Robert Adams - Champion of the Last Battle

Champion Of The
Last Battle

The Horseclans

Book XI

Robert Adams

Futura

An Orbit Book

Copyright 1983 by Robert Adams

This edition published in 1985

by Futura Publications

ISBN 0 7088 8134 3

Content

The Battle Raged Around Bili

As he withdrew his nicked, dull blade now cloudy with sticky, red blood from just below the breastplate of a gasping, wide-eyed pikeman. Suddenly, the back of Bilis helmet was struck so hard that the force of the buffet all but drove him to his knees. Staggering slightly, he turned to face a swordsman in three-quarter armor of an alien pattern.

The Skohshun was swinging his sword with both hands and his greater than average strength was evident in the crushing, numbing force of his blows. Bili caught and deflected two swordswipes on the face of his buckler and tried to deflect another down the flat of his blade while fetching his opponent a shrewd buffet in the exposed armpit with the steelshod edge of the buckler. But Bilis much abused blade shattered, leaving him totally weapon-less before his enemys sharp and deadly blade...

In the Horseclans series
published by Futura

The Coming Of The Horseclans

Swords Of The Horseclans

Revenge Of The Horseclans

A Cat Of Silvery Hue

The SavageMountains

The Patrimony

Horsecians Odyssey

The Death Of A Legend

The Witch Goddess

Bili The Axe

For Morgan Llywelyn, a lady whose vast literary talent is matched only by her dark, Celtic beauty.

For John Steakley, Brian Burley, Kim Mohan, Dell Harris and David Cherry.

For all of the fine folk who made the 83 Mystery Con so enjoyable for me.

To Motor-mouth #1, #2 and #3 (they know who they are and why I call them that).

For Doug & Sandy Wilkey, Texas HORSECLANNERS.

For Eric Lindsay, Australian HORSECLANNER.

For Fritz Goetz, Bill Muller, John La Bianca, Gerard Thomas and all of my other friends of The German-American Society of Central Florida, Inc.

Today is June 22, 1982, an auspicious day for me as well as for the hordes of Horseclans fans, both those of the various Horseclans Societies and those as yet unorganized. Twelve years ago on this day, I finished the book that I later titled The Coming of the Horseclans; eight years ago on this day, I commenced work on the book, first of the Bili the Axe Cycle, that was later retitled Revenge of the Horseclans (very much against my will, incidentally; I had wanted to call it Bili the Axe!). For those reasons, I thought this to be an especially good day to write the introduction to the last book in the Bili the Axe Cycle, this one, Champion of the Last Battle.

Ever since the publication of The Death of a Legend, last year. I have been getting fan mail critical of my killing off of the character Bili Morguhn; but as I said apropos another matter in my introduction to The Coming of the Horseclans. I make no apology, for Bilis demise is necessary if the series is to progress... but do not think you have seen the very last of him in this book, for there are more schemes bubbling about in my brain than are dreamed of by even my literary agents.

By the time this book is released, Fantasy Games Unlimited should have two or three Horseclans games on the market and the first Horseclans convention should be imminent.

May Sacred Sun shine always upon you all.

Robert Adams

Seminole County , Florida

When once his assistants had, under his supervision, administered the drugs and departed the chamber, the old, wizened Zahrtohgahn physician stood beside the massive bed for long and long, just observing the old, dying man who lay thernon. Master Ahkmehd was, himself, but a bare score of years the junior of his patient and had been his personal physician for nearly twoscore years, his friend and trusted confidant for almost as long.

Unconsciously, the stooped practitioner wrinkled his nose at the stench of corrupting flesh from his patients inflamed arm, that arm which he had not been allowed to amputate properly after a wounded bear had so torn and mauled it that it would never have been of real use again even had infection not set into it.

Ah, Bili, my dear, old lord, he sighed at last in his own guttural language. Yes, you surely were a stark warrior and were well named Bili the Axe by friend and foe alike. But you were so much more, as well; you brought true and abiding peace to a much-troubled land in the near fifty years you ruled it.

Assuredly, Ahlh granted you a long life and you used it well. So well did you use that life you shortly will depart that I cannot but regret that you die an infidel, for if any man ever deserved the Paradise of the Prophet, it is you, Lord Bili of Morguhn. Ahlh keep you, my good, old friend. Never will there be another like unto you.

To the dying old man upon the bed, the words made no sense for all that he spoke Zahrtohgahn fluently they were but a muted drone to senses dulled by drugs, hypnotism and fast-approaching death. During the week or so since the pain of the suppurating flesh had become of such intensity that Zahrtohgahn wiles and drugs had been necessary, his consciousness had spent precious little time in this present world of his that of a suffering, slowly dying, aged man.

Rather had he retreated into his own mind, into his memories, to live again the tumultuous, exciting days of his life of nearly fourscore years before days of war and Love, of hard, rough living, of crashing battles; of priceless moments of passion shared with the long-dead woman he had never ceased to love and to mourn through all the decades that had followed.

Now, once more, he left the aged, almost-dead husk to again inhabit that young, powerful, towering body of the young Thoheeks Bili, Morguhn of Morguhn, the Bili of some seventy-eight years agone.

A bit before sunrise, young Thoheeks Bili of Morguhn was wakened by one of his menservants. When he had made brief use of the chamberpot and downed a small draft of honey wine and water, he was dressed by the first servant and two others, then armed. Once fully attired and in a splendid set of half-armor, with sword slung on baldric, dirk and daggers belted at his thick waist and a crested helm under his left arm, he departed the sprawling suite through doors opened by servants or armed guards and descended the palace stairs to the main hall and the waiting knot of officers and noblemen.

Like him, all belowstairs were half-armored, and, although they had been taking their ease on the various benches and chairs before tables now bare of anything save cups, ewers and small braziers for the heating of mulling irons, they one and all came to their feet upon his entrance.

Waving them back to their places, the tall young warrior paced the length of the hall to take his usual place at the high table, where he was quickly served a tankard of spiced cider to which he added a dollop of apple brandy.

When he had downed half the contents of the tankard, he said. Good morning... I hope. Before anyone asks, no, my Lady Rahksahnah has not yet dropped her foal, thank you.

Now, lets get this business of reports out of our way, then well walk the usual circuit, attend to any necessary things in the city, and by that time perhaps the days meal will be ready for the eating. Eh? Whos first, this day?

One by one, those who had been duty officers for the preceding day and night rendered routine reports. Little had occurred in that period, it seemed. The Skohshun army still squatted in their camps on the plain below the city, but seemed to be licking their wounds from the latest attempt to storm the almost impregnable city some month or more agone and had demonstrated only their normal, now familiar routines of camp life.