King Of Zunga rb-12

by Джеффри Лорд

  Nayung’s spear was swinging out, far to the right, ready to come around for another slash. The companion hovered, ready to drive Blade back if he tried to close. Nayung’s spear whipped forward. Blade guessed its height above the ground, and dropped into a squatting position, head pulled down into his shoulders like a turtle. The spear blade whistled over his head. As it did so, Blade snapped his staff forward, into Nayung’s stomach. He had to move too fast to pull that blow. The staff folded Nayung practically double and sent him tottering backward, to fall to the ground a few feet away.

  If the last warrior was frightened at facing Blade alone, he gave no sign of it. Before Nayung hit the ground he rushed in, spear stabbing downward. Blade closed barely enough to avoid being spitted. The spear slashed down past his back, the sharp edge slicing through the leaves of his loincloth. As the spear came down, his own staff came up, one end smashing vertically into the warrior’s jaw. Blade was able to pull this blow, otherwise it would have gone right on up into the man’s brain. Instead, the warrior went limp all over and fell face down on the ground. Blade checked to see that he was still breathing, and then stood up.

  Carefully he went around to each of the six men; picking up each one’s spear and giving it back to him. He saved Nayung for last.

  As Blade handed the leader his spear, the man’s eyes followed him with utter amazement written all over the mahogany face. Nayung was obviously seeing something he could not understand. Finally he got up enough nerve to speak.

  «Warrior of Kanda, are you not going to slay us?»

  Blade shook his head angrily. «Why should I? And do not call me a warrior of Kanda! I am not from there. I have never been there in my life.» He was about to add that nothing in the world would ever make him go there, then decided against embroidering his story too much. As long as they believed he was not from Kanda, they would be less likely to stick spears into him first and ask questions later. There would be other and better times for telling the story of where he really came from.

  Nayung shook his head slowly, as if shaking it hard might make it fall off, and rubbed his stomach. Then he said, «No, you must be right. No slavehunter of Kanda would ever spare six warriors of Zunga if he had them where you have us now.» He could not quite bring himself to say at your mercy. «And there are few of the slavehunters who could defeat six Zungan warriors.» He struggled to a sitting position. «If you are not of Kanda, are you of Rulam?»

  Blade shook his head. «I am not of Rulam either. And while I am not going to kill or hurt any of you, I do think I am going to ask the questions for a little while. Then you may ask me who I am, and I will tell the truth if you do.» He lifted the staff to emphasize his words. «First, tell me what is Zunga?»

  Nayung looked at him as blankly as if he had been a man in London and Blade had just asked him what was England. Obviously he did not want to believe that Blade was mad, but he was having a hard time believing anything else.

  Finally he found his voice. «It is the land of the People.»

  Blade nodded. That was enough to go on for now, at least about Zunga. «And what is Kanda?»

  Nayung’s face darkened. «The city of the Priests of the Ivory Tower. The city of the killers of the Ivory People and the ivory thieves. A city of slave raiders. They come and take us away, to Kanda or even to Rulam. We die there in Rulam. We die in the firestone mines, we die in the arenas, we die in the slave barracks.»

  Blade asked another question. «Is Rulam another city?»

  «Yes.» Nayung grimaced. «Without the soldiers of Rulam, we would not fear Kanda and the Priests of the Ivory Tower. We could march up to its walls and climb over them, kill all the Priests and take our ivory back from the tower. But Rulam sends soldiers. They have swords and hats and coats of iron. We cannot fight them with our spears.» Nayung suddenly seemed to realize how much he was telling this stranger, and clamped his jaw shut.

  Blade ignored the gesture. He could fill in the details later, without asking any more questions now. He stood up and said, «As I told you, I am not from Kanda, and I am not from Rulam. My name is Richard Blade-«

  «You have two names?»

  «Nayung,» said Blade gently but with an edge in his voice, «I said I would ask the questions for now. Yes, I have two names. I come from the land of the English. I am a warrior there. I have coarse to Zunga-«and there he had to break off suddenly. What was a safe reason to give for his coming to Zunga? Curiosity, they would not believe. And they might very easily think an explorer was another kind of slave raider or ivory poacher.

  «I was exiled from England by my king,» he began. «Now I must wander from country to country, living as well as I can by my skills as a warrior. I have become a better warrior during my wanderings, though. I have learned many things about fighting.» He did not go on to offer to teach the Zungans some of what he knew. This was not the time yet. He wanted to look around him a little more first.

  Nayung laughed. «You are not telling us anything we do not know already when you say that you are a great warrior. There has never been a warrior who could defeat six Zungans single-handed without taking a single wound. Chamba boasted that he could, but never tried to do it. It is too bad that he did not try. He would have been killed or disgraced, and we would have been spared having to listen to him for many months.» Again Nayung’s face clouded as he realized he had been speaking too freely, and he was silent for a while.

  Then he painfully dragged himself to his feet and spread out both hands toward Blade. «I make the Peace Hand to you, Richard Blade of the English. And I tell you that you do not need to travel on beyond the land of Zunga. You will have my voice for you among our people as long as I live.»

  Blade grinned and returned Nayung’s gesture. «That is good. Then I will go with you and your warriors to your camp tonight. Is it far?»

  Nayung shook his head. «Our camp is only an hour from here. That way.» He pointed across the pond. «We are hunters who came to the forest to hunt one of the Ivory People and bring his ivory back. The Ivory People were drinking at this water when we came upon them. But they scented us, and ran off before we could spear one according to the laws and customs. We waited, hoping they might come back, but saw only the Lomban.» He made a sinuous motion with his hands that told Blade he meant the big snake. «Then we beat our drums to drive the Lomban away. After that, we saw you step out on the bank and make the Peace Hand. We came out to find out who you were. We learned.»

  Blade laughed. «You did indeed. And I learned who you are. Good men, brave warriors.» He pointed to the other five men sitting or lying on the ground. «I came to this water to drink, and I have not done so. Why don’t you get your men on their feet while I drink?»

  CHAPTER FOUR

  By the time Blade had drunk enough to quench his thirst and had filled the hollow gourd that Nayung had given him to use as a water bottle, the Zungan warrior had gone around to all of his men. Those who had been unconscious he had revived, gently or roughly as the case required-Chamba very roughly indeed.

  The man with the smashed kneecap, however, could not walk. Even to try standing made him scream again in agony and, collapse, writhing on the ground. Nayung looked down at him, his face set hard.

  «He cannot walk. The spirits of his feet are gone. If we had an Ulunga with us we might try to bring the spirits back to his feet. But none of us, is an Ulunga. He cannot walk, and we cannot carry him. It is our custom then for the D’bor to give him a quick death with the spear, so that all the other spirits of his body may go together. If we leave him here… «

  Blade nodded and raised a hand. «I understand. But if your camp is only an hour away, I think I can carry him myself. If I cannot do so by myself, I know a way in which two can carry him.»

  Nayung was looking at Blade with interest when Chamba strode forward, waving his spear in his left hand. «Nayung, do you call this man a warrior when he is so soft he will not see that the customs must be followed? If neither of you has the courag
e to follow them, then I will.» The spear in Chamba’s hand stabbed downward into the chest of the man on the ground before anybody could move. The man gasped, clutched at the spear shaft for a moment, then relaxed all over and lay still.

  Nayung glared at Chamba. «Chamba, you have a very thick head. But if you ever do this again, I will break that head into so many pieces that its spirits will spend the next thousand years finding them.» His grip on his spear shaft tightened. «The warrior Richard Blade of the English is second to me now. Do you understand?» The spear came up and the point was leveled at Chamba’s stomach.

  Chamba looked down at the spear, then up to Nayung’s grim face, and nodded slowly.

  «Good,» said Nayung. He turned to Blade. «If that fool Chamba makes any more trouble, kill him.» Blade nodded reluctantly. He didn’t like Chamba any better than Nayung did, but he wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to humiliate such a proud and dangerous man in front of a stranger. Chamba would be thinking of revenge now that was certain.

  The six men moved out. They walked through the forest in single file, with Nayung leading and Blade bringing up the rear. That was just as well. He did not want Chamba behind him for now.

  The Zungans stepped along at a pace that Blade could only match with effort. They plowed straight along through the forest, stopping every fifteen minutes or so to take their bearings. Blade asked Nayung about this during one of the halts.

  «The men of Kanda and Rulam do not come into the forests,» said the Zungan. «They are afraid. That was why I thought you might not be a Kandanor a Rulami, since you have gone where they never go.»

  «What of the animals in the forest?»

  «The animals do not bother us. Only sworn warriors go into the forest, to hunt the Ivory People, and the animals know that such warriors are dangerous to attack. So they avoid us.»

  Blade nodded. «But if the Kandans and the Rulami do not go into the forest, why don’t all the Zungans move into the forest and be safe from the raiders?»

  Nayung looked at Blade as though he had just accused the Zungan of murdering his own grandmother. «Only sworn warriors blessed by the Ulungas may enter the forests. The women and children and men past the age of being warriors are forbidden. The spirits of their bodies would depart if they did so.»

  It was on the tip of Blade’s tongue to ask whether any woman or child had ever tested this theory by going into the forest. But he decided against it. He would not earn Nayung’s trust by expressing heretical opinions about the Zungans’ beliefs. He merely nodded and said nothing.

  They reached the camp while the sun was still sending a golden glow down through the thinner patches of leaves. It was a neat little compound, obviously permanent. Its floor was of beaten earth, and Nayung immediately sent two of the warriors back into the forest to pick up fresh leaves to cover the floor. Its walls were of branches and saplings, interlaced with thorny twigs to present a prickly face to the world. More saplings were laid across the tops of the walls, and yet more of the three-foot leaves laid across the saplings to make a roof. There were clay pots filled with dried meat, fruit, and water.

  Blade praised the shelter to Nayung, and saw that the man was pleased. «You English must be a wise and understanding people. The Kandans think we are evil because we do not obey the Priests of the Ivory Tower and keep our women as slaves. The Rulami think we are savages because we are brown-skinned and live in towns on the plains, instead of in a great crowded, noisy city the way they do. Our people could never live the way the Rulami do. The spirits of their bodies would go away. You English must teach your warriors not to look down on other peoples, but to take each for what they are worth. That is a very wise thing. When you are too old to be a warrior, you will be an adviser to the king because of your wisdom.»

  Blade saw no point in explaining that he would be returning to the land of the English long before enough years had passed to force him to retire as a Zungan warrior. Or if not returning to England, at least moving on to another land than Zunga. Nayung obviously liked and trusted him, wanted to treat him as a friend, and wanted to see him stay and be accepted by the Zungans. Blade suspected that Nayung also had in mind his value as an ally for some plans of his own.

  There was plenty of food and water for all six men, and Blade dug in vigorously, not trying to hide the appetite he had worked up since his arrival in this dimension. Chamba jeered at him for that.

  «Blade,» he said, «a Zungan warrior can march for two days and then fight a great battle on half of what you have eaten and drunk at one sitting.»

  «I don’t doubt it,» said Blade. «But if he cannot reach his goal before the enemy does, or win the battle when he meets the enemy, what good does that do? And if he has not eaten and drunk enough simply to prove how strong he is, then he has simply proved that he has the brains of a little cheeping bird as well as the appetite of one.»

  If Nayung had not fixed him with a glare, Chamba would have jumped up and hurled himself on Blade then and there. It occurred to Blade that he might wisely be a little less sharp-tongued with Chamba. On the other hand, the man was obviously Nayung’s enemy as well as his own. For Blade’s own safety, he decided to deal with Chamba fairly soon. Baiting him was the best way to push him into the necessary fight. But it would definitely be better to wait until they had reached the home territory of the Zungans, and Blade had gained some status among them. This would keep people from asking too many nasty questions of either him or Nayung when Chamba did not come back from the hunting trip.

  In spite of his words to Blade, Chamba ate like a starving man, then lay down and promptly fell asleep. Nayung looked down at him with a sour smile on his face. «He is quite certain that he is too good to be asked to wear himself out mounting guard.» Nayung shrugged. «It seems to be up to me, then. I…»

  Blade shook his head. «You have been hunting all day. I have not traveled far, and I am less tired than you are. I will keep the first watch tonight.»

  Nayung tried to argue, more out of his pride as a warrior than because he disagreed with Blade or resented his offer. But eventually he gave in and lay down on the carpet of leaves. He was asleep within a few moments. The other warriors soon joined him.

  Blade picked up one of the spears and hefted it experimentally. The spearhead was actually more like a short sword. It was about two feet long from socket to point, about five inches across at its widest point, and nearly half an inch thick in the middle. It was made of poor-quality wrought iron. Both the point and the edge were surprisingly sharp, considering the quality of the iron. In fact, the workmanship of the whole spear was considerably better than the materials. The Zungans obviously were proud of their weapons and spent much time and thought in making them.

  Then Blade examined the spear shaft. It was four feet of tough, limber, and exceedingly hard wood. He tried to pull the spearhead off, to test the balance of the shaft without the head, but the socket was too tight. So he stood up and went through a series of quarterstaff and kendo movements with the complete spear. Then he grinned again. With some more weight at the butt end, the spear would be perfectly balanced for use as quarterstaff. The wood was excellent. In fact, the spear would probably be a more effective weapon without the head, if all the head was used for was that overhead downstroke or the windmill slash that Blade had seen in the fight.

  Suddenly Blade felt light-headed and almost buoyant. Less than twelve hours after arriving in this dimension, his training with weapons had already put one key to solving the Zungan’s problems into his hand. Then he shut off that line of thought and took a more sober look at the situation.

  The Zungans were obviously much given to being hostile to strangers. He could not blame them, but here it was. His own prospects for a peaceful reception still depended on Nayung. And he had no idea what Nayung’s reaction would be to turning the entire Zungan fighting style head over heels with this new method. Blade knew he had better find out before he started shooting off his mouth. Such a proud people a
s the Zungans might balk at learning from even a friendly stranger.

  He knew at least which side he should be on in this dimension. Nayung had described the Kandans and the Rulami as raiding the Zungans for slaves-mine slaves, domestic slaves, and gladiators. That didn’t necessarily make them completely evil. But Blade had a perspective on slavery that few modern men had. He had been a slave several times, and what it did to a man’s spirit was not something written in the pages of a book. He might not aid the Zungans if he found them unwilling or unable to accept his aid. But it would take some very extraordinary virtues among the Kandans or the Rulami to make him willing to help either one of them.

  That settled that point in his mind for the time being. He stood up, and began a slow walk around the wall of the little compound, peering out into the darkness.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  They spent four more nights in the forest, each in one of the little compounds. Twice Nayung and Chamba had to go out with their spears and clay pots and bring back fruit and small animals. They ate the animals raw-fire was taboo in the forest. Once Blade went to refill the water jugs. Chamba promptly jeered at him for this.

  «The English warriors have no sense of shame, I see. They will do women’s work without complaint. They will even ask to do it. Can you have babies also, Blade?»

  At that remark Nayung was probably closer than Blade to putting a spear through Chamba on the spot. It was Blade who, held the two men apart. If Nayung killed Chamba, well and good. But if Chamba killed Nayung, Blade would at once have to kill Chamba. And they might also kill or disable each other. In either of the last two cases Blade knew he would be left with the job of leading the remaining warriors out of a vast forest that he did not know, back to their homes among a people he knew even less well. And he would be pitchforked straight among those people with no one to sponsor him or teach him the ropes. No, this was not the time or place for a finish fight between Chamba and either himself or Nayung.