Chapter
12: Escape
Shailaja’s plan was
simple enough, but depended on one very important factor and that was that
the daily routine Olara subjected them to was not going to
change. Fortunately it did not,
with one minor difference. As
Olara waited for them to finish their light breakfast she hinted at what
waited for them later in the day.
“Today you will be given better
weapons. It has been decided
that you will appear in the next games and it is time you became acquainted
with the weapons you will use.”
Neither Shailaja nor Vasanta showed the slightest interest. If Shailaja’s plan worked they would not be around to familiarize themselves with any weapons except those they planned to take from their guards.
If Olara was surprised by their lack of reaction she did not show it. By now she was used to the glowering silences of the two barbarians. They seemed to fluctuate between outbursts of violent rage of the sort she had witnessed in the arena and long periods of stoic silence. For all that she knew them to be formidable warriors. She had surmised as much from their tall, well-muscled bodies when she had first seen them and events had proven her estimate correct. They had rounded into shape more quickly than any warriors she had ever trained, including some fairly formidable gladiators she had trained over the years.
For all that they were a toothsome pair from a male perspective with all of the features that a man would find attractive, from their long legs and full, rounded breasts to their waist-length hair and harem-like facial features. They were as beautiful specimens of womanhood as any two women she had ever beheld.
However, all of that did not matter. They were slated to engage in gladiatorial combat for the first time and the Hector expected them to win. They would face opponents who would do their best to kill them and Olara had just three days to prepare them. However, she was not concerned. She knew the level of the opposition they would face. There were going to be several gladiator owners who were going to lose some very valuable property.
She watched as the two women jogged up the road out of the city. Their easy stride displayed their fitness and the fluid movement of their bodies no doubt provided considerable entertainment for any male who viewed them. It was one of the reasons why she had the other two escorts ride in front while she rode behind. Even so there were some who got to watch them. By now a number of the male citizens of the city had gotten used to their early morning routine and made it their business to watch as the two nude warriors jogged by. They watched in silent approval, cognizant of the fact that the two women wore the jeweled collars of the Hector and were escorted by the Arms Mistress. Then they passed through the gates and away from the prurient gaze of the male citizenry.
A cool breeze blew from the direction of the lake, a not unusual event and
one that helped to make Thar livable even during the hottest days of
summer. Olara found it quite
pleasant and enjoyed the feel of the wind on her face as she crested the
hill that led to the
The two warriors swung down the hill, running easily. Just ahead of them were their two escorts. In a few more heartbeats they would reach the swimming area. It was at that moment Olara noticed something was wrong.
Instead of slowing down the two women had increased the length of their stride, their long legs pushing them down the path and closing the distance between them and the two men riding ahead of them. Two late Olara realized what they were doing. Even as she opened her mouth to shout a warning the two barbarians caught up with their unsuspecting escort and hauled them from the saddle.
It was done so quickly that the two guards had no chance to respond. One heartbeat they were riding alone and the next the two warriors had leaped onto the backs of their horses and using their strength and weight pulled the two men from their saddles. They landed with a thump and a cloud of dust and the two warriors were on them before they could recover. Dazed from their collision with the ground, the two guards were no match for the two warriors who simply slammed their heads into the ground until they stopped moving.
By this time Olara was charging forward, her sword at the ready, however, she faced a serious conundrum. Before her Shailaja and Vasanta waited with drawn swords. Fighting two such formidable warriors and winning seemed out of the question even if they were still joined by a length of chain. And then there was the fact that they were valuable pieces of property; very valuable. The Hector would hardly thank her if she brought them back damaged.
However, she could not just let them go. She was the Mistress of Swords, sworn protector of the Hector and defender of his interests. She had to make the attempt and there seemed just one thing she could do.
She spurred her horse directly toward them, targeting the chain that joined them. If her mount struck the chain it would knock them off their feet, and with luck not cause too much damage. It seemed the only way to incapacitate the two warriors without killing them.
The women she was fighting, however, were experienced in combat and saw at once what she intended. Shailaja grabbed the chain and pulled Vasanta toward her while at the same time moving toward the lake, making it impossible for Olara to cut between them. Two more steps and Olara’s only choice was to attempt to drive them into the lake, an action that would place her within reach of the swords now held by the two women. But it was either that or risk allowing the two women to escape, and Olara didn’t hesitate. She rode straight at the two warriors intending to ride them down.
Shailaja and Vasanta stood ready with swords extended in front of them. Olara’s horse was not armoured and if it rode onto their blades it would suffer injury or death. Fully aware of the aversion of most horses to being ridden into an obstacle, Shailaja suddenly darted forward, screaming her battle cry and brandishing her blade. Although the chain prevented her from moving more than a couple of yards her sudden her movement had the desired affect. The horse swerved to the right, exposing Olara’s unprotected left side to the blades of the two women.
At the last heartbeat Olara shifted her sword to her left hand. It was not a natural action for her, but she had some skill with her weapon. As Shailaja’s blade swept toward her she managed to catch it on the edge of her sword. However, she was not as lucky with Vasanta. The blade of the Nahn princess slashed through the upper part of Olara’s thigh, cutting through to the bone and releasing a torrent of blood. The wounded woman screamed, and as the horse reared up under the attack, she fell from the saddle. Shailaja and Vasanta closed on her at once. Defenceless, Olara could only stare up at them, her left hand desperately trying to stop the bleeding.
“The key,” Shailaja demanded. “Give me the key to the chain.”
As her blood drained out of her Olara managed an agonized smile. “Do you think I would be so foolish as to bring it with me?” she asked. “It is back at the guardhouse where you cannot get it.”
“You lie,” growled Vasanta. “I will cut your throat and take it.”
“Do as you wish,” Olara replied, her voice barely audible. “I cannot stop you.” She fell back, clearly close to fainting from the pain and blood loss.
It was clear to Shailaja that the Arms Mistress was rapidly bleeding to death. Quickly she knelt by her side. She had seen a hundred battlefield injuries like this and knew just what to do.
She first removed Olara’s belt and then without removing her loose-fitting silk trousers, tightened it about the wound, cutting the flow of blood to the injured limb. Olara gasped as she did so, in obvious pain, but lay still as Shailaja continued.
That was not the case with Vasanta. “What are you doing?” she demanded. “The woman is our enemy. Cut her throat.”
“She has done nothing to us,” Shailaja replied. “Do not try to stop me from doing this. If you wish to be of service search her horse for the key.”
Olara’s horse was standing obediently just yards away as any warhorse was trained to do, and Vasanta could reach it without stretching the chain. In spite of Shailaja’s tone she moved toward it and began searching through the pouches and saddlebags. Unfortunately, it was as Olara had said, and she found nothing that would help with the removal of the chain connecting her to Shailaja. “The bitch was telling the truth,” she growled.
“She is no bitch,” Shailaja returned as she used Olara’s dagger to slice open her pant leg and reveal the wound. “She is a woman who has risen to high rank in a society where men rule and women usually serve. She is not worthy of your scorn.”
Vasanta merely growled and squatted on her haunches as Shailaja worked. “Did you happen to come across any sort of medical kit while you were rummaging through the saddle bags?” the Kaltaran asked.
“We should not be wasting time,” Vasanta complained. “There could be a patrol at any time.”
“It is early yet,” Shailaja replied. “I have seen no one here at this hour before, and I do not intend to leave without ensuring the Sword Mistress will survive. Find the medical kit and we will leave.”
Still grumbling Vasanta retrieved a small leather satchel from Olara’s saddlebags and brought it back. She then watched while Shailaja took a needle and thread and with quick accurate stitches closed the gaping wound in Olara’s thigh. She finished by sprinkling some antiseptic powder on the wound and then binding it tight with strips of Olara’s cloak. Vasanta could not help but note the sure nature of Shailaja’s movements. “You show some skill in that,” she said grudgingly.
Shailaja looked up at the Nahn princess, somewhat surprised at the uncharacteristic praise, however, her face showed nothing. “You might be astounded at just how skilled I am in some areas,” she commented drily.
Vasanta’s face returned to its familiar glower. “Are you finished? We are wasting time and I doubt that the Hector will be pleased with our little piece of work.”
Shailaja got to her feet. Olara lay quite still, but the slow rise and fall of her chest showed that she was still breathing. She had done what she could and now she had to trust that the Arms Mistress would be found while she was still alive. “Let’s go then,” she said, “and hope that this road leads somewhere useful.”
Where the road went was one of the weaker elements of Shailaja’s plan. It led along the lake toward the rugged mountains to the west of Thar and she hoped that it promised a way through the mountains and possible escape. Complicating the plan was the fact that she was still chained to Vasanta. She had supposed that Olara carried the key with her, but a search of her person while she was attending to the injured woman had revealed nothing and Vasanta’s search of Olara’s saddlebags had yielded the same fruitless results. It was not the way she had visualized their escape. Somehow she had to find a way to remove her onerous connection to Vasanta or their attempt to escape would prove next to impossible.
They stripped the guards of their clothing and weapons. For Vasanta it was not a bad fit, but Shailaja had to struggle into hers even though she had stripped the bigger of the two guards. Then they mounted up on the horses of the two guards, the chain stretched between them. Already they could see that the arrangement was going to work only if they could ride side by side. If the trailed narrowed they would be forced into the uncomfortable situation of having to ride one behind the other on the same horse.
It was still predawn, but there was enough light to find their way without difficulty. They were now on a part of the road they had not traveled before and kept alert for any other travelers. It was obvious from the hoof prints and marks of wagon wheels that others used the road frequently and they suspected that there was probably some sort of guard post ahead. A few hundred yards later their guess turned out to be right, but it was more than just a guard post.
Rounding a bend in the lakeside road they suddenly came upon a small settlement. It was immediately obvious from the several dozen small boats and the piers and warehouses why it was there. It was a freshwater fishing village and already a number of fishermen were readying their boats, ready to push out onto the surface of the lake. Fortunately, no one paid them the least attention and they were able to ride by without stopping. It told them that the sight of riders on the road was not at all unusual, a not especially reassuring sign as it hinted that they might encounter others farther down the road.
However, there was little point in turning back. They were now committed. They couldn’t go back toward Thar. All that waited for them in that direction was severe punishment. They had to follow the road as far as it went and see what was at the end of it.
“How long before we are pursued?” Vasanta asked, voicing Shailaja’s thoughts exactly.
“Not long, I don’t suppose,” Shailaja answered. “By now the two guards and Olara will have been found and they will have figured out that we fled this way. It will take a turn of the glass to organize a search party and then they will come after us. I guess we have about two turns of the glass before they find us.”
It was not want Vasanta wanted to hear. She knew from her pursuit of Shailaja that such a short lead over their enemies did not bode well for staying free for very long. And to make matters worse, Shailaja’s ministrations to the Arms Mistress had shortened their lead even further. Chained to one another, their chances of not being recaptured were very low.
She had known when Shailaja had proposed her plan that the enterprise was entirely one of desperation. But it seemed the only way out of their desperate predicament. It seemed that every day they were held in Thar they moved closer and closer to permanent captivity and that was an outcome Vasanta could not accept. And so here she was, still shackled to the woman who had murdered her bother, her chances of escape limited even further by the three yards of chain that connected them.
There was, however, a solution to that dilemma. Vasanta’s hand went to the hilt of her sword as she thought about it. A single swing of her arm would solve the problem by leaving the redheaded whore’s head lying in the road. However, it would be a most dishonourable and cowardly action to take her unawares. She dropped her hand. She would deal with the Kaltaran bitch, but she would do it face to face after they had escaped. For now she would honour their agreement and hope that the mad scheme she had entered into would succeed.
That success seemed less likely with what came into sight. Directly ahead of them and blocking the road was a guard post similar to that which they had encountered on the outside of Thar. They slowed their horses and surveyed the situation as they moved closer, knowing that from a distance they would appear to be members of Thar’s garrison, however, that would change once they got close and the outpost’s garrison spotted the chain connecting them.
“What do we do?” Vasanta asked.
“It’s a guard tower,” Shailaja explained. “It’s meant to keep people out, not keep them in. We ride through the tower open the gate and head out the other side. If anyone gets in our way we do what we have to.”
Shailaja’s words somehow made it seem very simple. In spite of her hatred for the tall Kaltaran Vasanta had to acknowledge that Shailaja had seen a great deal more of war than she had. She lowered her hand to her sword once again, but was stopped by Shailaja’s voice.
“Not yet. Wait until we are right on top of them and they see the chain. If we are lucky they won’t act until it is too late.”
The sky behind them brightened as the sun began to show. By now the tower was barely fifty yards away, but both women kept up their steady pace. In the early predawn light they still rode in shadow and the guards on the tower would have the light of the rising sun in their eyes. They rode barely a yard apart, the chain slack between them and all but invisible to anyone watching from the tower.
As Shailaja had surmised the guards in the tower were not expecting any incursions from the direction of Thar. As a result they were able to ride right up to the tower and through the open gate before anyone challenged them. But their escape was not going to be quite that easy. The city side of the gate might be open, but the gate on the other side was closed and barred. Fifty yards away it required Vasanta and Shailaja to ride through the tower in order to reach it, exposing themselves to any attack from guards inside the tower.
And on that side the gates were guarded. Four guards armed with falchions stood before the gates. They turned, and although caught by surprise, raised their weapons.
Shailja rode slowly toward them, a blade in each hand. Next to her Vasanta kept pace making sure that the chain between them did not tighten. “Lower your weapons,” Shailaja ordered. “I have no desire to take your heads.”
“Hold where you are,” shouted a voice from above. “Hold or be shot down where you are.”
Shailaja looked up and saw that the inside of the tower was ringed with embrasures. In several of them stood men armed with crossbows all of which were directed toward her and Vasanta. She cursed under her breath. Instead of escaping she had ridden into a trap. However, she did not slow her horse, maintaining the steady pace toward the men blocking her path.
“Stop I said,” the man above them called again. “Stop or you will die.”
“Ride!” shouted Shailaja. “Run them down.” She kicked her horse into a gallop, hoping that Vasanta did the same. The slightest hesitation by the Nahn princess and the chain would tighten, dragging one of them from the saddle.
Fortunately, Vasanta had anticipated Shailaja’s action. She kicked her horse to a gallop, keeping pace with the Kaltaran warrior. At any moment both women expected to feel the pain of a quarrel between their shoulder blades, but suddenly one of the soldiers on the ground pointed toward them and fell back. “Don’t shoot,” he screamed. “They wear the Hector’s collars.”
His call came a little late. Several heavy shafts were loosed in their direction, one thumping into the pommel of Vasanta’s saddle and another striking her cloak. By good fortune the rest missed and the heavy folds of the cloak prevented Vasanta from receiving more than a bruise.
The guards in front of them dashed to the side to avoid being run down by the horses. Shailaja jerked her mount to a halt and leaped from the saddle, Vasanta following to keep from being pulled from her horse. “Get the bar,” Shailaja shouted. “I will hold off the guards.”
For a heartbeat Vasanta hesitated, perversely ignoring Shailaja’s command, but the Kaltaran was already turning to face the encircling guards, a sword in each hand. Angrily Vasanta rushed to the heavy bar and began to lift it from its brackets. “The bitch better not get me stabbed in the back,” she muttered.
The bar that closed the gates was intended to be moved by at least two strong men, but Vasanta heaved it out of the way and then pushed the gates open. Behind her she heard the clash of steel as Shailaja engaged the guards. She turned to see an amazing sight.
Shailaja’s twin swords flashed so quickly that even Vasanta’s trained eyes could barely follow the movement of the blades. She was battling six men at once, but it was they who were on the defensive. Any who pressed too strongly risked losing a limb. Vasanta saw to her frustration that the Kaltaran warrior was deliberately holding back; refusing to harm her opponents as long as they kept their distance. Drawing her own sword she joined Shailaja and immediately cut down the closest attacker.
Shailaja said nothing. Instead she pressed forward with her own attack at the same time shouting at the men around her. “Run, you fools. Run or you will all die.”
Even as she spoke Vasanta took down a second man, but rather than retreating several other soldiers joined the battle and attempted to press the two women back. Shailaja seemed to lose her patience. Her blades flashed and one more man went down and another staggered back clutching his upper arm. At that point the officer in the upper level of the tower shouted for his men to retreat. “Break off,” he ordered. “Let them go.”
“The horses,” Shailaja cried. The two mounts had stood by during the encounter and she grabbed the reins of the closest horse while keeping an eye of the retreating soldiers. She swung into the saddle just as Vasanta snagged the reins of her horse. A few heartbeats later they spurred through the gate, urging their mounts into a gallop.
They slowed just out of bowshot and Shailaja shook her head in disgust. “That went poorly,” she said.
“How so?” Vasanta asked. “We got past them.”
“Only because these cursed collars protected us. We survived through luck not skill. By rights we should both be dead.”
“But we are not,” Vasanta replied. “And I expected no more from any scheme of yours.”
“I am surprised that you agreed to it in the first place,” Shailaja retorted.
“I had little choice. We are chained together. And staying in Thar merely to face further humiliation was something I would risk death a dozen times to escape.”
Shailaja said no more. She was still angry with herself for managing their escape so badly. At least six men plus Olara lay wounded or dead behind them, and while she had little sympathy for the Tharian practice of slavery she disliked the idea of killing those who were merely doing their duty.
It was now early morning and the road they were traveling was deserted. Behind them they could make out the sails of fishing vessels putting out from the village they had passed. There was no sign of pursuit as yet, but they did not expect that to last long and pushed on as quickly as they dared, keeping in mind that soon the heat of the day would exhaust the horses if they used them too hard. It would have been much better if they had managed to acquire a few camels, but that had not been an option.
The road led straight along the lake, following the contours of the body of water. To their right hand side rose a rugged sun-browned slope. They could have scaled it on foot, but for horses it was impossible. The direction they were going seemed as good as any considering that neither of them knew where they were going.
They continued down the road, turning occasionally to see if there was any pursuit and keeping alert for any danger ahead of them. However, nothing materialized and they followed the road, wondering where it was going to lead.
The end of the lake butted up against a sheer cliff that seemed to rise out of the water. It extended the entire width of the lake and the road headed straight toward it. However, Shailaja was certain that the road must go somewhere. If not, why had the Tharians erected a guard tower to protect the city from anything coming from that direction? As they neared the end of the lake, however, she got a bit of a surprise.
She had expected the road to turn away from the lake and climb into the mountains. Instead she saw that the road had been cut into the side of the cliff and that it turned sharply south running some twenty yards above the water. “What is this?” Shailaja muttered. “The road doesn’t seem to go anywhere.”
“Whether it goes anywhere or not,” Vasanta said, “we have little choice but to follow it. We cannot get past the mountains and we cannot go back.”
Shailaja glanced back the way they had come, but there was still no sign of pursuit. Had she not been chained to Vasanta she would have chanced climbing the steep cliff in spite of the fact that it seemed very likely she would find nothing at the end of her climb except more barren mountain landscape. Trying not to show her frustration she nodded her agreement. “Let us go then. If the road leads nowhere the sooner we find out the better.”
She urged her horse forward, followed closely by Vasanta although the latter had little choice if she wished to avoid being pulled from the saddle. The road followed the shoreline and was cut into the side of the cliff leaving enough room for several horses to ride abreast. Moving steadily they followed the road, finally reaching a point halfway around the end of the lake. It was there that the road came to a sudden and surprising end and they discovered the source of the great lake that supplied Thar with its water. Surging through a massive iron gate a powerful stream some forty or fifty yards across came right out of the mountain, a hollow roar marking its passage.
For a number of heartbeats Shailaja and Vasanta simply stared at the amazing phenomenon and then Shailaja swung off her horse and waited for Vasanta to do the same. She strode over to the massive iron bars noting that there was a gate set into the barrier. Not to her surprise she found that it was locked. Peering past the bars into the darkness of the cavern she tried to see how far back it went. There seemed to be path leading into the cave, but there was not enough light to tell how far back it went. strode over to the massive iron bars noting that there was a gate set into the barrier. Not to her surprise she found that it was locked. Peering past the bars into the darkness of the cavern she tried to see how far back it went. There seemed to be a path leading farther back into the cave, but there was not enough light to tell how far it went.
Vasanta broke the silence with a very unprincess-like expression and then turned on Shailaja. “So this is where it ends. We overcome our guards but waste time binding up the wounds of one of our captors. Then we fight our way past a guard post, escaping being filled with crossbow bolts by sheer luck and finally find ourselves trapped before an impassable iron gate. How stupid I was to think that any scheme of yours could hope to succeed.”
Shailaja ignored the bad tempered tirade. There was nothing she could say to it since most of it was the truth. However, she was studying the massive iron gate, a glimmer of an idea forming in her mind.
The gate itself was impenetrable. Each bar was as thick as her wrist and the heavy lock appeared to be of the best Tharian workmanship. However, there was one possible way past the gate, but it was a venture fraught with danger.
“There might be a way,” Shailaja said, interrupting Vasanta’s bad tempered outburst. “Provided you have the courage to attempt it.”
The last comment caused Vasanta to shut her mouth and glare at Shailaja in undisguised hatred and anger. “I will attempt anything you dare,” she retorted.
“Good,” Shailaja smiled sweetly. “Then follow me.”
Still chained to the woman she detested, Vasanta could have ignored Shailaja and prevented any action by either of them. But she was not about to back down from a challenge. She almost changed her mind, however, when Shailaja explained her plan. By the gods! she thought. The bitch is insane!
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