The Rebel of Rhada by Robert Cham Gilman Read Free Book Online

dark god-metal of the immense blind hull.
    In the broad corridor leading to the port-side valve, a squadron of Rhadan cavalry was forming, the warmen tightening the harness on their nervously stepping mounts. The horses were of Rhadan stock, slender-limbed, with padded and clawed feet. These were said to be descendants of the horses of ancient Earth, brought to Rhada millennia ago in cold tubes and fitted to the rigors of Rhadan life by some warlock’s magic called mutation.
    The animals were accustomed to star travel, but they were partially telepathic and could sense from their masters the possibility of fighting soon. Their extended claws rasped on the metal of the deck plates, and they snorted the few words of their rudimentary language to one another: “Blood!” “Battle!” “Anger!” Occasionally, they would nip nervously at the mailed fighting men, their carnivorous teeth slipping harmlessly from the scales of iron. The men would cuff them back, curbing their eagerness and talking to them half in love, half in anger.
    In the armory, Kier of Rhada’s weaponeers harnessed him for battle. His shirt of mail was washed with silver, and it gleamed in the torchlight. Before him, in a semicircle, stood Nevus, the Lieutenant-General, Kalin, and Cavour, the warlock. All were armed and armored.
    Nevus, a heavy-set and battle-scarred veteran of the Rim wars, was scowling at his youthful leader. “I still don’t like the plan, Kier. It’s far too risky.”
    “On the contrary,” the young man said, clasping the final buckle of his weapons harness, “it’s the least risky way of handling a bad situation. Cavour?”
    The warlock’s bearded face was grave. “Yes. Though I still suggest a fast flight to Sarissa instead.”
    Kier shook his head. “A last resort only.”
    “You may be making your last choice right now,” Nevus growled. “At least take me with you.”
    Kier said, “I’ll need you at the landing ground.”
    Kalin, the priest-navigator, spoke for the first time. He did not want to presume to advise his cousin, who was much more experienced in war and intrigue than he, but he felt it his right as a Rhad to say, “What good will it do us to hold the starship and the landing ground if we lose you, Kier?”
    “What the boy says is true,” Nevus said. “Listen to him, King.”
    From the shadows, Gret spoke. “No man goes adrift on a dangerous sea without purpose--and a thin line to the land.”
    “Thin line. Yes, I will agree to that,” Nevus said. “We’ve barely a squadron aboard.”
    “All of Rhada couldn’t take the capital, Nevus,” the young star king said. “Nor would I want it so even if it were possible.”
    “And they call you Rebel,” Nevus grumbled.
    “It is decided,” Kier said, in a tone to end argument.
    Nevus turned to Cavour. “Then remember your best spells, Warlock.”
    Cavour showed his teeth in a smile. He liked Nevus, who was a brave soldier but a lifetime scoffer at the old knowledge. “Maybe one day I’ll produce something to impress you. An exploding missile or a ship to travel under the sea. But it won’t be today. Once they have us in the citadel, we’ll be in God’s hands.”
    Kalin instinctively made the sign of the Star, but Nevus only pulled his beard and muttered, “In Landro’s hands, you mean.”
    “Enough,” Kier said. “Now listen to me.”
    The other fell silent.
    “We shall land at the south end of the tel, where the slope is steep behind us. I shall take only Cavour with me. The rest you know. Nevus--hold the landing ground. Without fighting, if you can, but hold it. If we have not returned in eight hours, put the men aboard the ship.” He took his cousin’s shoulder. “Then we will be in your care, Kalin.”
    “Can the thing be done, though?” Nevus asked.
    “Kalin can do it,” Kier replied.
    Kalin inclined his head and prayed that his skill be sufficient to succeed at what many said was impossible.
    Kier, with his quick instinct,