The one from overhead chattered something, and the other answered and grudgingly held back. The ears did not lift; and the eyes held nothing less of that unreckoning wildness.
Brush slithered and crackled from behind and Merritt turned on one heel; the other had hit the ground. A hurtling body took him chest-high and he hurled his own weight against the attacker, trying to keep his own chin down and reach the creature's throat with his fingers. But if Sazhje had been strong, the strength of this adult male of her kind was incredible. Merritt used his weight and his height: it was the only advantage humanity gave him; and he was able to push the creature down and pin it briefly, even then wondering why the one behind him was holding off.
Then inexorably, long-fingered hands closed on his arms and pried his hands apart, breaking his grip on its throat; and with snakish agility those slim legs found leverage and the creature heaved free of him, hit him when he was trying to rise and carried him over, on the bottom of it this time.
The deadly fangs came within a little of his throat, but Merritt twisted, got his legs under him and hit with a supreme effort, too close to miss.
The blow met solid muscle, no yielding; and the creature let out a spitting snarl, launched forward with real temper this time. Powerful teeth sank into Merrill's blocking arm, ripped, and when he won free of that mauling attack and staggered for his feet, another rush carried him against a tree and almost over.
He lurched up, shouldered the creature low and hard, at once tangled in a sinuous grip and twisted onto his back, long fangs sunk into his arm.
Almost he heaved free again, but now the other entered the fight, pinning his numb and bitten arm, adding its weight to the other's. Merritt struggled wildly, his own sounds by now indistinguishable from the guttural hisses and snarls of his attackers. He tried to keep his chin down; it did not work. The creature broke his defense and clamped fanged jaws onto his throat, growling and worrying like an animal. The blood shut off, air as well, Merritt struggled the more frantically for a moment, and began to weaken, but the jaws closed no further—shook at him vengefully every time he struggled and let up the pressure when he lay still. At last when that fact had reached his numbed brain and he stopped fighting, the creature let go that hold and leaned on his arms, staring down at him.
It was a terrible sight, this male version of Sazhje's face: ears flat, nostrils distended, eyes dark and murderous—lips drawn back in a snarl that showed fangs that made Sazhje's seem ineffectual. The arms and shoulders that bore down on his arms were powerful beyond any expectation from size alone. He could gain nothing against that grip, and both hands were losing their feeling.
Carefully the creature released him and stood back, and the companion too, so that Merritt was free to gain his feet. He gathered himself and staggered, wounds beginning to throb with dull misery.
The nearer one spoke at him: he could understand nothing of it, and the one behind was clearly growing impatient, gesturing with his stone knife and urging something with short and guttural syllables. The first one silenced him with a terse spitting sound and turned back to Merritt.
"Sazhje?" the creature asked.
Merritt tried the best he knew to sign affirmative. "Sam," he said of himself, touching his chest "Call Sazhje. Tell Sazhje."
The creature silenced him with a snarl, indicated himself and something that involved Sazhje's name, motioning for him to move.
Merritt hesitated and the other backhanded him with bonejarring force, sent him stumbling aside in the direction they wanted him to go. It was a measure of their confidence that they put no restraint on him, but pushed him from time to time where they wanted him to turn, contemptuous of his power to escape them even in the thickets and brush that were close on either hand.
They rested toward dawn somewhere so far into the deep forest that Merritt had no idea where they were. His two captors secured his hands most uncomfortably about a tree with their cord belts and curled up contentedly to sleep for a few hours, while he took what rest he could upright, with his hands numbing.
Then they were moving again, descending from the heights into a boggy area that was no doubt formed by some tributary of the river. It was hard traveling: wading part of the time, walking in mud and wet reeds the rest, and Merritt's sodden boots began to come apart and to gall his feet.
The second and the third nights were increasing torment. When they slept, which was usually by three-hour periods, Merritt spent the time wet and shivering, while the others curled up back to back on the driest spot or singly in the crotch of some tree; and Merritt began to develop a nagging cough… beyond pain, he ceased to care about anything but opportunities to rest.
His clumsiness on the march irritated Rejkh… Rejkh the surlier of the two. The one who had subdued him in the first place was Otrekh, a big, almost good-natured fellow of some patience; but from time to time the smaller male would exercise his temper by pushing at Merritt, and sometimes by kicking him when he was slow in rising.
And since the kick was low and foul, Merritt caught his breath finally and walked obediently enough for the better part of the morning; but ideas of escape had been replaced with a simpler, more achievable purpose. He did entirely as pleased Rejkh, ducked his head and hastened when Rejkh snarled a him, and flinched from every threat.
And then they crossed a small stream by way of a log lying across it, and Merritt looked down into the deepish waters with a certain satisfaction. Rejkh gave him the usual push in the back for the delay, and cuffed him on the side of the head.
With a snarl no more human than Rejkh's, Merritt surprised him with a waist-high rush that carried them both over, and got a choking grip on Rejkh's throat, holding him under.
Rejkh flailed and squalled, choked and choking, and suddenly more interested in escape than combat. Air bubbled up.
A blow exploded across the base of Merritt's skull and a powerful arm encircled his neck from behind, jerking him loose from Rejkh, who stumbled dripping and retching to his feet and attacked. Merritt kicked, and suddenly found himself underwater, until he sucked water and choked. Then they dragged him sodden and feebly struggling to the bank.
There Rejkh as well collapsed and began to cough up the water he had swallowed; and Otrekh began to make a strange sound that Merritt recognized as laughter, his fanged face split in a fearsome grin. He slapped Rejkh on the shoulder in high amusement at Rejkh's expense.
Rejkh grumbled something in reply and got to his feet, kicked Merritt to make him move, and Merritt added the score for himself and stumbled up to his feet. Then Rejkh dealt him a ringing slap, and he spat blood and flung himself for Rejkh's throat again, but Otrekh seized his arm and swung him aside, holding him back, still laughing softly.
"Ssam, Ssam khue," said Otrekh, which Merritt had learned was an order to move. Merritt shot a look under his brows at Rejkh and did so. Otrekh jerked at the arm he held and told him something in warning tones that did not need translating, but there was no more kicking.
Rejkh followed, still grumbling to himself.
For most of the rest of the day they were climbing, by narrow trails and through undergrowth, losing altitude at times as they crossed narrow stream-cut ravines, but always working higher. His boots almost gone by this time, his feet cut by stones which his barefoot captors ignored, Merritt tried toward evening to sit down and rest, which in days before even Rekjh had tolerated; but this time they put him on his feet the third time with no gentleness about it. When he gestured, asking them at least for food, they snarled at him and made him move on.