Killer Plants Of Binaark

And afterward? When and if there was peace between the two countries, Blade suspected that the next step would be to build a road through the forest. A few hundred men with axes could keep the seedlings and the rogues under control. The road could go around the groves until someone came up with a way of destroying them. Then trade and travel between Elstan and Jaghd would go on all the year round, regardless of low water on the Adrim or snow in the mountain passes. After a few generations the two countries would be united more thoroughly than they ever would be if Tressana won. Then there would be nothing to stop the return of civilization to this Dimension.

No, that wasn't quite true. The people in this Dimension had wrecked one civilization by war. It was always hard to tell if people would learn from their mistakes or simply repeat them. There would also be a price to pay for civilization. Blade could imagine the scene a few centuries from now, when a six-lane highway ran along the path he was following now. On either side of it neat suburban lawns would have replaced the ferns and fungi, and the killer plants would be kept in greenhouses for decoration. No doubt some of the people in those houses would be yearning for «the good old days» of primitive living and the wild forest of Binaark. They should just try walking through it!

Blade was never sure when he crossed out of the no-man's-land of the forest into Elstan. He did know when he first met the Elstani themselves.

Blade mopped the sweat off his forehead with a fern leaf and hoped that the thicket ahead didn't hide a rogue. He didn't really want to take the time to go around it, not after nearly a day without water. Lorma's tongue was already hanging out, and Blade felt as if his legs were turning to lead. The heavy scent of a stand of flowering trees nearby was cloying, almost nauseating.

The rustle of leaves alerted him too late. Suddenly a long rope with something on the end was flying toward him. Then it wrapped itself around his legs as tightly as a plant's creepers, and a sharp hook was digging into his pack. Somebody jerked hard on the rope, Lorma snarled, and Blade sprawled on the ground. His sword was caught under him, and he rolled to free it. Before he could draw, Lorma snarled again, and four men pushed their way out of the thicket.

Blade froze with his hand inches short of his sword. He recognized the men as EIstani. They were all short, none of them taller than about five feet six, and well muscled. Their round heads were shaved nearly bald, but all had mustaches on their broad dark faces. They wore heavy cloth trousers and shirts, with knee-high leather boots and elbow-length gloves in spite of the heat. Two of them were carrying crossbows, loaded, cocked, and aimed roughly at Blade's stomach. The other two were holding the rope, but as they came into the open they dropped it and drew double-edged short swords.

Lorma snarled again and Blade heard her paws scrabbling as she broke into a run. One of the archers let fly with his crossbow, but to his relief Blade heard nothing but the whuk of the bolt hitting a tree. He knew Lorma wasn't ru

Before he could finish the thought three more archers stepped out of another patch of forest. Blade would have sworn that nothing larger than Lorma could have been hiding there without his seeing it. He wondered if he'd had his mind too much somewhere else, and hoped it wouldn't be fatal. From the grim, implacable expressions on the seven faces around him, it was hard to be optimistic. Blade had seldom seen men who looked less willing to listen, in a situation when talking his way out was probably his only hope.

Slowly he sat up, keeping his hands not only in plain sight but well clear of his body. Instead of trying to unwind the rope from his legs, he looked from one face to another as he spoke.

«I am Richard Blade, a warrior of England. I have been in the service of the Jaghdi, as you-you can see from my clothing and weapons. Jaghd is pla

Several of the men laughed and one said, «Even if that is true, it will not save your life. We know about Tressana's war. Do you think it could be kept a secret, that an army gathers on the Adrim?»

«No. But the army on the Adrim is not the greatest danger. Another army is gathering, to march through the forest of Binaark and-«

Several of the men laughed again, but others cursed. Blade knew the idea must sound as incredible to them as it had to him the first time, and struggled to find words. He cautiously raised his hand to point at the amulet around his neck. «This makes it possible to march through the forest. The Keepers of Jaghd have learned how to fight the killer plants, so now an army-«

That was the end of Blade's speech, and nearly the end of Blade himself. One of the archers suddenly snapped his crossbow up and shot. He wasn't faster than one of the swordsmen, however. The man's sword flickered out like a striking snake, the point knocking the crossbow up and to one side. A bolt that would have drilled Blade's skull only tore a gash in his right ear. Then in a blur of motion the swordsman knocked the crossbow out of his comrade's hand, kicked the man's legs out from under him, and knelt on his chest with the sword point at his throat.

«I know your pride, Fador'n. I will not call this unlawful, if you lay down your bow for this Cutting.»

«Yes, Daimarz.»

The man called Daimarz let the other up and turned to Blade. Blade noticed that Daimarz had an ax-shaped badge worked in copper wire on both gloves, and the same ax shape tattooed on his forehead. «Richard Blade, as you call yourself, we can see that you are of Jaghd. As for the rest, you have won yourself a little more life, at least. We will finish this Cutting, then take you to the Masters. If you are telling the truth, it will at least win you the good Stone Death.» He sheathed his sword. «Will you swear not to try to escape? Or else you may find yourself wishing for any death before the Cutting is over.»

«I will swear that, if you will swear something in return.»

«Why should we bargain with you, Jaghd?»

«Who spoke of bargaining? I only wish to know that I am dealing with men who know what an oath is. Otherwise, what do I have to gain by swearing one myself and making things easier for you?»

«There is sense in that,» said Daimarz, rubbing the tattoo on his forehead. «Very well, what shall we swear?»

«That unless the cat Lorma attacks one of your men, you will do nothing against her.»

Several of the men laughed at that, but Daimarz raised a hand. «No. The gray cats of Jaghd seem to have more than a beast's sense. You will order her not to strike at us?»

«If I see her, yes.»

«Good enough. Then she shall not be harmed, as long as you do not try to escape.»

The Elstani hurried forward to pull Blade to his feet and tie his hands to a stick behind his back. Daimarz himself tore away the amulet. «This we shall keep for the Masters.» He handed it to Fador'n for safekeeping.

Blade swore. «If you'll just test it on one of the plants, you'll see-«

«I see and hear a Jaghdi prisoner who talks too much,» said Daimarz. A hand signal made two of the archers raise their crossbows. «I did not swear to listen to your lies, Blade.»

As the men lined up on either side of Blade, he swore again, but silently. The Elstani weren't mindlessly bloodthirsty. They wouldn't kill him outright before he could tell his story to the Masters. But if they refused to test the amulet before it lost its power, he'd have no way of proving that his story was true! The results for Elstan could be just as disastrous as if these men had killed him outright.