Ahlee hoped that he would never again see such a look on his friend’s face as Vaskos dropped a ripped, crusty shift, drew his sword and motioned for two soldiers to open the wall section which led to the cellar.
Some of these sections had been completely immovable, some had yielded only after long and difficult labor, but this one swung easily and noiselessly open … laying before their eyes a scene of unrelieved ghastliness.
The cellar was brightly lit by a couple of torches and several lamps. Warmth was provided by a pair of large braziers. His back to the newcomers, a man’s figure crouched over the spread-eagled body of a gagged woman. Her wide-open eyes were death-glazed and set in a reflection of agony beyond endurance, horror beyond belief. What could be seen of her body and legs brought the sour bile bubbling up into Ahlee’s throat, for all that he had closely examined so many cadavers with identical savageries imprinted in their cold flesh.
A red-smeared dirk was held loosely in the crouching man’s right hand, while his left held what appeared to be a lump of fresh organ meat. While they watched-battle-hardened soldiers shocked into stillness and silence by the unnatural spectacle before them—the man drove the dirk into a timber of the blood-encrusted torture frame to which the dead woman’s stiffening limbs were still bound, laid the piece of meat upon the pulpy red ruin which had been her breasts, did something with his freed hands, then bent his neck and lowered his head. The terrible sound which then smote their ears was that of beast, not of mankind. Of beast busily lapping!
Vaskos, too, sounded then like a beast, growling deep in his throat. He stalked forward, cat-light, his swordblade at low guard, ready for stab or slash. The sergeant and other soldiers advanced behind him, filling the width of the cellar from wall to wall with an inexorably moving wall of armored, steel-tipped bodies.
But the feeding beast heard the growls and shufflings as they neared him and whirled about, his pallid face and graying beard a single nauseous mask of clotting blood, madness glinting its evil from out his bloodshot black eyes, his broken and rotting red-stained teeth bared in a bestial snarl of rage. Jerking the dirk from the timber, he hurled himself at Vaskos, the foremost of these intruders.
His own lips skinned back in a grimace of savage joy, the officer set himself for a thrust. With a habitual stamp and shout, the long blade swept up and the muscular arm extended, but the sharp steel met empty air and Vaskos almost fell on his face on the blood-slick floor, whereon lay the suddenly senseless hulk of Vahrohnos Myros Deskati of Morguhn, but bare feet from the ravaged corpse whose liver he had torn out, whose blood he had been drinking.
Some two hours after these events, with the madman once more securely manacled in his cell and guarded by grim Regulars, Vaskos again sat behind his desk, glowering at Captain Danos. The former rebel officer’s baldric draped loosely, the cased sword it had held now hand-carried by one of the husky guardsmen who flanked him. On a cloth on the desk lay the partially cleaned dirk which had been taken from the vahrohnos in that cellar of terrors.
They had had the captain’s story. Now Vaskos bluntly spake his mind. “Captain, you are either a careless, feckless fool or a cunning, glib-tongued monster. I confess that I know not which, at this point. I’d like to think you the latter, but that’s because I hate you for reasons that you well know.
“The fact that this dirk fits your empty case really proves nothing, since both are Confederation Army issue. Your charge lies comatose in his cell, so it will be days ere we can question him. Not that that exercise will prove anything either, for I’d not convict even such as you on the unsupported word of a madman.
“You were found sleeping in your room here at the Citadel, and were nowhere seen on the streets tonight, but neither fact absolves you, since I now am aware that there exists a true warren of tunnels connecting the Citadel and various quarters of the city.
“However, I have put my staff to checking the presumed dates of the recent series of murders and questioning your men as to which nights you took the watch over the vahrohnos. If the two lists coincide, captain, I will assume that you are guilty, if not of duplicity, at least of dereliction of your sworn duties. And that will make me very happy, captain. My father, Lord Hari, and I were denied our just vengeance on your flesh because you were an amnestied officer fulfilling what the High Lord felt to be a valuable function. You cannot be punished for the crimes done in Morguhn, but damn you, I can damned well court-martial you for those things you’ve done or not done whilst under my command.”
Then, to a guards officer who stood stiffly by the door, “Captain Nahks, the prisoner’s quarters are to be thoroughly searched and all weapons are to be removed from them. Then he will be there confined, with the door bolted and two men to guard it around the clock. Nor is anyone save myself or Master Ahlee to be allowed through his door. See that he is provided a jug of wine and a few rounds of barracks bread; that should serve him until I have enough information to issue you further orders. Now, take him away.”
XI
The camp outside the walls of Vawnpolis first swelled monstrously with the influx of the troops who had been patrolling die border and manning the border forts, then shrank to even smaller limits than its original size as regiments and lesser units took the road for the long march back to Kehnooryos Ehlahs and the sprawling garrison city at Goohm. Hardly were the last of those on their way when most of the Confederation cavalry brigade jingled down from the western mountains to collect the baggage left behind at the commencement of the campaign and spend a few weeks resting and reorganizing.
Sub-keeleeohstos Gaib Linstahk, now commander of the Fifth Kahtahfrahktoee, eventually made time to call on his old friend Strahteegos Vaskos Dahriz. The preceding summer, while he still commanded only three troops of dragoons, his unit had been sent with Vaskos and Lord Hari to reclaim Horse County of the Duchy of Morguhn for the Confederation. As Gaib’s own sire was a Kindred horse breeder, the three noblemen had easily and quickly become fast friends.
Vaskos was hard at work when his adjutant announced that a field-grade cavalry officer was in the outer office and requested a few words with the commander of Vawnpolis. What with the various comings and goings of so many units within the environs of the city, Vaskos had endured an endless succession of duty calls. As commander of Vawnpolis, he was the titular senior officer for all of Vawn, and courtesy calls were unavoidable, since no astute major or colonel or keeleeohstos would pass through without taking the opportunity to congratulate Vaskos on his promotion and do a bit of sly apple-polishing at the same time. So Vaskos never inquired this most recent caller’s name or actual rank, nor did he bother to glance up when, with a jingling and jangling, the measured footfalls crossed from the door to a heel-clicking halt before his desk and a fist clanged on breastplate in formal salute.
“My lord Strahteegos, please accept the heartfelt congratulations of all the officers and troopers of Pehmptos Kahtahfrahktoee, as well as those of their commander, Sub-keeleeohstos Gaib Linstahk, who is my lord’s servant in all honorable ways.”
Vaskos had peremptorily returned the salute, though his eyes still were fixed on his work. His hand moved back toward his quill pen but stopped abruptly, as the familiar voice penetrated where the maddeningly familiar stock phrases would not. His scarred face suddenly split by a broad grin, he came to his feet, heedless of the heavy chair which crashed over behind him, and rounded the desk to greet Gaib with an armor-crushing hug of sincere welcome.
With the backslappings and informal, half-insulting felicitations done, Vaskos shouted for his adjutant and soberly promised thirty lashes to anyone who disturbed him with anything less earthsbaking than an investment of Vawnpolis or the arrival of the High Lord; then he bolted his door and brought in his hidden jar of honeywine.