Helliconia Summer - Brian W. Aldiss [63]
Well, the cousin-brothers also saw two aged sentries up on top of the big tower – this very tower, friends – and in no time they had nipped in and despatched the greybeards. Blood flowed, I have to tell.
‘The flower,’ someone called.
Oh, yes. The flower was important. Remember how the lake people said that the cousin-brothers would meet with the same destiny? Yet when Dresyl grinned and said, ‘We will do well ruling this town, brother,’ Yuli was looking at the little flowers at his feet, flowers with pale petals – probably scantiom.
‘A good climate,’ he said, in surprise, and plucked the flower and ate it.
They were scared when they first heard the Hour-Whistler blow, for that famous geyser, known to all, was not known to them. They recovered, and then disposed their forces so as to be prepared for the time when both sentinels were set and the hunters of Embruddock returned home, bearing with them the spoils of the chase, all unsuspecting.
Laintal Ay roused at this point. There were battles in the past that was like a dream, and one was about to be described. But the new storyteller said, ‘Friends, we all had ancestors in the battle that followed, and all have gone since to the world of gossies, even if they were not despatched prematurely on that occasion. Suffice it to say that all present acquitted themselves valiantly.’
But he, being youthful, could not dismiss the exciting part so lightly and continued despite himself, eyes glowing.
Those innocent and heroic hunters were surprised by Yuli’s stratagem. Fire suddenly bloomed from the top of the herb tower, and tall flowers of flame rose into the evening air. The hunters naturally shouted out with alarm, dropped their weapons, and ran forward to see what could be done.
Spears and stones rained down on them from the top of the neighbouring tower. Armed invaders appeared from concealment, shouting and thrusting their spears at unguarded bodies. Our hunters slipped and fell in their own blood, but some invaders they managed to slay.
Our town contained more armed men than the cousin-brothers calculated for. Those were the brave corpsmen. They appeared from everywhere. But the invaders were desperate and hid in houses they had taken over. Young boys also were forced to fight, including some of you here, now past your prime.
The fire spread. Sparks streamed overhead like husks at a winnowing, as if they would light the sky. Carnage grew in the streets and ditches. Our women took up swords from the dead to fight off the living.
All acquitted themselves valiantly. But boldness and desperation won the day – not to mention the leadership of him who this day went down to the world of the gossies to be with his ancestors. Eventually, the defenders threw down their weapons and rushed away in the gathering dark, screaming.
Dresyl’s blood was up. An avenging fury rose on his brow. He had seen Big Afardl slain beside him – and from behind – and by a woman at that.
‘That was my good old grandmother!’ cried Aoz Roon, and laughter and cheers rose on all sides. ‘There was always courage in our family. We are of Embruddock stock, and not of Oldorando.’
Dresyl could scarcely be recognised for his fury. His face turned black. He ordered his company to hunt down and kill every surviving man of Embruddock. The women were to be gathered into the stable of this very tower, friends. What a terrible day that was in our annals …
But the victorious men, led by Yuli, took Dresyl forcibly and said to him that there must be no more killing. Killing brought bitterness. From the morrow, all must live in peace, to make a strong tribe, or there were not enough souls to survive.
These wise words meant nothing to Dresyl. He struggled until