Many of Martel’s mercenaries had joined him with enthusiasm when there had been the prospect of loot and raping and easy assaults on meagrely defended walls. Their enthusiasm waned, however, at the notion of meeting a vastly superior force in open country. They became peace-loving men at that point and crept through the foggy streets in search of places where their newly-found pacifist sentiments would not be offended. The sortie in force from the inner city came as a great surprise and an even greater disappointment to men bent merely upon leading simple lives untainted by strife.
The fog, of course, helped enormously. The defenders of the inner city had only to fall upon men who were not wearing the armour of Church Knights or the red tunics of church soldiers. The torches these sudden pacifists carried made them easy targets for Kurik’s now-proficient crossbowmen. Since men on horseback make too much noise, the Church Knights moved through the streets on foot. After a time, Sparhawk joined Vanion. “All we’re doing here is picking off deserters,’ he advised his Preceptor.
‘Not entirely, Sparhawk,’ Vanion disagreed. ‘The church soldiers have been under siege , and that sort of thing wears down men’s spirits. Let’s give our questionable allies the chance for a little revenge before we turn them back over to the Patriarchs.’
Sparhawk nodded his agreement and then he, Kalten and Kurik moved out to take the lead.
A shadowy figure carrying an axe appeared at a torchlit intersection. The outline showed that whoever it was wore neither armour nor the tunic of a church soldier. Kurik raised his crossbow and took aim. At the last instant, he jerked his weapon upward, and the bolt whizzed up towards the pre-dawn sky. Kurik started to swear sulphurously.
“What’s the matter?’ Kalten hissed.
‘That’s Berit,’ Kurik said’from between clenched teeth.
‘He always rolls his shoulders that way when he walks.’
‘Sir Sparhawk?’ the novice called into the darkness, ‘are you down there?’
“Yes.
‘Thank God. I think I’ve walked down every burned-out alley in Chyrellos looking for you.’
Kurik banged one fist against a wall.
“Talk to him about it later,’ Sparhawk said. ‘All right, Berit,’ he called, “you’ve found me. What’s important enough for you to go around risking your skin to try to share it?’
Berit came down the street to join them. ‘The Rendors appear to be gathering near the west gate, Sir Sparhawk.
There are thousands of them.’
‘What are they doing?’
‘I think they’re praying. They’re having some kind of .ceremony at any rate. There’s a skinny, bearded fellow Sanding on a pile of rubble haranguing them.’
‘Could you hear any of what he was saying?’
“Not very much, Sir Sparhawk, but he did say one word fairly often, and all the rest bellowed out the word each time he said it.’
‘What was the word?’ Kurik demanded.
‘Ramshorn, I think it was, Kurik.’
‘That’s got a familiar ring to it, Sparhawk,’ Kurik said.
Sparhawk nodded. “It appears that Martel brought Ulesim along to keep the Rendors in line.’
Berit gave him a puzzled look. “Who’s Ulesim, Sir Sparhawk?’
“The current spiritual leader of the Rendors. There’s a twisted piece of a sheep’s horn that’s a kind of badge of office.’ He thought of something. ‘The Rendors are just sitting around listening to sermons?’ he asked the novice.
.If that’s what you want to call all that babbling yes.’
‘Why don’t we go back and talk with Vanion?’ Sparhawk suggested. “This might be very useful.’
The Preceptors and Sparhawk’s friends were not far behind. “I think we’ve just had a bit of luck, My Lords,’
Sparhawk reported. ‘Berit’s been out wandering around in the streets. He says that the Rendors are all gathered near the west gate and that their leader’s whipping them into a frenzy. ‘
‘You actually let a novice go out there alone, Sir Sparhawk?’ Abriel asked disapprovingly.
Kurik’s going to talk to him about that later, My Lord.’
“What was this leader’s name again!’ Vanion asked thoughtfully.
‘Ulesim, my Lord. I’ve met him. He’s a total idiot.’
‘What would the Rendors do if something happened to him?’
“They’d disintegrate, My Lord. Martel said that he was going to order them to tear down the bridges. Apparently they haven’t started yet. Rendors need a lot of encouragement and some rather careful directions before they start on anything. Anyway, they look upon their religious leader as a semi-divinity. They won’t do anything without his express command.’
“That might just be the way to save your bridges, Abriel,’
Vanion said. ‘If something happens to this Ulesim, the Rendors may just forget what they’re supposed to do.
Why don’t we gather up our forces and pay them a call?’
‘Bad idea,’ Kurik said shortly. “Sorry Lord Vanion, but it really is. If we march on the Rendors in force, they’ll fight to the death to defend their holy man. All we’ll do is get a lot of men needlessly killed.”
‘Do you have an alternative?’
Kurik patted his crossbow. “Yes, My Lord,’ he said confidently. ‘Berit says that Ulesim’s making a speech to his people. A man who’s talking to a crowd usually stands up on something. If I can get to within two hundred paces of him -‘ Kurik left it hanging.
‘Sparhawk,’ Vanion decided, ‘take your friends and protect Kurik. Try to slip through the city until you can get him and that crossbow close enough to this Ulesim to remove him. If those Rendorish fanatics fly all to pieces and don’t destroy the bridges, Wargun will be able to cross the river before the other mercenaries are ready for them. Mercenaries are the most practical soldiers in the world. They’re not very enthusiastic about hopeless battles.’
‘You think they’ll capitulate?’ Darellon asked.
‘It’s worth a try,’ Vanion said. A peaceful solution of some kind here could save us a lot of men on both sides, and I think we’re going to need every man we can lay our hands on – even the Rendors – when we come up against Otha.’
Abriel suddenly laughed. “I wonder how God’s going to feel about having His Church defended by Eshandist heretics?’
“God’s tolerant,’ Komier grinned. “He might even forgive them – a little.’
The four knights, Berit and Kurik crept through the streets of Chyrellos towards the west gate. A faint breeze had come up, and the fog was rapidly dissipating. They reached a large burned-out area near the west gate to find thousands of tightly-packed and heavily armed Rendors gathered in the thinning mist about a heaped-up pile of rubble. Atop the rubble stood a familiar figure.
“That’s him, all right,’ Sparhawk whispered to his companions as they took refuge in the gutted remains of a house. ‘There he stands in all his glory – Ulesim, most-favoured-disciple-of-holy-Arasham. ‘
“What was that?’ Kalten asked.
‘That’s what he called himself down in Rendor. It was a self-bestowed title. I guess he wanted to spare Arasham the effort of selecting somebody. ‘
Ulesim was in a state bordering on hysteria, and his speech had little in the way of coherence to recommend it. He held one bony arm aloft, and he was tightly clutching something. After about every fifteen words, he would shake the object in his hand vigorously and bellow, “RAMSHORN!’ His followers then would roar back, ‘ RAmSHORN! ‘
‘What do you think, Kurik?’ Sparhawk whispered as they all looked over a half-collapsed wall.
“I think he’s crazy.’
‘Of course he’s crazy, but is he in range?’
Kurik squinted across the top of the crowd at the ranting fanatic. ‘It’s a goodly way,’ he said dubiously.
‘Give it a try anyway,’ Kalten said. ‘If your bolt falls short – or even goes over – somebody of Rendorish persuasion’s bound to catch it for you.’
Kurik laid his crossbow across the top of the broken wall to Steady it and took careful aim.
“God has revealed it to me!’ Ulesim was shrieking to his followers. ‘We must destroy the bridges which are the work of the Evil One. The forces of darkness beyond the river will assault you, but Ramshorn will protect you!
The power of the Blessed Eshand has joined with that of Holy Arasham to fill the Talisman with unearthly might!
Ramshorn will ~give you victory.’
Kurik squeezed the lever of his crossbow slowly. The thick bow made a deep-toned “twang’ as it sped the bolt towards its mark.
‘You are invincible!’ Ulesim was still shrieking. “You are -‘
Whatever else it was that they were was never revealed.
The vanes of a crossbow bolt were suddenly protruding from Ulesim’s forehead just above his eyebrows. He stiffened, his eyes wide and his mouth suddenly gaping.
Then he crumpled into a heap atop the rubble.
“Good shot,’ Tynian congratulated Kurik.
“Actually, I was trying to hit him in the belly,’ Kurik confessed.
“That’s all right, Kurik,’ the Deiran laughed. ‘It was more spectacular this way anyhow. ‘