Herrek stopped. He was dangerously far from the chariot and near the cul-de-sac. “Three-Paws!” he roared. “I’m here.”
Grasses stirred, but no sabertooths exploded out to attack.
Herrek shifted his spear so he was ready to throw. “Three-Paws! Man-Killer! Slayer of Jeremoth! Come and meet your doom!”
“He’s mad,” Adah whispered.
“No,” said Gens. “For years he’s been torn by grief over his brother’s death. Now he atones.”
“The sabertooths attack!” Joash shouted. He released his sling again, hitting a beast on the snout as it exploded from hiding. The sabertooth stopped and shook its huge head. Then it once more dashed at Herrek. “Go!” Joash told the dogs. They raced for Herrek as they madly barked. Joash turned and jumped aboard Adah’s chariot. Old Three-Paws roared. Adah’s stallions bolted in fear. Joash hung on to the chariot railing, and turned to see what happened.
Herrek faced the charging monster. Then another and another beast leaped from hiding, and at the Champion of Teman Clan. Herrek was doomed. But Gens’s stallions had been trained to hunt lions, and Gens was perhaps the greatest driver on the steppes. He urged the Asvarn stallions into the fray. They thundered toward Herrek, following the dogs.
“Turn the team!” Joash shouted at Adah. He freed his spear from its chariot holder. The Singer accomplished a miracle and turned the team. Her teeth were set as she, too, charged the sabertooths.
Herrek hurled his spear at Old Three-Paws—the sabertooth was monstrously huge, his face screwed into berserk rage. Herrek pivoted as Three-Paws slowed and dodged the spear. Then in full armor, Herrek raced toward Gens and the fast-approaching chariot.
“You mad fool,” Adah hissed, as she shook the reins.
Three-Paws, for all his bulk, his crippled left paw, and his bulging belly, gained on Herrek. Three other big sabertooths also converged upon the warrior. Twenty yards, fifteen.
The dogs raced past Herrek and launched themselves upon the sabertooths. It wasn’t a contest. One dog went down under the murderous claws, then another. Three-Paws lost ground, but ran hard again.
Gens drove near Herrek and tightly turned his team. Grasses and dirt shot out from the madly spinning wheels. Without breaking stride, Herrek grabbed hold of the passing chariot-rail. With expert skill he hauled himself beside Gens. Gens lashed the stallions. They dug their hooves into the soil and pulled the two men in the battle-cart. Three-Paws gained nevertheless. Herrek jerked the twelve-foot lance from its holder. His balance was incredible. The shifting jerking chariot, bouncing over rocks and uneven terrain, didn’t upset him or throw him out. Herrek only stayed aboard because of his planted feet, his knees absorbing every shock and sway. With two hands he held the lance and squarely faced Three-Paws. Gens lashed the team to greater speed. The champion of the expedition stared in fury at the lone sabertooth, ignoring the others that converged upon them.
Old Three-Paws stared into the eyes of him who he hated more than any other. He recognized the hate in the other’s eyes. That infuriated him. With a roar and with all the rage of his old, yet massive, muscles, Three-Paws launched himself into the air and at the hated two-legs. Herrek, his feet set, judged the moment right. He leaned at Three-Paws. Herrek roared the Teman war cry. He thrust the lance at Old Three-Paws. It was perfect. The steel pierced Three-Paws’s left eye. The momentum of both drove the hardened steel deep into Three Paws’s head. Herrek strove to push the heavy sabertooth bulk to the side of the chariot. With all his strength he tried to move the beast away from them. The monstrous sabertooth was too huge to stop completely. His weight tore the lance out of Herrek’s grasp. Then Old Three-Paws smashed against the chariot. He knocked Herrek back against Gens. Old Three-Paws landed in the chariot with them. A wheel went flying. Old Three-Paws bounced and tumbled out. Warrior and driver, perhaps because of a lifetime of charioting, somehow managed to hang on. The other wheel snapped off. But the rampaging stallions paid no heed as they dragged the platform across the steppe.
A caroming wheel hit a sabertooth as it launched itself at the chariot, knocking it head-over-heels. Another beast slid sideways and ducked the flying wheel, allowing the chariot to pass unscathed by its claws. Adah and Joash sped at the last sabertooth. Joash hurled his spear. The sabertooth easily avoided the clumsy cast, but it gave Gens his margin. Gens lashed the foaming stallions past the beast. The stallions dragged the wheel-less platform until, finally, the spent sabertooths slowed down and broke off the chase.
Lying in the plains, however, the lance-head deep in his brain, Old Three-Paws twitched his last.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The Leopard-Skin Pouch
As fish are caught in a cruel net, or birds are taken in a snare, so men are trapped by evil times that fall unexpectedly upon them.
Elidad tipped back Herrek’s water-skin. The burly noble’s armor was dust-stained and his leggings ripped. Scratches lined his face. His eyes were bloodshot, and although he was sunburned, he seemed pale and sickly.
The sabertooths had fled after Old Three-Paws’s death. Joash had wondered why the big predators had been in such a hurry.
Elidad gasped for air, wiped his mouth, and drank again. He was handsome, in a rugged way, with a prominent chin and a rough-looking scar underneath it. He’d gained the scar when gamblers had tried to cheat him in Further Tarsh. Unfortunately, or so Herrek had once said, Elidad had a fondness for mad gambles.
Elidad finally finished drinking. Gens took the water-skin and hung it on its peg in the chariot. Elidad’s silvery eyebrows rose upon seeing the singer, although he winked at Joash when he saw the spear.
“Where’s Brand?” Herrek asked.
“Dead,” Elidad said. “The damned sabertooths chased us here to this trap. We weren’t as lucky as you were. The sabertooth you slew pulled down my lead horse. That’s why my chariot is wrecked where it is. Brand leaped clear, I fell to the ground.” Elidad gave them a sly grin. “Brand blew his horn and startled the old sabertooth, giving me time to pick up my shield and spear. Then as Brand climbed the nearest boulder, I engaged the huge beast. Brand turned and hurled rocks, clipping the beast. That gave me time to climb up after him. Then we were where my fire is now. All day the sabertooths prowled by the wreckage, feasting upon my stallions and watching us. Brand and I raged from thirst.”
Elidad’s eyes seemed to glaze over and his manner became pensive. “Brand decided to try to make it to the lake for water. We had a water-skin, but it was empty. I told him that we should wait, that help would come. I knew you wouldn’t let us die, Herrek. But Brand grew despondent. He begged me to let him try for water. At last, reluctantly, I bid him go while I went down and harried the beasts. I taunted them, hurling rocks and challenging them. They watched me, and it seemed they were filled with fury.
“When I was sure Brand was gone, I retreated to my fire. Several hours later, I heard the beasts roar. I looked down, and saw Brand’s corpse. I…” Elidad paled as his words withered away. “They feasted on him,” he whispered.
Gens ground his teeth with rage. Joash was too stunned to think.
Elidad looked away as a powerful emotion worked its way across his face. “Brand is dead. Now, I will hunt sabertooths for the rest of my life. They will rue their arrogance.”
“We found Ard,” Herrek said.
Elidad said nothing.
“We buried him,” Herrek said.