2 - Blades of Mars by Edward P. Bradbury Read Free Book Online Page A

had
already set ablaze.
                   If I had had any doubts that Hool Haji had
exaggerated the cruelty of the tyrant and his chosen supporters they were
quickly dismissed. I have never seen such sadism exhibited by one part of a
race for another.
                   Memory of it is still burned deep in my mind.
I shall never forget that night of terror - I wish that I could.
                   We fought until our bodies ached. One by one
the brave hope of Mendishar fell in their own blood, but not before they had
taken many of the better-equipped Mendishar with them!
                   I met steel with steel. My movements became
almost mechanical - defence and attack, block a thrust or a blow, deflect it,
aim a thrust or a blow of my own. I felt like a machine. The events, the weariness,
had momentarily driven all emotion from me.
                   It was later, when only a few of us remained,
that I became aware of a shouted conversation between Hool Haji and Morahi
Vaja, who stood to my left.
                   Morahi Vaja was remonstrating with my friend,
telling him to flee. But Hool Haji refused to go. 'You must go - it is your
duty!'
                   'Duty! It is my duty
to fight with my people!' 'It is your duty to choose exile again. You are our
only hope. If you are killed or captured tonight, then the whole cause is
destroyed. Leave, and there will come others to take the place of those who
have died tonight.'
                   I at once saw the logic of what Morahi Vaja
said and added my voice to his.
                   We continued to fight, arguing as we did so.
It was a bizarre scene!
                   Eventually Hool Haji realised that this must
be so - that he must leave.
                   'But you must come with me, Michael Kane. I -
I shall need your comfort and your advice.'
                   Poor devil - he was in a strange mood and
might do something rash. I agreed.
                   Pace by pace we retreated to where two men,
grim-faced, held mounts for us.
                   We were soon riding out of the devastated
village, but we knew that Priosa would be encircling the place waiting for such
an attempt - it was a standard tactic.
                   I glanced back and again felt horror!
                   A small group of defenders stood shoulder to
shoulder just outside Morahi Vaja's house. Everywhere else were the dead - dead
of both sexes and of all ages. Lurid flames licked from the once beautiful
mosaic houses. It was a scene from Bosch or Breughel - a picture of hell.
                   Then I was forced to turn my attention to the
sound of dahara feet thundering towards us.
                   I am not a man to hate easily - but those
Priosa I hated.
                   I welcomed the opportunity to kill the three
who came at us, grinning.
                   We used warm, much-blooded steel to wipe those
grins from their faces.
                   Then we rode on, heavy-hearted, away from that
place of anger and cruelty.
                   We rode until it was almost impossible to keep
our eyes open and the cold morning came.
                   It was then that we saw the remains of a camp
and the outline of a prone figure stretched on the sward.
                   As we neared the camp we recognised the
figure.
                   It was Ora Lis.
                   With a cry of surprise, Hool Haji rode up to
the spot and dismounted, kneeling beside the woman. As I joined him I saw that
Ora Lis was wounded. She had been stabbed once with a sword.
                   But why?
                   Hool Haji looked up at me as I stood on the
other side of the prone girl. 'It is too much,' he said in a hollow voice. ‘First that - and now