The Rebel of Rhada by Robert Cham Gilman

shoulders. “Sense me, Erit. What do you see?”
    The Vulk shivered. “You are angry.”
    “Yes, yes,” Kier said impatiently. “What else?”
    “You want to fight--to kill--to--” The small creature began to tremble violently. “You are still in pain, King.”
    “Am I strong enough to lead? Or must another do it?”
    “You are strong enough.”
    A grim smile touched Kier’s lips. “Can you reach Gret now?”
    “I will try, King.”
    Kier waited while the Vulk grew tense and rigid with effort. In Erit’s unhuman mind, the pictures formed fleetingly. Gret. Brother. She felt him somewhere in the vast darkness above her.
    Sister! Here! A command.
    She struggled to hold the mind-contact.
    He is with you. It was not a question. Gret knew.
    Yes.
    “How many guard them?” Kier demanded.
    Vegans. Many. A light in the mists above -- The contact faded. One lingering touch that cried out: Hurry!
    Erit’s delicate shoulders sagged under Kier’s hands, and he was moved by her gift. Kier knew that Vulks could be rendered empty by the strain of prolonged mind-contact.
    He gathered up the bird-light creature and carried her to Ariane. The girl took her and said in an angry, low voice, “And have you drained her, Rebel?”
    “No, Queen,” he said shortly. He turned away and gathered the Vyks about him, speaking in low tones.
    Presently, two warmen melted into the shadows to the left and two more to the right. Kier slipped his sword down the back of his mailed shirt so that his head hid the projecting hilt. To the last Vyk he gave orders to stay with Ariane and Erit.
    “I’m not to fight for my own, then?” Ariane demanded in an imperious whisper.
    “Not yet, Queen,” Kier said. “Your warleader will tell you when.”
    Before she could reply to that, he walked into the cobbled street toward the pool of light and the guards. He walked unsteadily and began to sing a Vegan barracks song in a muddled voice.
    The Veg stood to watch him. Two of them strung their crossbows. The officer stepped forward and challenged him.
    “You there. What do you want here at this time of night?” Kier raised an arm in a Veg salute and said muzzily,
    “Comrades! Take me in out of this poisonous rain, won’t you?”
    “This is a forbidden area,” the officer said sharply. “Get out.”
    “A drink, for the love of the Star,” Kier said.
    The two crossbowmen took aim, and Kier yelled in mock alarm, raising his hands to his head. The officer stepped closer. Kier’s fingers touched the hilt of the sword behind his head.
    “Now!” he cried, and the blade was in his hand. There were two swift flashes, and the crossbowmen fell with thrown swords piercing their mailed shirts. The officer gave a yell of alarm and drew. Kier’s blade moved with deadly swiftness, and within seconds the man was rolling onto his face on the wet cobblestones.
    The fourth Veg had broken for the inside of the tower only to be met by the naked blades of two Vyks. Kier gave a sharp command not to kill him. He signaled Ariane and the remaining Vyk to come across the street.
    When they had gathered in the darkness of the archway, Kier put his point to the terrified Vegan’s throat and said, “How many more of you in the guardroom?”
    The man shook his head, and Kier pressed the god-metal tip harder into the flesh. “Speak, you loyal soldier,” he said gently.
    “Twenty,” the man whispered.
    “And the Floridans?”
    “Below. In the tel.” The frightened warman tried to move away from the point, but his back was against the stones.
    His eyes, huge with fear, rolled toward the helmeted face of the small soldier with the awful Vulk. He shuddered and wished he could make the sign of the Star, but he was afraid to move lest this wild warrior wearing the strange harness cut his throat out.
    Kier stepped back, swiftly reversed his weapon, and knocked the man unconscious. “Tie him and gag him. Use his harness.” He laughed shortly. “Some day the Rhad and the