But at last one of the men and one of the women stood up, yawned and stretched, then retired to a hut. That left two. Avery began to pray that the remaining man would eventually turn in, while the woman took the first watch. Chivalry to hell! It would probably be easier to tomahawk the woman.
For a time, it looked as if they were going to keep watch together. But in the end, the woman went. That left the man—and Barbara. She crouched on the far side of the fire, watching him. Occasionally, the man stood up and took a walk round the camp area, peering vaguely into the outer darkness. Occasionally he addressed some unintelligible remark to her. On one of his tours he stopped by the part of the moat opposite Avery and peered intently into the darkness for a moment or two. Avery began to sweat. He was sure the man had seen him; but at thirty yards and with mud daubed all over him it was hardly possible. He was sitting in the shadow of a bush, and though the moons had already risen, the sky was cloudy.
At last the man turned away and went to Barbara. He pulled her to her feet, pointed to the symbols on her breasts and belly, said something, then laughed. Finally, he sat down and poured himself another drink.
His back was to Avery. And Avery felt that he had waited long enough. He got to his feet silently and indulged in a few small movements and flexions to get rid of the stiffness. Then he took a careful look at the moat and at the ground leading towards it. He prayed fervently that there were no nasty holes.
Finally, he hitched the bundle of grass and twigs more firmly under his arm, took a few paces back and launched into action.
Fortunately the approach to the moat was fairly flat. He was so intent upon gathering speed that he almost missed the line where the ground sloped sharply to the water. But he saw it just in time, and took a flying leap.
As he landed on the other side, the plan—the master plan—began to go wrong. The first thing that happened was that Barbara let out a half-stifled scream. Coming flying out of the darkness as he did, he must have looked briefly like a demon from hell.
As Barbara screamed, Avery came crashing into the camp area and the man half turned. The tomahawk blow that should have buried a couple of pounds of stone in his brain glanced off his head. But he toppled forwards nevertheless.
Avery did not wait to inspect the damage, nor did he give Barbara more than a glance. There was no time. He dipped one end of the bundle of grass and twigs into the fire, forced himself to wait until he saw the flames and heard them crackle as they took hold, then he ran to the hut where two of the golden people slept and dumped it in the doorway. There was a satisfactory spitting as the flames and billows of smoke leapt up. The effect was even better than he had hoped.
Meanwhile, Barbara had realized what was happening. She had begun to work frantically at the leather thong tying the stone to her ankle. It was at that point that Avery’s plan went to pieces. Being so near to her at last after all the terrible uncertainty and waiting, instead of making sure of the man he had struck and then going to the other hut to tomahawk the woman as she came out, he could only think of helping Barbara. The computer inside him had finally lost the battle with glands and sentiment.
Avery ran to Barbara, knelt by her, whipped out his knife and began sawing at the leather. So far, they had not exchanged a word. So far, the entire assault had hardly lasted ten seconds.
Barbara looked up. Her first words came in a half scream. ‘Look out, Richard!’
Avery dropped the knife and dived to one side. The point of a javelin bit into the ground where he had been kneeling.
He came to his feet and snatched the tomahawk from his belt all in one motion. He was unaware that his teeth were bared and that he was growling like an animal. He was only aware of the tall, formidable being who faced him—a man with blood trickling down the side of his head. A man with anger and pain in his eyes and a javelin in his hand. He was no more than two paces away, and he was jabbing viciously.
The private computer tried to make a come-back. Get in close! it told Avery. Get in close, or you’ve had it!
The javelin came and he managed to slap it to one side. With an angry cry, he raised the tomahawk and charged. What happened next was totally unexpected and totally disastrous. Instead of attempting to ward off the blow or even dodge it, Avery’s opponent simply doubled himself up.
The force of the charge could not be checked. As Avery went hurtling helpless over the arched back, he tried a flashing stroke with the tomahawk—and missed.
The golden man suddenly straightened up. The thrust lifted Avery—already in mid-flight—and somersaulted him high in the air. He landed flat on his back and momentarily blacked out. Then he saw the javelin poised above him. He saw it and, behind it, a face contorted with pain and anger.
The man raised the javelin slightly for the death stroke. But suddenly there was someone else. A woman. Not Barbara.
She shouted something. But the man did not seem to hear. The expression on his face resolved into a ghastly smile.
Avery suddenly recognized the woman. ‘Zleetri!’ He did not know why he called her name. There was no rational explanation.
As the javelin came thrusting down, she gripped it, pulling it to one side. She pulled too hard. The man who was holding it thrust too hard. The javelin twisted.
Its point took her in the pit of the stomach. With a low, bewildered cry, she sank to her knees. The man stared at her in amazement. He hardly appeared to realize what had happened.
The private computer clicked away, and Avery seized his chance. He sprang up, butting the golden man in the solar plexus with his head. Avery put all his weight into the blow and was rewarded by an agonized grunt. The man buckled. As his head came down, Avery helped him along with a two-fisted blow on the back of his thick neck. Before the massive body hit the ground, Avery followed it up with a forceful kick.
Then he flung himself on top of the prostrate man and began savagely battering his head on the ground as if he intended to continue the satisfying process until his strength gave out.
Barbara had to drag him off. All through those few terrible moments, she had been sawing feverishly at the tough leather thong. Finally she had cut herself free.
‘Richard! Richard!’ she screamed. ‘We’ve got to get out! For God’s sake!’
He looked at her uncomprehendingly. Then sanity came back. He gave the man’s head a final battering and let it drop. The golden woman was lying in her own blood, moaning. Avery knew she had saved his life. He wanted to help her—but… But he could not afford to.
For Barbara’s sake, he could not afford to…
‘Zleetri,’ he murmured softly. ‘Zleetri.’ On an impulse, remembering the incident at the bird-cage tree, he touched her forehead. As he did so, he glanced at the now burning hut. Any moment, its occupants would come leaping through the flames.
He grabbed Barbara’s hand. ‘The moat! We’ve got to jump it. Take a hell of a run. It’s easy.’
Barbara, naked and barefoot, hesitated only a moment. Then she ran and launched herself across the water. She mistimed it and hit the far bank with an agonizing thud, her feet dangling in the water. Avery, who crossed a second later, grabbed her arms as she began to slip down.
While he was pulling her out, he saw that the two occupants of the hut, roused from their sleep, had finally had sense enough to jump through the flames in the doorway. They came out scorched, bewildered and utterly dismayed by what they found.
Barbara seemed to be unconscious. But as he gathered her into his arms and struggled into the blessed darkness, Avery had the consoling thought that pursuit—if any— would hardly be immediate. For once, the golden people were in a situation that was as much as—if not more than —they could handle.