"Yield," the leader of the ambush said.
No one answered. They were too wise in the ways of outlawism to doubt that death would be cleanest in battle. Such elaborate preparations would not have been made merely to recruit tribesmen!
"Yield or die!" the leader said. A ring formed about the two stickers, and another around Neq. "Who are you?"
"Tyl of Two Weapons."
"Vara--the Stick."
The ambusher considered. "Only one Tyl of Two Weapons I know of, and this is pretty far out of his territory."
Tyl didn't bother to answer. His sticks remained ready; his sword hung at his side.
"If it is him, we won't take him alive," the leader said. "Or his woman."
Vara didn't deign to correct him. Her sticks were ready too.
"Why would he travel without his tribe?" another man inquired. "And with a girl young enough to be his daughter?"
"That's why, maybe," the leader said. He came over to Neq. "But this one doesn't talk, and he covers his weapon. Who are you?"
Slowly Neq raised his left arm. The loose sleeve fell away and the metal pincers came into view.
There was a murmur in the group. The leader stepped back. "I have heard of a man who had his hands cut off. So he had his sword grafted on, and--"
Neq nodded. "They were ambushers."
The circle about him widened as the men edged away.
"We have a gun," the leader said. "We do not want to kill you, but if you move--"
"We only pass through," Neq said. "We have no business with you." He was now talking to distract attention from Tyl, who might then get out his own gun unobserved. There were enough men here to overcome the little party, though that would not have been the case had Neq's blade been in place and Tyl's gun ready. The outlaw's gun was not the advantage they supposed.
"You have business with us," the leader said. "We require a service from you. Perform it and you shall go free with the wealth of our tribe on your shoulders. Fail it, and you shall die."
Neq ached with fury to be addressed in this manner, as though any threat by any straggling outlaw could move him. He had/destroyed a tribe of such arrogance before. But he had given up the sword. Now he would live or die without it. "What is your service?"
"Walk the haunted forest at night."
Neq stifled a laugh. "You fear ghosts?"
"With reason. By day the forest harms no one, and stands athwart our richest hunting-grounds, just a few miles down this trail. But the ghosts strike those who enter at night. First the blades, then the dull weapons. Banish our spook: walk it at night and live. We will reward you richly for breaking the spell. Our food, our equipment, our women--"
"Keep your trifles! Feed us today; tonight we challenge your ghost. Together. Not for your sake, but because it crosses our route."
"You will keep your sword covered in our camp?"
"I keep my arm covered if no man annoys me."
"And you?" the leader called to Tyl.
"And I," Tyl agreed, and Vara also nodded.
Slowly the encircling men lowered their weapons.
As the sun descended they were ushered to the edge of the haunted forest. It seemed normal--mixed birch, beech and ash, some pine, with pockets of pasture heavily grown. Rabbits scooted away from the party. Good hunting, certainly!
"Are there radiation markers near here?" Tyl inquired. "Some. But that danger is over. We have a click-box; the kill-rays are gone."
"Yet men still die," Tyl murmured.
"Only by night."
That certainly didn't sound like radiation. It didn't come and go; it faded slowly, and was not affected by daylight.
"If Var were here--" Vara began. And caught herself.
"It is about ten miles," the tribe leader said. "We have a smaller digging downstream. Sometimes we need to travel between the two at night--but we must bike twice as far, over the mountain. No one passes the valley by night."
"The river looks clean," Tyl observed. "Your footpath is open?"
"Throughout. There are no natural pitfalls, no killer-animals here. Once there were shrews, but we exterminated them. Now there are deer, rabbits, game-birds. No hunting animals."
"You have found bodies?"
"Always. Some without marking. Some mutilated. Some dead fighting. We never send a man alone or unarmed, yet all perish."
So they ambushed innocent travelers to send here, Neq thought. Very neat, but none too clever. Hadn't it occurred to them that whoever conquered the haunted forest might have second thoughts about the manner he had been introduced to it? He might decide on a bit of vengeance. In that case, solution of the forest riddle could be disastrous for the tribe.
Tyl began to walk. Neq and Vara followed quickly. It was not dark yet, but night would set in long before they got through the forest. A ten mile hike by night, rested and fed--routine, except for ghosts!
When they were well away from the tribesmen, they split, ducking down out of sight on either side of the trail. No word was spoken; all three were conversant with such technique. The greatest danger might be from the men behind, not the supposed ghosts in front. Strangers might be deliberately killed in the forest to sustain the notoriety of the region, for surely the tribesmen could not be entirely ignorant of the nature of the threat, whatever it was.
But no one was following. Cautiously the three proceeded, Tyl flanking the forest side of the trail, Vara following the river side, and Neq, who could not fight, moving cautiously down the center. He held a thin stick in his pincers, probing for deadfalls, and he walked hunched to avoid a potential trip-wire or hanging noose. He expected to encounter something deadly, and not a ghost!
In an hour they had covered less than two miles. Their extreme caution seemed to have been wasted; no threat of any kind materialized. But eight miles remained, and eight hours of darkness. The fear of the tribesmen had been genuine; perhaps they delved underground because of a lingering terror of the forest surface.
The way was beautiful, even at night. The somber trees overhung the path to the west, highlighted by the full moon, and the river coursed slowly on the east side, and great vines covered with night-blooming flowers lay along the ground. The heavy fragrance surrounded them increasingly, musky and refreshing in the slight breeze.
Neq recalled his childhood. It had been nice, then, with his family and his sister. All the subsequent glory and ruin of empire could not compare with that early security. Why had he left it?
Hig the Stick! The man had cast his lustful gaze on Nemi, Neq's young twin sister! Neq clenched his sword-hand in reminiscent fury and bravado--and remembered he had no hand. Yod the Outlaw had taken it--
Time twisted about. It was dark, but Neq could see well enough in the diffused moonlight. A shape was coming at him, and it was the shape of Yod. Yod, whose foul loin had--
Neq whipped up his gleaming sword and launched himself at the enemy. A head would ride the stake tonight!
Contact! But his sword did not handle properly. It clanged, a discordant jangle.
Shocked, he remembered. No sword! This was the glockenspiel, for making music.
He peered more carefully at his opponent. "Tyl! Do you raise your sword to me in anger?"
Startled, Tyl stepped back. "Neq! I mistook you for--someone else. But he is dead. I must be overtired. I do not raise my sword to you."
Mutually shaken, they retreated from each other. How could such a confusion have come about? Had the glockenspiel not sounded, they might easily have fought, and Tyl could have slain him unwittingly. What irony, when they had not yet even encountered the menace of the forest!
Another shape approached him, stealthily. But Neq was far too experienced to be caught unawares. This was not Tyl--it was not even male!