Everyone on shore had seen the lights and heard the sounds of Blade's battle and seen the two beasts that chased his raft. With the darkness and their own fear and ignorance, the Kargoi hadn't seen enough to make them doubt Blade's tale. All they wanted to do now was pack up and get back to the main camp.
That was fine with Blade. He'd learned what he came to learn-and much more. It would take many more than fifty men to butcher all the dead reptiles for their useful parts before they rotted hopelessly. He also wanted to get away before any wreckage drifted ashore from the island. The Kargoi might wonder about his tale if a dead Menel or a piece of the submarine was washed up on the shore practically at their feet.
In half an hour everyone was mounted up, and in an hour they were well on their march through the darkness toward the main camp.
They reached it just before dawn. Blade learned at once that the camp and its warriors had been nearly as busy last night as he had.
During the night the camp had to stand off a united attack by bat-birds from the sky and reptiles from the sea. Without the spears, the battle would have been grim and bloody, and the camp might have been overrun. As it was, another two hundred warriors, as many women and children, and twice as many drends were dead or dying. The attackers had been wiped out nearly to the last bird and beast, but how many more such victories could the Kargoi afford?
Obviously the Menel Blade had fought weren't the only ones in the area last night. It must have taken a good many of them to organize, launch, and control such a large attack. At least they'd lost many of their animals, and thanks to Blade's work they might have some trouble implanting more-for a while, at least.
Time. That was what Blade knew he had to fight to gain-as much of it as he could. He couldn't be sure what the Kargoi would do with the time he gave them. They might do nothing at all; even if they did anything it still might not be enough to save them. With their advanced technology the Menel would not be limited to indirect attacks with controlled animals. Any day they could take the field themselves, launching a direct and completely unstoppable attack.
The prospects were grim, but there was no point in spending any time worrying about them. Blade could have easily used a twenty-nine hour day coping with the problems at hand.
The problems added up rapidly. Adroon, the High Baudz, lay in his wagon, immobilized by a badly-broken leg. In spite of the severe pain, he was as clear-headed as ever, but his presence would be missed on future battlefields.
Rehod, on the other hand, had made a mighty name for himself in the night's attack, killing at least a dozen of the reptiles and twice as many bat-birds with his own weapons, leading attacks, rallying shaken lines, seemingly in three or four places at once. Many people were now inclined to forget and forgive his breach of faith in the fight with Blade. He has learned better, they said, so now we can trust and honor him.
In short, Rehod had become a hero second only to Blade in the eyes of many people. Too many, for Blade's peace of mind.
His own night's work had been every bit as heroic and dangerous and valuable to the Kargoi as Rehod's. But he himself was the only one who knew that, the only one who could even be trusted with the knowledge! As far as everyone else knew, he'd been watching volcanoes while Rehod dashed about among the teeth and talons of the attackers. Paor hadn't even been doing as much as Blade.
Blade wished now that he'd come up with some more heroic version of his hours on the island, one that could compete with Rehod's deeds. It was too late to change the story, though. The only thing Blade could do about Rehod now was to keep a close eye on him and an even closer guard over his own tent at night. Rehod now had enough friends to give him all sorts of perfect alibis if Blade was found dead in his tent some morning. There would certainly be suspicions, but probably nothing more.
Many among the Kargoi said it was absolutely necessary to move on at once. They still faced several days of traveling dangerously close to the water before their trail could turn inland. The sooner the Kargoi started off, the better.
Those who'd been with Blade loudly urged staying where they were, to butcher the reptiles and bat-birds as thoroughly as possible. Blade and Paor won out. They showed what excellent armor could be made from the hides of the reptiles-armor that gave some protection even against swords and arrows. That convinced Adroon.
«Indeed the beasts are terrible,» said the High Baudz. «Yet we also know that before we are safe in our new home, there will be human enemies to fight. In such a battle, the hides of the dead beasts may save as many warriors of the Kargoi as the claws and teeth of the living beasts slew. Blade has spoken wisely.»
The camp was moved a few miles farther on, to escape the suffocating stench of thousands of tons of carrion. The women and workers dug a large ditch along the seaward side of the camp, deep enough to catch the beasts and too wide for them to jump. The warriors descended on the dead reptiles and bat-birds, holding their swords with one hand and their noses with the other.
Everyone except the babies and the sick or wounded worked eighteen hours out of the twenty-four every day for the next week. By the end of that time every warrior of the Kargoi stank as though he himself were half-rotten. He also walked about with his vitals swathed in reptile-hide armor, a spear tipped with reptile teeth or claws, his swords hanging from a belt of bat-bird skin, water bags and even tents of sun-cured reptile gut stowed in his wagon-in short, fully equipped from the remains of his enemies. The Kargoi had long been accustomed to turning every part of a drend to some use. Now Blade had taught them to do the same with the bat-birds and the sea reptiles.
Eventually the work came to an end, with every man and woman of the Kargoi as weary as if they'd fought a battle each day of the past week. There was a mass bath, with the water turning red as the Kargoi washed off a week's accumulated filth. There was a great feast, with everyone gorging themselves on roast meat and kaum. Then the Kargoi marched off on the next stage of their journey, while behind them the carrion birds and insects swooped and buzzed above the acres of rotting flesh.
Blade and Paor were among the last to leave. As they looked back at the shambles, Paor frowned.
«There was something unnatural in the way those creatures came at us,» he said. He shook his head. «I hope we have seen the last of them.»
Blade said nothing. He didn't care for Paor's suspicions, and as for Paor's hopes, they were almost certain to be disappointed. The Menel would be heard from again.
Chapter 17
The last days of the Kargoi's march along the shore passed without incident. Bat-birds sometimes flew over in the twilight, but did not attack. Twice warriors riding close to the water saw the heads of sea reptiles rise from the surface. Once Blade saw a low gleaming shape far out on the water, that vanished before anyone else could notice it. A Menel submarine? That was all.
Every night they made camp with the stench of badly-cured reptile hide and the moans and cries of the wounded hanging over the camp. Every morning when they moved on they left a few hides that were too rotten to carry farther and the graves of a few wounded who'd died in the night.