King Of Zunga rb-12

by Джеффри Лорд

  It certainly made an impression, not only on the crowd but on the other guards. Gasps of amazement and awe rose all around Blade. The next two pairs of guards that had been rushing forward to the attack stopped where they were and fanned out into a circle around Blade. He whirled, reversing his spear as he turned, and drove the butt hard at the man behind him. For once, the intended target jumped back in time to escape being hit. All four of the men in the circle took a few more steps backward, holding their spears ready to guard against any more surprises.

  Before Blade or his opponents could make another move, there was a flurry in the crowd. Voices rose in angry protest, spearheads clanged together, and then Nayung burst out into the open. He dashed toward the guards that had closed the Ulungas’ circle behind Blade, but stopped just outside spear range. Then he raised his spear high over head in salute to King Afuno, threw back his head, and roared out his message.

  «Oh, King, see the great warrior of the English and how he makes the best warriors of the Zungans fall over themselves like children playing in the dust. He has sworn before the Sky Father that he can teach each Zungan to fight as he does. The iron swords and the iron clothing of the slave raiders will no longer protect them. They will all hang from posts around our victory fires. Our wives and children will not be their slaves, but theirs will be ours. Let this warrior Blade speak to you, oh, King!»

  While Nayung was shouting his message, Blade was doing his best to watch the four guards circling around him and King Afuno on his chair. Afuno held on to both of his spears, but lowered the one he had raised into throwing position. Otherwise he neither moved nor spoke during Nayung’s entire speech. Once it seemed to Blade that the massive head jerked in surprise, but that might have only been his imagination.

  Blade braced himself as Nayung came to the end of his speech. Had Afuno, understood their message? And even if he had, would he dare to encourage two men who were under the ban of the Ulungas? If the answer was no to either question, Blade knew that he and Nayung had only minutes at most to live. Perhaps less, if Afuno took it into his head to use his royal privileges and hurl those spears.

  The minutes dragged on. The sun seemed hotter than ever, or was it just the strain? Blade knew that sweat was pouring off him as though he were melting away. Cautiously he reached up a hand to loosen a fold of the turban and wipe his streaming forehead with it. Then he turned back toward Afuno.

  The king still stood motionless on his platform. Then Blade saw Princess Aumara get to her feet and spring lightly down from her platform. A moment later she was climbing up beside her father and talking urgently into his ear. Blade would have given a good deal to hear what she was saying.

  Then Afuno turned back toward Blade and Nayung. He fixed the two men with a stare that even fifty feet away made Blade swallow and brace himself for action. Then in a clear, high-pitched voice he hailed them.

  «D’bor Nayung, Richard Blade of the English, come into the king’s circle.»

  Blade’s own whistling sigh of relief was lost in the gasps and murmurs of astonishment from the thousands of onlookers. For a moment he could not have said a word if he had had to. He could only turn to Nayung and see his own grin mirrored on the other’s face. Nayung stretched out his hand toward Blade, Blade took it, and both turned toward the king’s circle.

  Before, they could take a single step, a voice roared out from the other side of the circles:

  «Wait, oh, King!»

  The voice was shrill with rage, but it was unmistakably Chamba’s. Blade’s grip on his spear tightened. Chamba went on. «Oh, great Afuno, shall you defy the Sky Father? These men were forbidden by the Ulungas to approach your person. The Ulungas have spoken!»

  Again Blade tensed, waiting for Afuno’s answer. If the king said, «Then, so be it,» or some other words of submission, Blade and Nayung would once again be facing a quick death.

  Afuno’s voice was calm at first. «Blade has shown himself a warrior who indeed may teach us much. If there is a wrongness in letting them approach me against the will of the Ulungas, let the wrath of the Sky Father fall on my head. Do not attempt to teach me how to be a king, Chamba.» Then Afuno’s voice rose to an angry roar. «And by what right do you speak for the Ulungas, Chamba? Are their speakers all mute, that I do not hear their voices? Or are you lying? Oh, Speakers of the Ulungas, I am waiting for your answer.» There was no mistaking the sarcasm in Afuno’s voice.

  Nor was there any mistaking the silence that followed Afuno’s question. Blade did not know which of the unarmed men in the Ulungas’ circle might be speakers, but he did know that none of them were saying anything. The silence went on and on, and a triumphant grin spread across Nayung’s face. He motioned Blade forward.

  They had taken only one step when Chamba’s voice rose again from the other side of the circles. Now it was shrill with half-hysterical rage, in spite of its words. «Oh, Sky Father, bless me in slaying these blasphemers, and when they are dead turn your curse away from the Zungans!» Even in his rage, Chamba did not quite dare call down a curse on King Afuno. Blade and Nayung looked at each other, then nodded and moved a few steps apart. As they raised their spears, Chamba burst through the guards into the Ulungas’ circle and sprinted around it toward the waiting men. A few steps behind him ran a second warrior.

  Whether the Ulungas’ guards would have intervened or not, they had no time to do so. Chamba and his companion came down at Blade and Nayung at a dead run, spears raised but dancing and darting back and forth. Blade made a movement to jump backward, but Nayung shook his head sharply.

  «It is against a warrior’s honor to retreat.»

  Blade opened his mouth to reply, then shut it again. This was no time to argue. Besides, if he wanted to impress the Zungans, he would have to win according to their rules, regardless of what his training and instincts told him. This wasn’t the first time he had played this sort of game. So he nodded to Nayung, and both moved forward to meet their opponents.

  Crude technique or not, Chamba at full speed was a deadly opponent. And he was strong. His first downthrust nearly drove all the way into Blade’s chest. It took all the strength of Blade’s arms to hold Chamba off. And as the man pulled his spear back, he hooked the head over the shaft of Blade’s spear and nearly jerked it out of his hands. Blade lurched forward, for a moment nearly off balance. He had to jump desperately sideways to avoid another thrust at his stomach, and twist his head to avoid a third at his face. Then he was able to bring his own spear back up and whip the point around into a lunge at Chamba’s thigh. The warrior sprang sideways also, but not far enough or fast enough. The point scraped his skin just below the loincloth, leaving a thin oozing red line.

  The slight wound made no difference to Chamba’s speed or determination. He came in again, and Blade had to move fast to slam his own spear down against the shaft of Chamba’s spear and force the incoming point down. The point almost went into the ground, and Blade quickly whipped his spear butt up and over at Chamba’s head. Again a sideways leap took Chamba clear almost unscathed-the spear butt just grazed his cheek.

  So it went on, an endless sequence of thrusts, parries, and ripostes. Each fighter was using every possible and impossible variation of his fighting style. Each was using every bit of his speed, strength, and skill. Blade soon knew that Chamba, fighting all out, was as fast as he was. Blade knew he had more endurance, and was probably stronger. But in a fight where one lucky stroke could end it, would he last long enough for these to make a difference? And how was Nayung doing? He dared not take his attention off Chamba even for a split-second glance at his companion’s duel with Chamba’s second.

  If Chamba had been willing to retreat occasionally, he could have kept the fight going until he or Blade or both of them dropped flat on the ground from exhaustion. As it was, his honor would not permit him to give back a single step. He always stayed within range of Blade. Because he was always within range, Blade’s superior strength and endurance finally began to tell
.

  Blade was focusing so completely on the next sequence of blows that it was a little while before he realized this. He saw one of his thrusts go home a few inches below the now-clotted blood from the first wound, just above Chamba’s right knee. A thrust with the butt at Chamba’s jaw missed, but glanced along the man’s temple. Blade felt the jar along the spear shaft. Chamba shook his head, and stood still for a moment before coming in again. Since the fight began, this was the first pause in Chamba’s steady, machinelike offensive.

  But it was not the last. The pauses began to come more and more frequently. Each time Chamba kept his spear up, and each time Blade attacked, he defended solidly. But it seemed to Blade that each parry or guard came a little more slowly than the one before. If anybody got home a lucky stroke now, it would be Blade, not Chamba. He told himself not to let hope make him careless about a man who was still dangerous, and moved in again.

  The world had shrunk now to Chamba, the bare hard earth between them, and his own blood pounding in his ears. Suddenly something new broke in on his mind-a gasping scream, and the solid sound of metal striking bone. Chamba whirled to stare, and so did Blade.

  Nayung’s opponent was standing motionless, his spear raised and just about to descend. Nayung appeared to be crouching motionless, a sitting target for his opponent’s downstrokes. Then Blade saw that Nayung’s spear angled up toward his opponent’s chest. The head of the spear was buried almost out of sight between the man’s ribs, and a thin rim of blood showed around it. After what seemed an incredibly long time, the dying man dropped his spear. Both hands went down to the spear driven into his body, as if he wanted to wrench it out of him. Then he gasped again and fell forward, so that Nayung’s spear drove deep into him, then came out through his back.

  Before Nayung could make a single move to jerk his spear free, Chamba struck. He leaped sideways from in front of Blade and came down in a crouch within easy reach of his companion’s fallen spear. He snatched it up and raised it to the attack position. Nayung began sidling around to the right, motioning Blade to do the same in the opposite direction. Blade nodded, but kept his eyes fixed on Chamba. The man’s eyes were wide, staring, and bloodshot; his breath came in bellows-like wheezes. He seemed to be nerving himself for something.

  Then his spear rose, sun flashing from the head, and his right arm snapped forward. The spear hurled free through the air. Before Blade could realize what Chamba had done, the thrown spear plunged deep into Nayung’s thigh.

  Blade did not need the howl of rage and horror that rose up deafeningly all around him to tell him that Chamba had made a fatal error. He saw King Afuno stiffen as though he himself had been struck, then raise one of his own spears, ready to hurl it into Chamba.

  Somehow Blade managed to raise his voice enough so that Afuno realized he was trying to say something. The king’s bull-like roar beat through the shouting of the crowd. As the yells and curses subsided, Blade raised his spear and shouted at the top of his voice.

  «The Sky Father has spoken. He who would seek to deny my teachings to the Zungans has revealed himself a mad blasphemer. He was thrown a spear and wounded my comrade, the D’bor Nayung. Oh, King, let me teach the Zungans first of all how I honor their laws. Let me slay thus blasphemer with my own hands!»

  Even King Afuno could not make himself heard over the roar that went up at these words. Cheers now mingled with the curses, and Blade heard his name from a thousand throats. He looked to where Nayung lay. Four of the Royal Guards were already standing around him, examining his wound, preparing to pull the spear out. Nayung was as well off as he could be for now. It was time to settle with Chamba.

  The man was desperate, and Blade knew that a desperate man was the most dangerous opponent possible. But Chamba had lost too much speed and strength. No matter how furiously he attacked, Blade’s defenses held. For a few minutes Blade stayed firmly on the defensive, judging Chamba’s speed to the split second.

  Then he moved in for the kill. The golden sunlight danced in a dazzling pattern as his spearhead bobbed and weaved, up and down, in and out. Bloody slashes and punctures appeared on Chamba’s arms, legs, stomach, cheeks. Blood from a cut in his scalp ran down toward one eye. Blade stepped back and let Chamba wipe it off without stopping his spear’s movements. Then he moved in again.

  A feint with the point at Chamba’s throat. The man’s spear swung sideways to block it. Blade quickly reversed his spear, bringing the butt down across Chamba’s right hand. He felt bone crack, saw the hand open limply and Chamba’s spear dip. He swung his own spear down and then sideways like a club. Chamba’s spear flew out of his left hand and landed twenty feet away.

  Before Chamba could recover from the shock, Blade rammed his own spear point down into the ground. Then he leaped forward, one leg snapping out in a flying kick. The foot drove into Chamba’s stomach. He rose completely clear of the ground, folding up in midair like a snapped twig. He was still doubled up when he hit the ground. Blade was on top of Chamba in a second. Three rapid chops with the edge of his hand-to the throat, to the temple, to the back of the neck-and Chamba lay still.

  Again deafening cheering pounded at Blade’s ears as he lurched to his feet and retrieved his spear. He turned toward King Afuno and raised it in salute, but made no effort to speak. The explosion of a bomb would have been lost in the uproar.

  He waited until the crowd ran out of either enthusiasm or breath, then shouted across to Afuno. «Hail, oh, King. I have done as I had promised. With my own hands I have slain the blasphemer. This is my first lesson to the Zungans and my first offering to the Sky Father.»

  More cheering, but not so loud or so prolonged this time. The crowd was obviously running down. Considering how long they had been standing in the hot sun, this was hardly surprising. Blade knew that his own head was beginning to swim from the heat and the fight. If he had to stand out here much longer, he was going to give the crowd another bit of entertainment by fading flat on his face.

  He managed to raise his voice again. «Oh, King, my companion and friend Nayung is badly wounded. May I see him taken safely to his house and then return to approach you?»

  Afuno nodded. «It is my wish that you go with Nayung, and my own doctor shall come to care for both of you. It is my wish also that you remain in the house of Nayung until I myself come. That will be after the death rites of my son. Then we shall speak of your fighting arts and of what you may teach the Zungans.» The king’s face was expressionless. But even at this distance, there was no mistaking the interest and curiosity on Princess Aumara’s face.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Afuno came to Nayung’s house that night, heralded by another blare of horns. This did not wake Nayung, who was sleeping peacefully. To Blade’s relief, the doctor had pronounced Nayung in no danger. He would merely have to stay off his leg for a few weeks in order to ensure that it healed properly.

  Once out of the public eye, Afuno seemed to have a great dislike for royal pomp and ceremony. He squatted down on the floor, drank thirstily from the water jug, and fixed Blade with an unpleasantly searching stare.

  «Well, Richard Blade of the English. Was Nayung telling the truth about you when he broke up my assembly?»

  Blade nodded.

  «The whole truth?»

  Blade had to shake his head. Afuno grinned, showing a full set of white teeth. «I did not think so. But I do not blame either of you. You had to get my attention and speak fast. If all the people who come before me with petitions and requests were to follow that rule, it would be easier to be a king. But now we are alone. Say all that you need to say, and leave nothing out.»

  As far as he could, Blade did so. Afuno had the gift of listening well, rare anywhere and still rarer in men of power. When he asked a question, it was either to keep Blade moving, or to clarify some point he did not understand. And he did not mind admitting that he did not understand. By the time Blade had finished, he found it exceedingly easy to understand how King Afuno had ruled the pr
oud, martial Zungans for forty years without dispute.

  When Blade had finished, Afuno again fixed him with a painfully searching stare. Then he nodded slowly and said, «It is well that you showed what you could do. Otherwise I might find it hard to believe. But you were knocking down the Ulungas’ guards as though they were children. That was good to see, and I know many Zungans will feel the same. And what you did to Chamba!» The king laughed fiercely. «That man had the kind of hot head that can only be cooled down by cutting it off.»

  Then Afuno’s face sobered. «Do not think that I am grateful to you for forcing me to go against the will of the Ulungas. I know Chamba was telling the truth, but fortunately few others did, and they kept their mouths shut. That was well for them. But if the speakers had supported Chamba, it would have been difficult for me to recognize you and Nayung. And then it would have gone hard for you.

  «However, the Ulungas may see that it would be wise to go on keeping their mouths shut. If that is the case, our problems will be smaller.»

  Afuno rose. «In any case, Ulungas or not, I am going to take you and Nayung to Dorkalu with me tomorrow. There you will meet with the Great Mors and the On’ror who commands all the warriors of Zunga under me. The On’ror will pick good warriors to learn this new way of fighting from you. Then each of the ones you have taught will teach more, and so on. You are a gift from the Sky Father, and I will not slap his face by wearing you out asking you to do all the teaching yourself.»