Champions Of The Gods rb-21

by Джеффри Лорд

  In any case, it was hardly surprising that something had gone wrong. With the best of intentions, he had added a whole new factor to what was already a mass of unknowns by trying to help Arllona. What had that done to the computer's effect on him-or on both of them?

  It was a waste of time thinking about it, he decided. He faced a mystery that even in Home Dimension would have been a monumental headache for Lord Leighton himself. It would just have to stay a mystery, for the time being.

  The first thing to do here and now was find Arllona, if she was any place where she could be found. Blade didn't like the thought that he might have snatched her from the flames of the Mouth of the Gods to have her die miserably in this jungle. Looking for her, though, could end up like searching an entire field of haystacks for a needle that might not be in any of them.

  Blade quickly scanned the patch of forest where he'd landed, carefully examining the ground and the trees. Within minutes he found a fresh depression in the moss, one that had the shape of a human body about the size of Arllona's. From the depression a trail of the prints of small bare feet led off into the forest. From a projecting stub of branch hung a tuft of long, dark brown hair-Arllona's, as far as Blade could tell.

  Apparently Arllona had landed some distance from Blade, recovered consciousness first, then wandered off into the forest. Why hadn't she found him and waited for him? There could be various possible reasons for this, none of them particularly pleasant to think about.

  Blade broke off a dead branch and traced the outline of Kano's flame emblem several inches deep in the moss and mold of the ground. If Arllona somehow came back here, she might recognize the sign and realize she should stay. Then Blade broke off another stick, one long enough and heavy enough to be a decent club, and strode off into the forest on the woman's trail.

  Her trail was easy enough for an experienced outdoorsman like Blade to follow. For the first few hundred yards the trail wandered aimlessly back and forth, as though Arllona hadn't been quite sure which way to turn. Then it straightened out and ran straight for nearly a mile.

  At the end of the mile, something had frightened Arllona into a dead run. The footprints showed the long, stumbling strides of someone running in desperation or blind panic. Several times Blade found more tufts of hair, caught on branches or vines and jerked out by the roots as Arllona had plunged onward. He moved on faster, trying to look and listen in all directions at once.

  Another half a mile, and a tangle of fallen branches. Someone or something had plunged blindly into them, hard enough to snap the brittle or rotten wood in a dozen places, hard enough to cut and gouge themselves. The jagged ends of several branches showed the reddish-brown of drying blood. A closer look told Blade that the blood was almost fresh. He was less than half an hour behind Arllona now.

  He quickly circled the tangle of branches and picked up the woman's trail again. She was still running, but her footprints showed an irregular stride, as though she was stumbling or staggering as she ran. Blade was tempted to break into a run himself, but he realized he had to look and listen for her even more carefully now.

  He was also alert for other sights and sounds. Arllona was bleeding and panic-striken. Every forest had animals that followed the scent of blood or were drawn by signs of panic and fear.

  Blade had barely finished this thought when he heard a faint moan from ahead. He stopped and listened. The sound came again. It seemed to be coming from a human throat, but there was nothing human about it.

  It came a third time. Now Blade could be sure that it came from a particularly dark patch of close-grown trees. Blade headed that way, skirting several fallen branches that thrust long thorns out in all directions. Jagged stubs and more red-brown stains showed that Arllona had plunged straight on through.

  Just inside the trees her flight had ended. She lay sprawled facedown at the foot of a tree, covered with sweat, bruises, and still bleeding cuts. Torn earth under her fingers and toes showed where she had kicked and clawed desperately after falling.

  Blade bent down, checked her for broken bones, then gently turned her over. Her breathing came in broken gasps, and her eyes were closed. Blade shifted her so that her feet were higher than her head, then began to clear the dirt and weeds from her mouth.

  As he worked, he heard her breathing become deeper and more regular. Then her eyes flickered open. They would not meet his, though. They wandered aimlessly about, then closed again. Her mouth opened, and the same low animal's moan he'd heard before came out.

  Blade grimaced. By some unknown miracle, Arllona had made the transition with him, from the Mouth of the Gods in Kano to wherever they were now. But it looked very much as though her mind was gone. Was he alone in this unknown jungle with an insane woman?

  The next three days were an ordeal Blade wouldn't have wished on his worst enemy. At one time or another he was in danger of death from just about everything except boredom.

  Arllona's mind was indeed gone. That was clear after the first day. She whimpered, she drooled, her eyes refused to focus. She could walk, but to keep her with him Blade had to tie a length of vine around her waist and lead her like a dog. She would eat and drink only if he put the food and water in her mouth.

  Then there was the deadly windless heat of the forest, the endless twilight, the hunger, the thirst, and the insects. Especially the insects. They swarmed around Blade and Arllona. Some bit, some stung, some crawled over their scratches or into their eyes and noses and mouths, some just whined maddeningly in their ears. They tramped along in the middle of a whining, buzzing cloud. The insect bites spread across their skins until they both looked as if they had some repulsive rash and Arllona's eyes were swollen half-shut.

  On the fourth day they came to a small stream, and the worst of the ordeal was over. The water was muddy and scummy, but they were too thirsty to care. Blade scooped several small fish out of the stream and gutted them with his bare hands. They ate the fish raw. He also scooped up mud from the bank and smeared it on the worst of the insect bites. They looked even worse as the mud slowly dried on their skins, but they itched and smarted less. Most important, the stream offered some sort of direction. Following it gave Blade real hope of getting out of the jungle.

  Just before darkness fell that day, the jungle offered solid proof that this was not Home Dimension. In Home Dimension there was nothing like the forty-foot thing that came crashing and crunching through the trees along the stream. Its hide was scaled, its feet were clawed, its head sprouted a triangle of horns, its jaw opened wide enough to swallow Blade whole and displayed a double set of foot-long teeth. It growled, it hissed, it muttered to itself, it made the ground shake. Fortunately it did not notice Blade and Arllona as they ducked for cover.

  If he had been alone, Blade would have climbed the nearest large tree. But there was Arllona, who had never climbed a tree in her life. Blade had to lead her to the nearest bush and crouch under it with her until the beast went snorting off into the twilight. She was too paralyzed with fear to move or speak until the forest was quiet again.

  They slept under the bush that night. That wouldn't keep them from getting eaten if the creature came back and was feeling hungry. It would hopefully keep them from getting trampled on.

  The night passed quietly. In the morning they awoke, drank again from the stream, and started off. The stream grew steadily wider during the next two days' march. By nightfall on the second day they could see a wide patch of sky overhead. Judging by the position of the sun, Blade thought that they seemed to be heading roughly northeast. Beyond the treetops, Blade caught a faint shadowy hint of mountains on the horizon.

  Blade caught a two-foot fish that night, using a strand of vine for a line and insects for bait. Even raw, the fish was like a feast. In another day or two the stream would probably be wide and deep enough for him to try building a raft. Then they could float the rest of the way down to wherever this water might lead them. It might not lead them to civilization. It should lead t
hem out of this damned jungle!

  The next morning they walked for only an hour before the stream flowed into a full-sized river. It stretched nearly two hundred feet from bank to bank, muddy green and sluggish, running almost due north and south. Far to the north loomed a wall of gray, rocky mountains. In the center the wall reared up into a massive volcanic cone, its summit trailing a long white plume of steam.

  Blade guided Arllona to a patch of soft grass, then stood on the bank, looking up at the mountain and at the blue sky above it. They weren't safe yet. Their journey might not even be half over. But certainly they weren't likely to face anything like the jungle they'd left behind them. Now they would have water and fish for the rest of their journey. Now he could start looking along the bank for logs to tie into a raft. Now he could-

  The unmistakable sound of fast-moving human feet broke into Blade's thoughts. He whirled, eyes sweeping across the jungle behind him. The sound grew louder. He snatched up his club and started toward where he'd left Arllona.

  Before he'd covered half the distance, he heard an explosion of crackling branches off to his left. He whirled again, in time to see four dark brown men dash out of the forest at a dead run. He could see that they all wore feather headdresses and carried long, heavy spears. Three wore brightly dyed loincloths, while the fourth was stark naked.

  Blade knew that he was too far from cover to get out of sight before the men saw him. He would simply be speared from behind. He dropped into fighting stance and raised his club over his head with both hands, twisting his face into a ferocious glare. When they saw him, the four would see a formidable warrior, ready to fight to the death.

  Blade might have been made of glass for all the attention the four men paid him. They spread out along the riverbank, looking toward the jungle and raising their spears.

  Blade had just time to wonder why they were doing this when his question was answered. Something large was approaching through the jungle, something that was clearing its own path through the trees like a tank and making the ground shudder as it walked. Blade heard the crackle and crash of falling trees, the thud of massive feet, hungry growls and grumblings. The naked warrior shouted an order to the other three. They moved farther down the bank, but slowly and reluctantly, looking backward at their leader.

  The leader turned enough to catch sight of Blade. His eyes widened, and Blade saw the muscles of his throwing arm tighten. The spear rose and the point swung toward Blade.

  Then a tree crashed down, close enough to send twigs and leaves flying into the clearing. The growl turned into a deafening bellow. An immense scaled head reared up out of the forest, a triangle of massive horns jutting out ten feet. Toothed jaws opened, wide enough to bite a horse in half.

  The naked warrior raised his spear higher, shook it at Blade, then shook his head and pointed with his free hand toward the beast. Blade got the message. The warrior would fight him, after he was through with the beast. It was his prey, and Blade should stand clear.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The beast was not two hundred feet long and fifty feet high. It just looked that way as it lumbered out of the forest, ploughing a path through full-grown trees like a man ploughing through high grass. Probably it was no more than half that long or high. But the ground shook with each step it took, and when it threw back its head and hissed the sound was like an exploding boiler.

  The naked warrior with the spear looked as small as a mouse as he stood in the beast's path. The spear in his hand looked as puny and useless as a toothpick. He stood his ground, though, raised and brandished the spear, shouted and stamped, and bellowed curses and war cries at the beast. Blade watched, partly fascinated, partly amazed, and partly appalled.

  He knew he should gather up Arllona and slip away along the riverbank. However the battle came out, they could be long gone by the time it was over. The survivors, if any, would be in no shape to chase them. That was the only sensible thing to do.

  For once, Blade could not quite bring himself to be sensible. He had never seen such mad courage or courageous madness as this warrior was showing. He wanted to see how this fight came out, and he hoped he would see the warrior walk away the victor. There wasn't much chance of that, but if it happened he wanted to be there to see it.

  The beast hissed and raised its head again. Blade saw that several spears already jutted from its head and neck. The warriors or their comrades had already struck home, enough to drive the beast and draw it after them, out of the jungle to the riverbank. The beast's jaws and teeth glistened with fresh blood. The fight hadn't been one-sided.

  The world seemed to explode now, as the beast noticed the tiny figure trying to get its attention. Its head rose as high as a three-story building, arching up and out on a neck six feet thick and covered with scales a foot across. The head swayed back and forth, as the spearman continued his furious war dance. Then it swooped downward.

  A second before the head and the man came together, Blade saw what the warrior was trying to do. He was trying to draw the creature into a furious lunge, then leap aside, going in under the horns with a thrust to one eye. With just a little more skill and speed he could have done it.

  The warrior leaped a fraction of a second too late. One of the horns smashed him across the chest, crushing ribs and left shoulder. He sprawled backward on the grass without making a sound or letting go of his spear. He still didn't make a sound as the jaws closed on him, the teeth meeting with a clak as they tore through his body in a dozen places. He didn't let go of the spear, either. A last convulsive jerk of his right arm drove it into the beast's nose, hard enough to pierce the scales. It jutted out at an angle as the beast's head rose, the warrior still clamped tightly in its bloody jaws.

  The beast went on rising until its neck was fully extended. It went on rising until the front legs were clear of the ground. As it reared it swiveled on its massive hind legs. Blade saw thirty feet of armored tail swing like a club, heard bushes and trees crackling and crunching, heard Arllona scream. He realized suddenly that she was directly in the path of the swinging tail, and he hurled himself toward where he'd left her.

  Like the dead warrior, he was a fraction of a second too late. As it swung toward the fear-paralyzed woman, the beast's tail rose into the air. Arllona stayed where she was. Blade saw with relief that the tail should pass clear over her. But as the scaled mass rose, it smashed into still another tree. Wood gave way with a terrible crackling and splintering. The tree tottered, then toppled over squarely on top of Arllona. She had time to scream once in helpless terror. She screamed again as the tree crashed down on her, a long and completely terrible scream, screaming out her life as the falling tree crushed her into the ground.

  The beast's tail swept over Blade's head low enough to brush his hair. The falling tree crashed down close enough for a branch to whip painfully across his ankles. He stood alone, as the tail thudded to the earth behind him, staring at Arllona's arm sticking out from under the tree. Then there was silence, except for the hissing and crunching of the beast as it devoured the last remains of the man who had faced it alone.

  There was no silence in Blade's mind. There was a rage so physical that he could hear it bubbling in his ears like boiling stew. His eyes swept down the scaly length of the beast, looking and remembering. He remembered that the hunter had been going for the eyes. So there was the vulnerable spot.

  A spear in one eye-All the spears he could see were sticking in the creature's head and neck.

  Very well, he would go get one of those. Blade's massive legs churned, and he plunged forward. He sprang onto the beast's tail like an Olympic high jumper. The tail offered him a clear path up on to the broad back. He remembered that dinosaurs were slow-witted and sluggish, unable to respond quickly to a fast-moving danger.

  Blade moved fast. He dashed up the tail, onto a scaled back as broad as the roof of a small house. His rage made him inhumanly clear-sighted and precise in all his movements. At each step each foot landed exac
tly where he aimed it. He never slipped, never stumbled, never slowed down. He heard the three surviving warriors shout in astonishment as they saw him, but he paid no attention to them. All his attention was on the great head that was getting closer and closer.

  He ran off the beast's back, past its front legs, and onto the neck. A single line of three-foot spines ran up that neck. Blade kept on until the neck narrowed too much to give him safe footing. A spear jutted out of the neck just below him. He knelt down, pulled the spear free with one hand, and grasped one of the spines with the other. He began pulling himself along with one hand while he held the spear ready to strike with the other.

  By now the beast had realized that something unusual was happening. It snorted angrily and raised its head, peering in all directions except the right one. Blade kept moving.

  The beast snorted again, hissed explosively, and stretched its neck upward, the head twisting and turning thirty feet above the ground. The movement was so slow that Blade easily kept both his grip and his spear.

  Now he was too close for the beast to turn and see him or close its jaws on him even if it wanted to. For a moment the beast stood motionless, giving Blade steady footing. He released his grip on the last spine, took the spear in both hands, gathered his legs under him, and hurled himself through the air.

  He landed sprawling on his stomach across the scaly nose. From somewhere that seemed incredibly far away he heard more surprised shouts from the three warriors.

  The beast's muzzle was finely scaled and as slippery as wet glass. For a moment Blade thought he was going to slide off and fall thirty feet. Then he dug his spear' point into the scales and stopped his slide. From a yard away a yellow eye more than a foot across stared at Blade. The beast seemed to realize what was happening. It hissed louder than ever and started to rear higher. The sound half-deafened Blade. He ignored it and stood up, each foot wedged firmly in place at the base of a horn. Then he raised the spear over his head and with both arms drove it down into the eye.