Var the Stick (16 page)

    How long would she sleep? He felt strangely unwhole without her.

    The boat came to parallel the enormous bridge. Girders like those that rimmed the mountain Helicon projected from the sea and crossed and recrossed each other, forming an eye-dazzling network. But these were organized and functional, serving to support the elevated highway. Somewhere within this jumble that road was hidden; he could not see it now. He wondered why the amazons did not walk along it instead of splashing dangerously over the water.

    At length they angled toward the bridge. There was an archway, here, where the water under the span was clear for a space. And suspended in that cavity was something like a monstrous hornet's nest all wood and rope and interleaved slices of metal and plastic and other substances Var could not guess at.

    The boat drew up beneath this, where a blister hung scant feet from the surface of the water. A ladder of rope dropped down and the women climbed up with alacrity to disappear with him.

    Var had to ascend carrying Soil. He laid her over his shoulder and grasped the ladder with one hand. It swung out, seeming too frail to bear the double load.

    Well, if it broke, he would swim. He was not really enthusiastic to enter the hive, and did not trust these armored women. He hauled himself and his burden up, rung by rung, carefully curling his clumsy fingers about each. The rope did not break.

    The ladder passed through a circular hole, and was fastened above by a metal crosspiece. Var clung to this and got his feet to a board platform, and shifted Soil down. They were in a cramped chamber whose sides curved up and out. Metal cloth seemed to be the main element.

    But there were other ladders to climb. Each level was larger, the curving walls more distant, until doors and intermediate chambers were all he could observe in passing.

    At length they stood within a large room with adjacent compartments, rather like the Master's main tent.

    On a throne fashioned of wickerwork sat the Queen: bloated, ugly, middle-aged, bejeweled. She wore a richly woven gown that sparkled hidescently. It fell from a high stiff collar behind her broad neck to the sides of her stout ankles, and was open down the front to reveal the inner curvatures of her, monstrous breasts, her dimpled kettle stomach, and her hanging thighs.

    Var, hardly prudish, averted his eyes. Sexuality as brazen as this repulsed him.

    Weapons threatened. "Foreign beardface, look at the Queen!"

    He had to look; it seemed this was protocol. She reminded him of a figurine the Master had shown him once: a fertility goddess, artifact of the Ancients. The Master had said that in some cultures such a figure was considered to be the ultimate in beauty. But for Var the female attributes became negative when expanded to such grotesque proportion.

    "Strip him," the Queen said.

    Again Var had to make a decision. He could fight but not effectively while supporting Soil, and both of them would be wounded or killed. Or he could submit to being stripped by these women. Nakedness was not a strong taboo with him, but he knew it was for others, and that the demand represented an insult. Still he yielded. "You promised to care for my friend," he said.

    The Queen made an imperious gesture that sent gross quivers through her various anatomies. An unarmed woman came to take Soil. She brought her to 'a wicker divan and began checking the limp girl, while Var watched nervously. And the armed women removed his clothing.

    "So he has his finger," the Queen said, staring as though studying an animal.

    Now Var understood the term. It occurred to him that he bad not had a close look at a man of this tribe.

    The nurse attending Soil spoke: "Concussion. Doesn't look serious. Bruise on the neck, probably pinching a nerve, could let go anytime." She splashed water from a bowl on Soli's face.

    The girl groaned. It was the first sound she had made since the leap to the tunnel sweeper, and Var felt suddenly weak with relief. If she could groan she could recover.

    "He looks strong," said the Queen. "But mottled. Do we want any piebalds?"

    No one answered. Evidently the question was rhetorical. After a moment she decided. "Yes, we'll try one." She pointed to Var. "Your Queen wili honor your finger. Bring it here."

    Prodded by spearlike arrows, Var walked toward her. He had some idea what she meant, and was disgusted, but the weapons bristling about him discouraged overt protest. He saw Soil sitting up and wanted to go to hers If only he weren't restrained by the odds against him! Alone, he could have made a break, but he did not want to start trouble that would hurt the dazed girl.

    He came to stand immediately before the gross Queen.

    She was even more repulsive up close. Fat jiggled on her body as she breathed, and there was a steamy unnatural smell about her.

    She reached out and caught what she termed his finger in her hand. "Yes, your Queen will use this once, now and no woman after her." She spread her legs, hauling Var toward her.

    It was no longer possible to pretend to mistake her meaning. Var acted. He whirled on his guards, grabbing at their weapons, shoving the women down. He caught the handle of a fighting hatchet and raised the blade toward the Queen.

    The guards fell back, for they could not mistake his meaning either. He could split her head before they reached him.

    "Bring her!" Var cried, gesturing toward Soil. He hoped they would not realize that they could nullify his threat by threatening Soil.

    Bows came up, arrows nocked. Var put both hands on the hatchet and poised above the Queen. Even if a dozen arrows transfixed him, he would take her with him.

    Soil came, listless but walking by herself. She. still wore her two sticks; they had not been noticed by her captors.

    Something flashed. Var jumped back as the Queen drove for his loin with a jewelled stiletto. "We shall remove it now, I think," she said.

    In that moment of confusion Var saw the arrows coming. One grazed his thigh. The guards closed in.

    In a fury, Var leaped at the Queen and clove her head with a two-handed stroke. A cry of horror went up. He did not need to look. He knew as he yanked free the blood-soiled blade that she was dead.

    He caught Soil by the arm and sprinted for the nearest compartment behind the throne. For a moment no one followed. The women were too shocked by the fate of their breeder Queen.

    There was a ladder. "Climb!" he said at Soil, and she, unspeaking, climbed. Var stood with the hatchet, ready to fend off attack. He was sure that he himself would never have the chance to use the ladder.

    Then, as the amazons advanced keening in fury, he struck at the wicker door supports. Rope and fiber sliced easily, and the door began to collapse, and the floor beneath it sagged. He hacked some more until there was a tumble of material ealing him off, then dived for the ladder.

    Soil waited for him at the next level "Where are we, Var?" she asked plaintively.

    "In a hive!" he gasped, drawing her through another door. "I killed the Queen-ant!"

    They entered another large room. Men were working here, weaving baskets. Naked, flabby Var saw at once that they were castrate. No wonder the women had been fascinated by the visiting male they seldom saw a complete man!

    But though these men were harmless, even pitiful, the amazon women were not. They burst through the door behind, screaming.

    Var and Soli bolted again. But the next room was a blank cubbyhole, next to the gentle curvature of the exterior wall. They were trapped.

    "Fire!" Soil cried.

    Var cursed himself for not thinking of that sooner. He fumbled for his pack for a precious match and some kerosene. This thy hive would ignite rapidly.

    His pack, of course, was not on him. It lay with the rest of his clothing in the Queen's hail.

    But Soli was already making fire from the duplicate materials in her own pack. As the first female warrior charged into the compartment, she ignited a puddle of kerosene on the wooden floor.

    The amazon stomped through the sudden blaze and screamed. Var clove her with the hatchet and she fell, her shield rolling away, the fire licking around her body.

    "We're trapped, Var!" Soli cried. For the moment be was too glad to have her intelligible and functional to pay attention to her words. Perhaps the action had jolted her out of her concussion.

    "We'll burn!" she screamed in his ear.

    That registered. He went to the wall and began hacking. The fibers were tough, and several times the blade rang against metal, but he succeeded in ripping a hole to daylight.

    "Hurry!" Soil cried, and he glanced at her while chipping. He saw to his surprise, that the fire was not consinning everything. Only the kerosene itself was burning. Soil stood just behind it, both sticks in her hands, fending off any amazons who tried to reach through. Fortunately the constriction of the surroundings prevented the effective use of arrows. But soon the flammable fluid would be gone, and the mass of outraged women would press through. Some were already trying to use their shields to block Soil's sticks.

    "Out the hole!" Var shouted at her. Soil obeyed with alacrity while he covered her retreat.

    He took a final swipe at a protruding spear and dived through the hole the moment her feet disappeared. As his head poked out he saw. the water, far below. He had forgotten how high they were! How could they jump that dizzying distance?

    Where was Soli? He did not spy her either on the wall or in the water. If she had fallen and drowned "Here!"

    He looked up. She was clinging to the framework above the hole. Again, relief was almost painfully great and of course climbing was the answer. They could escape via the rope that supported the entire framework!

    A helmeted head showed in the bole. Soil reached down negilgently and tapped it ringingly with a stick. It vanished.

    They climbed, Var carrying the hatchet between his teeth. It was easier than the ascent to the mesa bad been, so long ago in experience. The woven ropes and struts provided plentiful handholds, and as the two rose the surface tilted toward the horizontal.

    A trapdoor opened in the top and a head appeared. Var threatened it with the hatchet and the lid popped closed again instantly. They had command of the roof.

    The rope by which the hive was suspended was much more sturdy than it had appeared from a distance. It was a good four feet in diameter at its narrowest, and the fibers were metal and nylon and rubber, interwoven tightly.

    Var had had some notion of chopping through this cord and dropping the entire hive grandly into the sea. He gave it up; his battered little hatchet could not do the job.

    They climbed the column, Soil still wearing her heavy pack because there was no time for adjustments. Fortunately this stretch was short. Var didn't know how long she could last, after her prolonged unconsciousness. And if the amazons emerged and started firing arrows at them.

    The women did emerge, but too late. Var and Soil were perched on the massive steel strut that supported the hive, and the arrows could not reach them directly. They were safe. All they had to do was mount the road surface of the bridge and be on their way.

    Well, not quite all. A chill wind attacked Var's bare skin. He would have to find new clothing and traveling supplies. And new weapons, this hatchet, useful as it had been, was not to his liking.

    He led the way up an inclined beam, going into the maze of supports. The angry cries of the amazons were left behind, and their arrows stopped rattling between the girders. He wondered why they did not follow; certainly they would know how to get around on the bridge, since they had built their hive within it.

    His skin burned. First he thought it was windchap. Then he recognized the stigma of radiation.

    "Back!" he cried, knowing Soil could not feel it, but would surely be affected. "Radiation!"

    They retreated to a clean spot, where intersecting beams formed a gaunt basket. Now they knew why the amazons had not pursued them here. The women would have learned the hard way that the bridge was impassable. In fact, they would have constructed their vulnerable hive in the one place they knew to be safe from all marauders.

    Var knew what he would find: the bridge ahead would be saturated with the deadly rays, making it a badlands. Probably some radiation touched it between the hive and the island where the tunnel emerged, too but even if not, the amazons would be waiting at the island with drawn bows.

    Soli, so brave until this point, suddenly gave out. She laid her head against Var's shoulder and cried. She had not done that for many months.

    The wind was colder now and night was coming.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

    It was an uncomfortable night. Solis pack contained food and some clothing, so Var was able to fortify himself somewhat internally and externally. But the hardness and narrowness of the beams, the cutting edge of the intermittent wind, their several flesh wounds, and the general hopelessness of their situation made sleep a misery.

    They clung together as they had done on the mesa of Muse, and they talked. "Does your head hurt?" Var asked, trying to make the inquiry seem more casual than it was.

    "Yes. I think I banged it. How did we get out of the tunnel?"

    Var told her.

    "I think I started to wake when you made me stand," she said. "I heard voices, and something shook me, but it was all very far away, maybe a dream. Then I woke again and saw water, but I didn't know what was happening so I didn't move. I was pretty much alert when you carried me into the hive but then I knew I had to stay out of trouble. I kept my eyes closed, so I didn't really know what it was."

    That explained how she had been able to function almost normally once she woke up officially. She had been smart enough to play dead until she knew more. It had been hard on Var, but he knew that it would have been worse any other way. The amazons had treated him more carefully because they knew he was not much of a threat while he held the unconscious girl.