Lord of Lies

Juwain's verses had been located near the Snake River only thirty miles to the west And Trahadak the Elder of the Zakut clan had invited us, in the name of Sajagax, to cross his lands freely on our way to seek out Sajagax and Alonia.

Chapter 15

At dawn the next morning I led the Guardians out onto the Wendrush. The plains to the west blazed red with the fire of the rising sun, while the cool turf over which we rode remained steeped in the mountains' shadow. But soon the sun rose higher, and we broke free from the zone of darkness into the sun's strong, streaming rays. The air clicked with the sound of grasshoppers and buzzed with bees. Long grasses swished beneath us, scraping our horses' flanks and across our diamond-sheathed legs. We followed the general course of the winding river toward the lake that Baltasar had told of. If he was right about its location, we should reach it near the end of a long day's ride. And if he was right about Trahadak the Elder's assurance of safe passage, we should encounter no Sarni warriors that day.

The Zakut encampment lies forty miles to the north of the lake,' he had told me during our council the night before. 'Along the river, at this time of year, the Zakut — all the Kurmak — do not pitch their tents.'

'And why is that?' Maram had asked him.

'Because it seems the river is given to flooding.'

'Flooding, you say? Ah, well, water is only water. But can this Trahadak be trusted?'

'The Sarni are savages, it's true,' Baltasar had admitted. 'But we've given them a gift of gold, and they have always been known to honor their word.'

It vexed me more than a little that I had to rely on Trahadak's word in crossing this unknown country. And so I sent outriders ahead us and behind to scout for bands of warriors that Trahadak might not know of. I did not really fear attack from any small numbers; it seemed that the only force capable of threatening us was that led by Trahadak himself. Even so, I did not want to be unprepared.

All that morning, however, we saw no beings that went on two legs, except ourselves and some flocks of ostrakats who waved their lone necks at us and hissed fiercely to warn us away. The Sarni, of course even though they are human beings like any others, do not go forth on two legs, for they are masters of the horse and worship this noble animal as others do the sun and sky. A Sarni warrior, it is said, measures his wealth by four things: the gold beaten into the ornaments that encircle his limbs; the shaggy sagosk that he herds; the women he has taken as wives; and the number and quality of horses that he rides. A man. His also said, might have to wait many years to marry; he might be stripped of gold and lose all of his sagosk in raids. But a man must possess at least one horse, or he is not counted a man.

As we rode along in our three columns, we kept the curves of the river to our left, sometimes at a distance of a mile, sometimes only a hundred yards away, for we wanted to follow as straight a course as possible. Around noon, though, we had to circle to the north to avoid a herd of wild sagosk grazing along the river. But in so doing, we managed to flush a pride of lions that stalked the sagosk and preyed upon their stragglers and young. Seven great, yellow-eyed beasts burst from the grass in a shock of bunching muscles and unleashed power. The huge cats frightened our horses, who screamed and reared up, kicking out their legs and bucking Sar Viku and four other knights from their backs. The lions, perhaps frightened by the glister of our diamond armor and nearly two hundred long lances pointed at them, ran off into the grass. It was a wonder, I thought, that Sar Viku and the others took only bruises from their violent falls.

Toward the end of the day, with the sun bloodying the clouds on the western horizon, we crested a hummock and finally sighted the lake about five miles ahead of us in a depression in the earth many miles wide. The Snake River flowed into it. Somewhere to the west of this hazy blue body of water, it must also flow out. I wanted to ride closer to get a better look at this mysterious lake; I had considered making camp on its shores that night. But it had grown too late. It would be better, I thought, to dig our moat and build our stockade from the fallen wood down by the river to the left of us. There, with the river bending sharply south through the grassy steppe before bending back north and west, we would be protected by water on three sides.

And so we rode down into this sheltered pocket of land and set to work. Guardians sheathed their lances and drew forth spades from the packhorses to dig in the tough, sun-seared turf. I posted Sar Kimball and three other Guardians as sentries on a rise a few hundred yards farther out on the steppe, away from the river. It was one of these, Sar Varald, who broke the peace of that quiet place. The sudden blare of his trumpet seemed to shatter the very air, I looked to the north to see these four Guardians galloping toward us.

'Mount,' I cried out. I ran over to where Altaru was tethered to some branches that we had intented to fashion into a fence. All around me between tents lying limp on to ground, in the chaos of our camp, Guardians were running for their horses too. 'Mount and form up!'

As Sar Varald and the others came pounding up to us. I commanded the Guardians to array themselves in three lines facing north toward the rise overlooking the river. Twenty of these, by arrangement remained unhorsed. They were our best archers and I posted them, ten to either side of us, on our flanks. While the rest of us sat upon our snorting horses with our lances pointing north, the archers strung their great longbows and began building a fence of arrows in front of them by sticking many long, feathered shafts point-down into the ground.

'Treachery!' Sar Kimball cried out as he and the other sentries reined up his huge sorrel at the front of our lines. There, at our center with the late sun making brilliant the diamond armor of two hundred Valari knights. I waited with Maram and Lansar Raasharu to my right while Baltasar and Sunjay Naviru sat on top of their mounts to my left. 'Treachery, Lord Valashu! The Sarni are upon us!'

'How many?' I asked him. I gazed at the grassy rise a few hundred yards away waiting.

'Two hundred,' he said. 'Perhaps more — it was hard to tell.' I turned to look past the two lines of knights backing us up. There, behind our center, Lord Harsha sat on his horse, and Behira and Estrella sat on theirs. Skyshan of Ki, who bore the Lightstone, was with them, along with Sar Adamar, Sar Jarlath and Sar Hannu of Anjo. If the worst befell, these knights would die to a man protecting Skyshan, even as we protected them. And Lord Harsha would certainly fight to the death in defense of his daughter and Estrella.

'Two hundred,' Lord Raasharu repeated in his calm, clear voice. No man in our lines had more experience of battle than he. 'Even odds.' He said this, I thought, to inspirit us. For the odds were not equal. I remembered what my father had taught me as a boy: that while we Valari were nearly always invincible on the ground of the Morning Mountains, here on the endless grasslands of the Wendrush against the Sarni, our heavilv armored knights were at a great disadvantage. 'There they are!' Maram suddenly cried out as he pointed ahead of us

Along the line of the rise, some two hundred and twenty men on horses suddenly appeared against the cloud-dappled sky. They wore conical helmets polished brightly and black leather breast-pieces, hardened and studded with steel. Gorgets of gold gleamed around their necks, and many of these barbaric warriors sported golden circlets on their bare arms. Their faces were painted blue. Long, drooping, yellow moustaches spilled down beneath their chins. Each of them held in his hand a double-curved bow made of sinew, wood and horn. These powerful bows — and the arrows they fired — could work quick slaughter of their enemies from distances that matched the range of our longbows. If not for a miracle, I thought, they might slaughter us: we Valari, who were the most ancient and hated of their enemies.

'Baltasar!' I cried out as I stared at these wild men. 'Which one is Trahadak — can you point him out?'

I vowed to myself that if the Sarni charged us, the treacherous Trahadak the Elder should be the first to die.

Baltasar held his hand to the ridge of his helmet as he scanned the warriors before us. He shook his head, saying, 'The distance is too great.'

'Damn them!' Maram said. I saw that he had taken out his fire-stone. The cracked crystal remained useless in his hand. 'Damn this gelstei! If this were made whole again, I'd give them a little fire for turning against us. Do you think they've come for more gold?'

I couldn't say. It seemed certain that they couldn't have come for the gold of the Lightstone, for Baltasar had kept it and our mission a secret. But surely the Sarni wanted something of us, if only our horses, our arms and