Killer Plants Of Binaark

Chapter 14

A hot night followed a day when it seemed that the ground and the forest were going to be baked like a loaf of bread. Blade shifted uncomfortably in his sweat-soaked hammock, hoping that some miracle would bring even a small breeze into the hut.

Nothing happened. The air remained as still and heavy with jungle smells as ever. A night bird called in the distance, and from underneath the hammock came a whimper and a faint series of thumps. Lorma was stirring restlessly in sleep, probably from a dream of hunting.

Blade's hut stood a little apart from the others in the camp on the edge of the forest of Binaark, but it was built to the same pattern. It was ten feet on a side, with log walls, a thatched roof, a narrow door, and a single small window. The door and the shutter were made of roughly dressed planks hung on leather hinges. The whole thing was a good deal more elaborate than Blade would have asked for under the circumstances, but this was the Jaghdi way of doing things. When they had to build, they built as solidly and as elaborately as the tools, materials, and time available would let them.

There were eight huts in the camp, plus an open-sided cook-shed over the fire pit and a log corral for the rolghas. Blade's scouting party had been in the camp for a week now. In two more days they'd be on their way deep into the forest, the first men ever to walk there without fear of the killer plants.

Blade planned to keep right on going until he came out the other side into Elstan. The couriers who'd come into camp every day had brought no news to make him change his mind about that. The army was still gathering, and the Keepers were hard at work giving it the best weapons possible. Fortunately they didn't seem to be coming up with anything new other than the scent amulets.

Blade stretched his arms as far as they would go, then let them droop over the sides of the hammock. He didn't feel any cooler or more comfortable, but the fatigue of a long day was finally catching up with him.

He was beginning to doze when he heard Lorma whimper again, then suddenly fall silent. A moment later she made a low rumbling sound in her throat, not quite a snarl but definitely not a friendly purr. He heard a rustle of dried ferns as she shifted position. Then suddenly there was the unmistakable pad-pad-pad of Lorma's feet as she crossed to the door.

By the time she'd taken three steps, Blade was fully awake. By the time he heard her low growl from by the door, he was sliding out of the hammock. He'd stripped naked and didn't bother dressing. If whatever Lorma was sensing outside was dangerous, speed, silence, and weapons ready to hand were more important than clothes.

He'd pulled the garrote out from under his pillow as he slipped out of the hammock. Next he belted on his sword. By the time he'd finished he could hear what Lorma must have heard first: footsteps approaching the door of the hut.

The door faced the jungle, clear of any of the sentries' paths. That in itself would have told Blade the approaching footsteps might be enemies. Making this nearly certain was the slow, cautious way the footsteps were coming on, as if the men didn't know their way or were afraid of being heard.

The footsteps stopped, and Blade heard whispers. He didn't recognize any words, let alone voices, but he was able to use the time. He pointed at the hammock. «Lorma, go!» The cat padded across the hut and leaped into the hammock. From outside no one could have seen her moving. Her gray coat blended too well with the darkness. Now in the darkness of the hut she gave the hammock the appearance of having someone in it.

The hut door opened inward. Blade found a position where he was hidden completely from the outside and still had a good view of the interior. At least it was as good a view as he could have in the darkness. He wished he had Lorma's night vision, even though his was abnormally good for a man. He also wished that the people outside would get on with their business, whoever they were. He hoped it was Curim and some of his friends, rather than traitors among his own party. That would make a good many things easier, including his own escape. He also suspected Tressana would not hold it against anyone if Curim was caught and killed trying to commit murder.

Then Blade stopped wishing and nearly stopped breathing, because the footsteps outside were coming on. Dry leaves crackled, the door creaked, and three shadowy forms stepped into Blade's view. He heard the unmistakable hiss of an all-steel sword being drawn, and grinned. The only man with an all-steel sword who'd be coming at him like this would be Curim.

Then one of the three assassins uncovered a lantern, and it would have taken a high-speed motion picture camera to record what happened after that.

Lorma growled and sat up. Where Curim and his men had expected to see Richard Blade half-asleep and nearly helpless, they saw two vast green eyes which seemed to glow with their own light. They stopped, stared, and completely forgot about everything else for a vital second. At least it was vital to Blade.

He sprang out from his hiding place, one leap carrying him halfway across the hut. He slammed the door with a flying sidekick from midair and landed to Curim's left. The garrote was already in his left hand. He started to draw his sword with his right, saw Lorma getting ready to spring, and checked the draw. As Lorma sprang, Blade gripped both ends of his garrote, tossed it over Curim's head, drove his knee into the captain's back, and simultaneously jerked the wire tight. It was possible that Curim died without realizing that he was even being attacked. It is certain that he died without making a sound.

Meanwhile Lorma's man was down on the floor, the cat on top of him. This man died a little more noisily than his captain, with chokings and gurgles as Lorma tore out his throat. Lorma jumped back from the blood and turned to help with the third man, but by then her master didn't need any help.

The third man had seen his captain die to his left and his comrade go down under the cat's attack to his right, and he was still trying to figure out what to do with his shortened spear when a large hand descended on his collar. Blade jerked the man around to face him with one hand and with the other thrust the point of his sword up under the man's chin until it reached the brain. Blade had to pull the sword out quickly to keep the dead man from dragging it to the floor with him.

Blade and Lorma stepped back from the three bodies and stared at each other. In the flickering glow from the lantern, the bodies on the floor were distorted into something barely human. The still, hot air reeked of smoke, blood, and even less pleasant things.

At that moment Blade realized he'd killed all three men without a sound that could have been heard outside. What was more, he couldn't hear any voices or sounds of movement from beyond the door. Curim had probably brought more than two men with him, so the others must be waiting outside, to warn off or if necessary kill sentries from the camp. If they had orders to stay outside unless Curim ordered them in, it would be at least two or three minutes before they suspected that anything was wrong.

Blade's mind was now working at the speed of one of Lord Leighton's smaller computers. Suddenly he knew that those two or three minutes were giving him a golden opportunity not only to escape but to hide the escape completely. The Jaghdi would think he was dead, and not worry about where he might be going or what secrets he might be taking with him.

A moment later Blade's body was working as fast as his mind. Once again it would have taken a movie camera to record the action. Blade bent down and stripped off the armor and clothing of the man he'd killed with his sword. He was the largest of the three. Then he put on the man's armor and clothing, and piled all his own gear on top of the body except for his sword. Amulets or no amulets, he wasn't going to face the forest of Binaark again without a good sharp steel edge in his hand!

All three men had been wearing amulets, but Lorma's attack had smashed the one on her victim. The other two were intact. Curim's was an officer's model, made of gilded brass, heavily decorated, on a silvered chain. Blade had one very much like it. The other man had a soldier's model a plain wooden cylinder, perforated with holes and plugged at the top with a bone stopper, hanging from a length of cord.

Blade quickly exchanged his own metal amulet for the wooden one. Then he put the lantern on the end of the spear and thrust it upward into the thatching of the roof. The dry vegetation caught fire so furiously that it seemed to explode, and Blade had to shield his face with his arms for a moment. The intensity of the fire was encouraging. It made it far more likely that the bodies on the floor would be completely unrecognizable, as long as nobody got inside before the roof collapsed.

Over the crackle and hiss of the flames Blade could now hear voices outside. There were a good many of them, all angry. It sounded as if his own men were coming up from the camp. Time to be on his way. It would be embarrassing to be recognized by his own men while escaping. It would be still worse to be shot down by one of his own archers who'd mistaken him for one of Curim's assassins.

Blade threw open the shutter, looked out, saw nobody close enough to recognize him, then put his hands on the window sill and vaulted out. Lorma followed him and stayed close at his heels as they both headed off into the cover of the darkness as fast as they could run.

They slowed down after a hundred yards, deep inside the trees. Blade picked Lorma up in his arms and carried her as they circled around the camp toward the corral. There were a few killer plants around here, and Blade could protect Lorma more easily if he was carrying her. Although she was fairly cooperative once she understood what was going on, Blade was glad when he could put her down. Eighty-five pounds of cat wasn't the easiest thing for even the strongest man to carry in his arms through a pitch-black forest.

Blade and Lorma came out onto open ground near the rolgha corral. The rolghas were whinnying and snorting skittishly, except for the few kept saddled, bridled, and tethered to the outside railing. Having them ready was Blade's own idea. For emergencies, he'd said. He hadn't lied either. His own escape to Elstan was certainly an emergency.

The blazing hut was now lighting up its whole end of the camp, but it was still very dark by the corral and Blade would not be recognized, even if anyone saw him. Anyway, all the corral sentries and grooms seemed to have run off to fight the fire, and Blade was certain they wouldn't be of any assistance. The fire was going too well.

When the fire did burn itself out, there would be nothing but corpses burned beyond recognition lying in the ashes. Two of them would have the melted remains of officer's amulets. On or around one of them would be recognizable pieces of Lord Blade's armor and weapons. That was another advantage of being in a primitive Dimensions. Without scientific methods of detection, the Jaghdi wouldn't be able to tell that Blade's armor had merely been piled on top of the corpse.

So far Blade's plan to cover his escape was working perfectly. Now to finish the job. He ran toward the corral, keeping low, Lorma running behind him. As he reached the tethered rolghas another hut suddenly spewed up flame from its roof. Sparks from the first hut must have drifted over and caught. The neighing and restless movement from inside the corral increased. Blade remembered that rolghas were deathly afraid of fire. An unsaddled, unbridled rolgha could become completely uncontrollable at the unexpected flare of a torch.

Fortunately the tethered rolghas were still calm enough to let Blade mount one. He gripped the reins in one hand, drew his sword with the other, cut the tether, and whistled to Lorma. She jumped up behind him as she'd been trained to do. Her foreclaws dug into the saddle, while her hind legs, their claws retracted, braced her on the rolgha's rump.

A third hut was now on fire, and Blade remembered how dry and brittle the jungle foliage seemed. There hadn't been rain around here for most of the summer. If the Jaghdi didn't get the fires in the camp under control fairly soon, they might find themselves in the middle of a forest fire.

The light from the fire still hadn't reached the corral. Blade knew he had time to do one more thing to confuse his trail completely. He rode over to the corral gate and his sword came down. The heavy leather thong holding the gate shut dropped to the ground. Then he leaned out of the saddle, dragged the gate open as fast as he could, and clapped spurs to his rolgha.

It jumped forward at a pace that nearly unseated Lorma, who let out an indignant squall. She held on, and in a minute all they could see of the camp was the fires. Before it vanished, however, they saw the first rolghas pushing their way out the open gate and galloping away from the fires. It would be morning before anyone in the camp could mount and ride in pursuit, even if he thought there was something to pursue.

Blade reined his rolgha back to a trot and settled down to guide it through the next few miles of the forest of Binaark.

Queen Tressana looked down from her saddle at Efroin of the Red Band. He looked back up at her, his black eyes as steady as her blue ones.

«So both Blade and Curim are dead?» Her voice was flat, hiding her anger. The disaster to the scouting party hadn't been Efroin's fault. He was showing real courage in bringing the bad news to her. Nothing would be mended by frightening him with a royal rage.

«If they are not, only the gods will be able to find them,» said Efroin bluntly. «We found the amulets and armor of both men in the ashes of the hut. They must have killed each other.»

«I hope Blade was dead before the fire reached him,» said Tressana softly. For a moment she no longer saw Efroin, or anything else. Although Curim had been charming and virile for all his hot temper, after his attempt at murder he deserved exactly the fate that overtook him. Blade was something else. His death was a loss not just to her, but to Jaghd and everything she wanted to see done.

However, there was at least one thing she could do to make up part of the loss. «Efroin, you've served me long and well. The men will trust you, and I think you could even stay on good terms with Jollya. Would you like to be captain of the Men's Guard?»

«I will have to ask you a question before answering, Your Grace.»

Tressana's eyebrows rose. «Are you bargaining with me?»

Efroin smiled. «No. Only scouting out the land, as any good captain should do in war.» He lowered his voice so that only the queen could hear him. «What will my duties be?»

Now she understood. Efroin had a wife and four children, and was said to be unreasonably fond of all of them. He would not particularly care to be her bedmate as well as her champion. A pity, in a way. Efroin was the sort of honest man who often made the best lover, if you were lucky enough to find one. Had she used up her luck in that matter when the gods sent her Richard Blade? Probably. Certainly Efroin would not be good company in bed if his heart wasn't in pleasuring her.

«I need a man for war, Efroin. You can give all your attention to your men.»

«Thank you, Your Grace. Then I will lead the Men's Guard. Jollya will lead the women still?»

«I have no one else.»

He sighed. «The gods send burdens as they will, and men bear them as they must. I will do my best. Do I have your leave to go?»

«Yes.»

He turned, and Tressana spurred her rolgha away. She would need men for her bed as well as for the war. But she did not need them so badly that she would turn a good fighting man into a poor lover. A new party of scouts would have to be sent out to the forest, and that would give her plenty of time to pick and test the men before the army had to march.

She pulled off her hat and let the wind blow her hair out behind her as she spurred the rolgha up to a gallop.