CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
THE LAST STAND
The imperial army, led by General Leo, leapt onto the plain and met the Returners in the fierce encounter. Soon the freemen were giving ground, and Terra with dread realized that, on top of all the horror of war, they were being forced back towards the abode of the Esper. As a young deer springing away from the ravening wolves sees that there is nowhere to run but to the edge of a high cliff; and that there is but a choice between two deaths, one on the rocks below and another in the devouring maws; so Terra's heart recoiled in fear. She could not see but sense that the Esper was near, and growing nearer with every backward step. Looking to the right and to the left, she found no means of escape.
But seeing her friends around her, Terra remembered Arvis' words and found solace in the thought of dying with her dear friends, and dying for a chance to free the people of the world from a great evil. Moreover, this death—as good as death as could be hoped for—would be a shorter separation from Locke and Edgar and Arvis and Banon (and Calogrent too) than could ever be expected in the course of nature. Soon they would all be together on that Phantom Train—"Was that its call now?" Terra thought, "Or was it only the wind?"—flying ever on into joy and light. And yet, despite the comfort of these thoughts, she could not suppress the animal panic brought on by the anticipation of death. She shrank from the embrace of that stern bridegroom.
The pitiless steel clashed and thunder roared above. Terra looked up and saw all the sad spirits like blue fireflies mounting the darkening sky, and beyond them the gathering clouds in slow rotation around the peak of Mt. Narsha, as if gathering up all the natural order of things to its final end. Terra wept. But even in the midst of her sorrow she prayed for courage, and her prayer did not go unanswered.
First among the sad and noble deeds of war, Banon lord of battle lightly hefted a huge stone that three men together could not lift (such as men are now) and hurled it. It struck Philip of Tzen in the chest. His costly and intricately wrought armor did nothing to save him from so mighty a throw, but rather caved in; and his chest collapsed and his shattered ribs punctured his vitals. And death found him as he fell with armor clattering to the ground, the soul driven out between the teeth with his expiring breath—life's wind stilled.
Next glorious Leo came on the furious warpath, and no Returner or Narshan could stand up against his onslaught. Leading the imperial troops in the close fighting, General Leo broke through the Returner's front line, cutting down Argos of Nikeah and Kent of Mobliz, then Alphus of the sweeping sword-strokes and the two sons of Doran. Their names were Caster and Dan, and they were twins, born of the same mother to Doran of Kohlingen, who would now have to bear the sorrowful news that his only sons had filled out their destiny under the sword of godlike Leo and were killed far from Kohlingen, their home.
Giving way before the powerful imperialists, the Returners could not prevent them from breaking through, even to the rearguard which protected the woman Terra. Now the fighting was close, and first among her high-hearted protectors was swift-footed Locke of Narsha, whose quickness of hand and foot seemed beyond mortal. Many a spearman and bowman strained to hit him, but he lightly avoided their missiles. His heart responded with furious valor to the imperials' pursuit of the fair and flaming-haired Terra, a woman equal to a goddess for beauty.
First Locke killed Amnon of Vector as he, being the greater man, hoped arrogantly to strip the life from him. But as Amnon raised his spear to strike at him, Locke stepped close and with his short sword cut the tendon of his elbow in the chink where the plates meet. Amnon's spear had not even time to fall from the arm he had unstrung before Locke had stabbed him in the eye with a long knife in his other hand and moved past him to kill the next man. In quick succession, Locke unbound the souls of Damon, Arius, Wallace, and Conan. As when a deadly viper is loose in the pasture and all the shepherds are striving to kill it with staff or stone, but the serpent evades them all and strikes their feet (a small prick, but the venom spells agony and death), and after claiming many lives slithers off unscathed—so Locke stripped the life from many imperial soldiers and vanished from their midst before they could close in upon him.
Next Celes, equal to a man in all fighting; pale and treacherous as the moon; with fair, flowing hair; a deadly beauty; worked bitter chaos and confusion among the enemy. Tall and splendid in her silver armor, and flourishing a long, icy thin blade, Celes the beautiful came bearing death. With grace and form to equal the greatest dancer ever to perform in the theatre of opera-famed Jidoor, she mesmerized the imperialists even as she sliced through them—a storm-cloud of silver blade and white cape. Terror seized the troops, and reason left them. With vicious and clumsy strokes they hacked left and right, straining to kill her and beat back the dolorous death-day. It was some time before they realized that Celes was not among them, and the survivors, panting and bleeding, stood with swords stained in imperial blood and bodies piled around their feet.
When they caught sight of her again, Celes was standing aloft on a steep hill on the other side of a trench, in which perhaps a stream had once flowed in a great thaw. She gave a smile full of coquettish and imp-like mischief, which maddened the imperialists. They rushed to their deaths in the trench, where the ice-hard slope caused them to slip and fall on their swords—or else to lay twisting and squirming and wait for Celes to descend gracefully as the wind and thresh away their lives.
Next Sabin, a man than whom none greater could be found, else it were godlike Banon, stripped the life from many a man. He was huge in his royal armor, like to that of his brother, King Edgar, and wielded a long spear with a crescent blade on the end coming to a point. In truth no man so great was as agile as he. Powerfully flourishing his spear, spinning, flipping, kicking and striking, and sounding off at the end of each mortal blow, the martial artist killed any imperialist who was bold enough to meet him. He alone was all the defense that Terra needed, for against wall-like Sabin the imperialists gained not an inch of ground, and he caught all their missiles or brushed them aside as one brushes aside a gnat.
Indeed, it was now the Returners who were pushing back the imperialists, in spite of the mighty works of preeminent Leo. The light was failing in the west. Dark would soon be upon them and put an end to the strife. It was then that General Leo called all the warriors to cease fighting, urging the imperialists to put away their furious strength while Banon and King Edgar did the same on the other side.
Leo was first to address the champions of the North: "Let us put aside the dolorous fighting for now, for night which puts an end to all the strife of war will soon be upon us. And, what is more, it is not meet for enemies to destroy each other utterly if some accord can be reached.
"So I ask you, brave Northmen and Returners, give back to us the woman Terra, and we will leave strong-founded Narsha. It is not wise to fight so strongly for a woman, however beautiful and skilled she may be. Let her come back to her people and we will put an end to the furious fighting."
The heart was stirred within Terra's breast by Leo's speech, and Terra spoke words suitable to times of war. "General Leo," she said, "In very truth your speech and your unhappy sighs move the heart within me to grieve. I know now what before was only rumor to me, that you are an honest and valiant man."
"You know me not, then?" replied Leo, heart-saddened.
"No, though I am told that once I knew you, I know you not. It happened that a twelvemonth and more ago I came to the summit of this very mountain, arrogantly seeking the Esper for the Emperor's pleasure. Here the Esper, which I feel is near, destroyed me and my troop. Destroyed, yet not annihilated, I awoke, but had no knowledge of myself. I awoke to the kindnesses of an old man whom I have since learned to call father—a man who could have killed me, and should have, for I had slain his five sons. But he showed me love and called me his child.
"I went on a long journey with these Returners, whom I now call friends, and learned of all the evil done at the hands of the empire, done at the behest of the Emperor himself. This is why I grieve: for I see that not all men of the Empire are evil, and yet we are destined to fill out our destinies on this dread mountain and kill each other with the sword."
Astonishment sat on Leo's face. "You never spoke a truer word, Terra, you who are lovelier than all women. An equal measure of grief weighs on my heart. And yet, if you will be persuaded by me, as is right, I think we may avoid more bloodshed and the bitter destruction. It is not divine Emperor Gestaul who is chiefly to blame for the late sins (which I pretend not to defend) of the Empire, which ere now has ruled with peace and justice in sweet and harmonious mixture. His ears have been filled with evil counsels and his mind seduced with dreams of life everlasting, which is ever dear to the heart of those who rule, even to those who rule well. I love the Emperor as my own father, and I love the Empire, my home. I fight for the principles on which our mighty kingdom was founded and which have sadly fallen into decay. Do not believe that all the Empire (and the Emperor's own heart) is united in these evil designs. If that were so, I would be struck dead where I stand for uttering these words. The Emperor knows that if he should so ask it of me, I would fall upon my own sword. I tell you, the answer is not rebellion but reform.
"But if you will not be persuaded—and even the immortal gods, who are ever stronger than men, can be turned from their wrath with prayers and sacrifices—then let the Returners choose from among them a champion to contend with me in single combat. If he should kill me, then may the gods deal with my men (be it ever so severely) if they do not leave strong-walled Narsha, not setting fire to any house nor taking the smallest apple for plunder. But if I kill him, do you then, gray-eyed beautiful Terra, suffer yourself to go back with us to our everlasting city, and we will go with what gifts the chiefs of the Narshans think fit to bestow upon their conquerors. Elsewise, we must go on killing each other until one of us is destroyed utterly. Speak, King Edgar or stalwart Banon, are these terms not fair?"
"They are," said Banon, "And now I think we will cast lots to see who will fight you, for I see that both the regal sons of Figaro, King Edgar and his formidable brother Sabin, are eager to challenge you, and the heart within my breast urges me to do the same."
The lots were cast, and the lot fell to Edgar.