OOC: Okay, I'm trying again, but it just doesn't seem to have the richness the rest of you attain, nor what I am used to achieving myself. I might return to it later and touch some such things up (though, of course, not change a thing of substance, so that no later post will come into contention.) Perhaps it's the first person style I just can't get used to. However, I have tried, so you should be happy, Lord J.
IC:
I had made a decision that would be derided by all sides. For truth, my own heart was a turmoil for this dastardly course. But who other than I could accomplish this thing?
This thing that would likely be for my own infamy, a villainy that would perhaps outweigh all my honorable actions. When I had heard Shamash speak of how we were to be thrown out, carrion to dogs, I was not angered. Seeing as I was a soldier by birth, by training, and by heart, to follow a dark command was a matter of course. But it was with the stratagem of the king that I did not agree. Why, there were far better uses for a force of men than a simple onrush in open conflict with that dark band. And so within my own heart I had taken counsels for an hour long, then voiced it to Hippomedon alone, so that I might avail of the considerations of a trusted companion. And when he had been in accord, then I had resolved to it.
And these were the things that I had contrived. I would take with me the best of my force: the ten finest archers, and twenty spearmen that I deemed most fit and able. Then I would take my course to the enemy camp, and beg the audience of their lord, as a prince of high standing that should not be denied such a request. I would claim to come as one bringing a promise of submission, and an oath of allegiance. Then given this chance, I would set upon them with a fey spirit, killing all of their commanders whom I might before death. This all would be far more availing than any cunning plot Shamash would devise.
But for most men, such a thing would be so highly foolish as to be mad: no one armed would be allowed near a commander. Yet I, Tarkhon the prince of Ek-Batana, was a man of faultless honour. I had never struck down a man outside of direct combat. Never before had I acted in any secret or furtive way, or lied under an oath. Perhaps the gods would forgive this once, for all that my heart thought for the best. So only I, whose lifetime of good action had prepared this one trick, could accomplish this.
“Halt, and give an accounting!” I was hailed. The second time in some few hours, yet this was no friend as before. Here was one of the very enemies, arrayed darkly in that enamel-inlaid panoply these fighters were so fond of. Though a lone watchmen, I knew full well that near about in the darkness a hundred of his compatriots stood ready with their weapons nearby, and at a word would be my death by arrow or dart or spear.
“Sir, it is meet to speak better to a man of noble rank. Be silent before your betters! But go now at once and take this message to your commanders, that the champion Tarkhon comes to the succour of the Black Wind, with him bearing Ek-Batana’s promises of faith.”
“Very likely, on both accounts. That you are indeed this ‘Tarkhon’, and that if you are he that you come with a friendly heart. The noblemen of Ek-Batana are no friends to the Black Wind, and if you are claiming thus you are both liar and death-doomed.”
“What sort of man are you, to speak so boldly before me? Such insolence I have rarely seen, and it is sure proof of your base rank. Nonetheless, treating with mud and dust perforce sullies one’s boots, so I’ll endure it, and cleanse myself of you later. But here, take this token, my own sword, as proof of my words, to that villain Desmoth.”
Of course, I was a damned fool for having said that. How might I claim to be some turncoat from my old cause, and still name the commander of these men a villain? But fortune’s grace was mine, and the slight went unnoticed. The watcher came forward and took the sword. When he had left earshot, I called Hippomedon near.
“So, it is with this that I make myself for the villain, for a better cause. Those who know me might forgive me, but I’ll be at best a fool to all others. I must say, I waver in my resolve at this moment. I half think some god has set a passing madness on my mind, intending my own destruction. It is said that actions like this come before destruction.”
“You are sound, do not let that trouble you,” Hippomedon said. “I myself would not have spoken in favour of this if I did not truly think thus.”
“Still, it rankles me that we must act so unjustly, against all the dictates of war, to accomplish this,” I said, but my voice was too clear in the air. It echoed too much in my own ears, and was as another’s.
“When combating such a force as this, it is difficult to judge right,” was Hippomedon’s heartening reply.
Yet even so I could not reconcile what division there was within me.
“It should not be. I am not accustomed to such difficulty.”
And even then, I saw the return of the watcher, distant in the darkness and dim by the light of scarce watchfires.
“Well, soldiering be damned, I cannot stay my course at the last. But the thought strikes me that I’ve left Ek-Batana’s men at Shuldos with no good captain. Sir, you are a dear companion and good soldier. And for that, and for not wishing you to have part in this disgrace, go now and at once.”
“I do not think it good.”
“You needn’t... it is sufficient that I do,” I said, with the force of a lord. “Go, and tell Shamash I’ve done my best.
So Hippomedon wheeled about his horse, and turned back on his path. But now mine was direct before me.
“Hail, sirs,” I called out, not knowing who was brought.
“Hail, Tarkhon,” was the reply, from a voice high and strong. Nor was it a man’s voice, and I was uncertain.
“Who is this that you bring me?” I demanded. “I asked for parley with your commanders, not your women.”
“Illustrious Tarkhon, hear my name and restrain your haughtiness. I am the dauntless fighter Kelsa, one who is not least amongst these men, and indeed am held the equal of the great generals themselves. It is no small thing that I have been brought here.”
I was suddenly afraid, knowing this woman. I had never seen her before, and manifold rumours were told of her fearsome skill, and majestic disposition. Kelsa, the girl of Acheron. Kelsa, the heroine of Madros. Had she not been the foremost at the Western Winds? Akireu and Belnos had both died to her in single combat, some had said, and that was cause for great fear: Akireu had been a man of dauntless disposition, a warrior matching the best. This, then, was she?
But she remained shadowed. Or like a shadow herself, though the torches and moonlight should not have allowed her to remain so masked.
“I submit,” I answered, and my voice was even. “I bring a promise of peace, and moreover one of alliance. Shuldos cannot be any hope, nor the king Shamash, nor yet the heroine Meredi, prove much aid to my people. What is best is to work with those who will victor, and I judge that to be these with whom you stand.”
“I do not believe you, Tarkhon,” she said, and her voice shook the thin air. “Liar! Why, did you not just send your second away? Tell me, what was that in aid of? It does not look well for you.”
“He left of his own accord, having no stomach for a turncoat disposition.”
“And you, sir, do? Oh, that is not right. Tarkhon the valiant, Tarkhon the honourable. You are no traitor to your cause, and are of that sort that adjudge death better than disgrace.”
She moved slowly about the darkness, and I had difficulty marking her. To look at her was a confusion, like a waking dream that always slips from the mind, so that to look away for but a moment was almost to forget her. By the gods, she was an accursed sigalder!
“Lady, you malign me,” I said, fearful that my ruse would not win over this terrible woman. She seemed to be of a mistrusting sort, and clever, and moreover some sort of enchantress, if that were possible. Her voice did not ever extend to mockery, but was of high grace and power, always in perfect control and of measured pitch, that all the more unsettled me. Perhaps I yet had escape from it all, for if she had no archers nearby, my horses would outpace any pursuit.
But no, what did I think, to ponder in such doubt? I had hoped to meet with their highest commanders, and she was doubtless one. Her death would be a fearful turn against their side, and accomplish more than all Lensius’ ridings might, or any of Shamash’s plots for battle.
“Sir, dismount,” she said. “We must talk evenly here.”
And so I did, and with that lost my last escape. Fear beset my spirit, but I denied it.
“So, I have done as you asked. But in this alone I was unwise, for the report is that you are a wicked woman, reveling in dark action.”
“Then that is what the enemies say. Those whom I have defeated have no love for me. Darkness is dear to my heart, but I know how to honour enemies if they are bold and right. Men fear me because I am powerful and just and better than they. But you, Tarkhon, you are a counterfeit ally, I think. You give no cause for trust,” she said. “A girl unused to war’s tricks might be taken in, but I am no child to warfare. How many cities have been ruined by this sort of thing?”
My mind reeled in frustration, for her distrust would not be dimmed by anything I could say.
“I am willing to swear oaths, at an altar of the gods in the presence of you and the other leaders of this troop.”
“Oh, yes, I think that would be much to your liking. Is that then your plot, Tarkhon, when you have gathered together all the foremost of this army, to slaughter them disgracefully?”
“Do you think me mad, lady? What would compel me to such a thing, when I have never looked to such actions in my life?”
“Just that, lord Tarkhon. You speak like one unused to what he is doing, and moreover you speak like one fey. I have heard it before, this voice of a desperate man. Somehow, the hour has broken you, and turned you away from prudence to rash action. I pity you, for your should have been a fighter’s, upon a daylit field, and not here under night’s cover. You have wandered into my realm, wherein all your strong powers of combat cannot avail you.”
And hereat I lost all cause for trickery. She knew me too well, and as the moments fled by, I was all the more unnerved, till almost my weapon fell from my hand. Whether this was some art of hers, her power or her voice, or merely her dark majesty that I could but scarcely see in this dim light, I was not sure. But I would not abide it a moment longer.
“For the most, I may have failed of my purpose. But you, Kelsa, you at least are caught within it. Better far that you had not left the confines of your camp, for lover of night, stygian maiden, or whatever else you may be, here and now death speeds upon you fleetly!”
I called for all my troops to encircle, and set to battle. In my own hand I balanced my spear, and made to strike at this dark girl. But she, for her part, did not retreat a pace, but rather stepped forward to meet me, and in the wan light her eyes blazed deep and bright like those of a stygian goddess, and the shine flashed upon her countenance: no devil, nor wicked glare, but a face austere and strong. Out flashed her sword from a scabbard, and even as I made to strike with my spear, the point was shorn off.
Damnation, I was weaponless! But I had my troops.
“Archers, now kill this dark woman, and let us tremble their army with her loss.”
Ten arrows were loosed, and fled through the night. Their high wail touched my ears, and nine found their mark in the soft earth. The tenth by ill chance struck me in the arm. For Kelsa, by whatever cause, whether mere luck or some devilish trick, had remained untouched, though the darts had been direct for her.
And now, my own assault impotent, she acted. With a command, men from all about came at my men. The horseriding archers were the first to die, unseated by the falchions of Kelsa’s squadron. I half saw one of my troop break the lines and flee into the night, but perhaps that was only dim hope. Then my spearmen fell, each to the man as they fought. Some few dealt wounds to the enemy, but the most fell before they could accomplish much, hindered by the night they were unused to. And for myself, I turned about my spear, thinking to use the still good point on the reverse to would the girl, but fortune was against me. Flourished about, her sword was the swifter, and a heavy blow across my helm brought me to the ground, choked with blood and my eyes dimming. And even as I fell away, the girl spoke, no vaunt but stern.
“Tarkhon, better had you acted as in all times before. It is never good for those who act unlike themselves. Most often it is ruin and death you find. But I will spare you, if I may, so that a strong man who once was good might not die. Come, men, bring him unweaponed to the conclave, that he might better see what he and his allies have stood against!”
