The Sword Lord by Robert Leader Page B

edge of a wide clearing that contained the native village. The huts were crude constructions of grass and leaves, plastered with mud onto a framework of branches. They formed a large circle around the perimeter of the clearing. In the centre of the clearing was a large black tent, big enough to comfortably sleep a dozen men. There was a smaller tent on either side of the big one, and these were more simply constructed of wild animal skins. A large wood-fire burned in front of each tent and a few smaller cooking fires flickered in front of some of the perimeter huts. The village appeared to be asleep. The only inhabitants awake were the guards standing in pairs in front of each tent.
    All this Kananda saw at a glance, but then his gaze was riveted upon the tall pole that had been erected in the centre of the clearing, just in front of the central fire. A body was displayed on the pole, suspended head downward by lashed feet. The arms hung limply, stained with red streaks from the spear wounds in the bare chest. The firelight played on the once-proud face, still distorted in its final agony. The body no longer looked like that of the young prince Ramesh, but Kananda knew that it was his brother.
    â€œWe are too late,” Zela whispered softly with her mouth close to his ear. “I am sorry.”
    â€œIt is as I expected.” Kananda kept his voice low, although he wanted to scream his fury. His knuckles gleamed white around the hilt of his sword. “But we cannot leave Ramesh there on display for the sport of these animals. I must retrieve his body and return it Karakhor.”
    â€œIt will not be easy,” Kasim murmured. And he pointed to the black banner that fluttered over the large tent.
    â€œI have seen it,” Kananda answered bleakly. He turned to Zela and explained, “The black leopard banner is the emblem of Sardar. Our enemy, the king of Maghalla, is here. See the banners above the other two tents, the black monkey and the red monkey? They are the chief clans of the monkey tribes. Their chieftains are here also. This can only mean that Sardar has already made his alliance.”
    Kasim breathed fiercely between his teeth. “We must warn Karakhor.”
    Kananda nodded. “That is vital, but I will not leave without Ramesh.” He laid his sword carefully on the earth in front of him and unslung the short bow from his back. He pulled an arrow from his quiver and checked its straightness against the starlight before notching it to the bow. “We need five more of our best archers,” he instructed softly.
    Kasim moved back to the main group and returned with four of the soldiers. All had their bows unslung. Kananda pointed out each man’s target and they knelt in a line. “When my arrow flies, they all fly,” he commanded. “Then, no matter what happens, I shall cut down Prince Ramesh.”
    His five companions nodded silently. Kananda drew back his arrow and took aim on one of the guards standing outside Sardar’s tent. The Maghallan wore a black loincloth and turban and his upper torso was protected by a leather waistcoat that was partially unlaced at the chest. Kananda aimed for the spot that was a finger’s breadth to the left of the breastbone. He looked to see that the others had also taken aim, and then loosed his arrow.
    The soft twang of the bowstring was the signal that launched the other five arrows. The first Maghallan fell dead with Kananda’s arrow piercing his heart. His companion staggered a moment with Kasim’s shaft through his neck and then he too fell. The four savages guarding the monkey banner tents were the lesser danger. They were half asleep, and probably only placed there in mimicry of Sardar’s efficiency. However, three of those also fell dead. The fourth stumbled back against the tent he guarded, his eyes popping open and his mouth dropping slack as he stared dumbly at the arrow embedded in the joint of his