Monster Of The Maze rb-6

by Джеффри Лорд

  The moon slid behind a solid bulwark of dark cloud. Blade skimmed along in darkness, a weird and frightening sensation. He might at any moment dash his brains out against a cliff, or any jutting fang of rock could tear the balloon to shreds.

  He could bear the pain in his arms no longer. He tried to work a leg up to get a foot through the straps. It was cold. Sweat dried in a frigid glaze on his body. One of the straps pulled loose from the skins.

  Blade felt it go. His heart skipped a beat. He swung sideways, down a few inches, off center and so pulling the balloon askew and causing it to leak at a greater rate. Smoke billowed into his face. He was no longer rising as the air in the balloon chilled and lost its buoyancy. He began to sink.

  Another strap pulled free of the skins. Blade lurched and dropped and for a moment he thought the last two straps would go. They held. By now the balloon was tilted on its side and losing altitude rapidly. The moon was still hidden and Blade could see nothing in the void below.

  Not one fire gleamed, he saw no torch, he was alone in cold and blackness.

  Down. The balloon was deflating fast and the speed of his fall increased. He could not gauge his rate of fall, but judged that if he struck anything solid now he was a dead man. At best he would be maimed and crippled. The Hitts would find him and feed him to the vultures yet.

  Down-down- The balloon was little more than a shrunken pouch trailing after him in the plunge. It had some braking effect, but not enough to save him.

  The moon peered out of cloud again and Blade saw the water just before he struck it. He landed flat out and was hurt and stunned. He made a great splash. He loosed his hold on the straps and kicked away from the balloon and trod water while he got his senses back. He breathed deep and felt himself for broken bones and found none. He swam back to the balloon and pressed out air pockets with his feet until it filled and sank. Then he swam for the shore, for a glint of beach some five hundred yards distant.

  Blade crawled onto rough shingle and lay gasping. The long confinement had sapped his strength. But there was no rest for him now. The night was before him-he doubted he had been in the air for more than half an hour-and there was much to do. He must get his bearings, find a hiding place, make decisions. He had escaped his prison, but he had not escaped his peril.

  He had nothing. No food, no water, no weapon. He was lightly clad, barefoot, drenched and shivering. And lost.

  The bulbous eye of the moon mocked him. Blade shook a fist at it and went looking. For the nonce he did not fear encountering human enemies; nothing stirred about him, no night birds or animals, nothing but the soft wash of surf. This latter encouraged him. The water was salt and it moved and high water was marked plainly on the beach. Tides. It must be the channel. But which side of it?

  Bit by bit he explored and found that his cove was roughly triangular and slashed well back into tall cliffs. There were great jumbles of boulders and weird rock formations and there must be caves in which to hide if he must. At the moment a cave, and a fire, were vastly appealing. And food. Blade shivered and grinned and forgot it. He had no food and no means of making a fire, even if he were foolhardy enough to show a beacon to every enemy within eyeshot. He took off his shirt, Lisma’s present, and wrung it out as best he could and put it on again and went looking.

  The moon had wheeled away and was beginning to wane when he saw the dark thing lying at the edge of the water. Blade approached it cautiously, though without fear, and saw that it was a dead man. A corpse near rotted away. Fish had been at it, maybe animals, and he had to kneel by it and look closely before he made it out to be a Zirnian soldier. One of the thousands who had died on the beach, or the bridge, and had floated far eastward with current to strand on this lonely beach.

  The undercloth had rotted away, but the armor was still in fair enough condition, albeit the leather sodden and the metal rusted. Best of all, to Blade, was the sword. It was still in the scabbard. As Blade tugged it away, he saw the arrow still in the bony cage of ribs-the man had died before he could draw sword.

  He donned the armor, which fitted well enough with some stretching at the jointures, and plunged the sword into sand to cleanse it. He buckled the weapon about him and felt immensely better. There was no helmet and he did not complain-his luck had been good this night.

  Blade searched up and down the cove for something to eat. Clams, mussels, anything at all. He could have eaten a raw horse. He found nothing, but, finally, a cave formed by two tilting boulders. Into this he retired and slept.

  With first dawn he awoke. He sniffed the gray air and found it familiar, softer, fragrant, lacking the brisk sting of Hitt air. He scratched his beard, sleepy and puffy-eyed, and pondered. Could it be possible? He had been in the air such a little time-but the wind had been stiff when he took off and had increased as he gained altitude. It was, he conceded, just possible.

  Blade came cautiously out of his cave and crawled on his hands and knees down to a rock formation overlooking the beach. There he lay hidden until the sun came up. The warmth was glorious and he reveled in it, turning on his back and letting the rays lave his face. He was nearly asleep again when he heard the muffled clopping of horses on sand and the jingle of armor and weapons. A patrol. Blade scuttled back into his rocks like a lizard.

  He peered down at the beach. There were a dozen horsemen led by a sublieutenant. Zirnians. Blade gazed beyond them, out over the water to where land, looking like nothing more than a cloud bank, showed on the far horizon. His sense of terrain had always been acute and now he remembered the maps he and Ogier had studied by the hour. He had done it. He had crossed the channel and had landed but a few miles from where the sunken pontoon had been built. That was Hitt country over there. He was back in Zir.

  Blade gave a halloo and began to run toward the beach. The troop of horse reined about in surprise and swords were drawn and spears loosed in their scabbards. Blade stopped and raised a hand, then another, his fingers spread and palms revealed. The sublieutenant spurred toward him with a pennon-bearer at his side.

  Blade’s luck was holding. The young officer recognized him at once. He saluted and doffed his helmet.

  «Prince Blade! We thought you slain or a prisoner of the Hitts.»

  Blade grinned hugely. «Prisoner, yes. Corpse, no. Unless I am a ghost. And if I am, I am the hungriest ghost you are ever likely to see. Take me to food at once. What is this patrol and where are you quartered?»

  «We have a camp two hours’ ride inland, sire. I will take you there. The Captain Ogier will be glad to hear of you.»

  The troop reached a defile and turned inland. Blade made a brief inspection of the men and did not like what he saw. Their uniforms were tattered, their weapons dirty and the armor rusty and dented. He noted that some were near to sleeping in the saddle.

  He stared hard at the young officer. «These men look worn out, spent. They should be in rest quarters. And why are there so few of you?»

  «Captain Ogier cannot spare more for beach patrol, sire. He has few enough men as it is.»

  «How is that?» Blade knew that the Zirnian losses had been heavy, but Ogier still had a sizable army when he retreated back across the channel.

  The sublieutenant was looking at him in surprise. Blade scowled. «Talk, man! I know nothing. I have been a prisoner of the Hitts, mind you, and they told me only what they wished me to know. What of matters in Zir?»

  «They go badly, sire. There is a near state of civil war-though it still smoulders and has not broken into open fighting yet.»

  Blade knew then, but still asked the question. «Casta? The black priests?»

  «Aye, sire. The black priests. Casta and his whore, the Princess Hirga, live in the palace-city and work day and night to undermine the army. The Captain Ogier and Casta had a meeting, and the rumors are that angry words were spoken and swords nearly drawn. In the end Casta had his way-the black crows are dispersed all through the army to aid discipline and preach loyalty to Casta. They have been g
iven weapons and armor and-authority and no soldier is free to speak what is in his mind-lest he run afoul of Casta. Many of the men have deserted.»

  Blade forgot his hunger. Anger filled his belly. «And Ogier stands for this?»

  The officer did not meet Blade’s eye. He glanced back at his raggle-taggle men and said, «For the time, sire. Captain Ogier bides his time. He camps now on the Plain of Pyramids with half an army. All who would follow him. He confers daily with Casta and they meet halfway between the palace-city and the Plain, for neither trusts the other. You have returned at a bad time, Prince Blade.»

  Blade smiled faintly. «On the contrary, lad. Maybe it is a good time. We want no civil war in Zir. Perhaps I can stop it.»

  «How sire?»

  Blade could not answer. He had not the slightest idea at the moment. But something would come to him. It always did.

  Chapter 14

  «I had thought you dead before now,» said the Captain Ogier. «But you stand alive before me and so I do not know my Hitts so well, after all.»

  They were in Ogier’s tent on the Plain of Pyramids. Blade, new clothed and armored, anointed and shorn and clipped, and with his belly full, sipped at wine as he told his story. He did not tell the Captain everything.

  When he had done, Ogier clawed at his stubble and nodded and regarded Blade. He was the same Ogier, round as a barrel and taciturn as ever, though now he dressed in grander fashion and, so Blade had heard, called himself General.

  Blade went straight to that point now. «You and I must have an understanding, Ogier. You have taken command of the army and you have done well. I would leave it so.»

  Ogier looked surprised. «But you are son and heir of the Izmir, may his soul repose.»

  Blade shook his head. «I forego that from now on-though for the moment it were best kept to ourselves. But we must work together in harmony, and I would have you understand you will be General and in command. I have tasks to complete, and when I have done them I will leave Zir. What you call yourself then is of no matter to me. King, Emperor, Izmir-what you will. I think you are a good man at heart, Ogier, and that Zir will prosper under you.»

  Ogier smiled and looked pleased. It was, Blade thought, like seeing a block of granite smile.

  «I will be as honest as you,» said Ogier. «I would take no pleasure in giving up the power I have come to since we thought you dead. But in the way you put it-and you have always kept your word-I see no cause for quarrel.»

  They clasped hands and Ogier poured more wine. He tipped his cup and let a little of the wine spill on the ground. «For Thane. He was a good man. I am glad you slew Galligantus.»

  Blade spilt his own libation and they drank. Ogier retired to his camp desk and Blade to a chair. «And now,» said Blade, «let us get to it. Tell me of the black crow, the big one.»

  At that moment, as though summoned by Blade’s words, a black priest came into the tent. Without formality or permission he strode arrogantly to Ogier and spoke in a harsh voice. Blade, caught up in the figure of speech, thought it more a croaking caw than ordinary speech.

  «Casta, the High Priest, comes this night to the Plain. The Princess Hirga will accompany him. Casta will be in his quarters in the monolith of the Izmir and he bids you attend him there when the moon rises.»

  Ogier opened his mouth. Before he could speak the priest held up a hand and turned to stare at Blade. Blade stared back. The priest was hooded, his face cloaked but for the burning dark eyes that examined Blade and missed nothing. The priest turned back to Ogier. «You are to come alone.» He stalked out.

  Ogier cursed for a full minute. Blade listened and grinned. He had been a soldier himself in Dimension H. He waited until Ogier ran out of breath. Then he said, «I begin to see your plight. I was told, but now I have seen. They are arrogant, these crows.»

  Ogier nodded glumly. «And full of guile. And powerful and numerous. I have sought to fight guile with guile, to avoid an open break, but I think I am not the man for it. I had best fight Casta before he seduces more of my troops, whilst I still have at least half an army.»

  Blade had noted the priests on his way inland. At the coastal camp and at every camp on the way-always there were the priests with groups of soldiers around them to listen. The black priests talked and talked and talked.

  «That is your problem. now,» he told Ogier. «Mine is why Casta did not invite me to this meeting. He must know that I have returned. In minutes now he will know that I have been closeted with you. The news will be signaled to the palace-city.»

  «That is no great mystery, Blade. He will seek to talk to us alone, each apart, and make the best bargain he can with each. And to set us at each other’s throats if he can.»

  Blade smiled at the warrior. «That he will never do, my friend. But still I am puzzled-why does Casta come here, to the tomb of the Izmir where he is surrounded by your troops?»

  Ogier poured wine. «We have a truce. I observe such vows and, until now, he had done so. He comes at least twice weekly to the monolith. I know not why, but it must be that there is something there he needs, must have or must do, something that can only be done there. I have not inquired nor will I. I do not wish to know, for I have heard stories that chill my blood and I am not a superstitious or unnatural man.»

  Blade remembered that living skeleton seated behind the table and fondling a skull. The eyes like dark coals aflame. He thought of Hirga and her scorn and the foul smell, and the scales littered about her bed. There was something in all this that mystified and frightened him. That was Dimension-X thinking.

  There was a natural, or an unnatural, explanation for everything. Logic of a particular context, a relative frame of reference, a way of doing and seeing and understanding that made sense within its own limitations. That was Home-Dimension thinking.

  Blade made up his mind.

  He went to Ogier and clapped him on the shoulder and gazed deep into his eyes. «Ogier, there are some things I would ask of you. The first is that you hear me out and make no objection until I have finished.»

  Ogier nodded. «Ask then.»

  «When does the moon rise tonight?»

  The General fumbled through a pile of charts on his desk. «It is late tonight-a little past the night noon.»

  «Good. Now, you have no objections if I kill a few priests?»

  Ogier shook his head and did not speak.

  «I thought not. And you have no objections if I kill Casta, the blackest crow of all?»

  Ogier stared with wide eyes. «I do not object. I would like to do it myself. But how? You cannot come at him. He is too well guarded. And even an attempt on his life will begin the war I have been seeking to avert.»

  Blade studied the tent wall for a moment. Had that bulge been there before? He moved closer to the bulge, signaling to Ogier for silence. Dusk had fallen and the night was purpling fast. Blade drew his dagger.

  He spoke loudly. «I do but jest, Ogier. We would both like to kill Casta, but it would be wiser not to. We must deal with him. Make bargains. And keep our vows at least until he breaks his.»

  Blade thrust his dagger hard into the bulge. There was a muted scream. The bulge slithered and collapsed and was gone. Blade raced out of the tent.

  Nothing. Nothing but some blood on the tent wall and the ground. Blade cursed. Ogier, behind him with drawn sword, explained it.

  «Some of the crows wear armor now under their robes. This one did. It turned your point enough.»

  He turned to the soldier who had been standing sentry before the tent. «You saw nothing of a black priest slinking about?»

  «Nothing sires. I have only just come on duty.» The man did not meet their eyes.

  Ogier took his name and company and they went back into the tent.

  «A month ago I would have had him flayed,» Ogier grumbled. «Now I take his name and will do nothing but transfer him to dirty jobs. He has been won over by the priests.»

  Blade filled his wine glass. «I am right, Ogie
r. We must act, and with speed. I will kill Casta this night. You must make your plans accordingly.»

  Ogier shook his head in wonderment. «Being a prisoner has affected your thinking, Blade. The man escaped. He had heard enough. Casta will be warned and ready for you.»

  «I agree. But even so I must do it. There is a time for swift and direct action, Ogier, and this is such a time.»

  «But how? I have just said it-Casta will be warned. You will walk into a trap.»

  «That is part of it,» said Blade. «If I go alone-and I will-he will let me get so far before he closes the trap. I have seen a side of Casta that you have not, and I think that he does not really want to kill me yet. I have knowledge that Casta yearns after. He would have me prisoner, broken and weak, perhaps tortured, but he wants me alive and able to speak. He will let me into the tomb of the Izmir. It will pleasure him. So long as he thinks he has the upper hand and can take me any time he chooses.»

  For a long time Ogier did not speak. Then: «I would not have you do this, Blade, but I cannot stop you. If you can kill him it will be a boon for Zir, though I think you had best kill the Princess Hirga also. And I will have to act in unison with you and pray for luck.»

  Blade eyed him. «You advise against it. I listen and I discard that advice. I go. And you, no matter your misgivings, are with me?»

  Ogier put his sword on the camp desk. He laid his hand on it at the hilt. «By this weapon I swear it. Come success or death. It is time. I have taken enough from that crow.»

  «Then come to my tent for an hour, Ogier, and we will whisper. It is quieter there and less suspect. Pick us a guard of six men you can trust.»

  «I think I can find that many,» the General said dryly. «The crows have not yet corrupted all of them.»

  It was full dark when Ogier left Blade alone. Blade bade him take the guard with him. «I will not need them. From now on I act alone and involve no other man. See that you keep your promise to care for the woman, Valli.»

  «I will keep it.»