enough. And what of the secret orders that arrived today?”
Frowning, Jefar lowered his tone to a rueful laugh. “Could you have imagined it? We are instructed to take special care of the barbarian, because of some unlikely interest he commands at court! I ask you, could a despatch be more astonishing, or more ill-timed?” He cleared his throat raggedly. “Still, ‘tis no great loss. We can tell Abolhassan that his exotic pet died a hero. It makes me feel safer, indeed; I would have hated to show that unwashed savage special consideration. But say, what moves yonder?” He turned his gaze across the adzed tops of the palisade’s timbers. “Halt, there, you! Stand and declare yourself!”
At the sharif’s nervous hail, men stirred atop the watchtowers. Likewise came shouts and bustlings from within the fort enclosure; the garrison had been kept alert for a siege all afternoon, with the villagers and camp followers summoned inside. In moments, Jefar and Murad were joined from below by torch-bearing sentries, whose lights revealed an armored elephant approaching in the gloom. Ragged and blood-spattered, it shambled forward with steps that thudded slackly on the packed earth, shaking the parapet underfoot.
“It is our beast,” Murad announced, “unless the rebels have draped one of their own in Imperial trappings. I see no driver, so beware of tricks and sorcery. Bring your ballistas to bear on the animal, but keep watching the jungle rim all the same!”
From somewhere beyond the elephant a deep, resonant voice hailed the wall. “Captain, do not shoot!” The watchers began to discern another figure approaching, whose black skin matched the jungle gloom.
“Who comes?” a dozen sentries cried, leveling their crossbows.
“Sergeant Juma, sir! With my troop, plus survivors of the battle.” His voice was broken by panting, his weapons clanking as he slowed his trot. “We met the beast in the forest and followed it back here, though we were never able to halt it.” As the black man approached, other dim, turbaned figures became visible in a straggling line behind him. “It saved us from being lost in the jungle by night.”
“Sire, men are riding in the howdah!” cried a sentry on the palisade, looking down on the animal as it trundled to a stop before the gate. “Two of them. Dead, by the look of them.”
Jefar’s voice grated sharply over the murmurs which immediately arose. “You, Sergeant—if such you really are! Form up your companions there in the torchlight. Then we can decide whether or not to admit you.”
In a matter of minutes the gate had been thrown open and the survivors brought inside. The elephant was calmed by a guide and induced to kneel beside a cargo ramp in the entry-yard. Jefar and Murad supervised as the bodies were lifted out and laid on the wooden dock, to be inspected under brilliant torchlight.
“This is the driver, Than, one of our best.” Somberly Murad tilted up the sallow face. “Pierced through the chest by a spear, as you can see. The beasts are loyal; they often pick up their fallen drivers and try to rescue them. And here”—the captain reached out to brush lank black hair aside from a death-pale face—“here is Conan, the patrol officer himself! Bled dry by this wound in his thigh, perhaps—or more likely, poisoned by it. He must have died in his place of command on the howdah.”
“A sad loss.” Jefar Sharif moved up beside the dock to face the troopers gathered around. “And yet, I am told, it was in the course of a fierce fight, resulting in the slaughter of a small but spirited enemy force. A harsh price, yet not too much to pay for the greater glory of—”
“Wretched slacker… coward!” A sepulchral voice arose eerily behind the sharif. Suddenly it took tangible form—a pale hand clutching at his shoulder.
“You promised to relieve us! We fought the day through… I watched my men die!”
Those nearest stood stunned, seeing the
Frowning, Jefar lowered his tone to a rueful laugh. “Could you have imagined it? We are instructed to take special care of the barbarian, because of some unlikely interest he commands at court! I ask you, could a despatch be more astonishing, or more ill-timed?” He cleared his throat raggedly. “Still, ‘tis no great loss. We can tell Abolhassan that his exotic pet died a hero. It makes me feel safer, indeed; I would have hated to show that unwashed savage special consideration. But say, what moves yonder?” He turned his gaze across the adzed tops of the palisade’s timbers. “Halt, there, you! Stand and declare yourself!”
At the sharif’s nervous hail, men stirred atop the watchtowers. Likewise came shouts and bustlings from within the fort enclosure; the garrison had been kept alert for a siege all afternoon, with the villagers and camp followers summoned inside. In moments, Jefar and Murad were joined from below by torch-bearing sentries, whose lights revealed an armored elephant approaching in the gloom. Ragged and blood-spattered, it shambled forward with steps that thudded slackly on the packed earth, shaking the parapet underfoot.
“It is our beast,” Murad announced, “unless the rebels have draped one of their own in Imperial trappings. I see no driver, so beware of tricks and sorcery. Bring your ballistas to bear on the animal, but keep watching the jungle rim all the same!”
From somewhere beyond the elephant a deep, resonant voice hailed the wall. “Captain, do not shoot!” The watchers began to discern another figure approaching, whose black skin matched the jungle gloom.
“Who comes?” a dozen sentries cried, leveling their crossbows.
“Sergeant Juma, sir! With my troop, plus survivors of the battle.” His voice was broken by panting, his weapons clanking as he slowed his trot. “We met the beast in the forest and followed it back here, though we were never able to halt it.” As the black man approached, other dim, turbaned figures became visible in a straggling line behind him. “It saved us from being lost in the jungle by night.”
“Sire, men are riding in the howdah!” cried a sentry on the palisade, looking down on the animal as it trundled to a stop before the gate. “Two of them. Dead, by the look of them.”
Jefar’s voice grated sharply over the murmurs which immediately arose. “You, Sergeant—if such you really are! Form up your companions there in the torchlight. Then we can decide whether or not to admit you.”
In a matter of minutes the gate had been thrown open and the survivors brought inside. The elephant was calmed by a guide and induced to kneel beside a cargo ramp in the entry-yard. Jefar and Murad supervised as the bodies were lifted out and laid on the wooden dock, to be inspected under brilliant torchlight.
“This is the driver, Than, one of our best.” Somberly Murad tilted up the sallow face. “Pierced through the chest by a spear, as you can see. The beasts are loyal; they often pick up their fallen drivers and try to rescue them. And here”—the captain reached out to brush lank black hair aside from a death-pale face—“here is Conan, the patrol officer himself! Bled dry by this wound in his thigh, perhaps—or more likely, poisoned by it. He must have died in his place of command on the howdah.”
“A sad loss.” Jefar Sharif moved up beside the dock to face the troopers gathered around. “And yet, I am told, it was in the course of a fierce fight, resulting in the slaughter of a small but spirited enemy force. A harsh price, yet not too much to pay for the greater glory of—”
“Wretched slacker… coward!” A sepulchral voice arose eerily behind the sharif. Suddenly it took tangible form—a pale hand clutching at his shoulder.
“You promised to relieve us! We fought the day through… I watched my men die!”
Those nearest stood stunned, seeing the
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