The Tritonian Ring and Other Pasudian Tales (31 page)

             
The jailer went off, staring at the heavy blackish mass, and Abeggu departed likewise. Then Vakar had to put up with Fual's nervous chatter. One minute the
Utile
man was boasting of
what such puissant heroes as they would do to the monster; the next he was giving garrulous tongue to abyssmal despair:

             
"
...
last night I dreamed of a goat that ate three blue apples while reciting poetry, which undoubtedly means we shall be slain, sir. Ah, why didn't you let me go when I asked you in Gadaira? Never shall I see the golden spires of the Temple of Cuval in Kerys again
...
"

             
Vakar was tempted to cuff his man about to silence him, but forebore, thinking how sorry he would be if he did and then Fual did die in the arena after all.

-

             
Under the blazing tropical sun the sand of the arena glared whitely in Vakar's eyes. He put a bare foot upon it,
then
hopped back with a yelp.

             
"That's hot!" he said.

             
"Out you go," said the jailer behind him. "Or must we push you?"

             
"Come, Fual," said Vakar, setting his teeth against the heat of the sand. "We should have toughened ourselves by walking barefoot on hot coals like the devil-dancers of Dzen."

             
A door opened in the far end of the arena and Nji slouched in with the same old brass-bound club over
his
shoulder. Vakar took three paces quickly and started to dig.

             
"Help me, ass!" he snarled at Fual as his sifting fingers met nothing solid.

             
Nji swaggered closer. Vakar was too busy scrabbling in the sand to notice the elliptical plan of the arena, the tiers
o
f mud-brick benches, and the silent brown crowd.

             
"Ha!" His fingers struck metal. An instant later he and Fual were on their feet facing the ape-man, each with a broadsword in hand. A murmur of surprise came from the spectators.

             
"Remember," said Vakar
, "our only hope is a headlong a
ttack. H we run in under his club quickly enough, one of us at least may get home be
fore he knocks our brains out. R
eady?"

             
Vakar tensed for a dash. Nji took hold of his club with both hairy hands and opened his great mouth.

             
"Go!" cried Vakar, sprinting.

             
Nji gave a roar and charged—but not at Vakar. He ran at an angle, in pursuit of Fual, who in a spasm of panic had dropped his sword and run towards the side of the arena, apparently with the idea of climbing up among the spectators.

             
Vakar struck at the ape-man as the latter lumbered past him but missed; then doubled, leaning for the turn and cursing his servant's cowardice under his breath. Fual had almost reached the wall when Nji caught up with him and brought the club down in a mighty blow. Fual's skull crunched and his brains spattered. And at the same instant Vakar came up behind Nji.

             
With no time for a survey of the towering hairy back, Vakar bent and struck a powerful backhand draw-cut at the monster's leg just above the heel, then sprang back just as Nji started to turn. As the creature put weight on his hamstrung leg the member buckled under him. He fell with a ground-shaking thump. Vakar sprang in again to slash at the ape-man's throat;
The
great teeth snapped and an arm caught Vakar's ankle and hurled him to the ground, almost dislocating the attached leg.

             
Vakar rolled over in an effort to twist free, but the bone-crushing grip held fast. Feeling his foot being drawn towards the ape-man, Vakar looked and saw that the creature was about to stuff the appendage into his gaping mouth. The Lorskan doubled and twisted, planting his other foot against Nji's chest to give him a purchase and, getting a grip on Nji's shoulder-hair with his free hand, hacked at the hairy hand that held his ankle.

             
Nji screamed shrilly and let go the ankle, but instantly caught Vakar's right arm in one hand and his hair with the other. This time the monster began to pull Vakar's head towards his jaws while it scratched and kicked at his body with its great splay feet.

             
Vakar grasped Nji's thick throat with his right hand, not to choke the ape-man (a task far beyond his strength) but to hold off the slavering fangs that wanted to tear off his face. Meanwhile his left arm was furiously driving the sword into Nji's chest and belly. Again and again he stabbed, but the ape-man's immense strength seemed undiminished.

             
Though the muscles on Vakar's lean arms stood out like iron rods, little by little his right arm bent as the ape-man drew him nearer. Blood and spittle ran over his gripping hand, and the creature's foul breath blasted into his face. The tusks gaped closer.

             
At last he drove the sword into the gaping mouth itself, and up through the crimson palate—and up—and
up
...

             
Nji relaxed with a shudder as the bronzen point broached his brain. For an instant Vakar, battered and worn, lay panting on the baking sand, his blood and that of the ape-man running over his skin in big red drops. The front of Nji's body was covered with wounds any of which would have killed a man.

             
Then Vakar staggered to his feet. He was covered with blood and dirt and some of his hair had been pulled out. His ankle was swollen and discolored where Nji had wrenched it, and the scratches from Nji's toe-nails on his belly and legs stung like a swarm of hornets. When a glance showed him that Fual was patently beyond help, he turned towards the exit.

             
He found himself facing a crowd of Gamphasants with nets and ropes in their hands. For an instant he considered trying to cut his way through, but gave up that idea. Though he killed two or three, the rest would overpower him and then things would only go harder with him. A similar crowd had issued from the other entrance, the one through which Nji had come.

             
"All right," he said in his rudimentary Gamphasantian. "I will come
quietly
."

             
The jailer, scowling, asked: "Where did you get that sword?"

             
Vakar smiled. "The gods visited me in dreamland and told me where to dig. Does this make me the official executioner?"

             
"No. Nji was made executioner because he was more beast than man, and the Gamphasants, being a just people, do not punish dumb brutes for breaking laws beyond their comprehension. You, however, are not only a man but also an intelligent one, and must therefore pay the full penalty as soon as we can get another lion."

             
Vakar limped back to his cell feeling forlorn. Poor Fual would never see the silver beaches of Aremoria again. The lit
tl
e fellow may have been a snob, a coward, and a thief, but he had been faithful in his lachrymose and unreliable way. Vakar would keenly miss a man to tote his burdens and listen to his jokes and songs. He regretted the beatings he had given Fual because of the latter's incurable thievery; for all his faults Fual had saved his life in Torrutseish, which counted for more than a bookkeeper's balance of virtues and vices.

             
The tears were running freely down Vakar's own face when his cell door opened and in came Abeggu lugging a ewer and a towel. The Gamphasant said:

             
"You did a great deed, and
I
am sorry your servant was slain.
I
cannot spend much time with you for I think
I
am suspected of having a hand in this affair. I asked my father if he would intercede to free you, but he said he had got in enough trouble by letting me travel abroad contrary to the traditions of the Gamphasants, and would do nothing."

             
"I hope," said Vakar, "you can think of something before the next Hon arrives."

             
"I will try, but
I
am not hopeful."

             
"How about a tool to dig through the wall?"

             
"No good. The jailer comes into your cell every day, and since Qasigan's escape one of his assistants walks continuously around the outside of the prison. But we shall see."

             
And off he went, leaving Vakar feeling let down. He thought some bitter thoughts about fair-weather friends; but then he reflected that Abeggu had already saved his life once at some risk, and he had no reason to expect the man to do it over and over.

-

             
In the morning Vakar was awakened by a distant murmur. Still stiff and sore from the previous day's ape-handling, he called the jailer:

             
"Ho there, Nakkul! What is happening?"

             
The prison seemed deserted. Vakar went to his window but could see nothing. The murmur grew and the heads of several Gamphasants shot past Vakar's window, going at a run. Now Vakar could distinguish shrieks of pain and terror.

             
If anyone were here to bet with, he thought, I'd wager ten to one the Gwedulians have come. And then the bolt of his cell door thudded back and the door creaked open. Abeggu, standing in the doorway, cried:

             
"The Gwedulians are slaying us! Flee while you can!"

             
"Good of you to remember me," said Vakar, hurrying out.

             
"The consuls went forth unarmed to welcome them, and these fiends slew them with javelins
...
"

             
In the jailer's office Vakar paused to glance around on the slim chance that some of his belongings might still be there. It was no easy thing to flee forth in a strange country without clothes, arms, or trade-goods. He saw none of these, but in one corner lay a dark lumpish thing:
the Tahakh. He snatched it up by the knob at one end and turned down the short corridor that led out
.

             
At that instant a Gwedulia
n
stepped into the entrance, a few paces away. The intruder
wore the usual head-cloak and face-veil. On his left arm was strapped a small round ostrich-hide buckler that left his left hand free, and in both hands he carried a long copper-headed spear. Before he could do more than stare at the newcomer Vakar heard a shriek beside him and saw that the Gwedulian had thrust his spear deep into the brown belly of Abeggu, who seized the shaft with both hands.

             
Vakar took three long steps forward, swinging the Tahakh down, back, and up in a circle at the end of his straight left arm. The Gwedulian tugged on his spear, but Abeggu still gripped it. Then the Gwedulian released the shaft with his right hand to fumble for a hatchet in the girdle of his breech-clout. Before he could pull the shaft free the Tahakh descended on his head with
a
crunch. Down went the Gwedulian.

             
Vakar looked back at Abeggu, who lay huddled against the wall of the corridor, still clutching the spear-shaft, though the Gwedu
li
an's tug had pulled the head out of the wound.

             
"Can you walk?" asked Vakar.

             
"No. I am dying. Go quickly."