The Torian Pearls Part 3

Blade really needed no such urging. The four-mile run in the hot sun on an empty stomach had taken a good deal out of him. He was happy to sit for a few minutes, drinking water, breathing deeply, and working the kinks and knots out of his muscles. Then he rose to be tested in wrestling.

Neither of Blade's opponents in the wrestling test was a friend of Rehod, so Blade did not worry about painful or fatal "accidents." He was able to relax and do his best.

The Kargoi's style of wrestling turned out to be highly formal, almost ritualistic. There were only a few standard moves. When Blade learned those, he had no more problems. In fact, he had to take care not to win so easily that he would humiliate the two warriors facing him. He flattened both opponents in less than ten minutes apiece, then drank some more water and got ready for the test of swordsmans.h.i.+p.

This would be the last test, and possibly the most important. Certainly it would be the most dangerous. The weapons lent themselves to "accidents" if anybody wanted to arrange one.

Somebody probably would. Blade's first opponent in the test of swords was Rehod, and open anger showed in the warrior's face every time he looked at the Englishman.

Chapter 8.

For the testing of Blade's swordsmans.h.i.+p, everyone crowded closer. Blade had made quite an impression in the previous tests. Now everyone was openly curious to see what would happen when he came up against Rehod. Even the mounted sentries were riding as slowly and as closely as they dared.

Blade had taken the other tests wearing only a loinguard and sandals. For the test of swordsmans.h.i.+p he pulled on boots, kilt, belt, and leather wrist braces, as well as the two swords. None of the clothing would restrict his movements in the least-or protect him from Rehod's swords if the padding came off.

Blade stepped out into the middle of the circle and waited for Rehod. The baudz came trotting out, head lowered like a bull about to charge. The man looked rather like a bull, too. He was half a head shorter than Blade but a good deal wider. His arms were nearly as thick as Blade's legs and his legs looked like the trunks of young trees, while his hands made even his longsword look like a child's toy. Rehod moved well, though, so Blade knew he would be facing a man fast enough to put all his bull-like strength to effective use.

The two swordsmen moved toward each other. Blade held his longsword in his right hand, raised to slash down, and his shortsword in the left, ready to either guard or thrust home. Rehod, who was left-handed, did exactly the opposite.

As usual when he wanted to size up an opponent, Blade let Rehod make the first attack. Another minute of circling, then Rehod flew at Blade like something propelled by an explosion. He seemed to be all attack, no defense. His longsword whistled down toward Blade's head while his shortsword thrust at Blade's stomach.

Blade easily blocked both attacks. His longsword rose to meet Rehod's with a ringing thud, while his shortsword locked hard against Rehod's. Blade tried to twist his own sword free and turn the block into a thrust at the other's groin, but Rehod was too strong for that. The swords sc.r.a.ped free of each other and the two fighters each moved back a step. Blade realized that Rehod had attacked with only part of his own strength and speed, also, testing his opponent. The next attack might be harder to meet.

Blade decided not to leave that much initiative in the hands of someone as dangerous as Rehod. Even with blunted swords those head-cuts of his might still scramble the brains inside Blade's skull so they could never be unscrambled by the medical skills of the Kargoi. Blade was never entirely at ease about the possibility of brain damage which could make it impossible for the computer to reach him and draw him home. He decided to let Rehod have two more attacks, then move in himself.

The pattern of the second attack was the same as the first, but as Blade expected it came in faster and hit harder. The impact of meeting it made Blade's arms tingle as if he'd touched a live wire.

This time Blade didn't take a backward step after Rehod's attack. He held his ground, then went straight into his own attack. Rehod was too strong and fast to be given that third attack. It was time to see what the baudz could do on the defensive.

Blade's attack came in low, the shortsword leading. Rehod blocked the shortsword with his own and struck down at Blade's arm with his longsword. If the blow had landed it would have snapped Blade's arm like a rotten twig. Blade s.n.a.t.c.hed his arm back just in time. As he did his longsword whirled up and over, to smash its tip into Rehod's shoulder.

Shouts exploded from the watchers, wordless cries and hisses of indrawn breath, yells of "First struck!" Rehod seemed not to notice the pain of the blow, but he did notice the shouts. His face set into an even uglier mask than before, something Blade wouldn't have believed possible. Then he launched himself into the attack again, at the exact moment Blade did the same.

The two men came at each other with no defenses at all, but by some miracle neither of them got a single blow home. They even held onto their swords, although the head-on meeting jarred both of them. Then the fight dissolved into a continuous savage swirl of attack and counterattack, block, and thrust. Even the watchers around the circle could barely keep track of who was trying to do what to whom. As for the two fighters, each man's world had narrowed down to himself and his opponent, the weapons that whistled through the air, and the circle they were trampling down in the gra.s.s.

Blade had to pay less and less attention to his style as the fight went on. Rehod was too likely to take advantage of even the slightest mistake to land a blow that would be crippling or fatal even with a padded sword. Perhaps the watchers would judge that Blade had proven himself and stop the fight before either he or Rehod really gained the advantage? That was possible, but nothing to count on. Rehod was the type of man to claim that he'd been winning, unless he could no longer stand or lift a sword at the end of the fight. Letting the fight go on until one man collapsed would make the decision of the baudzi much simpler.

Besides, Blade suspected that he and Rehod were putting on the kind of show the Kargoi seldom saw. The fight was too good a piece of entertainment to be stopped before one of them lay flat on the ground.

So nothing and n.o.body except the two men themselves would end the fight. With that clear in his mind, Blade settled down to make sure that it was Rehod who ended up flat on the ground, not Richard Blade.

The swords whirled in the air and clattered against each other. The circle of trampled gra.s.s grew wider and wider as two large pairs of booted feet pounded back and forth in a deadly dance. Sweat dripped down both men, leaving trails in the dust on their skins and dark stains on their leather garments, forcing them both to grip their swords tighter and tighter. Both sensed that the first man to lose a weapon would almost certainly be the first man down and out.

Against an opponent other than Rehod, Blade would not have been quite so concerned about that. The watchers would not end the fight before there was a definite winner, true. But certainly by now they would also be willing to admit that Blade was worthy to be a warrior of the Kargoi, even if he lost.

Against Rehod, though, losing the fight would mean losing life or limb. That was becoming more certain with each moment. Rage and hatred were growing in the man and blazing more and more savagely from his sweating face and wide-staring eyes. Blade knew that if he faltered even for a few seconds Rehod would use those seconds to kill or cripple. The watchers could not hope to prevent it or perhaps even notice it until the damage was done.

So Blade pressed his attacks harder and faster. He knew now that Rehod had an edge in sheer physical strength, but he had about the same edge in speed. If he could use that speed to drive home a few blows that would start cutting away Rehod's strength ....

Blade's swords darted and flew like striking snakes, as fast as human muscles could move them. At the same time they moved with deadly accuracy to their targets. Blow by blow, Blade began dealing out punishment.

Another blow to Rehod's shoulder. One to the right side of his chest, another to the left side of his belly. Two in quick succession to his right thigh, which left a spectacular welt and drew a hiss of pain. Blade followed up the blows to the thigh by working down the same leg with three more attacks. The last one went squarely home to the knee. After that Rehod was unmistakably favoring his right leg.

His legs might be taking punishment, but Rehod's arms were still as strong and quick as ever. Blade couldn't risk moving his attacks lower than the knee. He'd be leaving himself too open to an attack that would be just as dangerous as ever.

So he went back to work on Rehod's ribs and shoulders. Twice he broke the skin so that blood began to trickle and mix with the sweat on Rehod's torso. Most of the time he hit hard enough to leave welts. Some of his earlier hits were already turning a spectacular dark blue.

The hitting was not all on one side. From time to time Rehod got through Blade's defenses and left welts and blood trickles of his own. This didn't happen often, though. Blade was. .h.i.tting four or five times for every time he was. .h.i.t. At this rate even Rehod would soon have to yield; even his bull frame could take only so much punishment before his bull strength started to fade. Then the fight could be over very quickly.

Blade was vaguely aware that the noise from the circle of watchers got steadily louder as he hammered more and more blows through Rehod's defenses and left more and more blood and bruises on the man. He could hear it only faintly, as his own breath roared louder and louder in his ears, building up a wall of sound that seemed to shut out the rest of the world.

He was also vaguely aware that the noise suddenly died, as completely as if all the watchers had sunk into the ground. No doubt something had happened to cause that silence, but it could not interest Blade. Nothing could interest him except Rehod, the man he had to beat down to the ground.

The silence went on. So did the fight. Now Rehod was definitely beginning to slow down. His legs could no longer hurl him forward or take him backward or sideways. His arms could no longer send either sword driving through Blade's defenses to split or bruise Blade's skin.

As Rehod lost the power to attack, he seemed to gain more power to defend. His swords whirled and danced, forming a blurred s.h.i.+eld of steel and bone and leather between himself and Blade. It became harder and harder for Blade to drive through the mounting fury of Rehod's defense.

Blade saw that Rehod was defending himself with a vigor that would shortly drain his strength. It also seemed to him that Rehod might be setting a trap, trying to get his opponent completely committed to a steady, all-out attack, then launching a final desperate stroke of his own.

Blade began to pace himself, keeping something in reserve each time he attacked, ready to s.h.i.+ft from attack to defense faster than Rehod could strike. He also kept an eye on the padding of Rehod's swords. It was hard to be sure, but Blade thought some of the padding was beginning to slowly break up and peel off.

Still the whirling of the swords went on. Blade heard the noise of the watchers begin to rise again. Whatever had silenced them was no longer at work.

Then Rehod began to attack again, not with the wild fury Blade had expected but with cool precision and surprising control. Each attack came in a little higher. Blade was certain his opponent had at last decided on his final moves, but didn't waste time trying to guess what these might be.

A few more attacks, and Rehod began to draw back a step or two after each one. He seemed to be trying to catch his breath. Blade considered pressing attacks of his own, but decided against it. He'd been fighting for nearly an hour and wouldn't turn down any chance to catch his own breath.

Suddenly Rehod attacked again, moving in as fast as he'd ever done. Blade was barely able to react in time. Rehod almost sprang back from the attack, his swords leaping upward to cross above his head.

With a snap of one powerful wrist Rehod drove his shortsword along the edge of his other weapon. The padding vanished as if the touch of the shortsword had dissolved it. Sunlight gleamed along the bare edge of Rehod's longsword, in the moment before it slashed down at Blade's head.

Blade's response came faster than any watcher's eye could follow. His longsword flashed upward to meet Rehod's treacherous downcut, while his body twisted out from under the descending sword. The naked sword and the padded one came together, and with a tremendous clang Rehod's sword drove Blade's down toward the ground. The deadly edge hissed down past Blade's ear, inches from slas.h.i.+ng deeply into his shoulder.

Blade drove his own shortsword forward in a powerful thrust at Rehod's groin. Rehod screamed out loud and stiffened, for a moment totally paralyzed by the pain.

In that moment Blade dropped his longsword and drove his clenched right fist hard into Rehod's stomach. The blow doubled Rehod up and drove him backward several steps. His muscles jerked and his fingers writhed frantically as he tried to raise or even hold on to his swords.

Blade slammed the flat of his shortsword down on Rehod's right wrist, then drove the heel of his free hand up under the man's jaw. Rehod dropped both swords, went over backward like a falling tree, landed with a thud, and lay there. After a moment he groaned, clutched his stomach, turned on his side, and began vomiting.

Blade straightened up, dropped his shortsword, turned his back on his fallen opponent, and walked toward the circle of watching Kargoi.

For the first time in many minutes he realized just how close everyone had crowded to watch the fight. Even the mounted sentries had pulled their drends to a stop. A dozen men had climbed up on the backs of the drends to get a better view.

The only group standing slightly apart was half a dozen mounted warriors. Blade stared at them. They weren't sentries, or anybody else who'd been on hand when the fight began.

One of them was an old man, white-haired and his skin a pattern of wrinkles and scars. He held himself as straight as a sword, though, and his gaze was as clear and as penetrating as Paor's.

Another of the riders was a younger man, enough like the older man to clearly be his son. The other four riders were warriors, all of them as large as Rehod and nearly as ferocious looking. Each of them wore a blue leather strip across his chest, in addition to the usual weapons and garments.

Paor himself came running out to meet Blade, with a grin that was nearly as wide as his face.

"Friend Blade, you have your place in the songs of the Kargoi and the memories of those who saw you, even if you fall down upon the ground dead in this moment! You judged Rehod's treachery perfectly, and met it in a way that will be long remembered."

Blade laughed. "I hope Rehod will remember it, along with everyone else."

Paor nodded. "He will." Then he looked toward Rehod's writhing form, his grin faded, and he lowered his voice. "He is not dying, is he?"

Blade shook his head. Paor frowned. "It would have been better to kill him. You had the right to do so. Now you have shamed him but left him alive. He will be an even more dangerous enemy than before, although he will have fewer friends."

Paor was probably right-Rehod would have been much safer dead. But it was too late to do anything about it now, and Blade had never been too fond of killing when there were less b.l.o.o.d.y ways of dealing with a problem.

Paor went on. "Meanwhile, I am to bring you before Adroon, High Baudz of the Kargoi. He has watched you fight and declared that you shall not be tested further, but shall at once be ranked among the warriors of the Red People." He pointed toward the little group of riders, and the old man in the middle raised his hand to beckon Blade toward him.

Chapter 9.

Adroon the High Baudz of the Kargoi appeared to be a man of few words. He simply repeated to Blade what Paor had already said. Then he handed Blade two swords.

"These swords shall be yours, until the last blood flows from your body in battle against the enemies of the Kargoi," the old man said. "Then they shall lie with your bones beneath the earth."

Blade bowed. "I am honored." He would have been quite as happy if Adroon had handed him a well-roasted leg of drend. At the moment he wanted food much more than he wanted weapons.

Fortunately that was the end of the ceremony. Adroon and his escort rode off toward the camp. The other watchers began to mount up. Several of Rehod's friends picked him up and slung him over the back of his drend like a sack of potatoes. Paor led up another drend, Blade mounted it, and they all rode back to camp.

They rode up through a wide fringe of furiously busy people. Some were slaughtering drends, others were butchering them, still others were roasting the meat on ten-foot spits. The male laborers were hauling tents out of the wagons and setting them up all around the great circle. Parties of women were unloading gear from the wagons and carrying it into the tents as fast as they were set up.

Paor noticed Blade looking around him and laughed. "No, Blade, we are not abandoning the wagons to walk the rest of the way. Adroon has decided that all three Peoples shall stay where they are several more days. Here the gra.s.s is good and abundant, so the drends will grow strong. Also, beyond this place we come down to the sh.o.r.e. While we wait here, our riders must go forward to see what lies ahead, by the water.

"So for these few days, we move out of the wagons. They are good and strong and we care much for them. But as with a good strong woman one cares for much, there are times when it is good to get away. Also, it gives time for the women to clean the wagons."

Blade noticed that some of the women were carrying loads of bedding and furs to lay them close to the fires. He remembered swarms of vermin in the wagons and mentally applauded.

After that; Blade paid very little attention to anything until he was able to sit down with other warriors around a fire, with a leather mug of kaum in one hand and a large slab of hot roasted meat in the other. The kaum was strong and sour, and the smoke of the dung fire gave the meat a peculiar flavor. To the hungry Blade it tasted better than any meal he'd ever eaten in the finest of West End restaurants.

Blade polished off a second cup of kaum and two more slabs of meat, then wiped his grease-smeared hands on the gra.s.s. The other warriors saw that he was finished and started asking him questions.

They went on asking questions until the meat and the kaum were gone, the fire itself was dying in a thin trickle of smoke, and the angry colors of sunset were spreading across the sky. They asked Blade about himself, about his voyage, about England, about his fight with Rehod, and about a hundred and one other things.

Fortunately Blade's head was clear now that his stomach was full, and he'd long since mastered the arts of telling plausible lies with a straight face. He was able to come up with believable answers to nearly all of the questions. Most of those he couldn't answer, no one seemed to think very important.

"After all," said one warrior, "this Blade from England has done to Rehod what many of us would have wished to do long ago. For this he has earned our grat.i.tude. I, for one, would not care if he had horns on his head, wings growing from his back, and claws on his hands and feet."

"No, indeed," said another warrior, and there was a cheerful chorus of agreement from the men around the fire. Several of them reached over to slap Blade clumsily on the shoulder. Many of them were now half drunk on kaum.

Blade felt about as safe and comfortable as he could ever expect to be in Dimension X. His own skill had won him a secure place among the Kargoi. He'd also been lucky to encounter Paor, who was wise, honest, and popular, and to fight Rehod, who was bad-tempered, narrow-minded, and with many enemies. If things had been the other way around, Blade doubted he would be here by the fire, telling the warriors of the Kargoi about his homeland and travels.

Eventually Blade ran out of tales to tell the men sitting around him. By that time most of them were too drunk or too sleepy to be listening, or to notice when Blade quietly rose and slipped off into the night.

He headed for the tent he'd been given for his own use during the next few days. As a rule only the baudzi and half a dozen of the most distinguished warriors in each clan had any such right to privacy. This tent was a special mark of honor for him.

The tent was one of the smallest kind, used by the scouts who rode on ahead of the wagon columns. It lay a little apart from the rest. The night was so black that Blade nearly stumbled over sprawled sleepers or happily writhing couples every few yards. He did stumble over the dread-hide rope that braced one end of his tent. Blade recovered his balance, but he'd jerked the tent pole loose. It fell with a thud, bringing the tent down with it.

From under the leather a woman's voice sounded, cheerfully and unashamedly cursing whoever had knocked the tent down on her. She wished that he might fall into ripe drend dung up to his chin and have thornflies puncture his exposed skin. Blade listened for a while, smiling in the darkness. He was not particularly surprised to find a woman in his tent, and now looked forward to meeting her.

He bent down, lifted the fallen tent with one hand, and reached inside with the other. The reaching hand closed on a bare shoulder, drawing a yelp of surprise and protest. Blade tightened his grip. To the accompaniment of more curses he drew the woman out, until he could grip her with both hands and pull her to her feet.

Even in the darkness Blade could see that the woman was young and attractive. She wore nothing except for a length of hide twisted around her hips. A narrow face framed in long dark hair, with large, expressive eyes, slightly marred by a sharp nose. Full b.r.e.a.s.t.s, firm and ripe in spite of being almost too large for the slim body. Perfect legs and small, long-toed feet that the girl was trying not to shuffle in embarra.s.sment or fear. The warriors of the Kargoi were in the habit of beating women who displeased or disobeyed them. Why should she a.s.sume that this newly arrived warrior from England would be any different?

Blade put a hand under her chin and raised her head until her large eyes were looking into his. Then he smiled. "You should lower your voice, if you do not want all the Red People to know that the English warrior has a woman who buzzes like a bee."

"What is a bee?"

"A small flying insect in England. Like the thornfly, it stings painfully and makes much noise. It also makes a sweet liquid, called honey. What is your name?"

"Naula. What is yours?" Her voice was calm, and she'd stopped shuffling her feet. This seemed to be a young woman who did not remain afraid long. Blade wondered if she was being given to him because too many other warriors of the Kargoi had found her impossible to endure or subdue.

"My name is Blade," he said. He let go of her chin, took her by one shoulder, then turned her around. He ran a hand lightly down her back, then put an arm around her waist.

"Well, Naula. Shall we see if you, like the bee of England, can also give sweetness?" she nodded and started putting up the tent again.

Inside the tent there was little room and less light. Blade found that he had to squat as he stripped off his loinguard, boots, and kilt. From the darkness he heard more sounds of leather on skin, as Naula dropped her own garment. Then suddenly there were two slim arms thrown around him from behind and two firm b.r.e.a.s.t.s with even firmer nipples pressed against his back.

He tried to turn around, but Naula laughed and held herself against his back while he tried to reach for her. Then Blade began to laugh, and finally Naula let go and fell down onto the tent floor. In the darkness their hands reached out for each other. They drew together, and then they joined.

It was a quick and fierce joining, but it was one that filled both of them with an immense, almost overpowering pleasure and delight. Naula's small body first quivered, then writhed and twisted from head to toe. She drew up her legs until they were almost bent double. Her knees drove into Blade's ribs while her feet pounded his b.u.t.tocks. Her hands thrashed and slapped and dug at his back. A continuous stream of moans and little screams sounded in Blade's ear as he bent to caress with his lips her mouth, her eyes, her ears and cheeks and throat, the b.r.e.a.s.t.s with their nipples now swollen so hard.

Blade lost himself in Naula's rich warmth that seemed to grow and grow with each pa.s.sing moment and each movement of their united bodies. He lost himself in the swelling heat in his groin that was pleasure and searing agony at the same time. He lost himself in a struggle for control that eventually came to its inevitable end. Before long Naula drew him into her again, and then he drew her down upon him a third time, and it was only after that they slept.

Naula slept heavily, as if stunned, her hair flowing across Blade's chest and one of his hands cupping one breast. From time to time she gave little snorts and gasps. They were not enough to keep Blade awake, though. He was too pleasantly tired.

As he drifted off to sleep, he could not help wondering if he'd just been through another test as a warrior of the Kargoi. If he had, he'd certainly pa.s.sed it well enough, judging from the expression on Naula's face.

Chapter 10.