And it would’ve worked, too, he thought, as his big spotted stallion bore him nearer and nearer to the line’ of heavily arrried nobles drawing up to take the brunt of his charge. Fighting armored, determined men differed radically from riding down disorganized and/or dismounted survivors of an arrow rain. He gritted his teeth, thinking, I’ll lose men today, maybe as many as I lost day before yesterday. As the war cries commenced to sound both behind and before, Drehkos roared out his own, original, perhaps, but very very feeling.
“Oh, goddam you, Danos! Damn you, damn you, DAMN YOU, DAMN YOUl”
Danos had not been happy of late, despite his promotion to senior sergeant. Lord Drehkos’ complete regimentation of all the inhabitants of Vawnpolis had made Danos’ sex life highly dangerous, while the virtual eradication of the dog packs and feral cats and the deep inroads recently made on the rat population had made disposal of his few victims’ bodies a chancy business at best. And that was while he still was in the city, before he had “volunteered” for this insane and uncomfortable method of slow suicide.
Nor would he have come riding out on this madness but for the certain knowledge that to remain behind was to place himself in undesired proximity to Lord Myros, Lord Drehkos’ deputy for the fortifications. And such was simply not to be borne!
Though the dark, gray-haired, brooding vahrohnos had seldom spoken to him, and then only in line of duty, since Lord Drehkos had literally dragged him from the gutter and restored him to the thin ranks of the gentry, yet Danos feared Myros instinctively, as he would fear a viper. And he did not even know why. Unless . . . unless it was those eyes.
Black, they were, the blackest that ever Danos had seen, yet with a shiny, shimmering bluish glint like chunks of mountain coal. But Danos could see something else lurking behind those eyes, sometimes peering slyly from their depths, and it was that . . . that indefinable menace which set Danos’ skin prickling. And when it peeked out in Danos’ presence, while the debased nobleman bared his unnaturally white teeth in one of his mirthless grimaces, then Da^nos knew terror. He was convinced that that nameless thing harboring behind those eyes could see to the very depths of his soul, knew his every misdeed and was waiting but a favored time and place to reveal all-or . . . And then Danos would tremble like a trapped rabbit, his mind unable to retain the thought of what horrors the loathsome Lord Myros and the satanic being which dwelt within him might demand in payment for continued silence.
So he had ridden out with Lord Drehkos, who had bluntly praised his unswerving loyalty and dauntless courage, then placed him in command of the archers. At least they had been eating more and better since leaving the city, that much Danos could say in truth, what with game and wandering livestock and supplies from several small parties who had ridden in to join the army only to be bushwhacked by Drehkos’ scouts. Of course, conscientious Lord Drehkos always insisted that the bulk of any nonperishables be packed to the city, but still the raiders ate well and frequently.
Furthermore, and to Danes’ vast relief, the lord saw to it that the lightly armored archers and dartmen were called upon to do no hand-to-hand combat, covering their withdrawal if necessary with his mounted irregulars. So even the perpetual grousers had to admit that things were not as bad as they might have been.
But none of the blessings could do aught to relieve Danos’ principal problem. During those few short halcyon weeks when he had been able to indulge his tastes on a victim every night, his body had become accustomed to the regular, glorious release. Now it was all that he could do on far too many nights to prevent Satan from beguiling his hands into pollution of his own flesh. He had so far resisted all the Evil One’s blandishments-God be praised-but the need for release was becoming more and more pressing with each succeeding day.