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I'm sure Colonel Keane would be willing to pay with iron or some other such
goods to rent your people for the work."
Ivor looked craftily at Emil, ready to start with some hard bargaining.
Then in the distance there came the tolling of a bell.
Ivor turned in his saddle and looked. Another bell started in, and then
another. Uneasy, Ivor and the guards that accompanied him looked about.
Suddenly one of the guards pointed off toward the river road that was visible
north of the city.
Antlike creatures appeared to be riding hard. Ivor strained his eyes to see.
Reaching around to his saddlebags, Emil pulled out field glasses, raised them
to his eyes, and brought the procession into focus.
"In the name of God," Emil whispered.
Nervous, Ivor looked over at the doctor.
"Tugars," Emil said softly.
The boyar blanched as if the word could somehow strike him. For the moment he
completely forgot to ask how Emil knew the word.
With a shout, the fat boyar spurred his horse forward, his guards clattering
behind them.
"So what got them into an all-fired rush?" Ferguson asked.
Emil looked over at Kal.
"We'd better get down there," Kal whispered
"Ferguson, get your gear together. Let's go."
And moments later the three were charging down the hill and toward the city,
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where all the bells were tolling and cries of panic rent the air.
The gates of the city were flung open, and as one the terrified residents
lining the street fell prostrate to the ground, none daring to look.
Deep-throated nargas, the thunder trumpets of the Tugars, blasted with a
chilling bass peal that sounded like the cries of the damned. A dozen
trumpeters rode in, astride their great mounts. Behind them came the rollers
of doom, their great kettledrums lashed to either side of their mounts, the
warriors of the golden clan swinging their mallets back and forth, setting up
a trembling roar like thunder. Six of them entered, and behind them the twenty
riders of the guard appeared, their great six-foot war bows drawn, arrows
nocked.
And then at last came he who was simply known as the Namer of Time, he who
came to let all cattle know that soon they would be honored by the presence of
the Tugar horde. For with his arrival the people of Rus must now prepare, to
prepare two years early for the choosing, to bring in their harvests, to fill
the grain houses, to fatten the beasts they themselves ate and to have all
ready silver, goods, supplies, iron, and finally themselves.
The Namer of Time sat crosslegged on his great platform, which was mounted
atop the backs of four horses. Grinning skulls rimmed the platform, bleached
rib cages hung from the sides. The pennant snapping above him was the color of
blood.
Onward the procession came, behind the Namer came yet twenty more archers, and
then finally the pets Suzdalians who had disappeared with the horde nearly a
generation before and now returned home at last. Their eyes were clouded with
tears, tears at the horrors they had grown inured to, horror that they were
now outcast in their own land, which they had stopped dreaming of long ago.
Eyes wide with terror, Emil stood speechless in the square. What approached
was beyond his most fevered dreams. They seemed like some devil-dreamed parody
of a man. Eight feet in height some of them seemed; the one atop the platform
he judged to be closer to ten. Their faces were sharp, cunning, near
devil-like, covered entirely with a matting of hair, as were their bodies. All
about him threw themselves face first upon the ground as the procession
crossed the great square.
The outriders wore heavy chain mail. Their helmets were red-lacquered, atop
each of them a grinning human skull. The nargas and drums thundered and
roared, echoing and reechoing across the square.
"Get down, both of you!" Kal hissed, lying on the ground. "You'll be shot if
you don't."
He had never knelt to anyone in his life, but this time Emil could fully see
the logic of it, and he went down on his belly, pulling Ferguson alongside.
The procession came to the middle of the square. Thundering to a crescendo,
the nargas blasted a final chilling roar, and then there was silence.
"Arise, people of the Rus!"
Emil came to his feet, his blood running cold. The Tugar riding upon the
platform stood above them, his robes fluttering in the breeze. Looking closer,
Emil recoiled in horror. The robes were made of tanned human skin. For the
first time in years the doctor struggled to keep from swooning. Beside him
Ferguson, wide-eyed with terror, turned and vomited.
"People of Rus," the Tugar roared, his deep grating voice giving a sinister
edge to the Suzdalians' tongue. "People of Rus, I come as the
Namer of Time!"
A chorus of lamentations rose up from the crowd.
The Tugar extended his great hairy arms, and the cries drifted away with the
breeze.
"For it is the wish of Muzta, Qar Qarth of all the northern steppe, to come
unto you when the snow flies yet again. Make yourselves ready for his coming,
people of Rus.
"Let the boyar of these people, let the holy man of these people, come
forward."
Emil stood on his toes to watch as Ivor came down from the steps of his
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palace, while from across the square the doors of the great cathedral swung
open, and Rasnar stepped out, followed by a procession of priests, waving
censers of smoke and carrying the great icon of Perm.
The Tugar looked down from the platform at the two.
"Is all as it should be?" the Tugar roared. "Are all the lands ordered for our
coming?"
"You are early," Ivor said, his voice cracking with fear.
The Namer raised his head heavenward, his laughter booming in short vicious
bursts.
"That is not for you to question, but for me to announce. If not ready now,
then ready you must be when the Wheel rises and falls once again with the
passing of a year."
"Then we shall be ready," Ivor said nervously, bowing low.
"Two you must choose for me now, for my warriors hunger, then tonight we shall
talk of all that must be done."
"Emil, Ferguson," Kal hissed, "start backing out of here quietly."
Emil didn't need any prompting. The menace was becoming all too real.
"Yet all is not ready," came a voice from the square. Emil hesitated and
looked back. It was Rasnar!
"Speak to him, Ivor, speak to him of the Yankees."
The Tugar turned and looked down at the priest.
"We shall talk of that tonight. First choose for me our repast!"
"Get out of here now!" Kal hissed.
Feeling a growing sense of terror, Emil followed Kal and Ferguson as they
pushed their way out of the square. Emil looked at those about him.
They stood numb, as if possessed by a terror so great that their hearts and
minds had ceased to function.
Reaching the edge of the crowd, the three broke into a run toward the south
gate. Gasping for breath, they reached the guardhouse where their horses were
tethered. Looking back up the street, Emil heard a loud cry, and suddenly the
sea of faces turned to look in their direction.
Needing no prompting, Emil spurred his horse with such desperation that for a
moment he thought the mare would throw him, and then with a splattering of mud
the three galloped through the gate and on down the road back to Fort Lincoln.
"They're coming!"
Hans, riding Andrew's mount, came galloping through the gate. Pulling up hard,
he looked down at the colonel.
"They're coming, sir. I saw Ivor galloping out front, but not a mile behind
them were the rest of those things, with that damned priest riding alongside."
"All right, Hans. Get the men ready."
Nervous, Andrew looked around at his command. Anything that could so badly
frighten Emil had to be something truly terrifying.
The regiment was in an ugly mood. He wasn't sure if it was at him, or at what
was coming. He had formed them on the parade ground an hour ago and told them
all that he knew. His explanation had been greeted with stunned silence. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]