The Golden Steed

Before the hour was two-thirds gone, the messengers began reporting back, each bringing a handful of men with them. Some wore field gear, some wore palace outfits, all were armed to the teeth.

The last man brought in not only four of his comrades, but a priest of the Temple of the Holy Guardian. The priest was not exactly a prisoner, but he had about him the air of a man who had not come entirely of his own free will. He looked nervous and ill-at-ease, and kept looking fearfully about him at the grim gathering of armed men.

Blade took the priest and the soldier who brought him aside, into his bedroom. Then he asked, «What does bringing this priest here mean?»

«By your leave, Oh Pendarnoth,» said the soldier. «This priest was the one who told me where Klerus is now. But he seemed to guess why I wanted to know. Since I could not trust him not to run to his fellow priests and tell the whole story, I brought him along.»

Blade nodded. «A wise decision.» Then he turned to the priest. «Well, my friend?»

The priest swallowed hard and said, «It is true that I told him where Klerus is. He is in the cellar chambers of the Temple of the Holy Guardian, in conclave with his allies among the priesthood. And I know that it is your purpose, Oh Pendarnoth, to seek out Klerus and slay him. But you must not use blasphemous and sacrilegious violence against even Klerus within the holy space of the temple. All those of the priesthood, even I myself, would turn against you then.»

Blade frowned. He was rather weary of priests who set religious proprieties above the welfare of their people. But the priest's words seemed to imply a way out.

«My friend, do you mean that you share our hatred for Klerus and wish as we do to see him destroyed?»

«With all my heart, Oh Pendarnoth.»

«Good. If we swear by the most Holy Guardian to lay no hands on him within the temple itself, will you lead us to a place where we may take him as he comes forth?»

The priest appeared dubious for a moment. Then he said, «There is such a place. But Klerus' guards will also be there in strength. A great battle may arise.»

«Does that matter to you, as long as it is not within the temple?»

After a moment's hesitation, the priest shook his head. «It does not. I will lead you.»

Blade clapped the priest on the back. «Good. You have done well for Pendar and will do better before the night is over.»

In spite of his congratulations to the priest, Blade was far from congratulating himself as yet. There was much to do: reaching the temple without raising the alarm, setting the ambush, springing it, and fighting a pitched battle with Klerus' guards. Things could go disastrously wrong at any of these points.

Blade got his men out of the palace without trouble. The sheets of the beds and the cloaks and tunics in the chests provided hoods to cover their faces. A little work with their daggers and they took the Pendarnoth's Guard badges off their tunics. But even in disguise, fifty-odd armed men moving through the corridors of the palace could hardly escape attention.

But Blade and Guroth had replies ready. «We go about the business of the council,» they said to all challenges or questions. Since that was the phrase used by Klerus' own supporters when moving about at night, it dissolved opposition like acid. Blade could not help gri

Outside the palace they found the streets grimly dark and empty. A strict curfew was keeping people at home. The only living things moving were the scavenger dogs and cats, the patrols of the watch, and the workmen of the shops. The shops were ablaze with light and filled with the continuous clanging of tools day and night. Piles of weapons and long rows of siege engines stood outside them. All the arms workers were exempted from curfew. But neither dogs nor cats nor watchmen nor armorers were inclined to argue with fifty men armed to the teeth.

Blade kept his men moving along at a brisk trot. They covered the mile to the Temple of the Holy Guardian on its hill in less than fifteen minutes. Another fifteen, and they had deployed and hidden themselves in the alleys and doorways of the slum quarter to the south of the temple. It was here that the priest said Klerus would be coming out. Blade was inclined to believe the priest. He counted at least thirty men lounging or standing about near the south door. Although all of them wore the rags of beggars or the smocks of workmen, Blade and Guroth could not be put off by such crude disguises. They easily detected the alert, military stance of the «beggars,» their concealed swords, and the care with which they had taken their positions.

The hours dragged on and the chill of the night deepened. It told on the watching men. Blade heard coughs and sneezes around him in the darkness. At each one he stiffened, watching to see if Klerus' henchmen had taken alarm. Each time he was relieved to see them show no signs of having heard anything. Boredom and cold had taken the edge off their alertness. Blade hoped things would stay that way.

The hours dragged on, and Blade was begi

It must have been less than an hour before dawn when a faint metallic clinking broke the silence of the dark streets. It came from down near the base of the temple. Both parties of waiting men were instantly at full alert. Blade drew his sword and dagger and whispered to the man beside him, «Get ready to move at my signal.» He heard the whisper fade away into the darkness as it was relayed from man to man.

The clinking came again, and then the sound of a door opening on rusty hinges. At the base of the temple, figures moved. They were ghost like at first, then they acquired more substance as they mounted the stairs to the level of the street. There were fifteen or twenty of them, but Blade was paying attention only to the vast bulky figure that brought up the rear-Klerus. Some of the newcomers joined the guards. Then all formed a hollow square, facing outward.

Blade wanted to wait until Klerus and his guards had cleared the temple area. That way none of them would have a chance to flee back into it when they were attacked. But as he looked up at the sky, Blade realized that within a few more minutes men would lose the cover of darkness. He looked at Guroth, and the High Captain's eyes met his. They both nodded. The High Captain raised his trumpet, then Blade took a deep breath and shouted:

«For Pendar and for King Nefus! At them, guards!» The trumpet blared out, and before its echoes had died away, Blade was ru

Surprise and terror froze Klerus' men in their tracks for a moment. The darkness around them was suddenly pouring out armed men, screaming like fiends. But if his guards were stu

Some of Klerus' guards had bows, but in the darkness Blade's hurtling shape made a poor target. Arrows whistled past him but none struck or even grazed. Uninjured and unslowed, he reached the head of the stairs that led down to the door of the temple. Then he whirled and jerked off his mask in a single swift motion.