CHAPTER 21

Tarak watched Kiron's retreating figure, and turned to Leanna. "We, too must leave."

She looked up at him.

"I am afraid."

He smiled.

"Do not worry. Soon you will be back in Neros, taunting men with your beauty and lashing them with your tongue."

He brow furrowed in anger, but before she spoke, she suddenly smiled.

"You said that purposely, to ease my fear."

He shrugged, a half-smile upon his face.

"Perhaps. It is true, nonetheless."

She touched his arm gently.

"I shall never taunt you again, Tarak."

"We shall see."

He nodded at the dyrrn, then looked back at the girl.

"We must go now."

She looked at the beast, and shrank back.

"We are not going to ride on that!"

"Yes."

She shook her head.

"No. I will not ride on a monster! We shall have to find another way." Her voice was commanding.

"If you wish," said Tarak, "you may walk."

He turned toward the dyrrn.

"Perhaps I shall see you again," he said, leaving her.

"No!" she cried. "Don't leave me here!"

"Then come."

She looked at the dyrrn, so huge and terrifying, and back again at Tarak. She was petrified with fear, even to look at the creature.

Tarak shrugged, and suddenly grabbed her and threw her over his shoulder. Before either the girl or the dyrrn could protest, he leaped to its back and struck the beast aloft.

Leanna screamed, and the dyrrn squawked in protest, but sailed from its perch and across the arena, then out over the city.

From his vantage point above the city Tarak could see that Kiron's followers had not been idle since the day they had all met in the tavern, after he and Foss had come to Kalnor.

Well organized and armed, they had upon hearing of the fighting within the arena struck swiftly and savagely at a dozen places within Kalnor, causing damage and disorganization in the ranks of the mercenary forces of the Tarkan, and trying to draw attention away from the city's gates.

It was essential that the gates remain open. Kalnor, like Neros, was impregnable to physical assault upon her walls.

The invading forces would likely be identified long before they reached the city, and once the massive gates were closed upon them they would have a nearly impossible time breaching through without help from within.

Should that happen, the success of the invasion would largely depend upon victory in the battle within the city, and the troops outside would be useless.

Malenot was dead, but his organization, both mercenary and Kalnorian, was powerful, and its tentacles spread throughout the city.

Terror and weapons superiority gave them a decided edge against those within Kalnor who might be aroused to rebellion. Kiron's presence was critical to his followers, but even should he survive victory was by no means assured.

Should he perish, his followers would have no one of faintly comparable stature to replace him.

This, of course, would be readily apparent to his enemies, and with savage ruthlessness they would pay any price, sacrifice any amount of men, to kill him.

No man, however well protected, or skilled, could hope to survive such a determined effort forever. A man such as Kiron, who chose always to be where the fighting was critical, would perish within hours.

Without his leadership, his forces would likely fall to those of the Tarkan, and the populace could them be subdued, for none of the former royal families of Kalnor were within the city, and many of the finest warriors were with Atal Throom.

While many of his followers spread chaos throughout the city, then, the main bulk of rebels launched a determined assault upon the main gates of Kalnor.

Malenot had been no fool. While Kiron practiced with Tarak in the luxury of his gardens, the Tarkan had replaced the gate guard with men of his won.

Fierce, battle-hardened mercenaries, these men had fought in many places on Aantor. They were hard men, merciless in combat. The Tarkan's suspicions, perhaps tinged with paranoia, had motivated him to exercise an almost fanatical degree of precaution.

In the arena he had been thwarted, for there events had unfolded which had surpassed any probability.

Only in Gorkok had Malenot seen invincibility. When that had been shattered, and with it the death of the tarab, the Tarkan had perished, because for once he had not foreseen the possibility of mishap.

Elsewhere within Kalnor, however, his meticulous planning had proved valuable, and those in revolt found unyielding resistance as they strove to achieve their objective.

Striking swiftly, they had hoped to overpower the guard, and hold the gate until reserves might arrive. They were striking blindly, with a timetable which was at best conjecture. Perhaps they would be able to hold the gate until the invader's vanguard fought through the outer city to the gate.

Perhaps the inhabitants of Kalnor would sense the nobility of their purpose and flock to their aid.

Perhaps they would die in vain, overpowered by the superior forces of Malenot.

These men had little to rely upon. Only the statement of Kiron of Kalnor that Atal Throom was on the march. Assuming the truth of this statement, they had to guess the arrival of the exiled Tark, and finally had to move with the coming of the last day of the tournament.

Atal Throom could be days from Kalnor.

Kiron might have perished in the tournament. Numerous errors in time or judgment could cause the defeat of their plans, and death for the men.

They acted solely upon Kiron's request.

It was enough for them.

These men had lived under the reign of Malenot for years. They would now fight, to a horrible death if necessary, to escape that reign.

It appeared, however, that their defeat might come prematurely. The mercenary guard wasn't caught unaware, and now fought with all the savage professionalism of which they were capable.

Relentlessly the revolutionaries attacked, but the guard drove them back, trading blow for blow, as the ground ran with blood. Still the gates stood open, for the guards had no idea that peril threatened from without.

Should they retain control of the gate, they would be able to respond effectively to that peril when it did materialize. The men of Kalnor knew this, and savagely they thrust forward. They were fighting for their dreams, but against superior numbers these dreams seemed to break like the surf upon the rocky shore.

High above the city, Tarak watched the battle, and knew that it was only a matter of time before the defenders disposed of the brave force which hurled itself forward so recklessly. Nearer the center of the city he saw Kiron's force fighting its way along the broad avenue, toward the gate. Though those who followed the Kalnorian were poorly armed, they numbered in the thousands, and Tarak felt that they might take the gate if they could consolidate their forces. It appeared that they would be too late, however.

He guided the dyrrn higher, and his heart quickened as the looked out over the countryside, for a few miles away a large force could be seen making its way toward Kalnor. He wondered momentarily why the attackers had not been discovered by sentries, and their presence reported to the gate. Dropping lower, he noticed several pitched battles within the outer city. Kiron's men had prepared well, and were moving swiftly to cut down messengers as they tried to make their way to the gate with news of the invading army.

Still, it appeared that eventually one would break through, or the sentries on the wall would spy the invading force, or the strife within the outer city, and order the gates closed.

With a sharp blow Tarak turned the dyrrn, and it sailed high over the wall, and out toward the approaching army. He set the great beast down well outside the city, and dismounting, revived Leanna, who had fainted when he had first mounted the dyrrn with her.

He shook her gently until her eyes opened, and as understanding flooded into her face she grew fearful, looking about wildly for the dyrrn, which stood a few yards away.

He looked down into her eyes, and spoke reassuringly. "You are safe now, Leanna." He pointed to the north. "There march the armies of Atal Throom and Foss of Neros. Wait here, and soon you will be safe within their midst."

She followed his arm with her eyes. "It is truly Foss who comes?"

"yes."

She drooped then, sobbing with relief, and he turned to go, but she grabbed his arm. "Where are you going?"

He stopped. "I must go now."

She shook her head, and tried to hold him, but gently the blond giant disengaged here arms, and , smiling, walked to the dyrrn and mounted. He turned to her, and nodded in farewell. She made as if to speak, but at that moment he struck the dyrrn and it lifted into the air, and was gone.

She stood watching the figure grow smaller in the sky as man and dyrrn headed back toward the city. Even after she could see them no longer she watched, and thus was she standing when the troops of Atal Throom and Foss of Neros reached her a short time later.

Tarak headed straight back for the gate, for there he knew the critical battle would be decided. Even as he soared over the outer city he could see messengers fighting their way toward the walls. Kiron's dedicated men were slowly succumbing to the numbers of messengers.

That they had prevented the closing of the gates for event his period of time indicated how fiercely they loved Kalnor. They died solitary, lonely deaths, pitted voluntarily against greatly superior odds. Few would honor their passing, but these men had given Kalnor its greatest chance for freedom. They would not march in victory along the streets, as citizens showered them with praise and warm greetings. Theirs would not be the joy of seeing freedom and commerce once again flourish in Kalnor, jewel on the sea of Kal. They would not greet loved ones long ago parted.

Rather they now perished, slaughtered by superior, organized mercenaries, go that their fellows should have the best possible chance to know once again the taste of freedom within their city.

Tarak approached the gates, and sailed over them silently, the dyrrn gliding downward in a swift descent. Surprised guards on the wall gaped in fearful wonder, but Tarak ignored them as he guided the dyrrn into the ranks of men battling below. Even as the men noticed the sudden shadow they were hit from behind by the creature, which flattened men beneath its body, and threw others with its great wings. Its head darted forward again and again, almost unbelievably quick for a creature so large, and each time another warrior fell.

Tarak leaned out from his perch on the creature's back, and his sword whirled and bit deep into the ranks of those who came too close. Men were aware now of the menace which assailed their rear, but so sudden had been the attack, and so swiftly was it pressed in its ferocity, that they were helpless to turn and defend themselves. Screams resounded from those who fell to the dyrrn and its master, and those in front, facing Kiron's attackers, hesitated in their relentless attempt to drive back those who attacked, as their fear of what lurked behind them grew.

The attackers, equally awed at the sight of the dyrrn, were nevertheless quick to perceive that its savagery was directed at their enemies, and with renewed energy they sallied forth, crying out the battle anthems of Kalnor as they waded into the now confused defenders. For the first time the mercenaries wavered, for they were beset by two forces, and most could not know the nature of that which attacked their rear, only that the screams of men behind them indicated that they were dying in fear and terror.

The defenders were formidable warriors, but as they glimpsed the dyrrn and the man who rode it, they faltered, for this was a menace such as they had never faced before. Men gave back, causing confusion and disorder. Men died, and their ranks faltered. The precise pattern of defense which had kept the attackers at bay was broken, and the patriots of Kalnor now surged forth with renewed strength.

From his vantage point upon the back of the dyrrn Tarak saw the new direction that events were taking, and as the defenders continued to retreat he guided the dyrrn once again into the air, and wheeled the great beast toward the wall. He had no illusions about his chances upon the ground. The initial onslaught had been unexpected and so savage that he had been able to kill a great number of men, and at the same time give the attackers a new chance to regroup and try to win through to the gates. It had been a daring and swiftly executed move. His entire force, however, consisted of himself and his mount, and he knew that after the initial surprise assault the defenders would realize that only a man and a mortal beast, however deadly, faced them. A few well placed arrows, and both he and the dyrrn would be a threat no longer. He had given the men of Kalnor their opportunity. Now he would leave the battle to them.

The dyrrn rose to the wall, and guards scattered as it perched there, and screamed forth its battle cry to the world. Blood covered the beast, and it had been wounded, but its vitality was not in danger, and it was eager for more battle. Tarak scanned the wall, and guided the dyrrn once more aloft, soaring back and forth among its expanse, driving any guards down from its walkways. Several times messengers tried to approach from the outer city, but each time the dyrrn would sweep down and pluck them from the ground, crushing them in its talons, and soon none ventured forth to challenge the dyrrn.

High into the air they climbed, keeping a watchful eye upon the battlements, and surveying the battle within the city.

Still the defenders held the gates, but now the attackers were holding their own, and the defenders were more than content to defend. The gates of Kalnor stood open, for none of the defenders knew of the danger which threatened from without, and Tarak intended to extend their period if ignorance as long as possible.

He looked toward the outer city, and smiled, for even now the invading forces were entering its perimeter, and the defenders, far fewer in number, were retreating steadily. From his vantage point atop the wall he could see the columns of yellow and green pour forth from the countryside and stream into the city. He knew Foss would be in the forefront, but the armies were too far away to identify individuals.

Renewed commotion caused him to turn toward the inner city, and now he knew that Kalnor would fall, for Kiron had arrived to lead his men against the gates. The shout which accompanied his arrival was thunderous, and his name was upon the lips of every man who assaulted the gate defenders. Kiron fought his way into the huge courtyard like a demon, and the men who tried to prevent his assault crumbled like the dust beneath his feet.

It was impossible to tell how many followed the Tark, and many were poorly armed, but clearly many of Kalnor's citizens had joined him as he had marched through the streets. Weapons of fallen defenders had been picked up on the way, and his force was a formidable one.

His army joined the original gate attackers, and before this renewed onslaught the defenders were driven back. Kiron led now, and Tarak watched as the Kalnorian hammered his way forward. Covered with blood and sweat, his tunic shredded, he fought tirelessly. Now the attackers had a decided numerical edge, and each moment it grew. Backward the defenders were driven, and finally the fighting moved to the gates themselves.

Some of Kiron's men jammed the opening, so that the gates could not close, while others continued to drive at the mercenaries, who still hoped for succor from within the city, unaware of the greater danger outside.

Thousands of Kiron's followers now filled the square, and more poured in constantly, now turning to face the other streets, so that any reinforcements would not be able to help the mercenaries.

The fighting was terrible, but in a few moments subsided, the mercenaries finally having surrendered to escape extermination. They were chained, and taken to the slave pens, where they would be taught the lessons of slavery for a period of time, and then sold in the Kalnorian slave market.

The gates still stood open, and now Kiron of Kalnor stood alone beneath the gateway. His sword was hanging loosely from his right hand, his eyes turned outward toward the outer city. He was flanked by his army, and more of them streamed out through the gates to attack the mercenaries from the rear.

Others clambered up onto the walls, searching for guards, or piled the dead against the gates. Many still stood guard against the inner city, for Malenot's regime still possessed warriors in the thousands, well-armed and fearless.

Closer the invading forces came, driving toward the walls, while still the columns emerged from the countryside. The defending mercenaries were now in a rout, but found the way to the city blocked by Kiron's army, which now spewed forth from the gates in great numbers. The mercenaries turned aside to search for another avenue of escape.

They were not pursued. Kiron's force wanted only to guard the gate, and as Tarak watched from the dyrrn he saw the vanguard of the invaders and Kiron's men meet two hundred yards from the gates.

Both forces stopped, and Kiron's men stepped aside, forming a corridor for the armies to march through. A side path was created which led unobstructed to the gates, and there stood a solitary, tiny figure, sword in hand, his chest rising and falling heavily with each breath, as he waited for the invaders to reach him. So small a figure to one so high in the air, riding upon the giant dyrrn, but Tarak knew that beneath the towering gateway of Kalnor stood a giant of a warrior.

He watched for a few moments more, high above the unfolding drama, as two warriors, one dressed in green, one larger and with yellow hair and tunic, approached Kiron of Kalnor. Purposefully they strode forward, and the three men met with a quiet dignity. Kiron saluted the blond warrior, bowing in fealty, symbolic of a warrior's fidelity to his Tarkan. The bow was acknowledged, and returned with the respect accorded a Tark from his Tarkan. The three men stood silently for a moment, then turned and walked into the city, followed by the two armies which had traveled so many miles for this day.

Stillness reigned in the square of Kalnor as they entered, and no one noticed the small shape which glided high above. The shape soared back and forth for a few moments, then turned and disappeared into the cloudless sky.