While the knot of temporal and spiritual leaders reeled in exhausted or drunken confusion, shouting meaningless or contradictory orders to servants or horseholders or empty air, a volley of heavy, well-aimed darts thudded in among them. A second volley took out most of the horse-holders. Then a horde of coal black, demonic figures were among the terrified survivors, their swords and sabers and light axes hacking a wide swath of bloody ruin.
Myros had donned his ornate dress armor for the purpose of meeting his incoming allies, but the armor of his officers still lay within his pavilion; so they and the unarmed priests had suffered most heavily from the darts. The armed and armored officers of Vawn valiantly drew their steel and at least slowed the attackers. The Vahrohnos tore a target from the deathgrip of an officer whose eyesocket sprouted two feet of dartshaft, then trotted over with naked sword to take his place amongst the dwindling ranks of the Vawnee.
Those officers and priests not dead or dying fled in every direction, their terrified shrieks lost in the cacaphony of the burning camps. For his own part, “Captain” Nathos Evrehos, the goldsmith-moneylender, ran sobbing into the inky void, his face streaked with his tears and his legs streaked with his dung.
“But, ‘m not inna hall,” slurred Milo into the pectoral cross. “Shcaped.”
“Capital, Goldy!” crowed the mounted Kooreeos, his broad grin distinct from where Milo stood. “Capital! Where are you, now?”
Whitetip’s farspeak had reached first the familiar mind of Rik Sanderz, and it was that young clansman and one of his kin who opened the rear gates that Milo might drive the mules and the heavy burden they drew-now increased by the weight of the unconscious Kooreeos of Vawn. The handsome chestnut, captivated by Milo’s mindspeak, trotted along behind the warn. The faces of the two clansmen were wreathed in grins at the Bard’s successful exploit
But there was no hint of a smile on the hard face of the Thoheeks, only restrained ferocity. Not even the warm glow of the torches could thaw the icy stare which bored into the blackrobed back, as Milo descended from the lofty driver’s seat and ripped off the hot, itchy “beard.”
Bili’s words were clipped and cold rage was in his voice. “Bard Klairuhnz, I assigned you to a critically important post. You saw fit to desert that post. There is but one fitting punishment for such an action at so grave a time as the present.” His huge axe was gripped in his right hand and with his left he drew his dirk, saying, “You once fought well and faithfully for me, Kinsman, so I now allow you a choice. Will I take your head with my axe or heart-thrust you with the dirk?”
The corner of Milo’s eye caught a stiff flickering of a white-tipped tail, as the great feline crouched and tensed to spring. “No!” he beamed urgently. “Let be, Cat-brother. This is as quick a way as any to confirm to the lad my true identity.”
“The dirk, I think, Lord Bili,” answered Milo, gravely. “But, for that, I must remove my brigandine.”
At that, he doffed the robe and cross, loosened the crotch strap, grasped the hem of the steel-lined garment, and started to pull it over his head. In a blur of movement, Bili tossed axe to left and dirk to right hand, and his hard, true, straight-armed thrust thudded home between Milo’s ribs, the force of the blow slamming him back against the high wheel of the warn.
Rik and the other Sanderz man gripped their sun medallions, but took in the deed with impassive faces. For Bill was a Chief and Bard Klairuhnz apparently had been his oathman. He had not attempted to dissuade his Chief, nor to stave off the execution, so obviously had he deemed death his just punishment. Their own Chief had admonished them that they must all bide by the ways of this land. Besides, they recognized their unpleasant affair to be none of Clan Sanderz’s business.
Komees Djeen’s limping run brought him to his young lord’s side just as the dirk came free with ah obscene, sucking pop, and blood, glistening black in the torchlight, gushed forth to soak the shut above the wound.