The Lords Of The Crimson River rb-35 Read online

  Blade started moving through the trees to his right, to get clear of the burning barn at least. As he moved, he started hearing the sounds of battle. When he reached a place opposite the village square, he saw that the village was the scene of a battle between two bands of medieval-looking armored knights. Both sides were mostly on foot, with only a few mounted men. One side wore black plumes on their helmets, while their opponents wore green gloves on their left hands.

  Otherwise there wasn't much difference between the two bands. Both wore knee-length coats of mail with plate reinforcements on their lower legs, forearms, and chest. Their helmets were all open-faced. Either archery wasn't used, or they preferred clear vision to protection against an arrow in the face. From the way they moved and used their weapons, they were all trained and experienced fighters.

  Blade was particularly well qualified to judge their fighting skill. He'd been a member of the Medieval Club during his days at Oxford, and worked out several times a week with replicas of medieval swords, maces, and shields. This skill had saved his life in several Dimensions. It now looked as if this might be another one where such skill would be useful.

  Most of the villagers seemed to have already left, either fleeing or, perhaps, being carried off by the knights. Blade decided to follow them. He couldn't see any way to join the fight in such a way that one side would become friendly to him. Even if he did join in, he wasn't sure how much good this would do. Feudal knights could be thick-armed, thick-headed types who saw any nonknight as dirt beneath their feet, whatever he did for them. Blade didn't plan to end up in some baron's dungeon, suspected of being an escaped serf!

  The noise of the fighting seemed to die away as he made his way along the fringes of the village. After a while he left the trees behind and skirted the edge of the grainfields. The grain was as tall as he was, and fortunately hadn't caught fire yet.

  Blade was about to head off into the grain, away from the village, when he suddenly stepped out onto open ground. Half a dozen houses straggled out into the fields on either side of a dusty trail. In the middle of the trail, two knights were fighting furiously. Both were on foot and both had blood leaking from their armor, but this didn't seem to be slowing them down much. The green-gloved knight had a morningstar, a spiked ball on the end of a length of chain, attached to a short handle. His black-plumed opponent was wielding a mace and shield.

  Blade slipped into one of the cottages and watched the fight from inside its doorway. The knight with the morningstar seemed to have a slight edge. At least he was slowly backing his opponent toward Blade. Blade decided that he might have a good chance after all to make a friend in this Dimension by saving the knight with the mace. Even in the most custom-bound medieval societies, serfs who saved knights were often richly rewarded. Blade sucked at teeth caked with soot and smoke. He decided that for now he'd be satisfied with the reward of a large drink, the answers to a few questions about this Dimension, and no questions asked about himself. He drew his knife and got ready to join the fight.

  Then suddenly the whole situation changed. The knight with the mace swung it at his opponent's morningstar as the ball flew toward him. The chain wrapped around the mace, jerking it out of the knight's hand but also immobilizing the morningstar. Before the knight could drop his morningstar and draw his dagger, his opponent ran forward and smashed the steel boss of his shield into the other's face. He crashed backward onto the ground, spitting out blood and loose teeth. His opponent stood over him, placed one foot on his weapon arm, and knelt to finish off the fallen man with his dagger.

  The dagger was only inches from the fallen knight's face when a dark shape seemed to fly through the air from the roof of Blade's cottage. It landed on the back of the kneeling knight's neck, and he leaped up with a scream. Then he screamed again and started stabbing futilely at the attacker with his dagger. Blade saw that the animal had a tail, then saw it reach an arm around the helmet. The knight screamed a third time, a horrible shriek of agony and fear, and whirled around. A thin, almost needlelike dagger was sticking out of his right eye. Blade saw that the dagger was smeared with something green and slimy, and realized it was probably poisoned. Then the animal which had stabbed the knight jumped down to the ground and drew all Blade's attention.

  It was a living creature, about two feet from head to toe, with a long tail waving behind it. It had roughly the shape and appearance of a Home Dimension monkey, but from where Blade stood it seemed to be entirely covered with feathers. Certainly there were tufts of bright blue-and-green feathers at elbows and knees, and a feather crest on top of its head. It also seemed to be wearing a metal belt of some kind. The whole creature was so unlikely that for a moment Blade wondered if the transition to Dimension X was giving him hallucinations. Then he decided not. The universe was large and strange, and it was never wise to say that something was impossible. If he saw a combat-trained monkey with feathers, he'd assume it was really there.

  The stabbed knight staggered about for a minute, screaming, then moaning, then drooling silently. Finally he collapsed, his face turning a sickly yellow, and went into convulsions. By the time he lay still, his opponent was sitting up, exploring his ruined mouth with one hand while the other hand fumbled for his fallen weapon.

  He stood up abruptly as he caught sight of the monkey and backed off several steps. It looked to Blade as if he wanted to keep his distance from the monkey, even if it had killed his enemy. The monkey ignored him, scampered over to the dead knight, and began tugging at his dagger. The knight took another step backward. As he did so, he caught sight of Blade standing in the doorway of the cottage.

  His response was simple and straightforward. He snatched up his morningstar, whirled it around his head, and charged at Blade.

  The monkey's response was just as simple. It forgot about its dagger, leaped into the air with a yeeeep of fear, and came down running. Blade didn't see where it went after that: He was too busy with the knight.

  Blade would have faced the knight with only his commando knife except for one piece of luck. As the knight swung his morningstar, the mace untangled itself from the chain and flew straight at Blade. He ducked, then caught it almost before it hit the ground. By the time the knight was within striking distance, Blade was ready to meet him.

  Blade decided against fighting inside the cottage, although in there the knight wouldn't be able to swing the morningstar. That way he'd lose any claim to honorable treatment. The knight would probably just call up his friends and have Blade butchered on the spot like a wild boar. Instead, he charged out of the cottage door, moving sharply to the right. The spiked ball of the morningstar promptly whizzed past his ear. The knight's wounds seemed to be affecting his accuracy but not his strength: If that ball connected…

  Blade made two complete circles around the knight, willing to trade a little time for more knowledge of his opponent. The knight had armor and Blade had none. He'd be lucky to get more than one good chance at the man.

  At last Blade saw that the knight tended to aim low. He dropped into a crouch, then leaped aside as the ball swept down and bounced violently off the hard-packed earth. For a moment the morningstar was out of control and the knight stood wide open. Blade closed, slammed one hand up under the knight's right arm, and swung the mace hard at the knight's temple. Blade felt sharp edges on the armor gouge his hand, but he also heard metal crunch under the mace. The knight toppled sideways in a cloud of dust and a clattering of armor.

  Although blood was running from his nose and ears as well as his mouth, the knight was still breathing steadily. Blade dragged him into the cottage, roughly bandaged his face wounds with clothing torn from his dead opponent, and left him there. At least he'd be out of the sun and not likely to get trampled by stray horses. With luck, someone from his own side would find him before the battle ended. In any case, he wouldn't be talking to anyone until Blade was long gone from this village.

  The thought of stray horses reminded Blade that there might be qu
icker ways of getting out of the village than walking. Getting out of the village quickly was now even more important than before. The screams of the poisoned knight must have made enough noise to be heard all over the village. Someone would investigate before too long.

  Blade found a horse with black plumes on its bridle tethered behind the third cottage along the trail. He approached it cautiously, remembering that a knight's trained war-horse was sometimes a one-man animal. At best it would be highly suspicious of strangers, although Blade trusted his horsemanship to keep him in the saddle if the horse let him mount at all.

  Blade was standing quietly in front of the horse, letting it get used to his scent, when a feather-monkey darted around the end of the cottage and dashed under the horse's belly. It leaped high, stabbing with its dagger, and as it came down it rolled out from under the horse. The horse reared with a scream of pain and surprise. Blade jumped back as the horse reared again, waving its forefeet and snapping its teeth in his face. It reared a third time, the railing to which it was tethered snapped like a rotten twig, and it bolted. The feather-monkey jumped up and down, squealing and squeaking in triumph.

  That was its last mistake. Blade swung the mace, then threw it as hard as he could. It was as accurate as the commando knife, which wasn't designed for throwing, and much heavier. It caught the monkey across the back. The triumphant squealing turned to a pitiful yip-yip-yip which went on until Blade ended it with his knife.

  This was the second time in less than twenty minutes that he'd seen one of those feather-monkeys show training or possibly even intelligence. It was better to assume that the monkey who attacked the horse could also warn its human masters about Blade. By killing it he'd gained another few minutes head start.

  Blade used a couple of those minutes to make a quick search of the nearest cottage. Between the villagers carrying off their valuables and the knights looting everything else, there wasn't much left. He did find half of an old blanket, a cracked bow with a still-sound bowstring, and a foot-long chunk of sausage which smelled fresh.

  Outside again, he wrapped the dead monkey in the blanket and tied it up with the bowstring. Then he stuck the sausage in his belt, sheathed the knife, and started off down the trail at the mile-eating lope he'd learned from the warriors of Zunga.

  Five minutes later, six knights rode in among the cottages. They were too far away for Blade to make out which side they were on, and they showed no signs of seeing him. By then he was far enough away that they probably took him for one more stray villager, not worth chasing down.

  Chapter 5

  Fields and orchards stretched out for miles around the village. Beyond them to the east lay a range of rugged wooded hills. Blade headed for these hills, which offered the best cover in sight.

  By the time he reached them it was late afternoon. Several times he'd had to turn aside or hide to avoid being discovered by bands of roughly clad men and women. If they were all refugees from the village, most of its people must have escaped before the two bands of knights started fighting up and down its streets. Blade only hoped they would have homes to return to, instead of heaps of smoking ashes.

  From halfway up the side of the first hill, Blade looked back to the village. The smoke from the burning houses now formed a dark pillar, miles high. On either side of the pillar, he saw the glint of sunlight on armor as the two bands of knights marched off. He saw one band heading almost straight toward him and decided to get farther into the hills before they arrived.

  As he scrambled across the rocky, brush-grown slopes, he had time to bless the sandals Lord Leighton's new invention let him wear. His feet were tough as leather, but on this kind of ground even he couldn't move as fast as he wanted.

  At sunset Blade sat under a tree and looked down at a winding pass through the hills as a party of the green-gloved knights passed. He counted about eighty of them. All were dust-coated and looked weary, some wore bloody bandages, and a few were riding double on lathered horses.

  He also counted about thirty squires or servants, wearing boiled-leather jackets and light helmets. They guided pack horses carrying baggage, half a dozen women prisoners, and at least twenty of the feather-monkeys. Without the feather-monkeys, Blade might have wondered if he hadn't traveled into the past instead of into Dimension X. There was nothing else about the cavalcade that would have raised eyebrows in fourteenth-century Europe.

  They stopped at a stream less than a hundred yards down the slope from Blade to water their horses. They also transferred some of the monkeys to a single packhorse. Then half a dozen knights with comparatively fresh mounts rode back toward the village, leading the horseload of monkeys. By the time this patrol or rear guard was out of sight, the main body was also on the march again. Blade waited until they were both gone, then slipped down the hill to the stream and drank. When he was no longer thirsty, he filled his canteen and scrambled back up the hill into the trees until the pass was a good mile away. The pass and the stream would naturally draw anyone on the move tonight. Blade wanted to sleep undisturbed, then worry about getting to know the people of this Dimension in the light of day.

  He found a place where at least none of the rocks had sharp edges or points and made himself as comfortable as he could. He also made a mental note that one of the first new pieces of equipment for the next trip would be a sleeping bag or at least a sleeping pad. There was no good reason for losing sleep unnecessarily, no matter how tough you were.

  After a couple of bites of the sausage, he decided that could also wait until daylight. The sausage seemed to be one of those preserved foods which never quite goes bad but never tastes very good either.

  By now it was completely dark. He lay down again, curled up into a tight ball like a cat, and drifted off to sleep.

  Blade woke once during the night, thinking he heard a distant clanging of weapons on armor. It faded so swiftly that he couldn't be sure. After listening briefly to a silence broken only by night birds and the breeze in the treetops, he went back to sleep. When he woke again, it was the dawn of a fine summer day.

  The first thing he did was eat some more of the sausage. He was now hungry enough to ignore its taste, if not to actually enjoy it. The second thing was to examine the corpse of the feather-monkey.

  This told him some things he hadn't known before, if not as much as he wanted to know. The feathers were definitely a natural growth, not a garment or a graft. They also showed signs of careful clipping and grooming. Otherwise there was nothing extraordinary about the creature. Its eyes were so large that it was probably at home in the darkness almost as much as in daylight. The forehead also looked higher than Blade remembered seeing in most primates, which hinted at a larger brain. That was no more than a possibility, however, and even if the brain was larger that didn't mean intelligence. He hadn't seen the monkeys do anything which couldn't be the result of very careful training. That didn't make them any less dangerous, since they were small targets, they moved fast, and with those poisoned daggers, they only had to reach you once.

  Since the dead monkey was beginning to smell, Blade left it under a tree and walked downhill toward the pass. His first sight when he reached it was a dead horse, lying with its head in the stream and flies buzzing around its hindquarters. It showed no signs of any wounds. Blade only hoped it was dead from exhaustion rather than from a poisoned stab by one of the feather-monkeys. As he walked up the pass, he studied every bit of cover large enough to hide a man or even a monkey.

  Before he'd gone half a mile, he came to an even less welcome sight. A naked woman lay sprawled on her back beside the trail. She'd died from having her throat cut, but she must have been already half-dead from mass rape before the knife went in. Blade picked her up and carried her into the trees where she could at least lie unseen. The ground was much too rocky for burying anyone with no tools but bare hands and a fighting knife.

  He was even more watchful after he returned to the trail. He also wished he had a long-range weapon, perhaps
the crossbow he'd mentioned to Lord Leighton. Of course nothing short of a machine gun would do justice to his feelings toward the gang rapists. But that would never be a practical weapon to take into Dimension X. It would be useless as soon as the ammunition ran out, and it would be far beyond local technology in most Dimensions.

  Blade didn't worry about changing Dimensions by introducing new technology. He did that all the time, either to save his own skin or sometimes to solve a problem which had to be solved if the people of the Dimension were to survive. He did worry about getting rounded up and perhaps burned at the stake as a sorcerer, for bringing something so advanced the people would call it magic.

  The pass and its trail zigzagged back and forth so much that he found himself covering at least four miles on foot for every mile he advanced in a straight line. He'd started early in the morning, but it was past noon before he reached the top of the pass. The trees and boulders on either side made it a perfect place for an ambush. Blade therefore approached cautiously, looking for a stream. It was a hot day and he looked forward to a long, cool drink of water, rather than sipping sparingly from his canteen.

  Then he heard the sounds of a battle from the far slope. A man was shouting, more in rage or pain than in fear, weapons were clanging on rocks, and feather-monkeys were chattering and squeaking furiously. He left the trail and cut through the underbrush until he could see down the trail beyond the top of the pass.