The Torian Pearls rb-25

by Джеффри Лорд

  Meanwhile, the five swimmers had broken off the implant operation. Blade saw the circle around the drugged reptile break up and saw the half-opened skull sink out of sight. That reptile at least wouldn't be troubling anyone again.

  The other eight reptiles were just beginning to react, as their sluggish wits struggled to grasp the new situation. The last wild one suddenly found that its herders were no longer paying any attention to it. Foam churned around it as it dove away for open water.

  The seven implanted reptiles were slowly realizing that no one was sending commands through their brains any more. They seemed totally unaware of the eight Menel in the water, all swimming furiously toward the submarine.

  Blade didn't much care for what he had to do next. The submarine was the last chance the Menel had for rejoining their comrades elsewhere, or even fighting off the reptiles now. It still had to be destroyed, for it was also their last chance for catching and killing Blade on his way back to the safety of the land.

  Blade raised the beamer and sighted on the submarine's conning tower. As he did, one of the Menel raised a laser and let fly wildly. A beam of green light flashed close enough for Blade to feel searing-hot air blow painfully across one leg. Then he slapped the trigger plate of the beamer.

  The submarine's conning tower exploded upward on top of a pillar of foam and steam. It shot ten feet into the air, then splashed back among the Menel. They stopped swimming as the wave from the explosion swept over them. Now they were too close to the submarine for Blade to have another clear shot at its bow. He shifted his aim, and with another pulse of the beam blew off the stern. Then Blade picked up his fallen sword, tucked the beamer under one arm, and started back the way he'd come. Seven uncontrolled and angry reptiles would certainly be enough to keep eight Menel too busy to think any more about Richard Blade.

  Blade was tempted to leave the beamer and swim back to shore. He could probably go faster that way than aboard the raft. But he wasn't sure how long the beasts would be occupied with the Menel, or how well the beamer would work after it got wet. Besides, he wanted to get it back to shore if he could. He might need something to convince the Kargoi of what they faced, if a time suddenly came when they had to be told. He could hardly think of anything more convincing than the beamer.

  So he sprinted through the darkness along the shore to where he'd left the raft. He slashed the line with his sword and leaped aboard. The raft dove several inches deep under the impact, then bobbed to the surface. Blade put down the beamer, snatched up the paddle, and began paddling as if a dozen of the sea reptiles were already hard on his trail.

  It seemed forever before the little island began receding in the darkness. At last Blade felt free to turn and look toward the shore. The fires there were blazing higher, and smaller dots of light moving back and forth along the shore told Blade of lit torches. He wondered what wild guesses the watchers were making about what they saw and heard, and paddled on. Slowly the island faded behind him, and so did the noise of the battle the Menel were fighting against the sea beasts.

  A little while longer, and Blade could begin to make out individual figures moving along the shore, in and out of the pools of light thrown by the fires. In another few minutes he'd be in water shallow enough to slow the attack of the great reptiles, and…

  The sea behind him rose into two glistening mounds, and a too familiar roaring hiss rolled across the water.

  As the fanged heads broke the surface and rose dripping and terrible, Blade was already lifting the beamer. The two beasts surged forward, Blade's hand came down on the trigger plate, and the crimson beam vanished into the mouth of the one on the left. The whole top of the skull came off, with bits of bone and teeth, hide, flesh, and brain tissue raining down. Blade shifted his aim as the second beast came at him, ignoring the fate of the first one. Again his hand came down on the trigger plate, and this time nothing happened.

  Blade struck the trigger plate a second time, a third. Broken or exhausted, the beamer was certainly useless for the moment. Blade shifted it to his left hand and drew his longsword with his right. He still had a chance, if the beast would stay on the surface and not have the sense to dive and come up under the raft.

  It came on. Its head reared high above Blade, they scraping and clashing of long teeth added to the hisses and roars. Then the head dipped toward him.

  Blade saw the yard-wide mouth descending on him and thrust upward with the useless beamer, ramming it between the filth-caked teeth. At the same time he struck with his sword, putting every bit of his strength into the slash. Even the beast's rugged hide could not stand up under such a blow. Hide and flesh gaped open to the bone all across the beast's nose. It jerked its head back with a convulsive whipping of the long neck, roaring deafeningly. Blade thrust his sword into its scabbard and plunged over the side of the raft.

  He dove deep, striking out toward the shore. Hopefully the wounded beast would be distracted by the beamer, then by the raft. By that time he would be safely on land. It was a faint hope, but all he had. He thrust himself furiously through the black depths until a burning in his lungs warned him that his breath was about to run out. He lunged toward the surface and thrust his head up for a gulp of air.

  The beast floated now with its head high in the air, twisting about wildly. Between the teeth Blade saw the beamer shining. Good. He'd gained a few seconds head start, at least. He took a deep breath, then got ready to dive again.

  As Blade's head was about to dip under, the beast's jaws clamped down hard on the beamer. Somehow that triggered the release of all the weapon's stored energy in a single explosive second. Gold and crimson flame flared where the reptile's head had been, and its last hissing roar was lost in the thunderous crash of the explosion. Bits of charred flesh and bone sprayed down into the water like the blast of a shotgun, kicking up the water all around Blade.

  For another moment the mangled stump of the beast's neck waved high in the air, as its body obeyed the last few signals from the now shattered brain. Then it dropped limply into the water, throwing up a wave that washed over Blade's head. By the time he could see again the beast had sunk out of sight, and nothing was left from the battle except a few stray planks of the raft.

  So much for using the beamer to convince anybody of anything! At least he was alive, instead of making a meal for one of the reptiles, and now he wouldn't have to worry about how to conceal the beamer until the right time came to reveal it.

  On shore the people seemed to be dashing about like ants from a broken hill. It was time to get ashore and try to give them some sort of plausible explanation of what had been going on.

  Blade turned and began to swim.

  Chapter 16

  The moment Blade stepped out of the water, all the warriors crowded around him. They pounded him on the back, wrung his hand, shouted questions and cries of joy at his return. Paor finally broke up the mob, shouting orders and prodding a few laggards with the butt of his spear, and Blade was able to sit down and drink some water.

  That gave him enough time to think up an explanation of what he'd been doing and what had happened. The island had a volcanic vent on it, he said, and some of the escaping gas had ignited. The noise attracted some of the sea beasts, but they'd become interested in fighting each other. So he'd been able to escape, although only by the skin of his teeth!

  Everyone on shore had seen the lights and heard the sounds of Blade's battle and seen the two beasts that chased his raft. With the darkness and their own fear and ignorance, the Kargoi hadn't seen enough to make them doubt Blade's tale. All they wanted to do now was pack up and get back to the main camp.

  That was fine with Blade. He'd learned what he came to learn-and much more. It would take many more than fifty men to butcher all the dead reptiles for their useful parts before they rotted hopelessly. He also wanted to get away before any wreckage drifted ashore from the island. The Kargoi might wonder about his tale if a dead Menel or a piece of the submarine was washed up on
the shore practically at their feet.

  In half an hour everyone was mounted up, and in an hour they were well on their march through the darkness toward the main camp.

  They reached it just before dawn. Blade learned at once that the camp and its warriors had been nearly as busy last night as he had.

  During the night the camp had to stand off a united attack by bat-birds from the sky and reptiles from the sea. Without the spears, the battle would have been grim and bloody, and the camp might have been overrun. As it was, another two hundred warriors, as many women and children, and twice as many drends were dead or dying. The attackers had been wiped out nearly to the last bird and beast, but how many more such victories could the Kargoi afford?

  Obviously the Menel Blade had fought weren't the only ones in the area last night. It must have taken a good many of them to organize, launch, and control such a large attack. At least they'd lost many of their animals, and thanks to Blade's work they might have some trouble implanting more-for a while, at least.

  Time. That was what Blade knew he had to fight to gain-as much of it as he could. He couldn't be sure what the Kargoi would do with the time he gave them. They might do nothing at all; even if they did anything it still might not be enough to save them. With their advanced technology the Menel would not be limited to indirect attacks with controlled animals. Any day they could take the field themselves, launching a direct and completely unstoppable attack.

  The prospects were grim, but there was no point in spending any time worrying about them. Blade could have easily used a twenty-nine hour day coping with the problems at hand.

  The problems added up rapidly. Adroon, the High Baudz, lay in his wagon, immobilized by a badly-broken leg. In spite of the severe pain, he was as clear-headed as ever, but his presence would be missed on future battlefields.

  Rehod, on the other hand, had made a mighty name for himself in the night's attack, killing at least a dozen of the reptiles and twice as many bat-birds with his own weapons, leading attacks, rallying shaken lines, seemingly in three or four places at once. Many people were now inclined to forget and forgive his breach of faith in the fight with Blade. He has learned better, they said, so now we can trust and honor him.

  In short, Rehod had become a hero second only to Blade in the eyes of many people. Too many, for Blade's peace of mind.

  His own night's work had been every bit as heroic and dangerous and valuable to the Kargoi as Rehod's. But he himself was the only one who knew that, the only one who could even be trusted with the knowledge! As far as everyone else knew, he'd been watching volcanoes while Rehod dashed about among the teeth and talons of the attackers. Paor hadn't even been doing as much as Blade.

  Blade wished now that he'd come up with some more heroic version of his hours on the island, one that could compete with Rehod's deeds. It was too late to change the story, though. The only thing Blade could do about Rehod now was to keep a close eye on him and an even closer guard over his own tent at night. Rehod now had enough friends to give him all sorts of perfect alibis if Blade was found dead in his tent some morning. There would certainly be suspicions, but probably nothing more.

  Many among the Kargoi said it was absolutely necessary to move on at once. They still faced several days of traveling dangerously close to the water before their trail could turn inland. The sooner the Kargoi started off, the better.

  Those who'd been with Blade loudly urged staying where they were, to butcher the reptiles and bat-birds as thoroughly as possible. Blade and Paor won out. They showed what excellent armor could be made from the hides of the reptiles-armor that gave some protection even against swords and arrows. That convinced Adroon.

  «Indeed the beasts are terrible,» said the High Baudz. «Yet we also know that before we are safe in our new home, there will be human enemies to fight. In such a battle, the hides of the dead beasts may save as many warriors of the Kargoi as the claws and teeth of the living beasts slew. Blade has spoken wisely.»

  The camp was moved a few miles farther on, to escape the suffocating stench of thousands of tons of carrion. The women and workers dug a large ditch along the seaward side of the camp, deep enough to catch the beasts and too wide for them to jump. The warriors descended on the dead reptiles and bat-birds, holding their swords with one hand and their noses with the other.

  Everyone except the babies and the sick or wounded worked eighteen hours out of the twenty-four every day for the next week. By the end of that time every warrior of the Kargoi stank as though he himself were half-rotten. He also walked about with his vitals swathed in reptile-hide armor, a spear tipped with reptile teeth or claws, his swords hanging from a belt of bat-bird skin, water bags and even tents of sun-cured reptile gut stowed in his wagon-in short, fully equipped from the remains of his enemies. The Kargoi had long been accustomed to turning every part of a drend to some use. Now Blade had taught them to do the same with the bat-birds and the sea reptiles.

  Eventually the work came to an end, with every man and woman of the Kargoi as weary as if they'd fought a battle each day of the past week. There was a mass bath, with the water turning red as the Kargoi washed off a week's accumulated filth. There was a great feast, with everyone gorging themselves on roast meat and kaum. Then the Kargoi marched off on the next stage of their journey, while behind them the carrion birds and insects swooped and buzzed above the acres of rotting flesh.

  Blade and Paor were among the last to leave. As they looked back at the shambles, Paor frowned.

  «There was something unnatural in the way those creatures came at us,» he said. He shook his head. «I hope we have seen the last of them.»

  Blade said nothing. He didn't care for Paor's suspicions, and as for Paor's hopes, they were almost certain to be disappointed. The Menel would be heard from again.

  Chapter 17

  The last days of the Kargoi's march along the shore passed without incident. Bat-birds sometimes flew over in the twilight, but did not attack. Twice warriors riding close to the water saw the heads of sea reptiles rise from the surface. Once Blade saw a low gleaming shape far out on the water, that vanished before anyone else could notice it. A Menel submarine? That was all.

  Every night they made camp with the stench of badly-cured reptile hide and the moans and cries of the wounded hanging over the camp. Every morning when they moved on they left a few hides that were too rotten to carry farther and the graves of a few wounded who'd died in the night.

  At last they turned away from the shore, up a broad valley that offered good grazing. Scouts rode on ahead to the pass visible at the upper end of the valley, to explore the country beyond.

  The valley might have been a proper new homeland, but there were two things wrong with it. First, it was too low. The water had only to rise a few more feet and the river that flowed down the valley would back up and spread across most of the land where drends might graze and crops grow. The rest of the land would become exposed to the attacks of the sea reptiles.

  Second, the valley was already the home of people who had no intention of giving it up to the Kargoi. The sides of the valley were covered with thick forests and the valley people hid in those forests by day. By night they slipped out and shot arrows into the Kargoi and their beasts from impossibly long ranges. The Kargoi could not hope to meet this sort of guerrilla warfare for a decade or a generation. So even those most weary of traveling had to admit that the journey wasn't over yet.

  Adroon's journey was another matter. By the time the Kargoi reached the valley, it was obvious that the High Baudz was seriously ill. Inch by inch his broken leg was turning black with gangrene. There was no choice left but amputation.

  The operation went well, but his sixty years and many battles had left Adroon without enough strength to survive it. He died that night, and for the first time in three generations the Kargoi had no High Baudz and no hereditary candidate for the office.

  «I knew the gods were not through with us,» said Paor wearily.
He sounded like a brave man with much of his courage at last beaten out of him by a series of punishing blows that had simply gone on too long. «I knew it. They thought it would be a good jest to take Adroon from us. It is a good jest, so good that the Kargoi may die of it.»

  «How is this so?» asked Blade. «Surely the Kargoi see clearly that they must all follow one leader while they are on the march?»

  «Yes. But every baudz sees just as clearly that he is that one leader. Each has or will have friends or kin or a whole clan who will hope to gain much when he takes up the wand of the High Baudz. Even if all the baudzi themselves were wise men, each has among his followers men who are not. There are always swords drawn in anger, blood shed, and feuds begun. Behind those feuds come factions and hatred, as inevitably as finding drend dung where the drend have passed.»

  Blade shook his head. «The Kargoi should not let themselves be driven into a war among themselves by thinking too much of what has happened in the past. They should think of what may be done now so that they can march on united.»

  Paor laughed sourly. «It is easy to say that, Blade. Have you done any such thinking yourself?»

  «Yes. I have a suggestion. Suppose a man with no friends, no kin, no clan were to become High Baudz for the space of one year, or until the Kargoi have found a new home. Then he could step aside, and a High Baudz be chosen to guide the Kargoi for many years. The feuds and the factions would not do so much harm then.»