The Mountains Of Brega rb-17 Page 6

Blade bent over and kissed Wyala firmly on the lips. «Thank you for this. You are very brave, as well as very beautiful.» Wyala smiled and blushed, then began busying herself with picking up the equipment and putting out the campfire.

  Within a few minutes both had their gear loaded on their backs. The last thing Blade picked up was the remains of the cords he had used to tie Wyala the day before. He held them up in front of her and waved them around, laughing. She laughed too. Then with a flick of his wrist Blade tossed the cords into the stream. He stood and watched for a moment as they drifted out of sight. Then he turned back to Wyala.

  «Let's go. Which way is the city?»

  Wyala looked up at the blue sky for a moment, shading her eyes against the bright morning sun. «That way,» she said finally, pointing. «Toward the sunrise.»

  «Good.» Blade turned to the east, shifted his bow on his shoulder so that it rode more comfortably, and led the way into the trees.

  Heading east meant virtually retracing their steps. This would mean traveling through well-watered country, which was fine with Blade. But it also meant a greater risk of encountering hunting parties from the city. Blade wished he had thought of picking up a set of weapons for Wyala during his raid on the camp. But how could he have known then that he would be able to treat her as a friend and ally, instead of merely keeping her as a prisoner?

  They kept moving without a pause until nearly noon. They broke their journey then for a meal of bright yellow berries from a clump of bushes beside a small pool. They also refilled their water bottles.

  Blade was kneeling by the stream, hooking his filled water bottle to his belt, when he suddenly heard Wyala scream in terror. He spun around, his hand dropping to his sword and snatching it clear of the scabbard in a single motion.

  One of the Senar had burst out of the bushes by the pond, waving a massive branch instead of a club. He stopped and let out a shriek of rage and defiance as he saw Blade and the drawn sword. He drew his lips back from yellow-stained teeth in a savage snarl. Then Blade saw the great blue triangular scar on the Senar's stomach, and recognized him. This was the one who had found the speed and wit to escape from the hunting party that had taken his companions. And that meant he was a considerably more dangerous opponent than the average Senar.

  With his sword Blade motioned Wyala to get behind him. He wanted to get her out of reach of a quick grab by the man-creature so he could fight without having to worry about her. Wyala nodded and took two steps backward.

  That brought another growl from the Senar. Wyala froze, looking in growing fear from Blade to the Senar and back to Blade. To Blade's surprise, the next noise from the Senar was three clearly recognizable words.

  «No-Hairless One.» The Senar brandished the club, then continued. «Not mountains here. Hairless Ones not keep women here. Nugun take.»

  «You will not take this woman,» said Blade sharply. He raised the sword.

  The Senar spat on the ground. «You-all Hairless Ones-weak. Fight with sharp sticks-not like Senar.» The man-creature raised both his massively muscled arms and growled angrily.

  Wyala gave a little gasp and took two more steps backward. «For the love of Mother Kina, kill it!» she gasped. «Don't just stand there. Kill it!» She drew her knife and held it out in front of her.

  Wyala's words and movements nearly provoked a rush by the Senar. Blade took two steps forward and drew his own knife, holding it by the point, ready for throwing. It was badly balanced for that, but the Senar would be a big target and even a non-fatal wound should slow it down somewhat. At the same time he snapped, «Shut up!» to Wyala, without taking his eyes off-was Nugun the Senar's personal name?

  Blade decided to assume it was. «Nugun!» he said, in the most commanding voice he could manage. The Senar started and raised his shaggy head. Enormous brown eyes stared hard into Blade's. There was more intelligence in them than Blade had expected.

  «Nugun,» he repeated more quietly. «You want this woman?» He pointed at Wyala, who cringed and stared at him horror-stricken.

  «Yes,» said Nugun. «Hairless Ones in mountains get all good women. Senar get old ones, sick ones, ugly ones. This one-good woman.» He jerked a hairy, black-nailed thumb at Wyala.

  «Yes. She is a good woman. But she is my woman. I will not give her up without a fight with you.»

  «Hairless Ones not fight. Kill Senar with sharp sticks, throw sticks-kill Senar like animals.» Nugun spat again.

  «I will fight you, Nugun,» said Blade. «And I will fight you with no sticks. Only with these.» He raised his own arms over his head, and flexed his own massive muscles.

  Nugun stared. Wyala gave a gasp of pure horror and started to lunge at Nugun. Blade shouted to the Senar, «Don't move!» then grabbed Wyala by the hair, hooked her ankles out from under her, and knocked her to the ground. She writhed and mewled for a moment, then quieted.

  Blade bent down until he could whisper into her ear, «Damn it, Wyala! If you can't keep calm, I'll have to tie you up again. I want to be able to talk with this Senar, not just kill him.»

  «You're mad, Blade!» she gasped. «You can't talk with a Senar or trust him. He'll kill you if you fight him barehanded. They're all strong like animals. And then what will happen to me? What will happen to me?» The hysteria was back in her voice. Blade wished he had time to explain what he had in mind, but he knew that Nugun would grow impatient if he tried. And then he would have to kill the Senar, which was the last thing he wanted to do.

  «Nugun won't kill me,» he whispered quickly. «Even if he does, you can outrun him by the time he gets through fighting me. And you can keep your knife. But don't run away until you see how the fight is going. If you don't promise that, I'll have to tie you up again. Do you promise?»

  «Yes.» It was muffled and reluctant, but unmistakable.

  «Good.»

  Blade stood up, threw his sword to the ground, then began unbuckling his belt. Nugun stared wide-eyed at him.

  «You fight Nugun? No sticks?»

  «No sticks, Nugun. I do not lie.»

  «Hairless Ones always lie.»

  «I do not, Nugun. I do not know what these other Hairless Ones do, but I do not lie.»

  «Maybe not. But you fight me.»

  «I fight you.»

  Blade had now stripped himself of all his weapons. Then he kicked off his boots and stripped off his tunic. He didn't want to take any chances with this fight. The Senar was well over six feet tall and must weigh close to three hundred pounds. Blade knew he would have the edge in unarmed-combat training and quick thinking. He would probably have the edge in speed. But his plan depended not only on defeating Nugun, but on defeating him without killing or even seriously hurting him. This was a far more difficult and dangerous thing to try against an unknown opponent.

  Now Blade pointed at Nugun's improvised club. The Senar nodded, growled agreement, and threw the branch far away from him. He crouched down, rubbing the palms of his splay-fingered hands on the ground. His eyes glared into Blade's and a low growl sounded in his throat. Then suddenly he straightened up with a leap and charged at Blade.

  Blade leaped aside from the rush with split seconds to spare. Nugun's ragged nails whistled down past his shoulder, only inches away. For all the Senar's bulk and thick legs, he was faster than Blade had expected. Now to find out just exactly how much faster. Blade had to know that before he could know what he could and could not try against this opponent.

  Again Nugun made a rush, but this time Blade was clear in plenty of time. He swung around to Nugun's right, but the other spun in a blur of motion and struck out with one clublike arm. Blade ducked his head, but not quite quickly enough. The blow rode up over his shoulder and smashed against his left temple.

  For a moment Blade was half-stunned, barely able to keep on his feet. Through stars and fireworks swirling in front of his eyes, he saw Nugun rushing in again. By reflex and desperation, he launched a kick at Nugun's right kneecap. The kick connected, with a jar that ran up
Blade's leg into his body and made his teeth rattle. It was like kicking a granite block.

  But the kick stopped Nugun as his hands were already reaching out for Blade's throat. With a growl of surprise and pain the Senar backed away, favoring his right leg. Blade noticed that and his thoughts were grim. That kick would have smashed the kneecap of a normal human opponent into a dozen pieces. But it had barely slowed Nugun. This was going to be a long fight, with victory going to the one who could give out the most punishment while taking the least. And Blade wasn't sure that would be him. Nugun was enormously tough-and if those hands of his ever got a good hold on Blade, the fight would be over then and there.

  For the next few minutes, Blade concentrated on staying out of Nugun's range. He didn't care what the Senar thought of him for doing that. He could not afford to let Nugun get in a solid blow. Blade knew that he had been lucky the first time. He might not be so lucky a second time.

  So he led Nugun a dance up and down the bank of the stream and around and around the bushes. He bobbed and wove; he ducked Nugun's punches and leaped aside from his rushes; he jeered and taunted him. Sometimes he pretended to close, but he always sprang back in time for Nugun's hands to close on nothing but empty air.

  Nugun had no more fighting style than a six-year-old boy. All he knew was bull-like rushes, clublike swings of his arms, and clutches with his long-nailed fingers. But his speed and strength made even these crude tactics dangerous.

  After the first few minutes, Blade began moving in again, using all his training and speed to aim and deliver disabling blows. Now he aimed at a knee again, now at a shoulder, now at Nugun's hairy groin. Each time the blow went home. And each time Nugun merely grunted or snarled and clawed or swung furiously at Blade. Once his long nails raked across Blade's chest, leaving five red, oozing lines. At that the Senar threw back his head and howled in triumph, giving Blade just enough time to get out of range.

  Any of Blade's blows would have crippled or at least fatally slowed any other opponent. But Nugun had an altogether inhuman capacity to take punishment. Reluctantly, Blade admitted to himself that it would be suicidal to try closing with Nugun until the man was slowed down a good deal more. If he could be, that is. Blade opened the distance between himself and the Senar, and the endless dance began again.

  This time Blade had no idea how long it lasted. Minutes followed one another and seemed to stretch into hours. There was an iron band around his chest, white-hot gravel in his throat, knives stabbing into his leg muscles as he moved, rivers of sweat pouring off him, making his eyes sting. His only consolation was that sweat was also pouring off Nugun's body, and the other's eyes were beginning to dull with fatigue.

  More minutes. With his breath rasping in his throat, Nugun snarled, «Hairless Ones not fight. I know. You give me woman.»

  «I am fighting, Nugun,» said Blade sharply. «If you try to take the woman, I will use the sharp stick on you.» Nugun's lips curled back from his teeth again, but he made no move toward Wyala. The woman was crouched behind a tree, knife in her hand, staring with wide, terror-stricken eyes at the battle raging by the stream.

  Still more minutes. Blade began to wonder if Nugun's endurance would be greater than his own. At this rate, the fight would end with him sprawled flat on the ground, for Nugun to pick up and break in two like a stick over one knobby knee.

  But now Nugun seemed to think that Blade was weakening. The Senar crouched, arms spread wide and hands curved into claws. Then he sprang forward out of the crouch, arms reaching low as if he wanted to grab Blade's legs and jerk him off his feet.

  Behind him Blade heard Wyala scream out loud. But as Nugun's hands lunged for him, Blade was already leaping high. The clutching hands closed on empty air. For a moment Nugun was off balance, unable to bring his arms up to defend himself as he had always done before.

  In that moment, Blade's attack struck home. Pivoting on one foot, he drove the heel of the other into Nugun's jaw. Again the solid jar shook every bone in Blade's body. But this time it also shook Nugun just as badly. The Senar's head jerked back and he snapped himself upright.

  As he did, Blade completed the pivot, ducked, and came in under Nugun's guard. For a moment he was under the reach of those terrible arms, with a clear shot at Nugun's middle. Blade's balled fists drove into the hairy stomach, in a one-two punch that made a noise like a cannon shot. Once more Blade was jarred to the fillings in his teeth. Punching Nugun's stomach was like punching a bag of solid, wet sand. But Blade's knuckles still sank in, and all the breath whooshed out of his opponent in one foul-smelling gust.

  There were a dozen or more things Blade could have done in the next second. But most of them were intended to kill an opponent-break his neck, crush his ribcage, tear his internal organs apart-or at least cripple him for life. Blade still did not want to do that to Nugun. In fact, he now wanted to do it even less than at the beginning of the fight. Nugun had been a brave opponent as well as a tough one.

  So he ignored the risks of being close to Nugun if the man recovered his strength. As Nugun reeled, gasping for air, Blade grabbed the Senar's left arm and spun him around. It was like spinning around a stone statue, and Blade's own arms nearly popped out of their sockets with the strain. When he had Nugun turned around, Blade brought one foot up and scythed it hard across the back of Nugun's knees. Nugun reeled again, gave a savage growl of fear and despair, and this time he went down onto the ground, face forward.

  Before Nugun could move or growl again, Blade had landed on his back and snatched one arm. He held that arm firmly, barely twisting it, while he poised his other hand over the back of Nugun's neck. No matter how thick that neck was, a strong blow there would certainly end Nugun's fighting days forever, and perhaps his life as well.

  Blade bent lower and hissed in one hairy ear, «Don't move, Nugun. I can kill you any time I want to.»

  «Then kill,» growled Nugun. «You not like Hairless Ones. You fight like Senar. You fight good. Nugun-weak. You kill now.»

  «I don't want to kill you,» said Blade quietly. «I want you to live, and be my friend.»

  Nugun was silent for so long that Blade thought the man must have fainted. Then he said slowly, «Not kill?»

  «No. Why should I?»

  That was apparently a question beyond Nugun's mental resources. He was silent again until Blade asked him, «Remember the woman?»

  «Yes. Nugun-did want.»

  «You don't want her now?»

  «She-your woman. You stronger than Nugun.»

  «Yes. I am stronger than you are. And she is my woman. But will you be my friend?»

  Hesitation, and more silence. Then, «Nugun is friend to new Hairless One. Nugun die for new Hairless One who not kill.»

  Blade stood up and backed away from the prostrate Senar. With a groan, Nugun shook himself and stood up. Blade thrust out a hand. After a moment's more hesitation, Nugun realized what the gesture meant. He took Blade's hand, and they shook vigorously.

  When they were through shaking hands, Blade turned and went over to where he and Wyala had left their gear. As he did, he noticed that Wyala was gone. He swore.

  «Hurt you, friend?» said Nugun.

  Blade shook his head. «No. My woman has run away; that is all.»

  Nugun growled and shook his head angrily. «You go after her, beat when find her?»

  «No,» said Blade. «She must have thought you were going to kill me and did not trust you.» Nugun looked hurt. Blade shrugged. «No doubt she'll be back when she realizes that you and I are friends now.» He poured a cup of water and brought it back to Nugun. The Senar drank thirstily, wiped his mouth with the back of a hairy hand, and sat down on the grass.

  «We stay here to find woman?»

  «Yes. We stay here until she comes back. And you are going to tell me some things about your people and where they come from.» Blade searched his mind, trying to pick out the best of the various questions there. He wanted the one that would get the most information ou
t of Nugun and confuse him the least.

  Finally Blade found what he wanted to say. «Nugun, who are the Hairless Ones?»

  Chapter 7

  It took several exhausting hours with Nugun for Blade to get a picture of the world in the Mountains of Brega. Not that Nugun was either stupid or unwilling to talk-on the contrary, he had ample native intelligence. And he saw it as his duty to the new Hairless One who had spared his life to answer all the Hairless One's strange questions.

  But Nugun knew only three hundred or so words to express all the concepts that his mind could conceive. And it was a long time before Blade knew even roughly what those words were. Much time was therefore wasted asking the Senar questions he could not even understand, let alone answer.

  Even when Blade had figured out Nugun's limitations, matters still went slowly. Blade had to put each question into words in his own mind. Then he had to translate them into words that Nugun could understand. Finally he could ask the question-and settle back to wait for Nugun's answer. Again, Nugun was not slow or unwilling. But the new Hairless One was asking him about things he had never had to think about before in all the thirty-odd years of his life. Why should he think about them? They were part of the world, like the air he breathed and the water he drank.

  But Nugun did his best, and his best soon became good enough. Blade was a fairly good rule-of-thumb anthropologist from his experience with the strange lands and stranger peoples of Dimension X. It took from noon until nightfall, but when darkness came Blade had a rough notion of how the Senar and the Hairless Ones-the Blenar-lived in the Mountains of Brega.

  The mountains themselves «went up to the sky,» starting about three days' fast march from the western edge of the forest. That edge was about four additional days west of where Blade and Nugun were. From what Wyala had said, Blade knew that the forest also extended about the same four days to the east. It was another week beyond that across rolling plains to the city of Brega itself. Neither Wyala nor Nugun had any notion whether there might be other lands beyond Brega in any direction.