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.
At last they turned away from the shore, up a broad valley that offered good grazing. Scouts rode on ahead to the pass visible at the upper end of the valley, to explore the country beyond.
The valley might have been a proper new homeland, but there were two things wrong with it. First, it was too low. The water had only to rise a few more feet and the river that flowed down the valley would back up and spread across most of the land where drends might graze and crops grow. The rest of the land would become exposed to the attacks of the sea reptiles.
Second, the valley was already the home of people who had no intention of giving it up to the Kargoi. The sides of the valley were covered with thick forests and the valley people hid in those forests by day. By night they slipped out and shot arrows into the Kargoi and their beasts from impossibly long ranges. The Kargoi could not hope to meet this sort of guerrilla warfare for a decade or a generation. So even those most weary of traveling had to admit that the journey wasn't over yet.
Adroon's journey was another matter. By the time the Kargoi reached the valley, it was obvious that the High Baudz was seriously ill. Inch by inch his broken leg was turning black with gangrene. There was no choice left but amputation.
The operation went well, but his sixty years and many battles had left Adroon without enough strength to survive it. He died that night, and for the first time in three generations the Kargoi had no High Baudz and no hereditary candidate for the office.
«I knew the gods were not through with us,» said Paor wearily. He sounded like a brave man with much of his courage at last beaten out of him by a series of punishing blows that had simply gone on too long. «I knew it. They thought it would be a good jest to take Adroon from us. It is a good jest, so good that the Kargoi may die of it.»
«How is this so?» asked Blade. «Surely the Kargoi see clearly that they must all follow one leader while they are on the march?»
«Yes. But every baudz sees just as clearly that he is that one leader. Each has or will have friends or kin or a whole clan who will hope to gain much when he takes up the wand of the High Baudz. Even if all the baudzi themselves were wise men, each has among his followers men who are not. There are always swords drawn in anger, blood shed, and feuds begun. Behind those feuds come factions and hatred, as inevitably as finding drend dung where the drend have passed.»
Blade shook his head. «The Kargoi should not let themselves be driven into a war among themselves by thinking too much of what has happened in the past. They should think of what may be done now so that they can march on united.»
Paor laughed sourly. «It is easy to say that, Blade. Have you done any such thinking yourself?»
«Yes. I have a suggestion. Suppose a man with no friends, no kin, no clan were to become High Baudz for the space of one year, or until the Kargoi have found a new home. Then he could step aside, and a High Baudz be chosen to guide the Kargoi for many years. The feuds and the factions would not do so much harm then.»