by Джеффри Лорд
«Was he taller than you, and hairy like an animal?»
«Yes.»
«Ah, then you found one of the Treemen. Where, and how did he die?»
Blade described his discovery of the two bodies and watched Swebon’s eyes widen. Then the chief sighed. «I thank you for this news, though it is not good. At least now we know for certain that the Treemen took Cran.»
«I am sorry to have been the bringer of bad news,» said Blade. Then he decided that a small diplomatic lie might be useful. «I do not know the proper death rites of the Fak’si, so I said only the prayers for a warrior of the English over his body. We believe that no honorable warrior can be hurt by such a prayer, even if he is not helped by it.»
«Cran was an honorable warrior,» said Swebon quietly. «And so are you. Blade, I still do not know as much about you or the English as I must. But I begin to like you, and think well of your people.»
«I am honored,» said Blade.
Swebon laughed. «Good. And now that you have been honored, you will be fed. He waved one of his men forward. «Bring a chief’s portion to Richard Blade of the English when the meat is ready. Until we are home he sits by me and is as my brother.»
That put any fears of possible treachery out of Blade’s mind. He was able to eat in peace, too hungry to care that the meat was half raw. After the meal, he followed Swebon’s example in rubbing some of the grease into his feet and hands. Then he lay down and slept more peacefully and far more comfortably than he had the night before.
It was still well before dawn when someone shook Blade. He came awake with his fists clenched, and nearly knocked his waker into the ashes of the campfire before realizing that it was Swebon. The chief laughed.
«What did you think I was, Blade?»
Blade sat up. «I don’t know, but I am a warrior on whom few men can lay a hand peacefully.» That sounded pompous, but it was also a way to perhaps prevent «accidents.»
Swebon nodded, apparently satisfied with Blade’s explanation. «That is proper and honorable for a warrior. But I swear I meant you no harm. I called to you, but you did not wake up. I feared your spirit might be sleeping as well as your body.»
«Well, they are both awake now,» said Blade, standing up and stretching. «Are we moving on?»
«Yes. I think that if we leave now, we can be home this day, before the Horned Ones come out.»
Blade looked around. In the pale light he could see men gathering up their weapons and gear. One of the canoes was already afloat, and a gang was pushing a second back into the water. It was on the tip of Blade’s tongue to ask, «What about the Horned Ones now, when they haven’t gone to sleep for the day? But that might sound timid. Swebon was probably eager to get home, and he certainly knew the creatures’ habits much better than Blade.
Nonetheless, Blade borrowed a knife from one of the men and cut points on the main piece of the jawbracer. When he climbed into Swebon’s canoe, he unhooked it from his belt and laid it in the bottom of the canoe, ready to hand. Then all the paddlers started chanting together and the canoes swung out into the river.
As they’d done yesterday, the canoes moved in a single line. They moved more slowly, and the men sitting in the bows as lookouts seemed more alert. No doubt Swebon realized that moving in the twilight before dawn needed extra precautions. With nothing to do but listen to the chanting and watch dawn break, Blade leaned back and relaxed.
Slowly the river turned from black to golden-brown and the ghosts of trees on the banks turned solid. Sometimes Blade heard the Horned Ones calling in the distance, but mostly he heard only the water and the rising chorus of birds. The breeze rose until it was making ripples on the water and blowing away the insects. Blade saw the lookouts beginning to relax. In another few minutes it would be full daylight. If they hadn’t run into any of the Horned Ones by now, they weren’t likely to. Swebon seemed half asleep.
Then the lookout in the bow of the chief’s canoe gave a shout that was almost a scream. The paddlers froze with their paddles in midair, unable to tell from the cry what they should do. Swebon lunged for his spear and Blade snatched up the jawbracer.
With a thud and a crunch of wood the canoe stopped so violently that everyone was thrown forward. Most of the men lost their grip on paddles or weapons, and two went straight overboard with yells of surprise. Blade picked himself up just as the yells of the swimmers changed from surprise to sheer terror. One look over the side told him why.
The biggest Horned One Blade had ever seen was rising out of the water underneath the canoe. Its head was toward the swimmers and the jaws were opening. As the beast rose higher out of the water, Blade heard the seams between the sections of the canoe cracking. Then the canoe split in half, spilling everyone into the water.
As the canoe came apart, Blade leaped to his feet and sprang into the air like a diver taking off from a high board. He landed squarely on the Horned One’s head. Blade weighed two hundred and ten pounds, and the impact of his landing forced the creature’s head under the water and closed its jaws. The two desperate swimmers thrashed off in opposite directions, safe for the moment.
The Horned One swiftly got over its surprise. As if Blade was no more than a bird who’d foolishly landed on its head, it popped to the surface again. Water poured off its back and the river turned to foam as it thrashed its tail. It turned and at the same time raised its head. Blade gripped a horn with one hand and the jawbracer with the other, waiting for the creature to open its mouth and give him his opportunity.
An arrow whistled past, and another sank into the scaly skin inches from Blade’s thigh. He swore, and heard Swebon shout, «Don’t shoot, you’ll hit Blade!» Then the Horned One reacted to the pain of the second arrow, hissed, and opened its jaws in a gape wide enough to swallow a cow.
Blade hurled himself forward, losing skin to the rough scales but reaching the creature’s nose. With one hand he clutched a horn, with the other he shoved the jawbracer into place. The Horned One shook its head, and Blade slid sideways to hang in midair like a man on a trapeze, inches from the jagged six-inch teeth.
Then the Horned One snapped its mouth shut-or tried to. The points of the jawbracer dug into tender flesh, jamming the teeth a good foot apart. The creature hissed again at the sudden pain in an unexpected place, and Blade was nearly suffocated by the foul breath blowing past him.
Now all the Horned One’s attention seemed to be on the jawbracer, and none of it on Blade. He swung far to one side, then swung back like a pendulum. Finally he hooked one leg over one of the horns behind the eyes and perched there. He didn’t know what the creature was going to do next. He only knew that he had to do something first.
Without knowing if anyone would hear him, Blade roared, «Throw me a spear!» A moment later he was nearly knocked from his perch by a rain of spears coming at him from all directions. Several of them left bruises as they sailed past, and one sliced a shallow gash in the back of his thigh. That spear was the one he caught.
He didn’t know for certain what a Horned One’s vulnerable points might be. He did know that any animal, no matter how large or thick-skinned, was vulnerable in the eyes. Blade braced himself, raised the spear as high as he could, then thrust it into the Horned One’s left eye with all his strength and weight behind the thrust.
The creature hissed like a bursting steam line and threw itself backward into a half-somersault. Blade flew high into the air and splashed down among the swimming men from the wrecked canoe. He went deep and thrashed furiously toward the bank as he rose. He didn’t want to be anywhere nearby when the creature went into its dying convulsions, and if it wasn’t dying-It was. When Blade’s head broke surface, he found himself in water slowly turning red. The Horned One floated on its back, tail still waving feebly and blood gushing out of its mouth. Blade couldn’t tell if the jawbracer was still in place or not, but it no longer mattered. It had worked once, and that was enough.
Someone was calling him. He turned to see a canoe app
roaching with Swebon in the bow. He was smiling, and when he looked at Blade his smile seemed touched with awe.
«Blade, I did not understand why a warrior like you came through the Forest with only those weapons you had. Now I think I do understand. You did not need any others.» He reached out to grip Blade’s arms and help him into the canoe. Blade accepted the help, sat down, coughed some of the Yellow River out of his lungs, then shook his head.
«I could not have killed the Horned One without the spears your men threw me-though one of them threw a little too well,» he added, rubbing the wound in his thigh. Fortunately it was so shallow the bleeding had almost stopped.
«You would not have lived to use the spear if you hadn’t used your weapon first,» said Swebon flatly. «The Horned Ones are always dangerous, and this one more than most. If it was out at this time of the day, it is a rogue, very old and very wise. Only nine men of the Fak’si have ever killed a Horned One alone. None of these men killed a rogue, or one so large.»
Swebon put his hands on Blade’s shoulders. «Blade, I do not know how you rank among the warriors of the English. But you will be great among the Fak’si of Four Springs village. Will you in return show us how to make and use your weapons?»
«Certainly.»
Swebon gave his orders briskly. The men of the sunken canoe were divided up among the other three. As many of the weapons and as much of the gear as possible was salvaged. Then the canoes started off again, the paddling chant softer this time. Within a few minutes the floating body of the Horned One was out of sight astern.
Chapter 5
Thanks largely to Blade, none of the Fak’si had so much as a scratch, even those who’d gone for an unexpected swim in the Yellow River. All of them wanted to get home, and none of them wanted to run the slightest risk of being caught out on the river by nightfall and more Horned Ones. So the paddlers settled down to their work, chanting steadily as their paddles bit into the water. The canoes shot downstream as if they’d been propelled by outboard motors.
By early afternoon the paddlers were saving all their breath for their work and the chanting stopped. Somehow the rhythm remained unbroken-a little slower, perhaps, but otherwise unchanged as far as Blade could tell. By now that rhythm must be in the muscles and nerves of every paddler, so deep they didn’t need the chanting to keep to it.
When a man in their canoe started swaying drunkenly, Swebon took over his paddle. The next time a man began to sway, Blade offered to take his place, but the chief shook his head.
«There is no need for you to work-not today.» After a moment, Swebon added, «Also, you are not used to our canoes and our ways with them. You might slow us down, and that would not be good. My men will not be angry with one who has saved them from a Horned One. They will not be grateful, though, if you keep us from getting home tonight.»
«Very well,» said Blade, appreciating Swebon’s tact. «But I admire your canoes and your ways with them. I would learn more of both.»
«In time you shall,» said Swebon. Then he turned back to his paddling.
About mid-afternoon the canoes swung around a last bend in the Yellow River and came out on a larger stream. Everyone was streaming with sweat, and several men were lying in the bottoms of the canoes, fighting for breath. Swebon called a temporary halt, and the canoes drifted on the slow current of the new river while everyone drank. When the water jugs were empty, they were filled with river water and poured over the exhausted men.
«Is this what you call the Great River?» Blade asked Swebon.
The chief laughed. «You have not seen the Great River, or you would not ask that. On the Great River you could barely see the far bank from here. We would never let the canoes drift, either. It would take them in its jaws and crunch them like a Horned One taking a man.
«No, this is only the River of the Fak’si.» He looked up at the sky, squinting to judge the sun’s distance from the western horizon. «If our strength holds, we shall be home before nightfall.»
The current of the Fak’si River was slower than the Yellow’s, so the paddlers had to work harder to maintain the same speed. In spite of this, the knowledge that they were getting close to home seemed to give the men the strength they needed. The canoes glided steadily onward. As the sun dipped below the treetops, they passed the mouth of a small stream and all the paddlers stopped to cheer.
«We are now within the Home Trees,» explained Swebon. «Nothing can keep us from reaching the village tonight, unless the river itself goes dry.»
The river flowed on, the paddles splashed steadily, and as darkness fell Blade saw a yellow glow on the right bank ahead. The canoes swung toward it, the paddlers shouted and were answered from the bank, and more torches flamed into life. As they did, Blade got a good look at a village of the Fak’si.
He knew at once that these people lived all their lives in constant danger from floods, and took great pains to protect themselves. At least half the houses of the village might more accurately be called houseboats. They were huts of leaves and grass tied over reed frames, resting on light platforms balanced across two or three large canoes. Long ropes tied the canoes at the bow and stern to the trunks or exposed roots of trees on the bank. The houseboats could rise and fall with the river-or if the Fak’si wished, they could be untied and paddled off down the river to some place entirely new.
On land some of the huts were actually perched in the trees, if they could be called «huts» at all. They were more like canopies of leaves, tied in place over platforms of logs. Rope ladders or wooden stairs led from the platforms to the ground, and women and children were scrambling down them to greet the returning hunters.
Other huts were raised high off the ground by complicated frames of logs and reeds. The frameworks also served as pens for the village livestock. Blade saw animals and birds scurrying around inside them. The only buildings at ground level Blade saw were simple tents of leaves or open stockades for more livestock. Everything meant to hold human beings could either rise with the river or stay completely out of its reach.
Swebon rose in the bow of the canoe and waved to the people on the bank. All of them, men, women, and children alike, waved back and a few shouted greetings. Swebon commanded them to silence and began telling the story of the hunting party’s adventures. When he got to Blade’s battle with the Horned One, he pointed at Blade and motioned the Englishman to his feet. Blade obeyed cautiously, realizing his legs were cramped from sitting all day. He didn’t want to spoil Swebon’s story by falling overboard in the middle of it!
Swebon finished his praise of Blade, and the people on the bank broke into wild cheering that drowned out the last few words of Swebon’s story. There was nothing for the chief to do except stand, pointing at Blade and waiting for the din to subside. When it did, he signaled to the paddlers and the canoe glided forward until Swebon could leap from the bow onto the deck of one of the houseboats. Several old men threw ropes to the men in the canoes, and several more grabbed Blade by the arms and dragged him onto the houseboat. As his feet touched its deck, the cheering started again.
All day Blade had wondered if Swebon might be exaggerating the qualities of Blade’s feat against the Horned One. The creatures were formidable, but the Fak’si weren’t exactly weaklings. Also, Swebon was obviously a tactful man who wouldn’t be above telling a few white lies to make a stranger feel welcome.
This cheering now suggested that Swebon had been telling the truth. Blade was a hero to the Fak’si. He grinned broadly at the cheers, but his feelings were mixed. Starting off as a hero wasn’t entirely a blessing. It helped keep spears out of his back, as well as giving him more freedom of movement. On the other hand, it tended to make people expect a miracle from him every Thursday. When he couldn’t produce the miracle, disappointment could spread and tempers grow short.
However, for the moment Blade was safe from everything except being trampled to death by the Fak’si greeting him. As he stepped off the houseboat everyone in the villa
ge rushed toward him, in such a crowd that a few people were pushed into the river. Fortunately none of them were hurt and all of them could swim. By the time they’d pulled themselves out of the water, Swebon’s voice and fists were clearing a path for Blade.
Keeping close behind the chief, Blade strode up the main path winding through Four Springs village. The people let him pass, but as he did they reached out to touch him. All the men tried to pat his hair, and some of them were bold enough to try pulling out handfuls of it. Blade winced, told himself that hair must have some religious significance among the Fak’si, and managed not to punch any of the hair-pullers in the jaw. When he reached the top of the path, he still ran his hands through his hair to make sure he hadn’t been plucked entirely bald.
At the top of the path stood three large trees growing so close together that their branches were intertwined. In those branches the Fak’si had built a positive mansion among treehouses-seven platforms, some of them completely enclosed, each of them at a different level and all of them linked by light bridges of something like reddish bamboo.
«This is my house,» said Swebon. «The farthest of the roofs-«he pointed «- is for the use of honored guests of the chief. To get to you, an enemy must pass not only me, but the men who watch in my house.»
«I am honored, Swebon,» said Blade. «But I do not think I need fear much from the Fak’si, at least tonight.» He was tempted to add, «Except having my hair pulled out by the roots.»
«Perhaps not,» said Swebon. «But let us do you the honor you deserve for one night at least. After that you can sleep under the chief’s roof, on the ground, or on the topmost branch of a kohkol tree if you wish.»
«Very well,» said Blade. The chief led him up an actual flight of steps, carved into the foot-thick bark of the largest of the three trees. Then they made their way from platform to platform, deeper into the branches.
