The Lords Of The Crimson River rb-35

by Джеффри Лорд

  A green-gloved knight sat against a tilted slab of rock, his broadsword in one hand and his other arm bleeding and apparently useless. There was more blood on one leg. Just beyond the reach of his sword, three of the feather-monkeys were jumping up and down. A fourth lay twitching on the path, cut in half. Every so often, one of the feather-monkeys would dart toward the knight, then jump back unharmed as he slashed at it.

  Blade wondered why one of them didn't climb up on top of the rock slab and jump down. Perhaps it was too smooth or too high? Certainly this wouldn't make any difference in the end. The knight couldn't stay lucky forever. One of the monkeys would reach him with its poisoned dagger, and that would be the end for him, even if he killed the monkey. Or the monkeys might go on taunting him until he collapsed from exhaustion and loss of blood, then move in for an easy kill. Blade decided he was going to save the knight. Whether or not he got an introduction to the local nobility out of it, he couldn't leave the man to be killed.

  The first thing to do was cut down the odds. He wasn't going to risk his bare legs against all three monkeys at close range. He searched the ground, looking for a proper stone. When he found one, he crept down to within easy throwing range, judged the distance carefully, then sprang up and threw.

  At his public school, Blade was the best bowler on the cricket team. The stone hit the nearest monkey in the head, splattering its brains. The other two monkeys leaped into the air in surprise and fright. One of them came down within reach of the knight's sword. A desperate slash cut off both legs; a second slash cut off its head. Then Blade ran toward the third monkey, to draw it away from the knight.

  He succeeded, but almost got himself killed. The third monkey had a diabolical skill at guessing where Blade's legs would be. Several times he had to leap desperately to avoid being stabbed, without time to watch his footing. On the rocky, sloping ground, he knew this meant a fall sooner or later. That might give the feather-monkey all the time it needed.

  The strange, almost unnatural duel between the two-foot monkey and the six-foot man went on. Blade realized that he might be able to keep moving until the monkey got tired and slowed down, or lure it within range of the knight's sword. Or perhaps, if he fell deliberately, catching the monkey off its guard…?

  Yes.

  He waited until he and the monkey circled around each other again, and he was facing downhill. Then he pretended to have a rock slide out from under his foot. He went down on his back, using all his unarmed-combat skill to land unhurt, but still bruising and gouging himself from shoulders to buttocks. The knight roared a curse and the feather-monkey leaped forward with a squeal of triumph. The green-slimed dagger gleamed repulsively in its paw.

  Then Blade's arm whipped forward and a handful of gravel hit the monkey like the blast from a shotgun. It wasn't seriously hurt, but it squealed and closed its eyes for a moment, without jumping back out of Blade's reach.

  That was all he needed. He foot shot out and took the monkey in the ribs. It flew into the air like a mortar shell with a squeal of pain and terror, traveled at least fifty feet, bounced twice, and lay still.

  Blade got up, made sure the knight was fit to be left alone for a little longer, and walked down to make sure the monkey was dead. It was. He felt none of the triumph or even the satisfaction he usually felt after winning a fight. As dangerous an opponent as the monkey was, there was something disgusting about a fight with such a small creature.

  By the time he returned, the knight was struggling to get to his feet. Blade reached out a hand to help him up. Instead of taking a firm grip, the knight jerked his own good hand back and picked up his sword.

  «You are no Lord from the Lands of the Crimson River,» he said sharply, giving the tall, half-naked stranger in front of him the once over. «And I gave you no permission to touch me.»

  Blade frowned. «You can hardly-«

  «Nor did I give you permission to speak. That is two offenses against a Lord to your name. If you will tell me what that name is, I may ask that your punishment be light. If you commit the third offense of trying to conceal who you are, I can have no mercy. Nor would I wish to.» He laid his sword across his knees.

  Blade was already tired, hungry, thirsty, sore, and angry over the fight with the monkey. The knight's arrogance was the last straw. «I don't need your mercy,» he snapped. «You can save it for those who need it, like yourself. You're tired, you're wounded, and there may be more of those damned monkeys around. You'll be very lucky to reach home without help, and frankly I don't much care if you do. If you're an example of a Lord, then no man in his right mind could want to be one!»

  The Lord's head jerked back at Blade's words, as if the Englishman had slapped him. Then he bowed his head on his chest and laid his sword down. Tonelessly he mumbled, «I have spoken words against the honor of a Lord. I have spoken words against the honor of a Lord. I have spoken words against the honor of a Lord.» He raised his head and looked at Blade. «You have the right to challenge me when I am fit to fight. You might even have the right to leave me here to die, for I-«

  «I'm not leaving you here to die,» said Blade. «Forget that idea right now.» It was the first thing he could think of, and he said it mostly so that his confusion wouldn't show on his face. From fierce arrogance to almost cringing apologies in a moment-was this man mad?

  «You do not need to forgive me for not recognizing you until you spoke,» said the Lord. «I was taught not to judge a Lord by his garb when I was only twelve. There is no excuse for my forgetting it. None!»

  The light dawned in Blade's mind. The society in this Dimension was rigidly divided into Lords and everybody else. The Lords were the masters, their status carefully guarded by laws and customs as well as their own weapons. No non-Lord would dare to talk back to a Lord the way Blade had. Therefore he had to be a Lord, however strangely he was dressed. Sometimes rigid class systems, stupid customs, and narrow minds could be useful.

  He laughed. «Indeed I am probably dressed less like a Lord than any Lord you have seen since you were twelve. So I do forgive you for that mistake, now that you have freely admitted it. I have made worse mistakes myself, and have the scars to prove it.» Indeed Blade had scars enough to prove almost any story he wanted to tell anyone in any Dimension.

  He looked around. «Now-my offer to help you out of here stands. I am more than willing to discuss the mistakes Lords can make with any man, but not here and now. Not when more of those cursed little creatures may appear at any moment.» He wasn't sure what the feather-monkey's name was in this land, and didn't want to give himself away by calling them by the wrong one. The computer had done its usual job of altering his brain so that he and the Lord could understand each other, but it never took care of minor details like this.

  The Lord sighed and nodded, then let Blade help him up. After a few cautious steps, he found he could walk, leaning on his sword. Blade borrowed the Lord's dagger and cut a crude staff for him from a nearby bush. «I think we'd better keep our weapons ready.»

  «Very true, although I am not sure the danger is from the Feather People. There shouldn't be any more nearby.» He frowned. «But there shouldn't have been any at all, except-«He broke off with a look at Blade, as if he'd just realized he was about to say something a stranger should not hear.

  With the staff, the Lord could walk without Blade's help, although not quickly. When they passed the dead monkey Blade had kicked, the Lord stared hard at it and shook his head. «That one-it is hard to say-it looks like one of our own-but that would mean… No. It cannot be!»

  Blade frowned. «I would not be too sure that in war anything cannot be. War is the most uncertain thing men can do.»

  The Lord frowned. «You talk like a Lord sometimes, but now you do not. It is the purpose of the Lords to make war less uncertain, more fit for men of honor.»

  Blade resisted the temptation to ask how successful they'd been.

  Chapter 6

  The trail now lay all downhill, twisting an
d winding around the usual boulders and outcroppings of rock. With the sun still high overhead, the heat radiating from the rocks was like an oven. Sweat streamed off Blade and he wondered how the Lord stood the heat in full armor. The warrior tramped along, though, and only slowed down when the muscles of his wounded leg began to bind.

  After that, Blade had to wonder how much longer the Lord could stay on his feet, and how to offer help to a man with such fierce pride. He also wondered what help he could offer. He would find it hard to carry an armored man, but it would do even less good to leave him and search an unknown land for his comrades. He finally decided to start by carrying the man's helmet, and made the suggestion the next time they stopped for rest.

  The Lord stared at Blade. «That offer hardly seems fit for you to make. It is certainly not fit for me to accept it. I have offended against your honor so greatly that I should be carrying your armor. If you wore any,» he added. «For you to carry anything of mine now would be doing the work of a Lord's Helper. You are a full-fledged Lord, and-«

  Blade held up a hand to stop the torrent of protest which would otherwise probably go on until they both dropped dead of thirst and heat. «Indeed, I am a Lord. Therefore I ask you to listen to me, and believe that I mean nothing against your honor.

  «First, there is no one to see us, or at least no Lord who might be a proper witness against us. That I did a Helper's work for you when you needed it done will remain our secret.

  «Second, my honor is also at stake here. I must do everything I can possibly do to protect another Lord from danger. Is this not so?»

  Reluctantly, the other man nodded. Blade grinned. «I thought so. Now, if I do not carry your helmet, you will be in more danger than you would be otherwise. Therefore I must carry your helmet, or my own honor is wounded. Curse it, man-if we faced a battle and I had two helmets while you had none, would you refuse one? This is almost the same case!»

  The Lord now seemed to be thinking things over. Blade could almost hear the mental gears turning. Then the Lord nodded slowly and began undoing the laces of his helmet. He said nothing all the while until Blade had the helmet tucked securely under his left arm, and even then he only muttered «Thank you.» When they started off again he seemed more determined than ever to keep up the pace until he could no longer walk at all. Blade hoped he wouldn't have to go through this sort of argument over the meaning of honor every time some practical detail came up. Back in Home Dimension, that sort of nonsense helped give «honor» a worse name than it deserved.

  Oh, well, he thought. If I wasn't fairly tolerant of hearing people talk nonsense they'd have locked me up a long time ago!

  By mid-afternoon they'd covered several miles from the top of the pass. Blade's canteen was almost empty, but he saw that the Lord's lips were cracked and dusty and offered him the last of the water. The Lord shook his head. «You are generous, but-no, I am not being foolish by refusing, either. If my eyes still see clearly, we're not more than a hundred paces from a stream.»

  The Lord's eyes hadn't fooled him. He bent down and drank while Blade kept watch, then did the same while Blade drank. Blade was going on to fill his canteen when they both heard a horse neigh from the bushes just upstream. The Lord started forward. Blade rose to hold him back and the Lord turned to whisper almost fiercely.

  «No. There is only so much I can let you do for me. Furthermore, if it is an ambush and I die, you can still escape with a warning. If you die, I cannot move fast enough to get away and warn Lord Alsin and Duke Cyron.» He pulled free of glade's grip with such strength that nothing short of knocking him down could have stopped him. Blade couldn't go that far, and he also knew the man's reasoning made sense. Maybe his obsession with honor hadn't completely wiped out his brains after all!

  The Lord disappeared into the bushes; the horse neighed again, then there was the sound of cursing. Blade clapped the Lord's helmet on his head and drew his knife. Then the Lord reappeared, leading a pack horse. The horse was dusty and had several minor wounds, but otherwise looked fresh and healthy. Stuffed into one saddlebag was the body of a feather-monkey, almost black with flies.

  The Lord knelt with a disgusted look and pulled the monkey out of the bag. Then he studied the horse. He seemed to recognize it and began looking for something. Finally he turned to Blade, his face suddenly a mask. Blade remembered his examining the feather-monkey at the top of the pass, and how he seemed to recognize that one also.

  «I think you see some danger which you did not see before,» said Blade. «Is it the same danger you thought of when you looked at the Feather People I killed?» The question was the sort a Lord would ask, and it was also necessary. Blade refused to walk into unknown dangers if there was any chance of learning something beforehand.

  The Lord's mask cracked for a moment, and he jerked his head. «That is so. I wish-yet I cannot. I do not even know your name or duchy.»

  «I am called the Lord Blade,» Blade replied. «As for the rest, I have sworn the most solemn and sacred oaths which can be sworn, not to reveal it to anyone save a Duke.» He mentally crossed his fingers, hoping this Dimension had such oaths.

  Apparently it did. «I am the Lord Gennar, sworn to Duke Cyron of Nainan. Did you swear your oath by the Father of the Crimson River?»

  «When I renewed my oaths here in these lands, I swore by him.» Blade hoped that would be enough.

  Gennar frowned. «Then it will be a crime against both my honor and yours if I ask you to break your oaths, simply to give me peace of mind.» He was now sweating from more than the heat. Blade saw the nails of his good hand digging into the palm hard enough to draw blood.

  Blade decided to rescue Lord Gennar. «If there is danger close at hand, we will be facing it together. So we must each speak as freely as we can.» He pretended to hesitate. «There are some things I can tell you without truly breaking the oath. I think they will be enough for now. If I tell you these things, will you swear to hold nothing back about the danger we face?»

  Gennar's breath went out of him in a long sigh. «Yes. By my honor as a Lord and the birthright of Duke Cyron, by the temper of my sword and the cleanness of my blood, I swear to do as you ask.»

  «That is more than enough,» said Blade. «Now-what I can tell you is simple enough. I am from a land so far from the Crimson River that I do not think you would recognize its name even if I was allowed to tell you. If your Duke is a very wise man, he may, but not even most Dukes have heard of my homeland.

  «I was a Lord of this land. An accusation was made against my honor. I knew it was false, but I could not prove the falseness without bringing harm to innocent people. So I was sent into exile for the space of ten years, and also made to swear the most terrible oaths which a Lord of my land can swear. While I was in exile, I could tell my story to no one below the rank of Duke. Even then I should tell it only if otherwise I would not be given the treatment proper to a Lord.»

  «Yes. A Lord remains a Lord, even in such a harsh exile as yours. I think your-Duke? — must have believed you innocent, otherwise he would not have taken such care to guard your honor.»

  «Perhaps he did. Certainly my enemies were so powerful that he could have done anything else only at the cost of war among his own Lords. Since other Dukes were greedy for his land-«Blade broke off and shook his head. «Forgive me, but I cannot tell you more without breaking my oath.»

  «I would never ask that,» said Lord Gennar, embracing Blade. «I will also say-I believe you were innocent. You have done and said things which no man with any blot on his honor could possibly have done or said.»

  «I thank you,» said Blade. «I hope that in these lands of the Crimson River I will do nothing to make you regret those words. Now, I suggest you get on that horse and we continue our journey. I know you have much to tell me, and I will gladly listen. But if there is danger to us, no good will come of staying here and letting it get closer while we talk.»

  «That is the truth, the Father knows!» said Gennar with a wry grin.
With Blade's help he struggled into the saddle and settled in as comfortably as he could. Then Blade took the horse's bridle and led it back onto the trail. He was glad he now had a chance to learn about this Dimension, without having raised any doubts about his being a Lord. In this Dimension his chances of success or even survival would depend on keeping up that masquerade.

  All the lands Lord Gennar knew of were divided among two Kingdoms and the seven Duchies of the Crimson River. The two Kingdoms were known only as the East Kingdom and the West Kingdom. Once they'd had other names, but so long ago that nobody living remembered them.

  Along the eastern border of the West Kingdom and the western border of the East Kingdom lay mountain ranges, with only a few passes through them. These mountains protected the seven Duchies scattered along the Crimson River, which flowed roughly from north to south. Once the Dukes owed allegiance to one or the other of the two Kingdoms, but they'd been independent for centuries.

  The Dukes and the Lords who made up their fighting forces used that independence for continuous petty warfare. Nothing more than a few villages ever changed hands permanently. For many of the Lords the warfare was no more than healthy outdoor exercise and a chance to show off their skill and honor. Many Lords still ended up crippled or dead, though, and of course the loss of life and property among the peasants was heavy. This didn't seem to matter; Lord Gennar actually spoke of the need to keep the peasants too frightened of the Lords to think of rebelling.

  The Lords of the Crimson River also knew other ways of wasting their resources. The Feathered People or Feathered Ones had more than an animal's intelligence. Legend and folklore said they'd been discovered long ago, near a great stone that fell from the sky. Blade made a mental note to find out more about these legends. Were the monkeys a mutation, or possibly even from another planet?