Free Sword Destiny by Robert Leader

honour-bound to return him and we still need his help and the goodwill of his people.”
    â€œWhat about me?” Jayna asked.
    Antar shrugged helplessly. “With the combat fleet, I can only sanction space for one essential passenger. But your daughter still has a place on the first escape ship, and I will make sure that you will be one of the few adults to fly with her. We hope to be able to launch those ships within a few weeks.”
    â€œYou still talk of weeks and the Gheddan assault is only a few days, perhaps a few hours away.” Jayna spoke with a new edge of bitterness. During their time on Ghedda, she had come alive, as though all the risks and dangers had been some kind of stimulating drug. Now she was drained and exhausted, facing the inevitable again and accepting that all their efforts had been no more than spitting in the wind.
    There was an uncomfortable pause and then Zela asked, “When I catch up with the Gheddan fleet, what are my orders?”
    â€œDestroy them,” Antar said simply. “By then we will almost certainly be at war. Our own planet may no longer exist. Earth will be the only inhabitable planet left in this solar system and we cannot allow it to be contaminated by the madness of the Gheddans. The Council is all agreed. You are not to permit one single Gheddan ship to set down on Earth.”
    Kananda stared at him, remembering those bright fireballs of destruction he had witnessed only a few moments before. Now he did not know whether to continue to pray that Maryam might still be alive and with Raven. If she was dead or left alive on Ghedda, then he had lost her. Yet if she was still with Raven, then it seemed that she was now doomed to die in an unavoidable space battle between the two fleets. With either thought, his hopes sank and his heart quailed and shuddered within his breast.

Chapter Four
    The black leopard banner of Sardar marked the large black and gold command tent in the centre of the Maghallan camp. It was surrounded by a tight circle of armed guards, each warrior hand-picked for his size and savagery and his dog-like devotion to his master. Beyond was the inner circle of the tents of his generals and chieftains, and his supporting kings, each one with its own grim-faced guardians. A large fire burned in front of each tent, throwing sparks and smoke to the star-encrusted vault of the heavens.
    It was the fifth night of the great battle and most of the satellite tents were empty. Sardar had gathered all of his lieutenants into his own tent to discuss the tactics of the battle. The more important ones sat or lolled upon cushions, while the rest stood further back. Sardar sat at the head of the inner circle, his squat form like that of a great, satiated, hairy toad, wine spilling down the crease of the scar below his chin as he drank from an incongruously slender gold goblet. He had thrown aside his armour to relax, but the rest of his clothing still stank of the day’s sweat.
    His High Priest, the hawk-faced Nazik, sat as always on his right. Tuluq was on his left, the heir apparent, his oldest, most ferocious and most trusted son. Kamar, Bharat, Zarin and the representatives of Bahdra and the Monkey Clans completed the inner circle. The latter spoke little at these meetings, for planning and strategy was not what they had to offer. They simply led their followers in blind shrieking and killing, all for the promise of future rape and plunder.
    There were two empty spaces, deliberate reminders that Durga and the young prince Udaya had fallen. Kamar glanced frequently at the cushions where his son had once reclined, each time pursing his thick lips in a scowl of raging anger. He had single-handedly slain more than a score of the enemy in his grief and fury, but had yet to reach either of the two Karakhoran princes he held responsible.
    â€œThey have three great champions whom we must kill if we are to win this war,” Nazik said grimly. He