For a long time, Khai was silent. He got up, went to the door of the tent and looked in the direction of the Khemish defenses. Night would be setting in soon and in an hour or so it would be dark. “If we agree to talk,” Khai said, “when would this withdrawal take place?”
“It would begin at once. Also, Khai, we would go to the meeting-place in a chariot. In the event of any sort of treachery, why!—we’d be back among our own men before any Khemites could possibly reach us.”
He went to stand beside Khai and gazed out upon the evening, unlovely now that the land all around looked like a corpse dead of some hideous plague. “Well, Khai,” he said, “it seems to me we can have done with the thing at a stroke. What say you?”
“I say . . . that we wait until Gahad Shebbithon gets here before we drive out to this meeting-place. He should be here soon, for I spoke to him when I rode through his camp. Between now and then, let’s see these Khemites draw back their lines, eh? Where’s this flag you mentioned, this signal of acceptance?”
Half an hour later, Khai and Manek drove to a place forward of their front lines where the latter held up a spear draped with a large square of yellow linen. And there they waited as night came on, standing beside their chariot and watching the Khemites draw back under the walls of Asorbes. While they waited Gahad Shebbithon drove up, dismounted and greeted them. Gahad was a man of their own age, strong and capable, and they knew him well. They told him what was happening and instructed him, in the event of anything going wrong, what he must do: namely that he must call the chiefs together and consult with them, and thus decide the best way to deal with the situation.
As the first stars of night appeared, Khai and Manek then drove toward the ground so recently occupied by the Khemites. A lone tent stood just inside the circle of life which surrounded Asorbes, upon the only green grass untouched by the Dark Heptad’s blight. Coming from the opposite direction, on foot, two figures in the garb of Khemish commanders arrived at the tent at the same time. Formal introductions were a little stiff, somewhat stilted, and Khai did not at all like the looks of these two generals of Pharaoh’s army. Manek seemed eager to get on with it, however, and so all four of them entered the tent and seated themselves at a central table.
The tent was lighted by hanging lamps which gave a good, steady light, and Khai saw nothing to account for his steadily mounting feelings of apprehension and nervous distrust. As if sensing his unease, the Khemish commanders produced a stone jar of wine and four silver cups. One of them poured the wine and immediately drained his cup. His friend, Manek and Khai followed suit. As Khai put his cup to his lips, however, he noticed the sheen of sweat on Manek’s brow, gleaming in the lamplight. The wine tasted bitter on his tongue and suddenly he knew that he could not be mistaken. The poison must have been in his cup before the wine was poured!
“ ’Ware, Manek!” he cried, starting up from the table. The eyes of the three were hard upon him where he swayed. Then Manek hung his head and looked away, but before he did Khai saw the sickness in his eyes.
The stricken man staggered from the table and slowly his world began to tilt. He fell, and falling saw large sods of grass tossed aside and Khemish soldiers where they emerged from holes in the earth; then there was a whirling and a rushing in his head and he saw no more. Before he passed out completely he heard parts of a conversation. Manek’s voice said:
“Wait for a few more minutes until it’s properly dark. Then you’ll have to give me a good clout behind the ear to raise a bump that can plainly be seen. When I’m stretched out, one of your men should drive a sword through my shirt into the earth. I don’t mind if it grazes me—all to the good—but no more than that. As for the General Khai: Pharaoh must let him live, but that’s all. I’ll not take Kush’s future king home to the Candace, but the merest shell of a man. Is that understood?”
One of the Khemish commanders answered him: “And do you put yourself so completely in our hands, Manek Thotak? What if we choose to take you also into Asorbes?”
Manek laughed grimly. “And who then would quell the anger of the thousands come here to destroy you Khemites? And who would stay their hands? You’d not only have Kush and a few of her friends on your doorstep but all of Siwad, Nubia and Daraaf, too—and in less than a month, I promise you! This way Pharaoh keeps Khem, what’s left of it, and I get Kush. There is no other way.”
This much Khai heard, but no more, not for a very long time. . . .
In the foothills of the Gilf Kebir, Ashtarta had gone wearily to the tent of her handmaidens where she had fallen fast asleep. It was now mid-morning, five days since Manek’s treachery on the approaches to Asorbes. In the Queen’s marquee Khai and Manek lay on their couches in attitudes of death. They had been left alone on the instructions of the seven mages, whose magical efforts for Khai’s recovery had not been seen to work. The seven had seemed unperturbed, however, and had instructed that the generals should now be left alone in peace and quiet. Nothing more could be done. If Manek were successful in some future, as yet unborn world, then he would return with Khai eventually. But it must be soon, before life became truly extinct in the present bodies of the two men.
Thus, when color returned to the cheeks of the two and their eyelids began to flutter—as their chests rose and fell more steadily and with burgeoning strength, and their hearts beat more powerfully within them—none remained to see it. Some minutes passed in this manner and finally Khai awakened. His eyes opened and he stared up at the roof of the marquee above him.
For a mad, fleeting moment he was two men, with the memories of both. He was Khai of Kush—but, he was also Paul Arnott of London. Then, as a nightmare receding, his memories of Arnott dwindled and were gone. His Khai memories, on the other hand, were fresh and vivid in his mind—particularly those memories of Manek Thotak’s treachery!
Khai sat bolt upright then, in time to see Manek awakening where he lay close by. For a moment, they stared into each other’s eyes. Then the blond giant was off his couch in a flash, snarling his rage, dragging Manek by the throat until he had his back across his knee. He could have choked the life from him then, or simply snapped his spine, but he did neither of these things. Instead, he snarled: “Before you die, tell me why?”
“For Kush!” the helpless general managed to choke out.
“For Kush?” Khai released his grip on Manek’s throat. “Are you mad?”
“No, not mad. I won’t see a Khemite on the throne of Kush, that’s all. Now get it over and done with. Kill me!”
“What do you mean?” Khai asked. “What are you getting at?”
“You’re Ashtarta’s lover, aren’t you?”
Now Khai frowned his puzzlement. “Jealousy!” he finally said, his voice flat and disappointed.
“No!” Manek protested. “I’m not jealous. I want nothing of Ashtarta herself—only that when she marries, her husband should be a man born and bred of Kush.”
“You fool!” Khai snarled, his face twisting. “You might very well have destroyed this Kush you love so much! Where are we now? Isn’t this Ashtarta’s tent? You’d better tell me all that’s happened since you gave me over into the hands of those dogs. And you’d better tell me quickly, before I really do kill you.”
He let Manek get up and they sat facing one another. Then Manek told all, haltingly at first but more hurriedly toward the end, eager to get it done with. When he had finished, they sat for some moments in silence.
Finally, Khai said, “Manek, our armies are waiting in Khem. They know nothing of all this. No one does, just we two. Will you come back now with me and lead your men against Asorbes, or do you prefer the one alternative?”
“What?” Manek was incredulous. “I don’t need your mercy, Khai. What’s the alternative?”
“Simply this,” the other answered, “to stay here in Kush—a traitor!”
“I was never a traitor to Kush!” Manek protested.
“Tell that to the Candace—” Khai got to his feet. “An
yway, you will be a traitor if you don’t return with me to Khem. Your army needs a leader and you’re it. Whether you’re worthy of their trust or not, they’d follow you to hell.” He moved toward the marquee’s door.
“Wait!” Manek also stood up. “And would you trust me, if I come with you?”
“It’s your one chance to clear yourself,” Khai grunted. “I would have to trust you.”
Manek looked down at the white sand floor of the marquee and nodded his head. “It will be much more to my taste to double-cross Pharaoh,” he finally said. “And in any case, he failed me miserably. You were supposed to be out of it, and look at you: there’s more fight in you now than ever there was! Very well, Khai Ibizin, I’ll come back with you.” And they left the tent together.
VI
RED ARROWS
The first Ashtarta knew of the success of Manek’s search down the centuries was when her handmaidens awakened her. By then, Khai and Manek had taken a chariot and pair and were already heading down across the foothills towards Khem. Tethered behind their vehicle, a second pair of horses galloped with them, reliefs for the two in front when they were tired. The men of Manek’s escort had seen them leaving and were now shouting and rushing about the encampment, getting their horses, chariots and carts together so that they could follow their generals back the way they had come.
Within one chaotic quarter-hour, in total disarray, they had all left; and still Ashtarta was at a loss whether to laugh or cry. Imthra, too, had been awakened, and he also was both confused and delighted. Delighted that Khai was returned fit and well from what had seemed certain death, confused at his hurried departure, without a word to anyone.
But Khai had his reasons. By now his men must be growing short of food; certainly they would be edgy, spoiling for a fight, squabbling among themselves. And what of Pharaoh? What of his Dark Heptad? What new horrors would they be breeding in that dreadful vault of theirs beneath the great pyramid? To linger in Kush, even for minutes, would have been to waste precious time. There would have been questions to answer and lies to be told. Manek had been spared that much at least—if he deserved to be spared.
Still, he had been the one to come down the centuries searching for Khai, and so save his life—or at least one of them! The blond giant owed him that much at least.
Now Khai lashed his horses to yet more speed and lifted his voice above the rush of air and the rattle of the chariot.
“Manek,” he cried, “what do you remember of that other world?”
“Very little,” the other yelled back. “Only that I found you there. It seems like a dream now.”
“A dream?” Khai repeated him. “Yes, I suppose it does. But I’ll tell you something—from now on it’s no dream. I have a feeling that as of right now it’s going to be purest nightmare!”
Two days later, with the sun just beginning its downward glide, Khai and Manek reached the place where the latter’s men were camped. By then Manek’s escort was within sight but still had not quite managed to catch up with the two generals. Khai waited at Manek’s camp long enough to see him take charge and begin issuing orders—which were for the organization of an immediate return to Asorbes—and then he drove off alone in the direction of his own camp. To get there he had to drive through Gahad Shebbithon’s positions, and though the sight of him in his chariot drove Gahad’s men into a frenzy of delight, still he did not break his drive. His reception at his own camp was similar to that accorded Manek by his men: a wildly excited melee of hoarsely shouting chiefs and cheering warriors, so that weary as he was from his journey, still he found himself uplifted and filled with a fierce pride. The uproar became louder still when he let it be known that he intended to take Asorbes the very next day.
Later, having rested for a few hours, he gave audience to a number of slaves recently escaped from Asorbes. There were six of them, young Nubians who wore their ankh scars not with shame but pride. Those marks burned in their foreheads were symbols of the oppression they had known in Asorbes; but they would paint them blazing red before they returned as soldiers of Kush, so that every Khemite soldier who saw them would know that these men would show no mercy. Khai applauded their savage determination, but he was more interested in the manner of their escape and asked them how they had managed it.
He was told that on the second day after Manek had taken him back to Kush, Khem’s soldiers had once again come forward from the city to deploy in their former positions. With Manek’s army out of the way, the Khemites had seen that they now held the upper hand. The Kushites were short two generals and one third of their warriors, and the balance had swung again in Khem’s favor. Before they could join battle, however, Adonda Gomba—the old Nubian King of Slaves—had organized an uprising against those overseers and guards who still remained within the city’s walls. To quell the rebellion, Pharaoh had been obliged to bring his troops back into the city. There they had remained until this very afternoon, and only now were they redeploying. The situation in Asorbes must therefore be well under Pharaoh’s control once more.
As for Adonda Gomba: when his uprising failed, he had gone into hiding somewhere in the slave quarters; but during the course of that diversion and in the general melee, these six Nubians had managed to shin down a rope tossed from the north wall and so make their escape. There had been a dozen of them in all, but the others had been only halfway down the rope when a Khemish soldier parted it with his sword.
“So,” said Khai when he heard this news, “the old slave-king is still alive, is he?—And creating mischief for the Khemites as of old.” And his eyes narrowed in deep thought. For memories of Adonda Gomba had given him the inkling of an idea, and the more he considered it, the more it appealed to him. He called several of his men to him and told them to find him an artist, then tore three small squares of fine white linen from the door-flap of his tent. When the artist, a youth of one of the tribes appeared, Khai bade him draw the following symbols on each piece of linen in its turn:
First—Adonda Gomba’s sign, which was a circle contained a triangle; next—a sketch of Asorbes with the north, south and west gates broken down; thirdly—a yellow sun rising over a green Nile; and finally Khai’s signature, which was a pyramid with a twig figure sliding down its side. To ensure that there could be no mistake as to the author’s identity, he had the artist sign the message yet again, this time with a blue eye. Then he quickly trimmed sections from the shafts of three red-flighted arrows and wrapped his messages about them, gumming them firmly in place.
All done, he called forward one of his best charioteers and they set off at a gallop westward, curving around Asorbes and passing back through Gahad Shebbithon’s camp, then turning eastward again and driving down onto that land which Manek Thotak’s forces had held. The slave quarters of Asorbes lay on this side of the city, and in his mind’s eye Khai clearly could see those dirty, vermin-ridden streets as he had known them so long ago. If he could put his arrows into the slave quarters, one of them was bound to find its way to Gomba. Then, when the armies of Kush drove against the city’s gates at dawn of the next day, perhaps Gomba and his army of slaves would be there to help—and on the inside, where they would be of greatest assistance.
The first companies of Manek’s army were just beginning to arrive and take up their old positions as Khai’s chariot turned in toward Asorbes and sped directly for the slave city. The south gate was open and Khemish soldiers were hurrying out into the pastures beneath the walls. They had withdrawn when Manek took his army away, but now that he was returning they were preparing to defend the city as before. They saw Khai coming and many of them stopped to watch him, possibly in astonishment. Whoever he was, he was either a very brave man or utterly insane; for on he came, unswervingly toward the looming walls, as if he intended to take on the whole city single-handed.
A few moments more and Khai was within bowshot of those soldiers outside the gate, and still he came on. The Khemites began to shoot their arrows at him, but useles
sly for the chariot was still a very small and awkward target. Then, close to the walls of the city, less than one hundred yards from Asorbes itself, Khai ordered the chariot turned and made his run parallel with the wall and in a westerly direction. As arrows began to fall about the thundering vehicle, he jammed himself firmly in position behind his driver and loosed his three arrows over the wall. He used his finest, most powerful bow and sped each shaft with every ounce of strength he could bring to bear; and all three were in the air together, flying up and over the wall and into Asorbes.
Many enemy arrows were falling now, singing as they buried themselves in earth or feathered the wooden car of the chariot. Khai held up a shield overhead, protecting himself and his driver, then ordered the man to make for Manek’s lines. Moments later, they were out of range of the Khemish defenders and a few more minutes took them to where Manek was setting up his command tent. Khai told Manek his plan: how with the dawn they would take the city, and what must be done before then. He wasted few words but nevertheless left no detail to chance. When he was done, Manek immediately called his chiefs together around a fire, passing on Khai’s instructions and issuing orders. Teams of men would work late this night.
Then Khai drove north to Gahad Shebbithon’s camp where he repeated his instructions; and finally he hurried back to his own warriors where they camped on the northern approaches to the city. From there he sent his two Nubian lieutenants and a small body of men across the river to talk to N’jakka. By morning, having crossed the river during the night, two of N’jakka’s impis would be camped on the west bank, ready to tackle any Khemites who might choose to flee Asorbes by the east gate. This would be the only gate Ashtarta’s forces would not attack—but certainly it would be defended. Pharaoh might waste as many as one sixth of his forces defending that gate, which should make the going easier at the breaking of the other three.