Daimarz's band didn't have any dead to mourn while Blade was with them. But one man was blinded by acid from a kill-pod as they attacked a stand of three rogues growing toward each other. That time Blade smelled smoke and something like burning tar near the end of the battle. The men came back with their already dark skins nearly black with soot, and they talked less than usual about what they'd done.
Apart from not allowing Blade to prove he was telling the truth about the amulets, the woodcutters treated him well enough. They gave him enough food and water, and left his hands untied whenever there were enough men around to guard him. He also discovered that even when he was tied the bar and cords were light enough so that he could break loose if he had to. That would look like a violation of his oath, so he didn't plan to do it except in an emergency where he needed both hands free. After he volunteered to help carry the blinded man's stretcher, they left him untied at least half the day.
A drizzling rain was falling as the party set out on the morning of Blade's tenth day with the woodcutters. Everybody was walking a little faster than before, in spite of their fatigue. They were on the way home, with no more work between them and the hot meals they'd be eating tomorrow night. Their packs were light and even the tools they still had to carry didn't seem a burden any more. They would have been moving even faster if they hadn't been trying a new route through some hills rather than around them. It was Daimarz's idea to try out this new route, the sort of thing he did quite often. Since he was the son of the Master of the Woodcutters, he'd come by his curiosity honestly.
Blade didn't quarrel with scientific curiosity, but thought Daimarz hadn't chosen the best time or place to indulge it. His men were tired, their tools made an awkward load, and the best route through the hills seemed to lie halfway up a steep slope. Above was a nearly vertical hillside, below a sharp drop into a mist-shrouded valley, and underfoot slick grass and gluey mud.
The effort of carrying the stretcher on the uncertain footing made even Blade sweat. After an hour Daimarz had him relieved. «I'd rather have my hands free,» Blade said as they approached to tie him again. «Where would I go on this slope?»
Daimarz shook his head. «On the slope, nowhere. But down there-«he pointed into the mist «-who knows? You'd be impossible to catch the moment you were out of sight. That might be too much temptation even for an honest man. And no, I won't give you the amulet either.»
As soon as Blade was tied up, the march started again. Blade was muttering under his breath, and felt closer to breaking his oath than ever before. He still had to get to Elstan and give the warning, but he'd begun to feel that he might do the job better striking out on his own. Daimarz was brave, honest, and a fine leader, but right now he was also being much too stubborn for his people's good!
One careful plodding step followed another. The rain grew heavier, and it seemed to Blade that the mist in the valley below was getting thicker. Having his hands tied behind him made keeping his balance a good deal more difficult than it should have been. At least the ache in his shoulders from carrying the stretcher was fading.
Blade felt the ground move under him before he heard the cries of the men or the dreadful sucking sound. He threw himself uphill with all his strength, nearly wrenching a shoulder as he landed. The men in front of him and behind him followed his example and came down beside him. Blade was the first to raise his head, hear the cries get louder, and see Daimarz and the first six men in the line slowly vanish into the mist as the rain-soaked hillside slid into the valley.
The rest of the party seemed to be on firmer ground. Blade was relieved to hear the cries of the men caught in the landslip continuing. Apparently they'd gone down so slowly that they'd been able to keep from being buried alive under the mud. The blind man, the only really helpless one in the party, was still safe. The rest should be able to climb back up.
«Help!» came a terrified shout from down below. «Help us! There's a rogue down here! We've landed in a rogue! Help!» Blade had never heard any of the woodcutters sounding so close to panic.
Chapter 16
Blade heard the hiss and clatter of weapons being drawn by the woodcutters still on the path. He saw them step as cautiously as cats to the edge of the landslip and look down into the mist. Fador'n was the closest, but even he was staying carefully on firm ground.
Was Fador'n deliberately refusing to go to his leader's aid, taking a horrible vengeance for the disgrace of losing his bow? Then Blade looked down into the valley and reconsidered. Fador'n might be suffering from nothing worse than a loss of nerve. The mist-filled valley was weird and terrifying, an unreal sight which might easily be suspected of hiding even worse things than the killer plants.
Unfortunately it did hide the plants, and the cries of the men caught among the creepers of the rogue were entirely too real. Even if Fador'n got his nerve back in a minute or two, he might be too late. Without Daimarz, Blade's chances of having his story believed in Elstan or even getting to Elstan alive would shrink. So would Elstan's chances of surviving Queen Tressana's campaign. Apart from this, Blade knew he owed Daimarz something for his justice toward Lorma, and for saving him from Fador'n.
Blade rolled over until he was lying on his face, both arms clear of the ground. Then he put shoulder, back, and arm muscles into one tremendous jerk. The ropes dug into his flesh, then the stick cracked like a pistol shot. A second jerk split it in two. Blade flexed life into his wrists and got to his feet.
Fador'n saw him. He yelled, «The Jaghd's escaping!» and dashed at Blade, drawing his sword as he ran. Behind him came a man with a raised ax. Fortunately nobody had a crossbow ready for action. All the bowstrings were carefully packed away to keep them safe from the damp weather.
«Damn it, I want to help them down there!» roared Blade. «Give me the amulet and-«Then he had to leap aside from Fador'n's rush. His effort to be reasonable cost him a gashed forearm. He found himself directly in the path of the axman, with the ax starting down.
All right, if these idiots are more concerned with keeping me from escaping than with saving their friends…
Blade ducked under the downswing of the ax and gave the man a one-two punch in the stomach. He doubled up, vomited, and dropped the ax. Blade caught it in midair and swung it in a wide arc to drive Fador'n back. The woodcutter came in again, too intent on dealing with Blade even to shout for help. The flat of the ax came down on his sword hand. He yelped and dropped his weapon. Blade shifted the ax to his left hand, closed with Fador'n, and punched the man in the jaw. The woodcutter not only fell, he also started rolling down the slope. Blade plunged after him, nearly losing his own footing, and caught up with him just above the mist. He snatched the amulet out of the belt pouch, carefully tied it around his own neck, then pulled Fador'n around so that he wouldn't roll any farther. The man was an idiot, but even an idiot didn't deserve the fate awaiting him at the bottom of the hill.
Blade hefted the ax again, testing its weight and balance. For a five-foot, six-inch Elstani, the ax was a two-handed weapon. Blade found he could easily use it with one hand, thought for a moment of trying to get steel for his other hand, then decided time was more important than an extra weapon. He cupped his free hand to his mouth and shouted down into the mist.
«Halloooo! This is Richard Blade, the Englishman. I'm coming down with the ax and the amulet. Hold on! I'll try to get you out!»