Killer Plants Of Binaark

Chapter 21

Blade knew he'd have problems soaring, even with the rising wind, unless he stayed in the updraft along the face of the cliffs. The sun hadn't been up long enough to create thermals from heated rocks on the ground. As long as he stayed close to the cliffs, though, he would be flying a thin line between stalling out at high altitude and crashing into the rock.

Blade made three complete circles in the updraft, twice skimming within a few feet of disaster. He lost only a hundred feet of altitude, but found it hard to pay attention to what was happening below. Fortunately the wind was still blowing the veil of smoke away, so when he could look down he could see fairly clearly. The Jaghdi were scurrying around frantically, but they also seemed to be getting at least some of their rolghas under control.

Then the pilots with unlighted pots started going off the cliffs and dropping their loads. Blade watched the blue flames flare up in a dozen new places every minute. The gamble of dropping the pots unlighted seemed to be paying off. The smoke rose faster than the wind could carry it away, and so did the unmistakable smell of burning flesh. Blade hoped it was rolghas rather than men.

Blade stopped looking down, and instead looked across the river. Some of the woodcutters were moving up to the ford, but not enough to hold it if the Jaghdi really tried to break out. The Elstani would need all the woodcutters and most of the refugees, formed into a battle line.

Time to go on down himself and take command on the ground. The battle was half won, but the second half was going to be much more complicated and dangerous than the first half unless the Jaghdi completely lost their nerve. So far they hadn't shown enough signs of doing that. He swung his glider into a gentle turn until its nose was pointing toward the river, then straightened out.

As Blade straightened out, he heard a distinct pop, just a little louder than the sigh of the wind or the muted uproar from the ground a thousand feet below. Blade waited until the glider was completely set on its course for the river, then cautiously turned his head from side to side. He saw that some of the cloth was pulling loose from the left-hand reed spar. The stitching must have been faulty. Fortunately the Elstani cloth was much stiffer than anything used in Home Dimension gliders. It should hold its shape well enough to keep him safely in the air for a while.

He was still on the horns of a nasty dilemma. Should he lose altitude fast and risk more strain on the stitching? Or should he let the glider descend naturally and risk its coming unstitched high in the air? He decided to risk a natural descent. Until he got over the river, it didn't matter if the glider collapsed at five hundred feet or at fifty. He'd hit the ground much too hard from either height. Blade settled down to steering the straightest course he could, to put the least strain on the stitching from any more maneuvering.

He heard several more pops as the glider bumped and jolted its way over the camp. The sun wasn't creating updrafts yet, but the fires were now hot enough to do so and getting hotter every minute.

By the time Blade was out of the updrafts, enough stitching was gone so that his glider was losing a serious amount of lift. He still had enough control to fly a straight course, but he was sinking rapidly. It was like being on an immense escalator sliding down through the sky. Before he'd covered half the distance between the camp and the river, Blade knew he was never going to reach the riverbank. That wouldn't have bothered him so much if he hadn't seen Jaghdi cavalry riding out of the camp to sweep their bank of the river clean of surviving glider pilots.

If there'd been any large band of gliders visible, Blade might have steered for it. As it was, the pilots who hadn't made it to the river were scattered across nearly two miles of ground. Once a glider was down, it was every man for himself.

So Blade kept his glider on a straight course, trying only to stay out of bowshot of the ground. He didn't entirely succeed-one Jaghd put an arrow through the right corner of the glider. In spite of this, Blade was able to bring his glider down to a safe landing at least fifty yards from the nearest enemy.

He lay down as his glider collapsed around him, then shifted position carefully. Now he could see the nearest Jaghdi and also be ready to get up in a hurry. The four riders were sitting motionless on their rolghas. The smoke was now drifting out over the flatlands thickly enough to make it hard to judge distances.

Blade took only shallow breaths to keep from coughing from the smoke. If all of the riders came over at once, he'd be in trouble. But if one or two came over, and got close enough

A rolgha neighed as its rider dug in spurs and turned its head toward Blade. The Jaghd pulled his lance out of the saddle bucket but didn't lower it all the way to striking position. Blade lay still, not even blinking as the enemy trotted toward him. The Jaghd reined in just out of lance-reach. He studied Blade, who tried to keep his eyes unfocused and take the shallowest possible breaths. Then the Jaghd made his rolgha step sideways, leaned out of the saddle, and thrust his lance down at Blade.

Instantly Blade snapped himself up to a sitting position and gripped the shaft of the lance at the same time. The Jaghd neither straightened up nor let go of his lance fast enough. Blade tightened his grip and pulled. The Jaghd lost his balance, fell headfirst out of the saddle, and broke his neck.

Blade nearly stepped on the dead man as he gripped the saddle. He swung himself up and into place so swiftly that the rolgha barely had time to realize its old rider was gone before the new one was holding the reins. Then Blade was putting in the spurs and the rolgha jumped forward, more like a kangaroo than a horse. It was cantering before any of the dead man's comrades even noticed that his rolgha had changed owners. It kept trying to work up to a gallop, but Blade fought it back to a canter. Both visibility and footing were uncertain. He'd managed to avoid breaking his neck in the glider, and didn't want to do the job now in a riding accident on the very edge of safety.

The next moment he wondered just how close he was to safety. An arrow whistled past him less than a foot away. Another struck the rolgha in the leg, but fortunately low down where there was nothing except skin and solid bone. Blade had another fight to keep the rolgha under control, and by the time he'd won, the archer was out of accurate shooting range. Now the smoke was on Blade's side.

He kept the rolgha at a canter as he headed toward the ford. He also let it drift to the right as far as he could, toward the river bank. If he couldn't break through to the ford he could always ride the rolgha off the bank into the river and swim for it.

He heard shouts and neighings around him in the smoke as he rode, but no more arrows came at him. He suspected the Jaghdi were sufficiently confused so that one odd rider more or less looked enough like a Jaghdi cavalry outfit to be deceptive at first glance.

He was more than halfway to the ford when he saw a line of mounted men emerging from the smoke ahead. He turned even more sharply to the right, and someone, thinking he was a Jaghdi, shouted, «Hey! Where do you think you're going! Join us!»

Before the man could shout again, Blade put his head down and his spurs in. There were at least sixty riders in the line ahead, and that was too many. Saving a little time in getting across the river wasn't worth the risk of not getting there at all.

Blade's gallop should have signaled «Enemy» to the Jaghdi archers. As it was, the idea of an Elstani on a rolgha penetrated too slowly to let them shoot while Blade was an easy target. Arrows whistled all around him as the smoke swallowed him up, and two struck the larger target of the rolgha. It screamed and seemed about to go out of control, but Blade once more fought the animal so that it calmed down.

Then he was out of the smoke and riding down to the riverbank. Once again the sheer novelty of a mounted Elstani helped him. It also helped that more than half the Jaghdi guarding the river were looking across to the other bank. Blade was glad to see that most of the Elstani refugees were on the march toward the ford now. Only a thin line remained along the bank, enough to help escaping glider pilots out of the water.

Some of the Jaghdi had dismounted and were standing around a body on the ground, prodding at it with lances. Blade's mouth twisted and he rode on toward the bank, hoping that the fallen man was already past feeling pain. Then he saw the man writhing, and saw that under the blood he wore a green belt.

Fador'n!

Suddenly Blade knew that what made sense and what he was going to do were different things. It wasn't in him to let Fador'n lead the gliders into action, and then leave him to be tortured to death by the Jaghdi! Before he'd finished the thought, Blade's sword was out of its scabbard and his mouth opened in a war cry that made the men around Fador'n turn. Before they could realize they were in danger, he was on them.

It would have been a thoroughly one-sided battle if Blade had dared let his rolgha use its teeth and hooves on the Jaghdi. Unfortunately he couldn't risk having Fador'n savaged or trampled. So he had to keep his distance and use his sword. He split a skull, chopped off an arm, and laid open a shoulder in four strokes, but then another man drove a spear into his rolgha's belly. Blade knew from its scream that it was not only going to die but was likely to go out of control before it did. He threw himself out of the saddle, landing so hard he nearly lost his sword. The Jaghd was more worried about the rolgha than about its rider, and didn't take advantage of Blade's moment off balance. He retreated, dropping his spear and drawing his own sword.

Then Blade regained his balance and raised his sword. The Jaghdi's mouth opened in a scream that died abruptly as Blade's sword came down. The Jaghdi's head toppled from his shoulders and his body fell almost on top of Fador'n. The Elstani tried to get to his feet, looked up at Blade, then fainted from pain and loss of blood. Blade scooped him up and ran for the riverbank. Fador'n's hundred and forty pounds was a small weight for Blade's adrenalin-driven strength.

Blade reached the bank where it was ten feet high and nearly vertical. When he saw that, he didn't even break stride but dove off as arrows started cutting through the air where he'd been. He went almost to the bottom, and lost his grip on Fador'n. The current lifted them both and drove them back together. Blade surfaced with a new grip on Fador'n's collar, just enough to keep the man's head above water. With both legs and the other hand, he struck out for the opposite bank.

Arrows splashed back into the water around them, but the smoke was now creeping out over the river, the two heads were small targets, and the river was already full of the bodies of men and rolghas. Blade finally ducked behind a dead rolgha and treaded water while he caught his breath and examined Fador'n. The man's wounds looked ghastly. But if he didn't die from shock or loss of blood, he still might survive to tell his grandchildren about the battle.

Blade stayed behind the rolgha until the current had drifted them a few hundred yards downstream. There were still Jaghdi on the bank, but the smoke was now pouring out over the river so thickly that visibility was steadily shrinking. Blade drew only a few badly aimed arrows when he struck out again for the safety of the far bank. Then he was beyond the range of the Jaghdi horsebows.

The river was only about four hundred yards wide, but to Blade it felt more like four miles. The cold ate into him and sapped his strength, the letdown after battle did more, and the constant struggle to keep Fador'n's head above water took away most of what energy he had left. He gritted his teeth and swam on, until suddenly his feet struck a gravel bottom and there were Elstani shouts in his ears.

He managed to stay on his feet until he'd seen Fador'n placed on a litter and hurried off to the doctors, and after that he stood while someone shoved a cup of spiced hot beer into his hand. Then he sat down, ignoring the shouted congratulations all around him, forcing strength back into his limbs as the warmth of the beer flowed through him. By the time Daimarz came up, his face a red mask from a scalp wound, Blade was on his feet again.

«The work of the gliders is done, Blade. Your work.»

«There were five hundred-no, more like five thousand sharing that work.»

«Have it your way, if you're going to be stubborn about it. But you'd better hurry if you want to be in on the kill. Our people are across the river, and the men from the other guilds are in sight. They finally agreed to join in our fight.»

It was about time, Blade thought, but all he said was, «I'm coming.» Blade noticed a nick in his sword, but decided it would last out the rest of the fight. He belted it on and followed the woodcutter.

The Jaghdi weren't helpless even without their rolghas, but they were certainly doomed. The Elstani had steel swords and their crossbows outranged the Jaghdi horsebows. The woodcutters were trained to work together on foot, and the refugees fought like men possessed. A third of the Jaghdi died, but there were only a few hundred Elstani casualties. The rest of the invaders were surrendering as fast as they could by the time the men of the other guilds came up.

«It's going to be the woodcutters' and the weavers' victory,» said Daimarz's father, Yishpan. Although he'd worked himself to exhaustion trying to get the rest of the Elstani to the battle in time, he didn't sound exactly unhappy about this. «The rest can-«

«Pick up the dead rolghas before they poison the river,» said Daimarz sourly. «That's all they're good for.»

They walked through the camp to the tent where Efroin lay. He'd cut his throat, and Blade was glad that he'd had the strength to do this at the last. It had spared him the lingering agony of a belly wound, or some equally harsh fate at the hands of the Estani.

That reminded Blade of a pressing question. «We've got close to five thousand prisoners here. We'd better decide what to do about them, before the refugees start cutting their throats.»

«I'd say let them,» growled Daimarz. «You can be sure that a dead Jaghd won't be coming through the forest again next year. Besides, we'd have to feed them.»

Yishpan shook his head. «That would make the Jaghdi on the Adrim desperate. If they thought we'd give them their lives, they might yield without a fight and more loss of life. Let's hold our prisoners and promise to release them if Queen Tressana gives herself up to us.»

Blade wasn't the only person staring at the Master Woodcutter. Yishpan stared back. «Why not? She is evil but not yet mad, and has much courage. If we ask her to be an honorable chief and die for those who follow her-«

«I suppose you could do that,» said Daimarz. «But I warn you, Father, I'm taking the best hundred men I can and go after the bitch queen myself. If I don't come back with her head, you can do as you see fit.»

«Daimarz-«began his father, but Blade interrupted.

«Daimarz, I'll come with you. You may need someone who can talk to the Jaghdi. You'll certainly need someone who knows their ways better than you do.»

«True.» He gripped Blade's hand. «We leave as soon as we've got the men and supplies. I think we'd better take some captured amulets too. If we have to follow her into the forest, we'll be ready to do it.»

«And you'll take Blade away from Chaia for the gods know how long!» snapped Haima. «Was that your purpose in suggesting this?» She was splattered with other people's blood and looked like some demonic goddess of war. Right now she also looked angry enough to draw her sword on the woodcutter.

Blade knew he had to play peacemaker. «Haima, I can't do much here, even to help with the prisoners. I can do much more with Daimarz. He and Yishpan are both right. We've won a battle, but Tressana is the key to winning the war. We can't leave anything undone to strike at her. Nothing would make me happier than to stay here and begin giving Chaia your grandchildren, but do you want me to desert my post while I'm still needed?»

Haima sighed. «Blade, I wish I knew how much of that is the truth. But you are right about my asking you to desert. As I value my own honor, I cannot ask you to give up yours.» She kissed him lightly and walked away, her shoulders sagging.

Blade really wished he did have nothing to do but guard prisoners and find ways of not sleeping with Chaia. Unfortunately he had to stay with Daimarz and try to keep him from throwing his life away to kill Tressana. He also had to try to save the queen herself, if he could. Her death would still mean chaos in Jaghd, probably even worse now that so many leaders were dead or captured. He hoped he could find a way to save Tressana without defying the Elstani, but the chances were slim. Without joining Daimarz, they didn't exist.

«All right, Daimarz. I think we'll need some refugees as guides, as well as your woodcutters. Most of the prisoners we've released aren't in shape for any more fighting.»

«I agree with you about the refugees, but how do we choose them? They'll be killing each other for a chance at Tressana.»

«Pick out the two or three hundred strongest, then draw lots.»

«That could work. We'll want everyone in Jaghdi clothing, but with our own weapons. Then…» They sat down on a leather blanket in front of a nearby tent and began planning.