Part 12 (1/2)
Obediently, Aub pa.s.sed it across. Gripping it firmly in one hand, the swordsman threw a leg over the side of the nearly motionless wagon and thrust the length of lumber downward, anxious to see how far it would slide into the upper reaches of the sandbar. To his surprise and gratification, it didn't sink at all.
The gently convex surface was firm, yielding only very slightly to his exploratory prodding.
”There, you see?” He took some pleasure in being able to chide Ehomba. The soft-voiced, solemn-visaged herdsman was right so often it was beginning to grow irksome. ”Easy walking. Get your stuff and let's get out of here while we're still afloat.”
Leaning around the mast, Hunkapa Aub tried to see into the murky water. ”Is strong enough to hold me, Simna?”
”Sure! Here, see for yourself.” The swordsman thrust the wooden pole hard into the water.
Taking offense at this latest and most flagrant outrage, the sandbar promptly erupted in Simna's face, drenching him with dun-colored water, decaying plant matter, and smatterings of the snails, freshwater crustaceans, and startled amphibians that had been living on its back. The swordsman was knocked down by the impact. Ehomba nearly went over backwards into the river, catching himself on the tiller only at the last moment, and Hunkapa Aub was knocked to his knees.
Wrenching its head from the mud in which it had been buried, the great eel whipped around to confront its a.s.sailant. Normally placid and somnolent during the heat of the day, it could no longer ignore the stabbing annoyance near the center of its spine. Rising from the shallows, it arched skyward for an instant to get its bearings. Tooth-lined jaws parted in the middle of the streamlined green-black head while tiny black eyes struggled to focus. Espying the intruder nearest to its back, it plunged downward, mouth agape. Simna was reciting his last will and testament as rapidly as he could, but he saw that he would not be able to finish it in time.
Something like a gout of black flame exploded past him, rising into the sky to meet the descending fanged skull before it could strike. Instinctively, Simna thrust his sword upward in a parrying gesture, but it never made contact. The enormous eel had been jolted sideways, back into the water. The concussion as it struck rocked the windwagon, once more knocking all three of its occupants off their feet. Three, because one had gone missing.
Clinging to the tiller for support, shaking water from his face and braids, Ehomba hung on as their waterlogged transport rocked in the waves stirred by the stupendous underwater encounter. ”Can you see anything? Simna!”
Dazed and drenched, the swordsman fought to get a grip on the rim of the wagon. Clinging leechlike to the rocking sideboard, he struggled to peer over the side. ”No!” A small geyser hit him square in the face, forcing him to turn away and spit river water. ”Can't see a thing-nothing!”
Squinting through the dirty, flying liquid, the herdsman sputtered, ”Ahlitah! Where's Ahlitah?”
Of them all, only Hunkapa Aub, utilizing his prodigious strength, managed to struggle to his feet in the midst of chaos and tempest. ”Hunkapa see him!” Sodden hair hanging in triangular, downward-facing points like limp, gray pennants from the underside of his arm, he pointed.
”How ...” Ehomba spat out another mouthful of water. ”How is he looking?”
There followed a pause, which ended when Hunkapa Aub declared, ”Hungry.”
The highly localized squall subsided almost as abruptly as it had struck. Around the waterlogged windwagon the river once again grew calm. Within, everything that had not been tied down was afloat, bobbing in the water that had bubbled or sloshed in. Not even the inherent buoyancy of the st.u.r.dy planking would keep them afloat much longer, Ehomba saw.
In front of the wagon and paddling steadily for sh.o.r.e was the black litah. In its powerful jaws it gripped the broken neck of the great eel. The nightmare head hung severely to one side, the black eyes glazed with death.
”Hunkapa, we must go with Ahlitah,” Ehomba told his husky companion. ”You are the only one strong enough to pull the wagon.”
The ma.s.sive man-beast regarded the herdsman with limpid, mournful eyes. ”Hunkapa would do, Etjole.
Only one problem. Hunkapa cannot swim.”
”Cannot ... ?” It was rare indeed for Ehomba to be taken aback. When they had first plunged into the river to escape the pursuing minions of the Brotherhood, all the time they had been sailing and drifting across, even after they had become dangerously waterlogged and had begun to sink, the big brute had not said a word.
Simna was lying with his back against the inner wall of the wagon, his chest heaving, his sword hanging limp in the tepid water. He was still trying to recover from the experience of having been less than a few seconds away from being eaten by his ”sandbar.” Ehomba pushed past him to peer over the front of the saturated vehicle.
The eel had been lying half-buried in the ooze that stretched out from the nearby bank. Though no sandbar, the mud bank did incline gently sh.o.r.eward. He and Simna would have to swim for a little bit, but Hunkapa's head should remain above water.
When informed of this, the s.h.a.ggy biped hesitated. ”Don't know, Etjole.” He peered warily over the side of the wagon. ”Hunkapa afraid.”
”You have to try,” the herdsman told him. ”I think it is shallow enough so that you can walk, but if not, you will have to try to swim. I knew how to swim before I could walk. It is a more natural motion than walking.” He started to gather up his kit and spear, securing the two swords to his back.
”If you find yourself in trouble, just watch me.” He smiled encouragingly. ”We cannot stay here, Hunkapa. This wagon is coming apart. If the current catches it, there is a good chance it will drift out into the deep part of the river. Then there will be no opportunity for you to walk.”
He could see the fear on the creature's face. So powerful, and yet so afraid of an element in which Ehomba found himself very much at home. Reaching up, he took one ma.s.sive paw in his hand.
”Come with me, Hunkapa. We will go in together. Do you understand? We have no choice.”
Slowly, the s.h.a.ggy head nodded. ”Hunkapa-Hunkapa understand. Go together. Ehomba look out for his friend.” Huge fingers squeezed painfully tight, but the herdsman did not complain. He glanced back over his shoulder.
”You coming, Simna? Or does your love for this vehicle extend to floating downriver with it?” He mustered an ironic smile. ”Swim a little ways and your feet might strike a sandbar.”
”They might strike something else, too,” the swordsman growled ominously. Sheathing his sword and holding his backpack above his head, he slipped both legs over the side of the steadily sinking wagon.
With a grimace, he dropped into the cloudy, silt-rich water.
”Together now.” Ehomba allowed his hand to be half crushed as he stepped resolutely over the side.
River buffeted him as Hunkapa Aub's much greater ma.s.s displaced water. The ungainly hulk disappeared-only to reappear seconds later with its head well above the surface. Astonishment and delight beamed from the guileless, hair-covered face.
”Hunkapa not have to swim! Hunkapa's feet on bottom!”
”I hoped it was so.” Treading water while struggling to keep his pack dry, the herdsman started to kick for the sh.o.r.e. Against his back, the sea-bone sword quivered o.r.g.a.s.mically at the sensation of being submerged. Anyone else would have found the unexpected vibration unnerving, but Ehomba had antic.i.p.ated it. What more natural than that the wondrous weapon should react to being placed in the surroundings from whence it had originally evolved?
Suddenly he was out of the water, high and dry, heaved skyward by a robust thrust from below. No gigantic eel bursting from the depths this time, but the hand of Hunkapa Aub, lifting him from beneath.
Effortlessly, the herdsman's huge companion placed his angular friend on broad, hirsute shoulders. In this manner Ehomba rode in comparative comfort the rest of the way to the sh.o.r.e. Only his ears suffered, bruised by an unending stream of blistering profanities from the struggling Simna, who, forced to swim, trailed well behind.
XI.
As they drew themselves up on the reed-lined, accommodating bank, they scanned the now distant opposite sh.o.r.e for signs of their pursuers. But the Brotherhood of the Bone, unable to cross by swimming or riding, had given up and gone back to the dark, sheltering forest that was their refuge and abode. The weary travelers were safe, if once more afoot.
Taking a seat on the gentle, gra.s.sy slope, Ehomba unpacked his gear and spread it out beside him to dry in the sun. Like a high-priced overstuffed rug liberated from a sultan's palace, Hunkapa Aub sprawled nearby, basking gloriously in the heat of midday. The herdsman watched gravely as the windwagon that had carried them so far and so well slowly drifted off downstream, sinking slowly into the riverine depths.
Nearby, an exhausted Simna finally emerged, dripping, from the water. Stumbling up the bank, he tossed his pack to one side, not caring if it spilled its contents all over the gra.s.s. Through no effort of his own, it did not. His sword he slipped back into its scabbard, which he then removed and dumped next to the pack. Swaying slightly, murky water and the occasional tadpole running off him in rivulets, he staggered over to where the black litah lay panting. Its forepaws lay on the crushed throat of the great eel. As the sodden swordsman approached, the magnificently maned cranium swiveled slowly to regard him.
Halting before the cat and its kill, Simna stiffly dipped his head and made a sweeping gesture with one arm. ”Look before you leap, my master at arms always told me. I admit it: There are times when I'm forgetful.”
The litah replied thoughtfully. ”There are times when you're an idiot.”
Gritting his teeth, Simna looked off to one side for a long moment. Still breathing hard, he rested one hand on a knee. ”You're not making this any easier for me, cat. I came over to thank you for saving my life.”
Ma.s.sive eyebrows rose haughtily. ”Saving your life? Did I save your life? Dear me, I suppose I did.”
Ahlitah turned back to his kill. ”If it will make you feel any better, I a.s.sure you it was coincidental. It's just that I happen to be very fond of eel.” With that, the great head dipped forward and puissant teeth tore into the slick, green-black flesh.
”Hoy, well, thank you anyway, thou maestro of piquant sprays. Simna ibn Sind embraces chance salvation over intentional abstention any day.” Stumbling as he turned, he made his unsteady way back to the place on the bank where he had dropped his gear. Behind him, the clear warm air of afternoon was filled with contented crunching sounds.
Exhausted, and mentally as well as physically spent from their exertions of the morning, they made camp in a thick copse of impressive shade trees not far from the river. The woods on the western bank closely resembled those they had pa.s.sed through on the opposite sh.o.r.e, except that on the western side larger trees were fewer and farther between.
”These woods seem to be thinning out.” Seated next to the campfire, Ehomba reached down to give the wooden spit on which their evening meal of freshly caught fish was broiling another turn. ”If that turns out to be so, it is a great shame. We could have made good use of the windwagon on open plains.”
Lying on the other side of the fire with his head against the pillowing flank of Hunkapa Aub, Simna watched the meal cook. Hungry as he was, the tantalizing aroma that rose from the sizzling fish verged on the sensuous.