Polaris and the Goddess Glorian

by Charles B. Stilson

As he spoke, a sentry paced out from the shadow of the stables and passed along the edge of the grove to the wall. So near he passed to the hidden men that they might have reached out and touched his shoulder.

"Now that man must be disposed of," muttered Polaris, "and I like it not, this smiting of men from behind."

No such niceties of warfare ruled Jastla. When the man came back, the chieftain stepped noiselessly from the trees behind him. For a pace or two the big mountaineer trod in the tracks of the unsuspecting sentry. Then Jastla sprang, and a brief and wordless struggle under the trees followed. A dagger flashed. Arising, Jastla took the cloak of the fallen man and stepped calmly into his beat. At the corner of the stable the chieftain met and slew the second sentry.

At the side of the stable the Rutharian swordsmen formed for battle. A man with a torch ran from point to point along the rear of the buildings and set fire to the timbers. As they caught and the flames leaped crackling up, the frightened horses began to pound and scream.

Polaris bade his trumpeter blow. The notes blared piercing clear. The swordsmen broke cover with a roar and charged the stone barracks. Lighting torches at the blazing barns, men ran with them to light the way. Hardly were they half-way across the intervening space when there was an answering flare from the streets below, and the thunder of the battering-ram announced that the fight at the gates was on with redoubled fury.

While half of his force entered the barracks and fell upon the bewildered men there, Polaris, with the remainder, swept down the broad roadway, past the dwelling of the officers. Cutting their way through the defenders of the gate, the Rutharians tore out the bars, and their comrades in the streets swarmed through and up the hillside.

In the midst of the wild mêlée that followed, Broddok did the only thing that he could do to save his skin. He rallied such of his men as were under arms, fought through to the stables, and released the fear-maddened horses. All who could of the Maeronicans mounted in haste. For a moment it seemed that the captain would give the order to charge down the street into the fighting press, where the men of Ruthar were putting his comrades to the sword. But Broddok thought better of it.

With nearly four hundred men, the captain rode down the northern slope of the hill, opened the road-gates there, and galloped off through the pass, leaving his leaderless garrison to fend for itself.

When that became known, the Maeronican soldiers, beset on both sides and confused and disheartened by the suddenness of the stroke, threw down their arms and surrendered, on promise of their lives.

So fell the strong fortress of Barme, because its captain had broken faith with a woman.