Gladiators Of Hapanu

Chapter 4

Blade wasn't quite as happy among the Fak'si as he told Swebon he'd be. So far they hadn't done anything openly unfriendly, and they seemed willing to follow their chief's lead in dealing with Blade. On the other hand, there were more than forty warriors in the four canoes. They carried either a spear or a bow and a quiver of arrows, most of them had heavy wooden clubs hanging at their waists, and all had crocodile-hide shields ready to hand.

They weren't particularly pleasant-looking, either. They all resembled the dead man Blade had seen in the jungle about five and a half feet tall, stocky, well-muscled, and blue-skinned. Most of them had spectacular white tattoos all over their chests and arms, and a few had their faces tattooed into grotesque masks. The sides and backs of their heads were shaved, and the rest of their hair was fastened into a topknot with elaborate bone pins and ornaments.

The leader in the canoe made a space for Blake in the stern and he sat down. The paddlers backed water and the canoe slid out into the river again. Blade noted that the paddles were long, narrow, and balanced at the upper end with stones tied in place with vine. With nine pairs of muscular arms working steadily, the canoe rapidly gained speed.

Blade's canoe fell into line immediately behind Swebon's, giving him a chance to look at the chief more closely. Swebon was a trifle taller than most of the others, and his tattoos spread down onto his thighs. Unlike the others, who wore only plain hide loinguards, Swebon wore a loinguard of reptile hide and a bone bracelet around one ankle. Several scars crossed his chest and shoulders, and another cut across his forehead, stopping just above his left eye. At the moment he was leaning back almost lazily on a pile of leaves and rushes, but Blade sensed alertness and leashed power in the man. Swebon would clearly be formidable, either as friend or as enemy.

The day grew steadily hotter and the paddles splashed monotonously. Blade felt himself growing drowsy and fought against it. He was a long way from being safe enough among these people to risk going quietly to sleep now. If they were really determined to kill him they could probably do so whether he stayed awake or not, but if he was awake they'd have a fight on their hands. The prospect of that fight might keep them from planning any hostile move in the first place.

All four canoes were heavily loaded, but with the current behind them they seemed to be making a steady six or seven miles an hour without the paddlers really breathing hard. Their construction helped. From a distance they looked like ordinary dugouts, each hollowed from a single log. Seen close up, they turned out to be built in sections, the seams between each section calked with bark, grass, and some sort of dried sap. A line of branches bound end to end ran down the center of the bottom, linking all the sections together.

These canoes were remarkably ingenious craft, Blade realized. By building them up from a series of sections, they could be built in whatever length the Fak'si needed-twenty feet, thirty, fifty. If one section sprang a leak, it could be thrown away and replaced without having to dispose of the whole canoe. If a canoe had to be hauled across land for some reason, it could be dismantled into its sections, moved to the next riverbank, and put back together there. By accident or skill, the Fak'si had managed to reach something rather close to mass production for their canoes amazingly close, considering the tools they had to work with. Blade's respect for them went up quite a bit.

The Fak'si paddlers seemed almost as tireless as machines. They made no stops all day, eating and drinking as they paddled and relieving themselves over the side when they needed to. The long shadows of twilight were beginning to reach out across the river before they even slowed down.

After that, they headed for the bank the minute they saw a clear spot for a campsite. The canoes were unloaded and each crew took a share of the campsite. Then all forty turned to and pulled each canoe in turn completely out of the water.

By this time twilight was turning into night. With strokes of an iron-headed hoe, Swebon cleared a patch of ground, chanting to himself as he did so. When there was a large enough patch of bare ground, two of the hunters used flint, dry grass, and twigs to get a fire started. Then wood was piled on the fire until the flames shot up six feet high or more.

Blade noticed that the men worked in silence, with almost military precision. He also noticed that those with spears kept their weapons close to hand, the archers kept their bows strung, and everybody left his club hanging at his waist. He even caught one or two of the men casting doubtful looks at the fast-darkening waters only a few feet away, when they thought no one was looking at them.

«Swebon,» said Blade. «I see that your warriors seem to be on guard against an enemy.»

«This is so,» said the chief. He didn't seem interested in saying more, but Blade wanted to draw him out.

«Are these enemies men, or are they-? I do not have your name for them, but-«Blade squatted down and with a twig drew the outline of one of the horned crocodiles on the ground.

Swebon smiled. «Yes, we watch for the Horned Ones. They are thick along the Yellow River at this time of the year, and they are always hungry. So we watch, but I do not think we will see them coming against us tonight. They do not often come against so many men, and the-fire also protects us. The Horned Ones hate light.»

Blade nodded. «I learned this quickly, after I met them.»

«It is well to learn quickly, about the Horned Ones. Those who do not learn quickly seldom live to learn at all.»

«I am sure of that,» said Blade. «We have such creatures in England and in other lands where the English have traveled. But our-crocodiles, we call them-are not so large, and they have no horns.»

«Did you see many of the Horned Ones as you came to the Forest?» asked Swebon. His curiosity seemed to be getting the better of his caution about Blade.

«Enough to learn much about them,» said Blade. He thought of mentioning his jaw-bracer, but decided against it. The jaw-bracer might be considered a weapon and be taken from him, and in any case it hadn't been tested in action. «I reached the Forest by land, so I did not spend much time close to the rivers. When I spent the night close to one, I climbed a tree and slept in the branches.»

«A strong one, I hope,» said Swebon. «The Horned Ones can knock down trees with their tails if they are angry.»

«Thank you for telling me that.»

Swebon seemed to hesitate, then went on. «Did you meet any other-any others of the Forest People-as you came toward the Yellow River?»

No doubt he meant other, perhaps, hostile tribes. Fortunately Blade could not only reassure him but tell the truth at the same time. «No. I saw no other living men of any tribe or people, and only two dead ones. One was of the Forest People, the other-I do not know if he was truly a man, but-«

«Was he taller than you, and hairy like an animal?»

«Yes.»

«Ah, then you found one of the Treemen. Where, and how did he die?»

Blade described his discovery of the two bodies and watched Swebon's eyes widen. Then the chief sighed. «I thank you for this news, though it is not good. At least now we know for certain that the Treemen took Cran.»

«I am sorry to have been the bringer of bad news,» said Blade. Then he decided that a small diplomatic lie might be useful. «I do not know the proper death rites of the Fak'si, so I said only the prayers for a warrior of the English over his body. We believe that no honorable warrior can be hurt by such a prayer, even if he is not helped by it.»

«Cran was an honorable warrior,» said Swebon quietly. «And so are you. Blade, I still do not know as much about you or the English as I must. But I begin to like you, and think well of your people.»

«I am honored,» said Blade.

Swebon laughed. «Good. And now that you have been honored, you will be fed. He waved one of his men forward. «Bring a chief's portion to Richard Blade of the English when the meat is ready. Until we are home he sits by me and is as my brother.»

That put any fears of possible treachery out of Blade's mind. He was able to eat in peace, too hungry to care that the meat was half raw. After the meal, he followed Swebon's example in rubbing some of the grease into his feet and hands. Then he lay down and slept more peacefully and far more comfortably than he had the night before.

It was still well before dawn when someone shook Blade. He came awake with his fists clenched, and nearly knocked his waker into the ashes of the campfire before realizing that it was Swebon. The chief laughed.

«What did you think I was, Blade?»

Blade sat up. «I don't know, but I am a warrior on whom few men can lay a hand peacefully.» That sounded pompous, but it was also a way to perhaps prevent «accidents.»

Swebon nodded, apparently satisfied with Blade's explanation. «That is proper and honorable for a warrior. But I swear I meant you no harm. I called to you, but you did not wake up. I feared your spirit might be sleeping as well as your body.»

«Well, they are both awake now,» said Blade, standing up and stretching. «Are we moving on?»

«Yes. I think that if we leave now, we can be home this day, before the Horned Ones come out.»

Blade looked around. In the pale light he could see men gathering up their weapons and gear. One of the canoes was already afloat, and a gang was pushing a second back into the water. It was on the tip of Blade's tongue to ask, «What about the Horned Ones now, when they haven't gone to sleep for the day? But that might sound timid. Swebon was probably eager to get home, and he certainly knew the creatures' habits much better than Blade.

Nonetheless, Blade borrowed a knife from one of the men and cut points on the main piece of the jaw-bracer. When he climbed into Swebon's canoe, he unhooked it from his belt and laid it in the bottom of the canoe, ready to hand. Then all the paddlers started chanting together and the canoes swung out into the river.

As they'd done yesterday, the canoes moved in a single line. They moved more slowly, and the men sitting in the bows as lookouts seemed more alert. No doubt Swebon realized that moving in the twilight before dawn needed extra precautions. With nothing to do but listen to the chanting and watch dawn break, Blade leaned back and relaxed.

Slowly the river turned from black to golden-brown and the ghosts of trees on the banks turned solid. Sometimes Blade heard the Horned Ones calling in the distance, but mostly he heard only the water and the rising chorus of birds. The breeze rose until it was making ripples on the water and blowing away the insects. Blade saw the lookouts beginning to relax. In another few minutes it would be full daylight. If they hadn't run into any of the Horned Ones by now, they weren't likely to. Swebon seemed half asleep.

Then the lookout in the bow of the chief's canoe gave a shout that was almost a scream. The paddlers froze with their paddles in midair, unable to tell from the cry what they should do. Swebon lunged for his spear and Blade snatched up the jaw-bracer.

With a thud and a crunch of wood the canoe stopped so violently that everyone was thrown forward. Most of the men lost their grip on paddles or weapons, and two went straight overboard with yells of surprise. Blade picked himself up just as the yells of the swimmers changed from surprise to sheer terror. One look over the side told him why.

The biggest Horned One Blade had ever seen was rising out of the water underneath the canoe. Its head was toward the swimmers and the jaws were opening. As the beast rose higher out of the water, Blade heard the seams between the sections of the canoe cracking. Then the canoe split in half, spilling everyone into the water.

As the canoe came apart, Blade leaped to his feet and sprang into the air like a diver taking off from a high board. He landed squarely on the Horned One's head. Blade weighed two hundred and ten pounds, and the impact of his landing forced the creature's head under the water and closed its jaws. The two desperate swimmers thrashed off in opposite directions, safe for the moment.

The Horned One swiftly got over its surprise. As if Blade was no more than a bird who'd foolishly landed on its head, it popped to the surface again. Water poured off its back and the river turned to foam as it thrashed its tail. It turned and at the same time raised its head. Blade gripped a horn with one hand and the jaw-bracer with the other, waiting for the creature to open its mouth and give him his opportunity.

An arrow whistled past, and another sank into the scaly skin inches from Blade's thigh. He swore, and heard Swebon shout, «Don't shoot, you'll hit Blade!» Then the Horned One reacted to the pain of the second arrow, hissed, and opened its jaws in a gape wide enough to swallow a cow.

Blade hurled himself forward, losing skin to the rough scales but reaching the creature's nose. With one hand he clutched a horn, with the other he shoved the jaw-bracer into place. The Horned One shook its head, and Blade slid sideways to hang in midair like a man on a trapeze, inches from the jagged six-inch teeth.

Then the Horned One snapped its mouth shut-or tried to. The points of the jaw-bracer dug into tender flesh, jamming the teeth a good foot apart. The creature hissed again at the sudden pain in an unexpected place, and Blade was nearly suffocated by the foul breath blowing past him.

Now all the Horned One's attention seemed to be on the jaw-bracer, and none of it on Blade. He swung far to one side, then swung back like a pendulum. Finally he hooked one leg over one of the horns behind the eyes and perched there. He didn't know what the creature was going to do next. He only knew that he had to do something first.

Without knowing if anyone would hear him, Blade roared, «Throw me a spear!» A moment later he was nearly knocked from his perch by a rain of spears coming at him from all directions. Several of them left bruises as they sailed past, and one sliced a shallow gash in the back of his thigh. That spear was the one he caught.

He didn't know for certain what a Horned One's vulnerable points might be. He did know that any animal, no matter how large or thick-skinned, was vulnerable in the eyes. Blade braced himself, raised the spear as high as he could, then thrust it into the Horned One's left eye with all his strength and weight behind the thrust.

The creature hissed like a bursting steam line and threw itself backward into a half-somersault. Blade flew high into the air and splashed down among the swimming men from the wrecked canoe. He went deep and thrashed furiously toward the bank as he rose. He didn't want to be anywhere nearby when the creature went into its dying convulsions, and if it wasn't dying-

It was. When Blade's head broke surface, he found himself in water slowly turning red. The Horned One floated on its back, tail still waving feebly and blood gushing out of its mouth. Blade couldn't tell if the jaw-bracer was still in place or not, but it no longer mattered. It had worked once, and that was enough.

Someone was calling him. He turned to see a canoe approaching with Swebon in the bow. He was smiling, and when he looked at Blade his smile seemed touched with awe.

«Blade, I did not understand why a warrior like you came through the Forest with only those weapons you had. Now I think I do understand. You did not need any others.» He reached out to grip Blade's arms and help him into the canoe. Blade accepted the help, sat down, coughed some of the Yellow River out of his lungs, then shook his head.

«I could not have killed the Horned One without the spears your men threw me-though one of them threw a little too well,» he added, rubbing the wound in his thigh. Fortunately it was so shallow the bleeding had almost stopped.

«You would not have lived to use the spear if you hadn't used your weapon first,» said Swebon flatly. «The Horned Ones are always dangerous, and this one more than most. If it was out at this time of the day, it is a rogue, very old and very wise. Only nine men of the Fak'si have ever killed a Horned One alone. None of these men killed a rogue, or one so large.»

Swebon put his hands on Blade's shoulders. «Blade, I do not know how you rank among the warriors of the English. But you will be great among the Fak'si of Four Springs village. Will you in return show us how to make and use your weapons?»

«Certainly.»

Swebon gave his orders briskly. The men of the sunken canoe were divided up among the other three. As many of the weapons and as much of the gear as possible was salvaged. Then the canoes started off again, the paddling chant softer this time. Within a few minutes the floating body of the Horned One was out of sight astern.