Scorpio Drums [Dray Prescot #42] Read online

  The king-like figure on his throne lifted his hands and made his gestures and—lo!—the faces of the women changed. In a heartbeat they were no longer haughty, defiant, radiating love one for the other that would not be broken—now their faces drew into animal snarls, savage downdrawn brows and writhing lips.

  I didn't care how they were to die, by sword or pit; that they were to die at all mattered.

  Once in hand to hand combat, Delia could easily overcome Mevancy. But Mevancy had only to shoot her bindles and Delia would no longer have a face.

  With hatred disfiguring her features, Mevancy began slowly to lift her forearms, pointing at Delia.

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  Chapter twenty

  Red roaring madness engulfed me. I felt choked. Naked as I was I felt as though a metal helmet enclosed my head, crushing my temples, constricting my throat. All I could see in the whole universe was Delia. She stood at the centre of vision and all about her stretched nothingness. Half crouched, her hands extended, she looked lithe and vibrant, quick and lethal as any hunting cat—and across her face spread a demonic look of utter hatred.

  I had to tear my whole being away from Delia. I had to control myself, I had to think. I had to—I was out on the sand and somehow the broken body of a marshal lay strewn behind me and I was running for the steps to the throne. If arrows were shot off at me, they all missed.

  The two guards with their double-curved swords came down for me and I had one of their swords in my fist and they were reeling back with their guts hanging out. I kicked them aside and sprang up the rest of the steps to the platform where the throne reared. The king in his golden robes still continued to stand with arm extended.

  The knowledge flamed in my head that I must not kill him.

  Up to his back I leaped, gripping his extended arm in my left fist, and fitting the curve of the sword snugly about his throat. I jerked the sword. I cut him. Oh, yes, I cut the bastard!

  “Cancel the hatred spell instantly or I will slit your throat.”

  I spoke evenly, not panting, and my words shot out like steel darts.

  He started in with some expected nonsense like: “You are already dead—let me go!”

  I cut him again. I took a vicious and sadistic pleasure from that, Zair forgive me. I dare not look down on the sand. I dare not...

  He yelped and I twisted his arm down. If the bones snapped, so much the worse for him.

  An arrow clanked onto the arm of the throne. He yelled then, lifting his voice: “Stop! Stop shooting you shints!”

  No more arrows flighted in.

  I put more pressure on his arm and abruptly it snapped down. He shrieked out something I couldn't understand and tried to twist away in my grasp. He didn't succeed but his movement took his head out of my line of sight. And so I looked down onto the sand.

  Marshals were running about and a bunch were starting for the steps up to the throne. So it had been quick, then.

  I yelled at them: “Stop still! His head will roll off if you do not!”

  Out of concern for him, or fear—who the hell cared?—they stopped.

  So I could look at the two women.

  Mevancy was flat on her front on the sand. Her right arm was twisted up behind her and in some mystical way her head was being hauled back. Delia was half kneeling on her, and had her in a grip that I recognized as a variation of a Krozair technique with a nasty little extra from the Sisters of the Rose flung in. Blood speckled Delia's arms.

  As I gazed with the blood thumping in my temples and the feeling of suffocation nigh on choking me, Delia abruptly let go. She jumped up. Mevancy rolled over, dazed. Delia hauled her to her feet and the women collapsed into each other's arms. They hugged each other, laughing and crying and kissing. What I felt—I do not know what I felt.

  Over to the side a black clad marshal suddenly went flying up into the air. He landed with a splat on his back. An enormous figure burst from the crowd of prisoners waving a double-curved sword. He went hell for leather for the next pack of marshals.

  As that bulky powerful figure charged, I felt the numbness between my ears falling away. The big fellow was yelling as he charged.

  “Hack ‘n’ Slay! I'll have you, you cramphs! Hack ‘n’ Slay!”

  Following him leaped a rascally gang who went tearing into the black clad men. All were naked. But I recognized most of them. First Emperor's Sword Watch were in action!

  The fellow in my grip was blathering on, shrieking over his broken arm, as the greasy blood dripped down from his throat. I twisted him again. “If your Bowmen of Loh shoot, you kleesh, I'll slit your throat.”

  That instruction proved superfluous in the next turn of events. Everything had happened at a hectic rate. Shafts began to fall among the clustered bowmen on their platform—and each shaft was fletched with the red feathers of the zim korf of Vallia!

  The lads of EYJ came running in, perfectly controlled, in tight formation, hurtling on to send the rabble of black-gowned men and the holiday crowd into a shrieking panic. How they scuttled, those drinkers of the flame of the Drums!

  Seg and Inch were there, in the lead, roaring the swods on.

  Llodi had a spear and was rapidly following old Hack ‘n’ Slay as they cleared their end of the arena. As for that young rip Rollo, he'd found himself a bow and was merrily shooting anything black that moved.

  So engrossed was I in the fantastic scene in the cavern that I took no notice of a hissing squawk overhead. The fleeting thought crossed my mind that if the Star Lords had sent their Gdoinye to spy on what I was doing for them, he'd turned up a bit too late, by Djan!

  Now guards of Queen Satra's expedition appeared, joining in.

  I whooshed out a breath. Seg and Inch reached Delia and Mevancy. Scarlet and gold cloaks enveloped their nakedness. Milsi and Sasha ran across, half-sobbing, half-laughing, to be embraced. Well, then! Things were turning out well, by Krun!

  The four Hytaks led by Lurgan the Vandour who had joined us from Gochert's party, together with Wa-Te, had caught the gong mistress and the woman of the red patch and the slate. They had not slain them. Being professional paktuns,they were touchy on points of honor.

  Everything was on the point of being under control. Our forces fanned out to occupy the place and make sure we were secure. The fleeing mobs in black or bright attire would be scuttling away to their bolt holes. We'd have to deal with them in due course.

  So, then—and belatedly, by Vox!—I bethought myself of this king fellow's golden crown and the ruby of the Skantiklar glowing at its centre.

  Again that hissing squawk spat from above me. I looked up.

  A golden flash, a fleeting glimpse of wide spread wings—and I ducked! The golden-feathered xichun darted his sinuous neck past my downbent head and as I rolled sideways so the xichun's fanged head snatched the crown. His wings beat powerfully and he was up and curving for the radiance of the roof.

  I yelled. “Seg! Rollo! Shaft him!”

  My shout burst above the hubbub. People swung about to stare. The xichun was a mere glinting golden speck, driving past the boulders of the Drum. A shadow among the cunning balance of stone took my immediate and appalled attention. There was no chance of a shot now, even a Bowman as superlative as Seg could not blast a shaft through solid stone.

  Up there the xichun fluttered to a landing on the boulder. It did not move under the weight. A man appeared. There must be a tunnel leading to the Drums through the rock of the roof. He looked down.

  I knew him. Oh, I knew him all right!

  Deb-Lu appeared up the steps of the throne. He was real. He panted out: “He's got it, Jak! He's got it!”

  The king stirred in my grip and I released him, staring up in bitter frustration. This king fellow must have recognized the end for him and his ways. He must also have been brave. With an inarticulate cry he jumped down the steps. The movement made me instinctively follow him with my gaze. He ran with his golden robes flapp
ing about him, he ran straight for the pit of the flame. He jumped in.

  His body was not enough to trigger the blast of spitting fire. The pit remained black. His last desperate fling had failed.

  Deb-Lu said: “Look, Dray!”

  Up there on the boulder of the Drums the bulky figure of Na-Si-Fantong worked on the helmet. He untwisted the ruby of the Skantiklar and held it aloft in triumph.

  Then, with a gesture of supreme contempt, he hurled the crown down, and it bounced and trundled across the sand.

  “He's gone!”

  The Wizard of Loh, Na-Si-Fantong, disappeared.

  With him went the ruby, went the reason we had suffered all the perils down here in the Realm of the Drums.

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  About the Author

  Alan Burt Akers was a pen name of the prolific British author Kenneth Bulmer, who died in December 2005 aged eighty-four.

  Bulmer wrote over 160 novels and countless short stories, predominantly science fiction, both under his real name and numerous pseudonyms, including Alan Burt Akers, Frank Brandon, Rupert Clinton, Ernest Corley, Peter Green, Adam Hardy, Philip Kent, Bruno Krauss, Karl Maras, Manning Norvil, Chesman Scot, Nelson Sherwood, Richard Silver, H. Philip Stratford, and Tully Zetford. Kenneth Johns was a collective pseudonym used for a collaboration with author John Newman. Some of Bulmer's works were published along with the works of other authors under “house names” (collective pseudonyms) such as Ken Blake (for a series of tie-ins with the 1970s television programme The Professionals), Arthur Frazier, Neil Langholm, Charles R. Pike, and Andrew Quiller.

  Bulmer was also active in science fiction fandom, and in the 1970s he edited nine issues of the New Writings in Science Fiction anthology series in succession to John Carnell, who originated the series.

  More details about the author, and current links to other sources of information, can be found at www.mushroom-ebooks.com, and at wikipedia.org.

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  The Dray Prescot Series

  The Delian Cycle:

  1. Transit to Scorpio

  2. The Suns of Scorpio

  3. Warrior of Scorpio

  4. Swordships of Scorpio

  5. Prince of Scorpio

  Havilfar Cycle:

  6. Manhounds of Antares

  7. Arena of Antares

  8. Fliers of Antares

  9. Bladesman of Antares

  10. Avenger of Antares

  11. Armada of Antares

  The Krozair Cycle:

  12. The Tides of Kregen

  13. Renegade of Kregen

  14. Krozair of Kregen

  Vallian cycle:

  15. Secret Scorpio

  16. Savage Scorpio

  17. Captive Scorpio

  18. Golden Scorpio

  Jikaida cycle:

  19. A Life for Kregen

  20. A Sword for Kregen

  21. A Fortune for Kregen

  22. A Victory for Kregen

  Spikatur cycle:

  23. Beasts of Antares

  24. Rebel of Antares

  25. Legions of Antares

  26. Allies of Antares

  Pandahem cycle:

  27. Mazes of Scorpio

  28. Delia of Vallia

  29. Fires of Scorpio

  30. Talons of Scorpio

  31. Masks of Scorpio

  32. Seg the Bowman

  Witch War cycle:

  33. Werewolves of Kregen

  34. Witches of Kregen

  35. Storm over Vallia

  36. Omens of Kregen

  37. Warlord of Antares

  Lohvian cycle:

  38. Scorpio Reborn

  39. Scorpio Assassin

  40. Scorpio Invasion

  41. Scorpio Ablaze

  42. Scorpio Drums

  43. Scorpio Triumph

  Balintol cycle:

  44. Intrigue of Antares

  45. Gangs of Antares

  46. Demons of Antares

  47. Scourge of Antares

  48. Challenge of Antares

  49. Wrath of Antares

  50. Shadows over Kregen

  Phantom cycle:

  51. Murder on Kregen

  52. Turmoil on Kregen

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  Visit www.mushroom-ebooks.com for information on additional titles by this and other authors.