Gladiators Of Hapanu rb-31 Read online

  This warfare hardly seemed to deserve the name. In some ways it was a wide-open affair-the tribes raided where they wanted, when they wanted, and against any other tribe it took their fancy to bother. There was nothing like permanent alliances, or for that matter permanent hostilities.

  On the other hand, when warriors of the tribes did meet, the fighting was comparatively formal and restrained. Bows were often not used at all, and spears usually only when defending or attacking a village. Much of the fighting was done with clubs and shields, and this led more often to broken bones than to broken heads.

  Accidents happened, of course, and people did get killed. Women and children were frequently kidnapped from one tribe and carried off to the villages of another. Livestock was slaughtered or stolen, canoes set adrift, and even houses burned.

  Yet no raid ever destroyed more than a small part of any tribe’s wealth. Houses and canoes could be replaced within weeks. Even the kidnapped women and children found themselves at home in their new tribes within a year or two. Lokhra herself had been captured as a girl from the Yal, and one of Swebon’s grandmother’s had been the daughter of a chief of the Banum.

  So the warfare among the tribes of the Forest People was really a sort of rough outdoor sport, occasionally bloody but hardly dangerous to the future of the tribes. No doubt the Forest People would start fighting more seriously if their population ever grew large enough, but right now there was a great deal of Forest and not very many Forest People.

  The fighting against the Sons of Hapanu was another matter. Here the Forest People were deadly serious, and would have gladly killed much more often than they did. Unfortunately, the Sons of Hapanu were too strong.

  The brown-skinned people who called themselves the Sons of Hapanu were from a land across the ocean to the east. They’d come to the mouth of the Great River about two hundred years ago and built a city there. By now the city was enormous-half the world lived in Gerhaa, according to the tales of the Forest People. To Blade, this meant at least fifty thousand people. It was also called the Stone Village, because it was strongly fortified with stone walls and towers. Most important, it was a deadly and growing menace to the Forest People.

  The Sons of Hapanu raided up the Great River in search of two things-slaves and firestones. When they caught Forest People, all those too young or too old to be useful were killed. Warriors became gladiators who fought in the Games of Hapanu, and other able-bodied men became laborers. Women became household servants, unless they were young and beautiful. In that case they were trained as prostitutes.

  The firestone was a jewel found in large chunks on the bottom of many of the smaller streams in the Forest. It had the rich blood color of the finest rubies, but it was considerably harder, too hard for the Forest People to work. The Sons of Hapanu could work the firestone, and valued it highly both as a jewel and for religious purposes. They eagerly sought it in the streams and carried it off to Gerhaa in large quantities. They called it the Blood of Hapanu. The Forest People had no particular use for the firestones themselves, but they felt that the Sons of Hapanu were offending the Forest Spirit.

  Unfortunately there wasn’t much the Forest People could do. The Sons of Hapanu had powerful crossbows, which could kill at a much greater range than the bows of the Forest People. They carried short thrusting swords, which could penetrate the hide shields and were much handier than the spears and clubs. They wore iron helmets and shirts of iron scales sewn onto leather. Finally, they fought in disciplined ranks, while the Forest People fought every warrior for himself. So even when the Forest People had the edge in numbers, the Sons of Hapanu usually won.

  In spite of this, their raids had been more of a nuisance than a menace until the last few years. The Forest was large, and although the soldiers from Gerhaa fought well there weren’t too many of them. No tribe had lost more than a few dozen people in a year.

  Now things were changing rapidly for the worse. A new ruler in Gerhaa was sending out more and larger bands of soldiers, and bringing still more across the ocean. The raids came more often, and last year the Kabi had lost a whole village. Did the new ruler of Gerhaa want to conquer the whole Forest and kill or enslave all the People? No one knew.

  No one knew how to keep him from doing it, either, if that was his plan. This wasn’t because everyone was paralyzed with fear. It was obvious to Blade that everyone desperately wanted to fight off the Sons of Hapanu. It was just as obvious that no one knew how. Weapons or tactics to meet the soldiers of Gerhaa simply weren’t on hand. Blade decided the best thing he could do was come up with some, and keep his mouth shut in the meantime.

  To make matters worse, the Forest People had to do serious fighting against another opponent beside the Sons of Hapanu. They had to fight the Treemen, and Blade soon learned all he needed to know about this enemy.

  Blade spent several days in the Swebon’s house, then suggested that it was time for him to move to a place of his own. He did not mention that one reason for this was Guno’s increasingly open suspicion of him and what his coming might mean to Four Springs Village. In theory, Blade would be safe as Swebon’s guest, but in practice any incident while Blade was under his protection would be an embarrassment to the chief. That would be making a poor return for Swebon’s trust and hospitality, and matters might go beyond that. Guno was a mighty warrior, with more victories to his credit than any other two men of the village. He had friends who might not be ready to make trouble for Swebon, but would certainly not hold back from making trouble for Blade.

  Fortunately Blade had no trouble finding his own quarters. Everyone was glad to oblige a man who’d slain a rogue Horned One single-handed, and as it happened the carpenters had just finished a new houseboat for the eldest of the village blacksmiths. Unfortunately the blacksmith died the day before the houseboat was finished, so the carpenters were happy to offer it to Blade.

  Blade moored his new home at the far north end of the village, and put on longer ropes to allow it to float well clear of the bank. He also made a rough «burglar alarm» in the form of a long stick with sharp nails sticking up through it. By day he kept it covered with a thick grass mat, but at night he removed the mat. Anyone jumping from the bank to the bow of the houseboat would land on the nails, and after that his yells would be enough to bring Blade out armed and ready.

  «You are farther from the light of the village than I am happy to see,» said Swebon. «I would not see you taken by a Horned One.»

  «It will take a strange Horned One to attack me so fast that I do not wake and leap to shore,» said Blade. «In any case I do not fear Horned Ones as much as I do men-or at least one man.» He didn’t want to say any more, but judging from Swebon’s expression he didn’t need to.

  Blade took his spear and club, pots and bowls, sleeping mat and water jug to the houseboat on his fifth day in Four Springs village. He passed a quiet night and spent the next day talking with the village bowmaker. The man had many complaints about the poor quality of the wood the carpenters were bringing him.

  «Oh, if there was wood in the Forest to make a bow strong enough to send an arrow through a Treeman or the metal shirt of a Son-! But the carpenters say there is none, and perhaps they know. If there was such a wood in the Forest, they would have found it long ago.»

  «Very likely,» said Blade politely. He’d been thinking about the bow problem ever since he heard of it. He didn’t want to raise anybody’s hopes, though, until he knew a good deal more. So he and the bowmaker talked of other things over a leisurely dinner, then Blade returned to his houseboat for the night.

  He’d just fallen soundly asleep when an explosion of shouting and screaming jerked him awake. He grabbed his club with one hand and his spear with the other, then whirled toward the bow. Any attack would be coming from there. After a moment he realized that whatever was going on wasn’t aimed at him, at least not yet. Keeping down, he crept forward and peered through the screen of leaves.

  In the pale light of the
campfires, people were running around as if flames were licking at their heels, shouting and crying out to one another. Mothers were clutching children, while stark-naked warriors with clubs, spears, and shields were herding clusters of weeping women ahead of them. For a moment Blade thought the village was being raided by another tribe. Then he heard shouts of «The Treemen! The Treemen! Gather by the river! The Treemen are upon us!»

  Blade knew that the Treemen were seven-foot apemen like the one he’d found dead at the little camp on his first day in this Dimension. He didn’t know much else about them, except that they were deadly enemies of the Forest People. He did know that he was going to need his weapons before long. He bent down and began pulling on the ropes to the bank. Slowly the houseboat crept toward the land.

  Blade was no more than ten feet from the bank when a moving shadow in the branches of a tree caught his eye. The shadow froze as if it sensed Blade’s eyes on it, then started moving again as three women and two gray-haired men came toward the base of the tree. Blade opened his mouth to shout a warning and raised his spear to throw, but the Treeman was quicker than Blade.

  Like a pouncing lion he leaped down from the tree into the middle of the five people below. A sweep of one long arm knocked a woman and a man flat, while the other arm clutched another woman around the waist. She screamed, clawed, and bit. The Treeman tightened his grip, ignoring the woman’s struggles until her teeth finally worked through the hair into his skin. Then he let out a roar more like an animal than a man and smashed his other fist into the woman’s head. She went limp, either stunned or frightened into paralysis. The Treeman reached for a branch overhead with his free hand.

  As he started hauling himself and his victim up into the trees, an arrow whistled from behind a hut. The Treeman roared again as the arrow hit him in the left shoulder, but didn’t stop or drop the woman. With the arrow still in his flesh he hauled himself up into the branches and disappeared into the darkness.

  Blade rose to his feet and leaped to the bank. As he landed, the fallen man and woman started struggling to their feet and the archer from the hut darted out into the open. Blade reached for the woman, then the roars of more Treemen made him turn.

  This time there were three of them. Blade hurled his spear with all the strength of his right arm. It drove into a Treeman’s thigh so deeply that the bloody point came out through his buttock. He took a couple of staggering steps forward, then dropped to his hands and knees and started crawling. Blood poured out around the spear and he roared with pain at every movement, but he kept on coming.

  The other two Treemen swung to either side of their maimed comrade. The archer nocked an arrow to his bow and sent it squarely into one Treeman’s stomach at close range. The Treeman howled, charged, plucked the arrow out of himself with one hand, and snatched the bow from the archer with the other. The archer gave a wild, wordless cry and raised his club.

  Against the Treeman the club was no more use than a toothpick. The Treeman grabbed it and the hand holding it, jerking the archer off his feet and holding him-at arm’s length in midair. Then the Treeman started smashing his fist into the dangling man’s face, throat, ribs, and stomach. The man screamed, spraying blood through smashed teeth, then choked and fell silent as his chest caved in.

  That was all Blade was able to see before he had to meet the third Treeman’s attack. He backed away, to give himself room and make sure the first Treeman wouldn’t try grabbing him by the ankles. The Treeman followed, arms spread wide, hissing and rumbling in his throat, pale eyes and black-lipped mouth both wide open. The mouth was lined with broad but sharp-pointed yellow teeth.

  The Treeman and Blade circled around each other twice, then suddenly the Treeman was coming at him. Blade leaped high and to one side, swinging his club as he did. The weighted head crashed down on the Treeman’s left arm and Blade felt bone give under the blow. The Treeman roared and swung to clutch at Blade with his right hand, left arm now dangling useless. Blade feinted at the Treeman’s head with his club, and saw the right hand shoot out to grab it. Blade pivoted on one foot, kicking at the Treeman’s groin and karate-chopping at the right elbow simultaneously.

  The chop missed, the kick connected. The Treeman howled and doubled up, but not before his right hand clutched Blade’s left wrist. Nails as long and sharp as claws gouged Blade’s flesh. He knew that within seconds he’d be pulled within range of those teeth and decided attack was the only defense. He sprang forward, his legs and the Treeman’s pull sending him high in the air. As he rose, both legs shot out and both feet crashed into the Treeman’s ribs. This time he went right over backward, and the shock as he landed broke his grip on Blade’s left wrist. Blade went down, rolled, came up hoping his left hand was still there, and discovered it was.

  The Treeman struggled to his feet, but after his pounding from Blade he could barely stand. He blinked at Blade as he picked up his club, blinked again as Blade swung, then closed his eyes for good as the club smashed in his skull. Blade watched his victim fall, then jumped back just as the Treeman he’d hit with a spear tried to bite him in the leg. He stared down, hardly believing the Treeman could still be alive, let alone able to fight. The Treeman slumped down, eyes half-closed and one bloody hand plucking at the spear in his thigh. Blade raised his club to put the Treeman out of his misery-then screams and shouts behind him made him turn again.

  A Treeman was running out from among the huts, a naked woman under his arm and several men with spears and clubs at his heels. The arrows that stuck out from his back didn’t even seem to be slowing him down. Blade saw that the men behind were about to catch up, started to step aside to give them fighting room, then saw that the Treeman’s victim was Lokhra.

  Blade’s cry was as animal as a Treeman’s. Instead of stepping aside he leaped at the Treeman, his two hundred pounds of bone and muscle smashing into him at full speed. Lokhra flew out of the Treeman’s grip, landed with a thud, and had enough sense to keep rolling after she landed.

  Now Blade had all the fighting room he needed. Vaguely he realized that he might be preventing the Fak’si from closing in with their spears, but he didn’t care. He was in a berserker’s fury, and that made him more than a match for any Treeman. The Treeman was a foot taller than Blade, at least as heavy, and probably both stronger and faster. He still didn’t have Blade’s unarmed-combat skills, or Blade’s rage driving him.

  Blade punched the Treeman in the mouth, knocking loose half a dozen teeth. The Treeman spread his arms wide, then clutched at Blade, trying to embrace and crush him. Blade ducked under the arms and punched the Treeman hard in the stomach, one-two-three-four. The Treeman doubled up, gasping for breath. Blade stepped aside, grabbed the Treeman by one arm, and pulled him within reach. His other hand came down like an ax on the back of the Treeman’s neck. The Treeman pitched forward, writhed briefly, then lay still.

  The Fak’si warriors crowded forward, some to congratulate Blade, others to jab the Treemen with their spears to make sure they were dead. Blade was hardly aware of any of this. His berserk rage didn’t really start passing off until Lokhra came running up and threw her arms around him. Then he was able to pat her on the shoulder and smile down at her. She was pale and covered with dirt and bruises, but apparently not hurt.

  «Well, Lokhra,» he said laughing. «You came to me after I saved your man. What happens now that I have saved you?»

  Lokhra also laughed, then kissed him. «I am grateful, Blade, and you will find that out before long. But for now there is much else to do in the village.» She sighed. «There always is, after the Treemen have come.»

  Chapter 7

  Lokhra was right. It took a while to even measure the damage left by the Treemen, let alone repair what could be repaired.

  The Treemen seemed to have come for blood, not destruction. They’d tried to kill every man and carry off every woman in their path. They hadn’t wiped out half the village only because there hadn’t been enough of them. Some people said there’d b
een Treemen perched in every tree around the village, but Swebon doubted there’d been more than twenty. Still eleven men were dead or dying and a dozen more hurt, some of them so badly they’d never be able to hunt or fight again. Four women were dead and seven more missing.

  «Carried off by the Treemen, of course,» Swebon explained bitterly. «I only hope most of them die before they have to mate with Treemen and bear their children.»

  So the Treemen and the Forest People were of the same race, in spite of their physical differences. «Why do the Treemen need to steal the women of the People?»

  «Who knows?» said Swebon with a weary shrug. «They have done it as long as we and they have both lived in the Forest. Perhaps they have no women of their own. Perhaps their women bear few children, or few of the children live. No man has ever come close enough to the Treemen to find the answer and lived to bring it home.»

  Against the death and destruction in the village, only six Treemen were dead. Half of them were Blade’s victims. Killing three Treemen in one night wasn’t quite as rare a feat as killing a rogue Horned One, but it was rare enough.

  The Treemen were faster than any true human and more than twice as strong. They were also extremely tough. Arrows from Fak’si bows they shrugged off like pinpricks, and spears only killed quickly if they struck a vital spot. Clubs were almost useless against the Treemen’s immense reach, and those long arms could also tear a shield apart as if it were made of paper.

  So a fight between the Forest People and the Treemen was usually a bloody shambles, in which the People got the worst of it. They’d been able to live with the Treemen’s raids only because the Treemen were rare. They seldom raided in bands of more than five or six, so the larger villages had always been safe.