Planet of the Apes Omnibus 2

by John Jakes

  Ari was still back on the other side!

  He could see her well enough. She’d lost her horse somewhere and was on foot now, scrambling toward a jumble of rocks that overlooked the riverbank several yards down from where everybody else had crossed.

  Right behind her raced a pack of apes, led by his old trainee Attar. Every bone in his body vibrated with rage and frustration. He was here, and she was there, and he couldn’t protect her!

  Attar! If he could only get his hands on him, he’d break him like a twig! But he couldn’t, and so he threw back his head and roared.

  Across the river, Attar heard that cry, froze, and raised his head. For a moment, his eyes locked with the molten gaze of his old mentor, and for a moment, he hesitated.

  Only for a moment, but it was enough for Ari to reach the rocks and scuttle up.

  Davidson saw it, too, and kicked his horse across the field of fire, toward the stony jumble. There was no way he could ride his animal up into the rocks. It would break a leg within a stride or two.

  He pulled back hard on the mane, yanking the dun stallion’s head up and bringing it to a skidding halt. He threw himself from its back, landing running, and raced up into the rocks after Ari.

  She was several feet ahead, panicked, bouncing from rock to rock as she fled the horrors she knew were coming behind her. It took Davidson some sweaty work before he caught her. He grabbed her hand just as they reached the pinnacle of the rocks overlooking the river flowing darkly below.

  She jerked at his grip blindly, then realized it was him and calmed a bit. Down below, Attar and the ape soldiers reached the base of the rocky ridge and began to climb, roaring and growling threats.

  He tugged her toward the brink. White rings showed around her eyes as she looked down on the thing she feared the most. Davidson could feel her muscles lock up like steel springs.

  He leaned toward her. “You have to swim,” he told her as gently, but firmly, as he could.

  She shook her head. “I can’t!” she wailed.

  Davidson heard the clatter of falling rock. He turned and saw Attar clambering up, closer and closer, redeyed with determination.

  “I won’t let go of you!” he promised. Then he jumped, dragging her with him, just as Attar and several monkeys came storming up.

  They plummeted into the water, hit with a resounding splash, and vanished beneath the cold black surface as Attar, breathing hard, stood on the rocks and watched his prey disappear.

  Several of his troops raised their fire throwers and sent a volley of fireballs hissing uselessly after them. Attar growled, disgusted.

  Very well. Let the river have her.

  * * *

  Krull stood at the edge of the riverbank, shaken to his core as he watched his mistress’s horse—he’d picked it out for her himself—come scrambling up, riderless. Krull watched the horse gallop away, then turned back and stared at the water. A moment later, Limbo came bobbing into view, still holding on to his mount with fingers hooked into claws. Krull noted that the slaver was no more guiding his horse than he was the two moons overhead. But the horse didn’t need any help. Blowing and snorting, it followed Ari’s riderless steed up and out, but brought its hapless rider with it.

  As soon as Limbo realized he was back on solid ground, he fell off his mount with a grateful sigh, numbly relieved to find his soaked, soggy self still in one piece, with a river between him and the apes who’d tried to barbecue him.

  He looked at the burned patch in his fur, whimpered, and began to lick the wound. Krull watched this display of cowardice with distaste, then dismissed Limbo from his thoughts entirely and turned back to the river.

  Behind him, Gunnar walked toward the fallen slaver with the shackles they’d used to bind him before. Limbo looked up, saw what he was about, and waved him away.

  “No, no. Wait. There’s no need now.”

  Gunnar’s dour, glowering expression made his dislike of his former captor more than obvious. He kept on coming.

  “Says who?” he replied, giving the shackles an ominous rattle.

  Limbo raised one arm and pointed angrily at the soldier apes still howling at them from across the water.

  “Says them! They tried to kill me…”

  He looked down, touched the burn gingerly, winced.

  “…like I was nothing but a miserable…” He groped fruitlessly for a word sufficient to express his meaning, but couldn’t come up with anything.

  Daena looked down at him with a hard, glittering smile. “Human?” she supplied.

  Gunnar scowled, took another step, and rattled the chains again.

  “He’s a liar and a coward!” he spat.

  Limbo raised his head and stared at the two humans. Once, he’d thought them, and anybody like them, nothing more than beasts for branding, training, or sale. Animals whose sole reason for existence, as far as he was concerned, was as objects of profit. And he’d made a profit over the years, a huge one, trading in them.

  But he’d seen Attar back there, and knew the gorilla had recognized him, too. And as soon as the ape commander reported back to his diabolical general, that would be the end of Limbo and his lucrative slave-trading business.

  If that were all of it, he might still have had some chance of survival, but he was too smart to try to fool himself. It didn’t matter to apes like Attar and Thade how he’d come to be with this band of wild rebels, only that he was. They’d do away with him as quickly now as they would this horrible human female glaring down at him.

  He’d seen Attar throw his bolo at Ari, who was a senator’s daughter. If a gorilla would do that to her, what would he do to him?

  Probably string him up to the nearest tree and leave him with his guts dangling to his toes.

  It was too much. By his lights, by everything he’d ever known or been taught, all that he’d done had been right and proper. But the truth he now faced was that he’d been wrong. Wrong about the teachings he’d accepted, wrong about these animals who weren’t beasts at all. Wrong about everything.

  All his bravado melted away. He looked up at his two tormentors, not at all missing the significance of the chain Gunnar held, the very same chain he’d once used to recapture the human with.

  “Please,” he said softly. “I’ve got nowhere else to go…”

  His plea didn’t seem to be having much effect on either Daena or Gunnar, but then Tival stepped between the other two humans, approached him, bent down, and helped him to his feet.

  “Then you belong with us,” he said. He stared calmly at Daena as he said it.

  Gunnar twisted away, angry. He scanned their bedraggled little troupe.

  “We’re the only ones who made it. I say we should stick to our own kind!”

  He stared hard at Daena, as if waiting for her to decide the issue. She stared back, nonplussed. Yes, with Davidson gone—and he was nowhere to be found, nor that wretched chimp female either, thank God—she was probably their leader now. But it was a mortally hard thing, and went against the grain of everything she’d ever known, to permit an ape like Limbo—a slaver—to join with them.

  Yet she was both intelligent and sensitive enough to realize that Limbo must have gone through some enormous change of perception himself, in order even to ask them to accept him into their company.

  But he was an ape, and a slaver. In her mind’s eye, she could still see, with burning, unforgettable clarity, the dead expression on the face of that little girl’s mother when her daughter had been handed like a lump of still-breathing meat into Thade’s niece’s arms. For a pet…

  She glanced down at Limbo, his features soft with his hopeless plea, and then at Gunnar, who was stony with hatred and vengeance. And she didn’t know. She just didn’t know. Once, it would have been her father who made such a decision. Now the responsibility rested on her shoulders, and she didn’t know what to do.

  As she wrestled with it, another element intruded, as Krull forced his huge form into the little knot and stood
silently, watching her, Gunnar, and Limbo. Unlike Limbo, there was nothing subservient about Krull, and she doubted that there ever would be with that old, battle-scarred gorilla. But even Krull seemed interested in what she decided, as if her decision might have greater meaning than even she understood.

  What would my father have done? she wondered. Then, surprised, she found herself also wondering, What would Davidson have done?

  She didn’t know. And they were gone, and she was here. Perhaps inevitably, she fell back on the truths and understandings that had bulwarked her all her life.

  Apes were evil. Apes were enemies. Apes and humans did not, and could not ever, mix. That was the way it had always been, and that was the way it would be. Forever and ever.

  She looked over into Krull’s waiting gaze, and said sadly, “It’s no use. Nothing will ever change.”

  Krull said nothing, nor did he move, but she sensed from him a wave of sadness that equaled her own. It touched her in a strange and uncomfortable way, but before she could consider it further, a pale shape darted through their midst, sprinting full tilt back toward the riverbank.

  Birn!

  Everybody rushed after him, and arrived in time to see Davidson, with Ari glued to his back, her claws digging into his shoulder, stagger up out of the water and onto the shore.

  Birn was young, his own beliefs, prejudices, and habits not yet fully formed, or hardened into bitterness by a lifetime of abuse and fear. So as he helped the couple—man and chimp—out of the water, the sight struck a slightly different chord deep in his heart than it did with the rest.

  He knew how the world was supposed to be, with humans like him on one side, and apes like Ari on the other. But this knowledge had not yet—quite— hardened into the kind of steely blindness that rejected everything else, as it had with his elders.

  And so he saw Davidson and Ari clinging to each other, helping each other, treating each other not just as equals, but as people, and though it contradicted everything he thought he knew, he was open to the idea that maybe things could change, maybe things could be different. Maybe it was possible for both apes and humans to change, to discard their ancient enmity, and live as equals with each other.

  Daena watched Davidson set the exhausted Ari on the ground before settling back to catch his own breath. Krull, still stinging inwardly by what he judged his own betrayal of his mistress, hurried to her, knelt, and took her hand.

  She stared into his face. They’d known each other since she was in the cradle, and they didn’t need words. Silently, she stroked his fur as he bowed his head, perhaps to hide a tear. She knew what he must have felt, and she gave back to him what he had given to her so many times throughout her life. She comforted him.

  The other humans were gathered around Davidson. She could see nothing more than the clear light of joy in Birn’s young eyes. He was simply glad that his hero had survived. Some of the others, though…

  Relief. That cut a little. They were glad Davidson had returned, relieved that he’d come back, because…

  She had to say it, if only to herself. Because they thought he was a better leader than she was. Because he was a man. Because he had a box full of miracles.

  Who knew the reason? Maybe all of them were true. But the fact remained, some of those she’d always thought of as her people would rather have this strange alien man lead them than the daughter of Karubi.

  Oh yes, that burned.

  Not to mention…

  She stomped over to him, pushed the others away, and leaned over to examine his shoulders. There was blood leaking turgidly through the tattered remains of his shirt. That chimp female had claws, and she’d left her mark on him.

  Was it really fear? Daena wondered. Or something like the branding irons Limbo used to mark his property?

  “She hurt you,” she told him, her voice flat.

  Davidson glanced up at her, hearing something in her tone, but unable to figure out exactly what it meant. He was bone-tired, cold, drenched, and suffering from the hollow jitters of toxic adrenaline overload. What little strength he had left was not worth frittering away on trying to untangle the ins and outs of Daena’s convoluted psyche.

  “She was holding on pretty tight,” he said.

  Daena grunted and slapped a wad of wet leaves onto the wounds, then began to massage the mess with her strong fingers.

  “I know,” she said. “I’ve seen the way she looks at you…”

  Davidson was pretty well fogged in by now, but that got through. He blinked, turned, peered up over his shoulder at her. There was no expression on her face, no more than if she’d just told him the suns rose in the morning.

  He blinked again. “She’s a chimpanzee!”

  “A female chimpanzee,” she replied.

  Which was about the time Davidson noticed how very strong Daena’s fingers were. She was kneading his shoulders so vigorously it felt as if his collarbone was trying to separate from his spinal cord.

  “Ouch!”

  Daena sniffed disdainfully and dug in harder. “These are Goma leaves.”

  Now it felt as if she were ripping a little bit wider each of the cuts Ari had inflicted on him, then pouring boiling acid into them.

  “And they’re supposed to help?” Davidson asked her plaintively.

  Now Daena put her back into it. She looked like a baker making bread. A strong baker…

  “First your body will tingle,” she told him dreamily.

  He winced.

  “Then you’ll feel very dizzy…”

  Dizzy? Hell, he already felt dizzy. Probably because her ministrations to his health felt more like an attempt at strangulation.

  He peered up at her, his confusion plain.

  “And if you don’t start growing fur everywhere… you’ll be healed!”

  She gave his shoulders a final, brutal twist and stepped away, laughing.

  His face sagged and his mouth fell open as he realized the joke. His realization was helped along by the fact that everybody else was standing around him, also laughing their heads off.

  His cheeks suddenly felt unnaturally warm, but he locked his gaze with her. She stopped laughing, but didn’t look away, as something else crept into her expression. Something at the same time defiant—and almost yielding. Davidson’s inner heat grew, and it wasn’t all just his own embarrassment.

  Whatever it was going on between them, it evidently sent out signals that were unmistakable, even to a female chimp.

  Ari had been sitting with Krull, conversing quietly, but now she jumped up and bounded over to Davidson.

  “The apes will head downriver till they find a crossing. We should keep moving.”

  Groaning, Davidson climbed to his feet, not noticing the way Daena locked her gaze with Ari, who didn’t flinch away, either.

  “You’ve recovered quickly,” Daena said to her, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

  Tival came loping up to Davidson, waving for his attention. When he had it, he pointed at the crest of cliffs that made up the valley wall on this side of the river.

  It was hard to see in the dim light, but Davidson squinted hard and finally made them out: two human male faces, scrawled with intricate tribal tattoos, peering down at them.

  As soon as the strangers realized Davidson had spotted them, they vanished. Davidson waited awhile, but when they didn’t reappear, he told everybody to gather the horses.

  It was time to ride to Calima.

  9

  The city of the apes had calmed somewhat from the earlier frenzy of panic over the escaped wild humans, though now it thrummed to a darker, more serious beat. Deep in its collective heart, the city trembled to the ominous pounding of the drums of war.

  As always in such times, the streets were mostly clear of civilian traffic, as the females stayed home and kept their children inside, while the males either made ready for battle, or did what they could to help others prepare.

  The focus of all this martial activity was a vast squ
are in the center of the city, a parade ground surrounded by armories, facing the headquarters of the growing army’s commanders. The troops had been gathering for days, riding in from the nearer outposts, or, as was the case with many grizzled veterans, digging out their armor and weapons from dusty, forgotten closets, strapping them on, and taking up their duty to defend the city of their people once again. Had Krull still been within the walls, and his loyalty without blemish, no doubt he would have returned, too, maybe even as a high officer to General Thade himself—if he could have found a way to settle his old score with the general.

  But Krull was gone, and it was Attar who stood just inside the imposing doorway of the headquarters, facing the plaza where hundreds of soldiers were falling into rank after rank of formations—and more arriving every moment.

  He was still watching them when Thade himself came into the building, saw him, and drew him along to talk privately as they walked.

  “Where is he?” Thade asked.

  Attar couldn’t bring himself to look at his commander. The shame he felt at having failed him in so simple a matter as running down a handful of barbaric humans was overwhelming.

  “They crossed the river,” he finally managed.

  If Thade’s stride faltered a bit, it wasn’t really noticeable. However, the intensity of his surprise did thicken his throat as he stared disbelievingly at Attar and said, “You didn’t stop them?”

  Attar hesitated, remembering the ludicrous scene in the mountain camp, and the way the man, Davidson, had so thoroughly outwitted him. Not just escaping, but destroying the ape camp in the process, and scattering all their horses as well.

  Horses. That was the most unbelievable part.

  “They were carried by horses,” he told the general.

  Thade made no reply, just glared at him. Attar knew that with some officers, ugly looks were meaningless, and could be ignored. But with Thade, glaring silence could mean the death of a man’s career, maybe even worse: death itself.