Warlord of Antares by Alan Burt Akers Read Free Book Online

grotesque, outrageous, gory and, inevitably, horrible.
    The malkos, being paid guards, fought well.
    The Impenitent appeared to be in his element, striking shrewd, economical blows after that initial strike of decapitating fury. In the past I had worried over Seg’s prowess as a bladesman; I worried no longer, for he was superb. Kov Loriman now demonstrated that he had recovered from that black pit of despair. I was not sure he had fully recovered; for this business his sword work proved more than adequate.
    So we smashed and hacked and thrust and destroyed.
    There was no surprise to a Kregan in seeing some of the naked women snatch up fallen weapons, daggers, knives, swords, and spring like furies upon the malkos. They had many indignities to avenge, and while vengeance is a child’s game, here one could understand and in part sympathize.
    We did not slay them all, for at the end a handful ran off through a secret door that opened in the blank stone wall. It clashed shut and Seg just had time to drag a frenzied girl away before she was crushed between the closing stones.
    “Kill them!” she screeched, twisting and writhing in Seg’s grip. “Slay them all in the name of Pandrite the All-Glorious!”
    “Armipand will surely take them all up into his special terror,” said Seg, easily. “Now you just rest quietly, young lady, and get your breath.”
    She panted, hair swirling, chest heaving, her body all a glisten of sweat. The long dagger with the blood smeared upon the blade and splashed up her arm formed a fitting accessory for such a spitfire girl.
    Already Nath was cleaning his sword.
    The Hunting Kov looked about as a man looks upon the dawn after he has freshly risen from his bed.
    He stared at Seg and he stared at me, and he said: “I remember.”
    I nodded in acknowledgment. It was left to Seg to say: “Good. I am glad to see you recovered, kov. Now perhaps you’d take out your knife and help.”
    With that Seg started in on the task of recovering his arrows.
    When we’d cut them all out and cleaned them up, Seg was disgusted to find that two of the shafts had broken through.
    “You must expect shafts to break, Horkandur,” said Nath.
    Seg began stripping the arrows down, removing heads and flights and nocks.
    “That is true, my old Impenitent; but in our situation not to be relished.”
    Loriman spat out: “In our situation that damned witch will be watching us and know where we are and will—”
    “Just for the moment,” I broke in, “I think she has other problems on her mind.”
    “And, anyway,” said Seg, stowing the salvaged arrow parts in his pouch, “In this present situation we have all these women to concern us.”
    Most of the screaming and crying had stopped and the women were trying to find bits and pieces of clothing from the malkos. Many of them also took up weapons to add to those they had already used. The display of naked female bodies was covered up. One or two of the girls began to mutilate the malkos and I, in a state of indecision, wondered if that should be stopped when Loriman bellowed.
    “Stop that, you creatures! Hunting and killing are one thing; what you are about is another.”
    One of the girls, very pale of skin, with frizzy dark hair, her teeth filed to points, stared back, the knife in her fist dripping blood onto the legs of the malko flat on the floor.
    “What do you know of—?”
    “I know enough of your dark Rumay customs, harpy!”
    The Impenitent growled out: “I don’t like it; but you can see it from their point of view.”
    “If it’s their custom,” said Seg. “Anyway, it doesn’t hurt the malkos, seeing they’re dead.”
    “I will not tolerate Rumay rituals,” ground out Loriman. “And that is final.
Queyd-arn-tung!
”
    The woman glared back, her eyes like rinds. She hadn’t bothered to collect any clothes, being too intent on her task of ritual revenge and absolution, and dark blood splotched her pale shapely body.
    “One last cut,