Pearl Of Patmos rb-7

by Джеффри Лорд

Blade ran at him with the lance. Too late. Hectoris rolled and was up. Blade gambled and hurled the lance with all his might and the Samostan fended it away with his shield. Blade halted and began to retreat, glancing about for his sword. There, gleaming in the sand near the water. He moved toward it.

  Hectoris was there, between Blade and the sword, mocking. He swung his mace and the spiked ball slammed on Blade’s shield. Again and again, high and low, the mace thudding and thundering and bending the shield as Blade was forced back and back-and always away from the sword.

  Blade plucked a dagger from his belt and tried to close with Hectoris. The other man laughed and leaped away and swung the mace again. Blade half slipped, was beaten to his knees, and the mace reined blows in ceaseless fury. Somehow Blade fought to his feet and, feinting to his left, tried to circle right and reach his sword. Hectoris was there.

  Both men gasped now, breathed with pain, and streamed black and bitter sweat. Hectoris, near to exhaustion, came on again. Blade, staking all, did not retreat but sprang into the mace blow, fended it, and smashed his shield into the lowering face of his enemy. Hectoris gave ground for the first time. And slipped a bit in the sand. It was enough. Blade darted past him and ran to where his sword glittered.

  Hectoris cursed and the screaming wind bore the oath to Blade. Hectoris flung the mace. It struck Blade at the knees, from behind, but no true blow. The spiked ball missed and only the chain and handle tangled his limbs and brought him down. He fell forward, sliding and with hand reaching for the hilt of the sword. His fingers touched it.

  Blade scrambled and rolled on the sand. Hectoris, both hands to his sword, slashed the sand where Blade had just lain. Blade, in attempting to gain his feet, slipped and took another sword stroke on his battered shield. Part of the rim was sheared away. Blade thrust at the groin and drove Hectoris back and at last was on his feet. Water creamed and foamed about his boots. They were fighting now at the very edge of the sea.

  Hectoris-there seemed no end to the strength in that lank slim body-leaped in and began to lay about Blade, who knew he had met his equal. Hectoris matched him point for point and edge for edge. The Samostan had lost his laurel crown and, along with it, his arrogance, but he gave Blade no respite. Slowly, reluctantly, Blade gave ground and was forced back into the pounding sea. A breaker curled in and smashed down over h4n and his enemy vanished in spume and mist, only to come on again as the wave receded. Blade began to plan, knowing the only way he could win, and prayed that the computer pain did not come again until it was over. If he faltered now he was a dead man.

  When Hectoris leaped in again Blade did not parry and retreat, or shift position, but ran in close and, their steel locked, face close to panting face, tried to dagger Hectoris. The man’s armor turned the thrust and Hectoris pushed Blade away. Blade kept the dagger in his left hand, menacing with it, wanting Hectoris to keep it in mind, to be aware of it. The next time….

  They were fighting in water up to their waists. Hectoris sloshed toward him. The Samostan had lost his helmet and his bald head gleamed in the dull light and wind tossed his fringe of hair. Blade retreated a bit, not daring to glance behind him, but listening for the next surge and roar of an oncoming wave. If his timing was right-A wave curled and towered. Hectoris and Blade sprang at the same time to the attack. Blade feinted with his dagger and when the other man moved to fend it Blade dropped the little weapon and gripped the sword belt of Hectoris. He dropped his own sword and fended off a last blow from Hectoris and then dropped his shield. With all his strength he drew the man to him, embraced him in a bear hug, and kicked his legs out from under him. The wave smashed down like the hammer of doom and inundated them, swept them along topsy turvy and slamming their locked bodies against the rough bottom sand. Blade, knowing his own plan, had drawn one deep breath. He got the head of his enemy in the crook of his left arm, seized his own left wrist with his right hand, and brought his terrible strength to bear.

  The wave carried them shoreward. Blade felt bones break in the neck of Hectoris. He dug in with his feet, fought to his knees and clawed back into deeper water. He rolled and, using his weight advantage, took Hectoris to the bottom again. The Samostan had drawn his own dagger and was feebly slashing at Blade’s legs. There was some small pain and a little blood, but Blade was content. He had won.

  Blade let four more waves pound over them before he stood up and dragged the lifeless body of Hectoris ashore. He glanced out at the ships massed in the outer harbor; the ratlines and crows nests were. black with watching men. Blade dragged the body up the beach, far beyond the tide line, and dropped it. He found the lance and thrust it into the sand near the lolling head. Hectoris had not drowned. Blade had broken his neck.

  He stood for a moment by the body and looked out at the fleet. He raised a clenched fist and shook it three times, then turned away. Nob and the Samostan orderly, with Juna between them, came down the beach to meet him.

  Juna, her arms folded over her breasts, her hands in the long sleeves of her gown, stood silently by as Blade spoke with the two men.

  To the orderly Blade said: «Yonder is the body of your master. See to it. He was a man, but fought like a devil, and it was a near thing. Tell your captains that I, Richard Blade, said this. Tell them also that I will send Ptol, the priest, with terms by which Patmos and Samosta may come to peace. If this peace is refused tell them they may expect nothing but death and fire and desolation. They will inherit nothing but ruins. Go now and keep watch by the body. When we are gone, and the storm lessens, they will send a boat for you.»

  The man bowed, his eyes huge with awe and fear, and hurried off. Blade looked at Nob and pointed to the war horse. It had found a tiny patch of rank beach grass and was grazing.

  «Fetch the horse for my lady, Nob. When we have reached the caverns again it is yours to keep.» New pain moved in Blade’s head.

  Nob did what Nob had never done before. He fell to one knee before Blade and from his good eye a tear scoured through the dirt on his rugged face. «Sirel I had thought you dead-my eye did not believe and I had no faith. And I–I had already thought how to make my terms with the Samostans. I am not worthy of such a gift, master, I am worthy of nothing. I-«

  Blade clapped him on the shoulder. «On your feet, man. It worked out well in the end and yqu will not have to change your coat again. Go now. Fetch the horse for Juna.»

  Nob went. Blade looked at the girl, gazed into those blue pools, and nearly lost his resolution. But he had promised Izmia.

  Juna took a step toward him. She knew. It was in her glance and manner. She stared long at Blade. Wind moaned about them, tossing her hair wildly.

  Juna said, «Must I, Blade? I would not have it so. Since I first saw you I have schemed to have you with me, to love you always, to face the intrigue and plotting together and somehow, when it was over, to be happy together.»

  Blade shook his head. It pained him still, but was bearable. The computer was seeking.

  «I cannot stay, Juna. What you do is, must be, decided by you. You know of what Izmia has spoken to me?»

  «I know.» Her voice was cold, bitter. «Since a tiny child I have known this day must come. You could save me, Blade. You could take me with you.»

  «I cannot. Of all things in the world that I cannot do.»

  Nob was approaching with the horse. Juna was pale, her lovely face gleaming with moisture borne by the wind, her eyes half closed as she surveyed Blade up and down. She gathered the white cloak about her slim body.

  «Let us go, then. If there is no help for it. Izmia told you all that must be done?»

  «Izmia told me.»

  CHAPTER 14

  In the little cavern, close by the Cavern of Music, Blade and Juna lay entwined and made love for the last time. Juna, clasping his brawn with her with pale limbs, whispered, «Do not spend all, my heart. Some of you must be saved for-you know what.»

  «I know.»

  They lay on the black catafalque. Nearby was the swor
d and the pearl and the chalice and the wine. They waited, symbols all, wind and water, fire and earth.

  Juna, her tongue hotly enshrined with Blade’s, whispered again. «Why am I thus cursed, Blade? I was dutiful, obedient. I gave all my life to Izmia and to Patmos, I was her envoy and her creature in good faith and in intrigue and treachery. And never doubted the right of it-until I saw you. Now I would be but an ordinary woman, free to love the man she chooses, and I cannot. It is bitter.»

  He could only nod and hold her close. Aye, it was bitter. And must be done. Quickly now. The head pains were recurring every few minutes; he had not much longer to stay in Dimension X.

  But it was Juna who finally said, «If it must be done, Blade, do it now.»

  From the catafalque she watched as he took the black pearl in one hand and the sword in the other. With great force he smashed the hilt of the sword against the pearl. It shattered into shards and dust.

  Blade put wine in the chalice and three pinches of the pearl dust and returned to the catafalque. Juna took the chalice from his hand and knelt beside him. Blade was near spent and she must perforce suckle him for some moments. Then, with expert fingers, she brought him to climax and caught his spew in the chalice. The effort cost her and her eyes were haunted as she handed him the chalice again and fell back on the catafalque. Blade could not rest.

  He mixed the potion in the chalice, stirring it with the sword point, and when it was thick and giving off a faint smoke, he anointed the steel with it, from hilt to point. A patina formed on the sword, dulling the sheen, and from it arose the same faint mist. Blade, sword in hand, turned back to Juna.

  She was ready. Legs wide spread, naked, breasts trembling as she breathed and stared narrow-eyed with fear and regret and-or did he only imagine it,?-anticipation.

  Blade hesitated. He gazed from the sword to the body of Juna. Was it possible? Even in Dimension X-was it possible?

  Juna cried out. «Do it, Blade. Do it now! Else I lose courage.»

  Blade lowered the sword point and guided it in between her outflung legs.

  Juna arched and flung her head back and screamed once. Her face became a mask through which eyes watched Blade and they were not the eyes of Juna. They changed color, became amber lakes in which smoke swirled and clotted and vanished and came again.$

  He kept sharp watch for blood and there was none. Juna-this woman creature who had been Juna, moved and writhed and contorted on the engorging sword. Inch by inch, foot by foot, the steel crept within her body. She engulfed it, swallowed it, welcomed the steel into her inner recesses. Her eyes were golden caverns now in which there flickered the fires of some ecstasy Blade could never know. Her features began to alter, subtly at first, then with speed until be saw not Juna. The blue-eyed maid was gone. He saw-lzmia.

  Her body flesh changed color, shimmered with light and flame, flickered through the spectrum. Blade, running with sweat, pressed the sword home until the hilt rested against her flesh, pinned there like some shining ornament. The great sword lay within her body, a body now grown turgid, enhanced in every limb, breasts larger and heavy, legs longer and shoulders wider.

  Blade stepped back and stared at her. And knew heryoung Izmial

  There remained but one thing to do. He seized the hilt of the sword and plucked it out with a single motion. She screamed loud and writhed and sent the echoes scurrying through the cavern. Blade flung the sword from him.

  Izmia stirred and raised herself on the catafalque and looked at Blade. She smiled and lifted her hand to him. Blade—

  The roof blew off the world. The volcano cast off its mute and exploded in a delirium of sound. Blazing lava poured into his brain and he heard himself scream in agony as the cavern collapsed around him. The catafalque and the woman vanished in a whirling pinpoint of nothing. Blade ran at an insane pace on a treadmill of loti and on either side was whacked by balloons with phantom faces. He shrank to midget size and the gauntlet stretched to the ends of the universe. Fylfot banners flapped about him like evil wings and a snake, tail in mouth, pursued him like some dreadful hoop with intent to strangle. The balloons turned to faces and floated past-Nob, Hectoris,

  w Edyrn, Gongor and Captain Mijax, the lisping evil of Ptol. Blade screamed and ran on and on-and on—

  There was no succor, no escape. But yes-for now he ran into the great wide mouth of Izmia. The white teeth were cliffs and the red tongue a path and Blade slipped on the moist surface and fell and was sliding down that gaping maw, that gullet. The mouth closed, the great teeth x snapped, and all was darkness while Blade fell a million miles into a stomach larger than the world. x snapped, and all was darkness while Blade fell a million miles into a stomach larger than the world.

  :Their taxi was trapped in Lothbury Street near Copra

  4 House. The same newsboy was waving a placard. It had all happened before-nine months ago.

  There had been, said Lord Leighton, a time slippage.

  .; As a rule his Lordship did not worry about time in]5imension X; it seldom matched that in Home Dimension, but allowances were made and the matter was of no great import. But this time Blade had suffered a severe blow on the head-a hairline fracture of the skull that would heal of itself-and while this had brought on his amnesia it also baffled the computer until the proper adjustment was made. They had nearly given up on Blade.

  J, beside him now in the taxi, showed the ravages of those nine lost months. His hair was grayer and skimpier, the lines around his eyes and mouth deeper. On first meeting, when Blade was free to leave the Tower, J had shaken his hand and said, «We thought we had lost you, old boy.» Just that. But there had been tears in the old man’s eyes.

  The taxi had not moved for some minutes. Blade stared at the newsboy across Lothbury Street. He could read the headline on the placard.

  DIANA HAS A BOY

  By this time J was aware of the coincidence. He nudged Blade. «Do you remember? We were caught in nearly this same spot-the day we went to the Tower and were so frightfully late. You bought a paper?»

  Blade nodded. «I recall. Diana and Sir David Throckmorton-Pell. The hanging judge. The one they call The Rope. She had just run away from him.»

  J smiled. «Yes. Not the first time, either. But she came back and they have just had a child. I doubt she will be running away again-not with a child to rear.»

  Blade knew then. Sea green eyes, so cold at first and then so warm. Black pants with no lace. ‘A Dorset beach and the-long swim out and the game they played and at last the coupling in the depths and the going away, the departures with no goodbyes.

  Hercules and Diana. A sea game played once only.

  J was saying, «Some of the nastier papers are hinting that Sir David is not the father. Short of libel, of course. But Tony Asquith, in the Mirror, is defending her tooth and nail. Of course everyone knows that Tony is mad for her. One or two of the really sleazy columnists have hinted that Tony himself is the father.»

  «No,» said Blade absently.

  J stared. «What?»

  «I mean,» said Blade, «that I doubt that a fop such as this Asquith seems to be could be the father. Why don’t the bastards leave the poor girl alone! And old Sir David, for that matter. This could make all the difference in their lives-they may have a chance now.»

  He knew. Just as she would know, no matter how many men she had been with. And that was the end of it. He could never seek her out, nor she him. He felt no real sadness. He had come back from hell to find a bit of immortality bestowed on him. Who could quarrel with that?

  The taxi moved on. J watched Blade carefully. Odd, but never before had he noticed that Blade, upon occasion, could look smug.

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