«A king’s blood on a king’s sword,» he whispered, and stepping toward the hallway that led to the chamber door, he began to run. «Murderers!» he screamed at the top of his lungs, flinging the door wide. «They have murdered the king!»
Courtney Bradford stood at the barricade staring through his «borrowed» binoculars at the scene of the previous day’s battle. The first rays of the sun were creeping above the horizon, but so far all he could see was a seemingly endless sea of indistinct shapes, alone or massed in piles, across the marshy plain. Occasionally he saw movement. Either a wounded Grik that the searchers hadn’t dispatched the night before, or possibly some scavenger darting furtively through the unprecedented smorgasbord.
It was the scavengers he hoped to see. Queen Maraan — a delightful creature, he thought — had told him about skuggiks, which she described as vile little predators about the size of a turkey. They invariably appeared to feast upon the carrion after a battle. They walked on two legs and actually looked a lot like Grik, she said, except they were considerably smaller and had no upper limbs at all. They were walking mouths, for all intents and purposes, with quick, powerful legs and a long, whiplike tail. Bradford couldn’t wait to see one.
Perhaps there? he thought, as something seemed to move. He was having trouble holding the binoculars with one hand since his other arm was still in a sling. «Blast!» he exclaimed, lowering his good arm to rest for a moment. He would just have to wait until there was enough light to see. He glanced to his right and was surprised to find a number of Lemurian warriors, on guard against a renewed Grik assault, staring at him with open curiosity. He looked to the left, saw much the same, and felt a twinge of unaccustomed self-consciousness. «I’m a scientist, not a ghoul!» he announced harshly, brandishing the binoculars. They continued to regard him with their inscrutable stares. He sighed and stepped away from the barricade. Most of these wouldn’t understand English, he realized, since the majority were Rolak’s or Maraan’s people. They had made every effort to retrieve all of their own few wounded and many dead throughout the night, but some would undoubtedly remain. The idea of him watching in fascination while some scavenger chewed upon anyone besides Grik — and maybe them too — might be a less than popular morning activity.
With as much dignity as he could muster, he stuffed the binoculars into his sling and strode away from the breastworks toward the guttering torches that surrounded the hospital tent. Marine guards ringed the area, nearly dead on their feet. After the treachery of the day before, they’d been reluctant to allow the Aryaalans and B’mbaadans to take their place on the barricade, but they were exhausted and Adar ordered them to rest. They weren’t about to trust undependable allies with the security of their wounded comrades and leaders, however. Battle-weary Marines rotated the duty throughout the night. Bradford knew now what had happened, and he personally felt nothing but gratitude for the warriors that came to their aid, but he could sympathize with how the Marines felt.
There were many, many wounded lying on the ground in the vicinity and he carefully picked his way through the sleeping forms. Many, he suspected, would never awake. Most would, however, and that was largeng torchesg into the gray morning light. He realized she’d probably brought little in the way of medical science to the Lemurian people. In many ways their medicines were more effective than those she knew — the strange antiseptic paste for one — but she had introduced the idea of battlefield triage and the associated patch-and-splice that went with it. That was something the local healers had never considered. The sea folk didn’t need it because they so rarely fought anything like a major battle, and the locals, who fought all the time, had just never thought of it. Perhaps it was because even they had never fought a battle such as this, in which the sheer numbers of casualties were so high. Unlike anyone they’d met so far, the B’mbaadans and Aryaalans understood the concept of surrender, at least among themselves. Maybe they had never let things go this far before one side or the other just quit. Whatever the case, the exhausted young nurse had done heroic work that night. He picked his way toward her.
«You should rest, my dear. You are destroyed.» He spoke quietly so as not to disturb those nearby whose sleep was only temporary. She nodded at him and smiled weakly. «But you know that, of course.»
«Yes.» She sighed. «The healers we brought are a wonder. I couldn’t have managed without them.» Her face brightened somewhat. «Pam Cross and Kathy McCoy came from Mahan to lend a hand. God, I’m so glad they’re safe!» She gestured under the tent and shook her head. «They’re in there now. Last night was bad, but they sure had a rough time on Mahan. Everything from constant fear for their lives to attempted rape. With Kaufman in charge» — she snorted" pretending to be in charge — there was chaos. They told me things.» She didn’t finish, but instead looked in the direction of the barricade and what lay beyond. «Beth Grizzel went ashore with Kaufman. Did you know that?»
Bradford nodded and gently patted her arm. «Mr. Ellis told me last night.»
Sandra shivered, but continued to glare at the barricade. «Damn Kaufman!» she muttered fiercely. «So much misery because of him. I hope he roasts in hell!»
Bradford felt his eyebrow arch, but decided now wasn’t an appropriate time for the response that leaped to mind. Pity. «I’m quite certain he did, my dear.» He guided her to a bench and hovered near her as she sat down at last. «And how then are the captain and his extremely lucky companions? I still can hardly believe they survived, from what I hear.»
She stared bleakly at her hands on her lap. «As you say. Lucky to be alive. Keje has a concussion, I think, but other than that he didn’t get a scratch. The Chief had an arrow in his hip, but it struck the very edge of his pelvis and went down instead of up. Lucky. If it went up, it would have perforated his bowel. God knows if that Lemurian paste would have any effect on peritonitis. It’ll hurt when he walks for a while, but he should be fine. Matt?» She closed her eyes tightly and tried to control the relief in her voice. «His cheekbone is cracked, at least, and he has a deep gash in his side, down to the ribs. Besides that, he was stabbed in the back, through his shoulder blade and out his chest with a spear.» She laughed bitterly. «At least it was a ‘clean’ wound. Not many bone fragments or other debris. Those Grik spears are sharp!» The tears came then, in spite of all she could do.
Bradford sat beside her and put his good arm around her shoulders. «You care a lot for him, don’t you, my dear?» He spoke in a kindly voice.
«Of course I do,» Sandra whispered, answis. all.»
The sun finally rose and showed for all to see the results of the Battle of Aryaal. By late morning, the skuggiks had arrived in force, and soon there were so many even Bradford couldn’t watch them anymore, so sickened did he become. Beyond the barricade and across the plain, all the way up to the base of the wall that surrounded Aryaal, a seething mass of raucous scavengers feasted on the thousands of Grik corpses underneath the brilliant sun and cloudless sky. The ground itself came to look like one huge corpse, working with maggots as the light gray skuggiks capered and hopped among the bodies, gorging themselves on the remains. The smell was overpowering, but the sounds the creatures made while they ate were even worse.
Jim Ellis walked, still limping a little from the wound Kaufman had given him, up to the awning that served as a hospital tent. There he found Rolak, pacing anxiously back and forth while Chack stood in one place and spoke quietly to him. Jim had met the Lemurian bosun’s mate only the night before, but he didn’t feel the least bit ridiculous returning the sharp salute Chack gave him when he joined them.