by Джеффри Лорд
She promptly bit him on the wrist. Guno laughed and started forward. «Are English warriors also children, that they cannot do with a woman as a man does? Here, Blade, let me help you, since-«
Blade was just about to release the woman in order to have both hands free for fighting Guno, when Tuk swung his club. It caught Guno squarely in the groin. He gasped, bit off a scream, and started to raise his spear. Then he saw four other spears already raised and pointed at his chest. He gave everyone a look as ferocious as the girl’s, then hobbled off to a corner and sat down with a groan.
Blade used this moment of confusion to pull the girl close enough to whisper in her ear, «If you bite me again I’ll have to knock you out. You’re in no real danger as long as you don’t make it impossible for me to protect you.» The woman’s eyes widened and for a moment Blade thought she was going to spit in his face. Then she nodded, so slightly that Blade was the only one who saw it.
Blade jerked the cloak over her head and threw it aside. Then he sat down, pulling the naked woman across his lap on her stomach. He took a firm grip with his left hand, and with his right began spanking her bare bottom as hard as he could.
She didn’t scream, but even if she had Blade might not have heard her. Everyone else in the room except Guno was laughing too hard.
Chapter 9
Blade went on spanking the woman until his arm was tired and her buttocks were dark and swollen. He didn’t like hurting her even this much, but he couldn’t afford to be so easy on her that anyone would get suspicious-particularly Guno.
Toward the end the woman was quivering all over and trying to hold back her tears. When Blade released her and stood up, she rolled limp onto the floor for a moment, wincing as her battered rear end rubbed against the mats. Then she crawled over to Blade on hands and knees, kissed his feet, and burst into loud sobs.
Blade wondered if he’d hurt or humiliated her worse than he’d intended. Kneeling at his feet was about the last place he liked to see a woman, particularly if she was young, lovely, and naked. He started to bend down to her, she raised her head, and for a second time their eyes met. No one else in the room saw the look that passed between them, but it told Blade all he needed to know. She’d understood the game they both needed to play and her part in it. In spite of everything that had happened to her or might still happen, she was keeping her head. Blade found himself looking forward to getting to know her better.
«What is your name?» he asked.
«Meera Ku-Na-«followed by a long string of syllables Blade couldn’t understand at all. The other men in the room did seem to understand. Both Tuk and Swebon stared hard at the woman, then at Blade, their eyes widening.
Swebon shook his head. «Blade, you have made a great prize, if… No, you have made a great prize. This woman-she is the daughter of the chief of these villages. He is second among all the chiefs of the Yal. She is also by blood kin to the very first priestess of the Forest Spirit among the Yal.»
«Is she a priestess herself?» asked Blade.
«No, but she has learned many of the rites, and she is a virgin. Her being captured here and now-I think it is a sign. Perhaps the priests will tell us what kind.»
«Perhaps we should ask Meera herself why she stayed behind when all the other women were fleeing,» said Blade. «Perhaps it is no sign at all, just her bad luck.» He could hear in Swebon’s voice and see on his face a reluctance to take Meera with them unless the priests approved. Swebon might be willing to just leave her behind, but Guno at least would probably want to rape and kill her.
Meera answered by pointing at the other figure in the box under the floor. Blade looked closer and saw that it was another young woman, now writhing slowly and moaning as if in a fever.
«Jersha was sick,» said Meera. «If she went into the Forest she might die. If she stayed here alone she also might die. I thought that if I hid her and stayed with her, we would not be found. She was my friend, so I knew I had to do this for her.»
«Very true,» said Blade. He looked around the room, stroking Meera’s hair as he did. «I say that Meera has been brave and wise. The capture of such a strong woman is a good sign. Do we need priests to tell us that?» Some of the Fak’si apparently wondered, but none of them seemed quite ready to argue the point with Blade.
«Good. Then Meera shall come with us, as my prisoner. But we shall also reward her. We shall give her friend Jersha water and what medicines will do her good. Then we will leave her here, among her own-«Blade had to stop, because Meera was clasping his ankles, kissing his feet, and crying again. This time she wasn’t acting.
By this time Guno had also recovered enough to stagger to his feet and join the others. He glared at Blade and looked with interest at Meera, her body bent into a graceful curve. Her breasts were perfect cones with small dark nipples, the muscles of her thighs were firm, her skin had a faint sheen of sweat or oil-in fact, she seemed lovelier to Blade each time he looked at her. He didn’t blame Guno for being interested, but he also hoped the man would leave Meera alone. Any trouble over her would bring the simmering quarrel between Blade and Guno into the open, perhaps dividing Four Springs village into hostile factions.
Blade pulled Meera to her feet. «I will take you to one of our priests,» he said. «He will give you water and medicine for Jersha. Then I-«
Before Blade could finish several warriors came running up the stairs. Their leader knelt briefly to the two chiefs, then said in a breathless voice, «The Yal of the other villages are coming against us by land. They are very many.»
«How many?» said Tuk.
«Three hundred, maybe more,» said the man. «Our people lay in wait and took the ones who came first. They told us how many followed.»
Swebon frowned. «I did not think the other villages had so many warriors.»
«Perhaps some from other Yal villages were here for a feast when we came,» said Guno.
«Perhaps,» said Swebon. «They are too many, however they came here. It is time for us to be on the river and on the way home.»
Blade untied a water gourd from his belt and handed it to Meera. «Give this to Jersha, and hurry. I fear we will not have time to take you to a priest.»
«It does not matter,» said Meera. Then she said very softly, «I already have much to thank you for.»
The Fak’si were as efficient in retreating from the Yal village as they’d been in attacking it. Since the Yal were all coming by land, Swebon decided the Fak’si would retreat by water. There weren’t enough of their own canoes to take them all, but there were plenty of Yal canoes drawn up on the banks or tied to houseboats and trees. Instead of simply setting these canoes adrift, the raiders would paddle off in them.
Swebon and twenty warriors went out to reinforce the rear guard, while Tuk led the men in loading up the canoes. There were about forty women and children beside Meera, and an entire canoe-load of loot. Seven of the raiders were dead or dying and twenty more wounded, half so badly they couldn’t walk. The bodies and the crippled were loaded into the canoes first, then the walking wounded, then the prisoners carrying the loot. By that time the noise of the fight against the Yal counterattack was rising to an uproar.
Just as it seemed the rear guard might need reinforcements, a horn sounded and the men came running along the bank to the canoes. They were carrying their dead and wounded with them, and Swebon brought up the rear. Tuk shouted an order, and all the archers in the canoes nocked arrows and crouched, ready to let fly. The rear guard scrambled aboard and everyone who wasn’t holding a bow grabbed a paddle. The canoes slid out from the bank, as some of the prisoners began to wail and cry.
The last canoe was just out of spear range from the bank when the first warriors of the Yal counterattack ran up. Some of them took cover behind huts and trees, other bolder ones dashed out onto the open bank and hurled spears after the retreating Fak’si. Tuk shouted another order, and the archers let fly almost as one man. Most of the Yal in the open went down, and some of
them didn’t get up again. The Yal behind the huts replied with arrows of their own, but most of these fell into the river and none of them hit anyone. Then the canoes were rapidly pulling out of range, and all the surviving Yal could do was shake their fists and scream curses and threats.
Blade turned to Swebon, wincing at the pain in his shoulder. In the excitement of the last half hour he’d almost forgotten that he’d been wounded. He examined the shoulder again. The wound had stopped bleeding, but he’d have to boil some water and wash it out when they stopped for the night.
Swebon saw Blade’s concern about his wound. «Do not worry, Blade. You will receive the Shield of Life along with our own wounded-unless it is against the laws of the English?»
«No. I do not think it will be.» It might be against his stomach, if taking the Shield of Life meant having to swallow that revolting brew the priests had cooked up. But who could tell? It might do some good.
«When will it be given?»
«Tonight, when we can stop and give proper care to our dead and wounded.»
«What about the Yal coming after us?»
Swebon laughed. «How are they to do that, Blade? We took all the canoes from the first village. They must run back to the other three before they can come after us on the river. By the time they do this, we will be so far ahead that the Yal cannot hope to catch up with us before dark. They will not risk the Horned Ones to chase us by night. Our victory has good strong roots, Blade. The Yal will not pluck it up.»
Blade was inclined to agree. The whole raid had been a little masterpiece, well-planned and carried out with speed, skill, and good discipline. Swebon and Tuk would have made first-class commando leaders in World War II. Unfortunately the victory was also a waste of skill, strength, and lives the Forest People could put to better use against the Sons of Hapanu. The Yal might accept their defeat for now, but sooner or later they’d try to avenge it. The petty warfare among the Forest People would go on, until it ceased to be petty-and then the Sons of Hapanu would advance and the Forest People would be swept away.
Blade found that thought a good deal more painful than the wound in his shoulder.
Chapter 10
Swebon’s canoe was the last one in line as the raiders withdrew, but Blade saw no sign of pursuit. The whole area was certainly alarmed and alert, since arrows were fired from the banks several times. Only two men in the canoes were hit, neither of them seriously. By mid-afternoon the raiders were nearly out of Yal territory.
They still kept on going after that, but more slowly, with only half the paddlers in each canoe at work. The rest drank water, ate dried fruit and seed cakes, and tended the wounded. Fractures were splinted, sprains were bandaged with dampened cloths, and men with head injuries got compresses of wet leaves. Minor wounds like Blade’s were left entirely alone. More serious wounds had wads of leaves stuffed into them. The results looked ghastly, and Blade was very happy his own wound was so light. The seriously wounded men were doomed to agonizing pain at the very least, and possibly to fatal infections from bacteria carried into the wounds by the leaves.
By late afternoon they’d reached the marsh where the Shield of Life had been prepared. By the time Swebon’s canoe reached the patch of dry land deep inside it, the lead canoes were already pulled up on the bank and their men were ashore. The priests were unloading iron pots and the gourds filled with the Shield of Life. Warriors scurried about, bringing moss and twigs, cutting up fallen logs, and clearing spaces for fires.
When the fires were blazing nicely, the iron pots were filled with water and put on to heat. «Now begins the healing of wounds with the Shield of Life,» said Swebon. «You may ask to be first among those healed, for what you have done this day and on other days.»
«Thank you for the honor,» said Blade. «But I’ll wait. There are many others with worse wounds than mine.» This was true, and apart from that, the more Blade learned about the Shield of Life before it was applied to him, the happier he’d be.
«So be it,» said Swebon. He signaled to the priests, who picked up a pot and two gourds and went over to a wounded man lying at the base of a tree. He had a long spear gash in his leg, running almost from hip to knee, and was nearly unconscious from the pain and loss of blood. One of the captive women sat by him, fanning the insects away from his face. In the twilight Blade didn’t recognize her until he stepped closer, then saw it was Meera. She looked up at him and smiled.
«The Fak’si will now be my people. It is a woman’s duty to care for the warriors of her people. Is this not so?»
«Yes.» That attitude did credit to both Meera’s cool head and her warm heart. Blade wondered if she’d be feeling so charitable if she’d fallen into Guno’s hands instead of his.
Meera rose and backed away as Swebon and the priests approached the wounded man. First they poured hot water over the blood-caked leaves until they were soft, then picked them all out of the wound. Mercifully the man was so nearly unconscious that he hardly seemed to feel what must have been agony as the leaves came out.
When the leaves were all out, the priests went on pouring water over the wound, washing away all the caked and clotted blood until the wound was bleeding freely again. For a moment Blade wondered if the poor man was going to bleed to death before the Shield of Life could do anything for him. Then the first priest opened a gourd and poured the Shield of Life out onto the wound. Almost as it struck the raw flesh, it started to congeal. The second priest worked it vigorously with his fingers to spread it all over the wound. Within a minute the wound was completely covered by a glazed layer of the Shield of Life, looking vaguely like gray plastic. It smelled as ghastly as ever, but at least Blade knew now he wasn’t going to have to drink it.
The wounded man seemed to relax as the Shield of Life hardened over his wound. His breathing slowed and became more regular, and his eyes drifted shut. Instead of tossing half-conscious in a red haze of pain, he now seemed to be sleeping naturally. Meera came back, moistened a rag, and mopped the sweat off the man’s face and the blood off his lips where he’d bitten them.
The priests did the same thing with each wounded man-clean the wound, pour on the Shield of Life, and make sure it completely covered the wound by the time it hardened. With each man the effect was the same-a calming, a soothing, an apparent easing of their pain. One man had the Shield of Life poured on a maimed hand and recovered so quickly that he grabbed one of the captive women with his good hand and tried to pull her down to the ground beside him.
Swebon laughed at that and lifted the woman to her feet. «Enough, Fror,» he said. «We Shield your life, not your manhood. Save your strength until you can do this woman some justice. Or would you have her believe that the Fak’si are less than men?» Fror smiled and let Swebon lead the woman away.
It was nearly dark by the time the priests finished with the last of the seriously wounded. By then several more fires were blazing merrily, and fish were broiling on spits over them. Fat hissed cheerfully as it dropped into the flames.
Blade lay down and let Swebon and the priests go to work on him. The hot water stung as it flowed into the wound, washing away the clotted blood. Then the Shield of Life came down on his flesh, and it was as if a cool, soothing oil was touching every part of the wound. The touch was so gentle that Blade’s senses barely registered it, but under that touch all the pain vanished as completely as if he’d never been wounded. Blade felt a faint prickling on his skin as the Shield of Life began to dry, but nothing else. The most advanced Home Dimension anesthetics couldn’t have done a better job.
Of course killing the pain of his wound wasn’t the same as curing it, but he was willing to take his chances. The wound had been at least partly disinfected, and the hardened Shield of Life seemed to be sealing it as well as any bandage. Meanwhile he was getting sleepy, and he was incredibly thirsty.
He lay back, and was vaguely aware of Swebon calling for the sentries to take their positions. Meera appeared suddenly out of the darkness and h
eld a gourd of cool water to his mouth. He drank until the gourd was empty, but satisfying his thirst didn’t clear his head. It only seemed to make him sleepier. He felt slim, muscular limbs against his and soft hair brushing his cheek, then he felt nothing at all.
They were on the move again the next morning, as soon as there was enough light to make out the channel back to the main river. «It would be best to stay here another two days,» said Swebon. «The Shield of Life is a great blessing, but the Forest Spirit asks a price for that blessing.
«However, we can do only the next best thing. We have struck the Yal a mighty blow and they will be in a mighty rage. To wait here two more days would be as foolish as throwing a stone into a hive of wild bees and standing by, waiting for them to swarm out.»
Blade saw what Swebon meant by the «price for that blessing» before they’d been on the river an hour. One by one, all the wounded who’d received the Shield of Life became feverish. How feverish they became depended on how badly they’d been wounded. Those with light wounds like Blade’s merely became uncomfortable-confused, tired, and continuously thirsty. Those who’d been seriously wounded burned with fever, and many of them became delirious. One man went into convulsions and died just before noon. Swebon, Tuk, and the priests said the death rites for him and his body was slipped overboard as the raiders paddled on.
Blade spent the day paddling as well as he could with one shoulder half immobilized and the rest of his body hot and aching with fever. Meera was always on hand with drinking water, except when she was needed to pour water over one of the more seriously ill men. She worked hard, and by the end of the day Blade wasn’t the only man who looked at her with respect and even affection as she moved up and down the canoe. She was still as naked as a baby, but didn’t seem to care.