The Mountains Of Brega

Chapter 12

Before Blade died of boredom or Himgar died of frustration, there was a compromise. The people would leave their homes. But only the fighting men and women would march down to the plains to meet the women coming out of the city. The others would head straight for the new lands, carrying with them whatever would be needed for the settlement there. Only a few fighters and some hunters would go with them, to guard against wild animals and hunt down game to feed the mass of people who would be making their way through the forest. Game would be abundant, and so would fish, roots and berries, and water. Another month, though, and this would not be so. Nor would it be good for the older people and the younger children to try crossing the passes in the mountains after the colder weather set in.

Himgar was far too happy that something was being done and in good time to quibble about the details. The moment the Council reached its decision, he came tearing down from the Council House and called the scouts together. He was so excited that he was jumping up and down like a child as he gave the scouts their orders.

«Now it doesn't matter if there is some argument over when the rest of the fighters leave. It doesn't matter at all. You people must leave at once and head for the city. You must get our friends out of the city, out of the city, I tell you. Rilgon may march any day. You must get there before his army does, and get the women out. You must!»

Blade noticed that Truja was looking at Himgar with the fond expression of a mother watching a brilliant son making his first public speech. When Himgar finally ran out of breath and things to say and left, Blade turned to the scarred woman.

«Did you have anything to do with this-change of plans, let's say?»

Truja shook her head. «Himgar has never paid any attention to me. And if he had, I certainly wouldn't have dared try to force him to change his mind about something. We would never get anywhere if I did that. No, I didn't do anything at all to get the plans changed.» She paused. «Unless you count nightly prayers to both Mother Kina and the Spirit of Union.»

The ten women and nine men of the scouting party moved out the next morning. Himgar saw them off, with more breathless exhortations and good wishes, and a deep regret that he could not go with them.

«Never mind,» said Truja. «The fighters who will be coming after us need your leadership more than we do. The future of Brega depends more on them than on us.»

There might have been more men in the scouting party. But the women, and only the women, could move freely about the city and the lands near it. The five women who came originally from the city itself would be the ones who actually slipped into it, to contact the friendly leaders.

Ten women, nine men-and one Senar. Nugun was desperately frightened for his master when he learned that Blade was going down among the women of the city. He flew into a fearsome rage when Truja tried to tell him that he could not go with Blade. And he was the happiest being in all of Brega when Blade finally persuaded Truja to let him go.

The trip through the forest and down into the plains was fast and uneventful. All of the scouts could cover twenty miles a day without even breathing hard, and there was plenty of food and water. Nor did they meet any enemies. Both roaming Senar and hunting parties from the city seemed to have abandoned the woods. As this became clear, Truja forced the pace to twenty-five and even thirty miles a day. They rose before dawn and seldom made camp much before darkness fell. It was as though everything depended on their pounding east as fast as their legs would carry them.

Perhaps it did.

They were through the forest in two days less than they had expected. On the western edge of the plains they stopped for a day and a night, waiting and watching. If the normal patrols from the city were roaming the plains, they would have to move slowly and carefully from here on. But if the feuds in the city actually made both factions unwilling to send their fighting women out of the city, the scouts might have an easy march.

Truja was a cheerful cynic about this, as she was about many things. «I'm quite sure the patrols won't be out,» she said. «But we're certain to run into something else. A herd of stampeding cattle, a flash flood, a forest fire, a search for escaped males-our luck's bound to run out sooner or later.»

But the patrols were thinner on the ground than usual, and there were no accidents. On the second morning they moved out onto the plains. More than a hundred miles farther east lay the city of Brega.

Moving by night and hiding to sleep by day, they covered more than two-thirds of that distance in less than four days. Blade was pleased to see Nugun earn the respect and trust of the other scouts during the night marches. The Senar's abnormally keen night vision guided the party through the darkness as fast as it could have moved by day. And more than once Nugun gave warning of the approach of night-prowling women in time to permit the scouts to go to ground.

None of these women were part of regular patrols or hunting parties. They were mostly small parties of two to six, flitting across the country as swiftly and quietly as birds, intent on some private errand. Intrigue, assassination-who knew? None among the scouts did, and all were becoming increasingly curious, Blade most of all. Only Nugun was indifferent to the «higher» issues involved. His world was intensely physical and concrete-food, sex, war, marching, sleeping. The only abstract concept he could grasp was loyalty to Blade. The Englishman knew that the Senar would die slowly rather than betray him. He only hoped he could meet the same high standard if the matter came to a test.

For five days they crossed a land covered with patches of forest, small streams, pastures where single-horned blue-gray cattle grazed-and small farms. Blade crept close to one of those farms before the dew was off the grass one morning. The farm seemed to contain a dozen or so sturdy women, bare-legged in their short tunics and as brown as the rough cloth of those tunics. Much to Blade's surprise, the farm also held two men-captured Senar, judging from their hair and massive muscles. They seemed to be serving as domestic animals-hoisting water from the well, turning the grindstones, carrying huge loads of firewood.

Blade asked Truja about that when he returned to the scout camp. She shrugged. «Out here in the westlands the Laws of Mother Kina are not always followed strictly. There is much hard work in running a farm, and for much of it a man is stronger and cheaper than a draught animal. So not all of the Senar taken by the hunting parties end up on spits. Some end up on westland farms, and good coin or perhaps wine ends up in the hands of the huntresses.»

After the fifth day, the farms became larger and there was less unused land between them. That meant more care was necessary in traveling, even by night, and much more care in choosing and concealing campsites. Here, barely forty miles from the city, the patrols still roamed fairly often. At least once a day the guards watching the nearest road would see a cloud of dust approaching. Shortly there would materialize under that dust cloud a score or so of heavily armed women, tramping along with dust-caked faces set and grim.

«There still aren't nearly as many as there would be if things were normal,» said Truja. «The city is pulling in its horns. Rilgon will be able to take his men to within three days of the city with nothing but rumors running ahead of him.» She looked grim.

To take Truja's mind off her forebodings of disaster, Blade changed the subject. «Shall we start looking for a point where the women fleeing from the city can meet? We ought to pick somewhere large enough to hold all the women but small enough to defend against attack. We'll have to deal with the women of the city and perhaps some of Rilgon's Senar if we can't get clear before they arrive.»

Truja nodded wearily. «I know. But you're asking a lot. A plantation house would be the best. But even the abandoned ones are too close to the city to be very safe. And most of them are still in use. I doubt if we can find what you're looking for. We may have to find some forest and camp in the open.»

But Truja's pessimism proved a poor guide. Blade and Nugun went out on patrol, and three days later they returned with broad smiles and a report of their find.

«It's a big, tall, sprawling thing, with five wings, built out of shiny black stone. Or at least it must have been shiny once,» Blade added. «It's badly weathered and overgrown, but still sound inside.»

«You went-inside?» said Truja, her mouth falling open so wide that Blade could barely understand her last word.

«Yes. Why not?»

«Black stone-that is-a War House of the people before the disaster. It is full of violence, evil, disease.» She shuddered and sat down abruptly. «No. We will not use it.»

«We shall indeed use it,» said Blade. «I don't care what your city superstitions say. I know from my own land that the worst evil of such a war would have passed away many generations ago. That War House will be perfectly safe. It-«

«But the violence left a curse, the men's-«

«Damn the violence and damn the curses and damn you for a superstitious idiot if you believe in either one!» Blade snapped. Some of the other scouts turned and stared at him. He reached down, seized Truja by the wrist, dragged her to her feet, then dragged her stumbling and protesting out of earshot of the rest of the scouts. He sat her down in the ferns and stood over her. There was an edge in his voice as he continued.

«The disaster was at least a thousand years ago. There is no way that War House can possibly still be dangerous. No diseases, nothing can survive that long. I know. I have seen such lingering deaths fade away in a single generation.»

Truja nodded numbly, stunned into silence by his anger.

«And as for the rest-curses are something I didn't expect you to believe in. Not even curses from the disaster. I-«

«But the curse is from the violence of the men. They-«

«Balls! They weren't any more violent than the people today, men or women. Look at what's ripping the city apart. That silly quarrel that still has everybody so furious they won't cooperate in the face of an invasion. And the hunting parties' treatment of the Senar! Is that gentle, is that anything but violent? Curses!» Blade spat. «You women are just as bloody as the men from before the disaster. But if you believe in curses, you're a damned sight less civilized!» Blade turned angrily on his heel and strode away, to lean against a tree where he could quietly watch Truja.

She sat cross-legged on the grass for some time, her shoulders heaving with her indignant breathing. She was obviously deeply moved, and Blade could not help wondering if he had gone too far. But he knew that what he had said needed saying, whether gently or not.

Eventually Truja stopped holding her head stiffly erect, and let it sag down until her chin was on her chest. Blade noticed the sparkle of tears in the corner of dark eyes suddenly gone blank. He was tempted to go over to her and comfort her, but decided against it. She would have to work herself out of this mood and into whatever decision she would make without help from him.

It was hot even in the shade of the little grove, and Blade felt sweat starting out on his forehead and arms. Insects whined around his face, and he batted them away. The sound of cattle mooing reached him, carried on the breeze from far away.

Finally Truja sighed and stood up, turning toward Blade. She shook her head wearily. «Blade, I suppose you are right.» Silence. «No, you must be right. I wish you were wrong. We have believed so much about the men, their violence….» Her voice broke for a moment. «We were blind to our own. I almost wish I were still blind. It-it does not feel very good.»

Blade shrugged. «I did not say what I did because I wanted to hurt you.»

«I know. But-I think you had better lead us now. I–I do not really know what is right and what is wrong any more. And that is not a state of mind for a leader,» she ended, with a flash of her old spirit.

«All right,» said Blade slowly. «If you want me to-«

«I do. Very much.» For a moment her hand reached out and groped blindly, then found his. Her fingers closed on his with a firm, hard pressure. Then her hand dropped to her side.

«Come on, let's go back to the others. They will be thinking we're making love on the grass.»

Blade raised an eyebrow, and Truja shook her head hastily, laughing. «No, Blade. Not now, not for a time. Perhaps… But then there is Himgar.» She shook her head and turned away.

With Truja's doubts resolved, the scouting party broke camp that night when the light was barely out of the sky. Driving hard through the darkness, they reached the War House well before dawn. They saw it looming out of the forest, towering a hundred feet high and spreading five times that wide, vast, black, and sinister. Even the Purple River scouts, less aware of the legends of the disaster, hung back at first.

Blade and Truja set the doubts more or less at rest by walking into the house side by side and then out again half an hour later. They were dusty but unharmed. Assembling everyone in the gloom of the ground floor, Truja handed over her leadership to Blade. The cheers that rose into the darkness made it obvious that Blade was a more than acceptable choice.

That was well and good, but there was much more that needed to be done before the old War House was a fit refuge. A certain number of rooms had to be cleared of dust, mold, spider webs, bird's nests, and the remains of long-dead animals. A nearby spring had to be found. A regular roster of guards had to be set, and much else.

The house was a good ten miles from the nearest farm, so they could do much of this by daylight. Before darkness fell again, the scouts were as settled in as they could be. Blade and Truja went out into the twilight and sat down to plan the next move.

«The women who are going to the city must leave soon,» said Truja. «There is no time to waste in getting them out of the way of Rilgon. He may march any day.»

Blade nodded. «The rest of us will keep our heads down until the women start coming out from the city. It won't help if the patrols find out that we're here.»

Truja laughed. «That's putting it mildly. But there is one thing you can do. I don't know if there's any game in this forest, so it might be wise to take a look at the local farms. I know some of them around here have fishponds and poultry runs, where a few people could snatch a good bit of meat.»

Blade nodded. «But what about guards?»

«The farms this close to the city are seldom well guarded. What do they have to fear? Or at least-what did they have to fear?»

The idea of a little quiet chicken stealing was a good one. Or at least it might have been a good one, if Truja had been right about the guards at the farms. But there were supposed to be a number of escaped slaves roaming the area, so the farmers had taken precautions. And when Blade and Nugun came slipping up to a farm in the darkness, they ran into those precautions.

When dawn broke the next day, neither Blade nor Nugun had returned to the camp in the War House, Truja paced up and down, face grim, wondering what could have happened to them, fearing the worst.

She was almost right. Blade and Nugun were both lying on the bottom of a deadfall pit at the edge of the nearest farm. There were no stakes in the bottom of the pit, so neither had impaled himself like a fowl on a spit. But both were bruised, battered, and in no shape at all to fight the score or so of armed women who ringed the edges of the pit. The women stared down and occasionally brandished their scythes, hoes, and clubs. Blade stared back up at them and occasionally made a rude gesture.

He felt rather disgusted with himself.