The Quest of Kadji Read Free Page B

ponderous stallions of the mailed knights of western Rashemba!
    Kneeling in the trodden dust, the Red Hawk swore before his savage Gods the sword-brethren should not have died in vain.
    He kissed the blade of the sacred Axe in token of his vow and rose and rode on, and his heart was filled with grim purpose. But now he must ride with very great care, scanning the world around from every hillcrest or elevation. It would seem that the dog-knights of Rashemba had turned back in truth from their pursuit of the clan legion, for he saw no sign of them as he retraced, day after day, the flight of the sword-brothers. But here, on the far shore of the Agburz, he was in the country held by the foe, and well might they have left guardposts or watch parties behind to warn against the return of the Chayyim Kozanga Nomads. So he rode carefully, muffled in his cloak, taking advantage of every bit of cover the landscape might afford. He followed the winding path of dry gullies; he picked his way through the stand of trees, using the bushy underbrush to hide him from any watchful eye; and thus he passed many leagues unseen by any man.
    v. The Gates of Nabdoor
    IT WAS some days later that Kadji, Red Hawk of the Chayyim Kozanga, came within sight of Nabdoor.
    The small traders’ town lay below him, for now he was among the Barren Hills, and the settlement lay below on the banks of the Babdar, a small river that wandered out of the north and down whose meandering stream came flatboats from the northern farms bearing goods to market. Here at this spot the river from the north met with the great caravan routes that crisscrossed the plains from east to west: hence a permanent village of tradesmen, artisans, caravan lords and merchant princelings had grown up in olden time.
    Now it might well be that the Rasbemba, turning back from the Field of Agburz to return to the heartlands of the Dragon Emperor, might have paused at Nabdoor-town. At very least, it seemed likely they had left a garrison to ward and hold this outpost of golden Khôr. Therefore the boy Kadji tethered his pony to dry brush below and wriggled on his belly to the hillcrest, from which high vantage he could gaze down and see the streets and ways of Nabdoor spread out below him like a living map. He searched with keen and thoughtful eyes and saw that his worst fears were realized; for while the main body of the Rashemba host had departed from these parts, a garrison did indeed hold the gate and walls of the town.
    Kadji crawled down from the hillcrest to where his pony waited patiently and huddled in his robes, munched dry provisions, while he thought out his strategy. The pony nosed him and he dug a handful of dry meal from the saddlebags and let it eat from the palm of his hand, chuckling as the moist, bristled lips moved over his hand.
    “What shall we do, eh, Haral?” he murmured, stroking the velvet nose of the pony. “Of course, we could circle Nabdoor without entering it, and continue on into the north . . . but if we so do, little Haral, we shall both go with empty bellies many a day, for there is little left in the bags for you to feed upon, and naught at all for me.”
    The pony whickered softly and shoved his shoulder with its nose, as if to say “Let’s go down and dare it.”
    At length Kadji made up his mind. His pony was of Feridoon breed, unlike the proud war stallions of the sword-brothers; and he himself, with his blond locks and blue eyes—a rarity in the Nomad clan-brethren—could pass for an Ushamtar of the plains. And he had cleverly bethought him of the time when perchance he might need to hide his Kozanga identity behind some manner of disguise; thus he bore with him in the saddle pack garments purchased from the go-mak of the Ushamtar village whereat they had paused to rest that night.
    On sudden impulse the boy rose and threw off the red felt hat and striped ishlak robes, which would mark him to all eyes as a warrior of the Chayyim Kozanga.
    Nude save