Blade smiled and rested both hands lightly on her shoulders for a moment. He would have embraced her if she hadn't been so bruised and sore. He couldn't understand a word she said, but he could understand courage and common sense without any words.
They turned and headed into the bushes. Insects were already settling on the dead men behind them.
Chapter 5
The tangle of bushes and young trees stretched for several miles. No one could have seen Blade and Riyannah from the air, or for more than twenty feet away on the ground. As for trailing them-certainly not these soldiers!
Riyannah was obviously not much more at home in the woods than the soldiers. Her feet caught in roots, snapped twigs, sometimes got tangled up enough to bring her to her knees. Somehow she always got to her feet again and kept on going. Sweat poured down her face, her hair became a sodden, tangled mess, blood trickled from thorn scratches on her hands, a stone left an ugly mark on one knee. Blade helped her whenever he could, but half the time she shook off his hands. Pride, or didn't she trust him?
Whatever was driving Riyannah, it kept her going until they'd left the underbrush behind them. A stream flowed past the fringes of the brush. They stopped and refilled their canteens, then Riyannah pointed off to the right and put a finger to her lips. Blade nodded and they moved off again, this time doing their best to move silently as well as stay under cover.
Less than a mile farther, on they came to another clearing at the foot of a hill. The clearing was now a good deal larger than it had been and the hill somewhat smaller. The cause of both changes was clearly visible beyond a fringe of blown-down trees-a crater in the hillside, a hundred feet wide and a third that deep. The hillside, the clearing, and the trees for half a mile around the crater were littered with bodies, parts of bodies, smashed guns, flattened helmets, and bits of metal, leather, and cloth which might have been anything.
Blade counted three of the propeller-driven flying troop carriers in sight. One lay broken into three twisted and blackened pieces, on top of a pile of trees turned into charcoal by burning fuel. From it Blade caught the too familiar stench of freshly-roasted human flesh.
The second carrier lay at the foot of the hill just beyond the trees, tipped on its side, one stubby wing crushed out of shape and the cockpit a shambles of blood, twisted controls, and powdered glass. Several blanket-wrapped bodies lay on the grass beside it.
The third machine stood safely on top of the hill, soldiers standing almost shoulder to shoulder around it. Blade made out two large guns mounted on tripods and something else which looked like a rocket launcher. As he watched, a fourth troop carrier floated in to land on the hilltop and started pouring out more soldiers. Some of them joined their comrades, while others unfolded stretchers and began making their way down the hill toward the two wrecks.
Blade looked at Riyannah. Tears were running down her cheeks, making trails in the dirt. She was biting her lip to keep from sobbing out loud, and both hands were gripping a fallen branch so tightly her knuckles were white. She kept looking at the rifle on the ground beside her, then at Blade, then shaking her head. Each time she did that, the tears seemed to come faster.
It wasn't hard for Blade to understand the situation and what Riyannah was feeling. There'd been a base of some sort here, for people fighting the soldiers. The soldiers attacked the base, and somehow it blew up. That was the explosion Blade heard and saw. Most of the people in the base died in the blast or were killed by the soldiers. Riyannah and a few of her comrades escaped, only to be caught as they fled through the forest.
So no wonder Riyannah was weeping. Her cause, whatever it was, had taken a costly defeat. Dozens of her friends and comrades lay dead in the forest or buried under tons of earth and rock. The soldiers had taken heavy losses, but there were still too many of them around, alive and with guns in their hands. All Riyannah could hope to do was crawl away, leaving the soldiers crawling over the wreckage of the base like maggots, and hope to win her vengeance some other time.
Blade suspected she'd have his help when that time came. He wished he could be sure, but there were still too many unanswered questions. Who were the soldiers, who were her friends, and what were the two sides fighting over? How many of Riyannah's friends were human, and bow many were of her race? There were a dozen more questions, all of them needing answers. Like Riyannah's vengeance, they'd have to wait. There was nothing more either he or Riyannah could do here.
Blade pointed at the forest and looked at Riyannah. She nodded and pointed to the north. Biting back a groan, she heaved herself to her feet, and Blade followed her.
As they left the clearing behind, three jets went over, so high they were only metallic gleams at the heads of white vapor trails. As the forest swallowed up Blade again, he heard another jet, this one flying low.
They headed north for several hours. The trees began to thin out and it became harder to keep under cover. Several times Blade tried to suggest to Riyannah that they should use another, more protected route to wherever she wanted to go. Each time she merely shook her head and kept going. Either Blade's sign language wasn't getting through to her, or she was determined to get where she was going as quickly as possible.
Eventually they stopped to rest, under cover of a clump of bushes that reminded Blade of giant tulips with spiky blue leaves. They had to stop, because Riyannah was beginning to stagger with fatigue at almost every step. She lay quietly, eyes staring blankly at the sky, gasping for breath, while Blade washed her face and massaged some of the worst kinks out of her muscles.
Blade rummaged through his pack until he found the salvaged emergency rations. They were plastic-wrapped reddish-brown bars, and tasted about as Blade expected. Somewhere in the universe there might be a maker of emergency rations with a sense of taste, but so far Blade hadn't run into one. These bars tasted like laundry soap mixed with shellac.
They did quiet his rumbling stomach and give him some fresh energy. Riyannah was too exhausted to eat more than half of one bar, but it seemed to help her also. After another drink of water she was able to get to her feet and continue the march.
By now it was mid-afternoon. Before too much longer they should start looking for a place with water and plenty of cover, to spend the night. Blade wondered if he could get this message through to Riyannah. The woman looked determined enough to march to the end of the world, if her legs held out that long.
They made a detour to the east down a long, heavily wooded slope. By the time they came out of the trees at the bottom the sky to the west was beginning to turn red. Across a shallow river lay a range of hills, with a broad valley opening toward Blade and Riyannah.
Blade sat down and pulled off his boots to massage his feet. The scavenged boots weren't quite a perfect fit. He was going to have blisters on his blisters if this march lasted more than a few days. For the tenth time he considered trying to ask Riyannah where they were going, and for the tenth time decided it was impossible. The question simply involved too many ideas no one could handle in sign language.
He was taking off his left boot when he saw light gleaming on metal, far off in the sky over the hills. At the same time he heard the distant rumble of jets and a crackling sound, so faint and irregular that at first he thought he might be imagining it.