Sojan the Swordsman Read online

  Sojan, entangled in the harness of the man he had slain, tried to rise but was stopped from doing so by a shove from Tytho’s booted foot.

  The hireling raised his sword again and the crowd leaned forward.

  Suddenly there was a disturbance at one end of the street and the crowd quickly began to disperse. As it did so, Tytho saw that the City Patrol, scourge of the local thieves, was the cause of the crowd’s disappearance. Looking hurriedly about him for a way of escape he found none; he dropped his sword and began to run, foolishly, along the street.

  The leader of the Patrol raised his pistol. There was the slight hiss of escaping air and the running hireling gave a short cry, threw up his arms, stumbled and dropped on the cobbles of the street.

  “What’s happening here?”

  By this time Sojan had disentangled himself from the harness of his late opponent and was standing, legs a-sprawl, hand to head.

  “You’ve saved my life, sir!” he gasped. “These ruffians attacked me for my money. I succeeded in killing two but unfortunately became tangled up with this fellow.” He indicated the body. “Tytho was about to finish me when you arrived!”

  The leader laughed. “You certainly accounted very well for yourself,” he said, “these three are among the worst of the type with whom we have to contend. Ruthless murderers, perfect swordsmen.” Again he laughed. “Or almost perfect. You did us a service and I am grateful.”

  He surveyed Sojan’s bloodstained and tattered clothing.

  “You’re a stranger here are you not?” he enquired, “a mercenary swordsman, perhaps?”

  “Yes, I am named Sojan — they nickname me ‘Shieldbearer’ because I use this.” Sojan pointed to his shield. He was hoping that news of his joining the Hatnorian forces had not reached the city.

  “Well, Sojan Shieldbearer, how would you like to bear that shield and wield a sword in the Patrol?”

  Instantly Sojan saw his chance. If he could get a post in the organised militia of the city, he might be able to contact his imprisoned friends.

  “It has always been my ambition to serve in the Veronlamite Guard,” he lied, “but to become a member of the great Patrol is a chance for which I had not dared hope.”

  “Then come with us and we’ll enlist you immediately. And,” the captain added, “get you a decent jerkin and harness.”

  Before he could become a full-fledged Patrolman, Sojan had to undergo a course of basic training. When this was finished, his duties were to patrol, with his men, a certain section of the city, and arrest any thieves, footpads or similar wrongdoers. The ‘justice’ was rough indeed and was not appreciated by the population.

  All the time Sojan listened out for rumours and from these rumours he gleaned that Nornos Kald and Il-that were imprisoned somewhere in the Prison of Zholun — a mighty towered building situated near the centre of the city. Sojan knew well that the Patrol’s duties included patrolling the prison and acting as guards to ‘special’ prisoners — and he was hoping that he would be given this assignment soon.

  Sure enough, one day his hopes were fulfilled and he was assigned to guard a section of Zholun Prison.

  With his eyes wide open, Sojan learned where the two were imprisoned.

  “One is in the East tower — the other in the West. Nornos Kald lies in the East tower,” a guard told Sojan one night after Sojan plied him with enough ale to get him drunk. “Our War King plans to attack Hatnor and hoped to enlist Nornos Kald’s help in return for his life, but the Hatnorian refuses and is to die with the other prisoner. Their time is almost up. The day after tomorrow, when the two suns pass in unison, they will die by the sword.”

  Sojan had to work fast if he was to rescue his friend and their beautiful charge.

  Chapter Six

  The Prison Tower

  SOJAN’S FIRST LOYALTY was to Nornos Kald. He was by now well known to his fellow guards and easily contrived to enter the East tower wherein Nornos Kald was imprisoned. Stealthily he made his way to the metal-studded door of the cell.

  “Nornos Kald,” he whispered.

  He heard the rattle of chains and through the bars of the door saw his chieftain’s handsome face, drawn and pale through lack of food and sleep.

  “Sojan!” exclaimed the War King. “I thought you died in the crash!”

  “The wreckage hid me. I am alive and here to save you if I can. I was assigned to guard the West wing so it will be more difficult — however I shall try and get the keys. Until I return — have hope!”

  And with that Sojan crept back along the gloomy passage. On return he found that the Patrolman on duty was talking to someone. He waited until the man had left and then walked into the little room which was being used to house the guards.

  “Hullo, Stontor,” cried Sojan, “what’s up?”

  Stontor looked worried. “It’s my wife, Sojan, she’s been taken ill and I can’t leave my post.”

  Here was an unexpected stroke of luck. Immediately, Sojan saw his chance and took it.

  “Well, you go and help her,” he said. “I’ll stay here until you get back. Don’t worry.”

  “Thanks a lot, Sojan, you’re a friend indeed. Here are the keys — shouldn’t think there’ll be much doing tonight.” And with that he put on his cloak and ran down the long passage.

  Hastily Sojan picked up the keys and made his way back across to Nornos Kald’s cell. He unlocked the door and helped Nornos Kald from his chains.

  “I was lucky — a coincidence — guard’s wife ill — but the main trouble will be getting out of the city,” he panted, as he turned the keys in the heavy padlocks.

  Together they returned to the guards’ room. Here Sojan left Nornos Kald. Then he made his way back to the West wing where it was a simple matter to get the princess from her cell. Silently they returned to Nornos Kald.

  Keeping to the side streets and the shadows, the three sped towards the city gates.

  Suddenly Nornos Kald hissed, “Stop! Stop, Sojan, there may be an easier way.” He pointed to a flat area dotted with hangars and anchored airships. “With one of those we would have a better chance of escaping.”

  “But how?” enquired Sojan.

  Again Nornos Kald pointed. “You see that small ship nearest to us — the one anchored down by a couple of ropes?” The ship of which he was speaking was fifteen feet above them, held to the ground by anchors attached to heavy ropes. “With luck we could climb the ropes and gain the ship.”

  “It will be dangerous,” murmured the girl with a charming grin. “But I’ll gladly risk it if you two will!”

  Sojan answered her grin with one of his own. “That’s the spirit!” He was growing to like this daring princess.

  Chapter Seven

  The Sky Chase

  STEALTHILY THE THREE padded along the side of the field, keeping well into the shadows all the time. A single guard lolled on the ground. Sojan crept behind him and, reversing his pistol, knocked the man unconscious.

  With Sojan’s and Nornos Kald’s help, Il-that was able to climb the rope and they boarded the ship. As they clambered over the rail a light suddenly appeared from one of the cabins and an armed man swaggered on deck. He was followed by three others.

  “Mimuk!” he cried. “What have we here?”

  There was no time for words and, handing Nornos Kald his long dirk and Il-that his pistol, Sojan drew his sword, and engaged the man and his companions. Nornos Kald was close behind him. Back and forth across the narrow deck the six men fought, and the four crewmen were no mean battlers.

  Nornos Kald, weak from his sojourn in Zholun Prison, still put up a good fight. Together they succeeded in killing two of their opponents — but the other two were, if not better swordsmen, much fresher.

  The clash of steel echoed across the silent field, threatening to wake the world. Sojan was blinded by the sudden flash of a searchlight and taking advantage of this, his opponent cut past his guard and made a deep gash in his side. The pain was like fire and S
ojan could barely restrain himself from crying out. He stumbled, almost falling to the deck, and with a cry of triumph the crewman raised his sword. A sudden hiss and a strangled gasp and he collapsed over Sojan. Turning his head he saw Il-that with the pistol in her hand.

  “Thanks,” was all he could say as he struggled to his feet and ran to help Nornos Kald.

  While Nornos Kald threw the bodies overboard, Sojan started the engines. Below them they heard shouts of a Patrol and two searchlights were now levelled on the swaying airship. Soon they heard cries as the bodies of the crewmen were found.

  With two sword strokes Nornos Kald cut the anchoring ropes and the ship rose swiftly into the air. There was a coughing roar and the propellers began to turn. The searchlights followed them; all around them shells whistled.

  Suddenly, behind them, they saw that three battle cruisers of the fastest and heaviest type had risen to follow them.

  “More speed, Sojan, more speed!” cried Nornos Kald. “Make for Sengol, it’s nearer.”

  With a glance at the compass, Sojan turned the ship’s nose towards the north. Nearer and nearer came the battle cruisers, guns popping softly. Il-that, a true daughter of a warrior king, climbed into the gunner’s rear-seat and aimed the guns of their own ship at the pursuing cruisers. She pressed the triggers and the twin muzzles of the gun gave a jerk, a hiss, and there was an explosion. What all a gunner’s skill could not easily have accomplished, Il-that had done with luck — brought down a cruiser in its most vulnerable spot — the main gasbag. Flames roared from the fabric and the ship lost height. Faster and faster it went as the earth pulled it downwards. The engines roaring to the last it crashed with a flash of orange-and-crimson flame. But the other two ships had still to be accounted for and Il-that was not so lucky this time.

  For two hours the chase continued, neither gaining, and all the time the shells from the Veronlam craft were getting closer as the gunner perfected his aim.

  “They will catch us soon,” cried Il-that, who still sat in the rear-gunner’s seat, “they seem to be drawing closer!”

  “Then we shall have to land and hope that we’re not still in Veronlam,” yelled Nornos Kald above the shrieking wind.

  “It will take a long time for us to do so, sir,” Sojan told Nornos Kald, “we have no anchors, and to release the gas in the gasbag would mean that while we lost height we should also lose speed.”

  “Then there’s only one thing we can do!” cried the Emperor, “and that’s this!” Raising his sword he cut deep into the nearest gasbag. He was thrown to the deck as the contents rushed out and almost at once the ship began to drop, dangerously fast. The three stood by the side, ready to jump. Again Sojan was impressed by the girl, who showed no fear at all.

  With a hard jolt the ship touched the ground, bumped along it, and stopped. Over the side the three companions went and ran over soft moss to the sheltering shadows of some rocks as the Veronlamite searchlights began to stab into the darkness.

  But it was easy to hide in the rocks and the caves sheltered them when the Veronlamites landed and made a vain search for them.

  For the next three days, moving mostly by night, the three oddly matched people managed to stay clear of the Veronlamite searchers, hiding among the rocks and strange fern forests of the terrain. Sojan seemed to have an instinct for knowing when and where to hide.

  By the fourth morning it was evident that they had crossed the border and it was an easy matter to walk to the nearest Sengolian city and thence continue by airship to the capital, where the king gratefully took his daughter.

  “We of Sengol have always felt friendship to Hatnor,” he said, embracing the War King and the man who had become his closest friend and lieutenant, “but with this brave deed you have ensured our alliance will endure for ever!”

  And on the airship home Nornos Kald echoed these sentiments when he clapped Sojan on the shoulder. “We were fated to meet, Sir Shieldbearer. Ah, what adventures we shall have together!”

  Chapter Eight

  Mission to Asno

  MOTORS PURRING, CAPTAINS shouting orders, the rustle of the canvas gun-covers being drawn back, gay flags, flashing steel, flying cloaks of many hues; a Hatnorian war-fleet rose rapidly into the sky. On the deck of the flagship stood a tall, strong figure — that of Sojan, nicknamed ‘Shieldbearer’, second in command to the great War King of Hatnor himself — Nornos Kald.

  At his side was a long broadsword, upon his back his round shield; his right hand rested on the butt of his heavy air-pistol — an incredibly powerful weapon. Clad in a jerkin of sky-blue, a divided kilt of deep crimson and boots of dark leather, over his shoulders his jingling war-harness, he was the typical example of a Zylorian mercenary, whose love of bright garb was legendary.

  The great war-fleet was destined for Asno — a country far to the north of Hatnor where the king, so the spies told, was raising an army of mercenaries to attack Yundrot — a colony of the Hatnorian Empire.

  To stop a major war, Nornos Kald had decided to send a mighty fleet to crush the attack before it was started. Having other business, he had assigned Sojan to take his place. The War King was determined to make sure that no attack should take place against Yundrot, whose population was famous for its love of peace.

  Only too pleased at the chance to enjoy the pleasures of battle, Sojan had readily assented and was now on his way to Asno in the hope that a show of strength would stop any plans of invasion. For the first time, the entire fleet was under Sojan’s command.

  Soon the fleet was winging its way over Asno, a land of snow and ice, of fierce beasts, its great tracts of ice-fields uninhabited by any civilised beings.

  In another hour they would be over Boitil, the capital city.

  “Gunners, take your positions!” Sojan roared through cupped hands and picking up a megaphone — for there was no radio on Zylor — shouted the same orders, which went from ship to ship until every gunner was seated in his position, guns loaded and ready for firing.

  “Drop two hundred feet!” Sojan roared again to the steersman. These orders were repeated to the other captains, who in turn shouted them to their own steersmen.

  “Prepare hand weapons and fasten down loose fixtures, check gasbag coverings, every man to position!” Sojan shouted when the ships had all dropped two hundred feet.

  “Slow speed!” The ships slowed into ‘second-speed’.

  In Zylorian naval terms there are five speeds: ‘Speed No. 1’ is fastest possible, ‘Speed No. 2’ is a fifth of this slower, and so on. When a commander gives the order to slow when travelling at Speed No. 1, the ship automatically adjusts to Speed No. 2; if going at No. 2 and told to slow, it changes to No. 3.

  Now they were over the outskirts of the city, dropping lower and lower until Sojan thought they would touch the very towers of Boitil, scanning the squares and flying-fields for signs of the army. Halfway over the city a message was passed to Sojan that a great army camp had been spotted — just on the outskirts of the city. At the same time someone yelled for him to look, and doing so he saw that a fleet almost as large as his own was rising from flying-fields all over the vast city. Somehow this fleet had been successfully hidden from Hatnor’s spies!

  Sojan cursed the enemy. Was this a deliberate trap? He had to assume the worst.

  “Prepare for battle!” he shouted.

  As one, the safety catches of the guns were pushed off.

  “Shoot as you will!” Sojan ordered.

  There was a muffled ‘pop’ and the hiss of escaping air as the explosive shells of the Hatnorian craft were sent on their mission of destruction. Almost at once the enemy retaliated.

  Two Hatnorian ships, one only slightly damaged, the other a mass of roaring yellow-and-blue flame, dropped earthwards. The Hatnorians retaliated, sending bursts of deadly fire into the enemy fleet.

  Meanwhile, Sojan had sent a fast air-boat speeding back to Hatnor to warn of Asno’s treachery. They had hoped to avert war but had instead found
themselves fighting for their lives!

  For twelve hours the great air-battle was fought, developing into ship-to-ship duels as the opposing sides became mixed. Bit by bit the battle moved southwards until it was over the great ice wastes.

  Sojan was astonished by the considerable numbers of craft Asno had been able to assemble. They had obviously persuaded many of the privateer fleets to throw in their lot with Tremorn, Asno’s War King. This battle had been planned for a long time. No doubt rumours of an attack on Yundrot had been deliberately seeded to lure the fleet into this fight away from their own territory. The plan had been to destroy the Hatnorian fleet, leaving the nation vulnerable and unable to resist an attack.

  But expert handling of their craft, superior marksmanship and a slightly superior weight of numbers on the part of the Hatnorian fleet was slowly but surely weakening the Asnovians. Sojan, now with a gun mounted on the officer’s platform, was taking an active part in the battle. His uncanny ability to hit almost whatever he aimed at was taking great toll and keeping Hatnorian morale high. Everywhere now the enemy’s ships were hurtling earthwards, crashing in an inferno of flame, or merely bumping gently along the ground when a gasbag was slightly punctured.

  At last, one by one, the privateers began to slip away from the field, leaving only the Asnovians to defend their capital. The other privateer ships, seeing their companions escape, disengaged and followed them. The individual hireling ships, manned mainly by mercenaries, flew in every direction but that of Asno, while the Asnovian craft turned and headed for their home base.

  In tight formation, under Sojan’s brilliant strategy, sped the Hatnorian fleet, following a close formation and turning to No. 1 speed. Any ship they overtook was ruthlessly shot down; but half a dozen or so were lucky and escaped them.

  In three hours they were back over Asno, leaving the city unharmed but bombing the troop emplacements with incendiaries until nothing remained of the great camp but smouldering fabric and twisted steel.