression showed that he knew that there was no certainty of Kelvin's ever returning, but he did not challenge the statement directly. "And yet there will be an evil man in control."

"The Roundear isn't evil!"

"Kelvin Knight isn't in control of Kelvinia. Another person is. He whom the Roundear once defeated in another place. That king and Zoanna, the queen you thought gone forever. Zoanna with more magic at her command than that possessed by her father."

St. Helens felt as if he had been punched. The big-nosed general had better information than he did, and was using it as he might a superior deployment of troops. De Gaulic had just informed him that the worst two people were in control. St. Helens had known it without daring to acknowledge it. Now the truth was undeniable, and pain was in his gut. "d.a.m.n!" he muttered.

"I see you will not turn back, General Reilly. You have made up your mind."

St. Helens wanted to say something different. He wanted to explain that he was just a tool, a p.a.w.n. The prophecy might compel his son-in-law, with a little help. Yes, it was like a chess game. Kelvin had the power, but others had to make the moves and the sacrifices. Others like St. Helens. He was locked into his slot, unable to escape it.

"I wish there were some other way." He started to turn away, knowing that he was on the wrong side, hating it, but stuck.

A feathered projectile whistled through the air and struck the Kantian general. It made an ugly whacking sound and spun him half around. He cried out, an aged woman's cry, and grasped the crossbow bolt stuck high in his chest.

His chest? No, for on the instant the general was an aged woman. Melbah! his mind told him, but he knew that though she had the features, it could not be that one. Melbah was dead.

So the general was the witch! Someone on St. Helens' side had disobeyed his order and the disobedience might mean a victory. Might.

Horses and soldiery raced across the plain. Bowstrings snapped. s.h.i.+elds caught projectiles and bounced them away. The Kance cavalry was charging his force of Hermans.

The woman wavered, then resumed the appearance of General De Gaulic in blood-spattered uniform. His voice was hers, aged and whispery. "Is this how you keep your word, Reilly? Is this the truce of an honorable man?"

"I had nothing to do with it! I swear!" But how could she believe that? He was the man in charge; he was responsible. His side had committed the treachery.

But it was also smart. It was smart of someone back there to realize. Anything against a witch was justified. Take her out and they had a chance!

A chance to win a campaign he might do better to lose. What a mess this was!

Rough hands grabbed him on either side. He did not try to resist, though for him that was difficult. He expected to be slain immediately, but instead his hands were bound and he was put on a horse. Two Kancian soldiers rode on either side of him. Two others rode with the general. The witch-general.

Looking back he heard cries of wounded and dying men and boys, and the screams of horses. Dying because he had led them here. How quickly it had dissolved into carnage! He hoped Phillip and young Lomax would survive. The Hermans hardly had his sympathy, but those two boys were enough like him to be his sons.

They arrived at the caps and the joint palace in what seemed like a remarkably short time. The witch was being helped by a soldier to stay on her horse. Then they were at the palace itself: half blue, half white, the color division running right through the big gate and the drive.

They dismounted, and as they did the general turned completely witch and collapsed. She did not move, lying across equally divided blue and white flagstones. She could be dead. St. Helens watched with the Kancians for any sign of life.

Two very young boys ran from the palace. One was dressed in blue, the other in white. Both had large lace collars. Both ran to the witch and dropped down by her, grasping her, holding her, crying.

Poor kids! St. Helens thought. She was all they had.

Suddenly the boy in blue was on his feet, pointing, face twisted and red. A golden crown on his head p.r.o.nounced him ruler.

"Kill him!" the child shrieked. "Slay us that man!"

The childish finger pointed at St. Helens.

Charlain looked up from her cards. "She's pregnant," she said.

Hal froze in his tracks. "What?"

"Easter Brownberry. I think you had better marry her, Hal."

"But-"

"The cards told me. I know I haven't been what I should to you, Hal. It was only natural that you find someone else. We had better divorce, so you can marry her before her condition shows."

"But you-the farm here-"

Charlain nodded. "It is true. The farm won't run itself. But I can handle it for a time. Perhaps we can work something out. But first things first. We shall divorce, and you shall marry her. She's young, so really needs your support."

"You are a generous woman, Charlain," he said, amazed.

"You are a good man, Hal, and I haven't treated you fairly. I hope this makes it up for you."

Soon he was gone. Charlain knew she had done the right thing. But even so it had come as a shock. She had put on a businesslike front, but now that she was alone the pain overwhelmed her. She put her face down on her arms and wept.

Lomax drew back a b.l.o.o.d.y sword from the chest of a Kancian soldier. He hadn't time to question it now or to feel shock at what was happening. With blood on him and fighting going on every side, all he could do was act continually to save his own life.

He ducked around the tree, narrowly missing getting chopped. An arrow from a Herman took the new attacker in the throat and toppled him from his mount, the sword burying its point in the ground. He looked at the young Kance soldier's terror-filled eyes and he wanted to feel sorry for him and he wanted to be thankful that his own life had been spared.

A voice screamed pain. A young voice. Phillip's? He hoped not, but there was no chance to look. He battled another soldier and just when he should be feeling the blade in his innards the handsome young Kancian folded over as though made of rags. Not his doing; another's blade had darted in to take the Kancian's life.

"Lomax!"

"Phillip!" The former boy-king had blood on his face and clothing and on the sword he had just used on Lomax's attacker. The boy looked happy, as if he were having the time of his life.

"Lomax, we've got to retreat! We're outnumbered!"

Yes they were, obviously. What had happened, anyway? He hadn't seen who fired the crossbow. St. Helens had warned them, had trusted him. He was in charge, like it or not.

"We've got to get!" Phillip insisted. "Give the order, Lomax! Now!"

Lomax, lacking a signaling horn, shouted "RETREAT!" He charged through the brush, hoping others would take the hint. Around him he saw Hermans backing, retreating little by little into their home territory.

After a long, long time-probably several whole minutes, subjectively distorted by the pressure of the situation-he determined that the Kancians were not following. Around them was the supposed safety of Hermandy trees and bushes. Through the bushes he could see the road down which they had marched. Defeated and driven back, but not all killed.

St. Helens had trusted him and left him in charge. He would have to find out who had fired the crossbow bolt at the Kancian general. If the man was still alive, he'd have him executed. After that, taste for it or not, he'd order the Hermans back into Kance by a roundabout way.

St. Helens, Lomax thought savagely, you will be avenged!

General Mor Crumb was eating a handful of bright yellow, exceedingly tart appleberries when Klinglanders descended on their camp. Phantoms, he thought. Wasn't the witch going to learn?

A Throod mercenary screamed and fell back, a short-shafted arrow protruding from his throat. Blood stained the ground and the arrow shaft.

d.a.m.n! Real this time!

Mor shouted orders, climbing upon his horse, drawing his sword. In a moment they were battling for their lives. A Klinglander raced for him on a big bay mare, spear leveled at his chest. It was like a dragon spear, Mor thought, positioning his s.h.i.+eld to take the point. He braced himself for impact, knowing it would be the last thing he ever felt. The point was at the s.h.i.+eld, ready to shatter it and take his life.

Then spear, spearsman, and charger vanished, leaving him alive and shaken.

d.a.m.n! Another phantom! Mixed right in with the real combatants! Thank the G.o.ds, this time.

"Watch out, General!"

He moved his head aside and caught a sword low on his mailed sleeve that almost dislocated his arm. This one was real! d.a.m.n!

"Fight for victory, men! Fight!" He hoped his words would do some good.

Swords and s.h.i.+elds clanged steadily. Bowstrings tw.a.n.ged. Men and horses screamed and both died. Blood bubbled in crimson puddles from torn throats and pierced chests.

On and on into an increasingly weary day. Whoever had thought that war was glorious should be here now!

General Lester Crumb positioned his army for the big charge at the oncoming cavalry. He did not know why he felt so certain about it, but he knew the Kancians were real this time. Real with death and the means to deliver it.

An arrow narrowly missed him and thunked into a rock. That one was real, at least.

Then they were met on the plain behind the row of hills. Ignorant armies, as John Knight would have said. Ignorant armies clas.h.i.+ng just before the fall of night.

He had his sword out and was clanging it with a Kancian. The enemy soldier was very good, and he did his best not to lose to him. A second Kancian came in fast and cut him on the arm above the left elbow. He winced, sickened and weakened all in a heartbeat. He opened his mouth to shout, and then the first Kancian lunged hard.

He barely managed a grunt as the blade skidded off good mail and then penetrated, going deep into his chest. He fell, and his thought, strangely enough, was of his father and what he must be experiencing in the adjoining kingdom.

"Commander! Commander!" a voice shouted in his ear.

But by then he was hearing everything as though it were far, far away. Horses' hooves, poundings, screams, swords clanging against sword, shouts-all changed for him, as if to a babbling of a crowd or a murmuring of a brook.

Faint, fainter, faintest.

Jon could hardly give the war a thought. She was too concerned with Heln and what was happening to her. What was happening to her? Jon wished she knew. Every single morning Kelvin's wife was sick and vomiting, and it was no innocent morning sickness. It was so violent that sometimes there was blood speckling it, and that didn't seem to her to be right.

Jon, watching Heln's pale face as she picked at her tray of fancy palace food, wished that she had been a girl. She hadn't been, really, until she got together with Les. Growing up she'd avoided girl things. Climbing trees, slinging rocks at targets she moved farther and farther away, angling for fish in a way her foster father enjoyed-these had been her things. Soft girlish interests and especially those having to do with a girl's interest in boys she had dismissed with contempt. She had never worn dresses if she could help it, and her interest in infants had been nil. Now as an adult, as a woman, she had to feel a lack.

Was there a difference between roundears and pointears when it came to birthing? Jon had no way of knowing. How many roundear women had there been in this frame? Heln was the only one she had known, though there had been two females in John Knight's small band of roundears. Two females with round ears somewhere in this frame, maybe having babies in the natural way. Jon wished she had known one.

Heln gave a gasp, rose from her chair, and ran for the bathroom. Sick again, and not gently so. If this was natural pregnancy, Jon wanted no part of it for herself!

Jon picked up the orangmon fruit from Heln's plate and sniffed it. The fruit smelled fine. She didn't believe it was this that was making Heln sick. But just in case it might be-she ate the fruit, finding it good and taut and satisfying. She was wiping the yellow juice from her mouth when Heln returned, looking pale and worn.

"Heln, I'm worried about you," Jon said as her brother's wife resumed her chair. "You've been sick every morning lately. I don't think it's the food; I just tried some."

"It will pa.s.s," Heln said almost disinterestedly.

"Yes, but when? You have to think of the baby, Heln. This may not be good for it."

Heln looked impa.s.sively out the window at the gardener working on the tulppies and poplics. The flowers were really beautiful this time of year, their red and white, and blue and white blossoms a solace for their eyes. She didn't answer Jon.

That does it! I'm going to get Dr. Sterk to prescribe for her vomiting.

But then a troubling thought: did she trust Dr. Sterk and his medicine! Considering the way he was acting she wasn't sure.

She wondered about it as the sunlight crept over the flower beds and brightened the windows as the birds began to sing. She worried all that morning, and worrying was not like her. Then before she knew it, it was the next day. The oddest thing was that Heln herself did not seem to be worrying; in fact she seemed to have very little interest in anything. What was the matter with her?

There was of course no answer.