Guardians Of The Coral Throne

Chapter 3

Blade popped into the new Dimension with his mind still filled with memories of the bone-chilling cold in the blackness between Dimensions. He found himself shivering violently as he drifted up to full consciousness.

He was lying on his stomach, on a hard, cold, rough surface. He could not see more than two feet in front of his nose. In those two feet he saw rough gray bare rock, with a few pebbles here and there and a small clump of sickly grass.

He shivered again, and realized that there was still a chilly wind blowing over his bare skin. As it always did at this point, his head ached. But it ached much less than usual. Blade raised himself on his hands and knees, scraping his skin on the rough stone. When the movement didn't make his head throb or spin, he gathered his legs under him and shakily rose to his feet.

He was at the bottom of a small draw in rugged, broken country. All around him rose gray rocky hills, seamed and scarred by millions of years of harsh weather, supporting a few stunted trees and a few patches of grass. The air was chill but dry and crystal clear, and in the brilliant sunlight that poured down from a flawless blue sky every detail of the landscape stood out dramatically.

One of those details was a column of brown smoke that rose into the sky from beyond the next hill. If Blade had landed one valley farther over, he would have landed practically on top of whoever or whatever was making the smoke.

Blade tested his muscles one by one, then did a few quick exercises to loosen up his whole superbly trained and conditioned body.

He was not surprised to find that everything still worked as well as ever. He would have been surprised to find that anything didn't. He knew as a matter of sober fact that he had not only an athlete's body, but a warrior's. He also had a warrior's skills in armed and unarmed combat, with weapons and techniques from Stone Age to modern. Without these skills, he would never have survived any of his journeys into Dimension X. If he ever started losing them, he would not survive many more journeys.

Knowing he was as ready as possible for anything he might have to face, Blade headed for the smoke. He chose to climb the hill. That way he might be able to spy out the smokemakers from a high, invisible perch before going down to greet them-or turning and putting as many miles as possible between himself and them.

Blade soon found himself almost regretting the decision to climb. The slope of raw gray rock was steeper than it looked, and much rougher. Over long stretches he could not even walk upright, but had to haul himself upward from handhold to handhold.

In one place the only way up was a crack in an almost vertical slab of crumbling rock. Blade inched his way up the crack, feet braced against one side and back against the other. He mentally blessed his experience climbing in the Alps, hoped the crumbling rock would not crumble at the wrong time and place, and winced as jagged points and sharp edges scraped and gouged his bare skin.

Nothing happened until he was just clear of the crack. Then with a rumble and a crashing roar several tons of rock peeled away from one side of the crack, plunged downward, and spilled out on the slope below. Boulders and slabs larger than Blade went sliding and rolling away down the hill, with more rumbles and crashes that echoed around the empty valley like an artillery barrage. Blade winced, less now at the pain of his scrapes and gouges than at the noise of the rockfall. Anybody within five miles could hear it, unless they were stone deaf. Anybody who took the rockfall as the sign of an approaching enemy would be alert and waiting. But Blade was no more inclined to turn back than he had ever been. One of these days, he suspected, this habit of pushing on would turn out to be his last mistake. In the meantime it helped him get into things a lot faster and find out a lot more. As secret agent or explorer, finding out what was going on had always been the heart of his job.

He continued his climb and reached the ridge in a few minutes. Near the top he dropped on hands and knees and crawled the rest of the way: Peering down between two boulders, he scanned the slope and valley below.

Two hundred feet below him, a dozen men sat around a small fire. Two gaunt and swaybacked horses were tethered to stakes driven into the ground just beyond the fire. Beyond the horses a naked, filthy, human figure crouched, also tied by the ankle to a stake. It was so gaunt and dirt-blackened that Blade could not tell whether it was a man or a woman.

He turned his attention back to the dozen men around the fire. They were not much cleaner than their prisoner, and their hair was just as long. All wore beards and all wore fur tunics and baggy leather boots and breeches. All wore long knives, and several had short swords in battered sheaths hanging from bleached leather belts. They were alternately spooning something out of a large communal brass pot and gnawing meat off the bones of several small animals.

Apart from the knives and swords, none of the men were wearing any weapons. But each seemed to have a good set piled ready to hand behind him. Blade couldn't tell exactly what was in each pile. But it looked as if these people were well able to take care of themselves, and if not exactly looking for trouble, well able to handle it if it came to them.

Blade made sure that the damage he had taken climbing up the hill hadn't slowed him down. Then he scrambled to his feet, stepped out into full view of the men below, and held out both arms, hands spread out in the standard gesture of peace.

It took a moment for the barbarians to notice the new addition to the skyline. When they did, they reacted as fast as Blade had expected, and more skillfully. They all snatched up weapons and shields and clapped helmets on their shaggy heads. Two ran to the horses and untethered them. One ran to the slave and tied his hands. Three snatched up bows and ran for the nearest cover, a patch of boulders around two stunted trees farther down the valley. They vanished behind the boulders. A man wearing greaves and a rusty breastplate stood by the campfire, shouting orders at the others.

Blade waited until he was sure everybody was looking at him and reasonably sure that none of the archers were simply going to shoot him down. Then he started down the hill, lowering his arms but keeping his hands spread out well in front of him.

As he came down the slope he had to watch carefully for places where he could be sure of his footing. If he had to scramble down on all fours, he would be a helpless target for the archers. If he tried too steep a piece on foot and tumbled down the hill, he would certainly destroy his dignity and possibly also break a few bones. The rocks on the way down looked just as hard as the ones he had met on the way up.

Eventually the last steep piece was above him and he strode forward down on to the valley floor. As he did so he was relieved to see the archers rise from cover and sling their bows at an order from the leader. Apparently the leader no longer thought Blade might have to be shot down on a second's notice. More important, he could give orders and get obedience from his men.

Blade approached the men with long swinging strides. By now they could see he was naked and unarmed. When he was twenty feet from the campfire the leader stepped forward, drew his sword, and held it out across his body.

«Stop there, man. Who are you?»

Blade decided to start with at least part of the truth and play it by ear from there.

«My name is Blade. Who are you?»

«You do not have to know that, man. But we must know what you are doing in the land of the Scadori.»

«I have traveled here from a far land.»

«Have you had an accident here in our mountains? They do not like stupid strangers, that is true.»

Blade had to guess at the proper answer to that question. «No, I have had no accident.»

The man snorted. «I think then you lie. A naked man cannot travel far in these mountains of ours. He would die quickly when the Watcher of the Day turns away from the land. I think perhaps you are of the Karani. Or will you try to tell me that you fell from the sky?»

Blade was half-tempted to agree with the second idea and try to persuade this leader that he was a messenger from whatever gods the Scadori worshipped. But he didn't know whether the Scadori listened reverently to such messengers or sacrificed them on the spot. He was quite sure he should not admit to being one of the Karani. The leader's tone of voice had made it quite clear, that they were mortal enemies of the Scadori.

«I am not of the Karani.»

The leader's eyes widened. His mouth also widened, exposing a large number of filthy teeth. He threw his head back until Blade thought the man's helmet would slip off, and roared with laughter. When he stopped laughing his eyes returned to Blade.

«You say I lie, then?» The harsh challenge in the voice was unmistakable. So was the smug triumph.

Blade swore mentally. Apparently he had said the wrong thing. Now this hairy clown was going to claim that he had been offended and entertain his followers by either butchering Blade or humiliating him hopelessly. Damn!

But there was no way back that wasn't a good deal more dangerous than going on. Barbarians like these people respected bravado, flaunted courage, and the skills of a warrior. Blade decided he would do his best to please them, and throw in a few surprises for good measure.

Blade threw back his own head and crossed his arms on his massive chest as he in turn roared with laughter. The leader's eyes widened again, this time in surprise. He obviously hadn't expected this.

«Yes, I say that you lie,» said Blade. «Not only do you lie, but a great deal of stinking breath comes out of that great flapping mouth of yours when you do. I do not like smelling your stink.» If he was going to have to fight this man, he might as well make him blind with rage first.

The other man's mouth opened again and stayed open. Then he closed it with a snap and said in a growling voice, «I had thought to kill you quickly. But now by the Watchers you will see your manhood burn in our fire before your eyes close.»

Blade grinned. «First see if you can kill me at all before you waste any more of the breath you may need for saying your prayers.»

The leader sputtered like a boiling pot for a moment, too furious to speak at all. Then he turned his back on Blade with a snarl, and motioned to one of his followers. Blade raised a hand.

«Hold! There is no need to give me any sort of weapon. I will face you as I am and kill you with only these.» He turned in a complete circle to remind everybody that he was naked and unarmed. He held out his massive hands in front of him as he did so.

That line stopped things dead. The leader spun around and stared at Blade as if he had just turned into a monster.

«You are mad.»

Blade shook his head. «I am not mad. Warriors in my homeland can fight with their bare hands, as well as their swords-or their mouths. What is your problem, my friend? Are you afraid to face a man who fights only with his hands just because you are too stupid to understand how this may be done?»

The leader let out another squall of rage. Blade saw barely concealed smiles on the faces of several of the other warriors. That made it almost certain that the leader would decide to fight on Blade's terms. Otherwise he would lose too much reputation in the eyes of his followers.

«Come, my friend. Say your prayers to the Watchers and anything else you want to pray to, and let us fight. I grow impatient. And what is your name, by the way? I would know the name of the man I am about to kill, so that my women may weave it into my war-song and my sons and bards sing it over my grave barrow when my time comes.»

The leader hesitated. Blade clapped his hands together angrily, as though summoning a slow waiter at a restaurant. «Come! You may fear that I will use your true name against you. But that is a foolish fear. What can I do to you after I have killed you?»

The leader grunted a reluctant assent. «You will not be singing anything about anybody after this fight because you will have no tongue to sing with. I will cut it out with a dull knife after you can no longer stop me.» His voice no longer had its self-confident ring. He sounded like a man trying to conceal from both his followers and himself that he was afraid. He was not afraid of Blade as a warrior, but as something unknown.

«My name is Urgo.»

«Very good, Urgo. Now-what keeps an armed man from striking down one who stands before him naked as a babe and armed only with his two hands?»

«Have you said your prayers, Blade?» asked Urgo.

«The warriors of my people say all our prayers before departing from our land on long and dangerous journeys among strangers. That way they do not have to wait when there is a fight at hand, and no one wonders if they are afraid to fight.» He stared hard at Urgo.

«Yes, Urgo,» said one of the archers, who had now joined the circle around the campfire. «Why not fight this man now? He is willing, and it is time.»

«Fight, Urgo, fight!» shouted several more, drawing their swords and waving them. «Fight him now, Urgo! He will fight you.»

Urgo turned and glared at his followers. The blazing fury in his glare should have burnt them all to cinders on the spot. Blade knew that he had divided Urgo from his followers. They were beginning to doubt his courage and even question it to his face. Urgo would fight his battle alone.

Then Urgo nodded. «I fight.» He picked up a rectangular shield and a straight short sword like a Roman soldier's. If Urgo knew how to use the short sword for thrusting, he could always keep it out in front of himself and always ready to strike. Meanwhile the shield would cover most of his body that was not behind the point of the sword.

Urgo moved out toward Blade, and Blade dropped into a fighting stance and waited. Seen close up, Urgo looked enormous-as tall as Blade, broader, and layered with muscle under the filthy and battle-scarred skin. If this man had half a brain in his shaggy head, he would be a formidable opponent.

Urgo's first attack was a straight-in rush, sword stabbing out in front of him. Blade was able to side-step it, but not easily. Before he had turned completely around, Urgo was coming in again. The man was fast on his feet, and too large and strong for the armor to slow him down at all. Blade swung aside from this rush, too, but heard disapproving murmurs from the other warriors. Obviously he would have to stand up to Urgo and fight him at close range. Otherwise he would lose much of the reputation he had gained among these warriors with his bold challenge and Urgo's reluctance to fight.

So the next time Urgo came in, Blade stood his ground. One hand clamped down on Urgo's sword-arm while the other tried to hook around the shield for a chop at the shield arm. Simultaneously Blade drove his knee up at Urgo's groin.

But there was too much of the shield and Urgo knew how to use it. He smashed it downward into Blade's knee, sending an agonizing shock up and down Blade's leg. Before Blade could recover, Urgo swung the shield sideways against the arm reaching around it. Blade thought his arm was going to break off at the elbow. Then Urgo jerked his sword-arm out of Blade's grip, nearly slashing Blade's other arm in the process. Blade took one tremendous leap backward to open the distance. The two fighters faced each other, more warily than before.

Urgo was fast, he was smart, and he was much too strong for Blade to overpower him by sheer muscle. This was not going to be easy, Blade realized. It might even be fatal for him, rather than Urgo.

Several more close grapples confirmed Blade's judgment of his opponent. He picked up nothing worse than scrapes and aches and bruises, not even enough to slow him down. But he did no harm at all to Urgo. The barbarian warrior was now dripping with sweat and stank even worse than before. But he was barely breathing hard, and his shield and sword moved as fast as ever.

Obviously that shield-sword combination gave Urgo a nearly solid defense. Blade would have to get around it or break it down. He wasn't fast enough to do the first. He knew that by now. But what about the second?

Blade closed in, then pivoted on one foot and whipped the other foot around in a full-power wheel kick. A size-twelve foot with all of Blade's solid two hundred and ten pounds behind it smashed into the center of Urgo's shield. There was a crash as if it had been hit by a heavy rock; and Urgo staggered back several feet before he could fully recover his balance. Before he could advance again, Blade backed away until he was just out of range, then came in again.

Crash! Another direct hit on the center of the shield. This time Urgo was braced for the blow, but it still jarred him from head to foot. Again; he could not strike back in time.

The third time Blade came in, he aimed his kick low. Urgo flinched as he saw Blade's foot coming like a guided missile straight for his groin. The shield snapped downward. Blade's timing was perfect. His foot crashed into the lower edge of the shield, driving the metal-sheathed edge back hard against Urgo's bare thigh and twisting the shield straps around the man's arm. Urgo winced, then stared wide-eyed as Blade once more backed away.

The fourth time Blade came in, Urgo did just exactly what he was supposed to do. Urgo crouched down behind his shield, resting the lower edge on the ground. He thought he'd be completely protected that way. He held his sword ready to thrust up at Blade, but it was a position where he could not easily move out to attack. Blade had won himself the chance to get close in and live, if he moved fast enough.

He was even more of a blur than before as he moved in, foot shooting forward. It crashed into the upper edge of the shield and drove it back with a thud against Urgo's forehead. It struck below the rim of the helmet, and for a moment Urgo was half-dazed.

That moment was all Blade needed. He swung down out of the wheel kick and came in low, striking under the shield as Urgo raised it by reflex. Again he clamped down with his left hand on Urgo's sword arm, this time precisely squeezing the wrist nerves. With his right hand he grasped the bottom edge of the shield and heaved upward. Urgo's half-numb arm rose with the shield and he tottered back, nearly losing his balance.

Blade struck again. He hooked his right foot around Urgo's left leg, pulling the man forward below and pushing him backward above. Urgo lost his balance completely and went over backward with a crash. His head smashed into the rocky ground so hard that not even his helmet saved him. Half-stunned, he stared blankly upward at Blade as the Englishman stamped down with one foot on his sword-arm. Bone cracked, the hand opened limply, and the sword clattered to the ground. Then Blade's foot came in one final time, smashing full-force into Urgo's chin. The blow sent the man sliding several feet along the ground. Larynx shattered, spine snapped, he was dead before he stopped sliding.

Blade stood up and stared around the circle of warriors. They stared back. Several looked too stunned to show any emotion at all. One or two were frowning. But at least half had open smiles or grins on their bearded faces.

Blade decided it was time for a small speech. He pointed down at the body. «Urgo is dead. His name will go into my war-song as a mighty and worthy opponent, for as you all saw he fought strongly and well. Let no one say anything against his courage in my hearing, or I shall send him to join Urgo. Had he been taught the fighting ways of my people, I could not have beaten him, for he would have learned them well. Let him be remembered with honor.»

This diplomacy straightened out the frowns and woke the stunned out of their trances. One of the warriors who had been smiling stepped forward, both hands held out with fingers spread.

«Blade, I think you are too kind to Urgo. He was indeed a strong fighter, but he thought he was even stronger than he was. With such warriors, long life is often just good fortune. His good fortune ran out when he met you.»

He knelt and began unfastening Urgo's armor. «Blade, I am Chudo. I now lead this band of the Scadori. But it is my right to give the leadership and the leader's sword to you if you consent, for you have slain Urgo. Do you wish it?»

«You do not think that I might perhaps be of the Karani?»

«If you are of the Karani, Blade, then I, Chudo, am a little hopping mouse hiding among the rocks. Do I look like one?» Blade shook his head. «Then you are not of the Karani. But you may lead among the Scadori, if you wish.»

«I do so wish.» Blade took Urgo's sword and waved it three times around his head. The other warriors began to shout and cheer raucously.