CHAPTER 6

One morning while performing his exercises, Thandar heard a commotion from outside. He could see nothing from his window and the noise came from too far away to pick out individual words, so he shrugged and went back to work. When the outside exercise period was canceled, however, he began to wonder if the long awaited day of reckoning was here. Nobody came to get him for lunch and Thandar sat and waited. He tried to stay calm but the possibility of some change in his routine filled him with nervous energy. Periodically he found himself getting tense and he shook himself to stay loose. Going without food into the afternoon made him feel light and quick.

In the early afternoon, noise from the hallway told him someone was coming. He dismissed all anxious anticipation from his mind and stood to receive the guards in icy calm. He was poised, not nervous. Despite living in a cell he felt fit and alert. They escorted him out of the cell and through a maze of corridors, ascending several levels. Finally they opened a door and entered a large room.

The room was an amphitheater. Stretching below him was a circular arena of dirt, walled off by a chest-high wooden fence. Reaching back from the fence on all sides were bleachers, steeply stepped, the lowest row just behind the fence and at an elevation a foot or two below the top of the fence. Thandar's men sat in a group of these bleachers, guarded on all sides. He saw Locar sitting at one end, he was watching Thandar but turned away when he realized Thandar was watching him.

The bleachers didn't go completely around the enclosed area. At one point they were interrupted by a series of boxes for honored observers. Below these boxes was an entrance to the arena, accessible by ramps down from the bleachers. In the main box were King Bojar and several other officials. Thandar had a little thrill of terror when he realized that there were several Nakfis officials among the group in Bojar's box. So they had come. It must have been their arrival that he had heard this morning.

He sat down next to Oraga and Simon on the other side of his men from Locar. "What's going on?" he hissed at Oraga, keeping his eye on the Nakfis.

"The short one is Sadinza, the Nakfis foreign minister. Can you imagine? All the way from Nakfis just to see little old us." Oraga spoke sarcastically, but continued in a more serious tone. "The muscle-bound one next to him is some soldier. We've been here about twenty minutes. Sadinza and Bojar had a big discussion before they sent for you. I don't think Bojar is happy with the decision, whatever it was."

Further questions were cut off by the realization that Sadinza's military companion was slowly getting to his feet. The warrior left the box, strolled down the ramps and entered the arena. He took a position at the far end, legs spread wide, hands grasping a spear and shield. He was gazing from under his helmet at a point on the wall above the box seats, ignoring the men in the bleachers. Two Nakfis officers were approaching the Kelfarians. One seemed to be looking them over. He finally settled on a man in the first row and signaled to the northern guards. They forced the man to his feet and half-pushed, half-led him down into the arena.

Thandar's nerves had been alert ever since they had taken him from his cell, wondering if this would be the long awaited chance to do something about their situation. The current proceedings puzzled him though. There ought to be an opening here, put he couldn't see it.

The Nakfis foreign minister stood in his box. His guards clapped for attention. He began, "Welcome honored guests," he sneered at the Kelfarians. "We have traveled many days from Nakfis to see all of you. I am pleased to announce that you will be our guests in Nakfis for a while." So, they were to be taken there! "However," his voice dropped, "after our long journey we would like to take some entertainment before departing. I hope you will enjoy this." He turned to the man in the arena, mock hospitality gone and spoke sharply, "Begin." Bojar sat back with the air of a man washing his hands of a business he couldn't affect.

Begin what, Thandar wondered. Soon, he knew. The Nakfis warrior was advancing on the unarmed Kelfarian, spear at the ready, shield held out. Thandar recognized his man, Sim, from the southwest coast of Kelfar. Sim was looking around blankly at his companions. "He means to fight him, unarmed!" Thandar was staggered. He looked at Oraga next to him.

Simon figured it out too. "Come on Sim, you can out-think the fat oaf!" He gestured to the other men and they began a series of encouraging cheers for Sim. Thandar was frozen in horror, his hands gripping the rough plank seat under him. Sim was a foot soldier, trained for massed fighting, not personal combat. In any event, he had no weapon, not even good shoes for maneuver. He would struggle but die. It was no contest of skill, just an elaborate ritual murder.

The fight was short enough but still lasted an eternity for Thandar. The Nakfis warrior advanced jabbing. Sim made a quick dart to his right to try and get around to the warrior's back, but the Nakfis quickly redirected the sharp-pointed spear at the last minute, raking in an arc across Sim's chest. Bright blood spurted out between the cut edges of his cloak. Sim grabbed his chest and stared down, gazing stupidly at his bloody hands. He didn't see the Nakfis take leisurely aim and cast the spear. It went through Sim's chest, sticking out the other side. He went down, dead. Sim's body lay at a grotesque angle, denied simple repose by the spear projecting out of his back. The victorious soldier acknowledged the appreciative applause from the boxes and turned his back while two attendants came in and dragged the corpse off, trailing blood, getting dirt on the sticky wounds. The Kelfarians let out a little sigh all together as if they had been hit. They had all seen killing before, but not like this. They were dispirited rather than angry. It didn't occur to them that there might be a sequel.

When Thandar saw the officers coming up through the crowd, evidently to pick the next victim, he jumped to his feet, "Here, choose me." He stood, angry. The officers were a bit uncertain, but the Nakfis warrior just shrugged and called up from the pit, "It's not your turn yet."

Thandar had formed his resolution. He must get that warrior to fight him, he couldn't just sit and watch his men get killed. Maybe they had orders to take him alive, this would screw them up. He shouted at the warrior, "You're afraid of me, you squint-eyed imbecile!" This reference to the dual stereotypes of Nakfis as being unable to stand the bright light of the lowlands and being dense hit the mark. The warrior stiffened. Thandar went on in a forceful voice, "Oh, you'll fight the little soldiers, the enlisted men, but you haven't the guts to take on a real warrior." He had to get them to select him. He began to curse the warrior and all Nakfis, putting all the contempt in his voice that he could. He noticed that the warrior had exchanged a glance with his leader. Thandar gave Oraga a sharp rap with his foot.

Oraga sat up straight, "That's it," he boomed, "everybody knows Nakfis run away when the sun comes out."

The warrior exchanged another glance with Sadinza, harder this time. The foreign minister consulted briefly with his aids. The warrior stabbed his spear into the ground and put his hands on his hips. His gaze seemed to bore in to Sadinza; he wanted Thandar but it was not his place to ask.

Oraga elbowed his neighbor. The men set up a chorus of catcalls, hisses and rude gestures. Thandar folded his hands across his chest and looked at the warrior with all the haughty arrogance he could muster.

The warrior took a step towards the boxes, hands on hips. Sadinza smiled, stood and called for silence with outspread arms. Even the Kelfarians fell silent. He pointed at Thandar and said lazily, "I believe that one wishes to die next."

The two guards made to take Thandar by the arm to lead him down, but Thandar shrugged them off disdainfully, and strode down into the arena as if he couldn't wait to get there. Indeed, he was anxious to get there. As he approached the fight he started to concentrate. He narrowed his vision to the warrior, casting out of his mind all other concerns.

In the arena, he was conscious that his loose prison garb was worse than useless in a fight, it would be an active encumbrance. Without a moment's hesitation he drew it over his head and cast it aside to stand in front of the warrior wearing nothing but his underwear. Concentrating carefully on his opponent, he saw the man's eyes widen in surprise. Good, Thandar thought, he will be on the defensive, must keep him there. Thandar, pulled down the front of his undergarment and urinated in the direction of the warrior. So focused on the warrior was he that he didn’t hear the roar of laughter from his men. He advanced toward the warrior like a predator closing on a tethered victim. The Nakfis soldier took a step back. Thandar smiled coldly. His reactions seemed to be speeding up, his vision getting clearer. He was watching every movement, every twitch of the warrior.

In the bleachers, Oraga's heart had sunk when he knew what Thandar was trying to do. His hope had been that after a few killings, they would be hustled off to Nakfis to prison. He didn't think they would have killed Thandar, he was too valuable. But now! The warrior would have to kill him, the way Thandar was goading him, and then what? Likely, the Nakfis would just proceed to slaughter them all. And if they didn't? What would happen if they were taken to Nakfis without Thandar? Then Oraga, slightly senior to Simon, would be the leader of the troops. It was a daunting prospect. How would he be able to keep the men's spirits up and look for escape? How would he, a low born commoner, be able to deal with Locar? Nominally Locar had no office but that wouldn't stop him from trying to ruin Oraga, and Locar had many ways of ruining a junior military official. Oraga had no idea how he could cope with all those problems.

Oraga realized Simon was poking him in the ribs. He pulled his eyes off the spectacle about to happen in front of him and looked at Simon. "Remember what he said, be ready," Simon whispered. Thus jarred awake, Oraga thought.

"That door," he said, indicating one opposite to where they had been brought in, "must lead to the main corridor. Then it would be a few steps left to the entry hallway and a right into the courtyard. That’s how we’ll get out. Get the men ready. Divide up the guards in here among the squads. Pass the word."

Simon nodded and sent the message down the men. They all tensed their muscles, shifting in their seats and stole a look around at the disposition of the guards.

In the arena, Thandar could see only the warrior; studying each move. He considered carefully the warrior's dress, armament, calculated what the man could see and the directions his movements would be awkward. The warrior was big and strong and wore full battle dress, including helmet. He'll be slower, Thandar reasoned; he'll think he is secure from any attack. His side vision is also restricted. Thandar approached on tiptoe, circling to his left. The warrior, confident smile back on his face after a moment of confusion, circled right, content to play with this valuable catch for a bit before the kill.

In the stands, Oraga and Simon were assigning duties, openly talking to the men with the guard's attention riveted on the arena. One row of men shifted their bench a fraction to facilitate a quick exit.

The fire Thandar had been feeding over the past days was being given a forced draft now. It was burning hotter, higher and purer. All his anger was focusing in on this moment. He was giving his anger to the fire, trying to convert it into determination and force. It all came down to this. The moments of concentration, the days of exercise, the week of reflection on tyranny, the months of frustration at Locar and even Esgard, and the years of study, practice fighting and actual combat. They would all be used in the next second. Everything he was or wanted to be would have to come out now in one coherent burst of energy, unflawed by any distraction.

He screamed and, like the release of a tightly coiled spring, leaped straight at the circling Nakfis. In a moment of indecision the warrior wavered between blocking this madman with the shield he carried on his left hand or stabbing with the spear. He decided on the spear and stabbed, quickly.

Thandar saw clearly the shifting of the eyes and the first contraction of arm muscles signaling the thrust. He veered to the outside of the warrior, grabbed the shaft of the spear with his right hand and lifted, diverting it over his head. As his momentum carried him upon the warrior, he reached forward with his bare right foot, hooking it behind the man's heavily shod right one, and dropped his shoulder into the man's chest. Unable to step back, the warrior tipped, falling over and landing on his back with a tremendous thud that raised the dust in the arena. He was momentarily stunned. Thandar wasn't. Almost before they had landed, he jumped to his feet, still holding on to the spear. He forced it easily out of the warrior's hands, turned it, and straddling the dazed Nakfis, thrust the spear through the warrior's unprotected neck. It had all taken only a few heartbeats.

There was a moment of stunned silence, the Kelfarians, the northerners and the Nakfis all disbelieving what they had seen. Simon and Oraga both leaned forward, every muscle tensed. Thandar turned to his men, locking his eyes on Oraga and Simon. "NOW!" he yelled, arm upraised, fist clenched. He ran towards his men, vaulting easily over the wall into the first row.

Oraga stood, clapping his hands, "Up! Now! Let's go!" he urged the men to their feet. Briefed over the last week they had each prepared in their own way for this moment. Prodded by Oraga and Simon in the last minute before Thandar's victory, they had each thought of what they would do. The top row had, by subtle glances and nods of the head, exchanged ideas. They jumped up simultaneously, spun and leapt backwards onto the two guards that were standing behind them, strangling them with their bare hands before the guards had time to react. The middle row of soldiers, led by a burly private bellowing war cries, made a beeline for the door that Oraga had pointed out, boiling over the astonished guard, crushing him beneath their combined weight.

Thandar was in the middle of his men. He and Simon were herding everyone towards the door. One enlisted man had quickly swept a tunic off one of the fallen guards and handed it to Thandar. The entire party was flooding out the door before anyone else had time to do more than look in amazement. As the last Kelfarian was disappearing out into the hallway, Sadinza found his voice, "After them, you fools, sound the alarm!" After a moment of hesitation, caused by subconscious resentment at the haughty foreigners, the remaining northern guards responded.

Out in the hallway, Oraga was still giving directions, punctuated by cries of "Move, move, move!" Simon stood near the doorway waiting for the last Kelfarian and then threw the door shut. That was the signal he had arranged with two soldiers standing across the hall who began hefting a heavy table to block the doorway. Turning it sideways it made an effective jam, the door could not be opened more than a few inches before the other end of the table hit the opposite wall. The table placed, Simon urged the two down the hallway. Oraga led the run down the corridor to the junction with the main transverse hallway. They turned right, past startled guards, and burst through a short passage into the courtyard. They were making toward the main drawbridge on the far side of the courtyard that ran around the castle. During the day this drawbridge was normally kept open and couldn't be raised in time to stop them. But in the archway that guarded the entrance was a spiked metal gate that could be dropped quickly. Oraga and Simon had argued whether or not they would have a chance to cross the courtyard before this would be dropped. They thought they would.

Halfway across the courtyard Thandar saw a familiar figure to one side. It was Anistina. His eyes caught hers across the distance, "Come with us!" he shouted. She dropped the milk pails she had been carrying and ran to intercept them at the gate.

Oraga and Simon had been right in that they were able to reach the gate, even get under it before anyone could react. But it was a narrow thing, as Oraga ran under it, he saw it begin to descend. He urged everyone on, pointing. By the time Simon came, bringing up the rear, it had descended halfway. Simon hoped it would serve to block pursuit.

As they ran over the drawbridge and into the city, Anistina caught up with Thandar near the middle of the group. "Where are you headed?" she panted. Thandar realized he had no good idea.

"Away. Any suggestions?"

She nodded. Oraga had slowed to let Thandar catch up, he had wanted to ask the same question and cocked his head to hear her response. "Go right, down Mbingu street. At the far side of town we'll cut through a swamp. There's a narrow track. Then circle left to get the main south east road. Come." She increased her pace to get to the front.

Oraga kept pace with her. "If we're headed for the woods we could use some supplies. Food. Even some horses." She cast a glance back at the castle. No organized pursuit was yet visible. She could see that the gate had descended all the way. She looked back at Oraga and nodded.

They had run down some fifteen to twenty blocks in silent determination before she pointed at the market on the right. On the mad rush down the street Oraga had thought of what they would do and had explained it in short bursts between breaths to Thandar and Anistina. He had grabbed a soldier and sent him to the rear with a message for Simon.

Thandar ran into the first vendor, halting in front of the startled owner. He looked the man in the eye and said, "We've escaped from Bojar's castle, he meant to feed us to the Nakfis. We're going to start a rebellion against him. We need supplies. Show these men where to get packs." He had indicated Oraga and two others. After this speech he abruptly turned his back on the astonished vendor and retreated to the street.

Thandar's commanding presence and absolute assurance along with the pack of desperate, grim faced men at his back overcame any resistance the vendor might have offered to this unexpected speech. He led Oraga in search of packs. Another two men were systematically looting the nearby shops for essential food. The shoppers had first fled in terror from the mob of strange men but then crept back, curiosity getting the better of them. Anistina stood on a crate near the entrance exhorting them to pour into the street and block the road with their carts and supplies. She was cursing Bojar with a fluency that spoke of much practice. Simon was off stealing a horse for Thandar. Thandar didn't feel he could ride while everyone else walked but he knew that he could use the height to direct the men and scout out what was happening. Later he would give the horse to a proper scout for reconnoitering. He stood in the street, keeping the men deployed in a half circle around the market entrance to facilitate their eventual departure out of town.

Thandar had agreed to a three minute stop. When this time was up he gave a shout and his men began to reassemble in the street. Simon had also been counting the time and was returning on a horse. The group was flowing down the street forming into a line of march as it went. Simon reached Thandar and dismounted, Thandar grabbing the reigns and mounted. He called to Anistina and she came striding up to jump on behind, quickly wrapping her long, lithe arms around his body.

Led by Anistina's knowledge of the terrain, Thandar directed his men past the end of the street and across the low swampy area beyond. Minutes later they worked their way out the far side into farmland, and kept running. Thandar wondered how they were to outrace their pursuers. He kept turning to look behind him but so far no one could be seen coming up behind them.

Anistina saw his glances, "I told the people to block the street and to be stupid and slow about getting out of the way. It should buy some time. There's no love for Bojar in that city." She spoke so close to his ear that he felt her warm breath. He acknowledged her comment with a nod. He was uncertain that one fiery speech could overcome years of experience in hunkering down, in not being noticed, and in surviving, to, in one instant, move a leaderless crowd to act on behalf of an unknown band of foreigners. Still, they were not hard pressed by any detachment of embarrassed northern troops.

The trail they were on led southeast from the city. It was narrow and led into a little valley, climbing slowly. Still no pursuit was visible. Thandar called for a walking pace. He could tell everyone was winded to the point where they couldn’t fight anyone who did approach them. But they were free!

(Last page - Chapter 6)