Chapter 16

Blade heard the hiss and clatter of weapons being drawn by the woodcutters still on the path. He saw them step as cautiously as cats to the edge of the landslip and look down into the mist. Fador'n was the closest, but even he was staying carefully on firm ground.

Was Fador'n deliberately refusing to go to his leader's aid, taking a horrible vengeance for the disgrace of losing his bow? Then Blade looked down into the valley and reconsidered. Fador'n might be suffering from nothing worse than a loss of nerve. The mist-filled valley was weird and terrifying, an unreal sight which might easily be suspected of hiding even worse things than the killer plants.

Unfortunately it did hide the plants, and the cries of the men caught among the creepers of the rogue were entirely too real. Even if Fador'n got his nerve back in a minute or two, he might be too late. Without Daimarz, Blade's chances of having his story believed in Elstan or even getting to Elstan alive would shrink. So would Elstan's chances of surviving Queen Tressana's campaign. Apart from this, Blade knew he owed Daimarz something for his justice toward Lorma, and for saving him from Fador'n.

Blade rolled over until he was lying on his face, both arms clear of the ground. Then he put shoulder, back, and arm muscles into one tremendous jerk. The ropes dug into his flesh, then the stick cracked like a pistol shot. A second jerk split it in two. Blade flexed life into his wrists and got to his feet.

Fador'n saw him. He yelled, «The Jaghd's escaping!» and dashed at Blade, drawing his sword as he ran. Behind him came a man with a raised ax. Fortunately nobody had a crossbow ready for action. All the bowstrings were carefully packed away to keep them safe from the damp weather.

«Damn it, I want to help them down there!» roared Blade. «Give me the amulet and-«Then he had to leap aside from Fador'n's rush. His effort to be reasonable cost him a gashed forearm. He found himself directly in the path of the axman, with the ax starting down.

All right, if these idiots are more concerned with keeping me from escaping than with saving their friends…

Blade ducked under the downswing of the ax and gave the man a one-two punch in the stomach. He doubled up, vomited, and dropped the ax. Blade caught it in midair and swung it in a wide arc to drive Fador'n back. The woodcutter came in again, too intent on dealing with Blade even to shout for help. The flat of the ax came down on his sword hand. He yelped and dropped his weapon. Blade shifted the ax to his left hand, closed with Fador'n, and punched the man in the jaw. The woodcutter not only fell, he also started rolling down the slope. Blade plunged after him, nearly losing his own footing, and caught up with him just above the mist. He snatched the amulet out of the belt pouch, carefully tied it around his own neck, then pulled Fador'n around so that he wouldn't roll any farther. The man was an idiot, but even an idiot didn't deserve the fate awaiting him at the bottom of the hill.

Blade hefted the ax again, testing its weight and balance. For a five-foot, six-inch Elstani, the ax was a two-handed weapon. Blade found he could easily use it with one hand, thought for a moment of trying to get steel for his other hand, then decided time was more important than an extra weapon. He cupped his free hand to his mouth and shouted down into the mist.

«Halloooo! This is Richard Blade, the Englishman. I'm coming down with the ax and the amulet. Hold on! I'll try to get you out!»

Blade wished he could promise to do more than try, but he didn't believe in miracles. It would take just about that to get all the men out of the rogue's grip. The amulet might still be effective. The stopper was still in and the scent was supposed to be more powerful in damp weather. Would it work against a rogue already triggered into action by seven struggling men? Also, Blade didn't know where the men were, who was in the most danger, or the best route to the base of the rogue's trunk. The mist would make it hard to find out.

Blade started down the slope, cutting back and forth to slow his rate of descent. The last thing he wanted was to lose his footing on the slick grass and reach the bottom sprawling and weaponless. Then he'd be no more than another victim for the robe.

The panicky cries from the mist had died away at Blade's shout. As he entered the mist they started again. Then Daimarz's voice roared out above all the others. «Shut up, the whole damned pack of you! Are you woodcutters of Elstan or women of Jaghd?» A sudden silence, except for a few shouts from above. Blade ignored those. Nobody up there could do anything to him until they'd strung a bow. Even then they might have the sense not to shoot wildly into a mist which hid their comrades as well as the «escaping» prisoner.

As he dropped into the mist, Blade headed to his left, toward the landslip and the fallen men. He heard Daimarz's voice again, shouting, «If there's a pod close to you, shout! If not, stay quiet!» Two men shouted. Blade swore. The mist not only blocked vision, it distorted hearing as well. It was almost impossible to tell where a man was from just hearing him.

Daimarz must have realized the same thing. He shouted again. «Everybody stop moving! I'll keep fighting. That should pull the pods toward me. Blade, can you cut the rest loose while I draw the pods?»

As Daimarz fell silent, Blade reached the outer edge of the rogue's creepers. They were all writhing and twisting like an endless nest of immense snakes, terrifying enough in broad daylight and quite indescribable seen through the mist. Blade could now understand better why the tough woodcutters gave way to panic when they slid downhill into this.

Blade stepped forward into the creepers. Time to find out if the amulet was still any good. He wished it was on a chain rather than a cord. A creeper that wasn't attacking him might break the cord.

Two anaconda-sized creepers wriggled toward him. They rose into the air, wavered, then one pulled back abruptly. The second came on, slapped his thigh almost playfully, then swung wide of him. Blade didn't bother striking at them. He felt like cheering. The amulet still worked!

«Daimarz!» he shouted. «You keep still too! There's no need for you to sacrifice yourself! The amulet works. I can move in and draw everything to me with no danger.»

«Blade, I-

«Stop arguing! I know what I'm doing! This is the beginning of the end for the killer plants of Binaark!»

That produced a dead silence except for the creaking and scraping of the creepers and the distant shouts of the men up on the hillside. Blade took another step forward, and saw another creeper come at him. It stopped just within range, and he cut completely through it with a single blow of the ax. Sap spattered the leaves around Blade but missed him.

Now he could see the first of the seven men ahead, lying under a bush completely tangled in creepers. He was doing his best to hold still, but a kill-pod was already wavering just above the bush. A few more feet and it would be within reach of the man.

Blade picked out the three nearest creepers and cut them off. All the others writhed more furiously than ever. The man yelled as the creepers holding him wrenched at his joints. The kill-pod swept over him and came at Blade. Whatever the creepers Blade had cut were saying, the kill-pod was getting the message that he was something to be investigated.

Blade let the pod come within easy reach. Then he unleashed his ax in an overhead swing using both hands and all his strength. The branch supporting the kill-pod was nearly a foot thick, but the ax went halfway through it at one blow. The branch jerked back so violently that most of the rest broke off. The pod dangled by a few remaining muscle fibers, sap gushed out like water from a hose, and the plant started screaming.