by Джеффри Лорд
Himgar left him, and the hours passed on toward night. A meal was brought-a thick stew of game and the yellow tubers in a wooden bowl, and sour, purplish wine in a wooden cup. Blade emptied both cup and bowl with a ready appetite, then lay down on the bed. It was not much cleaner than the pile of straw back among Rilgon's people had been, but it was a good deal warmer and more comfortable. He pulled the blankets over him and drifted off to sleep.
Tired as he was, Blade let himself sleep so deeply that nothing short of an earthquake could have wakened him. He did not wake until morning. When he did, he noticed two things. A pale pink light was already creeping in through the chinks in the logs. And there was something warm and soft and gently breathing snuggled up against him in the bed. Very slowly he turned to look at that «something,» one hand creeping toward the knife under his pillow.
He was not surprised to see Melyna. She had managed to wash some of the filth of Senar captivity from her skin and hair. The hair now gleamed pale gold in the dawn, spread out on the pillow.
As though Blade's eyes on her had been a caress, Melyna stirred. Blindly she turned her head toward Blade, then opened her eyes. They were dark blue, and stared up at Blade without fear or even timidity. And why should she be fearful or timid? She had undoubtedly seen and even done things that would turn Blade's stomach in the past two years. Slowly, as though he were reaching out for a shy kitten he didn't want to frighten away, Blade laid a heavily muscled hand on one bare, tanned shoulder.
It was like ice melting. Melyna seemed to flow up and over on top of Blade. He felt a long, slim body pressing hard against him. He felt his own responding to the warmth and the pressure and the movement. He threw off the blankets, and his arms went around Melyna. She stiffened for a moment, then became even warmer and pressed even harder against Blade.
Melyna was really not soft at all. Under the tanned skin there were muscles toughened into whipcord by two years' back-breaking labor for the Senar. Her breasts and hips and buttocks were firm and solid, but spare of flesh, barely breaking the outline of her bones. It was almost like making love to the sketch of a woman.
But it was a warm, living, breathing sketch. And it was breathing harder and harder, as it wriggled and writhed and heaved under the movement of Blade's hands. He was being as gentle as if Melyna had been made of sand that would crumble away under too rough a touch. Before long, it was clear that he didn't need that kind of gentleness. Melyna was too ecstatic over making love to a civilized man after two years of barbarians to care very much.
So Blade's hands roamed all up and down Melyna's body, and hers did the same on his. He felt his own erection tightening into a solid, burning rod as small hands stroked and caressed, small, hard nipples traced patterns on his chest. She wriggled up on him even farther, and his lips brushed across her throat and over the bones that stood out in her thin neck. He kept on kissing her, down across the shoulder blades, down under one breast and up onto its long, jutting brown nipple, across to the other nipple, then back and forth between them for a long time. By the time Blade's lips moved away from her breasts, Melyna was whimpering and sobbing deep in her throat, and her breath was coming with a rasp.
Again Melyna shifted up-and this time as she settled down, she placed herself squarely on Blade's upthrust phallus. She stiffened for a moment as the solid rod of flesh drove upward. Her mouth opened in a tremendous gasp. Then Blade pushed his own hips up, Melyna pushed hers down, and his solid, swollen member drove all the way into an already slick-wet canal.
For a moment after that Melyna did not move. Then she began to rock slowly back and forth, occasionally shifting from side to side. She was not tight, but her movements kept a continuous friction on Blade and a continuous arousal in him. He found his own hips beginning to move up and down. Occasionally his upward thrusts would meet Melyna coming down, and her eyes would widen as she felt him driving deep within her. Other times he would sink down as Melyna rose up. Then her face would contort with a feeling of loss, and she would promptly sink back down, trying desperately to recapture what seemed to be slipping out of her.
This went on long enough for Blade to lose all track of time, and for a good long while after that. Melyna's movements became faster and faster, until she was practically swinging herself around in a circle centered on Blade's maleness. Her hips gyrated wildly and then all her pelvic muscles began jerking convulsively. Her head went back, her eyes closed, her face contorted from the delicious agony pulsing through her, while she gulped for air like a dying fish. Below, Blade felt a hot, warm gushing all over his groin and the frantic contractions of the canal embracing him.
Blade held on for a little while longer, although it seemed like a very long while indeed. But eventually he could no longer do anything except thrust frantically upward to make a desperate final few strokes.
Then he felt the beginning of his release, the frantic, furious pumping, and after another incredibly long time, the final fading away. He sagged back on the bed, every part of his body going limp and for the moment useless.
After a little while the fog cleared from Blade's head and the limpness left his muscles. He sat up, patted Melyna on her flat, hard stomach, and rolled himself out of bed to start the day. There was a large jug of water on the table by the bed, and Blade spent a long time splashing it on his face and chest. He was conscious of Melyna watching him from the bed, the erotic glaze slowly fading from her eyes. Then he heard the pad-pad-pad of bare feet on the floor, and felt two slender arms creeping around him from behind, two small hands creeping down toward his groin.
He laughed softly. «What, more?»
She laid her head against his back, and he felt her hair brush the base of his spine. He laughed again. «Really?»
The hands continued their downward motion and stopped in the obvious place. When they arrived there, they got the normal response.
Blade laughed a third time. «All right, Melyna. You want to get back into the habit, right?» There was a small murmur from behind him, which Blade took as a «Yes.» Then he felt the hands on his body grasping him firmly by the hips and trying to turn him around. Blade chuckled deep in his throat and braced himself firmly. It would have taken a block and tackle to turn him around.
After a moment Melyna realized Blade wasn't going to move. So she did. With a quick wriggle she slipped under Blade's wide-spread legs, giving the insides of his thighs a playful pinch as she did. Another quick wriggle, and she was kneeling in front of Blade. Then her head thrust forward, like a bird darting at a particularly juicy worm. Her lips closed around Blade's half-awake erection. In a moment it was no longer just half-awake.
Eventually Blade and Melyna reached the point where they couldn't have conjured up a single erotic impulse between them if their lives had depended on it. Melyna used the rest of the water in the jug for her own washing, and together they went out into the morning.
It was just as well for Blade that he and Melyna got along so well-out of bed as well as in it. The next month was an ordeal of boredom and frustration for Blade.
It was not that the Councilors objected to Himgar's plans. They were more than willing to have Blade train the scouts in unarmed combat and help lead them down to the city. They were even willing to accept his proposal for the move north. But most of the people of the Purple River seemed to be doing nothing to get ready for the move.
Blade could understand their reluctance, and perhaps sympathize with it more than Himgar could. The War Councilor was a man with a mission. Like most such people, he was not overly willing to take into account mere human emotions in pursuing that mission.
Blade, on the other hand, was an outsider, a recent recruit to Himgar's projects. He could understand the people's fear of abandoning their homes and possessions. They would be striking out for a new and unknown land, where they might or might not be able to settle in peace. Finally, they would be making the new settlement with some of the women of the city of Brega. Himgar might see in the city and
its learning the last hope of civilization in Brega. But for most of his followers, this was at best the lesser of two evils.
One of the most open doubters about Himgar's plan was also one of his staunchest supporters. Truja, the intended leader of the scouting party, had been a huntress of the city before Rilgon's Senar captured her a year ago. She hadn't even pretended to submit, so she had received the spread-eagling and the lash almost at once. By chance Truja had received barely a hundred lashes. So when they threw her out into the forest to live or die, she had lived, and made her way to the Purple River lands. They had taken her in and healed her. At least they had healed her body, although from neck to buttocks her back was still one mass of ridged scars. Eventually Himgar had talked with her, and she had joined his band. Soon she had become leader of the scouts.
Truja was shorter than the other city women Blade had met, with a large-featured face and dark brown hair showing some streaks of gray. Her body was almost stocky, but well proportioned, and must have been quite desirable before the Senar whipman had left his marks on it. Now, however, Truja was altogether indifferent to her appearance. She was almost as indifferent to sex. Blade did notice, however, that Truja's eyes occasionally softened when they rested on Himgar. If Himgar had ever looked back… But the War Councilor lived with passion only for his mission.
Though Truja never shared Blade's bed, she would talk long and freely with him after the day's training. She had no use for any notion of trying to stay neutral in the coming war between Rilgon and the city.
«What we ought to do is send all the women and the children and the old men back into the forest, where Rilgon couldn't find them if he looked for a year. Then our fighters, and our fighters only, can march down to the city. They can meet with our sisters from the city, as Himgar wants. But then they should not simply march away. They should camp on the plains until Rilgon's army appears.»
«And then?»
«Isn't it obvious, Blade? Rilgon's army will march on the city, and its fighting women will come out to meet the enemy. They will join in battle. And then we-we, with two thousand of the best fighting men and women in all the lands of Brega, we shall-«
«Take them in the rear?» Blade finished the sentence for her.
Truja smiled thinly and nodded. «Rilgon's mob of killers will never get home if we do that. At least not enough of them to do any more harm. And the sisters of the city will think well of us, and perhaps give us understanding and aid that we could not get otherwise.»
«Perhaps,» said Blade pointedly.
Truja shrugged. «To be sure. I can promise nothing. But we shall get more that way than by following Himgar's plan. Even if we get nothing from the city, we will at least do-more to Rilgon and his army of monsters.» Insane rage flared in Truja's eyes as she said that. «But in the name of the Spirit of Union and Mother Kina, let us do something!»
Blade could not agree more with the last point. Summer was wearing on. Reports were coming up from the city of more and more bitter rivalry between the two factions, sometimes erupting into open violence. And equally disturbing reports were coming up from the Senar lands, reports that told of Rilgon's growing army. Each day its numbers and war skills increased. Is seemed likely that Rilgon would be able to lead out two thousand Blenar and ten times that many Senar. Even if all the fighting women of the city could unite to face Rilgon's invasion, they would have barely a quarter that many.
«What about the other women?» Blade asked Truja.
The scarred woman made a gesture of disgust. «They can no more fight than they can fly or lay eggs. Thank Mother Kina, most of the sisters who will be joining us are of the fighting classes. I doubt if most of the others could even survive the journey out of the city.»
Blade wondered about that. In his travels in Dimension X he had seen some of the most unpromising people turn into formidable fighters in impossibly short periods of time. But that was a question for the future, when he had the walls of the city in sight. For the moment, he was here by the Purple River, and here he would stay until the people mustered up their courage to follow Himgar.
Chapter 12
Before Blade died of boredom or Himgar died of frustration, there was a compromise. The people would leave their homes. But only the fighting men and women would march down to the plains to meet the women coming out of the city. The others would head straight for the new lands, carrying with them whatever would be needed for the settlement there. Only a few fighters and some hunters would go with them, to guard against wild animals and hunt down game to feed the mass of people who would be making their way through the forest. Game would be abundant, and so would fish, roots and berries, and water. Another month, though, and this would not be so. Nor would it be good for the older people and the younger children to try crossing the passes in the mountains after the colder weather set in.
Himgar was far too happy that something was being done and in good time to quibble about the details. The moment the Council reached its decision, he came tearing down from the Council House and called the scouts together. He was so excited that he was jumping up and down like a child as he gave the scouts their orders.
«Now it doesn't matter if there is some argument over when the rest of the fighters leave. It doesn't matter at all. You people must leave at once and head for the city. You must get our friends out of the city, out of the city, I tell you. Rilgon may march any day. You must get there before his army does, and get the women out. You must!»
Blade noticed that Truja was looking at Himgar with the fond expression of a mother watching a brilliant son making his first public speech. When Himgar finally ran out of breath and things to say and left, Blade turned to the scarred woman.
«Did you have anything to do with this-change of plans, let's say?»
Truja shook her head. «Himgar has never paid any attention to me. And if he had, I certainly wouldn't have dared try to force him to change his mind about something. We would never get anywhere if I did that. No, I didn't do anything at all to get the plans changed.» She paused. «Unless you count nightly prayers to both Mother Kina and the Spirit of Union.»
The ten women and nine men of the scouting party moved out the next morning. Himgar saw them off, with more breathless exhortations and good wishes, and a deep regret that he could not go with them.
«Never mind,» said Truja. «The fighters who will be coming after us need your leadership more than we do. The future of Brega depends more on them than on us.»
There might have been more men in the scouting party. But the women, and only the women, could move freely about the city and the lands near it. The five women who came originally from the city itself would be the ones who actually slipped into it, to contact the friendly leaders.
Ten women, nine men-and one Senar. Nugun was desperately frightened for his master when he learned that Blade was going down among the women of the city. He flew into a fearsome rage when Truja tried to tell him that he could not go with Blade. And he was the happiest being in all of Brega when Blade finally persuaded Truja to let him go.
The trip through the forest and down into the plains was fast and uneventful. All of the scouts could cover twenty miles a day without even breathing hard, and there was plenty of food and water. Nor did they meet any enemies. Both roaming Senar and hunting parties from the city seemed to have abandoned the woods. As this became clear, Truja forced the pace to twenty-five and even thirty miles a day. They rose before dawn and seldom made camp much before darkness fell. It was as though everything depended on their pounding east as fast as their legs would carry them.
Perhaps it did.
They were through the forest in two days less than they had expected. On the western edge of the plains they stopped for a day and a night, waiting and watching. If the normal patrols from the city were roaming the plains, they would have to move slowly and carefully from here on. But if the feuds in the city actually made both factions unwilling to send their fighting women out of th
e city, the scouts might have an easy march.
Truja was a cheerful cynic about this, as she was about many things. «I'm quite sure the patrols won't be out,» she said. «But we're certain to run into something else. A herd of stampeding cattle, a flash flood, a forest fire, a search for escaped males-our luck's bound to run out sooner or later.»
But the patrols were thinner on the ground than usual, and there were no accidents. On the second morning they moved out onto the plains. More than a hundred miles farther east lay the city of Brega.
Moving by night and hiding to sleep by day, they covered more than two-thirds of that distance in less than four days. Blade was pleased to see Nugun earn the respect and trust of the other scouts during the night marches. The Senar's abnormally keen night vision guided the party through the darkness as fast as it could have moved by day. And more than once Nugun gave warning of the approach of night-prowling women in time to permit the scouts to go to ground.
None of these women were part of regular patrols or hunting parties. They were mostly small parties of two to six, flitting across the country as swiftly and quietly as birds, intent on some private errand. Intrigue, assassination-who knew? None among the scouts did, and all were becoming increasingly curious, Blade most of all. Only Nugun was indifferent to the «higher» issues involved. His world was intensely physical and concrete-food, sex, war, marching, sleeping. The only abstract concept he could grasp was loyalty to Blade. The Englishman knew that the Senar would die slowly rather than betray him. He only hoped he could meet the same high standard if the matter came to a test.
For five days they crossed a land covered with patches of forest, small streams, pastures where single-horned blue-gray cattle grazed-and small farms. Blade crept close to one of those farms before the dew was off the grass one morning. The farm seemed to contain a dozen or so sturdy women, bare-legged in their short tunics and as brown as the rough cloth of those tunics. Much to Blade's surprise, the farm also held two men-captured Senar, judging from their hair and massive muscles. They seemed to be serving as domestic animals-hoisting water from the well, turning the grindstones, carrying huge loads of firewood.