The Mountains Of Brega rb-17 Read online

  Then the wind shifted and brought to Blade's nose a powerful odor of roasting meat and burning fat. At that point he knew that he could not sit here watching the cannibal feast any longer. He turned and bolted for the safe, secure darkness. He was careless of noise, but the women behind him were too busy stuffing themselves to listen for noises in the darkness around them. Blade was able to get a good hundred yards from the camp before his outraged stomach finally gave up the struggle for self-control. There was not much in his stomach, for it had been a long time since his breakfast in Home Dimension. But it was also a long time before his stomach stopped heaving-a long time after there was anything in it to heave up. At the thought of having to deal with the cannibal huntresses as the highest civilization in this dimension, his stomach nearly revolted a second time.

  But if he could not save the wild men, he could certainly make sure that the huntresses didn't get back home without at least the scare of their lives. Blade ran over his memories of the campsite. As careless as they seemed to be, they would still probably leave at least one woman on guard. But she might not be very alert. And after gorging themselves, the rest of the women would most likely be so fast asleep that a hand grenade tossed among them would not wake them. It should be fairly easy. But Blade still considered every possible pitfall and obstacle to his planned raid on the camp. When it still seemed like a good idea after that, he gave a small sigh of relief. Then he crept in carefully to where he could again see the camp clearly and settled down to wait.

  Blade had to wait longer than he had expected, or found comfortable. Night settled down on the forest, and with it the night's chill and the night's own swarm of insects. In his nakedness, Blade found the chill very uncomfortable. He was exceptionally resistant to extremes of temperature and knew that the chill would not impair his fighting ability, but he didn't like it any better for that.

  The insects were not as bad. Unlike the biting swarms of the day, the insects of the night merely whined endlessly around his head. They got into his eyes, they got into his ears, they got into his mouth and had to be spat out with half-muttered curses.

  Nor were the insects the only wildlife on the move in the forest. Cracking branches and soft footfalls told of animals passing by. Occasionally Blade would see a red flash as eyes reflected the light of the campfire. He was not particularly bothered by this. He knew that he could outfight barehanded most of the wild animals he was likely to meet. But some would be too large. And there was always the possibility that one of the animals might attract the attention of the camp.

  But the huntresses paid no attention to what might be happening in the forest around them. They stuffed themselves with more meat than Blade thought seven women could eat, taking their time at it. They also prepared a broth and spooned several bowls of it into their comrade with the broken jaw. Gradually the meat that had been roasting over the fire vanished, and white, shiny bones piled up. The bare-breasted woman had now pulled on her tunic against the night's chill. Blade saw her take the bones and crack them open with an axe, then pass around the pieces. As the women sucked out the marrow, Blade felt his stomach heaving again. But there was nothing left in it. After a while he got it back under control and continued to watch in grim silence, as motionless as a statue.

  After they had eaten, the women drank and washed their greasy hands and faces with water from skin bags. They collected dry branches from all around their campsite and piled up the fire until it was a roaring orange pyramid shooting flames and sparks ten feet into the air. They dug into their sacks and pulled out heavy hide cloaks. Finally they pulled off their moccasins and tunics, wrapped themselves in the cloaks until they looked like giant sausages, and lay down to sleep.

  As Blade had expected, the women left only one sentry on guard. It was the woman who had gone bare-breasted. She was fully armed, with bow, quiver, sword, and knife. Step by step, Blade began to work his way around the camp to a spot where he could take the guard from behind.

  Each time he stopped, he looked at the camp. It was obvious that the woman's heart really wasn't in her job. The first time Blade looked, she was energetically striding about the camp, hand on her sword hilt, eyes trying to look into the darkness in all directions at once. The second time he looked, she was standing still, but straight as a tree. The third time, her shoulders were drooping. The fourth time, she was squatting by the fire, balancing herself on her bow. The fifth time…

  Moving without making a sound, Blade took nearly half an hour to get into position on the opposite side of the camp. By that time the woman had given up any effort to stay on her feet. She was sitting on the ground, legs crossed, bow laid across her knees, shoulders bowed, and head nodding. She was so obviously fighting to stay awake that Blade could hardly keep from laughing. All he had to do was wait until she dozed off, then move in. He would get no more resistance from the camp than he would get from eight newborn babies.

  He waited a while longer, until he could be sure that the sentry was as deeply asleep as the other seven. The chill was beginning to numb his toes and fingers before he decided to move in. He stood up and worked them to get the blood flowing again. Then he began a slow, stalking approach, step by step, feeling his way forward. There was silence in the forest now, except for the whine of the insects and the occasional crackles of the dying fire. The eight women made no sound, not even a snore or a moan.

  Closer and closer Blade crept. He grinned savagely when he saw that the women had carefully stacked their weapons in the center of their camp. Once he was between them and their weapons…

  Two, three, four more steps, and he was at the edge of the clearing. Four more steps and he would be in striking range of the slumped-over sentry. He could have the whole camp at his mercy within seconds.

  And knowing that made it impossible for him to kill. If the eight women had been coming at him with swords in their hands, he would not have held back from killing them. Anyone who hesitates in such a situation doesn't live to be praised for his chivalry. But, as he had anticipated, the women were and would be as helpless as so many babies. It was hardly in Blade to cut the throats of eight sleeping men. It was beyond him to do the same to eight sleeping women, whatever their vices.

  But there were other ways to deal with them that would make them think twice about their next hunting trip. Blade took those last four steps and came up behind the sentry. His hands flashed down like striking snakes, and his thumbs snapped shut on key nerves. The woman twitched once, then slumped even farther down, into an even deeper sleep.

  Blade strode over to the pile of weapons. He picked up a sword and with it cut all the bowstrings, one by one. Then he threw the bows themselves on the fire. The arrows followed. The fire, which had been dying down, began to blaze up again in a great crackling and snapping. Blade began to pick up the swords and drop them also into the flames. The metal would not burn, but after a few minutes in the campfire it would have no temper left. The women might be able to use their swords for butter knives, but not for weapons.

  He was picking up the fourth sword when one of the women threw off her cloak and sat up. Apparently the sudden flare-up of the campfire had awakened her. Her eyes widened as she saw Blade's tall figure silhouetted against the fire. Then she gave a shriek of surprise and fury and hurled herself forward. Her hand dropped to her belt, and a knife flashed.

  Blade could have spitted the woman like a barbecued chicken if he had wanted to. But he did not thrust with the sword as she rushed wildly at him. Instead, he brought it over and down, striking hard at her knife hand. He wanted to disarm her without hurting her, if possible.

  But she was moving too fast for such precise aim. The sword ripped into her hand, and she gave another kind of scream. She lost her balance, but her rush carried her forward, to sprawl at Blade's feet.

  Instantly he slammed his right foot down on her left hand and aimed his sword at the back of her neck. Her screams had awakened the other women. They were sitting up now, staring a
t Blade. He reached down to pick up another sword and waved it at them. The firelight struck dazzling reflections from the polished steel.

  «Don't move, any of you,» he said. He did not raise his voice or show any anger. He might have been describing the weather. «If you do, she dies first.» He jerked his head downward. «Then the rest of you. Just lie quietly, and you'll all live to get home-with luck.»

  «Who-you?» exclaimed one of the women, shaking her head as if trying to drive away a nightmare. Most of the others merely stared at Blade, as if they still could not believe that they were awake. But the leader's voice was calm when she spoke. Blade instantly marked her down as the most dangerous of the eight.

  «You are not of the Senar, are you?» she said.

  «The ones I saw you rape, kill, and eat? No, I am not of them.»

  «Then what are you doing in Brega, defying the Laws of Mother Mina? And how did you get into our camp without-?»

  Blade grinned, but it was not a friendly grin. «I think it is not your time to ask questions, woman. But I will say this. I came into your camp as I did because your sentry was so glutted with Senar flesh that she fell asleep. A child could have done as much. And I am not a child. I am a warrior of my people.»

  «Your people-?»

  «Are not your concern, woman. Perhaps the guard your party keeps is, though.» The leader nodded, and shot a poisonous glare at the sleeping sentry. Blade could easily see that she would take out this night's humiliation on the sentry the next morning, slowly and painfully.

  He waited until he thought the leader had savored that picture long enough. Then he said, «But I am taking your sentry with me. I should like some company as I travel through these lonely forests.» His face twisted into a goatish leer. The leader winced, realizing what sort of «company» Blade had in mind. «She will live as long as I hear no sounds of pursuit behind me. Now, woman-throw me your tunic and trousers. And be quick about it.» Blade reinforced his words by bringing his sword against the neck of the woman at his feet.

  The leader had enough sense not to argue further. She stood up and threw her tunic at Blade. It landed at his feet. She undid her trousers and let them slide down her legs into a heap on the ground. Blade read in her eyes a moment's hope that the sight of her nudity would distract him. But he kept his face stone hard, and she gave an audible sigh and threw the trousers after the tunic. Blade bent without taking his eyes off the woman, scooped up both garments, then stepped back from the woman on the ground.

  This was the dangerous moment. For a few seconds he would have no hostages to threaten. If the leader was willing to risk or even sacrifice her life, she could force Blade to concentrate on killing her. And then the other women would have their chance, if they could take it.

  Either the leader was not willing, or she judged that her followers would not take any chance she might give them. She remained motionless, glaring at Blade, as he stepped over to the sleeping sentry. He bent down and one massive arm scooped her up as easily as a child. He threw her over his shoulder, then stepped back farther, outside the circle.

  «Remember,» he said quietly. «She lives as long as you don't follow me. You pursue, and she dies. And then the rest of you. One by one.»

  He turned his back contemptuously on the women and was gone into the darkness of the forest.

  Chapter 5

  Blade had done his best to leave the women no equipment for anything except a hasty retreat from the forest, and therefore no alternative. And he hoped that the threat to kill his prisoners would keep them from sending any other hunting parties after him.

  Once out of sight of the campfire, he stopped long enough to pull on the clothes and buckle on the various weapons. As he had expected, the tunic and trousers were a snug fit. But they were less uncomfortable than running around the forest with the chilly breezes, working on his bare skin. And the weapons would enable him not only to defend himself, but also to hunt down the food he and his prisoner would need to keep them alive until-

  Until what? As he finished dressing, Blade realized that for once he had no very clear idea of what to do or where to go. This land, it seemed, was called Brega. The wild men were called-at least by the huntresses-the Senar. The huntresses seemed to prey successfully on the Senar, using them for sport, sex, and food. But Blade had no idea how many of the hunting parties or of the Senar might be in the forest that stretched for some unknown number of miles around him. And he had even less idea of what might lie beyond the forest.

  Blade shrugged and realized that he could not answer any such questions now. He would have to talk to his prisoner before he could hope to understand the way things were in Brega. He bent down and once more hoisted the woman over his shoulder. Then he strode away into the night.

  He kept on the move until dawn began turning the sky high above from black to blue to gray to pale pink. The breeze died away, and the birds began to whistle and chirp in the trees overhead. Although his mouth was turning dry, Blade kept on for another hour, until it was broad daylight. At that point he came to a small stream, bubbling out from a mossy patch under a bush. This seemed as good a stopping point as any and better than most. Gently he lowered the woman to the ground, almost gasping at the relief to his half-numb shoulder. The woman was small and comparatively light, but there is no really light weight for carrying seven miles through a dark forest on one shoulder.

  As the woman touched the ground, her eyes opened and her breathing quickened. But she made no effort to rise or even move. Blade took off his tunic, soaked one sleeve in the spring, and mopped her face with it. Then he rummaged in her pack until he found a small tin cup, filled it with water, and gave it to her. She practically snatched the cup from his hands, spilling half the water in the process. She gulped the rest thirstily, like an animal, without taking her eyes off Blade. He saw there was stark animal terror in those eyes, and almost by reflex his hand moved toward the hilt of his sword. The girl looked ready to risk almost anything to get away-or failing that, to kill him.

  He would have liked to stay here long enough to find some way of reassuring the girl. But he still wasn't sure that they were safe from meeting other parties of huntresses or other parties of Senar. Blade didn't care to risk a fight with the huntresses, and he did not really want to fight the unfortunate wild men. The Senar seemed to have enough troubles of their own without his adding to them.

  So he once more dug into the pack and pulled out one of the weighted throwing lines. Cutting it into pieces with his knife, he tied the girl's hands behind her. Then he tied the other, longer piece around her neck.

  Finally he packed up all the loose gear and hauled the girl to her feet.

  «We must go on,» he said. Blade spoke slowly and carefully, without raising his voice, as he might have spoken to a frightened child. He did not trust the girl yet, nor would he do so for quite a while. But he wanted to get it across to her that he was not going to treat her the way the Senar no doubt treated captured women. The terror in the girl's eyes told him how vicious that treatment must be.

  «We must go on,» he repeated, in the same tone. «I do not want to meet any more of the women of Brega for a long time. But I am not of the Senar. So I do not want to meet them either. You should not try to run away. If you do, you might meet the Senar. If you did, you would have nothing to fight them with. And I would not be there to kill them and save you. I am a hunter in my own lands, and I can use bow and sword. I will protect you from the Senar, I promise you, as long as you stay with me.»

  At this point the girl burst into half-hysterical sobbing and dropped to her knees in front of Blade. When her sobbing had subsided to faint whimpering, she was able to choke out, «Thank you, for Mother Kina. Thank you, for Mother Kina. You are not of the Senar, not of the Senar.»

  «No, I am not of the Senar,» Blade repeated firmly. «And I will not let them catch you or harm you. Now stand up, and let us go away from here, before the Senar find us.»

  Those last words made t
he girl spring up as if she had been stung by bees. Blade grabbed the end of the rope around her neck and wound the last foot of it around his hand. Then he nodded, and the girl stepped out to the full length of the rope and turned away into the trees.

  However careless they might be, the huntresses of Brega were certainly in good condition. The girl kept pace with Blade almost every foot of the day's travel, with no sign of effort or strain except for a sheen of sweat on her tanned skin. Blade kept them going all day, with stops every two hours or so for rest and water. He took advantage of one of those stops to shoot two large black squirrel-like beasts that incautiously peered down on him from a branch above.

  They had to keep going for nearly an hour longer than Blade had intended in order to reach water. It was nearly dark when they found a small, rushing stream and Blade indicated they would make camp for the night. The girl looked as though she could have gone on for several more hours. But the muscles of Blade's legs were beginning to develop hard and painful knots. He sat down with a sigh of relief.

  After a few minutes' rest he rose, tethered the girl to a branch, and began collecting firewood. The bank of the stream was littered with dry needles and wind-fallen branches, and it did not take him long. A few sparks from the flint lighter in the pack, and the needles flared into crackling orange flames. When the fire was going well, Blade pulled out the two giant squirrels and began skinning and gutting them.

  The girl watched him intently, never taking her eyes off the fast-moving knife. Poor girl, thought Blade. She's still wondering if I'm going to start on her with the knife after I finish the squirrels.

  Blade finished the first squirrel, thrust it onto a stick, and braced the stick over the fire. Then he took the knife and stepped over to the girl. She turned pale under her tan, and a cold sweat of stark terror broke out all over her.