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or lichens that were stubbornly trying to eke out an existence on the granite
face of the windswept rocks.
He had removed his helmet and tied it to his sad-dle. Cool wind came from the
peaks to rustle through his hair. It was odd how a man could build up such a
sweat in a location like this, with air coldenough that even now, in the heart
of summer, breath was misting from the horse s nostrils at high noon. A
distant scream came to his ears.
Another of his Persian warriors had lost his foot-ing and had plummeted down
thousands of feet, to smash on the rocky bed of the gorge below.Too bad. But
they had been lucky, all in all. Only eleven men and ten horses had slipped
today, but it had been enough to make the others wary and had slowed their
movement. Casca yelled down for his commanders to speed their men up a little.
He didn t have time to exercise as much caution as he would have liked. They
must hurry. Twenty thou-sand Huns were up ahead, laying waste to Kushan, an
ally and tribute state of Persia, and the gateway to the Indus and
China.
It was there that Jugotai, as a boy, had served as his guide some forty years
before.
Jugotai! A child then, but determined to be a man before his time. It had been
he that had led Casca over this same mountain pass to safety. The raging
torrents of winter wind and snow had kept them penned up for days in a small
cave. It was easier this time.
His reflections were interrupted by the arrival now of Indemeer. The hoary old
warhorse had in-sisted
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on coming with them on this mission. Casca knew the climb had been hard on
Indemeer. The thin air had left his face flushed with white spots at the
cheeks, but he would show no sign of visible difficulty to his men or his
leader. Still, Casca thought, he had seemed relieved when he d told him they
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were nearing the summit and for him to go on ahead of them and check the
trail. Casca knew that this would get him on the other side firstand down into
thicker air, where the old man could breathe a little better.
As the lead element of archers passed him, he dismounted. Taking his horse s
reins in the man-ner of his men, he walked the animal carefully over the loose
stones and patches of ice remaining from the last storms of winter. Raising
his eyes, he looked up even higher. The bare, craggy peaks wore only their
eternal coat of ice and snow, stand-ing out in stark contrast to the pale blue
of the sky, fading into varying hues of purple and blue with the distance.
He reached the crest. Somewhere behind him, he knew, was the cave that he and
Jugotai had stayed in, but he had not seen it on this trip up. Perhaps it had
been concealed by one of the countless rock-slides that plagued these hellish
peaks.
In the distance, he could see the broad back of Indemeer just disappearing
around a curve in the mountain. He d started down now, and wasn t wasting any
time in doing so. He figured the old soldier would reach the base of the
mountain be-fore nightfall. It was much shorter going down than coming up.
They would only have to drop four or five thousand feet to reach the valleys
of the highlands of Kushan.
On the Persian side, the one they just came up, they d had to climb over
twelve thousand feet to reach the top of the pass. It had taken them four
days.
He wondered if he d ever meet Jugotai and his son, Shuvar, again, or even if
they still lived. Jugotai would be old now, for a man of the hills anyway, and
if he had survived the many battles with the rapacious Huns, he would
certainly look much older than Casca. How would he explain thatto Jugotai?
What would he say to him about that? He shook off the thought.Time to worry
about that when they met, if they met.
The trail had widened enough to accommodate horse and rider now. He threw his
leg up and set-tled himself uncomfortably in the saddle.
He jerked and swayed down the trail until he came upon Indemeer. The old man
rested against a large boulder, a skin of water in his hands, beads of
perspiration rolling off his face. The white spots on his cheeks were gone now
and color was slowly re-turning to his face. Casca was unsure if the old
fel-low would be able to make the return trip over the mountain behind them.
But he was certain that the old bastard would try.
Indemeer waved him over, offering him his wa-ter skin. Casca dismounted,
thinking that after this campaign he would find a good excuse to send
In-demeer and a detachment of his best soldiers back home via the long route
on thesilk road . It would be longer, but easier on the old sucker.
He took the offered skin and uncorked it, taking a long pull. It was a flat,
tepid fluid and it tasted of sweat. They would have fresh drink soon.
In-demeer pointed down the trail.
 Not much farther, Lord. We should be there in an hour at the most.
Casca agreed with him, and they talked about what they d do when they arrived.
They knew when they reached the valley below that they would be at their most
vulnerable. The troops would be coming down the pass in single file and
exhausted from the labor of the climb. If the Huns were aware of their coming,
and had sent a strong force to intercept them, they could keep the Persians
bottled up in the pass and
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pick them off a few at a time as they entered the valley. It was not a good
position for an army to be in, but they had no choice in the matter.
A message, sent by a relay team of Imperial riders, had reached the court at
Nev-Shapur ten days previously, saying that the city of Kushan was under
siege. This had happened at the same time that the
Kushanite armies were already engaged in a critical battle against the savage
tribes to their far south, and there was no way that their forces could be
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disengaged without suffering terrible losses. If they withdrew, the enemy
would surely pursue. The Kushanites could not possibly have withstood the
attack of the combined forces of the tribes of Hind and those of the Huns
should they decide to ally, so Casca had been ordered by Shapur to take his
relief column of ten thousand soldiers to the support of the
Kushanites in their struggle with the Huns.
He gave the lead element time to rest before sending them ahead to scout the
terrain, checking for Hun patrols or units in that area. If none were sighted,
they were to send back a rider; then the rest of the army would go down and
make camp in the valley. If Huns were spotted, and depending on how many, he
would decide what to do about that when the time came. Contingency planning
was not his forte. He was a soldier of spontaneity, quick decisions on the
spot.
In the meantime, it was good to rest and let the men take a break until the
scout returned.
Indemeer leaned his gray, curled hair against the boulder, asking wearily,
 How long ago was it,Lord, that you came over these foul passes?
Casca thought carefully before answering.  What is time to a place like this,
old one? Let it suffice to say that it was longer than I d like to think
about. But to my eye, nothing has changed in these mountains since then.
Indemeer accepted the answer and changed his questions to the subject of the
Huns ahead, and what their disposition should be in the relief of the
Kushanite city. Casca didn t have answers to these either, saying only that
they would wait and see. But if the Huns hadn t taken the city yet, it could [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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