The street of slaves was unlit, unlike the infamous plaza not far from it, which seemed a sun compared to this street’s moon. Ra-ta had blessed us again, for the avenue was empty. No doubt spending one’s hours among the residences of lesser beings was not a common practice of the masters of the world. There would be Creet guards, of that I was certain, but we felt confident in our ability to handle them.
How I would use the can-raks concerned me. I would not have considered attempting this rescue without their presence, since we had no conventional weapons. My mind had been working since entering this street. I was trying to formulate a strategy by which I could use the can-raks to terrorize without causing a horrific bloodbath.
At last, I told them to frighten any Creet soldiers we might come across by screeching and howling and threatening them, without making physical contact. Chase them down the street, make them cower and soil themselves, but leave them alive. Of course, if any decided to be foolhardy and fight back—kill them.
I instructed the beasts to leave the slaves unharmed and assist any in peril. With that attended to, the four of us walked up to the steps of the first building and climbed them. A Creet guard dozed in a chair near the entrance, comfortable and snoring. I tapped him on the shoulder to rouse him. He jerked, came to attention, and then realized I was not his superior. Uttering an oath, he grabbed for his stirka.
Javen quickly pinned his arms behind him while I directed the squirming guard’s attention to the two sets of yellow can-rak eyes hovering in the darkness above and to my rear. If terror had a face, I now knew what it looked like. The guard struggled in a frantic effort to free himself from Javen’s grasp and then began to mewl in a pathetic fashion. I patted him on the shoulder.
“There, there,” I said. “They won’t eat you unless I tell them to. And, guess what?”
I leaned in closer.
“If you give me your weapons, and then run as fast as you can down that street, I will make sure the beasts let you live. However, if you breathe a word to anyone, the can-raks will know and hunt you down. I have seen it happen. They know what you are thinking.”
The man stopped fidgeting and a hopeful glimmer appeared in his eyes.
“Please, I will do as you say. I will go straight home. No one will hear a thing from me.”
I wondered if I could trust his word, being a Spood and all. However, looking him over, I judged my can-rak warning had served its purpose.
“Your stirka and knife,” I said. “Give them to me. The belt, too.”
The man complied and I told him to run. He hurried into the blackness and within seconds I heard a growl and a sharp exclamation. I gathered he had discovered the other can-raks. I wondered how fast he was running now.
I handed the stirka to Izzy, along with the scabbard belt, and Lillatta assisted her in strapping it around her waist. Javen gave me a wounded look, as if he had expected to get the sword.
“Izzy could have that blade out and across your throat, in your heart, or slicing your brain before you could lift it halfway out of the scabbard,” I told him. “She has the skill, so she gets the sword.”
Javen had no argument with that.
I kept the knife for myself. I had no experience with swords. The rik-ta was my weapon, along with the spear, and I hoped to obtain one of those before long. I was confident Lillatta and Javen would soon find arms as well, for we were sure to encounter stiffer resistance as we proceeded. I didn’t know how much longer this stealthy approach would work, but I had no illusions Ra-ta would make it easy.
We entered the first building without the can-raks, forced to leave the massive beasts outside. Three guards, startled by our bold entrance, drew swords. They did not hide their astonishment at the sight of armed slaves walking in off the street.
“They’re girls,” one observed, stating the obvious, with no attempt to differentiate Javen from that appraisal.
“And not very bright ones at that,” said another. “They’re not even smart enough to know they walked right into a slave prison.”
He seemed to be the one in charge. His disdainful attitude grated on me.
“Oh, we know where we are,” I told the man. “And all we want are the slaves. We would be grateful if we didn’t have to fight you to get them. If you lay down your weapons, as your man outside did, we will let you go free.”
The man gaped in disbelief over my impudence and then bellowed a hearty laugh.
“Did you hear that, Pelkar?” he said to one of the others. “She doesn’t want to fight us, just wants us to lay down our weapons.”
Pelkar and the other man chuckled.
“Jatan’s a fool,” the one in charge remarked, “so I’m not surprised he surrendered his weapons so readily. But what if we decide not to? What if we decide to keep ours?”
The man smiled, but there was no friendliness behind the expression. “Are you going to try to stab us with your little knife and take them from us?”
“If you insist. It won’t be that difficult.”
The man did not care for that response and his expression no longer held any hint of humor.
“You have quite a mouth on you, slave. And your stupidity is astounding! You have a man in your group and you leave him unarmed? You give your best weapon to a one-armed girl? That knife you carry looks a little too big for you. I’m going to enjoy taking it away and using it to cut off that pretty and brainless little head of yours.”
Lillatta and Javen stayed back as Izzy and I readied ourselves for the imminent attack. The big talker held his stirka in his right hand and pointed it at me. We faced off as the other two double-teamed Izzy. The man’s face was confident and scornful as he came forward. It was sword against knife. Lunging toward me, the man seemed intent on making short work of me by running me through. I held my rik-ta in my right hand and turned across my body to meet and with ease deflect his blade to the side. Then, I continued the turn, coming with a swift sweep all the way back around while stepping in closer to the Creet. As I turned, I reached out with my free left hand to grab the man’s sword arm by the wrist. At the same time, I brought my right around and slashed my blade across his exposed throat.
With critical channels of lifeblood severed, the Creet quickly lost interest in the battle. I let go of the man’s sword arm as his blade had already loosened in his grasp. His free hand reached up to his wound and his sword dropped from the other, clanging as it hit the floor. He brought his other hand up and held his gushing neck, a look of utter incomprehension on his face. Then, unable to stand, he followed his sword on down and with a thump lay upon the stone floor, spewing red until life departed.
I held out my blade in a taunting gesture.
“Here’s the knife you were going to take from me,” I told the corpse. “Don’t you want it anymore?”
Apparently, he didn’t.
I turned to assist Izzy, but she needed no help. She was standing, calm as usual, watching me with that impish grin of hers. Her two assailants were down and dead.
“I wondered if you were going to take all night,” she said with an affected exasperation. “You know I have things to do and places to go.”
Javen stared open mouthed at the two of us. Lillatta laughed and said to me, “They fought about half as well as those straw dummies you used to practice on.”
We gathered the weapons and distributed them. Lillatta grabbed a rik-ta and a sword, though she’d never used the latter. Javen snatched up the same. We each took a stairwell, knowing there were probably no more guards to confront.
The cells were packed. More slaves were arriving daily as the Spood expanded their control, and many in this building were newcomers. I checked to see if any were Sakita or Raab, but none were.
The freed slaves flooded out onto the street, their excitement unchecked. All was confusion. We could not keep them silent, and less so after they spotted the can-raks. Many fled down the
street, screaming, and I realized we had botched our initial rescue. They would in due course alert the city to our actions and soon the Creet soldiers would pour in from the surrounding streets.
Already, Creet guards from the other slave buildings had appeared in doorways, investigating the disturbing noises. I saw several of them race toward the plaza, hurrying to rouse the Creet companies headquartered there. I had hoped to delay the introduction of more troops until we had emptied all the cells, but that was not to be.
Numa and Nima were nearing the end of their race, yet still in full illumination as we redoubled our efforts to release the slaves. By now, the building guards had all abandoned their posts, aware of our growing numbers, and knowing their troops would soon arrive to handle things. That allowed a smoother, more rapid effort on our part. The street was filling with gray-clad people. We rectified our earlier mistake by informing everyone the can-raks were under our control.
The freed captives looked to us for guidance. I had them gather, and then told the can-raks to form a perimeter around them. We were going to march straight through the city and out to the countryside, and let the Spood try stopping us. My concern was that none of the slaves had weapons. I didn’t know if the can-rak presence would be enough to protect us from an organized assault, but we had few options.
We avoided the plaza and took another street. I had it in my head to follow a route I had devised while standing on the wall overlooking the city earlier. I believed there were only a couple more thoroughfares to negotiate and we could exit the city. That would take us one step closer to Izzy’s sliding wall panels. It would soon be light, so finding the panels should not be a problem. However, the panels were so narrow that getting all these people through fast could be a nightmare. Our best bet might be to try for the still distant fortress gate, even though that would require hours of walking.
We turned into another dark avenue—and they were waiting. Creet soldiers blocked the street, spears at the ready, their ranks in smart formation. How deep the force extended beyond the front spear-carriers I could not tell. This was not good, for I could assume more troops would soon be in place at our backs, and others stationed at the upcoming cross streets.
The Creet had us trapped. I conferred with my compatriots and we reached accord on the only strategy that might have a chance of success. We would gather the ten can-raks in front, and then have them rush the Creet soldiers while the remainder of us ran closely behind. Our hope was that the can-rak assault would disrupt and disorient the Creet forces, allowing us to slip through and regroup once beyond the city limits.
It was weak, I knew, but we had little choice, for the Creet were advancing. We spread the word regarding our intentions, and then I instructed the can-raks.
“Charge their ranks,” I told the green monsters. “Make a path so we can pass through. Join up with us when the job is finished.”
This was life or death for many innocent, unarmed people, so I added another order, and was not reluctant to do so.
“Kill when you must,” I told the beasts. “Kill any Spood who oppose us.”
The can-raks began to move down the street, trotting out front and toward the Creet ranks. Visibility was good, with Numa and Nima still aloft and with the dawn showing its first glimmers. Straight ahead I could see little, for the enormous can-rak bodies allowed no view. Their growling commenced, which rapidly shifted to a sustained roaring as they built up speed. The beasts presented a terrifying display of intimidating volume and mass. Civilian faces gaped in fright from the sentals of the buildings all around us. I wondered how disciplined the Creet ranks would remain as the most fearsome creatures in all of creation ripped into their lines.
We were on them. The can-raks made contact and momentum belonged to the predators. The early morning air rang with cries of agony, screams of horror, shrieks of terror. The Spood were no longer spectators to the emotions they so ardently and callously bled from others. Now they were immersed in the pain, drowning in the fear. I had little sympathy or compassion. Let them feel what so many had at their hands. Let them suffer for a change.
The can-raks sped up so quickly that we fell behind. We closed, and the carnage we witnessed was appalling. We saw bloody heads and limbs, torsos ripped in two. The Creet company and those reinforcements waiting to confront us at the final two cross streets faced decimation. Their ranks evaporated under the relentless aggression of blood-crazed fiends.
I slipped on an arm drenched in gore and Lillatta caught me. The beasts were doing what I had hoped, opening a path to the fields and forests that lay beyond the city limits. Those were now in view. The three hundred people escaping from the gray prisons began shouting as they caught sight of open country.
We were soon free of the streets and moving with urgent speed down a dirt road flanked by fields of grain. The demoralized Creet forces, after a half-hearted effort, ceased pursuing, and on someone's orders they headed back into the city. I commanded the can-raks to desist. We were alone, victorious.
In the increasing light of dawn, I perceived that the grain fields stretched out to the north and to the distant south walls of the fortress. Ahead, west along the road, the silhouette of a forest loomed, outlined against the sky. We needed to head in that direction.
It pleased me to note the slaves were gathering up the weapons of the slain Creet. Our journey was not complete, for dangers unknown still awaited, and the more metal the better. My friends and I decided to try for the fortress gate. It was the only exit for the can-raks, and I certainly wanted to free them from this place along with the slaves. Izzy felt we should find the sliding panel she had come through and get everyone to safety up on top of the fortress wall. Then, any who wanted to leave could exit through the other side at any panel location. The rest of us would stay together, follow the top of the wall and escape as a group once at the gate.
Meanwhile, some would remain on the ground with the can-raks, accompanying them along the north wall to the gate entrance. We would meet there, destroy the gate, and set the can-raks free.
I was eager to get moving, but Javen pulled me aside to alert me to a problem.
“Sanyel, they are beginning to scatter. You must speak to them, to tell them to stick together.”
He was right. Individuals and small groups had already begun to take to the road. The four of us climbed onto a broad, flat rock lying in one of the fields. I shouted to get everyone’s attention. The escapees gathered around, except for those few who had made a premature departure. They were already far down the road, out of hearing distance.
“I am Sanyel,” I began.
“We know who you are,” a sour voice spoke from the crowd.
I scanned the gathering to pinpoint the speaker.
“All Sakita know who you are. You are the defiler of our tradition, banished for your crimes. I am surprised to see you still live. You should be rotting in the desert, where you belong.”
The man was Oster, the hunter I had spotted along with Miras and Lillatta in the Creet slave caravan. He didn’t seem to like me much.
“And what a shock to see you, Lillatta, standing with her. Was it not you who exposed her heretical deeds? Now you, too, defy our laws? If Barkor still lived you would feel the back of his hand across your—”
“Stop!” a voice interrupted. It was Miras, who stood not far from Oster.
“I once thought the same thing,” she told him. “But Sanyel and Lillatta saved me in a Spood cell from some awful men, so I can no longer accept the rules of her banishment. She protected me, and she has freed all of you.”
Oster was having none of it.
“She did not free us,” he scoffed. “She is a woman. These trained can-raks saved us. I will thank the one who controls them. Where is he?”
I was about to respond when Izzy stepped in front of me.
“Your tongue flaps and you mouth words, but it is all
nonsense. You should show more respect for women. I am a woman, and I have seen true men. You do not seem to be one of them. I say you are closer to being porse dung than a man. Perhaps that is what men from your tribe are made of?”
The crowd laughed—at least those among it not Sakitan.
The insult, and from a woman at that, infuriated Oster, and I was thinking Izzy had really stepped in it, so to speak.
“I’ll kill you for that!” Oster threatened. He spat with contempt, lifted a sword he had confiscated from a dead Creet and stepped with purpose toward the rock.
“Don’t hurt him,” I whispered to Izzy as she prepared to go meet the hunter.
“Oh, I won’t,” she assured me. “Just going to give him a little lesson in manners and respect.”
“Well, make it quick. We have to get going.”
I learned later that Oster had been in the plaza when the uprising occurred, but had been far in the back and did not realize Izzy was the girl he had admired from a distance for her fighting skill on the platform. Unlucky for him he did not recognize her now.
Oster was a man of about twenty with dirty-blond locks that extended to his waist. He was wiry and seemed athletic. As Izzy approached, he began swinging his blade in impressive strokes back and forth. The crowd parted and there was an instant partisan atmosphere as the spectators chose favorites. Those who recognized Izzy knew who to back; the rest, of course, were fools.
Oster was a typical Sakitan, raised to use spears and rik-tas, and he had no familiarity with the long blade. As I said, his initial swings looked impressive, but that illusion soon faded. Just for show, Izzy flipped her blade with a lazy toss into the air. Then, without even looking up, she let it come down and caught it with ease by the hilt. The crowd began a troubled murmuring. Oster caught the move and it dampened his prior eagerness to engage.
Izzy stepped forward with a quick motion, and with an almost indiscernible flick, she sliced off a substantial hunk of Oster’s hair above his right shoulder. He flinched after the fact and swung his sword, no doubt hoping to catch Izzy’s blade coming in to slice the other side. Too late. That side had already departed.
Oster was a quick study. He saw his chances and they were none.
“I yield, I yield!” he yelped. He appeared relieved when Izzy accepted his surrender.
Now we could get back to the important matters at hand. I exhorted the crowd to stay together, for with numbers we could better defend ourselves. The majority came around to that line of thinking. Still, as always happens with a large group, some insisted on going their individual way. I noticed Oster was not one of them. We let the fools depart and began strategizing.
The Creet might return at any time with a larger force, so haste was imperative. Izzy informed me that the wall panel she and Brilna had opened was at least a half hour distant from the city. We could try opening ones closer, but I wanted to put some distance between the Creet and ourselves. We would follow the main road until Izzy recognized the landmarks she had burned to memory, and then we would cut north to the wall.
The north wall was plainly visible, blackened with those scorch marks I had noticed earlier etched all along it to a tremendous height. I looked to the south wall and saw only a minuscule line of stone, with the great distance to the wall rendering it almost invisible. With a wistful sigh, I imagined someday peeking over that wall for a close look at the magnificent ocean churning on its far side.
The morning arrived and Ra-ta drifted skyward as we trod west along the rutted road. In a short while we came upon most of the former slaves who had prematurely left our group. They now patiently waited for us by the side of the road. They had realized the foolishness of trying to navigate through a fortress teeming with Spood, and with sheepish faces, they rejoined us. Within half an hour, Izzy informed me we were directly across from the panel location. We turned north across the grain fields and headed for the wall.
The distance to the north wall was not substantial. There were no roads to follow, as Izzy and Brilna had made sure the panel was in a remote area, with no sperzas nearby.
As we progressed through the grain fields, I glanced behind us to the south and caught a movement. After rubbing my eyes, I checked again. There was no doubt. A convoy of Spood rolling platforms was passing on the main road.
They stopped. The distance was not so great that we would be safe from discovery. I alerted the others and we ducked down into the high grain. I got the can-raks to lie down, but was concerned the grain height was not enough to conceal them. As we watched, a stream of basket-carrying slaves, accompanied by swok-wielding guards, began to roll our way. The slaves were coming to work the fields.
For some reason I had forgotten about these slaves. My mind had been on the city captives and these out in the country slipped it entirely. They were still coming, and soon the danger to us might require a hasty flight. My mood turned foul. Ra-ta was playing games again. When would that cease?
The slave wave halted. They began working a field far enough distant that I felt it safe to depart unnoticed, if we kept low. However, the can-raks were just too large to remain unseen. One of them rose to full height. A yell rang out from a field worker, followed by a cacophony of fearful cries. The slaves made instinctive moves back to the road, only to be met by vicious doses of stinging swoks. Even under threat of can-raks, the Creet would not allow workers to escape their immediate control.
I was in a quandary. The Creet had seen the can-raks, but they were still unaware of the humans accompanying them. Should we go help the slaves or preserve our safety? Many in our group were urging action, their empathy for their fellow slaves overriding their self-interest as they witnessed the swoks doing their damage. I looked over at Lillatta, Izzy, and Javen, who awaited my thoughts on the situation. Their expectant expressions showed it was not a matter of if with them, only when. They fully expected me to ask them to go free the slaves, and they had no qualms about doing so.
“Let’s go,” I said. It was all I needed to say.
**
~~TWENTY-TWO~~