by Джеффри Лорд
«Oh, hold your wind, Ketz,» said the red-bearded Sigo. He hacked through the bindings of the woman's wrists and stepped around to do the same at her ankles. «This is no Chosen, for I'm no fool. These sheep in Dodini aren't going to do anything we need fear, so I thought I'd snatch one of their ewes for a bit of our own pleasure.» He freed the woman's ankles, grabbed her by one leg and one arm, and heaved her over his shoulder.
«Besides, I'm really doing her a favor,» Sigo went on, as he carried the woman across the road. «After we're through with her, she can no longer be a Chosen. I don't imagine you mind the trade, do you, little one? A few minutes with us, instead of a lifetime serving him?» He slung the woman off his shoulder and dropped her with a thud in the grass. If she said anything, Blade couldn't hear it. She lay motionless while Sigo began unlacing his trousers.
«Now then,» he said. «You'd better be a little more lively now, or it won't be just a few minutes with us. I'm not going to have my fun with-hayaiii!» he screamed, as Blade sprang out into the open.
Sigo had left his mace and crossbow with his heuda and was unarmed except for his knife. Blade closed in, Sigo threw up his free hand and thrust with the knife in the other. Blade's ax hissed down in a precise arc and Sigo's raised hand flew from its wrist. Sigo cried out again, but did not miss a step as he came at Blade, the dagger held with the grip of a trained knife fighter, ready for an upward thrust.
Sigo closed so fast that he got inside Blade's guard. Blade leaped backward as the dagger thrust up at his stomach. At the same time he raised the ax and smashed the five-foot handle across Sigo's neck. The dagger's edge tore Blade's trousers and the point pricked his skin. The impact of the ax handle knocked Sigo off his feet. He sprawled on his back, still clutching the dagger, trying to raise both his good hand and his bloody stump to ward off Blade. He was still trying when Blade brought the ax down on his chest. Sigo doubled up in one final convulsive spasm and gasped, «The Wizard will avenge me.» Then he fell back, limp and dead.
While Blade and Sigo fought, the mounted Wolf was unslinging and cocking his crossbow. He didn't dare fire, though, for fear of hitting his comrade. As Blade stepped back from Sigo's body, the archer found himself with a clear target. The crossbow came up, and as it did the woman suddenly came to life. She leaped to her feet, then lunged for Sigo's fallen dagger.
The movement drew the archer's eye as his finger closed on the trigger of the crossbow. The bolt that should have left Blade as dead as Sigo whistled harmlessly across the road and sank into a tree. Before either the woman or the archer could make another move, Blade charged across the road, ax held high and ready to strike.
The archer spurred his heuda into motion. It lurched forward, two, three, four slow steps. Then the Wolf dug in his spurs again, the massive hind legs quivered and tensed, and Blade swung sharply to the left. As the Wolf charged past him, he shifted his grip on the ax and swung it in a wide arc, his arms stretched out as far as they would go.
He struck with the blunt side of the ax head, in case he missed his mark and struck the heuda instead of the man.
The last thing he wanted to do was kill or even wound the animal. It was the safest way out of here, for him, for his prisoner, and now for the young woman.
Blade's ax smashed into the Wolf's side, hard enough to knock the wind out of him. His hands clutched the reins, pulling the heuda to a stop. The animal reared, pawing the air, then started to turn toward Blade. Blade shifted sideways, to keep away from the head with its jutting horns. Then he struck again, as the man drew his sword and raised it for a downward cut. The ax smashed the Wolf's sword aside and bit through his helmet as if it was a tin can. His eyes went blank, blood gushed from mouth and ears, and he toppled out of the saddle.
«Behind you!» the woman screamed. «Behind you! Behind-!» as thunder crashed overhead. Blade didn't need to have the words repeated even once. He was already whirling, ax ready, as the last Wolf charged at him from the gate. Blade raised the ax, the Wolf's sword whirled toward him, and its edge bit into the ax handle. The steel went halfway through the wood at one blow and stuck. Blade heaved on the ax, jerking the man toward him. The Wolf kept his grip on the sword and let Blade pull him in, then suddenly let go and leaped on Blade with his bare hands. Both fighters went down from the impact.
Blade found himself grappling the Wolf on the ground as if the man really was a wild animal. The man was smaller than Blade, but strong, nearly as fast, and utterly desperate. He bit, he clawed, he tried to gouge and tear every part of Blade's body he could reach, he shouted and screamed like a madman. Blade was too busy keeping his eyes and testicles from being mangled to try anything scientific against the Wolf. It was a straight contest of brute strength and ferocity.
The two men rolled over and over as they fought. Blade was vaguely aware of thunder rolling louder and more often from a darkening sky. He was more aware of the woman standing in the road, dagger in her hand, staring at the two fighters. He hoped that if she tried to join the fight she'd get the dagger into the Wolf, not into him!
Then suddenly Blade felt the ground dropping away under him. He barely had time to take a deep breath before he and the Wolf plunged into the scum-coated water of the ditch along the wall.
Blade had his lungs filled and his mouth closed as he went under. The Wolf didn't. He sucked in a great lungful of filthy water and exploded to the surface, coughing and choking horribly, clawing at his throat. Blade rose up beside him and slammed the heel of one hand up under the man's jaw. The Wolf sprawled backward against the bank with his head and shoulders out of the water. Before he could clear his lungs, Blade gripped his throat with both hands and squeezed hard. The Wolf's windpipe collapsed and his eyes rolled wildly. He wriggled and twisted like a worm on a hook for a moment, then finally lay still.
Blade scrambled up on to the bank and looked around. The heuda was snorting, honking, pawing the ground, and weaving its head from side to side. Blade picked up one of the Wolves' helmets and walked toward the animal, making soothing noises. The thunder overhead was growing louder and more frequent, but in the intervals between the crashes and rumbles Blade could hear horns and drums sounding inside Dodini. The alarm was up.
The woman was standing beside the heuda. Her garment showed several new stains and rips. Her face showed fear, relief, surprise, and disbelief all at once. She was shaking slightly, but the long-fingered hands she held out in front of her were steady. Good. If she hadn't panicked yet, she probably wouldn't.
Blade reached the heuda, stroked its neck, and patted its muzzle, until the animal stood quietly. Then he tied the ax to the saddle and swung himself up into it. He reached a hand down toward the woman.
«Come with me,» he said. «We must leave Dodini, or the Wolves will be upon us.» He hoped she'd trust him enough to come with him. The three Wolves were all dead, so he'd have no prisoner to tell him about «the Wizard.» The woman might not know as much as the Wolves, but she'd know more than he did at the moment.
The woman stared at Blade, eyes wide and nose wrinkling up. He didn't blame her for either. He must be an appalling sight, a giant of a man in a dented helmet and clothes that looked like a rag-picker's, armed to the teeth, coated with blood and the foul-smelling muck of the ditch.
The woman stared for a moment longer, then gripped Blade's hand and let him swing her up into the saddle behind him. Blade dug his heels into the heuda's side and pulled its head around. It reared, then leaped forward and galloped away down the road. The gate and the sprawled bodies disappeared around the curve of the wall of Dodini. From high above a crossbow sent a bolt whistling past them. Then the thunder exploded overhead with a sound like the heavens falling and the world was blotted out by a gray curtain of rain.
Chapter 7
Blade didn't know how far a heuda could carry two people at a full gallop. He did know he was probably going to find out before this day was over.
At least they had the storm and that was a blessing. As long as it
lasted, they would be nearly invisible and their trail would be wiped out almost as fast as they left it. Besides, the Wolves might be good fighters, but Blade wondered if they'd be good at tracking across country. They might have little need for the skill and less chance to practice, if all their victims waited quietly for them like turkeys in a pen.
For a few minutes the rain was coming down so hard that Blade had to slow the heuda to a walk. It was impossible to see the road more than ten feet ahead and he didn't want to ride straight into a ditch or a storm-swollen stream. Even at a walk it took all Blade's attention to keep the heuda on the road.
Once or twice he had a chance to look more closely at the woman behind him. She rode in silence, her arms locked about his waist, her long graceful legs gripping the heuda tightly. Her sodden hair hung down in strings over shoulders and face and her shift was molded to her body. She was slim, but by no means unattractive. Her face was now a blank mask, the mask of someone shutting out the world while she tried to understand what was happening to her.
After twenty minutes the rain slackened off enough so that Blade could safely urge the heuda to a gallop. They pounded down the stone-paved road leading out of Dodini, splashing through puddles in a cloud of spray. Fields and pastures and an occasional hut showed on either side of the road. There was no one to see them pass, not with the Wolves out and the storm overhead.
They thundered across a wooden bridge over a small river turned swollen and ugly by the storm. A mile beyond the bridge the paved road ended. Now Blade began to wonder if the storm was such a complete blessing, The dirt road ahead was rapidly turning into mud and in places into a pond. He kept the heuda moving as fast as it could go, and the mud splashed up to coat both mount and riders until they looked like statues.
Gradually the land rose under them. The road began to swing back and forth as it climbed a long hillside, the earth underfoot turned from black to sandy brown, and the going became easier. At the same time the rain slackened still more. In spite of his superb senses of direction, Blade now had only a very vague idea of which way they'd come from Dodini. He hoped the Wolves had even less idea of which way their prey had gone.
On the crest of the hill Blade turned the heuda off the road and reined in under cover of the trees. Then he dismounted and examined the animal. It was breathing heavily, but looked good for quite a few more miles. The gear he'd captured with the heuda, on the other hand, was disappointing.
There was a spare dagger and a sharpening stone. There was a rusty awl and some leather thongs for repairing harness. There was enough food for a light meal-dried fruit, strong-smelling cheese, salt meat the color and toughness of wood. A leather bottle on the saddle held about a quart of sour wine. The only real surprise was a package, wrapped in dark red silk, that Blade found lurking in the very bottom of the sack. Unwrapped, it turned out to be a necklace of heavy metal bars linked by enameled silver hooks. Judging from the weight of the necklace, the metal bars were solid gold.
Over the next few days, that necklace might be quite useful, but not right now. They needed more food and also some dry clothing for the woman, who had nothing but her sodden shift between her and the weather. Blade could feel her shivering.
They'd have to raid a farm or a village for what they needed. That would mean revealing themselves to people who could remember them and tell tales to pursuing Wolves. It was a risk, but one they'd have to take. It was also one that could be greatly reduced with a little careful planning. Blade climbed into the saddle again and started the heuda off at a walk. Then he turned back to look at the woman. Her eyes met his and she managed a faint smile.
«What is your name?» he asked.
«Lorya,» she replied.
«Lorya, we need to get some food and clothing. So when we see another village, we will leave the road and ride around it through the fields and forests. That way no one will see us. Then I will leave you in the forest on the far side of the village and ride back to get the food and clothing from the people.»
Fear showed in Lorya's eyes at the idea of being left alone in unknown country so far from Dodini. Blade gently patted her shoulder. She stiffened, then slowly relaxed and again smiled faintly.
«Do not worry. I will not abandon you. I will return as quickly as I can, and I will leave you the other knife and the food in case something happens to me. I do not think it will, though. How often do the people in the villages try to fight his Wolves, even one of them riding alone?»
Lorya's smile vanished and she said in a level voice, «They do not do it. Not if they are wise.» Her tone suggested that she took no pleasure in the Wizard's rule, but had no idea it could ever be challenged or resisted. For the twentieth time, Blade wondered what the Wizard had beside the Wolves to make people regard him as invincible.
Blade turned his attention back to the road. Showers of rain came and went, but the sky remained thickly overcast. Where trees shaded the road, they left it in a murky twilight. Blade rode out of one of those stretches of twilight to find himself on the rim of a wooded valley. At the bottom of the valley a village sprawled among a tangle of fields and orchards.
Blade swung wide of the village, picking his way down the side of the valley to the stream that flowed along the bottom. He crossed the stream a mile below the village, the foaming brown water rising as high as his stirrups. Then he rode up the other side of the valley, keeping under cover of the trees as much as possible.
At last he reached a good hiding place on the trail that led down the hill toward the village. He reined in, and without a word Lorya slipped out of the saddle. He handed her the food, the dagger, and the ax. After a moment's thought he also gave her the necklace. He'd considered taking at least a couple of the bars down to the village and leaving them, but that would not be wise. The dead Wolf's comrades might recognize the gold, and besides, the Wolves never seemed to pay for anything. If he wanted to be taken for a Wolf, he would have to be as greedy and brutal as one, as uncomfortable as the idea was.
Lorya gaped at the necklace and tried to hand it back. Blade shook his head. «Keep it. I won't need it in the village. If I don't come back, you will. You can sell the bars one at a time. I imagine you can find buyers?»
«Yes.»
Blade wasn't surprised. The people of Rentoro might be peaceful under the rule of the Wizard and his Wolves, but they were men, not angels. There would be thieves and there would be receivers for what the thieves stole. There was enough gold in that necklace to take Lorya a long way.
She reached up, squeezed Blade's hand in farewell, and disappeared into the trees. Blade tied the red silk over his face, hiding everything but his eyes. Then he urged the heuda down the trail toward the village at a brisk trot.
His plan was simple. The Wolves might have no idea of who or what they were looking for, since the only three who'd got a good look at him were dead. If by some chance they did know, they would be looking for a man with an ax and a woman, riding double on a war heuda.
Either way, they would not get much help from the people of the village. The villagers would see only a single man, face masked, without an ax, riding a heuda so splashed with mud that no markings would be visible. They could describe this man until they were blue in the face, without making the hunt for Blade and Lorya much easier.
It was not a perfect plan, but it was by far the best Blade could manage with what he had. It would have to do.
The trail grew steadily wider, although it still sloped sharply downward. Blade urged the heuda up to a canter. Not for the first time, he was glad to be riding a heuda instead of a horse. A heuda could trot or canter on slopes where a horse would have to walk or risk breaking a leg.
As Blade rode out of the trees, the ground leveled out. Five hundred yards straight ahead lay the village. Blade urged the heuda up to a gallop and he was in the main street of the village, shouting war cries from half a dozen different Dimensions, before anyone there could react. He jerked the heuda to a stop so violently tha
t it reared up on its hind legs in a spatter of mud.
«Ho!» he shouted. The silk mask over his face distorted his voice, but the sheer volume made everyone whirl to stare at him. He drew his sword and pointed it at the nearest grown man.
«You! I pass on the business of the Wizard!» The man started and swallowed hard at the mention of the forbidden name. «I need food, wine, and dry clothing. Bring it, and make haste or face the Wizard's wrath!»
The dozen people in the street scattered. They could not have run much faster if Blade had opened up on them with a machine gun., They were back within minutes, carrying armfuls of bread, cheese, and dried meat, skins of wine and beer, and enough clothing for a dozen men. Blade ordered them to put what they'd brought into sacks and tie the sacks to his saddle. He sat on his heuda as they worked, arms crossed on his chest, playing as well as he could the role of a master being waited on by his servants. His eyes never stopped scanning the street, though, and his hand never went far from the hilt of his sword. One Wolf, riding alone, might be too much of a temptation for some brave fool. That would be a disaster for everybody, starting with Blade himself.
Eventually sacks hung from Blade's saddle like ripe grapes. He brandished his sword in the air and the people scattered from around the heuda. Blade turned his mount and cantered back up the street, wishing he had eyes in the back of his head and half-expecting every moment to hear the whistle of an arrow. Damn it, there must be something these people would not endure from the Wizard or his Wolves!
He was clear of the village within minutes. He let the heuda climb the trail at a walk, for it was panting and sweat was making trails in the mud on its flanks. Finally he reached the place where he'd left Lorya. As silently as a forest spirit she came out of the trees and climbed up behind him, holding the ax across her lap.
